THE EARLY SETTLERS IN UPPER CANADA--PROSPERITY, NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL
--THE OLD HOMES, WITHOUT AND WITHIN--CANDLE-MAKING--SUPERSTITIONS AND
OMENS--THE DEATH-WATCH--OLD ALMANACS--BEES--THE DIVINING ROD--THE U. E.
LOYALISTS--THEIR SUFFERINGS AND HEROISM--AN OLD AND A NEW PRICE LIST--
PRIMITIVE HOROLOGES--A JAUNT IN ONE OF THE CONVENTIONAL "CARRIAGES" OF
OLDEN TIMES--THEN AND NOW--A NOTE OF WARNING.
The settlement of Ontario, known up to the time of Confederation as the
Province of Upper Canada, or Canada West, began in 1784, so that at the
date I purpose to make a brief survey of the condition and progress of
the country, it had been settled forty-six years. During those years--no
insignificant period in a single life, but very small indeed in the
history of a country--the advance in national prosperity and in the
various items that go to make life pleasant and happy had been
marvellous. The muscular arm of the sturdy pioneer had hewn its way into
the primeval forest, and turned the gloomy wilderness into fruitful
fields.
It is well known that the first settlers located along the shores of the
River St. Lawrence, the Bay of Quinte, Lake Ontario, and Lake Erie, and
that, at the time of which I speak, this coastline of a few hundred
miles, extending back but a very short distance--a long narrow strip cut
from the serried edge of the boundless woods--comprised the settlement
of Canada West as it then existed. Persistent hard work had placed the
majority in circumstances of more than ordinary comfort. Good houses had
taken the place of log cabins, and substantial frame barns that of rude
hovels. Hard fare and scanty raiment had given place to an abundance of
the necessaries of life, and no people, perhaps, ever appreciated these
blessings with more sincere thankfulness or more hearty contentment. The
farmer was a strong, hardy man, the wife a ruddy, cheerful body, careful
of the comforts of her household. One table sufficed for themselves and
their servants or hired help. Meat was provided twice and often thrice a
day; it being more a matter of taste than economy as to the number of
times it was served. Fruit was abundant, and every matron prided herself
upon preserving and putting away quantities of it for home use. So that
at this time the world was moving smoothly with the people. An immense
track of wilderness had been reclaimed, and waving fields and fruitful
orchards occupied its place. It may have seemed to them, and indeed I
think it did to many, that the sum of all they could expect or even
desire in this world had been attained; while we, who remember those
days, and look back over the changes of fifty years, wonder how they
managed to endure life at all.
It is true that the father, more from the force of habit than necessity,
perhaps continued to toil in the field, and the mother, moved by the
same cause, and by her maternal anxiety for the well-being of her
family, still spent many a long hour at the loom. The son, brought up to
work, followed the plough, or did battle with the axe, making the woods
ring with his rapid strokes. And as he laboured he pictured to himself
the building of a nest in the unbroken forest behind the homestead,
wherein the girl of his choice figured as the central charm. The
daughter who toiled through the long summer's day to the monotonous hum
of the spinning wheel, drawing out and twisting the threads that should
enter into the make-up of her wedding outfit, was contented and happy.
The time and circumstances in which they were placed presented nothing
better, and in their estimation the world had little more to offer than
they already possessed.
It is more than probable that if we, with our modern notions and habits,
could to-day be carried back into a similar condition of life, we would
feel that our lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places. The
flying years, with their changes and anxieties, like the constant
dripping of water on a stone, have worn off the rough edges that wounded
and worried during their progress, and only the sunny spots, burned in
the plastic memory of younger days, remain.
