Part 2 (1/2)

Early days are always bright to life's voyager, and whatever his condition may have been at the outset, he is ever wont to look back with fondness to the scenes of his youth. I can recall days of toil under a burning sun, but they were cheerful days, nevertheless. There was always ”a bright spot in the future” to look forward to, which moved the arm and lightened the task. Youth is buoyant, and if its feet run in the way of obedience, it will leave a sweet fragrance behind, which will never lose its flavour. The days I worked in the harvest field, or when I followed the plough, whistling and singing through the hours, are not the least happy recollections of the past. The merry song of the girls, mingling with the hum of the spinning-wheel, as they tripped backward and forward to the cadence of their music, drawing out miles of thread, reeling it into skeins which the weaver's loom and shuttle was to turn into thick heavy cloth; or old grandmother treading away at her little wheel, making it buzz as she drew out the delicate fibres of flax, and let it run up the spindle a fine and evenly twisted thread, with which to sew our garments, or to make our linen; and mother, busy as a bee, thinking of us all, and never wearying in her endeavours to add to our comfort-these are pictures that stand out, clear and distinct, and are often reverted to with pleasure and delight. But though summer time in the country is bright and beautiful with its broad meadows waving before the western wind like seas of green, and the yellow corn, gleaming in the field where the sun-burnt reapers are singing; though the flowers shed their fragrance, and the breeze sighs softly through the branches overhead in monotones, but slightly varied, yet sweet and soothing; though the wood is made vocal with the song of birds, and all nature is jocund and bright-notwithstanding, all this, the winter, strange as it may seem, was the time of our greatest enjoyment. Winter, when ”Old Gray,” who used to scamper with me astride his bare back down the lane, stood munching his fodder in the stall; when the cattle, no longer lolling or browsing in the peaceful shade, moved around the barn-yard with humped backs, shaking their heads at the cold north wind; when the trees were stripped of their foliage, and the icicles hung in fantastic rows along the naked branches, glittering like jewels in the suns.h.i.+ne, or rattling in the northern blast; when the ground was covered deep with snow, and the wind ”driving o'er the fields,” whirled into huge drifts, blocking up the doors and paths and roads; when

”The whited air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end;”

when the frost silvered over the window-panes, or crept through the cracks and holes, and fringed them with its delicate fret-work; when the storm raged and howled without, and

”Shook beams and rafters as it pa.s.sed!”

Within, happy faces were gathered around the blazing logs in the old fire-place.

”Shut in from all the world without, We sat the clean-winged hearth about, Content to let the north wind roar, In baffled rage at pane and door, While the red logs before us beat The frost line back with tropic heat.”

The supper has been cleared away, and upon the clean white table is placed a large dish of apples and a pitcher of cider. On either end stands a tallow candle in a bright bra.s.s candlestick, with an extinguisher attached to each, and the indispensable snuffers and tray. Sometimes the fingers are made use of in the place of the snuffers; but it is not always satisfactory to the snuffer, as he sometimes burns himself, and hastens to snap his fingers to get rid of the burning wick. One of the candles is appropriated by father, who is quietly reading his paper; for we had newspapers then, though they would not compare very favourably with those of to-day, and we got them only once a week. Mother is darning socks. Grandmother is making the knitting needles fly, as though all her grandchildren were stockingless. The girls are sewing and making merry with the boys, and we are deeply engaged with our lessons, or what is more likely, playing fox and geese.

”What matters how the night behaved; What matter how the north-wind raved; Blow high, blow low, not all its snow Could quench our ruddy hearth-fire's glow.

O time and change! with hair as gray As was my sire's that winter day, How strange it seems, with so much gone Of life and love, to still live on!

Ah brother! only I and thou Are left of all the circle now- The dear home faces whereupon The fitful fire-light paled and shone, Henceforth, listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are still.”

CHAPTER IV

THE EARLY SETTLERS IN UPPER CANADA-PROSPERITY, NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL -THE OLD HOMES, WITHOUT AND WITHIN-CANDLE-MAKING-SUPERSt.i.tIONS AND OMENS-THE DEATH-WATCH-OLD ALMANACS-BEES-THE DIVINING ROD-THE U. E. LOYALISTS-THEIR SUFFERINGS AND HEROISM-AN OLD AND A NEW PRICE LIST- PRIMITIVE HOROLOGES-A JAUNT IN ONE OF THE CONVENTIONAL ”CARRIAGES” OF OLDEN TIMES-THEN AND NOW-A NOTE OF WARNING.

