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TALES 

/ 
OF A 

GRANDMOTHER. 



TALES 



OF A 



GRANDMOTHER. 



BY 



MRS. A. C. CARMICHAEL. 



r 



LONDON : 
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 

1841. 



A GRANDMOTHER. 



CHAPTER I. 



I It was Chriatmaa Eve. the fire blazed cheerfullj', 
! two children of Mr. and Mrs. Mannera drew 
ui^ir cliflirs closely together, once more enjoying that 
season of the year, which unites so many happy, afTec- 
tionate friends. 

Grandpapa and grandmama had come all the way 
JTom Devonshire, to the neighbourhood of London, to 
pay their son and daughter & visit; and as they set- 
tled themaelves, each in their comfortable easy chair, 
a:id beard the merry jokes, and looked at the cheerful 
faces around them, they ahnoat felt a return of the 
fr^h, joyous apirita of youth. The children were en- 
deavouring to reckon up how many Christma^ea they 
could remember, when Maria who was just twelve, 
said, " How I do wish my grandmama would tel! us 
how many Christmases ahe can recollect ; — that would 
be B story worth hearing." 

■' Indeed it would," said Frederick, who was teji 
years older than his sister ; and instantly there was a 
•oint petition uttered, " that grandmama would tell 
tliem all alic could recollect of herself, from the first 
Christmufi she could remember, up to the present 

e." 

"To-manvw is Cim'stmas day," said tVe gcKsA- 



go to London on buamess, and he will be detained 
for about four weeks ; during that time, I will 
willingly devote our quiet, long, country evenings, tc< 
gratiiying your curiosity, though you must not tax3 
my memory to such an extent, as to expect I can re— | 
member, all my life, bo accurately as you wish." The* 
day after Christmas, grandpapa bade them good bye,i 
and in the evening following, grandmama commenced. ' 
" There has, my dear children, much occurred to" 
me which I can never forget, and I hope the relation, ' 
may interest and instruct, as well as amuse you. 
The first Christmas, I can recollect distinctly, was 
pasB^ in Edinburgh, where we resided with my mo- 
ther ; my father was then on the continent with his 
regiment, which soon after was sent to the West 

I can remember our nursery was often the scene 
of much merriment. My sister Maria was httle more 
tliim a year my junior ; she was then a gentle little 
fair headed girl, and my brother Henry was ho young, 
that we called him baby, though indeed we were alt- 
three not much beyond babyhood. 

This Christmas, I remember, was spent at the house 
of an old lady, a very particular personage she was — 
and it seems but as yesterday, since my nurse-maid 
dressed my sister and myself, to pay a visit to drink 
tea with this stately dame. 

Many injunctions did we receive from nurse to sit 
quiet, and never speak hut when spoken to, all which 
good advice was forgotten by us in the delight we 
felt in eoiug out to visit at night, for the first timflf.| 
m our lives. I. as eldest, walked with mamma, whila 
Maria was carried in the arms of a servant, who held 
a fimtem. 

I suppose you would hardly credit me, were I to. 

tell you, that my sisttT and myself were so charmed.! 

by the beauty of the windows of the druggists' shops.! 

that my mother could hardly die^ me ^ast, while 

our exclamationa must have amxiaed tiic ^ - --— 






i GRANDMOTHEl 



We had viNted Miaa Tibby Elplunstone t>efc 
a * momiiig, but that was DOthinf^ compared 
an ereaing visit. Miss Tlbby was fur 
tslile thim ricb, and, therefore, she confined her 
terbinments to giviug tea, and abstuned from 
(.■iving, or receiving dinnerB. 

Her hospitable tea-table, at Christmas time, 
Wore my eye. The tea was of the best quulity, 
uith a due admixture of black and green ; it was 
luwd from a kettle of boiling water, and placed in i 
'mi;iitiy cleaned old faahiooed silver tea-pot upon thi 
iipartli. There Miss Tibby left it to infuse, to mast 
lis she called it, until it was so strong, that few ot, 
her guests, who partook of it, could sleep that ni 
Even at that season of the year, Mias Tibby 
ncbcream, and the whitest sugar ; whatever she pi 
<luced, was sure to be the very best of its kind. 

Loaded plates full of Scotch bun and short hi 
graced her table, besides cake of other kinds, 
flutter, jelly and marmalade. 

The oidy pity was, her guests had dined, for she 
'^Myt produced more than enough for two meala.' 
Only once, on the occasion of the marriage of my 
iKBina, had she broken through her rule of never 
having visitors to dinner. My mamma was a great 
faraitrite ; Miss Tibby's brother had been tutor to the 
"lily brother my mother ever had, who had died under 
Usit tutor's roof very suddenly; he had been an 
sniiable and promising boy, and of al! the pupils in 
lie house, none had ever so won upon the affections 
"f Miss Tibby. for he had that truest, and most valu- 
able of all politeness, a quick natural attention r '*■ - 
feelingE and wishes of those around him. Hi 
Wiss Tibby was sorely teazed Ly any want of 
uess, and that dirty shoes were her very abhorrence. 

He, therefore, studied to please her, by avoiding all 
those &ults into which boys are so prone to la)i ■, ani 
irJJch BO often justly distress their lenvale Te\sJi]vse,'i, 
^jU) inattention to □eatnes'^ 

L 




■alu- 

m 



I 



Miss Tibby's brother was a Scotch episcopalian 
clergyman, and died, leaving hia sister just enough 
to maintain her in economical gentility. 

Affection for her brother kept her unmarried. 
mitil an age when a chani^ to a married life could 
have added neither to her happiness nor her respect- 
ability. 

Her character was a singularly mild one, to be 
marked by so many characteristic peculiarities as it 
was. She could not endure any approach to the mas- 
culine in dress or manner, and once seriously remon- 
Bti-ated witli my mother, on the indelicacy of putting 
a button upon my frock, as being too near an ap- 
proach to the dress of a man. 

But all these little smgularities of Miss Tibby's 
faded away, before her really good steriing qualities ; 
for upon all paints of importance she possessed a 
naturidly sound judgment, and her heart in the right 
place- — which compensates well for the want of much 
refinement in learning. 

Miss 1'ihby's dress was old fashioned, even for those 
days, and this Christmas evening 1 can yet remcm- 
l>er the rustling of her long preserved, strong, rich, 
dark silk gown, probably an heir loom of the family. 
Although she loved children, she never spoiled them ; 
and when Marion, mylittle sifter, was astonished what 
made Miss Tibby's gown make such a noise, and at 
last when she ventured to touch it, and feel its tex- 
ture, she gently put away her hand, telling her, " It 
was not well bred to take notice of any body's 

Sheworeahigh, stiff, clear starchedmuglin cap, and 
on this evening, she sported a lace trimming ; a broad 
blucribbon was passed twice round the cap, tied in a 
liow in front; her hair was silvery white, and was 
pnssed over a sort of cushion, in front, and then taken 
behind over it. Miss Tibby was not ashamed of her 
greyhaira; she was threescore and ten, and "Bould 
hsre icomed false curls, or 'indeed anfOantJ;'' 



"H 



i tnitli itself, m little u well aa in greaS^ 

When my uncle died, her fondness for him merged 
into a strong affection for mamma, wtiich was 
now also extended to us. 

Tea was a mighty business in those days. One 
or two elderly ladies were of the party, all unmar- 
ried, excepting one who, like my mother, joined the 
evening circle with her three daughters ; they were 
much older than we were, and amused themselves 
and us, hy looking at pictures, and singing songs, 
until we were thoroughly worn out. Sleep fairly 
mastered us, and the only other recollection I have 
of this Christmas, is the being wrapped up in an addi- 
tional warm shawl of Miss Tibby's, and being kissed 
over and over again in the parlour, and nest in the 
kitchen by Betty, the sole domestic of Miae Tibhy, 
aworthyoldcreature, to whom all Miss Tibhy 's visitors 
were accustomed to show their respect by paying 
her the compliment of a few words of conversation, 
either in going out, or coming in. 

My mother had few relations alive in Edinburgh, 
and being an orphan, without brother or sister, she 
lived very quietly, occupying herself entirely with us. 
The last of the year, and new year's day, my mother 
Epent with her different relations, but eaeh Christmas, 
as it rolled past, found us seated by the hospitable 
hearth of Miss Tibby. 

As we got older, she insisted on our also drinking 
tea with her, on the first Monday of the year, called 
in Scotland, 'Hansel Monday,' from a German word 
Handsel — a gift. 

She began by giving us each a five shilling piece, 
for our hansel ; but at the time ! am now going to 
tell you of, she had increased her munificent gift to 
thai of a new gold half guinea, and had actuail'j 'aeea 
St the trouide prerioasly to ' Hansel McmAo^ ,' ^o %q 
f ^ bank, and get three bright new \iBii gQUitwa^^ 



i 



1 was just seven years old, and began to know the 
value of a half guinea, nay 1 rather thmk in oiW 
sense I overvalued it, for I believed it fit to purchaa* 
u doU, and a library of books, all of which I haq 
planned to buy on the morrow. j 

MIbs Tibby always entertained us, on Hansel MQn4 
day evening, with mamma only ; she had a natifC 
delicacy which prevented her showing off her gettaj 
roaity before others, while at tte same time she eoul^ 
not afford to be equally generous to all her little 
friends. ] 

We were equipped for our return home, my half 
guinea in my hand, when Miss Tibby put a penny 
into each of our hands, to give to the guizards whoni 
we might meet going home. j 

As she had anticipated, we met a merry party of 
them ; and anxious to show we had sometiiing ta 
bestow, by way of hansel, we all gave our penny, aai 
proceeded home in great glee. But alas ! when S 
opened my httle hand, there vvas safe and Eoun4 
Miss Tihby'a penny, but my new, beautiful, brightK 
Ifold half guinea was gone— paat recall. My mothee 
had wished to put our half guineas in her pursej 
from the fear we might drop them, but I, b 
pleaded hard to be permitted to carry my o 
fortune, and Miss Tibby urged my request, shrewdlv 
saying — " If she lose it, it may save her many a 
ther." Meaning, that such an accident would c 
me of wilfulness, a fault into which, as eldeet, 1 ' 
Mimedmes apt to fall. 

I got my fortune, and lost it; all in one night; 
w'as a sad disappointment to me, and I cried myse 
to sleep, when I thought how silly I had beenJ 
Mamma and Miss Tibby, who heard of the cata» 
trophe, both showed their good sense by not giviM 
me any equivalent ; and thus by letting me quietly fee 
the unpleasant consequences of -wilfulness, 1 got I 
more effectual lesson, than aii V 
Jecturee in tlie world. 



1 cannot tell you how often, after this, when 1 was 
about to fancy myself very wise, wiser than every one 
around me, I thought of my half guinea, though I 
said nothing of it, and. hecame as eubmissive and 
docile as poBeible. 

My eighth Christmas was spent much in the same 
way. and I recollect well the delight we all felt by a 
letter from my fether, saying he was safe and well. 
Bad had arrived in the West Indies, with his regi- 
ment. 

After morning service on Christmas day, we got 
oir atlas, and Marion and I showed Henry Ports- 
muuth, from whence papa had sailed, Madeira where 
lie had touched, and last of all Barhadoes from 
whence his letter was dated. My fether'a father was 
a&ve, he bad tn-ice visited us in Edinburgh, and 
we had dined 'U'ith him once at an hotel ; we knew he 
was our grandpapa, and we knew no more. He was 
a fine, dignified looking, old gentleman, but stem and 
grave ; he never seemed to speak kindly to us : and 
it is not to be wondered that we thought little of 
him, and felt no affection for one whose manners 
showed none for us. 

He was a thoroughly selfish man, but we were 
then too young to understand what that means, in 
the full sense of the word. He was charitahle, and, 
therefore, popular ; but he bestowed his kindness only 
where he was to be repaid, by what he valued even 
more than gold — the praise of this world. He ought 
to have been proud of hi? gallant son and only child, 
but instead of this he had driven him, by his harsh- 
ness, from hia bouse, and soon after the death of his 
mother, my father, then almost a boy, was glad to 
teave such a miserable home, and enter the army, 
where he was now serving his king and country. 

It was upon the approach of my ninth Christmas, 
that my grandfather paid a visit to E&i\«n^, «sA 
ed oa my mother's bringing ua \a '\sa cavB*s^ 
I JVortiumberland, to pass qui CWistonaa^*^-- 



days. Kind hearted Miss Tibby was sorry to lose 
us, but she said it was my mother's duty to gi 
that duty ought always to be followed, in prefer 
pleasure. !t was a cold journey to ua ; yet how little 
did any of ua dream where our oext Christinas was 
to be spent. My grandfather's house was like him- 
self, cold, and desolate looking. 1 thought my mother 
was air^d of him; I am sure we all were so. 

He received us politely, but etiifiy, and as Heniy 
remarked after we had left, he never once called is 
' my dear,' the whole time we were there. 

On Christmas morning he gave us a dignified kite, 
and placed half-a-crown tn each of our hands as a 
gift ; we thanked him, as bound in duty, but when ire 
went to bed that night, we thought of Miss Tibiy, 
her small but neat parlour, her cheerful fire, the pijes 
of short bread and bun, the glittering half guinea, but 
above all her warm kind heart. 

At my grandfather's there was a large dinner 
party. My mamma sat aC the head of the table, and 
we came in after dinner, Marion and myself standing 
beside her, while my grandpapa made Henry stand 
by him, and drink papa's health — " When will papa 
;ome home and see us ?" said Henry looking up, 

My grandfather auswered him sternly. " I hope 
not for a long time to come ; he has got something 
else to do, tlmn come home to play with you." 

Henry looked disappointed, a tear trembled in the 
eye of my mother, but she remained silent. No one 
iver dared to contradict my grandfather. 

Young as we were, we felt his austere manners, 
and rejoiced to return with my mother to her com- 
fortable, but far more humble home. 

My mother devoted herself to oiu' instruction ; and 
her labours of duty and love to us were enhvened by 
frequent long, afiectionate letters from my father. 
Such was the state of affairs, when the uniformity 
I of our lives was broken in upon, Ai'j t\ie «u&^ii 4i 
ffmr grandfather. 



i then, that as children, we were called 
npon to begin the realities of life. Hitherto we had 
lived in comfort, and without care ; our greatest evila 
bad been the conaciousneas of a carelessly said lesson, 
a broken toy. or a rainy Saturday, which interfered 
with our sports out of doors. 

Not one of ua could recollect our father, hut my 
mother's description of hia ^■irtues was the daily 
theme of her conversation witli us ; and 1 often think 
that had he never been once separated from us, we 
could not have loved him more. 

We all looked up to him, as a being almost of per- 
fection, who was risking his life, in a far distant 
country, for our benefit, and to whom we, in conse- 
quence, owed a double portion of cliild-lilte dutj- and 
adection. 

Duly as we entered the breakfast parlour each 
morning, my mother, aa she kiased and bleat ua, used 
to draw up the green curtain, that covered the por- 
trait of my father; and aa we caught the first glimpse 
of hia red coat, his manly figure, and line, open, 
generous coimtenance, that seemed smiling on us, 
we used in turns to be lifted up, to kiss and bless his 
resemblance — all that we had of him on that side 
the Atlantic. 

If ever any of us were inclined to diaobedience, or 
idleness, my mother would gently remind us, how 
much such conduct would displease my father ; and 
that seemed to operate like a taUsman, in recalling ua 
all to a sense of our duty. 

She did not hold out hia name as a signal of awe 
and dread, but as one of pure love ; and she early 
taught us, that neither our father in heaven nor our 
lather on earth, could love disobedient children. 

It seemed to us, that my mother felt my grand- 
father's death more than was natural considering hia 
cold manners to her, and to us all ; but ate mickv ei.- 
iikined to ua the cause of her anxiety, ot alYeoal. m. 
'" '■"i received an answer tram m^ iaft«.t. 



I 



to the letter conveying; to him the accounts of the 
(Uathof his father. 

Young as we were, my mother made ua untieretand, 
that my grandfather had liyed much above his meaos, 
and had not only spent an ample fortune of his own, 
but also the greater part of the patrimony, that be- 
longed of right to my father. 

My grandfather had been a very popular man, k 
very charitable, benevolent, useful man to the world 
at large, hut a harsh parent, and what was worse, a 
positively unjust one. My mother did not aHUct as 
with the knowledge of all this, until she had written 
to my father, and he had answered her letter, point- 
ing out what he conceived the most prudent plan for 
himself, and hia fiuuiiy, whose circumstances, by my 
grandfather's conduct, had undergone so material bd 
alteration. 

He had determined to leave the army, and col- 
ecting his whole means, purchase a property in 
the West Indies ; he said he had been long enough 
in that country to make him hope, that his industry 
would meet a fair return, and hia wish was, that ray 
mother and his three (children should join him, b£ 
soon as he had a house prepared to receive them. 
Change is always delightful to children, and no 
sooner had my mother told us this, than we began to 
jump about in great glee, anticipating all sorts of 
enjoyment, though the principal words, that echoed 
througli the house that day, were ' We shall see our 
father." 

Smiles and tears struggled for the ascendancy in 
my mother's face ; but smiles prevailed ; and if ever 
B thought of perils at sea, dangers on shore, or un- 
certainty of success in our plans, arose, one thought — 
the meeting with her husband — dispelled every gloomy 

Ahhongh very mild and feminine, my mother was 
All/ of energy, both of mind and body, taa cA -gaM- 
JKse ; and once persuaded she was ' ' ' 



■■irf duty, she was incapable of weakness, or i-acUliP- 

She therefore, loat no time in making the neces- 
sary preparations for our voyage. She had lon;^ 
heen an orphan, and had no very near relations to 
bid adieu to, none at least who had ever given her 
proofs of real affection and friendBhip. 

Our old and excellent friend, Miss Tibby Elphin- 
stone, we did grieve to leave ; and I ean still remember 
thinking one evening when she was drinking tea. 
and actively assisting ray mother in our preparations, 
that it was more sorrowful to see the tears roll 
down the cheeks of the old than the young. Well 
she loved us, and she caressed us now with a 
fondness passing that of all former days. 

She used to tell us of our uncle, who had died in 
her brother's house, who was beloved by every one ; 
and then she pointed out to us why he was so ; 
because he was so kind, and amiable, so diligent and 
attentive in trying, as well aa he could, to do his 
duty both to God and man. 

I recollect her telling us, that the fortune of our 
lamily was gone, but not its good name ; she bade us 
imitate the virtuous and affectionate conduct of our 
parents, and tiy, by obedient affection, industry, and 
economy, to make them happy. She loaded us with 
useful presents, more, I fear, than her purse could woE 
afford ; our last night in Edinburgh we drank ten 
with her, but it was a curious evening, for when 
we looked at kind Miss Tibby, and thought how fat 
we were going to leave her, we were ready to cry ; 
and then when we thought we were going to 
see papa, we could have jumped for joy, only 
that it ivould not have seemed kind to do ao before 

My mother wished her to come, and see us off in 

the morning, but she said, "No, ft\ie fi\i viiA \!!tfc 

fannal fareveeUs, she knew alie could see Ms wa vawe 

^thm world, and, therefore, ahe "WoiAd -acA. iieK^"*- 



I 



she was sorry." And Iiere the good old lady'f 
trembled; but she cleared her throat, and summomng 
up courage, kissed us and my mother tenderly. 
"Now go," said she, "till weall meet inabetter place." 
She gentJy disengaged us irom her, for we had clung 
around her, and saying, '" God bless you," we passed 
the threshold of her kind hospitable door, never again 
to recrossit; she shut it with some quickness, as 
if she could not trust herself to talie another look of 
UH. Poor Tibby ! we were too forgetful, we emiled 
ere we went to rest, but the faithful old creature 
wept longer, though perhaps not so loudly, as we had 

One other melancholy parting we had yet to nn- 
dergo. and that was from our kind nurse, who had 
remajned in the house, in. another department, after we 
no longer required her services in her first capacity. 

To take out a female servant would have been 
beginning with unnecessary expense, and besides she 
might not have liked the climate. My mother, how- 
ever, had procured her nn excellent situation, in an 
English family then in Edinburgli, where her good 
qualities, we were sure, would be valued ; and whose 
fortune enabled them to remunerate her far more 
largely than my mother could have done. 

It had been to us a delightful scene of bustle and 
confusion, trunks packing, boxes nailing ; and if ever 
my mother looked tired or exhausted, we had only 
to begin and speak of papa, and she was full of life 

It was a clear, frosty, November morning, when we 
drove along Prince's Street, and bade adieu to Edin- 
burgh. I can still remember our looking out of tlie 
carriage windows, and noting the little girls and 
boys, aa they passed by to school, with their great 
pilee of books in their leathern strap, some gaily, and 
ctbere gravely, probably accordingly as they felt pre- 
pared or not for the duties of the da^. 
^fy brother Henry looked at fceoi aa.4 



i. ^^J 



re not libilf so happy as we are — they are 
going tti school, but we ate going to see our father." 
We lost no time in proceeding to Port Glasgow, 
from whence we were to sail, and the day following 
our airival there, we went with my mother to ex- 
amine our berths, and aee every thing arranged for 



My mother occupied a berth with u?. and Henry 
iva? put under the care of an honest Scotch lad, a 
carpenter, my fother having written to my mother, 
that lie wished her to hire one for him, as he would 
be very useful on the estate. 

The weather though cold, was uneommoidy fine 
and clear for Novemher, we sailed between three and 
four o'clock, after a hurried dinner at the inn, at 
Poll Glasgow, whicli none of us were much inchned 
ta partake of. 

I was nearly ten years of age, but I can yet re- 
member the sort of undefined sensation I experienced, 
as the captain handed me on board, and then for 
the first time a sort of confused idea of storms at sen, 
and the time that must elapse, before I could tread 
the firm earth again, rose in my imagination ; but 
tiie hea\'ing up of the anchor attracted my attention ; 
tfie sailors bustling to and fro, and the general noise 
that prevails at the moment of sailing, soon dispelled 
all those thoughts. 

We had an early meat at sx o'clock, a sort of 
demi-tea and supper, at which the pilot attended, 
ar.d having drunk our healths and a safe and a speed)- 
voyage, be turned to the captain and said, " 1 hope 
vou will eat your Christmas dinner in St. Vincent." 
He then jumped into the boat and shoved off. 

There was hardly a ripple on the surface of the 
water. It was a lovely moonlight night, mid we glided 
down the Clyde as steadily, if not quite as rapidly, 
as if impelled by steam. 

Henry soon iell asleep, and was m conaeojieaE» 
^ijC to bed, but my sister and I were o\ieT Kai 



n.^B^j^_ 



14 



excited, and wi; continued, until late in the evening, 
pacing the deck with my mother, who knew the ' 
coaet on eitiier aide, and painted out each headland 
as we passed along. As we advanced, we saw 
tops of the mouutains of the Weatem Islands ; i 
the craggy rocky sides of Goatfrid in the Island of 
Arran, looked suhlime in the moonlight. 

At first we passed a. number of vesaels, but n 
we saw none, and all was quiet and still. We had 
fortunately no other cabin passengers, so we could 
retire, and do very much a£ we liked. My mother 
asked the captain if we were likely to see Scotland a 
the morrow. He said he hoped not; we, therefore, re 
mained some time longer on deck, untU the blue line 
of the land became more and more indistinct, e 
thus bidding farewell to our native country, 
retired for the night, worn out by the varied scei 
of the day, yet full of hope for the future. 

I have heard my mother say, that, notwithstanding 
all her fatigue and exertion, she did not sleep that 
night, when she thought that so much, nay all, of her 
husband's real happiness lay in that vessel ; and that 
there was but a plank between us and the deep 
ocean : — butno one ever had a stronger faith in Hun, 
who never sliunbera or sleeps, and whose power is 
alike displayed, in protecting ue by sea, ss by land. 
The water rushing past the side of the vessel, as we 
lay in bed, was a strange lullaby to us at first, yet 
such is the force of habit, that my sister and I 
missed the sound, the first night we slept on shore. 

"But it is now time," said grandmama, "' to wish 
you good night ; to-murrow I will continue my story." 



CHAPTER II. 



IrWew a fresligalenest morning-, hut fortunatdy^^ 
le wind was fair, and we proceeded rapidly down the 
Irish Channel, though to us unaccustomed to the mo- 
tion of a vessel at sea, it seemed not very agreeable, 
the less so, that we aufiered much from sea gickce^. 
Little Henry, howe\-er, determined to see the English 
and Welsh mountains, and he and the Scotch carj:enter 
managed to get up the companion stwrs, and see 
the object of their wishes ; hut they were soon glad 
to return again to bed, whence, as the gale in- 
creased, none of usemerged for a week. Aflerthis 
we experienced httle inconvenience fitim sea-sickness, 
and being now a hundred and fifty miles to the south- 
ward of Cape Clear in Ireland, we felt it sufiiciently 
mild, to pass the greater part of the day on deck. I 
cim never forget the first day we got up, when we 
saw notliing around us but a wilderness of waters ; 
children as we were, it had a strange look to us ; 
and we used to lean over the ship's side, and note 
the least bit of sea-weerf passing by — so httle is 
there at such a time to diversify the scene. It was 
nbout the tenth evening after our embarkation, and 
when we had all begun to get our sea legs, and sen 
appetite, my mother proposed we should devote some 
l»art of each day to our improvement. 

yome hooks laid aside for the purpose, were ^to- 
duced next maming. We had our alatea ani -woiV 
and planned many new dreasea ioT qvh io^?'. 






for neither my sister nor I, were too wise for this 
simple amusemejit. In this way we had passed a 
very happy day, and the captain had joined tjb in the 
cabin at tea, observing, that if we had a continua- 
tion of such a steady fair wind, we should probably 
reach St. Vincent by Christmas, when the first mate 
coming down, in about half an hour after, said, 
' That the moon looked very bad to-night, and he 
thought we should have a change of weather.' 

The captain made no answer, but went upon deck; 
presently we heard him call tlie mate. We could per- 
ceive the vessel roll more than she had hitherto done, 
when suddenly the wind seemed to roar, the 
vessel shook and- trembled, and ttie timbers creaked 
as if they would rend from each other. We could 
now with difficulty keep our seats, and it soon be- 
came impossible to do so. The captain came down, 
to assure my mother there was no danger, not the 
least cause for alarm ; but the wind had changed and 
become contrary, and of course we felt the modan 
more disagreeable, and he recommended our going 
to bed. 

You may fimcy how we were tossing about, when 
I tell you, that the steward assisted my mother, and 
lifted us fairly into bed to uudreas as we could, 
while little Henry was nearly dashed to pieces in at- 
tempting to go alone. 

It was first called a stiff breeze, then a contrary 
gale, which increasing all night and the next day, 
■wae pronounced at length a storm. The noise over- 
head wns at first insupportable, but when at last 
all was made fast and tight, that ceased. Not so Ibe 
awful raging of the wind in the rigging of the vessd ; 
it is impossible for you to conceive how terrific this 
sounds, along with the dashmg of the waves agwnsl 
the sides of the ship, and at times great waves break- 
ing over her, and coming down on deck, with a re- 
dound like thunder. 
The dead lights had been put 






IT 



moon looked so ominous, and we drove before the I 
wind, for the captain told ub he had taken in every 
bit of canvass. We were gomg back many miles 
every day ; and still the weather continued the 
same. Our hen coops and nLnost all our poultry 
were washed overboard; our bulwarks followed; 
even the steward, an experienced old sailor, looked 
grave. 

The captain, however, never flinched; little Henry 
had crept upon all fours, and ensconced himself at j 
the bottom of our bed, wishing as he said, that ' " 
we were to be drowned, we might all be drowned at I 
the same time ; ' and certainly never were four human I 
beings more closely packed tosether, so that, in J 
fact, we were in little danger of lieing thrown out of I 
our berths. I 

The storm continaed more or less, for nearly I 
twenty days, at the end of which time, th 
iipjieared, and we were soon again full of hope and 1 
cheerfulness. The latter part of the storm, when all 
danger was over, was to us a scene of indescribable 
mirth and fun, and well repaid ns for our previous 

Although the wind had now lulled, the sea was 
not disposed to treat us so quickly to a calm ; in tact, 
after the sea has been ablated for twenty days by a 
ptorm of wind, it camiot &11 at once, and generally 
it takes many days to subside. The wind had now 
changed, but the sea was running mountains high. 
This change of wind produced what is called 
a cross sea, which made our vessel roll dread- 
fidly. The captain urged my mother to comf upon 
dedc. and see the ocean in this state, and when she 
rctunied, he kindly took us all up by turns, to wit- 
ness what certainly is one of the moat awfully mag- 
niEcent scenes ima^nable. 

There we were, toiling and libourinj in tke 
hay of Biecay. And at this time \ can "s^ ^«- 

tbow I was struck by the Vong Voia ol vwi- 
A 



18 TALES OF A ohandmotheh. 

broken wave, rising and swelling gradually, until it 
advanced steadily towarda us, a moving mountain of 
water. 

I thought it muat overwhelm us, when suddenly 
I felt we were gradually ascending ; once on the top 
our descent was rapid enough ; there we lay for a 
second or two, our poor bark trembling and shaking, 
and all her timbers creaking, when, just as I feocied 
we were too deeply engulfed to rise again, tlie 
next wave rolled underneath, and up we roue to 
begin the toil anew, and ascend in saf 
will never be frightened again," said the cap- 
tain. " Now see how she rises, just like a duck 
in the water." But with so much motion, you may 
fancy how impossible it was, to fasten down anything 
in the cabin ; all was rolling about, in what Henry 
called, " Glorious confusion." " Steward, mind your 
plateg and glasses," uas a useless injuuctioa lor 
they wci'c flying in all directions ; the very tables 
and large chests were knocking from one side of &b 
cabin to the other, like feathers before the wind. 
My mother would not permit na to use a knife o 
fork, for even after we had got up out of bed, we couU 
not command ourselTcs, and when the ship took a 
liu^h, we were pit*dicd about, without tke poasibilityof 
helping ourselves, and were all over bumpa and 
bruises. 

While the storm was at the worst we had literally 
lived in bed ; there our victuals were brought to us, and 
for many days wc could not even cook, or kindle 

We ate Scotch mutton ham raw, sea biscuit. 
cheese, wine and water ; and great ■ 
when we once more got hot soup, and a boiled 
fowl, which we ate in bed, with a hearty appetite, 
notwithstanding all our troubles. The captain and 
steward used to come by turns to the door of our 
berth, and there they woold "«\aie a-jiaY ^^ time, 
the one by descriptions ot atoima \ic \oA \^ 



TALKS OP A G 



the otlier by teUing ub of the diiFexent naral engage- 
ments he had witnessed — for he had formerly been a 
sailor, on board of a man of war. 

One of the first days after we got up again, but 
while the sea was still running very high, the captain 
had the only turkey that was saved from the storm, 
killed and roasted. My mother was safely wedged 
in a sopha, and we were stuck each in a comer, the 
captain in another squatted like a Turk ; to sit on a 
chair would have been impoasible. The captain was 
busily engaged carving-, when in came the steward with 
a wine glass in each hand, and although he was an old 
seaman and a very powerful man, he was dashed 
against the opposite side the cabin door, by the 
violent motion of the vessel. He did not, however, feel 
hurt, although he was driven across with such ra- 
pidity, and only called out that he had " broken the 
captain's wine glasses." 

The noise such weather creates is unceasing, and 
I fear we laughed rather more than was poUte, at the 
constant accidents that occurred. 

One night a puncheon of porter broke loose from 
its fastenings, and was rolling on, at the risk of 
crushing any person, or thing, with .which it might 
come in contact, when the captain was obliged to order 
it to be stove in, to prevent still greater damage, and 
there was all the porter floating about, mixing with 
the salt water, which at this time was half a foot 
deep, even in the cabin. 

After this, it became almost a dead cidm, still the 
swell continuedto annoy us ; we began tolong to geton 
more quickly, for it is impossible to make almost any 
way against a heavy swell. At this time I can well 
recollect the captain's pointing out to us a shipatsome 
distance, which we saw quite distinctly, when we 
were on the top of the wave, but when we were 
between the waves, or what the sailors call the 
troiigi oftbe aea, we could not perceive Vsi t»^ msaV. 
c 3 



20 



I GRANDMOTHEB. 



YoTi may imagine, how glad my poor mother mbs 
when the storm was over ; she seemed to clasp n» 
more affectionately than ever in her embraces, and 
possibly the passing through such a scene in safety 
with her children, had endeared them still more to her. 

All this time, the poor terrified Scotch carpenter 
hod kept Bs quiet and as still as death. The 
steward had in vain entreated him, "to eat and 
fear nothing." He feared, " all was over," was 
terribly sea sick, and in short it was a miracle how 
life was kept in. He had never been heard t( 
word ; and was in fact dumb from fear. At the 
close of the gale, when all danger was quite over, w 
were sitting for safety, on the cabin floor, when w 
heard a desperate scream. The steward went to 
ascertain the cause, when he found the poor car- 
penter creeping out of his berth, exclaiming*—" The 
Lord have mercy on us now, for we are all to the 
ijottom !" What between sickness and fear, the poor 
fellow was as wliite as a sheet, worn to a skeleton from 
abstinence, and really a ghastly looking figore. It 
, turned out, that the real cause of his alarm was, h 
bundle of hoops which had been tied up in his beitil, 
had somehow got undone, and come down upon him 
with a rattling noise, so that he concluded the ship 
was in pieces. We had a hearty laugh at his ex- 
pence, though probably not one of us, a few days 
before, would have shown more courage. But tiie 
sun' was shining, the wind was fair, and we \ 
making all sail for Madeira. 

The sailors were busy repairing sails, and put 
trng all to rights now that we had steady weather. 
Young as Henry was, he learnt the names of tim 
different parts of the vessel, of the ropes, and sails, &c., 
and he soon became a great favourite with every one 
on board. My mother was no doubt very anxioiu 
until she saw my father ; still we could perceive her 
spinta didly riaej as we proceedei on. q\k No^agp. 



^ 



We had lost much time in the contrary gale, and 
tmd, in consequence, given up all hope of reaching St. 
Vincent by Christmaa. 

It was a beautiful morning about seven o'clock, 
when we first saw Madeira. It was still so far off, 
that to our inexperienced eyes it seemed like a cloud ; 
but we approached nearer and nearer, until the outline 
of its mountains became quite plain, and great was our 
disappointment when the captain told ub he dared 
not had. 

In the course of the afternoon, we lost sight of it, 
and again were surrounded by awasteofwaters. We 
soon got into the trade winds, and so accustomed were 
we to being at aea, that we went on with all 
our usual employments, and got reconciled to out 
little prison. It was beautiful in the fine moonhght . 
nights to sit on deck, and glide smoothly down the 
trades, the sailors singing songs ofhome, and national 
airs never to be forgotten, while we felt every hour was 
carrying us swiftly to him, whose society would 
make any home ddightful. 

It was a novel thing to us. to spend our Christmas 
on the wide ocean ; yet strange as it may seem, I 
believe that, with all the apparent discomfort of our 
situa.tion, we were much happier than we had been 
the one preceding. 

My grandfather, it is true, had sent for us to his 
seat in Northumberland to pay him a visit of pro- 
priety ; hut it was merely such. There was no affec- 
tion, and he kissed us, and wished us a " good 

jistmaa," and put a gift into each of oiu" hands, 

■jth as much coldness, as if we had been marble 

yrhe contrast between his manners and my 
tUother'e, was too striking for us, even as children, 
not to feel it ; and his advice and reproofs were 
always m harshly given, that we oniY lemeoibCTtft. 
• tbeir unkiodnefs. We could not grieve toT ft\aie!i.'i\ 
mfmich a rehtion, and even ray moftiei, 'flVi^ ^ 



our losses, was much more clieerful than the 
before. 

We had now known, for some days, that we could 
not land before ChriBtmas ; and the good natured 
steward, whose first outset in life, before being 
pressed on board of a man of war, had been ae a baker, 
once more, to our great amusement, plied his old 
trade, and made us Scotch bun and short bread, on the 
wide Atlantic, which we ate and enjoyed with adoubte 
zest, from having assisted in its preparation. 
About the forty eighth day of our voyage, the 
sailors began to look out for land. The captain and 
mates had the advantage of a spy glass, yet not- 
withstanding this, one of the common sailors, who 
had stationed himself aloft some hours before, was 
the first to give the joyful news of " Land." And 
land it proved to be, in the shape of the Island of 
Barbadoes. I well remember my mother saying to ue, 
that she never before, eo well imderstood what the 
feelings of Columbus must have been, when he first 
saw the land, of the western hemisphere. 

Hurry and hustle agwn prevailed, in the prepa- 
ration for soon landing ; we were all joy, and thoupit 
it strange my motlier was not the same ; we were too 
young to understand the conflict of hope and fear she 
had to undergo. Indeed until she saw my father in 
health, and spirits, fear predominated, and in this re- 
spect she suffered much, that we could not sympathise 
in or comprehend. As the sun set, the lights of 
Bridgetown, Barbadoes, came in view, and w'e ac- 
^ tually danced and shouted for joy, as we approached 
^L the land and once more saw houses lighted. 
^M Next morning we were on deck early : but ve had 

^B already got under the land of St. Vincent. The first 
^1 part of the coast that we saw, was that called the 
^1 Charaib country ; it looked new and strange. 1 can 
^H just recoUect observing to my mother, that the ground 
^H seemed as if the sea had been made to 6\m\4 
^r mtiU in the midst of a atorm. CeitBiii'^ 



I 






r- it liad the appearance of rising and faUing more 
ibruptly, than any land I had ever seen. My 
mother had. but one thought now. and that was for 
my father ; she answered me not, and in fact was 
iead to all the splendid beauty of the approach to 
the island; her mind was full of deeper and holler 
feelings, and Bomething even whispered to our young 
hearts, that it would be kinder to leave her a)one, 
and speak no more at present. 

She swallowed a cup of coffee mechanically, but 
her eyes viete stedfastly fixed on shore. We ap- 
proached Kingstown bay, andthe captain said, he saw 
the signal for his vessel hoisted on Dorsetshire hill. 
As he said this, I saw my mother shiver. I sat close 
by her, I looked at her eyes, but there were no tears, 
she pressed my hand. I was her first bom, I could 
l»etter guess at her feehngs than the others who were 
younger. I returned the pressure of her hand and 
kissed it, it was cold and damp ; wliat a world of 
anriety was she not then suffering ! We got nearer 
and nearer ; yet child as I was, I was struck by die 
exceeding loveliness of the landscape ; and I can re- 
collect it took me some effort to sit quietly by my 
mother, and suppress my admiration. My sistor 
Marion sat at my feet, and did not stir, but Henry 
galloped about in perfect delight, uttering a thousand 
exclamations, yet he was only three years younger 
than I was ; but this is a difference of age felt most in 
childhood. 

" There is a boat coming oiF," said the captain, and 
he took his spyglass; my motherbad not courage to ask 
for it, but she stretched out her hand ; and the kind 
hearted captain understood her, and gave it to her, 
but her hand trembled so, she could not hold it 
steadily. 

The captain took it, " There arc two negroes and 
two gentlemen in it," said he to us, " ^et\\a^a \\.\» 
marpapa. But," be added. " I do not kno-« Visa" 



I 



I 



1 rope was flung 
e all four, in the 
embraces of my father. 

It is impossible for me to describe to you the joy 
of that moment ; it was six years since my mother and 
he had parted. He had suffered storms at sea, 
change of climate, and been severely wounded in the 
Charaib war, yet here he was, safe and well, and 
looking, as little Henry said, the very same papa, 
that he was in his picture, only without the red CMt. 
He looked at us, and kissed us over, and over again, 
and, as speedily as possible, put us all in the boat, 
after introducing ua to his friend Mr. Fraser, a mer- 
chant in Kingstown, who had kindly insisted upon 
our coming to his house, to remain, for a day or two, 
before we proceeded to the property my father hod 
purchased in the country. 

We jumped on shore, three as happy little emi- 
grants as ever hved ; and as for my mother, alt care 
and anxiety had fted, and she seemed as if every wish 
of her heart waa now fulfilled. 

Mrs, Fraser received us with the utmost hospita- 
lity, and soon after four or five children began lo 
steal into the room, and eye us something in tie way 
they would have done any strange animal. Mrs. 
Fraser called them, " White negroes, little savages;" 
adding, "' tliey soon would go home to England, Bud 
get quit of all that, and be polished." 

Before the evening waa concluded, they got bold 
enough, and were now as troublesome by their fbr- 
wardnesa, as they had been at first, by their awkward 
bashfulness. 

My mother having paid great attention to our early 
instruction, we were thoroughly astonished at the 
conduct and ignorance of these children ; we asked 
them the names of several shrubs, and trees about 
the house, but strange to tell, they were living in 
utter ignorance of every tommon. "iKm^ \f^ ■«\fl^ 
tbey were surrounded. AG v;aa Mt ^» "Ssi^sa^ 



■ and the polish was to be laid on without a f 

Next morning we were roused by the cries of the 
UUle Frasers ; we im^incd something dreadful must 
have happened, so fearful were the screams ; but it 
proved to be only the four eldest, who had taken a 
liking to U3, and wished to come to our room, and 
awake " the little English girls," aa they called 

Their black nurse had not been Blow in adminis- 
tering chastisement, and they were now kicking and 
screaming in full chorus, while she was scolding in 
the negro dialect, at the full pitch of her nasal 
voice. We rose and dressed each other, as quickly 
as we could ; but you may believe that we felt rather 
shy of such quarrelsome companions. 

The same sort of scene continued during breakfest, 
Mr. Fraser remonstrating, Mrs. Fraeer declaring, 
" that all children were alike." The yovmgeat boy 
asked for some turtle eggs ; his mamma refused, his 
papa bade him be quiet, he would not, but stretching 
across the table, he drew the plate of turtle eggs 
towards himself, and grasped as many as he could 
with his hands ; they of course gave way ; and down 
came the contents, all over the table-cloth while his 
papa, calmly said, " If ever you do so again 
William, I really will take a shingle, and flog you." 

" Do so now," said William, " try it," and he ran; 
his father picked up a shingle out of doors, pursued 
him a few steps, then came in, laughing good 
humouredly, and wiping the perspiration otF his fore- 
head with his handkerchief; and ringing the bell, he 
ordered " a clean table cloth." 

During the forenoon, several ladies called to see 
mamma, but she was desirous of getting to the coun- 
try, and besides papa and momma wished to escape 
all the gaiety of Christmas hospitaEty ill K.m^'OOTni, 
aadpafs their spare time in that inteTcWage^^iTKi-"i 
which gtrangera caniiot paituvi^^R. ^'*' 



^ftctn 



L. GHANDMOTHKR. 

which is bliss on earth to a really affectionata 
family. 

Next evening, myfathersent off M'Intosh the Scotch 
carpenter and our baggage, by a vesael to the Cbaraib 
country, where we were to reside ; as for us, we 
were impatient to set out, to see our future home. 

We thought Mr. Fraser'a house destitute of fire 
places and with unceiled roofs like a bam, strange 
enough loofciiig; butmyfathertolduB.ourhomewasool 
by fer so good ; and that we must recollect we had all 
come out to the West Indies to do the best. we could 
and to assist each other ; that we should have many 
difficulties to contend with, and must be content to do 
n great deal for ourselves, and help mamma in erery 
thing that was possible, and yet not give up our oda- 

AIl this seemed delightful to us ; we saw no diffi- 
culties, we were fidl of life and activity, our parents 
were the same, and when we got, with my mother, 
into a borrowed gig, which a negro led, while my 
father and httle Henry rode by our side, we were as 
happy as possible, and only longed to begin our new 
style of life. 

It was but once I heard my father speakofthe losses 
hebadsustainedin consequence of his father's conduct. 
He said, " for himself he did not care; butformymo- 
tJier, and his daughters he did regret it, for be knew 
they must undergo much hardship and inconvenience." 

" But it is now time, my dears," said grandmama. 
" to retire to rest. I dare say you are tired, as it is 
later than your usual hour of going to bed." 

Maria and Frederick assured her they were not : 
indeed Frederick could not conceive that any one could 
possibly tire of hearing of a sea storm or a foreign 
country. Maria said it was very delightfulto talk about 
a sea storm, but sbe should not at all like to be ii 

" Well," said Frederick, " you are a girl, ac 
very natural for you to be ft cowrai." 
1.*j4-cow2ird, oil, brother \ doyoucaliTr 






me who stood by mamina'a bed side, when she waa 
bled, a whole year ago, when I was ouly ele^'en years 
old, and the very Doctor himaelf said, ' I was a 
courageous little girl ;' so don't call me a coward, 
Frederick, I do not deeerve it, for, perhaps, if you 
were in a storm at sea, you might be frightened like 
grandpapa's Scotch carpenter." 

" No, indeed, Maria I do not think I should." 
" I am not so sure of that, my dear boy," 
said his grandmama ; " take my word for it, 
that it is far more delightful to tell of sea storms 
and tropical countries, in a good comfortable 
English house, by & bright Christmas fire, than it is 
to be a partaker of even these wonderful and magnifi- 
cent scenes. But we must now say good night, and 
'11 continue my tale." 



CHAPTER III. 



I 
I 



" Grakduamma," said Maria Mtuiners, " here ii 

your nice, comfortable arm-chair, so do sit down, and 
indulge us by telling Frederick and myself, how you 
aU got out to the Charaib country. We are quite 
impatient to hear what sort of a wUd place it t 
and what appearance the house had, you first w 

" But, grandmama," said Frederick, " will you , 
have the goodness to allow us to stop, and aak yoo 
the meaning of anything we do not comprehend, t<x 
it IB always uncomfortable to pass over anytime 
that is not understood ?" 

" Certainly, my dear," said his grandmama, " 1 
will do so with pleasure, but as it is disagreeaMe 
to stop in the midst of my evening story, do you 
and Maria take each your pencil and i " ' 
paper, and when I make use of any word or espreMioD 
you wish explained, write it down, and when my 
evening tale is told, I shall with pleasure answer 
your queations." Their grandmama then proceeded, 

" I cannot recollect much about the appearance 
of the country through which we drove. The 
roads were very bad and hilly, and as we got further 
from Kingstown, there were fewer trees and less cul- 
tivation. But we passed some pretty looking places, 
and, at last, stopped at the house of a gentleman «' 
had previously invited us to breatfaat. The sun 1 
become very hot, and we were g\BA\o feai ^Soaia sbA 
re/reabment. As we entered V\ie ^iSk.Tj, V "f ~" 



I had never seen anything so beautiful. A water ' 
lemon vine had been planted at the end of it, and it 
had entwined itself all around ; it was full of 
beautiful blossoms, green fruit, and an abundance 
of ripe as yellow as gold. There was a trellis work 
made of bamboo, covered with the Grenadilla vine, 
pomegranates with their splendid fruit, and many 
wther trees and plants all alike novel to ua. Behind 
the house, the ground rose considerably, and my fetter 
showed us that curious tree, the Otaheite gooseberry, 
the fruit of which grows closely wedged together, and 
is of a beautiful pale green. At the top of 
the bank, we saw some very tall cocoa nut trei 
which he told us, he wished us to look at now, as ' 
should not see any so large in the Choraib coun-| 
try. 

We proceeded onwards after breakfast, the ri 
being mostly by the sea side. My father pointed o 
the sea side grape to us ; it was really curioue 
this dwarfish looking tree growing so close to the sea, \ 
and, like children, we regretted it was not the se 
for its fruit. Aa we advanced into the Charaib a 
try, the Monie Garou mountain appeared more 
more magnificent ; the land at the foot of it is all flat, 
;md was covered with canes. Night had closed in 
before we reached our home, and what between heat 
and fatigue, we were all fairly worn out, and even had 
there been hght sufficient, I doubt much if we could 
have kept our eyes open, to look around us. 

All was quiet on the estate, and it was with some 
difficulty my father aroused two negro servants to 
get us lights and coot water. 

They received us very kindly, and made a thousand 
professions of attachment, to " misses and the dear 
jiicanninies." 

My lather having resided here so many years 
was a great advantage to us, foi \\. rava.- 
Uyd him to airaof^ every tlung mAi.c\i 'N^eVu^^ 



30 TALES OF A GRiNDMOTHBE. 

than one uniiccustomed to the country could hue 

It was late next morning before we met at break- 
iaxt, and then we did begin to look at all the wondeiB 
around us. Our first business was to examine die 
house. My father told us, that when he bought the 
land nine months before, there were only a few canes 
planted, some plantain trees, and Indian com, snd 
one small hut for a watchman. He put up a, small 
house for an overseer, which he at first occupbd 
himself, while he superintended the erection of 
the works necessary for the manufacture of augur 
and mm. Shortly before our arrival he had finisbed 
the dweUing house ; it consisted of a hall and galleiy, 
one good sized bed chamber, and two smaller onts 
each entering from it — the one for my sister and my- 
self, and the other for httle Henry. The building 
was of the simplest description, being merely strong 
posts put into the ground, with mure slender ones 
between, and then the whole was woven like basket 
work, with the roseau or wild cane. It was needy 
plastered with clay within, and without white washed, 
and the roof thatched with dried cane leaves. 

A few paces oiF, kitchen and pantry were built of 
the same materials. The windows of both were 
mere openin^sfor light, with wooden shutters to festen 
down at night, and a long stick to hoist them up 
during the day, and admit light and air. 

Our negro cook, Cuffey, sent us in an excellent 
breakfast of coffee, and Johnny cakes of his own 
making, and we did it ample jusdce, notwithstand- 
ing our impatience to get out of doors, and see the 
scene around ue. My father, however, knew the 
danger of over exertion until we were accustomed to so 
hot a climate, and our obedience to him was put to the 
test, by an injunction, that we must keep in doors 
and at rest until six o'clock in the evening. 

Our baggage had not yet anVved, Ka&'tkk£.f«:v bookt 



TALBB at A &KANDUOTUES. 

f faJther had. were such as we could neither iiiide»| 
Btand, nor relish. 1 believe thia long, idle day waa a 
useful lesson to us all : we were heartily tired of it, 
and the recollection of it made ua ever after feel, that 
hard work is even preferable to idleness. Several 
ijf the days following this, were employed in unpack- 
ing, and arranging our books, and my father and 
mother laid out all our hours with regularity, so 
that we migbt, as far aa possible, not be losers, in our 
general education, by a removal to the West Indies. 
My fether was able to teach Heniy Latin, and he 
devoted one hour at twelve o'clock every day for thin 
purpose, my mother conducting his other lessons, 
along with ours. 

About a week after our arrival, ray father com- 
menced the laying out of a garden around the house ; 
thiswas agreatsourceofamusemcnt to us. Ahousefor 
poultry was also to be put up, and we begged hard 
for a rabbit pen and pigeon bouse. There was much 
interest in laying out the garden ; my fether had 
lived so many years among n^roes, that he was 
aware, unless the garden were close to the house, we 
should reap very little of its produce. 

It waa, therefore, deterniiaed, that the garden 
should be laid out dose to the house, and as it was 
necessary to build a hut for the carpenter, my father 
had it pkccd at the farther end of the gafdeii. that 
it might thus be doubly protected. 

Although we were not allowed, at first, to go out of 
doors, excepting an hour in the morning and evening. 
yet we could sit at the windows and see the negroes 
at work. My father enclosed a large space of ground 
at once with bamboo posts ; beyond this he planted a 
fenoe of young limes, which, being very prickly, are 
useful in preventing animals getting through. 

At certain regular distances he planted orange 
trees, which rising behindthefence, would, he thou^t, 
prove hoth omamentai and useful. 

ImmediBtely after Chnstmas is & good seawm ^^— 



32 TALES OF A G 

gardening, so ray father put six men at once i_ 
the work, while he laid out the beds and the waUu. 
You cannot think how happy we were the fint 
morning after this was concluded, when my father 
gave us each seeds to sow in separate bede. I had 
melon, Marion cucumber, and Henry French beaifc. 
The negroes entered heartily into the spirit of tiie 
work, and that evening we were really at a Ion, 
where to sow all the diiFerent seeds they brought w. 
aa presents, to plant in our garden. 

Mamma gave us some English seeds of peas, canote 
and cabbages to give them in return, whidi they plant 
and value, not for their own consumption, but for 
sale to white people, who consider English vege- 
tables a great treat. We also sowed peae, beani, 
cabbages, carrots and turnips, and our next ci 
was to plant some flowers. 

The gallery went all round the house to protect 
it from the aun, and we had two water lemon, and 
two grenadiUo vines, planted at the several comws, 
which soon spread themselves all over, and formed 
both a heautifol and refreshing shade. Near the door, 
we had two changeable roses planted ; and mamma 
soou got a temporary small gate put up, and a walk 
wasmadefrom it to the house door where we planted 
tlie common red rose, which grows readily in the 
West InSies. Papa placed bamboo posts, at equal 
distances, and smaller ones across, to train the 
Barbadoes flower fence upon. Congo Jack then^ro, 
who gave us the seeds, had brought them wi(]] 
him from Barbadoes, where he had been with 
his former master. This clematis has beautiful s 
let blossoms, and ray father intermixed it with the 
jessamine, which thrives well in the Weat 
Indies, while its blossoms are much larger than in 
England. 

There were some very fine trees behind the house, 
particuhrly the papaw , the TucnmWin csJAra^ and ,^ 
calibash tree. As soon ae ttoa-Noik-* ■''^'' 






my father applied himself to extend whnt, in the West 
Indies, is a most important concern upon an estate, 
and is colled the ■' plantnin walk." PlanlainE, in 
that country, are to the inhahitants what bread and 
potatoes are in Englhind. Bananas, too, are used 
much in the same way, and, after Che first year, when 
they commence hearing', the immense produce, com- 
pared to the trifling lahonr and manure requisite, 
seemsa Imost incredible. But the first planting of the 
walk requires sometime and attention. 

