I never saw a ghost or the devil before!"
Moodie, who had recognised the ghost, and greatly enjoyed the fun,
pretended profound ignorance, and coolly insinuated that Old Satan
had lost his senses. The man was bewildered; he stared at the vacant
aperture, then at us in turn, as if he doubted the accuracy of his
own vision. "'Tis tarnation odd," he said; "but the women heard it
too."
"I heard a sound," I said, "a dreadful sound, but I saw no ghost."
"Sure an' 'twas himsel'," said my lowland Scotch girl, who now
perceived the joke; "he was a-seeken' to gie us puir bodies a wee
fricht."
"How long have you been subject to these sort of fits?" said I. "You
had better speak to the doctor about them. Such fancies, if they are
not attended to, often end in madness."
"Mad!" (very indignantly) "I guess I'm not mad, but as wide awake as
you are. Did I not see it with my own eyes? And then the noise - I
could not make such a tarnation outcry to save my life. But be it
man or devil, I don't care, I'm not afear'd," doubling his fist very
undecidedly at the hole. Again the ghastly head was protruded - the
dreadful eyes rolled wildly in their hollow sockets, and a yell more
appalling than the former rang through the room. The man sprang from
his chair, which he overturned in his fright, and stood for an
instant with his one-eyeball starting from his head, and glaring
upon the spectre; his cheeks deadly pale; the cold perspiration
streaming from his face; his lips dissevered, and his teeth
chattering in his head.
"There - there - there. Look - look, it comes again! - the devil! - the
devil!"
Here Tom, who still kept his eyes fixed upon his victim, gave a
knowing wink, and thrust his tongue out of his mouth.
"He is coming! - he is coming!" cried the affrighted wretch; and
clearing the open doorway with one leap, he fled across the field at
full speed. The stream intercepted his path - he passed it at a bound,
plunged into the forest, and was out of sight.
"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled poor Tom, sinking down exhausted on his bed.
"Oh that I had strength to follow up my advantage, I would lead Old
Satan such a chase that he should think his namesake was in truth
behind him."
During the six weeks that we inhabited that wretched cabin, we never
were troubled by Old Satan again.
As Tom slowly recovered, and began to regain his appetite, his soul
sickened over the salt beef and pork, which, owing to our distance
from - -, formed our principal fare. He positively refused to touch
the sad bread, as my Yankee neighbours very appropriately termed the
unleavened cakes in the pan; and it was no easy matter to send a man
on horseback eight miles to fetch a loaf of bread.
"Do, my dear Mrs. Moodie, like a good Christian as you are, give me
a morsel of the baby's biscuit, and try and make us some decent
bread. The stuff your servant gives us is uneatable," said Wilson to
me, in most imploring accents.
"Most willingly. But I have no yeast; and I never baked in one of
those strange kettles in my life."
"I'll go to old Joe's wife and borrow some," said he; "they are
always borrowing of you." Away he went across the field, but soon
returned. I looked into his jug - it was empty. "No luck," said he;
"those stingy wretches had just baked a fine batch of bread, and
they would neither lend nor sell a loaf; but they told me how to
make their milk-emptyings."
"Well, discuss the same;" but I much doubted if he could remember
the recipe.
"You are to take an old tin pan," said he, sitting down on the
stool, and poking the fire with a stick.
"Must it be an old one?" said I, laughing.
"Of course; they said so."
"And what am I to put into it?"
"Patience; let me begin at the beginning. Some flour and some
milk - but, by George! I've forgot all about it. I was wondering as
I came across the field why they called the yeast MILK-emptyings,
and that put the way to make it quite out of my head. But never
mind; it is only ten o'clock by my watch. I having nothing to do;
I will go again."
He went. Would I had been there to hear the colloquy between him and
Mrs. Joe; he described it something to this effect: -
Mrs. Joe: "Well, stranger, what do you want now?"
Tom: "I have forgotten the way you told me how to make the bread."
Mrs. Joe: "I never told you how to make bread. I guess you are a
fool. People have to raise bread before they can bake it. Pray who
sent you to make game of me? I guess somebody as wise as yourself."
Tom: "The lady at whose house I am staying."
Mrs. Joe: "Lady! I can tell you that we have no ladies here. So the
old woman who lives in the old log shanty in the hollow don't know
how to make bread. A clever wife that! Are you her husband?" (Tom
shakes his head.) - "Her brother?" - (Another shake.) - "Her son? Do
you hear? or are you deaf?" (Going quite close up to him.)
Tom (moving back): "Mistress, I'm not deaf; and who or what I am is
nothing to you. Will you oblige me by telling me how to make the
mill-emptyings; and this time I'll put it down in my pocket-book."
Mrs. Joe (with a strong sneer): "Mill-emptyings! Milk, I told you.
So you expect me to answer your questions, and give back nothing in
return. Get you gone; I'll tell you no more about it."
Tom (bowing very low): "Thank you for your civility.
