CHAPTER XV.

“On Linden, when the sun was low,All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,”

with all the declamation the piece could possibly stand, had he stood up before the public. He chokes, makes a squeak, tries it again, swallows rapidly, and after a most painful suspense of a minute or so gets out: “Gentlemen, I am a clodhopper, and I’m not ashamed to own it. But I am fit for the office of councillor, and if you will vote for me I will serve you well and faithfully. I promise you I will keep down expenditures, and I will do my best to look after the roads and bridges. Gentlemen, I ask for your votes.” And he gets off that rostrum as quickly as if he were standing on hot coals. He is in a profuse glow of perspiration, feeling down in his heart, “What a fool I made of myself.” This time the religious belief was all right, and he got in.

In our towns and cities throughout Ontario, nearly seven out of every ten men are looking for municipal offices. Let one attend a town nomination and he will find as many as ten applicants for every single office, and the mutual recriminations which these would-be-immortalized townsmen make upon one another are to the listener, to say the least, rather disgraceful and disgusting. It is a fact that very ordinary persons in our towns and villages—men of very moderate ability or means—will come as near calling their fellow-townsmen liars as they dare go, and all for the sake of sitting at a council board for one year. Let the roads in that town, for instance, be pretty bad during an open winter, and one may hear such municipal councillors holding an open-air meeting of the council, and it is quite refreshing to find that every single one of that devoted council is responsible for the bad streets of the town. To get municipal honors in towns it may be necessary to act in this way, but then I am pleased to think there aresome few persons in every community who are content to jog on through life and do without such honors, and who do not find it necessary to call their fellows liars. It is said the real safeguard for the liberty of the English-speaking people is the town meeting. If that be so, our liberties in Canada are fully assured.

CAMP MEETING SCENE.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

CAMP MEETING SCENE.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

Upper Canada’s favored situation—Our Great Lakes—Cases of apparent tides on Lake Ontario—Canadians as givers—Oshawa’s generous support of churches and charities—Life insurance—Amusing incidents of a railway journey—A “talking machine.”

“I glory in the spiritWhich goaded them to rise,And form a mighty nationBeneath the western skies.No clime so bright and beautifulAs that where ne’er was slavery;No land so fertile, fair, and freeAs that of Upper Canada.Hurrah!”—Adapted.

AGLANCE at the outline map in this volume will show how this Province is surrounded by the Great Lakes, or tideless oceans, the peers of any in this world.

Now, with a fertile soil, a most salubrious climate, the best form of government, and a working, thrifty,sober people, success and the goal of wealth being ours is not to be marvelled at. Our working habits and abstemiousness are so strongly inculcated that our young men have always had the best places given them when they have gone to seek work in the great neighboring Republic.

I have called the Great Lakes tideless oceans, and they are. Still, sometimes one would almost think they had tides. That the surface of Lake Ontario very frequently and very suddenly rises and again falls, within one or two hours, is very well known to close observers.

Indeed, the records of the Jesuit fathers, who were the first real observers of Lake Ontario, have frequent accounts of sudden rufflings of the water, and of waves on which by some unknown cause their canoes were rocked. As a pointed illustration of this fact, my father, who was one of the earliest shipowners on the lake, had a large vessel ashore about Frenchman’s Bay. They had kedged the anchors and drawn the cables as taut as it was possible to do, and still the ship would not move. After making every effort to move it they lay down upon the beach by the ship exhausted, wondering what next to do. Suddenly, from a perfectly calm surface, there came a swell and a rise of two feet of water, when the vessel immediately, with the strain upon her chains, slid off into deep water.

Here, without a doubt, was a tide, but I feel certain that at some remote part of the lake a heavy thunderstorm was passing, with a high wind, or there was some such local cause to produce this swell and apparent tide. No one has yet been able to prove that there are lunar tides upon Lake Ontario. It is unfortunately true that no very close and persistent observations have been made, yet even casual observers who live upon the lake-side know positively that these tides are not regular, are governed by no fixed law, and can never be foretold as are the lunar tides upon the ocean. I would designate these Lake Ontario tides “barometrical waves,” as they are truly caused by sudden barometrical changes at different points upon the lake; for we must never forget its great size, and that a storm or a gale may be raging over one area and at the same time the lake be perfectly calm in another.

Upper Canadians are a generous, liberal-minded people, and I fearlessly assert that they are among the most liberal in the world. In fact, I am not sure but they really are the greatest givers in the world—givers for good purposes, I mean—and I am going to show unmistakably that they voluntarily submitto a tax far greater than any Government dare try to impose upon them.

Take Oshawa, for example—not because it is any better or worse than other towns in Ontario, but let it stand for an average town; I cite it simply because I know it more intimately, and therefore use it as a basis of comparison.

