are in the very height of their impertinence; and, although they have
not sufficient strength in their proboscis to penetrate a top-boot, yet
they easily pierce through a summer coat and shirt, and a wee bit into
the skin beneath. From the middle of July to the middle of August, they
become much less venomous; and are then only annoying for an hour or so
in the evening, in the woods or marshes. By the 1st of September, they
finally disappear for the season.

Our long road was considerably shortened by the amusing stories and
anecdotes of the Doctor, who kept us in good humour during the whole
journey. Nearly mid-way between Goderich and Von Egmond's, a small rill
crosses the road: here we stopped for an hour, and refreshed ourselves
with beef-sandwiches and brandy and water--no bad things in the Bush.

Close by the side of this little stream was a small log-shanty, which
had been erected by the people who had been employed by the men cutting
out the new road, which, from this to the southern boundary of the
Huron tract, was already cleared out, the full width of sixty-six feet,
preparatory to its being turnpiked.*

[* This is merely an American term for a road which has been ploughed
on each side, and the earth, so raised, thrown up in the centre by the
means of a road-scraper, or turnpike shovel, worked either with horses
or oxen. A road engineer or surveyor would call this grading,
preparatory to gravelling or planking.]

We reached our destination about five o'clock, where we were received
with every mark of respect and hospitality. We were shown upstairs into
a newly-finished room--the only apartment as yet completed in the
tavern old Von Egmond was building. Here we found an excellent supper