SILVER FOXES AND SEACOVVS 227

That was not the end. A lady who visited Montrose was so charmed with the beautiful spot that she had

a street in \Vinnipeg named “ Montrose.” Every one has his own idea of beauty . . . New Glasgow Rustico . . . Montague. They are excit-

ingly lovely, but they have not the glamour and the finishing touches which sets Montrose and her Sou-west apart.

There is a little house in Montrose—a quiet little house—.-which fairly whispers of high adventures and splendid deeds of long ago. It sits on a hill over- looking fields of waving grain. Tall poplar trees guard the entrance and emphasize the house’s diminu- tive size. Crowded to one side is a grove. It is only a quaint, old-fashioned house on a hill but it remained a cherished memory in the hearts of two men in the lonely South Seas. Though neglected and decrepit, the house reveals the excellent workmanship of its builders. Such beams as are exposed have been shaped by hand. The cosy rooms are fairly small with low ceilings. The plaster is reddish, showing that much clay was used in its manufacture. Pipes from the sitting—room heated the four bedrooms. There is no attic, and a witness to the size of the Gordons is the cellar hatch set in the floor. Tom Thumb would have managed it nicely if squeezed down a bit. Off the old-fashioned living-room is a spare bedroom~~that inevitable accoutrement of the good old days. And finally, there are open fireplaces. We were told that the Presbyterian Church had bought the place intend- ing to preserve it as a memorial, and that they had voted eighteen dollars to fix it up! As it is now ready and willing to fall into the cellar, those eighteen

O. I.——16