Read Online Beginning Again by Mary Beacock Fryer - Free Book Online Page B

shoot foxes from a horse?”
    â€œShoot!” Uncle's eyes widened in horror.
    I thought he was about to call Sam a blockhead, but he curbed himself, glancing at Mama. Instead he said, “Foxhunting is a sport. We ride after a pack of hounds. They catch the fox.”
    â€œNot at all efficient,” was Sam's rejoinder.
    â€œIt's not supposed to be,” Uncle said patiently. “But I do like shooting, too. You must have lots of game around here.”
    â€œNow that's what I call hunting,” Sam said. “We bag partridges, ducks, wild geese, pigeons, deer, even moose. We go after bears when they're bothering the farmers. By the way, our dog's a great retriever.”
    Uncle looked dreamy. “In the autumn we shoot pheasants, too.”
    Will you come out with me some time?” Sam asked eagerly.
    â€œName the day,” Uncle said, smiling. “Being out in the wilds may have its pleasures after all.”
    Now everyone relaxed. Uncle's visit might not be the ordeal our first encounter with him had implied. Elizabeth served tea around the butternut table, assisted by Sarah, who was being helpful and acting shy in the presence of a guest. By the time the repast was over, Uncle was no longer feeling superior to us. Mama told him of our estate, and of our plans for it. Cade and Sam vied with each other to describe the timber raft we intended to build once we had enough trees cut down. I did not try to compete, and I sat back, watching and listening to everyone else. I would have plenty of opportunities to talk with Uncle William alone and get to know him.
    â€œHow large is your estate, Caleb?” he asked Papa.
    â€œWe have altogether 208 acres in our grant of land. It's about eighteen miles farther up the St. Lawrence from Buell's Bay.”
    â€œThat large!” Uncle commented. “Mine's only fifty acres.
    Papa chuckled wryly. “You'll notice quite a difference when we take you there.”
    â€œSome day it will look as pretty as Long Island, William,” Mama added. “With green fields and neat fences. And you'll love the view of the river and the Thousand Islands.”
    â€œWe'll never be land poor here, William,” Papa continued. “I haven't told my children yet, but now's as good a time as any. When each reaches age twenty-one, or earlier if married before that age, he or she is entitled to 200 acres freehold, and without paying a penny.”
    â€œWonderful,” Cade exclaimed, echoed by Sam.
    â€œAre you saying that each settler here gets 200 acres of land for free, Caleb?” Uncle William asked him.
    â€œNo, only Loyalists and their sons and daughters,” Papa explained. “All others have to pay a fee to have the land registered. So you see, I'm not as much a loser as you've assumed. The government could not afford to pay Loyalists for everything we lost, but at least we have land. And Mr. Buell, the storekeeper at Buell's Bay, tells me that Canada will be divided this year to make two new provinces, one for the French downriver, the other for us Loyalists. Soon we'll have our own laws, a governor and an assembly. I'm delighted to be a part of this great dream, this fine new world.”
    â€œI understand now,” Uncle admitted. “I really must apologize for misreading the situation so badly, Caleb.”
    We rose from the table and moved back to the parlour. “Sam,” Uncle said. “If you'll fetch my portmanteau from the bedroom, the blue one, I've brought some small gifts.”
    That was the kind of order Sam liked, and he was very prompt. We were soon gasping at the array of presents spread round the parlour. Christmas had never been like this, not even back in Schenectady. For Mama, Uncle had a length of red velvet, enough for a cloak, and for Elizabeth a similar length of green. A bolt of muslin would make dresses for them and Sarah, too. For the younger ones he had a primer, some story books, and wooden