They suffered cold in their board shed,
But good stone walls now them enfold,
And they are warm and safe from cold.
Now they do enjoy their fodder,
And repay with their full udder,
If bran slops you on cow bestow
Of milk it will increase the flow.
And in your efforts do not halt
But let them daily lick the salt,
And never let the dogs them chase,
But let them walk at their quiet pace.
DAIRY ODES.
The sweet milkmaid of early days
Her own household she ably sways,
And her daughters now milk the cows,
And her sons they now guide the plows.
These pleasing changes on a farm
Doth give to rural life a charm,
Let occupation none upbraid,
But honor plowman and milkmaid.
For Burns with glory did endow
And wove a garland round the plow,
The source from which all wealth doth spring
And happiness to all doth bring.
Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.
The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.
Cheese making now you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.
Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.
Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.
Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.
And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.
Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.
Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How utilize it in the dairy:
The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.
All dairymen their highest aims
Should be to make the vale of Thames,
Where milk doth so abundant flow,
Dairyland of Ontario.
CHEESE CURD FOR BAIT.
The following adventure was participated in by Mr. J. Podmore and Mr. W.
D. Grant at Matheson's Cold Spring Cheese Factory in Zorra, 1888.
Cheese buyers in hours of leisure
Combine business with pleasure,
And when they wish to go abroad
They take their gun and fishing rod.
This tale is true we pledge our word,
They baited hook with a piece of curd,
And let the rod hang from the boat,
While curd and hook on pond did float.
And then they start for sport and fun,
To try their luck with the shot gun,
And quick they raised from their cover,
Then brought low eight brace of plover.
Now to the pond they do return,
But loss of rod they have to mourn,
They see it rushing through the water,
And wonder what can be the matter.
But the courage of young Grant,
It did not for a moment daunt,
Though rod it now is far beyond,
He plunged into deep, cold spring pond.
And seized his rod and then drew out
A beauteous seven pound trout,
Which had grown from the seed
From spawn of California breed.
And Californian in its greed,
On the sweet curd wished to feed;
But, alas, for it's sad fate,
It swallowed hook along with bait.
CANADIAN SKETCHES.
THANKSGIVING ODE, NOVEMBER 15TH, 1888.
September came and with it frost
The season's pasture it seemed lost,
And the wondrous yield of corn
Of its green beauty it was shorn.
Frost it came like early robber,
But gentle rains came in October,
Which were absorbed by grateful soil;
With green once more the pastures smile.
And cows again are happy seen
Enjoying of the pastures green,
And flow of milk again they yield
From the sweet feed of grassy field.
And we have now a fine November,
Warmer far than in September;
The apple, which is queen of fruits,
Was a good crop and so is roots.
The rains they did replenish springs,
And it gratitude to each heart brings,
When we reflect on bounteous season,
For grateful feelings all have reason.
AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS.
Poor laborers they did sad bewail,
When the machine displaced the flail,
There's little work now with the hoes.
Since cultivators weed the rows.
Labor it became more fickle,
When the scythe took place of sickle,
Labor still it did sink lower,
By introduction of mower.
And the work was done much cheaper
When they added on the reaper,
Another machine to it they join,
Mower, reaper, binder, all combine.
Machines now load and stow away,
Both the barley and the hay,
And the farmers do get richer
With the loader and the pitcher.
There's very few men now hand sows,
No more broad cast the grain it grows,
They sow and rake by the machine,
Hand labor is 'mong the things have been.
Armed with scythes the old war chariot,
Cut men down in the fierce war riot,
Round farmers' chariot fall the slain,
But 'tis the sheaves of golden grain.
WHEN TO SELL GRAIN AND FARM PRODUCE.
Grain it should be sold in the fall
Even if the price it should be small,
For if you keep it till the spring
Sometimes a less price it doth bring.
For grain with whole world doth compete,
You cannot raise the price of wheat,
Then at once you should embark it
On its way to world's market.
We hope our views you don't despise,
For grain doth shrink in weight and size,
If you sell wheat you can get gold,
Retain it, damp may make it mould.
Remember too that of your wheat
The rats of it will fondly eat,
Sell it and money then invest,
And you can get good interest.
