CHAPTER III.

DEED OF ISLAND IN BOSTON HARBOR.REWARD FOR A DESERTER, 1776, AT WEST POINT.

DEED OF ISLAND IN BOSTON HARBOR.

REWARD FOR A DESERTER, 1776, AT WEST POINT.

DEED OF ISLAND IN BOSTON HARBOR.

wood in a deed is peculiar, and it is set forth in a singular way. The Charles Annis mentioned in this deed was a relative of Roger Conant’s, and came to Canada from Massachusetts soon after him. From him most of the Annises in Canada are descended.

Leaving his family at Geneva, New York State, Roger Conant came on to Canada, arriving at the locality afterward called Darlington, County Durham, Ontario, in October, 1778. The first Crown grant of land to Roger Conant was made December 31st, 1778. It consisted of lots 28, 29, 30 and 31, in the Broken Front, Darlington; also south halves of lots 28, 29, 30 and 31, 1st concession Darlington, County Durham—in all about 1,200 acres. After building a house on his land, and probably clearing some portion of it, he returned to Geneva.

What he did between this date and 1794, when he brought his family to Canada, is not known. It is said that during these intermediate years he went to and from Massachusetts several times, in order to collect the proceeds of the sale of his property there. It was during these years that, it is said, he lived among Butler’s Rangers, and from their deeds of violence learned to execrate their memory.

In 1794 he set out again, stopping at Genesee Falls, where Rochester, N.Y., now is. Once the author asked why they did not remain there, and was toldthat “it was only a black ash swamp, and they did not want it.”

Governor Simcoe’s proclamation, offering grants of land in Upper Canada to those who would come and occupy them, hurried Roger Conant’s journey. Arriving at the mouth of the Niagara River, and hiring a flat scow in which to ferry himself, his family and effects over, he landed at Newark, then the capital of Upper Canada. While there he met Governor Simcoe, who tried to induce him to go up Yonge Street to lands on Lake Simcoe; but not relishing the idea of leaving the shores of Lake Ontario for the wilderness, he refused. The Governor then asked him if he would fight against Canada if trouble came. Roger’s reply was, “No, sir, I will fight for the country which protects me.” And, as we shall presently see, he made good his promise by aiding the British cause in the subsequent war of 1812.

Following the lake shore, camping at night, and fording the streams where they debouch, they at last reached the site of York, then a cluster of Indian wigwams with a few houses in process of erection. The river Don being too deep to ford, they hired Indians to convey them over in their canoes. The waggons were taken apart and so ferried across, when they were put together again, and the emigrants proceeded along the broken shores of the lake.

A home in the wilderness—Salmon fishing—An idyllic life—Logging—Fur trade—Durham boats—Rapids of the St. Lawrence—Trading with the Indians—The Hudson’s Bay Company—Coureurs du bois—Maple sugar making—Friendly Indians.

“Our young, wild land, the free, the proud!Uncrush’d by power, unawed by fear,Her knee to none but God is bow’d,For nature teaches freedom here;From gloom and sorrow, to light and flowersExpands this heritage of ours:Life, with its myriad hopes, pursuits,Spreads sails, rears roofs, and gathers fruits.But pass two fleeting centuries back,This land, a torpid giant, slept,Wrapp’d in a mantle, thick and black,That o’er its mighty frame had crept,Since stars and angels sang, as earthShot from its Maker into birth.”

GOLDEN autumn days were those when the emigrants’ long journey was nearing its end. Provision must first be made for the cattle and horses. October was upon them and winter near.

ROGER CONANT’S FIRST SETTLEMENT IN DARLINGTON, CO. DURHAM, UPPER CANADA, 1778.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

ROGER CONANT’S FIRST SETTLEMENT IN DARLINGTON, CO. DURHAM, UPPER CANADA, 1778.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

At Arnall’s Creek—then known as Barber’s Creek—they found a flat of marsh-grass quite free from the forest trees which then were universal above the water’s edge of Lake Ontario.

Here they pitched their tents, the creek and lake forming two sides of a triangle for defence from wolves, leaving one side only to be protected. Salmon would run in November, and the winter’s supply of fish could be secured from the creek, and the marsh-grass gathered for the stock from the flat at its mouth.

