Description The First Christmas

The First Christmas
By Roland H Sherwood

It was June 10th, 1767, a beautiful summer day, and the Betsey, a small brig out of the port of Philadelphia, caught an off-shore breeze and moved slowly into Pictou Harbour. Captain John Hull of Rhode Island stood by the helmsmar and gazed at the tree-lined shore. This was Pictou; this was his destination, and he was content after the weary days on the water . He would put his six families ashore and set sails for his home port.

Others aboard were also awed by the sight that met their eyes could see, and somewhere beyond those huge trees was a spot destined to be their new home, where, they had been told, the trees would yeild sugar and the land would be green and fertile. Those who had come with a future in their hands knew nothing of this rugged land, this Nova Scotia. They had believed what they had been told by the Philadelphia Grant who sought to settle their holdings in this new Country; and Little of that had been the true picture.

Crowding the rails of the brig as it moved slowly up the harbour were the adventuring passengers. The weather was glorious, even for June, and the sight of the huge trees standing like tall sentinels in the close-packed legions was awe-inspiring in the extreme.
A quietness lay over everything. It was beauty at its best. But there was a fear in the hearts of those who had come to make Pictou their new home, and their eyes searched the shore line for that fear. And there it was!

On the Shore could be seen huge bonfires, and faintly, the forms of human beings. This was their fear and their supposed danger. Indians! They had been told of the savage Indians of this region who, allied with the french, were determinded to keep english settlers out, and in due time by fire and scalping knife, regain the land for the French who were exciled by the British in 1755.

Afraid to bring his ship to anchor, Captain Hull Stood his vessel off and on in the harbour length during that june afternoon, and through the night. And on this first long night in the harbour of a new land, a baby was born on the little brig, the son of Dr. and Mrs. John Harris. This baby was destined to become known as "Clark Tommy" and well-known in the historical annals of Pictou in the years that lay ahead.
On the morning of the 11th of June, 1767, those aboard the brig Betsey watched and studied the shoreline with grave concern, to find with delight that those on the shore were white people instead of the Indians they feared.As the newcomers came ashore, they were hailed by citizens of truro who had walked the forty miles through the woods to welcomee the Betsey people to the new land that was to be their home.
On the following day the six families with their supplies and household furnishings were landed. They found the prospects dreary enought, despite the hearty welcome of the new friends from Truro. One unbroken forest covered the land right down the water's edge. In all directions stood mighty monarchs of the woods in their lofty grandeur. The evergreens spead a sombre covering over the hillsand into the valleys relieved by the lighter shades of the deciduous trees. Tall spruce rose like spires above their fellows, and white pine towered 200 feet in the air. But there was no cleared place for the new arrivals.
Of the Six families that disembarked from the brig Betsey on that June day: Harris, Patterson,MacCabe,Cumminger, Rodgers, only the sixth family name is not known to history.But they were there, sharing the agony of loneliness with the others. That Loneliness was climaxed when Mrs Robert Patterson, wife of the agent for the Philadelphia Company, broken-hearted over the dismal prospects before them,leaned her head against a huge tree and begged of her husband, "Oh Robert, take us back. " And the whole band of newly-arrived settlers, even on this glorious June day, would have returned to the ship that brought them in , their anticipations of plenty in this new land dulled and discouraged by the sight around them. But the return was not to be for the Betsey settlers. Captian Hull of the Betsey had slipped out of the harbour, Leaving six families to make their way as best they could in the wilderness.

Stranded in the new land, left to their own resources, the new arrivals set to work to provide shelters for their families, and as they worked, the fear of Indians and wild animals was always with them.

The unknown head of the sixth family, with his wife and three children, made his own decision.Determined to find the better ground, and over the protexts of the others, moved off with his family into the unknown and forbidding wilderness. By great good fortune, he found what he was seeking, not five miles from where the betsey had put him ashore. It was on the slopes of what becames known in after years as Rodger's Hill. There he and his wife spent the remaining days of summer in constant and hard work, so that when autumn came in all its blaze of leafy glory, he had a comfortable home in the pioneering sense, in a small clearing.

He knew that during the summer, those who decided to make the foot journey to truro. Necessities for celebration of their first Christmas in this new land were needed ; Flour , potatoes, some sugar, tea; those that could be made into a small and compact package that would be bacck-carried on they forty mile wilderness trail to home.

The weather was good when he set off for Truro. The wife and mother busied herself about the small cabin in all the work of a pioneer. Sheeven sang snatches of Christmas carols she had learned as a child in her former home. Nothing marred the routine of her day , and the next wass the same. But in the late affternoon, when the warly winter dusk was dropping quickly over the surrounding trees. She discovered that her little, four-year old daughter had wandered away from the other two, and was missing when she called them in .In frantic haste, she put the two children in the tiny bedroom, fastened the door and set off into the gathering gloom, calling and searching for her lost child. She did not go far into the darkness of the tall trees that stood almost at her door. She was fearfull of becoming lost herself, and fearful for the safety of the two children alone in the cabin. Unable to locate or hear any sound of the los child, she returned to the cabin. She stood at the door , still calling and listening. But there was no sond except the movement of the trees as they swayed in the light breeze. Then she went in and barred the door behind . she went to the window and looked into the darkness, knowing there was nothingg more she could do now, but wait until her husband returned when the search for the lost child would be resumed.