The same remarks apply to cheese,
It shrinks and frosts make it to freeze,
Then careful man you have to hire
At great expense to keep up fire.
If you your produce quick do move,
The business soon it will improve,
And then mankind will you bless
For alleviating their distress.
And it pays best to sell each pig,
Plump and young, not old, fat and big,
Young and tender now's the vogue
Either in cattle or in hog.
FOUR ACRE FARM.
This is a tale, but it is truth,
Of maiden lady named Ruth,
She owned a small four acre farm,
Which possessed some rural charm.
This maiden she was past her youth,
But none e're fell in love with Ruth,
Though you must not infer from thence
That she possessed not grace nor sense.
She was handsome in her day,
But beauty quickly fades away,
Good vegetables and fine roots
She growed and choicest kind of fruits.
And a first-class good milch cow
She kept, and a fine breeding sow,
Her butter high price did command,
Cow fed on best of pasture land.
On it was pond where swam her geese,
From small flock of sheep she sheared fleece,
And thus she passed year after year,
Her cares they kept her in good cheer.
Each year she raised large chicken brood,
And for them she grew lots of food,
In winter time it was her rule
To knit and spin up her own wool.
And thus her uneventful life
Doth pass without jar or strife,
'Tis seldom she e're feels alarm,
But quietly tills her little farm.
To plow her little fields of course
She does require to drive her horse,
This little pony looks quite smart
Drawing old maid in little cart.
HARVEST HOME FESTIVAL.
In summer time it doth seem good
To seek the shade of the green wood,
For it doth banish all our care
When we gaze on scene so fair.
And birds do here in branches sing
So merrily in early spring,
And lovingly they here do pair
Their mutual joys together share.
Here nature's charming, never rude,
Inspiring all with happy mood,
Tables had choice fruits of season,
And we too had feast of reason.
To dinner table all did march
Through evergreen triumphal arch,
On top the Union Jack it floats,
On each side sheaves of wheat and oats.
Great pumpkins and big ears of corn,
They do this rural arch adorn,
We are reminded now 'tis fall,
And boys enjoy game of baseball.
With joy at night each one did gaze
At the mighty bonfire's blaze,
The tree leaves shone like silver bright,
The lanterns too were pleasing sight.
CORNER STONE LAYING.
The following lines were read at the festival after the stone had been
laid by Grand Master Col. Moffat, of a church on the Culloden road, with
Masonic honors.
In this quiet spot this day of June,
Which will not be forgotten soon,
For when your little church on hill
You overflowingly did fill,
You then resolved there should arise
Church worthy of your enterprise,
You've laid foundation broad and deep,
And showers of blessings may you reap.
Craft of King Hiram and Saint John
Have come to lay the corner stone,
At the call of our Grand Master
Who was invited by your pastor,
With silver trowel all so fair
He laid foundation on the square,
May you be blessed with Christian love,
And we all meet in Lodge above.
LINES ON METHODIST UNION, SEPTEMBER, 1883.
A pleasing sight to-day we see,
Four churches joined in harmony,
There difference was but trivial,
But strove each other to outrival.
In friendship now they do unite,
And Satan only they do fight,
And they'll plant churches in North West,
Where they can serve the Lord the best.
CREDIT VALLEY TRIP.
The Credit Valley Railway Company having placed a car at the service of
the council we were kindly invited to accompany them to Toronto.
Whene'er we take a tour abroad
We love to travel o'er new road,
Where scenery to us is new
And landscape pleasing to the view,
When invited for to rally
And take a trip on Credit Valley,
We resolved for to afford
A day with Council and School Board,
For to view the rural charms
Of hills and dales and fertile farms,
With joy we saw the sunbeams gleam
On Grand River beauteous stream,
And those perpendicular walls
Of rock, like old baronial halls,
We saw the great lake ebb and flow,
And queen city of Ontario,
While some enjoyed the genial smile
Of Hanlon on his lake girt isle,
Returning home each one exclaims
"Happiest spot is banks of Thames."
EAGLE AND SALMON.
Wilmot of fish culutre fame,
To this tale he lends his name,
A pair of eagles built their nest
On a lofty pine tree's crest.