The illustration opposite is of the first house built by Roger Conant in Upper Canada. The foundation of it yet remains close by the waters of Lake Ontario. The man in the foreground of the picture is pounding or crushing grain with a burnt-out stump as a mortar, using as a pestle a billet of wood which is attached to a spring pole, thus raising it easily. There was no mill nearer than Kingston where the corn could be ground. At Port Hope (then called Smith’s Creek), in 1806, Elias Smith erected a grist-mill. Previous to that date the settlers took their grist by boat to Kingston, at the foot of Lake Ontario, 110 miles distant. The journey occupied several days, necessitating their camping on the shores at night.

At the home by the broad waters of Lake Ontariothe settlers led a truly idyllic life. The unerring rifle supplied them with meat, the waters with fish, and the distant mill with flour until a crop could be grown from the cleared land next season. They spent the days “logging” (felling the trees) and the nights burning. The bright flames among the trees and against the dark background of the dense forest made a picturesque scene. A singular fact about “logging” is that the log-heaps burn better at night than by day; therefore the logging was done in the day-time and the burning by night. (See illustration,page 40.) But to make money in this new country, where there were no neighbors nor any travellers to buy, nor any money to buy with, was a more difficult feat than making a home.

Furs and furs only would bring money. Possessing some capital (about $5,000, as already stated), Roger Conant made his way to Montreal by canoe, and there about 1799 had Durham boats built—broad-beamed open flat boats, strongly built for rowing and towing. These he filled with blankets, traps, knives, guns, flints, ammunition, beads and tomahawks, bought in the Montreal stores, to trade with the Indians for furs.

Onpage 48is an illustration of three Durham boats ascending the rapids of the great St. Lawrence River, each towed by three men. They were launchedabove the greater rapids near Montreal, and hugged the shores while passing the others. An axe was always ready to the hand of the man who sat in the boat and steered, for should the rapid be too strong and get the mastery of the three men who were towing from the shore, the rope was quickly cut, and the Durham, freed, shot like a catapult down stream, until it was lodged in the first cul-de-sac below. It was manifestly a most tediously slow and weary mode of progress. There were no canals built then as now, to form an easy highway past the rapids. Once attaining Lake Ontario they paddled and rowed, still keeping close along shore and camping at some convenient landing-place at night.

In the illustration onpage 65we have a fair representation of an Indian trading scene. The goods brought from Montreal in the Durham boats have been carried back to a spot a few miles from the lake shore, in charge of the trader and his assistants. Three guns were fired in quick succession upon reaching camp the previous night, as a signal for all Indians within hearing to come with their furs to trade on the morrow. A beaver skin is lying upon the ground, an Indian is negotiating for a blanket, while another is looking at a gun, and others are coming in with their furs on their backs.

A few days’ trading exhausts the goods broughtby the trader. He returns home with the furs received in exchange, deposits them, replenishes his pack, and sets out on other trips in different directions, until all the goods are exchanged, and the following summer the furs are taken to Montreal in the same Durham boats, where gold and silver, as well as a further supply of goods, are obtained for them.

There is no record of Roger Conant having shipped his furs direct to London, England. As good prices were paid for furs in Montreal, it is most probable he disposed of them there. Year after year the trade was continued without interruption. It brought wealth to the author’s grandsire, honestly and fairly obtained.

The great Hudson’s Bay Company maintained a regular chain of trading stations upon the north shore of Lake Ontario, as they did in the far west and the Arctic north. The trading stations on Lake Ontario being near to Quebec and Montreal, and close together, were easily supplied with trading goods.

At the period of which we are now writing, when my forefather became an opponent to the great Hudson’s Bay Company in the fur trade (1798), that Company had a trading station very near his home—only some three miles to the west, and on what is now known as Bluff Point, a promontory two miles east of Port Oshawa. This trading station was not fortified,but consisted of a well-built, commodious log-house, with flat roof, and the corners of the house squared and neatly joined. Standing upon the promontory, it was easily accessible to the boats passing up or down the lake. In the spring the boats would come up from Montreal, generally gaily painted, and rowed quite close to shore, with song and laughter. After making the round of the trading stations of Lake Ontario, they came back in the same manner in the fall, laden with furs and Montreal-ward bound. “Here come the Hudson Bay boats!” was the word on the day of their arrival. During their first years in the wilderness the visit of these boats was an event in the lives of the settlers.

