Winter time, the old man replied, in the style so
characteristic of his country, "Shure it will be time enough to
think of that when the could weather sets in." Everything about
the house wore a Robinson Crusoe aspect, and though there was not
any appearance of original plan or foresight, there was no lack
of ingenious contrivance to meet every want as it arose.
Judy dropped us a low curtsey as we entered, which was followed by
a similar compliment from a stout girl of twelve, and two or three
more of the children, who all seemed to share the pleasure of their
parents in receiving strangers in their unpretending tenement. Many
were the apologies that poor Judy offered for the homely cheer she
furnished us, and great was her delight at the notice we took of the
"childher." She set little Biddy, who was the pride of her heart, to
reading the Bible; and she took down a curious machine from a shelf,
which she had "conthrived out of her own head," as she said, for
teaching the children to read. This was a flat box, or frame, filled
with sand, which saved paper, pens, and ink. Poor Judy had evidently
seen better days, but, with a humble and contented spirit, she
blessed God for the food and scanty raiment their labour afforded
them. Her only sorrow was the want of "idication" for the children.
She would have told us a long story about her trials and sufferings,
before they had attained their present comparative comfort and
independence, but, as we had a tedious scramble before us, through
cedar-swamps, beaver-meadows, and piny ridges, the "ould dhragoon"
cut her short, and we straightway started on our toilsome journey.
Simpson, in spite of a certain dash of melancholy in his
composition, was one of those happy fellows of the "light heart
and thin pair of breeches" school, who, when they meet with
difficulty or misfortune, never stop to measure its dimensions,
but hold in their breath, and run lightly over, as in crossing
a bog, where to stand still is to sink.
Off, then, we went, with the "ould dhragoon" skipping and bounding
on before us, over fallen trees and mossy rocks; now ducking under
the low, tangled branches of the white cedar, then carefully
piloting us along rotten logs, covered with green moss, to save us
from the discomfort of wet feet. All this time he still kept one of
his feet safely ensconced in the boot, while the other seemed to
luxuriate in the water, as if there was something amphibious in
his nature.
We soon reached the beaver-meadow, which extended two or three
miles; sometimes contracting into a narrow gorge, between the wooded
heights, then spreading out again into an ample field of verdure,
and presenting everywhere the same unvarying level surface,
surrounded with rising grounds, covered with the dense unbroken
forest, as if its surface had formerly been covered by the waters of
a lake; which in all probability has been the case at some not very
remote period. In many places the meadow was so wet that it required
a very large share of faith to support us in passing over its
surface; but our friend, the dragoon, soon brought us safe through
all dangers to a deep ditch, which he had dug to carry off the
superfluous water from the part of the meadow which he owned. When
we had obtained firm footing on the opposite side, we sat down to
rest ourselves before commencing the operation of "blazing," or
marking the trees with our axes, along the side-line of my lot. Here
the mystery of the boot was explained. Simpson very coolly took it
off from the hitherto favoured foot, and drew it on the other.
He was not a bit ashamed of his poverty, and candidly owned that
this was the only boot he possessed, and he was desirous of giving
each of his feet fair play.
Nearly the whole day was occupied in completing our job, in which
the "dhragoon" assisted us, with the most hearty good-will,
enlivening us with his inexhaustible fund of good-humour and
drollery. It was nearly dark when we got back to his "shanty," where
the kind-hearted Judy was preparing a huge pot of potatoes and other
"combustibles," as Simpson called the other eatables, for our
entertainment.
Previous to starting on our surveying expedition, we had observed
Judy very earnestly giving some important instructions to one of her
little boys, on whom she seemed to be most seriously impressing the
necessity of using the utmost diligence. The happy contentment which
now beamed in poor Judy's still comely countenance bespoke the
success of the messenger. She could not "call up spirits from the
vasty deep" of the cellar, but she had procured some whiskey from
her next-door neighbour - some five or six miles off, and there it
stood somewhat ostentatiously on the table in a "greybeard," with a
"corn cob," or ear of Indian corn, stripped of its grain, for a
cork, smiling most benevolently on the family circle, and looking
a hundred welcomes to the strangers.
An indescribably enlivening influence seemed to exude from every
pore of that homely earthen vessel, diffusing mirth and good-humour
in all directions. The old man jumped and danced about on the rough
floor of the "shanty"; and the children sat giggling and nudging
each other in a corner, casting a timid look, from time to time, at
their mother, for fear she might check them for being "over bould."
"Is it crazy ye are intirely, ye ould omadhawn!" said Judy, whose
notions of propriety were somewhat shocked with the undignified
levity of her partner; "the likes of you I never seed; ye are too
foolidge intirely.
