part of the long ton, were placed upon a smaller platform suspended from the other end of the beam. This was the customary method of weighing bulky substances that could not be conveniently weighed by the steelyards.

When the first crop of grain was obtained, it was harvested with the crude implements of the day and conveyed to the threshing floor. As a rule this consisted of a bare piece of ground, sometimes covered with boards or flat stones, but more frequently the bare earth had no covering. Here the grain was pounded out with a flail, and Nature supplied the fanning-mill; the mixed grain and chaff were tossed into the air during a stiff breeze, and the chaff was blown away.

To convert the wheat into flour was a more difficult matter. The government had provided a few little hand-mills, but they were not adapted to the purpose; so that the settler took a lesson from the Indian, burned a large hole in the top of an oak stump and pounded the wheat to a powder with a pestle or a cannon ball suspended from the end of a sweep. It was not many years before government mills were erected at different points, where there was a sufficient supply of water-power. The localities thus served suffered little inconvenience, as compared with less favoured districts.

Ten, fifteen, or twenty years wrought a great change in the wilderness home. Small clearings were everywhere to be seen. Barns had been built, the houses had been enlarged, and the melodious tinkling of bells betrayed the presence of cattle. Sheep and swine were also found on every farm, but they had to be guarded to protect them from marauding bears and wolves. Of horses there were but few. Awkward as the ox may appear, he was more than a match for the horse in finding a sure footing among the stumps, logs, and fallen timbers. Breaking in "Buck and Bright" to come under the yoke and to respond to the "gee", "haw", and the snap of the whip was a tedious undertaking, but was successfully accomplished.

The general store made its appearance, but the pioneer had learned to be independent and still supplied most of his own wants. He raised his own flax, and when it was ripe he pulled it by hand, tied it into small sheaves so that it would dry quickly, and shocked it up. When it was cured, it was taken to the barn and threshed out with a flail. The straw was then spread out on the ground and left for two or three weeks, until it had rotted sufficiently to permit the stalks to be broken without severing the outer rind, which supplied the shreds. The object was to get it in such a condition that this outer part could be freed from the inner. It was first put through a crackle, which was a bench four feet long, composed of three or four boards standing on their edges and just far enough apart, that three or four similar boards, framed together and operated from a hinge like a pair of nut-crackers, would, when closed down, drop into the several spaces between the lower boards. The straw was passed over the lower boards at right angles, and the operator raised and lowered the upper frame, bringing it down on the flax, breaking the stalks, and loosening the outer shreds from the inner pulp. To remove the pulp the stalks were then drawn over a heckle, which was a board with scores of long nails protruding through. This combed the coarser pulp away, when the same process was repeated over a finer heckle, which left the shreds ready to be spun into thread on a spinning wheel similar to, but smaller than that used in spinning wool. The thread was then bleached, dyed, wound into balls, and passed on to the weaver. The farmer also raised his own sheep, sheared them, and washed and carded the wool.

Every maiden served her apprenticeship at the spinning wheel, and her education was not complete until she had learned how to spin the yarn, pass it over the swift, and prepare it for the loom, which had become a part of the equipment of nearly every house. The linen, flannel, and fullcloth for the entire family were made upon the premises. Service was more sought after than style, particularly in the "everyday clothes"; and, if the mother or maiden aunt could not cut and make a suit, the first itinerant tailor who happened along was installed as a member of the household for a fortnight and fitted out the whole family for the next year.

The boots and shoes were also homemade, or at least made at home. Somewhere about every farm was to be found a tanning-trough, in which a cowhide would be immersed for three weeks in a weak solution of lye to remove the hair and any particles of flesh still adhering to the skin. It was then transferred to a tub containing a solution of oak bark and left for several months, after which it was softened by kneading and rubbing, and was then ready to be made up. The making of the boots required considerable skill. A man can wear and obtain good service from an ill-made suit of clothes, but a poor-fitting pair of boots is an abomination likely to get the wearer into all sorts of trouble. Corns and bunions are not of modern origin, but have afflicted the human race ever since boots were first worn. A kit of shoemaker's tools, composed of a last, hammer, awls, and needles, was to be found in every house; and some member of the family was usually expert in adding a half-sole or applying a patch; few, however, attempted to make the boots. The travelling shoemaker went about from house to house and performed this service. A few years later every neighbourhood had its tannery, and every village its one or more shoemakers. The tanner took his toll for each hide; and the shoemaker, for a bag of potatoes, a roll of butter, or a side of pork, would turn out a pair of boots, which would long outwear the factory-made article of to-day.

The skins of the bear, fox, and racoon furnished fur caps for the winter; and the rye straw supplied the material for straw hats for summer. In nearly every house some one would be found capable of producing the finished articles from these raw materials. The milliner, as such, would have had a hard time in earning a living a hundred years ago, as head-gear at that time was worn to protect the head.

The life of the early settlers was not all work and drudgery. They had their hours of recreation, and what is best of all, they had the happy faculty, in many matters, of making play out of work. This was accomplished by means of "bees". There were logging bees, raising bees, stumping bees, and husking bees for the men, while the women had their quilting bees and paring bees. The whole neighbourhood would be invited to these gatherings. It may be that upon the whole they did not accomplish more than could have been done single-handed, except at the raisings, which required many hands to lift the large timbers into place; but work was not the only object in view. Man is a gregarious animal and loves to mingle with his fellow men. The occasions for public meetings of any kind during the first few years were very rare. There were no fairs, concerts, lectures, or other public entertainments, not even a church, school, or political meeting, so, in their wisdom, the early settlers devised these gatherings for work—and work they did. but, Oh! the joy of it! All the latest news gathered from every quarter was discussed, notes were compared on the progress made in the clearings, the wags and clowns furbished up their latest jokes, and all enjoyed themselves in disposing of the good things brought forth from the corner cupboard.

Perhaps some special mention should be made of the logging bee, since it stands out as the only one of these jolly gatherings that was regarded as a necessary evil, particularly by the female members of the family. Perhaps the grimy appearance of the visitors had something to do with the esteem in which they