Read Ebook: Country Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago Personal recollections and reminiscences of a sexagenarian by Haight Canniff

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DEDICATION

The round of pioneer life--Game--Night fishing--More details about sugar-making--Sugaring-off--Taking a hand at the old churn--Sheep- washing--Country girls, then and now--Substance and Shadow--"Old Gray" and his eccentricities--Harvest--My early emulation of Peter Paul Rubens--Meeting-houses--Elia on Quaker meetings--Variegated autumn landscapes--Logging and quilting bees--Evening fun--The touching lay of the young woman who sat down to sleep.

Progress, material and social--Fondness of the young for dancing-- Magisterial nuptials--The charivari--Goon-hunting--Catching a tartar-- Wild pigeons--The old Dutch houses--Delights of summer and winter contrasted--Stilled voices.

The early settlers in Upper Canada--Prosperity, national and individual-- The old homes, without and within--Candle-making--Superstitions 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

Jefferson's definition of "Liberty"--How it was acted upon--The Canadian renaissance--Burning political questions in Canada half a century ago-- Locomotion--Mrs. Jameson on Canadian stagecoaches--Batteaux and Durham boats

Road-making--Weller's line of stages and steamboats--My trip from Hamilton to Niagara--Schools and colleges--Pioneer Methodist Preachers-- Solemnization of matrimony--Literature and libraries--Early newspapers-- Primitive editorial articles

Banks--Insurance--Marine--Telegraph companies--Administration of Justice--Milling and manufactures--Rapid increase of population in cities and towns--Excerpts from Andrew Picken

SKETCHES OF EARLY HISTORY:--

Early schools and schoolmasters--Birth of the American Republic--Love of country--Adventures of a U.E. Loyalist family ninety years ago--The wilds of Upper Canada--Hay bay--Hardships of pioneer life--Growth of population--Division of the Canadian Provinces--Fort Frontenac--The "dark days"--Celestial fireworks--Early steam navigation in Canada--The country merchant Progress--The Hare and the Tortoise

RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS EARLY DAYS

Paternal memories--A visit to the home of my boyhood--The old Quaker meeting-house--Flashes of silence--The old burying ground--"To the memory of Eliza"--Ghostly experiences--Hiving the Bees--Encounter with a bear--Giving "the mitten"--A "boundary question"--Song of the bullfrog-- Ring--Sagacity of animals--Training-days--Picturesque scenery on the Bay of Quinte--John A. Macdonald--A perilous journey--Aunt Jane and Willet Casey

THE PROSE AND POETRY OF PIONEER LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS--THE LOG HOUSE-- SUGAR MAKING--AN OMEN OF GOOD LUCK--MY QUAKER GRANDPARENTS--THE OLD HOME--WINTER EVENINGS AT THE FIRESIDE--RURAL HOSPITALITY--ARISTOCRACY versus DEMOCRACY--SCHOOL DAYS--DEBATING SOCIETIES IN THE OLDEN TIME--A RURAL ORATOR CLINCHES THE NAIL--CIDER, SWEET AND OTHERWISE--HUSKING IN THE BARN--HOG KILLING AND SAUSAGE MAKING--FULL CLOTH AND CORDUROY-- WINTER WORK AND WINTER AMUSEMENTS--A CANADIAN SKATING SONG.

My father, when he married, bought a farm. Of course it was all woods. Such were the only farms available for young folk to commence life with in those days. Doubtless there was a good deal of romance in it. Love in a cot; the smoke gracefully curling; the wood-pecker tapping, and all that; very pretty. But alas, in this work-a-day world, particularly the new one upon which my parents then entered, these silver linings were not observed. They had too much of the prose of life.

My father was one of a class of young men not uncommon in those days, who possessed energy and activity. He was bound to win. What the old people gave was cheerfully accepted, and he went to work to acquire the necessaries and comforts of life with his own hands. He chopped his way into the stubborn wood and added field to field. The battle had now been waged for seven or eight years; an addition had been made to the house; other small comforts had been added, and the nucleus of future competence fairly established.

