On Going Up To One Of The Cabins To Inquire For Hannah J - -,
We Fortunately Happened To Light Upon The Very Person We Sought.
With Many Exclamations Of Surprise, She Ushered Us Into Her Neat And
Comfortable Log Dwelling.
A blazing fire, composed of two huge logs, was roaring up the wide
chimney, and the savoury smell that issued from a large pot of
pea-soup was very agreeable to our cold and hungry stomachs.
But,
alas, the refreshment went no further! Hannah most politely begged
us to take seats by the fire, and warm and rest ourselves; she even
knelt down and assisted in rubbing our half-frozen hands; but she
never once made mention of the hot soup, or of the tea, which was
drawing in a tin teapot upon the hearth-stone, or of a glass of
whiskey, which would have been thankfully accepted by our male
pilgrims.
Hannah was not an Irishwoman, no, nor a Scotch lassie, or her very
first request would have been for us to take "a pickle of soup," or
"a sup of thae warm broths." The soup was no doubt cooking for
Hannah's husband and two neighbours, who were chopping for him in
the bush; and whose want of punctuality she feelingly lamented.
As we left her cottage, and jogged on, Emilia whispered, laughing,
"I hope you are satisfied with your good dinner? Was not the
pea-soup excellent? - and that cup of nice hot tea! - I never relished
anything more in my life.
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