After we had got settled down on this farm, I had often occasion to drive into C—–­, for the purpose of buying groceries and other necessaries, as we then thought them, at the store of Mr. Q—–.  On these occasions I always took up my quarters, for the time, at the tavern of our worthy Yankee friend, Mr. S—–.  As I drove up to the door, I generally found S—–­ walking about briskly on the boarded platform, or “stoop,” in front of the house, welcoming his guests in his own peculiar free-and-easy style, looking after their horses, and seeing that his people were attentive to their duties.  I think I see him now before me with his thin, erect, lathy figure, his snub nose, and puckered-up face, wriggling and twisting himself about, in his desire to please his customers.

On stopping in front of the tavern, shortly after our settlement on the farm, Mr. S—–­ stepped up to me, in the most familiar manner imaginable, holding out his hand quite condescendingly,—­“Ah, Mister Moodie, ha-a-w do you do?—­and ha-a-w’s the old woman?”

At first I could not conceive whom he meant by this very homely appellation; and I very simply asked him what person he alluded to, as I had no old woman in my establishment.

“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.