One of my first recollections is in connection with the small log barn he had built, and which up to that date had not been enlarged. He carried me out one day in his arms, and put me in a barrel in the middle of the floor. This was covered with loosened sheaves of wheat, which he kept turning over with a wooden fork, while the oxen and horse were driven round and round me. I did not know what it all meant then, but I afterwards learned that he was threshing. This was one of the first rude scenes in the drama of the early settlers' life to which I was introduced, and in which I had to take a more practical part in after years. I took part, also, very early in life, in sugar-making. The sap- bush was not very far away from the house, and the sap-boiling was under the direction of my mother, who mustered all the pots and kettles she could command, and when they were properly suspended over the fire on wooden hooks, she watched them, and rocked me in a sap-trough. Father's work consisted in bringing in the sap with two pails, which were carried by a wooden collar about three feet long, and made to fit the shoulder, from each end of which were fastened two cords with hooks to receive the bail of the pails, leaving the arms free except to steady them. He had also to cut wood for the fire. I afterwards came to take a more active part in these duties, and used to wish I could go back to my primitive cradle. But time pushed me on whether I would or not, until I scaled the mountain top of life's activities; and now, when quietly descending into the valley, my gaze is turned affectionately towards those early days. I do not think they were always bright and joyous, and I am sure I often chafed under the burdens imposed upon me; but how inviting they seem when viewed through the golden haze of retrospection.

My next recollection is the raising of a frame barn behind the house, and of a niece of my father's holding me in her arms to see the men pushing up the heavy "bents" with long poles. The noise of the men shouting and driving in the wooden pins with great wooden beetles, away up in the beams and stringers, alarmed me a great deal, but it all went up, and then one of the men mounted the plate with a bottle in his hand, and swinging it round his head three times, threw it off in the field. If the bottle was unbroken it was an omen of good luck. The bottle, I remember, was picked up whole, and shouts of congratulation followed. Hence, I suppose, the prosperity that attended my father.

The only other recollection I have of this place was of my father, who was a very ingenious man, and could turn his hand to almost everything, making a cradle for my sister, for this addition to our number had occurred. I have no remembrance of any such fanciful crib being made for my slumbers. Perhaps the sap-trough did duty for me in the house as well as in the bush. The next thing was our removal, which took place in the winter, and all that I can recall of it is that my uncle took my mother, sister, and myself away in a sleigh, and we never returned to the little log house. My father had sold his farm, bought half of his old home, and come to live with his parents. They were Quakers. My grandfather was a 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.

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 contentment. Altogether a substantial prosperity was apparent. A genuine content and a hearty good will, one towards another, existed in all the older parts. The settled part as yet, however, formed only a very narrow belt extending along the bay and lake shores. The great forest lay close at hand in the rear, and the second generation, as in the case of my father, had only to go a few miles to find it, and commence for themselves the laborious struggle of clearing it away.

The old home, as it was called, was always a place of attraction, and especially so to the young people, who were sure of finding good cheer at grandfather's. What fun, after the small place called home, to have the run of a dozen rooms, to haunt the big cellar, with its great heaps of potatoes and vegetables, huge casks of cider, and well-filled bins of apples, or to sit at the table loaded with the good things which grandmother only could supply. How delicious the large piece of pumpkin pie tasted, and how toothsome the rich crullers that melted in the mouth! Dear old body! I can see her now going to the great cupboard to get me something saying as she goes, "I'm sure the child is hungry." And it was true, he was always hungry; and how he managed to stow away so much is a mystery I cannot now explain. There was no place in the world more to be desired than this, and no spot in all the past the recollection of which is more bright and joyous.

My father now assumed the management of affairs. The old people reserved one room to themselves, but it was free to all, particularly to us children. It was hard to tell sometimes which to choose, whether the kitchen, where the family were gathered round the cheerful logs blazing brightly in the big fire-place, or a stretch on the soft rag-carpet beside the box stove in grandmother's room. This room was also a sanctuary to which we often fled to escape punishment after doing some mischief. We were sure of an advocate there, if we could reach it in time.

