Nov. 5—­Snow gone; clear and fine.  Chopping down trees.

Nov. 6—­A peaceful autumn day.  Heard a robin and wondered how it came to be left behind by its comrades.  Had a walk in the bush in the afternoon thinking of mother and the land I shall never forget.

Nov. 7—­Shoemaker arrived.  A great talker.  Tells of families where the children had to stay in all winter for lack of boots.

Nov. 12—­A week of steady clearing of the land; we shall have a great burning in the spring.  Have had hard frosts every night.  Going to Yonge-street to see if I could get oats for the oxen, for the swamp hay is not nourishing and they are young and growing, found provisions remarkably plenty and cheap, especially pork.  Bargained for a two-year old steer which the farmer promised not to kill until steady frost set in.  Thankful we did not go farther into the bush.  It is a blessing to be near older settlers who have a surplus to sell.  There was a smoky haze over the bush today, and the sun shone with a subdued brightness; very still with a mellow warmth.  Was told it was the Indian summer.

Nov. 20—­Had four days of Indian summer and then a drenching rain from the east, which stopped chopping.  A black frost today, dark and bleak.  Had a letter from Gordon yesterday, who is happy in learning so much that is new to him.  He was at Bambray’s for dinner last Sabbath and spent an evening at Dunlop’s.  He will make friends wherever he goes.

December 3—­There has been nothing worth setting down.  Have had a long spell of grey, cloudy days, which just suited felling trees and underbrushing.  Have got our patch of wheat well fenced in, not to keep cattle out, there are none near us, but to help to keep a covering of snow on the wheat.  Bobbie trapped a coon that haunted the barn and it made fine eating.  He says the pelt will make a neck-wrap for his mother.

Dec. 7—­Went to get the steer I had bargained for.  The farmer suggested instead of butchering the beast and hauling the carcase it would be easier to drive it on foot and kill it at home, which I did.

Dec. 8—­Killed the steer, which dressed well.  Auld and Brodie took away their portions to salt down, but Ailie followed Mrs Bambray’s advice.  After the pieces are hard frozen she will pack them in snow.

Dec. 10—­Began to snow gently yesterday and continues.  There are now about six inches.

Dec. 11—­Bitterly cold; never felt the like.  What Burns calls cranreuch cauld gets into the bones, but this frost seems to squeeze body and bones, pinching and biting the exposed skin.

Dec. 13—­Ailie is never at a loss.  On Mrs Brodie telling the children woke at night crying from cold, she had no blankets to give her.  Having sheets we brought from Scotland she took two and placed as an inside lining the skins of the squirrels Robbie had killed.  Simmins had taught him how to tan and give them a soft finish.  Brodie and Auld’s houses are cold because they only half chinked them.  Mrs Auld said the blankets were frozen where the breath struck them and the loaf of bread could be sawn as if it were a block of wood.  Both now believe Canada’s cold is not to be trifled with and are scraping moss off the trees to caulk between the outside logs the first warm spell.