There are, in round numbers, about 5,000 persons in the town of Oshawa. Within its boundaries are ten worshipping bodies. That is, there are that many different congregations who, at stated times, meet separately for worship. I get it from one of the deacons of these churches that last year his church raised $4,400 for religious purposes. But, of course, that would not be a fair assumption for the rest, although some two or three others would come pretty near that amount. Upon closest inquiry I find that it can safely be taken, on an average, that every one of these ten worshipping bodies raises at least $1,500 yearly for religious purposes. This is putting it at a very low estimate, and is safely within the mark. Then, ten churches at $1,500 each per year gives the grand total of $15,000 raised yearly by 5,000 people for religious purposes alone. Or, taking the whole sum, and apportioning itpro rata, it will yield about $3 per head for every man, woman and child per annum, voluntarily given for these purposes,which is indeed more than any government dare levy as a tax. Of course, I know that persons outside the town attend some of the town churches and contribute, but I think this is fully offset by the extremely low estimate of $1,500 per church or body, for I am quite certain, if the real truth were known, it would be far more than that amount. Some of the churches will not in any way divulge the facts, and of course the amount of their contributions can be got at only approximately.

I submit that the people of Ontario are the most generous in the world, and give most voluntarily, for, as I remarked at the outset, I am not claiming more nor less for Oshawa, and think I must be safe in coming to the conclusion that other towns of a similar population do likewise.

Very few of us, I am sure, ever stopped before to think of what we do voluntarily in this our banner Province. It is only because we are a frugal and industrious and prosperous people that we can make this annual contribution for religious purposes. It is far greater than that for educational purposes, and yet we feel sure we are doing as much for education as any people under the sun.

There is one more tax which our people voluntarily subject themselves to, which I think might well be referred to. So far as I know, no one has ever touchedupon the subject, and since it is becoming so general, it ought, I think, to be spoken of, to give us some idea of what we are voluntarily doing in another direction. Life insurance has become so common, and is so fast increasing, that it bids fair to be one of the great questions among us. I have been at considerable pains to get as near the truth as I can, but insurance men, however, do not care to give too many figures, and I must get all I can from policyholders and then draw an approximate estimate. Take Oshawa again for a comparison, with its 5,000 people. For the same reason as in the former case, I use Oshawa for comparison solely because I know it best, and not for any particular merit or demerit so far as it is concerned. There are three hundred policies of life insurance in Oshawa among 5,000 people. This number is certainly within the mark, as insurance men reluctantly admit. Pursuing the inquiry further, I find, as near as may be, these policies will average $2,000 each, making thereby a total of $600,000 life insurance now carried by this people. With the gross amount I am not particularly concerned, but it is the sum they yearly voluntarily tax themselves to pay to keep these three hundred policies in force that I want to discover. It is difficult to get at the sum the people pay annually, for there are so many kinds of life insurance thatthey vary, some policies being on the plan of annual payments for life, while others are only for a stated term of years, so that it is difficult to get at the average amount. Five thousand dollars per month one insurance company has been known to receive from here. But I take it that this was a special month, and that more policies were renewed that month than usual, so it will not be safe to take those figures for any average. It is certain, however, that these three hundred policies average a cost of $30 per annum. Now, this $30 per annum is well within the mark, and I feel quite warranted in using that as a basis for comparison. This will give us $24,000 per year which the people here pay for life insurance, and I am quite right in classing these payments as among the generous acts and givings of the people, because the persons assured by these policies cannot ordinarily be expected to be benefited themselves, but are doing it and making these annual sacrifices for those who remain after their decease. Hence, these payments are charitable donations. If 5,000 people pay $24,000 per annum, that means very nearly $5 per head for every man, woman and child yearly paid in this town for life insurance to benefit those of our friends who succeed us. Now, add this $5 per head for life insurance to the $3 per head, as before instanced, annually raised for religious purposes, andwe have $8 per head annually paid by the people of Oshawa, voluntarily and spontaneously. Again I say, taking Oshawa as an index of the Province, one can begin to form some idea of the vast sum annually contributed for these purposes. Verily, there are no more generous people on this globe, This $8 per head is almost equal to the annual drink bill of the greatest drinking nations of the world. But then, of course, one must expect, unfortunately, that men will pay more for vices, taking the world at large, than they will for commendable objects. Ontario comes perhaps quite as near paying as much per head for commendable objects as for vicious ones as any people existing to-day. Hence, one can form no other opinion than that Ontarioans are really as moral, as well educated and thrifty, and as generous a people as there are anywhere to be found.

People of the Old World cannot realize the conditions of life in America, the peculiar freedom of pleasant informal intercourse common to it, without reading closely or unless they come and see us.

