Books: Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago

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Sunday was a day of enjoyment as well as rest. There were but few places
of public worship, and those were generally far apart. In most places
the schoolhouse or barn served the purpose. There were two meeting-
houses--this was the term always used then for places of worship--a few
miles from our place on Hay bay. The Methodist meeting-house was the
first place built for public worship in Upper Canada, and was used for
that purpose until a few years ago. It now belongs to Mr. Platt, and is
used as a storehouse. The other, a Quaker meeting-house, built some
years later, is still standing. It was used as a barrack by the
Glengarry regiment in 1812, a part of which regiment was quartered in
the neighbourhood during that year. The men left their bayonet-marks in
the old posts.

[Illustration: QUAKER MEETING HOUSE.]

On Sunday morning the horses were brought up and put to the lumber
waggon, the only carriage known then. The family, all arrayed in their
Sunday clothes, arranged themselves in the spacious vehicle, and drove
away. At that time, and for a good many years after, whether in the
school-house or meeting-house, the men sat on one side and the women on
the other, in all places of worship. The sacred bond which had been
instituted by the Creator Himself in the Garden of Eden, "Therefore
shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; and
they shall be one flesh," did not seem to harmonize with that custom,
for when they went up to His house they separated at the door. It would
have been thought a very improper thing, even for a married couple, to
take a seat side by side. Indeed I am inclined to think that the good
brothers and sisters would have put them out of doors. So deeply rooted
are the prejudices in matters of religious belief. That they are the
most difficult to remove, the history of the past confirms through all
ages. This custom prevailed for many years after. When meeting was over
it was customary to go to some friend's to dinner, and make, as used to
be said, a visit, or, what was equally as pleasant, father or mother
would ask some old acquaintances to come home with us. Sunday in all
seasons, and more particularly in the summer, was the grand visiting day
with old and young. I do not state this out of any disrespect for the
Sabbath. I think I venerate it as much as anyone, but I am simply
recording facts as they then existed. The people at that time, as a
rule, were not religious, but they were moral, and anxious for greater
religious advantages. There were not many preachers, and these had such
extended fields of labour that their appointments were irregular, and
often, like angels' visits, few and far between. They could not ignore
their social instincts altogether, and this was the only day when the
toil and moil of work was put aside. They first went to meeting, when
there was any, and devoted the rest of the day to friendly intercourse
and enjoyment. People used to come to Methodist meeting for miles, and
particularly on quarterly meeting day. On one of these occasions,
fourteen young people who were crossing the bay in a skiff, on their way
to the meeting, were upset near the shore and drowned. Some years later
the missionary meeting possessed great attraction, when a deputation
composed of Egerton Ryerson and Peter Jones, the latter with his Indian
curiosities, drew the people in such numbers that half of them could not
get into the house.

There were a good many Quakers, and as my father's people belonged to
that body we frequently went to their meeting. The broad brims on one
side, with the scoop bonnets on the other, used to excite my curiosity,
but I did not like to sit still so long. Sometimes not a word would be
said, and after an hour of profound silence, two of the old men on one
of the upper seats would shake hands. Then a general shaking of hands
ensued on both sides of the house, and meeting was out.

Many readers will recall gentle Charles Lamb's thoughtful paper on "A
Quakers' Meeting." [Footnote: See _Essays of Elia_.] Several of his
reflections rise up so vividly before me as I write these lines that I
cannot forbear quoting them. "What," he asks, "is the stillness of the
desert, compared with this place? what the uncommunicating muteness of
fishes?--here the goddess reigns and revels.--'Boreas, and Cesias, and
Argestes loud,' do not with their interconfounding uproars more augment
the brawl--nor the waves of the blown Baltic with their clubbed sounds
--than their opposite (Silence her sacred self) is multiplied and
rendered more intense by numbers, and by sympathy. She too hath her
deeps, that call unto deeps. Negation itself hath a positive more and
less; and closed eyes would seem to obscure the great obscurity of
midnight.

"There are wounds which an imperfect solitude cannot heal. By imperfect
I mean that which a man enjoyeth by himself. The perfect is that which
he can sometimes attain in crowds, but nowhere so absolutely as in a
Quakers' Meeting.--Those first hermits did certainly understand this
principle, when they retired into Egyptian solitudes, not singly, but in
shoals, to enjoy one another's want of conversation. The Carthusian is
bound to his brethren by this agreeing spirit of incommunicativeness. In
secular occasions, what so pleasant as to be reading a book through a
long winter evening, with a friend sitting by--say a wife--he, or she,
too (if that be probable), reading another, without interruption, or
oral communication?--can there be no sympathy without the gabble of
words?--away with this inhuman, shy, single, shade-and-cavern-haunting
solitariness. Give me, Master Zimmerman, a sympathetic solitude.

