"Oh, pray don"t trouble yourself. What next?" I was anxious to see how far her impudence would go, and determined to affront her if possible.
"I want you to lend me a gown, and a pair of stockings. I have to go to Oswego to see my husband"s sister, and I"d like to look decent."
"Mrs. Fye, I never lend my clothes to any one. If I lent them to you, I should never wear them again."
"So much the better for me," (with a knowing grin). "I guess if you won"t lend me the gown, you will let me have some black slack to quilt a stuff petticoat, a quarter of a pound of tea and some sugar; and I will bring them back as soon as I can."
"I wonder when that will be. You owe me so many things that it will cost you more than you imagine to repay me."
"Sure you"re not going to mention what"s past, I can"t owe you much.
But I will let you off the tea and the sugar, if you will lend me a five-dollar bill." This was too much for my patience longer to endure, and I answered sharply--
"Mrs. Fye, it surprises me that such proud people as you Americans should condescend to the meanness of borrowing from those whom you affect to despise. Besides, as you never repay us for what you pretend to borrow, I look upon it as a system of robbery. If strangers unfortunately settle among you, their good-nature is taxed to supply your domestic wants, at a ruinous expense, besides the mortification of finding that they have been deceived and tricked out of their property. If you would come honestly to me and say, "I want these things, I am too poor to buy them myself, and would be obliged to you to give them to me," I should then acknowledge you as a common beggar, and treat you accordingly; give or not give, as it suited my convenience. But in the way in which you obtain these articles from me, you are spared even a debt of grat.i.tude; for you well know that the many things which you have borrowed from me will be a debt owing to the Day of Judgment."
"S"pose they are," quoth Betty, not in the least abashed at my lecture on honesty, "you know what the Scripture saith, "It is more blessed to give than to receive.""
"Ay, there is an answer to that in the same book, which doubtless you may have heard," said I, disgusted with her hypocrisy, ""The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again.""
Never shall I forget the furious pa.s.sion into which this too apt quotation threw my unprincipled applicant. She lifted up her voice and cursed me, using some of the big oaths temporarily discarded for conscience sake. And so she left me, and I never looked upon her face again.
When I removed to our own house, the history of which, and its former owner, I will give by-and-by, we had a bony, red-headed, ruffianly American squatter, who had "left his country for his country"s good," for an opposite neighbour. I had scarcely time to put my house in order before his family commenced borrowing, or stealing from me. It is even worse than stealing, the things procured from you being obtained on false pretences--adding lying to theft. Not having either an oven or a cooking stove, which at that period were not so cheap or so common as they are now, I had provided myself with a large bake-kettle as a subst.i.tute. In this kettle we always cooked hot cakes for breakfast, preferring that to the trouble of thawing the frozen bread. This man"s wife was in the habit of sending over for my kettle whenever she wanted to bake, which, as she had a large family, happened nearly every day, and I found her importunity a great nuisance.
I told the impudent lad so, who was generally sent for it; and asked him what they did to bake their bread before I came.
"I guess we had to eat cakes in the pan; but now we can borrow this kettle of your"n, mother can fix bread."
I told him that he could have the kettle this time; but I must decline letting his mother have it in future, for I wanted it for the same purpose.
The next day pa.s.sed over. The night was intensely cold, and I did not rise so early as usual in the morning. My servant was away at a quilting bee, and we were still in bed, when I heard the latch of the kitchen-door lifted up, and a step crossed the floor. I jumped out of bed, and began to dress as fast as I could, when Philander called out, in his well-known nasal tw.a.n.g--
"Missus! I"m come for the kettle."
I (through the part.i.tion ): "You can"t have it this morning. We cannot get our breakfast without it."
Philander: "Nor more can the old woman to hum," and, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the kettle, which had been left to warm on the hearth, he rushed out of the house, singing, at the top of his voice--
"Hurrah for the Yankee Boys!"
When James came home for his breakfast, I sent him across to demand the kettle, and the dame very coolly told him that when she had done with it I MIGHT have it, but she defied him to take it out of her house with her bread in it.
One word more about this lad, Philander, before we part with him.
Without the least intimation that his company would be agreeable, or even tolerated, he favoured us with it at all hours of the day, opening the door and walking in and out whenever he felt inclined.
I had given him many broad hints that his presence was not required, but he paid not the slightest attention to what I said. One morning he marched in with his hat on, and threw himself down in the rocking-chair, just as I was going to dress my baby.
"Philander, I want to attend to the child; I cannot do it with you here. Will you oblige me by going into the kitchen?"
No answer. He seldom spoke during these visits, but wandered about the room, turning over our books and papers, looking at and handling everything. Nay, I have even known him to take a lid off from the pot on the fire, to examine its contents.
I repeated my request.
Philander: "Well, I guess I shan"t hurt the young "un. You can dress her."
I: "But not with you here."
Philander: "Why not? WE never do anything that we are ashamed of."
I: "So it seems. But I want to sweep the room--you had better get out of the dust."
I took the broom from the corner, and began to sweep; still my visitor did not stir. The dust rose in clouds; he rubbed his eyes, and moved a little nearer to the door. Another sweep, and, to escape its inflictions, he mounted the threshold. I had him now at a fair advantage, and fairly swept him out, and shut the door in his face.
