bliss. But as far as the comforts of this world are concerned, the
modern clergyman has a very easy time of it when compared with the life
of the pioneer preacher of a hundred or more years ago. Then the
clergyman travelled on horseback with his Bible and a change of clothing
in his saddle-bags, preaching ten or twelve times a week in churches,
schoolhouses, taverns, and the log cabins of the settlers, wherever a
few could be collected to receive the Gospel message. In all kinds of
weather, he might be seen plodding along through the heavy snow drifts,
or fording the unbridged streams, upon his holy mission to the remotest
corners of the settlements. No complaint escaped his lips as he
threaded his way through the lonely forest, now and then humming a few
snatches from some old familiar hymn. Perchance he halted beside a
spring for his mid-day meal, and fervently thanked God, from Whom all
blessings flow, as he hauled from his spacious pockets the sandwiches
furnished by his host of the night before.
His circuit extended sometimes for fifty, sixty, or an hundred miles,
and he rarely spent his evenings at home, if he had one, but slept where
night overtook him, glad of the opportunity to share a bunk with his
parishioners' children, or make himself as comfortable as he could upon
a mattress on the floor. His uniform may have been frayed and not of
the orthodox cut; his sermons may not have possessed that virtue of
brevity which so many congregations now demand; they may have fallen far
short of some of the sensational discourses of to-day; but he was a
faithful exponent of the Gospel, the plain and simple truth as he found
it exemplified in the life of our Saviour. That the pioneers closely
followed the tenets of the Golden Rule is largely due to the
self-sacrificing efforts and exemplary life of the early missionaries.
[Illustration: FOOT STOVE. CRACKLE]
Among the Methodists no other religious gathering could compare with the
camp-meeting. It was the red-letter week of the year, given up wholly to
prayer, singing and exhortation. In selecting a location for these
annual gatherings there were several details to be considered. The
first essential was a grove, high and dry, and free from underbrush,
accessible both by land and water. The auditorium was in the shape of a
horseshoe, about one-half acre in extent, surrounded by tents made of
canvas or green boughs supported by poles. Across that part
corresponding with the opening in the shoe was a preachers' platform.
In front of it was a single row of logs--the penitent bench--and the
rest of the space was filled with parallel rows of logs--the pews.
Thither by land and water came the devout Methodists of the district;
but then, as now, the women far outnumbered the men in their religious
observances. With them they brought chests of provisions, their
bedding, and Bibles. Morning, noon, and night, the woods resounded with
songs of praise, the warning messages of the preachers, and the prayers
of the faithful, pitched in every conceivable key. The surroundings
seemed to add an inspiration to the services. When the great throng
joined fervently in "All hail the power of Jesus' name", to the
accompaniment of the rustling leaves, the hearts of all present were
deeply moved. During the closing exercises, marching in pairs around the
great circle, with mingled feelings of gladness and sorrow, they sang
lustily the good old hymns and then, with many affectionate
leave-takings, dispersed to their several homes.
The Methodists looked upon dancing not only as a very worldly but also
as a very sinful form of amusement, and as the violin was closely
associated with the dance it also was placed under the ban. The
Loyalists were musically inclined, but during the first years of the
settlements little opportunity was offered for the development of their
talents in that direction. Later on singing in unison was extensively
practised, and singing schools were organized during the winter months
in nearly every neighbourhood. There was a great scarcity of musical
instruments before the introduction of the accordeon and concertina,
both of which were invented in 1829.
The members of the Society of Friends, or Quakers, as they were more
commonly called, were sorely handicapped by reason of their refusal to
take an oath under any circumstances. By their strict adherence to this
article in their creed they were debarred from holding any public
office, or giving evidence in any court of law. That this was a great
hardship, from which no relief could be obtained except by legislative
enactment, goes without saying. One of their number was regularly
elected to the first Parliament and trudged through the forest to the
seat of government at the assembling of the members. From purely
conscientious scruples he refused to take the prescribed oath, so his
seat was declared vacant, and he trudged back home again.
