Roughing It In The Bush, By Susanna Moodie











































































































































 - 

Why, YOUR old woman, to be sure - your missus - Mrs. Moodie,
I guess. You don't quite understand our language yet - Page 146
Roughing It In The Bush, By Susanna Moodie - Page 146 of 349 - First - Home

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"Why, YOUR Old Woman, To Be Sure - Your Missus - Mrs. Moodie, I Guess.

You don't quite understand our language yet."

"O! now I understand you; she's quite well, I thank you; and how is our friend Mrs. S - -?" I replied, laying a slight emphasis on the MRS., by way of a gentle hint for his future guidance.

"Mrs. S - -, I guess she's smart, pret-ty CON-siderable. She'll be right glad to see you, for you're pretty considerable of a favour-ITE with her, I tell you; but now tell me what you will drink? - for it's my treat."

As he said these words, he strutted into the tavern before me, throwing his head and shoulders back, and rising on his tiptoes at every step.

Mrs. S - - had been a very handsome woman, and still retained much of her good looks. She was a most exemplary housewife and manager. I was often astonished to witness the incessant toil she had to ensure in attending to the wants of such a numerous household.

She had plenty of Irish "helps" in the kitchen; but they knew as much of cookery as they did of astronomy, and poor Mrs. S - -'s hands, as well as her head, were in constant requisition.

She had two very pretty daughters, whom she would not suffer to do any rough work which would spoil their soft white hands. Mrs. S - -, no doubt, foresaw that she could not expect to keep such fair creatures long in such a marrying country as Canada, and, according to the common caution of divines, she held these blessings with a loose hand.

There was one sweet little girl, whom I had often seen in her father's arms, with her soft dark eyes, and her long auburn ringlets hanging in wild profusion over his shoulders.

"I guess she likes pa, SOME," Mr. S - - would say when I remarked her fondness for him.

This little fairy had a natural genius for music, and though she was only four years old, she would sit for an hour at a time at the door of our room to hear me play on the flute, and would afterwards sing all the airs she picked up, with the sweetest voice in the world.

Humble as the calling of a tavern-keeper may be considered in England, it is looked upon in the United States, where Mrs. S - - was "raised," as extremely respectable; and I have never met with women, in any class of society elsewhere, who possessed more of the good-feeling and unobtrusive manners which should belong to ladies than in the family of this worthy tavern-keeper.

When I contrast their genuine kindness and humanity with the haughty, arrogant airs assumed by some ladies of a higher standing in society from England who sojourned in their house at the same time with ourselves - when I remember their insolent way of giving their orders to Mrs. S - -, and their still more wounding condescension - I confess I cannot but feel ashamed of my countrywomen.

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