Sisters in the Wilderness - Charlotte Gray [43]
Hamilton Township remains today, 170 years later, an inviting landscape of rich pastures, gentle hills and bubbling streams, with a view of the distant lake from the high points. The land John had acquired was cleared, not just of bush, but even of stumps. Its two log houses and frame barn were already built. Although the purchase of Melsetter took a big bite out of his limited capital, in theory John Moodie had made a sound investment. In practice, however, the deal was a disastrous, because John hadn’t known enough to ensure that he had both immediate occupancy and title to the farm. He quickly discovered that the log house was still occupied by the previous owner, Joseph Harris, who had gone bankrupt but refused to move himself, his wife and eight children out. John agreed to rent, sight-unseen, another, smaller dwelling on the property.
Susanna, her baby and Hannah the maidservant cheerfully waved goodbye to the Steamboat Hotel and set off in a covered carriage to take possession of their new home. But her spirits sank as the carriage bounced along the uneven road, a steady rain began to fall and Hannah launched into a non-stop grumble about the dark woods that menaced them on all sides. Finally the carriage rocked to a halt as they crested a steep hill, and the driver pointed out a miserable hut below them. Susanna gazed at the tumbledown shanty with horror and insisted that it couldn’t be their future home—it was no better than a pigsty. “You were raised in the old country, I guess,” the driver sneered at her. “You have much to learn, and more, perhaps, than you’ll like to know, before the winter is over.”
When John Moodie arrived a few minutes later, with their luggage in two wagons, Susanna was perched on the edge of an abandoned trough, ashen with horror. But with John’s encouragement, she pulled herself together. She was soon helping sort out their home, while the rain beat down on the roof and blew through the open doorway. She found the door buried under some debris at the back of the house, and John got it back on its hinges. Hannah swept out a year’s worth of animal droppings and old straw. James, their manservant, and Tom Wales, who had accompanied them, unloaded the wagon, stored their trunks in the loft and lit a fire in the fireplace. All the while, little Katie lay in the feeding trough, yelling her lungs out. For all the bustle and progress, it was a grim beginning to life in Upper Canada.
The Moodies were still sorting out their new home when their first visitor arrived. The door was flung open, and there appeared a young woman with “sharp, knowing-looking features, a forward, impudent carriage, and a pert, flippant voice,” according to Susanna. “The creature was dressed in a ragged, dirty purple stuff gown, cut very low in the neck, with an old red cotton handkerchief tied over her head: her uncombed, tangled locks falling over her thin inquisitive face, in a state of perfect nature.” The visitor was Emily Seaton, daughter of Roswell Seaton (or “Old Satan,” as Susanna called him), a local reprobate who had nothing but