DURING the two weeks which
intervened before the date set for the departure of the boys there was a
festive time in the settlement, and many invitations came to them and
their sisters to participate in dances, sugar-bush parties,
and
other pastimes. The phenomenally mild weather of the winter and of the
first week in April was succeeded by severe cold and storms, which lasted
longer than usual. However, the sun’s rays were growing more powerful
daily, and King Frost soon began to recede before them. This was the
period when the settlers tapped their trees, for the district abounded in
maple woods, and most of the inhabitants made sufficient sugar to last
them the year round. They also reaped a rich harvest in maple syrup, and
besides having sufficient to supply their own wants for the year, they
were able either to sell considerable quantities at the county town, or
exchange it for such necessaries as they required.
The maple sugar was very much better
than the "muscavado," for which they were often taxed sixpence a pound;
and as for the syrup, it was far superior to the "black strap" that was
sold at the general store. Goarden, the hired man, was the only individual
who attempted to maintain the superiority of the latter. He said it was
impossible for novices to speak of the merits of "black strap," as it was
never served in all its original purity except in the shanty, where they
gave you pork and beans "as was pork and beans," along with it.
"Mojee!" Goarden would exclaim; "but
it makes a magnificent poultice, an’ lasts a man a hull day if he only
gits enough."
Just what Goarden’s idea of "enough"
was, is still a mooted question, as no opportunity was ever afforded in
the settlement of testing it, for he invariably finished what was within
his reach. In the matter of eating, Goarden had a great rival in Tugal
Cameron, who in addition to his famous consuming ability at the table, was
known in the settlement as a man that called everything "she" but a tom
cat, which he spoke of as "her."
The threshing season which came in
the fall was a rare time for Goarden. The goodwives of the settlement vied
with each other as to which could put up the finest "layout" for the men,
and the latter, in order to perpetuate the "snap," did not fail to let it
be known by their gossip where the best "layouts" were obtained, and who
were the finest cooks.
It was generally the custom to kill
either a pig or a sheep for the "thrashers," because it would be deemed a
reflection on the house to offer the men anything but the finest poultry,
or other fresh meat that was going. There were, however, exceptions to the
rule, and at the homes of these exceptions, threshing time was regarded as
the golden opportunity to work off all the rough meats and coarse viands
that had been allowed to accumulate for months. Naturally, this practice
occasioned much gossip and adverse comment, and it can well be surmised
that Goarden was loudest in his protests. "Crasee mojee!" he would
exclaim; "it would take a block an’ tackle to separate that goose we had
to-day!"
A description of the annual "thrashin’"
would scarcely be complete without giving the bill of fare presented at
the leading homes in the settlement.
THE MCKERCHERS
Breakfast.
Fried fresh mutton chops mixed with liver and kidney and buried in a
platter of gravy.
Boiled potatoes.
Green tea.
Horse-radish.
Bread.
Dinner.
Roast mutton.
Boiled potatoes.
Gravy (in large quantities).
Beet pickles.
Green tea.
Buttermilk.
Caneele bread.
Supper.
Cold roast mutton.
Potatoes het up.
Green tea.
Red cabbage pickled.
Scones.
Bread.
Snack before retiring.
Sweet milk.
Bread and butter.
THE McGLASHINS
Breakfast.
Fresh fried pork smothered in "lashins" of gravy.
Soft boiled potatoes, a trifle wet and soggy.
Green tea.
Apple sass.
Beet pickles.
Dinner.
Fresh roasted pork, the swarth carved in stripes.
Wet potatoes.
Beet pickles.
Maple sugar.
Green tea.
Horse-radish.
More beet pickles.
Supper.
Cold roast pork (very fat).
Wet potatoes het up and smothered in pork gravy.
Buns (which Mrs. McG., being Irish, advises each and all to "lay hould uv
wan aiche, although they didn’t roise to me satisfaction").
Beet pickles.
Green tea.
