Books: Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago

C >> Canniff Haight >> Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago

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The Bay of Quinte, apart from its delightful scenery, possesses an
historical interest. It is not known from whence it received its name,
but there is no doubt it is of French origin. Perhaps some of the old
French voyageurs, halting at Fort Frontenac, on their way west, as they
passed across it, and through one of the gaps that open the way to the
broad expanse of Lake Ontario, may have christened it. Be this as it
may, it was along its shores that the first settlers of the Province
located. Here came the first preachers, offering to the lonely settler
the bread of life. On its banks the first house devoted to the worship
of God was erected, and the seed sown here, as the country grew, spread
abroad. Here the first schoolmaster began his vocation of instructing
the youth. The first steamboat was launched (1816) upon its waters at
Ernesttown, near the present village of Bath. Kingston, for a long time
the principal town of the Province, then composed of a few log houses,
was the depot of supplies for the settlers. It has a history long
anterior to this date. In 1673, Courcelles proceeded to Cataraqui with
an armed force to bring the Iroquois to terms, and to get control of the
fur trade. Then followed the building of Fort Frontenac. The restless
trader and discoverer, La Salle, had the original grant for a large
domain around the fort. Here, in 1683, La Barre built vessels for the
navigation of the lake, and the year following held a great council with
the Five Nations of Indians, at which Big Mouth was the spokesman. The
fort was destroyed by Denonville in 1689, and rebuilt in 1696. It was
again reduced by Colonel Bradstreet in 1758.

In Adolphustown many of the first settlers still lived when I was a boy,
and I have heard them recount their trials and hardships many a time.
Besides the U. E. Loyalists there were a number of Quaker families which
came to the Province about the same time, leaving the new Republic, not
precisely for the same reasons, but because of their attachment to the
old land. During the war, these people, who are opposed to war and
bloodshed, suffered a good deal, and were frequently imprisoned, and
their money and property appropriated. This did not occur in Canada, but
they were subject to a fine for some time, for not answering to their
names at the annual muster of the militia. The fine, however, was not
exacted, except in cases where there were doubts as to membership with
the society. This small township has contributed its quota to the
Legislature of the country. T. Dorland represented the Midland District
in the first Parliament of the Province, and was followed by Willet
Casey, when Newark or Niagara was the capital. The latter was succeeded
several years later by his son, Samuel Casey, but, as often happens,
there was a difference in the political opinions of the father and son.
The father was a Reformer, the son a Tory; and at the election, the old
gentleman went to the poll and recorded his vote against his son, who
was nevertheless elected. The Roblins, John P---, who represented the
county of Prince Edward, and David, who sat for Lennox and Addington,
were natives of the township. The Hagermans, Christopher and D---, were
also fourth town boys, with whom my mother went to school. The old
homestead, a low straggling old tenement, stood on the bay shore a few
yards west of the road that leads to the wharf. I remember it well. It
was destroyed by fire years ago. The father of Sir John A. Macdonald
kept a store a short distance to the east of the Quaker meeting-house on
Hay Bay, on the third concession. It was a small clap-boarded building,
painted red, and was standing a few years ago. I remember being at a
nomination in the village of Bath, on which occasion there were several
speakers from Kingston, among them John A. Macdonald, then a young
lawyer just feeling his way into political life. He made a speech, and
began something in this way: "Yeomen of the county of Lennox and
Addington, I remember well when I ran about in this district a
barefooted boy," &c. He had the faculty then, which he has ever since
preserved, of getting hold of the affections of the people. This
_bonhommie_ has had much to do with his popularity and success. I
recollect well how lustily he was cheered by the staunch old farmers on
the occasion referred to. A few years later a contest came off in the
county of Prince Edward, where I then resided. In those days political
contests were quite as keen as now; but the alterations in the law which
governs these matters has been greatly changed and improved. The
elections were so arranged that people owning property in various
counties could exercise their franchise. The old law, which required
voters to come to a certain place in the district to record their vote,
had been repealed; and now each voter had to go to the township in which
he owned property, to vote. Foreign voters were more numerous then than
now, and were looked after very sharply. On this occasion there was a
sharp battle ahead, and arrangements were made to meet property owners
at all points. There were a number from Kingston on our side, and it
fell to me to meet them at the Stone Mills Ferry, and bring them to
Picton. The ice had only recently taken in the bay, and was not quite
safe, even for foot passengers. There were six or seven, and among them
John A. Macdonald, Henry Smith, afterwards Sir Henry, and others. In
crossing, Smith got in, but was pulled out by his companions, in no very
nice plight for a long drive. The sleighing was good, and we dashed
away. In the evening I brought them back, and before they set off across
the bay on their return, John A. mounted the long, high stoop or
platform in front of Teddy McGuire's, and gave us an harangue in
imitation of ----, a well-known Quaker preacher, who had a marvellous
method of intoning his discourses. It was a remarkable sing-song, which
I, or any one else who ever heard it, could never forget. Well John A.,
who knew him well, had caught it, and his imitation was so perfect that
I am inclined to think the old man, if he had been a listener, would
have been puzzled to tell t'other from which. We had a hearty laugh, and
then separated.

[Illustration: SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD'S EARLY HOME.]

