Roughing It in the Bush

d sir! Sure

eaks, ne'er for

mine, I'd try

e gods had n

his domicile, which opened into the general apartment, but through a square hole cut in one of the planks, just wide enough to admit a man's head through the aperture. Here we made Tom a comfortable bed on the floor, and did the best we could to n

f me," he would say; "she cri

st as eccentric as himself, had carved out of boxwood. When he slipped this nose over his own (which was no beautiful classical specimen

ose!" cried all the boys in the street. A party of Irish emigrants passed at the moment. The men, with the courtesy natural to their nation, forbore to laugh in the gentleman's face

hat I really entertained fears for his life. The hot fit had just left him, and he l

ch gave light and air to Tom's berth. This man was disgustingly ugly. He had lost one eye in a quarrel. It had been gouged out in the barbarous conflict, and the side of his face presented a succession of horrible scars inflicted by the

customed insolence, began ab

ht but themselves; but the Yankees had whipped them, and would whip th

while he drew his white nightcap over his ghastly and livid brow, Tom thrust his face through the aperture, and uttered a diabolical cry; then sank down upon his u

nd pointing to the vacant aperture. "Did you hear it? did you see

ated that Old Satan had lost his senses. The man was bewildered; he stared at the vacant aperture, then at us in t

aid, "a dreadful sound

tch girl, who now perceived the joke; "he was

d I. "You had better speak to the doctor about them. Such f

bling his fist very undecidedly at the hole. Again the ghastly head was protruded-the dreadful eyes rolled wildly in their hollow sockets, and a yell more appalling than the former rang through the room. The man sprang from his chair, which he overt

k-look, it comes again!

upon his victim, gave a knowing wink,

oorway with one leap, he fled across the field at full speed. The stream intercept

that I had strength to follow up my advantage, I would lead Old Satan

ited that wretched cabin, we never

ance from --, formed our principal fare. He positively refused to touch the sad bread, as my Yankee neighbours very appropriately

of the baby's biscuit, and try and make us some decent bread. The stuff your

ast; and I never baked in one of

ld, but soon returned. I looked into his jug-it was empty. "No luck," said he; "those stingy wretches had just baked

but I much doubted if he

said he, sitting down on the stool

old one?" sai

se; they

am I to pu

s wondering as I came across the field why they called the yeast milk-emptyings, and that put the way to make it

the colloquy between him and Mrs. Joe; h

stranger, what

the way you told me h

ool. People have to raise bread before they can bake it. Pray who

at whose hous

ty in the hollow don't know how to make bread. A clever wife that! Are you her husband?" (Tom shakes his he

s nothing to you. Will you oblige me by telling me how to make the

ou. So you expect me to answer your questions, and give back no

vility. Is the old woman who lives in the lit

may try. I guess she'll give you an answe

d you do the

at of her daughter-in-law, although it was cunning and inquisitive, and as sharp as a needle. She was busy shelling cobs of Indian corn into a barrel

milk-emptyings. Now, I always prefer bran-emptyings. They make the best bread.

the bran, by all mean

water, at blood-heat, as will mix it into a stiff batter. I then put the jug into a pan of warm water, and set it on the hearth near the fire, and keep it at the same heat until it rises, which it generally wil

obliged to you. We have no bran;

You Englishers, who come out with s

me a smal

te close, and fixing her sharp eyes on h

cally): "Oh

ow do you get

cally): "I do

others do that for you, if you don't take care

his gravity): "On Eve's s

do they keep you for nothing,

e old woman goes to the binn, and measures o

: "A York

here any difference between a York shill

re not a place in England called York?" (Lo

me in that way, or Yankee either. There is threepen

): "But the recipe; do you a

luded in the pr

ay, rejoicing in my sleeve that I had

hed pot never boils; and there certainly was no lack of watchers in this case. Tom sat for hours regarding it with his large heavy eyes, the maid inspected it from time to time, and scarce ten minutes were suffered to elapse withou

orning; it must get up by that time. I will wait till then. I

t eccentric capers. We were all convulsed with laughter. In the midst of one of these droll movements, Tom suddenly hopped like a kangaroo (which feat he performed by raising himself upon tip-toes, then fli

ad the satisfaction of finding that it had risen high above the

ot understand the method of baking in these ovens; or that my bread should have remained in the kettle for half an hour, until it had risen the second time, before I applied the fire to it, in order that the bread should be light. It not only required experience to know when it was in a fit state for baking, but the ov

rom his domicile, in his shirt sleeves. "Do open

g the lid of the oven with the t

vinegar," says he. "The

the breakfast table. "I hoped to have given you a treat, b

into the loaf, and drew it forth covered with raw dough.

of many droll, but not unkindly, witicisms. For myself, I could have borne the severest infliction from the

s hindered me for some minutes from reading a word which they contained. Sixteen years have slowly passed away-it appears half a century-but never, never can home letters give me the intense joy those letters did. After seven years' exile, the hope of return grows feeble, the means are still less in our power, and our fri

of setting off on his return home the next day. We tried to persuade him to stay until the following spring, and make a

d I hope by that time you will know how to make better bread." And thus ended Tom Wilson's emigration to Canada. He brought out three hundre

ACKWO

isles! ra

orld's pride

cross the

love-lorn

s gone and p

wild to ear

ect that Ar

here, to ple

y tower, an

each rude co

endent of y

mit your cla

fetter bin

f man's ab

that make

e free a cour

determined

t all are bo

youth, the

mourn o'er

eir wants an

uperior to

y break-the s

ates a n

in my ru

y towers I

r clime and co

ndence gree

forests, da

st labour's

lot I gl

e a purer,

wealthy ups

sweet by la

aven has ble

rowns the wo

axe, the f

maze to fer

readth of wel

ed by his ow

nce clear, h

, when he sl