The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1867-05-29
Enolish and American Peasant Women.

English and American Peasant Women.
From New America: BY Vim. HepWorth DIXON
In my own country the peasant ei'i = ho'
everything that poets and artists pants her.
In spite Of our May-day games, our harvest
homes, and many other country pastmes,
relics OF an older and mcrrier age, the Eng
ish peasant girl is little loutish, and not
little dull. As a rule, she is not very tidy IN
her person, not very neat with her dress, not
very quick with her fingers, not very calmly on
her feet. The American girl Of the same rank
in life is, in every respect, save one, her supe-
rior. 1t may come from living in a softer
climate, from feeding on different diet, from
inheriing purer blood; but from whatever
cause it springs, there can be no dispute about
the fact that, in Lancashire and Deyonshire,
indeed, in every English shire, you find among
the peasant women degree Of personal beau
ty no where to be matched, as general rule,
and on scale for comparison in the United
States. Many American girls are comedy,
many more are smart; but among the lower
grades Of women there is no such wide and
plentiful crop of rustic loneliness as an artist
finds in England; the bright eyes, the curly
locks, the rosy complexion, everywhere laugh
ing you into pleasant thoughts among our
Devonshire lanes and Lancaster streets. But
then comes the balance of accounts. With her
gifts of nature our English rustic must close
her book, in presence OF her keen and natty
American sister. A few weeks ago rode out
with friend to see Cyrus Smith, peasant
farmer, living in the neighborhood of Omaha
Omaha is new city, built on the Missouri {;
a place that has sprung into life in dozen
years. and is growing up like city IN fairy
tale. Yesterday it had hundred settlers, to-
day it has thousand, tomorrow it may have
ten thousand. Twenty years ago the Omaha
Indians lodged under its willows, and the king
of that tribe was buried on horseback by the
adjacent bank. Now it is a city, with rail-
way line, capitol, courthouse, streets, banks,
omnibusses, hotels. What Chicago is, Oma-
ha threatens to become. Cyrus Smith is a
small squatter, living near a tiny creek, in a
log hut, on patch Of forest land, which he
has wrung from nature by the toll Of his hand,
the sweat of his brow The shed is not big.
the plot of land is not wide. Within narrow
compass everything needful in the way Of
growing stuff and rearing stock, for family
of young children, must be done; cows must
be stalled, pigs Uttered, poultry fed. There is
| no wealth to spare in Smith ranch the fare
is hard, the living is only from hand to mouth
vet on the face Of affairs there is no black sign
of poverty, of meanness, such as you would
see about an Irish hovel or British cabin
Walk up this garden way, through these natty
little beds of fruit trees, herbs and flowers
This path might lead to gentleman's villa
for the road is wide and swept, and neither
sink nor cesspool, as in Europe, offends the
eye. Things appear to have fallen into THEN
proper places The shed, if rough, is strong
and snug a rose, a japonica, a Virginia
creeper, climbing around the door. Inside the
house is so scru Fulously clean that you nigh
eat your lunch as comfortably off its bare
planks as you could from the shining tiles Of {
Dutch floor. The shelves are many; the pot
and pans are bright. Something like an all
of gentle life is about you; as though a family
of position, suddenly thrown upon its own re
sources, had campcd out in the prairie, hating
for a season on its march. In the little parlor
there is vase of flowers, print, bust o
Washington. You see at one glance there is
bright and wholesome woman in this house
Ann Smith is the type of class of womel
found in America, and in some parts OF Eng
land, but nowhere else. In station she is lit
tie above peasant in feeling she is little be
low lady, She has thousand tasks to per
form to light her fires, to wash and dress he
children, to scrub her floor, to feed her pig
and fowls, to milk her COWS, to fetch in herb
and fruits, to dress and cook the dinners, t.
scour and polish her pals and pans, to chur
her butter and press her cheese, to make ant
mend the clothes but she laughs and sing
through these daily tolls with such ga.
hun,or, such a perfect taste, such an cas-.
compliance, that her work seems like pleasur
and her cares like pastime. She is neatl.
dressed, beyond, as an Englishman Nigh
think, her station in life, were it not that sh
wears her clothes with perfect grace. He
hands feel soft, as though they were cased a
day in kid. Her manner is easy, her counte
nance bright Her idiom, being that of he
class, amuses stranger by its unconsciou
saucness of tone. But her voice is sweet an
low, as becomes her sex, when her sex is 6
its best. Oddities of expression you will hea
from her lips, profanities never. Dirt is he
enemy; and her sense Of decency keeps til
whole homestead clean. She rises with til
+ sun; oftentimes before the sun her beds al
, spotess, her curtains and hangings like fallln
snow. A Sicilian crib, with sheets unwashe
for year, is thing beyond her imaginatio
to conceive No herding with the kline, Il
sleeping in the stable, SO common in France
in Italy, in Spain, is ever allowed to her sol
to her servant, by Annie Smith. A Kentls
barn in hop-time, Caithness bothy in hay
2 time, would appear in her eyes to be the abon
! ination Of denominations. Her chicks, her pig
her cattle, are all penned up in their roost
t their styes, their sheds. A Munster peasal
). puts his pig under the bed, a Navarrese null
I teer yokes his team in the house, an Epiro
: herdsman feeds his goats in the ingle, and
!, Egyptian fellah takes his donkey into h
!, room. But these dirty and indecent habits
the poor people in our lazy Old World, are n
only unknown but incomprehensible to Amer
= can women of the grade Of Annie Smith. A
other thing about her takes the eye, the quail
y of her everyday attire. In England, our
< male rustics, from the habit Of going to chur'
IS on Sundays, have caught the custom Of dres
IS ing themselves in better clothes on one day
the week than on the other six days. Iht
e have, in fact, their Sunday gowns, compare
J. with which their ordinary wear is nothing b
IS mops and rags. In these respects their slste
$ in Italy and France resemble them |; the CO
tadna having her fiesta bodies, the paysanl