Читать книгу Forest, Lake and Prairie. Twenty Years of Frontier Life in Western Canada—1842-62 онлайн

22 страница из 39

From my uncle's kind but humble home I wended my way every school-day to the old log school-house in Owen Sound. The teacher believed in "pounding it in," for, like now, "Children's heads were hollow." I saw a great deal of flogging, but somehow or another missed being flogged at that school. Through the rain and mud, through the snow and slush, through the winter's cold, I plodded back and forth morning and evening from school to the little log-house under the limestone cliffs.

This last autumn, in company with my cousin, Captain George MacDougall (who was born in this log-house), we drove out to look at the spot once more. The farm, hill, and cliffs were there, but the house was gone. Here we had sheltered and played and grown, and felt it was home—now it was gone. A strange home was built near the spot, stranger people lived in it, and with feelings of melancholy we turned away.

Twice during that winter I had intermission from school. Another uncle came along and took me down to Meaford, where my grandparents lived, and this gave me a delightful visit and a holiday as well.