In every neighborhood there was always some man who was especially
useful at "raisin's." He was bold and strong and quick. He helped
guide and superintend the work. He was the first one up on the bent,
catching a pin or a brace and putting it in place. He walked the
lofty and perilous plate with the great beetle in hand, put the pins
in the holes, and, swinging the heavy instrument through the air,
drove the pins home. He was as much at home up there as a squirrel.

Now that balloon frames are mainly used for houses, and lighter
sawed timbers for barns, the old-fashioned raising is rarely
witnessed.

Then the moving was an event, too. A farmer had a barn to move, or
wanted to build a new house on the site of the old one, and the
latter must be drawn to one side. Now this work is done with pulleys
and rollers by a few men and a horse; then the building was drawn by
sheer bovine strength. Every man that had a yoke of cattle in the
country round about was invited to assist. The barn or house was
pried up and great runners, cut in the woods, placed under it, and
under the runners were placed skids. To these runners it was
securely chained and pinned; then the cattle--stags, steers, and
oxen, in two long lines, one at each runner--were hitched fast, and,
while men and boys aided with great levers, the word to go was
given. Slowly the two lines of bulky cattle straightened and settled
into their bows; the big chains that wrapped the runners tightened,
a dozen or more "gads" were flourished, a dozen or more lusty
throats urged their teams at the top of their voices, when there was
a creak or a groan as the building stirred. Then the drivers
redoubled their efforts; there was a perfect Babel of discordant