Village Squire, 1974-12, Page 11was a giant stone and cement arches over
these. One could look down hundreds of feet
to the water and to the railway below. I was
back there lately. The embankment has
shrunk strangely; the railway no longer runs
along it. The C.P.R. is still down there but not
nearly so far down, and the creek is much
smaller. There is still the deep swimming
hole, where a boy drowned years ago. It was
said he was playing hookey, and this was a
judgement on him.
We went to the planing mill nearby and
watched the saws whirling and whining
These were the days of all sorts of
ginger -bread woodwork used for ornamenting
the eaves of houses, the verandahs, or any
place that could be decorated. There were all
sorts of discarded pieces with interesting
designs, that one could take home.
In the evening we went to the station, the
old Grand Trunk, or the Butter and Eggs, as it
was known in London. Here we got the
evening daily paper. There were two London
papers, the Free Press and the 'Tiser'. The
'Tiser' was Grit and the Free Press was Tory
There was no nonsense of compromise
about this. Either you were right or you were
wrong. Grandfather was a good Grit of the old
George Brown school and took the Tiser, so I
also became a Grit and have remained one up
to now. I must confess there have been times
when I have been shaken by doubts, but I
have rallied, and have remained firm in the
faith. After all, Grandpa couldn't have been
wrong. And so in this best of all systems were
governments chosen according to the number
of little Grits or little Tories who got old
enough to vote.
In the Tiser there was 'Mutt and Jeff'. The
Free Press had 'Bringing Up Father', rather a
foolish strip and not to be compared to 'Mutt
and Jeff" as closely as he should have but I
overlooked this.
He was a big wheel in the community, I
could see that. He knew the planing -mill
owner quite well, and also the man who ran
the grain elevator. He was a close friend of
the station agent, and even called the
conductors by their first names.
The station is still there. It is an oda shaped
building, the main part circular, with a high
conical roof. It may have been copied from a
Swiss chalet, and looks alien in the village
surroundings. It has shrunk too, and seems
quite small now.
In my boyhood it hummed with activity.
There were crowds at traintimes...sometimes
twelve or fifteen people. The bus would rattle
down the long street from the main part of the
village and pull up with a flourish at the
platform. The dray piled with express would
follow with a somewhat inferior style, but still
with an air of importance.
One could put an ear to the track and hear
the rumble of the train, far away. Then a
distant whistle, and the air became tense with
anticipation. The whistles came closer and
louder and finally the train burst into view.
The earth shook, the heaven all but opened,
and the huge monster slid screaming with
tortured brakes to a stop. There it stood
panting like some giant animal. I clutched
Grandpa's hand but he didn't seem at all
alarmed.
Perhaps one should explain that at this
time when small churches were scattered
throughout the country, making it un-
c
FROM
6tctie6
LUCKNOW, ONT.
Phone 528-2126
Ladies', Gents' and
Boys' Wear
Yard Goods,
Woollens and
Children's Wear
Jim and Syke Sutherland
ASHTON'S
LADIES' & MEN'S WEAR
VILLAGE SQUIRE/NOVEMBER 1974, 9