Fortunately a pre-christmas thaw had enveloped the land , and while it was mild for winter, the wife knew that her little daughter, bundled as she was for outside play , could not survive long in the damp , winter woods.

The darkness was intense outside the cabin. Inside a lone candle flickered on the drawn face of the wife , and the silent , watching faces of the two children. The hours dragged on . Would her husband never return ? where was her little girl in that great expanse of wilderness? she paced the floor , and the children watched her hand on the well-worn Bible that was always at hand on the kitchen table . The Bible she had brought from her former home to this wilderness. Without conscious intention , she turned the pages , her mind on the plight of her lost child, and then she looked down . The book lay open at Psalm 37, and her eyes focused on the 5th verse--" Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him ; and he shall bring it to pass."

And there , im that wilderness cabin, alone with her two children , the wife prayed for the safety of her lost child , and the quick return of her husband. " Trust also in Him ; and He shall bring it to pass." She repeated those words time and time again as the hours wore on. The children had fallen asleep. The wife was still on her knees when she heard a sound at the door. In a frenzy of excitement , she was up and opening the door, ready to welcome with relief and happiness , her returning husband. Instead of the husband, an Indian stood there. The same stolid Indian to whom she had been kind in the earlier days. Disappointment weakened her and she was about to forcus the door shut when the Indian pointed to the trail that led from the cabin into the tall trees. and at that same instant she heard the welcome "hallo" of her returning husband. In a flash, she was out the door and racing through the snow to where a bobbing lantern light in the darkness marked the person of her home-coming husband.

Then , with a welcoming cry that was more than half a sob, she flung herself upon him, to realize that he was burdened. Then , she saw that he was carrying her lost child. In a daze of joy, She clug to the pair as they crossed the small clearing. The indian was still standing silently at the door of the cabin. Passing in , the husband gestured for the Indian to enter. Then the door was closed against the winter night.

The wife poured out her story, then the husband explained that he had found the Indian carrying the child on the narrow path to the cabin. The lost child had told him she had chased a rabbit and could not find her way back home. She had fallen in the snow and the Indian had found her, only minutes before the husband had come returning along the trail.
In the happiness of reunion, they alomst forgot that it was christmas eve . The children had fallen asleep , and the happy mother had tucked them safetly in bed, kissing each one in turn in her happiness of having found the lost one. The husband unpacked the things he had back=packed over the long trail from Truro. The Indian sat , looking with wondering eyes upon everything in the small cabin. The Bible still lay open on the table.
" It's Christmass Eve," the husband said, " and we have much to be thankful for . "
"Indeed we have ." the mother said , " Let us give thanks."

Together they went down on their knees, and the husband prayed aloud. The Indian rose from his hand made bench and stood silently with folded arms.
When the long prayer of thankfulness was ended, the wife, with a new glow of happiness on her face, brought out the Christmas cake she had made before the straying child had interrupted her routine.

From the bundle he had carried from Truro, the husband took the staples that were needed for Christmas. then, with pride in the treats he was providing for the children's christmas , he brought apples, candy, raisins, and best of all, three store-bought dolls. the indian made a gesture indicating he was leaving. the mother hastily made a package of the few good things she had and offered the to the Indian. He took them , with words in his own language that ssounded like thanks. the pioneer man and woman thanked him again and again in their own tongue, and the husbnd even spoke a word in Gaelic, which neither he , his wife or the Indian understood. the tribeman shuffled to the door, and the man and woman waved him down the path until he was gone in the winter night.

The Husband and wife saw that everything was in readiness for the children's awakening on Christmas morn. then , together the read from the Bible they had carried into the wilderness, and from which the mother had derived comfort in her hours of distress.
They read the old story; the old story that was ever new. The story of the Christ child's birth in a stable in Bethlehem. Then the fire was banked, the candles snuffed , and the couple retired. The children sleep peacefully.

And there in the wilderness cabin, on the slopes of Roger's Hill, the Sixth family man from the pioneer brig , Betsey of 1767 ; the man with the lost- to- history name, and his family , awaited their first Christmas Day in the wilderness land of northern Nova Scotia , That in years ahead was to become the county of Pictou.

A Slight wind moaned about the cabin, and in the darkness, the mother lying awake, breathed a slient prayer of thankfulness.
And, outside, in the slightly froty air of that Christmas Eve of 1767, the silent stars went by.