The house was a frame one, as nearly all the best houses were in those days, and was painted a dark yellow. There were two kitchens, one used for washing and doing the heavier household work in; the other, considerably larger, was used by the family. In the latter was the large fire-place, around which gathered in the winter time bright and happy faces; where the old men smoked their pipes in peaceful reverie, or delighted us with stories of other days; where mother darned her socks, and father mended our boots; where the girls were sewing, and uncles were scraping axe-handles with bits of glass, to make them smooth. There were no drones in farm-houses then; there was something for every one to do. At one side of the fire-place was the large brick oven with its gaping mouth, closed with a small door, easily removed, where the bread and pies were baked. Within the fire-place was an iron crane securely fastened in the jamb, and made to swing in and out with its row of iron pot-hooks of different lengths, on which to hang the pots used in cooking. Cook stoves had not yet appeared to cheer the housewife and revolutionize the kitchen. Joints of meat and poultry were roasted on turning spits, or were suspended before the fire by a cord and wire attached to the ceiling. Cooking was attended with more difficulties then. Meat was fried in long-handled pans, and the short-cake that so often graced the supper table, and played such havoc with the butter and honey, with the pancakes that came piping hot on the breakfast table, owed their finishing touch to the frying pan. The latter, however, were more frequently baked on a large griddle with a bow handle made to hook on the crane. This, on account of its larger surface, enabled the cook to turn out these much-prized cakes, when properly made, with greater speed; and in a large family an expert hand was required to keep up the supply. Some years later an ingenious Yankee invented what was called a "Reflector," made of bright tin for baking. It was a small tin oven with a slanting top, open at one side, and when required for use was set before the fire on the hearth. This simple contrivance was a great convenience, and came into general use. Modern inventions in the appliances for cooking have very much lessened the labour and increased the possibilities of supplying a variety of dishes, but it has not improved the quality of them. There were no better caterers to hungry stomachs than our mothers, whose practical education had been received in grandmother's kitchen. The other rooms of the house comprised a sitting-room--used only when there was company--a parlour, four bedrooms, and the room reserved for the old people. Up-stairs were the sleeping and store-rooms. In the hall stood the tall old fashioned house clock, with its long pendulum swinging to and fro with slow and measured beat. Its face had looked upon the venerable sire before his locks were touched with the frost of age. When his children were born it indicated the hour, and it had gone on telling off the days and years until the children were grown. And when a wedding day had come, it had rung a joyful peal through the house, and through the years the old hands had travelled on, the hammer had struck off the hours, and another generation had come to look upon it and grow familiar with its constant tick.

The furniture was plain and substantial, more attention being given to durability than to style or ornament. Easy chairs--save the spacious rocking-chair for old women--and lounges were not seen. There was no time for lolling on well-stuffed cushions. The rooms were heated with large double box stoves, very thick and heavy, made at Three Rivers; and by their side was always seen a large wood-box, well filled with sound maple or beech wood. But few pictures adorned the walls, and these were usually rude prints far inferior to those we get every day now from the illustrated papers. Books, so plentiful and cheap now-a-days, were then very scarce, and where a few could be found, they were mostly heavy doctrinal tomes piled away on some shelf where they were allowed to remain.