Halcyon days were these for thecoureurs du bois(as the Frenchmen were called who manned these boats), who were often traders themselves. However, the influx of settlers and fur traders, such as my forefathers were, presented such a strong opposition to the Company, that it gradually gave up Upper Canada as an exploiting ground, and maintained its hold of regions more inaccessible. A princely heritage, forsooth! All of fertile Upper Canada to roam over—mastery of the Indians—and a steady stream of gold coming in from the trade in furs.

This Hudson’s Bay Company is one of the marvels of the world. Its charter was granted by Charles II.in 1670 to some favorites, and from this inception it rapidly went on to growth and prosperity, acquiring almost despotic rule over its territories. Its servants never have plundered it. Its factors, having charge over stores and furs of immense values, away off from white men or the eyes of any who could take an interest in watching them, have always been faithful to their trust. There is no record extant of a dishonest factor. No government, priest or king ever had servants more faithful than have been the directors of this Honorable Hudson’s Bay Company of Fur Traders for the two hundred and twenty-eight years of its existence.

Sugar-making was another pursuit which, if it did not add great wealth to the settler’s pocket, at any rate increased his home comforts. The illustration onpage 78is a good representation of a sugar-making camp in the bush. The troughs at the foot of the trees receive the sap, which drips from a transverse slit in the bark, made by two blows of a hatchet, at some few feet above the ground. This trough was then no more than a hollowed-out half log, the ends left closed. The sap runs best during the day, as the warmth of the sun draws it up to the branches. It is carried in pails to the great caldrons, set over the fire on a cross limb, and poured into the one on the right side. When it has boiled, it is then transferred inrude ladles to the caldron on the left, where it is further reduced by boiling, and becomes sugared sufficiently to ensure its hardening when poured into the pans and other receptacles. When hard, these are turned out and set upon cross-sticks in tiers to dry. The earliest sap which rises makes the lightest colored sugar.

The Indians are about and assisting in the work. They were always friendly, never stole or deceived, and were ever the white man’s friend in Upper Canada. Those in the neighborhood of my grandfather’s settlement were chiefly Mississaugaus. Every summer they went away to the small lakes north of Ontario, and came back in the fall for the salmon and sturgeon fishing, living in lodges or wigwams. These are covered with birch bark. The illustration, given onpage 84, is not overdrawn as a representation of an Indian camp.

Waubakosh—Making potash—Prosperous settlers—Outbreak of war of 1812—Transporting military supplies—Moode Farewell’s hotel—“Here’s to a long and moderate war”—A lieutenant’s misfortune—“Open in the King’s name”—Humors of the time—Ingenious foragers—Hidden specie—Hardships of the U. E. Loyalists.

“Now push the mug, my jolly boys,And live while we can,To-morrow’s sun may end our joys,For brief’s the hour of man,And he who bravely meets the foeHis lease of life can never know.”

WAUBAKOSH was an Indian chief of the Mississaugaus. Every fall, from the year 1808 to 1847, he came with his tribe (or at least 150 of them) to the shore of Lake Ontario, that he and they might fish.

Their lodges were almost invariably constructed on the bank of a creek, near its mouth, that they might take the salmon ascending the stream in November to spawn, and fish in the lake from their boats, with light-jack and spear, for sturgeon.

LOGGING SCENE. ROGER CONANT IN DARLINGTON, CO. DURHAM, UPPER CANADA, 1778.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

LOGGING SCENE. ROGER CONANT IN DARLINGTON, CO. DURHAM, UPPER CANADA, 1778.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

First he came as a young Indian brave, before he became chief, and, on attaining the chieftainship and a wife, the only difference which the few white settlers here at that time could discover in his attire was that his deerskin leggings were more beautifully fringed at the seams, and his moccasins likewise were more elaborately wrought with porcupine quills.

Waubakosh was never known to commit a mean act. He was always friendly, and every succeeding fall his coming back was looked for with certainty by the white settlers, who got their living in the clearings and from the waters, as much hunters and fishermen as farmers.

