Mrs. R. Says She Has, In Winter,
Seen A Girl Divest Herself Of No Less Than Ten Head-Kerchiefs; Taking
Them Off, One By One, And Carefully Folding Them In The Most Natural
Manner, As If There Could Be Nothing Uncommon Or Amusing In The
Proceeding.
The old women, in winter, wear enormous cloaks, made with a large square
yoke, into which eight or ten breadths of material are closely plaited,
- this unwieldy garment completely enveloping them from head to foot.
These distinctive features in costume are disappearing, and ere long our
American peasantry may become commonplace and uninteresting. Let us hope
that they may never lose the sweet simplicity, frankness, honesty,
thrift, and other pleasing characteristics which they now possess.
In the houses is seen a peculiar rocking-settle, similar to those in use
among the Pennsylvania Dutch. This odd piece of furniture has one end
railed in front to serve for cradle; so papa, mamma, and baby can rock
and "take comfort" together.
Towards evening we visit the convent, where the sisters - who probably do
not receive frequent calls from visitors - seem glad of the opportunity
for a pleasant chat and a bit of news from the outside world. They show
us through their exquisitely neat establishment, where, in the culinary
department, a crone who is deaf and rather childish approaches us
with such strong evidence of delight, that we expect at least to be
embraced; but a sign from the Superior relieves us from the impending
demonstration.
At sunset, as we stroll along the road, three pretty little girls
who are driving home a flock of geese tempt us to air our French a
little, and a lively conversation ensues, causing their black eyes
to sparkle and their white teeth to flash bewitchingly. One of the
children explains why one of the awkward birds wears a clumsy triangular
collar of wood, with a stake apparently driven through its throat,
"to prevent it from going through the fences;" and when one of the
strangers, imitating the waddling gait of the creatures, improvises, -
Bon soir, Madame Oie, Veux tu le blé? Il est à toi!
such a shout of merry laughter is heard as one might willingly go a long
way to listen to. When one gives her name, "Thérese le Blanc", our
query, "Votre père, est il la Notaire?" strange to say, puzzles her;
but she probably is not familiar with a certain famous poem, although
our hostess and her daughters have perused it.
As time passes, and she feels better acquainted and at ease with us,
Madame M.'s younger daughter amuses us by showing some mischievous
tendency; and we conclude she is something of "a tease". In the most
artless manner, and without intentional familiarity, she slides her arm
through Octavia's in a confidential manner and imparts some important
information "dans l'oreille". What is it? Well, remember it is
whispered; and now don't go and tell! It is that there is a swain
who is Evangeline's special devoted; and the quick blush which rises
most becomingly on that damsel's cheek speaks for itself.
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