The following incidents of a railway journey will serve for illustration. Remember that Upper Canada is covered by a very extensive network of railways, hence such scenes are always possible.

An old gentleman in passing from the smoking-carto the first-class coach behind, while the train was under full speed of forty miles an hour or so, had in some way been thrown or blown or jolted from the platform to the ground.

He is injured somewhat badly, but not seriously. In obedience to a telegram an ambulance of the city of Toronto meets the incoming train at the Union Depot, and the injured man is gently raised in a huge blanket from the baggage car, where he had been placed after his fall, and deposited in the ambulance. A doctor gets in and sits by his head. A crowd has gathered, and, seeking to know what the trouble is, I make enquiry of a man standing near me. The man, whose sable complexion plainly betokens his African origin, without any visible admixture of white blood, courteously replies:—“Don’t exazactly know, sah, but ’spects some man fell off de kears.” And the ambulance slowly moves off to the hospital.

Reaching my train, I deposit my things in the first-class coach and make for the “smoker.” About one-half of all the gentlemen do likewise. My observation is that about one-half of all Canadians, taking them “by the large,” as the sailors say, burn the fragrant weed. In Britain three-fourths would, I think, be the proportion; in Holland and Belgiumeleven-tenthsis, I imagine, almost within the mark. If our medicalmen can convince us that Sir Walter Raleigh’s tobacco is decimating the human family, we may safely conclude that three-fourths of Canadians will soon pass over to the great silent majority. Well, if our medical men were to tell us so, I don’t believe we would accept theiripse dixit—at any rate, we would go on smoking, regardless of consequences.

To the honor of Canadians be it said, they as a rule do not belong to the light-fingered gentry class, and our grip-sacks and great-coats left unguarded in the car are comparatively safe. It is only around the depot that any real danger of pilfering exists. There one may expect some “artful dodger” lying in wait for just such opportunities. The journey once commenced there’s no danger at all, and “traps” may be left about promiscuously.

But my smoke is done, and I will return to my seat. Ah! I see someone has taken it—a lady. Of course, I cannot ask her to vacate it, although that seat by the ordinary courtesies of travel is mine by right of pre-possession and as the receptacle of my belongings. The next seat behind is occupied by a single lady, and there’s room for another person. “Is this seat occupied, madam?” in as polite a voice and gesture towards the seat as the occasion demands. “I think not, sir,” and I sit by her side. Some one of her “uncles, or her cousins or her aunts” may possiblybe known to me. Just how the ice is broken one can scarcely tell, but it is broken, and we chat away as the train clips off the usual thirty miles an hour.

Who, I ask, ever thought of speaking unintroduced to a lady in a first-class car in England? I tried it once when a green boy, and received such a stony stare as froze me for all my subsequent railway journeys in the old land. But we do things differently in Canada. My companion chats, and so do I, and so do all my neighbors, and the car is just an incessant hum of pleasant, softly intoned voices. Such seems to be the almost universal custom in Canada, and the millionaire (we have a few) sits down beside the schoolmaster or the drummer, and it would take a keener eye than Canada has yet produced to tell “which from t’other” without previous knowledge or having been duly informed.

Were I an M.P. or an M.P.P., or possibly a Cabinet Minister (with or without a portfolio), I suppose it would be among my prerogatives not to talk to my seat-mate. But not being so fortunate, I can enjoy my freedom and talk with decent, respectable people, though they are strangers.

Just across the passage are seated an ancient maiden lady and an attenuated, pale, thin-whiskered merchant who has been up the city to make some purchases for his store. Now this ancient maiden lady has seen her fifty-and-two summers at least, and isstrong in church government, and church soirees, and church donative entertainments, ostensibly for the benefit of the poor. Just now, however, I must leave her, for the conductor has entered the forward door of the car, wearing his sombre but neat railway uniform, and is shouting out “Tickets!” Without exception everyone in my coach has the required pasteboard, and he has quickly passed us. Conductors evidently can get along well with such a class of passengers, for there’s no quarrelling or unpleasantness, nor questions for him to answer, nor anyone for him to eject from the train. It is manifest from his facial expression that he is in good humor with us, his passengers, and that his dinner likewise has agreed with him.

This lady opens conversation with the merchant sitting near her, and without waiting for a reply to the opinions she expresses, continues an unchecked stream of talk on her favorite subject. Resignedly, patiently, meekly, Christianlike, this helpless merchant submits. And it is poured on, over, twisted, every side brought forth, while he calmly folds his long white wasted hands over his breast. Some young city men are coming down to a country town to attend a ball, and they make a lively party of themselves. Their fun and mirth and overflowing spirits do not annoy us, but we cannot help catching the contagious infection of mirth, and we are all goodnatured

SARAH TERWILLIGAR’S ATTEMPT TO FLY TO HEAVEN. THE WORLD TO COME TO AN END.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

SARAH TERWILLIGAR’S ATTEMPT TO FLY TO HEAVEN. THE WORLD TO COME TO AN END.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

in this car, except possibly aforesaid ancient maiden lady, who is still too deep in “church government” for the contagion to catch her.