On bidding his white friends good-bye, about December, 1847, as he set out for the Indian encampment about Nottawasaga, in the thick woods, the Indian chief expressed the fear that he might never come back again. His fears were only too well founded, for he never did return. Old residents who knew him have been heard many times to wonder what was his ultimate fate. More strange still to say, not one of his tribe ever came back again to lodge any length of time. A noble-looking red man, he has been described as tall and straight, with a good face and a pleasant eye—in very truth, one of Nature’s noblemen.

Many of his companions who predeceased himwere buried near his camping-place on Lake Ontario. Their tomahawks, beads, flints, spears, ornaments, and buttons, and their skulls as well, have been found in recent years by those seeking for traces of the aboriginal red man.

As a means of money making, next to the fur trading in Upper Canada came the making of potash. Ashes were about in plenty, and were easily gathered from the burnt heaps of logs.

In the illustration facingpage 97the artist has endeavored to show the intense heat required. The fire about the kettle is blazing furiously. This is the “melting scene,” and the last firing before the potash will be done. The driest and most inflammable wood was needed to secure the great heat that was necessary.

Potash, from 1800 to about 1840, brought some $40 per barrel in Upper Canada, and with the fur trading helped to make wealth for my grandsire and others.

On the breaking out of the war of 1812, between Britain and the United States, the settlers in Upper Canada were generally on the high road to prosperity, cultivating a land as fertile as any under heaven outside the valley of the Nile, and with less waste land than in any country of like extent. Such was and is Upper Canada. It is blessed, too, with a mild,salubrious climate, where the four seasons are distinctly marked.

We have seen that husbandry, begun about 1812, gradually became a national industry. Wheat at that time could only be sold for one-half cash and one-half store-pay. The usual price was two shillings (Halifax) per bushel, or about 48 cents, and it was almost invariably fall wheat. The author’s ancestors did considerable at farming, but were mainly fur traders and producers of potash up to the time of the war. Clothing was almost invariably hand-spun and woven. Deer-skin, however, was largely used for men’s leggings, moccasins, and even women’s dresses.

A story is told of a young girl having one dress only, which was made of deer-skin. By many weeks’ constant wear it had become soiled. One day, while all were away, she embraced the opportunity to wash this precious deer-skin garment, and dry it before the fire. When the family returned they found the girl in bed weeping because she had no dress. It had shrunken so much as to be too small to wear again.

When the war of 1812 was declared, the British Government was anxious to send cannon and military supplies into Upper Canada from Montreal. At first these were sent by water (seepage 104), but later on the fear of capture by the enemy caused them to be sent by land. A main highway, leading from Yorkto Kingston, had been surveyed by the Government and chopped out of the forest. In many places, however, the settlers being so few, it had from disuse become overgrown again with young forest, making it impassable for laden waggons. It was known generally as the “Kingston Road.” At some places it lay quite close to the lake, and at others receded two or three miles inland; consequently only some sections were used for traffic in 1812. One of these sections was at Harmony, a small village one mile east from Oshawa.

Here a large frame hotel had been built, kept by one Moode Farewell. This was one of the stopping places or houses of entertainment for the military men who passed to and from Montreal and York during the war.

The illustration given atpage 122is from a water-color drawing made from a photograph of this hotel. Joviality and good cheer were characteristic of it, and many a merry night was spent there by the British officers. Many times my grandfather saw them call for liquors in the bar-room on arrival, each grasp his glass, touch his companion’s and drink to the usual toast of “Here’s to a long and moderate war.” Could those old walls speak to-day they would recall the many, many times this toast was given.

Fun, too, was always in order. One evening a young lieutenant, a recent arrival from Britain, came in. The heavy rain had soaked his thin buckskins and leggings. On leaving the bar-room for supper he hung them to dry on a chair back before the fire-place—a great cavernous fire-place, large enough to take in a four-foot back log two feet in diameter.

My mischievous grandsire watched the leggings and helped them on with their drying by placing them squarely before the fire. When the young lieutenant came out from supper his consternation was amusing. His property had become a shrivelled, hard piece of buckskin, shapeless and useless.

“Why did you not mind my leggings?” he cried wrathfully. “Oh, I did mind them well—just see how dry they are,” was the reply. General laughter followed, and the “long and moderate war” toast was again drunk.

Moode Farewell, the owner and keeper of this hotel, was the father of a numerous family, many of whom and of their descendants have risen to high places both in Canada and the United States. He was a man of boundless energy, pluck and endurance, and amassed a considerable fortune.