The old homes, as I remember them in those days, were thought palatial
in their proportions and conveniences, and so they were as compared with
the old log houses. The latter often still remained as relics of other
days, but they had been converted into the base use of a cow stable, or
a shelter for waggons and farm implements during the winter. Their
successors were, with very few exceptions, wooden structures, clap-
boarded, and painted either yellow or red. The majority, however, never
received any touching up from the painter's brush, and as the years
rolled on became rusty and gray from the beating of winter's storms and
the heat of summer's sun. The interior rarely displayed any skill in
arrangement or design. The living rooms were generally of goodly size,
with low ceilings, but the sleeping rooms were invariably small, with
barely room enough for a large high-posted bedstead, and a space to
undress in. The exterior was void of any architectural embellishment,
with a steep roof pierced by dormer windows. The kitchen, which always
seemed to me like an after-thought, was a much lower part of the
structure, welded on one end or the other of the main body of the house,
and usually had a roof projecting some distance over one side, forming
"the stoop." In very many cases, the entrance to the spacious cellar,
where the roots, apples, cider, and other needs of the household were
kept, was from this through a trap door, so that in summer or winter the
good wife had actually to go out of doors when anything was required for
the table, and that was very often. It really seemed as though the old
saying of "the longest way round is the shortest way home" entered not
only into the laying out of highways, but into all the domestic
arrangements. Economy of time and space, convenience, or anything to
facilitate or lighten labour, does not appear to have occupied the
thoughts of the people. Work was the normal condition of their being,
and, as we see it now, everything seems to have been so arranged as to
preclude the possibility of any idle moments. At the end of the kitchen
was invariably a large fire-place, with its wide, gaping mouth, an iron
crane, with a row of pothooks of various lengths, from which to suspend
the pots over the fire, and on the hearth a strong pair of andirons,
flanked by a substantial pair of tongs and a shovel. During the winter,
when the large back-log, often as much as two men could handle, was
brought in and fixed in its place, and a good forestick put on the
andirons, with well-split maple piled upon it and set ablaze with dry
pine and chips, the old fire-place became aglow with cheerful fire, and
dispensed its heat through the room. But in extremely cold weather it
sometimes happened that while one side was being roasted the other was
pinched with cold. At one side of the fire-place there was usually a
large oven, which, when required, was heated by burning dry wood in it,
and then the dough was put into tin pans and pushed in to be baked.
Sometimes the ovens were built on frames in the yard, and then in wind
or storm the baking had to be carried out doors and in. Every kitchen
had one or more spacious cupboards; whatever need there was for other
conveniences, these were always provided, and were well filled. The
other rooms of the house were generally warmed by large box stoves. The
spare bedrooms were invariably cold, and on a severe night it was like
undressing out of doors and jumping into a snowbank. I have many a time
shivered for half an hour before my body could generate heat enough to
make me comfortable. The furniture made no pretensions to artistic
design or elegance. It was plain and strong, and bore unmistakable
evidence of having originated either at the carpenter's bench or at the
hands of some member of the family, in odd spells of leisure on rainy
days. Necessity is axiomatically said to be the mother of invention, and
as there were no furniture makers with any artistic skill or taste in
the country, and as the inclination of the people ran more in the
direction of the useful than the ornamental, most of the domestic needs
were of home manufacture. I have a clear recollection of the pine
tables, with their strong square legs tapering to the floor, and of how
carefully they were scrubbed. Table covers were seldom used, and only
when there was company, and then the cherry table with its folding
leaves was brought out, and the pure white linen cloth, most likely the
production of the good wife's own hands, was carefully spread upon it.
Then came the crockery. Who can ever forget the blue-edged plates, cups
and saucers, and other dishes whereon indigo storks and mandarins, or
something approaching a representation of them, glided airily over sky-
blue hills in their pious way from one indigo pagoda to another. These
things I have no doubt, would be rare prizes to Ceramic lovers of the
present day. The cutlery and silver consisted mostly of bone-handled
knives and iron forks, and iron and pewter spoons. On looking over an
old inventory of my grandfather's personal effects not long since, I
came upon these items: "two pair of spoon moulds," and I remembered
melting pewter and making spoons with these moulds when I was very
young. Cooking was done in the oven, and over the kitchen fire, and the
utensils were a dinner pot, teakettle, frying-pan and skillet. There
were no cooking stoves. The only washing machines were the ordinary wash
tubs, soft soap, and the brawny arms and hands of the girls; and the
only wringers were the strong wrists and firm grip that could give a
vigorous twist to what passed through the hands. Water was drawn from
the wells with a bucket fastened to a long slender pole attached to a
sweep suspended to a crotch. Butter, as has already been intimated, was
made in upright churns, and many an hour have I stood, with mother's
apron pinned around me to keep my clothes from getting spattered,
pounding at the stubborn cream, when every minute seemed an hour,
thinking the butter would never come. When evening set in, we were wont
to draw around the cheerful fire on the hearth, or perhaps up to the
kitchen table, and read and work by the dim light of "tallow dips,"
placed in tin candlesticks, or, on extra occasions, in brass or silver
ones, with their snuffers, trays and extinguishers. Now, we sit by the
brilliant light of the coal oil lamp or of gas. Then, coal oil was in
the far-off future, and there was not a gas jet in Canada, if indeed in
America. The making of tallow candles, before moulds were used, was a
slow and tiresome task. Small sticks were used, about two feet long,
upon each of which six cotton wicks, made for the purpose, were placed
about two inches apart, each wick being from ten to twelve inches long.
