The first high gale prostrated
all my fine trees, and left our log cottage entirely exposed to the
fierce rays of the sun.
The confusion of an uncleared fallow spread around us on every side.
Huge trunks of trees and piles of brush gave a littered and
uncomfortable appearance to the locality, and as the weather had
been very dry for some weeks, I heard my husband daily talking with
his choppers as to the expediency of firing the fallow. They still
urged him to wait a little longer, until he could get a good breeze
to carry the fire well through the brush.
Business called him suddenly to Toronto, but he left a strict
charge with old Thomas and his sons, who were engaged in the job,
by no means to attempt to burn it off until he returned, as he
wished to be upon the premises himself, in case of any danger. He
had previously burnt all the heaps immediately about the doors.
While he was absent, old Thomas and his second son fell sick with
the ague, and went home to their own township, leaving John, a
surly, obstinate young man, in charge of the shanty, where they
slept, and kept their tools and provisions.
