"Requiseetioned, they ca' it," interjected Sandy.

"Wall, it's purty much the same, I reckon," continued Tom, "an' a
queer lot o' boats they wuz--fishin' boats, Durham boats, scows
[Footnote: In the absence of roads, boats were much used for
carrying corn and flour to and from the mills, and for the
conveyance of farm produce.]--a'most anythin' that 'ud float.
Ther' wuz three hundred of us at the start, an' we picked up more
on the way. Wall, we sailed an' paddled a matter o' two hundred
miles to Fort Malden, an' awful cramped it wuz, crouchin' all day
in them scows; an' every night we camped on shore, but sometimes
the bank wuz so steep an' the waves so high we had to sail on for
miles to find a creek we could run into, an' once we rowed all
night. As we weathered P'int Pelee, the surf nearly swamped us."

"What a gran' feed we got frae thae gallant Colonel Talbot!"
interjected Sandy McKay. "D'ye mind his bit log bothie perched
like a craw's nest atop o' yon cliff. The 'Castle o' Malahide,' he
ca'd it, no less. How he speered gin there were ony men frae
Malahide in the auld kintry wi' us! An' a prood man he was o' his
ancestry sax hunnerd years lang syne. Methinks he's the gran'est
o' the name himsel'--the laird o' a score o' toonships a' settled
by himsel'. Better yon than like the gran' Duke o' Sutherland
drivin' thae puir bodies frae hoose an' hame. Lang suld Canada
mind the gran' Colonel Talbot [Footnote: Posterity has not been
ungrateful to the gallant colonel. In the towns of St. Thomas and
Talbotville, his name is commemorated, and it is fondly cherished
in the grateful traditions of many an early settler's family. He
died at London, at the age of eighty, in 1853.] But was na it fey