Books: Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago
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Canniff Haight >> Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago
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15 Tonya Allen, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team. This file was produced from images generously made
available by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions.
LIFE IN CANADA FIFTY YEARS AGO:
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS AND REMINISCENCES OF A SEXAGENARIAN.
BY CANNIFF HAIGHT
"Ah, happy years! Once more who would not be a boy?"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage._
TO THE YOUNG MEN OF CANADA,
UPON WHOSE INTEGRITY AND ENERGY OF CHARACTER THE FUTURE OF THIS GREAT
HERITAGE OF OURS RESTS,
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
When a man poses before the world--even the Canadian world--in the
_role_ of an author, he is expected to step up to the footlights,
and explain his purpose in presenting himself before the public in that
capacity.
The thoughts of the world are sown broadcast, very much as the seed
falls from the sweep of the husbandman's hand. It drops here and there,
in good ground and in stony places. Its future depends upon its
vitality. Many a fair seed has fallen on rich soil, and never reached
maturity. Many another has shot up luxuriantly, but in a short time has
been choked by brambles. Other seeds have been cast out with the chaff
upon the dung heap, and after various mutations, have come in contact
with a clod of earth, through which they have sent their roots, and have
finally grown into thrifty plants. A thought thrown out on the world, if
it possesses vital force, never dies. How much is remembered of the work
of our greatest men? Only a sentence here and there; and many a man
whose name will go down through all the ages, owes it to the truth or
the vital force of the thought embedded in a few brief lines.
I have very little to say respecting the volume here with presented to
the public. The principal contents appeared a short time ago in the
_Canadian Monthly_ and the _Canadian Methodist Magazine_. They
were written at a time when my way seemed hedged around with
insurmountable difficulties, and when almost anything that could afford
me a temporary respite from the mental anxieties that weighed me down,
not only during the day, but into the long hours of the night, would
have been welcomed. Like most unfortunates, I met Mr. Worldly Wiseman
from day to day. I always found him ready to point out the way I should
go and what I should do, but I have no recollection that he ever got the
breadth of a hair beyond that. One evening I took up my pen and began
jotting down a few memories of my boyhood. I think we are all fond of
taking retrospective glances, and more particularly when life's pathway
trends towards the end. The relief I found while thus engaged was very
soothing, and for the time I got altogether away from the present, and
lived over again many a joyous hour. After a time I had accumulated a
good deal of matter, such as it was, but the thought of publication had
not then entered my mind. One day, while in conversation with Dr.
Withrow, I mentioned what I had done, and he expressed a desire to see
what I had written. The papers were sent him, and in a short time he
returned them with a note expressing the pleasure the perusal of them
had afforded him, and advising me to submit them to the _Canadian
Monthly_ for publication. Sometime afterwards I followed his advice.
The portion of the papers that appeared in the last-named periodical
were favourably received, and I was much gratified not only by that, but
from private letters afterwards received from different parts of the
Dominion, conveying expressions of commendation which I had certainly
never anticipated. This is as much as need be said about the origin and
first publication of the papers which make up the principal part of this
volume. I do not deem it necessary to give any reasons for putting them
in book form; but I may say this: the whole has been carefully revised,
and in its present shape I hope will meet with a hearty welcome from a
large number of Canadians.
In conclusion, I wish to express my thanks to the Hon. J.C. Aikins,
Lieutenant-Governor of Manitoba, for information he procured for me at
the time of publication, and particularly to J.C. Dent, Esq., to whom I
am greatly indebted for many useful hints.
CONTENTS.
DEDICATION
PREFACE
CHAPTER I.
The prose and poetry of pioneer life in the backwoods--The log house--
Sugar making--An omen of good luck--My Quaker grandparents--The old
home--Winter evenings at the fireside--Rural hospitality--Aristocracy
_versus_ Democracy--School days--Debating societies in the olden
time--A rural orator clinches the nail--Cider, sweet and otherwise--
Husking in the barn--Hog killing and sausage making--Full cloth and
corduroy--Winter work and winter amusements--A Canadian skating song.
CHAPTER II.