With questionable zeal a young Salvation Army fellow and a couple of Salvation Army lasses, seated near the farther end of the car, boldly strike up. The tune may be melodious, suggestive of piety, musical, well-rendered, and withal nicely done, for one of the female voices is really sweet. It gets monotonous, however, at the beginning of the third verse, and we cannot enjoy our conversation. “Will you kindly stop?” Perhaps the word kindly is not suggestive enough—at any rate, it does not produce the desired quietus, and the hymn-singing goes bravely on.

Our uniformed conductor has come in again with his cry of “Tickets!” Someone suggests to him “Will you be good enough to ask those persons in the rear end of the car to cease their singing?” It has the desired effect, even if the “kindly” aforementioned did not. Yes, Canada is pre-eminently a free country, but the wisdom of such efforts among a mixed assembly of promiscuous railway passengers is just questionable. No doubt there would be in that coach Catholics as well as Protestants, agnostics as well as saints—and heaven only knows but Moslems and Greeks may have been there as well—so I think I am right in saying that their zeal is quiteright, but its peculiar manifestation just a little questionable.

The next seat behind mine contains two young men who have so far on this journey pored with eager interest over theGlobe’scolumns. Church government, city boys’ ante-ball merriment, nor Salvation Army songs have as yet distracted their attention from these columns which they seem to be devouring. They explain, however, that they are Toronto University students on their way home, and have not for some days had an opportunity to find out what this world has been about.

Did you ever in your peregrinations encounter a veritable “talking machine?” Well, I did once, and I must ask you to allow me to leave this coach for a moment to describe that machine.

A few seasons ago I had occasion to go to Britain in the month of January. Now, it’s a long ride down to Halifax, and let the Pullman be ever so comfortable, one feels now and again like walking forward and seeing what the others are doing. In the smoker I found a long-featured, cadaverous, wizened, pinched, saffron “bag of bones,” with a wrinkled parchment cuticle drawn over them, made in the form of a “talking machine.” He was talking the first time I went into the car, and talking every time I entered it. There is just a dim recollection withme, that I went some ten times into that car on the way down to Halifax, and the “machine” was always in order, and always going. He went into the steerage, and I heard him several times when on the steamer, from the cabin deck, still in order, and always talking. At Londonderry he got on the tender with me. As he came down the gang-plank his voice was still raised, and for three mortal long hours I had to endure his idle “clack,” while the tender took us ashore. Next day, when purchasing a railway ticket, again I encountered him—still talking. I think I could with clear conscience take my oath that he talked all the way home (Belfast) while in that train. In fact, he had talked himself poor—poor in flesh, I mean, for I do not know what may have been his possessions in the coin of the realm.

This was my first real observation of a genuine “talking machine.” In this coach to-day we had another, but of the feminine gender, which, under ordinary acceptances, would seem to be more in the general fitness of things, when coming from the sex to whom speech is so easy.

This old lady sat in the corner at the forward end of the car. She had come from Ohio, and her talk ran equally as well upon ordinary sublunary things as upon those of more elevated character. The Sphinx,or the Delphic Oracle, or who was Junius?—it made no difference, for she was equally at home on all these. Our ball-going city chaps quickly saw a place and time for fun. First, they chaffed her, and squarely they got their answers back, rather to their discomfiture. They hit upon politics finally. Just what hers were I did not make out, but at this subject she rose in her might, and standing with the index finger boldly extended, laid it down right volubly—rather more than the ball-going boys bargained for, and to the infinite amusement of all the other passengers.

Our uniformed conductor touched her gently upon the shoulder and requested her to sit down. Silence for a few moments followed, but the fun was too much for the boys to lose it, and she as a talking-machine ran too easily to quit. Again upon her feet, again the index finger, and another request to sit down. Her station reached at last, the conductor and brakeman with alacrity help her off and deposit her parcels with her on the platform. The conductor raises his hand, a “toot” from the locomotive, and away. The conductor jumps aboard, heaves a great sigh, and almost audibly says—if not in words, at anyrate in thought and action—“I’m glad to get rid of that talking-machine.”

