And to this my
thought goes as the precursor of the university in the Valley of the New
Democracy.
CHAPTER XVIII
"THE MEN OF ALWAYS"
If one travels along the lower St. Lawrence in summer, one sees the narrow
strips of the one-time great seigniories, clinging like ribbons of varied
colors, green, gold, and brown, to the ancient river, of Cartier and
Champlain. There is on each strip, a little way back from the river, a
picturesque cottage, usually thatched, not roofed by shingles, with its
outbuildings close about, such as Longfellow writes of in Acadia-memories
of homes "which the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the
Henries." There is usually on each a section of meadow for the cattle, a
section of tilled field for the wheat and corn and vegetables and a
section of woodland for the fire-wood--each strip, so divided, being a
complete miniature seigniory. Everything is neat. One feels that not a
wisp of hay is lost (for it was in haying time that I passed), that every
tree is as carefully watched as a child, that whatever is taken from the
fields they are not impoverished.
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