The round of pioneer life--Game--Night fishing--More details about
sugar-making--Sugaring-off--Taking a hand at the old churn--Sheep-
washing--Country girls, then and now--Substance and Shadow--"Old Gray"
and his eccentricities--Harvest--My early emulation of Peter Paul
Rubens--Meeting-houses--Elia on Quaker meetings--Variegated autumn
landscapes--Logging and quilting bees--Evening fun--The touching lay of
the young woman who sat down to sleep.
CHAPTER III.
Progress, material and social--Fondness of the young for dancing--
Magisterial nuptials--The charivari--Goon-hunting--Catching a tartar--
Wild pigeons--The old Dutch houses--Delights of summer and winter
contrasted--Stilled voices.
CHAPTER IV.
The early settlers in Upper Canada--Prosperity, national and individual--
The old homes, without and within--Candle-making--Superstitions and
omens--The death-watch--Old almanacs--Bees--The divining rod--The U. E.
Loyalists--Their sufferings and heroism--An old and a new price list--
Primitive horologes--A jaunt in one of the conventional "carriages" of
olden times--Then and now--A note of warning
CHAPTER V.
Jefferson's definition of "Liberty"--How it was acted upon--The Canadian
renaissance--Burning political questions in Canada half a century ago--
Locomotion--Mrs. Jameson on Canadian stagecoaches--Batteaux and Durham
boats
CHAPTER VI.
Road-making--Weller's line of stages and steamboats--My trip from
Hamilton to Niagara--Schools and colleges--Pioneer Methodist Preachers--
Solemnization of matrimony--Literature and libraries--Early newspapers--
Primitive editorial articles
CHAPTER VII.
Banks--Insurance--Marine--Telegraph companies--Administration of
Justice--Milling and manufactures--Rapid increase of population in
cities and towns--Excerpts from Andrew Picken
SKETCHES OF EARLY HISTORY:--
Early schools and schoolmasters--Birth of the American Republic--Love
of country--Adventures of a U.E. Loyalist family ninety years ago--The
wilds of Upper Canada--Hay bay--Hardships of pioneer life--Growth of
population--Division of the Canadian Provinces--Fort Frontenac--The
"dark days"--Celestial fireworks--Early steam navigation in Canada--The
country merchant Progress--The Hare and the Tortoise
RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS EARLY DAYS
Paternal memories--A visit to the home of my boyhood--The old Quaker
meeting-house--Flashes of silence--The old burying ground--"To the
memory of Eliza"--Ghostly experiences--Hiving the Bees--Encounter with a
bear--Giving "the mitten"--A "boundary question"--Song of the bullfrog--
Ring--Sagacity of animals--Training-days--Picturesque scenery on the
Bay of Quinte--John A. Macdonald--A perilous journey--Aunt Jane and
Willet Casey
CHAPTER I.
"I talk of dreams,
For you and I are past our dancing days."
--_Romeo and Juliet_.
THE PROSE AND POETRY OF PIONEER LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS--THE LOG HOUSE--
SUGAR MAKING--AN OMEN OF GOOD LUCK--MY QUAKER GRANDPARENTS--THE OLD
HOME--WINTER EVENINGS AT THE FIRESIDE--RURAL HOSPITALITY--ARISTOCRACY
versus DEMOCRACY--SCHOOL DAYS--DEBATING SOCIETIES IN THE OLDEN TIME--A
RURAL ORATOR CLINCHES THE NAIL--CIDER, SWEET AND OTHERWISE--HUSKING IN
THE BARN--HOG KILLING AND SAUSAGE MAKING--FULL CLOTH AND CORDUROY--
WINTER WORK AND WINTER AMUSEMENTS--A CANADIAN SKATING SONG.
I was born in the County of ----, Upper Canada, on the 4th day of June,
in the early part of this present century. I have no recollection of my
entry into the world, though I was present when the great event
occurred; but I have every reason to believe the date given is correct,
for I have it from my mother and father, who were there at the time, and
I think my mother had pretty good reason to know all about it. I was the
first of the family, though my parents had been married for more than
five years before I presented myself as their hopeful heir, and to
demand from them more attention than they anticipated. "Children," says
the Psalmist, "are an heritage, and he who hath his quiver full of them
shall not be ashamed; they shall speak with the enemies in the gate." I
do not know what effect this had on my father's enemies, if he had any;
but later experience has proved to me that those who rear a numerous
progeny go through a vast deal of trouble and anxiety. At any rate I
made my appearance on the stage, and began my performance behind the
footlights of domestic bliss. I must have been a success, for I called
forth a great deal of applause from my parents, and received their
undivided attention. But other actors came upon the boards in more rapid
succession, so that in a few years the quiver of my father was well
filled, and he might have met "his enemies in the gate."