“Supper! Twenty minutes for supper!” and for fifty cents we get a substantial, good meal and arenot particularly hurried. That reminds me to say that those places where they give the traveller a good meal are always known and commented upon and sought after. Cornwall, for instance, is noted in many travellers’ memories for its pies. So the traveller who happens there at the time of blueberries—ye gods, he’ll have a feast for a king! Then again, of some railway restaurants I am sorry to defame our our fair country by saying that they consume very much of the traveller’s precious twenty minutes before they wait on him, and he pays his fifty cents for a sight of the empty dishes and the seductive odor of cooked meat in the room behind the screens, but not yet served up to the pilgrim having only twenty precious minutes. The eating-house at Orangeville did not on some former occasions strike me as being particularly alert to save the traveller’s precious lunch time.

The ancient maiden lady has gone; so has my single lady, and as most of us now remaining in the car are passengers for destinations far away, we have gradually settled down for a really comfortable journey. Most of the seats are now occupied by only one person, and he or she can lounge at ease. But hold! there’s a woman crying bitterly. What’s the trouble? Word soon goes around the car that this poor woman has been robbed of her purse and herrailway ticket as well, and she weeps deeply and unfeignedly, as if her heart would break. There are whisperings among the ladies, and soon one of them has interviewed her. A gentleman approaches and consults with the weeper and the lady. Result, this gentleman gets into the passage in the middle of the car, and makes a little speech. Assures us he’s from Illinois, and has seen this woman on his train all the way. Knew she had a ticket; in fact, saw her with it. Says she had a through ticket from Chicago to some place away down in Maine. Had a little money besides, but while crossing the river at Detroit and Windsor some mean thief stole ticket and purse. Had only a few quarters left in a pocket, which the thief did not get. With these quarters has paid her fare since the robbery so far, but now her money is all gone, and she has not a friend in this part of the world. “And now, look a-here, ladies and gentlemen, let’s give the poor woman a lift; a dollar a piece won’t hurt any of us, and here goes.” Taking off his soft felt hat and putting a dollar greenback in it, around the car he goes with the hat extended. Dollars and half-dollars fall into the hat as the tour of the car is made, and he comes to the weeping woman and unceremoniously dumps the whole lot into her lap. “There, there, now; dry up your tears—you’re all right now, and you can pay your fare through.” This woman’s sudden change from bitter weeping to smiles through her tears was a pleasure to see, and I can fancy something kept rising in the throats of many of the passengers, which it took a good deal of swallowing to keep down. So the world is not so bad after all, and Canadians have hearts and open purses when assured that the need is a true one.

“Did you say the next station is mine, conductor?” Well, I will put on my great-coat and go out into the darkness, for it is eleven o’clock, and I leave this coach with its peculiarities of human nature, not doubting but the next one I step into will contain its quota, peculiar enough, though possibly in other ways.

Drinking habits in the early days—Distilleries and mills—Treating prevalent—Drinking carousals—Delirium tremens—“One-Thousand-and-One Society”—Two gallon limit—Bibulous landlords—Whiskey fights—Typical Canadian pioneers—Clearing the farm—Sons and daughters married—Peaceful old age—Asleep in death—Conclusion.

“Great God! we thank Thee for this home—This bounteous birth-land of the free;Where wanderers from afar may comeAnd breathe the air of liberty.”

IN early days the great majority of the men in Upper Canada partook more or less—usually more—of ardent spirits or beer. Fifty years ago there were three distilleries in Oshawa, and they continued to do a flourishing and paying business, as most distilleries did in those days throughout the country generally. The operative who could extract the most alcohol from a given amount of grain was then the great man, one whose services were most sought in that business, and who likewise commanded the largest pay.

MORMON’S ATTEMPT TO RAISE THE DEAD.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

MORMON’S ATTEMPT TO RAISE THE DEAD.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

Connected with or near to the distilleries in this part of Ontario a custom milling was generally done. Sometimes the farmer brought his grain to the mill, and sold it out there; but this was not the usual course, for ordinarily then the miller could not pay for much grain. The usual course was for the farmer to bring his grain to the mill, and get it ground or chopped on the tolling system.

After cleaning up a load of wheat, there would ordinarily be a bag of tailings remaining. These tailings would consist mostly of small grain, which the farmer generally traded for whiskey, usually getting in exchange his ten-gallon can pretty nearly filled—whiskey then being considered a necessary of life as much as ordinary food was. To buy it for cash cost fivepence per gallon. This style of doing things went on until the Government began to put a tax on it. Then when the big distillery of Gooderham & Worts, Toronto, got better machinery, enabling them to extract more alcohol from the grain, the small distilleries could not compete, and one by one closed up, until now there are none about the country.

“Tuppence” per glass was the price for whiskey at the hotel bars in those days, and one could fill the tumbler quite full or take only a sip, at will, for this price.

