THE CROW'S NEST. 207 



cordiality. The lady of tlie house, a very amiable woman, 

 originally of Baltimore, the city in the United States 

 where blood is purest and race most respected, immedi- 

 ately set me quite at my ease, and treated me as a 

 friend and a brother. This may seem to the reader a 

 trifle, but it is an important fact for a guest on his first 

 visit to a family. Mrs. Eustace had a son, a beautiful 

 child of seven, who, the moment he saw me, leaped upon 

 my neck, calling me his "pet friend," and declaring with 

 a silvery voice he would not leave me. By what mysteri- 

 ous affinity did this gentle little creature conceive at first 

 sight so fond a friendship for me 1 I cannot say : what 

 is certain is, that he did not quit my side until I reached 

 the threshold of the room set apart for my use ; and that 

 on the following day at early dawn, when his father 

 summoned me to breakfast, and to set out afterwards for 

 the chase, James (for this was the child's name) accom- 

 panied him, delighted at the opportunity of bidding his 

 friend the Frenchman a hearty welcome. 



Mrs. Eustace, like a true housewife, like a woman 

 who knows her influence, and understands that youth 

 and freshness have no need of elaborate toilettes, was 

 already at her post, seated before a table abundantly 

 covered with cold meats, boiled eggs, muffins, and steam- 

 ing hot cakes of maize and black barley. Everything 

 was cooked " to a turn," and served up with the most 

 admirable neatness ; but what doubled the pleasure of 

 the eye and the enjoyment of the taste was the good 

 humour of my hostess, the gentleness of her child, and 

 the joyous temperament of the master of the house. 



The week which I spent with the amiable farmers of 

 Crow's Nest appears, in the mist of the years passed in 



