_A DINNER AT RIDEAU HALL IN THE THIRTIES._
1837.
Mr. and Mrs. George Morrison and the aged Chief were among the guests
at a small dinner party given by the "Laird of Bytown," the Hon.
Thomas MacKay, at his new residence, Rideau Hall, in honor of John
McTaggart, C.E., who had returned to the New World to visit old
friends.
[Illustration: HON. THOMAS MACKAY.]
The Hall, which had been erected on his estate of thirteen hundred
acres, midway between the banks of the Rideau and the Ottawa, was a
large cut-stone building with semi-tower front. The building itself,
the well-kept grounds, the imposing avenues with their porters'
lodges, the conservatories, excelled anything in Canada at that time.
It was spring. In the tall trees of the avenues, which seemed to
shut out the sky, the birds were awaking to life and love. A little
brook gurgled over mossy stones in the quiet glen by the wayside, on
the banks of which, soft with moss and pine needles, the trilliums
grew so thickly that they appeared like a bank of snow which had
escaped the rays of the April sun.
There was great diversity of color and form in the trees. The pines
stood erect, flinging their rough limbs above the young leaves of the
deciduous trees below. The white birch and trembling poplar adorned
the glen with pale gray or light green leaves, whose delicacy of tint
contrasted finely with the dark masses of the fir trees and the
lively green of maple and wild cherry.
Such was the home over which presided the noble Laird and his
gracious wife, and which, even in those early days, was a centre of
hospitality.
Among the guests were Chief McNab, who had left the Highlands of
Scotland with a numerous clan, and taken up his abode with them in a
township which had been granted to him on the banks of Lake de Chats,
about thirty miles from Bytown.
The guests scanned him with a peculiarly keen interest as he entered
the room preceded by his piper playing, "The Hacks o' Cromdale." He
was dressed in full Highland costume, with kilts and scarf of red and
green tartan, and wore a queue neatly tied with a knot of ribbon.
Captain Andrew Wilson, of Ossian Hall, on the banks of the Rideau,
was another guest. He had retired from the Navy and posed as lawyer,
judge, farmer, and author, his title to the latter consisting in
three volumes on naval history. He held weekly courts at Bytown, and
was regarded by the people of the town as a man of great importance.
To see the Captain on the bench with his anchor-buttoned coat and his
old-fashioned spectacles, attending gravely to the examination of
witnesses, was ludicrous. Of this he was perfectly sensible, but it
was an amusement to him. He was one of those men who would have
liked to have the whole world following after him.
Rev. Mr. Cruikshanks, pastor of St. Andrews church, the first church
in Bytown, and Rev. S. H. Stone, rector of Christ church, completed
the list of invited guests.
McTaggart, or "Mac," as he was familiarly called, the guest of the
evening and the hero of the hour, related many amusing incidents
which had come under his notice while Clerk of the Public Works.
"On one occasion," he said, "while returning by steamer from Lachine,
an oddly-dressed person sailed along with us. He had a short-tailed
blue coat with metal buttons that once had been clear, but the salt
spray of the Atlantic Ocean had dimmed their lustre, a
woollen-striped, double-breasted waistcoat, while a pair of velveteen
pantaloons graced his _hurdies_. He was a forward kind of little man
from the south of Scotland, who had paid little attention to the cut
of his whiskers, and the hair of his head seemed to furnish a good
cover for game of a peculiar kind.
"The tone of my voice, or some other Scotch keepsake, drew him near
me, when the following confab took place:
"'I hae surely seen your face some gate afore, mon, but whar it's
mair than I can cleverly tell.'
"'At the fair o' Minnyvive, man?' quoth I. 'Are not ye'--there I
hung fire. He helped me out by adding:
"'The Laird o' Birrboy.'
"'Exactly,' I replied, and he believed or seemed to believe me,
although I had never seen his face in my life before.
"As the steamboat neared the Lake of Two Mountains, on the Ottawa,
giving the passengers a peep at the wilderness, 'What a lang
planting!' he exclaimed. 'I wonner wha's Laird o't?'
"I replied in a kind of knowing manner that he would see the Laird
presently, and shortly we came upon an Indian encampment by the bank
of the river. The Indians were busy among their canoes, skinning
some deer and muskrats they had caught.