A large kettle was next partly filled with hot water, upon which melted
tallow was poured. Then, two sticks were taken in the right hand, and
the wick slowly dipped up and down through the melted tallow. This
process was continued until the candles had attained sufficient size,
when they were put aside to harden, and then taken off the sticks and
put away. It required considerable practical experience to make a smooth
candle which would burn evenly; and a sputtering candle was an
abomination. The cloth with which the male members of the family were
clad, as well as the flannel that made the dresses and underclothing for
both, was carded, spun, and often woven at home, as was also the flax
that made the linen. There were no sewing or knitting machines, save the
deft hands that plied the needle. Carpets were seldom seen. The floors
of the spare rooms, as they were called, were painted almost invariably
with yellow ochre paint, and the kitchen floor was kept clean and white
with the file, and sanded. The old chairs, which, in point of comfort,
modern times have in no way improved upon, were also of home make, with
thin round legs and splint-bottomed seats, or, what was more common, elm
bark evenly cut and plaited. Many a time have I gone to the woods in the
spring, when the willow catkins in the swamp and along the side of the
creek turned from silver to gold, and when the clusters of linwort
nodded above the purple-green leaves in the April wind, and taken the
bark in long strips from the elm trees to reseat the dilapidated chairs.
If the labour-saving appliances were so scanty indoors, they were not
more numerous outside. The farmer's implements were rude and rough. The
wooden plough, with its wrought-iron share, had not disappeared, but
ploughs with cast-iron mould-boards, land-sides and shares, were rapidly
coming into use. These had hard-wood beams, and a short single handle
with which to guide them. They were clumsy, awkward things to work with,
as I remember full well, and though an improvement, it was impossible to
do nice work with them. Indeed, that part of the question did not
receive much consideration, the principal object being to get the ground
turned over. They were called patent ploughs. Drags were either tree
tops or square wooden frames with iron teeth. The scythe for hay and the
cradle for grain, with strong backs and muscular arms to swing them,
were the only mowers and reapers known. The hand rake had not been
superseded by the horse rake, nor the hoe by the cultivator; and all
through the winter, the regular thump, thump of the flails on the barn
floor could be heard, or the trampling out of the grain by the horses'
feet. The rattle of the fanning mill announced the finishing of the
task. Threshing machines and cleaners were yet to come.
It will be seen from what I have said that both in the house and out of
it work was a stern and exacting master, whose demands were incessant,
satisfied only by the utmost diligence. It was simply by this that so
much was accomplished. It is true there were other incentives that gave
force to the wills and nerves to the arms which enabled our forefathers
to overcome the numberless arduous tasks that demanded attention daily
throughout the year. All the inventions that have accumulated so rapidly
for the last twenty years or more, to lighten the burden and facilitate
the accomplishment of labour and production, as well as to promote the
comfort of all classes, were unknown fifty years ago. Indeed many of the
things that seem so simple and uninteresting to us now, as I shall have
occasion to show further on, were then hidden in the future. Take for
example the very common and indispensable article, the lucifer match, to
the absence of which allusion has already been made. Its simple method
of producing fire had never entered the imagination of our most gifted
sires. The only way known to them was the primitive one of rubbing two
sticks together and producing fire by friction--a somewhat tedious
process--or with a flint, a heavy jackknife, and a bit of punk, a
fungous growth, the best of which for this purpose is obtained from the
beech. Gun flints were most generally used. One of these was placed on a
bit of dry punk, and held firmly in the left hand, while the back of the
closed blade of the knife thus brought into contact with the flint by a
quick downward stroke of the right hand produced a shower of sparks,
some of which, falling on the punk, would ignite; and thus a fire was
produced. In the winter, if the fire went out, there were, as I have
already stated, but two alternatives--either the flint and steel, or a
run to a neighbour's house for live coals.