The settlement of Ontario, known up to the time of Confederation as the Province of Upper Canada, or Canada West, began in 1784, so that at the date I purpose to make a brief survey of the condition and progress of the country, it had been settled forty-six years. During those years-no insignificant period in a single life, but very small indeed in the history of a country-the advance in national prosperity and in the various items that go to make life pleasant and happy had been marvellous. The muscular arm of the st.u.r.dy pioneer had hewn its way into the primeval forest, and turned the gloomy wilderness into fruitful fields.

It is well known that the first settlers located along the sh.o.r.es of the River St. Lawrence, the Bay of Quinte, Lake Ontario, and Lake Erie, and that, at the time of which I speak, this coastline of a few hundred miles, extending back but a very short distance-a long narrow strip cut from the serried edge of the boundless woods-comprised the settlement of Canada West as it then existed. Persistent hard work had placed the majority in circ.u.mstances of more than ordinary comfort. Good houses had taken the place of log cabins, and substantial frame barns that of rude hovels. Hard fare and scanty raiment had given place to an abundance of the necessaries of life, and no people, perhaps, ever appreciated these blessings with more sincere thankfulness or more hearty contentment. The farmer was a strong, hardy man, the wife a ruddy, cheerful body, careful of the comforts of her household. One table sufficed for themselves and their servants or hired help. Meat was provided twice and often thrice a day; it being more a matter of taste than economy as to the number of times it was served. Fruit was abundant, and every matron prided herself upon preserving and putting away quant.i.ties of it for home use. So that at this time the world was moving smoothly with the people. An immense track of wilderness had been reclaimed, and waving fields and fruitful orchards occupied its place. It may have seemed to them, and indeed I think it did to many, that the sum of all they could expect or even desire in this world had been attained; while we, who remember those days, and look back over the changes of fifty years, wonder how they managed to endure life at all.

It is true that the father, more from the force of habit than necessity, perhaps continued to toil in the field, and the mother, moved by the same cause, and by her maternal anxiety for the well-being of her family, still spent many a long hour at the loom. The son, brought up to work, followed the plough, or did battle with the axe, making the woods ring with his rapid strokes. And as he laboured he pictured to himself the building of a nest in the unbroken forest behind the homestead, wherein the girl of his choice figured as the central charm. The daughter who toiled through the long summer's day to the monotonous hum of the spinning wheel, drawing out and twisting the threads that should enter into the make-up of her wedding outfit, was contented and happy. The time and circ.u.mstances in which they were placed presented nothing better, and in their estimation the world had little more to offer than they already possessed.

It is more than probable that if we, with our modern notions and habits, could to-day be carried back into a similar condition of life, we would feel that our lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places. The flying years, with their changes and anxieties, like the constant dripping of water on a stone, have worn off the rough edges that wounded and worried during their progress, and only the sunny spots, burned in the plastic memory of younger days, remain.

