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An' dat was de way wit' de cloud to-day, de res' of dem push aside,
For dey're comin' fas' from de cole Nor' Eas' an' away t'roo de sky dey ride, Shakin' de snow as along dey go, lak grain from de farmer's han', Till to-murrow you can't see not'ing at all, but smoke of de leetle cabane.
I'm glad we don't got no chimney, only hole on de roof up dere,
An' spark fly off on w'ole of de worl', so dere's no use gettin' scare, Mus' get more log, an' it's locky too, de wood pile is stannin' near
So blow away storm! for harder you go, de warmer she's comin' here.
I wonder how dey get on, mon chien, off on de great beeg town,
W'ere house is so high, near touch de sky, mus' be danger of fallin' down! An' worser too on de night lak dis, ketchin' dat terrible win',
O! leetle small place lak de ole Cabane was de right place for stayin' in!
I s'pose dey got plaintee bodder too, dem feller dat's be riche man,
For dey're never knowin' w'en t'ief may come an' steal all de t'ing he can ; An' de monee was kip dem busy too, watchin' it night an' day,
Dunno but w'ere better off here, mon chien, wit' beeg city far away.
For I look on de corner over dere, an' see it ma birch canoe,
I look on de wall w'ere ma rifle hang along wit' de good snowshoe, An' everyt'ing else on de worl' I got, safe on dis place near me
An' here you are too, ma brave ole dog, wit' your nose up agen my knee.
An' here we be stay t roo de summer day w'en ev'ry t ing's warm an' bright,
For w'ere happy an' satisfy here, mon chien, on our own leetle small cabane.
MILITARY PICTURE SERIES NO. 25-CANADIAN MOUNTED RIFLES IN SOUTH AFRICA.
MILITARY PICTURE SERIES NO. 26-COMMISSIONER HERCHMER'S WESTERNERS IN SOUTH AFRICA.
MILITARY PICTURE SERIES NO. 29 E. BATTERY, ROYAL CANADIAN FIELD ARTILLERY, ON GREEN POINT COMMON, CAPETOWN, SOUTH AFRICA.
THE CHINAMAN IN THE HOUSEHOLD.
By Walter C. Nichol, Editor Vancouver "Province."
Y wife said in her haste that never under any circumstances would she employ a Chinese domestic; but British Columbia women, like the women of the east, sometimes change their minds. His name was Chow. He was short, loose-jointed, garrulous when with his fellows and jabbering in his native. tongue; quiet and uncommunicative about the house. He was "heap good cook," he said, and he understood enough English to undertake to sweep, dust, keep the floors polished, light fires, and do the cooking and plain washing for $25 a month. We subsequently discovered that if we asked him to do anything outside of the duties he had undertaken at the start, his knowledge of the vernacular deserted him. "Me no sabe "-pronounced sabee with the a long-he would say in that low, plaintive voice of his, and it was quite impossible to make him "sabe " unless he was promised another dollar a month. The moment that was conceded he was no longer a missing word contest.
Chow came in the early fall. There was one in the house who had not been there very long before Chow arrived, and the two became fast friends at once. The baby would toddle to Chow in all confidence and Chow would smile back and permit the wee one to pull his pigtail, an indignity which if attempted by a white man, would have provoked a fight. There was something human in Chow after all. My wife had doubted it of all Chinamen before, but when she saw the cordial terms existing between Chow and His Royal Highness, she admitted that Chow must have some good in him somewhere. Perhaps that was why we never dared to grumble openly when Chow insisted on sweetening the coffee with syrup before placing it on the breakfast table, and provided so well for those of his friends
who were out of work and wanted food that our housekeeping bills ran up fifty per cent. a month. Privately my wife said it was a shame and I felt compelled to admit that it was, but we could never muster sufficient courage to take the almond-eyed humbug by the throat and force him to have a little more consideration for his employers and a little less for his friends. We knew that all our neighbours who employed Chinese servants were being robbed in the same way, and we felt that we were there to be robbed and that the proper thing for us to do was to submit to the inevitable with the best grace possible.
When Saturday night came Chow would rush through his dish-washing and present himself with a petition for leave to go down town.
"Me get shabed, all same bossee man," he would say, "and see flen I come back bi meby."
"You come back get breakfast?" "What time bleakfas'?"