About eight miles westerly from Farewell’s was Lynde’s tavern, on the Kingston Road. Between these two points, on the way from York to Montreal, the Government had frequent occasion to have despatches passed during the war. As he had promised Governor Simcoe on coming into Upper Canada in 1794, Roger Conant aided the Government, even if he did not fight for it, by carrying despatches between these two points whenever he was called on so to do. His house stood very near the shore of the lake, a new and larger one having been constructed near the first. Along the lake shore, past this house, the heavy freight and military supplies were drawn.

Frequently during the continuance of the war of 1812 a midnight summons came to him, first a knock at the door, and then the demand, “Open in the King’s name!”

“In a moment, gentlemen,” was the answer, and as soon as ordinary garb could be assumed the officers were admitted.

“Get your oxen, sir, and draw a gun to York” came the command.

“Certainly, gentlemen, but can’t you wait a moment, that I may feed the oxen before setting out?”

By placing food and good cheer before the officers and men sufficient time usually was gained, but after once starting out no stop would be permitted until the fort at York was reached, about thirty-five miles westerly along the beach, the intervening streams being crossed by wading. Sometimes the freight to be hauled consisted of other military supplies.

Rough and formal as the soldiers were, my grandfather said the officers were invariably fine men, and he was always well paid in coin when he reached the fort at York. On one occasion, on arrival with a gun, the commissary officer came to him and asked if he would sell a yoke of his oxen. Nothing loth, he consented £14 (Halifax) were handed him, and the oxen became beef for the garrison. This was a very lucrative trip, with the pay for hauling and for the oxen, and the country served at the same time.

The records of the time are not without the humorous side. The following recount some of the tricks of the soldiers, always ready to add variety to their bill-of-fare:

Skirting along the shore, and pulling up their boats at night, came some troops on their way to Toronto, who were billeted to lodge with a settler for a night. Now, this settler had a number of hogs, and on arising next morning he missed one from the lot. Supposing the soldiers had stolen it, he at once complained to the captain in command, who instituted a thorough search among all the boats, but all to no purpose—the hog was not to be found, and the command set off. Upon landing the following night after the day’s row the missing hog came to light. The captain, puzzled to know how it could be so successfully concealed, offered pardon to the offendersif they would only tell how they concealed it. Taken at his word, they showed the captain how they had opened the hog down the front its whole length, and placed it like a sheath on the keel of the boat, so that the water thoroughly hid it, and nailed it there. Of course, no one thought of looking into the water under the boat for the hog. It would be superfluous to add that the captain had fresh pork for supper that night.

At another time, as the troops were marching past a settler’s house they came upon a flock of geese. After the men had passed one of the geese was discovered missing, and the owner came to the camp that night and demanded a search for it. A most thorough search was instituted among the camp baggage, but no bird was found. Next day, however, while on the march, the captain had a part of this goose brought to him at his meal. After partaking of the toothsome dish his wrath was no doubt much mollified, and he asked how they had brought the goose along, seeing no visible way of doing it. His surprise was great to learn that the drummer of the troop had unheaded his drum and placed the bird inside. Well, these poor fellows deserved well of this country for the hardships which they encountered in its protection, and they were right royally welcome to both hog and goose, and should be freely forgiven.

DURHAM BOATS ASCENDING RIVER ST. LAWRENCE, WITH GOODS FOR INDIAN FUR TRADING.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

DURHAM BOATS ASCENDING RIVER ST. LAWRENCE, WITH GOODS FOR INDIAN FUR TRADING.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

Sometimes oxen were impressed to draw specie to Toronto, and the old men used to say that they would far rather draw the cannon than the specie. While drawing the latter, which was in boxes about a foot square, the guards were very strict, and would not allow much rest for the driver or the oxen. Like the story of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure, there have been stories told of a box of this specie being hidden while on the way by the officer in command. It has been a rumor current among old 1812 men that a box of specie was placed in one of the gullies near the lake shore on the Scarboro’ Heights. From all that can be gathered, it would appear true that some specie was deposited there. Persons armed with various amalgams on the ends of sticks, others with witch-hazel twigs, have searched for this specie. It is more than probable, however, that the officer who hid it came back for it after the war was over.