"'Yonder, Birrboy, yonder's the Laird!' quoth I, pointing to an
Indian Chief with the feathers of wild birds stuck round in his hat,
and long silver earrings hanging down on his shoulders.
"'Bless me!' said Birrboy, with open mouth, 'and yon's the Laird?'
"'It's all that's for him,' I continued, 'and yonder's the gardener
coming after him.' This was another Indian with a branch of a tree
on his shoulder for the fire.
"'Bless me! He's a queer Laird that, and is that ane of his seats?'
"I explained that it was, and that he had many such like up and down
the 'lang planting.'
"'What wad the bodies about Minnyvive think if they saw sic lairds
and gairdeners coming up the fair as thae, mon?' he exclaimed. 'I'll
be hanged gin they wadna creep in aneath the beds wi' fear, like Nell
Coskerie in a thunner-storm.'
"Landing on the shore at a place called Chute of 'Blendo,' we came
upon pieces of junk pine split up in thin pieces.
"'An' what ca' ye thae now?' inquired the Scotchman.
"'Shingles,' I replied. 'The people of this country cover their
houses with them.'
"'Hech, mon, and are thae the Canada sclate?' he returned. 'Ye hae
queer names for things here. There's a shoe like a swine trough ye
ca' the saboo, then there's a shoe ye ca' the morgason, a kin o'
thing like a big splenchan the bodies row their feet in. Deil hang
me, if ever I heard o' sic names. I'll never bring my mooth into the
wye o' pronooncing them.'
"Proceeding up the river we came near to the public works.
"'And is yon a timmer clauchan we see?' pointing to Bytown, quoth the
Laird.
"'Ay, yonder are the shanties,' I informed him, 'of a village the
people are busy building.'
"'Ay, there again, noo,' he replied, 'What a queer name ye hae for
timmer houses.'
"I explained that the first rough house that a settler built was
called a shanty; the next, which was more genteel, was called a
log-house; and the third and last was a clapboard house.
"He expressed some astonishment at this, and wondered 'if I could
recommend him to a clout of land ony gate aboot that he could big a
bit shanty on an' tak' a blaw o' the pipe in wi' comfort.'
"I informed him that land was by no means scarce, and that he might
get a farm for an auld sang. 'Ay, mon,' I said, 'a farm larger than
Birrboy for an auld sang.'
"This seemed to please him much, but he said: 'I hae nae siller, ye
see, an' what's the use of a farm without it? I maun e'en see to get
into the public works gaen on here and see to lay by a triffle. I
wush ye wad be sae kind as to tell me how to act that I might find
some employment.'
"'Go to the gentleman over the way,' said I, pointing to our military
commander, who was out bustling about the works.
"'That man with the red coat and the cocked hat?' he inquired.
"'The same,' I said, 'and say to him that there was a man sent you to
His Honor who thought you might be worth four shillings and sixpence
a day as a squad-master of laborers.'
"He thanked me and went off and told his story. The Colonel quickly
guessed who had sent him, so the Laird of Birrboy was regularly
installed in his situation and seemed to understand his duty.
"About a month afterwards Birrboy came to me with a long face and
said I had been gude, very gude to him, but thae was still a wee
kindness I could do him in a quiet way.
"'What is it?' I inquired.
"'Why the wife, silly body, is down in Montreal, and as I hae a bit
shanty bigged here, I wad like tae gang doon an' bring her up, if ye
had nae objection.'
"To this I replied that I would have none, but that he must apply to
the same gentleman as formerly and see what he had to say in the
matter.'
"'Ay, but there's that in it, I doubt he'll score me oot o' the books
when I'm awa'.'
"He went to the Colonel and asked the favor to bring his wife, which
of course was granted. Off went the Laird as proud as a dog with two
tails, but when he came to the bank of the river to the steamboat
landing, the said _bateau de feu_, as the French call her, had gone
to the other side of the Ottawa to take in part of her cargo. There
was no boat about but the Government boat, in which were Colonel By
with some ladies and military officers about to take a pleasure sail
up to the Falls. This boat had pushed off, but Birrboy waved his hat
and cried:
"'Hoot, mon, come hither!'
"The rowers rested on their oars and he was asked what he wanted.
"'I want a bit cast, mon, to the ither side o' the water to the
steamboat.'
