and gets into the oat…box。 And as for the Corporal； 〃I bet you〃 I can jump
as far as he can。 I hear David has lost his red coat。 I still have
my grey one； but it is pretty dirty now； for I have not had a new one
for a long time。 I got my hair cut a few weeks ago and am to have new boots
next week。 Bonneau and Follette send their love。 Yours truly；
BONFIRE His * Mark。
In Flanders； April 3rd； 1915。
My dear Margaret：
There is a little girl in this house whose name is Clothilde。
She is ten years old； and calls me 〃Monsieur le Major〃。
How would you like it if twenty or thirty soldiers came along
and lived in your house and put their horses in the shed or the stable？
There are not many little boys and girls left in this part of the country；
but occasionally one meets them on the roads with baskets of eggs
or loaves of bread。 Most of them have no homes； for their houses
have been burnt by the Germans； but they do not cry over it。
It is dangerous for them； for a shell might hit them at any time
and it would not be an eggshell； either。
Bonfire is very well。 Mother sent him some packets of sugar；
and if ever you saw a big horse excited about a little parcel；
it was Bonfire。 He can have only two lumps in any one day；
for there is not much of it。 Twice he has had gingerbread
and he is very fond of that。 It is rather funny for a soldier…horse；
is it not？ But soldier horses have a pretty hard time of it； sometimes；
so we do not grudge them a little luxury。 Bonfire's friends are King；
and Prince； and Saxonia； all nice big boys。 If they go away and leave him；
he whinnies till he catches sight of them again； and then he is quite happy。
How is the 15th Street Brigade getting on？ Tell Mother I recommend Jack
for promotion to corporal if he has been good。 David will have to be a gunner
for awhile yet； for everybody cannot be promoted。 Give my love to Katharine；
and Jack； and David。
Your affectionate uncle Jack。
Bonfire； and Bonneau； and little Mike； are all well。 Mike is about
four months old and has lost an eye and had a leg broken；
but he is a very good little boy all the same。 He is very fond of Bonfire；
and Bonneau； and me。 I go to the stable and whistle； and Bonneau and Mike
come running out squealing with joy； to go for a little walk with me。
When Mike comes to steps； he puts his feet on the lowest steps
and turns and looks at me and I lift him up。 He is a dear ugly little chap。
The dogs are often to be seen sprawled on the floor of my tent。
I like to have them there for they are very home…like beasts。
They never seem French to me。 Bonneau can 〃donner la patte〃
in good style nowadays； and he sometimes curls up inside the rabbit hutch；
and the rabbits seem to like him。
I wish you could see the hundreds of rabbits there are here
on the sand…dunes； there are also many larks and jackdaws。
（These are different from your brother Jack； although they have black faces。）
There are herons； curlews； and even ducks； and the other day
I saw four young weasels in a heap； jumping over each other from side to side
as they ran。
Sir Bertrand Dawson has a lovely little spaniel； Sue； quite black；
who goes around with him。 I am quite a favourite； and one day
Sir Bertrand said to me； 〃She has brought you a present；〃 and here she was
waiting earnestly for me to remove from her mouth a small stone。
It is usually a simple gift； I notice； and does not embarrass by its value。
Bonfire is very sleek and trim； and we journey much。 If I sit down
in his reach I wish you could see how deftly he can pick off my cap
and swing it high out of my reach。 He also carries my crop；
his games are simple； but he does not readily tire of them。
I lost poor old Windy。 He was the regimental dog of the 1st Batt。 Lincolns；
and came to this vale of Avalon to be healed of his second wound。
He spent a year at Gallipoli and was 〃over the top〃 twice with his battalion。
He came to us with his papers like any other patient；
and did very well for a while； but took suddenly worse。 He had all
that care and love could suggest and enough morphine to keep the pain down；
but he was very pathetic； and I had resolved that it would be true friendship
to help him over when he 〃went west〃。 He is buried in our woods
like any other good soldier； and yesterday I noticed that some one has laid
a little wreath of ivy on his grave。 He was an old dog evidently；
but we are all sore…hearted at losing him。 His kit is kept