There were many superstitious notions current among the people in those
days. Many an omen both for good and evil was sincerely believed in,
which even yet in quiet places finds a lodgement where the schoolmaster
has not been much abroad. But the half century that has passed away has
seen the last of many a foolish notion. A belief in omens was not
confined to the poor and ignorant, for brave men have been known to
tremble at seeing a winding-sheet in a candle, and learned men to gather
their little ones around them, fearing that one would be snatched away,
because a dog outside took a fancy to howl at the moon. And who has not
heard the remark when a sudden shiver came over one; that an enemy was
then walking over the spot which would be his grave? Or who has not
noticed the alarm occasioned by the death watch--the noise, resembling
the ticking of a watch, made by a harmless little insect in the wall--or
the saying that if thirteen sit down to table, one is sure to die within
a year? Somebody has said there is one case when he believed this omen
to be true, and that is when thirteen sit down to dinner and there is
only enough for twelve. There was no end to bad omens. It was bad luck
to see the new moon for the first time over the left shoulder, but if
seen over the right it was the reverse. It is well known that the moon
has been supposed to exercise considerable influence over our planet,
among the chief of which are the tides, and it was believed also to have
a great deal to do with much smaller matters. There are few who have not
seen on the first page of an almanac the curious picture representing a
nude man with exposed bowels, and surrounded with the zodiacal signs.
This was always found in the old almanacs, and indeed they would be
altogether unsaleable without it and the weather forecast. How often
have I seen the almanac consulted as to whether it was going to be fair
or stormy, cold or hot; how often seen the mother studying the pictures
when she wished to wean her babe. If she found the change of the moon
occurred when the sign was in Aries or Gemini or Taurus, all of which
were supposed to exercise a baneful influence on any part of the body
above the heart, she would defer the matter until a change came, when
the sign would be in Virgo or Libra, considering it extremely dangerous
to undertake the operation in the former case. The wife was not alone in
this, for the husband waited for a certain time in the moon to sow his
peas--that is, if he wished to ensure a good crop. He also thought it
unlucky to kill hogs in the wane of the moon, because the pork would
shrink and waste in the boiling. The finding of an old horseshoe was a
sure sign of good luck, and it was quite common to see one nailed up
over the door. It is said that the late Horace Greeley always kept a
rusty one over the door of his sanctum. To begin anything on Friday was
sure to end badly. I had an esteemed friend, the late sheriff of the
county of ----, who faithfully believed this, and adhered to it up to
the time of his death. May was considered an unlucky month to marry in,
and when I was thinking of this matter a number of years later, and
wished the event to occur during the month, my wish was objected to on
this ground, and the ceremony deferred until June in consequence.
It is said that the honey bee came to America with the Pilgrim Fathers.
Whether this be so or not I am unprepared to say. If it be true, then
there were loyalists among them, for they found their way to Canada with
the U. E.'s, and contributed very considerably to the enjoyment of the
table. Short-cake and honey were things not to be despised in those
days, I remember. There was a curious custom that prevailed of blowing
horns and pounding tin pans to keep the bees from going away when
swarming. The custom is an Old Country one, I fancy. The reader will
remember that Dickens, in "Little Dorrit," makes Ferdinand Barnacle say:
"You really have no idea how the human bees will swarm to the beating of
any old tin kettle."
Another peculiar notion prevailed with respect to discovering the proper
place to dig wells. There were certain persons, I do not remember what
they were called, whether water doctors or water witches, who professed
to be able, with the aid of a small hazel crotched twig, which was held
firmly in both hands with the crotch inverted, to tell where a well
should be sunk with a certainty of finding water. The process was simply
to walk about with the twig thus held, and when the right place was
reached, the forked twig would turn downwards, however firmly held; and
on the strength of this, digging would be commenced in the place
indicated. A curious feature about this was that there were but very few
in whose hands the experiment would work, and hence the water discoverer
was a person of some repute. I never myself witnessed the performance,
but it was of common occurrence. [Footnote: The reader will remember the
occult operations of Dousterswivel in the seventeenth chapter of Scott's
_Antiquary._ "In truth, the German was now got to a little copse-
thicket at some distance from the ruins, where he affected busily to
search for such a wand as should suit the purpose of his mystery; and
after cutting off a small twig of hazel terminating in a forked end,
which he pronounced to possess the virtue proper for the experiment that
he was about to exhibit, holding the forked ends of the wand each
between the finger and the thumb, and thus keeping the rod upright, he
proceeded to pace the ruined aisles," &c. So it will be seen that we had
Canadian successors of Dousterswivel in my time, but we had no
Oldbucks.]