My father, when he married, bought a farm. Of course it was all woods.
Such were the only farms available for young folk to commence life with
in those days. Doubtless there was a good deal of romance in it. Love in
a cot; the smoke gracefully curling; the wood-pecker tapping, and all
that; very pretty. But alas, in this work-a-day world, particularly the
new one upon which my parents then entered, these silver linings were
not observed. They had too much of the prose of life.
A house was built--a log one, of the Canadian rustic style then much in
vogue, containing one room, and that not very large either; and to this
my father brought his young bride. Their outfit consisted, on his part,
of a colt, a yoke of steers, a couple of sheep, some pigs, a gun, and an
axe. My mother's _dot_ comprised a heifer, bed and bedding, a table
and chairs, a chest of linen, some dishes, and a few other necessary
items with which to begin housekeeping. This will not seem a very lavish
set-out for a young couple on the part of parents who were at that time
more than usually well-off. But there was a large family on both sides,
and the old people then thought it the better way to let the young folk
try their hand at making a living before they gave them of their
abundance. If they succeeded they wouldn't need much, and if they did
not, it would come better after a while.
My father was one of a class of young men not uncommon in those days,
who possessed energy and activity. He was bound to win. What the old
people gave was cheerfully accepted, and he went to work to acquire the
necessaries and comforts of life with his own hands. He chopped his way
into the stubborn wood and added field to field. The battle had now been
waged for seven or eight years; an addition had been made to the house;
other small comforts had been added, and the nucleus of future
competence fairly established.
One of my first recollections is in connection with the small log barn
he had built, and which up to that date had not been enlarged. He
carried me out one day in his arms, and put me in a barrel in the middle
of the floor. This was covered with loosened sheaves of wheat, which he
kept turning over with a wooden fork, while the oxen and horse were
driven round and round me. I did not know what it all meant then, but I
afterwards learned that he was threshing. This was one of the first rude
scenes in the drama of the early settlers' life to which I was
introduced, and in which I had to take a more practical part in after
years. I took part, also, very early in life, in sugar-making. The sap-
bush was not very far away from the house, and the sap-boiling was under
the direction of my mother, who mustered all the pots and kettles she
could command, and when they were properly suspended over the fire on
wooden hooks, she watched them, and rocked me in a sap-trough. Father's
work consisted in bringing in the sap with two pails, which were carried
by a wooden collar about three feet long, and made to fit the shoulder,
from each end of which were fastened two cords with hooks to receive the
bail of the pails, leaving the arms free except to steady them. He had
also to cut wood for the fire. I afterwards came to take a more active
part in these duties, and used to wish I could go back to my primitive
cradle. But time pushed me on whether I would or not, until I scaled the
mountain top of life's activities; and now, when quietly descending into
the valley, my gaze is turned affectionately towards those early days. I
do not think they were always bright and joyous, and I am sure I often
chafed under the burdens imposed upon me; but how inviting they seem
when viewed through the golden haze of retrospection.
My next recollection is the raising of a frame barn behind the house,
and of a niece of my father's holding me in her arms to see the men
pushing up the heavy "bents" with long poles. The noise of the men
shouting and driving in the wooden pins with great wooden beetles, away
up in the beams and stringers, alarmed me a great deal, but it all went
up, and then one of the men mounted the plate (the timber on which the
foot of the rafter rests) with a bottle in his hand, and swinging it
round his head three times, threw it off in the field. If the bottle was
unbroken it was an omen of good luck. The bottle, I remember, was picked
up whole, and shouts of congratulation followed. Hence, I suppose, the
prosperity that attended my father.
