Sept. 2—­Had a chance to send a note to Jabez to look out a suitable yoke of oxen.  On going to Yonge-street found a long building going up.  It is a tavern.  The street is lined with them all the way to Toronto and how far north they go cannot say.  Being the leading outlet there is much traffic on it.  Saw several parties of emigrants pass.  Imprudent to come so late in the season.  They will have their sufferings when winter sets in for they have not time to prepare for it.  Experience has shown me emigrants should come early in spring.  I spoke with one lot.  They sailed from Liverpool to New York and thence by the Erie canal to Oswego, avoiding the ordeal of the St Lawrence rapids.  It seems strange but it is so, the United States is Upper Canada’s market.  In comparison, little freight either goes or comes by Montreal.  This ought not to be.  The reason given is, that Lower Canada will not help to improve the St Lawrence route as it would not be to her benefit.

Sept. 5—­There is a plague of squirrels—­black, red and grey.  Bobby keeps killing them and we have them on the table every day.  Pushing the chopping, for our next year’s living depends on the size of our clearances.  Weather being cooler, work not so exhausting.  Had a scare yesterday from a bear trotting to the pond.  It had its drink and fled on seeing us.

Sept. 9—­Had word from Jabez to come to town as he had a yoke of oxen bought for me.

Sept. 10—­Walked to Toronto, taking Gordon to help.  Am no judge of oxen.  They cost $60.  Besides them had to pay for logging-chain and an ox-sled.  Gordon spent the time in the wheelwright’s shop where I bought the sled.  On Jabez telling me we would need somebody to teach us how to handle oxen and to burn a fallow, I went to see Sloot, and bargained with him for a week’s work.  On getting all that was needed for my neighbors and myself the sled was heaped up; we walked, Sloot driving.  It was near midnight when we reached home, but Ailie and the family got up to see the oxen by candle-light.

Sept. 11—­Sunday though it was, Sloot, taking the boys to clear the way, had to go to the stacks near the swamp for hay to feed the oxen.  It was a work of necessity.  They came back in the afternoon with a small load, for the track was rough.

Sept. 12—­Sloot and all hands were up at sunrise to set fire to the brushpiles.  The day was cool with a breeze that helped the fires.  Burning the logs was next taken in hand, and being green and thick they were slow to burn.

Sept. 13—­The weather was again favorable for our work of burning the logs but, despite a strong wind, they burned slowly and we had to keep poking and turning them to get a hot blaze.  The smoke and heat were like to overcome me, but Sloot went ahead.  He was born in the bush and all its work is second nature to him.  Washed in the pond and got to bed late.

Sept. 14—­Auld and Sloot, Allan helping, worked all night with the logheaps, which I found this morning much reduced in size.  The logging-chains and the oxen today came into play, the partly consumed logs being hauled to form fresh piles.  By dark there was quite a clearance.