And therein they regular rear
A brood of young year after year,
One day he saw one leave its nest,
When for food it was in quest.
It did wing its flight on high,
And then on water cast its eye,
When it quickly did discover
A great salmon in the river.
Like lightning flash down it doth sweep
And its talons it buries deep,
In salmon of enormous size
He trys to rise in air with prize.
But all in vain he quickly found
He could not carry thirty pound,
And had bit more than he could chew
For in the air no more he flew.
Wilmot he did gaze with wonder
At the spot where he went under,
Resolved to know what was the matter
He poled his boat o'er the water.
And he looked down and there he found
That the eagle it was drowned,
And its wings in part outspread,
But alas it was quite dead.
With grappling hook he drew him out,
But attached to him was monster trout,
Eagle could not extract his claws,
And this the death of both did cause.
CAPTAIN'S ADVENTURE.
Three years ago my vessel lay
In a port of Hudson Bay,
I started off for the trading post,
But on the way back I then got lost.
And the thought soon gave me the blues,
Trudging along on my snow shoes,
Over the wastes of drifting snow,
While the wind it did fiercely blow.
I feared that I would be froze hard,
For it was a fearful blizzard,
I was growing faint and weary,
Not the slightest hopes to cheer me.
Without compass to bearing,
My yells were beyond crews' hearing,
But at last to my loud halloo
There came a mournful ho, ho.
From creature white I thought 'twas ghost,
And that I was forever lost,
I heard horrid creature flutter,
As it those strange sounds did utter.
At last I found that all this howl
Was from a noble large white owl,
And a happy apparition,
So runs the Indian tradition.
It guides the lost one in distress
And leads him out of wilderness,
This strange bird I soon follow,
And it still kept up its halloo.
It seem'd that it cried to cheer me,
I thought the ship was now near me,
As I walked o'er the banks of snow
I kept up a feeble halloo.
And but a little ways beyond
From my own crew I got respond,
With joy I was received by crew,
So happy all at my rescue.
It must be that some gentle soul
Did then inhabit that strange fowl,
But O to me 'twas wondrous fair,
For it thus saved me from despair.
The man's my foe who now doth growl
At the strange sounds made by the owl,
The sailors all they took delight
To feed this bird so pure and white.
But soon the poor bird was o'erfed,
Early one morn we found it dead,
And my breast it heaved with sighs,
And the tears poured from mine eyes.
But precious relic in glass case
I oft gaze on its kindly face,
And grateful memories it brings,
When I behold its glorious wings.
To stuff such birds I knew the art
On it I worked with my whole heart,
To preserve each grace and feature
Full of charms to me is creature.
INDIAN ROMANCE.
We know a hill is smooth and round,
Where Indian relics may be found,
This hill it hath a history,
Though enveloped in mystery.
All the youth do fondly glory
For to read an Indian story,
This hill was ancient camping ground,
In creek near by did trout abound.
And from hill top they caught a gleam
Of the river's broader stream,
They came in their birch bark canoes
Into this place of rendezvous.
When States did Canada invade,
Great Indian host was here arrayed,
Here they rallied from near and far,
In eighteen hundred and twelve war.
Chief big Wolfe led them on to war,
And bade farewell to morning star,
He wedded her one year before,
And her he fondly did adore.
To him she never seemed so sweet,
Her dress had beads worked o'er so neat,
And her toilet to complete,
Grand moccasins upon her feet.
Tribe marches and they boldly fight,
Longside of Brock on Queenstown height,
With glory they do return crowned,
Into the hill so smooth and round.
Here big Wolfe drank much fire water,
And it led to his own slaughter,
His death alas did blast and mar,
And dimmed the light of morning star.
CANADIAN HUNTER.
Of Kentucky's great hunter bold
Old Daniel Boone oft tales are told,
Of wild beasts he had no fear,
But dangers loved that pioneer.
Canada has hunters many,
Yet perhaps there is not any
For skill and boldness can compare
With our own Daniel Hebner.
In youth he was both tall and strong,
And supple as a willow thong,
He never fled from savage bear,
Though bruin on hind legs would rear.
In hunting mink, or fox or coon,
He was a second Daniel Boone,
His rifle oft brought down the deer,
Which to his table brought good cheer.
