Ned felt chilled. He of all people felt no shame in humble beginnings, but his father's standards of value depressed him. He wondered what he would think of his Methodism. Then Ned was taken into the house, built of logs. It had hall and living-room, the last with open fireplace, brass andirons and fender. Tall brass candlesticks stood on the mantel, the rugs were of fur, and the furniture rough made, but the sideboard held a fine array of silver plate, which society then demanded of every one who would hold position. Army officers dragged it through the bush with them, and wealthy traders proved their station by the amount they owned. There were books too in the parlor, which made Ned feel more at home. He followed his father past the four smaller bedrooms, and the big guest chamber, furnished with bunks round its walls, into the great kitchen, where the family ate and spent most of their time. Ned noticed a jug of whiskey with a cup on a small table, for any one to help himself. Then he sat down to supper. The table was loaded with broiled venison, ham, homemade bread and butter, cheese, fruit pies, tea for Susie and the children, and whiskey for the men. On duty Edgar never touched anything but water, but now he frowned as Ned refused the whiskey black Bob handed him. At that time almost all the house servants in Canada were negroes, and Susie kept two, Bob and Fanny. "Don't be a Methodist, Ned," said Edgar. "I am one, sir." "Was one," said Edgar coolly. "I let you come out forward to knock the nonsense out of you." Ned wisely said nothing, and the next day he put on the dark gray uniform of the Canadian militia, took the oath to serve the king and obey his officers, being pleased to find that his captain was Archy, his father's employee. He enjoyed his new life and threw himself with such zest into his six hours of hard drilling a day, that Edgar gave him half grudging approval, but he was still unreasonably sore at his son's steady refusal to drink "like a man." The war was still going on. Though American attacks on Lower Canada and Kingston had been repulsed, and 1812 closed with Canadian soil still free from the enemy, and the English flag over Detroit. Yet with their splendid naval victories the Americans were confident of conquest. It was the good seamanship shown in these fights which caused dismay in England, and filled the new republic with thoughts of its own naval supremacy. Canada took the news stoically; England's hands were too full in Europe for her to send out further ships. Certainly England would conquer Napoleon some day, and till then Canada would "hold the fort".