Ninemonths before this ray father had taken possession . 
and his first work then was to put in a certain number 
of plantain and lianana trees. There was a little 
liTook that ran from the mountains down to the sea. 
on one side of the house, a little beyond the garden. 
Here my father commenced his plantain walk, which 
he now increased by putting in a great many new 
trees, and when that was done, he planted the slop- 
ing banks with yams of different species, sweet cafsa- 
da, munioc and arrow root. This completed, he 
gave up the garden entirely, with the plantain walk 
and yam grounds to mamma, and we were each 
to give what assistance we could, while one nice, 
elderly, female negro Clarissa, and her god-child 
Fanchon, whom she loved as her own, were nomi- 
nated upper and under gardeners. Clarissa was such 
a fine old negro, I Mish you could have seen her. 

She waf, by birth, a native African, 
When in agood humour — and she was always so 
leetle misses," — she was really the most amusing 
creature in the world, yet she had about her a native 
dignity, which prevented any one treating her with 
usdne farailiari^. She had a hushand, Ceesar, an 
excellent negro, and one son Pierre, whom my father 
placed under M'lntosh, that he might be taught the 
trade of a carpenter. This gratified Clarissa's pride. 
for she felt it was giving her son a step in ■rank, '^n 
make a tradesman of him. instead of a conrawm fe^i 
Ciexar hhnseif was hea,d boiler man, ^gftji 



^egro. 



L 



poEt of diatinction. CliLriasa being now also t&keo 
from the field, with her god-daughter, began to draw 
herself up and look more stalely than ever. 

She talked to us often of her own country, which 
she had not left until she was a grown woman. She 
could apeak Mandingo, and whenever any negro 
vexed her, she scolded loudly in her native tongue. 
She had loat her only daughter Fanchon ; upon the 
death of her own child, she adopted her god-daughtei 
named after her, saying she would provide tor ho a) 

It waa aatoniahing how. by active industry, am' 
comforts rose around us. AswebecameaccuBtomed to 
the climate, we were permitted to be more and more 
active, and as we had no market to repair to, we 
had a double interest in apsisring mamma in all her 
household duties. Our nearest neighbour was Mr. 
Harris, from whom my father had purchased the 
estate. He was a good looking, cheerful, active man, 
not very polished, nor apparently with any wish to 
be thought so. He was exceedingly fond of society, 
no matter of what kind, but he always liked to eee 
some stranger in his house. Mrs. Harris was no 
longer very young, but had been very beautiful, and 
still fancied herself as juvenile, and as lovely as ever. 
She had three daughters, Ann, Jane, and Elisabeth, 
the youngest was my senior, the eldest was nearl; 
fifteen. They accompanied their mother on her &nt 
visit to us, but remained silent the whole time. 

In a few days we returned the visit, and 1 cao 
never forget the impression that visit made upon at. 
The girls were all running about the galleriea of the 
house, with long, lank, fair hair flying in the wind, 
their whole appearance wa° untidy, and above all 
their scampering; off, with loud shouts of laughter u 
soon an lUey siw ua, gai'e ns no favourable opi 
of their pood breeding, Mrs, Harris herself 
expensively, but tawdrily dreaaed, and she at i 
began (y espreaaing lier smpiiaeatni'sta'itfst'*^ 



35" 

fienuitted our coming gut to the West Indies, where 

we must grow up " perfectly ignorant." She Eaid 
jhe wag worn to death with her girls, and ashamed of 
tht:m, for they were really growing too old not to be 
at home. 

At this moment, the young ladies came in, appa- 
rently driven, not very willingly, hy a negro servant, 
who evidently bad more authority over them than 
their mother. I have often since thought of those 
girU with regret. The two eldest were really pretty, 
and the youngest waa, as we afterwards found, en- 
dowed with many good qualities by nature, which 
only needed the fostering hand of a careful parent, to 
make her an amiable, useful woman. 

Mrs. Harris could not teach music and dancing ; 
and, but for a wonderful exertion on her part, they 
would never have learnt to read ; indeed, for what 
piupose she taught them, seemed doubtful, as there >^ 
weiv only three books in the houa: — a teatamc-n 
a prayer book, ^parently seldom opened, and a di( 
tionary to assist Mr. Harris in tus deficiencies i 
spelling. My mother judged it wisest not to enter 
into any argument with so near a neighbour, whose 
ideas and habits of hfe seemed so difierent from her 
own ; indeed, she soon saw that Mrs. Harris had 
apparently but two wishes for her daughters — the 
one was, that they should be placed at a fashionable 
school in London, the other, that they should be 
early married, settled, and out of her way. 

The Harris house was not above a quarter of a 
mile from ours ; we were nearer the sea, while their 
house was a httle higher up, but also near the river, ■ 
GO near indeed, that Mr. Harris had put up a water J 
mill for grinding his caces. Originally the I 
whole had been one estate, but Mr. Harris sold 1 
part of the land, and a few negroes to my father, and 
told us he had laid out the money this procured him, 
iQ impToving bia load, and building go^ sml^sx 
"-' Aly father had purchaaedtlie aegtoca, eotoi 



1 

m 



3^ 



.ndmoThbb. 



from one jicrssn, and some from another, and by &e 
time we arrived, they were all comfortably settled, 
III the material, their houses were pretaaely the 
same as our own, the only difference being, that 
theirs were on the ground floor, Viiliile ours wa; 
raised & little upon w^ooden piUars, and the floora 
boarded. My father had planted a row of almond, 
calibash, tamarind, orange, souraop, and cocm 
nut trcea, which were then not common in flie 
Charaib country, all the way down each side of 
the negro houses. 

The most industrious negroes had gardens bdund 
their houses, and as they had lately been whiW 
washed, you cannot think how gay and pretty they 
looked from our dwelling house, more especially m a 
bright, moon-light night, and then it aeemed so 
cheerful to hear them singing and dancing. Titot 
custom of dancing to the drum, my manima, howerei 
and indeed idl ol us disliked, there seemed somethini 
snvage in the sound ; and nothing so much made u 
feel that we were no longer in dear Scotland, ae th 
sound of the rat tal tot of the. negro drum on i 
Sunday evening. Oh how unlike a quiet, Scotch 
Sunday evening, in the country ! But my fiither or 
mother were reasonable, as well aa highly principled : 
they were not so enthusiastic aa to believe that the 
best example or advice could change half savagm ^ 
at once into civilized christians. Valuing i ' 
cerity, tliey were careful to do nothing to tempt 
their people to change their habits, merely from 
the wish to please them. My parents would 
have been happy could they have made the negroes 
fiiel the benefit of being more civilized, hut they were 
content to go on slowly initiating them into those 
habits, knowing that where we attempt too much, ve 
generally foil altogether. 

I must confess, we i-equired the more sober idem 
o/our jwrenta to correct out •NeliaeajA.Wt imOTC' 
ticable plans, " "^^ 



Henry indeed waa, at first, very anxious to teach 
all the negroes to read ; — he could see no difficulty 
in it. My father told him, tliat it wa^ more difficult 
(or a grown person to leam to read than a child, and 
that it waa also leas easy to fix the attentiem of s 
half civilized person who had no iuclinadoa to I 

Henry could not understand this ; he said the ne- 
groes did many things very well, that seemed to be 
as difficultas learning to read. "There," said he, " ie 
Pitt, he makes a hogshead as well as any white man, 
and why should he not learn to read as well .-" 

"Eiactly," said my fether, " for the reasons I 
have told you ; but try, there is nothing like making a 
trialofyourplans; that alone you know, Henry, brin^ 
their value and practicability to the test." 

Henry waa delighted, and sure of success ; " And 
only think, papa," smdhe, " whatachangeitwillbe, to 
iee all the negroes able to read." 

"All, my dear," said his father, " do you mean to 
teach them aU ?" 

" Certainly," said Henry. " If I teach one, why 
not all. I win teach Pitt first, and then he will help 
me toteachthe others ; andpray, mamma," saidHenry, 
" how long was I in learning to read ?" 

Mymothersaid, " That she believed he readdiatinctly, 
and easily, in about a year after he began to leain." 
" Well, mamma," said Henry, "only think how 
pleasant it will be to lee all the negroes able to read 
in a year ; what an improvement it will make in 
them ! 1 will begin with Pitt this very night." 

My father would not damp the amiable en- 
thusiasm of Henry, weU aware that, before he had 
given up hia plana, he would be taught a prachcal 
lesson that he would remember, and which would 
perhaps make him a more useful and wise man here- 
after, than any advice he could give ima. ^J^aivMi. 
vidl, you may beiieve, like cluldien, weie IwA^«\o»^ 
^^uj in our plans, aud we were as eager a& ystsWve 



to teach old CleriEaa and her ^d-child ; and then to 
commence upon the grand acale. 1 still recollect, 
after my father and mother left the room, how 
we expressed our astonishment to each other, that 
they could douhl the practicability of our plans. 
Anything', indeed, like doubt from othere, seeni- 
ed only to increase our certainty, until I first 
proposed a grand scheme as I called it, which was 
to get all Mr. Harris's negroes also to learn. Befijre 
we separated we firmly believed we should be aljle 
to teach and civilize the whole black population 
of the Island of St. Vincent. 

Henry commenced that afternoon, by makiiig lui 
proposal to Cooper Pitt in due form. 

"Pitt," said Henry, who already knew the ynak 
side of negroes, " you are a head man, but would 
you not like to he still higher ?" 

" For sure we would. Mass Henry, "said Pitt, 

"Now would you not like," said Henry," to be 
aheadmanhke our head carpenter, M'Intosh ?" 

" Mass Henry," said Pitt, " the buckra man." 

" But," said Henry bterrupting him, " you might 
be just as clever as he, were you taught like him, 
■nd I'll teach you." 

Here Pitt began to laugh. "Mass Henry you 
no savez work carpenter." 

" No," said Henry, " I cannot teach you to woik 
carpenter, but I can teach you to read, and that will 
make you a clever man, and a good one, and it will help 
you in all you have to do." 

Pitt shook his head, thanked his young Massa, 
"But he no wish, to learn to read." Henry tried 
all his eloquence in vain, but notliing daunted in his 
really benevolent intentions, he next applied himself 
to Caesar ; but Cssar was as inditFerent to the advan- 
tages of reading as the great Pitt; in bet, both of 
them had already attained the height of their am- 
hition, the one being head cooper, wnA ft\e «ftMa\»A 
boilerman — fjcntUmen, in tiieir 'wa'j, ^» "jiWm «««^ 



Gdd ne^o had to boir. emd addrae luyiOfii By m ' 
'" Sir." They could not be madetomdaitind. "aCa- 
pid creatures that they were," (■■ Haoy called tten) 
how advantageoUB it would be for dien to he aUe 
to read and write. 

Hia next application was 
ichom Henry knew to be very de«r « 
He made his proposals to him, i 
to teach him to read gratis ; hOL P iM p e y eostdied 
hit head, and asked toj gr j rdy what nse it woold 
be? Henry's pattooce began to waae at to 
absurd a question. He asoied P u w p ej. " h woeld 
be of all the use in the world ; he woiild dtorw htm 
how to cipher, and teadi him faow to reckon, nd he 
would be twice as clerer a tradesman." 

Pompey looked increduloiis, and shro^Eed hi* fhcnl- 
ders. "Masa Henry," said he, "me j.ntnp Maza's 
windmill, me reckon da whole irid a piece of dalk. da 
mill go well ; it please Massa. it grind com, as weO as 
MassaVemop'e thatbuckiamanput up; sowliMmefot 
trouble sarez more." 

Henry was astonished, asaD childreiiaic who plan 
for the first time benerolentlr without one thought 
of practicability. Still he persevered, and Frank, a 
negro who was aspiring to he placed in M'Intosh'a work 
shop, having- occasionally assisted in felling wood and 
helping the carpenters, when the mill was pat up, rea- 
dily acquiesced in Henry's opinions, that readinewould 
make a headman of him at once — and I mu^ do Henry 
the justice to say, that hen*^ a steady, patient ti?acher. 
Novelty had, at first, great charms for Frank, and 
he leamt the alphabet. Never was a boy more de- 
lighted than Henry. 1 am not sure that my mother 
did not indulge greater hope than she had originally 
done of the success of our plan. My father said 
nothing to discourage ; on the contrary, he was pleased 
with Henn's pHtJent steadiness, and toVd Vlhh « 
more be did not say — ^for mv fethei ^ 




^H 4U TALES 01 

^H Atlafit, Frankwaeobservedtoyawn athislesscuiBi 

^H fidget. More than once he came to excuse himself, 

^H " cause he -waa sick," and Henry too felt h«lf sick, 

^H when M'Intosh told him, " Froiik hod worked hU 

^H day, and never complained, and had danced a 

^H the night." 

^H " Danced one half the night !" said Henry, and he 

^H groiuied with ve^iation at this deception jiractisEd 

^H upon him. 

^H The same evening, Frank came up for his lessirn, 

^H and he smiled, and looked so good humoured, tliat 

^H Henry foi^t all his disappointment, and went dd 

^H manfully teaching in-dus-t^, when, all s 

^H bright thought seemed to Hash across the mind of 

^H Frank, and he began with 

^1 " Mass Henry, you say if me savez read, it make 

me head man ; but Mass Henry, one moon go by, two, 

tree moon, me no head man yet, if ye please Maa* 

Henry, let me go ; for me weary." 

I This was the climax ; Henry heard only these 
words, " let me go for me weary." Of the truth 
of this there could be no doubt, for Frank, at the 
end of tliia never-to-be-forgotten sentence, gave such 
a yawn, as, Henry averred, no mortal man ever gave 
before. 
" Papa" said he, " he opened bis mouth ao wide, 
I verily believe he could have swallowed me. Now," 
added Henry " I see you are in the right, papa, it 
ia more difficult to teach grown up, uncivilized people, 
than I imagined. But father, wiU you let me try to 
teach a boy ? I am sure to succeed with a boy." 
"Certainly," said my father, "try any one you 
choose ;" and next evening my Idnd-hearted brother 
waa again hard at work, with CsEsar's son Pierre. 
But, alas for Henry ! Pierre was a very monkey for 
tricks, and it was literally impossible to get him to 
do anj'thing but laugh, .grin, and, as negroes call it, 
playliui. Our two scholais Claiisaa m*4 ^a&iibB^^ 
vere stationary; the formei, inieei, ^aa T 



£a&!ibB^_ 



m. 41 

•wild and well bred, but Fanchon waH restless and 
impatient, and nothing less than the promise of a new 
handkerchief for a emart turban at Easter, could 
prevail upon her to attend. 

Fanchon was a negro belle ; all the smartest young 
men wished to have her for a partner, and not a few 
serious fights had occurred in securing the grace- 
fill Fanchon, as a partner in the dance ; if the 
drum were heard, while she was at her lesson, her 
very feet would begin to beat time. She knew not a 
letter, and nothing but the fear of mammy Clamsa 
kept her from starting off, like a deer, to her favourite 



At last, however, even the good old Clarissa made 
many excuses, and we were obliged to permit her 
giving up that which was to her evidently far 
greater bondage than hoeing canes in the field. 
Fanchon, of course, be^;ed ott" also ; so here ended 
our first schemes of improving the negroes. 

The very Sunday after this, we were astonished 
by my father's giving notice, that, as there was no 
church, he would hencefortli read the Morning 
iaervice every Sunday, and would be happy to 
see the whole, or as many negroes as cliose attend. 

Fajicy our surprise, to see almost the whole ne- 
groes io their gala dressaa assemble at eleven o'clock ; 
wc had also the English overseer, and the Scotch 
carpenter, so that we mustered, for those days in the 
West Indies, a very respectable looking congrega- 
tion ; our surprise was still further increased by 
hearing jny mother tell mammy Sophinia, that she 
was to bring up all the little negroes, from four years 
old to fifteen, at seven o'clock, as she was 
determined to instruct them regidarly every Sunday 
evening, adding, '■ ITiat if any of the elder negroes 
liked to attend, they were welcome to do so." 

As soon as the ntgroes had retimied to theit ViocMft, 
wc envessGfj our tJeaflUre to ffl^inrp^ t!tiiA ^tb^ "v^j^ 



42 TALES OP A C 

going to teach them to read. What was our dis- 
appointment to learn, that at present she had not 
the moat remote intention of doing so 1 She said she 
was merely going to try to teach them, aa ahortiy, 
and simply aa possible, their duty to God and man ; 
and if this were persisted in steadily, she did not 
douht that, by degrees, they would become more 
civihzed, and perhaps aome might yet see the advan- 
tage of learning to read ; bnt she told us that there 
may often be a very clear knowledge given of the 
duty we owe to God and man, without the know- 
ledge of reading, which she thought too dry and 
difficult for old negroes, and which she could not 
teach to all the young onea of an estate without 
neglecting her duties to her husband, her children. 
and her house. We turned to my father and 
mother, and asked thera if they had thought of this 
before we began our scheme of universal readii^ 
and civihzation. They acknowledged they had. 
" Why then," said we, "did you not tell ua ?'" 

" Simply," said my father, " because you vouM 
not have believed us." 

"Not have believed you, papa?" aaid we, "l3iat 
is impossible." 

" Not BO impossible as you imaginei" said my father. 
" Many wiser and older heads than yours are very un- 
willing to have their plans overturned, and their 
knowledge doubted, and notliing short of a positive trial 
will convince them." 

" I am sure I am convinced enough now," aaid 
Henry. " I will never try to teach a negro again." 

" There," said my father, " you are as far wrong lie 
other way ; you may yet hajipen to meet with one 
who might very much prize being taught to read; 
and surely because you failed once, that ought not 
to atop all your benevolence in future." 

" Oh, papa," said Henry, " it was more than once ; 
itwas once, twice, thrice, anuaenltite'Cttncft^iKisaM 



43 

"do think, father, that I did not comprehend what 
fou said before I began, for I am sure had I undet- 
Btood it as I now do, I could never have been so silly." 

'■But yoTi forget," said my father," that I did 
take Bome trouble to explain that subject to you, 
and I told you it was more difficult to teach grown 
persons to read than children, and less easy to fix 
the attention of a half civilized, than a civilized being ; 
but you answered thia at once, by saying that you 
saw negroes do what was more difficult than learn- 
ing to read, and you could not see why they should 
not do thia as well as anything else." 

" Yes, papa," said Henry, '• I know I tlioiisht so. 
I know now it is not so, but I cannot tell why ; do 
you know the reason, papa ?" 

My father told him he did, and that the reason was, 
that learning to read waa an employment, they had 
not as yet been used to see any black man consider 
valuable ; hitherto they had not been trained to g^ve 
attention to anything but their daily work, therefore 
sitting down quietly to team t« read was contrary 
to their customs and habits ; and if it be difficult to 
change the customs and habits of grown up Eu- 
ropeans who are educated, and accustomed to 
reason, it is far more difficult to change the cus- 
toms and opinionsof eitheruneducated, or uncivilized 

It waa thus our parents instructed us, and it was 
a happiness for ua all ; we have since often ex- 
perienced the benefit of being educated by kind, yet 
aensihle parents, who never laughed at the numerous, 
well planned castles, that we built in the air. They 
never damped our benevolent youthful enthusiasm, 
and where no great harm could ensue to others or 
ourselves, they suiFered ua to pursue our undigested 
plans, and try our abihties by practical results, thus 
making us feel, that to plan benevolentiy an.4 \«wv- 
tUiiUy, aad to execute wisely and perte(A\^, rat 
' ■"" » diffenng most essentially. M'^ nw'iiet 






44 TALES OF A GR-^NDMOTHRB. 

went on slowly and quietly ; the lessons at fiM 
were short, and only once a week, they came then 
aa a novelty ; this suited the mind of the negio, 
and we w illing ly gave the palm to her plan. We 
had three other neighbours at different distances. 
One family was only a mile off, Mr, and Mrs. 
Warren, with no diildren; the othera were three 
miles distant, and were near each other. Of these 
Mr.and Mrs. Nelson were at present alone, but expect- 
ing a sou and two daughters from London, where 
they were being educated. Their next neighbour, a 
old bachelor Mr. Hartley, completed the society of the 
neighbourhood. Our otiier i-isitors were at too 
great a distance to associate much v 
there seem anything aliouC thera particularly to 
claim our attention. The first beginning of my 
father's difficulties, originated in his having put up 
a wind, instead of a water mill. 'Ilie former wu 
much less expensive, but the annoyance was great. 
No sooner were the canes cut, and ready to grind, 
than the wind seemed to fall, and before the breeze 
would spring up, the canes became quite acid, end 
only fit for the pigs. 

My poor father used to send all the negroes, but 
one, to bed, and he would sit and watch with tiitf 
one for the first breath of air, that moved the sails 
of the mill, to call up the people, and get all hands 
to work, to save the canea from perishing:. 

Those who do not labour the sis days of the week 
know not the blessing, or the meaning of one day's 
rest in seven. My father, however, did, and greatly 
did we enjoy the Sunday, as the only day, during 
crop time, that brought my father home to enjoy 
himself in instructing us, and giving us his cheerful 
society. During the week, dinner was often s^ 
in the boiling liouse, so that i ^ __ 
from twelve to two, when the negroes ceased 
their work, we saw nothing ot \iiHi-, \rteii6SaSt.-w 
a quick meal then, for be wvahei to 5 .■«---'- — 



boiling of the sugar, and if he did come home at 
night, it was always long after we were in hed. 

We paid occasional visits to the boiling house, 
quite as much to enjoy the mirth and fun going , 

on, 88 to taste Csesar's good things, which he, how- 
ever, gave us very UberaUy. At other times, my 
mother walked with us before sis, by the cane 
pieces, and we listened to the songs and jokes 
going round among those cutting canes, and the 
mule hoys bringing the canes home on mules to the 
mill. 

But the last cane was cut, and they had their 
grand dance, and wherewithal to be merrv; industry 
and activity had done much, and altogether my 
father said he felt fully rewarded, for he had made 
more sugar than he anticipated ; but a new djfficnltr 
aroflB in getting it conveyed to the shipping place, 
the road to it being so bad, that it was uecesEonr to 
take firet the empty hogshead, and theu the sugar 
ia bags which was to be packed on the beach — not 
withont much loss of time and sugar. 

All this, however, my father cheerfnlly en- 
dared ; for now he had his family widi him, and 
that Boothed all his cares. We had each our little 
department assigned to us daily ; there was always 
something to do, in which we could assist, and our 
parents had no objection to our being beside the 
negroes, as either one, or other parent, was always 
present, so that they did not have it in their power 
either to use lis ill, or show us a bad example without 
its being checked. 

We were as happy as possible : — before breakfast 
assistins in the garden, gathering fruit or vegetables. 
and at other times sowing seeds, and watering those 
coming up. Instead of bringing Imuries out to the 
West Indies, in the shape of pbte and fine clothes. 
my mother wisely abstained from such ncpense, and 
seJIing abnoat aW (fie former, she retainei Wi \Kdi*- 
^^^ piano forte, which enabled her to ^itocesiV^v ■ 
^^K education, in circticnetances appaienXVj >a5A» A 



46 TALBS OF A GBAKDUDTHBa. 

suited to it. Tlie rigid economy which my parenti 
determined to pursue, until they paid for the cHtate, 
and cleared otF every ferthing of debt, was truly ad- 
mirable, though it HometimeE subjected us to ludi- 
crous scenes. Biit now for your queries," said grand- 
mama, " for it is getting late." 

" We have got a long list to-night," said Mtiii. 
" There are, I am eure, more than a dozen questiaai 

" If that b the case," said their grandmama, " 
fear I shall hardly be able to answer all your ques- 
tiona to-night ; but, however, begin, and we shall 
employ the little tirae left." 

" You mentioned the fruit of the water lemon," 
said Maria ; " but you did not tell ua whether 
that, and the Grenadilla ™e are good for eating, 
and if tliey have ever been cultivated in England." 

" Theyare both escellent, wholesome, coolingfruits," 
replied her grandmama; " the water lemon has i 
strong, woody st«m, and is indigenous in the woods 
of the West Indies, extending itself in rich, graceful 
festoons, from one forest tree to another. ~ 
blossom is larger, but otherwise is precisely like the 
beautiful passion flower, you have seen growing oat 
of doors in England in sheltered situations. In m/t 
and shape the fruit resembles a magnum bonum, oi 
egg plum, but when quite ripe, it is of so deep t 
shade of yellow as to approach to the orange ID 
colour. Iitside it ia filled with greyish seeds, and i 
pulp not unlike an English gooseberry. It grows very 
quickly, and runs along trees, or trelhs work, with 
rapidity. It does not appear to improve from cnlti* 
vation, and is as large and high flavoured in its native 
woods, as that produced in a garden. It has bem 
introduced into England as a hot-house fruit long 
since, but it does not seem to be so much hked here, u 
in the West Indies, otherwise, it would be i 
r/aently seen. Paasifloria laurifolia is the botanical 
nflzne of the plant." 
" But, grandmaraa," said Mana'a AatCib 



"PXLXS OP A GBA^TDMOTBZB. 47^ 

lell us wlittt the Ctrenadilla, the bamboo, pome* 
granate, OtaLeite goosebeny, cocoa nut tree, and 
the roaeau resemble ?" 

" The WcBt Indian bamboo," said their grand- 
maina, " in estemal appearance resemblea a weeping 
willow ; it requires to be planted either in a damp 
situation, or else in the vicinity of water, to thrive 
well, aod when this is the caee, it grows very quickly. 
The bamboo is very useful for making fences, poets 
for cattle pens, trellis work for vines, and all 
climbing plants. The cattle are fond of the young 
le&ves for food ; the stem is jointed, and forms an 
excellent conductor for water. Between each joint 
of a full grown tree, there is a bluish nut, of a biH- 
ceouE or flinty substance ; it is about the size of ft 
kidney bean. The Grenadilla vine, in its extemd 
appearance, resembles the water lemon, but its fruit 
is much larger, nearly the size of a melon, of a light 
|)ea green ; it has brownish grey seeds, enclosed in a 
pulp of a most delicious flavour, and the blossom is 
equally beautiful with the water lemon. Passifloiia 
a its botanical name ; it has been known to bear 
fruit in England, but only in a hot house. The po- 
megranate is a very fine tree ; the leaves arc of a 
lovely shade of green ; the blossoms are bright 
scarlet, and are singularly beautiful, about the size 
of a very large apple, and when ripe, yellow and 
scarlet streaked. The inside is full of seeds, sur- 
rounded by a firm pulp, of a fine flavour, but very 
astringent. Its botanical name is Punica Granatum. 
!t is a fruit well known all over the south of Europe, 
and many countries in Asia and Africa. 

" The Otaheite gooseberry is not unlike our la- 
liumum in shape and heighth ; the leaf is of a 
bright green, but the fruit grows in a very remarkable 
way. closely attached to the stem and branches ; in 
clusters, size, and colour, very like the muKCft^mc 
jrape. There is a L'ttle hard atone inside-, \X,\avet^ 
la 'd, and unSt for use, except when bskeA. Xwa. 
^2^, / am ture, eeeu drawiflgs of tlie cocobl 



H 



4. Xwi A 



It is a. species of palm, and I tliinli palm trees of 
every description, not only very beautifial, but they 
strike a European more, at first, than most other 
trees, because they are more unlike any he hat 
seen at home. 

" It rises to a great height, and is a very hard 
wood. The trunk is formed of tough fibres, crosaing 
each other closely. The most remarkable feature 
in the tree is, that there are no branches, leave*, 
very like the form of an ostrich feather, as long some- 
times as fourteen feet, spring out at the top of this 
tree ; the outside is of a glossy dark green, the inside 
of a silvery white, and when they wave in the wind, 
they look elegant and majestic. The nuts are of a 
very large Bi?e, enclosed in a brown husk under which 
there are fibres, of a strong rough Idnd, used at times, 
in the East Indies, as cordage for ships. The nut, 
when very young, is like soft curd, and there is a 
liquor of rather a semi-transparent appearanceeeom- 
monly colled cocoa nut water inside it. While 
in this state, it is pleasant, and not unwholesome 
and the water is cooling, and agreeable, but it is not 
considered a safe beverage, unless drank sparingly. 
The young buds of the cocoa are tied to prevent their 
expanding, and a small incision bein|> made at the 
end, the juice, named toddy in the Ea^t Indies ex- 
udes, and is received into vessels placed for the pur- 
pose. This juice has the property of fermenting 
flour, and is used in the East Indies, for this purpose ; 
but in the West Indies they do not seem to be aware 
of its possessing this useful property. I have, how- 
ever, been told by people in the East Indies that 
bread, made in this way, is as light and agreeable 
in taste as that made from yeast. The cocoa nut 
husk is naed for the purpose of scrubbing floors. 
The kernel is very oily; in the East Indies, it is'manu- 
factured for this purpose, and, of late years, an attempt 
of the same kind has been made iw the West In- 
di'ea i this oil bums beautifully ■ 
27ie roseau is a, wild cane gromng m ftvt moM.'Ri 



TALES OF A GRANDMOTHER. 49 

tains, in appearance similar to the sugar cane ; it 
contains no sweet juice, and is only useful for the 
purpose I mentioned to you — ^wattling houses, as it is 
called in the West Indies. To-morrow I will answer 
your other queries. So now, good night." 



lAMDUOTHES. 



CHAPTER IV. 



■• Heke we aie, giandmama," said Frederick, " uU 
ready, witli our long list of questions; so pray begin 
with the changeable rose, for I fancy there must bi 

lething curious about it, that It la called change- 



hie." 



le," said his grandmama, " c^ 
3 hibiscus mutabi]es. In tlu) 



" The botanical n 
the changeable rose 
morning iis blossoms are pure white, by degrees thej 
shade from white to a blush, pink, until, by twelve ill 
noon, they are a loydy bright pint; as efeningqi' 
proaches they change to a reddish purple, and then &)t 
blo=3om dies. It growa eight or ten feet high, tl» 
green leaves are rather like a grape Tine. And no«v 
Frederick, what is the next question on your list ?" ' 
"The Barbadoes flower fence, grandmama ; yotf 
know," aaid Frederick, " you only told us it had beau- 
tiful scarlet blossoms, and I dare say it must have 
looked lovely by the side of the dark green of mamma'B' 
favourite plant the jessamine, witli its pretty, white, 
star-like blotaoms." 

■' I do not think," replied his grandmama, " that 
I can tell you much mare than 1 have akeady done of. 
the Barbadocs flower fence ; its botanical name is 
poinciana pulcherrima ; it is a clematis, and grom. 
easily and quickly from the seed." 

" The papaw is the nest," aaid Maria. 

" The papaw is, my dear, a tree possesaing som^ 
iflterest; the iruit of it, when green, has the aingularj 



TALBB OF A aRAVDMaTBBB. 51^ 

iiMre aCrange, if a piece of meat, or a. tough fowl be 
fciing underneath the tree for any length of time, it 
•ill drop in piecfiB. I have seen a piece of very hard, 
aalted, Irish messl>eef, boiled with one or two green 
pnpaws, of the eize of a common lemon, and by thie 
meana it became perfectly lender : the only thing 
disagreeable about it is, that unless watched, and 
taken out in proper time, tiie meat geta too soft, and 
decomposes. The botanical name of the tree is 
carica papaya. It ie of a tine green, and is often 
as tall as Beventeen, or eighteen feet ; it has a soft 
tmnk. curiously marked. The leaves are very la^e, 
exceeding greatly the size of our lai-gCEtlig leaves, but 
they are tiiick, strong, and leathery in their ap- 
peaiance, tapering more to a decided point, than those 
of the fig. The leaves are attached to long atsdks. and 
these spring out from the middle of the tree. 

The blossoms smell agreeably, and are of a wMtiah 
yellow ; they make a beautiful sweet preserve, as doci 
the green fruit. It ia often preserved with limea 
and citron, all in the green and unripe state ; it is also 
good for pickhng- The Emit, when ripe, is yelknr, 
like the inaide of an apricot ; it is eometlung of the sive 
of a small melon, and of an oblong form. Its pulp 
is agreeable, sweet, and highly flavoured ; it is full ot 
small grey seeds, which are eaten, and which are 
considered particularly wholesome ; tliey taste eomc' 
thing between the fiavoar of the blossom of the 
uasturtion. or Indian cress, and mustard seed. TcJ) 
me the next, on your h«t Maria." 

■' My next, grandmama, seems to sound very oddly 
— the Cabbage tree, a tree really bearing cabbagei; but 
I dare say, it is not a very tall one," said Maria. 

■' This remark," replied her praadmama, "only 
proves how often the name of a plant or tree, leads 
ua to draw false conclusions, for the moontain cab- 
bsge tree, (areca oleracea) is one of the tallest, and 
rooHt mBgniBceat frees in the West \n&e&. ^ti 

t height is sixty feet, &nd I ma »Ji& V \aei^ 



52 TALES OF i 

seen it seventy. It is from five, to seven feet in al- 
cumference, and runs up perfectly straight, to the 
hdghth I have told you. Its wood U brown and hard, 
and is divided into short joints. At some feet from the 
top, the stem appears quite green, in consequence of a 
sort of husk, which forms itself into points, resembling 
B. pine apple, from which the branching leaves aprii^, 
in a. majestic tuft, tike immense green feathen, 
wavinginthe wind. There isa rising seed from the 
middle of the hranches, enclosed in a brownish sheath, 
which droops, and is full of smaU nuts, closely set 
together like grapes ; they are ovai shaped. In the 
inside of the leaves, which surround the top of the tree, 
the cabbage is found. Its circumference is genenHy 
much greater than that of a common sized cabbage, 
and it is often as long as two or three feet. It a 
hard, but very crisp, resembling a good winter, 
English red cabbage ; it is also in flakes, like a common 
cabbiige. Before being cooked, it has a aweetiib 
kernel sort of flavour, hut it is never used nn- 
cooked. When boiled in salt and water, until quite 
tender, it is delicious ; it is eaten like English cabbage, 
with melted butter, and is good with any sort 
of animal food. 

" This delightful vegetable, however, can only I* 
procured, by cutting down the gigantic tree to which 
it belongs. This is an altemative one would rather 
avoid, unless where the tree abounds, as it is 
highly omament£il in scenery." 

"My next, grandmama," swd Frederick. " is tiie 
eweet caasada, and the manioc." 

" There axe several species of the cassava, or at it is 
generally pronomiced cassada. The botanical name of 
the sweet caasada is jatropha junipha, the Wttw 
CBSsada, the only other species used for food, is die 
-jatropha manihot. This species, unless preparednt 
a particular way, is poisonous. The sweet a ' 
IS ciiifaVflted as a vegetable, aad ma^ V "mnSsd, 
beei roasted in a bed oi \iot aab.^. Toi^ 






:A 



Kind sbaped, of a dun white appearance, ali 
ittcliniug to yellow, of the length of a long field 
rot but more irregular in their appearance. 

'■ The bitter caasada root is prepared by grating it, 
and then pressing out all the juice, which is deadly 
poison : it is then dried in the hot sun of the West 
Indies, is white, and has a crisp feeling in the 
hand. Cakes are made of it, resembling, in sha))e 
and appearance, the thin oat cakes of the western and 
northern districts of Scotland, These cakes are 
wholesome and agreeable. The caseada may be eaten 
mixed with lime juice and n-ater, salt, and hot pep- 
pers, and is often produced to eat with fish, or meat. 
Tapioca is also a preparation from the manioc, or 
Intter caseada. It is manufactured much more 
largely in Demerara and the Brasils, than in any of 
the West Indian Islands. Andnow," said their grand- 
mama, " I suppose you have little more to aak me." 

" Indeed," said Maria, " I fear we are very tremble- 
gome, but, 1 see, 1 have yet the calibash tree, the ta- 
marind, thesouT-sop, thealmond, andthe arrow pkint." 

" Audi," said Frederick, " have theyam, plantain, 
and banana." 

"Of these last three." said his grandmama, " I shall 
defer the explanation to another part of my story, 
where I have an anecdote to tell you of our plantain 
walk. All the rest I will now cxplwn to you and Maria, 
The calibash tree is often also called, the bottle 
Kourd ; its botanical name is cucurbita lagenaria. 
ITie tree is generally about twelve or fifteen feet 
in height ; the leaves shoot out at once, from the wood, 
and have no stalk : they are of a dark green, but bright 
and glossy, resembling a laurel, though much larger. 
It has a very handsome blossom, and when cover- 
ed witli fruit it is a very striking tree in the lands- 
cape. Tlie fruit is a gourd, of a UvcIy ^te«.ft, 
■nit. when fully grown, is immensely \arg4. 'fecra^'i 
-— round, otbera oblong. They ate Sfflg^^ftO^' 



white pulp, which is considered poisonous ; thw 
negroes scoop out, and dry the gourd in the sun. 
sometimes cutting strange figures overthe rind, which 
soon beconies of a deep brown. They are used u 
vessels for w-ater ; and bowls of all shapes and sizes 
may be had from this tree, merely by gathering tht 
fruit at different stages of its growth. If meant fbrs 
bottle, a small orilice is made at ttie top, where the 
pulp is taken out, and the negro Bupplies him- 
self with a cork from the husk of the Indian com. 
I have seen a calibash in the West Indies, tliat could 
contain two gallons, but I have heard that they grow 
to such a size in the East Indies, that they are large 
enough to support a man in the water, while he 
floats on a cross bar, fixed to the top of two of them. 
The tamarind is a very graceful tree, the form of its 
leaves is like our moimtain ash, but they are of th« 
clearest, brightest green imaginable, lite blossomi 
spring out from the sides of tie branches in bunchra. 
which become pods, much larger and thicker, but 
somewhat resembling the pod of a very broad 
"Windsor bean. When they are of a light brown 
colour, and feel crisp asthe thin Hlieiloutside isforming, 
^L they have dark, glossy, brown seeds within, surrounded 
^U byapujpcontaining more acid than any vegetable sub- 
^B stance known. In the West Indies, tamarinds are 
^1 never used, unless preserved by being packed in ■ 
^M deep jar. when a thin syrup, obtained from the cane 
^1 juice when sugar is making, is poured over them; 
^B this is allowed to stand a few days, and then poured 
^m off, being too acid for use. The same sort of symp 
H is again poured over them, and, at the end of the same 
H time, again thrown off, after which, symp in its 
^t richest state, just as it approches to granulation, is 
^B thrown over them. They are then, when cold, corked 
^1 up, and, in time, become a wholesome, useful, and 
^M (leJicioos sweetmeat. Infused iafiEAA^. ttiie makes ■ 
^K j/cagant cooling beverage, andm^totcoim.^rvct'a^ 



^ie makes ■ 



pidered safer than any quantity of lemonade. 

t India tomaiinda are not preserved with sugar. 
pile fiour-sop is not a. large tree, it 19 one of many 
J of the cuatard apple. The sour-aop is the 
h custard apple ; its botanic:al mime ia anona cfae- 
It is found in all tropica] countriee, but 
f the western hemiBphere are the best. The 
1 shape, resembles a large bullock's heart ; its 
colour ia a deep green, and it ia covered with prickly 
knobs. When ripe, it is very soft, full of a piu-e white 
pnlp. of a cotton-like substance, with a cool, pleasant, 
h«!f sweet, half acid tiavour. a little aromatic. The ptdp 
i.^ fulloflargedark seeds. Itiaeatenbymeansofsucking 
I lie pulp, which ia fiiU of juice, the pulp never being 
-wallowed. It ia a very wholesome fiiiit, and abound* 
so much, that is less esteemed than it deserves. 
The almond tree of the West Indies is the 
aa the sweet almond cultivated in the soui 
counbies of Europe. You have seen the tree 11 
gland, its botanical came is amjrgdala. The leava 
are very like a peach, but its blossom is its great© 
beauty; it springs from the brown branch. In the J 
West Indies, almond trees are only planted for J 
ornament, their fhiit is small, and inferior to that o 

Arrow root is indigenous to South i 
botanical name is maranto arundinacea. It is chic£f 
ly cultivated in the West Indies, on the sides of c 
pieces. It grows two or three feet high, with b 
leaves terminating in a point ; it has small wh 
green blossoms. It must be planted a year before n 
is fit for use : at this period the leaves droop, the 
which is now taken up, is washed and grated, and wat 
is thrown over it ; the thready parts are taken out, 
the other gratings are soaked, and reaoaked in water 
until perfectly purified, which is known by the wctw 
tit last being ^uite c/ear, while the gratings teat •& 'Cttt 
toOom; it is then dried in the sun. In tiie 'w* " 
tacf America, and in Bermuda, it is cviycw' 



'war m ^ 



to El greater extent. Arrow root powder is iiaefiil for 
a variety of purposes ; it makes excellent cakes, andi» 
lighter than any wheaten flour, but it is too expenare 
to be used in Europe, for this purpose. I ratbet 
think that potatoe flour, which I have seen in this 
country, equally fine in appearance with arrow root, 
would make cakes as nice ; ajid I know, from ex- 
perience, that pudiUngs made from it. are, intasteand 
Appearance, as good as tho^ made from arrow root, 
though the medicinal properties are very different. 
Arrow root is propagated by breaking off the end of 
each root, and planting it again." 

" Thank you, grandmama," said Maria, " and, if 
you are not too tired, will you be so good now as to 
return to your story." 

" I will do BO with pleasure," replied her grand- 
mama. "I think Iconcludedlast night by telling you. 
that the highly principled economy of my parents 
often subjected us to ludicrous scenes. After crop 
was finished, this first year, there was much 
labour requisite in getting it shipped in time. Small 
vessels colled droghers go round the island, to those 
estates which are notconveniently situated, for carting 
their produce to the only two bays where the mer- 
chant vessels from England he — Kingstown and 
CalUaqua. These droghers collect the produce of 
tlie estates distant from these bays, and convey it 
to the Elcghsh vessels. 

My mother had more than once told my father 
that no flour or tea remained. The Yorkshire hams, 
that most useful article in West India housekeeping, 
were also concluded ; but my ^ther was anxious to 
get his produce off. and the only negroes he could 
trust to send to Kingstown, were precisely those 
he required, to help him in conveying the sugar 
away, so he begged mamma to wait, and use salt fish 
and pork, plantains, yams, cassada cake, and coSee, 
anjtiingrathertlian lose the aasittaEce ol\^v«<a\KA!L 
aegroes at such a time, M7 mofeat . sMpiS.^ '■»■ 



ji the success of the estate, said she had no 
objectioa to witit, so long as candles reiuiuued in 
her store room ; these, however, she added, were alto 
nearly exhauated, so my fethet eaid in a week, all 
would be done, and he would send then to Kingstown 
for a new supply of household articles. The rainy 
season was just commencing, by daily heavy showere, 
but it had not set in so as to prevent people from 
riding about and visiting as usual, which 
case when at its hcig-hth, for formerly in t 
indies the climate was not so moderated 



liumcane season was looked forward to with dread, 
for it seldom or never passed, without a serious storm. 
I well recollect, one very hot morning in the month 
of July, we had just finished our breakfast of roast 
[ilantains, salt fish, and coffee, the cloth had been 
removed, and we had begun to arrange our books on 
the table, preparatory to commencing the lessons of 
the day, when Henry, peeping through the jalousies, 
called out, " that he saw, one, two, three, six men, 
six white men riding up the avenue." Mamma took 
the epy glass, and found that Henry was not de- 
ceived, for there were six white men, or at least aa 
white as a West India sun will suffer Europeans to. 
be. We now saw my father join them, and the 
next glimpse we caught, was the uniform of the. 
governor. My mother drew a long breath, and 
gave a sigh of desperation, for there were the go- 
vernor and five gentlemen come to hreaUast no doubt ; 
it was just eight o'clock, and not a morsel of bread> 
nor a cup of tea to be had — no ham, and it was toe 
late to soak salt fish. Delay could do no good, 
so as soon as they had been introduced, my father 
relieved my mother by cheerfully and frankly revealing 
our wants, while my mother proceeAtA \a c«ie,i 
bit»iifaBt, the materials of which soon -ptcw^ *0a& 
IMb of my father's tale. 



rom ■] 

tie I 



» 



Fresh egga were collected in abundance from the 
negro houses, and excellent plantains, and casmda 
cake, with Btrong coffee, formed their repast. The 
governor bad long been creoUzed, 60 that bis ei- 
cellency was quite able to make a hearty mesl, 
besides my mother weD knew that real rank is rarely 
accompanied by pretension, and she only feared how 
all might pass with two young English gentlemen, 
newly arrived, travellerH on their way to Jamaia, 
and from thence home, by the way of America. 

They proved, however, feir too well informed, ond 
sensible to display the affectation of disdaining our 
humble fare, and so pleasantly and cheerfully did 
the morning paaa in the society of the govenior, 
his three aids-de-camp, and his two intelligent friends, 
that when, at two o'clock, they took their leave, to 
dine and sleep some miles further on, my parenti 
only regretted they had not dinner and beds to oftr. 
We resumed our leesons, and forgot our troubks. 
when in about an hour after their departure, heavy 
rain began to fiUl. We were regretting it sboulii 
overtake our friends, who, we knew, could not be 
above half way to the estate where they were to dine; 
when, whom should we see galloping up the avenoCi 
but the governor, and his party of five, as wet 8£ 
possible. 

The rain hod fallen in such torrents, that it vu 
impossible to ford the river to the estate to whid 
they were bound ; there was no other mode of acceu, 
and their only alternative was to return to us. 

Nothing could exceed the ease and true good 
feeling of their entr^ ; they begged us merely to give 
them shelter, and any fare at hand ; they did not say 
a second edition of eggs and roasted plantains, but 
no doubt they meant it. My mother retired to her 
store room, and we accompanied her; she sent far 
the cook, ifupiter was rather il clever fellow ; never- 
tbeleea when my roDliier gtaveVj eQ»m«tiS»i 



' guests tu him, she expected him to be fairly' 
posed. 

"Neber mind, Misses," said Jupiter. " Neber, 
mind, me go fcil) da young goat." 

" My fine milk goat," interrupted my mother. 

" Neber mind, Misses; Massa must buy one 
oder : oo sheep, no lamb, on a estate yet, what mS' 
for do, if me no kill goat, noting but fowl, fowl. 
Gubna. (meaning Governor) must hab some mutton." 

"But Jupiter," said my mother, "goal is not 
muttoD." 

Jupiter replied. " It look da same, and do well 
enough, be 'd cook him well and plenty butter. Gul 
eat e'm afore now, neber fear." 

" But, Jupiter," said my mother, " it will be 
hard as possible." 

"No, no, Misses," said Jupiter, "me tew (stew) 
him well. Me send little Tom, and Sandy, wid 
Gracey, to catch two fowl ; and neber fear, me make 
good dinner." 

" But Jupiter," eaidmy mother, "there is no flour." 

■' WeU Misses, dere be arrow root, it do as well." 

We really were surprised at the ready ingenuity of 
Jupiter, though we did lament that one of our three 
milk goats was devoted to be killed. Tlie mention 
of arrow root supplied my mamma with a bright idea, 
and hsving plenty of sorrel ready, she made a tart 
of it, the pastry being of arrow root flour instead of 
wheaten ; then there were stewed guavas, so that, 
at last, having completed these arrangement*, 
and our gueits having returned from Henry's room, 
where they had put on dry clothes, we once more 
met in the hall. It still rained, and we were watch- 
ing tie gradual dispelling of the clouds, when the 
three little negroes sent to catch the fowls came 
ficampering after them ; the poor animals, finding 
Iheniselvea hotJj pursued, had ftoViTl wet 'Oft'; 

E' fcnce, and taken refuge andenieafti Slofc 
Tom and Sandy had diyesteA \iiRi ""' ' 
dothiag. to prevent its be 



I 



I 



"C TALES OP A GaANDMOTHEB. 

Graccy was covered by only one short petticoU; 
the three kept screaming and hunting the fovrli. 
nil to no purpose, for thej- could not catch themi »t 
length Tom ran off to the kitchen, and returning with 
a calabash ftill of Indian com, he gave a handful to 
each of the others ; presently we heard it raltbig 
like shot, on aU aides the houses, while they kept 
calling to the fowls in their own peculiar way to en- 
tice tliem out to eat the com, and thus catch them. 

The scene was ao ludicrous, that to appear to 
disregard it wa8 useless ; bo my father explained the 
business to the strangers ; we all watched the fowl 
hunt, to see how the little negroes would manage, 
when Tom the elder said. 

" You Gracey, you little, you go under a home. 
catch a fowl." 

Gracey dared not refuse, she crept along sod 
seizing tirst one, and then the other, she came out 
holding them, saying, ' 

" You tink for cheat me do you? Daddy Jiqntcr 
roast you well for dat." 

Our guests laughed heartily, and we began to fed 
at our ease, my mother having only some consden- 
tious scruples about goat mutton, and fearing mo»' 
over that it might be impossible to chew it. 

At seven o'clock dinner made its appeamance, and 
looked well, my father observed one vacancy on^. 
wheft a dish evidently ought to have appeared, and 
turning to Cato, the only grown up servant of ours, 
who was in waiting, he told him to bring this dish. 
" Massa," said he, " uncle Jupiter aay, da goat fool 
no ready yet." 

The real state of affairs was 'now known to our 
guests, who, hungry and tired, made tlieir dinner of 
goat mutton, without choking ; and really I must 
do Jupiter the justice to say, that he performed his 
part with science ; for it was not only f^wd looking, but 
tolerably tender, thougli no dowbt, ioT "Ccia saci«.iA. 
Mis art, he was indebted to o. pn.po."« ttwi 

id the Jdtcben. 






Our hunted fowls and arrow root pastry formed a 
reepectahle second course. My father, moreover, had 
^'ood wine, aa cool as if it had been iced, and 
ricii; Charaib pines, so that, after all, the evening 
l>assed off much better than my mother expected. 
At night the whole party, excepting the go- 
vernor, slept on mattresses placed on the floor 
of the hal] ; and even his excellency would 
hardly accept Henry's room — so easy is it to 
entert^n people like our guests, who were 
disposed to be pleased with every thing around 

Next morning, however, one of our English 
travellers felt much indisposed, probably by riding 
MUt Emd getting wet, when heated, not being as yet 
;*ea3oned to the climate. It was found impossible to 
remove him, and he was transferred to Henry's bed, 
wliile his brother remained as his nurse, and we sent 
off for a medical attendant. 

The governor and his aida-de-camp bade us adieu. 
We sent some negroes to buy poultry, and a cart witli 
two others to Kingstown for household supplies, 
as we were likely to retain our visitors for some time. 
My mother nursed our invalid carefully, in a pro- 
tracted and painful, though not a dangerous or 
contagious, fever. He and his brother proved highly 
principled, amiable, accomphshed young men, and 
the younger repwd our hospitality, by instructing 
us in many branches of education, wliich my mother 
had been engaged in teaching us, but which she was 
unable to prosecute, when occupied by nursing his 
sick brother. It was at tbia period, we received our 
first lessons in sketching from the younger guest, 
an accomplishment in which he excelled, and 
which he took the greatest delight in communicating 
to us. 
r The magnificent views all around aui^i^fel. 

r hiling resouTce to his pencil, and ■wVen Vw. 

-r became convalescent, he particvpaleia 



^^P 62 TALES OF A aRANDHOTHEK. 

^H They entered into all our plans ; and we had i 

^U pigeon house and rabbit pen put up tmder thdr 

^H superintendence ; we only required inhabitant:,— 

^M and these we soon hoped la have. 

^M Our greatest privatida was the want of books; b1' 

^m though my fether had more than most planters, who, 

^B in those days often possessed only a tesCaiaeut on which, 

^M as justices of peace, to administer oaths. In thepresent 

^V day our stock would have been reckoned very scanty. 

^m Music tenninated the labours of the day, for it 

H fortunately happened that our visitors were bolii 

^M fond of it ; so that our practising the piano forte wai 

^B a pleasure to them, instead of an annoyance. 

^M They learnt somewhat of the real difficulties of 

^M settling a West India estate, and by degrees they 

^f were initiated in the culture of the sugar cane, and 

in that far more difficult knowledge, how to manage 

the negro labourers wisely, yet kindly. We looked 

forward to parting with these fiiends, with sorrow; 

the rainy season was at ite heighth. At the period 

of which I am speaking, it was truly awfiil, and 

thou2;h hurricanes are so rare in St. Vincent, that 

the island is considered almost out of the hurricaDe 

I tract, yet tempests of wind occasionally occurred 
which did great damage, and they were accom- 
panied by terrific storms of thunder, and ligfat- 
nuag. 
The air was insupportably hot and still. My 
father, however, had, irfter finisliing the sugar crop is 
June, more time to spend with us, and assist my 
mother in our education, besides, our invalid visitor 
was now able to enjoy conversation. Both he and his 
brother had been in the north of Europe, and as we 
had all seen snow, ice, and frost, we could enter 
into their descriplious of Russia. I well re- 
member their giving us a long account of a winter 
in St, Petershurgh, which, from their excellent 
description, made us aU involimtani^ skhet. althoi 
the thermometer was at tbe\jm.e a\a.afliii.r^ 



excellent 
.althoi^ 



TATiSa OP A GB4KDM0THSB. 

of Fahrenlieit — a strong proof how much t 
may he affected by our imagination. We bade 
farewell to those friends with re^ regret ; they had re- 
mained with us nearly two months ; but their ahfence 
was in truth desixable, for much as our parents enjoyed 
their aociety, their means were at sad variance with 
theirhospitality , and entertaining them , ho weverplainly , 
entailed a considerable expence upon us. There was 
not a fowl left, two soUtaiiy pigs remained, and with 
all our enjoyment we felt we had paid dearly for it. 
Nevertheless it had been an act of necessary humanity, 
so we never murmured, knowing that industry, in 
time, would repair our losses. The worst of it was, 
that our having visitors had naturally brought our 
neighbours more frequently to our house, and now they 
had acquired the habit of visiting ns more frequently, it 
Beemed an agreeable pastime, which they were not 
inclined to drop. The heat is so great, that to keep a 
shut door would be nearly impossible, so we couid not 
have recourse to our only plan of securing retirement, as 
by saying, in England "not al home." 

Mrs. Harris too, thought as we had so many 
victors, it would be a good house to borrow bom, 
and messages came continually borrowing articles o£ 
household use, which, as they almost all come frwa 
Europe, are of course very dear. 

