MEMORIES OF THE 



He had taken up the cooper's trade from necessity, in con- 

 nection with his early potash business, and, finding that he 

 could do good work in this line, he supplied himself with tools, 

 many of which he made. The jointers, croze, squeezer, benches 

 and all the woodwork of the outfit he made himself, and a handy 

 blacksmith at the "huddle," by the name of Carruth, forged the 

 shaves, compass, adz and other iron tools from old files and saws 

 discarded from the sawmill. The whole kit cost but very little, 

 yet was complete and answered well their various purposes. 



He built a small building, which he called the "cooper-shop," 

 in which to do work. Staves, heading, hoops, and all necessary 

 stock for making tubs, pork-barrels, casks, cheese-casks, butter- 

 tubs, sap-buckets, pails, and all other kinds of cooperage, were 

 provided and kept on hand to be worked up winters, stormy 

 days, or sometimes evenings if necessity required. 



This night-work in the cooper-shop was a much-dreaded 

 matter to me, for as a matter of course, being the boy, I had to 

 hold the light — a long tallow candle in an old, black iron candle- 

 stick — while father was at work. I was tired and sleepy and 

 could not keep myself awake, and the minutes seemed like hours 

 and the hours like ages as I nodded and dreamed while he 

 worked. He whistled in a kind of whisper which was a habit 

 he had, and his work and the old tunes kept him wide awake. 



"Hi, there, boy!" says father; "wake up and hold that 

 candle so I can see the compass-mark." 



" I can't tell whether you can see it or not," I answered. 



" Then hold the light so you can see it yourself and that will 

 do for me," was his reply; but my head was again falling off my 

 shoulders and the grease dropping in the shavings the next 

 minute. 



Now that I am in the cooper-shop, I might as well tell more 



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