There are but few professional mechanics among them, and the dwelling of the peasant is almost invariably the production of his own individual labour. Their houses are distinguished for pictorial beauty, always one story high, and generally neatly whitewashed. Their cattle are small, and, owing to their neglect in feeding and protecting them, are exceedingly poor. Their horses are nothing but ponies, but distinguished for their toughness. The Habitans are partial to the luxury of riding, and their common vehicle is a rough two-wheeled cart, and occasionally a calash.
The turn-out which I employed for travelling in the settled parts of Canada was a fair specimen of the class: the cost of the horse (four feet and a half high) was twenty dollars, and the cart (made entirely of wood) was four dollars. My coachman was a Habitan, and, in driving over a hilly road on a certain day, I had a fine opportunity of studying the conflicting traits of character which distinguish the race.
Whenever he wanted his horse to go fast, he pulled the reins with all his might, and continued to utter a succession of horrible yells. He invariably ran his animal up the hills, and deliberately walked him down. When angry at his unoffending beast, he showered upon his head a variety of oaths, which might be translated as follows: “infernal hog!” “black toad!” and “hellish dog!” and yet, when the animal was about to drop to the ground from fatigue and heat, he would caress him, and do every thing in his power to restore the animal and ease his own conscience.
I first employed this man to bring me to this place, and said nothing about continuing my journey. On ascertaining, however, that I was bound further down the St. Lawrence, he volunteered his services, and I employed him, although he had informed his wife that he would positively return on the night of the day he left her. I retained him in my employ for two days, and was particularly struck with the anxiety he manifested concerning the disappointment of his wife. He alluded to the impropriety of his conduct at least a dozen times, and usually added: “But you give me plenty of money, (it was only six dollars for taking me forty miles,) and I will buy something pretty for my wife, which will make her very glad—I guess she won’t be sorry.” I asked him what it was that he intended to purchase, and his answer was, “some riband, a pair of scissors, with some needles, and a calico dress.” Who can deny that it is not pleasant to study the sunshine of the human heart, “by which we live?”