It is not to the credit of the other denominations of Christians, that
no steps were taken to relieve the Quakers from the disability under
which they were placed, until after twenty-five years of patient
endurance. It is true the disability was self-imposed; but they were
actuated by the purest of motives, and their exemplary lives and
standing in the community entitled them to more consideration from their
fellow citizens. The relief first extended to them, after the lapse of
a quarter of a century, was only partial, and allowed them to give
evidence in civil courts by a simple affirmation instead of an oath.
The Legislature having to that extent admitted the principle of
affirming instead of taking an oath, could find very little to justify
its course in postponing for another twenty years the admission of the
Quakers to their full rights, by accepting their affirmation in criminal
courts and in all other matters in which an oath was required.
The Quakers took a most decided stand against the law of primogeniture,
whereby the eldest son of a man who died intestate inherited all the
real estate of his father to the exclusion of all the other sons and
daughters. In this respect they were in advance of their age and
insisted upon an equitable distribution among all the children of the
deceased. Many a young Friend was given the alternative of dividing
among his brothers and sisters the real estate thus inherited according
to law, or of submitting to the humiliation of being expelled from the
Society. To their credit it can be said that very rarely was there any
occasion to enforce the latter alternative. The statute abolishing
primogeniture came into force on January 1st, 1852.
The Quakers were uncompromising in their opposition to the liquor
traffic, and could be relied upon to support all measures for the
advancement of temperance. They were progressive in educational
matters; they established and maintained efficient schools, and
generally took a deep interest in all matters directed towards the
general improvement of the country. Beneath their quaint garb and
solemn faces, there frequently was found a deep sense of humour, all the
more effective when expressed in their peculiar form of speech.
*CHAPTER VI*
*PROVISIONS AND PUBLIC HIGHWAYS*
The staple articles of food among the pioneers were much the same as in
our day. Pork formed the chief item of meat. The hams and shoulders
were smoked and the rest of the carcass preserved in a strong brine.
The flour was coarser than the article we get from the modern roller
mills, but none the less, rather the more, wholesome. Corn meal was
used much more extensively than now; it was boiled and used as porridge
for breakfast, a thick covering of brown sugar being sprinkled over it;
what was left over became quite firm as it cooled, and was eaten for
supper with milk, or cut into thin slices and fried. Corn meal
griddle-cakes were also in great demand. Johnny-cake was not popular, as
it was regarded as a Yankee dish; and it took a good many years for the
Loyalists to reconcile themselves to anything in any way associated with
their former persecutors.
Wild strawberries, raspberries, plums, and gooseberries were to be had
for the picking, and the thrifty housewife always laid in a good supply.
The raspberries and plums were dried in the sun and put away for future
use, or made into a jam, like the gooseberries and strawberries.
The maple furnished the most of the sugar, but cane sugar was afterwards
imported--not the white lump or granulated sugar of to-day, but a moist,
dark-brown, unrefined product known as "Muscovado".
Tomatoes were not considered fit for human food until after the middle
of the nineteenth century. If grown at all, the fruit was used merely
for purposes of ornamentation, suspended from strings in the windows
under the name of "love-apples". Many believed that they would cause
cancer in those eating them--a notion that is not even yet wholly dead
in some places.
Although our fresh waters abounded in fish of a superior quality, the
Loyalists were not what we would call a fish-eating people--perhaps no
people ever were or are as a matter of choice. Most of us enjoy a fish
dinner once in a while; but few, if any, of us would care to accept it
as a steady diet, or as a substitute for meat. The rigors of our
climate and the outdoor life of hard work seemed to call for something
more sustaining. The bays and rivers teemed with maskalunge, bass,
salmon, pickerel, and pike, and in the late autumn months the whitefish
and herring were very plentiful. The "mascos" were speared at night by
the aid of a jack-light; they were even shot from the shore as they were
lazily swaggering along in the shallow water. In the early spring, a
mess of pike could be secured at any time with very little effort; every
inlet and creek seemed to be alive with them. The whitefish always has
held first place among our merchantable fish. In the summer season they
were caught in nets upon the shoals of the Great Lakes, and in October
and November the seines were thrown across their path as they were
running up the lesser bodies of water. I have heard an octogenarian,
whose truthfulness even in a fish story I had no reason to doubt,
declare that he had frequently, when a boy, speared fifty or sixty
whitefish in one night.
