PARTING WITH OLD FRIENDS
My story of how I came to Canada and how the family which made me one of
their number got on in its backwoods has taken a long time to tell, yet
I must lengthen it to make known what became of some of the people
mentioned in the course of it. Tilly remained with us a year, when she
went to live with the Bambrays, who needed her help. When they, later
on, decided to end their days in their native town, Huddersfield, she
went with them to England. Once a year a letter came from Mr Bambray,
with a long postscript by Tilly, overflowing with good wishes, and in
each letter was a draft to help escaped slaves get a fresh start in
life. The worthy couple died several years ago, making Tilly their chief
legatee. She married a man for whom she described herself as unworthy
and who makes her happy every day. When Ruth married she sent her a gift
of $250 to furnish her house. Ruth's husband is a capable farmer, who is
doing well. They are an evenly matched team, pulling together and happy
in each other. When Robbie came of age the master divided his farm
equally between his two sons, and bought for himself six acres fronting
Yonge-street. On this he built a commodious house and a large
greenhouse, for he designed carrying on market-gardening. In an
excavation deep enough to be below the frost line the greenhouse was
built, and there were other devices to do with as little stove-heat as
possible. Sloot, who had been left a widower, and having no family,
became the hired man and made his home for the remainder of his life
with the master and mistress, to whom he was deeply attached. Twice a
week he drove to market the produce that was for sale, and though
occupation not beyond their strength was their purpose, remarkable
profits were made off these six acres. The mistress was happy in tending
the greenhouse and flower-beds, and in entertaining visitors, for they
had many apart from their own children and grand-children. They were
honored far and wide and a drive to their house, which they named
Heatherbell cottage, to have a chat and get a bouquet was a common
recreation with many Torontonians. Of your mother I need not speak; you
know how happy we are in each other. We never had any courtship--our
lives from the first sight of her when I ventured to seek shelter in her
father's house on that rainy day has been one long dwelling in each
other's affections. As trees strengthen with years, our attachment has
grown deeper and purer. Just as soon as I made my footing good in
Toronto, our marriage took place. Lovers before the ceremony we are
lovers still. Ah, my dear lassie, do not think love is a brief fever of
youth--a transient emotion that fades before the realities of wedded
life like the glow from a cloud at morn. Where love is of the true
quality, it becomes purer and tenderer with the passing years. Death may
interrupt, but cannot end such affection as ours. Love is eternal.
With Mr Kerr I kept up the exchange of letters he asked, and the
information and advice his contained have helped to shape my character
and opinions. The year after his arrival he started in business for
himself and prospered. His wife is the girl whom he was courting when he
fled from Greenock. Our visits to them are delightful memories and you
know how we enjoy their sojourns with us. Jabez also became a
Montrealer. The business of himself and brothers as carters naturally
merged into forwarders. As trade grew it was found needful one should be
in Montreal, and Jabez went. Levelheaded and full of resource he soon
came to the front in the shipping-trade.
With Mr Snellgrove we had an unlooked for encounter. The master was on a
visit to us at Toronto. On reading notices of a meeting to be held in
favor of Protection and of the government issuing paper currency instead
of gold, we decided to attend. The first speaker was Isaac Buchanan, who
deluged us with figures about Bullionism and the balance of trade. We
were relieved when he ended. Then a college professor read a paper on
the Co-relation of Great Britain and her Colonies. It was difficult to
follow him. He was one of those theoretical men who think forms of
government and names can make a country great. We started with
astonishment on the chairman saying he had pleasure in introducing Mr
Snellgrove as the next speaker. It was he sure enough, older but still
spruce, and resplendent in full evening dress. He did not touch on
currency, but confined himself to advocating a protective tariff so high
that it would shut out foreign goods. That would enable manufacturers to
establish themselves in Canada, and instead of a stream of gold going to
Britain and the United States the money would be spent for goods made in
Canada. See what a rich country we would become if we kept our money
here, he said; our great lack is capital to develop our immense
resources. We had the capital in our own hands but, blind to our own
interests, sent it away to Great Britain or, what was worse, to the
United States to build up a country that was hostile to us. Like the
Gulf Stream, which sweeping through the Atlantic enriches every country
it touches, he would have a golden circuit established in Canada--the
farmers would sell to the manufacturers and the money paid them would
continue to flow backward and forward to the enrichment of both. The
flowing of gold from our midst would be stopped, and the farmers, with a
home-market for all they could raise, would become rich and view with
delight factories rising on every hand. All this could be accomplished
by enacting a judiciously-framed tariff and delay in doing so was not
only keeping Canada poor but endangering her future as a British
dependency. Applause followed Mr Snellgrove's sitting down, and the
chairman praised him as a gentleman who had carefully thought out his
proposals, which commended themselves to every patriotic mind. We wanted
diversity of occupation and retention of the earnings of the farmers in
Canada; here was a method of effecting both these desirable ends.
