Moodie was asked to attend a bee, which was called to construct a corduroy-bridge over a very bad piece of road.  He and J. E—–­ were obliged to go that morning with wheat to the mill, but Moodie lent his yoke of oxen for the work.

The driver selected for them at the bee was the brutal M—–­y, a man noted for his ill-treatment of cattle, especially if the animals did not belong to him.  He gave one of the oxen such a severe blow over the loins with a handspike that the creature came home perfectly disabled, just as we wanted his services in the hay-field and harvest.

Moodie had no money to purchase, or even to hire a mate for the other ox; but he and John hoped that by careful attendance upon the injured animal he might be restored to health in a few days.  They conveyed him to a deserted clearing, a short distance from the farm, where he would be safe from injury from the rest of the cattle; and early every morning we went in the canoe to carry poor Duke a warm mash, and to watch the progress of his recovery.

Ah, ye who revel in this world’s wealth, how little can you realise the importance which we, in our poverty, attached to the life of this valuable animal!  Yes, it even became the subject of prayer, for the bread for ourselves and our little ones depended greatly upon his recovery.  We were doomed to disappointment.  After nursing him with the greatest attention and care for some weeks, the animal grew daily worse, and suffered such intense agony, as he lay groaning upon the ground, unable to rise, that John shot him to put him out of pain.

Here, then, were we left without oxen to draw in our hay, or secure our other crops.  A neighbour, who had an odd ox, kindly lent us the use of him, when he was not employed on his own farm; and John and Moodie gave their own work for the occasional loan of a yoke of oxen for a day.  But with all these drawbacks, and in spite of the assistance of old Jenny and myself in the field, a great deal of the produce was damaged before it could be secured.  The whole summer we had to labour under this disadvantage.  Our neighbours were all too busy to give us any help, and their own teams were employed in saving their crops.  Fortunately, the few acres of wheat we had to reap were close to the barn, and we carried the sheaves thither by hand; old Jenny proving an invaluable help, both in the harvest and hay-field.

Still, with all these misfortunes, Providence watched over us in a signal manner.  We were never left entirely without food.  Like the widow’s cruise of oil, our means, though small, were never suffered to cease entirely.  We had been for some days without meat, when Moodie came running in for his gun.  A great she-bear was in the wheat-field at the edge of the wood, very busily employed in helping to harvest the crop.  There was but one bullet, and a charge or two of buckshot, in the house; but Moodie started to the wood with the single bullet