Our united efforts had effected a complete transformation in our uncouth dwelling.  Sleeping-berths had been partitioned off for the men; shelves had been put up for the accommodation of books and crockery, a carpet covered the floor, and the chairs and tables we had brought from —–­ gave an air of comfort to the place, which, on the first view of it, I deemed impossible.  My husband, Mr. Wilson, and James, had walked over to inspect the farm, and I was sitting at the table at work, the baby creeping upon the floor, and Hannah preparing dinner.  The sun shone warm and bright, and the open door admitted a current of fresh air, which tempered the heat of the fire.

“Well, I guess you look smart,” said the Yankee damsel, presenting herself once more before me.  “You old country folks are so stiff, you must have every thing nice, or you fret.  But, then, you can easily do it; you have stacks of money; and you can fix everything right off with money.”

“Pray take a seat,” and I offered her a chair, “and be kind enough to tell me your name.  I suppose you must live in the neighbourhood, although I cannot perceive any dwelling near us.”

“My name!  So you want to know my name.  I arn’t ashamed of my own; ’tis Emily S—–.  I am eldest daughter to the gentleman who owns this house.”

“What must the father be,” thought I, “if he resembles the young lady, his daughter?”

Imagine a young lady, dressed in ragged petticoats, through whose yawning rents peeped forth, from time to time, her bare red knees, with uncombed elf-locks, and a face and hands that looked as if they had been unwashed for a month—­who did not know A from B, and despised those who did.  While these reflections, combined with a thousand ludicrous images, were flitting through my mind, my strange visitor suddenly exclaimed—­

“Have you done with that ’ere decanter I brought across yesterday?”

“Oh, yes!  I have no occasion for it.”  I rose, took it from the shelf, and placed it in her hand.

“I guess you won’t return it empty; that would be mean, father says.  He wants it filled with whiskey.”

The mystery was solved, the riddle made clear.  I could contain my gravity no longer, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, in which I was joined by Hannah.  Our young lady was mortally offended; she tossed the decanter from hand to hand, and glared at us with her tiger-like eyes.

“You think yourselves smart!  Why do you laugh in that way?”

“Excuse me—­but you have such an odd way of borrowing that I cannot help it.  This bottle, it seems, was brought over for your own convenience, not for mine.  I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no whiskey.”

“I guess spirits will do as well; I know there is some in that keg, for I smells it.”

“It contains rum for the workmen.”

“Better still.  I calculate when you’ve been here a few months, you’ll be too knowing to give rum to your helps.  But old country folks are all fools, and that’s the reason they get so easily sucked in, and be so soon wound-up.  Cum, fill the bottle, and don’t be stingy.  In this country we all live by borrowing.  If you want anything, why just send and borrow from us.”