"To pace alone in the cloisters, or side aisles of some cathedral, time-
stricken;

Or under hanging mountains,
Or by the fall of fountains;

is but a vulgar luxury compared with that which those enjoy who come
together for the purposes of more complete, abstracted solitude. This is
the loneliness 'to be felt.' The Abbey-Church of Westminster hath
nothing so solemn, so spirit-soothing, as the naked walls and benches of
a Quakers' Meeting. Here are no tombs, no inscriptions,

--Sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruined sides of kings--

but here is something which throws Antiquity herself into the
foreground--SILENCE--eldest of things--language of old Night--primitive
Discourser--to which the insolent decays of mouldering grandeur have but
arrived by a violent, and, as we may say, unnatural progression.

How reverend is the view of these hushed heads,
Looking tranquillity!

"Nothing-plotting, nought-caballing, unmischievous synod! convocation
without intrigue! parliament without debate! what a lesson dost thou
read, to council and to consistory!--if my pen treat of you lightly--as
haply it will wander--yet my spirit hath gravely felt the wisdom of your
custom, when sitting among you in deepest peace, which some outwelling
tears would rather confirm than disturb, I have reverted to the times of
your beginnings, and the sowings of the seed by Fox and Dewesbury.--I
have witnessed that which brought before my eyes your heroic
tranquillity inflexible to the rude jests and serious violences of the
insolent soldiery, republican or royalist sent to molest you--for ye
sate betwixt the fires of two persecutions, the outcast and off-scouring
of church and presbytery.

"I have seen the reeling sea-ruffian, who had wandered into your
receptacle with the avowed intention of disturbing your quiet, from the
very spirit of the place receive in a moment a new heart, and presently
sit among ye as a lamb amidst lambs. And I remember Penn before his
accusers, and Fox in the bail-dock, where he was lifted up in spirit, as
he tells us, and the judge and the jury became as dead men under his
feet."

Our old family carriage--the lumbering waggon--revives many pleasant
recollections. Many long rides were taken in it, both to mill and
market, and, sometimes I have curled myself up, and slept far into the
night in it while waiting for my grist to be ground so I could take it
home. But it was not used by the young folks as sleighs were in the
winter. It was a staid, family vehicle, not suited to mirth or love-
making. It was too noisy for that, and on a rough road, no very uncommon
thing then, one was shaken up so thoroughly that there was but little
room left for sentiment. In later times, lighter and much more
comfortable vehicles were used. The elliptic or steel spring did not
come into use until about 1840. I remember my grandfather starting off
for New York in one of these light one-horse waggons. I do not know how
long he was gone, but he made the journey, and returned safely. Long
journeys by land were made, principally in summer, on horseback, both by
men and women. The horse was also the young peoples' only vehicle at
this season of the year. The girls were usually good riders, and could
gallop away as well on the bare back as on the side-saddle. A female
cousin of my father's several times made journeys of from one to two
hundred miles on horseback, and on one occasion she carried her infant
son for a hundred and fifty miles, a feat the women of to-day would
consider impossible.

Then as now, the early fall was not the least pleasant portion of the
Canadian year. Everyone is familiar with the striking beauty of our
woods after the frost begins, and the endless variety of shade and
colour that mingles with such pleasing effect in every landscape. And in
those days, as well as now, the farmers' attention was directed to
preparation for the coming winter. His market staples then consisted of
wheat or flour, pork and potash. The other products of his farm, such as
coarse grain, were used by himself. Butter and eggs were almost
valueless, save on his own table. The skins of his sheep, calves and
beef cattle which were slaughtered for his own use, were sent to the
tanners, who dressed them on shares, the remainder being brought home to
be made up into boots, harness and mittens. Wood, which afterwards came
into demand for steam purposes, was worthless. Sawn lumber was not
wanted, except for home use, and the shingles that covered the buildings
were split and made by the farmer himself.