The master got on his feet and begged permission to be heard in reply.
He was invited to the platform and, with his usual directness and force,
at once assailed what Mr Snellgrove had advanced. He says, let us have a
law that will compel us to cease buying goods abroad, for thereby the
money now sent away will be kept in Canada. What right has any
government to pass such a law? With the money I get for my wheat may I
not buy what I need where I see fit? Such an arbitrary law as he pleads
for would undoubtedly help the manufacturer, but would it help me, who
am a farmer? The question I ask, is not will the money stay in Canada,
but will the money I have justly earned stay in my pocket? I will be
none the richer if the money goes into the pocket of the owner of a
factory. In the Old Country the farmers carry the aristocracy who own
the land on their backs, are the laws of Canada to be so shaped that the
farmers here are to carry the manufacturers? It may not be plain to you
city gentlemen, but it is to me, that under the system you have heard
advocated, factories would increase and their owners grow rich while
the farmers would become poor, for they would have to pay more than they
now do for the goods necessity makes them buy. My family needs about
$300 worth of store-goods in a year. That is what I pay now. Under
Protection these same goods would cost me $400, perhaps more. The
Canadian manufacturers would be the richer by the hundred extra dollars
I would pay, and I would be the poorer by a hundred dollars. The point
at issue, is not keeping money in the country, but of keeping it in the
pockets of the men who first earned it by cultivating the soil. Canada
is a farming country and always will be, and taxing each farmer's family
on an average of say a hundred dollars a year is going to discourage the
farmer. Let every tub stand on its own bottom. If any commodity can be
made in Canada at a profit under present conditions, I wish all success
to the man who undertakes to make that commodity, but to tax me to give
the man a bonus to do so is to rob me of my honest earnings. We have
been told we want more population. Yes, if it be of the right kind, of
people who will go, as I did, into the bush and carve out farms. These
will add to our strength, but hordes drawn from cities who cannot and
will not take to the plow, will prove in the long run a weakness. If you
knew the poverty and misery that exists among the factory operatives of
the Old World you would not entertain a project to bribe them to come
here and reproduce the same conditions. Today you have not a beggar on
Toronto's streets; adopt Protection and you will have thousands of
paupers. This is a new country and our aim should be to make it one
where honest industry can find a sure reward in its forests and not be
creating factories by artificial means. As an Old Countryman, I take
exception to the land I came from being treated as foreign and a ban
placed on the goods it has to export. When I go into a store I like to
think what I am buying is helping those I left behind, and when I pay
for the cloth and other goods they made, do they not in return buy the
grain, the butter and cheese, and the pork I have to sell? I protest
against our government abusing its power to tax the farmers to benefit
the manufacturers. That is tyranny, and when farmers understand that
Protection is one of the meanest forms of despotism, they will revolt.
This must be a free country, with no favor shown to any class.
We saw gentlemen on the platform urging the chairman to stop the master;
he seemed reluctant to make a scene. Finally he did pull him down,
stating he was not speaking to the subject before the meeting. The best
reply to the disloyal outpouring to which they had listened he
considered was contemptuous silence. After votes of thanks the meeting
ended. The master advanced towards Mr Snellgrove to renew his
acquaintance. Mr Snellgrove turned his back upon him and left with a
group of gentlemen. I learned he held a government office.