The lot of the U. E. Loyalists who came here was one hard enough to deter the most resolute among us to-day from willingly entering upon its like. Those of us who would voluntarily for patriotism, or even for money, enter upon such a wild heroic life of toil are few, very few indeed. Think of going from Oshawa to Kingston to mill as one of the hardships they had to contend with. Yet they laid the foundation of fortunes for their successors, and those whoheld on to their inherited lands are to-day among the richest families in Ontario. They, at least, have particular cause to be loyal and faithful for the good they have received at their country’s hands. But those holding on to these royal grants are very few indeed as compared with the number who originally inherited them. I do not think I can count more than a dozen families to-day, between Toronto and Kingston, who own these grants in direct descent by inheritance.

Capture of York—Immigration increasing—David Annis—Niagara—Prosperous lumber business—Ship-building—High freight rates—Salmon spearing—Meteoric showers—An affrighted clergyman—Cold winters—A tragedy of the clearings.

“Peculiar both!Our soil’s strong growth,And our bold native’s hardy mind;Sure heaven bespokeOur hearts of oakTo give a master to mankind.”

ON April 27th, 1813, upon the taking of York by Chauncey and his fleet, orders were given by the officer left in command of the British militia when General Sheaffe retreated to blow up the fort. The boom of the explosion was distinctly heard by my grandsire, Thomas Conant, at his home thirty-five miles distant. With the exception of this incident no records connected with the events from that time until the close of the war in 1814 have been preserved among the reminiscences of the family.

The supplies needed for the soldiers had encouraged agriculture in the back townships and brought money into circulation in the country. At the close of the war immigration increased, sturdy settlers coming into the country both from the British Isles and the United States. The settlement of the wild lands, the clearing of the forests and the building of roads went on apace; an era of prosperity and wealth succeeded as peace became assured.

The most thriving industry was that of the lumberman, awaiting whose axe lay the magnificent forests of timber which covered so large a portion of Upper Canada. My father embarked in this trade. His mother’s decease induced his relative, David Annis, a bachelor, to ask for and adopt him as his heir.

David Annis was a descendant of the Charles Annis mentioned in the quit-rent deed given onpage 29. Though unlettered and untaught, even unable to write his own name, David was possessed of excellent business ability and an untiring body; a man of fine heart, a friend to the poor, and hospitable to all. It is said of him that no Indian or white ever went from his door hungry. Together he and Daniel Conant built what was probably the first lumber mill erected in the Home District. Its capacity was seven thousand feet of lumber per day only. Atpage 135a picture of this mill is given.

All that lumber (generally pine) would have been

DAVID ANNIS.THE AUTHOR’S UNCLE.

DAVID ANNIS.

THE AUTHOR’S UNCLE.

valueless when manufactured unless means had been provided to take it to market by schooner. Niagara, at the mouth of the Niagara River, was, even as late as 1835, one of the largest towns in Upper Canada. Thither the lumber must be taken to find a market. No wharves had then been built upon the north shore of Lake Ontario, and lumber must be floated down the stream from the mill in rafts to the lake, and so placed on board the waiting schooners. Three vessels were built by ship carpenters (many of whom came from the United States) of the lumber sawn at the mill. They were built on fine lines and had excellent sailing properties, their owners boasting they could sail them “as close to the wind’s eye as any craft that ever floated.”

Pine lumber brought at that day (1835) $7 per thousand feet in cash at Niagara; therefore the lumber mill paid $49 per day of twenty-four hours during the season of sawing. To supply the demands of this trade vessel after vessel was built, and soon return freights began to be offered, such as salt from Sodus, N.Y., and flour in barrels, to be carried to Kingston, until the business of lumber manufacturing and vessel freighting was, at that early period in the history of Upper Canada, as productive as the output of a paying gold mine. The author’s father served on many of his schooners as captain and supercargo as well, and never lost his love of the water and its attendant adventure.

One of the most important occurrences of the time, and one from which many reckoned their local history, was a remarkable display of falling meteors. The following account is taken from memoranda left by my mother, and as told by my father:

On the night of the 12th of November, 1833, my father, then a young man, was salmon-spearing in a boat in the creek, at its outlet into Lake Ontario, now Port Oshawa. One of his hired men sat in the stern and paddled, while he stood close beside the light-jack of blazing pine knots, in order to see the salmon in the water. He, in common with the inhabitants generally, was laying in a stock of salmon to be salted down for the year’s use, until the salmon “run” again the following fall.

