morning, you meet half a dozen women heavily laden
with vegetables and other country produce, it is ten to
one they have all contrived to keep their hands unembarrassed,
and are busily employing them with the
knitting needle : and when sitting in the market place
with their fish, fruit, or butter, few sit idle : even in
the midst of winter, the knitting needle is still in their
hands. I have even seen women on horseback,
knitting as they rode to market.
It may easily be surmised, that the mode of life
among the country people, is in conformity with the
national traits of which I have been speaking. Let
me first give the reader some idea of a Jersey farm
house, I take at a venture, one of the middle order,
the proprietor of which, owns about fifteen vergées,
or from five to six English acres; and is besides, not
without his “ quarters.” You enter a green shady
lane, branching from one of the main roads ; and reach
a high wooden gate, fianked by two granite pillars,
overgrown with drawf moss. Entering by a small
door on the left of the gate, you find yourself in a
rather dirty yai'd, paved with blueish pebbles. On
one side, stands the farm house built of stone, solid
and ungainly in its form, and roofed with tile, or, it
may be, with thatch. On the other side, stand the
barns, byre, cider press, hay stack, &c. The front of
the house is most probably covered with a vine, which
sometimes half shades the windows, and is religiously
preserved; although from the great abundance of outdoor
vines, its value is little, and its utility questionable.
The farm house has two doors; one, leading
you into the kitchen in common use ; the other, open-
JERSEY.
ing into a passage, having, what is called the best
parlour on one side, and the best kitchen on the other;
and opposite to the front door, at the other end of the
passage, is the back door, leading into the garden—a
very faulty arrangement,—for in consequence of it, a
stiff breeze is constantly kep t up within the house.
If your visit be made about noon, you will find a
good fire burning on the hearth, boiling the soup kettle.
The fire is composed of “ vraic,” (of whicli I shall
afterwards speak), and a few fagots; and the soup
which boils in the kettle, is called “ soupe d choux,^’—
the staple of Jersey country diet. This soup, which
is also known by the name of “ soupe d la graisse” is
made by boiling together, as much cabbage, lard, and
potatos, as suffices for the family dinner. Sometimes,
but rarely, a little meat is added; and sometimes,
parsnips, or turnips, take the place of potatos. This
soup is the never failing dinner of the great mass ot
the country people of Jersey; and although tea for
breakfast is now pretty universal, soupe a choux is still
used even at that meal by many. There is another
soup, to which this soupe d choux occasionally yields,
conger-eel soup, which is considered rather a delicacy,
and^’is not held contemptible even among the upper
ranks. For my own part, I have found it sufficiently
savoury to justify its reputation. It is made thus: to
three or four pounds of eel, add three pints of water,
one of milk, one of green peas, a handful of sweet
herbs, and a quarter of a pound of butte r: boil all
together for about half an hour.
Among the better class of farmers, there are occasional
deviations from the “ soupe d choux,” or addi-
D 3