The people of to-day will no doubt smile at these reminiscences of a
past age, and think lightly of the life surroundings of these early
pioneers of the Province. But it must not be forgotten that their
condition of life was that of the first remove from the bush and the log
cabin. There was abundance, without luxury, and it was so widely
different from the struggle of earlier years that the people were
contented and happy. "No people on earth," says Mr. Talbot, in 1823,
"live better than the Canadians, so far as eating and drinking justify
the use of the expression, for they may be truly said to fare
sumptuously every day. Their breakfast not unfrequently consists of
twelve or fourteen different ingredients, which are of the most
heterogeneous nature. Green tea and fried pork, honeycomb and salted
salmon, pound cake and pickled cucumbers, stewed chickens and apple-
tarts, maple molasses and pease-pudding, gingerbread and sour-crout, are
to be found at almost every table. The dinner differs not at all from
the breakfast, and the afternoon repast, which they term supper, is
equally substantial."
The condition of the Province in 1830 could not be otherwise than pre-
eminently satisfactory to its inhabitants. That a people who had been
driven from their homes, in most cases destitute of the common needs of
ordinary life, should have come into a vast wilderness, and, in the
course of forty-six years, have founded a country, and placed themselves
in circumstances of comfort and independence, seems to me to be one of
the marvels of the century. The struggles and trials of the first
settlers must ever be a subject of deepest interest to every true
Canadian, and, as an illustration of the power of fixed principles upon
the action of men, there are few things in the world's history that
surpass it. It must be remembered that many, nay most, of the families
who came here had, prior to and during the Revolutionary war, been men
of means and position. All these advantages they were forced to abandon.
They came into this country with empty hands, accepted the liberality of
the British Government for two years, and went to work. Providence
smiled upon their toils, and in the year of which I speak they had grown
into a prosperous and happy people.
The social aspect of things had changed but little. The habits and
customs of early days still remained. The position of the inhabitants
was one of exigency. The absorbing desire to succeed kept them at home.
They knew but little of what was passing in the world outside, and as a
general thing they cared less. Their chief interest was centred in the
common welfare, and each contributed his or her share of intelligence
and sagacity to further any plans that were calculated to promote the
general good. Every day called for some new expedient in which the
comfort or advantage of the whole was concerned, for there were no
positions save those accorded to worth and intellect. The sufferings or
misfortunes of a neighbour, as well as his enjoyments, were participated
in by all. Knowledge and ability were respectfully looked up to, yet
those who possessed these seemed hardly conscious of their gifts. The
frequent occasions which called for the exercise of the mind, sharpened
sagacity, and gave strength to character. Avarice and vanity were
confined to narrow limits. Of money there was little. Dress was coarse
and plain, and was not subject to the whims or caprices of fashion. The
girls, from the examples set them by their mothers, were industrious and
constantly employed. Pride of birth was unknown, and the affections
flourished fair and vigorously, unchecked by the thorns and brambles
with which our minds are cursed in the advanced stage of refinement of
the present day.
The secret of their success, if there was any secret in it, was the
economy, industry and moderate wants of every member of the household.
The clothing and living were the outcome of the farm. Most of the
ordinary implements and requirements for both were procured at home. The
neighbouring blacksmith made the axes, logging-chains and tools. He
ironed the waggons and sleighs, and received his pay from the cellar and
barn. Almost every farmer had his work-bench and carpenter's tools,
which he could handle to advantage, as well as a shoemaker's bench; and
during the long evenings of the fall and winter would devote some of his
time to mending boots or repairing harness. Sometimes the old log-house
was turned into a blacksmith shop. This was the case with the first home
of my grandfather, and his seven sons could turn their hands to any
trade, and do pretty good work. If the men's clothes were not made by a
member of the household, they were made in the house by a sewing girl,
or a roving tailor, and the boots and shoes were made by cobblers of the
same itinerant stripe. Many of the productions of the farm were
unsaleable, owing to the want of large towns for a market. Trade, such
as then existed, was carried on mostly by a system of barter. The refuse
apples from the orchard were turned into cider and vinegar for the
table. The skins of the cattle, calves and sheep that were slaughtered
for the wants of the family, were taken to the tanners, who dressed
them, and returned half of each hide. The currency of the day was flour,
pork and potash. The first two were in demand for the lumbermen's
shanties, and the last went to Montreal for export. The ashes from the
house and the log-heaps were either leached at home, and the lye boiled
down in the large potash kettles--of which almost every farmer had one
or two--and converted into potash, or became a perquisite of the wife,
and were carried to the ashery, where they were exchanged for crockery
or something for the house. Wood, save the large oak and pine timber,
was valueless, and was cut down and burned to get it out of the way.
I am enabled to give a list of prices current at that time of a number
of things, from a domestic account-book, and an auction sale of my
grandfather's personal estate, after his death in 1829. The term in use
for an auction then was vendue.
