for about an hour or more, to thicken it, singing- their love songs. When it was done, we had a roast goose and tea, and when it was over, we played Billy Button to get some forfeits, and then sold them for a good price in kisses, kissing each other. Then the boys took the girls home. I remember one time there lived in Crapaud a young shoemaker. At that time, there were no imported shoes or boots. He got all the custom from the girls in fancy boots, and to make them squeak, he put a quill in the bottom of their shoes between the soles, and at every step they took up the aisle in the church, the shoes would squeak, and the boys would look to see who the girl was and have a look at her, and if she pleased one of them, he would see her home, and have an hour or so counting, and very often it would end in marriage. When the imported shoes came into Crapaud , the quill boots were done away with. THE OLD HOME I love to think of the dear old home of my childhood. I remember our first humble home. It was a log cabin. Its seams were stuffed with moss. The first thing inside was our chimney and fireplace for heat and cooking and light. After a while, we got a cooking stove, and then we had to get tallow candles for light, as there were no oil lamps in those days, nor matches, and our fire was obtained from flint and steel. The women did their part and raised large families and fed and clothed them. We had no nursing bottles for babies in the old times. We kept a lot of sheep and our mothers washed the wool, and carded and spun it into yarn, and dyed and wove it into cloth. They made our hats from wheat straw and our soap from meat scraps and lye caught from a lye barrel set up on stools, and a long stick running down to the barrel into a little hole at the bottom of the barrel, and a bucket set under the hole to catch the lye. The fat and the lye were then put into a big pot and hung on a crane in the chimney and boiled into soap. Not very long ago in Crapaud , we had a Farmer's Institute, and I think the Hon. Walter Lea was the head of it. He went around the country lecturing on how to farm and how to get the best stock, and now we never see him. I think the Institute has died away, and we miss him very much, as he did teach us good farming and good stock-raising. I think he must be taking a rest or taking a visit to the Old Country, and he has let our Farmers' Institute go down, and now our women have taken his place, and have organized an Institute in Crapaud , and others all over the Island. I wonder what they are doing to help the farmers to grow good crops and raise the best of stock? Or are they teaching the young girls how to find good husbands? Or are they looking after the poor, lonely old bachelors, and nursing them on their dying beds? Are they looking for the poor orphan children and placing them in the orphans' homes, or are they trying to keep down high taxes on our farms? If they are doing all this, God bless them, for by their fruits, we shall know them. WHEN HOOPS WERE WORN At one time, we had a rum mill at Corner. If we had it now, there would be no need of rum, vessels outside of Crapaud bar loaded with all kinds of liquors supplying prohibitionists and bootleggers and blacklegs, all making a good living out of it. I saw, not long ago, a schooner lying outside of Victoria bar for three days. I thought she was wrecked and enquired about her, and was told she was supplying Tryon and Victoria and prohibitionists with rum. Now, I ask our mothers, is it right to see our boys getting rum free of -4 28 j*=-