advantages of a home upon the shores of a body of fresh water. In a country, where as yet there were no roads, the water afforded an easy means of communication by boats in the summer, and by sleds upon the ice in winter. They also looked forward to the future, when their flocks and herds, pasturing upon the cleared lands, could find abundance of water to drink without leaving their enclosures. Many of them had previously lived near to the bays, lakes, and rivers of their native States, and had learned to love the companionship of the water.

The longer one has lived upon the banks of a stream or the shores of a bay, the more loath is one to live amid surroundings of a different character. There is a charm about the presence of the water which baffles any effort to describe it. There is a sublime majesty about a mountain, a weird loneliness about a desert, an appealing mystery about a prairie, but a body of water, particularly a small navigable one, seems to comport with all one's moods.

It would have been difficult to convince some of our pious and sainted grandmothers that our lakes, bays, and rivers did not leave their moral effect upon those who lived along their shores. Who is so dead to the influences of his surroundings that he has not stood spell-bound upon the shore as the boisterous waves broke with an angry roar at his feet? No sooner has one wave spent its energy than another, with a fury as relentless, rushes madly forward, followed by countless others; and yet there is no apparent loss of power. Or who could sit unmoved, upon a moonlight night, and look upon the silver sheen upon the placid bosom of the water, and not feel the inspiring presence of that grand object lesson of "Peace! Perfect Peace!"? Why should it not be a part of the divine plan of the Creator to mould our characters by these evidences of His power and omnipresence?

CHAPTER II

BUILDING AND FURNISHING THE LOG CABIN

When the first Loyalists landed at the different points along the shores, the lots had not yet, in most cases, been marked out by the surveyors; and they were obliged to wait several weeks before the "drawings" could take place. They had brought with them a number of military tents, which had seen service during the Revolutionary War. Camping out in tents, as a recreation for a few weeks during the summer, is still looked upon as a rather pleasing pastime. It was, however, very annoying to the Loyalists. They had left their homes across the border several months before, to enable them to be ready to take possession of their new homes in the early spring, and every day lost meant one day less for them to prepare for the coming winter.

They had no alternative but to pitch their tents near where they had landed, and wait until the surveyors had completed their work. Several weeks were thus passed in idleness, and the first summer was far spent before the "drawings" took place. This was a simple process. Small pieces of paper, upon which were written the numbers of the lots to be apportioned, were placed in a hat, and the surveyor, with a map spread out before him, superintended the operation. The officers came first, and drew their lots in the first concession, fronting upon the water. As each drew forth a piece of paper from the hat, the surveyor entered his name upon the corresponding number upon the map. After the officers had been served, the other members of the company went through the same ceremony. During the few weeks that they had been waiting, some had made short trips through the forest, and had observed favourable locations, and after the "drawings" were completed, there was more or less trafficking in lots, and exchanging locations for a consideration; but for the most part each accepted the lot drawn, and hurried away to his future home.

The white village upon the shore was soon a scene of great confusion. Each family secured a few days' rations from the government supplies, packed up the tent and their other belongings, and set out through the lonely forest. Unless one has visited a section of Canada from which none of the timber has yet been removed, it is difficult to form a proper conception of the condition of the older settled portions one hundred and thirty years ago. The debris of the forest lay rotting as it had fallen, the swamps were undrained, the rivers and creeks were unbridged, and the only roads were the blazed trails left by the surveying parties. The clearing up and draining of the farms has brought about a great change in the low lands. Large impassable creeks have been reduced to small streams that can be crossed with ease, and the swamps, which threatened to mire any who ventured over them a century ago, furnish now a safe and firm foothold.

It was with difficulty that the lots could be located, as there was nothing to indicate the boundary lines but the "markers" placed by the surveyors. When the little family group arrived at their destination, they pitched their tent again, and the housewife busied herself in preparing their first meal in their new home, while the husband surveyed his domain, noting the character of the soil, the presence of creeks, mounds, and other conditions favourable for the first clearing and the erection of a house. That the selection was in most cases wisely made, is attested to-day by the excellent natural surroundings of the old homesteads.

As they partook of their first meal in their wilderness home they contrasted their primitive surroundings with the comforts and luxuries they had left behind them; but, with no regret for the sacrifices they had made, they laid their plans for the future. On the morrow the father, and the sons if there were any, and not infrequently the mother, too, set out to do battle with the forest. The short-handled ship axe, not much heavier than the modern hatchet, was their principal weapon. They laboured with a will and cleared a space large enough for the cabin.

There was no cellar nor foundation, as for our buildings of to-day. A small excavation, to be reached through a trap-door in the floor by means of a short ladder, served the purpose of the former, and a boulder placed under the ends of the base-logs at each corner of the building was ample support for the walls. It was slow work felling the huge pines, cutting them into proper lengths, hewing them into shape, and laying them into position; but slowly the building rose until it attained the height of nine feet. Then the rafters were set in position. Then, too, the chimney was commenced. A stone foundation was carefully built up to the level of the floor and crowned with flat stones, to serve as the hearth. The huge fire-place was then built of stones, and above it was erected a chimney in a manner similar to the house, but instead of using logs, small sticks, two or three inches in diameter, were laid tier upon tier in the form of a hollow rectangle. It was carried a foot or two above the peak and plastered over with clay, inside and out. In many of the early dwellings there were no chimneys, and the smoke was allowed to escape through a hole in the roof as best it could.

In some of the first cabins the floor was of earth. If made of wood, large timbers were used, squared on the sides and hewed smooth on the upper surface. Paint was very scarce, and a painted floor was a luxury which very few could afford. A clean floor was the pride of the mistress of the house. Coarse, clean sand and hot water were the materials used to obtain it. Once a week, or oftener, the former would be applied with a heavy