1830 1880
A good horse $80.00 $120.00
Yoke of oxen 75.00 100.00
Milch cow 16.00 30.00
A hog 2.00 5.00
A sheep 2.00 5.00
Hay, per ton 7.00 12.00
Pork, per bbl. 15.00 12.00
Flour, per cwt. 3.00 3.00
Beef, " 3.50 6.00
Mutton, " 3.00 6.00
Turkeys, each 1.50
Ducks, per pair 1.00
Geese, each .80
Chickens, per pair .40
Wheat, per bushel 1.00 1.08
Rye, " .70 .85
Barley, " .50 1.00
Peas, " .40 .70
Oats, " .37 .36
Potatoes," .40 .35
Apples, " .50 .50
Butter, per pound .14 .25
Cheese, " .17
Lard, " .05 .12
Eggs, per dozen .10 .25
Wood, per cord 1.00 5.00
Calf skins, each 1.00
Sheep skins, each 1.00
West India molasses .80 .50
Tea, per pound .80 .60
Tobacco .25 .50
Honey .10 .25
Oysters, per quart .80 .40
Men's strong boots, per pair 3.00
Port wine, per gallon .80 2.75
Brandy, " 1.50 4.00
Rum, " 1.00 3.00
Whisky, " .40 1.40
Grey cotton, per yard .14 .10
Calico, " .20 .12
Nails, per pound .14 .04
Vegetables were unsaleable, and so were many other things for which the
farmer now finds a ready market. The wages paid to a man were from eight
to ten dollars, and a girl from two to three dollars, per month. For a
day's work, except in harvest time, from fifty to seventy-five cents was
the ordinary rate. Money was reckoned by L. s. d. Halifax currency, to
distinguish it from the pound sterling. The former was equal to $4.00,
and the latter, as now, to $4.87.
Clocks were not common. It is true in most of the better class of old
homes a stately old time-piece, whose face nearly reached the ceiling,
stood in the hall or sitting-room, and measured off the hours with slow
and steady beat. But the most common time-piece was a line cut in the
floor, and when the sun touched his meridian height his rays were cast
along this mark through a crack in the door; and thus the hour of noon
was made known. A few years later the irrepressible Yankee invaded the
country with his wooden clocks, and supplied the want. My father bought
one which is still in existence (though I think it has got past keeping
time), and paid ten pounds for it; a better one can be had now for as
many shillings.
The kitchen door, which, as I have already mentioned, was very often
divided in the middle, so that the upper part could be opened and the
lower half kept closed, was the general entrance to the house, and was
usually provided with a wooden latch, which was lifted from the outside
by a leather string put through the door. At night, when the family
retired, the string was pulled in and the door was fastened against any
one from the outside. From this originated the saying that a friend
would always find the string on the latch.
Carriages were not kept, for the simple reason that the farmer seldom
had occasion to use them. He rarely went from home, and when he did he
mounted his horse or drove in his lumber-waggon to market or to meeting.
He usually had one or two waggon-chairs, as they were called, which
would hold two persons very comfortably. These were put in the waggon
and a buffalo skin thrown over them, and then the vehicle was equipped
for the Sunday drive. There was a light waggon kept for the old people
to drive about in, the box of which rested on the axles. The seat,
however, was secured to wooden springs, which made it somewhat more
comfortable to ride in. A specimen of this kind of carriage was shown by
the York Pioneers at the Industrial Exhibition in this city. I have a
clear recollection of the most common carriage kept in those days, and
of my first ride in one. I was so delighted that I have never forgotten
it. One Saturday afternoon, my father and mother determined to visit
Grandfather C---, some six miles distant. We were made ready--that is
to say, my sister and self--and the "yoke" was put to. Our carriage had
but two wheels, the most fashionable mode then, and no steel springs;
neither was the body hung upon straps. There was no cover to the seat,
which was unique in its way, and original in its get-up. Neither was
there a well-padded cushion to sit on, or a back to recline against. It
was nothing more or less than a limber board placed across from one side
of the box to the other. My father took his seat on the right, the place
invariably accorded to the driver--we did not keep a coachman then--my
mother and sister, the latter being an infant, sat on the opposite side,
while I was wedged in the middle to keep me from tumbling out. My father
held in his hand a long slender whip (commonly called a "gad") of blue
beech, with which he touched the off-side animal, and said, "Haw Buck,
gee 'long." The "yoke" obeyed, and brought us safely to our journey's
end in the course of time. Many and many a pleasant ride have I had
since in far more sumptuous vehicles, but none of them has left such a
distinct and pleasing recollection.