Although these articles were borrowed, they 
never repaid, until my mother's patience was sordy 
tried. Great was the struggle between, what she 
called, her pride and her poverty ; more strictly 
speaking I would say, between her politeness and 
prudence ; but her natural good sense, aided by a firm 
determination to act correctly, gained the victory, and 
she at length took courage to say, that it was not con- 
venient for her to lend household artjcles, all of 
which must be procured from such a distance a» 
Kingstown. 

Mrs. Harris was not too proud to act m&aiiVj , 'wit 
~ V pride was grounded, when she peiCOTi&^ \b».\. tK^ 



I 



L GBANDMOTBBK. 



mother saw her meanness, and repressed it; tlui 
produced a little cessation to her visits, which of Iste, 
to our annoyance, hod become almost daily. They 
lived eipensively, while my parents were cheeiMv 
undergoing every privation, and, in the midst of real 
bodily exertion, were educating us well, and strirag 
to save every farthing to pay off the next iostalmeol 
of the estate, due in two years, 

Children as we were, our parents made us under- 
stand all tliis ; deeply did they impress upon our 
raiada, the sucredness of any promise or agreement. 
The consequence was, that, being thus early admiltHt 
into the confidence of our father and mother, w 
entered enthusiastically and affectionately, into iQ 
their aJfairs, and we felt an interest in contribudng 
to tbe success of their plans, by our industry mill 
economy. 

We were very anjuous to rear some turkeys, ss 
we thought they would be useful in preventing IT 
recurrence of a goat /east ; but we knew, that without 
cages to put over the mother and young ones, « 
never could succeed in the attempt. M'Intoeh vsi 
so busy in carpenter work for the estate, that he hit 
not time to make cages, and a coloured woman )Si> 
promised us fresh turkey eggs in a week ; which ah' 
advised ua to hatch, under a common hen. 

Negroes are not very expert workmen ; howe^ 
Henry got Cwsar's son to help him ; my father ga' 
wood and nails, and two cages were completed, ce 
tainly not very elegant, but fit for use. In t! 
evenings of the rainy season my father was more 
leisure, and while we worked, he used to tell ' 
stories of his campaigns on the continent. 

He used to cut corks in pieces, and teach Hen 
how regiments were manreuvred in the field, un 
one regiment after another was made — the E 
glish being distingushcd by a red wafer, ai 
the French by a blue posted ow the top, Wh 
Henry and he were figh^ng >M.\&«a Wiiik ftuoi o 



TALES OF A 6BANDMOTHEB. 65 

liers, to our great amusement, none of us ever 
amt what taste this was imconsciously fostering 
ny brother. But it is now late, so good night," 
1 grandmama, "and I will resume my story to- 
rrow." 



" Now seat yourselves quietly," sftid giaiu 
" and 1 will resume my story, for my last er 
tale produced too few queries, to merit takii 
notice of, until some more occur." 

'■ Thank you." said the children. " We ha 
our list, and shall add to it; when you th 
have got enough, then I hope you will sto 
answer our questions." 

" I win," replied their grandmama. " 
now return to my story. The day before 1 
moon of Octoher, was particularly close a 
We were sitting in the gallery at breakfast, ti 
catch the slightest breath of air, when some C! 
with fowls and Indian com, came to see if wi 
purthase any thing from them. The Chan 
was fresh in our recollection, from the stoi 
&ther had told us of it, and we children w 
frightened, when we perceived them appri 

f the house. They were fierce, savage looking 

their coal black hair hung strangely atout 
contrasted too with the woolly curly heada 

I negroes around us. 

" Their sole covering was a piece of ted 
round them ; there were three men and one 1 
their foreheads had a very singular appetran 
the woman had a strap pssaed toMiii Vci V 

^^^0 which WB» altaclied a \ong tfOK^eA \as 

m. J 



L OSANDUOTEEB. 67 

Wnplete the whole, a little, yellow lookmg, Cha- 
I child stood up in the basket, peering its savage 
( all around. They had also a nice lady's Charaib 
tet, of their own manuiacture. for sale. They 
le a sort of French patois. My fiitlier began to 
pin with them for their poultxy ; he saw they 
; inclined to impose upon him, and recollecting 
■ savage cruelties during the late war, he was 
inclined to treat them either very ceremoniously 
raciously ; we had eyed the hasket, and wished it 
namma, to whom we knew it would be very use- 
but she reminded us, that, at the present moment, 
required poultry and food for fowls, and the 
■uib basket, however convenient, might be done 
out. My father's manner had, however, offended 
1 ; for savages are quick in perceiving any feeling of 
empt shown to them, and tliey were in the act 
indling up their goods, with a haughty air, that 
icd to say, " Wliite men'sgold should never buy 
I," when a vivid flash of lightning burst from a 
L cloud, followed by a tremendous peul of 
der; in an instant, the wind which had been 
lually lulled, rose, and increased, in a wonderfully 
k(0pace of time, to a severe atonn. The day 
band indeed for many days previously, there had 
Bvery high gale, so that the sea during the short 
Rud not at till fallen, and it was now raging 
ntains high on the windward coast. All my 
^r'9 resentment against the Charaiba ceased, when 
aw such a serious storm commence ; the rain 
ed in torrents, and he made them take ret\ige 
IT kitchen. 

!iey walked composedly into it, stiU preserving 
grave, haughty manner, which conveyed the 
that they considered a whitd man greatly their 
ior. The storm raged on for some hours ; the 
e shook like a cradle, and such was t\ie. iWftsa (A 
vayiag elements, that we could hatdV^ Vftai ewJft. 
The trees bsnt as if ever^ -owytaai 



-fjKok. The trees bsnt as H zshrj ia.o"tfiKO^^_ 



they would be torn up by their roots, and the flashing 
of the lightning seemed iacessant. It was at duf 
moment, that my father ventured to look oat, to 
see if there were any appearance of the storm'a bang 
dispelled, when his eye caught aometliing cm tie 
sea. at a considerable distance, which he fended to 
be a boat. It was at first very difficult to diseem 
whether it was one or not, but at last it was evident- 
ly seen to be so. My father, the Scotch car- 
penter, and the Overseer, saw it getting nearer, ted 
feared every moment it would be lost. They iiid 
no means of hoisting a signal, and my father knew 
well that the instant the boat got into the surf, 
she must be dashed to pieces. Happily, he thought 
of the Charaibs, and recollecting how safely and 
expertly they are accustomed to dive under the 
surf, and then come up a^ain, he hastily ca&d 
out the men, entreating them to try their utmost 
to dash under the surf, and save the poor people, 
in the boat, as it was now evident human beings were 
in it. They at first refused ; indeed it was not na- 
tural that they should feel much concern for the 
lives of white men; my father urged, entreated, 
bribed largely, and at last succeeded. What a moment 
of unutterable anxiety was it for ua all ! The run bad 
ceased, and we all stood gazing by turns at the boat 
dashing among the resistless waves, and the Charaite 
who swiftly dived under the surf. We lost sigbl 
of them ; the boat neared, we saw the poor crea- 
tures in it, as it were in the jaws of death, wto 
up rose the Charaibs, seized upon the three meo ifi 
the boat, let it go to destruction, while they once more 
dived under, and brought three human beings safe 
to shore, who, but for their intrepid exertions, mu*t 
otherwise have perished. 

The poor fellows were utterly unable to walk, and 
were carried into our house, where my father pro- 
eeeded to do his beat lui ^lea t«eav«i^, \^ ^ahwia^ 



off their wet clothing, and placing them on mattress 
on the floor. 

As for the Charaiba, they drank their rum, nhoti: ] 
themselves like ducks, and seemed to think very little j 
of what they bad done. We no longer thought at m 
them as savages, but stood admiring their bravery. 

Our three unfortunate visitors, were in a moit.J 
dreadfuLy ravenous state, and almost before they could ^ 
articulate, they made signs for food. My father 
kne^v the danger of fcunished people's eating, at first, 
in any quantity : and had much difficulty in restrain- 
ing them &om indulging ; their thirst too was exces- 

Towards evening, our medical attendant wa* 
procured, and then they became able to give a distinct 
account of themselves. They had sailed from Bridge- 
town, in Barbadoes, with the intention of going down 
to SpeightstowR, when the wdnd rose very high. 
There were two white sailors and a young English 
navy officer. As the wind increased, they found it 
quite impossible to manage the boat, and it was blown 
out to sea; they had neither water nor provisions of any 
description, and had been four days and nights in 
this state, and being at lost without hope, they pro- 
posed casting lots, that one might be killed as food 
for the others. 

This they did; the lot fell upon the young officer. 
It was a bitter thought to die, in such a way, but the 
lot had fellen on him, and no doubt life is alike sweet 
and precious to all. As the easiest and least pain- 
ftd method, they proposed bleeding, which he acceded 
to : they had a calibash on board : they bled him, but 
just as it was nearly filled, such was the intensity of 
his thirst, and perhaps on insurmountable love of life, 
that he grasped the calibash and swallowed his own 
blood, t 

The other two for a moment were struck ^i^paiX; 
and pity erau yet mingljng witli ke^iogb c&. 



70 TALKS OP A GBilfBMOTHEB. ] 

self-preservation, they proposed geDerously, once mote 
to draw lots. The lot again fell on the young officer, 
when just ob he prepared to submit to serve as food 
to his fellow men, land appeared in sight. 

They instantly suspended the intended deed, aJid 
waited to see if anything could save them, when, >sl 
have related, my father hribed the Charaibs to rescue 
all three from a watery grave. 

" It is now time for repose," said grandmama. 
" therefore, if you have any questions to ask, let 
us have them, now." 

" Directly, grandmama," said the children ; " here 
they are all on the skte in order. I am only sorry." 
added Frederick, " that we cannot sit up long enough 
to hear about the poor men who were bo nearly 
starved with hunger and thirst, and drowned into the 
bargain. Who were the Charaibs, grandmama, 
and how did we come to be at war with them } 
I like to hear of battles and sieges above evoy 
thmg." 

" 1 fear," said his grandmama, " I should prore 
a bad historian of battles, and sieges — that ia notmuch 
in my way; but I can give you some general answers 
which may satisfy you, for the present, and bereaftn 
your papa can give you the full history of tiiose 
stirring times to read of, which I, at leaat, shonld 
prefer, to seeing them. 

The Charaibs are the Alwrigenes of all the Weat 
India Islands. Aborigenes means the original in- 
habitants of any country ; it ia supposed that they 
spread themselves over the Weat Indies fi-om some 
of their tribes, who migrated from the banks of tiie 
great river Oronook in South America. In Saint 
Vincent, there were both yellow and black Charaiba. 
Their complexion, though a little copper tinged, is, I 
think, more yellow than red. The origin of the black 
Charaibs is supposed to be from some Mocoes, >. 
tribe af Africans, froKi tlie b\g\A rf fttsvm., -wHio 
sbipn-recked on the little island o? fieojivca^ 






lusiance irom St. Vincent. It is said that these 

Afecang were joined by a number of runaway negroes, 
■ffom other islands. 'ITie yellow Charaibs, then very 
namerouB and strong, kept them in a state of slavery; 
'mt as their numbers increased, the Charaibs becam© 
ealous of them, and like the cruel king Pharoali, in 
he time of Moaes. they ordered all the male children 
be destroyed, 'lliis order enraged the Africans, 
nd they turned upon the yellow Chaiaibs, and many 
f their tyrants perished in the conflict. The black 
iharaibs, until the Charmb war, considered themselves 
5 the rightful owners of the Charaib country of St. 
'incent, which, they said, became theirs, by conquest, 
■om the yellow Charaibs, the Aborigines. 

In 1773, the French attacked St. Vincent, and both 
lack and yellow Charaibs joined them against the 
Iritish. So terrified were the English inhabitants at 
tie savage Charaibs, that they almost at once 
ered to the French. 

The island was restored to Great Britain, in 1783, 
ut some years after thia, the French again attacked 
L; the Charaibs again assisted them, the French giving 
iiem fire bjtos and ammunition. 

This is the period usually denominated the Charaib 
Far — and a fewful time it was. Although the yellow 
Charaibs were fewer in number than the black, they 
lonsidered themselves as superior to the others, 
hough it would lie difficult to say in what their 
■uperiority consisted. In pomt of savage disposition, 
here seemed an equality. 'ITie English, at length, 
;ompletely gained the ascendancy, drove out the 
•-rench, and subdued the Charaibs. 'Ilie greata- J 
lumber were taken prisoners, and sent to a small ■ 
nhabited island in thegulf of Meadco, namely Rattan, ^ 
md we sent out from England an expensive cargo of I 
Jothes, garden seeds, and tools of every descnption 
'or tliem, which reached the place, but not oneUMSaan. 
■mng was there — the Spaniardsfrom Soutii Kmetvrav, 
r absence, taken' tliein, and-^vA "Cbkci ^ 



I 






down in the mines of Mexico, to the number of tbitf 
thousand, where they could never again see thechser- 
ful light of day." 

"Oh! grandmama," said the children, "what 
horrid cruelty!" 

" It was horrible, my dears," replied their gimd- 
mama, " ao much so, that I cannot say. I have my 
great taste for battles and sieges, for snch ttingi 
' cannot take place without much cruelty. The ChBisihs 
had broken all faith with us, so that our intention, 
considering aU things, was mercifid, though the Sonlh 
American Spaniards so completely defeated our wish, 
which no doubt was, to instruct and lead them, if 
possible, to the habits of civilised life." 

"But, grandmama," said Maria, "' aomeCharaibe 
remained alive in St. Vincent ; for, you know, those 
were Charaibs who dived so courageously into tin 

" Yes, my dear," said her grandmama. " Some 
few remained; the yellow Charaibs were allowed to 
settle at Owia, a post at the north point of the island, 
while the black Charaibs, settled at Mont Ronde, in 
the leeward part of St. Vincent." 

" Can you tell us, grandmama," said Fredericli, 
" how they used to hve ?" 

" In the time, my dear, which I have been tellii^ 
you," said his grandmama, " soon after the Charab 
war. they lived in huts made ot posts, put in flie 
groinid something like the shape of the letter A ; they 
wattled them like basket work, thatched down all the 
way with palm leaves. They made the women 
perform all the laborious work, either as regards the 
cultivation of the ground, or anything except fish- 
ing or liunting. TTiese sports tiiey did not consider 
degrading at all ; at other times, their delight wm 
swinging, half awake, and half asleep, in liammoefcs. 
It is strange, that though the Charaibs wore no 
dothea, yet they manuiactateA a watt. tA tbL 



73 

^ BO far back as the time oi Columbus, who 
Sons this circumstance ; indeed to the invcn- 
■ erf the Charaibs, do we owe not only the 
,' but the very word, hammock, Which we still 
B from them to express a hanging bed. They 
(a strange custom when a child is bom, of con- 

Ethe tender skull of the infent between two 
of wood, placed before and behind, binding 
[ on each side, so as ta make the forehead and 
back of the skull appear like two sides of a 
K. 

tare is no doubt, that they formerly ate all 
ners taken in war ; and during the Charaib war, 
ifa they abstained from thin , their savage disposi- 
"WBa fully shown. After the termination of the 
Bonie of the yellow Charaibs were taken to 
taa to see King Geoi^ III. They returned 
t to Owia, and to their former habits. They had a 
tttunk of clothing gi^en them and English boots, 
f which my father saw, some time after, hung 
ij the walls of their rude cabins as mere matters 
IHW. They were fond of money and spirituous 
ts, and, in their canoes, which were admirably 
J by themselves, my father has known them go 
fRs Martinique to purchase claret, 
h^ cultivated Indian com, and different provi- 
I such as yams, plantains and rice. Before 
[Oiaraib war, tolacco was much culti^'ated 
bem, as the English, upon coming to cultivate 
AqxttB of ground, found them quite worn out by 
WDstant Buecessicn of tobacco crops, which soon 
igtB the soil. Since that period, the Chxiaibs 
KBin increased in number : they are now a little 
^vHized, and wear a shirt and trousers. They 
^od seamen and fish well, but their love of inde- 
ktt indolence overcomes all, and as soon as they 
' s dollars, they still go off and s^od 
h ewingitt their hammock, and «le«!V ^-wwj 



I 



the time until the nutuTEl cajl of hunger compels tliem 
to work a little, and Ly hunting or fishing to gun 
some money. Such is their state, to tlie present day." 

" I did not know, grandmama," said Maria, " that 
rice grew in the West Indies ; I thought it grew only 
in America and the East Indies." 

"It does not," eaid her grandmama, " grow in audi 
a quantity in the West Indies, as might be espectedi 
but a little is often cultivated hy negroes and Charajhs, 
though it is not so good, either as Carolina or East 
Indian rice. Rice ia called a cereal plant." 

" Grandmama," said Frederick, " I do not knov 
what cereal means ?" 

" It is a word, my dear, taken from Ceres, the 
goddess of com ; meaning any grain resembling cfwii, 
which lice does in a great degree. The botanical 
name of it is Bryza sativa. The appearance of 
rice is not unlike English barley. Tlie seed grow 
on separate footstalks, which sprout from the i 
stalk ; at the end of each grain, there is aji awn 
beard, very like barley. Rice is beUeved to be 
indigenous to Asia ; by accident it foimd its way tn 
Carolina in North America, in consequence of a small 
vessel from Madagascar stopping there, and giving » 
person some of the seeds of rice, which were sown and 
gave a good return ; but it was some time, and not 
before many experiments, that they found out how to 
clear the husk off, so as to fit it for food. Rice 
requires a damp, swampy soil, and more heat dian 
England affords, for its cultivation. It thrives very 
well in many situations, both in Italy and Spain. 

" And now, my dears, your nest query is about 
Indian corn, which ia also often called maize. IR 
botanical name is Zea Mays. You have seen it 
growing, perhaps, in gardens in England— -a long, 
strong Jointed, reed-like plant, its leaves like large 
flags, sporting out on alternate sides of the stalk; eadi 
plant beare one, or more epikea, qi "W^Aa (Aw 
tliree is the common miraber , Wt tixeic ttra.! ^" " 






ER. 75 ^ 

It is also a cereal plant of great importance. When 
ground, it makes excellent potage, or cakes. In 
America, they shell it in the sweet, green stale, and 
boil it, when it is a pleasant, wholesome, vegetable. 
In the West Indies, they roast it on the husk in the 
green stage, negroes and white people both like it;, i 
they call it fiarbadoes mutton. j 

It is escellcnt food for fattening horses, pigs and 1 
every description of poultry. Two crops may easily 
be had every year, and we know no grain that gives 
such a large return, in proportion to the land required, 
the labour necessary, and the seed sown." 

" And now, grandmaraa," said Maria, " i 
tell us, what sort of fruit your sorel tart was made of, I 
and also what guavas are hke ; I have tasted the nice 1 
jelly made from them." 

" Sorel, my dear," said her grandmama, " is not a 
fruit, hut a pretty plant resembling our English 
columbine ; it has a blossom very like it, which, when 
stewed with sugar, makes the best tart I know of in 
the West Indies. Sometimes a pleasant beverage is i 
made irom it by fermentation, it is very acid but I 
wholesome. Sorrel may be either red or white. As to 
guavae, they too are occasionally red, white, pink, and 
sometiraes of a buff colour. The white guava, (psi- 
nium pyriferium) is a shrub, and is the most dehcate 
fruit. Thered, (psidiura poniiferura) is coarser infla- 
vonr, and is a tree, sometimes twenty feet high. The 
leaves of both are hght green. The fruit is generally . 
round or otherwise oblong ; the flavour resembles that 
of a strawberry." 

" What nice fruits these are," said Frederick. 

" Very nice my dear; but not so good as those of 1 
Europe." 

'■ I see you are rising, grandmama," said Maria; 
" but do pray remain a few minutes longer to answer 
a question which Frederick and I had nearlY EoT^o^Ssa. _ 

to ask you. It was while you were teOkig ua cA "^Qi^^^J 
mAneea of the little Frascra at breakSs^et, '^o'u- *'|^^H 



TG TALES OF A GBAHDMOTBRB. 

that they seized the turtle eggi ; dow grandmftmma, 
■do you mean the turtle, the very turtle that is made 
into soup f " 

" I do my dear," 

" How very curious, fishes' eggs, oh ! I could not 
fancy fishes' eggs nice." 

" Perhaps not, my dear, but I can assure you, thiit 
gourmands value them aa very delicious eating. The 
turtle cannot, however, be called altogether a fish ; it 
is amphibious, that is, living partly on land andpuUjr 
on water. It is an awkward unshapely animal, some- 
what oval in its fbnn, but as to its size, nothing is 
more varied — besides, there are thirty different species 
of turtle ; you can readily imagine, that although 
they have one general family resemblance, yet it 
would be impossible for me to describe them all to 
you, without more time than we can spare tfr 

■ But it would not take avery long time, grsnd- 
aa, to remain and tell us what the eggs Of the 
turtle are like." 

" They are," swd grandmama, "' rather larger tium 
I common pigeon's egg ; they have no shell, Ae 
substance of the egg being enclosed in a membranoffl 
bag, similar in appearance to the membranous sub- 
stance inside the shell of a common domestic fowl's 
'. They require to be boiled with care, as they 
very easily broken, and to say the truth, they 
always seemed to me to be something very dis- 
gusting to see any one eat them, for fltey cannot 
eaten like any other egg, but must be literally 
sucked up out of the membranous bog I have des- 
criljed to you. Thtse eggs belong to the Midas ot 
common sea turtle ; its body, when fully grown la 
often large, and is defended by a very strong shell, bo 
that it has been known to carry six-hundred pounds 
weight on its back ; indeed, 1 have heard of a turtle 
ieing- /bur hundred and eig\\ty poaniaoi^tx^' 
" My dear grandmama," said. t'c^CTviai.,. 



1 enormous quantity of food such a large animal 
must conamne." 

" It muat, indeed ; but the sea supplies its food in 
great abundance, for even ■when it comes on shore, 
which, as an amphibious animal it occasionally does, 
it still finds food on the rocks, for 1 believe its subsists 
wholly on cuttleand shell fish. Its flesh, in the most 
esteemed parts is greenish — sailors and epicures like it 
amazingly ; hut in the West Indies, where it is a cheap 
article of food, it ia less rehshed than in Europe. 
They lay their eggs in the sand by the sea shore, first 
of all digging a large round hole to receive them. I 
have heard it said that one turtle has been known to 
lay one thousand eggs during the space of a 
year." 

" Oh grandmama," said Maria, " one thousand 
eggs ! one thousand turtles ?" 

" No my dear, not exactly one thousand, you 
forget, tliat turtle eggs are eaten in the West Indies, 
and I do not doubt many must be crushed to pieces 
on the sea shore." 

" Could you not steal a httle more time, grand- 
mama, to tell us about all the other kinds of turtle." 

" No, my dears, I could not, for it is already rather 
late, and I muat wish you both good night." 



CHAPTER VI. 



In less than a week, the three unfortunate HuffeteB 
were able to proceed to Kingstown, from whence they 
procured n passage to Barbadoes, where their ship 

They were most gratefiil to ua, and the young offi- 
cer, upon hia return to Barbadoes, wrote to my father, 
and eiss sent a handsome remuneration to tjie Cha- 
raibs. 

About a month afterwards, my father receii-ed > 
note from Mr. Fraaer in Kingstown, saying that there 
were a number of turkeys, and Guinea birds li 
for him at Kingstown, addressed toMr. Fraaev's 
and he begged we would send a cart and a negro fa 

'I'hiB was a sailor's grateful present; there i 
was a more acceptable one. Henry exulted ii 
ready made cages, and, I believe, expected to mBkea 
fortune by rearing turkeys. We were not sorry that 
Mr. Harris and his family were going to spend thof 
Christmas in Kingstown. It was the first o 
could recollect passing with my father, and we prefer- 
red being alone, to the society of those who could not 
enter into our feelings. Early on Christmas morning 
we were awoke by the sounds of mirth and jollity. 
My father called us to the gallery, to see the party 
of negroes, who had come to wish ua a " a merry 
Christmas." Tliey made maKY fee a^?jec\«», tsai, 
then began to sing and dance, wbSe wait ^'il" "" 



B beat time, by rattling calibashes filled with 
™«iui stones. The nest scene was the diatributionof 
•ie Christmas provisions and clothing, after which 
"ley went to their houses to prepare for the festivities 
of tiie evening. This day twelvemonth, we had read 
tie beautiful swrice for Christmaa on the wide ocean, 
wparated from our father; and now, the return of 
that season could not fail to make us recount to each 
other all we had then felt, thought and wished, for 
the future ; all our hopes and fears, as to our meeting 
Dur parent in health ; while he also had his tale to tell 
}l anxiety past and fond hopes gratified, when he 
race more met us in safety after the uncertainties of J 
L long voyage. 

Negroes, more particularly on an estate, are v 
Terse to employ themselves for their master ; 
."hristmas day, indeed, we required no coatiy feast to J 
iribe ua into passing a happy and merry day. 
lappy as we were, we could not forget the home 
lad left ; the cheerful Christmas ei'eninga we had spent 1 
t good, old, kind Miaa Tibby Elphinatone's, were T 
ngraven on all our hearts, and we thought of har ! 
rith affection and gratitude, and wondered what 1 
he was doing then, and who were celebrating the . 
vening, in her hospitable Uttle parlour. 

I can recoUect how my parents talked with us 
be land of closed doors and windows, bright fires, 
nd all those dear, delightful, domestic scenes, which 
re so strongly linked in our memory with our own 
ear native country. All the exertions of our parents 
ridently tended to a return to our native land, and 
'e naturally imbibed the same wishes and affections, I 
le more so that we did not leave home until we were I 
Id enough t« feel its value ; but all this was only a | 
reatcr incentive to our industry and economy. The i 
egro clothing had been procured ready made, and 
id necessarily cost a large sum of money ■, hit as w« 
id nonr become pretty good workmen, totj -nioftiM 
1 sending home for tlie mutmoXs, so liii*. 



tgofed sa 



so TALES or A GBANDUOTHBK. 

she could, withuur afsiatance, and that of some female 
negroes, make all the clothing for the ^ 
children, and the sbirts for the men, for nest year. 
I often yet think of tlie hours we spent i 
employment, and how pleasantly they glided past. 
Sometimes mammatold us usefulstories, at other tiiae« 
my brother read aloud to us, or we would sing to- 
gether. My mother was particularly anxious to 
instruct those negroes arovmd her person, and sbe 
used to do so regularly by conversation ; as we 
were always present, we became much interested. I 
dare say our neighbours, whose whale happiness coo- 
aisted in visitors and visiting, wondered how we could 
lead such stupid. Uves ; hut the truth ^ 
never idle, and had not time to spend in considering 
their opinion of us. 

Soon after the Harris family returned from Kisgt- 
town, Mrs, Harris caUed to inform us that, at last, 
her daughters were going to England. 
to wish to induce my mother to send us honte 
with them, and was astonished when my mother said, 
she had no intention of separating us from herself ; 
and that, independently of all other considerations, el 
could not afford it. 

We returned the visit ; the girls were full of En^amli 
and seemed to forget, that, in order to go there, tliey 
must part from their parents. It was not indeed 
likely they could feel much love for their iathei, 
for he never (poke to them with interest or affection, 
and appeared thoroughly to disapprove of sending them 
home. " It was," he said, " a ruinous expense, aod 
they were useless enough already ; but he knew thai 
they would return, worse than useless — fine ladies, 
despising their home and every thing about it." 

The mother repUed, not in the very best temper 
imoginable, and we returned, not understanding mudl 
which of them waa right, or which wrong. 

&fy mother told ua, tl\ftt tiaoM^Vi a^ was si 
see Mr. Harris bo lougli ani iruit, ije\.\if^ 



was BOTTT to 



right, for. that where girls had been quite neglected, ■ 
until the ages of his (feughters, it waa in vain to ex- 
pect tliey could gain any useful education by a re- 
mova] to a fashionable London school. They might 
leam folly, and probably httle else. 

A few days after, the girls came alone to take leave 
of UB, when, to our surprise, me found that Elizabeth, 
the youngest, was not to accompany her sistere. She 
seemed to feel this, and though her sisters never ap- 
peared to us to treat her kindly, yet now she waa to 
part from them, she clung to them, and said to ua how 
happy she would be, were she not to be separated from 

Ann, the eldest, observed, " You know, Elizabeth, yon 
could not go to London, you are so ugly ; you would 
frighten them at achooL" 

Elizabeth said, " She did not care about school, or 
London, all she cored for was being left alooe." 

Her sister Ann replied, " You had better go into 
partnership here, with your neighbours, in the turkey 
concern -, that will suit you much better than going 
home with us." 

Poor Elizabeth began to cry, and after they 
had aU three left, we asked mamma's permission, to 
invite her to pass a day with us, when her sisters 
had sailed. 

This my mother willingly agreed to ; she lilted to see 
the afiection the poor girl showed for her sisters, and 
felt the more interest in her, that she was harshly used 
by both her parents, and less esteemed than the others, 
merely because she had a plainer countenance. 

Elizabeth's first visit alone to us was on a Sunday ; 
as my parents would not allow of her being any inter- 
ruption to our UHual employment, she sat quietly, and 
hc^od the service read, and saw how we passed the 
day. She made many remarks wiiich showed m« 
ignorance, and when my mother kindly pointed t 
out to her, she lieteaed with an atteiitiDn "icsi. ^V^ 



82 TALES OT A GRANDMOTRBB. 

In the aftemoon, she went with us and Henry 
when we fed the poultiy ; our Barbadoes' turkeys ^ 
thriving beautiftUly, and after showing her aJl thie 
department of our care, Heory took her with ua to i 
the pigeons and the rabbits fed; we then pwd « 
the pigs a visit, when Elizabeth remarked : 

" I wish I could do all this. 1 believe if I could, ps 
would love me more ; but how can I be useful, whe 
never was taught ? Do you know I can hardly st 
only Venus one of the servants taught me a litl 
Oh ! how I do wish you would teach me to do all yon 
can to help your papa and mamma !" 

We repeated this to our parents, who 1 
difficulty in obtaining her mother's leave to letEliis- 
beth pass several hours every day with ua. SherraA 
and wrote, and learnt to cipher ; she soon eicelled ia 
working with her needle, and became, under tny 
mother's tuition, a useful girl. 

Mrs. Harris thanked mamma very drily for all bet 
trouble; but hinted that she would have prefemd 
her daughter's being taught music and dancing. Sbt 
had no ear for music, and besides, at her age, wtere 
so much had been neglected, my mother thought it 
wiser to teach her the necessary business of tfe. 
By degrees, however, she learnt to dance ; and only 
for this did Mrs. Harris express any gratitude. 

We were again in the midst of sugar making, vdien 
a sad misfortune happened to us, My father, as usuiL 
was down at the mill, watching for the wind ; he W 
done this for many successive nights, and, overooifle 
by fatigue, he fell asleep. Caesar, the negro, via 
l^d remained with him, had awoke, and taking oot 
his tinder bos, struck a hgbt for hia pipe. He 
smoked for some time, and then knocked tiie ashes 
out of it. My father had given strict orderu to the 
negroes, never to smoke among the dry cane trafli; 
Cicsar knew this, but carelessly forget, and probsbly- 
thought there wbs no danger. 

My moflier, after seeingiia bH iaat n^ve* 



n^'vae^j^^H 



bwn to read, in her own. room, which looked towards 
lie mill ; it was hot, and she whs seated near the 
rittdow, regretting my father being ao uncomfortably 
ituated ; when, on looking up, she saw a hlaze of fire 
t the works; she instantly rushed out, alarmed one 
f the negroes, who was asleep in the haU, and got 
lown to the works, which were enveloped in flames. 

It was very dry weather, and little water in the 
mall brook that aupphed uh. The whole estate- 
legroes were roused, and my father made them dig 
arth and throw upon the fire; hut it was too late, 
learly the whole works were destroyed, mulea and 
attle burnt to death, and ouj only consolation was, 
hat not one human being was injured. C:esar dis- 
ippeared, and at first we feared he had perished, hut I 
t stsrict search was made, and it was evident he was 
lot among the ruins. Nest morning we sat down to 
L giooaij breakfast ; it was closely approaching the 
time when the next inHtalnieDt of the estate became 
Ine to Mr. Harris, and to have it in readiness, at 
the exact time had been the height of my father's 
wishes. 

But now his sugar works were burnt down, which 
liad cost liim some thousand pounds, along with 
almost all his cattle and mules ; and yet imtti he 
supplied their place ; and rebuilt the works, every ' 
thing must remain at a stand. 

We were very sorry for poor Ctesar, who, i 
evident, felt his carelessness, and feared showing 
bimself. He was a faithful, well conducted negro, 
Hnd his wife was in great alarm about hira. 

My father sent out negroes for hira in every direc- 
tion, to tell him that he wished hira to return, and 
was convinced, he had not set fire to the works c 
purpose, 

At the end of several days, Ctesar was discovered, 
hid in a tree ; It was not without much persuasion 
he would come dowBi and accompany ftie 



vered, ^^H 
UBsion ^^H 



fi4 TiLBS OF A ORANDMOTHEIl. 

When he reached our hoiiae, you never beheld a 
more miserable looking creature ; he entreated ma£S8 
to forgive him, he said *' he knew he had ruined massa 
gaite, and he thought to go to the wooda, and never 
show his face again, he was so sorry for doing sueb 
bad to his masea." 

My fether, however, to his Burpriae, most freely 
forgave him , and he proued, to the last moment of oui 
residence, a most attached negro to ua. 

It was now necesaary to rebuild the works, and my 
father's friend in Kingstown, Mr. Fraser, the merchant, 
came forward most kindly, and ottered to advance alt 
that was necesaary, to set us at work again. 

To avoid debt and obligation to others, at such a 
time, was impossibk ; but my father preferred being 
indebted to Mr. Fraaer, rather than to Mr. Hanis. 
and it was a great load off his mind, to be enabled to 
pay the second instalment the day it became dne. 
Our plantain walk had, at first, been an amusement, 
but latterly we had looked forward to it with the idei 
of profit. 

We were occasionally allowed to have it cleaned, 
and hoed for ns by some of the negroes, but we bd 
each individually done much in the way of plant- 
ing ; and there was such a crop ready, that we only 
felt at a loss how to dispose of it. 

My mother was consulted, but she could not think 
of any plan, until Elizabeth Harris, hearing us talli 
of it, said she thought the droghing vessel that was 
going to take her father's sugar, would perhaps pur- 
chase the plantains for Kingstown market. Ourneit 
assistant in the concern was the Scotch carpenter, 
who willingly undertook our commission. 

He was successful, and now our only diiEculty 
was to have them cut in time, as the droghing vessel 
was to send her boat for them next morning. 

Several of the negroes after work at six o'clodi, 
fame good naturedly to cut \lve\)Taivt\uia iiOTrtt.fat us. 
and the honest ScotchniBn \ocke4 ftveia ' ^^ 



il, AxjJi^M 



85 ■ 

^kt, and next morning we ea-whim, and tbem, oS' ^M 

tiie boat to the vessel. ^| 

Children who have never been placed in the cir- ^M 

■instances we then were, cim hardly understand H 

le anxiety we felt for the return of the Stotchman, H 

id the dollars. Elizabeth Harris had come, as H 

mal, to her lessons, for she now spent all her mom- H 

Lgs with U3, and she was as impatient for the result H 

He returned in a very short time, though we H 

lought it inaupportahiy long ; he counted forty dol- H 

xs into our hands, adding, that the coloured captain H 

F the vessel would willingly purchase any hananaf ^M 

e had, and that he would give us five dollars fur a ^M 

ill gromi turkey. This was a tempting offer, but H 

le full grown turkies were papa's and mamma's, and ^t 

lose we had reared, were only turkey poulta yet. H 

" Only turkey poults," we said, over and ov«r H 

gain, lamenting we could not make eight full grown H 

urkies of themi but that was impossible. H 

TTie Scotchman, upon reflection, thought, if they H 

lere half the size of full grown ones, perhaps, the H 

aptain would give half price for them. The bananas ^ 
fere cut, luid off went our kind messenger again in 
he boat of the drogher. 

He returned with eight dollars for the bananas 
md said he would look at the turkies, and make on 

iffer for thera. H 

They were next shipped off, and we received, for H 

he ei^t turkey poults, sixteen dollars ; In all we re- H 

:eived sixty-sis dollars, no despicable sum, as we I 
Jiought, for our first speculation, but we reduced it 
■o sixty as we determined to reward the Scotch car- 
penter for his services, and we gave a quarter dollar 
» each negro, who helped us to cut the plantains. 
rhia took two dollars from the sis, and mamma pro- 
mised to purchase something useful for the cwt^CvAh , 
ipitfa the remniaing four dollars. 



86 

diimer. We put sixty dollars in a bag, and as won as 
he came in, we presented our little treasure to hjm, 
aa a help after all his miafortunea. 

I have heard my father since say, that that wbs 
one of the happiest moments of hia life. He said, he 
felt ao eatisfied, that he was tr aining us up m tk 
right way, when he saw such steady, active gratitoile 
from us, that the poasesaion of thousands could not 
have given him such real peace and joy . My mo- 
ther was not less pleased, although she wanted the 
pleasure of the surprise my father had, which He 
children, we supposed to be the most delightfid of 
all. J believe Elizabeth Harris shared our joy; everj 
day her character seemed to improve in activity and 
usefulness. 

* '= But now," said grandmama, "we must stop 
for this eveoiug ; and if you wish any explanations, 
say so." 

Maria said, she would like to know something about 
plantain and banana trees, and Frederick said, he 
did not understand the meaning of the word iostai- 

"The botanical name of the plantain is musapm- 
disiaoa. The tree is from twelve to eighteen, of 
even twenty feet in height. There are no branches, 
but the leaves rise out in a cluster at the top, Thpy 
are often six feet long and two broad, of a liye)^ 
bright green. The blossom rises from the middle of 
the leaves to a considerable height ; tlie fiTiit grows b 
branches, thickly set on each side of a strong stem. 
When ripe, it is yellow and good to eat uncooked; 
but when hard and green, it may be roasted «nd 
is an excellent substitute for bread, or it may be 
boiled, made into soup, or else mashed in a wooden 
mortar — a mode of preparation of which the negroes 
are very fond. The ripe plantain, cut in slices sjld 
fried, is similar in taste to apple fritters. 
A/usa sapientum \b tbe ^lotamcti ivotim lA *&» W 
nana; its general appearance \a-vfttv \ifeft"-'^~ 



.«V^»J|g| 



S7 

»'gTows, like this plant, very readily in every tro- 
ical climate. The fruit of the plantain may be about 
ight, orten inches long, and something more than an 
ich in diameter, while that of the banana is shorter 
nd thicker. The colour of the ripe fruit is similar to 
he plantain ; it ia more juicy, more of the flavour of 
. mellow pear, and altogether is a more luscious fruit 
ban the plantain. Its produce is very great, and the 
iiltivation is not expensive ; the labour requisite is 
nfling-. It does not grow wild, but is propagated 
ly suckers. As soon as the fruit is ripe, it ia necea- 
ory to cut down the tree, gi^e it a little manure, 
ind dig round the roots. The fruit is formed in 
dght or nine months after the suckers are planted; 
ind before the year elapses, it is fit to be gathered. 
i sprout is sent out from the stalk, where the ripe 
rtiit has been cut, and this again yields fruit. A 
luster of fully ripened bananas usually weighs from 
hirty to thirty five pounds ; it has been known to 
ixceed uxty. 

Humboldt, the great traveller, says truly, that there 
8 no food we know of for man, winch produces such 
) quantity, at so very httle expense of cultivation, 
md upon so small a space of ground. It b culti- 
vated in Europe in hot- houses, where I never tasted it; 
Jut I have heard it is greatly inferior to that of any 
Topical country. In the West Indies, it is, 1 think, 
jne of their best fruits and resembles a very mellow j 
pear in Savour. I 

" And now, Frederick," said his grand-mamma, "I I 
must eicplain to you what an instalment means. | 
When a person wishes to become the purchaser of an 
estate, he very often is not rich enough to pay for the 
whole, at the moment he makes the purchase, but he 
tttods himself by an agreement to pay so much more in 
i given number of years and so much more again, at 
1 time specified, until the whole purchase moneY he 
oaid. The payments, or inatalmeirtamtt'Y\ie'ma&.**-^ 
u. two, or three periods accor^ng to ftie ■\t*emis> 
■w/ upon by the seller and Wyet. ^^ te&«x 



I 



L eEANSMOTBBK. 



of courae, had many difficulties t( 
able to pay this Instalnmnt ; for the fire had been a sd 
loss to him, but he had brought into cultivation a great 
deal of land, in what i% called ground prowions, 
yams, taniers and sweet potatoes, heeides t ' 
crop of Indian com ; and after storing up what was 
necessary, he had a good deal to dispose of. This 
iind his surplus ground provisions were very profit- 
able ; we had also less and less occasion to expend 
money in househould supplies, for notwithstand- 
ing die theft, to which we were obliged to submit, 
our poultry throve and increased; we had plenty of 
rabbits and pigeons, and pigs in abvmdance. We 
had at last estabUshed our poultry yard, on the other 
side the carpenter's house, beyond the garden 
his being watch over it made the depredation less than 
it otherwise would have been. Tlie rapid growth of 
the Indian com is of great consequence, for it is die 
best food for stock, and every one values it accord- 
ingly ; indeed, I can remember hearing a 
Great Britain, who was telling of its nqjid growth 
compared to English wheat, declare, ' that it grew 
30 fast, one could hear it rush through the earCfa;' 
but I need not tell you, I never did. Now, good 
night, and dream of the rushing Indian com." 



TALES or A GRANDMOTKEl 



CHAPTER VI. 



w," said grandmama, " proceed wiUi 

r lather had paid his second instalment 
I great relief to his mind and added to the hapij 
pmess of us all ; there was now only one more to payjj 
but the fire had made it necessary to contract 
to Mr. Fraser in town, for the supply of materials for 
erecting: a new boiling house, still house, etc. The 
mill had in part been saved, hut even that required 
much repair, and so many of the negroes were em- 
ployed in this way, that it unavoidably interfered 
widi the daily cultivation of the estate, and my fathettj 
foresaw that his next crop would iaH short of what iii 
otherwise would have done. These misfortunes did' 
not produce despondency ; my parents told us that, by 
good conduct and activity, they hoped yet to rise 
tAxne all these difficulties, and cheerfulness still reigned 
m our happy home. My mother, with our assistance 
ami that of three female negroes, had completed all 
that part of the negroes' clothing, for the next Chriat- 
niaawWhichit wasin our powerto make; wewere really 
gratdfedtofind, thatbythisindustrywehadaavednearly 
one half the expense of the former year, while at the 
same time, the materials having been sent \i% ftciTO. 
home, were superior in quality and gteatV^ \e%5\r 
— '--, than if they had been purchased in t\\e coto'K' 



I 



HM tJ 



I 

I 



00 TALES 01 

Our stock was thriving. We had now three cows, 
each of which had a calf, and we ceased to depend upon 
our remttining goats for nuBc. My father had taken 
Henry with him, whenever he could spare time, to fish; 
he waa now becoming an expert fisherman, and ofteo 
brought us home cray fish and mullet, so thai 
many new comforts were rising around us. 

About this time a box, addressed to my mother, 
arrived from Scotland; our good old friend. Mis* 
T\hby, Baid she could not think of putting ua to tb 
eipense of postage for nothing, so she had sent som 
articles wluch, she thought, would be useful to lu 
and make her letter acceptable. 

There was a kind delicacy of feeling in this tlot 
gratified us. even beyond the sensible, substantial, pre- 
eents sent. She added some excellent books, both (be 
my parents and us, reminding us, that she wa£ now in 
her seventy fourth year and could not probably live to 
receive many more letters from us ; she be^ed that 
the children might each write a few lines, for ^ 
thought, in seeing their hand writing, she "would al- 
most feel aa if once more seeing themselves." 

She said, " she had missed us all, particular^ it 
Christmas time, and that even Betty thought it 
seemed strange to hear our merry voices no more." 

Our old nurse, she told us, had given great satisfac- 
tion to her employers, until the time she left them 
for a house of her own. She had married an Ejiglish- 
man and was gone — Miss Tibby was not sure where. 

It seemed surprising to ua how soon another Christ- 
mas was about to make its appearance. It was now 
nearly two years since we had landed ; I bad i*ni- 
pleted my twelfth year, entered my teens, and fan- 
cied myself quite a woman compareil to my siitCf 
Marian who, after all, was only fourteen months my 
junior. Every one was now talking of a grand ball 
to be given at the Government house. It was the day 
after Christmas- day ; bH &e uppct ^tea»a 'i.'iffi, 
white jjopulation were inViteA, >3Mtm-3 ' '- 






tely declined the honour, as they thought it w 
to leave the negroea, at such a time, solely to the « 
of an overseer, and my father could not afford to keep 
a manager. Our neighbouxB, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, 
had no manager, at the moment, nevertheleaa, aa 
they expected a new one soon, she insisted upon 
going to the ball, though in doing so, it was necessary 
to sjiend money they could apparently ill a&brd in 
finery, which after the ball was over, could be of 
no future use to her. 

At first Mr. Harris rtfuaed, upon any account, to 
accompany her and leave the estate at Christmas, but 
an invitation to dinner being sentto him by Mr. Bright 
his lawyer in town, on the day preceding the ball, 
he suddenly changed hia mind and determined 
to go. It waa very evident this lawyer had a secret 
power over Mr. Harris, but in what way he had 
acquired it no one either could or chose to guess ; 
for Mr. Bright had never been known to lend money, 
and WHS considered the most cautious man alive. 
Mr. Harris had got a grant of his own estate, and also of 
the land he sold to my father, for almost nothing; he 
bad come from England with several thousand 
pounds ; had he managed with the least propriety 
and economy he ought to have been, by this time, an 
independent man. But he had an indolent, extrava- 
gant wife, at least indolent, as regarded all her duties, 
for she was sufficiently active when pleasure was 
her object. Her children, her negro servants, and 
her household economy, were all alike — in a state of 
anarchy, confusion, and waste. 

Nothing was ever mended or repaired : their fur- 
niture and their daily clothing seemed alike going to 
ruin, except when she exhibited to visitors, and then 
she was fine enough ; as for Ehzabeth, anything waa 
thought sufficiently good for her. Mrs. Harris said, 
" It was a terrible misfortune to have a^ic^ a ^\»v(v 
cbiltl ; she really feared she could never \io^tt \q Vwift 
^gt married, and it was no use to senOi \i«i\iam.t-. 



I 



nothing could improve her : she was a perfect fright." 
And tlien the anxious mother would ^igh. 'when she 
reflected what might he the fate of her child. 

My motlier colled upon them hefore they went to 
speud their ClixiBttnafi in Kingstown, and asked them to 
permit Elizabeth to pass the holidays with ua. They 
gladly accepted thig offer, for, careless as Mra. HBiria 
was, a sort of regard for what others might «iy, ra- 
ther than any sense of duty or afTection. had made 
her feel the impropriety of leaving Elizabeth almie 
with negro servants in the country. Mr. and M». 
Harris setout two days before Christmaa, and as sooo 
as it became cool, in the afCemooii, my mamma walked 
with ua to their house, to bring Elizabeth over. Ne- 
ver had parent done greater injustice to a child, 
than Mrs. Harris to Elizabeth ; her two Hstere 
were certainly very pretty girls ; their mother wM 
proud of them, and what kindness her selfish dis- 
position permitted her to feel, was all lavished upon 
them. 

Poor Elizabeth dared not express affection . either to 
parents or sisters ; this made her at first appear a dull, 
stupid, sulky girl, epithets which her mother hod so 
long and liberally bestowed upon her, that the un- 
fortunate child did not doubt her great inferiority to 
her sisters in every respect. 

Stiangerssee only the external, and many used tosay. 
" What an uncouth child Elizabeth Harris is, so on- 
like her sisters !" In this they were right, she was in 
character very dissimilar to her sisters who, like their 
mother, were selfish and vain ; many people thou^t 
Elizabeth had neither affections, nor feelings; tlus 
was a great mistake ; she had both, perhaps ttie more 
deeply rooted that they had never been sulFered to 
expand ; every hud of natural aSiiction had been 
cnished, by the unkind taunts of her vain and foolish 
mother. As for Mr. Harris, it did not appear that 
he mailed any one to suppose W catei fc\CQei ^ 

child; he'had lost Us oniy boti ^e-Jawa." 






9sn 



father's purcbasing the estate from him, and when the 
event happeaed suddenly, he had heen heard to say, 
■' It was ju8t as well, there was one less to provide 
for." Such was the conduct of the parents of Eh- 
zaheth Harris, to their youngest child. I can never 
forget her grateful expression of countenance, as we 
entered her father's house to take her home with ua. 

She had put up her little wardrobe and was ready 
for us ; a young negro girl, her usual attendant, took 
up her charib basket and prepared to follow us. We 
M)on reached our home, showed Elizabeth the tem- 
porary bed my mother had put up for her, in our 
rooiD, and Elizabeth added, " Hannah can sleep 
here on the floor." My mother told her she did not 
like servants sleeping in our room, that we always 
helped eachotlier, and never required the assistance of 
any one. Elizabeth was astonished ; she had much 
to learu, for she had never put on her own stockings ; 
acti^^ty could not be expected from such misma- 
nagement ; but Elizabeth was so gentle, so docile, 
that in a wonderfully abort space of lime, she 
began to feel the pleasure of helping herself, and thus 
escaping the constant society of a servant. My mo- 
ther taught her how to arrange her long, lank and 
hitherto unmanageable hmr ; she examined her scanty, 
yet eatravagant wardrobe ; she made her despise torn 
embroidery, and soon convinced her that plain and 
even coarse clothing, if neat, clean, and well mended, 
is not only more comfortable, but more genteel than 
ragged finery. Few people would credit the improve- 
ment this made in the external appearance of Ehza- 
heth ; it said much for her really amiable disposition, 
that she spoke daily of her sisters with affection, and 
her greatest wish seemed to be to find out, if she 
I'uuld, how to please her parents. Previously to this 
period, my motiier had greatly improved Elizabeth in 
reading, had taught her writing, arithmetic ati4 ^t- 
nd other things ; but until she UvedmtVu«,'\\. \«A 
not been in ourjwwer to effect muc\\ towTads' 
III!.' her character. 



94 TALES OF A OBAKDUOTHEB 

The Christinaa allowances of Hie negroeB consist 
of salt pork, flour, rura, rice and sugar. It so hap- 
pened, TCry unfortunately, that the Irish mess pork, 
generally sent out at that season for the cegroes, did 
not arrive, nor was there a cask to be had in the 
island. My father waited until the very latest posabk 
day ; and when he saw that it was in vain to expect 
the Irish pork, he ordered out salt beef. 

On Ghristmaa morning when they assembled to 
receive their provisions, he told them that, " he vn 
very sorry he had not been able to get pork for them, 
that the Irish people had not sent it, it was not hi* 
fault, he could assure them, nor the feult of any rf 
the Masaas in Kingstown." 

He then told them, " that he had got salt beef, n 
the next beat thing, instead of pork." They looked 
a little grave at first, but when they listened to my 
father's plain explanation they seemed quite satined, 
and took their salt beef as good-humouredly as if it 
had been pork. 

We were aatoniahed, about eleven in the forenoon, 
by the overseer ofMr. Harris's estate coming over to 
us in great haste ; his face was the picture of con- 
sternation. 

Elizabeth Harris was with us, and was dreadfully 
frightened, thinking some accident had happened lo 
her father or mother in town; but they were in the 
midst of Kingstown gaiety, while their negroea woe 
in a state of mutiny on their property. ITie over- 
seer came to ask my father's advice what to do; be 
said, they had used very threatening language lo 
him, when he began to share out the beef, and said, 
" That it was a trick of his, now their Massa vta 
gone." He probably felt irritated, at eo unjust an 
accusation, and they, seeing he was vexed, tt^k ad- 
vantage of this to vex him still more, calling him 
disagreeable names. He rebuked them sliarply, when 
with one yell they feU upon, tiie \»nt\a a£ tjeed 
tore tliem to pieces, and ftnew t>ie - -■^-— 






He took refuge in the still house, the key I 
f which lie had in his pocket ; there he remained I 
locked up for more than two hours, until he saw | 
they had all gooc up to the mountain. 

My father was not very fond of intermeddling, 
with Mr. Harria'a afiairs, nor waamy mother inclined 
that he should attempt to quell a set of mutinous 
negroes ; the question was, what was to be done ? 
when faithful dsar, who had come with a present of 
some fine pines to us for our Christmas, said, " Me 
massa, you no go at all, me know very well what 
to do ; me go, massa, to a mountain and tell Master 
Harris neger, all bout de pork. Me go tell 'em no 
fault of de Ahoushee overseer, massa, only de fault 
it no come ; me tell 'em," said Ciesar, " dat a we 
kab beef only and me massa, dey go hear a me, 
and come down from de mountain." C»sar'a offer 
seemed a very sensible one, and more likely to suc- 
ceed in restoring peace, than the mission of any white 
man : he set off, like a deer to the mountain, proud 
of the coneequencc and authority it gave him, in the 
eyesof the other negroes, but still more happy, to be 
able to show Ids wish to serve a maatm' who had 
forgiven him so much. 

It was nearly four o'clock before Cresar returned ; 
we began to be uneasy, for my father feared that 
when night came, they might set fire to their nms- 
ter's works or the dwelling house. 

Cssar said lie had so far pacified tliem, that they 
promised they would come back to their houses, but 
they would not touch the beef, nor go to work, till 
their own masea returned. My father advised the 
overseer, to send in an account of the whole to Mr. 
Harris, as no doubt he would return immediately ; 
but Mrs. Harris would not hear of tiiis, she said, " It 
was holiday and tliey had no work to do for some 
days, eo what did it matter ?" She forgot ttie iea-Ts 
of tlie overeeer, and that there "ffaa «natbei e&Vs-^x. 



clo^e to theirs, by whose negroes such an exEim]dt 
might have been copied. 

