Waubakosh--Making potash--Prosperous settlers--Outbreak of war of
1812--Transporting military supplies--Moode Farewell’s
hotel--“Here’s to a long and moderate war”--A lieutenant’s
misfortune--“Open in the King’s name”--Humors of the
time--Ingenious foragers--Hidden specie--Hardships of the U. E.
Loyalists.
“Now push the mug, my jolly boys,
And live while we can,
To-morrow’s sun may end our joys,
For brief’s the hour of man,
And he who bravely meets the foe
His lease of life can never know.”
Waubakosh was an Indian chief of the Mississaugaus. Every fall, from the
year 1808 to 1847, he came with his tribe (or at least 150 of them) to
the shore of Lake Ontario, that he and they might fish.
Their lodges were almost invariably constructed on the bank of a creek,
near its mouth, that they might take the salmon ascending the stream in
November to spawn, and fish in the lake from their boats, with
light-jack and spear, for sturgeon.
[Illustration: LOGGING SCENE. ROGER CONANT IN DARLINGTON, CO. DURHAM,
UPPER CANADA, 1778.]
First he came as a young Indian brave, before he became chief, and, on
attaining the chieftainship and a wife, the only difference which the
few white settlers here at that time could discover in his attire was
that his deerskin leggings were more beautifully fringed at the seams,
and his moccasins likewise were more elaborately wrought with porcupine
quills.
Waubakosh was never known to commit a mean act. He was always friendly,
and every succeeding fall his coming back was looked for with certainty
by the white settlers, who got their living in the clearings and from
the waters, as much hunters and fishermen as farmers.
On bidding his white friends good-bye, about December, 1847, as he set
out for the Indian encampment about Nottawasaga, in the thick woods, the
Indian chief expressed the fear that he might never come back again. His
fears were only too well founded, for he never did return. Old residents
who knew him have been heard many times to wonder what was his ultimate
fate. More strange still to say, not one of his tribe ever came back
again to lodge any length of time. A noble-looking red man, he has been
described as tall and straight, with a good face and a pleasant eye--in
very truth, one of Nature’s noblemen.
Many of his companions who predeceased him were buried near his
camping-place on Lake Ontario. Their tomahawks, beads, flints, spears,
ornaments, and buttons, and their skulls as well, have been found in
recent years by those seeking for traces of the aboriginal red man.
* * * * *
As a means of money making, next to the fur trading in Upper Canada came
the making of potash. Ashes were about in plenty, and were easily
gathered from the burnt heaps of logs.
In the illustration facing page 97 the artist has endeavored to show the
intense heat required. The fire about the kettle is blazing furiously.
This is the “melting scene,” and the last firing before the potash will
be done. The driest and most inflammable wood was needed to secure the
great heat that was necessary.
Potash, from 1800 to about 1840, brought some $40 per barrel in Upper
Canada, and with the fur trading helped to make wealth for my grandsire
and others.
On the breaking out of the war of 1812, between Britain and the United
States, the settlers in Upper Canada were generally on the high road to
prosperity, cultivating a land as fertile as any under heaven outside
the valley of the Nile, and with less waste land than in any country of
like extent. Such was and is Upper Canada. It is blessed, too, with a
mild, salubrious climate, where the four seasons are distinctly marked.
We have seen that husbandry, begun about 1812, gradually became a
national industry. Wheat at that time could only be sold for one-half
cash and one-half store-pay. The usual price was two shillings (Halifax)
per bushel, or about 48 cents, and it was almost invariably fall wheat.
The author’s ancestors did considerable at farming, but were mainly fur
traders and producers of potash up to the time of the war. Clothing was
almost invariably hand-spun and woven. Deer-skin, however, was largely
used for men’s leggings, moccasins, and even women’s dresses.
A story is told of a young girl having one dress only, which was made of
deer-skin. By many weeks’ constant wear it had become soiled. One day,
while all were away, she embraced the opportunity to wash this precious
deer-skin garment, and dry it before the fire. When the family returned
they found the girl in bed weeping because she had no dress. It had
shrunken so much as to be too small to wear again.
When the war of 1812 was declared, the British Government was anxious to
send cannon and military supplies into Upper Canada from Montreal. At
first these were sent by water (see page 104), but later on the fear of
capture by the enemy caused them to be sent by land. A main highway,
leading from York to Kingston, had been surveyed by the Government and
chopped out of the forest. In many places, however, the settlers being
so few, it had from disuse become overgrown again with young forest,
making it impassable for laden waggons. It was known generally as the
“Kingston Road.” At some places it lay quite close to the lake, and at
others receded two or three miles inland; consequently only some
sections were used for traffic in 1812. One of these sections was at
Harmony, a small village one mile east from Oshawa.
Here a large frame hotel had been built, kept by one Moode Farewell.
This was one of the stopping places or houses of entertainment for the
military men who passed to and from Montreal and York during the war.
The illustration given at page 122 is from a water-color drawing made
from a photograph of this hotel. Joviality and good cheer were
characteristic of it, and many a merry night was spent there by the
British officers. Many times my grandfather saw them call for liquors in
the bar-room on arrival, each grasp his glass, touch his companion’s and
drink to the usual toast of “Here’s to a long and moderate war.” Could
those old walls speak to-day they would recall the many, many times this
toast was given.
Fun, too, was always in order. One evening a young lieutenant, a recent
arrival from Britain, came in. The heavy rain had soaked his thin
buckskins and leggings. On leaving the bar-room for supper he hung them
to dry on a chair back before the fire-place--a great cavernous
fire-place, large enough to take in a four-foot back log two feet in
diameter.