Treating in those days was far more common thannow, and the man who would not treat was generally considered “mean,” as they expressed it then. So freely did the people at large at that time partake, that the individual who did not indulge was made the subject of curious comment.

Drinking bouts for the whole night were then very common. Usually a party of boon companions—say eight or ten of them—would assemble in the sitting-room of the hotel, next the bar, and someone would at once “stand treat” all round. This having been partaken of, one of the number would sing a song, and then someone else would provide a drink all round. Probably a story would follow, succeeded by another drink; then another song and another treat, as a matter of course, and so the song, story and glass passed around, until everyone had treated, and if, like Robert Burns,

“They were na’ fou’,But juist had plenty,”

they were by no means disposed to stop.

Midnight has come, and though one or two of the weaker ones have already succumbed, and are lying prone upon the floor, still the song goes bravely on. And now is the landlord’s time to make his money. As a matter of business form or semblance, change must be returned after every treat has been paid for,and they are now all so “fou’”that not one of them can count straight. Perhaps out of a one-pound note ($4) given the landlord for a treat, only three shillings or so are returned; or out of three or four shillings handed him for the next treat, only a few pence are returned for change; and so the landlord dilutes his whiskey and keeps the cash, until daylight comes upon the bouters, when they disperse, with sore heads and stomachs, while the landlord has the money.

This is a fair representation of an ordinary drinking bout of fifty years ago, as told me by those who then participated in them. And they were so common that one was usually going on at one of the hotels every night of the week—but, let us hope, excepting the Sabbath night. During the day these men were about their ordinary avocations, for even if they did drink, they worked. Were this fact not so, our country would not be what it is to-day, for downright hard work alone has made it.

Those drinkers and midnight revellers were young, or not more than middle-aged men, and often lived fast lives. The consequence was that not one in a hundred of them lived to be sixty, and hardly one to any advanced age.

It is usually supposed that delirium tremens can only be produced by long years of constant and excessive drinking; but authentic information comesto me of a widow woman who, about the period of which I write, began keeping hotel near the village of ——, and who had two or more sons, young men. These young men, strong and burly up to that time, now spent most of their time drinking. As soon as the effects of one glass of whiskey had in a measure passed off, they would ask their mother for more.

“Indeed, you shall have all you want to drink, for you are your mammy’s own boys.” And this was said in the spirit of the greatest kindness. So the boys drank, and drank again, keeping themselves stupid from day to day. In six months those two boys, who had never before drank to any excess, had the delirium tremens and died. All this in six months!

Allow me to here describe one of my most vivid boyish impressions of thirty-five years or so ago:—

At the rear of a hotel in Oshawa was a garden enclosed by a high tight-board fence, in which black currant bushes mostly were planted. A young Englishman had been boarding about two months at the hotel, drinking constantly and spending money freely. It is only fair to add that this young man had been drinking just as heavily, apparently, before he came to this hotel; and it is more than probable that a fond father and loving mother had sent him out from England in the vain hope of reforming him, for fromhis dress and manner he had evidently belonged to a good family. It was noticed that he had the “blues” slightly, and got to spending considerable of his time in the stable. From the stable he finally made his way into the garden enclosure, and somehow possessed himself of a club.

It was summer time, and I remember most vividly, as a little urchin, looking through a knot-hole of the fence, and seeing this poor fellow, after remaining quiet for a moment, with his eyes fixed, make a sudden bound and strike with his club with all his might, killing imaginary snakes among the currant bushes. A period of rest would follow, when he would sit or stand in a contemplative mood for a few minutes, and as suddenly almost as gunpowder explodes, strike behind him with his club at some snake which would persist in stealthily approaching him from the rear. Perhaps it is superfluous to add that all this was fun for us boys, with the stout board fence between us and the man with the club.

It was known in the hotel what the trouble was with him, and it was also generally recognized that nothing could be done for him. For four days he ran his course, killing snakes, demons and hobgoblins in that garden, and finally died, literally while engaged in the imaginary battle with the enemy out in the garden. To-day he fills a nameless grave.

Indeed, so common were cases of delirium tremens in those days that I might go on and multiply instances—tell, indeed, of a man climbing up into a hayloft in the dark, catching the teamster who came for hay, frightening him into a fit of sickness, and dying there before morning, curled up on the hay like a dog. Again, I might instance the case of another unfortunate, who started and ran from the “Corners,” then constituting Oshawa, directly in the course of the mill-ponds, with the whole village chasing him, making past the ponds and into the woods a mile and a half away, before being caught—like a man running amuck. But perhaps I have said enough on so unpleasant a feature of early life in Ontario.