The old homes, as I remember them in those days, were thought palatial in their proportions and conveniences, and so they were as compared with the old log houses. The latter often still remained as relics of other days, but they had been converted into the base use of a cow stable, or a shelter for waggons and farm implements during the winter. Their successors were, with very few exceptions, wooden structures, clap- boarded, and painted either yellow or red. The majority, however, never received any touching up from the painter's brush, and as the years rolled on became rusty and gray from the beating of winter's storms and the heat of summer's sun. The interior rarely displayed any skill in arrangement or design. The living rooms were generally of goodly size, with low ceilings, but the sleeping rooms were invariably small, with barely room enough for a large high-posted bedstead, and a s.p.a.ce to undress in. The exterior was void of any architectural embellishment, with a steep roof pierced by dormer windows. The kitchen, which always seemed to me like an after-thought, was a much lower part of the structure, welded on one end or the other of the main body of the house, and usually had a roof projecting some distance over one side, forming ”the stoop.” In very many cases, the entrance to the s.p.a.cious cellar, where the roots, apples, cider, and other needs of the household were kept, was from this through a trap door, so that in summer or winter the good wife had actually to go out of doors when anything was required for the table, and that was very often. It really seemed as though the old saying of ”the longest way round is the shortest way home” entered not only into the laying out of highways, but into all the domestic arrangements. Economy of time and s.p.a.ce, convenience, or anything to facilitate or lighten labour, does not appear to have occupied the thoughts of the people. Work was the normal condition of their being, and, as we see it now, everything seems to have been so arranged as to preclude the possibility of any idle moments. At the end of the kitchen was invariably a large fire-place, with its wide, gaping mouth, an iron crane, with a row of pothooks of various lengths, from which to suspend the pots over the fire, and on the hearth a strong pair of andirons, flanked by a substantial pair of tongs and a shovel. During the winter, when the large back-log, often as much as two men could handle, was brought in and fixed in its place, and a good forestick put on the andirons, with well-split maple piled upon it and set ablaze with dry pine and chips, the old fire-place became aglow with cheerful fire, and dispensed its heat through the room. But in extremely cold weather it sometimes happened that while one side was being roasted the other was pinched with cold. At one side of the fire-place there was usually a large oven, which, when required, was heated by burning dry wood in it, and then the dough was put into tin pans and pushed in to be baked. Sometimes the ovens were built on frames in the yard, and then in wind or storm the baking had to be carried out doors and in. Every kitchen had one or more s.p.a.cious cupboards; whatever need there was for other conveniences, these were always provided, and were well filled. The other rooms of the house were generally warmed by large box stoves. The spare bedrooms were invariably cold, and on a severe night it was like undressing out of doors and jumping into a s...o...b..nk. I have many a time s.h.i.+vered for half an hour before my body could generate heat enough to make me comfortable. The furniture made no pretensions to artistic design or elegance. It was plain and strong, and bore unmistakable evidence of having originated either at the carpenter's bench or at the hands of some member of the family, in odd spells of leisure on rainy days. Necessity is axiomatically said to be the mother of invention, and as there were no furniture makers with any artistic skill or taste in the country, and as the inclination of the people ran more in the direction of the useful than the ornamental, most of the domestic needs were of home manufacture. I have a clear recollection of the pine tables, with their strong square legs tapering to the floor, and of how carefully they were scrubbed. Table covers were seldom used, and only when there was company, and then the cherry table with its folding leaves was brought out, and the pure white linen cloth, most likely the production of the good wife's own hands, was carefully spread upon it. Then came the crockery. Who can ever forget the blue-edged plates, cups and saucers, and other dishes whereon indigo storks and mandarins, or something approaching a representation of them, glided airily over sky- blue hills in their pious way from one indigo paG.o.da to another. These things I have no doubt, would be rare prizes to Ceramic lovers of the present day. The cutlery and silver consisted mostly of bone-handled knives and iron forks, and iron and pewter spoons. On looking over an old inventory of my grandfather's personal effects not long since, I came upon these items: ”two pair of spoon moulds,” and I remembered melting pewter and making spoons with these moulds when I was very young. Cooking was done in the oven, and over the kitchen fire, and the utensils were a dinner pot, teakettle, frying-pan and skillet. There were no cooking stoves. The only was.h.i.+ng machines were the ordinary wash tubs, soft soap, and the brawny arms and hands of the girls; and the only wringers were the strong wrists and firm grip that could give a vigorous twist to what pa.s.sed through the hands. Water was drawn from the wells with a bucket fastened to a long slender pole attached to a sweep suspended to a crotch. b.u.t.ter, as has already been intimated, was made in upright churns, and many an hour have I stood, with mother's ap.r.o.n pinned around me to keep my clothes from getting spattered, pounding at the stubborn cream, when every minute seemed an hour, thinking the b.u.t.ter would never come. When evening set in, we were wont to draw around the cheerful fire on the hearth, or perhaps up to the kitchen table, and read and work by the dim light of ”tallow dips,” placed in tin candlesticks, or, on extra occasions, in bra.s.s or silver ones, with their snuffers, trays and extinguishers. Now, we sit by the brilliant light of the coal oil lamp or of gas. Then, coal oil was in the far-off future, and there was not a gas jet in Canada, if indeed in America. The making of tallow candles, before moulds were used, was a slow and tiresome task. Small sticks were used, about two feet long, upon each of which six cotton wicks, made for the purpose, were placed about two inches apart, each wick being from ten to twelve inches long. A large kettle was next partly filled with hot water, upon which melted tallow was poured. Then, two sticks were taken in the right hand, and the wick slowly dipped up and down through the melted tallow. This process was continued until the candles had attained sufficient size, when they were put aside to harden, and then taken off the sticks and put away. It required considerable practical experience to make a smooth candle which would burn evenly; and a sputtering candle was an abomination. The cloth with which the male members of the family were clad, as well as the flannel that made the dresses and underclothing for both, was carded, spun, and often woven at home, as was also the flax that made the linen. There were no sewing or knitting machines, save the deft hands that plied the needle. Carpets were seldom seen. The floors of the spare rooms, as they were called, were painted almost invariably with yellow ochre paint, and the kitchen floor was kept clean and white with the file, and sanded. The old chairs, which, in point of comfort, modern times have in no way improved upon, were also of home make, with thin round legs and splint-bottomed seats, or, what was more common, elm bark evenly cut and plaited. Many a time have I gone to the woods in the spring, when the willow catkins in the swamp and along the side of the creek turned from silver to gold, and when the cl.u.s.ters of linwort nodded above the purple-green leaves in the April wind, and taken the bark in long strips from the elm trees to reseat the dilapidated chairs.