If the men had logging-bees, and other bees to help them on with their
work, the women, by way of compensation, had bees of a more social and
agreeable type. Among these were quilting bees, when the women and girls
of the neighbourhood assembled in the afternoon, and turned out those
skilfully and often artistically made rugs, so comfortable to lie under
during the cold winter nights. There was often a great deal of sport at
the close of one of these social industrial gatherings. When the men
came in from the field to supper, some luckless wight was sure to be
caught, and tossed up and down in the quilt amid the laughter and shouts
of the company. But of all the bees, the apple-bee was the chief. In
these old and young joined. The boys around the neighbourhood, with
their home-made apple-machines, of all shapes and designs, would come
pouring in with their girls early in the evening. The large kitchen,
with its sanded floor, the split bottomed chairs ranged round the room,
the large tubs of apples, and in the centre the clean scrubbed pine
table filled with wooden trays and tallow-candles in tin candlesticks,
made an attractive picture which had for its setting the mother and
girls, all smiles and good nature, receiving and pleasing the company.
Now the work begins amidst laughter and mirth; the boys toss the peeled
apples away from their machines in rapid numbers, and the girls catch
them, and with their knives quarter and core them, while others string
them with needles on long threads, and tie them so that they can be hung
up to dry. As soon as the work is done the room is cleared for supper,
after which the old folks retire, and the second and most pleasing part
of the performance begins. These after-scenes were always entered into
with a spirit of fun and honest abandonment truly refreshing. Where
dancing was not objected to, a rustic fiddler would be spirited in by
some of the youngsters as the sport began. The dance was not that
languid sort of thing, toned down by modern refinement to a sliding,
easy motion round the room, and which, for the lack of conversational
accomplishments, is made to do duty for want of wit. Full of life and
vigour, they danced for the real fun of the thing. The quick and
inspiriting strains of the music sent them spinning round the room, and
amid the rush and whirl of the flying feet came the sharp voice of the
fiddler as he flourished his bow: "Right and left--balance to your
pardner--cross hands--swing your pardner--up and down the middle," and
so on through reel after reel. Some one of the boys would perform a
_pas seul_ with more energy than grace; but it was all the same--
the dancing master had not been abroad; the fiddler put life into their
heels, and they let them play. Frequently there was no musician to be
had, when the difficulty was overcome by the musical voices of the
girls, assisted with combs covered with paper, or the shrill notes of
some expert at whistling. It often happened that the old people objected
to dancing, and then the company resorted to plays, of which there was a
great variety: "Button, button, who's got the button;" "Measuring Tape;"
"Going to Rome;" "Ladies Slipper;" all pretty much of the same
character, and much appreciated by the boys, because they afforded a
chance to kiss the girls.

Some of our plays bordered very closely on a dance, and when our
inclinations were checked, we approached the margin of the forbidden
ground as nearly as possible. Among these I remember one which afforded
an opportunity to swing around in a merry way. A chair was placed in the
centre of the room, upon which one of the girls or boys was seated. Then
we joined hands, and went dancing around singing the following
refrain:--

There was a young woman sat down to sleep,
Sat down to sleep, sat down to sleep;
There was a young woman sat down to sleep,
Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!

There was a young man to keep her awake,
To keep her awake, to keep her awake;
There was a young man to keep her awake,
Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho-! Heigh-ho!

Tom Brown his name shall be,
His name shall be, his name shall be;
Tom Brown his name shall be,
Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!

Whereupon Mr. Brown was expected to step out, take the girl by the hand,
salute her with a kiss, and then take her seat. Then the song went on
again, with variations to suit; and thus the rustic mazurka proceeded
until all had had a chance of tasting the rosy lips, so tempting to
youthful swains. Often a coy maiden resisted, and then a pleasant
scuffle ensued, in which she sometimes eluded the penalty, much to the
chagrin of the claimant.

CHAPTER III.

PROGRESS, MATERIAL AND SOCIAL--FONDNESS OF THE YOUNG FOR DANCING--
MAGISTERIAL NUPTIALS--THE CHARIVARI--COON-HUNTING--CATCHING A TARTAR--
WILD PIGEONS--THE OLD DUTCH HOUSES--DELIGHTS OF SUMMER AND WINTER
CONTRASTED--STILLED VOICES.

As time wore on, and contact with the outer world became easier and more
frequent, the refinements of advancing civilization found their way
gradually into the country, and changed the amusements as well as the
long-established habits of the people. An isolated community like that
which stretched along the frontier of our Province, cut off from the
older and more advanced stages of society, or holding but brief and
irregular communication with it, could not be expected to keep up with
the march of either social or intellectual improvement; and although the
modern may turn up his nose as he looks back, and affect contempt at the
amusements which fell across our paths like gleams of sunlight at the
break of day, and call them rude and indelicate, he must not forget that
we were not hedged about by the conventionalities, nor were we slaves to
the caprice of fashion. We were free sons and daughters of an upright,
sturdy parentage, with pure and honest hearts throbbing under rough
exteriors. The girls who did not blush at a hearty kiss from our lips
were as pure as the snow. They became ornaments in higher and brighter
circles of society, and mothers, the savour of whose virtues and
maternal affection rise before our memory like a perpetual incense.