If we examine the map of any of the first townships, we find that the
road allowances are in straight lines, intersected at right angles by
cross-roads, also in straight lines. About the only exceptions are the
roads along the waterfront, which of necessity must conform to the
irregularities in the shores. How few, however, of the roads in actual
use are straight! We find them twisting and turning in every direction
and intersecting each other at various angles.
During the first few years of the settlements a path through the forest
was all that was required. A low piece of ground, a steep precipice, or
even a fallen tree, which would present no difficulty to the modern
road-builder, might at the time have been deemed a sufficient cause for
departing from the blazed trail. Once such a path was laid out and
improved from time to time, it became a very easy matter for it to be
recognized and adopted as a regular highway. In time the cause for the
deviation may have passed away, but the crooked road remained. The
writer knows of several "jogs" in public thoroughfares which were so
constructed in order to pass around buildings carelessly erected upon
the road allowance. Many of the most important highways in Ontario
appear to be the shortest practical lines between certain towns or
villages, and were unquestionably laid out as a matter of convenience,
with an utter disregard for the road allowances reserved by the
government surveyors.
During the second session of the first Parliament of Upper Canada the
Legislature passed an Act to regulate the laying-out, amending, and
keeping in repair the public highways and roads of the province. Under
its provisions the whole matter was left in the hands of the Justices of
the Peace, who were declared to be commissioners of highways to lay out
and regulate the roads within their respective divisions. They were
also given power, upon the sworn certificate of a majority of twelve of
the principal freeholders of the district, summoned for the purpose by
them, to alter any road already laid out or to construct new ones. We
can readily imagine how many of the crooks and turns in our roads were
thus introduced in the first instance to serve the temporary purpose of
some friend of the commissioners, or to satisfy the whim of some
influential land owner.
By the same Act was introduced a form of statute labour, which has
deservedly met with little favour and much condemnation; but has
undergone little change for the better from 1793 to the present time.
Men possessing little or no qualifications for the position are
appointed pathmasters to act as foremen over their friends and
neighbours. Annually they turn out in full force, do a good deal of
visiting and some work, and frequently leave the road they were supposed
to repair in a worse condition than they found it.
To overcome the accumulation of snow in the roads a very simple remedy
was provided as follows: "In case any highways are obstructed by snow at
any time the overseers are hereby ordered to direct as many of the
householders on the road as may be necessary to drive through the
highway." So long as the present system of statute labour remains in
force and gangs of unskilled workmen persist in annoying the travelling
public by rendering the highways practically impassable, this section
might, with appropriate modifications, be re-enacted to-day.
*CHAPTER VII*
*DOCTORS, DOMESTIC REMEDIES, AND FUNERALS*
Our forefathers were subject to the same physical ailments as ourselves,
but they do not appear to have suffered to the same extent from disease
as we do in our day. The surgeon was rarely called upon to exercise his
calling, and then only when amputations were felt to be necessary, or
some mutilated member needed mending. Fashionable operations were
unknown. The vicious tendencies of the _bacteria_ in the human body
were not then discovered, or, if they had, war had not yet been declared
upon them. Men went about their daily occupations, too busy to bother
with the microbes that the modern scientists tell us are gnawing at our
vitals. Their greatest fear was from epidemics like smallpox, which
occasionally swept through a neighbourhood, leaving a trail of sorrow in
its wake. Of licensed practitioners there were but few; and they were,
for the most part, attached to the military posts. Occasionally, if the
roads were passable, and they felt in the humour and saw a prospective
fee of respectable proportions, they might be induced to visit a patient
in the neighbouring townships. In this, as in all other matters, the
settlers did their best to serve themselves.