If the labour-saving appliances were so scanty indoors, they were not more numerous outside. The farmer's implements were rude and rough. The wooden plough, with its wrought-iron share, had not disappeared, but ploughs with cast-iron mould-boards, land-sides and shares, were rapidly coming into use. These had hard-wood beams, and a short single handle with which to guide them. They were clumsy, awkward things to work with, as I remember full well, and though an improvement, it was impossible to do nice work with them. Indeed, that part of the question did not receive much consideration, the princ.i.p.al object being to get the ground turned over. They were called patent ploughs. Drags were either tree tops or square wooden frames with iron teeth. The scythe for hay and the cradle for grain, with strong backs and muscular arms to swing them, were the only mowers and reapers known. The hand rake had not been superseded by the horse rake, nor the hoe by the cultivator; and all through the winter, the regular thump, thump of the flails on the barn floor could be heard, or the trampling out of the grain by the horses' feet. The rattle of the fanning mill announced the finis.h.i.+ng of the task. Thres.h.i.+ng machines and cleaners were yet to come.

It will be seen from what I have said that both in the house and out of it work was a stern and exacting master, whose demands were incessant, satisfied only by the utmost diligence. It was simply by this that so much was accomplished. It is true there were other incentives that gave force to the wills and nerves to the arms which enabled our forefathers to overcome the numberless arduous tasks that demanded attention daily throughout the year. All the inventions that have acc.u.mulated so rapidly for the last twenty years or more, to lighten the burden and facilitate the accomplishment of labour and production, as well as to promote the comfort of all cla.s.ses, were unknown fifty years ago. Indeed many of the things that seem so simple and uninteresting to us now, as I shall have occasion to show further on, were then hidden in the future. Take for example the very common and indispensable article, the lucifer match, to the absence of which allusion has already been made. Its simple method of producing fire had never entered the imagination of our most gifted sires. The only way known to them was the primitive one of rubbing two sticks together and producing fire by friction-a somewhat tedious process-or with a flint, a heavy jackknife, and a bit of punk, a fungous growth, the best of which for this purpose is obtained from the beech. Gun flints were most generally used. One of these was placed on a bit of dry punk, and held firmly in the left hand, while the back of the closed blade of the knife thus brought into contact with the flint by a quick downward stroke of the right hand produced a shower of sparks, some of which, falling on the punk, would ignite; and thus a fire was produced. In the winter, if the fire went out, there were, as I have already stated, but two alternatives-either the flint and steel, or a run to a neighbour's house for live coals.