I have often heard my mother tell of a trip she made down to the Bay of
Quinte, when she was a young girl. She had been on a visit to her
brother Jonas Canniff (recently deceased in this city at the age of
ninety-two), who had settled on the river Moira, two miles north of the
town of Belleville, then a wilderness. There were no steamboats then,
and the modes of conveyance both by land and water were slow and
tedious. She was sent home by her brother, who engaged two friendly
Indians to take her in a bark canoe. The distance to be travelled was
over twenty miles, and the morning they started the water in the bay was
exceedingly rough. She was placed in the centre of the canoe, on the
bottom, while her Indian _voyageurs_ took their place in either
end, resting on their knees. They started, and the frail boat danced
over the waves like a shell. The stoical yet watchful Indians were alive
only to the necessities of their position, and with measured stroke they
shot their light bark over the boisterous water. Being a timid girl, and
unaccustomed to the water, especially under such circumstances, she was
much frightened and never expected to reach her home. There was
considerable danger, no doubt, and her fears were not allayed by one of
the Indians telling her if she stirred he would break her head with the
paddle. The threat may not have been unwise. Their safety depended on
perfect control of the boat, and in their light shell a very slight
movement might prove disastrous. Her situation was rendered more
unpleasant by the splashing of the water, which wet her to the skin.
This she had to put up with for hours, while the Indians bravely and
skilfully breasted the sea, and at last set her safely on the beach in
front of her father's house. When they came to the shore one of the
Indians sprang lightly into the water, caught her in his arms and placed
her on dry land. This trip was literally burned in her memory, and
though she frequently mentioned it, she did so with a shudder, and an
expression of thankfulness for her preservation.

Of the old people who were living in my boyhood there are few more
thoroughly fixed in my memory, with the exception, perhaps, of my
grandfathers Canniff and Haight, than Willet and Jane Casey. There were
few women better known, or more universally respected, than Aunt Jane.
This was the title accorded to her by common consent, and though at that
time she had passed the allotted term of three-score years and ten, she
was an active woman--a matron among a thousand, a friend of everybody,
and everybody's friend. Her house was noted far and wide for its
hospitality, and none dispensed it more cordially than Aunt Jane. In
those days the people passing to and fro did not hesitate to avail
themselves of the comforts this old home afforded. In fact, it was a
general stopping place, where both man and beast were refreshed with
most cheerful liberality.

[Illustration: AUNT JANE, AGE 92]

Jane Niles, her maiden name, was born at Butternuts, Otsego County, in
the central part of New York State, 1763; so that at the commencement of
the American Revolution she was about eleven years old. She was married
in 1782. The following year, 1783, the year in which peace was
proclaimed, her husband, Willet Casey, left for Upper Canada, and
located in the fourth town on the shore of the Bay of Quinte. After
erecting a log house and a blacksmith shop, he returned for his wife. He
was taken seriously ill, and nearly a year passed before he was able to
set out again for the new home in the wilds of Upper Canada (which was
reached early in the year 1785), where, after a long and prosperous
life, he ended his days.

Aunt Jane was a tall and well proportioned woman, of commanding presence
and cheerful disposition; a woman of more than ordinary intelligence,
and a good conversationalist. She had been a close observer of passing
events, and possessed a wonderfully retentive memory. It was an epoch in
one's life to hear her recount the recollections of her early days.
These ran through the whole period of the American War, and many scenes
which are now historical, that she had witnessed, or was cognizant of,
were given with a vividness that not only delighted the listener but
fixed them in his memory. Then, the story of the coming to Canada, with
her first babe six months old, and the struggles and hardships in the
bush, which in the days of which I speak she delighted to linger over,
was a great treat to listen to. There were few of the first families she
did not know, and whose history was not familiar to her, and in most
cases she could give the names and ages of the children. The picture
given of her in this volume is a copy from a daguerrotype taken when she
was ninety-two years old. For several years before her demise she did
not use spectacles, and could read ordinary print with ease, or do fine
needlework. She retained her faculties to the last, and died at the age
of ninety-six.

She had eleven children, five of whom died young. Her eldest daughter,
Martha, known as Patty Dorland, attained the age of ninety-two. Then
followed Samuel, Elizabeth, Thomas, Mary and Jane. These, with the
exception of Thomas and Mary Ingersoll, my wife's mother, died many
years ago. Thomas Casey died at Brighton, in January of this year, aged
eighty-seven, and Mary Ingersoll on the first of June, aged eighty-five,
the last of the family.

Willet Casey was an energetic man. He accumulated a large property, and
in my boyhood there were not many days in the week that the old man
could not be seen driving along the road in his one-horse waggon in some
direction. He was one of the first representatives for the Midland
District, when Newark was the capital of the Province. His son Samuel, a
number of years subsequently, represented the district, and later, his
grandson, Dr. Willet Dorland, represented the County of Prince Edward.

NOTE: At the time my book was going through the press, I was under the
impression that the fish known in this country as a Sucker was the same
as the Mullet, but had no intention that the latter name should find its
way into the text in place of Sucker. See page 41. According to
Richardson, one of the best authorities we have, the Sucker is of the
Carp family, the scientific name of which is _Cyprinus Hudsonius_,
or Sucking Carp.

On page 127, "and, as their lives had theretofore," read heretofore.

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