NE WFO UN D LAND. 39 



a sound knowledge of contemporary literature could be, 

 and was, formed in this remote harbour of Newfoundland. 

 It would be interesting to know whether, in the course of 

 sixty years, the colonial standard of civilization has risen 

 or fallen, and whether the clerks of the Carbonear of to-day 

 know their Stevenson and their Haggard as well as my 

 father and his colleagues knew their Bulwer and their 

 Banim. At this point I may quote an amusing letter from 

 the late Mr. W. C. St. John to my father, dated May 25, 

 1868, but referring to events of the year 1827 — 



" One of my first experiences with the ' old white hat ' 

 " was an evening's walk on that most delectable of all 

 " turnpikes, Carbonear beach, when the surf- worn stones 

 "spread themselves out so invitingly to one, like your- 

 " self, but recently recovered from rheumatism in the 

 " feet Bad as is my memory, I remember the heads of 

 " our confabulation. You told me about your school 

 "curriculum under one Charles Henry Sells (I think), 

 " and of a further polishing-off under a Unitarian minis- 

 " ter. You had begun the French, and had made some 

 " considerable progress in Latin. As I knew nothing 

 " of the latter myself, I felt flattered that I should have 

 " a classical scholar for my companion, and wasn't at all 

 "unwilling that the street passengers should hear us 

 "conversing in an unknown tongue. So I asked you to 

 " repeat some Latin verses, which you did very readily, 

 " ever and anon, however, stopping to rub your toe or 

 * ankle, as those outlying members would receive damage 

 " from the treacherous stones. Your favourite poet 

 " appeared to be Virgil ; and I hear you now going 

 " measuredly and with admirable ore rotundo and em- 

 "phasis over the old Roman's 'Bucolic' — 



" ' Sicelides Musae, paullo majora canamus : 



Non om [oh ! psha ! my toe ! hop, hop, hop] 