There were many superst.i.tious notions current among the people in those days. Many an omen both for good and evil was sincerely believed in, which even yet in quiet places finds a lodgement where the schoolmaster has not been much abroad. But the half century that has pa.s.sed away has seen the last of many a foolish notion. A belief in omens was not confined to the poor and ignorant, for brave men have been known to tremble at seeing a winding-sheet in a candle, and learned men to gather their little ones around them, fearing that one would be s.n.a.t.c.hed away, because a dog outside took a fancy to howl at the moon. And who has not heard the remark when a sudden s.h.i.+ver came over one; that an enemy was then walking over the spot which would be his grave? Or who has not noticed the alarm occasioned by the death watch-the noise, resembling the ticking of a watch, made by a harmless little insect in the wall-or the saying that if thirteen sit down to table, one is sure to die within a year? Somebody has said there is one case when he believed this omen to be true, and that is when thirteen sit down to dinner and there is only enough for twelve. There was no end to bad omens. It was bad luck to see the new moon for the first time over the left shoulder, but if seen over the right it was the reverse. It is well known that the moon has been supposed to exercise considerable influence over our planet, among the chief of which are the tides, and it was believed also to have a great deal to do with much smaller matters. There are few who have not seen on the first page of an almanac the curious picture representing a nude man with exposed bowels, and surrounded with the zodiacal signs. This was always found in the old almanacs, and indeed they would be altogether unsaleable without it and the weather forecast. How often have I seen the almanac consulted as to whether it was going to be fair or stormy, cold or hot; how often seen the mother studying the pictures when she wished to wean her babe. If she found the change of the moon occurred when the sign was in Aries or Gemini or Taurus, all of which were supposed to exercise a baneful influence on any part of the body above the heart, she would defer the matter until a change came, when the sign would be in Virgo or Libra, considering it extremely dangerous to undertake the operation in the former case. The wife was not alone in this, for the husband waited for a certain time in the moon to sow his peas-that is, if he wished to ensure a good crop. He also thought it unlucky to kill hogs in the wane of the moon, because the pork would shrink and waste in the boiling. The finding of an old horseshoe was a sure sign of good luck, and it was quite common to see one nailed up over the door. It is said that the late Horace Greeley always kept a rusty one over the door of his sanctum. To begin anything on Friday was sure to end badly. I had an esteemed friend, the late sheriff of the county of --, who faithfully believed this, and adhered to it up to the time of his death. May was considered an unlucky month to marry in, and when I was thinking of this matter a number of years later, and wished the event to occur during the month, my wish was objected to on this ground, and the ceremony deferred until June in consequence.

It is said that the honey bee came to America with the Pilgrim Fathers. Whether this be so or not I am unprepared to say. If it be true, then there were loyalists among them, for they found their way to Canada with the U. E.'s, and contributed very considerably to the enjoyment of the table. Short-cake and honey were things not to be despised in those days, I remember. There was a curious custom that prevailed of blowing horns and pounding tin pans to keep the bees from going away when swarming. The custom is an Old Country one, I fancy. The reader will remember that d.i.c.kens, in ”Little Dorrit,” makes Ferdinand Barnacle say: ”You really have no idea how the human bees will swarm to the beating of any old tin kettle.”

Another peculiar notion prevailed with respect to discovering the proper place to dig wells. There were certain persons, I do not remember what they were called, whether water doctors or water witches, who professed to be able, with the aid of a small hazel crotched twig, which was held firmly in both hands with the crotch inverted, to tell where a well should be sunk with a certainty of finding water. The process was simply to walk about with the twig thus held, and when the right place was reached, the forked twig would turn downwards, however firmly held; and on the strength of this, digging would be commenced in the place indicated. A curious feature about this was that there were but very few in whose hands the experiment would work, and hence the water discoverer was a person of some repute. I never myself witnessed the performance, but it was of common occurrence. [Footnote: The reader will remember the occult operations of Dousterswivel in the seventeenth chapter of Scott's Antiquary. ”In truth, the German was now got to a little copse- thicket at some distance from the ruins, where he affected busily to search for such a wand as should suit the purpose of his mystery; and after cutting off a small twig of hazel terminating in a forked end, which he p.r.o.nounced to possess the virtue proper for the experiment that he was about to exhibit, holding the forked ends of the wand each between the finger and the thumb, and thus keeping the rod upright, he proceeded to pace the ruined aisles,” &c. So it will be seen that we had Canadian successors of Dousterswivel in my time, but we had no Oldbucks.]

The people of to-day will no doubt smile at these reminiscences of a past age, and think lightly of the life surroundings of these early pioneers of the Province. But it must not be forgotten that their condition of life was that of the first remove from the bush and the log cabin. There was abundance, without luxury, and it was so widely different from the struggle of earlier years that the people were contented and happy. ”No people on earth,” says Mr. Talbot, in 1823, ”live better than the Canadians, so far as eating and drinking justify the use of the expression, for they may be truly said to fare sumptuously every day. Their breakfast not unfrequently consists of twelve or fourteen different ingredients, which are of the most heterogeneous nature. Green tea and fried pork, honeycomb and salted salmon, pound cake and pickled cuc.u.mbers, stewed chickens and apple- tarts, maple mola.s.ses and pease-pudding, gingerbread and sour-crout, are to be found at almost every table. The dinner differs not at all from the breakfast, and the afternoon repast, which they term supper, is equally substantial.”

