A. Stewart MacDonald D.F.C., MD. C..M.

in the northern fields, or the stray cattle and sheep would break in and destroy their crops. The County line, which ran along the back of the farms, made easy watering places for the cattle on the farms. The creek ran out to the shore, to the south of our farm. There used to be a flour and saw mill on the second farm west of us. One could hear the roar of the dam for a long distance - I would be surprised if one could find a cow, horse or sheep in all of Little Sands today.

My mother’s people came from the Isle of Skye; most of them rest in Belfast Cemetery. There were three brothers who came to Belle River and landed on the Stewart Road which still bears the name. They were all farmers. My grandfather Sandy Ronald Stewart took over the farm. He never went a day to school, and he said it was because of his eyes, and he wore glasses in his later years. Sandy Ronald was known in my days as a man who liked to fight (mostly for fun). I don’t think he had many enemies. He was a great farmer. They used to say he lifted the soil up six inches with seaweed, of which he usually got over a thousand loads a year. He kept four horses, and had a hired man on the farm. When he died, he owned about five properties, and had several thousands of money in the bank. He had his own type of mathematics. He sold hay and oats, and people said he knew every pound. An old man in Wood Islands told me, that when the young fellows in church started to misbehave, Sandy Ronald would just turn around and give them a look, which settled them down for the evening. When I got to teach in Wood Islands West school, the pupils had a very bad name, but the trustees said that Sandy Ronald’s grandson ”would look after them.” All my grandparents were Scotch, which reminds me of a man in Glen Williams who said, “Even the stripes of my pants are Scotch.”

The MacDonalds’ early ancestors were the Celts,

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