I am quite well aware of the fact that a large portion of the religious
world is opposed to dancing, nor in this recital of country life as it
then existed do I wish to be considered an advocate of this amusement. I
joined in the sport then with as much eagerness and delight as one could
do. I learned to step off on the light fantastic toe, as many another
Canadian boy has done, on the barn floor, where, with the doors shut, I
went sliding up and down, through the middle, balancing to the pitch-
fork, turning round the old fanning-mill, then double-shuffling and
closing with a profound bow to the splint broom in the corner. These
were the kind of schools in which our accomplishments were learned; and,
whether dancing be right or wrong, it is certain the inclination of the
young to indulge in it is about as universal as the taint of sin.

The young people then, as now, took it into their heads to get married;
but parsons were scarce, and it did not always suit them to wait until
one came along. To remedy this difficulty the Government authorized
magistrates to perform the ceremony for any couple who resided more than
eighteen miles from church. There were hardly any churches, and
therefore a good many called upon the Justice to put a finishing touch
to their happiness, and curious looking pairs presented themselves to
have the knot tied. One morning a robust young man and a pretty,
blushing girl presented themselves at my father's door, and were invited
in. They were strangers, and it was some time before he could find out
what they wanted; but after beating about the bush, the young man
hesitatingly said they wanted to get married. They were duly tied, and,
on leaving, I was asked to join in their wedding dinner. Though it was
to be some distance away, I mounted my horse and joined them. The dinner
was good, and served in the plain fashion of the day. After it came
dancing, to the music of a couple of fiddlers, and we threaded through
reel after reel until nearly daylight. On another occasion a goodly
company gathered at a neighbour's house to assist at the nuptials of his
daughter. The ceremony had passed, and we were collected around the
supper table; the old man had spread out his hands to ask a blessing,
when bang, bang, went a lot of guns, accompanied by horns, whistles, tin
pans and anything and everything with which a noise could be made. A
simultaneous shriek went up from the girls, and for a few moments the
confusion was as great inside as out. It was a horrid din of discordant
sounds. Conversation at the supper table was out of the question, and as
soon as it was over we went out among the boys who had come to charivari
us. There were perhaps fifty of them, with blackened faces and ludicrous
dresses, and after the bride and bridegroom had shown themselves and
received their congratulations, they went their way, and left us to
enjoy ourselves in peace. It was after this manner the young folks
wedded. There was but little attempt at display. No costly trousseau, no
wedding tours. A night of enjoyment with friends, and the young couple
set out at once on the practical journey of life.

One of our favourite sports in those days was coon (short name for
raccoon) hunting. This lasted only during the time of green corn. The
raccoon is particularly fond of corn before it hardens, and if
unmolested will destroy a good deal in a short time. He always visits
the cornfields at night; so about nine o'clock we would set off with our
dogs, trained for the purpose, and with as little noise as possible make
our way to the edge of the corn, and then wait for him. If the field was
not too large he could easily be heard breaking down the ears, and then
the dogs were let loose. They cautiously and silently crept towards the
unsuspecting foe. But the sharp ears and keen scent of the raccoon
seldom let him fall into the clutch of the dogs without a scamper for
life. The coon was almost always near the woods, and this gave him a
chance of escape. As soon as a yelp was heard from the dogs, we knew the
fun had begun, and pushing forward in the direction of the noise, we
were pretty sure to find our dogs baffled and jumping and barking around
the foot of a tree up which Mr. Coon had fled, and whence he was quietly
looking down on his pursuers from a limb or crutch. Our movements now
were guided by circumstances. If the tree was not too large, one of us
would climb it and dislodge the coon. In the other case we generally cut
it down. The dogs were always on the alert, and the moment the coon
touched the ground they were on him. We used frequently to capture two
or three in a night. The skin was dressed and made into caps or robes
for the sleigh. On two or three of these expeditions, our dogs caught a
Tartar by running foul of a _coon_ not so easily disposed of--in
the shape of a bear; and then we were both glad to decamp, as he was
rather too big a job to undertake in the night. Bruin was fond of young
corn, but he and the wolves had ceased to be troublesome. The latter
occasionally made a raid on a flock of sheep in the winter, but they
were watched pretty closely, and were trapped or shot. There was a
government bounty of $4 for every wolf's head. Another, and much more
innocent sport, was netting wild pigeons after the wheat had been taken
off. At that time they used to visit the stubbles in large flocks. Our
mode of procedure was to build a house of boughs under which to hide
ourselves. Then the ground was carefully cleaned and sprinkled with
grain, at one side of which the net was set, and in the centre one stool
pigeon, secured on a perch was placed, attached to which was a long
string running into the house. When all was ready we retired and watched
for the flying pigeons, and whenever a flock came within a seeing
distance our stool pigeon was raised and then dropped. This would cause
it to spread its wings and then flutter, which attracted the flying
birds, and after a circle or two they would swoop down and commence to
feed. Then the net was sprung, and in a trice we had scores of pigeons
under it. I do not remember to have seen this method of capturing
pigeons practised since. If we captured many we took them home, put them
where they could not get away, and took them out as we wanted them.

