Attired in a white apron and turban, holding in his hand a tin candlestick the size of a dinner plate, containing a tallow candle, with stately step he marched into the spacious cellar, with Jacob and three little girls dressed in red flannel at his heels.

As the farmers paid the interest on their mortgages in barrels of pork, headcheese, poultry, eggs, and cider, the cellars were well crowded for the winter, making the master of an establishment quite indifferent to all questions of finance.

We heard nothing in those days of greenbacks, silver coinage, or a gold basis.
Laden with vegetables, butter, eggs, and a magnificent turkey, Peter and his followers returned to the kitchen.

There, seated on a big ironing table, we watched the dressing and roasting of the bird in a tin oven in front of the fire.

Jacob peeled the vegetables, we all sang, and Peter told us marvelous stories.