from A New Home–Who’ll Follow? or, Glimpses of Western Life (1839) — Chapter XVII

from A New Home–Who’ll Follow? or, Glimpses of Western Life (1839)

by Caroline Kirkland (AKA Mary Clavers)


the house’s form within was rode and strong; Like an huge save hewn out of rocky clift; From whose rough vault the ragged breaches being;—

And over them Arackne high did lift Her coming web, and spread her subtle net, Enwrapped is fool smoke, sad clouds mere black than jet. Farry Guren.

It were good that men, in their Innovations, would follow the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth generally, but quietly, and by depress scare to be perceived. Bacon.


It was on one of our superlatively doleful ague days, when a cold drizzling rain had sent mildew into our unfortunate bones; and I lay in bed burning with fever, while my stronger half sat by the fire, taking his chill with his great-cost, hat, and boots on, that Mr. Rivers came to introduce his young daughter-in-law. I shall never forget the utterly disconsolate sir, which, in spite of the fair lady’s politeness, would make itself visible in the pauses of our conversation. She did try not to cast a curious glance round the room. She fixed her eyes on the fire-place-but there were the clay-filled sticks, instead of a chimney-piece— the half consumed wooden orans, which had, more than once, let our dinner fall—the Rocky-Mountain hearth, and the reflector baking biscuits for tea—so she thought it hardly polite to appear to dwell too long there. She turned towards the window; there were the shelves, with our remaining crockery, a grotesque assortment! and, just beneath, the unnameable iron and tin affairs, that are reckoned among the indispensables, even of the half-civilized state. She tried the other side, but there was the ladder, the flour-barrel, and a host of other things—rather odd parlor furniture—and she cast her eyes on the floor, with its gaping cracks, wide enough to admit a massasauga from below, and its inequalities, which might trip any but a sylph. The poor thing looked absolutely confounded, and I exerted all the energy my fever had left me, to try to say something a little encouraging.

‘Come to-morrow morning, Mrs. Rivers,’ said I, ‘and you shall see the aspect of things quite changed; and I shall be able to tell you a great deal in favor of this wild life.’

She smiled faintly, and tried not to look miserable, but I saw plainly, that she was sadly depressed, and I could not feel surprised that she should be so. Mr. Rivers spoke very kindly to her, and filled up all the pauses in our forced talk with such cheering observations as he could muster.

He had found lodgings, he said, in a farm-house, not far from us, and his son’s house would, ere long, be completed, when we should be quite near neighbors.

I saw tears swelling in the poor girl’s eyes, as she took leave, and I longed to be well for her sake. In this newly-formed world, the earlier settler has a feeling of hostess-ship toward the new comer. I speak only of women—man look upon each one, newly arrived, merely as an additional business-automation—a somebody more with whom to try the race of enterprise, i, e., money-making.

The next day Mrs. Rivers came again, and this time her husband was with her. Then I saw at a glance why it was that life in the wilderness looked so peculiarly gloomy to her. Her husband’s face showed but too plainly the marks of early excess; and there was at intervals, in spite of an evident effort to play the agreeable, an appearance of absence, of indifference, which spoke volumes of domestic history. He made innumerable inquiries, touching the hunting and fishing facilities of the country around us, expressed himself enthusiastically fond of those sports, and said the country was a living death without them, regretting much that Mr. Clavers was not of the same mind.

Meanwhile I had begun to take quite an interest in his little wife. I found that she was as fond of novels and poetry, as her husband was of field-sports. Some of her flights of sentiment went quite beyond my sobered-down views. Buy I saw we should get on admirably, and so we have done ever since. I did not mistake that pleasant smile, and that soft sweet voice. They are even now as attractive as ever. And I had a neighbor.

Before the winter had quite set in, our little nest was finished, or as nearly finished as any thing in Michigan; and Mr. and Mrs. Rivers took possession of their new dwelling, on the very same day that we smiled our adieux to the loggery.