The houses were almost invariably inclosed with a picket or board fence,
with a small yard in front. Shade and ornamental trees were not in much
repute. All around lay the "boundless contiguity of shade;" but it
awakened no poetic sentiment. To them it had been a standing menace,
which had cost the expenditure of their best energies, year after year,
to push further and further back. The time had not come for ornamenting
their grounds and fields with shrubs and trees, unless they could
minister to their comfort in a more substantial way. The gardens were
generally well supplied with currant and gooseberry bushes. Pear, plum
and cherry trees, as well as the orchard itself, were close at hand.
Raspberries and strawberries were abundant in every new clearing. The
sap-bush furnished the sugar and maple molasses. So that most of the
requisites for good living were within easy hail.
The first concern of a thrifty farmer was to possess a large barn, with
out-houses or sheds attached for his hay and straw, and for the
protection of his stock during the cold and stormy weather of fall and
winter. Lumber cost him nothing, save the labour of getting it out.
There was, therefore, but little to prevent him from having plenty of
room in which to house his crops, and as the process of threshing was
slow it necessitated more space than is required now. The granary, pig-
pen and corncrib were usually separate. The number and extent of
buildings on a flourishing homestead, inclosed with strong board fences,
covered a wide area, but the barns, with their enormous peaked roofs,
and the houses, with their dormer windows looking out from their steep
sides, have nearly all disappeared, or have been transformed into more
modern shape.
It would be difficult to find much resemblance between the well-ordered
house of the thriving farmer of to-day and that of half a century ago:
In the first place the house itself is designed with an eye to
convenience and comfort. There is more or less architectural taste
displayed in its external appearance. It is kept carefully painted. The
yawning fireplace in the kitchen, with its row of pots, has disappeared,
and in its place the most approved cooking-stove or range, with its
multifarious appendages, is found. On the walls hang numberless
appliances to aid in cooking. Washing-machines, wringers, improved
churns, and many other labour saving arrangements render the task of the
house-wife comparatively easy, and enable her to accomplish much more
work in a shorter time than the dear old grandmother ever dreamed of in
the highest flights of her imagination. Her cupboards are filled with
china and earthenware of the latest pattern. Pewter plates and buck-
handled knives have vanished, and ivory-handled cutlery has taken their
places. Britannia metal and pewter spoons have been sent to the melting-
pot, and iron forks have given place to nickel and silver ones. The old
furniture has found its way to the garret, and the house is furnished
from the ware-rooms of the best makers. Fancy carpets cover the floor of
every room. The old high-posted bedsteads, which almost required a
ladder to get into, went to the lumber heap long ago, and low, sumptuous
couches take their places. The great feather tick has been converted
into the more healthy mattress, and the straw tick and cords have been
replaced by spring bottoms. It used to be quite an arduous undertaking,
I remember, to put up one of those old beds. One person took a wrench,
kept for that purpose, and drew up the cord with it as tight as he could
at every hole, and another followed with a hammer and pin, which was
driven into the hole through which the end passed to hold it; and so you
went on round the bed, until the cord was all drawn as tight as it could
possibly be. Now a bedstead can be taken down and put up in a few
moments by one person with the greatest ease. The dresses of both mother
and daughters are made according to the latest styles, and of the best
material. The family ride in their carriage, with fine horses, and
richly-plated harness. The boys are sent to college, and the girls are
polished in city boarding-schools. On the farm the change is no less
marked. The grain is cut and bound with reaping machines, the grass with
mowing machines, and raked with horse rakes. Threshing machines thresh
and clean the grain. The farmer has machines for planting and sowing.
The hoe is laid aside, and his corn and root crops are kept clean with
cultivators. His ploughs and drags do better work with more ease to
himself and his team. He has discovered that he can keep improved stock
at less expense, and at far greater profit. In fact, the whole system of
farming and farm labour has advanced with the same rapid strides that
everything else has done; and now one man can accomplish more in the
same time, and do it better, than half a dozen could fifty years ago.
Musical instruments were almost unknown except by name. A stray fiddler,
as I have said elsewhere, was about the only musician that ever
delighted the ear of young or old in those days. I do not know that
there was a piano in the Province. If there were any their number was so
small that they could have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Now,
every house in the land with any pretension to the ordinary comforts of
life has either a piano or a melodeon, and every farmer's daughter of
any position can run over the keys with as much ease and effect as a
city belle. Passing along one of our streets not long since, I heard
some one playing in a room adjoining a little grocery store. My
attention was arrested by the skill of the player, and the fine tone of
the instrument. While I was listening, a couple of ladies passed, one of
whom said, "I do wonder if they have got a piano here." "Why not," said
the other, "the pea-nut-man on ---- Street has one, and I don't see why
every one else shouldn't have."
