University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

When Angeline left me, which she did after a few
days, I was obliged to employ Mrs. Jennings to “chore
round,” to borrow her own expression; and as Mr.
Clavers was absent much of the time, I had the full
enjoyment of her delectable society with that of her
husband and two children, who often came to meals
very sociably, and made themselves at home with small
urgency on my part. The good lady's habits required
strong green tea at least three times a day; and between
these three times she drank the remains of the tea
from the spout of the tea-pot, saying “it tasted better
so.” “If she had n't it,” she said “she had the 'sterics
so that she was n't able to do a chore.” And her habits
were equally imperious in the matter of dipping with
her own spoon or knife into every dish on the table.
She would have made out nobly on kibaubs, for even
that unwieldly morsel a boiled ham, she grasped by the
hock and cut off in mouthfuls with her knife, declining
all aid from the carver, and saying cooly that she made
out very well. It was in vain one offered her any
thing, she replied invariably with a dignified nod; “I'll
help myself, I thank ye. I never want no waitin' on.”

And this reply is the universal one on such occasions,
as I have since had vexatious occasion to observe.

Let no one read with an incredulous shake of the
head, but rather let my sketch of these peculiar habits
of my neighbours be considered as a mere beginning,
a shadow of what might be told. I might

but I forbear.

If “grandeur hear with a disdainful smile”—thinking
it would be far better to starve than to eat under
such circumstances, I can only say such was not my
hungry view of the case; and that I often found
rather amusing exercise for my ingenuity in contriving
excuses and plans to get the old lady to enjoy her meals
alone. To have offered her outright a separate table,
though the board should groan with all the delicacies
of the city, would have been to secure myself the unenviable
privilege of doing my own “chores,” at least
till I could procure a “help” from some distance beyond
the reach of my friend Mrs. Jennings' tongue.

It did not require a very long residence in Michigan,
to convince me that it is unwise to attempt to stem directly
the current of society, even in the wilderness,
but I have since learned many ways of wearing round
which give me the opportunity of living very much
after my own fashion, without offending, very seriously,
any body's prejudices.

No settlers are so uncomfortable as those who,
coming with abundant means as they suppose, to be
comfortable, set out with a determination to live as they

have been accustomed to live. They soon find that
there are places where the “almighty dollar” is almost
powerless; or rather, that powerful as it is, it meets
with its conqueror in the jealous pride of those whose
services must be had in order to live at all.

“Luff when it blows,” is a wise and necessary caution.
Those who forget it and attempt to carry all sail set and
to keep an unvarying course, blow which way it will,
always abuse Michigan, and are abused in their turn.
Several whom we have known to set out with this capital
mistake have absolutely turned about again in
despair, revenging themselves by telling very hard stories
about us nor' westers.

Touchstone's philosophy is your only wear for this
meridian.

“Corin.

And how like you this shepherd's life, Master
Touchstone?

“Touch.

Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself it is a good
life; but in respect it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect
that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it
is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect that it is in the
fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is
tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well;
but as there is no plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach.
Hast any philosopy in thee, shepherd?

Nobody will quarrel with this view of things. You
may say any thing you like of the country or its inhabitants:
but beware how you raise a suspicion that
you despise the homely habits of those around you.
This is never forgiven.

It would be in vain to pretend that this state of society
can ever be agreeable to those who have been

accustomed to the more rational arrangements of the
older world. The social character of the meals, in
particular, is quite destroyed, by the constant presence
of strangers, whose manners, habits of thinking, and
social connexions are quite different from your own,
and often exceedingly repugnant to your taste. Granting
the correctness of the opinion which may be read
in their countenances that they are “as good as you
are,” I must insist, that a greasy cook-maid, or a redolent
stable-boy, can never be, to my thinking, an
agreeable table companion—putting pride, that most
terrific bug-bear of the woods, out of the question.

If the best man now living should honour my humble
roof with his presence—if he should happen to
have an unfortunate penchant for eating out of the
dishes, picking his teeth with his fork, or using the
fire-place for a pocket handkerchief, I would prefer he
should take his dinner solus or with those who did as
he did.

But, I repeat it; those who find these inconveniences
most annoying while all is new and strange to them,
will by the exertion of a little patience and ingenuity,
discover ways and means of getting aside of what is
most unpleasant, in the habits of their neighbours:
and the silent influence of example is daily effecting
much towards reformation in many particulars. Neatness,
propriety, and that delicate forbearance of the
least encroachment upon the rights or the enjoyments
of others, which is the essence of true elegance of
manner, have only to be seen and understood to be admired
and imitated; and I would fain persuade those
who are groaning under certain inflictions to which I

have but alluded, that the true way of overcoming all
the evils of which they complain is to set forth in their
own manners and habits, all that is kind, forbearing,
true, lovely, and of good report. They will find ere
long that their neighbours have taste enough to love
what is so charming, even though they see it exemplified
by one who sits all day in a carpeted parlor, teaches
her own children instead of sending them to the district
school, hates “the breath of garlic eaters,” and—oh
fell climax!—knows nothing at all of soap-making.