These he placed
with the ends toward the chimney on the chamber floor, and on them next
to the chimney, he placed his barrel. He filled it with metheglin and
said that the heat of the fire below, and warmth of the chimney above,
would keep it from freezing. Being placed upon the sticks he could draw
from it at his convenience, which he was quite sure to do when any of the
neighbors called. Neighbors were not very plenty in those days and we
were always glad to see them. When they came father would take his mug,
go up the ladder and return with it filled with metheglin. Then he would
pour out a glass, hand it to the neighbor, who would usually say, "What
is it?" Father would say, "Try it and see." This they usually did. He
then told them: "This is my wine, it was taken from the woods and it is a
Michigan drink, the bees helped me to make it." It was generally called
nice. Of course he frequently, after a hard day's work, would go up in
the chamber, draw some and give us all a drink. It tasted very good to
all, and especially to me, as will be seen by what follows. It so
happened that the chamber where the barrel was kept, was the sleeping
apartment of myself and brother, John S.
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