The only other recollection I have of this place was of my father, who
was a very ingenious man, and could turn his hand to almost everything,
making a cradle for my sister, for this addition to our number had
occurred. I have no remembrance of any such fanciful crib being made for
my slumbers. Perhaps the sap-trough did duty for me in the house as well
as in the bush. The next thing was our removal, which took place in the
winter, and all that I can recall of it is that my uncle took my mother,
sister, and myself away in a sleigh, and we never returned to the little
log house. My father had sold his farm, bought half of his old home, and
come to live with his parents. They were Quakers. My grandfather was a
short, robust old man, and very particular about his personal
appearance. Half a century has elapsed since then, but the picture of
the old man taking his walks about the place, in his closely-fitting
snuff-brown cut-away coat, knee-breeches, broad-brimmed hat and silver-
headed cane is distinctively fixed in my memory. He died soon after we
took up our residence with him, and the number who came from all parts
of the country to the funeral was a great surprise to me. I could not
imagine where so many people came from. The custom prevailed then, and
no doubt does still, when a death occurred, to send a messenger, who
called at every house for many miles around to give notice of the death,
and of when and where the interment would take place.
[Illustration: THE FIRST HOME.]
My grandmother was a tall, neat, motherly old woman, beloved by
everybody. She lived a number of years after her husband's death, and I
seem to see her now, sitting at one side of the old fire-place knitting.
She was always knitting, and turning out scores of thick warm socks and
mittens for her grandchildren.
At this time a great change had taken place, both in the appearance of
the country and in the condition of the people. It is true that many of
the first settlers had ceased from their labours, but there were a good
many left--old people now, who were quietly enjoying, in their declining
years, the fruit of their early industry. Commodious dwellings had taken
the place of the first rude houses. Large frame barns and outhouses had
grown out of the small log ones. The forest in the immediate
neighbourhood had been cleared away, and well-tilled fields occupied its
place. Coarse and scanty fare had been supplanted by a rich abundance of
all the requisites that go to make home a scene of pleasure and
contentment. Altogether a substantial prosperity was apparent. A genuine
content and a hearty good will, one towards another, existed in all the
older parts. The settled part as yet, however, formed only a very narrow
belt extending along the bay and lake shores. The great forest lay close
at hand in the rear, and the second generation, as in the case of my
father, had only to go a few miles to find it, and commence for
themselves the laborious struggle of clearing it away.
The old home, as it was called, was always a place of attraction, and
especially so to the young people, who were sure of finding good cheer
at grandfather's. What fun, after the small place called home, to have
the run of a dozen rooms, to haunt the big cellar, with its great heaps
of potatoes and vegetables, huge casks of cider, and well-filled bins of
apples, or to sit at the table loaded with the good things which
grandmother only could supply. How delicious the large piece of pumpkin
pie tasted, and how toothsome the rich crullers that melted in the
mouth! Dear old body! I can see her now going to the great cupboard to
get me something saying as she goes, "I'm sure the child is hungry." And
it was true, he was always hungry; and how he managed to stow away so
much is a mystery I cannot now explain. There was no place in the world
more to be desired than this, and no spot in all the past the
recollection of which is more bright and joyous.
My father now assumed the management of affairs. The old people reserved
one room to themselves, but it was free to all, particularly to us
children. It was hard to tell sometimes which to choose, whether the
kitchen, where the family were gathered round the cheerful logs blazing
brightly in the big fire-place, or a stretch on the soft rag-carpet
beside the box stove in grandmother's room. This room was also a
sanctuary to which we often fled to escape punishment after doing some
mischief. We were sure of an advocate there, if we could reach it in
time.
