THE FARM-HOUSE. 
163 
though it may be doubted if the tea ever saw China ; if like much 
of that drimk about the country, it was probably of farm growth 
also. 
While we were talking over these matters, and others of a 
more personal nature, with our gentle old hostess, several visitors 
arrived ; — probably, on this occasion, they came less to see the 
mistress of the house than her carriage-load of strange company. 
Be that as it may, we had the pleasure of making several new 
acquaintances, and of admiring some very handsome strings of 
gold beads about their necks ; a piece of finery we had not seen in 
a long while. Another fashion was less pleasing. We observed 
that a number of the women in that neighborhood had their hair 
cropped short like men, a custom which seems all but unnatural. 
Despite her seventy years and the rheumatism, our hostess had 
her dark hair smoothly combed and neatly rolled up under a nice 
muslin cap, made after the Methodist pattern. She was not one 
to do anything unwomanly, though all B Green set the 
fashion. 
A grand-daughter of our hostess, on a visit at the farm, had 
been in the meadow picking strawberries, and now returned with 
a fine bowl full, the ripest and largest in the field. The table 
was set ; a homespun table-cloth, white as snow, laid upon it, and 
every vacant spot being covered by something nice, at four 
o’clock we sat down to tea. Why is it that cream, milk, and 
butter always taste better under the roof of a farm-house than 
elsewhere ? They seem to lose something of their peculiar sweet- 
ness and richness after passing the bounds of the farm, especially 
if they have been rattled over the pavement of a large town to 
market. Country-made bread, too, is peculiar ; not so light, per- 
