Walter Harland | Page 2

the room the quick eye of the
farmer fell upon the book which before had escaped his notice.
Stepping hastily toward me he said:

"I see how it is, your head is so filled with the crankums you get out o'
them books, that you are good for nothing else, but I'll stop this work
once for all;" and, ere I was aware of his intention, he snatched the
book from my hand, and threw it upon the wood-fire which burned in
the kitchen fire-place. I sprang forward to rescue my book from the
flames, but, before I could reach it, it was burned to ashes. As I have
before stated I was then about thirteen years old, tall and strong for my
age. I was usually quiet and respectful, but for all this I possessed a
high spirit. I could easily be controlled by kindness and mild persuasion,
but never by harsh and unkind treatment, and this act of Mr. Judson's
enraged me beyond all control, and in a moment all the smouldering
anger occasioned by his past harshness shot up as it were in a sudden
blaze. I have often heard it said, and I believe with truth, that there is
something almost appalling in the roused anger of one of those usually
quiet and submissive natures. I have often since thought that passion
rendered me partially insane for the time being; trembling with anger, I
confronted my employer fearlessly, as I said "How dare you burn my
book? you bad, wicked man, you are just as mean as you can be."
This sudden outbreak from me, who hitherto had borne his abuse in
silence, took Mr. Judson quite by surprise. For a moment he looked at
me in silence, then, with a voice hoarse from passion, he addressed me,
saying, "such talk to me! you surely have lost any little sense you ever
may have had." Then seizing me roughly by the shoulder he continued:
"I'll teach you better manners than all this comes to, my fine fellow, for
I'll give you such a flogging as you won't forget in a hurry, I'll be
bound."
Instantly my resolution was taken; he should never flog me again.
Shaking off the rough grasp of his hand, I stepped backward, and
drawing myself up to my full height (even then I was not very tall) I
looked him unflinchingly in the face as I said,--"touch me if you dare, I
have borne blows enough from you, and for little cause, but you shall
never strike me again. If you lay a hand upon me it will be worse for
you." Wild with anger I knew not what I said. The strength of a lad of
my age would, of course, have been as nothing against that of the
sturdy farmer; but, had he attempted to flog me, I certainly should have

resisted to the utmost of my ability. I know not how it was, but after
regarding me for a few moments with angry astonishment, he turned
away without any further attempt to fulfil his threat of flogging me. I
turned and was leaving the house when he called after me, in a voice,
which upon any previous occasion, would have frightened me into
submission.
"Come back, I say, this instant." I had now lost all fear and replied, in a
voice which I hardly recognized as my own, "go back, never. Should I
be compelled to beg my bread from door to door, I will never stay
another day under your roof." With these words I ran from the house,
and soon reached the little brown cottage in the village three miles
distant where lived my mother and sister Flora.
CHAPTER II.
I never knew a father's protecting care and watchful love; for he died
when I was but little more than three years old; and my sister Flora a
babe in our mother's arms. No prettier village could at that time have
been found in Eastern Canada than Elmwood, and this village was our
home. Its location was romantic and picturesque. Below the village on
one side was a long stretch of level meadow-land through which flowed
a clear and placid river--whose sparkling waters, when viewed from a
distance, reminded one of a surface of polished silver. The margin of
this river, on either side, was fringed with tall stately trees, called the
Rock-Elm. According to the statement of the first settlers in the vicinity,
the whole place was once covered with a forest of those noble trees and
to this circumstance the village owed its name of Elmwood. The
number of those trees which still shaded many of the streets added
much to the beauty of the village. The village was small, but much
regularity had been observed in