Forest and Other Gleanings: The Fugitive Writings of Catharine Parr Traill

University of Ottawa Press, 1994 - 250 頁
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Forest and Other Gleanings reclaims for the contemporary reader a number of stories and sketches written by Catharine Parr Traill after her emigration to Canada in 1832. While most of the pieces collected here appeared in magazines in Britain, the United States, and Canada, a few have been drawn from archival holdings and edited here for their first appearance in print.

Taken together, they offer a richer and fuller picture of Traill's interests and preoccupations than has heretofore been available to Canadianists and literary students. As well, they present fresh evidence of her range and virtuosity as a writer. Traill herself envisioned and executed several collections of sketches, letters, and stories that had the misfortune of not making it into print. Her "sequel" to The Backwoods of Canada apparently died in dismemberment, a few pieces from it appearing here and there, while later collections with titles like "Forest Gleanings" and "Under the Pines" did not find publication in book form.

This collection seeks, as it were, to complete her aspirations and to offer the reader interested in Traill and nineteenth-century Upper Canada (Ontario) a "gleaning" of her better sketches and stories. It stresses both her achievements and her struggles as a writer in nineteenth-century Canada. Forest and Other Gleanings will be of interest to students engaged in women's studies, Canadian studies, Canadian social history, and early Canadian literature and culture. It will also be of interest to those who simply like reading short fiction.


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第 229 頁 - Here's flowers for you: Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
第 220 頁 - Many there are who can recall the time when the very men who inhabit that village knew not the Lord, but wandered in the darkness of heathenism, whose hand was against every man, and every man's hand against them, but who now worship their God in spirit and in truth.
第 84 頁 - ... take part in the best household labour, who would sit on the side of her bed while a servant drew the silk stocking and satin slippers on her tiny white feet, and dressed her from head to foot— who despised the least fare that could be set before her by any of her neighbors — who must despatch a messenger almost daily to the distant town for fresh meat and biscuits — and new white bread, was now compelled to clothe herself and her babe, to eat the coarsest fare, black tea unsweetened and...
第 165 頁 - I have thought, and thinking sighed — How like to thee, thou restless tide ! May be the lot, the life of him, Who roams along thy water's brim ! Through what alternate shades of...
第 89 頁 - I thought it wisest not to show distrust, and addressed the uncouth-looking personage before me with a cheerful air, laughing at his having caught me napping. Yet I remember the time, when I was a youthful romance reader, I should have fancied myself into a heroine, and my old Irishman into a brigand; but in my intercourse with the lower class of Irish emigrants, I have learnt that there is little cause for fear in reality.
第 76 頁 - Scarcely had we begun to ascend the opposite hill, when a faint cheer was heard ; immediately the woods re-echoed the response of our whole line, and we rushed onward, heedless of every impediment, until we reached a large clearing, amidst which stood an empty frame of a house, and approaching it, there was Mr. Reid, with his child in his arms. I will not attempt to describe his joy: we all crowded round to get one glimpse, and then returned to our homes, elated with our success. After being in the...
第 84 頁 - I had been wont to consider decidedly selfish, now showed a generous and heroic devotion towards the man whose thoughtlessness had reduced her to that state of poverty and privation that seemed to make her regardless of poverty. What personal sacrifices did she not make, what fatigues undergo? I have met her coming from a small field where oats had been sown, with a sheaf on her back, which she had cut with her own fair hands to feed an old ox— the only remnant of stock that escaped the creditors,...
第 88 頁 - I preferred sitting on my rude seat before the now blazing fire, to sharing the girl's couch, and as to a refreshment of fried pork and potatoes which my hostess offered to get ready for me, I had no appetite for it, and was glad when my host of the shanty and his partner retired to bed, and left me to my own cogitations and mute companionship of Nelson.
第 42 頁 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.