The “One-Thousand-and-One Society” of those days was an organization formed among those who habitually drank and spent nights at bouts, and was a recognized order among them. Probably there never was any written constitution or by-laws to govern them; still the rules of the society were as well known and as fully recognized as if there were such. The fundamental rule which they were to observe in their drinking was that no one must drink more than two gallons at one sitting without rising and reporting the matter to the recognized chiefs of the order.

We must, in all charity, believe that the liquid inthis case would be beer—in any case it could hardly be spirits; still I am led to believe, in many instances, before the great goal of the two gallons was reached, the beer would be frequently mixed with spirits.

The landlord in those bouts of the Thousand-and-One Society never forgot to make his quota, not only in the matter of change, as before enlarged upon, but some of them used to boast that a landlord ought to be worth $5 per day to his own house by his own drinking—that is to say, he would take all the treats the company would offer him, and thus imbibe his own liquor and keep the pay therefor at twopence per glass to the amount of $5 per day.

Those were the days of pugilistic Ontario. Let there be a ploughing match, for instance, a fight was sure to take place at it. Indeed, a “raising” or a bee of any kind was never complete without a fight. It would appear that persons would take that plan of settling old feuds or grudges, and whiskey-fights were considered as much a matter of course as it was for men to assemble.

Annually during one day in June all the able-bodied men of military age had to assemble for drill in Toronto, and I have it from some old men who used to go from these parts, that at every such training there were fights in the morning before they commenced and likewise in the evening when they weredismissed from drill. They tell of a big bully at one training in Toronto who boldly dared any one to fight, and who finally succeeded in arousing a small but plucky man to stand before him. A ring was formed, and the bully punished his small opponent shamefully. There was a man from this locality who had his feelings irritated by the unequal and harrowing spectacle. He happened to remark, “I wish he’d serve me so,” and the bully took him up. It is needless to add that they had all been drinking more or less. Our man quickly pulled off his coat and stepped before his big antagonist. This time the bully had aroused the wrong man, for our hero possessed the strongest arm and hand anyone was known to have in the locality, and in a few blows he thrashed the bully clean and fair, felling him to the ground, and giving the prostrate man a vigorous kick as a parting salute. But this was a fair fight, whereas generally in those days they did not scruple to “strike below the belt,” while gouging, biting and kicking were common accompaniments.

But the picture is not a pleasant one, and I shall not further dwell upon it. Surely we should be thankful that our Province has improved in its ideas of temperance and conduct, as the world at large has in the great march of reform ideas.

AWKWARD SQUAD. FENIAN RAID, 1865.BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

AWKWARD SQUAD. FENIAN RAID, 1865.

BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO

In this fast nineteenth century, in these days of divorces and of free love, it is really a pleasing spectacle to be able to point to one of our elderly Canadian couples, who had been companions, one and inseparable, for sixty years. They were married at twenty-two, and at once began clearing a Canadian forest farm. During the previous fall the expectant bridegroom alone had chopped and cleared some five or six acres out of the dense forest, and erected a log-house in the clearing.

In due time he brings his bride to his home—a home as yet in embryo; but there are four willing hands to work together, hard but contentedly, to make it a home in reality.

The wife has got as her portion the usual Canadian portion of that day, and, for that matter, very much of this day as well. A feather bed, some chairs, a table, some bedding and a cow made her simple dowry. Alone and almost unaided they work honestly and faithfully day after day, subduing the “forest primeval.” Crops are gathered annually, and they are on the high road to prosperity. Children have come to grace the household, and the loneliness is broken. As the roads become improved around the settlement, Sunday morning finds them both arrayed in their best, and, with their span of horses hitched to the waggon, on their way to the nearestchurch. With all their eagerness to get on they do not at any time forget to worship God, and their place at the little church is seldom vacant unless it be exceptionally stormy or the roads exceedingly bad, as is frequently the case in the spring and fall.

The farm is cleared and a new house built, and he is now among the well-to-do of the locality. Another farm has been added to the homestead, but the good pair never so much as think casually that they might cease their arduous labors. No family jars occur to disturb their serenity, but day succeeds day in right good fellowship, and each performs his and her individual part faithfully and earnestly. Divorce forsooth! The thought of such has never entered their minds in the most remote degree.

Time steals imperceptibly but surely along, and the eldest girl has arrived at marriageable age. Neighbors’ sons call in occasionally, and it takes many such calls before the good parents really get it into their heads that the daughter has suitors. A few months roll around, and there is a rural wedding. The minister from the near village has been called in. He comes before dinner, and after partaking of it, chats gaily with the neighbors who begin to assemble. Four o’clock has arrived, and it is time for the ceremony to proceed. The young couple join hands, a few words are spoken, the assent is given, and theyare man and wife. As the mother got her dowry, so she (the daughter) gets hers. And the household goes on again in the ordinary way; only one member less sits around the family board and assists at the daily tasks.

