Law, who had volunteered to be the Grog Boss,
and a host of other settlers, among whom I recognised Moodie's old
acquaintance, Dan Simpson, with his lank red hair and freckled face;
the Youngs, the hunters, with their round, black, curly heads and
rich Irish brogue; poor C - - with his long, spare, consumptive
figure, and thin sickly face. Poor fellow, he has long since been
gathered to his rest!
There was the ruffian squatter P - -, from Clear Lake, - the dread
of all honest men; the brutal M - -, who treated oxen as if they
had been logs, by beating them with handspikes; and there was Old
Wittals, with his low forehead and long nose, a living witness of
the truth of phrenology, if his large organ of acquisitiveness and
his want of consciousness could be taken in evidence. Yet in spite
of his derelictions from honesty, he was a hard-working,
good-natured man, who, if he cheated you in a bargain, or took away
some useful article in mistake from your homestead, never wronged
his employer in his day's work.
He was a curious sample of cunning and simplicity - quite a character
in his way - and the largest eater I ever chanced to know. From this
ravenous propensity, for he eat his food like a famished wolf, he
had obtained his singular name of "Wittals."
During the first year of his settlement in the bush, with a very
large family to provide for, he had been often in want of food.
One day he came to my brother, with a very long face.
"Mr. S - - I'm no beggar, but I'd be obliged to you for a loaf of
bread. I declare to you on my honour that I have not had a bit of
wittals to dewour for two whole days."
He came to the right person with his petition. Mr. S - - with a
liberal hand relieved his wants, but he entailed upon him the name
of "Old Wittals," as part payment.
His daughter, who was a very pretty girl, had stolen a march upon
him into the wood, with a lad whom he by no means regarded with a
favourable eye. When she returned, the old man confronted her and
her lover with this threat, which I suppose he considered "the most
awful" punishment that he could devise.
"March into the house, Madam 'Ria (Maria); and if ever I catch you
with that scamp again, I'll tie you up to a stump all day, and give
you no wittals."
I was greatly amused by overhearing a dialogue between Old Wittals
and one of his youngest sons, a sharp, Yankeefied-looking boy, who
had lost one of his eyes, but the remaining orb looked as if it
could see all ways at once.