At the time of which I write Upper Canada had been settled about forty-
five years. A good many of the first settlers had ended their labours,
and were peacefully resting in the quiet grave-yard; but there were many
left, and they were generally hale old people, who were enjoying in
contentment and peace the evening of their days, surrounded by their
children, who were then in their prime, and their grandchildren, ruddy
and vigorous plants, shooting up rapidly around them. The years that had
fled were eventful ones, not only to themselves, but to the new country
which they had founded. "The little one had become a thousand, and a
small one a strong nation." The forest had melted away before the force
of their industry, and orchards with their russet fruit, and fields of
waving corn, gladdened their hearts and filled their cellars and barns
with abundance. The old log house which had been their shelter and their
home for many a year had disappeared, or was converted into an out-house
for cattle, or a place for keeping implements in during the winter; and
now the commodious and well-arranged frame one had taken its place.
Large barns for their increasing crops and warm sheds to protect the
cattle had grown up out of the rude hovels and stables. Everything
around them betokened thrift, and more than an ordinary degree of
comfort. They had what must be pronounced to have been, for the time,
good schools, where their children could acquire a tolerable education.
They also had places in which they could assemble and worship God. There
were merchants from whom they could purchase such articles as they
required, and there were markets for their produce. The changes wrought
in these forty-five years were wonderful, and to no class of persons
could these changes seem more surprising than to themselves. Certainly
no people appreciated more fully the rich ripe fruit of their toil.
Among the pleasantest pictures I can recall are the old homes in which
my boyhood was passed. I hardly know in what style of architecture they
were built; indeed, I think it was one peculiar to the people and the
age. They were strong, substantial structures, erected with an eye to
comfort rather than show. They were known afterwards as Dutch houses,
usually one story high, and built pretty much after the same model; a
parallelogram, with a wing at one end, and often to both. The roofs were
very steep, with a row of dormer windows, and sometimes two rows looking
out of their broad sides, to give light to the chambers and sleeping
rooms up-stairs. The living rooms were generally large, with low
ceilings, and well supplied with cupboards, which were always filled
with blankets and clothing, dishes, and a multitude of good things for
the table. The bed rooms were always small and cramped, but they were
sure to contain a good bed--a bed which required some ingenuity,
perhaps, to get into, owing to its height; but when once in, the great
feather tick fitted kindly to the weary body, and the blankets over you
soon wooed your attention away from the narrowness of the apartment.
Very often the roof projected over, giving an elliptic shape to one
side, and the projection of about six feet formed a cover of what was
then called a long stoop, but which now-a-days would be known as a
veranda. This was no addition to the lighting of the rooms, for the
windows were always small in size and few in number. The kitchen usually
had a double outside door--that is a door cut cross-wise through the
middle, so that the lower part could be kept shut, and the upper left
open if necessary. I do not know what particular object there was in
this, unless to let the smoke out, for chimneys were more apt to smoke
then than now; or, perhaps, to keep the youngsters in and let in fresh
air. Whatever the object was, this was the usual way the outside kitchen
door was made, with a wooden latch and leather string hanging outside to
lift it, which was easily pulled in, and then the door was quite secure
against intruders. The barns and out-houses were curiosities in after
years: large buildings with no end of timber and all roof, like a great
box with an enormous candle extinguisher set on it. But houses and barns
are gone, and modern structures occupy their places, as they succeeded
the rough log ones, and one can only see them as they are photographed
upon the memory.

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