The house was a frame one, as nearly all the best houses were in those
days, and was painted a dark yellow. There were two kitchens, one used
for washing and doing the heavier household work in; the other,
considerably larger, was used by the family. In the latter was the large
fire-place, around which gathered in the winter time bright and happy
faces; where the old men smoked their pipes in peaceful reverie, or
delighted us with stories of other days; where mother darned her socks,
and father mended our boots; where the girls were sewing, and uncles
were scraping axe-handles with bits of glass, to make them smooth. There
were no drones in farm-houses then; there was something for every one to
do. At one side of the fire-place was the large brick oven with its
gaping mouth, closed with a small door, easily removed, where the bread
and pies were baked. Within the fire-place was an iron crane securely
fastened in the jamb, and made to swing in and out with its row of iron
pot-hooks of different lengths, on which to hang the pots used in
cooking. Cook stoves had not yet appeared to cheer the housewife and
revolutionize the kitchen. Joints of meat and poultry were roasted on
turning spits, or were suspended before the fire by a cord and wire
attached to the ceiling. Cooking was attended with more difficulties
then. Meat was fried in long-handled pans, and the short-cake that so
often graced the supper table, and played such havoc with the butter and
honey, with the pancakes that came piping hot on the breakfast table,
owed their finishing touch to the frying pan. The latter, however, were
more frequently baked on a large griddle with a bow handle made to hook
on the crane. This, on account of its larger surface, enabled the cook
to turn out these much-prized cakes, when properly made, with greater
speed; and in a large family an expert hand was required to keep up the
supply. Some years later an ingenious Yankee invented what was called a
"Reflector," made of bright tin for baking. It was a small tin oven with
a slanting top, open at one side, and when required for use was set
before the fire on the hearth. This simple contrivance was a great
convenience, and came into general use. Modern inventions in the
appliances for cooking have very much lessened the labour and increased
the possibilities of supplying a variety of dishes, but it has not
improved the quality of them. There were no better caterers to hungry
stomachs than our mothers, whose practical education had been received
in grandmother's kitchen. The other rooms of the house comprised a
sitting-room--used only when there was company--a parlour, four
bedrooms, and the room reserved for the old people. Up-stairs were the
sleeping and store-rooms. In the hall stood the tall old fashioned house
clock, with its long pendulum swinging to and fro with slow and measured
beat. Its face had looked upon the venerable sire before his locks were
touched with the frost of age. When his children were born it indicated
the hour, and it had gone on telling off the days and years until the
children were grown. And when a wedding day had come, it had rung a
joyful peal through the house, and through the years the old hands had
travelled on, the hammer had struck off the hours, and another
generation had come to look upon it and grow familiar with its constant
tick.
[Illustration: GRANDFATHER'S.]
The furniture was plain and substantial, more attention being given to
durability than to style or ornament. Easy chairs--save the spacious
rocking-chair for old women--and lounges were not seen. There was no
time for lolling on well-stuffed cushions. The rooms were heated with
large double box stoves, very thick and heavy, made at Three Rivers; and
by their side was always seen a large wood-box, well filled with sound
maple or beech wood. But few pictures adorned the walls, and these were
usually rude prints far inferior to those we get every day now from the
illustrated papers. Books, so plentiful and cheap now-a-days, were then
very scarce, and where a few could be found, they were mostly heavy
doctrinal tomes piled away on some shelf where they were allowed to
remain.
The home we now inhabited was altogether a different one from that we
had left in the back concession, but it was like many another to be
found along the bay shore. Besides my own family, there were two younger
brothers of my father, and two grown-up nieces, so that when we all
mustered round the table, there was a goodly number of hearty people
always ready to do justice to the abundant provision made. This reminds
me of an incident or two illustrative of the lavish manner with which a
well-to-do farmer's table was supplied in those days. A Montreal
merchant and his wife were spending an evening at a very highly-esteemed
farmer's house. At the proper time supper was announced, and the
visitors, with the family, were gathered round the table, which groaned,
metaphorically speaking, under the load it bore. There were turkey, beef
and ham, bread and the favourite short cake, sweet cakes in endless
variety, pies, preserves, sauces, tea, coffee, cider, and what not. The
visitors were amazed, as they might well be, at the lavish display of
cooking, and they were pressed, with well-meant kindness, to partake
heartily of everything. They yielded good-naturedly to the entreaties to
try this and that as long as they could, and paused only when it was
impossible to take any more. When they were leaving, the merchant asked
his friend when they were coming to Montreal, and insisted that they
should come soon, promising if they would only let him know a little
before when they were coming he would buy up everything there was to be
had in the market for supper. On another occasion an English gentleman
was spending an evening at a neighbour's, and, as usual, the supper
table was crowded with everything the kind-hearted hostess could think
of. The guest was plied with dish after dish, and, thinking it would be
disrespectful if he did not take something from each, he continued to
eat, and take from the dishes as they were passed, until he found his
plate, and all the available space around him, heaped up with cakes and
pie. To dispose of all he had carefully deposited on his plate and
around it seemed utterly impossible, and yet he thought he would be
considered rude if he did not finish what he had taken, and he struggled
on, with the perspiration visible on his face, until in despair he asked
to be excused, as he could not eat any more if it were to save his life.
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