The
squaws perform all manual labor, while the big, lazy, good-for-nothing
Indian lolls about in idleness.
CHAPTER III.
ON TO OUR HOME.
At the end of six weeks my husband returned from the west, and with
many pleasant recollections of Battleford, we left for our own home,
which I had pictured in my mind with joyous anticipation, as the place
of our continued happiness: a beautiful oasis, in that land of prairie
and sparse settlement, and with a buoyancy of spirit which true
happiness alone can bring, I looked forward with anticipated pleasure,
which made that little log house appear to me, a palace, and we its
king and queen.
On this last part of our journey we were favored with the company of
Mr. Ballentyne of Battleford who went with us, and after the first
day's travelling, we stopped all night at a half-breed's house, where
they had a large fire-place made of mud, which was just like a solid
piece of stone; they had a bright fire, and everything appeared nice
and tidy within; a woman was making bannock, and when she had the
dough prepared, she took a frying pan and put the cake in and stood it
up before the fire. This is the way they do all their baking, and then
she fried some nice white fish and hung a little kettle on a long iron
hook over the fire, put in potatoes, and boiled the tea-kettle, making
the tea in it too.
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