Small’s singing was joyful noise more than music; what it lacked in elegance it made up in volume. As fire cannot help giving heat so Small’s happiness could not help giving song, in spite of family complaint. They called her singing a “horrible row”, and said it shamed them…
Father’s religion was grim and stern, Mother’s gentle Father’s operated through the Presbyterian, Mother’s through the Anglican Church. Our religion was hybrid: on Sunday morning we were Presbyterian, Sunday evening we were Anglican. Our little Presbyterian legs ached from the long walk to church on Sunday morning. Our hearts…
The cow yard was large. Not length and breadth alone determined its dimensions, it had height and depth also. Above it continually hovered the spirit of maternity. Its good earth floor, hardened by many feet, pulsed with rich growth wherever there was any protection from the perpetual movement over…
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