m a neglected onlooker at a
Christmas tree at Burr Oak. I am spelled down at the Shehan school--and
through all these scenes runs a belief that I am leaving the district
never to return to it, a conviction which lends to every experience a
peculiar poignancy of appeal.

Though but a shaggy colt in those days, I acknowledged a keen longing to
join in the parties and dances of the grown-up boys and girls. I was not
content to be merely the unnoticed cub in the corner. A place in the
family bob-sled no longer satisfied me, and when at the "sociable" I
stood in the corner with tousled hair and clumsy ill-fitting garments I
was in my desire, a confident, graceful squire of dames.

The dancing was a revelation to me of the beauty and grace latent in the
awkward girls and hulking men of the farms. It amazed and delighted me
to see how gloriously Madeleine White swayed and tip-toed through the
figures of the "Cotillion," and the sweet aloofness of Agnes Farwell's
face filled me with worship. I envied Edwin Blackler his supple grace,
his fine sense of rhythm, and especially the calm audacity of his manner
with his partners. Bill, Joe, all the great lunking farm hands seemed
somehow uplifted, carried out of their everyday selves, ennobled by some
deep-seated emotion, and I was eager for a chance to show that I, too,
could balance and bow and pay court to women, but--alas, I never did, I
kept to my corner even though Stelle Gilbert came to drag me out.

Occasionally a half-dozen of these audacious young people would turn a
church social or donation party into a dance, much to the scandal of the
deacons. I recall one such performance which ended most dramatically. It
was a "shower" for the minister whose salary was too small to be even an
honorarium, and the place of meeting was at the Durrells', two
well-to-do farmers, brothers who lived on opposite sides of the road
just south of the Grove school-house.

Mother put up a basket of food, father cast a quarter of beef into the
back-part of the sleigh, and we were off early of a cold winter night in
order to be on hand for the supper. My brother and I were mere
passengers on the straw behind, along with the slab of beef, but we gave
no outward sign of discontent. It was a clear, keen, marvellous
twilight, with the stars coming out over the woodlands to the east. On
every road the sound of bells and the voices of happy young people came
to our ears. Occasionally some fellow with a