Philander (looking through the window ): "Well, I guess you did me then; but "tis deuced hard to outwit a Yankee."
This freed me from his company, and he, too, never repeated his visit; so I found by experience, that once smartly rebuked, they did not like to try their strength with you a second time.
When a sufficient time had elapsed for the drying of my twenty bushels of apples, I sent a Cornish lad, in our employ, to Betty Fye"s, to inquire if they were ready, and when I should send the cart for them.
Dan returned with a yellow, smoke-dried string of pieces, dangling from his arm. Thinking that these were a specimen of the whole, I inquired when we were to send the barrel for the rest.
"Lord, ma"am, this is all there be."
"Impossible! All out of twenty bushels of apples!"
"Yes," said the boy, with a grin. "The old witch told me that this was all that was left of your share; that when they were fixed enough, she put them under her bed for safety, and the mice and the children had eaten them all up but this string."
This ended my dealings with Betty Fye.
I had another incorrigible borrower in the person of old Betty B---.
This Betty was unlike the rest of my Yankee borrowers; she was handsome in her person, and remarkably civil, and she asked for the loan of everything in such a frank, pleasant manner, that for some time I hardly knew how to refuse her. After I had been a loser to a considerable extent, and declined lending her any more, she refrained from coming to the house herself, but sent in her name the most beautiful boy in the world; a perfect cherub, with regular features, blue, smiling eyes, rosy cheeks, and lovely curling auburn hair, who said, in the softest tones imaginable, that mammy had sent him, with her compliments, to the English lady to ask the loan of a little sugar or tea. I could easily have refused the mother, but I could not find it in my heart to say nay to her sweet boy.
There was something original about Betty B---, and I must give a slight sketch of her.
She lived in a lone shanty in the woods, which had been erected by lumberers some years before, and which was dest.i.tute of a single acre of clearing; yet Betty had plenty of potatoes, without the trouble of planting, or the expense of buying; she never kept a cow, yet she sold b.u.t.ter and milk; but she had a fashion, and it proved a convenient one to her, of making pets of the cattle of her neighbours. If our cows strayed from their pastures, they were always found near Betty"s shanty, for she regularly supplied them with salt, which formed a sort of bond of union between them; and, in return for these little attentions, they suffered themselves to be milked before they returned to their respective owners. Her mode of obtaining eggs and fowls was on the same economical plan, and we all looked upon Betty as a sort of freebooter, living upon the property of others. She had had three husbands, and he with whom she now lived was not her husband, although the father of the splendid child whose beauty so won upon my woman"s heart. Her first husband was still living (a thing by no means uncommon among persons of her cla.s.s in Canada), and though they had quarrelled and parted years ago, he occasionally visited his wife to see her eldest daughter, Betty the younger, who was his child. She was now a fine girl of sixteen, as beautiful as her little brother. Betty"s second husband had been killed in one of our fields by a tree falling upon him while ploughing under it. He was buried upon the spot, part of the blackened stump forming his monument. In truth, Betty"s character was none of the best, and many of the respectable farmers" wives regarded her with a jealous eye.
"I am so jealous of that nasty Betty B---," said the wife of an Irish captain in the army, and our near neighbour, to me, one day as we were sitting at work together. She was a West Indian, and a negro by the mother"s side, but an uncommonly fine-looking mulatto, very pa.s.sionate, and very watchful over the conduct of her husband. "Are you not afraid of letting Captain Moodie go near her shanty?"
"No, indeed; and if I were so foolish as to be jealous, it would not be of old Betty, but of the beautiful young Betty, her daughter."
Perhaps this was rather mischievous on my part, for the poor dark lady went off in a frantic fit of jealousy, but this time it was not of old Betty.
Another American squatter was always sending over to borrow a small-tooth comb, which she called a vermin destroyer; and once the same person asked the loan of a towel, as a friend had come from the States to visit her, and the only one she had, had been made into a best "pinny" for the child; she likewise begged a sight in the looking-gla.s.s, as she wanted to try on a new cap, to see if it were fixed to her mind. This woman must have been a mirror of neatness when compared with her dirty neighbours.
One night I was roused up from my bed for the loan of a pair of "steelyards." For what purpose think you, gentle reader? To weigh a new-born infant. The process was performed by tying the poor squalling thing up in a small shawl, and suspending it to one of the hooks. The child was a fine boy, and weighed ten pounds, greatly to the delight of the Yankee father.
One of the drollest instances of borrowing I have ever heard of was told me by a friend. A maid-servant asked her mistress to go out on a particular afternoon, as she was going to have a party of her friends, and wanted the loan of the drawing-room.
It would be endless to enumerate our losses in this way; but, fortunately for us, the arrival of an English family in our immediate vicinity drew off the attention of our neighbours in that direction, and left us time to recover a little from their persecutions.
This system of borrowing is not wholly confined to the poor and ignorant; it pervades every cla.s.s of society. If a party is given in any of the small villages, a boy is sent round from house to house, to collect all the plates and dishes, knives and forks, teaspoons and candlesticks, that are presentable, for the use of the company.