Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

Page 20 text:

dipping my pigtails in the inkwell. I did not mind a little ink, but Mr. McLeod said that inky clothes make more work for mothers and older sisters. So yesterday morning when Mr. McLeod said that we could have a skating party on the river, and then go to my house afterwards, we were all excited, but Robert and I most of all, for we were both hoping. Of course, unless girls want to be called Tom-boys , they do not skate, but it is fun to watch the boys race across the i e. At seven o ' clock last evening, all the school children met in front of the house. Mr. McLeod and Father each drove a team, and, in two sleighs, we started along the River Road to a place where the ice was smooth and wide and windswept. It was very cold, so each of us was warmly wrapped in fur robes. Mother gave us each a hot brick wrapped in wool to put at our feet. It was a merry ride, with fourteen of us bundled into the sleds, singing winter songs, all the way along the road. The horses seemed to dance in time to our music and their harness bells added a jingling, merry note to the night. In the distance, through the dark trees, a huge brush fire burned brightly. Mr. Matthews from the General Store, Mr. Stewart, the harness maker, and Mr. Taylor and Mr. Dupuis, and many other town people were there. They helped us down from the sleighs, and we girls stood laughing and chatting about the fire while the boys attached their skates to their boots by leather straps. I wished so hard that I could skate too that it must have shown in my face, for Father said, Now Molly, you know little girls don ' t skate . Little girls! You would think that I was eight instead of twelve and knowing my sister was a-courting. Soon however, we tired of watching the men and boys glide over the shining ice, so Father took us home in his sleigh. At home the smell of baking tarts and ham met us at the door. Our heavy oak table sagged under the weight of the goodies set out for our guests. Elizabeth, in her best dress, stood tying the bow of her crisp white apron. Her auburn hair gleamed in the lamplight, and her cheeks were rosy with excitement. Her dress was indigo blue wool, and looked just lovely. Mother and she made it last autumn. They spun the thread and wove the cloth and dyed it with some lumps of indigo dye that Mother brought from London in 1848. Elizabeth looked very lovely with her long, full skirt and tiny waist, as she carved the huge smoked ham on the table. I wish Mr. McLeod had been there, for it was very domesticated. At last, when all was ready, we heard sleigh bells jingling, and shouts of laughter, and knew that at last the boys and Mr. McLeod had come. The door burst open, and they all tumbled in, with rosy cheeks, and snowy boots. Mr. McLeod came in last, and he stopped short when he saw Elizabeth. She pretended to be busy with some tarts in the oven, but her face was redder than oven-heat could make it. I wish so hard that she would go over to him and speak, and then they would not be fighting any more. She did not go to him, but instead she hung up the boys ' jackets and caps, and he put another log on the fire. Throughout the party, it was like that. They ignored each other completely with- out really showing that they were doing so. I saw Mother look at Father and he just shrugged his shoulders sadly. At last everyone began to leave, until only Mr. PAGE EIGHTEEN

Page 19 text:

J obert and CUzabetk Latham Corners, January 17th, 1855. Dear Katherine, The most exciting things happened here yesterday. 1 must tell you all about them, beginning at the very beginning, and telling you everything. As I go on I shall try to help you to understand life here in Upper Canada, for it is so different from life in England. The whole affair began the night before last with the big freeze-up that made the river like a sheet of glass. Everyone at school was very excited because Mr. McLeod, the school-master, said that we could have a skating party that night. The day after the freeze, I was especially excited because Father had suggested to Mr. McLeod that there be a party at our house afterwards. I think that the main reason that he sug- gested it was the school-master has been courting my big sister Elizabeth, but they had had a quarrel and were not speaking to each other. Of course, since I am only twelve years old, I was not supposed to know or understand anything about it, but since Elizabeth and I sleep in the loft, I had heard her crying at night. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me to leave her alone, and just kept on crying. So I think Father suggested the party to get Elizabeth to speak to Mr. McLeod. I had gone to bed early the night of the freeze but I heard what was said below. You see, the house is built of logs, and is not very large, Downstairs there are two rooms. Across the back is Mother ' s and Father ' s room and outside their door is a ladder leading to the loft where Elizabeth and I sleep. By lying on the floor at the top of the ladder, I can see everything that happens in the main room below. The main room is our dining room, parlour, and kitchen all rolled into one. On the inside wall is a huge stone fireplace made from stones which Father gathered in the fields nearby. The hearth is our kitchen, and there is an oven built into the stones at the side of the fireplace. Father made all our furniture of lumber from his mill. There is a waterfall at one side of the island and when we came by here Father said that it was a perfect place to settle. He is very persuasive, and when other folk came by this way, he convinced them that they should stay too. Because we were first here, the town is named Latham Corners after Father. To return to Elizabeth and Mr. Robert McLeod. 1 overheard her telling Mother and Father why she was never going to speak to him again. Elizabeth wants to be married in May when the travelling preacher comes out from Toronto, but Robert is studying law and wants to wait until he writes his final examinations next year. He says it is absolutely impossible to support a wife on a school-master ' s pay, and that only an idiot would want to try it. Elizabeth says that it can be managed very well, but that she will never marry a man who considers her to be an idiot. I wish he would marry her, idiot or no, because her crying keeps me awake at night, and in school he snaps at us. Yesterday he strapped Johnny Matthews for PAGE SEVENTEEN

Page 21 text:

McLeod remained. Mother and Father went into their room, and I climbed the ladder and lay on the floor of the loft. From there I could see pretty well but the logs in the fire crackled so loudly that I could not hear what was said. Elizabeth stood by the table with her back to Mr. McLeod. Slowly he walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He spoke to her, and she turned around, her face aglow, laughing and crying at the same time. Then she was in his arms. I was so happy that I put my head in my arms and cried. When I looked up Elizabeth h ad her golden, wool cape about her shoulders, and Robert was ushering her out of the door. 1 wondered where they had gone, and I waited there on the floor, for their return. The loft is cold. 1 became tired and stiff with waiting, and finally went to I awoke with Elizabeth laughing and shaking me. The sun shone through the window and turned her hair to gold. Her eyes sparkled as she raised her head, and showed me the shining gold wedding band. She and Robert had gone in his sleigh to Toronto, and they were married. She was blushing and starry-eyed, and I was so glad that she was happy. So you see, Katherine, I have had a very exciting few days. Now my school- master is my brother and my sister is Mistress William Robert McLeod, a school-master ' s wife. I shall write to you again soon, and tell you more of Canada, this wonderful land, but to-day I am too excited. P.S. Mr. McLeod says that he supposes a school-master can afford to study law and support a wife — especially if she is as pretty as Elizabeth. He says only an idiot would stay single. bed. Your affectionate friend. Molly. PAT RIDDELL A mournful sound, A dim light shone, A whoshing passed. And then was gone: And so was home. THE TRAIN in the far distance A shrill piercing call: The wolves. Out of the quiet night The eerie cries come forth Echoing to far distant lights: The wolves. M. MUNRO E. WESTHEUSER PAGE NINETEEN