The condition of the Province in 1830 could not be otherwise than pre- eminently satisfactory to its inhabitants. That a people who had been driven from their homes, in most cases dest.i.tute of the common needs of ordinary life, should have come into a vast wilderness, and, in the course of forty-six years, have founded a country, and placed themselves in circ.u.mstances of comfort and independence, seems to me to be one of the marvels of the century. The struggles and trials of the first settlers must ever be a subject of deepest interest to every true Canadian, and, as an ill.u.s.tration of the power of fixed principles upon the action of men, there are few things in the world's history that surpa.s.s it. It must be remembered that many, nay most, of the families who came here had, prior to and during the Revolutionary war, been men of means and position. All these advantages they were forced to abandon. They came into this country with empty hands, accepted the liberality of the British Government for two years, and went to work. Providence smiled upon their toils, and in the year of which I speak they had grown into a prosperous and happy people.

The social aspect of things had changed but little. The habits and customs of early days still remained. The position of the inhabitants was one of exigency. The absorbing desire to succeed kept them at home. They knew but little of what was pa.s.sing in the world outside, and as a general thing they cared less. Their chief interest was centred in the common welfare, and each contributed his or her share of intelligence and sagacity to further any plans that were calculated to promote the general good. Every day called for some new expedient in which the comfort or advantage of the whole was concerned, for there were no positions save those accorded to worth and intellect. The sufferings or misfortunes of a neighbour, as well as his enjoyments, were partic.i.p.ated in by all. Knowledge and ability were respectfully looked up to, yet those who possessed these seemed hardly conscious of their gifts. The frequent occasions which called for the exercise of the mind, sharpened sagacity, and gave strength to character. Avarice and vanity were confined to narrow limits. Of money there was little. Dress was coa.r.s.e and plain, and was not subject to the whims or caprices of fas.h.i.+on. The girls, from the examples set them by their mothers, were industrious and constantly employed. Pride of birth was unknown, and the affections flourished fair and vigorously, unchecked by the thorns and brambles with which our minds are cursed in the advanced stage of refinement of the present day.

The secret of their success, if there was any secret in it, was the economy, industry and moderate wants of every member of the household. The clothing and living were the outcome of the farm. Most of the ordinary implements and requirements for both were procured at home. The neighbouring blacksmith made the axes, logging-chains and tools. He ironed the waggons and sleighs, and received his pay from the cellar and barn. Almost every farmer had his work-bench and carpenter's tools, which he could handle to advantage, as well as a shoemaker's bench; and during the long evenings of the fall and winter would devote some of his time to mending boots or repairing harness. Sometimes the old log-house was turned into a blacksmith shop. This was the case with the first home of my grandfather, and his seven sons could turn their hands to any trade, and do pretty good work. If the men's clothes were not made by a member of the household, they were made in the house by a sewing girl, or a roving tailor, and the boots and shoes were made by cobblers of the same itinerant stripe. Many of the productions of the farm were unsaleable, owing to the want of large towns for a market. Trade, such as then existed, was carried on mostly by a system of barter. The refuse apples from the orchard were turned into cider and vinegar for the table. The skins of the cattle, calves and sheep that were slaughtered for the wants of the family, were taken to the tanners, who dressed them, and returned half of each hide. The currency of the day was flour, pork and potash. The first two were in demand for the lumbermen's shanties, and the last went to Montreal for export. The ashes from the house and the log-heaps were either leached at home, and the lye boiled down in the large potash kettles-of which almost every farmer had one or two-and converted into potash, or became a perquisite of the wife, and were carried to the ashery, where they were exchanged for crockery or something for the house. Wood, save the large oak and pine timber, was valueless, and was cut down and burned to get it out of the way.

I am enabled to give a list of prices current at that time of a number of things, from a domestic account-book, and an auction sale of my grandfather's personal estate, after his death in 1829. The term in use for an auction then was vendue.