I could not get up after ten hours' sleep, and now I roll out of bed directly the alarum sounds five. How father will enjoy his trip out here, if he comes. No worry and bustle, except the bull-dogs and mosquitoes, and they are getting bad now. A little later and we shall get up at three, and lay over in the middle of the day, as the bull-dogs (large flies) worry the horses so much. By-the-bye, if I don't marry before I am thirty-two it will be a miracle. I come in awfully hungry at noon, and by the time I have cooked the dinner over the hot stove, my appetite is gone. Baking, washing, mending, leave no time to write or do anything. It is now 11.30, and I have to be up at 4.30 to-morrow to sow my last four acres of oats before the wind gets up; so I am afraid I must say good-night. The saw and grist mill at Norquay was burnt down in ten minutes last week, and my lumber won't be sawn this summer, I am afraid. I must say good-night.

TO HIS GRANDMOTHER.

Shore Lake Farm, May 18, 1882.-Thank you so much for your kind letter and present, although I am afraid the beer is impossible, because there is none nearer than Emmerson, 107 miles distant, and it would sour on the way out, since the rainy season is coming on, and this is the worst country in the world for thunderstorms. But my feet are healing rapidly now, and there is no fear till next winter, when I shall have to be very careful with them, to keep them from decaying. I shot a couple of minks the other day, and I have tanned the fur, which I shall sew inside my moccasins, and that I think will keep them all right. I hope you will excuse my not having written before, but twenty-nine acres of wheat and eleven of oats, with one team and two men, and only four months and a half to sow and harvest it, erect fences, and break thirty acres of new land and take the scrub off, besides all the

cooking, washing, and mending, does not leave me much time for many things which ought to be done. I have not even found time to find the corner stake of my property yet; and then, you see, I did not complete my purchase till just before seeding, so I am a little behindhand. I have four acres of oats more to sow, and now it is raining, or I would have had them in to-day, so I have been fencing. The mode of fencing is peculiar to the country. There is no wood. except poplars round here, and the bush is of two kinds, according to age-rail-timber and logs. The fires which come along in the fall sometimes kill a whole bush. Three years ago a fire came through here and killed a good many, leaping half a mile at a time, burning everything in its way. The way we stop it is by ploughing three furrows ten yards from the object to be saved, and five furrows twenty yards from these, thus arresting its course. The rails are cut fifteen feet long, the pickets seven feet. The pickets

are jammed into the ground two feet with the hand, and by pouring a little water in after starting the hole. The pickets are bound together with willow. The rails are put eighteen inches from the ground with a stake. The only objection is that the poplars rot so fast. But when the railroad comes we shall be able to buy cedar posts and put up bushed wire fences, which will of course be much better. The mosquitoes are beginning to sing, and bite too. The grass is getting green, and the dreary-looking poplars are donning their scanty foliage. I am afraid this letter is very " shoppy," but farming is occupying all my thoughts just now. I will try and write a more interesting letter in the course of the next three weeks. Pray tell Mrs. Blaxter I noticed two or three Hillington postmarks, and mentally thanked her. Give my love, etc.

TO HIS UNCLE.

Beaconsfield, May 18, 1882.—I have just got your letter, which, as you may well imagine, surprised me. "The trifle" you so kindly sent surprised me, because it happened to be exactly the thing I wanted, to carry on my "work" satisfactorily, and for that I cannot thank you enough. But your letter was what surprised me more; it said so much in a few words, and I don't think I ever received a letter before which made me feel so happy as yours did,— the same feeling, I suppose, as a fellow has walking down the "big school" to get the prize at the end of the term. A "cork toe" I hope will not be necessary, as my feet are healing fast. I think I have also got the half section I jumped, in January, which will make my little property two miles long and half a mile broad. I am sorry to say that I cannot write home so regularly now, as I am crowded with work