"Someone replied out of the boat that it was impossible,' as they
were going on a pleasure sail and could not be troubled with him.
"'Hoot, mon!' continued the persevering Scotchman, 'it will tak ye
nought out o' yer wye to throw a puir body oot on the pint as ye gae
by.'
"'Confound you,' replied the Colonel as they pushed in the boat, 'if
you are not a Scotchman in truth I am in ignorance.'
"How joyfully did he take his seat among the officers and ladies,
smiling to himself with all the humor of Dunscore depicted in his
countenance. I looked and laughed after my worthy countryman, and
have not been so fortunate as to have seen him since."
"Tell us how you celebrated your first Christmas in Canada," said Mr.
MacKay.
"I well remember how I forgot to celebrate my first Christmas in this
country," replied Mac. "We were taking a flying level* between
Rafting Bay and the Rideau--a distance of about four miles. Taking a
level of this extent at home would not have occupied more than a day,
but in a dark, dense wood the subject was quite altered, and the
surveyor has to change his home system altogether; for instance, if
we get upon a hill in Britain we may see the natural lead of the
land, but here in the wilderness you have to grope for this like a
blind man.
* A rough guess to a foot of the rise or fall of the country above
any fixed spot.
"We cut holes through the thickets of these dismal swamps, and sent a
man half a mile before us to blow a horn, keeping to one place until
those in the rear come up, so that by the compass and the sound,
there being no sun, we were able to grope out our course.
"The weather was extremely cold, and the screws of the theodolite
would scarcely move. When night came on we sent two of the axemen to
rig a shanty by the side of a swamp. We generally camped near a
swamp, for water could be had to drink and to cook with, and the
hemlock boughs grew more bushy in such places, and were easily
obtained to cover the shanty; and, besides, we generally found dry
cedar there, which makes excellent firewood. When we arrived at the
camp we found a very comfortable house set up by our friends, with a
blazing fire in front of it. We lay down on the bushy hemlock,
holding pork before the fire on wooden prongs, each man roasting for
himself, while plenty of tea was thrown into a kettle of boiling
water. The tin mug, our only tea cup, went round till all had drunk,
then it was filled again, and so on, while each with his bush knife
cut toasted pork on slices of bread.
"Then we went to sleep, and, after having lain an hour or so on one
side, someone would cry--'Spoon!' the order to turn to the other,
which was often a disagreeable one if a spike of tree root or such
substance stuck up beneath ribs. Reclining thus like a parcel of
spoons, our feet to the fire, we have found the hair of our heads
often frozen to the place where we lay. For several days together
did we lie in these wild places. In Dow's great swamp, one of the
most dismal places in the wilderness, did five Irishmen, two
Englishmen, two Americans, one Frenchman, and one Scotchman, hold
their merry Christmas in 1826, or rather forgot to hold it at all."
"Do you remember your experiences in prospecting for iron ore in the
mountains?" asked the Chief, who was one of Mac's warmest friends and
admirers.
"I had been in Canada only a few months," he said, "when I happened
to hear from various sources that mountains of iron ore existed in
the range north of Hull, and the Chief, MacKay, Colonel By, and I
secured a guide, and took our way on horseback through the forest to
inspect the said ore bed that had hindered the magnetic needle of
many a surveyor's compass from traversing properly. We mounted at
the Columbian hotel and away we went, our guide having provisions,
axes, hammers, etc., in a bag on the saddle with him. Having
cantered away several miles through cleared land, we began to enter
the wilderness, and, as I am no great horseman, I soon found my eyes
and nose beginning to be scratched off from the brushwood lashing and
rubbing against them, and soon, alas! I found myself comfortably
landed on my back on the trunk of an old tree that had fallen many
years ago.
"On looking round I saw my quiet pony thinking for a wonder what had
become of me, one of his forefeet having trod out the crown of a good
new thirty shilling hat I had bought in London.
"My companions gathered round, but could not prevail on me to mount
again; the guide led the horse, and I trudged along on foot. Getting
rather weary, however, and seeing the comparatively easy manner in
which my friends got along, in spite of the thick brushwood and old
trees that lay stretched over one another at all angles, I mounted
again, but soon found it almost impossible to follow my companions
without getting myself bruised in all quarters, and possibly some of
my bones broken.
