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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:^-*