It was the latter end of October before even the walls of our house were up.  To effect this we called “a bee.”  Sixteen of our neighbours cheerfully obeyed our summons; and though the day was far from favourable, so faithfully did our hive perform their tasks, that by night the outer walls were raised.

The work went merrily on with the help of plenty of Canadian nectar (whiskey), the honey that our bees are solaced with.  Some huge joints of salt pork, a peck of potatoes, with a rice-pudding, and a loaf as big as an enormous Cheshire cheese, formed the feast that was to regale them during the raising.  This was spread out in the shanty, in a very rural style.  In short, we laughed, and called it a pic-nic in the backwoods; and rude as was the fare, I can assure you, great was the satisfaction expressed by all the guests of every degree, our “bee” being considered as very well conducted.  In spite of the difference of rank among those that assisted at the bee, the greatest possible harmony prevailed, and the party separated well pleased with the day’s work and entertainment.

The following day I went to survey the newly-raised edifice, but was sorely puzzled, as it presented very little appearance of a house.  It was merely an oblong square of logs raised one above the other, with open spaces between every row of logs.  The spaces for the doors and windows were not then chopped out, and the rafters were not up.  In short, it looked a very queer sort of a place, and I returned home a little disappointed, and wondering that my husband should be so well pleased with the progress that had been made.  A day or two after this I again visited it.  The sleepers were laid to support the floors, and the places for the doors and windows cut out of the solid timbers, so that it had not quite so much the look of a bird-cage as before.

After the roof was shingled, we were again at a stand, as no boards could be procured nearer than Peterborough, a long day’s journey through horrible roads.  At that time no saw-mill was in progress; now there is a fine one building within a little distance of us.  Our flooring-boards were all to be sawn by hand, and it was some time before any one could be found to perform this necessary work, and that at high wages—­six-and-sixpence per day.  Well, the boards were at length down, but of course of unseasoned timber:  this was unavoidable; so as they could not be planed we were obliged to put up with their rough unsightly appearance, for no better were to be had.  I began to recall to mind the observation of the old gentleman with whom we travelled from Cobourg to Rice Lake.  We console ourselves with the prospect that by next summer the boards will all be seasoned, and then the house is to be turned topsy-turvy, by having the floors all relaid, jointed, and smoothed.