should his master return； only his collar with his honourable marks；
for his wardrobe was of necessity simple。 So another sad chapter ends。
September 29th； 1915。
Bonneau gravely accompanies me round the wards and waits for me；
sitting up in a most dignified way。 He comes into my tent
and sits there very gravely while I dress。 Two days ago
a Sister brought out some biscuits for Bonfire； and not understanding
the rules of the game； which are bit and bit about for Bonfire and Bonneau；
gave all to Bonfire； so that poor Bonneau sat below and caught the crumbs
that fell。 I can see that Bonfire makes a great hit with the Sisters
because he licks their hands just like a dog； and no crumb is too small
to be gone after。
April； 1917。
I was glad to get back； Bonfire and Bonneau greeted me very enthusiastically。
I had a long long story from the dog； delivered with uplifted muzzle。
They tell me he sat gravely on the roads a great deal during my absence；
and all his accustomed haunts missed him。 He is back on rounds faithfully。
VII
The Old Land and the New
If one were engaged upon a formal work of biography rather than
a mere essay in character； it would be just and proper to investigate
the family sources from which the individual member is sprung；
but I must content myself within the bounds which I have set；
and leave the larger task to a more laborious hand。 The essence of history
lies in the character of the persons concerned； rather than in the feats
which they performed。 A man neither lives to himself nor in himself。
He is indissolubly bound up with his stock； and can only explain himself
in terms common to his family； but in doing so he transcends
the limits of history； and passes into the realms of philosophy and religion。
The life of a Canadian is bound up with the history of his parish；
of his town； of his province； of his country； and even with the history
of that country in which his family had its birth。 The life of John McCrae
takes us back to Scotland。 In Canada there has been much writing of history
of a certain kind。 It deals with events rather than with the subtler matter
of people； and has been written mainly for purposes of advertising。
If the French made a heroic stand against the Iroquois； the sacred spot
is now furnished with an hotel from which a free 'bus runs to a station
upon the line of an excellent railway。 Maisonneuve fought his great fight
upon a place from which a vicious mayor cut the trees which once sheltered
the soldier； to make way for a fountain upon which would be raised
〃historical〃 figures in concrete stone。
The history of Canada is the history of its people； not of its railways；
hotels； and factories。 The material exists in written or printed form
in the little archives of many a family。 Such a chronicle is in possession
of the Eckford family which now by descent on the female side
bears the honoured names of Gow； and McCrae。 John Eckford had two daughters；
in the words of old Jamie Young； 〃the most lovingest girls he ever knew。〃
The younger； Janet Simpson； was taken to wife by David McCrae；
21st January； 1870； and on November 30th； 1872； became the mother of John。
To her he wrote all these letters； glowing with filial devotion；
which I am privileged to use so freely。
There is in the family a tradition of the single name for the males。
It was therefore proper that the elder born should be called Thomas；
more learned in medicine； more assiduous in practice； and more weighty
in intellect even than the otherwise more highly gifted John。
He too is professor of medicine； and co…author of a profound work
with his master and relative by marriage Sir William Osler。
Also； he wore the King's uniform and served in the present war。
This John Eckford； accompanied by his two daughters； the mother being dead；
his sister； her husband who bore the name of Chisholm；
and their numerous children emigrated to Canada； May 28th； 1851；
in the ship ‘Clutha' which sailed from the Broomielaw bound for Quebec。
The consort； ‘Wolfville'； upon which they had originally taken passage；
arrived in Quebec before them； and lay in the stream；
flying the yellow flag of quarantine。 Cholera had broken out。
〃Be still； and see the salvation of the Lord；〃 were the words
of the family morning prayers。
In the ‘Clutha' also came as passengers James and Mary Gow； their cousin；
one Duncan Monach； Mrs。 Hanning； who was a sister of Thomas Carlyle；
and her two daughters。 On the voyage the