At or about ten o’clock of this evening, as nearly as he could judge, from out of an intensely dark November night, globes of fire as big as goose eggs began falling all around his boat. These balls continued to fall until my father, becoming frightened, went home,—not forgetting, he quaintly added, to bring with him the salmon already caught. On reaching home, Lot 6, B. F. East Whitby, the whole household was aroused, and frightened too; but the fires ceasingthey went to bed, to pass a restless night after the awe-inspiring scene they had witnessed.

Getting up before daybreak next morning, my father raked over the embers of the buried back log of the big fire-place and quickly had a blaze. Happening to glance out of the window, to his intense amazement he saw, as he said, “the whole sky filled with shooting stars.” Quickly he called to the men, his hired help in the lumbering business, to come down stairs. They needed not a second invitation, and among them was one Shields, who, on reaching the door, dropped in a twinkling upon his knees and began to pray. The balls of fire continuing, his prayers grew more earnest, if vigor of voice could be any index to his religious fervor. Of the grandeur of the unparalleled scene my father said almost nothing, for I am led to think they were all too thoroughly frightened to think of beauty, that being a side issue entirely. The fiery shower growing more dense, my father went out of doors and found the fire-balls did not burn or hurt. Then he went to a neighbor’s—a preacher of renown in the locality—having to pass through woods, and even in the darkness, he affirms, the fire-balls lighted his way quite distinctly. The preacher, already awake, was seated at the table beside a tallow dip reading his Bible, with two other neighbors listening and too frightened, he said, to even bid him good morning. He sat and listened to verse after verse, and still the stars fell. The preacher gave no explanation or sign, but read on. Looking eastward, at last my father saw a faint glimmer of breaking day. Once more he came out into the fire and made his way homeward. Before he reached there daylight broke. Gradually the fire-balls grew less and less, and, with the day, ceased altogether. To find a sign of them he hunted closely upon the ground, but not a trace was left of anything. Nor was any damage done. What became of the stars that fell he could not conjecture.

Realize that in 1833 astronomers had not taught Upper Canadians in regard to meteoric showers, as we know to-day, and we do not marvel at their consternation and fright. Such was the greatest meteoric shower the world probably has ever known. Its greatest density was said to be attained in this section of the continent.

A bit of doggerel went the rounds at that time. It was made, I believe, by one Horace Hutchinson, a sailor whom my father had on one of his schooners. Here is the first verse:

“I well remembered what I seeIn eighteen hundred and thirty-three,When from the affrighted place I stoodThe stars forsook their fixed abode.”

A better sailor he was than a poet, and yet, bad as the verses were, they were very popular in the thirties in a large section of the Home District, of which this is a part.

E. S. Shrapnel, the artist, paints the picture (page 144) from an actual photograph of the house, he obviously supplying the kneeling man.

Shields, who made so great a fuss, was employed by one of my father’s foremen at the lumbering, and the picture and its story are true in every essential particular.

Upper and Lower Canada were thought by many to have extremely severe winters. It is probable the belief was well founded, but the climate of Upper Canada has undergone a very material change since that period (1835). To-day Upper Canada is pre-eminently a fruit-growing country. Apples, pears, peaches and grapes are staples in this favored land.

Old men tell us that our winters are less severe now than they were fifty or sixty years ago. The long unbroken spells of extreme cold which they used to experience in the early days of our history, are not known now. It is true we do get a cold spell during the winter, now and again, and sometimes deep snow; but these cold spells soon break, and thedeep snows do not remain all winter. Not long since I was talking with one of the Grand Trunk Railway conductors, who had been on the line for over twenty years. He said that when he first came on the line it was not at all unusual to have the snow even with the car steps for miles. At other places, he said, they would for long distances pass through tunnels of snow piled or drifted as high as the car tops, whereas now the railway company seldom send out their snow-plough at all, nor does the snow seriously hinder the running of the trains.

It may be that the snow does not now lie as deep as it did before the land was cleared, but is more drifted. This no doubt is true, in a measure, but then if we got as much snow as our fathers used to, and this drifted, the consequences would be most disastrous, and would be an effectual bar to locomotion.