In a few days Mr. Harris returned with a new 
manager ; Mrs. Harris sMU remaining in Kingstown. 
The Degrees cnme in a body demanding thdi alt 

Mr. Hums told them, there was none in the ielBud. 
and even if they were, they should have none ht 
their bad conduct in destroying all the beef. 

This made them very angry, and they withdrew, 
muttering threats against the newly arrived lUr 
nagcr. In the middle of the mght, they set fire to 
his house, and he was with difHculty rescued ttoi 
their hands ; the alarm was given, by the shd 
being blown ; we woke suddenly and not a littfe 
frightened, when we found my father was going oth 
to give his assistance, with Ciesar and some of Ml 
people, upon whom he could depend, while the faitb- 
ful carpenter remained with us. The ringleaders were 
all seized and eentoffthe islsmd for their mutinous con- 
duct, wliich they well deserved ; no sooner were they 
shipped off, than the other negroes behaTed peaceably 
again, though had Mr. and Mrs. Harris staid at home 
and minded their duties, nothing unpleasant would 
have happened. A great many canes were buint 
down, as well as the manager's house, and this fretted 
Mr. Harris very much ; he was always grumbling 
about his daughters beingat home and costing him so 
much money. 

Poor Elizabeth's only happy hours were spent in 
our house she did not say much, hut we could see 
she felt the difference. She improved greatJy ; we all 
taught her and encouraged her. 

She admired our drawings very much, until, at last, 

mamma began to teach her ; she soon acquired such n 

knowledge of drawing,, as enabled her to turn it into 

a great source of amusement to herself. Perhaps one 

i^ ^ the greatest advaBt»gea ti^t dxKtiva^ 




over music is, that it can be pursued more easily, 
find at far less espenae. 

Slie was always anxious for her sisters' letters, but 
when they came, there was little in them. They ap- 
peared to be the composition of their governess, and 
that could not satisfy the wishes of an affectionate 
sister. Elizabeth eoidd not be compared in good looks 
to her sisters, but she had a mild, gentle countenance, 
and now that she had obtained some real education and 
ideas, ber face had iraproved in intelligence. Still 
her mother evidently disliked, while her father was 
no less indifferent to her, his only child at home ; 
deed, they' seemed both best pleased, when she 
absent from them. 

We had now been a long time in the Charaib 
country, aod had never once thoug-bt of change. 
had always hod abundant employment, die beafe, 
security against weariness of mind. 

Mr. Fraser paid uh a hurried visit of one day onlyj 
as he was too busy a person to be able to leave Ins- 
concerns often ; we were very glad to see him again, 
for he was a kind-hearted, agreeable man and had 
done much to assist my father during bis diffi- 
culties at the time of the tire. He did not leave 
without obtaining a promise from my father to bring, 
us all to Kingstown the following week to pay him 
a visit. He and Mrs. Fraser Iwd sent home their 
four children to London, for education; and thear. 
youngest one had died, soon after we went 
Cbaniib country, so he said bis home seemed dull to 
hira, in comparison to what it bad formerly been. 

We were all pleased by the prospect of even seeing' 
the little town of Kingatown again. We were not 
only older, and better able to observe the country, 
but time and habit prevented our bemg aimoyed by 
the heat, or the insects, fetim which we at first suf- 
fered. The bites of the mosquitoes, before -we \eft. 
KiogBtoim, were severe enough; and evsY^ ^is.'* 
■ aiarmed us. The apidets wcta 



98 TALES OP A. OBANDUOTHEB. 

menaely large ; we could hardly believe item v. 
harmless as our litde diminutive ones at home. The 
cock-roachea too, flying about at nigbt in all directioni, 
as well as crawling, and creeping, kept ua in such an 
uncomfortable state, that we were prevented froin 
observing and admiring much to which my father caHed 
our attention upon our arrival. But v 
gone through the necessary trial, that i 
escape in a removal from an European to a tropical 
climate. We had imdergone the martyrdom of sand 
dies and mosquitoes in the country, until all our 
English blood, was, I suppose, sucked out; and in 
consequence we became less tempting for them to 
attack. Snakes are not numerous in St, Vinceot, 
and even when they bite, which rarely occur*, none 
of them are poisonous ; so that we had learnt U 



them occasionally on our path without feeling a 

We set out very early in the morning, and reached 
the house of a friend of my fatlier'3 in Marriaqui 
valley. Mr. and Mrs. Bentley were both creolea of 
the island , the former had been educated in England, 
but tad nearly forgotten its manners and cuatonu; 
Mrs. Bentley had never left St. Vincent. 

She was a kind, excellent, worthy woman> with 
a most pleasing mild address ; she had been a gwrf 
daughter, an exemplary and affectiouate mother ; and 
where she felt herself not sufficiently informed Ot 
educate her only daughter, according to her station in 
life, she had committed her to the care of another, 
whom she believed capable of so sacred a trust; die 
had parted with this beloved chUd for four longyean, 
nnd placed her in the neighbourhood of London in 
the house of a private family, the father of whom had 
been a medical man in St. Vincent; but he was 
obliged, from ill health, to leave the colony, and thus 
lose a good practice for a more uncertmn one at 
borne. Mrs. Bentley Viad ti'MB.^ft ainniedthe wife 
o/" (Jjis gBntIenian> and s\ie miucei V«i \tt V 



', for four years, under her roof, and procure good 
masters for her ; a plan which she greatly preferred 
to sending her daughter to a fashionable scliool. 

So happy had Mrs. Bentley's daughter been, and 
so well convinced was she of the superior advantages 
she had enjoyed, that she had recently prevaded upon 
Mr. Fielding, her husband, a lawyer in Kingstown, 
to send her two eldest daughters to the same 
(iatnily, while she endeavoured to prepare her two 
youngest for receiving similar advantages, upon 
the return of their sisters. Their two brothers were 
older than cither of the sisters ; the eldest was study- 
ing law in England, the youngest was in the army. 

At the time we visited their grand-papa, in Mairia- 
qua, they had been sent for on purpose to meet ns, 
and we soon saw they were well-educated children. 
Their grandpapa had built a pretty house. There was 
a gallery all round it, inlaid with white marble, 
and trellis work surrounding the house, with fine 
grape vines, the first we had seen in the West Indies, 
and many varieties of climbing plants, all new to us. 

In the morning early, we saw the two little girls 
superintending a yoimg negro, who was churning 
mUk in a bottle. They told ua their grandmama 
had several nice cows, so they made fresh butter 
every morning for themselves, besides often sending 
some to town, to their mammn. 

They showed ns the garden, where we 
delighted to see some English plants, and one appltlt 
tree, which had home one or two apples, the year' 
before. Mr. Bentley, with papa and mamma then 
joined us ; he said he had got apricot, peach, and'l 
nectarine trees from Madeira ; but they would not* 
bear fruit in the West Indies ; and even the grai 
vine required a great deal of care, and ever after the 
fruit was ripe, it was ditfieult to protect it from insects, 
particularly from ants. He gave ua sDiaefrQe ^tic^ii'} 
peara, and promised to produce some ot ti\e %»ea\. '§«>£» 
^juf ever were seen in the island, ii -we -woAi-i 




until the nest eveniiig; an iBvitation which we were 
liappy our parents accepted. 

The old gentleman had a number of books and 
prints, and to children, who had not moved from 
a retired spot in the Charaib country, for so lon^ i 
time, you may fancy how we enjoyed ouTBetrea. 
The old gentleman and lady were both very cheerful 
people, and in the evening he made us sing aongt 
to him, and hia grand -daughters good humouredly 
sung a number of curious negro songs to ua ; bo tha 
we were really sorry when the good old man told at 
that he in general went to bed at eight ; to-ni^t 
he had set up as a compliment to ua until nine, but 
that now he must go to bed, as it was late for dnt 
climate. We spent the next day with them; and in 
the evening, drove to Mr. Fraser's in Kingstowo, 
promiaing to pay a visit to Marriaqua on our re- 

The town seemed hot and close, compared to the 
country ; and Mr. Fraser's house appeared doll, 
for he had lost one child, and the other four were in 
England, as Mrs. Fraser expressed it. " polishkig." 
'Vhey received us kindly, and we could not help feel- 
ing how much we owed to the care of our parent^ 
when we heard every one remark, how uiUike m 
were to children brought up in the West Indies. 

We looked forward with a sort of indefinite plM- 
sure to the morrow ; but Hemy'e object was evident, 
and that was to sec Fort Charlotte. 

The first forenoon was spent in paying visits but 
as we did not accompany papa and mamma, we were 
obliged to employ ourselves, as we could, at home. 
We had our needles, but poor Henry was sadly al a 
loss what to do, until on looking about, he saw 
" the Book of Trades." It was then almost new, 
and had been given as a present to some of the 
young Frasers who had never, it appeared, made 
any use of it. There wete not fto towv^ liw: ^ii»Jub 
for cbildi&i theiii us now > an.i ^om CQiuvoti cKJ&KSBi 



once thought of (iregaing ' 
une in, imd told ua huw late 
It was. 

When Mrs. Fraser learnt how much it had 
delighted us, she inHiated upon our accepting 
it from her ; as she said, she was very sure her 
daughters never would read it. This was a great 
addition to our library ; and our next thought was. 
how it would interest our young friend, Elizabeth 
Hums. We set out about seven next morning to 
pay a visit to Fort Charlotte 

I believe we enjoyed this more than anjrthing 
during our absence from home, llie new from the 
draw-bridge was beautifid; but what chiefly channed 
lie, was listening to the fine band of the regiment 
stationed there. 

Henry's passion was for soldiers, and I still think 
I see him walking about in my father's hand, and 
asking question after question about all he saw. 
lattle was my father aware then of the deep imprea- 
lion made upon Henry's mint! by the stories he had 
told him of lus mihtary life ; had he been so, he would 
have avoided a subject which was nourishing tastes 
that were yet to be a cause of great misery to 
118. We spent the next day at the house of old Mr. 
Bentley's daughter. Her daughters were very kind 
and attentive to us ; their father was a strange man ; 
and they endured his rough oddities with such good 
hiunour, that we formed a very favourable opinion of 
them. They promised soon to pay us a visit in the 
Chaiaib countiy ; and at the end of the week, we 
prepared to return home. We stopped to breakfast 
at old Mr. Bentley's, who had kindly kept several 
pine tops for us to plant, and he packed a basket full 
of seeds, roots and cuttings of different plants, for our 
garden. 

We retumed to our country life and oui kssnas, 
witboat regret; and were happy to imi 'iiaX. ■»» 

' 'sat had occurred in our absence. i 






Elizabeth Harria had impatiently expeeted c 
return ; her home seemed to become daily mi 
uncomfortable to her. Her father had constaot 
vbitora, and her mother perpetually complained of 
the extravagance this entailed on them ; while he 
declared, that her want of management and lore ot 
dreas would ruin him. She said she had a 
right to spend money as he had ; and so fond tna 
each of self, that poor Elizabeth had often hardlj 
shoes to wear. Mr. Harris made a great deal of 
sugar, but as there was no order, or economy on ' 
estate, every thing was wasted from want of c 
More supplies were got from England at the moal 
exorbitant rate, and it was reported that there mi 
a heavy debt contracted to the English i 
who, when he found this increasing, look care Dot 
to send out the best articles. 

It was about this time that all the ladies of tbe 
colony were invited to a ball at Oovemmeot Hove. 
My mother had so lately been in Kingstown, that A 
had no inclination to return : but my father conradeicd 
himself bound to accept the invitation, and rode ii 
the day before, accompanied by the HaniEea. 0i» 
beth staid with us, we had been looking at the tm 
menae crop of bananas, when it occurred to in 
mother, that ?he would try and make wine of some n 
them. We got the cooper to make a cask, andw 
waited, with no small impatience, to see the expoi- 
ment of banana wine tried. 

We could not understand, or, rather would not 
patiently listen, to the grand difficulty in gettii^ s 
cool situation. Lively, active children are prone 
to building castles in the air; my mother warned iM 
of this, but we said, "never mind; let us have the 
fun of building them, even if we only blow them awaj 
in the air afterwards." 

This, however, we considered a grand experiment; 
and I am not sure that wc ^& tloi ui&a^^ 



TALKS OP A GEAJf DM OTHER. 103 

' supplying the bland with wine, and of cou 
tnaking a fortune of it. 

Manuna had a cellar made as cool as cou]d be done , 
by artificial means ; she placed one of Fahrenheit's 
therronmetCTH in it. It stood at84''. We eyed itat- 
tentiTely, and exclaimed with delight, " It is falling," 
and fall it did to 78°, but below that, it would not go. 
" Stand away," said Henry, •■ 'tis your breath, 
Marian, keeps it from falling." Marian went to a 
Bspectfijl distance. Henry and I looked; still it 



breath here," said Henry, ' 
quarter of an hour," \ 
■■ -- and mama 

wine would I 



let i: 
» said, it 



78°. 
" 'Tis all oi 
go, and return 

Btill it was at the provoking 78°, 
BHiBt not be above 65", or the 

^B Are you sure mamma P" stud Mai 

^B Quite sure my dear," replied mam 

^pWhy mamma >" said Henry. 

^*' Because, my dear," swd mamma, , 

be made without imdergoing a process called wnoi* 
fermentation, this jffoceas cannot go on, if thetheraxj- 
meter be under 500, or above 65o." 

" What a pity," said we ; but like children, wo | 
thought in spite of this fact, we might si 
we begged mamma so much to permit us to try, that ] 
she did not object as bananas were so plentiful thtk 1 
they were almost wasting. To work we went, fdtty I 
pennaded we should succeed. Nanette, one of the T 
serranU, squeezed the fruit. The juice was veiy I 
sweet, and my mother assured us, that sugar was not 1 
required. It wBfl poured into the cask, we placed it 1 
in a draft, between an open window and door, again I 
we tried the thermometer ; in this situation it fell one | 
,_ ' It will do," said 
* It is still many degrees above 65°, " replied I 

But it AM/ fall, in the night," said 'we. 




104 



.1 



" And rise in the morning," added 

" How provoking," atdd Henry, " but there is sodi 
a draft, I think it must be cold enough." 

Nest morning, Elizabeth and all of us eagerly wait 
to see our cask. " There it is," said Hemy, " bab- 
bling and hissing, as if it were alive ; it will do, 
it will, 1 knew it. Da come, mamma, and eee 
it." 

" I will, my dear," replied she ; " I wiU do more 
to-morrow ; then I will taste it." To-morrow came, 
it was tasted. 

" Is it wine ?" eaid we. 

" No," replied mamma, " not wine, something 
else, that I expected it would be — vinegar — it is quite 
acid." The tiiermometer was above 65° which made 
the juice pass into a state of acetous, instead of vinoas 
fermentation. Vinous fermentation requires a. tempe- 
rature of from 50o to 65o and acetous requiree a belt 
of from 70° to 78°. We recollected hearing, that 
spirits stopped fermentation ; we wished we had put 
a quart of rum, to our six gallons of banana juice, 
but it was now too late. However, as mamma wished 
to instruct us by bets, she permitted us to have tbe 
cask cleansed from all the acid juice, and the cooper 
agun repaired it, we repeated our cs[>eriment, 
with tresb cane juice, adding to the six gallons of 
juice, one quart of rum. To get the thermometer to 
fiJl below 77°, was impossible, and, sad to tell, the 
result was the same ; mamma got twelve gallons of 
vinegar, but we got no wine, and our fortune, as re- 
garded it, was still to make. 

We were really astonished and disappointed ; but 
we now determined never to try wine making again, 
unless the cask could be placed in a temperature, cd 
from 50° to 65° of Fahrenheit's thermometer. We 
succeeded better in making falemmn, a West Indian 
name for milk punch, and after all an excellent, che^, 
wholesome, substitute for wne, ■We\uiA.\in«a, wii- 
L and milk ; nay , a caik tor 



^bour Mrs. Warren gave mamma tlie receipt, i 
C upon papa's return, we exulted in showing hint 
uiie new hou^hold economyj which saved him many 
pounds every year following. Our garden was now 
very prolific, and reqmred more work and weeding | 
than Clarissa and Fanchon could perform, to say '4 
nothing of ourselves. We used to work hard in the I 
morning, hut my mother feared we might exert and 
overheat oureelves too much ; so we begged our father 
to allow ue to hire a negro from him, at a quarter 
dollar Ihe three hours ; we having him from six to 
eight every morning, and fixim five to six every evening, 
We paid my father his hire every Saturday night, and. J 
still my mother cleared her five and six dollars a week I 
from the garden. 

Our greatest disappointment was in our grape vinel 
plants, the ants ate them and stripjied off every letf I 
to their very roots. 

All our other Marriaqua plants were doing well; 1 
we had plenty of Charaib pines, both for oiu^elvQi I 
and for market, prickly pears coming on, and Engliejk 1 
vegetables too, so we had do cause of complaint, j 
Experience soon taught us what fruits and vegetables A 
brought the best return ; of the fruits, we found j 
plantains and bananas the most lucrative, and of the ] 
vegetables, all the different species of yams. 

Sometimes Hucksten negroes would come from 1 
town and purchase fruit, but our best raercbants were J 
the coloured captains of the droghing vesseb. By j 
this induftry, we supphed my mother with ready j 
money for aU her household concerns ; this year, Lct 
crop of arrow-root yielded such a profit, that she waa 
able to send home to Edinburgh for new clothes for 
the family. One evening, just as we were going to 
bed, we were surprised by Mr. Harris sending a 
large box addressed to my father. It was sent to the 
care of Mr. Fraser, the merchant in KingaXo'wu-, \wl 
took the opportunity offending it out \>7 & u^A >i'i 
^'^Jflarria's tlmt had been ia town. 



j^/fan 



106 TALES OP A G 

The box proved to be a most acceptable present: — 
books, muBic, drawings. Eind many other valuable ar- 
ticlea from London, the gift of our two frienda. who 
had staid with us part of our first uncomfortable, 
rainy seaain. The brothers had not forgotten u(, 
they had travelled all over America , their first deed, 
upon arriving in London, was to send this testimonid 
of their gratitude to us. The pleasure this arriwl 
gayeus waa beyond expression; in those days, Hcarcelj 
a book ever came out to St. Vincent for saje, end one 
new book was a treat of no common kind. We 
feasted ourselves that night over them, and a 
wished the kind donors could have seen the happiness 
they bestowed. Another Christmas now approached, 
our negroes had behaved uncommonly well, and my 
father promised to give them an entertainment at his 
own exjense. 

My mother and we, with Elizabeth Harris, 
made up a great deal of finery for them ; you cannot 
think what a bustle we were in, the morning before 
this gay dance took place. There was one very g 
clever, female negro, with whom we were permitted 
to make all the subordinate arrangementa. T ' 
dance was to take place the evening of the day ai 
Chriiftmaa. We prevailed upon Phcebe to take dl 
her beds and furniture to her sister's house. w1m1« 
hers was to be converted into two rooms and a gailery 
for refreshments. 

Henry, and aband of young negroes, collected palm 
tree leaves and fastened them all over the walls with 
showy flowers stuck between, which really looked 
very pretty. 

We got the cooper to g^ve ua hoops, which w* 
hung from the roof and in which we fastened the 
candles my mother gave ua. The benches were easily 
prepared ; my father lent boards, and we placed 
Stones at regular dietanceB to support them, 
benches were placed in ftie lorm oi ». 
round Phcebe's house, enclosing b. epwieXaap 



n. These 



107 I 

» the dancers. We had no fiddler on the estate; 
but my father hired two for the occasion from Mr. 
Hsms.and everynegTocanbeatthe dnim. I believe 
when all the preparations were concluded, we were 
as full of expectation as the negroes. I well remem- 
ber my sister BJid myeelf being so thoroughly heated 
and fatigued, that my mother aent us to bed to rest 
and cool before dinner, a dinner too of her own cook- 
ing, for what negro could have done work for maasa 
on euch a happy day ? 

We fell fast asleep, and when my father came 
into the hall for dinner, Henry was lying snoring, 
in his shirt sleevce, undemeatJi the table. 

We were all awakened in good time for the fim, and it 
seems to me but as yesterday — that very merry, happy 
Christmas. My father and mother accompanied us 
and Elizabeth Harris, who was now Uterally our in- 
mate. The moon was at the full, it was as bright as 
day, there was a fine cool breeze, and it was possible 
now to be active, without feeling uncomfortable. AB. 
round the spot where the negro houses were, there 
were fine trees, so that we could not see the scene 
until we came just upon it, hut we could hear their 
bursts of merriment. 

Although untaught, negroes dance well, and really 
it was surprising to see bow gracefully they moved. 
Phosbe and her husband were great charaeter.i that 
night, and the most fastidious lady would not have 
felt herself disgraced, by wearing & dress, or oma^ 
inents of the same materiab as hers, though 
there was perhaps a greater mixture of colours than 
some would approve. Cseaar too, and bis wife were 
much admired, and indeed their good conduct me- 
rited it. M'Intosh, the Scotch carpenter, seemed 
much pleased, he and the English overseer entered 
very kindly into the holiday amusements of the people. 
Of all the young negro belles, none were so Wtii/- 
totaely and bo expenaivelj dressed as C\ariaa^ s e,Qi 
|HK6eer, FancboB ; Clarissa and Cseaar piiiei 






selves as much upon, the appearance of this g 
if she had been their own child ; ho vain were 
and so determined that no one should, by any 
bility, vie with her, or imitate her dress, ttal 
would not purchase an article for her to wei 
masaa's dance, till she solemnly promised, if ai 
asked her what she was to have an, ehe should 
them, and tell them the reverae of the i 
Musliaa were then a very costly dress, and hei 
cost some pounds 6t«rlmg. Then there we: 
stockings for a pair of legs that had nevi 
fore known such confinement, pink kid shoes a 
buckles, a blue aash and handsome turban, of 
the putting on alooe cost a quarter dollar. "V 
smart as Clariasa'a god-daughter f and I be 
might add, who so proud, as Clarissa ? But 
there was one thing neither of the partie 
considered, and that was, that never having 
danced in shoes and stockings, for this W 
youthful belle's first appearance among the gn 
dancers, she felt an unaccountable sdAieci 
wished to display her finery, but still more, ahe i 
to dance well. Sundry whispers met her ear, t 
was dancing ill, this reproach she could not bi 
and getting behind some of tlie elderly negn 
slipped otf silk stockings, shoes and aU, and 
great amazement returned to her place ii 
relieved, of what she felt to be such an 
to her; she showed off her fine steps in gre 
with her naked feet. Even Clarissa and Ctei 
doned this, for the finery had been f 
sufficed. The moon shone brightly as we r 
home ; we had all enjoyed ourselves, and 
leas of past times and our native count 
formerly, when Henry falling mto a great th 
mimosa, and scratching himself, compelled ui 
lect how far we were from Scotland. 
"Now go to sleepi" bwA ^aswi-isama.. 



CHAPTER VII. 



" And now grandmama, that you are ready to 
begin 3rour evening tales, will you be so good as toper- 
nut us to ask some explanation firet. You mentioned 
cock-roacbea and musquitoes, spiders and snakes ; 
Frederick and 1 would wish to know what they are 
like, and if they resemble insects and reptiles of the 
lame names in England." 

" The West Indian cock-roaches," sEiid their grand- 
mama. " are three times as large as any I ever saw in 
England : they fly about the bouses in great numbers 
at night, and the sensation, whether they dash 
against, or crawl over you, is alike unpleasant. 
They smell most disagreeably, but do not sting or 
bite. They are fond of leather, sad enemies to books. 
and no less so to shoes ; in one night, they will often 
contrive to nibble a pair of shoes so as to make them 
appear as if they had been grated all over. The 
greatest cleanliness is requisite to keep them at all 
under, and even where the utmost nice^, in this res- 
pect prevails, they are still numerous. I recollect 
leaving a pair of kid shoes ou a chair one evening. 
next morning when I rose, there was not a scrap 
of the coloured kid to be seen, only tlie rough 
grated appearance of the leather left t\\ate "«\ft\E, 
dwagh in many places only the linen Wmg leroiawA- 
w you have also seen in £ng\an.A, XiaX-v^ 



I 
I 



110 TALKS or A SKANDMOTKEB. 

the West Indies they are larger, more alert, tind 1 
should think more venemous. Their bites, if ecratched, 
often produce severe suppuration, and the feces und 
bands of people newly arrived fem Europe, are oftai 
completely swollen and disfigured by their dsjly, bul 
still worse, their nightly attack; the grey le^ed 
mosquitoe ia the worst. 

West Indian spiders are very disgusting in appes- 
rance, from their immense size, being seldom lea, 
when extended, than the circumference of a cheese- 
plate. In some islands the tarantula spider abounds, 
the Bting of which, if not absolutely deadly, is never- 
theless dangerous, producing severe pain, adawM 
and convulsions. St. Vincent is happily exempt &om 
this and from poteonous snakes. Trinidad aboundi 
with large snakes, some boas of great length having 
been killed there. 

But the most deadly snakes are not the largest, 
and in St. Lucie, where the worst are found, they art, 
comparatively speaking, small. They are dark colour- 
ed and so veaemous, that recovery from their bite 

Yet, I know an instance of an officer, who was 
bitten by one of those reptiles, fortunately in Bome 
spot, where the circulation of blood ia skra, 
and by the prompt application of remedies, he re- 
covered ; when strange to say, he fastened the snalte 
in bis barrack room and used to feed it, and play with 
it until he tamed it ; though his visitors greatly dis- 
liked meeting such an inmate. 

A soldier in the British army once quartered in St, 
Lucie had the art of whistling, in some particolu 
way, which had the effect of inducing the snake to 
[leep from its hiding place ; genertdly under a stone, 
or cleft of rock, or else hid in the abundant under- 
wood of those countries. When the snake came out, 
the soldier seizing it by the hack of the neck, would I 
hold it fast, and it wovii Wiat B!i Toxmii. saA ^ in J 
vain to bite or get a.wa7- \t 



ment, notwitha tan ding. I only give you the anecdote ' 
precisely as it happened, and I know it to be a fact. 

" And now, you wish to bear about the mimosa : 
I believe you have seen the sensitive plant in a 
hot-hou£e ; but in the West Indies, where it grows 
wild, it is a particularly trouhlesome weed. It grows 
many feet high, strong, and bushy in proportion, and 
covered with sharp thorns. It blossoms at all sea- 
sons i)f the year, and is of a pretty pale pink colour ; 
the mimosa is an enemy to the planter, both in his 
cane pieces and pastures. I recollect, when we were 
children, we used to amuse ourselves often, by coming 
near enough to a long hne of it, to make all its leaves 
close up, then we would draw back, and watch them 
us they gradually opened again. 

" Now," said grandmajna, " 1 will continue 
my story. We saw, more than ever, how wisely 
our mamma had acted, in the plan she had formed of 
bstructing the negro children, as they learnt far more 
readily than our grown up pupils Imd done. One 
evening more every week was added to their instruc- 
tion, as they became, by habit, more able to pay 
attention ; they had got on so far, that of what mamma 
explained, one night, they could answer almost any 
questioo on the next. 

She taught them truth and justice, kindness and 
industry ; by giving them daily an example of tliose 
virtues, and considering the bad one that almost all of 
tlietn had in their own homes, it was wonderful their 
conduct was so much improved, and influenced by 






s it V 



We still, however, had a great wish to teach them 
to read ; my mother did not prevent ua, and admitted, 
that to many nf the young ones, it might be a great 
advantage — but she had not time to teach them — we 
tried each a scholar, and you may beUeve we did not 
pitch on the dullest. 

We found, that to teach steadily and patienXi.'^ 
r perseverance than we imagtned. 



c 



i, >^— 



f A CBA!9DU0TBER. 

altogether was less easy and agreeable than we liid 
pictured to ouraelTes ; however we went on, and found, 
in the end, that time does much. Before we left die 
estate, thoee three negroes could read distdnctly, but 
their moat important improvement was in tbdi 
general intelligence. 

About this time, Mr. and Mrs. Fraaer paid ua a 
visit of a few days; previously to this , my father bad 
added two rooms to the house ; so that we cooU 
accommodate our frienda, and had no fear of ever 
again being obUged to produce a goat feast. My 
father had begun to pay off his debt to Mr. Fruer, 
his crop looked well, and we were contented with our 
prospects. 

Mr. and Mrs. Fielding and their daughters bad 
promised to visit us, soon after the coiDmence> 
raent of the new year. 1 need not describe 
this Christmas to you; it passed metrdy with flie 
negroes, and clieeifuUy with us. We still heard 
occasionally from our old friend. Miss Hbhy, and 
Christmas never came, without our edl having many 
anecdotes to relate of her. 

To tlie young Fieldings their visit to the conntiT 
was a great treat ; they paid their tai of half dollar to 
CtEsar when they first entered the boiling house, uid 
he paid them back, by gi™g them whatever he con- 
sidered best, and wHch town children valued more 
than we did, to whom sugar making was an eveiy 
day work. 

My father having some business to execute m 
Kingstown, returned with them ; upon reaching it, he 
found a new regiment had arrived, and the sui^eoa 
belonging to it had brought him letters of intro- 
duction. He was a married man, and my father 
finding that neither he nor his wife were as yet, 
reconciled to the heat, gained permission from the 
Colonel of the re^ment for them to accompany him 
to the Charaib country for a weeV. 
Mr. and Mrs. Conway wete ^^»A. la acce^ -Cw 



113 

offer, and to us the benefit was great. They were 
both highly accomplished, and had travelled a great 
deal, and I am sure that then: very intelligent con- 
versation improved both my sister Marion's character 
and my own, 

Mr. Conway had been with the British army in 
Egypt, and we were never tired of listeni 



i of that cwrioua country ; he had seen the 
Pyramids and the mummies, and promised to give us 
several books of voyages and travels to read. He 
was very desirous of seeing the Charaibs at Oura, 
and my father went with him, taking Henry also, 
who rode the overseer's mule. There they were 
swinging in their hammocks, and not at all inclined to 
be communicative on any subject ; the women were 
all engaged in out of door work, the children asleep 
in baskets — the whole was a complete picture of savage 
life. Thus time passed on. I really do not think 
one incident occurred this year, until we once more 
found ourselves at the conclusion of anotlier — now our 
fifth Christmas on the estate. We enjoyed seeing 
the negroes happy, and my father was pleased to see 
us all enter into the duties of our situation in life with 
spirit and activity, particularly Henry ; and be said to 
lum, now that things looked well, and he was nearly 
thirteen years of age, he thought of sending him home 
soon, and giving him the advantage, both of change 
of climate, manners and customs, as well as the 
means of acquiring knowledge of more than onekind, 
which would be very useful to him as a planter, and 
for the want of which my father felt great dWdvantage. 
He said, the one was being some time in a mercantile 
house in England, to see the way in which Westlndia 
affairs were conducted by English West India mer- 
chants. The other, was some general knowledge of 
law and also of chemistry, which would be most use- 
ful, as well as the study of botany and natural hbtory. 
Heniy heard my father with attenUoTv. Vie Kp'^eaMA 
^muuaUy grave aad solemn, and \ookins ^V^ ™i^J 



' A OBANDUOTHEB. 

father's face he said hurriedly, as if itwere areliefto 
liim to utter the words, " Father, I fear you will be 
angry, diaap[«iiited, but indeed you always desired 
me to tell you the truth ; 1 consider you ad 
mamma, as my best friends. Father, I cannot do ajyoo 
wish, I have tried to like your plan whenever you 
spoke of it, hut I could not ; I must be a soldier, ot 
else never be happy." 

Henry breathed freely, not so my mother. M7 
father said, " Henr)', 1 am not angry, but 1 am dis- 
appointed. " Young boys, like you, know nothing uf 
the hardships, the dangers, and the perils of a soldier*! 
life in active service, and I should be, indeed, grieved 
to see you an idle officer lounging about in a bairaek. 
■' The army is seldom a profession that, excepting 
there is great interest, or where some fortuitom 
circumstance occurs, can bring even a moderate inde- 
I>endence to a man. To those officers who have nothii^ 
else to support them, if they marry, existence is raiaerj, 
if not, they must be content to end their lives, depriv- 
ed of domestic ties; which, I think, no man of good 
principles and afiectionate feelings would wish to be." 

" But, father," said Henry, *' the perils and the 
dangers are just what I vrish for, and 1 must take aj 
chance for thereat ; I know better than 1 canteUyoa, 
how often I have tried to think of being a planter; 
but if ever I did so one whole day, I was sore V) 
dream of battles and sieges at night, and thai shows 
you, father, that I cannot help the choice." 

My father smiled at poor Henry's argument, but 
told him, if he remained steady, from this time to 
next June, he would, however sorrowfully, give hia 
consent ; but he must be very sure it was no whin* 
before he said yes, to his being a soldier. 

My mother asked him, " If he were sure he did not 

dream more of a scarlet coat and gold lace, tiian oC 

battles." 

Henry would not hear ot ftira-, A ■«'*» Vn»le«fl 

tightmg, and glory, like v*¥*' ^^ "sSaVai. TwEctw 



f A GRANDUOTBBB. 



115 1 



as not in the wrong ; it was his desire to be like 
pa that produced this choice, and, hke him, he was 

that was frank, generous, brave and honourable, 
d if at thirteen he was all soil and no ballast, it was 
tie wonder, for Henry's cloudy days had been few, 
d so aajiguine was he. that he always saw a glimpse 

Bunahioe peeping through. But the six months 
Bsed over, and my mother's hopes, that a scarlet 
],t and gold lace was a whim, proved less true than 
2 could have wished, for Henry was firm and steady ; 
r father then gave his consent, and as Henry would 

fourteen nest January, he thought no larther time 
ght to be lost. 
My father had already written home to inquire as 

a proper school to place him in for two years 
fore he entered the army, and we were now daily 
pecting an answer to this letter. We had all so 
ig indulged the fond hope of Henry's returning to us 
:er a few years' absence, that it threw a gloom over 
, beyond what you can imapne. My poor mother 
id too vivid a recollection of her anxieties, when my 
ther was absent from her on active service, not to 
igin abeady to dread a recapitulation of the same 
!enes with her son. As sisters too, we loved him 
ery dearly, and could hardly comprehend the feeling 
lut could thus make him forego father, mother, 
biers and home, for honour and glory, and we could 
iloiDsI: have quarrelled with him for his choice. But it 
* now too late to go on with my story, so good night, 
fur die present." 



I 



V A oitAirDuoTRSit. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Grandmaraa," said Frederick, " 
L long list of plants here ; I think we had \ 
t them before you go on with youfl 






Charaib 
the grape vine that they cultivate in the "W 
Is it the same a& our grape vines which gn 
tope, or do you mean the grape, that you 
ing on the aea-side, when you first went out 
Charaib country ?" 

" No, my dear," said his grand mama, " I did 
not then mean the aea-side grape, which, thongb 
Irearing a fruit resembling a grape, is not a vine, but 
a shrub, and, at times, it grows tall enough to be 
considered a tree. 

"The trunk and branches have a rough, sit^ular, 
knotted appearance ; its leaves are thick, large tmii 
round — it is covered, at the season of its fruit, with daA 
purple hemes very like grapes. They look rich and 
have the same bloom oa them as the purple grape of ^ 
grapevine. They are not wholesome eaten in any quan- 
tity, some people Uke their flavour, but I thought them 
very astringent, with a saltish flavour, in consequence 
of the spray of the sea often washing over them. The 
botanical name of the plant is cocoloba uvifera. 

" There are a great manif verietiea of the prickly 
pear; its botanical najae ia cacVw. - " ■ 



I caUed die Indian fig. It is a plant t 

^L ''Epical climates ; the different varietieH of it are often 
^^L CuJtj^ted in England, in hot-houses, more for the 
^^B Wuty of its blossoms than for its fruit, which does 
^^H ilot appear to be esteemed at home, as it is abroad. I 
^^V The largest species of this plant grows so thick and 
^^f Strang, that it forms an impenetrable fence against 
r hogs and all animals ; its leaves are quite flat, and the 
m strongest texture of a leaf, I ever felt ; it is, in shape, 
I iite the sole of a shoe and covered with prickles, 
fl " At times they may be seen, growing upon rocks, 

H ilmost without soil, and indeed they appear to thrive 
H independent of almost any moisture. 
■ " The blossoms are singularly beautiful, at times they 

are different shades of pink, while some are bright 
scarlet, and are splendid both in size and colour; 
the fruit ia io shape and size much like a fig, of a 
dark green, with a. few pinkish stripes upon it, aud 
prickly outside. The inside a Uttle red streaked and 
Teaembles a mixture of pepper and salt. It has a very 
fine flavour. It is firm in consistence, and has the 
singular and delightful property of always being cool. 
" There is a species, frequently called the mountain 
Strawberry, but tli'" is more of a creeping kind than 
the former ; the fruit of it is considered better than 
any other. The botanical name of the Indian fig is 
cactus opantia. ITiat of the mountain strawberry, 
or Btiawberxy pear species, is called cactus triangu- 
laris. There is another smaller species, with small 
green fruit, said to be excellent, which I, however, 
never ea.w; the botanical name of which is cactus 
epeciosissimus. The cactus cochinellifer, is the 
species on which the insect called cochineal is found. 
It grows abundantly in the island of Trinidad, and the 
cochineal insect upon it. 

" We are not quite sure whether pine-apples 

may not be indigenous to Asia and Mrica,, iis 

matf as America. That they are so to ftve ^«sx 

Jndiea, there can be no doubt. "'I^eH \)0'wificsi, j 

auae u bramelia, the only speciea 'fjottiv c^^«J 



llf 



ing is the ananas. You know the appearance of 
tte plant in an English hot-house, where it is a 
favourite fruit and much valued. AU over the 
West Indies, the Antigua pine and the Charaib pine 
are considered the best, but there are other coramon 
pines, which are indigenous to the West Indies, and 
though very pleasant in their flavour, are not to be 
compared to what they call the pine of Antigua, nor 
to the Charaib pine. Tliese more common pines we 
termed botanically, the pinguin, and the karata: 
tiie juice is so sharp as to be corrosive, and the teeth 
and lips suffer much in eating it. These common 
pines may be easily known from the ananas, for thfy 
are full of threads, and, if the pine be large, the&iiit i> 
almost fibrous. The flesh too. seems divisible iaV) 
pieces of thready pulp, but the true anana flesh is ckw 
and firm, like an apple, not dividinginto fibrous pulpy 
pieces ; the flavour is more deUcious, not corroriie 
nor does eating it injure the teeth or lips. In England, 
the fruit has been known to be as heavy as ten pona4 
and a half, larger thpn any I ever saw in the West 
Indies, and with some exceptions, such is the waot of 
skill and care in their cultivation in that country, that 
a pine grown in England is often superior. 

"The white muscadine grape is that generally grown 
in the West Indies ; purple grapes ate more tan. 
But the gTBpe vine is difiicult to raise on account of 
the numerous tribes and diflferent species of ants, dU 
of which are enemies to it. Insects of every descrqi- 
tion prey upon the fruit, so that notwithstanding the 
climate is favourable to the grape vine, grapes wt 
always scarce and dearer than in England, thougb 
where they are allowed to ripen, the branches are 
very large, and have a fine flavour." 

•' And now, grandmama," said Maria, " I dun): 

I know what yams are like ; I saw some once in Bris- 

they were like a \axge ^ote.toe, vie had some 

boiled, mashed and voaatwl, \)\«,\ &iiitx Xisft-iMaa. 

o well as our potatoe," ^ 

" J dare aay not my dew." *avi W gp^iAjsa 



TALBS O? A GRAKDMOTHES. 119 

"but I have m&de many a hearty meal on them, and 
learned to relish them as a potatoe, though I confess, 
tjiat all the larger yamsareapt to be coarse and fibrous. 
But though you have eaten the root of the yam, 
you have not seen it growing. It is a clematia, and is 
generally trained upon bamboo poles, they grow from 
twelve feet and upwards. The blossom is diminutive. 
There are great varletiBs of yams, hut the Portuguese 
long shaped yam, ia the best quality. 'ITie botanical 
name is dioscorea sativa. It is a native of Asia, but 
grows all over Africa and the warm parts of America." 
" Grandmama," said Maria, " why ia it, that the 
European finiits you mentioned, will not thrive well 
m the West Indies ?" 

" I do not doubt," replied her grandmama, " that 
the climate is too warm, for 1 know, that in the trial 
made in Marriaqua valley, every justice was done to 
the plants, but they would not thrive. The south of 
Europe. Persia and China, seem the countries best 
adapted to the peach, apricot and nectarine ; they 
grow abundantly in America and Austraha, but are 
coarse and not so well flavoured. And now, having 
answered your questions, I will proceed with my 
story." 

My father had an answer from England sooner 
than we espected; we had been busily employed with 
my mother in preparing Henry's wardrobe for the 
voyage, when the letter from a brother officer of my 
father's reached us, recommending him to place 
Henry where he had a son of his own at school, ten 
miles from London ; he said his son was intended 
for the same profession, and that it would be pleasant 
for them to he school-fellows. As my father read the 
letter, my mother's eyes filled with tears, she looked 
ut my brother, and asked him, now that the time was 
so near for his departure, did he not feel any wish to 
'■ change," she could almost, I beUeve, have said 
" fCay ti-itb her." But Henry was firm mi4 vmi^w^^'^. 
rfnrf answered with a smile, that he was as ieVenama 
■lere/; and told my mother, " to c\\eet m?.^ **^ 



i 



I 



i OF A QR&KDHOTaBB. 

by, she would see him, perhaps, return to St. Vincent 
with hia regiment. It would have been cruel to 
urge him further ; we knew his choice was neither the 
dictate of caprice, nor was it any want of affection (w 
U3. Although hitherto brought up at borne, he M 
gone ahout ao much in his hours of recreation with 
my father, that he had imbibed much of his disposition; 
he was an upriglit boy, and so naturally fearlefg, lint 
he was well suited to adorn the profession he bad 
chosen. 

Considering how little time my father could 
bestow upon Henry's classical education, he hadmaife 
a fair progress. My mother had made him an eicd' 
lent French scholar, and to her, he owed all Iu> 
knowledge of history, gec^raphy, and that general 
taat« for reading and observation, which ia certain K) 
ensure early habits of attention and reflection. 

My mother packed his trunks with a heavy heart; 
we stood by, silently assisting, and thinking of tie 
happy time when my mother was packing in Edin- 
burgh ; we were then all going together to meet 
my father, and never thought of any more sepBra- 

We looked back upon our arival in the Chan^ 
country ; then we were all mere children, now 1 was 
almost grown up, Henry the youngest, wua no longer 
a child, probably in two or three years, be might be 
in the army. We had come here, andfbund theplflK 
almost a wilderness ; we had conquered many difficul- 
ties, struggled against losses we could not avoid, bat 
none of those tlunga had given us half the pain, that 
the prospect of parting from our brother did. He had 
been our active assistant, and had planned many ID 
improvement about the garden, which proved his in- 
genuity, when he was no longer there to admire it. 
My fether collected stock and provisions to put on 
board for him ; and M'Intoab employed himself^ to 
the last moment, in gtit^ievingYuaea, a'caiAftsiOtft,- ' 
aad forbidden fruit for tiie 'lo^*®;. ^M^a. 



121 

our house for Kingstown, the whole 
re sent off, in a boat, to the vessel, in which Henry 

rhe last day hut one, we spent at Mr. Harria'a ; he 
med unhappy and depressed, and Mrs. Harris said 
vas on account of the absence of his two daughters. 
■. Harris, however, said he did not care for their ab- 
[ce ; but he did care to have to pay four hundred a 
IT for folly, and looking to Elizabeth, he said, 
rhere's a good, quiet gixl, always busy, who has cost 
1 nothing, and I'll venture to say, she will be sooner 
iried, and make a better wife than ever they will." 
" Wait till you see them come out in a year," 
d Mrs. Harris, " you will think differently; you 
U then see, how they will be admired, and perhaps, 
imed sooner than you expect — you see their 
remess particularly mentions in her letter, what 
gant, stylish- looking girls they are." 
'■ Fine stylish girla," said Mr. Harris. " I am sick 
faMuing of line stylish girls ; pray Mrs. Harris can 
■tell me where all the bad wives come from ?" 
■ am sure." said Mrs. Harris, " 1 cannot tell. 
pl think, Mr, Harris, you do very wrong to put 
ueh notions into Elizabeth's head; who would ever 

Poor Elizabeth looked very uncomfortable at our 
tnessing such a scene, but we had before been 
lig«d to listen to the mutual reproaches of this un- 
ppy couple, so we felt leas surprised than if it had 
en for the first time. 

Next day, my father and Henry were to dine at 
r, Warren's some miles off, but as the weather was 
owery and the rainy season set in, we declined 
ing. They left us about two o'clock, when sud- 
nly, B£ the sun set, the sky lowered, tremendous 
under and hghtning came on. and the rain fell in 
Tents. Their only way home was tfj fe^^nij, ^ 
ie atream, of no depth in the dry aeaaotv, \wft. '^"^i^ 



I 



I 

mm deeper and more rapid, wteu &wa ^isaK^^™ 



r A GBANSUOTHEB. 

rains come down from the mountainB. My motter 
as the rain continued, became very uneasy, and hopel 
they would remain al] night. We kept listening in 
the interval of the storra, to hear the sound of horses' 
feet ; my mother placed dry clothes, ready for each, 
but still, there was no appearance of them. 

Our Scotch carpenter slept in a small house in tie 
garden, as a protection to it ; but he ate with the 
overseer. It was always his custom to come to the 
gallery door every night, and learn the hour esactlv- 
That night he came as usual, before going to bed, bol 
my mother could not tell the hour ; botii her watd 
and the clock had stopped. The carpenter had 
his lantern with him, and turning round siai. 
" Please ma'am I'll light the lantern, and look at tk 
sun-dial." My mother looked at him, and asked him 
if he knew what he was about, when he propoeed 
looking for the hour on a sun-dial with a lanten. 

He said, he believed he did not know very well, 
for really it was an awful night, euch a night, be 
wished his master and Master Henry were safe home. 

This redoubled our feais ; my mother kept hojriiig 
they would stay all night, the carpenter seated him- 
self in the gallery, saying he would remain to take 
the horses, for the negro servants had been asleep 
some hours. We waited, every moment hoping to 
hear sometliing, and even dreading to speak to ettcli 
otlier, lest we should miss the first sound of the horsea' 
feet, when, at last, after a long silence, my mother 
asked the carpenter to look if there were any stalB to 
be seen. 

No, there was not one, the night, he said, " wa> 
desperate dark." At that instant, horses' feet wen 
heard, and Henry made his appearance with the query 
of, " Where is my fether — is he safe ?" 

■' He is not here," said my mother, " where did 
you lenve him i" 

Henry replied, tiiat tta fe&ei, ^t. "ft»i«» tt& 
.Jumself, had arrived ttt tb-e a^^ttfc "*" -* ** 







river at the same time, and were going to paaa the 
iord, when my bther called out " Come back, 
Henry, the river is coming down, I hear it." Henry 
said that by the time my father spoke to him, 
iiis horae was in, and he could not turn it ; he tried, 
but the cuirent was rushing so strong, he was forced 
to go on. He said, he knew hia only aafety was 
to sit fa$t, and he did so ; he knew the horae 
had been carried a great way down the atream, 
because when he did get to land, he found it was not 
the usual opposite bank, but the horse knew the way, 
and brought him safe home. Henry was confident, 
that my father and Mr. Hairis had not left the 
opposite bank of the river, bnt though he said ao, we 
could see he waa in dreadful alarm ; as for my mother, 
•he had hardly a hope of my Other's safety. 

To send messengers was impossible ; for Henry 
declared, the river was coming down with more and 
more rapidity ; and he was sure no one, now, could 
ford it. Getting dry clothes for Henry was even a 
relief to ua, but when that waa done, and he sat down 
beside ns in fdlent horror, 1 can fancy few things more 
Kwfiil, than those hours wer&— when hark ! some one 
Galled, there is a horse, alas it was a horse, and a 
. , Inxiken bridle ! the {>oor creature stopped at the door 
'i its stable, but the rider was absent. 

My mother shut her eyes, and gave one fearful 
oeam of terror ; we tried to comfort her, but alas ! 
' vfaat could we say ? we ourselves gave my fatlier 
up for lost. 

I need not tell you what a long, dismal night it 
seemed ; but at last the sun rose, and shone as brightly 
as if there had been no sorrow in our home, and yet 
our father was drowned, and Henry to leave us ! 

The overseer started instantly with the carpenter, 
each on horseback, and Csesar accompanied tliem with 
some other n^roes. We had intreaXedmY moftviei Xn 
go to bed, but to this she would not cotkkcA-, 'Onfc 
oyeneerJefi m bis watch, it was juat avs. ; -we Ve^X- o"« 



124 TALES OF A GaiNDMOTHEB. 

eyes fixed on the end of the road turning up to tlie 
house, we saw some one coming up, ridingon a mule; 
it could not be them returned — no ! but it wm my 
father, ^e acd sound, in agony about his ten. 
When he saw Henry he was relieved, indeed, eaih 
thought the other had periEhed m crossing the river, 

My father told ue. that when he called to Houj. 
and found that the poor boy, in conaequEoiee of the 
rapidity of the atreaia, could not turn hi? hone, h 
was in perfect agony for liim, for he thou^t it in- 
poEsible, in such circumstances, he could keep Ul 
seat ; he said, he heard Heniy distinctly call out, dat 
" he could not tura," but the night was dark, and 
that moment he lost sight of him. 

To attempt to ford the stream and follow him mi 
his first intention, but Mr. Harris held him hack bf 
force, saying, better your wife lose her son thtn 

Here, then, they remained, with no doubt on their 
mind as to the fete of Heniy ; for the river was rush- 
ing, roaring, and they believed he must be carried into 
the sea. At last, after waiting long, my father tliou^I 
it might be possible for him to pass, but feeling the 
current stronger than he expected, and fearful that it 
would be impossible for hun to reach the opposite 
side in safety, he clungto the branches of a tree, ffOD 
which he remained suspended until day-light, when 
some negroes coming to work, saw him, and soon 
brought a mule for my father to ride home upon. 
He never doubted his horse was lost, had he known, il 
had come home, he would have felt Btill more uneasj 
about us, but he was persuaded the poor animal bM 
been carried out to sea. 

Great was our joy, though soon the recollecdon <tf 
its being Henry's last day at home made ue feel sad. 
' am sure he was much distressed, when he felt that 
I littJe lime remained to Vum to be -mth us alone, 
but be would not aay ho. TV\e wegtoea aS. «Bo»-asi 
bid him ferewell next monuag. »ni*m'aM&>»!fc\«t 



TALBB OF A eRAIfSUOT&Ea. 12S 

)een, from hia life and fun, a great favourite with. them. 
ff e saw our kind friends at Marriaqua. and ftrrived. 
lext day, at the Fniser'a. from whose windows we 
Xiuld see the ship Henry was to go in. 

To our astonishment, Mrs. Harria made her ap- 
pearance in Kingstown, having prepared, in a wonder- 
fully short space of time, to embark for England, as, 
she aaid, she felt her health required change of 
climate. It was painful, that we could only see 
Henry in the company of others, when we had bo 
mach to say, and eo little time to say it in; hut it 
could not be helped. The Neptune was to sail 
next day at three in the afternoon we had dinner 
early, on Henry's account. 

Never shall I forget the last morning, as my father 
and mother kissed him and blest him, and once more 
reminded him solemnly of his duties. He promised 
bruly, that he never, never would for^t them, his best 
friends, who had done so much for him ; he said he 
would have been a planter, and remained if he 
could, but the more he tried, the more he disliked it. 
and he added, " You know, father, I could never be a 
good soldier, unless 1 had begun early, and besides it 
was the truth, I told you; and you desired me, always 
to teU the truth, and fear no men." 

We all assembled at dinner, hut when my 
father looked on poor Heiiry, he lost all comniand of 
himself, and rising hastily from table, he withdrew to 
the next room and fairly sobbed aloud. It seemed to 
me far more distressing to see my father euifer 
than my mother ; to her we could have spoken, but 
his grief was too intense to meddle with. 

My mother kept up wonderfully ; we all got into 
the boat, and it was not until then, that 1 saw Henry 
was making a strong effort to control his feelings. 

We got up the ship's side, my father and mother 
went down to see his berth, we accom^anleA tiiem-, 
my mother unpacked his night-dteaa Sot Vho., ^^» 
" xtbed the juUovr of her daiUng boj v ■waVa'aa^ii)- 



I 



Baootbe 



1-26 



I 
I 

I 



and thought liow lonely he might yet feel in that UtI 
berth. We came upon deck again — the anchor w 
heaving, the boat v/aa ready, we kissed and embnod 
Henry as often as the time would allow, we said, " God 
bless you," as long aa it could be heard, and tte 
htu^t into hitter tears of sorrow, for we saw Henry 

That was a melancholy night, but the excellent, 
sound principles of my parents soon roused us to b 
sense of our duties. We set out homewardB, not 
morning, thinking how merrily we had travelled thsl 
road last year, and got our plants and seeds, from 
old Mr. Bentley at Marriaqua. Heniy was then our 
assistant in every thing. 

For some time, we had not the same heart to attend 
to the garden ; but Marion, though a year yoonger 
than 1 was, reminded me, that now we were alone, we 
ought to be aa attentive as ever, besides we had pro- 
mised to write to Henry, and let him know how flU 
went on, and what money was made by the garden 

Poor Mr. Harris was now alone ; lie seemed not to 
approve of his wife's sudden departure — his spiritt 
became depressed — Elizabeth was very kind and at- 
tentive to liim, and really the house seemed betto 
managed than when her mother was at home. My 
father now paid him his third and last instalment; 
the debt to Mr. Eraser was lessened, and the estate 
was going on. well. The first thing, howCTBT, thit 
roused our spirits, was a very long, cheerful, aSfec- 
tionate letter from Henry ; he had a delightful pu- 
sage, and landed in London in forty-seven days. 

