deep; but we children knew almost nothing of it. I am surprised now that I remember so little. Other creditors and larger ones had to wait for the sales of the real estate, some creditors were considerate and gave time, in fact they had to be. It was not until eleven years afterwards that every debt was paid; the final of some accounts with costs and interest was four times the original debt. Mother was my informant on these matters more than anyone else. While as children our real needs seemed to be always supplied, yet we knew no luxury, in food, or dress, or amusement.

NORVAL UNDERTAKING

As soon as father felt able to resume work, he went to the village of Norval, about ten miles farther south and took a three-year's lease on a large flouring mill. The mill was not in good condition. He repaired it, hired a miller and a helper, and with himself serving as head miller, ran it night and day, during the busy season-the winter time. Here he made money wherewith to pay debts and made good progress. At, or before, the end of his term, he built for Col. Adamson, the proprietor, an addition to the large mill, with a complete set of machinery for making oatmeal.

to me.

Father had made a beginning in Norval before the family got there. I think it was Uncle Laughlin who moved us. It was in the winter time. We were not there many months when brother James was born; some few months after his birth, we moved to McNab's large old house close to the mill. I was then in my sixth year. The big mill was an immense interest The only thing I remember about the little mill in the back woods, was the way when a certain slide was pulled up the beautiful white flour came down and filled up a large tray. But this was a merchant mill, all was on a grander scale. And from the big wheel house at the bottom, to the peak of the roof, it was filled with machinery. I asked no questions, I bothered no one, only wanted to be left alone and investigate, and lest I should be hindered, I kept out of father's sight, and out of the miller's way. After I began to get used to the mill, as a whole, I undertook methodically its several

parts and their relation to one another. I soon settled on the true beginning place, that was the wheel house. So, down between dark stones, walls and heavy timbering, I found my way to the big water wheel (old breast wheel style), where, through the gate, the water went into the buckets, Chug! Chug! as each came for its share of the water load, that bore down that side of the great wheel, and turned it and thereby drove every moving part in the mill. So, for a long time, part of my daily occupation was to fully study out that mill. When it was pretty well mastered, I began to explain it to mother and it alarmed her to think of the way I had been going around, she thought I would be in the office room of the mill only. Of course she told father, but it was no news to him; he had seen me often when I did not know it and divined my purpose and saw that I was taking care. Some time after this, when I was satisfied that I knew every part of the mill and its use, I looked through a hole in the side, where a piece of board was broken off and saw in the dim light a large finished room, so I crawled through the hole to examine, and found this room had a conveying or hopper bottom; then I got into it and found a hole at the bottom, with some wheat in small corners. Here was another mystery for me; and I found also a hole above, evidently to let wheat in. As the hopper sides were pretty steep, it was not so easy to climb out, as to slide down. It occurred to me that no one knew where I was, but I was not the least alarmed, a barefooted boy can climb out of most anything. My after examination showed me the weigh hopper above this temporary store room, where the farmers' wheat was weighed in, when purchased, and at the conveying bottom was the foot of an elevator, whose head was in the highest peak of the mill. Wheat went from the bottom to the top, and was then turned into a conveyor, which ran along under the ridge of the roof, and spouts from this conveyor let the wheat into bins. in the upper story, from which it could be spouted and conveyed to the millstones for grinding. Here was a whole fine system of machinery, that I had entirely overlooked.

To many people these boyish experiences may appear like a great exaggeration, but such is not my style. This will not

seem so strange, when it is remembered that I was the oldest of mother's family, and she had others to care for quite as well as I. Edward was only fourteen months younger than I, and John only three years; so when I began to care for myself I had the most welcome leave to continue; and that early acquired ability and initiative never left me. This with an evidently inherited mechanical tendency, explains my forwardness in child mechanical study.