The home we now inhabited was altogether a different one from that we had left in the back concession, but it was like many another to be found along the bay shore. Besides my own family, there were two younger brothers of my father, and two grown-up nieces, so that when we all mustered round the table, there was a goodly number of hearty people always ready to do justice to the abundant provision made. This reminds me of an incident or two illustrative of the lavish manner with which a well-to-do farmer's table was supplied in those days. A Montreal merchant and his wife were spending an evening at a very highly-esteemed farmer's house. At the proper time supper was announced, and the visitors, with the family, were gathered round the table, which groaned, metaphorically speaking, under the load it bore. There were turkey, beef and ham, bread and the favourite short cake, sweet cakes in endless variety, pies, preserves, sauces, tea, coffee, cider, and what not. The visitors were amazed, as they might well be, at the lavish display of cooking, and they were pressed, with well-meant kindness, to partake heartily of everything. They yielded good-naturedly to the entreaties to try this and that as long as they could, and paused only when it was impossible to take any more. When they were leaving, the merchant asked his friend when they were coming to Montreal, and insisted that they should come soon, promising if they would only let him know a little before when they were coming he would buy up everything there was to be had in the market for supper. On another occasion an English gentleman was spending an evening at a neighbour's, and, as usual, the supper table was crowded with everything the kind-hearted hostess could think of. The guest was plied with dish after dish, and, thinking it would be disrespectful if he did not take something from each, he continued to eat, and take from the dishes as they were passed, until he found his plate, and all the available space around him, heaped up with cakes and pie. To dispose of all he had carefully deposited on his plate and around it seemed utterly impossible, and yet he thought he would be considered rude if he did not finish what he had taken, and he struggled on, with the perspiration visible on his face, until in despair he asked to be excused, as he could not eat any more if it were to save his life.

It was the custom in those days for the hired help to sit at the table, with the family. On one occasion, a Montreal merchant prince was on a visit at a wealthy Quaker's, who owned a large farm, and employed a number of men in the summer. It was customary in this house for the family to seat themselves first at the head of the table, after which the hired hands all came in, and took the lower end. This was the only distinction. They were served just as the rest of the family. On this occasion the guest came out with the family, and they were seated. Then the hired men and girls came in and did the same, whereupon the merchant left the table and the room. The old lady, thinking there was something the matter with the man, soon after followed him into the sitting-room, and asked him if he was ill. He said "No." "Then why did thee leave the table?" thee old lady enquired. "Because," said he, "I am not accustomed to eat with servants." "Very well," replied the old lady, "if thee cannot eat with us, thee will have to go without thy dinner." His honour concluded to pocket his dignity, and submit to the rules of the house.

I was sent to school early--more, I fancy, to get me out of the way for a good part of the day, than from any expectation that I would learn much. It took a long time to hammer the alphabet into my head. But if I was dull at school, I was noisy and mischievous enough at home, and very fond of tormenting my sisters. Hence, my parents--and no child ever had better ones--could not be blamed very much if they did send me to school for no other reason than to be rid of me. The school house was close at hand, and its aspect is deeply graven in my memory. My first schoolmaster was an Englishman who had seen better days. He was a good scholar, I believe, but a poor teacher. The school house was a small square structure, with low ceiling. In the centre of the room was a box stove, around which the long wooden benches without backs were ranged. Next the walls were the desks, raised a little from the floor. In the summer time the pupils were all of tender years, the elder ones being kept at home to help with the work. At the commencement of my educational course I was one of a little lot of urchins ranged daily on hard wooden seats, with our feet dangling in the air, for seven or eight hours a day. In such a plight we were expected to be very good children, to make no noise, and to learn our lessons. It is a marvel that so many years had to elapse before parents and teachers could be brought to see that keeping children in such a position for so many hours was an act of great cruelty. The terror of the rod was the only thing that could keep us still, and that often failed. Sometimes, tired and weary, we fell asleep and tumbled off the bench, to be roused by the fall and the rod. In the winter time the small school room was filled to overflowing with the larger boys and girls. This did not improve our condition, for we were mere closely packed together, and were either shivering with the cold or being cooked with the red-hot stove. In a short time after, the old school house, where my father, I believe, had got his schooling, was hoisted on runners, and, with the aid of several yoke of oxen, was taken up the road about a mile and enlarged a little. This event brought my course of study to an end for a while. I next sat under the rod of an Irish pedagogue--an old man who evidently believed that the only way to get anything into a boy's head was to pound it in with a stick through his back. There was no discipline, and the noise we made seemed to rival a Bedlam. We used to play all sorts of tricks on the old man, and I was not behind in contriving or carrying them into execution. One day, however, I was caught and severely thrashed. This so mortified me, that I jumped out of the window and went home. An investigation followed, and I was whipped by my father and sent back. Poor old Dominic, he has long since put by his stick, and passed beyond the reach of unruly boys. Thus I passed on from teacher to teacher, staying at home in the summer, and resuming my books again in the winter. Sometimes I went to the old school house up the road, sometimes to the one in an opposite direction. The latter was larger, and there was generally a better teacher, but it was much farther, and I had to set off early in the cold frosty mornings with my books and dinner basket, often through deep snow and drifts. At night I had to get home in time to help to feed the cattle and get in the wood for the fires. The school houses then were generally small and uncomfortable, and the teachers were often of a very inferior order. The school system of Canada, which has since been moulded by the skilful hand of Dr. Ryerson into one of the best in the world, and which will give to his industry and genius a more enduring record than stone or brass, was in my day very imperfect indeed. It was, perhaps, up with the times. But when the advantages which the youth of this country now possess are compared with the small facilities we had of picking up a little knowledge, it seems almost a marvel that we learned anything. Spelling matches came at this time into vogue, and were continued for several years. They occasioned a friendly rivalry between schools, and were productive of good. The meetings took place during the long winter nights, either weekly or fortnightly. Every school had one or more prize spellers, and these were selected to lead the match; or if the school was large, a contest between the girls and boys came off first. Sometimes two of the best spellers were selected by the scholars as leaders, and these would proceed to 'choose sides;' that is, one would choose a fellow pupil, who would rise and take his or her place, and then the other, continuing until the list was exhausted. The preliminaries being completed, the contest began. At first the lower end of the class was disposed of, and as time wore on one after another would make a slip and retire, until two or three only were left on either side. Then the struggle became exciting, and scores of eager eyes were fixed on the contestants. With the old hands there was a good deal of fencing, though the teacher usually had a reserve of difficult words to end the fight, which often lasted two or three hours. He failed sometimes, and then it was a drawn battle to be fought on another occasion.