A friend of my father's, an old officer, had received 
him moat kindly in London, and he was to go to 
school nest day. This was good news, and we 
applied to all our studies and duties with redoubled 
vigour. The weather was getting cool again, and v 
busy helping my mother to prepare the negro 
dotbingfot Cbnatsaa^. tlentv"* 



127 I 

to read aloud while we worked, but Marion and I 
nead by tuma. We used first to finish the lesBona 
:if the day, and while we practised, the one at music, 
md the other drawing, my mother worked by us, and . 
time, at last, began to pass swiftly. 

The negroes spent, as usual, a merry Christmas, 
but we did not feel so much inclined as in former 
years to partake of their mirth. The recollection of 
Henry's merry, happy laugh, was still too muchmixed. 
with those scenes, for ua to partake in them as light- 
heartedly as formerly. Elizabeth Harris too, whom we 
really loved, was seldom able to be with us, and she, 
though so young, was left to be the nurse of her 
fether, and the hrad of the family. 

Mrs. Harris remained the whole year in England, 
and it was not until the approach of another Christmas 
that we heard she wua coming out ^\ith her two 
daughters, beautiful, accomplished, and gay — how 
could they help being the happiest of the happy I ' 
" Bat I must," said grandmama, " reserve their ad- 
venture for another evening, and answer any questions 
you may have to put to me." 

■' I should wish," said Maria, " to know the history 
of the West India orange, the shaddock, the forbidden 
fruit, and the lime." 

"The orange," said grandmama, " is not, in general, 
in the West Indies a very large tree, nothing in 
comparison to the ormge trees of Spain. Its botani- 
cal name is aurantia mains; it was originally brought 
firom India, Portugal, and Spain ; where the fruit grows 
in great abundance, and is of a very fine Savour. 
Oranges, in the West Indies, are at times eseellent, 
and of a very large size, but some of the best are ex- 
ceedingly small witliasmoothskin, and are often, like 
the St. Michael's orange, destitute -of seeds. Not the 
least trouble or skill is bestowed on the culture of the 
orange m the West Indies, the trees are in a complete 
ttate of nafure, nerer pruned or dug lovind, ani Tua.- 
BKdi grsf^S ^ never attempted, butweie OieWi 



4 



128 TALES OF A GRAKDUOTHER. 

properly managed, no doubt there would be a great 
improvement in the fruit. The orange, when rips 
in the West Indies, is of a very pale, beautiful gnea, 
approaching to yellow. When of a deej) yellow, tbey 
are considered not so good. The bitter or Seville 
OTRiige, citrus aurantium, grows abundantly in die 
woods of the West ladies, but it is not always ao 
good as those we get in England from Spain, uid 
which we use chiefly for making marmalade. 

Nothing can be more beautiful, than an orange 
grove ; the deep glossy green of the leaves, whether 
relieved by its elegant, and fragrant white blossomi. 
green, or yellow fhiit, is alike agreeable to the eje, 

There is an immense number of oranges, impoiteii 
yearly, to Great Britain from different countries, not 
less than two hundred and seventy two millions an 
consumed by us. It is necessary to gather all oranges, 
limes, shaddock and forbidden fruit in the green state, if 
they are to he exported, otherwise they would rot on the 
voyage. During the passage, they become yelknr 
and mellow. Oranges grow well in Italy ; there is in 
orange tree at Rome, thirty one feet inheighth.wUcii 
is bdiei'ed to be many hundred years old." 

" Grandmama," said Maria, " when mamma wtt 
in Devonshire, last year, she was in a garden, where 
she was shown orange trees, trained on a wall, grow- 
ing beautifully, and the gardener said the fruit mi 
eicellent," 

" I do not doubt it," replied her grandmaiu, 
"only they must be protected from the slightest frost. 
as that injures them ; and, indeed, if severe, would kill 
them. In the Isknd of Guernsey, they are culti- 
vated out of doors with some success, but I must 
confess, notwithstanding all that is said of the fruit, I 
have seen none that was not greatly inferioTj in 
quality, to that grown in warmer dimates." 

" And now, giandmama, will you tell us," said 
FretJertck, " something oiiiw:'\mi6t" 

"Tbe lime,'' aiddVia graaiimaiQai," 



■ TAl-ES- OF A OBAHDUOTREK. 1--' ^^H 

bicnir resembling the lemon, but it is much smaller ^^B 
emoother in the skin. The juice is still more acid ^H 
I the lemon, and in the West Indies its flavour is ^H 
erred. It is, altogether, a more dwarfish look- ^H 

tree than the orange or lemon, its blossoms ^^B 

equally fragrant, and like the rest of the orange ^^1 
e, it is very prickly. Tlie lime is much ^^M 
d in the West In^es for fences, and where ^^M 
s nicely cut and kept close, and the trees allowed ^H 
nte at regular distances, it is very beautiful. ^^M 

" The shaddock ia also a species of orange. The ^H 

e, as well as the fruit, is much larger than an ^| 
inge, growing occasionally larger than the largest 
it)e turnip. It is, when ripe, of a pale yellow, 
yellowish green, but ia always quite yellow before 
reaches this country. The shaddock ia a native of 
ina, and was first brought from that country, by a 
itajn of that name, from whence its appellation. 
te all other fruit in the West Indies, it is suf- 
:d to grow almost in a state of nature. It has 
generated in consequence, and a fruit, which, if any 
mtion were paid to it, would lie CKceiient, becomes 
ime coarse, and loses its fine flavour, Occa^onally, 
I meets with fine shaddocks in the West Indies, 
; the reverse ia more common. When goad, they 

highly aromatic, slightly, but pleasantly bitter, 
h a, delicious mixture of sweet and acid. In Ciiina, 
tead of propagating the tree by sowing seed, na 
y do in the West Indies, they propagate by butld- 
Shaddocka are frequently brought home from 

West Indies, and bear the voyage well. 
rhe forbidden fruit resembles the shaddock, but 
smaller, being of a size between that and the 
age. It is less coarse t>'ai the former, and 
h few exceptions, its flavour ia deUcious. It is 
>aTomatic. The species and variety, oftheorange 
lily has multiplied to an uncommon degree', iav 
18, in a natural history of oranges b-J 'ft.tf.K^. «■ 
mfUet of Nice, be mentions one \iuq^«^ sn^^^_ 



130 TALES OF A GRANDMOTHEB. 

sixty nine varieties, which he has divided into eiglf 
species. In the south of France, particularly about 
Provence, oranges thrive well, but at Nice, fliey Bt 
tain still greater perfection. One great beauty of oil 
the orange family is, that they bear the most fragnnt 
blossoms, green, and ripe fruit all at ,the sbm 

" Grandmama," said Maria, " I have noticed yen 
more than once mention there being no breeze. I 
thought there was always a breeze in the West India, 
for 1 have heard people, who had been there, say, that, 
but for the breeze, they could not have lived in surii 

" There is generally, my dear." aaid her grandmami. 
'" a strong wind blowing in the West Indies ; this is 
called the land and sea breeze, but in the hmricaiiB 
or rainy season, as it is generally called, the wind 
lulls more and more, until the month of Octobei, 
when often hardly a breath of air can he felt, and if 
there is any, it is so heated, that one is inclined to 
shut it out, for it feels very much like the heat of an 

" Will you tell us," said Frederick, " vrhieh ire 
the hurricane months ?" 

" They are," said his grandmama, " propeHy 
speaking, from Jnly to the end of October ; but Sep- 
tember and October are the two montlis that arc 
generally productive of storms, The old setUeralaw 
a rhyme expressive of this : — 

" July, ilnoiJ by. 



Meaning, that from August to September slotiw 
were likely to happen ; but after October all danger 
for that year is over. Storms generally occof 
a6out the fiill moon, ondilftve Mi tnooti <A ^ittA« 
pass quietly, there ia aeWora «wj ^«& -aeKiast 



TALES OF A ORAt 



131 



y rains begin to fall in June, so heavy, that they 
nan to fall from the sky, like wide spouts, emptying 
Wwelves on the earth. 

The noise the rain makes in faUing is, to one 
naccuatomed to it, almost terri&c. But the soil 
La been so dried up b^ the scorching heat of the sun 
r so many months, that rain is often longed for, 
ttbre it appears. The pastures become perfectly 
y, and the grass seems dead ; vegetables get scarce, 
id the animals sulFer much, for it is difficult to had 
od for them. Thunder and hghtning take place 
ily during the rainy season i almost every night, 
leet lightning occurs for many hours, and is beauti- 
lly brilliant and perfectly harmless." 

" Grrandmama." said Maria, " you mentioned the 
nd and sea breezes, I do not know what they are ; 
ould you he so good as explain them to us ?" 

" I will do BO with pleasure," said their grand- 
lama. " You know all that portion of our globe, 
hich lies between the tropica of Cancer and Capri- 
jrn, b called a tropical clunate. About ten in the 
lorning, the land (or as it ia called in the West 
idles, the mountmn breeze) regularly sets in, blowing 
om the land to the sea, and again, about five in the 
ftemoon, the sea breeze begins, proceeding from the 
;a to the land. It generally continues, in tlie 
indward islands, all night. The cause of the 
loming and evening breeze is easily explained; 
lom the rays, or influence of the sun, the earth 
ecomes considerably heated, heat rarifies fbe air. 
nd by tliat means, makes it much lighter ; the air 
■om the plains, in consequence of being rarified, 
ii^bes in from the sea in the afternoon, which is less 
eated at that time than the land, and ascends to the 
lountun tops, or high-lands. There it is condensed 
Uiot is rendered heavy) by means of being in a 
older atmosphere, which condensation makes its 
gtia£c gravity heavier than it was \>eiotft. 'Q\cmi!^ 

" ' '" theearthloaes itsaurpluahea.V.-wVie\!».t*« 



I 
I 



ju^jbc, 



still continues equal in its temperature ; conseque 
towards mommg, the breeze proceeding from the 
to the sea, where the air ia warmer, and, then 
more rarified than the ahore, is forced by the s 
fie gravity of the air, which causes it to descend, 
to Qie plains, on both sides of the mountainous i 
which forms the momii^ breeze." 

" I understand all this," said Maria, "exce 
one word which puzzles me, what ie the metmi 

" To rarify, my dear," said her grandmama, ' 
make pure. And now that I have ajiswered all 
questions, I think we must separate for the nigl 
Frederick looks, as if he could hardly keep hii 
longer open. To-morrow we will resume our « 



CHAPTER IX. 



d got grape vine plante again from Marriaqua, 
ratched in every way we could, to prevent 
5 attacked by ants, but in vain; so at length 
' a boE of earth, and placing this box in a 
ffater, we planted our vine in it, and, at 
ing inraiaingthe plant to snclia heighth, 
lould be Btrottgt^r and less liable to be killed 
hnsecta. We transplanted it into our garden. 
Whe pleaanre of ourinvenlion being rewarded, 
jKit grow up beautifully. 

Imnsia told ub, that in Africa, ants are far 
■ubleBcune even than in St. Vincent. They 
■eat neets she said, as high as a man ; and 
pees, and at times they would come in immense 
i^to houses, and cover all the walls, roofs, and 
■be told ua she could recollect their coming 
It) a grandee masaa's house she lived in ; 
|k in the night, when every one was in bed, 
■ covering the house completely, they went 
pbeds ; and bo terrible is their sting, that the 
if tiie house had all to get out aa quickly as 
I, Knd leave the ants, who do not quit th« 
ndl they have destroyed all the vermin about 
lice, cock-roaclies, and iuaecta of ever^ 
She assured ua, tiiat in Afcwa., aVe. ^vii- 
^ts sting a. sheep to death; ftira *iiX *« 



134 



said, was much larger than either the bkclt, red, « 
white ant of St. Vincent. ' 

You can have no idea how our plantain wstt I 
had increased in value ; we had such a crop, that we I 
prevailed upon my iather to send down a boat loaJ | 
once a month to Kingstown, and we calculated, ibatin 
another year, if no accident happened, we should fdl 
at leaat sixty pounds sterling worth of plantains snil 
bananas. By dUigent training, our servants had m 
some measure improved : this gave my mother 
more time to spend upon our education, and 1 quo- 
tion, had we remained at home, if we should ha?e 
got on better; besides we had, from necessity, lewnl 
to do almost every thing for ourselves, and nererlo 
feel at a loss, or complain about the want of thos 
little trifles, which so often disturb the happinesa of 
persona who are bred in luxury ; we doubly enjojtd 
our neat house and nice garden, with our abumbnt 
poultry yard, when we felt that it was the nnitri 
fhiita of family economy and industry. 

It was about this time that we had a letter, con. 
veying to us the intelligence of the death of Miss 
tlbby Elphinstone ; she showed her kind feelings to 
UH to the very last, leaving Marion and myself the 
only money she had at her own disposal, and whid 
was placed at five per cent interest, giving us an in- 
come of fifty poimds a year. She knew well how ID 
estimate our excellent parents, and she left it in Aai 
power to permit us to spend the annual interest, ot let 
it accumulate until our majority, aa they judged best. 
We instantly offered it for Henry's education, wliifh 
cost only a little more than this amount ; my fcthei 
and mother knew that it was freely offered, and they 
as freely accepted it ; we knew by doing this, it would 
sooner enable my father to pay the remaining part of 
his debt to Mr. Fraser, and then he would be really 
happy. 
Henry's aiTectionate \ettex -wVtn Ve "Wax^ -a 
iDore than repaid -what we\xa4gwen.mieai,i 






■ have persuaded my father to take our thou- 
inds and pay Mr. Fra«er, and thus be clear 
bt ; but to thj3 he would not. for a moment, 
; he had every bope of paying' Mr. Fraser 
fears, and lie would not touch what was left 
■ proviEion for us. 

anis, in the absence of his wife, led a most 
pa life; Elizabeth did what she could, and 
^ was much neater than when her mother was 
I but her economy and order could not avail 
the reckless waste of a divided and ex- 
t family ; Mr. Harris, excepting when in 
IFEis gloomy, depressed, and petulant with 
I and with every one. 

her fether dined and slept out, she always 
IB, and loved my father and mother as parents, 
ion and myself as sisters. 
I this time, on the half-holiday of the negroes, 
id gone to an estate some httle distance, to 
(seeds of the boulangols toeowin his garden. 
Ung by the sea side, he passed a little sandy 
t a raUe from our house, and as he approach- 
iw a tree thrown on shore, and near it some- 
poreatly moving- He went down to examine, 
d it to be a great snake, very different from 
Ad ever «een in St. Vincent hitherto. Hur- 
ne, he told my father what he had discovered. 
re; he instantly loaded his gun, and wont off 
overseer and M'Intosh, to despatch the for- 
prealure. 

of the negroes ran down also, to see " da 
|ike," my father half beheving that Cfesar's 
magnified the size of the snake. But upon 
the spot there was no deception ; there lay 
lal alive and basking in the sun — my father 
t dead ; and upon going close to him, they 
to he a boa constrictor. He directed them 
it and preserve the skia and heaA ■, -fl^Aiia 




they did very nicely, 
^eep was found inside. 

The erening following this, my fether met Mr. 
Harris, who told him his wife and daughters had 
landed that day at Callioqua bay, and he had jiul 
sent off a messenger to us to request the lone of» 
horae, as they were waiting for some mode of con- 
veyance to get to the Charaib country ; and he had 
only two. My fether wUlingly complied with thjt 
request: and my mother, with the wish to reBere 
El^beth's timid mind, begged that they would iD 
dine with us, at eight, the evening after next, a it 
was not likely, they would reach the Charaib coanWy, 
before that time. 

Early next morning we went to Elizabeth i and 
assisted her to arrange every tiling; as far u 
possible, for the comfort of her mother and sister?, 
When we had firushed putting up the mosquito 
bed curtains, and Elizabeth had placed on each 
dressing table the nice new pin-cushions she had 
made for them, she looked around with a h^ipy 
contented face, saying, she hoped they would lore 
her, for, indeed, she loved them. 

Elizabeth and her father dined with us that day^he 
was not in health, either of body or mind ; he epAt 
morosely, nay, rudely to every one ; often he priuwl 
Elizabedi in her absence, but in her presence, h* 
conducted himself to her with a total want of feeli)^. 
We pitied her situation, but could do little more. 
Next afternoon, she and her father came to out 
house : to Mrs, Harris and her daughters a note was 
written to say that we had dinner ready for then, 
and that Mr. Harris and Elizabeth would be with 

Just before sun-set, we caught the first glimpse of ■ 

the three ladies ; they rode well, and wore new riding- ' 

habits and riding hats-, and eertainly, when thtj 1 
', it was impoBsMe t«a Va\i« ^SmsStVj'i 



cus^Vj'is.J 



_ trance of the two girls. They were beautifully J 
wr, and had now got a. line English complexion, 
]uite sufficiently to add to their beauty and anima- 
don, yet perfectly delicate in its shnde. 

Their father kissed them coldly saying, " A fine 1 
sum of money these cost no doubt; and nice hatato I 
shade yon from a West Indian sun," as he eyed their I 
riding hats scornfully. 

I am not sure that Mra. Harris kissed Elizabeth ; 
her sisters did, for they had been taught the external 
Forms of good breeding at school ; but they embraced 
her coldly and gravely — they had been carefully 
instructed to suppress all appearance of feehng, and 
that nothing was so vidgar as to show affection fat I 
any one. ITiat young people so educated, should be I 
selfish, cannot be wondered at. T 

Mrs. Harris waa delighted to see how genteel her 1 
daughters were — nothing new astonished them, they 
only showed themselves conscious of a removal to the | 
West Indies, by pretending to have forgotten the 
name of every fruit and vegetable to which they had, 
for so many years, been accustomed This affecta- 
tion provoked their father, who, to mortify them sliH ' 
more, said, in his coarse blunt way, that he hated 
fine ladies, and Etizabeth waa worth a thousand like 
them, adding, worse than all — that he was 
she would be well married and settled, before either ' 
of them. 

■' It is really a pity," smd Mrs. Harris, " since you j 
can marry her so well and so easily, that you did Dot I 
do BO when we were away, and then we should not i 
now be troubled with her." 

I saw Elizabeth's eyes fill with tears at this i 
kind speech nf her mother's, until they coursed 
gflentiy down her cheeks. I led her out of the room, 
under jiretence of some business, for I saw she must 
fither choke, or sob outright. 

" Oh .' hmr I wish I could stay wtiv ^cm." s^. 
t^beth, aa fooa as she had relieved beiseM >xfjt 



I 



' A GRAKDMOTBBft. 

burst of tears. " You see they will never love B 
said she. " and I am sure to be miserable, let me do 
what I will." 

Marion and I kissed, and comforted her, but wi 
did, indeed, fear that aeither her sisters normothd 
were disposed to be just, 1st less kind to her, wliile 
her father's approval of her conduct was merely a*iy 
he had of gratifying his spleen against the otherB-4l 
was dictated neither by love nor afiection for her. 

It was ChriatTQEis time, and we could not he^ 
thinking, had Henry arrived, what a different met' 
it would have been ; how sweetly would the evemng 
have passed in the affectionate recoUectioa of mii 
childish days spent together. Here, all was ok 
scene of jarring, jealous discord, likely to beeome 
daily worse. Grieved as we were for Elizabeth, 
we could not help being relieved, when the eveoii^ 
came to an end, and they mounted their horses and 

" And now, grandmama," said Maria, "that you 
have finished your story for this evening, I wiBli yon 
would indulge us by answering a few questions; 6» 
surely what old ClarisBa told you about the ant* 
turning people out of their houses, cannot be true." 

" I beg your pardon," said grandmama, " I believe 
every word of it. I know myself, more than one 
person who has witnessed such scenes from ants, ti 
people who have always lived in England, are at I 
unwilling to credit. There is only one species of eat 
that performs such deeds ; they are found in Africa, 
particularly on the coast of Guinea, they are common 
in the Island of Trinidad, but are imknown in St. Vin- 
cent nor am I aware of their being in any other Welt 
India island, excepting Trinidad. They attack fmrf» 
m Africa, and it is a feet beyond contradiction, tiat 
they can sting a sheep to death, I have been VM 
by African negroes, that if a worm or a beetle be 
phced in the patk, wWre ovI-y ov» ov Xwq «tt, ^b«^ 
wiR set off and letuiu -BilJi a. ©ioi roan-j >4 *«a. 



TALES OP A GBANIIMOTHEB. 139 

and cany off tlieir prey. In Trinidad, 
they have appeared upon an estate, and entering 
the dwelling-house, they have cleared it, and got 
into every trunk and box, through the key holes, 
behind every hook-ahelf, in fact, not a comer or 
cranny escap*^ their search in any room, from the 
floor to the ceiling — rats scampering, cock-roaches 
running, jack Spaniards flying, spiders with their long 
hairy legs crawhng off, but, in vain, they give no 
quarter ; the inhabitants of the house had no alterna- 
tive, and turned out at the ^f of these chasseur unts, 
who, had they been at all iDterrupted in their work, 
would have stung them with great severity. 

When the house was cleared, they proceeded to the 
kitchen, pantries, andlastly, the negro houses, where 
they performed the same office, and next they feaeted 
on the animals they had killed. There is a pecu- 
liar kind of hlack-bird, which in Trinidad generally 
appears on some tree a short time before an attack 
of this kind begins ; and at the end, those ants who 
gormandize upon their prey, become dull and stupid, 
and down come the black-birds, and devour those 
ants who are not active enough to get out of their 
way. These ants are about the length of a common 
sized house-fly and quite black, their sting is ex- 
ceedingly painful, and the place stung swells much. 
They are called chasseur ents, from their being 
such excellent hunters, and parasol ants, from their 
generally running along in regular strings, eadj 
with a bit of a green leaf over its head. 

These strings of ants have been traced from a 
distance of a quarter of a mile, coming down iiom the 
high to the low grounds, their path being worn 
pwfectly bare of every blade of grass. Upon their 
disappearing, at the side of a.bank, a hole was dug; 
and at the depth often feet, and upwards, tliere were 
found two distinct chambers, full of leaves, asi'i ». 
white Boake in the miildle, which woK invmiaCaai;^ 



I 



140 TALES Ol 

killed. The negroes say, the parasol ants cany 
those leaves for the snake to eat ; but this is, at be«t, 
doubtful. Orange trees are often full of their nests, 
and if any person presumes to touch an orange near 
where their nest is, they are covered instantly, and 
unless they are switched off quickly, they sting 
moat cruelly. I think the most painful stnngin; 
ant of St. Vincent is the red one, it occasions aerm 
inflammation ; and they abound much in many ^tm- 
tions. There is a still more annoying ant in Soufli 
America, called the termite ant, which, in one oigfaC, 
has l)een known to eat through, a strong wooden 
chest, and make it appear, before morning, as if aO 
drilled full of holes." 

" Indeed, grandraaroa," said Frederick, " 1 ahouH 
not like to be attacked by those ants ; how wondafn! 
it is, to think of so small a creature destroying a 
sheep ; but that is an African story, and perhaja mit 
exactly true." 

" I think," said his grandmama, " that although 
it is an African story, you will no longer donbl its 
truth when I tell you. that I knew a gendeman in 
Trinidad, one of whose negroes caught a beautifulfawi; 
he brought it as a gift to his master, who wished to 
send it to a child of his in St. Vincent. There wt! 
fortunately an opportunity offered, and next day it w» 
to be shipped ; in the evening it lapped some milk, and 
ate some tender grass, and was locked up for safety in 
their kitchen ; next morning, the first thing that met 
their eye on going into it, was the pretty creature, 
quite dead, covered with chasseur ants and stung to 
death by them." 

" Grandmother, you told us," said Maria, " tlttt 
boas were not common to St. Vincent ; how did that 
one come there, do you suppose ?" 

" No one could tell to a certainty, but it waa 
conjectured, that it came on t.\ic tree by which it 
was lying ; probab\y, the Bn?ls.e Mii tae^^sajV" 
swept down the great Sowftv "—'■ 



141 

ronooko, into tlie sea, from whence the current 
d carried it to the beach on the Charaib country, 

windward coaat of St. Vincent." 

" Can you tell ub, grand mam a," said Frederick, 
what it was like ?" 

" Yee, my dear," said his graudmama. " It was 
ore than twenty feet long ; the tail was about one 
glith of the length of the animal. Its colour, a 
reyish white with small brown spots ; it was all 
jvered with roiuid smooth scales, its eyes round, and 
taring shockingly; it has poison bags in its mouth, 
lit no fangs, so that it has not, so lar as we know, 
jB power of emitting poison. Its chief habitation 
I in deep thick forests, or caves, where it watches 
X opportunity, and darts out to secure its prey, 
'hether man or heast. Sometimes it settles itself in 

tree, twisting its tail around the trunk, or a branch, 
s a support, and then when it sees anything worth 
:s attack, it springs upon it ; coils itself round either 
uu) or beast, and by its immense muscular strength, 
ruisee, and breaks every bone of the body. 'iliia 
one, it licks its prey all over, with a sort of glntinouB 
aliva, this makes the animal, and, it may be, man, 
dore easily swallowed. 

Should a stag, or any kind of homed animal be 
heir victim, they begin by swallowing the feet. 
uhich was ascertained by serpents of this kind having 
leen Been, more than once, going about with the honia 
if a stag sticking out of their mouth. It is said, 
hat as the animal digests, the bones putriiy and fall 
iff. la 18'22, a boa constrictor of an enormous size 
va» killud in the Square of Port of Spain, Trinidad ; 
uid inside of it was found a deer, antlers and all. 
\fter swallowing any lai^ animal, a boa becomes 
itupid and sluggish, and it is only when in tiiis tor- 
rid state, that it can safely be attacked — it then 
nakes a lussing noise. I have heard titel 'Waa ^^ 
e eunnitig, they will cover themselves wfi. o^ex ■^'v'ii 
mmt, ia places where they expect to loeeX 



I 
I 



. -4ni^^_ 



I 

I 



142 TALES OF A OttAKnjMOTHeH. 

tbeir prejr, and thus concealing themselves, the; can 
the more readily spring out upon their victim." 

" What horrid snakes, these are," said Frederict 

" They are so conning too, which makes them the 
more dangeroua," said Maria; " and now forone 
question more grandmama, what vegetable is die 
boulangois ?" 

" It is a species of egg plant, which grows allow 
the West Indies and America; it is egg shaped, ahoul 
live inches long, purplish, streaked with green. 
Inside it has a soft pulp, full of small seeds. 1 
boiled, and mashed with butter, pepper and salt, loi 
served at table, as a vegetable, to eat with mut 
It is very wholesome, and has an agreeable fluvom. 
The white egg plant, I have seen thrive in Eo^and, 
out of doors ; but it is never used as food. It Iwkt 
on the bush, exactly like the large sized ^g o( * 
common fowl. Solanum melongena is its botanini 
name. There are several other species : the m 
remarkable is, the solanum sodomeum, which gK 
on the borders of the Dead Sea. It is a beautiful 
large purple fruit, but strai^ to say, it is liaMe to 
the attacks of an. insect of the cynips species, yituA 
pierces the rind ; the whole inside of the fruit be- 
comes putrid, and changes Into a substance like aahec 
yet the outside retains its fresh and beautiful appev- 
imce. This fact of the egg plant, or species of lore 
apple, has occasioned many fables to be told. wA 
esaggerations propagated about it. Some saying 
with JosephuB, the Jewish historian, that the appl» 
were of a fair colour, as if they were fit tu be eatea; 
l)ut if you pluck them with your hand, tliey vanish 
into smoke and ashes. Even Malton. our great poet, 
refers to these apples, as adding anguish to the 
fallen angeb." 

" I suppose, grandmama," said Maria.. " thftt «v 
have no insect of thia apeclea in our country." 

" Indeed, we have ■, B\umeift»iJ!Q,ftie ^(^c^wMa. 
naturalist, mentions the cyui^a as b. s^ci-a. (A|' " ' 



festing the common dog rose which createa strange J 
iry excreacences on it. You have, perhapa, heard of I 
e gall nut, which is useful as a euhstance in pro- f 
icing a hlack dye ; it cannot be obtained in sufficient I 
landty to use alone, and is always nnxed with other J 
■louring matters. The gall nut it an escresce 
rmed, bythis insect, upon aparticulEir species of oak, I 
[uercus infectoria), growing ia Asia Minor. 
It seems a disputed point among naturalists, 
hether the cynips produces the escreacence by 
ounding the hark or the fruit of the tree. The 
ipeaiance is globular and unequal ; it must be 
leered, if for uae, before the tranaformatiQn of the 
isect ; the substance ia very aatrii^nt. The cynips 
copagatea itself by laying egga on the oak, these | 
eing hatched, produce larvie. This insect has a 
eedle in a sheath, and possesses the extraordinary ' 
ower of elongating this needle, to double the lengtli 
f its own body ; by means of this needle, it hollows 
ut its nest for ita eggs, and the young onea, when 
trong enough, pierce their way out by the same 
Beans. But I must now wish you goodnight — 
o-morrow 1 will go on with my story." 



CHAPTER X. 



I 



" Now get your work," said grandmama, " ixi 1 
shall begin my story. Thia Christmas, from the tiw 
uf the arrival of the Harris's, 1 had passed with them, 
and several other iamiliee, in a constant round d 
gaiety. We had joined in all this very modeiataty, 
and. indeed, had gone no where until after Chrietmit, 
as my father made a point of always apeDdingit upon 
theestate. Ournegroeswerewonderfully moreroanag- 
able than those of our neighbour, Mr. Harris, who 
was BO often absent from them ; and, when on th« 
estate, too much occupied by visitors, to give himielf 
time to pay attention to the attempt, at least, of fet- 
tling their personal quarrels and listening to their loog 
stories. They and the manager were for ever com- 
plaining of each other, then there was an oveisMT 
under him, and he could agree with neither. 

There was a never ceasing change of white men 
upon the estate, none of them were ever retained 
long enough tw know the people, or the people then; 
the negroes cheated the white manager and ovctmb, 

fast as they could ; while they knowing how ofla 

Mr. Harris changed them, felt no interest in prevent 

depredations tliat had become sometbiu 

than little pilfering. The BtiU-honse nn 

curiF3g-houae were as oSten \rfJ. \m\ocV.e4, and na- 

watcbed, as the reverse-, aai ftve a-mNstt -rani ici 



145 



^ t fovind Ft ready market 
tiile Mrs. Hurris was nc 
.lighters, in adding to the extravagant waste going 
.. Although she could gosap with her domestic 
groes, she prided herself too much upon her being 
EnglishwoinaD, to condescend to the duties of a 

She had a mind, she said, that soared above that ; 
might be very well for Creoles, but she thanked her 
re, neither she nor her husband were creolea. It 
9, however, a sad loss to him and the estate, that 
■ considered the privilege of English birth a fair 
a forexemptingherfromthe duties of awifeanda 
Iher, according to the station of life in which ahe 

I voluntarily placed herself. 
jir, Harris was by no means a stupid man, but he 

Sah, devoted to iileasnre ; pleasure always, 

if he could avoid it. But of late, he 

1 obliged to give more attention than was 

to certain letters, which his mercantile 

1 England had begun to address to 

P Formerly, previously to my father's purchasing 

hd from him, when those disagreeable communi- 

B arrived by the packet, he used to throw them 

le. and smile at the moment, for he knew to a 

ainty, that the wide Atisntic rolled between him 

Messrs. Holdfast and Check, his London mer- 

Dte, complete men of bnaness, convenient men, as 

f assured him they were, when he first commenced 

iness vvith them; for Mr. Holdfast's brother was 

I(y banker, while Mr. Check's nephew was as 

tit a London attorney as ever breathed. 

■h a connection was, therefore, the very thing. 

Mud, for a planter, who in the management of his 

II might require all then assistance ; and tieing 
) concentrated in one concern almost, they would 
thwart each other ; — an evilof which aplantftt often. 
tbeaanoyaace, without the possibiUt^ oS 

C. Holdhat and Check had alwav?, 



I 




aeat fig^es, in his tavaur. at the bottom o 
Then the same gentlemen sent the suppl 
estate, and aha many articles for da 
family use. There was also a page devt 
account ; but neat as those figures were, •■ 
legible, Mr. Harris never looked at the an 
the sum total against the estate became 
Mr, Harris then consoled himself, that th( 
some mistake in the account ; but be was 
thinking so, and made no sort cf examinatii 
he unce write to his merchants to say, thi 
tioned their accuracy. Meanwhile Measii 
and Cheek had now got to one moat ded 
for a West India agent; and as certain! 
Weginning of ruin to the planter. 

They had got, by their superior eleven 
management of accounts, an advantage 
Harris, which they had only to follow ' 
cautious advice of Mr. Check's nephew, < 
who was in iact, as well aa Mr. Holdfast ) 
a sleeping partner in the concern. 

No sooner had they obtained the desired 
estate in debt to tliem, than they commena 



j Harris was right ; for before loi^, they meditated 
Qvincing him that it would be soon altogether their 
ifiineBB to manage hia aSkira, and save him future 
>ublc of one kind, to exchange it for another of a 

Eire disagreeable nature, 
this and much more had taken place unknown . 
fatheTj and previously to his purchasing the land l 
Mr. Harris. The supplies sent out, from * 
B. Holdfast and Check, became every time 
ore and more inferior in quality. The manager 
implaiued of them so often, that at last Mr. Harris 
as roused by his lady, whose wrath was kindled by the 
ceipt of sundry hams in such a state, thiLt she said 
ley were nearly alive ; porter, too, perfectly acid ; 
id cheese, the very smell of which was intolerable. 
Mrs. Harris, therefore, insisted upon her husband's 
riting to Messrs. Holdfast and Check, and telling 
lem he would not pay for such inferior articles j 
lat unless the next supplies sent out were of a very j 
fierent quahty he would change bis merchants. ' 
his, Mr. Harris imagined, would bring his London 
[ents to act towards him very differently ; and s 
d. For it brought the business exactly to the point 
ley wished, and enabled them to do that which, for , 
ime time, they had set their hearts upon. 
Little did Mr. Harris think, when he wrote, signed, 
id sealed his letter, what the answer was to be. He 
:pected apologies, and promises of future good 
induct, and also a new supply of domestic and 
mily articles, of the best qutdity London could pro- 
ice. But alas ! there were no supplies ; those for- 
erly sent, they said, were shippedin excellent order 
Ld of prime quality — they meant prime quality for a 
anter in debt; they were sorry they did not give 
tisfaction. Certainly Mr. Harris was at liberty 
change his agents immediately, indeed it would be 
irticularly agreeable to them he should do so ; bu' 
hetber or not, they begged leave to reipesS. » 
^accounts. 

■L 2 



148 TALES OF A GRANDHOTHEK. 

Now, truth to Bay, Mr, Harris had not a veiyclesr 
idea what a settlement of accounts meant ; bo he was 
at first very angry, and instead of throwing aside the 
letter, as formerly, he dehberateJy tore it first b 
two, then in four, and bo doubling, and redoubling, 
and tearing, and retearing, he at last reduced it to 
Buch pieces, as could leave no connected tiaM 
of the business to which it referred ; and as there 
is not a convenient fire in a West India room, to 
dispose of such documents, he let them fly out at the 
door of the gallery ; and thus sent his troubles to the 

All this happened before my father purchased the 
property, and I must now tell you how he did bo, am! 
the deception that vraa played upon him, ae it 
afterwards proved a severe blow to us. Vou muat, 
therefore, allow me to go back to the period of Mr. 
Harris' marriage and his first difficulties, in order to 
your comprehending what is to foDow. 

Mr. Harris had married bis wife to be his honae- 
keeper ; and nothing more. He had been thoroi^lilr 
diJiappointed in his speculation in this respect ; and 
she had no less been so, in her husband. Mn. 
Harris'G ambition was, on this point, more extenorc 
than this. 

First of all, she married to avoid being an oW 
maid ; now as she was only twenty at the period of 
her marriage, she needed not exactly to have been in 
such a nervous state from the apprehension of un^ 
blessedness being her portion. 

Secondly, she wished to be provided for, to be 
mistress of a house of her own, to order ha 
dresses, uncontrolled by any one ; and to be as gay 
and as happy as, she beUeved, a marriage with Mr, 
Harris's purse, would enable her to be. 

But I must also tell you, as some eKcuse for her, 
tbat Mrs. Harris's paienta were silly, vain and ill- 
tempered ; their own mfeuagc "Jrea b- bckqr ;A cKm^ffit 
quaneilixig — and that tcioat, ies?\.ceMs, A^i 



^^GKl^Oi 



i4ij 

wish to appear richer and greater than the 

The company rooma, compnny dresses, and com- 
uiy dinners, were all very well— but the retiring 
mas, the at home dinners and dresses, were the 
>m€ of misery. The servants knew this to their 
Wt, and the young lady at home, often in rags and 
irdly clean, with a scanty dinntr five days in seven, 
lought the offer of the heart and hand, or rather 
le hand and purse of a West India planter was one 
lat was to raise her to the seventh heaven. 

Her father was a petty Londoa attorney ; but he 
lade as he believed, a good snug settlement for hie 
lughter, and at least one daughter was gone out 
F six — that was a mercy. The mother felt a gush 
r thankfulness to get one daughter off, and did not 
ouht Mr, Harris taking another as a companion ; 
lit this she failed in effecting. The parenta 
ad never educated the sisters in the affectionate 
idearments of domestic life, and their separatioa 
as a matter of joy to the lady elect, who being the 
tij pretty ^1 of the family, had excited the envy 
id jealousy of her sisters, whom she in consequence 
ialUied, and now triumphed over by giving a de- 
ded negative to the proposition of the mother. It 
kimot be supposed, that a girl of even twenty, 
lucated as she was, and with the example of such 
irents, would for a moment glance at what the 
utiea of Mr. Harris's wife ought to be. She 
lade up her mind to order what she wanted, and 
t him pay. He promised to keep a carriage, 
id ehe promised herself she would use it, and 
iait, and dress expensively, and have parties with- 

Mr, Hams was not very polished, but the estate 
■as put in the balance ; and he was found not 
unting. He was far her father's su-pericit — ^ticioM^ 
mlly ber inferior, in external ap\ieBiance asA «i- 
"' jccompanied hiin wiilmgl.y to ftia "^«i 



I 



L 



150 TALES Ol 

Indies, and suffered less from the discomforts of 'iit 
plan than those do who have known the happineas of 
domestic life in England, combined with a happjf 

For mEiny many years, Mr. and Mrs. Harris hut 
no serious quarrels ; in fact, neither of them were 
people easily to be made serious about anythiii|. 
They had little bickerings ; it was evident they vetss 
not exactly in love with each other ; but then t!i^ 
never had been so — each having always been in 
love more with self, than anything else. But wbai 
a second set of peremptory, nay rude letters arrived 
from Messrs. Holdfest and Check, the little bicker- 
ings became great ones. The husband declared «U 
against his wife's extravagant dresses, she retorted, 
and declared she would dress on until be w 
beggar, so long as he drank his claiet daily. 

We were then at war with France ; and claret WM 
nearly aa expensive an article as the lady's French 
laces. Neither would be bo mean spirited as to be 
the &st to yield. A husband yield first! he dedared 
she must be mad to ask it ; she insisted upon tl 
politeness due to her sex. Mr. Harris said, " Sei 
fiddlesticks and French lace." So neither would yield, 
and both went on full speed to the next act of 
comedy, that was soon to become tragedy. 

Mr. Bright the lawyer in Kingstown, whom Mr, 
Harris considered as fine a fellow as ever lived, W« 
in the pay of Messrs. Holdfast and Check, and 
they employed him to take the proper way of ar- 
ranging Mr. Harris's business for him. So b 
him dinners, champaign, claxet, and flattery in 
dance, and then gravely and jocosely started the 
first part of the real business. 

Mr. Harris of course, abused the London agents, 

" Impudent fellows they were, to send out sUCh 

BUppUes, perfectly uselesa ; Mra . Hairie can tell you," 

said be, " when you come out, ftva.t 'Cocrc ■•»»» tifc 

one article that was wortli a iaritoiB^." ^^m 



151 



Tiie wily lawyer replied — " He did not doubt it ;" 
»ut that was the way withaU merchauts at home, hard 
iksto deal with they were; hut he could assure Mr. 
ajria, that changing hia agents would do no good, 
lery one acted oa the same plan ; and were I 
lU," said he to Mr. Harris, " I would settle the 
Lsiness quietly at once and have no further 
auble — by giving them a mortgage over your whole 
operty." 

Mr. Harrisrephed, " Ohany thingtoavoidtrouble; 
It will this content them ?" 

" Content them !" said the lawyer, " a first 
nrtgage upon a fine estate in the Charalb country, 
onld not content them ! Take my word for it, they 
iU be perfectly your humble servants again, if you 
ake this offer ; you will have no more hams, cheese, 

porter, that is not of the best quality." 

"But," said Mr. Harris, "the supplies for 
le negroes were bad too." 

" Well, I will be answerable for all being unex- 
'ptionable, and if they do not please you, I will . 
ke them off your hands myself; a fidrer offer than 
lis cannot be." 

" Certainly not ;" replied Mr. Harris, and the 
,wyer, (lawyer now, for both the piaintitF and the 
rfendant,) wrote to offer a mortgage over the 
hole of Mr. Harris's Charaib country estate. 

Mrs. Harris also heard of this arrangement, but 
le was not at all disturbed by the mention of a 
ortgage : she did not know what the word meant, 
he ivas innocent of all tliat knowledge which makes 
sensible and well -informed woman able to be the 
ind and faithful counsellor, and the valuable bosom 
tend of her husband. 

He likewise knew far too little of business to meet 
lose trained to it on terms of equality. He merely 
It that a mortgage was a sort of debt, but he did 
a eitfo laucb about it; it relieved him iicno. <^«s'^i^ 



L 



152 TALES Of A ORANDMOTHEB. 

trouble, and enabled him to go on, without any 
more annoyance from rude London merduuite. 
And he did go on for some time; so far m the 
world knew, very well. 

But debt and extravagance too often go hand in 
hand ; and the debt accumulating to the Kingstown 
merchant, as unaccountably as it had done to the 
London one, he in bis turn became cold and stiff in 
his civihties. 

The negro fish was of very inferior quality ; tk 
manager complained that it was so soft it went to 
pieces, and great waste was the consequence. Stave* 
and hoops, for hogsheads, were declared rotten, 
nails rusty ; they broke before they could be knocked 
in, and a remonstrance was entered into by Mr. 
Harris. The bill was rendered in — an immense bill— 
a long bill— an extravagant one ; but it was too late 
to dispute the accumidated debt of years ; and sn 
immediate settlement was requested. 

Mr. Harris now did quarrel with his wife in good 
earnest ; for in this bill her dresses and those of her 
two eldest daughters, formed no very inconsidenllle 
item. He glanced over his claret ; for it is fel 
easier to blame others than ourselves ; she said he 
might have lived very well without claret, it was not 
a necessary of life, while she could not go esnctly 
like a Charaib woman without clothes. Mrs. Hsnis 
was fond of extremes ; if she had only had Ae 
good sense to clothe herself in any of the intermediate 
shades of expense, between the red garment of » 
savage Charaib woman, and that of liie finest lace 
and muslin of foreign manufacture, she might have 
avoided helping her husband to his ruin as she did. 
But when Mr. Harris urged her dressing- with less 
expense, she would not listen to reason, but pasaoor 
ately declared, that if she did not dress like a lady, 
and as his wife ouglit, e\ie -woald attire herself like « 
Ciiaraili, and he nugiit coosiAex '\ui>N ^ ' ' 
add to his respectability. 



LMr. Harris did not exactly believe that this threat 
would be put into esecution ; nevertheli^ss he saw 
something must be done, to come to an arrangement 
with hie Kingstown merchant ; so he mounted his 
horse, to go direct to Mr. Bright the lawyer at 
Kingstown, now fairly installed as Lis man of 
business, whUe he was no less tlie accredited agent 
for Mesers. Holdfast and Check. He slept at a 
friend'e in the way to Kingstown, and reached Mr. 
Blight's next day, just in time to cool and dress for 
a good dinner, and to enjoy a bottle of cool claret — an 
essential with Mr. Harris at aU times ; but more so 
when there were business matters to be discussed. 
soon as the ladies had retired, he opened his mind, and-fl 
told his difficulties to the cunning lawyer, who 
sooner heard them, than he laughed at them a 
tnBe, and proposed an immediate way of paying tbaM 
Kingstown merchant, cash down. 

Mr. Bright said he knew a gentleman, a captain I 

in the regiment, who wished to sell out and pur-i j 

chase property in the Cbaraib country ; and h^ ■ 
advised Mr. Harris, whose land was much more thaQ I 
he had labourers to cultirate, to sell a certain portion \ 
of it. 

Mr. Harris said, " how could he do that, when | 
there was a mortgage over aU the property ; 
ttie gentleman not object to buying land 
tuated ?" 

" To be sure he would," said Mr. Bright, " were 
you the fool to tell him ; but if you do not tell, he 
will never find it out. Do you suppose a captain 
in the army, with all his bighflown notions of mili- 
tary honour, would ever dream of such a thing, as a 
roan selling a mortgaged property without telling 
it ? Never, take my word for it ; you have only 
to keep your own counsel ; I will not tell, 
iind none else of the few who know it, "SQuid. 
Do you really suppose the inhabitanta \n gtixeiA 
I officers of a regiment, XjeY**^^ 'iiea 



society iit the moment ? If you do. you are gteSdj 
mistaken. Every captain and the field officere too, 
might purchase mortgaged property to-morrow, and 
no settled man would tell them. To get into a 
quarrel and a duel for another man, b rather too 
good a story ; eo if you will sell the portion of the 
estate I teU you of, I will promise you two thonsand 
pounds currency down — two thousand more in one 
instalment, and one thousand more in another, to 
complete the purchase." 

"Done," said Mr. Harris; "you find the purchaaH, 
and I get the money, and settle with the rsflcal in 
Kingstown." 

"But," said the lawyer, "you muat part witii 
some negroes, the land would not sell without that," 
Mr. Harris had already too few, but he had no 
alternative, ao he wae obliged to sell ten negroes I 
with the land, and Mr. Bright bound himself to find I 
a purchaser. That purchaser, unfortunately, was my 
high-minded, honourable father ; he was indeed the '■ 
last man in the worid to believe it possible, that nay 
one, for the sake of the greatest earthly advBstagei 
could thus deUberately sacrifice every religiou* 
and moral principle, character, and every thii^ 
that a really good man values much more thno 
gold. But my father made the common mistake of 
high-minded men ; he believed every one acted on ttie 
same noble, honourable principles as himself; and 
though his own father had given him so striking a 
lesson of the possibility of a h^h profession and 
unprincipled action, yet he failed to recollect it, m rb 
to prove a sufficient caution for his future dealings 
wi^ his fellow creatures. 

Thus was my poor father fairly caught in the 
snare ; he became the purchaser of Mr. Hania'a 
land and ten negroes, paid down at once one diou- 
sand jiounds sterling, or two thouaond currency, and 
at the appointed times Vie poiii ftve Wfioe^MvftalraiffitfBt, 
and believed liia right to the pio^ert^ vvft&s^aS)^ 



it unfortunately, the lawyer he employed "« 
the friend of Mr. Bright, and they played into each 
other's hands, and assured my faliierthat there were 
not clearer title deeds to an estate ia the island, than 
to his new purchase. He heheved them, spent his 
little patrimony in huiiding works, and procuring 
sufficient negroea for the culture of the estate, and 
at the period of Mrs. Harris, and her daughters' 
arrival, it waa really a very promising property, and 
many of the negroes had made a most satisfactory 
progress in civilization. But the extravagance of her 
conduct, now that her daughters had come out, far 
surpassed all former days. In her ahsence, tlie good . 
kind hearted EUzabeth had collected a nice poultiy I 
yard ; hut short time did it last, and what with I 
waste and keeping open house, in six months one j 
sole goose remained, not to save them, as it did the | 
Romans, hut to proclaim their ruin. 

" But I fear it is getting late now," sa 
mama, " and if you have any explanatior 
I should wish to give them, as I do not like to 
detain you too long-" 

" Yes, indeed," said Maria, " I wish to understand 
clearly what a mortgage means, for it appears 
me, from what you have told us, that it was 
great disadvEuitage to Mr. and Mrs. Harris to 
be ignorant upon that point." 

"Properly speaking," said her grandmama, "a 
mortgage means land, or something else of value, 
given as a pledge froni a person who owes a debt 
to another ; I dare say you remember in the history 
of England, Robert, Duke of Normandy, when he 
wished to go to the Crusades, was in want of money 
fiDT tlie expedition, and asked his brother William 
II. to lend him ten thousand marks, mortgaging 
(that ia putting in pledge,) the Dukedom of Nor- 
mandy, by which act in the event of Uobelt \11t Win^ 
abJe to repay the debt at a certain period, ftvs^ixjjii^ 



136 TALES OF A GBANDUOTHER. 

of Normaady would become WilUam's, instead o£ tit 
teD thousand marke being repaid. 

" When any one in the present day owei motqt. 
which it is not convenient for him to pay, it u i 
common thing for a creditor to accept a mortgage 
upoQ land, houses, or any other property he m»j 
possess, of sufficient value, to the amount of ibe 
debt. There is generally some period mentioned ia 
the agreement between the parties, for its payment 

"When that period arrives, the creditor tmiy 
insist upon payment ; and if the debtor refuse Id 
pay. then the creditor may insist upon auch a e«k 
of the property immediately taking place, an wil 
repay him completely. This act is called fore- 
closing the mortgage — a step which quickly hasteae 
on the ruin of the debtor." 

" And now," said Frederick, " will you be ao 
good, grandmama, as to tell me what the void) 
plaintiff and defendant mean, and why it ww 
wrong for Mr. Bright, the Kingstown lawyer, to do 
the business both of tjie London merchants and Jfc. 

" The plaJntiiF, my dear," answered his grandmam*, 
" is the person who complains. Messrs. Holdfiut 
and Check lodged a complaint against Mr. Harris, ' 
because he had got into their debt. This complaint 
he lodged with the Kingstown lawyer, who, a* I 
have told you, applied to Mr. Harris to ask him to 
pay; you see Mr. Harris defended himself by saying 
the articles sent out were not worth a farthing ; 
he therefore was the defendant, and wished to know 
the best way of settling matters with the plaintiffa — 
the London merchants ; a moment's consideratioa 
will show you, that as the parties were in some mea- 
sure acting against each other, no really upright 
man would give advice to both. Mr. Bright how- 
ever did so ; but he gave all his law and bis cunning 
to benefit the London merchants, who he knew. 



TALB8 OF A 6EANDM0THBB. 157 

pay for his advice ; while he gave the worst 
le counsel to Mr. Harris, whom he knew to 
able to pay, either well or readily. Now 
light/' said grandmama, ** to-morrow evening 
; to meet you by the fire-side." 



L G BAND HOT HER. 



CHAPTER XI. 



" I» you are quite ready now, I wiJl go on 
with my tale. NoDe of us could conceive how it 
was that Mr. Harris seemed to shua ua all so mudi, 
but more particularly ray father ; if he could m 
any way avoid meeting' him he did so. Had we 
kno^iTi that he had sold a mortgaged property to m, 
we should have fdt no difficulty in accouuting fot 
hia s-hynesa , it cannot be pleasant to meet a man fre- 
quently on easy friendly terms, whom we know we 
have miserably deceived. Conscience has a certain 
power, which at times will not he lulled. We, 
however, were ignorant of this, and only re- 
gretted it on account of Elizabeth, who was thiu 
necessarily less in our society. She still conducted 
herself in the most gentle amiable way to her parwita, 
she dared not remonstrate as to the extravagance rf 
keeping open houw, and the slightest advice to ber 
sisters, regarding economy in dress would have 
been laughed at. All that she could do she did, she 
set them an example of unvarying neatness, industry, 
and economy; here indeed, my mother's lessons to 
her told well, for though dressed in the cast dothea 
of her sisters, who often to provoke her threw their 
good dresses away to "iasa ne^o -«iuX,vd^ niwd, vet 
ehe never breathed one muim\« la oamaMaft..>« 



159 

pursued her own quiet steady path, unmoved eithCT 
hy jealousy or envy towards her really pretty sis- , 
ters. Home had always been the scene of our hap- 
piest hours, and these hours were nevef so happy as 
when they were cheered hy what best consoles us 
for the absence of those we love. 

A cheerful letter from Henry in health, and getting 
on well, was always a great addition to our happi- 
ness ; we were now more than usually interested 
and delighted by one which announced his leaving 
school, and being appointed an ensign in the army 
in Portugal, under General Sir John Moore. 

His letter was written under much natural excite- 
ment, begun on shore, finished on board the 'JVansport, 
and sent to the post office by the pilot, who took 
them down the channel. We loved him dearly, and 
entered fully into his enthusiastic mihtary feelings. 

He was now. gratified hy commencing that pro- ] 
feasion which had so long been the object of his 
choice ; yet Ktran^ as it may seem, sympathy with 
his fres.h bnrst of martial spirit made us all forget 
that he was going to meet liis enemy in the field, 
and that the gazette of killed and wounded must ere 
long he more anxiously consulted by ua than for- 

Mr. Harris' health, «nk"nown to us, was much af- 
fected by the continual and disagreeable letters he 
received from his London merchants. 

Mrs. Harris had been nearly a year in London, 
and her style of extravagance in living tmd dreee, 
when there, had called forth the animadversions of 
many people not much addicted to economy. 

But, poor woman ! she said it was a dash and out 
again ; that was alt, and the marriage of her daugh- 
ters would he well worth the money spent. 

Besides elegant dresses, there was a harp and 
harp strings for Anne, wUo had an elegant figure 
andfine arm, itistrue, butshehadnotaViilfcxia'i^^ft 
nly play soTne pait ot ftae» 



Kei^^^ 



I 



I 



160 TALES OF A OIUUIDMOTBXB. 

fereot tunes, and could etrike a few chorde, wUeb 
when she did, ihe looked so handeome, that her 
mother was sure she must be too much admired n 
to be sooD led into harmony of a different kind. 

