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Articles by John Redford Scott

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One Friday afternoon in mid-September I left town for my week-end trip into the country.  A heavy snow which had laid flat any standing grain and had delayed harvest operations generally was fast melting.  The roads, built out of soft dirt were in a dreadful condition.  They were almost impassable for automobiles and were very heavy for wagons.  As I was travelling by saddle horse I could select the driest parts of the road and got along fairly well.

Four hours later, at seven-thirty, I had covered thirteen miles.  I stopped to feed my horse and have supper at a log store by the Kiskatinau river.  The food was plentiful and well prepared.  After the meal was over and I had rested a while, I decided to go on a mile to a stopping house where I planned to spend the night.  At nine o'clock I was on the road again.

The night was pitch dark. When I got on my horse I could hardly tell where the road was.  A few feet away there was a large bridge which I was almost upon before I could distinguish it.  Later I was nearly face to face with another man on horseback before I saw him. When I reached the stopping house I found it full.  Lodging might have been secured at one of the houses along the road, but I decided to go on another seven miles to the house of a family where I frequently stayed during my trips into that part of the country. So I mounted my horse and turned westward.  I do not know when I ever more appreciated my horse than on that particular night.  He jogged along, steadily and calmly making his way over the muddy  road into the dense blackness.  "Sonny" is a well built, beautiful dapple grey animal. He is intelligent, gentle and quiet.  At the same time he is a good traveller with a gait comfortable for the rider.  He is friendly and likes to have other animals with him in the barn or pasture.

With the exception of the first six miles of my trip, the country through which I rode is sparsely settled.  The first six miles pass through a well established farming area.  From that [point] on the country is thickly wooded.  The people living there have come within the past seven or eight years.  They are just getting their land cleared and their farms developed.  Over the last seven miles there were the lights of about ten homes to be seen from the highway.  The flicker from those oil lamps shone from the houses of people who have come to the Northland to make new homes.  The houses and other buildings are mostly made of logs.

Off the highway there is some settlement. In one direction a road leads off for some twelve miles to a couple of settlements with school buildings.  Further on the highway there is a small community around a combined store and post office, stopping-house, a community hall, and blacksmith shop.  Within a radius of five miles from this place, Progress, there are several people developing farms.

By eleven o'clock I reached the home where I intended to stop.  In the darkness I had difficulty in finding the pasture gate. I should have had a flash-light.  Finally I located the gate and after unsaddling my horse, turned him loose.  Then I picked up my saddle and proceeded to the house. The house is a well constructed, two- story log building.  The logs were pealed and planed on three sides before being fitted together.  I may say they were finished by an improvised "power plane", consisting of a horse attached to a sharpened plowshare. The place was in darkness.  I knew the people had not retired very long as I had observed a light in the window when I was about a mile away.  I knocked at the door and spoke.  A man answered telling me to walk in, He said there was a lamp on the table with some matches beside it, and the couch was made up ready for me.

Many times I have enjoyed the hospitality of the Mudiman home - almost every second Friday night during the Summer months - but on that night it was an especially welcome haven.  You will be the more interested when I tell you that this was the home of a former Feller student.  Mrs.  Mudiman  graduated from Feller Institute in 1915 and following that taught in the West for several years.  I am sure that our common interests would have made me a friend of the Mudimans under any circumstances, but our mutual connection with Grande Ligne adds something which I greatly prize.