Debating classes also met and discussed grave questions, upon such old- fashioned subjects as these:

"Which is the more useful to man, wood or iron?" "Which affords the greater enjoyment, anticipation or participation?" "Which was the greater general, Wellington or Napoleon?" Those who were to take part in the discussion were always selected at a previous meeting, so that all that had to be done was to select a chairman and commence the debate. I can give from memory a sample or two of these first attempts. "Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen: Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I rise to make a few remarks on this all important question-- ahem--Mr. President, this is the first time I ever tried to speak in public, and unaccustomed as I am to--to--ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen, I think our opponents are altogether wrong in arguing that Napoleon was a greater general than Wellington--ahem--I ask you, Mr. President, did Napoleon ever thrash Wellington? Didn't Wellington always thrash him, Mr. President? Didn't he whip him at Waterloo and take him prisoner? and then to say that he is a greater general than Wellington--why, Mr. President, he couldn't hold a candle to him. Ladies and Gentlemen, I say that Napoleon wasn't a match for him at all. Wellington licked him every time--and--yes, licked him every time. I can't think of any more, Mr. President, and I will take my seat, Sir, by saying that I'm sure you will decide in our favour from the strong arguments our side has produced."

After listening to such powerful reasoning, some one of the older spectators would ask Mr. President to be allowed to say a few words on some other important question to be debated, and would proceed to air his eloquence and instruct the youth on such a topic as this: "Which is the greater evil, a scolding wife or a smoky chimney?" After this wise the harangue would proceed:--"Mr. President, I have been almost mad a- listening to the debates of these 'ere youngsters--they don't know nothing at all about the subject. What do they know about the evil of a scolding wife? Wait till they have had one for twenty years, and been hammered, and jammed, and slammed, all the while. Wait till they've been scolded because the baby cried, because the fire wouldn't burn, because the room was too hot, because the cow kicked over the milk, because it rained, because the sun shined, because the hens didn't lay, because the butter wouldn't come, because the old cat had kittens, because they came too soon for dinner, because they were a minute late--before they talk about the worry of a scolding wife. Why Mr. President, I'd rather hear the clatter of hammers and stones and twenty tin pans, and nine brass kettles, than the din, din, din of the tongue of a scolding woman; yes, sir, I would. To my mind, Mr. President, a smoky chimney is no more to be compared to a scolding wife than a little nigger is to a dark night." These meetings were generally well attended, and conducted with considerable spirit. If the discussions were not brilliant, and the young debater often lost the thread of his argument--in other words, got things "mixed"--he gained confidence, learned to talk in public, and to take higher flights. Many of our leading public men learned their first lessons in the art of public speaking in the country debating school.

