36 It Happened in Iona clock by their punctuality each week. Unfortunately while still very young, Ellsworth died from a serious illness. He was succeeded on the route by his brother George, a warm and friendly man who eventually followed a career in provincial politics. Charlie Hayter from Murray River was for many years our regular and best remembered fish pedlar. Since Ionians didn't eat meat on Fridays, Charlie was cagey enough to make his rounds up our way on Thursdays. Riding with him each time was his good wife "Ma" who served as his cashier, gate opener and overall director, since Charlie frequently had to be called back to the road so fond was he of talking. Hayter would always emphasize that his fish were fresh from the water that morning and had a special knack of holding high his hand scales and announcing that the codfish attached thereto was indeed a nice one. In addition to his fish run, Charlie was skilled at mending clocks which endeared him still more to his patrons. Charlie and Ma were a fine couple, good-will ambassadors and a welcome sight around Iona in their little truck for quite some time. Interesting salesmen for a number of years in the late 30s and beyond were those selling oilcloth carpets, usually for the kitchen. They always referred to these items as "squares", since undoubtedly they were 9 by 9 or close to that. A new carpet for the kitchen or any floor in those years was quite a delight and these men seemed to do a good business on their rounds. They were slick salespeople and it was difficult not to fall for their pitch or their product. Their trump card, however, was that they were willing — and perhaps anxious — to accept poultry as payment for the squares, with three or four hens being con¬ sidered a fair swap. These men would even go to the hen house themselves to gather their flock should the man of the house be absent. One elderly gentleman from the Valley was away one day when these men came selling their wares. The farmer's wife agreeably made a deal for a bright new square, with the lads going to the barnyard to retrieve the required poultry. When the husband returned that evening he was furious to find that four of his best hens had been snatched by the traders. The deal was a fair one, but that night he dashed off a sarcastic letter to the perceived head culprit. Knowing only the man's surname and district, the irate farmer addressed his letter to Mr.------, but to make sure it reached its intended target he scratched the words "HEN BUYER" largely across the envelope. The Rawleigh man was one of the less frequent of our