“It is impossible for the boy of to-day, no matter in what part of the
country he is brought up, to appreciate the life of Prince Edward’s
Island as it was forty years ago. At that time, it had neither
railroads nor daily newspapers, nor any of the dozen other things that
are the merest commonplaces nowadays, even to the boys of the country
districts. I did not see a railway until late in my ’teens. I was never
inside a theater until after I was twenty. The only newspaper that came
to my father’s house was a little provincial weekly. The only books the
house contained were a few standard works,—such as the Bible, Bunyan’s
‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ Fox’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ and a few others of that
class. Remember, too, that this was not back at the beginning of the
century, but little more than a generation ago, for I was born in the
year 1854.
“My father had cleared away the land on which our house stood. He was a
poor man, but no poorer than his neighbors. No amount of land, and no
amount of work could yield much more than the necessaries of life in
that time and place. There were eight children in our family, and there
was work for all of us.
“Our parents were anxious to have their children acquire at least an
elementary education; and so, summer and winter, we tramped the mile
and a half that lay between our house and the district school, and the
snow often fell to the depth of five or six feet on the island, and
sometimes, when it was at its worst, our father would drive us all to
school in a big sleigh. But no weather was bad enough to keep us away.
“That would be looked upon as a poor kind of school, nowadays, I
suppose. The scholars were of all ages, and everything from A,-B,-C, to
the Rule of Three, was taught by the one teacher. But whatever may have
been its deficiencies, the work of the school was thorough. The teacher
was an old-fashioned drillmaster, and whatever he drove into our heads
he put there to stay. I went to this school summer and winter until
I was thirteen, and by that time I had learned to read and write and
spell and figure with considerable accuracy.
“At the age of thirteen, I left home. I hadn’t formed any definite
plans as to my future. I merely wanted to get into a village and to
earn some money.
“My father got me a place in the nearest town,—Summerside,—a village
of about one thousand inhabitants. For my first year’s work I was
to receive thirty dollars and my board. Think of that, young men of
to-day! Thirty dollars a year for working from seven in the morning
until ten at night! But I was glad to get the place. It was a start in
the world, and the little village was like a city to my country eyes.”