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Updated: June 22, 2025
Though in this story the archaic flavor is well-preserved, the way the producer has pictured the population at peace, in battle, in despair, in victory gives me hope that he or men like unto him will illustrate the American patriotic crowd-prophecies. We must have Whitmanesque scenarios, based on moods akin to that of the poem By Blue Ontario's Shore.
The bottom of Ontario is unquestionably salt, and no wonder that it should be so, for all the Canadian lakes were once a sea, and the geological formation of the bed of Ontario is the saliferous rock. I have often enjoyed on Ontario's shores, where I have usually resided, the grand spectacle which takes place after intense frost.
So the red Indian, by Ontario's side, Nursed hardy on the brindled panther's hide, As fades his swarthy race, with anguish sees The white man's cottage rise beneath the trees He leaves the shelter of his native wood, He leaves the murmur of Ohio's flood, And forward rushing in indignant grief, Where never foot has trod the fallen leaf, He bends his course where twilight reigns sublime, O'er forests silent since the birth of time, Scenes of Infancy.
Sir James Whitney, prime minister of Ontario from 1903 to 1914, who was a young student in Sandfield Macdonald's law office in Cornwall and shared his political confidence, assured the present writer that Ontario's first prime minister was not a Liberal in the real sense, his instincts and point of view being essentially Conservative.
After all, in spite of his ugliness, and awkwardness, and long legs, this was to be her man. She recognised the fact, and was happy. It is so much for a girl to be sure that she is really loved! And there was no word which fell from Ontario's mouth which Polly did not believe. Ralph Newton's speeches were very pretty, but they conveyed no more than his intention to be civil.
All these, and God only knows what else, should be ours again if we should be recaptured. We were near to Holland. In fancy and by contrast we saw the fair English fields and the rolling beauty that is Ontario's; we heard the good English tongue and beheld the dear faces of our own folk. We bore that farmer no ill will.
I don't mean to say there's anything the matter with the country; there ain't; but you've got to get up just as early in the mornings out there as y'do anywhere, far's I noticed. An' it's a lonesome life. Now I AM back I don't know but little old Ontario's good enough for me. 'N I hear you've taken up the law, Lorne. Y'always had a partiality for it, d'y' remember, up there to the Collegiate?
I hope now that the old doctor is too full to come oh, no I don't either, I just hope he's away and Dr. Clay will have it done before he gets here." When Tom arrived in Millford he found a great many people thronging the streets. One of the Ontario's harvesters' excursions had arrived a few hours before, and the "Huron and Bruce" boys were already making themselves seen and heard.
Ontario's speeches really brought home to her all that the words could mean. When he told her father that he was quite contented to take her just as she was, without a shilling, she knew that he would do so with the utmost joy. Then it was that she resolved that he should have her, and that for the future all doubtings, all flirtations, all coyness, should be over.
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