A. Slvwm'l MacDonald D.F.C., M.D. C..M. Section 1 GROWING UP IN LITTLE SANDS I was born on a farm but never considered myself a farmer. During my formative years, I was around horses, although they were not great pets to me as they were to my father, who simply loved horses and the horses knew that. He talked to them as if they were persons and they would respond with what we call a snicker. I guess it was their way of talking. Hughie MacNeill had taught a great many young boys how to work on a farm. He would pay us 50 cents a day, and we would plough for him. He had slow moving horses, and he never complained if the ground was red after ploughing, or how deep we went. We soon learned that the horses did not enjoy being anchored by deep ploughing. My father liked to have neat rows, especially near the road where a passing farmer could see the ploughing, and often assessed the type of farmer and his work, but he soon found that crooked ploughing did not affect the growth of crops. I was therefore, allowed to plough at home, especially in the back fields. At an early age he allowed me to ride on the horse’s back when he was scuffling the potato rows, but I learned that by putting the reins over one shoulder and under an arm, I could do the scuffling, by myself, which allowed my father to do other things. We soon learned to make coils of hay, as well as loads of hay and to stock sheaves. When I got older I used to work until there were about four rounds of the binders, and I would start making stooks, which are made by twisted sheaves. The thicker the grain, the less one worked, and it was my aim in later years to have the field all