“My larder is but poorly furnished,” observed Mrs Campbell.
“Never mind, ma’am, we’ll soon have something in it, which will save our beef. In another week you shall have it well stocked.”
“John,” said Mr Campbell, “recollect you must not go away without Martin.”
“I won’t,” replied John.
All the game in the larder having been consumed, they sat down to salt-pork and some of the fish which had been cured. The latter was pronounced to be excellent.
“What is the name of this fish, Martin?”
“It is called the white-fish,” replied Martin, “and I have heard gentry from the old country say that they have none better, if any so good.”
“It is certainly most excellent,” replied Mr Campbell, “and we will not forget to have a good provision for next winter, if it pleases God to spare our lives.”
“Where were you born, Martin?” said Henry as they were sitting round the kitchen fire, as usual in the evening.
“Why, Mr Henry, I was born at Quebec. My father was a corporal in the army under General Wolfe, and was wounded in the great battle fought between him and the Frenchman Montcalm.”