CHAPTER II.
I never knew a father's protecting care and watchful love; for he died
when I was but little more than three years old; and my sister Flora a
babe in our mother's arms. No prettier village could at that time have
been found in Eastern Canada than Elmwood, and this village was our
home. Its location was romantic and picturesque. Below the village on
one side was a long stretch of level meadow-land through which flowed
a clear and placid river--whose sparkling waters, when viewed from a
distance, reminded one of a surface of polished silver. The margin of
this river, on either side, was fringed with tall stately trees, called
the Rock-Elm. According to the statement of the first settlers in the
vicinity, the whole place was once covered with a forest of those noble
trees and to this circumstance the village owed its name of Elmwood. The
number of those trees which still shaded many of the streets added much
to the beauty of the village. The village was small, but much regularity
had been observed in laying out the streets.
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