I have a more unexpected meeting to relate. The sixth year after my
marriage, it had been arranged Christmas should be celebrated at Allan's
and New Year's at the master's. We had been looking for what people in
Scotland dread, a Green Yule, for the ground was bare. When we rose the
morning before Christmas we were pleased to see it white, and a gentle
sifting of snow falling. Allan came for us early in the afternoon and we
filled his big sleigh with children and parcels. We had just got into
the house when the clouds lowered and it became suddenly dark. You have
seen in summer a gentle rain prevail, until, all at once, a plump came
that covered the ground with streams of water. Once in a number of years
the like happens with snow, and a gentle fall turns into a smothering
stream of snowflakes. In an hour the ground was so cumbered that it
reached to the knees of those who ventured out. Supper was over and the
romping of the children was in full swing when Robbie cried he thought
he heard somebody shouting outside. There was a pause in the merriment
as he flung open the door. The snow had ceased to fall and the air was
calm and soft. A black object was seen on the road to the left, from
which came cries for help. Allan and Robbie dashed into the snow and
struggled through it. We watched them but it was too dark to see what
they did on reaching the road. Our suspense was ended on seeing them
returning with a stranger, and leading a horse. Robbie took the horse to
the stable; Allan and the stranger, covered with snow entered. After
brushing him and taking off his wraps the stranger stood before us, a
good-looking man past middle life. He explained he had left home that
morning for Toronto, his chief errand to get the supplies and presents
the lack of sleighing had hindered his going for sooner. Overtaken by
the unlooked for downfall, he had halted at a tavern undecided what to
do. The barroom was crowded. A man told him, on hearing where he was
going, if he took the first turn to his left, he would find a road that
would be passable, for it was sheltered by bush. Anxious to get home,
and the tavern accommodation not inviting, he had, after watering his
horse, started anew. Half an hour or so later, while pushing slowly
along, a runner of his cutter had struck some obstacle, the horse
plunged forward, tipping the rig. On getting on his feet, on lifting the
cutter, he found a runner had been wrenched off, and there he was
helpless. Seeing the lights of our house, he shouted, and, for a long
time, he thought in vain. While he was speaking, my memory was groping
to place a voice that seemed an echo of one I had heard in the past. I
looked at the face, but in the firm-set features that told of wrestling
with the world, I found no aid. It was not until the house-colley went
up to sniff at him and he stooped to pat its head that it flashed on me
the stranger was the shepherd-lad who had befriended me in my weary
tramp across Ayrshire. Facing him, I said, 'Is not your name Archie?'
'It is,' he replied, looking surprised. 'And do you not remember the
ragged boy your dog found under a bush, how you shared your bite with
him; how we sat under your plaid and read the bible and heard each other
the questions?' As I spoke I could tell by his face his memory too was
at work. 'Yes, yes,' he exclaimed, 'it all comes back to me, and you are
curly-headed Gordon Sellar.' Had we been of any other race the right
thing to do would have been to have fallen into each other arms, but
seeing we were undemonstrative Scots we gripped hands though I could not
hold back the tears of gratitude on seeing the man who had been so kind
to me. His coming was no damper to the evening's joy. He made himself at
home at once, and before he was ten minutes among us the children were
clambering over him, for he had joined them in their play. He was the
same free-hearted, easily-pleased lad I had known. When, late in the
evening, I took him to his room, we had a long talk, and the fire of
friendship kindled on the Ayrshire braeside burned again. We had
breakfast together long before daylight, for he was anxious to get home.
It had been settled Allan would lend his team and long sleigh, and that
I drive. The sound of sleighbells brought us to our feet, and at the
door was the sleigh with the broken cutter piled into it with all the
parcels that had been picked out of the snow, and tied to the seat was
Archie's mare. I hesitated leaving Alice on such a day, but she insisted
I must go with my friend. It was not a long drive but it was a slow one.