Jane, the second daughter, had only leant the 
piano forte — if learning' that may be called which enn- 
bled her to bungle through a few tunes- The hand- 
some new piano forte was considered her pec: " 
property, and for some time she contrived bi n 
noise enough upon it ; but one day trying in vai 
Compaq the second part of a common country ds 
one of the little negroes underneath the open window, 
hearing her repeated unsuccessful attempts to m 
it, called out, 

"Top, Miss Jane, you nosavez, me go singitri^ 
for you," and so the child did ; but so annoyed wm 
Miss Jane to find the tittle negro's natural ear supe- 
rior to her science, that she closed the instrument 
in despair, and declared she would never opn 

Their father saw the absurdity of all this, ; 
often threatened to take both harp and piano ioiK 
and put them in the copper hole as fuel to boil the 
sugar with. The first year of their return was i 
drawing to a close, and neither harp nor piano fc 
finery, nor beautv, had as yet procured the desired aid 
for which their mother had specially designed then, 
viz., matrimony. 

Messrs. Holdfast and Check had advanced money 
to Mrs. Harris for all those foUies, and so bent » 
she at all hazards to possess them, that there was 
sacrifice of after peace or honour, she would not wil- 
hngly have made to obtain ready money white in 
England, to gratiiy the espensive foUy of herself and 
her daughters, Messrs. Holdfast and Check pre- 
tended that it was a great favour, and very incc 
nient to make the advances she required ; while in 
feet the rapid increase of the debt was the very thing 
they wished, because it would fumiah them v' 



161 1 



Buble pretext for foredosing the mortgage, at an 
0ftrlier period than if she had acted more prudently. 
But no aoooer was she fairly settled again in the 
estate, than the merchants began offensive operationg, 
each packet adding to their complaints and stating 
their difficulties, until at last the letters were written 
more and more in the style of dictating to Mr. 
HarriB what he must do to please tliem, and even 
Mimethiiig very like a threat, in case of refusal, seemed 
hinted at. 

At the first reading of this letter, Mrs. Harris did 
not very well comprehend it ; and not tlunking it 
worth a second perusal, she then threw it aside, for 
she was plaiming at tliis time the possibility of giving 
a ball on the estate, and was deep in serious calcu- 
lations of how many guests could possibly be ac- 
commodated for the night in her own, and her neigh- 
bours' houses. 

Not so Mr. Harris, he was really distressed ; he 
saw h itngplf a ruined man — ruined both in fortune 
and character — the former was to him the more pre- 
cious of the two ; probably he felt that his having 
hitherto been well receivwi everywhere, had in a 
great measui'e been owing to liis style of life. That 
«^le could not long be kept up, and something 
whispered to him, ^at if !iis conduct became the 
subject of examination, it would he found wanting in 
all that constitutes the man of vutue and honour. 
It is one thing to know ourselves that we have 
deceived another, m he had done my father ; hut it 
is another to be obliged to face our fellow men, with 
snch a deed staring us in the &ce. It was not to be 
wondered that he became irritable, discontented and 
Jepressed ; he flew ts tiu indulgence in intoxication 
to banish care, and the disease of the mind, combined 
with intemperance, was making rapid iiuoada ujida 
the health of Mr. Harris, which every one wbo' 
Sopked at him obseri'ed, excepting his wife and twa 



I 



162 TALES OF A G 

Mrs. Harris was jealous of Elizabeth's visits to 
ua ; but when we did meet, she ^poke of her father'* 
health with increased alarm, saying that she coiiU 
not think what was the matter with him. she often 
feared he 'n'as going ta lose his senses. Elizabeth's 
life, at this time, was one of uiunixed anxiety : she mu 
kept almost constantly at home, as a sort of upper 
sen'aiit, and the return for ail her industry ai 
labour, was reproaches and taunts from her mother 
and sisters, ani! incoherent espressions from hit 
father, who would use the moEt bratal language to 
her the one moment, and the next beg her paiden, 
and say she was the only being on earth he c^ed Gn. 

Besides our family, Elizabeth had made sino 
friends of Mr. and Mrs, Warren. ITie mediral m 
who attended the estates in tliat quarter, hved nj 
their property, and hoped before long to be able to add 
a wife to his comforts. He had been a quiet bat 
not an unobservant spectator of Elizabeth's ezcellait 
conduct, while her path of duty was marked by diffi- 
culties of no common kind. He was soon notioed 
by Mrs. Harris to lengthen his visits on tbe 
estate, and pay them rather more frequently &ffli 
formerly. 

She could not avoid seeing, that though polite to 
all the family, he showed a preference for Elizabeth, 
of which she chose to disapprove, not because she 
would not have aceepled him aa a son-in-law fcr 
either of her other daughters, but because she was de- 
termined that Elizabeth should be kept aa the humble 
dependant of the family — a thing which could not be 
effected, were any visitor permitted to treat her upon 
terms of equality with her sisters. 

We were ignorant, at this time, of all this busines!, 
and Elizabeth had far too much sense and delicacy 
of feeling, once to allude to the subject t« u ~ 
young doctor, however, saw how matters stood, and 
with great propriety withdrew from any extra \i ' 
confining himself wliiitly to his professional ^ 



and contenting himself by showing Elizabetli, when 
he did accidentally meet her, that he preferred her 
society as much as ever. The unnatural conduct of 
the partial mother must have hceo a fresh 
suffering to ElizabeCh. but it produced uo change oa 
her conduct ; she bore with unvarying mildnces this 
trial of her principles, and in the end she was no 
loser in the esteem and affection of those whom she 
justly valued. 

Dr. and Mrs. Conway came and past tliis ChrisU 
maa with us ; they were mucli interested and amused. 
by the negro festivities, but it was no longer a 
noveltytous, not that wedid notenjoy seeing so many 
of our fellow creatures happy and improving, but 
we were beginning to be anxious to hear of Henry's 
anivaJ in the Peninsula. By the newspapers indeed 
we knew that the British troops, under Sir John 
Moore, were marching from Portugal to the west of 
Spain; we could only hope thatHemy had arrived in 
safety, and joined them. 

While our neighbourB the Harris's were employed 
in uninterrupted gaiety, we were far otherwise 
occupied, and the arrival of letters was the one idea 
that engrossed ua all. At last there was an arrival, 
it brought us one letter and one newspaper. The 
address was in Henry's hand-writing ; how our hearts 
1»eat, and how long did the mere act of breaking 
the seal appear to us. He was well and in high 
spirits, every line was full of affection for home, yet 
delight in finding himself at last really a soldier. 
We read and re-read the letter, talked over it, and 
thought of nothing else, until ray mother seeing the 
yet unopened newspaper, look it, she glanced at its 
contents. 'ITie first column that met her eye, was 
the gazette of the killed and wounded at the retreat 
under general Sir John Moore at Comnua : slie 
dropped tlie pajwr, and unable to speak she pointed 
to rt, uttering » scream of woe such as 1 ctuuioti to 



I 



164 TALB8 Ol 

this d(ty, ever forget. My father Immedly and iastincl- 
ively looked at the place of the paper where she had 
pomted, and there was Henry'a name, killed. Hope 
there was none, and we, who, but a few short numitts 
liefore had been reading his letter with delist, weit 
now plunged in the deepest sorrow. 

There was nothing to comfort, nothing to alleviate; 
it was a cold blank notification of his death, aud not 
uiic particular of how it happened ; all was left in 
ili^mal darkness. That night and many succeasTe 
days we spent in deploring our loss ; every tlni^ 
around us recalled him to our recollection. TTie 
water lemons he had planted were blossoming, and 
twining u]jon the gallery, and much as he alwayi 
occupied a place in all our affections, it seemed a»if 
the bang separated from him for ever had only draw 
ttiose bonds tighter than before. 

It was months before my father went about his ueml 
occupationa on the estate as formerly. My molher, 
Marion and myself pursued our employments alinMt 
mechanically, but we were soon roused to activitj 
liy a train of events which, unknown to us, had long 
been thickening around us. and painful as the evenb 
tit last became, they in some measure did my parenB 
good, by compelling them to thmk of other things, 
and thus time performed his kindly office, and we 
l>ecame able to talk of Henry with calm resignatioii. 
We knew we could see him no more on earth, nod 
it seemed bringing us all one link nearer heaven. 
Soon after this, a message came one morning, request- 
ing that my father would come and see Mr. Harris, ns 
he bad been taken very suddenly ill. He wentwilhout 
delay, and found all the family in consternation. 
They had sent for Dr, Edwards from Mr. Wnrren'* 
estate, but he had not yet arrived, and my fctber 
found poor Mr. Harris in apparent agony both af 
mind and liody. A.a sqdh oste -^^^fceived my Mar- 



fted bim to forgive him, adding, " But 1 know it is 
ut«, I am sure you never can ; only promise 
. e you will not curse me." 

^ My father endeavoured to calm him and told him. 
*'That he had never injured him, and had no need to 
ask his for^veness." In vain he persisted he had "in- 
jured, ruined, deceived, and cheated," my father. 
But when he eaw my lather's hand- extended to him 
wttli promises of perfect forgiveness, kindness and 
giood-will, he took the hand heid out to him, pressed 
it silently, and saying, " God protect you and your 
family," he sank back exhausted, speaking no more 
for some hours after. 

Dr. Edwards had been partly a witness of this 
scene, and like my father, attributed the whole to the 
delirium of fever. Mrs. Harris appeared alarmed, 
and Dr. Edwards, forgetting all her past miecondi 
offered to return, after going his usual rounds 
he said, should Mrs. Harris wish it, he would) 
with his patient aU night. It was well he i 
for Mr. Harris's fever continued to increase r^idly. 
and resist the most powerful remedies, until next 
(lay about noon, when he expired, leaving his helpless 
wife and daughters, ignorant of their real pecimiary 
circumstance*, and consequently making the blow, 
which had beenso longpreparing forthem, fall the more 
heavily, because so unexpected. Mrs. Harris indeed 
knew that her husband for many years had been in 
debt, and had she once given sufficient attention to 
the subject she might have easily seen, that each 
succeeding year was adding to it. But both husband 
and wife disliked trouble, and foolishly imagined that 
by trying to forget their debts, their creditors would 
forget them, but they found too late, that in pro[)or- 
tion to their attempt at forgetting, so did the memory 
of their creditors seem to become more accurate. 

After the funeral, a letter was foiiui -MVidciMT. 
Uanie bad opened, and no doubt read, o\.'i.\icim:?!ei ^* 
^pt concealed the contents from his favnW^ 






IC(i TALKS OF A GKA.- 

received it only a few hours Iwfore he was taken ill. 
and the contents no doubt liad affected him m 
powerfully as to prove the cause of his death. To 
Mrs. Harris and her two eldest daughters, who 
hod not one thought beyond tbi" world, the intelli- 
gence conveyed in the letter was a far greatff 
caliunity than the loss of a husband or a fathiT, 
Not 90 with Elizabeth, her parent's death, under such 
melancholy circum stances, affected her powerftJly; 
and distresEing ne the tetter was, she mourned over 
it far more as the direct cause of her father's 
able end, than as conveying, to tbem, as it 
notification from Measra. Holdfcist and Check, saying 
that " Really they were sorry to take so decided a 
step, as to foreclose the mortgage, but they were in 
justice to themselves obliged to do so, the debt 
having accumulated now greatly beyond the red 
value of the estate ;" and then followed the accounts, 
the debit and the credit summed up in (iguree, it 
neatly and steadily made as if th«r result hai 
nothing to show but prosperity and success- 
It was always a. sad loss to my father, as a n 
business, that he had passed his early youth i 
army, among men, who not only were in the st 
sense of the word truth and honesty itself, but who 
had not a behef, that any man, bearing the niune of 
gentleman, could act imbecoming one. 

The natural consequence was, my father judged of 
every man's conscience and delicacy of feeling 
according to his own, and when he heard Dr. Edwards 
express some doubts as to whether there might not 
be considerable and willing mis-statements in the 
accounts of the London merchants, my father shook 
Ills head, and said that was impossible — a respectable 
Ixmdon merchant held his character any day dearer 
than his profits. The doctor differed from hiro, and 
triet! to assure liim, tiiBl ntaii'^ vancbants, commonly 
considered in the woi\d as loeii "Ji. ■rea')ifR.'«&sfiosi Wl j 
Aoiiour, often led theii em^jVo'jctft-ai.to fiiS 






lien once tJiey got them into debt, tliey did not 
niple to make false chor^^s, and u.\»a send out 
ipplies of so bad a (jtiality aa to be unfit for use, 
id this, he said, he considered aa much a species of 
shonesty as any other. 

A» for Mrs. Harris, she declared the whole to be 
1 irapositioa, and said that she would soon make 
T husband's old friend. Mr. Bright, the lawyer, 
ttle the matter, and eonviace Messrs. Hold&et and 
beck that she at all events was not a person to be 
ifled wit!). 

She accordingly sent for Mr. Bright, but alas ! 
s could afford no consolation ; he had hitherto been 
le agent of both parties, but he told Mrs. Harris, 
lit with all the wish, he had not the power to be of 
ly use ; that Mr. Harris had unlbrtunately contracted 
!bts beyond tlie value of the estate ; that he did not 
mht, tiiat the London merchants must, to save 
leinselves, at once foreclose tlie mortgage. 

Mrs. Harris of course quarrelled with Mr. Bright : 
lis was precisely what he wished, and it was 
Uowed up by a letter from him next day declining 

act for Mrs. Htaris or her Itunily, for Mr. Harris 
iving left him hie executor, it became immediately 
!cessary for him either to accept, or decline the 
See. 

Mrs. Hairis wrote herself to Messrs. Holdlast and 
heck : her letter however did not reach them in time 
I prevent tlieir sending out a young friend of theirs, 
ho haii more than once visited the West Indies for 
lem on similar errands. 

The day that he arrived, he took up bis residence 

Mr. Bright's, and this gentleman wrote instantly 

Mrs. Harris, saying he regretted the disagreeable 
x!e83Jty of communicating to her the decision of 
lessTB Hold^t and Check, but that they had sent 
It a gentleman, with powers, to receive maae^^Uks, 
lytaeat at once of the sums due to tbem, dt m "ivR 

Kof Mr. Harris (of whose death tVw^ -weve '\%' 
J 



I 



I GBAWDUOTHER. 

norant) being unable to eatiffy their claime, theesta' 
was to be brought to sale. 

Sometimes tiiose for whom we care least in pro 
perity are the most relied upon in adveraty ; Mi 
Harris sent for my Either, and laid her troubleK befe 
him, beeging his adrice. Butthe advice of the wi» 
man could not now eare her ; poor Elizabeth, wh 
she accompanied my father to the door, said, ' 
have feared this for some time past ; what will i 
poor mother and sisters do for a home ? had ^ey 1 
followed your esample. how much better off til 
woidd have been now." 

Silly as Mis. Harris had been, it was impo^ 
not to feel deeply for her and her family. She 1 
no means of payment, no man could afford to 
security for an estate over head and ears in debt, 
it was put np for sale, and bought in for Mesf 
Holdfast and Check, by Mr. Bright their agent, » 
sum which he declared to be far below the debt i 
to them. The news of this was soon communica 
to Mrs. Harris, with an intimation that the foo 
she could move the better, as a gentleman, a bu 
of Messrs. Holdfast and Check, intended for « 
time residing upon the estate, and mana^og 
This was a thunderstroke to the poor woman : 
evidently had, up to this period, believed every le! 
mere idle threats ; she made, however, one struj 
more, saying that she and her children had a li 
to some settlement, and move she would not, o: 
all her rights, as the aidow of Mr. Harris, w 
gnmted to her. 

My father was more than astonished, when 
heard, that upon this requisition being made by i/ 
Harris. Mr. Bright wrote a civil note to say tiat 
would consader this. In the meantime Mrs. Ha 
had applied to several lawyers to take her case 
but it M-as considered hopeless, and every one 
vi^ed her to make the best bargain she could 1 
Mr. Bright ; the last lawyer to whom e' ^ 



I ebo^n^ 




weni so tax aa to promise t<i try and get Kimelhijig 
For her ; but he was a friend of Mr. Bright'a, and 
merely undertook to do this to prevent the possibility 
of Mrs. Harris's cause falling into the haade of an 
honest man, who might have iinnoyed Messrs. Hold- 
6ist and Check, by a closer examination of bye-gone 
debits and credits than woijld have been agreeable to 
them. The pretended friend of the widow and 
children tried to convince her that he would stand 
out to the last to obtain their rights, when, in fact, 
he was doing all in his power to favom- the opposite 
party. 

Mrs. Harris signed away her own and her 
children's rights for a mere pittance ; but she wbs 
assured, that even to this she had no right, and that 
unless she concluded a quick bargain and signed the 
papers, che would in all probability get nothing, for 
very likely the London merchants might refuse to 
grant fliat as a request which they could deliberate 
upon, while they would say nothing of it, when they 
found all settled, and the property sold and in their 
possession. Mr. Bright too reminded the poor 
widow, that even yet his London employers were 
^nxX losers. 

The true benevolence of Mr. Hartley's character 
never shone ftirth more brightly, thiui in his conduct 
to the poor distressed widow, who had often fonnerly 
behaved to him with such a want of delicacy. No 
sooner did he hear that she had got notice to quit 
the estate, than he went to Mr. Bright the lawyer, 
supposing him still to be her legal adviser, and 
wishing to know what her future plans were. Mr. 
Bright, however, had given up all connections with 
her, and could give no information na to her inten- 
tions ; not satisfied with this, he sent for my father, 
thinking he would be able to tell hiro where the 
fiunily mennt to make their abode. But my father 
ma quite ignorant upon the subject ; Mr Hartley 
[ApB begged him to go and say, that if they intended 



I 



170 TALFS OF A r.BAKHMOTHBB 

1-emainiug in the island, an old friend of the family 
begged them to aocept of all the household fumiture 
and linen, excluding the plate, the harp, and piano- 
forte ; Mr. Hartley enjoined my father to kee|j his 
name as the author of thia, unknown to them, wlule 
he made the neceaauy arrangements with Mr. Brigbt 
for the payment of the whole household furmtuie. 
My father felt much gratified in heing the messenga 
<if ao generous an offer, and proceeded without loM 
of time to Mrs. Harris to tell her the act of anonjr- 
moua kindness. She, however, heard the whole with 
great coolness and Indifference, saying, " I know 
very well who it is, though he is ashamed to tell hia 
name ; 'tis old Htutley. he always does things unlike 
any one else." 

This old Hartley was an old bachelor whom \b>, 
Harris, in common vith many otiier parents in tiie 
colony had flattered, coaxed and feted, besides maldi^ 
liim godfather to one of her daughters, in the hope of 
a legacy, as he was known to be very rich. 

" I am going to take a house in town," said she, 
" therefore I will accept his offer and take the fiimi- 
ture, though if he had not been a miserly (Jd ieflow, 
he would have bought in the plate with ^e harp ind 
pianoforte for his god-cluld." 

My father was reaUy shocked at thia total want of 
common feeling in Mra. Harris, and told her that he 
was hound in honour to conceal the name of the 
person, who had so generously come forward to assist 
her in her distresses, andthathehopedshewouldfeel 
herself compelled not to mention the circumatauce, 
as the gendeman had particularly requested, bam 
motives of delicacy towards her, that not one word 
should be said of tlie manner in which she became 
possessed of the furniture. 

Mrs. Harris rephed — " Vou need not fear my pub- 
lishing my own poverty ; so you may tell your un- 
known friend, that \na gaoi ictia - "" 
spread nbroad by j 



K two eldest girls looked as cross and disagreeable 
M possible, saying they would far rather have their 
baip and pianoforte, ^im old trumpery household 
liiiniture ; poor things ! they had never as yet known, 
what it was to want the common neceasariea of life, 
and had not been taught the relative value of neces- 
■arics and luxuries, either in point of living. OT 
education. 

Elizabeth blushed for her mother and sisters' want 
of propriety and feeling ; she was silent, but my 
bther told us, tliat her countenance, when she 
looked at him, was beaming with gratitude. 

Some days after this, previously to Mrs. Harris re- 
moving to Kingstown, she came to see my father and 
mother, mentioning that she had a few sheep, the 
property of her daughter, as they were originally the 
gift of Mr. Hartley to her ; there was also one pig 
irith a litter of httle ones, which, by some title that 
my {(Lther could not well comprehend, she claimed 
u her individual property. Mr. Bright, to whom she 
mendoned this, had admitted the claim, probably not 
K> much from its being correct, as from the wish to 
avoid all disputes, and to get Mrs. Harris off the 
estate, and take legal possession for his chents, 
Messrs. Holdfast and Check. Mrs. Harris begged 
my &ther to permit her to send the three old sheep 
lo him, with the pig and her bmily ; saying that, if 
le would feed tiiem and take care of them, she 
mrald be happy to divide the produce with him, 
Wy father was most, willing to do anything to obhge 
ler, and the same afternoon the live stock were sent 
iver to us, apparently in a dying state from want of 
are, and covered with insects, the consequence of I 

The poor dumb animals actually in a week or two 
ooked as if they could have spoken their gratitude, 
a delighted did they seem to be cleaned, and ^tu^c- 
f &d, aad attended to. My mothei in.Vrtei^'ra. 
tuaa and her daughters to pass a v.'ceV VV^ ^A., 



I 
I 



» 



I 



172 TALES OF A GBAXDUOTBEB. 

previously to tlieir going to reside in town, andinlhe 
mcKn time the furniture was removed. 

It was Dot three months since she had Iwt hir 
husband, ret notwithstanding this and all the paisM 
circumstances attendantnpon his death, she with Ame 
and Jnne, were as volatile as ever, and sbodtdl a 
by saying, that they were glad at anything thUeBi- 
Uiii thtm to leave the country, and live in torn. 
where at least they would be in the way of nil tiff 
gaiety there was to be had in the island. Mr. tsA 
Mrs. Warren wished Elizabeth to pay them a Tiat. 
but Mrs. Harris would not consent to tiiis. being 
evidently afraid her daughter should meet with lit. 
Edwards, and she seemed more than ever detenninri I 
that £lJ7.abeth should be kept as the inferior and tte 
dependant of the family. She indeed was truly soiij 
to part from ns and leave die country, but she wn 
obliged to accompany her mother and sisterB, idw 
turned their back npon their former home, without 
(me apparent feeUng of regret. 

Mr. Duncomb. ^e young gentleman who now en- 
tered upon the management of the estate, seemed 
more of a lawyer than a planter. My fether and be 
exchanged visits, and neither party seemed at ill 
inclined to make further advances. In about Ihitt 
weeks after Mrs. Harris had gone to Kingstown, ihe 
sent a note lo my father by one of our negroes, whom 
she had met in town, begging him to kill one of the 
fettest of her sheep, and send in the half to her in 
two days as she expected some friends to dinner, and 
she thought she might as well use her own sheep w 

We were very busy making sugar, but my father not 
wishing to disappoint her more than was necessary, 
wrote to inform her that the sheep were aJl as thoi 
as possible, and not in such a state of health as ad- 
mitted of the possibWvt^ ai -wsav^ them, that there- 
fore he sent her instetidi aliwe ■jiig, \oi -Oosa.'* -distil 
be probably maay motiflia >wfane as.-j 



i be fattened. Pierre, Caesar's son who was a 
*■ trustworthy lad, took in the pig to Mrs. Harris, 
n the note from my father. 

P was two daya' work for Pierre to carry the pig, 
, but Mrs. Harris probably was too 
I to think of this, neither had she the 
i to answer my fiither's note, and Pierre 
o feel very indignant, that he had been 
) refreshment. A very few days after this 
a negro came with a bit of paper, upon which was 
written, " Please give the bearer my four sheep," 
sisnied "A. Harris." 

My father was at first much inchned to doubt the 
\-r being written by Mrs. Harris, so unaccount- 
I. did such conduct seem, hut my mother knew 
— t hand perfectly, and was satisfied it was Mrs. 
Harris' writing ; upon turning up the scrap of paper | 
we saw also written, " Excuse haste, hut Mrs. Shaw 1 
has been very kind to me, and I wish to make her ■ ■ 
present in return." 

The secret was out ; Mrs. Shaw was a widow lady, 
who lived in a small house near New Edinburgh, 
within a short distance from Kingstown. She ^ 
about as trifling and silly as Mrs. Harris herself w 
and lived in discomfort and misery six days of the ■■ 
week, in order to dreas and visit the seventh ; with it I 
daughter wholly uneducated, and in fact ignorant of 1 
tlie most common ncquiremente. 

Mrs. Shaw had a nephew in the regiment sta- 
tioned at Fort Charlotte, close to Edinburgh, and 
ujwn thiBnei)hew Mrs, Harris had set her heart, i 
yuung man who might marry one or other of her ] 
daughters. To bribe the aiuit by a present \ 
therefOTe good policy, and having first observed to I 
Mrs. Shaw wliat a nice i>iece of pasture she had 
uround her house, far too large for the purjiose of a 
firw fowls wandering about, she proceeded. \» -^HaQiw 
•ff(i»/ Mrs. Sbaw hud no sheep to graze m \t, '* -wti^ii. 
imma pretty and so profitable. " "" " 




OF A QKlSIDHOTtlKa. 




Mis. Harris instantlv ofiered I 
U mmmIi . attl Sifra. Sbaw, not aware of tbni 
AMMed and eumdtOed state, caoght at the pn- 
pooitiaB. nd nod ^e mold send a negro iiutiDtt) 
far tfae^ Bod diat d>e vould never fb^et Mn. 
Raav* Hiiiii'»« Mta. Harm wrote the oida in 
gnat bacte h de traljr aid, and in the hope of ■ 
MMt m Inr, a red co*t and tro epaulettes, $he fbrgot 
not <B^ iik Ik gntitiide she owed to my parent^ 
bat enn Aat ccnamcai poUtene^ vhich we all im 
(dokIi adMT. 

Tbe cbeep of ctmrae were sent, and we thought k 
iBitfe of it, when the following week, a note came b; 
a hackstif negro woman from Kingstown, from Mn. 
Hams, requetdng my bther without delay would send 
in bcT pig and the Toung ones, as she had aHiveni' 
ence to keep it in a court at die back of her hou», 
and plenty of scraps to feed it with, which, weie 
duDwii away from the want of a pig to can^uK 
tban, adding, " that she felt it really c 
be CCooomicaL" 

Mj bdier was vciy imwilling, in the midst ti 
sngK making, to take away two negroes (or at kut 
twQ days, and occupy them in executing such aa 
enand.but my mother niged him to do so at ooccfiff 
that if the nniiiiii|n were hereafter not to thrive well 
Mrs- Harris might think they had been neglected. 
Cxsaz and Pierre were again put in requlsitioD, but 
the old lady jng being now really fat, and her foot 
children, having improved gready ^m good food 
and cleanliness, they found a third negro \t-ould be 
necessaiy, in order to convey the whole &mily te 

The weather was very sultry and hot, and elto- , 
■ether tlicre was something irresistibly Hdiculoufi in 
seeing ihice men. em^^ei vr «:saT^\i\^ ■li^sL ^ ' 

■ [g; but to^'ve i="[iaici ^ carX-MAo 




yset. ''■ 

Muld, I 



nave been still more iaconveiiieiiC. so oft' they set, 
pramiaing to be b»ck as quickly as they could. 
At the end of the fourth day we lt>oked out for their 
return, but we hewd nothing of them until the even- 
ing of the fifth day, when Sam the negro, who had 
gone to be!p Cteaar and Pierre, arrived in a violent 
perspiration, to tell ua that Daddy Csesar ^-aa lying ' 

very sick at Massa Hartley's estate half way ; and 
Kerre had properly stopped to attend upon his 
ikther. 

Upon examining Sam, he told us that they had 
great difficulty in getting the pigs in. Cfesar took 
in hand the old pif[, and she was ko obstinate there 
wa* no getting her on, the 3^ung ones were as un- 
manageable, BO they went to an estate not half way, 
and borrowed a bag to put the httle pigs in and so 
secure them, whUeCseear and Pierre tied the mother's 
feet, and carried her heavy and struggling as she 
was, on their shoulders to Kingstown, Near the 
town the httle pigs gnawed a hole in the hag, and 
liefore they knew of it. out jumped the pigs into a 
cane piece. Sam was obliged to get Pierre to he!)! 
him to hunt the pigs out, and Cecsar went on for 
three miles to Kingstown alone, carrying the great 
l))t pig unassisted by any one. This took three days 
and a half, as he left Kingstown three hours after lie 
met Sam and Pierre with the young pigs, which they 
liaii caught with great difficulty and trouble. CicHar 
waited until Mrs. Harris had received the whole, 
and at the end of the fourth day they left Kingstown, 
intending to walk alt night and reach home the 
ci-ening of the fifth day, but when C»sar got half 
way he became so ill, that they look him to Mr. 
Hartley's estate, where he was put to bed in the sick 

Sam said, " Massa Hartley and cbery one was , 

i'oi>d too much to him, but daddy Casai vi\t,\\ \wwA\ , 

l<ir get home. Ma/^st Hartley had the Aoctov Iw ^mi J 

^^Ipetly. aad be bkcd him and ^h him «uincVin^«^^ 




; all quite distreseed at 1 
Ham, who having finished his tale of disarteit pn>- 
duced A note from Mr, Hartley saying that Cinr 
would have every attention, the same ae his □wnncpt, 
hut that Dr. Edwards thought him seiioudy iU, 
from having carried too great a load.' and tiiat ke 
feared there was no hope of hi& recovery. 

We instantly sent for Clarissa hia wife : she m 
a kind, good, affectionate creature, and it wat nl 
indeed la see her grief, " and to t£nk," as she Mid. 
" it came all of one pig to make CEesar so." Mf 
father instantly sent her to Mr. Hartley's estate in > 
cart, that no time might be lost in her getting to ha 
husband to attend upon him, and Faochon wai H 
iinxious and affectionate, as if Csesar had been hv 
own father. Nut one unnecessary moment was lort 
in sending them, Fuid my father told them he vdoU 
set out next morning by gun fire to see Csatt. 
Before morning Sam was seized with fever, and the 
doctor was sent for him, so that my father ff» 
unable to ride over to Mr. Hartley's as early ae be 
wished. He however got there before dinner, aivij 
'a time to see Caesar in life. He was evident^ gjid 
o see my father, but was too ill to say much, oolf 
that he thanked him for sending Clarissa, for he 
knew he could not recover. He died in abont u 
hour after. He had always beeu a fine, robust, healthy 
u^rro, a faithful good creature whom every one liked. 
« good husband and father. He was buried on Mr, 
Hartley's estate, and all his negroes attended ibe 
funeral. 

Poor Clarissa, it was a sad return to her home ! 
Rerre und Funchon were a great comfort to her, but 
ns she often sdd, " it was so hard to loae her hn»- 
h-tnd jn suth a way." 

I Sam too was vety long sick, and was unable to du 
work of any kind for many months. Mrs, Huiis 
fcesrtl of it, but it aeemei to 'ni:[&ji vib ms^tes ' 
Uj-oii her; ^he Uai got^iet owa a^loAv Vti-ai* 



I 
I 



177 

tilied with, that was all she cared for ; she was so es- 
teitiaUy thoughtless that she never could feel for the 
Wflenngs of others, and to end the whole she had 
60 meat to give to her pig, the innocent cause of all 
tUs tragedy. She tied it to a sand hox tree, with its 
imily around it, in a dry dusty court yard, its sole 
rapport a few plantain skins ; it had hardly a 
top of water to drink. It pined away, and in the 
mme of a few weeks she had to pay a negro half 
I dollar to carry away its dead body, along with 
hU of its four Uttle ones all dead of neglect and 
tarvation." 

"Oh grandraama," said Frederick, " I could not 
lave believed a woman could have been so heartless 
ind so cruel. 1 should have thought, as soon as 
Ai9. Harris heard how Csesar had died, she 
fould have sent something to his wife, and said 
low sorry she was." 

" A person of any reflection, my dear," said his 
•randmama, " would at least have expressed her 
orrow for having acted as she did, perhaps Mrs. 
Harris had it not in her power to give much ; but 
lympathy with distress costs nothing, and to those 
wha suffer, it is often worth more than money. I 
lope there are not many females who would act 
hrougbout life so heartless and ungrateful a port ax 
Wrs. Harris ; but I can assure you, that whenever you 
ind a person constantly selfish and thoughtless, you 
jaj expect simitar conduct from them ; and I hope 
f ever either you or your sister feel any disposition 
a be selfish or greedy, the recoUection of its 
consequences may prevent your indulging in it. 
"iotr good night, ts-morrow I will proceed." 



4 



I 



CHAPTER XII. 



" 1 Ait really grown quite impatieat," Baid Man* 
to her grandmama, " to know how Elizabeth Hantt 
got on in town. I thiiLk she must have been yaj 
unhappy." 

"I liave no doubt my dear," replied her grandmBma. 
that Elizabeth was far from happy at thia tiaw. 
She was of a retired, quiet disposition, foud of OD- 
ploying her time usefully, aad bo far as was posailik, 
of informing her mind by reading. 

Her mother's acquaintances — for they could not 
be called feieoda — saw tliat Mrs. Harris (Jid not wish 
much notice taken of Elizabeth, and they soon I 
to bestow only that sort of dietant civUity on her, 
which she could uot but feel aa an unkindness her 
own conduct did not merit. Our home, although 
the abode of peace and love, had lost much of itE 
cheerfiUnesB since poor Henry's dcatli, and thou^ 
the mience of grief wa» calmed by time and chnstiaa 
resignation, yet tliere was not a day, scarcely indeed 
an hour, that we did not separately, tliough alently, 
meet with Bomething in or out of doors that fordUy 
recalled him to us. 

My father had gone into Kingstown upon budneu, 
and with some difEic>At5 \\aA ■^>&t=™)&ii. ^\t*. Ibrrit 
to penuit Eliiabett to Yettxta Wflii ^ma. \t!. " 



179 

ffii country, and spend a few weeks with a». 
sincere wish we felt to cheer her, and do her 
, was heginning to be useful to us all. when one 
just as we had finished dinner, my father received 
otters and newspapers by the packet ; he opened 
which to us who could read his countenance, 

him evidently much uneasiness. My mother 
ver, happened to be oat of the room, ai 
■ no remarks to us, we did not think it right 
ke any notice, or ask any questions, as Elizabeth 
with us. My father left tJie room, and did not 
n for some time ; when he did so, my mother 
npanied him, and they seemed both ill i 
father merely said that business would oblige 
to go to Kingstown, and that he would set ( 

next morning. 

I soon as Elizabeth had retired to her room for 
light, my father told us that he wished to talk 
i in his own room ; we were sure something had 
>ened, and so long had this anxious eveuing 
ared, that I believe we breathed more freely, 
1 my father told us to come to his room, for 
• is nothing so painful to bear as suspense. My 
V said, that he had forebome shewing us the 
Be had received, which we must have obseired 
Bven him great uneasiness, simply because 
Pl was necessary, he did not wish to wound the 
1^ of Elizabeth Harris as regarded her father, 
gh he added, that it would be impossible 
to conceal from her how dishonourably her 
it had acted to him. My father's firmness 
"^ him, and regarding us tenderly, he burst into 
" My children, Mr. Harris has, I fear, 
; he had. unknown to»me, and most dia- 
y indeed, mortgaged this estate and negroes, 
re be sold it to me, to his London merchants ; 

now Messrs Holdfast and Chedt \ia.\*i -svittsvi 
» aaf tbnt my title to the estate \s \mA. ■^irfOci. ^ 

toad I suppose in a few days, ftuja a^a&^ 



I 
I 
I 



Mr. Duncombe, vUl come and turn ua out, and bke 



I 

I 



Our first exclamatioD vas, that surely such in- 
justice could not be, that mj' &ther had paid ever; 
farthing of the purchase money down, at the aux 
periods agreed upon, and surely he could not be 
made to turn out in consequence of any agreemeiU 
between Mr. Hanig and his merchaiits, which 
Mr. Hanis had never even told him of. My mother 
was half inclined to hope that Messrs. Hold&f t and 
Check were urging a claim to which they had no 
right ; but my Sitber would not listen to these sug- 
gestions- He said their letter was a very dear one, and 
their two agents, Mr. Bright andMr. Duncombe, wrote 
in a more peremptory tone than any man would 
dare to do, who was not sure that the demand lie 
made, was l^al. " Legal I" we exclaimed ; " hut, my 
dear &ther, it is not just, surely, to attempt to deprive 
you of that for which you have honestly paid, and 
if it is not just, it cannot be legal." 

" Alas ! my dear children." said my father. " law 
and justice, I fear, are often at variance, and never 
more than here ; it would be only cruelty in me 
to give you fal^e hope. I have indeed paldj paid 
too dearly to Mr. Harris, hut we must submit; if 
before he sold the land to me, it was pledged or 
mor^tiged to another, I must necessarily be tJie 
loser, because he who got the first right to tie 
estate, must of course have the really lawful titk to 
it. It is very dreadful ; nevertheless Messrs. Hold- 
^t and Check are not the cause of it : the whole 
rests with Mr. Harris. I can now well comprehend 
Mr. Harris sending for me on his death-bed ; alu, 
the expressions whish he then used, of having ruiiwd 
and deceived me, were not, as I supposed, the delirium 
pf a fevered imagination, but the lemorse of a guilt; 
conscience, that coiM Got be panfied without receiv- 
ing my fbrsiveneaa \ \itile 614 \ 'iwn &ceraiL<£ tso. 
injured me as TOMcii OS "Vimai^" ^^^ 



BB. ISl 

■My lioor inotlier leant her head on her hand, and 
Memed unable to utter one word, until at length she 
said, ■' In the midst of all our own troubles do not 
forget BUzab«th. She cannot meet ua m the morning 
and avoid seeing our distress, she can be trusted; and 
though it is painful to allude to her father, acting as 
he has done, she must so soon know it, that, believe 
me, it is better to tell her at once ; concealments 
among friends, who are trustworthy, often do harm, 
and seldom do good." My father agreed with her in 
this, and she said she would tell Ehzabeth the whole 
matter as it now stood, to-morrow morning. 

You may beheve none of us slept that night ; what 
our feelings were no one could describe, we were abso- 
lutely paralized. Next morning early my father came 
into our room; he kissed and blessed us in silence ; we 
returned his atFectionate embrace, and felt that our best 
and most valuable treasures were not gone, so long sB: 
we possessed such pure minded and highly principled' 
parents as we did. My iather had determined to 
oonsult Mr. Hartley as a very intelUgent friendly 
man, who could not fail to have a good deal of 
experience upon such euhjeots ; while he was sure 
Mr. Fielding, tJie lawyer, would give him good legal 
advice, which became no leas necessary in such 
trying circumstances. I need not tell you how dis- 
tressing it was to meet Elizabeth nest morning ; it 
was impossible for us to look at ease, when such a 
calamity threatened us, and although my mother had 
determined to tell her the cause of our anxiety, yet 
she felt it a rehef that Elizabeth was the first to 
notice that something was the matter, and she 
kindly b^^d that we would tell her what wa« the 
cause of our sudden depression, and of my father's 
going to Kingstown, as she naturally connected the 
two together. 

My mother, as gently and delicateVj as Y^ft^xVAe, 
told ber the contents of the diffeienV Xettci* 'ttt^ 



I 



18-2 TALES OP A G 

up the property to Messrs. Hcpldfeat and Check, 
llie poor g;irl, I believe, suftercd quite as niich 
as we dill, but having eo long and so often heard ha 
mother and eistera insist that her father hi 
been deceived throughout by these gentlemen, thi 
was inclined to consider it as an unjust atteo^it to 
possess themselves of the property, as it origm^ 
belonged to her father, and ^e tried to re-u»un 
and convince us, that the property having beeniU 
paid for. could not possibly be taken from us. Mj 
mother did not try to destroy this illusion, fm ibe 
was glad to find Elizabeth rest upou anything ^ 
prevented her from unpleasant reflections upon her 
father's memory ; but we could not take comfortlna 
any such suggestions, for though Mr. Harris b>i 
been careless and extravagant beyond all deecriptioo, 
yet we knew that he had added to all that, i 
total want of uprightness in many of his bluilKH 
transactions, and therefore we had no reason b 
doubt that he had granted the mortgage to hii 
London merchants over bU the original property, f^ 
viously to my father's purchase. 

Four melancholy days we spent in expectation tl 
my father's return, and we were sure timt if hehliJ 
had any good news to communicate, he would hsR 
sent out a messenger. On the morning of the Bfih 
he returned— worn out — depressed, and weary. Mr. 
Hartley accompanied him, and he soon gave ny 
mother to understand that he had done so, in wdn 
to hear her opinion as to how she wished to act i» 
our present difficulties. He told her that it appeswl 
evident that Messrs Hold&st and Check had a legtl 
mortgage over the property, granted to them by Mr. 
Harris, previously to my fether's purchase; todoawsy 
with this was impossible ; that therefore Mr. Fielding 
and he had urged my father to endeavour to come to 
some arraugeme'ot as (quickly as possible, and 
maJce a claim, to ■wYiict ■oriiovitiW&^ \i&\aui.»i 
for the money he bad otjenAei "" 






183 ^ 

IB, works, &c., and the general improvement la 
! cultivation of the estate. My father having 
reed to this, the claim was made by a letter to Mr. 
ight. tbeir agent, but he returned an immediate 
swer, refusing to give the slightest consideration 
a claim, which he aaid he could assure Mr. 
elding (my father's agent) would never be eon- 
ied to, afid he even went so far aa to say, that 
doubtcdly my father had made the purchase with the 
lowledge of the previous mortgage ; and that if he 
d Dot the means of payment, he was sony for it ; 
it Messrs. Holdfast and Check's orders to him were 
tperative, either to get immediate payment, or to 
ke poeaession of the property, for they had already 
St BO much by their transactions with Mr. Harris, 
Ley could wiut no longer. 
After this no alternative remained but to submit, 
r go to law ; and this latter step was what Mr. 
[artiey and Mr. Fielding strongly recommended my 
ither to pursue. He objected tliat he had not the 
leans, that he still owed some hundreds to Mr. 
raser, and that he did not feel it would be upright 
■ ' , when he had not 



le means of payment, unless there was a certainty 
[ his gaining his cause, and that was what no man 
Duld be sure of, when he embarked in a law-suit. 

Mr. Hartley urged liiat if a suit were commenced, 
»y father could not be forced to leave the property 
ntil a derision was given, first in tlie colony, and 
' that were unfavourable to our cause, it mi^t be 
irther prolonged, by sending home the case for trial, 
fhcre very likely a different decision might be given; 
nd that as for the means of carrying on the law 
xpences. there was no difficulty, for my father 
oi^t fight the London mercbanta with the yearly 
ugars he was now making. 

This advice was kindly intended, and there was 
r uncommon in it -, tew Tarav, \a ^ 
'* drcumgtajuxe, would have hesitBXeA.\nVSin 



I 



|ter'«a 



it, but his morality was the pure and sterling moni% I 
of God's holy law, andhe tried all his actions by a very 
different standard to wliat the commonly c^led, 
honourable man of the world does. He reaatedtiiia 
advice, because his conscience did not approve of tl. 
He said be was sure his wife would agree with hia 
on this point, for he knew that nothing would tempt 
her to swerve from the nicest sense of justice, be 
the apparent worldly advantage what it might. 

Mr. Fielding and old Hartley could not compre- 
hend such fine distinctions, as they termed it ; toiesi 
the visit of the old gentleman »*aa undertaken sdnpli 
to explain the business to my mother, and gain ia 
consent, and her influence with my father to pursue 
the plan which they had proposed and whici 
they considered as perfectly justifiable, as my falier 
had paid for the land. 

But, to their aatoniahment, my mother diffired 
from them. She said, had Mr. Harris left ptoperty, 
she could easily see that my father would have had » 
right to make that property answerable for 6k 
amount of the mortgage deht, due to Messrs. HtJii- 
faat and Check ; hut as he had dissipated em; 
farthing, it appeared to her that the London merehanB 
had a right to come upon the land which had been 
sold to my father, who had been indeed cruellT 
deceived, to purchase it from one who had no light 
to call it his own ; still it bod been done, and laf 
father, she thought, could do no more tlian make the 
claimfor thevalue of his buildings and improvements, 
which if they still refused, she could not approve d 
his going to law. for he had no means of carrying oo 
such an expense without involving himself in debt, 
while, at the same time, a decision in favour of ti* 
merchants might just aa likely be the result, as tbe 

Mr. Hartley was disappointed at my mother's 
clear and steady seuae ol jviBtiTO -, s 
justice even to her e 



ISj 

ratand, and which only the sincere and upright 
ristian understands or pnkctisea. 

Mr. firigbt admitted that my &ther had made the 
nd he had bought, infinitely more vaiuahle than 
len the mortgage was granted ; hut stUl, he said, 
at his agents believed the land waa purchased for 
small sum in considerHtion of the mortgage ; and 
at they always had looked forward to the improve- 
enta and buildings, as rendering their claim of 
eater worth, and but for that prospect, they would 
Lve foreclosed Mr. Harris' mortgage at an earlier 
riod. My fether and mother having talked the 
atter over with Mr. Hartley, sent for us. From an 
x\y age they had treated us as friends, and con- 
led to ua all their joys and sorrows. 

My father quietly explained to us the whole that 
id passed, and told us his own and my motlter's 
>inioa, and asked us whether we did not feel that, 
ird as was our lot, still it seemed the only perfectly 
jright path left for us to tread. We agreed it was, 
id I can assure you, that at that moment my parents 
oked as if a heavy weight of care had been re- 
oved from them. Mr. Hartley saw that any fur- 
ler argument would be in vain, and he left us with 
iBurances of the deepest interest and kindness, only 
gretting that he could not persuade us to remain 
1 the estate, and go to law. 

Elizabeth felt that we should be best alone, and 
le took the advantage of riding as far as Mrs. War- 
■n's estate with Mr. Hartley, fhim whence, she knew, 
le could easdy get a conveyance, to her far from 
ippy home. ITiere are moments of grief and 
ixiety, when the company of our dearest friend is 
1 annoyance, and bo it was now with us ; it 
as a relief to be alone, and no sooner were we so, 
laa my excellent mother, instead of sitting down to 
eep and utter fruitless regret, set us an example of 
tirs fortitude and resignation, under nosfertMofa 
d^waa a^uretUy one of the most ^aiuaJAe Xt*' 



I 



IS6 TALES OF i G 

we had ever yet been taught. My motlier 
Marion's eyes filled with tears, reminded her that ' 
long as we felt we were acting conscientiously, we 
bad the bc«t of all riches, and that though we nught 
have much to bear, yet stiU we must recollect, tbU 
the ^ime God who had protected us in prospenty vaa 
present in adversity, and that, if we did our doty 
iiooestly, she did not fear, we should yet get ai 
perhaps better than we now espected ; that noduig 
was BO good a help against melancholy aa active effl- 
ployment, and that we most soon be^n and m^ 
preparations for leaving our present home. Tbe 
furniture of the house Mr. Bright laid no cl^m to, 
so my mother calmly proceeded to urge ray fetbei to 
dispose of it, and some of the little plate we possesMd. 
By de^ees we had collected a nice little librwy, and 
it had been increased by the death of our gcMid old 
friend Mfes Tibby Elphinstone, who had bequeathed 
her brother's books to us. 

We were Uttle pained at the idea of losing om 
fiimtture, but to part with our books was a more 
serious sacrifice. To remain in tiie West Indies, 
situated as we now were, was impossible, the eipentt 
of living upon our small means, we knew, |cuuldiK)t 
be encountered in a country where every thing is 
so dear, so that a removal to England became necM- 
sary. My father had been requested by Mr. Hartl^. 
as soon as he had made up his mind as to any pbnp 
to let him know. This he did by a note, infomnng 
him, that he had determined, as quickly as poasihleiW 
remove to England, where he could Uve upon the 
little he had left : that he wished to sell all his ne- 
groes and stock, over which Messrs. HoldisBt and 
Check had no claim, as they had no right but to the 
few negroes upon the land at the dale of the mort- 
gage, my father having purchased the whole of die 
others himseU. Upou liiis subject we all felt mudi; 
they had made so uract^To^eBs'oi. tw&ia!Qsra."caiiiB 
ourcEire. and we topei si^ ^«M*.t \ivi*b "' 



have followed our labours; Lut that hope waa now 
crushed. 

'ITiey were comfortable and happy with line 
grounds and gardens ; to sell them off the estate 
woidd have been a total want of justice, yet my lather 
could not go mto bej^gary with his family, in order 
to serve them. Our wish waa, that Messrs. Holdfast 
end Check should purchase them, and thus they 
would not have to remove and leave their comforts, 
for though their grounds would have been valued, 
and the value paid to each of them, still negroes who 
are comfortable do not like to lose both their home 
and their master. With some few exceptions they 
were much attached to us, and, I am sure, had ray 
father been going to another estate, they would rather 
have gone with him, than remained where they were, 
with all their comforts, under a new master. But 
this waa a choice they had not the power to make, 
ss we were determined to return to England, where, 
we knew, with economy, we had stdl the means of 
living in retirement. My father expected to be able 
to leave the West Indies with two tliousand pounds, 
after paying the remainder of tie debt to Mr. Fraser, 
and he allowed also a fair sum for the expences of 
our voyage to England. 

Mr. Bright and Mr. Duncombe were rather tardy 
ill giving any answer as to the purchase of the ne- 
groes and the stock belonging to my father ; at last, 
however, they agreed to the bargain, promising to 
give my father bdla for the amount, previous to his 

As 6Qon as tliis was arranged, my father sent out 
for our honest Scotch carpenter, Mcintosh, and ex- 
plnlned the whole to him, begging him to tell the 
negroes, as it would have been distressing to my 
bUier to be obliged to do thia himself. Mcintosh, 
who had attached himself f^tlifutly to «fi, listened 
witb attention Co the detail of bS ft\at \«)i>K.- 
him; my father thtni ex\Aamed \B\i\ni'i«i' 



^^eo 



> 



I«8 TALES OF A GBA5JDW0TBBB. 

he saw no honest way of remiuning' on the estate; 
and really he was so beart-Eick of the deception thiit 
had been practiced upon him, in tiie purchase crf the 
place, that he felt himself utterly unable to cope 
with the devices of people, who could ad as Ml. 
Harris had done, so that all he wished was a quifl 
home iu England — be it ever eo small or so hmnUe. 

Mcintosh was much surprised and aSected, and 
pausing for a moment said, he thought my fatbet 
ought not to remove from the estate, without getting 
a handsome sum for the buildings and improvements; 
but when he heard that they refused this, and tint 
my father had no altematiTe unless he went to Iflw, 
he shook his head in sorrow, and said he believed mj 
father was acting more wisely in going away, than io 
embarking in an exi>en3ive law-suit and perhnjK 
losing all. Mymotberand I were busy in collecting, 
and making an inventory of all that was to be sold, 
while Marion, who had a great talent for drawing, 
was occupied in making rough sketches of all oar 
favourite views about the place we had hved at, sod 
loved so many years, and which seemed to become 
doubly dear and beautiful in our eyes, now that n 
were about to quit it for ever. 

Nothing could exceed Marion's Industry ; the teat 
few weeks of our residence on the estate, every 
flower and fruit, she could procure, were faithfnUj 
copied, insects collected, and many things, which at 
the moment 1 thought nothing, proved of great 
value to us afterwards. 

My parent's mind being made up, I ne\-er beard 
one murmur from them ; it was well we had always 
retained a strong love for our native country ; wi 
my fatlier's naturally cheerful and elastic miui. 
turned at once to the shores of England, and those 
domestic scenes which can only be feebly imitated 
in a tropical country. 

We were too b\my ;il\. Aa.'^ ^ **■ 4o"mq as&. ija* 
at our changed proapectaiani'w^'^^'^"'?.^*"**^'*' 



down all together, and indulged in delightful 
Biticipationa of an English fireside, and the absence 
of oil those annoyances of a tropical climate, to which 
even time seldom reconciles Europetins. 

We were very sorry to part with our negroes, hut 
we felt assured they would he comfortable, and Mr. 
Duncombe had already engaged our overseer to 
remain with him. He wished Mclntoah the 
carpenter to do the same, hut he refused, and begged 
my fether to look out for another situation for him, 
for he said, " he could not stop with them that he 
thought were wronging ray father." 

He pointed out to Mcintosh how comfortable he 
wa». and what a nice garden nnd house he had, besides 
a place for his piga, but he said he had two reasons 
for determining to go. " Those, Sir, who have not 
been over honest to you, might perhaps be no better 
b) me, and besides I could not stop here and see 
them master that I don't tbinV has a right to it." 

ITic negroes were very sorry to lose Mcintosh; 
for though at first they thought him too hard work- 
ing, and too particular about trifles, yet in time they 
ftiund him as particular about every trifling comfort 
for them, as for himself, and he whs so just and 
impartial, that they loved and respected him next to 
tiieir master. They were sorry at the prospect of 
foNng us, but we knew that if they had their com- 
fart» attended to, they would sooner forget us, than 
Ve^ihould them. 

Our nintii Christmas on the estate now took place. 
We knew it must he our last, and we were desirous 
n do all in our power to make it a really happy 
me to our ])Cople : so that their recollectiuna of it 
ni^t afterwards he mixed up with affectionate 
eeEngs of those with whom they were so soon to 
lart for ever. 

In the midst of our own preparations (or the 
rojngv. and &r encountering & cold cUma.te.'m'g latiOciM 
ad wf tbuod time to make up lVve\t it«ftss%, 



I 



deck the hats of all the j-oung lads and the li 
boys with gay coloured ribbons. 

Out Htchen was converted into a general cook- 
shop, for tlieir gayest Christmas supper, andmocti 
real, good, alTectionate feeling was displayed on sQ 

Vet it is strange how the moet trifling inrcnm- 
stances will arouse a train of feelings that, iac Ae 
moment at tea$t, have been apparently laid at rest. 

