I perhaps overlooked at that time the labour, the difficulties, the privations to which these settlers had been exposed when they first came to this country.  I saw it only at a distance of many years, under a high state of cultivation, perhaps in the hands of their children or their children’s children, while the toil-worn parent’s head was low in the dust.

Among other objects my attention was attracted by the appearance of open burying-grounds by the roadside.  Pretty green mounds, surrounded by groups of walnut and other handsome timber trees, contained the graves of a family, or may be, some favoured friends slept quietly below the turf beside them.  If the ground was not consecrated, it was hallowed by the tears and prayers of parents and children.

These household graves became the more interesting to me on learning that when a farm is disposed of to a stranger, the right of burying their dead is generally stipulated for by the former possessor.

You must bear with me if I occasionally weary you with dwelling on trifles.  To me nothing that bears the stamp of novelty is devoid of interest.  Even the clay-built ovens stuck upon four legs at a little distance from the houses were not unnoticed in passing.  When there is not the convenience of one of these ovens outside the dwellings, the bread is baked in large iron pots—­“bake-kettles” they are termed.  I have already seen a loaf as big as a peck measure baking on the hearth in one of these kettles, and tasted of it, too; but I think the confined steam rather imparts a peculiar taste to the bread, which you do not perceive in the loaves baked in brick or clay ovens.  At first I could not make out what these funny little round buildings, perched upon four posts, could be; and I took them for bee-hives till I spied a good woman drawing some nice hot loaves out of one that stood on a bit of waste land on the roadside, some fifty yards from the cottage.

Besides the ovens every house had a draw-well near it, which differed in the contrivance for raising the water from those I had seen in the old country.  The plan is very simple:—­a long pole, supported by a post, acts as a lever to raise the bucket, and the water can be raised by a child with very trifling exertion.  This method is by many persons preferred to either rope or chain, and from its simplicity can be constructed by any person at the mere trouble of fixing the poles.  I mention this merely to show the ingenuity of people in this country, and how well adapted all their ways are to their means*. [* The plan is pursued in England and elsewhere, and may be seen in the market-gardens on the western suburb of London.  It can only be done when the water is near the surface.]

We were exceedingly gratified by the magnificent appearance of the rapids of the St. Laurence, at the cascades of which the road commanded a fine view from the elevation of the banks.  I should fail in my attempt to describe this grand sheet of turbulent water to you.  Howison has pictured them very minutely in his work on Upper Canada, which I know you are well acquainted with.  I regretted that we could not linger to feast our eyes with a scene so wild and grand as the river here appears; but a Canadian stage waits for no one, so we were obliged to content ourselves with a passing sight of these celebrated rapids.