But through his life his highest aim
Was to kill the savage game,
To track the wild cat to its lair
And see its eyes so fiercely glare.
But he oft longs for a cut ham,
Sweet as from bear near to Putnam,
For he waged his fiercest war
In big swamp of Dorchester.
Now in the winter Dan he rides
Warm 'mong his bear and coon skin hides,
He lets the younger men now snare
The beaver, muskrat and otter.
FIGHT WITH A BEAR IN THE NORTHWEST.
Two youths employed at the fur fort
Resolved to have half day of sport,
From Jasper House, in the far north,
For game they joyous issued forth,
The factor of the Hudson Bay
Granted them a few hours play,
And it was in cold winter time
When thick on lake was glassy rime,
But beneath, o'er all their route,
They saw below big speckled trout,
With hatchet ice they did clear,
And the beauteous trout did spear.
Soon bear they saw and youths did skate,
Resolved for to seal his fate,
A pistol shot made bruin roar,
And from him trickled drops of gore,
They round him skate and fresh blood drew,
When they at him the hatchet threw;
He first chased one and then the other,
For men on skates did him bother,
But the bold Scottish lad McBeth
Alas he nearly met his death,
When he so boldly did press near
To probe with the sharp fish spear.
They knew their game was no trifle,
So they secured a trusty rifle,
Returning he had fled to wood,
But they traced him with his blood,
They saw the elder bushes sway
While he did force through them his way,
They skated swiftly o'er the ice
And were near brushwood in a trice,
Full soon the savage beast is slain
With rifle bullet in his brain,
And now these hunters do take pride
In skin as large as Buffalo hide.
ORIGIN OF THE TOBOGGAN.
I am a hunter by profession,
And when I make this confession,
Of what I saw with mine own eyes,
It may cause you some surprise.
But we at once now you do warn,
That this is not a made up yarn,
It happened in the interior,
Far north of Lake Superior.
When up the hill setting my traps,
I heard on trees peculiar raps,
It made me then attentive hark,
And then I heard pulling off the bark.
It was a bright and pleasant day,
The distance was three miles away,
And it caused me but slight alarm,
When they around bark placed each arm.
And threw the bark o'er their shoulder,
I being a distant beholder
Knew not what end they had in view,
But I must own my wonder grew.
When I saw those men were warm dressed
With good fur robe each one was blessed,
In single file they marched up hill
With strangest thoughts my mind did fill.
When each man in his robe began
With tough bark to make toboggan,
And quick as lightning down they slide,
It seemed to me a dangerous ride.
The spot was covered o'er with hairs,
And it seem'd mixed with blood of bears,
And my two dogs Bull and Daisy,
At sight and scent of it went crazy.
Could none of these been a true man,
Or was I gross deceived by bruin,
It was a long and glassy slide,
Reached far up the mountain side.
They had been first enjoying the fun
Of sliding down on their bare skin,
Until their hide was getting worn,
And their flesh was somewhat torn.
So Bear invented Toboggan,
Which is a blessing to young man,
And the fair maiden by his side,
For both enjoy the pleasant ride.
BEAR AND FALLS.
Strange incidents do happen ever
On the famed Niagara river,
This thought to mind it now recalls
Event three miles above the falls.
Thrilling ventures there abound,
A bear which weighed eight hundred pounds,
Hunters they do him discover
As he was swimming down the river.
They felt he would be glorious prize
This grand fat bear of mighty size,
Three men they jump'd into canoe,
A skilful and determined crew.
Soon alongside of him they row,
But kindly feelings he doth show,
Quick he scrambled o'er the boat side
For to enjoy a good boat ride.
And as o'er the side he straddles
They hit him on head with paddles,
But all in vain, so two of crew
A short time bade the bear adieu.
And soon they swiftly swam to shore,
But current down the river bore
Man, bear and boat, the sound appals
Of roaring mighty water falls.
But vigorous now he plys the oar,
In hopes to safely reach the shore,
But this made bear to grin and growl
And wear on brow a horrid scowl.
So poor man sore against his will
Finds that in boat he must keep still,
Or else be hugged to death by bear,
While sound of falls becomes more near.