Up to the period of the receipt of the letter, which 
bad so changed our circunistances, not a day had 
passed in which we had not mourned over the Ion 
of our brother ; but the events I have related to yon, 
had occupied our heads and hands, nearly to the 
exclusion of every thing else, and we had b^ua t( 
esperience those pleasurable anticipations, which (Jl 
Europeans, more or less do feel in the prospect ol 
revisiting their native country. 

We had promised to come and see the n^n 
dance, and they n-ere all busy dressing and preparing, 
trhen in the evening after dinner, my father, who vu 
now daily looking round him, and mustering oil oU 
trunks and boxes, spied a small one, which, he said, 
would do well to hold all Marion's drawings and 
insects ; she was quite pleased witli the suggeatiofl, 
and pulling it towards her, opened it, when in aa 
instant our eyes gazed at it, and she clowd 
it. for its contents opened a wound not yet heated; 
there were Henry's cork soldiers, ull as he bad left 
them, his kite and balls of string, and an old gaidai 
ioiife. My father saw it, and walked to the galleij 
iloor ; my mother put down her face on the table, 
and sobbed as if her heart would break, while poor 
Marion the innocent cause of this fresh burst ol 
sorrow, went to her own room, where I found ha 
bitterly regretting having done anything to ^ 
rresa us all so much. My mother assured her Ast 
ehe had no cause \a repioaicV \un%f^i-, '^i^^.icw,^" 
iJiouEjht of Henry; tiiaV ^'he 'WtisNeAiX "" 






fcgive way so easily as she bad done, but that 

Mght of his playthingH seemed so forcibly 
Kail the merry CimsImBs he had spent with us, 

she tiould not refrain from tears, when she 
ight of him, B. mere boy, sacrificed to hia ardent 
ion for military glory, 
a soon as we had dned our tears, we returned to 

hall, where we found my father in the gallery 
dng the earth off the roots of a plant he held in 
band. "There, take that," said he to me, "take 
, Margaret, and put it away carefully for Henry's 
; ; he planted and trained that water lemon 
, and many a time have 1 watered and trained 
br his sake, both before, and since we lost 

; but we will not leave it to strangers, and 
e we cannot take it away alive, we can take the 
:, as the last memorial of my dear boy." 
ill this scene was a gad preparation for a merry 
ro Christmaa ball, but my father bad no selfish- 
I in his composition, and when he heard us ray 
would rather not go down to see them all, he 
inded us, with a cheerful face, that we should be 
ppointing those, whom it was our duty, and 
ht to be our pleasure, to make happy ; and that 
emiun at home, would be anything but amiable. 
I'ould be encouraging the love of self, which of all 
iga we ought to conquer, for that he could assure 
those only were really happy, who sought happi- 
* iu making their fellow creatures around them so. 

knew he was in the right, and summoning our 
rage, we got ready, and though our fcehugs were 
eaBorily of a mixed nature, yet we felt a peaceful 
sciousness of having subdued our own sentiments 
; wishes, in order to add to the happiness of those 
3 really valued our visit ; they showed off their 
t dresses, aiid best dances. 

iVe felt it no trifling pleasure to be lo\e.d ^ * 
oy bantan beings, and when we al \engfti. \«Ar^ 
^jiiiea, and turned qui back upon Viife V^<<T^ 




i GBAMDMOTBRB. 



scene, we did so with regret, when we thought it 
WE3 our last Christmas in flie West Indies. But it 
is now time to stop far this night," stud graudmaKB, 
" and to-morrow evening, we will begin anew paitof 
my story, for you must now follow us throuKh the 
voyage home, and I will resume my tale in Engh 
which was in fact a new country to my aster 
myself, for we had only once left Scotland, heftiw 
sailing for the Weat Indies." 

" Yes, I recollect that," said Frederick, " when 
you went to pass the Christmas in Northumboltmd, 
and you did not much like it." 

" Indeed, my dear, we never looked hack upou tiat 
Christmas with pleasant recollections, for we had 
been accustomed to such afFectioDate treatment from 
my mother, that we all naturally shrunk from the 
cold, repulsive manners of our grandfather. A fine 
house, or even a palace, is a poor compensation for 
the absence of warm hearts and a kind welcome, anil 
even to this day, I look back upon the httle parlour 
of Miss Tihby Elphinatone, her bright fire, aniJ 
hospitable frank manners, with a delightful recollec- 
tion and association of all that is resdly worthy of 
a place in onr affectionate remembrances of put 



9 OP A GEASDltOTHEB. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



" We stopped last night lifter the negro dance at 
ur last ChriBtmas in the West Indies. Nest day 
« errously commenced packing, for my father had 
eard that there v&s a vessel to sail for Bristol in 
iiee weeks. No sooner did Mr. Hartley hear of 
lis, than he went unknown to us to town, and saw 
le captain whom he knew personally, as he was in 
le habit of taking Mr. Hartley's produce home to 
ristol. He told him our story, and that he wished us 
I ^t home as cheaply as possible, and tliat there- 
re he would pay him such a sum as would reduce 
le passage money nearly one half to what was 
iual, cautioning the captain, upon no account, to 
iform us what he had done. 

My father went to town the following week, to 
i:e our passage, and returned both with good and 
id news ; first he had procured excellent accommo- 
itions at a very low rate, the captain teUing him 
le reason was, that few people liked to go home in 
inter, and therefore he let him have the bertha 
uch cheaper than if it had been spring, or summer ; 
le bad news was, that Mr. Bright had met liim in 
wn, and told h'"' that, beforo leaving the island, i 
ould be necessary for him, merely as a matter of 
na, to sign away all claim for himself, or his 



&iiiily upon the estate, ^tber i 



C any futi 



My father said, *■ Formerly such o request woi 
have seemed to me so simple that I should have e 
" Yea" at once, and woidd have gone and signed 
name, but Bomething seemed to check my doing 
and I only answered " Verj/ well ; you must give 
time to ftiinV of it." 

Mr. Bright answered rather hastily, *' that it 
mere form, and it was better to do it at once, ] 
he was in town, for he wished to transmit the pB] 
to his agents in London by the packet." 

My &ther thought that there was a look at 
Mr. Bright's countenance, and a hurry in his mui 
that was different from his usual address : 
unsuspicious as was his nature, he coulduot 1 
thinking, that besides refusing to sign the paper 
hand, it would be prudent to mention the req' 
to Mr. Fielding, and ask his advice as to what 
ought to do. 

No sooner had Mr. Fielding heard this, than 
wrath arose in a torrent of abuse against Mr. Br 
and Mr. Duncombe ; he was, as I have formerly 
you. an odd man, so he began next to rub his ha: 
and to congratulate my father upon the r«j 
having been made to him. Why my father sh 
be congratiiLited on thin head he could not cODCt 
but Mr. Fielding soon explmned himself by ad 
" if he had considered why they wished him 
sign such a [laper ?" My fether said " he »upp( 
it was merely to make every thing clear and disti 
for Messrs. Holdfast and Check, before they I 
possession." 

"Exactly so," said Mr. Fielding, "and if 
were not tiie blindest man h*-ing, Ixith to youTi 
and your family's interest, you would not need 
to tell you, that unless they knew you had a 1 
claim, to some part of that estate, they mmjd flj 



«t the trouble to aak you to sign away your own, and 
jour femily's rights." 

" But," said my father, " if I give them possession, 
I may as well sign the paper too, for tf they have the 
land, what good can it do me to refuse aigning the 

■■ They are forcing you off the estate, and had 
I been you. I would not have gone one step for them. 
I would have given them law for it, and made the 
«ugar pay for that, and then in the end, even if you 
had lost your cause, which I am pretty sure you 
would not have done, you would not have been worse 
off than now ; and at least you would have had the 
plea,siire of annoying thera for some time, and making 
them spend plenty of money, and you woidd have 
had many a. long comfortable year on the estate, 
before they could have made you go off it." 

" No, not comfortable years," replied my father, 
" for 1 should have been worried with anxiety, un- 
happy in my mind, because doubtful if I were acting 
correctly, and perhaps m the midst of a law suit 
from which I could not avoid getting in debt, which 
would have made all my family miserable, as well as 

Mr, Fielding acknowledged " that to he in debt 
was a miserable thing, and certainly ray father waa 
an honetit man, and he admired him for it ; but still, 
be muftt iay, he thought him very foolish not to annoy 
his enemies, and that as for his signing away all 
his own and hia family's rights, he would be doing a 
most unjust action, for he had an undoubted right to 
the value of all the buildings, and the improvement 
of the land, which, when the mortgage was granted 
by Mr. Harris, was in an uncultivated state, wliile 
DOW, from good management, under my fether it 
had become the most valuable part of the property." 
My fether saw the justice of the ktter part of Mr. 
Fielding's argument, and it was much agaimtt fail. 



4 



I 



I 



will that he preveiledupon him, as hie ag^t.tovntl 
to Mr. Bright, and say, that he was willii^ to^ 
nway all claim Bgainst the land, andtbe negiDa.a 
it stood at the period of the mortgage being gmn^ 
but that he decidedly refused eigaing away any dte 
claims, either as regarded himself, or hia 6uaily." 

\Ir. Bright retm^ed an immediate answO* to af, 
"that unless my father signed away his claims Bcmnl- 
ing to the tenor of the deed he had mentioned ts 
him jiersonally, that be and Mr. Duncombe mmi 
decline the purchase of the negroes, which wa( 
settled on the estate belonging to my father." 

Mr. Fielding laughed at thia tlireat ; Init my fethet 
feeling that if they persisted, hia whole plans wonH 
be disarranged, was sadly annoyed at it, and he caott 
hack to us as I have described to you, the beaiCT rf 
this unwelcome newB. 

My father added, '" I am clearly convinced 
I have a legal right to the value of ttie buildinga, mi 
the improvement made of waste land which I pnr- 
chased, and which is now every inch under fine caW- 
vation ; the value ou^t to he several thouESnd 
]nunds, and in order to sail to a day, I will not d^ 
away the lawful rights of myself and fiunily, and 1 
begin to think there is some justice in Mr. Relding't 
remark ; they n-ould not a? k me to sign this paper. 
were they not well convinced of tbe legality of nj 
clium, but they know I have not the means of em- 
barking in a law-suit, and therefore they think t» 
frighten me into compliance." 

All this however was very inconvenient to ns. Offl 
arrangements were nearly concluded, Mr. and Mn- 
Fraser had Idndty innted us to pass a week with 
them p^e^^oualy to sailing, so that we could send in 
our furniture and have it sold in town ; our pasaip 
was taken, our stock and provisions collecting fot 
the voyage, when this demand vras made, to tiM 
annoyance of us all. We however saw thi^r 
such a deed would have 



TALES OF 4 GBSNDMOTHKH. 197 

selves, and my father therefore, in order to prevent 

a unnecessary delay, determined, as it was thu& 

forced upon him, to try and get a good master for 

his negroes, who would pay him and enahle him to 

proceed on his voyage, and pay Mr. Fraser th<i only 

debt wlitch my father had in the world. It went 

his heart to interfere with the happiness of 

negroes, and he told them so, but explained to 

le of the most intelligent how he was situated, 

1 that no choice was left him of acting otherwise, 

han of trying to get them as good a master as he could. 

They were very reasonable, and actually seemed to 
isel for my father, saying they did not fear he would 
jet a good master for them, and they went away 
tidding him " keep good heart." In the midst 
of all oi^ trouhles tliis was very gratifying conduct 
to us, and we did keep good heart for we felt sure 
we were going on justly and honestly, and that we 
DU^t to fear no man. 

The negroes were advertised for sale, and a pur- 
chaser soon appeared in Mr. Fielding's office in the 
perton of Mr. Bright, who immediately offered the 
•urn demanded for the whole of them, excepting 
tliose who had been house servants, and who he 
nid, would be of no use to the estate, a^ he wanted 
Itbourera for the field, not house servants. Mr. 
fielding persuaded that this was only a second mode 
Wr. Bright had determined upon of annojing us, 
'efiued to sell one without the whole. 

The other was as ohstinately determined, he woul^ 
Bve nothing to do with the domestics ; my father and 
DOtber, he said, lad spoilt them, and he would nof 
lave a servant out of a house where they hud been 
Q over indulged. Mr. Fielding assured him that 
1 this respect he was misinformed, for that the servants 
a my father's house, had always been under very 
trict, though kind and just management. 

The result of this reached us the following day ; 
^n the vessel was to sail for Bristol accor^g ' 



198 TAtES Ol" A G 

her adyertisement in a week, we bagan to getreaHj 1 
uneasy, and what added to our discomfort was the 1 
fear, that any day Mr. Dimcombe might come 
and beg us to make room for him to take posse 
Both he Eind Mr, Bright had miide themselves vnj I 
iinpopular, by their conduct to my father; bnttbej I 
seemed indifferent to this, so tbat they gwned Wf 
own ends. 

In a email community, the news of the ttmm a 
quickly spread over the country, and Mr. Bright'! 
offer to purchase the field negroes, without the do- 
mestics, was soOD known and as soon canvESsei 
Every one reprobated Tiim for such a shabby m 
of acting, and also for wishing to separate the pea]Jt, 
who, he was told, were not quarrelsome, and did 
not wish to be So!d away from each other. 
Fielding's refusal to sell them excepting all in 
lot, was approved universally and old Mr. Haitkj 
hearing of it, rode into Kingstown for the eipws 
purpose of cautioning his friend Fielding not to yield, 
as he was sure Bright roust be made to come dnwi, 
and take Mr. Fielding's terms yet, and be ^ ti 
them. Mr. Fielding said he did not doubt tbiB, fcut 
in the mean time he feared the vessel might sbII in 
which our passage was taken, and the expense »oi 
inconvenience of this, would be no joke to us 
Hartley had already acted most generously tt 
this aifeir. but no sooner did Mr. Fielding remind 
him of the difficulty the delay in the sale of the ne- 
groes would make, than he started up saying, 

" I have thought of a way to baffle Bright, snd 
benefit this ill-used family. How many house negroM 
are there ?" 

" There are three elderly women with theu: famiUM i 
and two men, whose wives are in the field. The liiis- 
bands of the three elderly female domestics ai 
valuable negroes, boilennen, and also one of them ia \ 
head man in the still house." 

"Wellthen," MQdMT.HMtles/'do Yougcandtell I 
k Afr, Bright that you ^ie.ie ku it'Sei ^ '^ fijd I 



199 

l^oes, and their wives and children who are 
mieBtics, and that unlesa he chooses to pur- 
base the whole immediately, these will he in- 
tanUy sold and removed from the estate by an un- 
Xceptionahle purchaser, and in the meantime I will 
lite to our poor friend, and tell hlni " to be under 
o further uneaainesB, for if no one will come to a 
argsin with him in time for his saihng, I will." 

You can hardly tlunk how Mr, Hartley's note to 
tiia effect relieved our minds, for we began to fear 
liat it would be impossible for us to wind up our 
onceras in lime for the sailing of the vessel. A 
uiet observer, at this time, might have amused them- 
etvea could they have known all the active kindness 
St. Hartley was showing to my father, who never 
lad flattered and rarely entertained him, while he 
lassed over all the fine speeches, and eipensive par- 
ies, with no morc thanks than common politeness 
equired, to those who had coaxed, flattered, and 
mtertAined him without end. This enabled us at 
mce to go on with our preparations, and send in our 
tock and provisions to go on hoard for the voyage. 
We had httle enough time left, and our hearts began 
» fail us when we thought of leaving a spot that 
lad become so endeared Im ua, and for the improve- 
neiit of which my father had done so much. The 
Srst decided step in the move, was that of the faith- 
Eiil Mcintosh ; he had engaged himself aa carpenter 
to Mr. Wairen, an exceUent master, and a few days 
before we were to leave, he began to pack up his 
roods and chattels, as he could not bear the idea of 
Detng one day on the estate after we had left. In 
hie Bpare time, which was but short, he had made up 
a present for Marian and myself, which showed an 
Dbcervant mind, and coasiderable ingenuity. 

The moment he knew we were going to leave the 
We»t Indies, he collected, from every one he knew, 
several specimensoftbeditferent kinds of wood in the 
". Taking each specimen and dividing it, he left 



t 



sen 

I ^ 



one half in the rou^ state, and polished the otkr 
half, wrapping up each in a, bit of paper, vilh iB 
name written inside, where the fibres of the tree vat 
useful ; he gave a specimen also of them ae in tbe 
Mahoo tree ; he procured several fine pods of ' 
diifcrent kinds of cotton generally cultivated in 
We^t Indies, and fome also of the kind which g^mn 
wild in the low or marshy soil of the islands. Then 
w&s also some of the bark of the tnangrove tree, and 
specimens of the amatto, indigo, and logwood, al 
of which you haTe heard of as useful in the i 
position of dyes. He had also procured somebesn- 
tiful shells, and stuffed humming birds for us in Ixke 
home, and a piece of petrified cocoa nut, and part of 
a jack spaniBrd's nest also petrified. All of these bs 
had bought specially for us, and we felt more g; 
ful than we could express for the trouble and aJ 
tion he must have bestowed In collecting these 
curiosities. We could not help looking at bim, i 
thinking of our first meeting at Port Glasgow, I 
of hie alarm at the conclusion of the storm on our 
voyage out, when all real danger was over. 

My father begged him to write and let us heir of 
his welfare, and it is but the truth to say, that it 
cost us tears on both sides to part. We said notfi' 
to each other, but as he uttered his last, " God U 
you, Sir, and all your family," and stepped out rf 
the house door, we did think of that awful ni^ 
when he sat in that gallery watching the sttffin 
beside us, when we gave up my father for lost. Welwd 
now only three days to remain ; the negroes were 
all begging keepsakes from us, and between theii long 
>"isits, and numerous arrangements attendant iijioii 
sending off our baggage and our furniture to Kiugs- 
town for sale, we were truly worn out, both body nod 
mind. 
Nevertheless Marion and I collected a greit 
ricty of seeds, hoping we might find some one who 
might have a green-house or hot-house to raise them 



ID England. We got the seeds of the noyau vine 
foo a negro, who had procured them from a brother 
nfliif who had been in Trinidad. We took the seeds 
of the choucon or crietophine, which we thought 
Qigiit be It variety at home, as also the okra, nod 
■fifferent kinds of peas, which we hoped perhaps 
oi^ht thrive in England. 
Many of the estate negroes brought ua present* 
f fowb, oranges, pines and shaddocks for aea etock, 
'hile good old Clarissa, and Fimchon, i^ave us bot- 
es of arrow root, and cashew and ground nuts 
ady roasted for our desert. 

Marion's last work on the estate was to take a 
[Swing of a beautiful specimen of a ripe cashew 
Iple with the nut attached, and also of a star apple 
It in two. The next day we took as eidm a leai-e 
! we could, of a place which but a few short monthe 
eCore, we had no idea was ever to become the home 
[ strangers. To part ^m so many human beings, 
jr whom we had tned to do our best and to improve 
nd make happy was also a trial ; the little children 
laag around us and cried, though they probably 
id cot very well comprehend how far we were 
oing &om them; it was enough that " massa, 
lisses, and the young misses, were not to bve any 
lore with them," and youug and old were all very 
my to say fiirewell. We mounted our horses, and 
] long as we could see our once peaceful home, none 
( US turned our eyes elsewhere, nor did we speak to 
kch other for some time. It was a relief when we 
SBcbed Mr. Warren's, where we dined late and 
iMcd the night, proceeding early nest morning 
> iH^ak^t at old Mr. Bentley's in Alarriaqua 
lUey. Mr. Hartley was in town with hiii youngest 
ephew, who had lately been married in England, 
ad returned with hia wife, and a young lady since 
larried to his elder brother George, to whom we 
lade, in passing, a first and last visit. 
" , Bentley received us most kindly, but both 



^Ben 



303 TALEl OP A GkUIDlCOTHBB. I 

he and Mr?. Bmtky agreed with Mr. HartleT and 
Aeir soD-io-lKW. Mr. Hiding, that mj&ther ought to 
hare steid npoe the estate, and gone to law, and 
takes hit dimce oS getting the better altogether of 
Me«n. HoU&st and Check. Even had the d«ci- 
soa cost my biber sttQ more trouble and TcistioD, 
be vtMiid half never once repented it, but n- 
joteed tfaat, in the midst of all he had eu^red. 
be had not to add self accusation to his miseiy; 
end those wbo thought he was in the vma^, 
eaulA not help MtTnirrng his steady conscieaticniE up- 
f^tnes. 

" I hope, grandmama," «aid Marian, " that ym 
were at last all tnravded for it ; for indeed yoa euf- 
fcnd terribly bvm that Mr. Bright." 

" Indeed we did, my dear ; but never forget that 
ttuae trtio art contrary to what many in the worid 
call wtM^T, are alwavs rewarded in one way, in the 
peace and happiness which ever accompanies die 
peribnaanee of onr duty to God. I am quite sure, 
all my fetfaer and our family suficred at any period 
cf our cheqnered lives was light, compared towbM 
it would have been, had we ever, for the snie of 
^iparent self interest, been templed to forsake tiudi 
ukI uprightness." 

" I am sure," said Frederick, " that grandmama is 
ID the right there, for I have often noticed how mudi 
better tempered, and cheerful, good people were who 
spoke the truth, and whom papa and mamma toldos 
were peopk of integrity, than those whom I ha"* 
known to deceive, and flatter, and act with cunning." 

"Your oteervation," said his grandmama, "is 
very just; but now good night, for I belie^"e it Is litne 
to stop ka tiiis evening." 



TALES OF A GRANDMOTHER. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



" I was disappointed, grandmama, that you stopped J 
last night before I had tune," said Frederick, " to ask J 
you anything concerning tlio plants you mentioned | J 
but Maria and I have got their namee written down, 4 
and we hope you will tell us about them before s 
conclude to night." 

" I will, my dear," said his grandmama, "hut at 1 
present I think it beat to go on with my story. T 
After breakfasting at Mr. Bectley'a, we hade theml 
adieu with sorrow. They had been very IdnAj 
friends to us ; and there is something melandiolyB 
in bidding farewell to old people, when we knoW'l 
that before long we must have the wide AtlanliJ.^ 
rolling between us. 

They made us promise to let them know before 
we were to sail, as they wished to send ua in some 
of their fine fruit, to put on board ; indeed tiejr 
garden was in great perfection. Soon after Christ- 
mas is the time when the West Indies is in the 
greatest beauty. After the conclusion of the rainy 
season, every thing looks ao green, and the air is so 
cool, that the climate is then quite delightful. You can 
conceive nothing more beautiful, than the mango trees 
around Mr. Bentley's house ; they were loaded with 
fruit BO thickly set, that it seemed asloniahinghowthe 

E inches could bear the weight. ~ 

We reached Kingstown, and a^^tai 



^TXH TXLU or * SBAXDXOTBBB. ■ 

■ Vnmr'» bdbn AnDer; so here we were, in the sdl- Wp 
mBK hoose, wfaeie we bad at firEt remain rf on oiD ■ 
Hnnl Dnne yean bdiiire. M^ bther bore tbe vkit K 
«( tbii vondeifBlh-. fat be was always employed is 
boHaeM td ooe kind or other, bat my motlieT ieuei 
tkat wltta be fand uo la^er any □e<:essaTT occapstica 
ati mhui he would be quiet oa board of »hip, that he 
smU fed Ue cfaanged arcwni stances more acutely 
Au be Ad U present. 

Uis. Fnser, aware <tf our fi^endfhip for ElizalMli 
Vmrm, aited ber to paw tbe few dftve we were to be 
own witb tbetn, previously to sailing, aA 
V Mrs. Fnsex told us was by no mefms 
r gnuted by Mrs. Harm, who was qo« 
•e tlam em ufxin poor Elizabeth, iu cOD- 
C of Dr. Edward's having presumed (aa the 
i it) to pay his addresses to ber daughter. 
Nodung ctu^ have been more respectful to lia 
fawi Dr. Ednard'E conduct, £ram first to last; and 
Ur- Harris was on his death-bed, be bad 
tarotaatiDaiiy, combined with all the kind- 
■.jnend, and had ne^er received any remune- 
d when he saw that sbe apparently disliked 
r, he very properly withdrew himself toA 
. Dot \ritlu>ut Bhowing- a preference fof 
i, dm Idl no doubt in our mind, that n 
K could have a home for a wife, she voflla 

e therefore not surprised when Mrs. F^si9 
tX Dr. Edwards had taken the opportuai^ 1^ 
a addresses to £lizabc-th Harris, when aint 
WU at Mr. Warren's, after leaving us. at the time 
when our troubles began. Elizabeth was well awHie 
of his worth, and very properly be^ed him tO 
mentiuo the subject to her mother. To insit any 
one who had treated him so coolly, nay. almost nulfi^ 
•e Mrs. Hams had a^re&d,'^ Acme, 'was not a Wtf 
nlessant duty ; hot W tel'C 'A, vi^a koi^-. ^^e 
LjBIixabeth*K 'mothet. aii4 t& ^aa -w'^anf 



it no sooner had lie hinted the subject, than 
ris got into a towering' passion, declaring 
Ik should never marry her daughter. Dr. Edwards 
begged her to aasifrn any reason ; it might be one he 
could obviate. No, she declared he never could 
obviate ber reason, and that she would prefer laying 
her beside her iather, to seeing her the wife of Dr 
Edwards. 

She poured forth a torrent of abuse, strange to 
say, not only upon him, hut upon her own child, 
whom she went so far as to say, no man in hie 
senses could wish to marry. Dr. Edwards very pro- 
perly reminded ber, that he was in his sound mind, 
and had always been so ; and that nothing had ever 
induced him to think of Elizabeth for a wife, but 
ber excellent conduct, principles and amiable dia- 
poaition. that he was most willing to take her as hil 
wife, notwithstanding all the faults her mother 
alleged she had, and that therefore he hoped Mi*. 
Harris would consider the matter in a different light- 
But the lady was obstinate, and went so far as to 
beg the doctor to leave her house, which he did 
of courae without delay, very unhappy at the news 
he waa obliged to convey to Elizabeth. 

She was leas astonished than he expected ; for she 
had so long been acustomed to be despised and 
thwarted, that she had, in some measure, jirepared 
herself for this really unjust and painful result. The 
Doctor however was a young man of good sound 
sense, and he soon obtained Elizabeth's consent to con- 
sult Mr. and Mrs. Warren. She would have preferred 
a reference to my father and mother, who had almost 
loved her as their own child, but she could not beat 
tis to be annoyed, situated as we were, and she 
therefore referred the whole to Mr. and Mrs. 
Warren. 

Themselves kind hearted and well principled, they 
could hardly credit a mother's acting «a^\K.\Sartv* 
it^doDe; they were quite at tt loaa to wyia"iMftiV 



I 



206 TALBS OF A GRAND HOT BBS. 

her conduct, so much so that Mrs 'WaiTea volan- 
tarily undertook the task of going to Kingstown, | 
and seeing Mrs. Harria personally, to aacert^whil 
her objection could be. Elizabeth was literally pea- 
nileas, and tkough her mother grudged every farthing 
bestowed upon her, atiU she was some eipeaK, 
BO that, as regarded pecuniary matters, her marri^ 
would be a relief to her mother, who was both in 
debt and poverty. The former, indeed, she cared 
little for, so long as she could obtain credit ; and tbi 
latter being now unavoidable, she resorted to » 
thousand daily acts of meanness to keep some appeai- 
aace in society and dress ; while at home, and alone, 
they were as a family, living in misery. 

The two elder girls were much admired hy moat 
for their beauty ; but having nothing else to recom- 
mend them, and being known to have been estravE- 
gantly educated, few marrying men liked to risk 
imiting themselves with young women, who were 
after all only fitted to ornament a ball rqom. TTie 
consequence of this was, that Mrs. Harris was &etted 
to find her speculation as regarded her two favourite 
daughters, had hitherto failed in procuring them hua- 
bands. She had dressed them well, taken them 
every where, exhibited them to the best advantage, 
nay they had fully co-operated with their mother in 
all her views for their establishment, and they had 
admirers plenty, but not one secured, so thnt when 
Dr, Edwards formally made his proposals to Mn. 
Harris.for Elizabeth, her jealousy and anger at her 
having any prospect of marriage before her sisteis, 
was more than she could bear. Mr. Warren was a 
steady sensible man, and not to be trifled with, so 
that when the morning following Dr. Edward's visit, 
he waited upon Mrs. Harris, and told her hia errand, 
she tried at first to treat it as a joke, saying, "flat 
Elizabeth was too young." Now as she had com- 
pleted her twentieth year, this was rather a ridi- 
culous reason, of which Mr. Warren soon ' ' 



a cQ(^ud|^^J 



207 



n finding that he was determined to be in earnt_., 
Mrs. Harris at last said, " she did not think Dr. 
idwards in such circumEtancea as authorised hia 
larrying; that Elizabeth had nothing, and could not 
Sbrd to marry a poor man." 

Mr. Warren said that "Dr. Edwards could not 
deed be called a rich man, but neither was he poor ; 
at he had a good profession, and extensive steady 
actice ; he had long loved Elizabeth, but never saida 
>rd to her of it until he felt he could venture to 
pport a wife : and that Elizabeth and he were the 
Bt judges of the style of life they would require, 
make each other happy." Mr. Warren alao remind- 

her mother, " that her present income was an 
nuity granted by Messrs. Holdfast and Cheek upon 
X life, and that were she to die, all her children 
juld be left without any provision whatever." 
He said, under such circumstances, he thought 
« ought to rejoice in bestowing tlie hand of her 
lughter upon a young man so universally beloved 
id respected as Dr. Edwards was, and he entreated 
T to consider calmly, and assign any reason she 
\d, as he was convinced it might be obviated. 
But Mrs. Harris could give none, hut that Eliza- 
:th was very well as she was, and she saw no right 
e had to marry ; she felt a certain awe of Mr. 
'arren, or else she would have said, " no right to 
arry before her two eldest sisters." Mr. Warren 
en told her, " that this was a reason which, ridi- 
ilous as it was of course, no one could obviate ; but 
at be could assure her, every one would blame her 
r acting as she was doing." 

He returned to Elizabeth and Dr. Edwards, and 
Ivised them, inconsequence of Mrs. Harris's unkind 
ipositiuu to delay their marriage for a year, until 
liziabetli should be twenty-one, when it was m 
an likely her mother might change her mi 
id if not, he would act the part of a parent to her. 



t GBINDM OTHER. 



Upon coadidon that he was permitted to inform Mr 
Harris fniakty of this arrangement, which of coDK 
they were too happy be should do. No sooner hi 
be performed this kind office, than Mrs. Hanii 
Kreat irritation dechired, " Elizabeth might mBi 
now if she cho«e, ftjr she never would see her again 

Mr. Wsrren said, " she shall not want a home 
long as 1 have one to give her ; but if such b jn 
determination. I should feel obliged by your writi 
either to Eh". Edwards, or myself a letter to Q 
effect, that 1 may be able to prove to the worid t 
principles upon which I act. for Mrs, Warren > 
I would be the last people in the world to enonii 
It child to leave her mother's house, though we i 
we onlv perform a just action in showing kindneu 
a most estimable young woman, driven from ho 
by her parent." 

This request irritated Mrs. Harris beyond all d 
crqition. and simply to show her power, and 1 
obstinate determination to thwart and annoy I 
Edwards and Elizabeth to the utmost, she wrote t 
letter required, but ordered her daughter to leave \ 
Warren's instantly and return home ; thus in anui 
ner contradicting herself. Elizabeth took anafiectic 
ate iarewell of her kind friends, and of the Docb 
whom she felt it very probable she m^ht not mi 
again, until she had completed her twenty-first yes 

Mrs. Fraser, awareof all this, was delighted tog 
the poor girl a Uttle change of scene, and she v 
sure she would enjoy pns^g the last few days 
could tt^ther. Elizabeth was quite satisfied she 1 
acting lis she ought, and this prevented her bd 
either tretfiil or much depressed. My father i 
mother's approbation of her conduct was a gi 
solace to her, and her gratitude to them for ' 
example and instructions they liEid bestowed apcm I 
mis iiobounded. Of the injustice of her motb 
cgatluct to hei slie aai^ luA ' 



Hehe said she did feel great anxiety at the thought- 
Bs waste, and extravagance both of her mother 
id her siatera, and she dreaded the probable re- 
lit. 

All our preparations were now completed. The blue 
fter was hoisted from our vessel, and in t^vo days 
e were rowing in a smaU boat with our parents 
id Mr. Fraser. and were again about to embark 
L the wide ocean. When we stood on the deck 

the ship, and looked at the lonely bay and the 
agnjficeat mountains which rise behind it, we ad- 
ired it as much, perhaps more, than on the first day 
e saw the hght dawn upon it. But our feelings 
ere eomewhat changed. Marion and I were then 
ne and ten years of age, with all the light-hearted 
liety of children. We were now eighteen and 
neteen ; we had mourned the loss of our only 
"other, and sympathised with our bereaved parents 
It above all, during the last nine years we had been 
lily trained in experience of the realities of life, 
bich had taught us lessons that none can learn, 
ho have passed that period of their existence in 
aury, free from care and anxiety. 

Whatever errors my parents might have com- 
litted, there was one thing in which they perfectly 
leceeded — our education ; a thing wliich, I bebeve, 

of the greatest importance, that was, making us 
impletely their friends. The most frank, affec- 
anate, and confidential intercourse subsisted among 
!, and the natural consequence was, there were 
3 aepajBte interests, no j^lonsy or partialities — 
i unamiable concealments : we had never been 
anaged by art or cunning, and now when pri- I 
itioQB and troubles came upon us, we all tried to I 
jlp and cheer each other, and the very effort 
^e us frequently foi^t our cares in the enjoy- 
ent of BO much true domestic bliss. — Mr. Fraaer 
aa warned by the sound of the ooAiot tees- 
that he must bid ua adiew, Ve &i w» 



I 



tlip. 



L. GRANDMOTHER. 

with a. moistened eye, and sprang into the boat, to 
return to his merchant's store and the routine of com- 
merce, while we set one sail after another, and soon 
turning' Old Woman's point, we lost sight ofKii^ , 
town bay for ever. The eea was as calm and aa I 
smooth as glass, and as the rich and fertile valle; of I 
Buccamcnt came in sight, the landscape bectune 
more and more interesting, we glided swiftly along i 
passing Chateau Bellair, a black Charaih settlement ; ' 
near it there was thea a very fine estate, wluch [ 
afterwards was utterly destroyed by the eruption of 
the volcano. 

We had a fine view of the Mome Garon mountain, ■ 
and soon after we stretched out into the cbamiel,! 
and coasting the islands of St. Lucia, Miirtiiiique,| 
Dominique, Guadaloupe, Montserrat and Nevis, w 
took our farewell of land from St. Kitts. Nothing 
could be more perfectly beautiful than this part d 
the voyage. Tlie placid sea, the deep blue sky, 
the rich and varied verdure of one island succeeding 
another, like so many " emerald gems of the oc«m. 
The lofty mountains, picturesque valleys, all seen 
sufficiendy near to show us the presence of humn 
beings at work, housps, busy mills, and cattle grai- 
ing, truly, the first morning we rose after lomtg ti 
land, water and water alone to he seen around St 
look very dreary, and recalled us to the recollectial 
of the past, and the many painful uncertainties t 
the future. 

In ten days more a change of climate wa« per 
ceptible, the sea began to rise, and the wind to hind 
and before long we were suiFering all the diaagitt 
ables attendant upon a gale off the banke of Nci 
foundlond. 

The wind vras very high from the northward, « 
notwithstanding our warm clothing we still fdtfl 
cold . It was tbe \)e%irani\g of tbe mouth of Feb 
and we regretted \jemgQ\&^e&.\o i 
season, ae the mlenae wM "is^ 



TALBB OP A GKANDKOTHEB. 2lfi 

after bo many years' residence in a tropical country. 
Up to tliia time we had got on very quickly, and 
but fourteen days before we had been almost scorched 
by the sun off St. Kitts. My father had been longer 
in the West Indies than any of ua, and hia health 
suffered much by this quick transition from extreme 
heat to intense cold — a change wliich, could it have 
been effected more gradually, might have been very 
beneficial to him. The gale, however, was never 
such as to put us in alann for our safety, and in a 
few days we left the mountainous waves of the banks 
of Newfoundland, and came into a comparatively 
calm sea and mild climate, and on the forty second 
day all eyes were looking out for the south west 
coast of Ireland. 

" But if 1 am to answer any questions," said grand- 
mama to Maria and FVederick, " I must pause in my 
tale for this evening, otherwise I should detain you 
too long from bed." 

•'There is no fear of that grandmama," said Frede- 
rick, '• for I am not in the least tired yet, 
Maria is too old to be sleepy when I am not 
am very anxious for you to get on, for I fear you may 1 
not be able to finish your story before I go off again I 
to school, and it woiJd be very tantalising for me, J 
after hearing so much, not to have the pleasure of lis- J 
tening to the whole." I 

" I think," said his grandmama, " as we have gone I 
over 60 much in the time we have done, we shall be ] 
easily able to finish tlie whole before you return.. I 
to school." 

"Perhaps," said Maria, "grandmama might indulge 
us by telling ua some of her history occasionally during 
tlie morning, and then we should make su: 
Frederick, of your hearing all before the holidays a 



mama. 



I win do so with pleasure," said their grand- 
ma, "whenever the rooming ift not fexoxisslAa fe^ 
^of door exercise ; but we mviat. wa^ fo\^«. ^ik« 



I 

I 



313 TALSB or A OBAXDUOTHEB. 

hard Frederick is workiog at school, and thu in the 
holidays our first object must be to give him recrea- 
tion, and active amusement in the fine, freah, coonliy 
air, to Htrengthen his bodily health, without wliidi 
he would grow up delicate and weak, and unfit fa 
the unavoidable hardships of life ; but now for joui 
queries." 

"Here they are," smd Maria; "you must aol 
Ik astaniahed, grandmama, to find them so numerona; 
we have no leas than twenty eight things to aikyoo 
about ; but, you know, last night it was too lalfi to 
have any questions answered, so these queries are the 
product of two evenings' tales." 

" There b noneed, mydear," aaid her grandmaiUi 
■' of any apology; I never wish either Fredmck Cf 
yon to paas over anything that you do not fully com- 
prehend. Young people, nay even old people, ougbt 
never to be ashamed of asking the meaning of what 
they do not understand. Many people pass through 
hfe in ignorance, from the fidse shame of not hklng 
to show they are unacquiunted with any subject that 
may be started in conversation. But this fcelii^ i» 
far more a proof of folly than of wisdom. One of tie 
wisest men tliat ever lived, declared that " he owed 
his knowledge, in a great measure, to a resolutiao he 
had early mode, never to fear asking an explanation 
of what he did not understand." 

"I know, grandmama," said Maria, " diat it is 
both foolish and disagreeable to pasa over what we 
do not comprehend without asking the meaning of it. 
but I am always afraid of appearing troublesomq, or 
people perhaps thinking," — and here Maria made a 
full pause. 

" Thinking— people thinking, Maria," aaid her 
grandmama, " what do you mean, what do youinteod 

" 1 mean," said Maria, "that perhaps people, not 
wise people indeed, gmndmama, but still 
might laugh at my asking questions, and 
ignorant." 



lome people 
1 tjim^juj 



213 1 



" Why, as to that, Maria, wlien old people are silly, 
which unfortunately some are, they are very apt to 
ridicule the sensible quefltions of a young person 
really wiahing information ; but though I advise you 
to ask questions, yet 1 do not mean you to do so 
from every one : you must learn to discriminate the 
wise from the foolish ; and, believe me, the former will 
alvays delight to gratify your thirst for knowledge ; 
the Ifttter too often talk of subjects, which they them- 
selves know so very imperfectly, that were you to 
ask them the meaning of what they have been speak- 
ing about, you might, perhaps, find they were too 
ignorant to give you any explanation, and then they 
would try to cover theix ignorance, by laughing at 
you as a learned lady." 

" Exactly so, grandmama," said Maria, " yon 
comprehend precisely what I mean, and you know it 
is Tery disagreeable to be laughed at." 

"Very disagreeable," said her grandmama. "it 
would be to be laughed at by sensible and well bred 
people -, but, believe me, Maria, that people of resi 
education, sense, and good feeling, are incapable of 
indulging in the laugh of ridicule — such a practice is 
and always was the certain proof of an ignorant, 
oneducated, unpolished mind, and I hope my grand- 
daughter will never stand in awe of the opinions of 
any, but the wise and good." 

" i hope not grandmama. now that I understand 
this subject belter than I ever did before." 

"But, my dear children, you must reserve your 
sries for to-morrow, for it is nearly ten o'clock." 



mimew for to-morrow, to 



CHAPTER XV. 

" 1 THINK our bad mominE: has come qukk 
enough," said Maria, as the hail rattled against tat 
windows of the warm parlour, whose cheerful fire 
and comfortahle appearance presented a delightfol 
contrast to the storm, raging through the leaflew 
branches of the wood, which suirounded her fiitWa 
house. " Indeed, grandmama, "we cannot do bet- 
ter, as soon as breakfaat is finished, than get OUT 
work-boxes, and close in a new happy circle round 
the fire, and beg you to go on with your story. 
It will he quite as interesting to us as if it wen 
evening ; even Frederick could hardly wish to go out 
in such a morning- as this to make snow balls." 

"As for that," said Frederick, "I have made 
snow balls in as stonny and cold a day at school as 
this ; but then that was school and this is home, and 
a blazing fire, and papa and mamma and Maria, and 
good dear grandmama to teU me stories, which I 
cannot have at school, therefore I prefer the fireade 
and the story this morning, and snow balls at school 
where I have neither papa nor mamma, Maria noi 
grandmama ta amuse me. Now, Maria, for the list rf 
questions." 

" Here they aie, grandmama," said Marin 
first one is about ftie maho >:ree." 

" The botaiucal name oi 'iie ^q»^; 



fALBS OF A GRANDMOTHER. 215 

^^rondmaTQa, " is hibiscus tiii^c^u^, and it is 
mous botii to the East and West Indies. It 
^ws in South America, the South Sea islands, 
Itaheite. The trunk ia woody, and at the top, 
ides into branches ; the leaTes are shaped some- 
resembling a heart, the blossom is of a lig'ht 
V. When the outside hark is peeled, the fibres 
isily taken off, either a number together or only 
LS may be required. They are very useful and 
f, and, without the aid of any oianufocture, they 
; for the rigging and cordage of vessels ; they 
>e also plaited into whips, but they do not last 
log as hemp. The American Indians and 
:itaii3 make matting and thick ropes, and 
of it. The wood of the tree is very strong. 
.the next question in your hat relates to the dif- 
Ibnds of cotton. It would be impossible for 
Ktell you of all the various kinds of cotton, 
Wf of the species have never been even class- 
"Vhich indeed is much to be regretted, as 
luld be of great service to cotton planters, 
they perfectly assured which would produce 
reateat quantity and the best quality. That 
■9 which is commonly cultivated, is known 
ically by the name of goeaypium herbaceum. 
m annual ; its blossoms are yellow, and the pod 
;he size of a walnut. When the cotton is ripe, 
lod opens naturally, and the pure white cottm 
. out. in the down or cotton in which the seeds 
At times the cotton trees look as if flakes of 
were here and there lying on them, sometimes 
Bakes fly about in the air, more abundandy, 
r, in the East than in the Wetft Indies, and 
bber hearing a little West Indian child ex- 
leeing snow for the first time, " Do look, 
BW the cotton fliee to-day." This may give 
pe ide& of its appeaiasce. 
^Dttoa tree, of a much taller ^cm^ 'bsBii 
1 I have now described to ^oa, '"" - — *— 



I 

I 

I 



I 



I 



21G TALES or A OAANDWOTBBB. 

o the EoEt IniUeg growing at times (is high as t 

or twenty feet, ITie kind tisuaUy cultiTated ii 

West IndieB, ia the ' goesypium indiciim,' or 

is often called Indian cotton. It is sometinies nanwd ■ 

Barbadoes cotton, because Barbadoes was the iiA 

West India Island where the plants were grown whai 

they were sent from tlie East Indies." 

" Giandmuna," said Frederick. " I recollect lo 
have heard some one talk of the silk cotton tree, doa 
it grow in the West Indies, and is it lite the cotwo 
trees which you have already mentioned r" 

"The silk cotton, ray deaf, grows abundantly snfi 
easilyin the West Indies, and is a very ornamental trei, 
but there is little cotton now cultivatd in any of &t 
West Indian Islands for exportation : and evenintbe 
British Guiana, cotton once so largely cnltivated la 
given place in a great measure to the culture of ite 
sugar cane. Demerara cotton is much eupeiio' is 
quality to that of the islands. The blossom of tie 
silk cotton tree is first white, then pink, and last 
of ail red. We do not know to what conntiy it 
is indigenous, bet it abounds in China, and ii 
there cultivated with great success. Next spring 
when Frederick puts on his nankeen trowsers, be 
may perhaps feel pleased in recollecting that the 
materml of which they are manufactured into nankees, 
is the cotton of the silk cotton tree, and that the 
peculiar buff colour they have, is not any artificial dye, 
hut is tlie natural colour of the plant from whieh 
the cloth is made. Formerly these stuffs were made 
only at the city of Nankin in China, and the nuni 
of nankin as a cloth is no doubt derived from that." 
" I always thought," said Frederick, " that 
nankin was dyed, for I have observed, that by frequent 
washing, it becomes paler and paler, until at \aa% il 
almost looks a dirty white." 

" It does, my deni," said his grandmama, " hut it 
is not so much trenyieu\. '«a£\ivn^, 'a»A-teQ;^'c& VileaclL- 
ing and drjing in Xhe win. ftiaX. \a.»le.«a "4^^«|J 



it is seldom that our washerwomen attend 
■to the necessity of drying nankin in the shade ; were 
tlus done, its natural colour would be much longer 
preserved. Formerly our English merchants thought 
aa you did, that nankin was dyed, as they once sent 
a message to the Chinese manufacturers to say that 
they wished the nankin of a. deeper shade. But 
the Chinese returned an answer, that nankin was 
the natural colour, and they never put any dye ; 
sometimes when nankin is scarce, they mix white 
cotton with the naturally huff coloured silk cot- 
ton, and this makes the shade apjiear lighter, and 
when washed, it of couree sooner fades. The most 
valuable species of cotton is that imported from 
Geoi^ia. Until the spinning of cotton by machinery 
was invented, cotton-wool was not much used in 
England, hut during the last sixty years, the quantity 
imported has been advancing in the most immense 
degree ; every year it ia increasing, not only in 
that respect, but in the perfection of its manuiac- 
ture. Fifty-eight years ago, one pound of cotton 
was known to be spun into a thread, of one hundred 
and sixty miles in length, and now it is manufac- 
tured into much finer thread than at that period. 
Liverpool is the great town to which the shipments 
of cotton come ; and the quickness with which the 
bales are sent to Manchester, by means of the steam- 
carriages on the rail-road, between these towns — the 
speed of the manufacturer, whose machinery is also 
ril ijnpeEed by steam — give one a wonderful idea 
not only of the advantages we have hitherto reaped 
fram science, but of what no doubt yet remains to 
be discovered. Manchester is thirty-six miles Irom 
LJveipool, and yet bates of cotton have been known 
to be landed at Liverpool and sent off to Manchester 
by steam, manufactured by steam, conveyed againaf 
cotton cloth, by steam, to Liverpool, and sent off from 
that port for some foreign one. in flie «^m« 
^ff ^m the date of its arrival m t\ie toa^ 



\tiaan^H 




astoDisbcd and. deligtited; bo muCti a 
them visit after visit, before I was 
looking at this triumph of science." 

" Oh! do, ^ndmama, tell us somell 
steam -CEirriagea and the rail-road," 
Frederick, both at once. 

" No, my dears, not at present, 
flying off from our subject completel] 
you and Maria give your papa and ~ 
to be satisfied with your conduct 
dustry for the next sis months, I me* 
a trip to Liverpool and Manchester 
midsummer holidays, on purpose that 
that, of which no description can give 

" I am glad, however, grandmaina, 1 
told U3 this, for now we will wait j 
the proper time for hearing of steam, a; 
said Maria, " we will strive very hard 
and mamma, and be sufficiently iadusi 
such a delightful reward." 

Indeed, my dears, you may well b| 
for you will bave constant : 



i caANSMOTHBII. 



dlenesa, but in the cultivation of varied km 
■edge, which few schools have as yet the power 
teaching." 

•' Cousin Robert," said Frederick, " i 
"where they have no holidays." 

"I know he is," said his grandm 

he is a striking proof how unsatisfactory such 
plan is. I saw him not many months ago ; he wa», 
at seven years old, a fine lively boy, but he appears 
now drilled into perfect stupidity. He knows no- 
thing beyond Greek and Latin and we ought to re- 
member, Frederick, when we acquire a language, 
that it is not of itself knowledge, it is only 
means by which the writers of that nation may 
come known to us. But your cousin, after spei 
ing several years almost exclusively upon Greek and 
Latin, declared he bated it. Its uses and its beau- 
ties had never been pointed out to him, and thus 
without gaining any one real advantage, he has lost his 
time, he has never been taught any habit of obser- 
vation, he is utterly unacquainted with history and 
geography, nature in all its varied studies has no 
charms for him, he laughs at a boy who enjoys 
booka and information, and has but two wishes — 
plenty of money, and fine horae.s, to be able, by and 
bye, to hunt bke his father. It is true his parents 
having placed him at a school where no bohdays are 
^ven, have not been what they call troubled mth 
him ; but I am mistaken, if their troubles are not 
preparing for them, for having sent their son to the 
school they have done ; where, so far as I could 
judge from having him to pass a half day with me 
in the inn, where 1 remained one night near his 
scbool, he appeared to me hardly to possess one ra- 
tional idea." 

" Well," said Frederick, " I am astonished, grand- 
mama, at this account of cousin Robert- I heard my 
■aDfc Oiik ao aiuch of hi" nevei haiviae ook ^i^ia^ii^ • 



indJ^B 
and ^* 



. CEiVM DM OTHER. 



and being bo busy, 1 > 



! lialf afraid I BhooM fed 



quite stupid beside him when we met." 

"Neither Maria nor you need have any fear oo 
that head ; were he not so ill edacated, as to be ig- 
norant of his own ignorance, he might rather fai | 
meeting you ; but I am not, like you, suqnised at it. 
because all really sensible people know that the nuni 
neither of the old, nor the young, can be pefpetuiBj 
on the stretch, and the reaUy industrious teachei 
and pupil will never lose, but will materially gM 
by holidays, spent ia proper recreation. I do not 
Frederick, talk of those who spend them in foUy uid 
idleness, that is more tiresome even than hard woA, 
and there are few things I have ever regretted mtat. 
than the improper way in which the hohdays of miiny 
young people are spent. Neither Maria nor yon m 
old enough to have seen the world so as to enflUe 
you to appreciate the value of the way in which 
yours have been always spent ; few parenU 
are prepared to make their children's benefit inA 
happiness the grand object of their lives, yet un- 
less they do so, particularly at auch periods, the 
consequences must be ruinous." 

"Idare say, grandmama," smdMaria, "thatnri- 
ther Frederick nor I can understand the value ofail 
our dear papa and mamma have done for us. and Ikno' 
they often deny themselves what they would enjoy, 
to stay at home and instruct us and make ua happy ; 
but this much I am sure of — that they never do to, 
that we do not long to be old enough, and wise 
enough, to deny ourselves for their pleasure ; aod 
perhaps we may yet be able to show our gratitude 
to them and you." 

" I have no doubt, my dears, that you will do so, 
for parents who show their children such an excel- 
lent example as yours do, seldom fail to have grate- 
fill and useful c^uVAtcyi. B\Yt -we must not wando 
any more Crom oui B\^ecX, \i^ ^i^ oc^u -^t3aitixb| 



L O&ANDHDTBEK. 321 

B. about the mangrove tree. Its botanical name 
phora ; it ie a tall tree and grows in a most 
able manner, with roots fringing out &dib 
Ser branches ; these hang down, and ae the 
Hdly grows on the banks of ris'ers, or close 
lea, they djp into the water and ^ten them- 
b the 6oU, Oysters very often cling to the 
!s, and look as if they really grew upon the 

KooUect," said Maria, " grandpapa once talk- 
oystera growing upon a tree in the West 
he was laughing at the time and 1 thought 
I joking, but now I understand what he 

are say, my dear, you thought it very strange, 
pes seem oild to huar of oysters growing upon 
nevertheless, you see your grandpapa was in 

IT next question is the amotto," said Maria, 
Ik I know something of it, is it not used as a 

'■ie, my dear," replied her grandmama, "and 
knish Americans, after preparing the herxies 
jBticulai' way, mi* it with their chocolate as 
ink it very wholesome, and it gives it a pleasant 
, which they admire. The amotto tree is 
growing only from ten to twelve feet high. 
Bm has very strong fibres ; in Jamaica they 
BCB make ropes of them. The tree bears 
Rrith bristles like our chesnut ; at fir^t they are 
lour, but when ripe they become brown, and 
urst; s beautiful, deep crimson, pulpy suh- 
ie seen, in which numerous seeds he, some- 
]u the seeds of grapes, but darker in colour. 
£ is in the pulpy substance, and it is separated 
y from the husks and seeds. It then goes 
i a long process of fermentation, straining and 
[ lastly, it is cooled and made u^ ixrta iak«ft. 
ua^I experiments have succee&K^ u 



222 TALBS or A GBANDUOTHGE. 

ing. that the tei&us method we pursue in the prepi- 
ratian of the Braotto dye is uniiecessajy ; thftt ta 
equally serviceable article may be made by mMdy 
u'aahin^ the seeds from the pulp, until they hut 
lost all the colouring matter which adheres to tbi 
the colour is precipitated by means of an acid." 

" Grandmama," said Maria, "I am not »BK 
what you mean by precipitated." 

