When your husband has had as many
troubles as I have had, he will know how to value the whiskey
bottle."
This conversation was interrupted by a queer-looking urchin of five
years old, dressed in a long-tailed coat and trousers, popping his
black shock head in at the door, and calling out,
"Uncle Joe! - You're wanted to hum."
"Is that your nephew?"
"No! I guess 'tis my woman's eldest son," said Uncle Joe, rising,
"but they call me Uncle Joe. 'Tis a spry chap that - as cunning as
a fox. I tell you what it is - he will make a smart man. Go home,
Ammon, and tell your ma that I am coming."
"I won't," said the boy; "you may go hum and tell her yourself.
She has wanted wood cut this hour, and you'll catch it!"
Away ran the dutiful son, but not before he had applied his
forefinger significantly to the side of his nose, and, with a
knowing wink, pointed in the direction of home.
Uncle Joe obeyed the signal, drily remarking that he could not leave
the barn door without the old hen clucking him back.
At this period we were still living in Old Satan's log house, and
anxiously looking out for the first snow to put us in possession of
the good substantial log dwelling occupied by Uncle Joe and his
family, which consisted of a brown brood of seven girls, and the
highly-prized boy who rejoiced in the extraordinary name of Ammon.
Strange names are to be found in this free country. What think you,
gentle reader, of Solomon Sly, Reynard Fox, and Hiram Dolittle and
Prudence Fidget; all veritable names, and belonging to substantial
yeomen? After Ammon and Ichabod, I should not be at all surprised
to meet with Judas Iscariot, Pilate, and Herod. And then the female
appellations! But the subject is a delicate one and I will forbear
to touch upon it. I have enjoyed many a hearty laugh over the
strange affectations which people designate here very handsome
names. I prefer the old homely Jewish names, such as that which it
pleased my godfather and godmothers to bestow upon me, to one of
those high-sounding christianities, the Minervas, Cinderellas, and
Almerias of Canada. The love of singular names is here carried to a
marvellous extent. It is only yesterday that, in passing through one
busy village, I stopped in astonishment before a tombstone headed
thus: "Sacred to the memory of Silence Sharman, the beloved wife of
Asa Sharman." Was the woman deaf and dumb, or did her friends hope
by bestowing upon her such an impossible name to still the voice of
Nature, and check, by an admonitory appellative, the active spirit
that lives in the tongue of woman? Truly, Asa Sharman, if thy wife
was silent by name as well as by nature, thou wert a fortunate man!