I turned back into Yonge street, where there would be a track broken,
and kept on it until we reached the corner to turn westward. We halted
an hour at the corner-tavern to feed and rest the horses, which could
not have made the headway they were making had they not been a noble
team, Allan's pride. The way, however, was not long to us, for we had
much to talk about. Archie narrated his past life, and, curious about
mine, I had to tell him my simple story. Reserve there was none. Once
again we were boys, rejoicing in each other, and warming to one another
as true friends do in exchanging their inmost confidences. I will not
relate what he told, for I will weave into his narrative what I got
afterwards from his sister and his father and mother, and present it in
connected form. We were passing down a concession, which had every
indication of being a prosperous settlement, when Archie pointed to a
brick house in the far-distance as his. On drawing near we found its
inmates had been on the watch, for tumbling through the snow came four
children, who clambered in beside us, rejoiced to see their father and
anxious to know what he had brought for them. On reaching, at last, the
house there was gathered at the door the two oldest of the family, a
fine-looking girl and a tall lad, with the mother, and behind them an
aged couple. A hired man took the team, but the mare, looking to the lad
at the door, whinnied. He jumped forward and led her to her stall. 'That
is his pony,' remarked Archie. What a scene of rejoicing on that day of
joy the world over! Mrs Craig, to give her name, told how they had
waited the night before for the coming of Archie until the younger
members fell asleep in their chairs, how they had kept supper warm, and
how, not until two in the morning, they had gone to bed, convinced he
had stayed overnight somewhere on the road, for the possibility of
misadventure they would not admit The forenoon had been of more anxious
waiting, for as time slipped they began to dread an accident had
befallen him. To have him back safe, and the parcels safe, was perfect
joy, and the two youngest darted from the house to try the sleds Santa
Claus had sent them by their father. Mrs Craig, a tidy purpose-like
woman, was profuse in thanks to me for helping her husband. Archie's
father and mother struck me, at the first glance, as the finest old
couple my eyes had ever rested upon. He was tall and rugged in frame, as
became an old shepherd, but his face was a benediction--so calm, so
composed, such a look of perfect content. His companion recalled
grannie, only more alert. Burns might have taken them as models for his
song, John Anderson, my jo. As the sun was setting there was a shout of
'Auntie,' and the youngsters bounded down the long lane to meet a sleigh
that was dragging its way through snow as high as the box. Auntie was
Archie's sister--like him yet unlike, the same features of softer mould,
lighted up with merry smiles that told of a happy heart. And there were
children with her, and her husband, a stout hearty man with a loud
voice. Sleigh after sleigh drove up the lane, each hailed with shouting
and laughter, for each one brought not only the elders of the household
but their children. What a shaking of hands and interchange of good
wishes there was, and then came supper. There were over fifty guests,
but there was ample preparation in the big back kitchen, where supper
was served. When all had enough, including the dogs and Maisie's
pussies, the older folk moved to the front room. In a jiffy dishes and
temporary tables disappeared in that big back kitchen, and the
youngsters began their games. By-and-by a fiddle was heard, and I am
afraid there was dancing. We had a happy evening. Two-handed cracks,
stories, jokes, songs, made the time pass too quickly. It was a novelty
to me that all the guests were either Irish or English; fine people,
intelligent, wide-awake as to the necessity of advancing and making
improvements. Plates of apples and fruit cake appearing notified the
time for parting had come, and in more than one mother's arms rested a
little one who had crept in from the big kitchen too sleepy to remain
longer. In shaking hands with my new-found acquaintances, they all pled
with me to pay them a visit. Before I fell asleep, I thought of what a
fine yeomanry dwelt in the settlement, and the misfortune it would be
if, by any legislative mis-step, they were constrained to leave the
farm.
Next morning I had, of course, to visit the stables and see the
live-stock, and to judge as far as was possible, with two feet of snow
resting upon it, of the farm and its surroundings. Every detail told of
a capable and energetic farmer, who knew a good horse and the best use
that could be made of pig and cow. There were no loose ends, everything
was in its place and in the best of order. The hour I was left alone
with Archie's father and mother was as refreshing as a breeze from
Scotia's heath-clad hills. On asking grannie whether Mirren and Archie
were her only children she answered, 'There are two biding with the
Lord.' After listening to what they told me of how they came to Canada,
of what Mirren and Archie had done for them, my heart swelled in
thanking God that filial piety still cast luster on humanity. After an
early dinner I left and reached Allan's in time to share in the
after-feast of the fragments of Christmas good things. Many a visit I
have since that day paid to Archie, and many he has to me. It may be
that neither of us having a brother we crept so close together that we
are supremely happy in each others company even if we utter not a word.