Our new house was merely the beginning of a house, intended for the reception of a front[1]building, Yankee fashion, whenever the owner should be able to enlarge his borders. But the contrast with our sometime dwelling, made even this humble cot seem absolutely sumptuous. The children could do nothing but admire the conveniences it afforded. Robinson Crusoe exulted not more warmly in his successive acquisitions than did Alice in ‘a kitchen, a real kitchen! and a pantry to put the dishes!” while Arthur found much to praise in the wee bedroom which was allotted as him sanctum in the ‘hie, hæe, hoc’ hours. Mrs. Rivers, who was fresh from the ‘settlements,’ often curled her pretty lip at the deficiencies in her little mansion, but we had learned to prize any thing which was even a shade above the wigwam, and dreamed not of two parlors or a piazza.

Other families removed to Montacute in the course of the winter. Our visiting list was considerably enlarged, and I used all my influence with Mrs. Rivers to persuade her that her true happiness lay in making friends of her neighbors. She was very shy, easily shocked by those sins against Chesterfield which one encounters here at every turn, did not conceal her fatigue when a neighbor happened in after breakfast to make a three hours’ call, forgot to ask those who cause at one o’clock to take off their things and stay to tea, even though the knitting needles might peep out beneath the shawl. For these and similar omissions I lectured her continually, but with little effect. It was with the greatest difficulty I could persuade her to enter any house but ours, although I took especial care to be impartial in my own visiting habits, determined at all sacrifice to live down the impression that I felt above my neighbors. In fact, however we may justify certain exclusive habits in populous places, they are strikingly and confessedly ridiculous in the wilderness. What can be more absurd than a feeling of proud distinction, where a stray spark of fire, a sudden illness, or a day’s contre-temps, may throw you entirely upon the kindness of your humblest neighbor? If I treat Mrs. Timzon with neglect to-day, can I with any face borrow her broom to-morrow? And what would become of me, if in revenge for my declining her invitation to tea this afternoon, she should decline coming to do my washing on Monday?

It was as a practical corollary to these my lectures, that I persuaded Mrs. Rivers to accept an invitation that we received for the wedding of a young girl, the sister of our cooper, Mr. Whitefield. I attired myself in white, considered here as the extreme of festal elegance, to do honor to the occasion; and called for Mrs. Rivers in the ox-cart at two o’clock.

I found her in her ordinary neat home-dress; and it required some argument on my part to induce her to exchange it for a gay chally with appropriate ornaments.

‘It really seemed ridiculous,’ she said, ‘to dress for such a place! and besides, my dear Mrs. Clavers, I am afraid we shall be suspected of a desire to outshine.’

I assured her we were in more danger of that other and far more dangerous suspicion of undervaluing our rustic neighbors.

‘I s’pose they did n’t think it worth while to put on their best gowns for country-folks!”

I assumed the part of Mentor on this and many similar occasions; considering myself by this time quite an old resident, and of right entitled to speak for the natives.

Mrs. Rivers was a little disposed to laugh at the ox-cart; but I soon convinced her that, with its cushion of straw overspread with a buffalo robe, it was far preferable to a more ambitious carriage.

‘No letting down of steps, no ruining one’s dress against a muddy wheel! no gay horses tipping one into the gutter!’

She was obliged to acknowledge the superiority of our vehicle, and we congratulated ourselves upon reclining à la Lalla Rookh and Lady Mary Wortley Montague. Certainly a cart in next to a palanquin.

The pretty bride was in white cambric, worn over pink glazed muslin. The prodigiously stiff under-dress with its large cords, (not more than three or four years behind the fashion,) gave additional slenderness to her taper waist, bound straitly with a sky-blue zone. The fair hair was decorated, not covered, with a cap, the universal adjunct of full dress in the country, placed far behind the ears, and displayed the largest puffs, act off by sundry gilt combs. The unfailing high-heeled prunelle shoe gave the finishing-touch, and the whole was scented, à Postrance, with essence of lemon.

After the ceremony, which occupied perhaps one minute, fully twice as long as is required by our State laws, tea was served, absolutely handed on a salver, and by the master of the house, a respectable farmer. Mountains of cake followed. I think either pile might have measured a foot in height, and each piece would have furnished a meal for a hungry school-boy. Other things were equally abundant, and much pleasant talk followed the refreshments. I returned home highly delighted, and tried to persuade my companion to look on the rational side of the thing, which she scarcely teemed disposed to do, so outré did the whole appear to her. I, who had begun to claim for myself the dignified character of a cosmopolite, a philosophical observer of men and things; consoled myself for this derogatory view of Montacute gentility, by thinking, ‘All city people are so cockneyish!’


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