"Precipitated is a word, my dear, used by chemiflt 
to express any substance falling, or sinking to the 
bottom of the vessel in which it has been mixri 
with a hquid. Suppose you were to mi-t a talile- 
spoottfiil of flour in a tumbler of water, then leave it 
to settle for an hour or two, you would find at the 
end of that time that the water would look mncb 
clearer than just after you mixed it, the flour would 
have sunk to the bottom, or as chemists term it 
precipitated. M. Vauquelin and M. Leblond wete 
the two French chemists who made the useful disco- 
very. The general colour of the arnotto dye is a fine 
bright yellow, hut in Brazil they have another iray 
of preparing the pulp, from which they eitracl i 
crimson colour. This dye is commonly used in Eng- 
land to give the deep shade used in cheese. ITii 
botanical name of the tree is, Bixa onellana; itii 
indigenous to South America, but grows easily both i 
in the East and West Indies. Indigo is, I see, ibe ■ 
next upon your list. 

"It is, grandmama," said Maria, "but I dare 
say you are already tired with our questions abont 
things, which you know so well already." 

■' Indeed, my dear, I am not : I am happy to see ' 
that you and Frederick have acquired such habits of 
steady attention and observation, so that you never 
will willingly remain in ignorance of any of those 
common things, which many people use and see 
daily, yet cannot tell what they are. I recollect not , 
long since hearing d{ t^p^TtJ, -w^ieTe w 
mentJoned logwood, a c\ui.im ft« ^' 



fc istt£.hasiD2j 



TALEB OP A GBANDUO' 



23!^^^ 



? no one could tell ; iatae thought it vbb 
me dug oat of the earth, others sajd it va^ an 
li ; hut among all their guesses not one was right, 
e of them knew that it was a vegetable. Tiie day 
IT the party, a I'ery young' lady who had been pre- 
Jtat this coaversation, and who had the good Eense 
■ to be ashamed of asking the meaning of what she 
Knot understand, applied to me for information, 
is greatly surprised when she learnt that log- 
vas a vegetable dye." 
■" But I do think, grandmama," said Frederick, 
KtiiBt they must have been very stupid people not to 
r that logwood M'aa a vegetable dye; even I 
V that." 
" I dare eay you did," replied his grandmama, 
t you and indeed most young people of the pre- 
pay have advantages and means of acquiring 
il knowledge, which those of the last age had 
"ITiirty years ago, few children's books were 
Ku in comparison to the number of the present 
K, and then they seldom touched upon those sub- 
8 which are now so often and so well explained. 
was a child, women were rarely ever in- 
a natural history, science, or many other 
lijects of general knowledge, of which before long, 
fc is to be hoped, few will remain ignorant, so that 
I have no reason to wonder at those people, who 
igined logwood to be a atone or an earth ; even 
g after indigo was brought from India to Europe, 
e many errors about it ; in Germany, some 
Sturies back, tliey classed it as a mineral. Indigo 
_ t an herb-like plant, with nothing very particular 
"fe its appearance; its botanical name is Indigofera. 
The dye is prepared by putting the roots in tubs of 
water until they rot. ITie juice is then squeezed 
from them ; if it be placed in the sun it dries up and 
leaves the blue paste, which we sec it commpiiiy in. 
It prows only in tropical countries, in. si\ ul ■w\i£a 
/( thrives. There are great indigo maivoSaiAHns* i:^ 



■224 



Bengal. It is a very valuable dye, because it can be 
made use of for any kind of material, whether silk, 
cotton, or woollen, without requiring what is called 
a mordant. All the Saxon blue cloth, worn by gen- 
tlemen, is dyed from iudigo ; it is by far the mtut 
useful and beautiful blue dye we have." 

" Grandmama," said Maria, " what is a inor- 1 
dant ?" 

" A mordant, my dear, is a chemical preparation . 
apphed to any stuff previous to its being dyed, W 
prevent the dye wearing- or washing out. I dare 
Bay you have seen printed calicoes where the pat- 
tern was apparently run and indistinct ; that ii 
owing to tlie mordant not having been applied in. 
sufficient strength compared to the dye afterwardi ; 
used. Now, my dear, for logwood ; it is indigenooa I 
to the southern parts of North America. It ginwi I 
easily in awEunpy ground, is a moderate sized tree, ' 
with a crooked stem and very pretty, glossy, bright, | 
green leaves, with a pale yellow blossom ; it is not 
unlike a handsome hawthorn tree, such as are tn be ' 
seen in PhcenLx Park, Dublin; in the West India i 
we used to admire the logwood from this circum- ' 
stance, becauseit reminded us of home." 

"And yet, grandmama," said Maria, '" I often ' 
hear grandpapa and you say you like soraething I 
which happens to remind you of the West Indies," ] 

" Very true, my dear, this only shows you, that I 
abroad we never forgot our home, and that at liomel 
we gratefully and affectionately remember the country^ 
and the friends that made us feel happy, even attlie' 
distance of many thousand mUes from good old Sng-y 
land. Log-wood makes pretty hedges. When growni 
up to a tree the wood is heavy, and yields a fine' ' 
let, or purple dye. It requires a mordant and is n 
useful in producing a black dye than in any othe 
colour ; this is done Vi'j ■Bus.vwg acetate of iron »' ' 
logwood." 

"Now, grandmama," otaaaneft.'^tftiKW^ 



something about petrified cocoa, nut. I cannot un- 
derstand how the nut could be petrified, because it is 
enclosed in such a hard ehell." 

" It ia. my deEir, enclosed in a very strong husk 
and in a shell, but were a bit of the nut taken 
out of the shell, it might, if placed in a proper si- 
tuation, be petrified quite as readiJy as any other 
substance. However, your remark shows me how 
important it is to express oneseK very accurately, 
for the petrifaction to which I alluded was not of the 
nut, but a bit of the wood of the tree. It is a beau- 
tiful specimen, and I still have it and will show it to 
you to-day- — perhaps, you do not properly compre- 
hend what a petrifaction is ?" 

■' I know," said Frederick, " it is something, 
changed somehow, from what it originally was ; but, 
after all, this does not make me understand how it is 
changed." 

" I will endeavour then," said hia grandmania, " to 
explain that; to you. Very often water runs over a bed 
of lime and other substances which impregnate, that 
is, are mixed with tlie water ; and if this mixture be 
strong, and if afterwards it drips by degrees over any 
substance, be it what it may, it alters that aubstance 
so, that it becomes what we call a petri^tion, 
that is, in appearance, it so perfectly resembles 
■I stone, that you would not know it from one. 
Petrifactions appear somewhat dificrent according to 
the earth in which they have lain, in going through 
the process of petrilactiou. The Jack Spaniard's nest 
1 will also show you, it seems a bit of stone, and 
has been polished, it is of a brownish grey colour, 
:ind you see the divisions of the cells quite plain, ex- 
actly like what you have noticed in the combs of bees." 

"Will you believe, gran dmam a," &^d Maria, "that 
1 never knew the Noyeau was a plant until you told 
us, I thought it was merely a name for avet^ ■Qk.v. 
ij^ueur; does it bear fruit Y' 



■22l> TALES OF A GEANDMOTHER. 

"No, my dear, not fruit, but seeds, i 
are used to produce the fine flavour which eertainly 
is very agreeable to the taste. It is an usBSSUimug , 
vine, with dehcate stalks ; the seeds wheo rtpe an ' 
black and hard. Tlie Choucou or Chiistophine ia , 
also a vine, which is usually allowed to chmb oa i 
some tall tree, being of itself very weak in the sialt, i 
in colour not unlike a melon plant. Its fruit b lODg- 
shaped, of a pale green, and ribbed estenmllj'. 
'i'here are some seeds inside like white beans, tjine, 
when ripe, are sown at the foot of a tree, and the 
plant soon springs up, turning beautifully round the 
stems and branches, and yielding abundance of fruit, 
which is only good when boiled and eaten as aregeta- 
ble, and is very similar in taste to the vegetable marroff 
you have tasted in England. The Okra grows on n 
bush, about the size and heighth of a common bash 
of broom. The blossom is rather insignificant, hot 
it is succeeded by a pod, a few inches long, of a ■ 
dark green, and enclosed in this, are numerous eeeik 
of a purphsh hue. When these pods are very young 
and dressed like asparagus, they are a delicate, agree- 
able vegetable, resembling it in flavour ; but they 
often use them in the West-Indies when of a large 
8i2e, and the fibres strong and thready : these when 
boiled, either alone or in soup, appear very disagree- 
able to the eye of a stranger, being full of a gluti- 
nous substance which, when they are lifted up, draws 
out from them in long slimy strings, but when made 
use of, while young and tender, this does not itp- 
pear, and they are one iit the nicest vegetables in tiie 
West Indies, very nutritious and wholesome, and' 
abundant every where. The Cashew apple is one 
of the most beautiful fruits of the West Indies. ITio 
tree is not unlike a walnut. The fruit is larger than 
our largest apple, hut of rather an irregulsj ob- 
long shape, of a Wig\it -^eNia-H, Sntaksd with the 
Jiveliest pink. TlienutK ^""'^^~~ "' ^" 



tddney and is fastened to the end of the fruit opposite 
to that attached to the tree. The nut has two sheik, 
between them there is an oil so acrid, that it wiU oc- 
casion a severe bhster, if the skin of a human being 
be touched by it. The kernel is not eaten raw, but if 
the nut be roasted, it is considered wholesome, and 
is of a very excellent flavour. The apple has a fine 
flavour, also, but is very astringent, and is not a safe 
finiit to eat unless stewed, when it may be used with 
impunity. The apple and the nut are often roasted 
and put into rum punch, to ^ve it a flavour, and 
most people relish it extremely. The botanical name 
of the cashew nut is, Anacardium Occidentale. 
The star apple is a very sweet fhiit, so much so as 
to be rather luscious. It is of the size of a large 
apple ; the inside is divided into cells ; every cell has 
one black seed enclosed in a soft pulp. The fruit, 
when unripe, is very astringent. The tree is rather 
undersized, and the branches are delicate and bend 
prettily. The mango grows aU over the East Indies, 
Brasil, and some tropical islands, as well as those of 
the West Indies, where it ia one of the most common 
and abundant of all liniits. The tree is often large 
and magnificent, and when it is hanging full of fruit, 
it is hardly possible to fancy how thicldy the boughs 
are loaded with them. A stranger is at first aston- 
ished by the immense number of the clusters of 
mangoes on one tree. The leaves are sharp pointed 
and strong in their texture, of a deep green. Its bo- 
tanical name is "Mangifera Indica." The blossom 
appears in bunches of a pyramidal shape, rather small, 
of a whitish tinge, nor are they at all remarkable in 
appearance. Of the fruit there is an immense va- 
riety; some are dark green and of an obiong shape, 
lai^r tlwn the largest pear, but in shape more like 
a magnum bonum plum ; others ore middle sized and 
green, and others yellow, while the best I ever saw, 
were not larger than a smnli aYtkot, ol a, «Qa«i&s. 

rv, and of a most delicious t\c\v ft«.\o'js, ■^*».""" 



^tSt.'^j^^l 



'J38 TALBB 01 

at all luscious. There is a flat oblong stone inside. 
In some mangoes there is a strong flavour of turpen- 
tine, and th^ even smell disagreeably of it before 
being cut. They are coarse and fibrous, imd I gbmild 
til ink cannot possibly be wholesome. They ore ex- 
cellent as & pickle, prepared as we do walnuts, when 
stoall and unripe. The mango abounds in the maSt 
remarJtable way in the Japan islands, where the fruit 
also attains a size unknown in the West Indies — 
indeed, it is believed that the mango of the Western 
Hemisphere is much inferior to that of the Eastern, 
though no doubt were the trees taken care of, and the 
varieties improved, as we do our pears and ap[^ b; 
grafting, much of the fibrous substance, which is to 
unpleasant and indigestible in some mangoes, woidd 
be done away with." 

" Indeed." said Frederick to his grandmaraa, 
" I have often wondered, when you have been 
telling us of the fine fruits of the West Indies, bow it 
was that people seemed to pay so Uttle attention to 
them in that country ; they never appear to tiy and 
improve their diiferent trees." 

" They are certainly, my dear, very inattentive I 
this ; but various causes conbine to make them « 
Most proprietors formerly looked forward to realising 
a certain income, to return home to their native coun- 
try. ITiis WHS only to he done by minute attention 
to the staple mani^cturc, sugar : the negroes, too, 
generally speaking, take possession of the fruit on an 
estate, and if there is anything rare, or partim^Iy 
nice, they appropriate it to themselves, not to eat, 
but to sell and make money of, so that people sel- 
dom feel inclined to go to much expence or trouble b 
the rearing of fruit while they are so uncertain whe- 
ther they may ever reap." 

■' Grandnuuna," said Frederick, " is the Mome 
Garon mounts In^X^V 

" It is, n\y dear." te^fei\;;>a gtsates 
more than five tlioufiaT'ii feet \t ' ■'-''- 






GRANDMOTHBE. 229 

Irdifilcult and precipitous. Smce the last eruptitm 
of the volcano in 1813, there is a lake formed on the 
U^ the deptii of whkh ia unfathoraahle. There is 
aric^ormoundofearth, which was naturally forraed 
at tke period of tlie eruption ; this ridge b very nar- 
row, and is fully a qnaxter of a mile long. One of a 
party who went up to the top of the Souffiiere. after 
the eruptitm. rode astride akaig this ridge, from end 
to entf, a feat which required no small courage and 
steadiuEss, for had the mound heen in any place 
yidding, or too weuk to sustain his weight, he must 
have been instantly precipitated into the water. 

Before the volcano burst out, hlack, strange look- 
ing birds were 8e«i by more than one person, who 
went up the mountain. Th^ were exceedingly shy, 
and had never been caught untd a gentleman riding 
along early ia tbe morning, seized one ; but in en- 
dearouring to secure it, it bit his hand so severely, 
that hoia tite sudden pain, he let go the bird, and, 
since that tiine, none of them have ever been seen." 

" Thea yon were not in the island," said Maria, 
to her gjuadmama, "when the volcano broke out : 
what a pity thiat was; i am sure, you muft have been 
sorry to miaa such a sight.'"' 

" Indeed, my dear," replied her grandmaina, 
" I fear I am too much of a coward, honestly to 
Bay that I could have wished to witness such a 
scene, I dare eay, had I e«en it, and been merciful- 
ly preserved unhurt, I should Lave treasured up 
every circumstance of such an event, and perhupe 
have experienced no small satisfection in relating- all 
I had seen to you now ; but such an awlid scene in 
nature, is something like a fearful storm at sea, very 
delightful to relate tlte particulars of to our friends, 
in a comfortable house, and at .a snug fire-side 
at home in safety, but not very pleasant to ex- 
perience. 1 knew several families who were in 
the ialtiad nt the time, and 1 c&a aaaui^ ^w^> i»fie^a 
1 *!.- d _ jjjgy eaduied-. tew 



^ 



I 



230 TALES 01 

pected ever to see the light of day again, and from 
the evening, when the eruption fairly burst forth, 
it waa dark until late in the forenoon of the following 
day, and I recollect a gentleman telling i 
at three o'clock in the afternoon, he was i 
write a note by candle-light,' Besides all this, the 
country was covered with a white sand, and laid ii 
feet desolate, all the crops of every kind were de 
strayed, happily very few lives were lost, but llieir 
housea and sugar works were knocked down, so that, 
a humane person could hardly wish to witness such s 
general calamity. 

During the awful night of the 30th of April, 1812, 
red hot stones were thrown out of the mouth of the 
crater, these hurst in the air, and came down i 
larger or smaller fiiigments, carrying destructioQ with 
them. A feniily whom I knew, determining to ieek 
safety in their cellar, fearful that the stones as they 
descended, might knock through the roof of their 
house, could only effect even tjiia attempt at greater 
security, by featening pillows over their heads, while 
they went from the house a few paces to the cellar; 
so that, if any stones did fall on them, the pillo* 
might prevent their head from being wounded. Your 
grandpapa will, I am sure, he very happy to gjve 
you a ftill account of different volcanoes to read, 
which will not only gratify your curiosity, but 
which will convince you that it is not so very agree- 
able to witness an eruption of a burning mouatais 
as you suppose." 

"Are there," said Frederick, "volcEinoes in a 
other of the West Indian Islands ?" 

" Tliere are, my dear," said his grandman 
" several others— and it is a supposition by no mee 
unlikely, that there is a chain of them, from the 
mainland in South America, through the Weal 
Indian Islands; tor an et«5te'^>'« "^^^ a violent 
earthquake in any oi ttvose-^«iEBS„\E. -i^f^v^c.-msasiis 
less distinctly £e\t ttaOTgXiCMX ■OQem. ^^ « i " "■ 



« of the eruption at St. Vincent, the noise waa 

trd perfectly at Demerara and even to a distance 
Byond that." 

" Can you tell us gran rim a m a," said Maria, " by 
vbat volcanoes are caused?" 

" Indeed, my dear, you have put a question that 
reraainB yet unsettled, and that has given rise to 
many different opinions in the learned world. 
Vou win find aa much upon the subject as you or 
Frederick could understand, in a book which 1 will 
give to you to read to-morrow," 

"I was surpriaed, grandmania," said Frederick "to 
hear you speai of passing near Newfoundland ; surely 
that was not the way home ; at least, it was not the 
way you went by Madeira." 

"There, Frederick, you are right; it waa not the 
way, as you cull it, that we went to the West Indies, 
but you must know that in sailing from one country 
to another, we can do more take tiie direct line 
across, than we can drive always in a direct line, from 
north to south, or from east to west ; we must drive 
in the direction the roads are made. We cannot 
go over mountains, through fields, or deep rivers ; 
so in sailing we must atteud to the currents, (that is. 
the direction in which the ocean runs) for it is next 
to impossible to sail against a current : then we muflt 
endeavour to get into that part of the ocean, where the 
prevaUing winds are hkely to be in our favour; now 
- the currents and winds necessary to carry us to the 
West Indies, are of course different to those that 
Jkvour us on our return to Europe, and it has been 
found, from esperience, that the course that is beet 
for a voyage from the West Indies, is one nearly 
north, until you make the fishing banks of Newfound- 
land, not the Island, near which West Indiamen 
neier approach ; soon after this, the currents and 
winds, generally epeaking, favour their making an 
east course towards Great Britain. 
e I have told you, ' 



232 TALES OF A GR 

until we got towards the more northerly latitodes ; 
bat there ia el dull aameneae after yo\i lose sight of 
land, that is very tiresome, and which was only m 
and then varied by a flying' fiah." 

" A flying fish ! Oh grandmama," said Frederick. 
■' I shoidd BO much like to see a fish fly." 

" It is indeed, my dear, a cnrious sight; but yon 
ought to know, that the flying fish does not ahravs 
fly, nor when it does, can it be compared to a ' ' 
who accms never more at ease, than when c 
wing. The reverse is the case with the flying fiah; 
I rather think they prefer skimming on the tops of 
the waves, which they certainly do prettily enongh, 
and now and then they rise above the water, fl^ng 
a little way above it ; but I never saw them fly »ny 
height, excepting when urged to do ao, by the neces- 
sity of preserving themselves from the dolphin, and 
other larger fish who prey upon them. Flying SA 
are not larger, seldom so large as a herring—rf 
a darkish blue coloiir. The wing, when exammed, 
ia merely the fin of the fish, huger than usual, of 
a thin, delicate texture." 

" Grandmama," said Maria, " I have read aH abott 
the dolphin in Falconer's shipwreck — ja his dessip- 
tion of the dying dolphin quite tme ?" 

" I think to a certam extent it is ; but we m^ 
fairly allow a poet to magnify a little a soWecl of 
this kind; a dolphin aUve is a beautiful fiah, t" 
body shines like emeralds and sihrer, while the i 
sparkle with golden rays. Its eye too is ni^nhatf 
beautiful, and its motions are peculiarly graceftil ana 
varied -, when dying, the colours occasionaHy «hflW 
a momentary increase of brightness, hot in Bf 
opinion a live dolphin, sporting in its native elemaL 
is a much more beautifn] object than a dying mt. 

I do not think one incident took place ^t COUU 
interest you, until we made the land, if I except Oft 
meeting, off the banks of Newfoundland, 
wreck. The wind vjbs blowing keenly { 



:S or A GS&XDMOTBBR. 233 

h west, and the sea running- pretty high, when 
my father first perceived something- like a speck on 
the ocean ; he aooo directed our attention to it ; it 
seemed to come steadily towards ns ; at last the cap- 
tain exclaimed, " it is a Teasel in diatress ;" he again 
looked, and said, he saw her diatinctlv with his 
telescope, dismasted, and there seemed something 
put up, 03 a signal of distress. 

All eyes' were strained looking ont, and conjecturing 
in what state the human beings on board of her might 
be. The vessel drifted nearer and nearer, the captain 
ordered out our best boat, and the carpenter, with 
three other sailors and the first mate, jumped in to 
render what assistance they could to the sufferera. 
There seemed to me something very solemn, when I 
saw those men in the boat on such a high sea. so that 
I could hardly believe it, when I was assured it wae 
quite safe for them to trust themselves, in such a 
a little bark, to encounter s-ucb waves. They how- 
ever did not seem to mind it at all, and pulled the 
oars -wit!) all their might to reach the wreck. It was 
now quite near us, and we saw them go on board ; 
every wave washed over her deck, her masts were 
l^ne, and a spar had been put instead of one, with a 
bit of An old blanket to serve, no doubt, as a signal of 
distre«a- 

Every moment we expected to sec some half dead 
human l>eing, hailing our men as the harbingers of 
life and safety, but in this we were mistaken ; not 
one soul was on board ; our men returned, tfaey had 
with some difficulty gone below to the cabin ; there 
tbey saw the casks of beef, and the seamen's chests 
of clothes floating about, but not a trace of a human 
being. On one of the bulk heads was written with 
a pencil, " the Mary of Boston," some more had 
probably been written, the date and tlie Captmn'a 
name, but it was loo faint to be read. No doubt. 
the vessel had been abandoned, and it was to be 
d that the crew bad been taved, either ^ 



^gped t] 



ropea lying tangled, no vestige of 
but, to lis, the moat curious c 
its being literally surrounded by myriads 
it ia impossible for you to conceive whi 
rible idea it conveyed to us of the vorac 
racter of that fiah, when we saw them 
lected in such numbers for prey, and it 
cumstance which the captain assured us, 
to attend a wreck. It threw a sort of gl 
us all day ; but our spirits were roused by 
and bustle of the sailors who, having put a 
a piece of salt pork out as a bait, to catcli 
hoped, a Bonita, and finding that a fish Ti 
dragged up the line in a fine moonlight 
about two o'clock, when every soul on b 
asleep, excepting the mate and the men win 
it was on deck. The animal was a abarii 
caught by the hook pretty securely in tiw 
the neck, but it did not 1^ liim, they soa 
bim by throwing some coib of ropes over 
he was kshing about his tail, and making 
douB noise, which I cannot compare to £ 
I ever heard before nr since. We all pat a 



TALES OF ▲ OBANDMOTHER. 235 

eigreeable, but the idea that it was a ravenous de- 
irer of our own species, made one shrink from it 
h. unconquerable repugnance. But it is now too 
s to commence our landing in England. If you are 
t tired," said grandmama, "I will resume my 
ry in the evening." 



CHAPTER XVI. 



It was now a dailv occupation to look out for 
land ; and as each day closed in, we retired sluvering 
from tlie deck, and the cold breezes of the month of 
Febniary, to the small stove in the cabin, where, by 
the help of hot coffee, and shutting out all the exter- 
nal air, we managed to acquire some warmth before 
going to bed, which the cold and the long dark dreuy 
nights forced us to in self-defence. Neither conld 
we rise early, for the mornings were dark, and to us, 
80 lately from a tropical climate, dreadfully cold, yet 
in spite of all this, when the steward shouted down 
the companion stairs, " Ladies, ladies, England in 
sight;" we dressed with amazing quickness, and 
braving the cold morning wind, hurried on deck, to 
bless OUT native country. It was the coast of Corn- 
wall. The tops of the Cornish lulls were clad in 

iw ; the rest looked brown, bare and desolate, but 
nevertheless our spirits rose— it was home, and we 
thought of the many cheerful fires, and the meny 
hearts around them, although all without looked 
bleak and cheerless. 

We coasted up the Bristul Channel, and there 
were the busy windmills, all at work on the Welsh 
coast, and every new pTOTnontorj -we passed on the 
Devonsliire aide, 9\iowe4 s. XovA-^ NKfiB^t « 
town, embosomed in -woods, ■Coal. oA-j \W5« 



enlivened by spring to look perfectly beautiful. But 
to our West-Indian eyea the general aspect of nature 
was not so invitii^, as if it had been summer; still 
the feeUng that it was England, fully compensated tor 
ail deficendes. We now bade adieu to the salt water, 
and sailing up tiie lovely river Avon, we really re- 
gretted that it was winter, fancying how beautiful 
its biinka would have been in spring or sununer. It 
was Impossible not to be deeply interested in the 
feelings of others, as we came up the river; boats 
one after another coining along side, while husbands 
and wives, sisters and brothers, fathers and children, 
met, and affectionately embraced each other, alike 
imj)atient to relate all that had happened to the 
other, during the absence of ao many months. While 
we paced the deck witli our parents, my father called 
our attention to the recollection of the thankfulness 
we ought to feel at the close of such a voyage, in 
health, and \i-ithout any gale of consequence occur- 
ring at a season of the year, when attn-ms so often 
prevail. He said, he could not expres what hL 
feelings were, when tlie anchor of our e wa, 
hove up in Kingstown Bay, and we put ou a 

at such an inclement time of the year h n h 
thought that in this ship, with a plank on be w en 
us and eternity, lay his family, and with h m n 
farthing of his worldly property. But, he sat y on 
fided in Him whose mercy is " from everlastmg unto 
everlasting upon them that fear him," " and to those 
that remember his commandments to do them." 

It is true, my dear children, that there is no 
such tiling as a perfect character ; but, I can never 
think of my father without admiration, when I re- 
flect on hia steady conscientious uprightness, and 
his courageous determination, to encounter the loss 
of all. rather than a good conscience before God and 
man. Some may think he carried this principle too 
far, and that bad he trusted \esa to Goi s Vifi»«ai%, 
Mnm hii straig-litforward honesty, aai 






238 TALES 01 

and the opinion of the world, he would have 
through it more succeBsfnlly, both for himself and 
his family. But, I can asi^ure you, that in the nud^C 
of all our trials and losses, we never regretted the 
path he had taken, and now in tlie possessioii of 
every rational comfort, and blessing this earth can af- 
ford, 1 seem to feel, that much that I enjoy is lie 
hereditary blessing- promised by God, " to tie third 
and fourth generatioa of those who love him, aod 
keep Ilia commandments." The captain kindly pro- 
cured for ns a cheap lodging in Bristol, for it m 
necessary that, from the ftrst, we should adapt tn 
expences to our limited means. Upon landing, the 
captain gave me a letter, which he said old Mr. 
Hartley had begged liim to keep, and not to deliver to 
the young ladies, until they were safe in En^aod. 
As soon as we got into our lodging, we seated our- 
selves round the bright fire, evening had closed id, 
and while my mother was pouring out our first Ei^- 
liah tea, we thouglit of our letter, and upon opening 
it, we found it a very kind one from our worthy old 
friend, enclosing what he called a little gift b> iif, 
two hundred pounds, adding jocularly, that he knew 
young ladies ^iked to purchase a new wardrobe 
when they arrived in England, and so he wished to 
have the pleasure of gratiijing ua in this way. It 
was a generous and munificent gift, and conveyed 
with much delicacy, for we knew nothing of it, Mtil 
he was beyond the reach of our personal thanks, 
When he bestowed it, he little dreamt how valuahlf 
that two hundred pounds would yet be to t 
The intention of my parents was to proceed to oi 
of the border counties of Scotland. Living there ff 
much cheaper than in England, and there was per- 
haps a touch of romance about my mother, whote 
father had been an Episcopalian clergyman on tb* 
Scottish border. There she had spent her you4ii 
among the love\y scenea V\fti 's'l^uJtt "iisft. « 
abounds, and to those scexvea tec -oiuA sea 



TALXE or A CaLka^DMOTKEB. 



dered bac^vilii a&et3an,totiielatest:lioar<iflfeerex- 
istenoe. My fidiier bad been bcni indeed an Eng- 
lirfiman, but baring been sent for bis fadnrarinpfar 
Mxne j-eaxs to Smrhnd, be £i^ imder Ibe juci of 
mf pafrmal gxand&lber, and bere nsy motiier's £rEt 
intzodnctkai to bzm took j^kxl After tbie be vas 
sent to Kdiiilmi^^ and at serenteen tcbis of age, 
his natmllj wmur heart became cEsgnsted bj bis 
fiitber's banb and rgmki^^ mamiecB. He adoed, 
and gained, pfrariwanfi to ocanmenoe a mibtaiy bfe, 
and bis regiment being sent to E dinbu i;^ be again 
met my moCber yisho iras on a xist tbere. Their 
childirfi fiJmdfJTTp soon dpenedinto an attarl i mpnt 
foanded upon tbe bst and most seeore rbanpey far 
true bafipiness — good prmnipleB and good temper, 
unaflfected pfactical pieij, and a smikxitj of tuete, 
tiiat seemed to point than ont, as£tted wdl to sap- 
poit and cbeer eacb other Ibron^ tbe doods, and 
i^ifhini* of tbi« cbangefol ^^fr Upon bis maxiiage 
Of fidber obtained a few iredcs' leare of absence, and 
be and m j motber passed tbat time on tbe lofvelj 
knks of tbe Tweed ; tbe lecoBertinn of tbose peace- 
fid bappy da^ made tbem botb wish to retire to 
ttose qoietpaslnnl scenes, wbicb bad made soTivid 
'Wt jbnpwgSKin vpoo. tbem in eailj yontb. Children 
lie sddom Teiy just disciiminatorB, and we had 
■ta^ aaBodated England with mj grand£Ktber's ooM 
WBmerB, and Scotland with Miss libby £]^hin- 
^tone's afiection and bo^atabty. nntil upon, aniring 
al m aturi ty, we preferred making Sootiand oar home, 
and oar wfac^ oonTersatian now, was enqdoyed 
m oonddering tbe best and dieapest mode of 
tOBvepoMX to tbe Sootti^ border. So tbat we 
Ut really disappcnnted, when my father, afiber 

^ nfing off his Inlls to be accepted by Messrs. 
4d&8t and Check in London, said, " he most 
't m Bristol to reoerre an answer." "W^ \«A. 
tBd two days for tbat^ with some iittpaSa**^. 

"WW oa tbe fourth, a long letter vrimA 



240 TALES Of 

a London attorney, stating, that Measre, Hold- 
last and Check had become bankruptSj about two 
weeks before we landed, but that my &ther need 
^ve himself very little anxiety on the subject, ; 
was confidently expected, that, in time, they w 
be able to pay their creditora every farthing ; an 
thing too was added, about my father's two thou^nnd 
pounds being so small a aum, that they hoped it 
would put bim to Qo great inconvenience. It web 
our all, excepting the interest of the thouBand 
pounds, the legacy of Miss Tibby Elphinstone, Pre- 
cious indeed now was old Mr. Hartley's gift. The 
gentleman, upon whom his bill was drawn, was a 
Bristol merchant, an honourable, worthy man, to 
whom Mr. Hartley liad long been in the habit of 
consigning hia sugar. Like Mr. Hartley, he was an 
old fashioned bachelor ; but his life of single blessed- 
ness had neither chilled his heart, nor made him sel- 
fish. When my father, the day after our arrival, 
CEdled upon him and presented the bUl, it was paid 
upon the spot, and the old gentleman after doing so. 
asked where we were lodging ; adding that Mr. Hart- 
ley had previously written to liim of the probabiii^ 
<rf our arrisal ; and that it would give bim mudi plea- 
sure if he could be of any service to us. My father 
dined with him the following day, and was exceed- 
ingly pleased by his unatfectedhoepitality. But walk- 
ing home through the dirty streets of Bristol, in acold 
winter evening, was not congenial to my ftither'a "West 
Indian constitution and he caught a cold, which w»f 
at first so slight as to give us no uneasiness. 

But on the receipt of this sad letter, he at once 
thought of Mr. Phillips. Mr. Hartley's friend, ami 
hoping that he would be able to advise him whll 
course to pursue, he set out, [melancholy enoagb, to 
Mr. Phillips' counting-house, in a anow stona, 
forgetful how dangetQa*. il was for him I 
neglect a cold, so soon altec tW^ctkoi; 
pica! climate. T\unVJiig ^-'a^ ■^»*- ^ 



mind, we thought it hetter he should go, but urged 
his taking a carriage ; this he would not hear of. 
saying, we knew not how soon even such a small 
sum as that might be looked for by ub in vain for our 
daily bread. Two long hours my father was ab- 
sent, for Mr, Phillips had been dining out, and did 
not return to the counting-house, until later thau 
usual. There sat my poor father, shivering, and 
shaking in damp clothes, untd Mr. Philhpa returned. 
He knew all about Messrs Holdfast and Check's bank- 
ruptcy, and lie seemed to have a very bad opinion of 
them ; he appeared to be much affected when my 
father stated to him that only fifty pounds a year re- 
mained for him, a wife, and two daughters, besides 
the two himdred pounds which we had now began to 
make use of. 

" Would you be willing to do anything," said Mr. 
Phillips to my father ; " could you be a clerk ? I iun 
looking out for one, whom I can trust, to whom I 
give a hundred a year, and that would always be 
something." 

"Something," said my father, "it would be every 
thing, and I thmk you would find me equal to such 
a situation ; as regards character, you must trust 
that your friend Mr. Hartley would not recommend 
any famUy to you, who were not respectable." 

" Aa to that," said Mr. PlulUps, " Mr. Hartley 
has said more in your, and your family's praise, than 
perhaps it would he proper in me to repeat. 1 only 
wish 1 had any situation to offer you better worth 
your acceptance." 

While walking homewards, my father said, 
amidst his thankfulness for such a prospect, aa would 
place us above want, he could not help feeling, that 
it would be a l)itt«r pang, particularly to my mother. 
to be shut up in a dirty, mercantile English 
town, instead of living, poorly perhaps aa "Aia 
world might think, nevertlielesa peaceMi-j , M\*i toa- 
^^tedJy, on the banks of the T<Kee&. ^e^^^^J 



I 



2-42 TALES OF A GKANDMOTBBE, 

deed bnilt a beautiful, and as we thought, a very pru- 
dent, moderate, cottage castle, in the air, but one 
fell awoop had cnrried all away, and we were yet to 
learn a little more of the realities of life, in a dose 
lodgiuf; and smoky town, where the necesBaries of 
hving were much more expensive' than on the bor- 
ders of Scotland. 

Meanwhile during my father's ahsence, the pos- 
sihility of his having the offer of any employment 
had not once occurred to us, so we kept specu- 
lating as to the possibihty of our means atiB 
taking us to Scotland, where we might find 
some smidl cottage, and contrive to live upon 
our fifty pounds a year. We could see no dif- 
culty in thb, and like very young ladies in the world 
as we were, we were only impatient for our father's 
retuni, to detail to him our hastily digested plan. 
Each was to have her own department ; we were 
healthy young and willing, and I really think, 
at that moment, we would not have agreed to 
exchange our prospects with any one. My mother's 
good sense and experience, however, saw much diffi- 
culty in such an arrangement, though she confeesedi 
that ahe knew no other resource left; for that here, 
¥he felt more among strangers than she wo\ild do in 
Scotland, and besides in Bristol, every thing was so 
dear, that upon fifty pounds a year it would be im- 
possible for four of ua to exist. 

Thus did we sit until my father's return, when he 
exclauned, upon entering the room, '■ Thank God. 
there is some hope left, Mr. Phillips has promised to 
make me his clerk ; I am to have a hundred 
a year, and he will write to a friend of his in London 
to do all the business for me, as regards the bank- 
ruptcy, gratis, though he fears there will be little 
gut from it." 

" And must we \ive m "Bra^^V ■««£ our first ei- 
cJamation. 

"Certainly," repiied my WCbet, "? ' 



■%he reverses we have experienced, we must be thank- 
ful todo so." 

This reply silenced, hut did not conrince us, 
though it satisfied my mother, who felt that this ar- 
rungement was iai more sensible than the one we 
had planned in my father's absence ; yet for all that, 
a tear stood in her eye, when she heard that her home 
was to be so far distant from the scenes of her youth, 
but Bhe brushed it away hastily, half afraid that we 
should see her feelings. 

Next morning my father awoke very ill ; he had 
been seized with a fit of shivering, that evening, after 
returning fi-om Mr. Phillips' house, but he attributed 
it to having sat some time in damp clothes, and 
havmg taken some simple remedy, he had no idea 
of becoming seriously indisposed. 

Notwithstanding his illness, my father insisted 
upon getting out of bed, with all the spirit aaid feel- 
ing of an old miUlauy man ; he could not bear to 
think that change of climate, or damp clothing, 
could seriously affect him [ but after evidently suffer- 
ing much during the day, in the evening he was 
attacked by severe and excruciating pain, and his 
fever became so high that my mother in a state of 
indescribable alarm, sent for a physician to see him. 

Fortunately, we fixed upon a medical man who was 
skilful in his profession, and who added to that, such 
btand, and gentle manners, that my father could not 
receive him otherwise, than with good-will, which he 
was little disposed to do, previous to his arrival ; for 
he maintained there was nothing the matter with 
Iiim, excepting a common cold, and that there was 
no necessity for incurring the expence of a medical 
attendant. 

The Doctor, however, assured him that he was 
mistaken, and seeing him averse to use the remedies 
prescribed, he told him. that he was veCY somj to 
inform him bow necessary tVey "jjere, fot \ve, ^aM». 

"*" : him. aiid tell Viiin, tVat \ift \«i^ ' 



gadecci' 



I 



244 TALES 01 ^^^ 

rbeumatic fever ; a diaeaBe, which under the bra^^^ 
nagement, was always tedious, and in which neglect 
was really dangerous. 

From that moment, my father submitted cheeifuDy 
to every, and the most panful remedies. My poor 
mother — you may fancy what she sufFered in mind 
and body. Our lodging was comfortable, and hy nu 
means expensive, according to its comforts, but il 
was far too dear for our limited means ; yet in tlie 
state my father was in, it was impossible to move, 
hut at the risk of his life. 

Never shall I forget the calm, patient reeignation, 
my mother showed at this time ; deprived of all 
earthly support, it was a bright example to ns, how fu 
superior is the hope of the true christian, who places 
his trust in his heavenly Father, to he who relies on 
the best earthly friend, in preference to Him, who ia 
the friend of the friendless, and supports those who 
love and serve him ; this brings a peace of conscienw. 
which indeed passeth all understanding. 

Pout long weeks of intense suffering, in an araft 
rheumatic fever, ended by leaving my father Blmost 
helpless ; the rheumadsm had settled in hia ri^t 
hand, wrist and fingers, and all hope of his earning ft 
subsistence by writing, seemed to be cut off. Tk 
three or four first days of his fever, none of us could 
think of anything but the distress he was in ; and idj 
father himself was the first to remind us of the neces- 
sity of informing Mr. Phillips of hia unfortunate ill- 
ness, which incapacitated him from accepting the situa- 
tion , which he had proposed to give him. My mofliH. 
therefore, desired me to write a note to this effect 
to Mr. PhiUips, thanking him for his kind intentiow 
to us, and regretting that for the present, my fate' 
was utterly unahle for any employment ; but htqimg, 
tiiat in the event of his recovery, Mr. Phillips mi^ 
he able to recommeTid \vuq to wsmt cme ; 
father desired me Xa say, Q iah \ift-^jTO^\ft 
to accept of anytVung. 




TALES OF A GHANDMOrHER. '245 

I 

This note had not been dispatched above two ( 

hours, before Mr. Phillips himself, made his appear. I 

Mice at our lodgings ; he most kindly expressed his 
regret at my father's severe illness ; and having in- 
(|uired the name of his medical attendant, he said he I 

could not be in better hands ; that he wns well ac- 
quainted with Dr. Charlton : for he had attended 
him faithfully for many years, and once in a long 
and dangerous illness. He talked frankly with my 
mother of all our losses, and told her, she must try , 

and keep up my lather's spirit ; and that as regarded 
the clerkship, he had got a young man by the week, 
to supply his place until my father would be able to I 

<»mmence his work. The visit was followed up I 

shortly, by a basket, containing all those httle ex- 
pensive luxuries, so necessary to t!ie comfort of a 
sick person. This was far more than we had any 
right to espect from one who, the week before, had | 

been an utter stranger to us. 

The fear of getting into debt and difhculty 
pressed upon all our minds, more or less, although 
during the heighth of my fa-ther's fever, fears for his 
life swallowed up every other consideration ; but as 
the disease graduaUy gave way, our aituation came | 

more vividly before us ; and though my father said 
little, it was too evident that his recovery could but 
\ie very partial, while he was so oppressed by care and | 

anxiety. He urged my mother, as a first step, to look 
about for a much cheaper furnished lodging, no matter, 
he said, where, or how it was, so that we paid our 
landlady where we were, and got away from a place, 
the rent of which was bo far above our means. 

Dr. Charlton strongly objected to the poor 
invalid's removal, but my father assured us, that 
no exertion could hurt him so much as the misery 
he felt at throwing away so much monej-, when we 
knew that after our two hundred poMaia ^raa^fc , . 

^Hartley were expended, we hadnot\aiis^ %xv\^\». 
^^^jiting our fifty pounds a year. I 



246 TALEE or A OR 

It wa£ H. lovely mild aftcmooa, in tbc be^ 
April, that my mother left Marion, to watch "b^de 
my father, while she and I aet out in quest of a 
cheap, and humble lodging, suitable to our means. 

My mother loved every thing that even approached 
to the likeness of the country, so we directed our 
steps to the Buburbs, looking at every shop window 
for lodgings, or rooma to let. There were no want 
of hills of all descriptions, yet upon uiquiry, none 
seemed likely to suit our wishes, and having gone 
filly as far out of Bristol as it was prudent to do 
considering how long a walk we had to take, btiforf 
we reached home, we turned back, silent and disap- 
pointed at the idea of coming home after so finutlm 
a search. The sky had looked so beautiAil and 
bright, and the budding of the hedges bad seemed 
so delightful to our eyes, when we first came out, 
after so long a. confinement, that in spite of all our 
misfortunes, we hud enjoyed that pure pleasure, 
which every one who loves nature, and the country 
must feel, when he has been shut up in a emoliy 
town; but this excitement had passed away, whennc 
retraced our steps, without being able to fulfil our 



We were within ten minutes' walk of Bristol, when 
my mother happened to observe a very nice, but enull 
baker's shop, and in the window there were roHs of 
a particular kind, which she recollected my father 
used to be very fond of when he v/aa in Scotland. 
We went into the shop to purchase two for my 
father, and my mother feeling pleased by the good- 
humoured countenance, and agreeable manners of 
the woman who served us, asked her if she knew of 
any lodgings in the neighbourhood to let. She at 
once mentioned several, all of which we had already 
looked at, and found too expensive. My mother 
told her that what s\ie wia\\¥i ■w\ia a vcty humble 
lodging, and that two rooma -woxii. *\fi&E»,jt%fr 
could have the occaaional ust oi B.YftRfej«i. ^^^ 



The woman looked as if she could have said, " You 
seem very respectable, and altogether, your appear- 
ance doea not accord with the cheap lodging you are 
in search of." She stopped one moment, as if to 
recollect hereelf ; and asking us to he seated in the 
shop, she said she would inquire of her huahand, who 
was in the bakehouse. As we sat at the door, a 
number of childrEn came past, they had been out in 
the country, gathering ilowers ; two of them came 
in to buy a biscuit, with their aprons and hands full 
of primroses ; we could not help admiring them, and 
poverty stricken as we were, my mother turned to 
one of the little girls, and asked her if she would 
sell her a bunch of primroses. The child was loo 
happy to part with them for a penny, and at the 
moment, I can hardly tell you how delighted my 
mother and I were, to possess ourselves of the wild 
flowers, and take tliem home to my father, as an 
earnest, that the cold bleak winter was gone ; and that 
every day would now bring warmer weatlier, all of 
which would tend to restore him to liealtli. 

In the mean time, the shopwoman returned with 
her husband who bowed to us, saying he understood 
we were looking out for a small quiet lodging; that 
he had one to let. but timt he feared we would not 
think it good enough. All he could say for it was, 
that it was quite dean, for he would answer for it, 
tliat a cleaner woman, or a tidier, was not in 
England than his wife, though he said it for her, as 
she was not much given to prmse herself. "So. 
Ma'am." said he, " if you and the young lady will step 
up stairs, and look at it, my wife will show it to 

The staircase was dark and i^rrow, but it made 
the contrast the more pleasant, when she opened the 
door into a very small bed-chamber, but which was 
so light, 60 clean and tidy, though vev^ ^loivA-j tas- 
aiabed, tImt my mother and 1 coiii tsft. \t;^-^ *;i^ M 
^^Bjgiag eilcnt looks of arpro\ia.UQTi, TTaet* "^^^B 



I 

p 



nnother small room equally light and clenn, but empty ; 
this would have anBwered our purpose had it been 
furnished. My mother asked her if she would do 
tills for us. 

She said, she would do bo most willingly, upon 
one condition, that we ■would take the lodging for a 
quarter, certain. 

My mother said, this she could not promise to 
do, without seeing her hushand, but thai she liked 
the lodging very much, and would make a point of 
returning early to-morrow, and giving a decided an- 
swer. The demand for the rooms was exceedingly 
moderate, three pounds a. quarter, and we were now 
paying one pound a week — a ruinous sum for us. 
Ah we were going down stairs, the sliopwoman said 
timidly. 

" Ma'am, do you understand, that I give you 
no service : yon cook, and do every thing for your- 
selves." 

My mother said, she perfectly understood that. 

'Vhe woman cleared her throat, and said, she 
hoped we would excuse her, but she thought, per- 
haps we were not used to do for ourselves ; and 
might ejcpect service that she could not give. She 
added, that she kept a servant, who was very fuDy 
occupied, as her husband's apprentices, all slept and 
ate in the house and this made a great deal of work. 

My mother answered she did not doubt it did, Rnd 
that probably she found enough to do, both f« 
herself, and her servant. 

She replied she was not so busy with the house- 
work, or cooking, as with making cakes, and fancy 
biscuits, which they sold a great deal of, to many of 
the best families, both in Bristol and Clifton, for 
somehow, she had got a name for making those kind 
of things, and now they were getting on well in the 
world byit; thougti ahenevct fticm,^\.,-«'Q.ca.5liewa8 
trying to do those Vuvd oi fttva'^ miMfc Sijaai. \(s, 
j-ears ago, in Scofbnd, t\isA '■«. ^o^-^ " 

1*0 useful to her." 



249 

" In Scotland," said my mother startled, " what 
part of Scotland." 

■' Edinburgh, Ma'am," was the answer. " I went 
with atoTlnglUh family, who stopped there for more 
than two years, and they had a very clever head 
nurse, who had had a very kind mistress, before she 
came to my master's family, and the lady had taught 
her a great deal. Our housekeeper fell sick, and 
we were greatly at a loss, to get one at once in her 
place, and the cook was fiightened to go on, with- 
out the housekeeper to direct her, and though our 
mistress could tell when things were wrong she had 
no more notion than a baby what was the real fault, 
and could cot give one direction how to put things 
to lights. Our head nurse, Kitty Bell, was quite 
sorry for the poor cook." 

" Kitty Bell," said my mother, " I had a nurse- 
maid of that name, the best creature possible. I won- 
der if it could be the same ; she left me to be nurse 
in an English family, then in Edinburgh ; their name 
was Moreland." 

"The same. Ma'am. The very same I'm sure," 
said the honest shopwoman. " Kitty Bell, how 
much I owe her ! And are you the kind mistress she 
had, she so often told us about, and the dear young 
ladies, and the young gentleman, that I've heard 
her talk so much of, and you went to the Indies, 
Ma'am, did'nt you?" said the woman, evidently 
wishing this one more answer in the affirmative, 
should prove to her that the former mietreas of Kitty 
Bell stood before her. " And I'm Kitty Bell's niece, 
H.t least by marriage, Ma'am, for I married her sister's 
son : and I'm sure we love her, and ought to love 
her, as the Ijeet of aunts." 

"Is she well?" said my mother, overpowered by 
her feehngs, for at that moment, the vision of for- 
mer days parsed before her-, and einldng upon a 
chair, die breathed a heavy s\^, «it&'^\ft&. « 
■|to« bitter tears. They were not te»» lA wjnr 
^picMs ofianlE, fortuoe, or {neoAft — «o. '*- "1 



250 



natural emotion of a mother, when she ■ 

eipectedly reminded of the loss of her only, and her 

darling son. 

The shopwoman saw my mother was disbessed, 
and said, "I dare say, Ma'am, you've seen the 
■upa and downa of life abroad, eo many years as you 
have been away." 

"I have," said my mother, "although, I was 
not thinking of that ; but you mentioned my son, he 
used, to be Kitty Bell's pride, he was killed in Spain. 
at the battle of Corunna, and though we have had 
many trials to bear, this is the one we have felt the 

The kind-hearted woman apologized for having 
spoken of poor Henry, but as she said, she had no 
notion ; nor indeed had she any reason to apologize, 
for her whole conduct that evening had been marked 
by a dehcacy and propriety above her station in 
life. 

The evening was closing in, and we fell it neces- 
sary to set out immediately, while Mrs. Woodville 
the shopwoman, could only have time to assure ua, 
of the dehght it would give her husband, and herself 
if we estabhshed ourselves in their lodgings, and 
that she would do all in her power to make us as 
comfortable as possible. As we got in to Bristol, 
the lamps were all lighted, and we fencied every 
thing looked much more cheerful, than it had done 
two hours and a haK ago, when we left it. On reach- 
ing our lodging, we were heartily welcomed by aj 
father and Marion, both of whom had become un- 
easy at our being so late. Marion had made a nice 
cheerful fire, and tea ready waiting, and the anxious 
question of, " Any lodging likely to suit us?" WBS 
answered both by my mother, and myself, at once » 
satisfactorily, that my father smiled as I had not 
seen him do Bince Via "CtoEsa. ^e ^lad not only 
cultivated in ua, ftie Vivft oi aii- «\bi^, «s&. '-BHia- 
cent pleasures. unpreSeTenca to -SBsase, tiNa^wft W 
tificial, but he had bV-wbtj* cte^rtv m». ** c»a 



liimself. of a refined and eleg;aiit, yet perfectly s 
pie taste ; and when my mother, a:id I produced our 
hunches of wild primroses, he and Marion were de- 
lighted beyond description, to think we might per- 
liaps lodge where we could breathe pure country air, 
and see the face of lovely nature once more, instead 
of dark walls, and cbironey tops. 

Ab Marion poured out the tea, my mother detailed 
all that we had met with, during our evening's walk, 
and most gratefully did we thank God, who had so 
kindly led us to where we might Lope to be treated 
not ^together as strangers. Before we retired that 
night to rest, it was arranged that my mother and 
Marion should go to Mrs. Woodville's next morning, 
while I was to remain with my father. 

" But 1 think," said gnmdmama, " that it is time 
for both my grandchildren to go to bed ; so I will 
stop my tale for this evening. 1 suppose neither of 
you have any questions to ask, as my story to-night 
has been a very plain one," 

"Only one thing, grandmama, I do wonder at," 
said Marin, " liow your spirits could keep up at all 
under such adversity and trial ; and yet you talk of 
enjoying yourselves, and being even cheerftJ, and 
happy in the midst of such suffering." 

" True, my dear, your remark is a very just one ; 
imd had wc always brooded over our losses and diffi- 
culties, wc might easily have fretted ourselves to 
death. 1'liat we did not do so, we have to thank 
nur most excellent parents. Their example could not 
fail to affect ua, and it was ever their plan, to reflect 
far more on the mercies God had left to them, than 
on the trials they were pEissing jthrough. I have 
uftcD since thought, that were all parents as careful 
of the example they show to tlieir children as ours 
were, children also would much better keep the fifth 
commandment, for to honour our pareitta *a& qim 
preatesi phimure both in life and deaX\v, wai\. ^q^ 
voir tttny both long live to du the same." 
" But g-iandmaiua," said FredeiVcV, '* W-w 



I 



252 T1.LE3 OF A GHANnMOTEBK.:^^^^^^^^! 

we do the same imtesa we were placed in the same 
circumetBQcea iii which you were, and that is not 
very likely ?" 

" That is not very probable, indeed," replied his 
grandmama ; " hut you may work upon the same 
principles, although God has kindly made your jiath 
in life a smoother one than ours waa ; ever keep 
in memory, my dear, that all events are ordered by 
divine wisdom, and Chat even the most painful trials 
are always sent in kindness to pacify our naturally 
evil selfish hearts, and so to make us at last fit tb 
be heirs of Christ and inheritors of the kingdom of 
heaven.' 

■' Those who bear these principles constantly in 
their memory, and who sincerely ask God's grace to 
assist them in practising similar conduct, never fail 
to possess a spirit of contentment, if not even cheerful- 
ness in adversity, which the luxurious and the idle 
might well envy. 

" We had many more trials and difficulties to con- 
tend with, which required greater energy and industry 
than you have as yet heard of; but we must stop my 
tales for the present, and you must remain satisfied 
with the assurance I give you, that in time you shall 
hear all our adventures. Good night, my dear gnmil- 
ciijldren, and daily bear in mind tliat the most impor- 
tant practical precepts of youth, are honour, obedience, 
and respect to God and your parents, eelf-denial, pa- 
tience ajid industry. Do not think of grandraama's 
tales as a mere amusing story to pass a leisure hour, 
' but rather as an example in many respects, I hope 
worthy of your imitation." 



\ 



21 



***fcir:^-*