I think all who have marked the changes that have taken place during the
half century which is gone, will admit that we are a much faster people
than our fathers were. We have jumped from change to change with
marvellous rapidity. We could never endure the patient plodding way they
travelled, nor the toil and privation they went through; and it is a
good thing for us, perhaps, that they preceded us. Would it not be well
for us occasionally to step aside from the bustle and haste which
surrounds us, and look back. There are many valuable lessons to be
gathered from the pages of the past, and it might be well, perhaps, were
we to temper our anxiety to rise in the social scale with some of the
sterling qualities that characterized our progenitors. Our smart boys
now-a-days are far too clever to pursue the paths which their fathers
trod, and in too many cases begin the career of life as second or third-
rate professional men or merchants, while our daughters are too
frequently turned into ornaments for the parlour. We know that fifty
years ago the boys had to work early and late. West of England
broadcloths and fine French fabrics were things that rarely, indeed,
adorned their persons. Fashionable tailors and young gentlemen,
according to the present acceptation of the term, are comparatively
modern institutions in Canada. Fancy for a moment one of our young
swells, with his fashionable suit, gold watch, chain, and rings, patent
leather boots and kid gloves, and topped off with Christie's latest
headgear, driving up to grandfather's door in a covered buggy and plated
harness, fifty years ago! What would have been said, think you? My
impression is that his astonishment would have been too great to find
expression. The old man, no doubt, would have scratched his head in
utter bewilderment, and the old lady would have pushed up her specs in
order to take in the whole of the new revelation, and possibly might
have exclaimed, "Did you ever see the beat?" The girls, I have no doubt,
would have responded to their mother's ejaculation; and the boys, if at
hand, would have laughed outright.
My remarks, so far, have been confined altogether to the country
settlements, and fifty years ago that was about all there was in this
Province. Kingston was, in fact, the only town. The other places, which
have far outstripped it since, were only commencing, as we shall see
presently. Kingston was a place of considerable importance, owing to its
being a garrison town; and its position at the foot of lake navigation
gave promise of future greatness. The difference between town and
country life as yet was not very marked, except with the few officers
and officials. Clothes of finer and more expensive materials were worn,
and a little more polish and refinement were noticeable. The
professional man's office was in his house, and the merchant lived over
his store. He dealt in all kinds of goods, and served his customers
early and late. He bartered with the people for their produce, and
weighed up the butter and counted out the eggs, for which he paid in
groceries and dry goods. Now he has his house on a fashionable street,
or a villa in the vicinity of the city, and is driven to his counting
house in his carriage. His father, and himself, perhaps, in his boyhood,
toiled in the summer time under a burning sun, and now he and his family
take their vacation during hot weather at fashionable watering places,
or make a tour in Europe.
We have but little to complain of as a people. Our progress during the
last fifty years has been such as cannot but be gratifying to every
Canadian, and if we are only true to ourselves and the great principles
that underlie real and permanent success, we should go on building up a
yet greater and more substantial prosperity, as the avenues of trade
which are being opened up from time to time become available. But let us
guard against the enervating influences which are too apt to follow
increase of wealth. The desire to rise in the social scale is one that
finds a response in every breast; but it often happens that, as we
ascend, habits and tastes are formed that are at variance not only with
our own well-being, but with the well-being of those who may be
influenced by us. One of the principal objects, it would seem, in making
a fortune in these days, is to make a show. There are not many families
in this Province, so far, fortunately, whose children can afford to lead
a life of idleness. Indeed, if the truth must be told, the richest heir
in our land cannot afford it. Still, when children are born with silver
spoons in their mouths, the necessity to work is removed, and it
requires some impulse to work when there is no actual need. But,
fortunately, there are higher motives in this world than a life of
inglorious ease. Wealth can give much, but it cannot make a man in the
proper and higher sense, any more than iron can be transmuted into gold.
It is a sad thing, I think, to find many of our wealthy farmers bringing
up their children with the idea that a farmer is not as respectable as a
counter-jumper in a city or village store, or that the kitchen is too
trying for the delicate organization of the daughter, and that her
vocation is to adorn the drawing-room, to be waited on by mamma, and to
make a brilliant match.