"They had got about one hundred yards before me, and halloed to me to
follow. I exerted myself to the utmost, but one of my legs getting
into the cleft of a small tree, I was thrown off the horse's back and
left among the briars again. Bawling out, they waited until I came
up. None of them but Mr. MacKay, as good a Scotchman as lives,
laughed, and I was almost inclined to fling my boot at him. Being a
good horseman, and used to the rough roads of Canada, he could keep
his seat in the saddle in a way, but the skin of his legs was partly
peeled like my own, and his clothes torn in various places.
"After travelling a great way we got to a stream which the guide said
had its origin in the iron mountain. Proceeding up the stream to its
source, we at last came upon the famous ore-bed, but through
excessive fatigue, after having taken a little refreshment, I fell
asleep, as did all my companions but one, the enterprising Lord of
the Manor of Hull, Indian Chief, Colonel of the 2nd Battalion, etc.,
etc. Even Colonel By, with bone and muscle and sinew like
wrought-iron, who can endure anything and eat anything, even to raw
pork, was fagged out, and slept like the rest of us.
"The Chief kindly left us undisturbed for an hour, when he roused us.
Traversing these wild mountains in all directions, we were much
pleased with the immense specimens of iron ore that appeared
everywhere. Mr. MacKay wielded the hammer with masonic skill, and
laid the rich ore-beds open to inspection. At one place the
mountains are not more than two miles from the first falls of the
Gatineau, where machinery and engines could be erected at moderate
rate, as water-power may be had to any extent from the falls. We
found an abundance of hardwood, particularly maple, which makes the
best charcoal of any. We concluded that this was the best place for
iron works in Canada.
"We at length thought of returning to the hotel. Night came on, and
in the forenoon of the next day I found myself alive at the Falls of
the Chaudiere. The troubles I had undergone were amply repaid. My
bruises recovered, the skin came over my arms and legs, but I shall
never try to explore the wilds of Canada on horseback again."
"Have you ever tried the experiment, Mr. McNab?" asked the
good-natured Scotchman.
"Sir," he replied, disdainfully, "I thought you had known better.
Nothing but McNab, if you please--'Mr.' does not belong to me."
Mr. McTaggart expressed his apologies, and there was a lull in the
conversation.
"You have quite a fine church," said the Chief, after a time,
addressing the Scottish pastor.
"Yes," he replied, "we are indebted to our host for that church. He
built it at his own expense while the masons of the public works were
awaiting orders from the War Department in England, to widen the
locks."
"Why did you call it after St. Andrew?" said the Chief. "I never
could understand why Scotchmen seem to have a monopoly of that saint,
and Episcopalians a monopoly of the name of Christ, and Roman
Catholics of St. Peter and St. Joseph, in naming their churches. St.
Andrew was one of the least known of the honored twelve, and why he
should have gained and retained such a grip of Scotland and her
scattered children is a mystery to me."
"There, Mr. Cruikshanks," said the Laird, "is a problem for you to
solve, for I must admit it is a question beyond my ken."
"The only reason that I can find why St. Andrew is so closely
connected with Scotland," replied Mr. Cruikshanks, whose speech was
not a little infected with the dialect of southern Scotland, but is
here rendered in modern English for the sake of the readers, "is
found in most ancient history--it may be legendary. It is this:
"Faithful to the farewell commission of his Master, whom he saw
ascend from the brow of Olivet and received into heaven, Andrew spent
his missionary life in Scythia and Achaia, and in Patræ, one of its
principal cities, he founded a branch of the Church, the success of
which brought down upon him the vengeance of the heathen governor,
who caused him to be crucified. He was tied to a cross of olive wood
in the form of the letter X. He endured the prolonged agonies of
hunger and thirst and pain for many days, until at last the strong
heart gave its last beat and his spirit fled to the side of the
glorified Christ.
"A woman of wealth and rank obtained possession of the body. The
congregation with sorrowing hearts buried it in the little church.
There it lay in undisturbed repose during the long stretch of three
hundred years.
"Wholesale massacres swept myriads of Christians into martyr graves
until a Christian emperor came to the throne, who ordered a great and
gorgeous temple to be erected in memory of the apostle in
Constantinople.
"Constantine commanded the presiding presbyter"----
"Bishop, you mean," interrupted the rector.