In no community of this or any other age have there ever been lacking
the services of skilled specialists in any line very long, before some
unqualified individual volunteered to supply the lack. It was not long
before the quack doctor with his vile decoctions appeared among the
pioneers. Strenuous efforts were made to legislate him out of
existence, but he managed to evade the statutory prohibitions and has
even survived to the present day.
During the first few decades of the Loyalist settlements it was not so
much a question of whether the quack _could_ practise in the
townships,[#] but the question more to the point was whether the
educated and skilled physician _would_ practise. The settlers had
become so expert in treating most of their complaints, that they rarely
deemed it necessary to secure the services of the medical practitioner;
and, when the real physician did take up his abode among them, he not
uncommonly engaged in some other calling as well and practised his
profession as a side-line.
[#] The first statute providing for the licensing of practitioners in
physics and surgery throughout the province was passed in 1795. Up to
that time the quacks had it pretty much their own way. The Act was
found unworkable and was repealed in 1806; a new and more effective Act
was passed in 1815.
The mother or grandmother, as a rule, was the doctor, nurse, and
apothecary for the whole family. In the month of September, or perhaps
October, when the phase of the moon was supposed to be favourable for
the purpose, she organized an expedition to the woods in search of a
supply of herbs to replenish her medicine chest. In some cases she dug
in the ground for roots, in others the bark, leaves, or stems were
sought, and in others still the fruit or seeds possessed the necessary
medicinal properties. When she had gathered in her stores, she tied
them up in bundles and hung them up in the attic, or stowed them away in
some convenient nook until required. Her collection contained specifics
for nearly every ache and pain.
It may be that in those days there was not the mad rush for excitement
and wealth, and the average citizen kept better hours, ate more plain
and wholesome food, had some respect for the different organs of his
body, and did not make such ridiculous demands upon them as are made by
some of the high livers of to-day. It may be, too, that mother's simple
remedies went a long way to correct the excesses and indulgences of the
weak and careless and to restore the health of the sickly. In any event
the mortality among the pioneers does not appear to have been any
greater than it is to-day. It may not be out of place to enumerate some
of the uses to which some of the common herbs were put, as they possess
the same, if any, medicinal properties to-day.
For coughs and colds, a syrup was made from the roots of the spignet,
another name for spike-nard. The tuber of the blood-root was dried and
then grated into a fine powder; this was snuffed up the nostrils as a
cure for polypus. Catnip has lost little of its popularity as a
medicine for children. There are few, if any, of us who have not
protested vehemently against having our mouths pried open to receive a
spoonful of tea made from the leaves of this common weed; the first
symptoms of a stomach-ache were sufficient to set the vile decoction
brewing and almost any affection of the throat called for a dose of the
same liquid.
The word "tansy" is derived indirectly from a Greek word meaning
"immortality", because the yellow blossoms, when dried, lose very little
of their original shape and colour. It is doubtful if the name had
anything to do with the prescribing of tansy-tea as a tonic. It was
extensively used for this purpose, and I can readily conceive a patient,
after taking a dose, being quite ready to eat the first thing in sight
to overcome the disagreeable taste left in his mouth by the medicine.
Hop-tea for indigestion and cherry bark tea for regulating the blood
were remedies widely known and extensively used.
Reference has already been made to the danger of children falling into
the tub of hot water used in scrubbing the unpainted floor. This and
the open fire-place were sources of great anxiety to the mother of a
young family. The frequency of severe scalds and burns from these
causes created a demand for a soothing and healing salve. A favourite
prescription was black alder, lard, resin, and beeswax.
Smartweed steeped in vinegar was applied to bruises and swellings where
there was no abrasion; it gave instant relief from pain and reduced the
swelling. For use upon dumb animals, particularly the legs of horses,
wormwood was substituted for smartweed.
For lame feet and other troubles requiring a soothing poultice, the
leaves of the plantain were used. The stems and ribs were first
removed, the leaves allowed to wilt and were then crushed by rolling
them between the hands.