But his two friends so brave and true
Row quick 'longside in a canoe,
And fire in bruin leaden balls,
Thus saving friend from bear and falls.
BROKEN RAFT ADVENTURE.
A man on Nova Scotian Bay
On broken raft was borne away,
Right out on the open sea
Where the storm did blow so free,
No shelter from the wind or wave
He thought the gulf would be his grave,
He had no food life to sustain,
He laid him down there to remain,
What happened he did know no more,
But old man on Prince Edward's shore
Saw raft drifting near his shed
And thought the poor man was quite dead,
He called for help and soon they bore
His lifeless body to the shore,
But old man he did them desire
To place the body near the fire,
And wrap it up in blankets warm,
Which did act like to a charm,
And soon the breath it did return,
With gratitude his heart did burn,
To think he was again restored
Unto his friends whom he adored.
FIGHT OF A BUFFALO WITH WOLVES.
A buffalo, lord of the plain,
With massive neck and mighty mane,
While from his herd he slowly strays,
He on green herbage calm doth graze,
And when at last he lifts his eyes
A savage wolf he soon espies,
But scarcely deigns to turn his head
For it inspires him with no dread,
He knows the wolf is treacherous foe
But feels he soon could lay him low,
A moment more and there's a pair
Whose savage eyes do on him glare,
But with contempt them both he scorns
Unworthy of his powerful horns;
Their numbers soon do multiply
But the whole pack he doth defy,
He could bound quickly o'er the plain
And his own herd could soon regain;
His foes they now are full a score
With lolling tongues pant for his gore,
He hears their teeth all loudly gnash
So eager his big bones to crash,
On every side they him infest,
The north, the south, the east, the west
Fierce rage doth now gleam from his eye,
Resolved to conquer or to die,
'Round him they yelp and howl and growl,
He glares on them with angry scowl,
They circle closer him around,
He roars and springs with mighty bound,
And of his powers gives ample proof,
Felling them with horn and hoof,
Though some lay dead upon the plain,
Yet their attack was not in vain,
For they have tasted of his blood,
Resolved it soon shall pour a flood,
He feels that they have torn his hide
And streams gush from each limb and side,
He rushes on them in despair
And tosses them full high in air,
But others rush on him and pull
Down to the earth that glorious bull;
On the flesh of this noble beast
Their bloody jaws they soon do feast,
Full worthy of a better fate
Far from his herd and his dear mate,
Who now do look for him in vain
His bones do whiten now the plain.
BEAR HUNT.
Two youths came over from York state,
Bill Brown and Tom Dawes his mate,
For many months they were wishing
The sport of hunting and of fishing.
They rowed along the lake in punt,
When tired of fishing they would hunt,
At river's mouth they caught fine trout,
In woods close by they saw bear's snout.
In front of her play little chubs,
Fat and slick her darling cubs,
Kind thoughts in their breasts they smother
And cruelly they shoot the mother.
And bullet fearful tore her jaws,
A bloody wound, but with her paws,
Erect in air an awful sight,
She was prepared for her young to fight.
But this did not daunt bold Bill Brown,
With club he tried to knock her down,
But she gave him an awful hug,
With paws she at him fierce did tug.
He would been smothered but for Dawes,
Who rescued him from her great paws,
With club he knocked her on the crown
And thus he saved the life of Brown.
She rose again with savage frown
And quickly broke two ribs for Brown,
His clothes were all torn with her claws,
She smeared with blood both Brown and Dawes.
But Dawes now quick doth end the strife
By stabbing her with hunting knife,
And now around this hunter bold
His bear skin coat keeps out the cold.
COON HUNTING.
Canadians oft by light of moon
Love to go a hunting coon,
But this our tale it is no yarn,
While chopping down tree Henry Karn
Found therein a hollow chamber
Full of coons who there did clamber,
It made them a home superior,
Warm and snug in the interior.
And he did count therein eleven
Who long had found it a safe haven,
But it is sad to read their fate,
For out of them he slaughtered eight.
But trouble to him now occurs
What shall he do with those fine furs,
Shall he grand overcoat display
Or make them into robe for sleigh.
SAILOR'S YARN.