"Presbyter, sir," said the Scotchman, firmly, "of the little church
at Petræ to deliver up the body of the martyred apostle that it might
rest till the glorious resurrection morn in the grandest mausoleum
that Imperial hands could build for it.
"Three days before the messengers arrived, Regulus, the presbyter,
dreamed that a messenger from a greater than Constantine ordered him
to open the tomb of the saint and to remove part of its contents and
hide them in another place. This he did, and the remainder of the
body was removed to Constantinople.
"Some time afterwards Regulus had another dream, when the same
messenger appeared to him and warned him to depart from Petrae, and
to take with him the bones which he had concealed and to sail to a
port to which God would safely guide him.
"Regulus obeyed, and was accompanied by sixteen presbyters and three
devout deaconesses, who set sail not knowing whither to steer their
course.
"Tossed up and down in Adria, driven by the wind through the dreaded
pillars of Hercules, dashed hither and thither in the surging Bay of
Biscay, whirled northward by furious hurricanes over the English
Channel and the German Ocean, they found themselves shipwrecked in a
bay, afterwards known as the Bay of St. Andrews, on the east of
Scotland. All else but the precious relics lost, they with
difficulty gained the shore.
"On the spot where they landed they built a church, taking for their
plan the church at Petrae, and in it they reverently deposited the
martyr's bones and called the church and place St. Andrews.
"Dense woods surrounded them, infested with boars and wolves. The
barbarians extended to them a hearty welcome. Regulus, afterwards
known in Scottish history as St. Raol, told them of St. Andrew and of
his faith in the incarnate God who had come to seek and to save the
lost. They listened and believed, and Hangus, the King, with all his
subjects shook off Druidical superstition and became Christian, and
from St. Andrews streamed through the dark places of the land the
true light of the world--the Gospel of Christ as St. Andrew had
learned it from the Master himself.
"That, sir," he said, addressing the Chief, "is the reason why we
have named the new kirk St. Andrews."
"Interesting--most interesting," said the Laird, who had moved back
from the table and sat clasping his right knee with his hands. "The
learned son of Auld Scotia has answered the first part of the Chief's
question, and we shall look to the rector to explain why the
Episcopalians seem to enjoy a monopoly of the name of 'Christ church'
in designating their places of worship."
For a moment the cultured young Englishman looked bewildered and
confused, for the question had come to him suddenly and unexpectedly.
Closing his eyes he repeated the question slowly and thoughtfully,
"Why do churchmen like to confer upon their places of worship the
name of Christ?"
"There passes before my mind the vision of a world," he said, still
keeping his eyes closed, "which came from the hands of the Creator in
a state of perfection and loveliness--a world of spotless purity, a
world where all was peace and love, and joy and satisfaction--a
heaven of bliss and of ecstasy. A dark shadow crept over it--the
shadow of sin--which was soon followed by the darker and more awful
shadow of death. Its women were subjected to a life of suffering and
sorrow, a life of bondage and tyranny; its men to a life of slavery.
The whole creation began to groan and travail in pain. Life was not
worth living nor death worth dying, until a Light from heaven shone
through the darkness, dispelling the gloom, bringing salvation to
sorrowing, sin-burdened souls and hope of complete redemption, when
the body shall be raised incorruptible, when the briars and thorns
shall disappear, and even the animals shall be emancipated from the
bondage and cruelty of man.
"It was the Christ who turned darkness into light. It was the Christ
who brought life out of death. It was the Christ who lifted woman
from the depths of degradation and placed her in a realm of love and
hope. It was the Christ who gave the weary toiler rest.
"Have we not cause to bless God for 'His inestimable love in the
redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ?'
"That is Presbyterianism," said Mrs. MacKay.
"And that is Episcopalianism," replied the rector.
"We recognize the Christ as the head of the Church," said the Laird.
"And so do we," said the rector, "and if I had the naming of ten
thousand churches, sir, I would call each one '_Christ_ church,' and
I would have a cross on each somewhere to remind the people of the
fact that He left the heaven of glory to suffer and die for them,
that He might bring them into the fulness of joy which He originally
designed for them."
"You surprise me," said the Laird, "for I had come to regard the
Established Church of England as dead in formalism. I have not found
so great faith before--no, not in the Church of England."
"Then you had better become a little more intimately acquainted with
it," good-naturedly rejoined the young rector, and the conversation
turned into other topics.