Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago | Page 6

large double box stoves, very thick and heavy, made at Three Rivers;
and by their side was always seen a large wood-box, well filled with
sound maple or beech wood. But few pictures adorned the walls, and
these were usually rude prints far inferior to those we get every day

now from the illustrated papers. Books, so plentiful and cheap
now-a-days, were then very scarce, and where a few could be found,
they were mostly heavy doctrinal tomes piled away on some shelf
where they were allowed to remain.
The home we now inhabited was altogether a different one from that
we had left in the back concession, but it was like many another to be
found along the bay shore. Besides my own family, there were two
younger brothers of my father, and two grown-up nieces, so that when
we all mustered round the table, there was a goodly number of hearty
people always ready to do justice to the abundant provision made. This
reminds me of an incident or two illustrative of the lavish manner with
which a well-to-do farmer's table was supplied in those days. A
Montreal merchant and his wife were spending an evening at a very
highly-esteemed farmer's house. At the proper time supper was
announced, and the visitors, with the family, were gathered round the
table, which groaned, metaphorically speaking, under the load it bore.
There were turkey, beef and ham, bread and the favourite short cake,
sweet cakes in endless variety, pies, preserves, sauces, tea, coffee, cider,
and what not. The visitors were amazed, as they might well be, at the
lavish display of cooking, and they were pressed, with well-meant
kindness, to partake heartily of everything. They yielded
good-naturedly to the entreaties to try this and that as long as they
could, and paused only when it was impossible to take any more. When
they were leaving, the merchant asked his friend when they were
coming to Montreal, and insisted that they should come soon,
promising if they would only let him know a little before when they
were coming he would buy up everything there was to be had in the
market for supper. On another occasion an English gentleman was
spending an evening at a neighbour's, and, as usual, the supper table
was crowded with everything the kind-hearted hostess could think of.
The guest was plied with dish after dish, and, thinking it would be
disrespectful if he did not take something from each, he continued to
eat, and take from the dishes as they were passed, until he found his
plate, and all the available space around him, heaped up with cakes and
pie. To dispose of all he had carefully deposited on his plate and around
it seemed utterly impossible, and yet he thought he would be
considered rude if he did not finish what he had taken, and he struggled

on, with the perspiration visible on his face, until in despair he asked to
be excused, as he could not eat any more if it were to save his life.
It was the custom in those days for the hired help (the term servant was
not used) to sit at the table, with the family. On one occasion, a
Montreal merchant prince was on a visit at a wealthy Quaker's, who
owned a large farm, and employed a number of men in the summer. It
was customary in this house for the family to seat themselves first at
the head of the table, after which the hired hands all came in, and took
the lower end. This was the only distinction. They were served just as
the rest of the family. On this occasion the guest came out with the
family, and they were seated. Then the hired men and girls came in and
did the same, whereupon the merchant left the table and the room. The
old lady, thinking there was something the matter with the man, soon
after followed him into the sitting-room, and asked him if he was ill.
He said "No." "Then why did thee leave the table?" thee old lady
enquired. "Because," said he, "I am not accustomed to eat with
servants." "Very well," replied the old lady, "if thee cannot eat with us,
thee will have to go without thy dinner." His honour concluded to
pocket his dignity, and submit to the rules of the house.
I was sent to school early--more, I fancy, to get me out of the way for a
good part of the day, than from any expectation that I would learn
much. It took a long time to hammer the alphabet into my head. But if I
was dull at school, I was noisy and mischievous enough at home, and
very fond of tormenting my sisters. Hence, my