short, robust old man, and very particular about his personal
appearance. Half a century has elapsed since then, but the picture of
the old man taking his walks about the place, in his closely-fitting
snuff-brown cut-away coat, knee-breeches, broad-brimmed hat and silver-
headed cane is distinctively fixed in my memory. He died soon after we
took up our residence with him, and the number who came from all parts
of the country to the funeral was a great surprise to me. I could not
imagine where so many people came from. The custom prevailed then, and
no doubt does still, when a death occurred, to send a messenger, who
called at every house for many miles around to give notice of the death,
and of when and where the interment would take place.

[Illustration: THE FIRST HOME.]

My grandmother was a tall, neat, motherly old woman, beloved by
everybody. She lived a number of years after her husband's death, and I
seem to see her now, sitting at one side of the old fire-place knitting.
She was always knitting, and turning out scores of thick warm socks and
mittens for her grandchildren.

At this time a great change had taken place, both in the appearance of
the country and in the condition of the people. It is true that many of
the first settlers had ceased from their labours, but there were a good
many left--old people now, who were quietly enjoying, in their declining
years, the fruit of their early industry. Commodious dwellings had taken
the place of the first rude houses. Large frame barns and outhouses had
grown out of the small log ones. The forest in the immediate
neighbourhood had been cleared away, and well-tilled fields occupied its
place. Coarse and scanty fare had been supplanted by a rich abundance of
all the requisites that go to make home a scene of pleasure and