PREFACE 



A SON of the soil, born in a log cnbin and 

 ■^^ bred on a bush farm, should have pleasurable 

 recollections of boyhood days. Gazing into the 

 misty mirror of the past, I have endeavoured, in 

 these sketches, in some measure to pay the debt of 

 gratitude I owe the Goddess of Fortune for start- 

 ing me off on life's journey amid such surround- 

 ings. I hold to the belief that one bom and raised 

 in the country — ^it may be in a log cabin and on a 

 bush farm — ^has a distinct advantage over those 

 unfortunates who, from infancy, have been 

 doomed to artificial ways — city pavements — and 

 so missed the delights of woodland places, haw- 

 thorn lanes and the innumerable joys that pertain 

 to rural life. 



Canada still has vast stretches of forest and 

 plain invitingly awaiting the coming of the home- 

 makers. And those dear, if homely and natural, 

 pleasures that I have essayed to recall in these 

 *'01d Days on the Farm" chapters, are still, in a 

 degree, to be found and enjoyed by those who may 

 adventure in the field of pioneer agriculture. 



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