A healing ointment for abrasions and open sores was made from the leaves
of the ordinary garden bean. These were cut up, mixed with lard, and
heated over a slow fire. While still hot, the liquid lard, which had
absorbed some of the juice of the leaves, was poured off and allowed to
cool, when it was ready to be applied to the affected part.
Even the roots of the burdock, a most persistent and troublesome weed
about most country homes, were put to an useful purpose. These were
preserved by being dried, and when required were steeped and the tea
thus produced was administered as a cure for indigestion and to regulate
the blood.
The mandrake, mandragora, or may-apple, has attracted much attention
from the days of King Solomon to the present day. It has figured in
literature in many capacities, all the way from a death-dealing agent to
the main ingredient of a love potion. From its roots our forefathers
made a tea which they used as a gargle for sore throat.
The roots of the nerve-vine were chewed to quiet the nerves; hence the
name. The roots of elecampane were utilized for man and beast; when
steeped they produced a soothing and healing lotion for open wounds, and
made into a syrup, were administered to children suffering from
whooping-cough. Spearmint tea was given to "break up" a cold; and an
infusion of mullein was administered to give relief in the more advanced
stages of the same complaint. The more bitter the medicine, the more
frequently was it prescribed. Thus wormwood tea was regarded as a
general tonic to be given in almost all cases where other remedies
failed.
It was not at all uncommon for a plain and simple farmer, with no
pretension to a knowledge of medicine or surgery, to acquire a
reputation as a specialist in some particular branch of the profession.
Perhaps in some emergency he would set a broken limb, with results so
satisfactory that his services would be requisitioned in the next case
of a similar character. His patients so successfully treated would
proclaim his fame abroad, and with the little experience thus acquired
he would, in the eyes of his neighbours, become an expert in this
operation. Another may accidentally have had thrust upon him the
distinction of being able to reduce a dislocated joint.
[Illustration: SPINNING FLAX]
Dentists there were none, and extraction was the only reliable treatment
for troublesome teeth. Some one in the locality would own one of those
instruments of torture, a turn-key. If a molar had been demanding too
much attention from its owner, and a hot fomentation had failed to
overcome the pain, the man with the turn-key was paid a visit.
Anaesthetics were unknown, and sterilization was not practised by the
unprofessional. The victim was seated in a kitchen chair and grasped
the rungs on either side. The operator loosened the gum from the unruly
tooth with the blade of his pocket-knife, the hook of the turn-key was
inserted, and with grim determination the two men faced each other. The
one clung doggedly to the chair, the other twisted the key. I will draw
a curtain over the further details of the operation. Brute strength in
the end prevailed.
Such services were, as a rule, rendered gratuitously, and while we would
not care in our day to be at the mercy of such amateur practitioners,
yet they were a great benefit to the neighbourhood in which they
resided, where it was frequently a choice of such aid as they could
render or none at all.
Of an entirely different class were the "fakirs", who, with little or no
knowledge of the diseases they treated and the remedies they prescribed,
preyed upon the helplessness of their patients. With such the two great
specifics were opium and mercury--in all cases of doubt a dose of
calomel was administered. Bleeding, as a remedial measure, was a very
common practice, and it was not considered at all extraordinary to
relieve a patient of a quart or two of blood at a time.
The educational qualifications of the quack may be inferred from the
following advertisement, which was posted up in a public place in 1817:
"Richmond, Oct. 17, 1817.
"ADVERTISEMENT:--This is to certify that I, Solomon Albert, is Good to
cure any sore in word Complaint or any Pains, Rheumatick Pains or any
Complaint what so ever the Subscriber doctors with yerbs and Roots. Any
Person wishing to employ him will find him at Dick Bells.
"Solomon Albert."
Mr. Albert's parents misjudged the possibilities of their hopeful
offspring when they bestowed upon him his Christian name. He must have
been quite exhausted after his literary effort in composing that
advertisement.