“I am so jealous of that nasty Betty B—–­,” said the wife of an Irish captain in the army, and our near neighbour, to me, one day as we were sitting at work together.  She was a West Indian, and a negro by the mother’s side, but an uncommonly fine-looking mulatto, very passionate, and very watchful over the conduct of her husband.  “Are you not afraid of letting Captain Moodie go near her shanty?”

“No, indeed; and if I were so foolish as to be jealous, it would not be of old Betty, but of the beautiful young Betty, her daughter.”  Perhaps this was rather mischievous on my part, for the poor dark lady went off in a frantic fit of jealousy, but this time it was not of old Betty.

Another American squatter was always sending over to borrow a small-tooth comb, which she called a vermin destroyer; and once the same person asked the loan of a towel, as a friend had come from the States to visit her, and the only one she had, had been made into a best “pinny” for the child; she likewise begged a sight in the looking-glass, as she wanted to try on a new cap, to see if it were fixed to her mind.  This woman must have been a mirror of neatness when compared with her dirty neighbours.

One night I was roused up from my bed for the loan of a pair of “steelyards.”  For what purpose think you, gentle reader?  To weigh a new-born infant.  The process was performed by tying the poor squalling thing up in a small shawl, and suspending it to one of the hooks.  The child was a fine boy, and weighed ten pounds, greatly to the delight of the Yankee father.

One of the drollest instances of borrowing I have ever heard of was told me by a friend.  A maid-servant asked her mistress to go out on a particular afternoon, as she was going to have a party of her friends, and wanted the loan of the drawing-room.

It would be endless to enumerate our losses in this way; but, fortunately for us, the arrival of an English family in our immediate vicinity drew off the attention of our neighbours in that direction, and left us time to recover a little from their persecutions.

This system of borrowing is not wholly confined to the poor and ignorant; it pervades every class of society.  If a party is given in any of the small villages, a boy is sent round from house to house, to collect all the plates and dishes, knives and forks, teaspoons and candlesticks, that are presentable, for the use of the company.

During my stay at the hotel, I took a dress out of my trunk, and hung it up upon a peg in my chamber, in order to remove the creases it had received from close packing.  Returning from a walk in the afternoon, I found a note upon my dressing table, inviting us to spend the evening with a clergyman’s family in the village; and as it was nearly time to dress, I went to the peg to take down my gown.  Was it a dream?—­the gown was gone.  I re-opened the trunk, to see if I had replaced it; I searched every corner of the room, but all in vain; nowhere could I discover the thing I sought.  What had become of it?  The question was a delicate one, which I did not like to put to the young ladies of the truly respectable establishment; still, the loss was great, and at that moment very inconvenient.  While I was deliberating on what course to pursue, Miss S—–­ entered the room.