The day was hot, though not unpleasantly so; for the leafy screen above our heads effectually protected us from the scorching rays of a July sun, which would otherwise have been very oppressive.

The musquitoes were particularly civil—­indeed the reign of these gentlemen was nearly over for the season.  They begin to be troublesome in the middle of May.  From the 1st of June to the middle of July, they are in the very height of their impertinence; and, although they have not sufficient strength in their proboscis to penetrate a top-boot, yet they easily pierce through a summer coat and shirt, and a wee bit into the skin beneath.  From the middle of July to the middle of August, they become much less venomous; and are then only annoying for an hour or so in the evening, in the woods or marshes.  By the 1st of September, they finally disappear for the season.

Our long road was considerably shortened by the amusing stories and anecdotes of the Doctor, who kept us in good humour during the whole journey.  Nearly mid-way between Goderich and Von Egmond’s, a small rill crosses the road:  here we stopped for an hour, and refreshed ourselves with beef-sandwiches and brandy and water—­no bad things in the Bush.

Close by the side of this little stream was a small log-shanty, which had been erected by the people who had been employed by the men cutting out the new road, which, from this to the southern boundary of the Huron tract, was already cleared out, the full width of sixty-six feet, preparatory to its being turnpiked.*

[* This is merely an American term for a road which has been ploughed on each side, and the earth, so raised, thrown up in the centre by the means of a road-scraper, or turnpike shovel, worked either with horses or oxen.  A road engineer or surveyor would call this grading, preparatory to gravelling or planking.]

We reached our destination about five o’clock, where we were received with every mark of respect and hospitality.  We were shown upstairs into a newly-finished room—­the only apartment as yet completed in the tavern old Von Egmond was building.  Here we found an excellent supper ready for us, to which, after a walk of eighteen miles, you may be sure we did ample justice.

In the morning, we walked over the farm with the old Colonel, and were much gratified by seeing the prosperous condition of the crops, which argued well for the goodness of the land.  I think I never saw a finer crop of oats, or better promise for turnips, in my life.  The wheat also looked extremely well.  It was certainly an interesting sight, after walking for miles through a dense forest, suddenly to emerge from the wooded solitude upon a sea of waving grain, white for the harvest.

“The Harvest! the Harvest! how fair on each plain
 It waves in its golden luxuriance of grain! 
 The wealth of a nation is spread on the ground,
 And the year with its joyful abundance is crowned. 
 The barley is whitening on upland and lea,
 And the oat-locks are drooping, all graceful to see;
 Like the long yellow hair of a beautiful maid,
 When it flows on the breezes, unloosed from the braid.