The eldest son has taken a fashion of being out at nights a good deal of late. Not content with this, he must have a smart buggy, and his horse must be well groomed, as he goes away with his rig solitary and alone. But if he goes away solitary and alone, his lonesomeness is soon broken and dispelled by the presence of a neighbor’s daughter. For a few months this process goes on, when the youth announces to father and mother that he is about to marry. The good couple can scarcely realize that they have a son old enough to wed. Their lives are spent in downright usefulness and whole-souled earnestness; time has literally stolen a march upon them, and it almost dazes them to think that their son is to marry and leave them. This time something more than ordinary is expected and given. An outlying farm must be given to the son, and horses to work it with, as well as stock and some seed-grain. Thereupon the son and his young bride begin their life’s journey in rural Canada; but whether they will accomplish as much as the father and mother, or whether they will imbibe the roving notions of manyof our younger people, is a question that remains to be solved.

At last, and not until now, the old couple, who have never yet had a thought separate and apart from the other, realize they are growing old and must soon cease from hard work. To their honor, and to the credit of our country, be it said, in order that their other children may contract good marriage alliances, the family gathering is still kept up, the family board is ever open, and a place always is ready for the worthy neighbors. To the utmost of their physical abilities they perform all the manual labor they can about the farm and homestead. The dollars have accumulated, and there are sundry loans here and there in the neighborhood, both on mortgage security and notes of hand as well. Their money-making has been by no speculative risk in any sense, but, like the even tenor of their united lives, has simply flowed along, gradually accumulating, and not being made by any lucky stroke.

A few years more and the scene shifts—shifts materially—for the family are all married and gone, and once more the old couple are where they commenced years and years ago, in the first days of their young manhood and womanhood—alone again in the world, but still faithful to each other, and still doing their duties daily and faithfully. But the old farm isyet on their hands, while their strength is not equal to the task of attending to it. Reluctantly they consider it best to rent the home farm and purchase a neat and commodious cottage in the adjacent town. It was a “corners” not many years since; some time later it became a village, and some four or five years ago it grew ambitious and took upon itself the name of a town. Here they purchase a little home in which to quietly spend the last years of their lives. They are free from worry, free from anxiety, and, as during the years long past, they have no thought that is not shared in common. Old neighbors, as they come to town, call upon them, and their lives are diversified and enlivened two or three times a week by such visits. Their children, most of whom reside within driving distance of their parents, drop in upon them at any time, and thus in perfect happiness and serenity they pass down the sunset slope of life. Their lives and individual characters are towers of strength in the neighborhood for rectitude and uprightness, and the community without a dissent recognizes their true worth. One is almost tempted to wish that their already long lives might be yet prolonged for many years, that they may continue to be as bright and shining lights in the community. But the dreaded day comes at last. The good wife andmother has fallen ill. Daily the town doctor visits her and does all that medical skill can do in such a case, but no resource of science is able to renovate the worn-out human body. Perhaps the most affecting sight one could view in these days would be to see the old husband and partner of sixty long years sit hourly and daily by the bedside, disconsolate and lost, as he sadly views the daily emaciating face of her whom he had chosen in the bloom of youth.

The inevitable comes at last, and the spirit forsakes its worn house of clay. At the funeral gather the whole country-side about the former home. The carriages fill the road and the yard, and the cottage is packed to the doors. From the town church the minister has come. He stands in the hall, reads from Sacred Writ, admonishes, gives a few words of solemn warning; the procession moves on, and in a few minutes all is over. Back to the cottage home comes the aged man, alone in this world—literally alone, for no one but persons of such advanced age can so keenly feel the absolute loneliness. Forty years ago he might have thrown off his grief and faced the world again, but for him now the day is gone beyond recovery. His eyes have suddenly dimmed, his one-time firm lower jaw relaxes, his step grows feeble. Evidently his days are numbered, and the reader must allow me to kindly draw the veil over him and leave him, as we see him, totteringdown to join his companion of the past sixty years, who has preceded him but a few months.

But is there in our country any more pleasing example of success than this old couple present? Successful they have been in a most eminent degree. They may not have accumulated any great store of wealth, but they have raised to Canada a family of sons and daughters who are a credit to our beloved country—sons and daughters whose families are working their farms and fields and helping to make our Province what it is to-day.

Before closing these somewhat random sketches of life in the early settlements and country districts of Upper Canada, I would wish to thank my readers for the courtesy of perusing these pages. May I also indulge the hope that they have given them some pleasure and profit in the reading, and add that it is my most earnest desire—may it also be yours—that our country, which we all love, may be guarded and led by the great Omniscient in the future as it has been in the past.

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