Snack before retiring
Ditto the McKerchers, with a dish of beet pickles retiring, on the
table.
THE MCPHERSONS
(Who had just killed an old cow.)
Breakfast.
Beefsteak (fresh killed), very thin and tough, with coloured water doing
duty as gravy.
Sweet boiled potatoes (they had been frozen).
Cucumber pickles.
Homemade cheese (hard and tasteless).
Green tea.
Hot scones.
Dinner.
Dry fresh-killed roast beef in abundance, but too tough to dissect.
Beet pickles.
Horse-radish.
Mustard.
Sweet boiled potatoes.
A dish-pan full of apples for dessert.
Supper.
The remains of the beefsteak left from breakfast and the balance of the
roast beef left at dinner chopped up with an axe and stewed in a soap
kettle; the whole intermixed with sweet potatoes and flavoured with
onions, summer savory, and sage, to say nothing of soap.
Side dishes: Beet pickles, buns, and mashed turnips het over, and green
tea.
Snack before
retireing
Buttermilk, and the remainder of the cold buns left over from other meals.
THE McCUTCHANS
Breakfast. "Sausengers"
(made, Goarden declared, from "bull beef which wuz cheap at a penny a
pound ").
Stale bread.
Green tea warmed over.
Dinner.
Roast meat (kind not stated, threshers
unable to guess, very old and very tough. Goarden hums the Dog Song tune
and winks at Dooley). Company eats bread and beet pickles principally.
White streaked butter.
Green tea warmed over.
Bread pudding made of stale material.
Supper.
Same old meat cold.
Limited quantity of potatoes.
Het over stale buns.
Sour bread.
Cold green tea.
Snack.
Cut out, as threshers had to move first thing in the morning.
The following is a short extract from
GOARDEN’S DOG SONG
Oh, you all know the tavern that stands on the
hill,
By the side of the mill-dam at Landon’s sawmill.
Three jovial young fellows together did meet
For to have some whiskey and something to eat.
And you’re welcome, all of you, heartily welcome,
Gramacree welcome, every w-a-n.
Oh, they looked in the cupboard and all things
looked blue;
They saw nothing there that was fit for a stew.
Out spoke Jimmy Landon, a jokish old man:
"If you listen to me I will tell you a plan,
And I think I can get you all out of this jam.
We’ll go down to John Landon’s and steal a fat lamb."
And you’re welcome, all of you, heartily welcome,
Gramacree welcome, every w-a-n.
So it’s off to John Landon’s old
Jimmy did run,
And he told them all there he was up for some fun.
He told them old Nero was getting so old
That some day next winter he’d die of the cold.
"We’ll kill him and skin him, take him down to Banfam,
And they’ll never know but he is a fat lamb."
And you’re welcome, all
of you, heartily welcome,
Gramacree welcome, every w-a-n.
During the jollity after the
threshing supper, the men would sometimes call on Goarden to sing his Dog
Song. After the song it was usually the custom to tell a few choice
stories, and often half an hour would be spent in playing tricks.
I can recall two or three of the
latter. A circle about six inches in diameter would be drawn on the wall
with chalk. Then the boys, one after the other, would be blindfolded, and
each would try how near he could come to putting his index finger within
the circle. When the turn came of the one upon whom it was usually the
custom to "run the rig," one of the boys would stand where the circle was,
and with open mouth receive the finger and give it a severe nip with his
teeth, and while the victim would cry out with pain the others would roar
at his discomfiture.
Another trick was to seat one of the
men on the floor, with his legs spread out and extended at full length. A
cupful of water would be poured on the floor between his knees. The seated
man would be
given two sticks to strike the
operator, who, cloth in hand, was endeavouring to wipe up the water.
Suddenly, when the chap on the floor was off guard, the operator would
seize him by the feet, and in a twinkling drag him over the water, thus
wiping it up in a manner which occasioned as much chagrin and discomfort
to the victim as it did merriment to the crowd. |