The winter’s cold of former years can be best illustrated by the relation of an anecdote. An old gentleman, still alive and approaching his fourscore years says he was one day driving through a seventeen-mile belt of woods, in this province, with one horse drawing a jumper. The jumpers of those days were made by using two green saplings for runners, bending them up for the crooks. Beams and uprights were made of green saplings, like the runners. An axe and an auger were the only tools used in their construction, andgenerally there was not a particle of iron in any shape. Rude as they were, they served their purpose admirably, and lasted well enough through one winter. The day was intensely cold, so cold that it was dangerous to leave any part of the body exposed for a moment. He saw a man sitting bolt upright in the snow on the path before him. His first thought was “What will this man be doing here alone, sitting down in this awful cold.” Coming up to him, he reined up his horse, and called to the man; receiving no answer, he tapped him with his whip, and, to his astonishment, the blow resounded as if he were striking a piece of marble. The poor fellow was frozen solid through and through. He was a settler, who lived some thirty miles farther on, and who had set out to go to some settlement, but becoming exhausted by the long weary tramp in the snow, sat down for a few moments’ rest, became drowsy from the soporific effects of the cold, and froze as he sat.

To convey to the younger generation of Upper Canadians an idea of some of the difficulties which our forefathers encountered in subduing the dense forests of our Province, I will relate a true instance of an occurrence about sixty years ago:

A man and his wife, with two children, moved into the Township of Ops, into a dense forest, eight milesfrom the nearest settler. For months he chopped away at the forest trees, all alone, and succeeded at length in making a clearing in the forest, and erecting a log-house for himself and his family. The logs were peeled and notched at the ends, and laid up squarely, each tier making the house the diameter of a log higher. A hole was cut through for a doorway, and another for a window. To form a door he split some thin slabs from a straight-grained cedar, and pinned them with wooden pins to cross slats. The most ingenious parts of the construction, however, were the hinges. Iron hinges he had not, and could not get. With the auger he bored a hole through the end of a square piece of wood, and, sharpening the other end with his axe, he then bored a hole into one of the logs of the house, constituting in part a door-jamb, and drove the piece of wood into this hole. This formed the top part of the hinge, and the bottom part was fashioned in exactly the same way. Now to the door, in like manner, he fastened two pegs of wood with holes bored through their ends. Placing the ends of the hinges above one another they presented the four ends with holes leading through them, the one above the other. Next he made a long pin with his handy jacknife, leaving a run at one end of it, and making it long enough to reach from the topto the lower hinge. Through the holes at the ends of the hinge this long pin was placed, and thus the door was hung.

The roof of the log-house was perhaps the greatest curiosity. Hollow basswood (linden) trees were generally used. These were first cut the length required, then split through the centre, each half forming a trough. A layer of these troughs was laid lengthwise from the ridge-pole to the eaves, all over the house-top, upon their backs, the bark side down. Over these was laid a second layer, reversed, or bark side up, and the edges of the upper layer fitted into the hollows of the lower one. In this way the settler made a roof for his house quickly and easily. Such a roof shed water tolerably well, too, until the logs began to rot.

This primitive house built, the settler put in a small crop in the tiny clearing. At this period in the country’s history the virgin soil produced bountifully, and the crops once put in were almost sure to give fair returns. When autumn came with its gorgeous colors—the leaves of the forest in the north temperate zone rivalling in beauty anything the tropics can show us—the settler’s crop was a good one.

Unfortunately, however, he was confined to his rude bed, too ill to gather in his harvest. Eight milesaway his nearest neighbors followed the “blazes”[A]on the trees through the woods and came and secured the settler’s crop for him, then departed, leaving him and his household all alone in the deep, silent forest. Days and weeks rolled along and no one came again, while the poor man got perceptibly worse. Winter at last set in with the severe cold of those days. Snow, deep and lasting, soon fell, and covered all things animate and inanimate with a pure white mantle. To have a huge pile of logs at the door was the custom of those days, to supply the winter fire in the great capacious open fire-place. Our settler had not neglected to secure the traditional and useful pile of logs before his illness. Many dreary days passed over this little snowed-in household, the husband and mainstay still sick, and gradually growing weaker. Wolves howled around the door nightly. Seeing no one out of doors, they gradually became bolder and would approach to the very door of the cabin.

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