It is not the purpose to follow these people into their future homes, for this would be later than the Peace of 1783. Let it suffice to say that their lands were divided by lot, and into the wilderness they went, and there cleared the forests, erected their shanties out of round logs, to a height of eight feet, with a room not exceeding twenty by fifteen feet. These people were pre-eminently social and attached to the manners and customs of their fathers. In Scotland the people would gather in one of their huts during the long winter nights and listen to the tales of Ossian and Fingal. So also they would gather in their huts and listen to the best reciter of tales. Often the long nights would be turned into a recital of the sufferings they endured during their flight into Canada from Johnstown; and also of their privations during the long course of the war. It required no imagination to picture their hardships, nor was it necessary to indulge in exaggeration. Many of the women, through the wilderness, carried their children on their backs, the greater part of the distance, while the men were burdened with their arms and such goods as were deemed necessary. They endured perils by land and by water; and their food often consisted of the flesh of dogs and horses, and the roots of trees. Gradually some of these story tellers varied their tale, and, perhaps, believed in the glosses. A good story has gained extensive currency, and has been variously told, on Donald Grant. He was born at Crasky, Glenmoriston, Scotland, and was one of the heroes who sheltered prince Charles in the cave of Corombian, when wandering about, life in hand, after the battle of Culloden, before he succeeded in effecting his escape to the Outer Hebrides. Donald, with others, settled in Glengarry, a thousand acres having been allotted to him. This old warrior, having seen much service, knew well the country between Johnstown and Canada. He took charge of one of the parties of refugees in their journey from Schenectady to Canada. Donald lived to a good old age and was treated with much consideration by all, especially those whom he had led to their new homes. It was well known that he could spin a good story equal to the best. As years went on, the number of Donald's party rapidly increased, as he told it to open-mouthed listeners, constantly enlarging on the perils and hardships of the journey. A Highland officer, who had served in Canada for some years, was returning home, and, passing through Glengarry, spent a few days with Alexander Macdonell, priest at St. Raphael's. Having expressed his desire to meet some of the veterans of the war, so that he might hear their tales and rehearse them in Scotland, that they might know how their kinsmen in Canada had fought and suffered for the Crown, the priest, amongst others, took him to see old Donald Grant. The opportunity was too good to be lost, and Donald told the general in