‘The Grindstone’ by Harold Gloade
Joe Harvie owned a farm in Kelleyville on a sideroad near Skull House. It was a quiet place, where one seldom saw a car, or for that matter, any kind of a vehicle pass their gate. From the farmyard, you saw rolling hills on one side, and gentle flatness of a fertile interval on the other, and a narrow brook meandered through the fields, crossing the sideroad, and disappearing into the thicket beyond, eventually spilling into the Halfway River. The house was painted white at one time, but the rest of the buildings were bare wood, for it seemed only the more affluent could afford paint on outbuildings.
I am not sure if he had a pair of horses or just one, and I don’t remember him hauling anything to Hantsport, but he came to our place when we lived where the Strickland barn is now, to plow up the ground for us to plant. I remember that it was near...
