Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 6

William Tait, Mrs. Christian Isobel Johnstone
W. Tait, 1839
...In the afternoon, I reached a store known by the name of Swampgrove; and a few hundred yards beyond it, I observed a man before me, of no very decent appearance. I was now about five or six miles from Potsdam, and, not wishing to enter the town in such kind of company, I made up my mind to quicken my pace, accost him civilly with a " Good day," and go a-head of him. I did so, and had got a few steps a-head, when I heard him muttering something. I stopped to see what he wanted, when he asked me if I was going to Potsdam. I told him I did not know whether I would go that length to-night or not, and left him again. But my gentleman was not going to let me slip so easily a-head of him. I heard him speaking to me again, and, of course, had to stop till he came up.
Says he to me—" If you don't know whether you are going to Potsdam or not, you may as well go home with me."
I looked in the man's face to see if I could get any information there, but there was nothing like a.home stamped upon it. It was a round, pale, doughy face, surmounted by an old hat, knocked into every kind of shape; and, below, it was garnished by a black beard, which had not felt the razor for many a-day. His other accoutrements were an old round* about, duck trousers, and a pillow-slip slung over his shoulders, with something in each end to balance it. I had already set him down as a runaway sailor; but when he spoke about his home, I really did not know what to make of him, and a half desire entered my mind to kno» more about him.
"How far is it to your house?" I inquired.
"Scarcely two miles," h« replied, with » Dutch accent.
Content from Google Book Search, generated at 1447796673255778
"Well, I shall think of it as we proceed ; and, in the meantime, I thank you for your kind intention"
As we went easily along, we continued our conversation ; and, among other items, he told me that he had been at the store purchasing some little things for his wife, as she was making apple-butter, and was going to have a great apple paring—that he had bespoken some fiddles —10 they would have quite a frolic of it.
"Apple-butter, did you say ?—what kind of butter is that?"
"It is made of apples, pared, cut into pieces, and boiled in cider till it becomes a kind of jelly."
We were not long in arriving at the end of the lane leading up to the house, and, as his information made me still more curious, I had made up my mind to go along with him. A short way up the lane, we encountered a wagon, with a fine team of four horses. It stopped as we came up, and the driver and my companion had some talk. After it had passed, I said, half jokingly—for I had set down my man as half deranged in the intellect—
"1 suppose that is your team?"
"Yes, that's my team," says he.
I smiled, and had some thoughts of turning back again, being convinced that the man was fully mad; but curiosity still kept me going along with him. By-and-by we came in sight of a white-washed two-story stone house.
"Well, I suppose this is your house, too," says I to him.
"Yes," says he, "that's my house, and I will make you as comfortable as I can in it."
I thanked him a second time, but could not help thinking he was about leading me into some scrape or other, as a shabbier, or more blackguard-looking man could scarcely be. However, I kept my thoughts to myself, and followed him into the house ; and, sure enough, there was the big copper on the fire, and the apple-butter, that was shout to be, tumbling to and fro in it. A handsome young woman, with a pipe in her mouth, was busily engaged in attending to the concern, to whom I was introduced as the wife of my conductor. The mother, a very decent matron, neatly and cleanly dressed, soon made her appearance from another room; to whom I was also introduced. As the ceremony of introduction took place in Dutch—the only language spoken in the house—I know not what story my friend told, nor what reasons he gave for bringing me to the house; but I saw well enough that I was welcome, for they all seemed well pleased, and I was directed to take my seat in a fine., antique-looking elbow-chair—the place of honour—and I soon had my pipe in my mouth like the rest of them. At supper we had a hand at the apple-butter; and I now recollected that 1 had before tasted some of it in coming through the Jerseys, but did not know that it went by that name. It is really excellent, and quite American; and, believe me, buckwheat cakes and apple-butter are a feast for a king: I guess Queen Victoria has never tasted any thing so fine.
By-and-by, the apple-parers began to drop in—young people of both sexes—until the house was full; when we set to work cutting up the apples like desperation; every one, as is customary upon such occasions, doing his host, and striving to shew how clever he is. The labour was enlivened by a variety of jokes, stories, and songs. Our principal songstress was a blooming young woman, with cheeks as red and plump as any apple; she appeared to me to be the reigning belle—the queen of the meeting; at least I could easily perceive she thought so herself. She gave us a variety of songs ; and though not with the sweetness of a Caradori, I believe it was good enough for Dutch singing; for the company, every now and then, burst into fits of laughter. As I could not understand a word, my principal business was to appear well pleased, and show my industry at the apples. After business was finished, we ought to have had the ball; but, as the fiddlers, somehow or other, did not come, the company dispersed, and I retired to bed.