SPORT IN ONTARIO 143 



Dunrobin Farm lay a good three miles from the mail 

 road. Mac had, obviously, been his own architect and 

 builder, and had built his house in what I can only 

 describe as a go-as-you-please style of architecture. 



Erected in a cleared corner of the forest, the original 

 portion of this heterogeneous habitation had been built 

 from the trunks of trees felled on the site and roofed in 

 with wooden shingles. Then came a two-storey section 

 of corrugated iron walls and high-pitched roof of the 

 same useful but somewhat inartistic material, and then 

 a further addition of staring red brick and pantiles, 

 the whole being surrounded by a verandah painted to 

 resemble the skin of a quagga. 



Briefly, it was the strangest-looking human habitation 

 imaginable. Nevertheless, my host appeared to regard 

 it with just as much pride as a Chicago millionaire pork- 

 packer would a newly-acquired Scottish castle. 



On the other hand, the surroundings of Mac's mansion 

 were just as beautiful as the house was hideous. Stand- 

 ing on the banks of a crystal-clear trout stream, a glorious 

 view of woodland scenery was obtainable from the 

 verandah, a vista of a small lake being caught between 

 the trunks of the forest trees, and the well-tilled corn- 

 fields and pasture-land spoke volumes for the industry, 

 perseverance, and good husbandry of the worthy Scot, 

 who, the son of an Ayrshire crofter, had, twenty years 

 before, taken up his grant of Government land and 

 cleared some 120 acres of it by dint of sheer hard labour, 

 and at the time of my visit was able to show a very 

 substantial balance at the bank. 



" But, mon, had I remained in the Hielands, it's 



