d to tell her husband all
she knew.

I have said the school was reached by a trail through the woods, and
very pretty the woods looked in summer. The school and grounds were
surrounded by spreading oaks, which covered that part of the city, or
country as it was then called, and it was under these trees we sat
with the girls and ate our lunch, or rested in the shade after our
innings at ball. Wild flowers, that now are only found miles away,
were found there in profusion. We children always took our lunches,
it being considered too far to go home for the midday meal.

Many will remember the old schoolhouse which was pulled down to make
way for the present Central School. It was built of square logs and
whitewashed, and was occupied by the master and his family. The
school proper occupied only about a third of the building, and was a
large room extending from the front to the back of the building. Of
the old boys and girls who survive those early school days I can
think of these: Judge Harrison; John Elford, of Elford & Smith;
Theophilus Elford, of Shawnigan Lake Lumber Company; Mr. Anderson, of
Saanich; the Tolmie and Finlayson boys; Edward Wall (late Erskine &
Wall); Ernest Leigh, son of the late city clerk, now of San
Francisco, and John and Fred Mecredy, also of San Francisco. Of the
girls there are Sarah Allatt, now Mrs. Jos. Wriglesworth; Sylvestra
Layzell, now Mrs. O. C. Hastings, and her sister Lucy, now also
married; and Sarah Pointer, now Mrs. Carter. I had nearly forgotten
Ned Buckley, who left here for the States and became an actor of some
note.

Of those dead I can best remember David Work, of Hillside Farm, and
my chum, the late James Douglas, son of Sir James, then Governor. If
I remember right, he was unintentionally the cause of my second
whipping. He seemed much attached to me, and many were the rides we
had together in his trap, which brought him to school every morning.
He was a kindred spirit, wilful like myself, and had a habit of
suddenly getting up in school and announcing to the master that he
was going home, or it might be for some long drive, usually to
Cadboro Bay. Mr. Burr would remonstrate with him, but generally gave
way, and off he went. As he and I got intimate he wanted me to go
with him on these expeditions, and often at the unseemly hours of two
or three o'clock, during school.

One day he got up suddenly in his seat and said: "Mr. Burr, I am
going home and I want Fawcett to go w