Apple trees were planted early by the bay settlers, and there were now numerous large orchards of excellent fruit. Pears, plums, cherries, currants and gooseberries were also common. The apple crop was gathered in October, the best fruit being sent to the cellar for family use during winter, and the rest to the cider mill.

The cider mills of those days were somewhat rude contrivances. The mill proper consisted of two cogged wooden cylinders about fourteen inches in diameter and perhaps twenty-six inches in length, placed in an upright position in a frame. The pivot of one of these extended upward about six feet, and at its top was secured the long shaft to which the horse was attached, and as it was driven round and round, the mill crunched the apples, with many a creak and groan, and shot them out on the opposite side. The press which waited to receive the bruised mass was about eight feet square, round the floor of which, near the edge, ran a deep groove to carry off the juice. In making what is known as the cheese, the first process was to spread a thick layer of long rye or wheat straw round the outer edge, on the floor of the press. Upon this the pulp was placed to the depth of a foot or more. The first layer of straw was then turned in carefully, and another layer of straw put down as in the first place, upon which more pulp was placed, and so on from layer to layer, until the cheese was complete. Planks were then placed on the top, and the pressure of the powerful wooden screw brought to bear on the mass. At once a copious stream of cider began to flow into the casks or vat, and here the fun began with the boys, who, well armed with long straws, sucked their fill.

A great brown building, two stories high, On the western hill face warm and dry;

And odorous piles of apples there Fill with incense the golden air;

And masses of pomace, mixed with straw, To their amber sweets the late flies draw.

The carts back up to the upper door, And spill their treasures in on the floor;

Down through the toothed wheels they go To the wide, deep cider press below.

And the screws are turned by slow degrees Down on the straw-laid cider cheese;

And with each turn a fuller stream Bursts from beneath the graning beam,

An amber stream the gods might sip, And fear no morrow's parched lip.

What classic goblet ever felt Such thrilling touches through it melt,

As throb electric along a straw, When the boyish lips the cider draw?

The years are heavy with weary sounds, And their discords life's sweet music drowns

But yet I hear, oh, sweet! oh, sweet! The rill that bathed my bare, brown feet;

And yet the cider drips and falls On my inward ear at intervals

And I lead at times in a sad, sweet dream To the bubbling of that little stream;

And I sit in a visioned autumn still, In the sunny door of the cider mill.

--WHITTIER.

It was a universal custom to set a dish of apples and a pitcher of cider before everyone who came to the house. Any departure from this would have been thought disrespectful. The sweet cider was generally boiled down into a syrup, and, with apples quartered and cooked in it, was equal to a preserve, and made splendid pies. It was called apple sauce, and found its way to the table thrice a day.

Then came the potatoes and roots, which had to be dug and brought to the cellar. It was not very nice work, particularly if the ground was damp and cold, to pick them out and throw them into the basket, but it had to be done, and I was compelled to do my share. One good thing about it was that it was never a long job. There was much more fun in gathering the pumpkins and corn into the barn. The corn was husked, generally at night, the bright golden ears finding their way into the old crib, from whence it was to come again to fatten the turkeys, the geese, and the ducks for Christmas. It was a very common thing to have husking bees. A few neighbours would be invited, the barn lit with candles.

Strung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow, Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scenes below; The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, And laughing eyes, and busy hand, and brown cheeks glimmering o'er.

Half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, Talking their old times o'er, the old men sat apart; While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played.

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