My mischievous grandsire watched the leggings and helped them on with
their drying by placing them squarely before the fire. When the young
lieutenant came out from supper his consternation was amusing. His
property had become a shrivelled, hard piece of buckskin, shapeless and
useless.
“Why did you not mind my leggings?” he cried wrathfully. “Oh, I did mind
them well--just see how dry they are,” was the reply. General laughter
followed, and the “long and moderate war” toast was again drunk.
Moode Farewell, the owner and keeper of this hotel, was the father of a
numerous family, many of whom and of their descendants have risen to
high places both in Canada and the United States. He was a man of
boundless energy, pluck and endurance, and amassed a considerable
fortune.
About eight miles westerly from Farewell’s was Lynde’s tavern, on the
Kingston Road. Between these two points, on the way from York to
Montreal, the Government had frequent occasion to have despatches
passed during the war. As he had promised Governor Simcoe on coming into
Upper Canada in 1794, Roger Conant aided the Government, even if he did
not fight for it, by carrying despatches between these two points
whenever he was called on so to do. His house stood very near the shore
of the lake, a new and larger one having been constructed near the
first. Along the lake shore, past this house, the heavy freight and
military supplies were drawn.
Frequently during the continuance of the war of 1812 a midnight summons
came to him, first a knock at the door, and then the demand, “Open in
the King’s name!”
“In a moment, gentlemen,” was the answer, and as soon as ordinary garb
could be assumed the officers were admitted.
“Get your oxen, sir, and draw a gun to York” came the command.
“Certainly, gentlemen, but can’t you wait a moment, that I may feed the
oxen before setting out?”
By placing food and good cheer before the officers and men sufficient
time usually was gained, but after once starting out no stop would be
permitted until the fort at York was reached, about thirty-five miles
westerly along the beach, the intervening streams being crossed by
wading. Sometimes the freight to be hauled consisted of other military
supplies.
Rough and formal as the soldiers were, my grandfather said the officers
were invariably fine men, and he was always well paid in coin when he
reached the fort at York. On one occasion, on arrival with a gun, the
commissary officer came to him and asked if he would sell a yoke of his
oxen. Nothing loth, he consented £14 (Halifax) were handed him, and the
oxen became beef for the garrison. This was a very lucrative trip, with
the pay for hauling and for the oxen, and the country served at the same
time.
The records of the time are not without the humorous side. The following
recount some of the tricks of the soldiers, always ready to add variety
to their bill-of-fare:
Skirting along the shore, and pulling up their boats at night, came some
troops on their way to Toronto, who were billeted to lodge with a
settler for a night. Now, this settler had a number of hogs, and on
arising next morning he missed one from the lot. Supposing the soldiers
had stolen it, he at once complained to the captain in command, who
instituted a thorough search among all the boats, but all to no
purpose--the hog was not to be found, and the command set off. Upon
landing the following night after the day’s row the missing hog came to
light. The captain, puzzled to know how it could be so successfully
concealed, offered pardon to the offenders if they would only tell how
they concealed it. Taken at his word, they showed the captain how they
had opened the hog down the front its whole length, and placed it like a
sheath on the keel of the boat, so that the water thoroughly hid it, and
nailed it there. Of course, no one thought of looking into the water
under the boat for the hog. It would be superfluous to add that the
captain had fresh pork for supper that night.
At another time, as the troops were marching past a settler’s house they
came upon a flock of geese. After the men had passed one of the geese
was discovered missing, and the owner came to the camp that night and
demanded a search for it. A most thorough search was instituted among
the camp baggage, but no bird was found. Next day, however, while on the
march, the captain had a part of this goose brought to him at his meal.
After partaking of the toothsome dish his wrath was no doubt much
mollified, and he asked how they had brought the goose along, seeing no
visible way of doing it. His surprise was great to learn that the
drummer of the troop had unheaded his drum and placed the bird inside.
Well, these poor fellows deserved well of this country for the hardships
which they encountered in its protection, and they were right royally
welcome to both hog and goose, and should be freely forgiven.
[Illustration: DURHAM BOATS ASCENDING RIVER ST. LAWRENCE, WITH GOODS FOR
INDIAN FUR TRADING.]
Sometimes oxen were impressed to draw specie to Toronto, and the old men
used to say that they would far rather draw the cannon than the specie.
While drawing the latter, which was in boxes about a foot square, the
guards were very strict, and would not allow much rest for the driver or
the oxen. Like the story of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure, there have
been stories told of a box of this specie being hidden while on the way
by the officer in command. It has been a rumor current among old 1812
men that a box of specie was placed in one of the gullies near the lake
shore on the Scarboro’ Heights. From all that can be gathered, it would
appear true that some specie was deposited there. Persons armed with
various amalgams on the ends of sticks, others with witch-hazel twigs,
have searched for this specie. It is more than probable, however, that
the officer who hid it came back for it after the war was over.
The lot of the U. E. Loyalists who came here was one hard enough to
deter the most resolute among us to-day from willingly entering upon its
like. Those of us who would voluntarily for patriotism, or even for
money, enter upon such a wild heroic life of toil are few, very few
indeed. Think of going from Oshawa to Kingston to mill as one of the
hardships they had to contend with. Yet they laid the foundation of
fortunes for their successors, and those who held on to their inherited
lands are to-day among the richest families in Ontario. They, at least,
have particular cause to be loyal and faithful for the good they have
received at their country’s hands. But those holding on to these royal
grants are very few indeed as compared with the number who originally
inherited them. I do not think I can count more than a dozen families
to-day, between Toronto and Kingston, who own these grants in direct
descent by inheritance.