As a sample of the slow hard ways that money was earned in those days, I would cite an unexpected visit that Uncle John McKinnon made us. He arrived one winter night about eight o'clock, having left home, nearly thirty miles away, at three o'clock in the morning, with his ox team and sleigh loaded with twenty bushels of wheat. Of course he carried the necessary feed for his oxen for both journeys, and had to give them good time to rest, and feed by the way, and he provided in the same way for himself. It was a cold long journey of fifteen hours. And as a matter of course he brought some good sweet things for the children. Father got his oxen in the stable or shed. The next morning the load was sold. I kept along with Uncle John, being interested in the sale, and heard all the bargaining, and being a new experience it was remembered. The standard price was three shillings and six pence per bushel (seventy cents). Of course uncle wanted the full price. The buyer, with a standard sample in one hand, and uncle's wheat in the other, showed that uncle's, for want of plumpness in the grain, was below the standard, and cut his price one penny, three shillings and five pence. Uncle haggled hard for three shillings and five and one-half pence but could not get it; so the twenty bushels were sold for three pounds, eight shillings and four pence or thirteen dollars and sixty-seven cents. Uncle John was only a small farmer; a few small sales like that would make up his year's total of cash.

This and the reference to myself is rather a digression from the main story of father's life.

At the end of the three years' term of lease, the mill was given up, and millwright and other work taken up. The oat

meal mill was completed, the sawmill was thoroughly repaired, a new flume and water wheel built for the mill; and a distillery was built for Col. Adamson. This was a matter about which father had some conscientious scruples, and mother considerably more. Though neither were so well decided then as afterwards. Liquor was then generally regarded as useful, its harm coming from the abuse. Moderate drinkers could belong to the churches. Father recognized this state of public opinion, though he was teetotal, and watchful for the welfare of others. One day a drinking man started home with his grist from the mill. Father watched to see if he would pass the tavern, as he knew the family needed the flour, but the toper had to stop; father saw him begin to take off one of the flour bags; then father started up street, and though lame, ran as fast as he could (I saw him running). The flour was taken into the tavern and the door locked before he got there. He claimed admission but could not get it. He turned the team back, and took the remaining bags into the mill, put the horses in a shed, and sent word to the family. Then a friend came, and thanking father, brought the flour to its proper destination. I think it was in my seventh year when the distillery was built. It did not interest me like the mills, as there was no machinery in it. It had a large cylindrical boiler set in a brick arch; and some immerse tubes, and pipes, etc., and a peculiar mean smell. The distiller was a young man, a friend of ours, and boarded with us. As had been usual, mother sent me to the distillery for yeast one morning. New whiskey was being made and the distiller was having it tasted by way of test by some men then present, when a tablespoonful or more remaining in the bottom of the cup was thoughtlessly handed to the boy. I drank one swallow, not liking it, and started home with my yeast, having nearly a quarter of a mile to go. When about half way, my head began to swim. I found I was becoming drunk. I fell down and spilled my yeast. I remember this part well, but not much more on the rest of the way home. When I got there I lay down on the floor and fell asleep. Mother came in and found me, with empty tin pail, smeared with yeast and dirt, looking

pale, and could not awaken me. She felt somewhat alarmed, but undressed me, and put me in bed, and let me sleep. I awoke before dinner, and told her what happened. She then saw the danger I had gone through, and when the distiller came to dinner he got an awful scolding.

Father, mother and friends discussed the distillery building business, and the conclusion reached was that as liquor was so much more of a curse than a possible good, he, for one, would never do anything to aid or abet this essentially bad business. Temperance societies were then practically unknown.

RENEWED CHURCH RELATIONS.

At the little mills in the woods there seemed to have been no religious meetings, but very shortly after our coming to Norval with father and mother and smaller brothers, I was taken to my first meeting. It was held in the large farm house of Elder John Menzies, who has been previously mentioned. The Elder preached, as was generally the case. This was about a mile and a half from Norval. We went quite regularly, generally depending on the kindness of some of our friends to bring us in a sleigh or wagon. Probably after about a year's meeting in the farm house a nice log meeting house was built, by the roadside on Menzies' lot, which was the home of a good congregation for a long time. Father now gave increased attention to studies and reading on religious subjects. He subscribed for and gave financial help to the "Christian," a monthly published by W. W. Eaton of St. John, New Brunswick. Also was a subscriber to the earliest issues of the Millennial Harbinger, and purchased the publications of Alexander Campbell. So that he soon became second to the Elder in the leadership of the congregation. I have heard him relate how the old man, though known as a disciple or reformer, held to some of his old Baptist usages in the examination of candidates for baptism. He retained the old hard catechetical questions that a well taught candidate might answer but many others could not. At a certain examination conducted by the old man, father modestly challenged the right and propriety to ask such questions and pleaded for the