From “homespun fulled cloth” the “every day” suits of men and boys were made, with the help of the tailoress who came spring and fall with press-board, goose, tailor-shears, and rolls of patterns supposed to fit all figures. What wonder if these home-made garments looked their name! Bedquilts were pieced in intricate patterns--baskets of flowers, butterflies, peonies, chariot wheels, log-cabin, goose chase, double and single Irish chain--and quilted in shells, circles, squares, diamonds, sawteeth and herringbone. The quilt frames in the “spare bed room” usually had one of these marvelous constructions on, ready for a “Quilting Bee,” after which the company gossipped over _their_ cup of tea as we over _ours_ after a card party. The shoemaker came with work-bench, kit of tools, lap-stone and boot-trees to make the common boots and shoes for the family (strictly common sense, no French heels). A smell of leather and “black wax” pervaded the room where he hammered merrily away at the heavy shoe soles on the lap-stone, singing of “Captain Kidd as he sailed, as he sailed,” and telling stories of haunted houses. One blood-curdling tale of a ghost in a cellar, seizing the feet of everyone who went upstairs after dark, still lingers in my mind--uncomfortably, if the truth be told. The schoolmaster came, a welcome guest, “boarding around,” a week for each scholar, and perhaps an extra week for the child of some poor widow needing kindly help. There came homeless wanderers silently claiming lodging and food. Under the low sloping roof was the “Old Shack’s Room,” where a bed was always kept in readiness. One whom we knew only as “Old Shiver-to-bits” had been “crossed in love” and his mind unbalanced. He never spoke, except to himself as he looked up to the sky, muttering, “The air is full of women, all shiver-de-bits.” Another would sleep only on the floor by the kitchen fire, wrapped in a blanket, cooking his own food for fear of being poisoned. He was an astrologer and philosopher. A woman came, who wore a quilted hood, never taken off and kept drawn over her face, which was always averted when she was spoken to. None of these unfortunates was ever turned away from the open doors of those hospitable homes. The Schaghticoke Indians, who came from the Reservation with squaws and hounds on their fishing expeditions to the “Eel Rocks” at the Great Falls, always expected the privilege of sleeping in the barn. Their desire for cider was greater than their desire for food. They willingly paid for both with splint baskets. Sometimes they became quarrelsome and noisy, and then the “riot act” was read to them, whip in hand.