Fenianism--A claimant for my father’s farm--A scare at Port
Oshawa--Guns, forks and clubs for fighting--Awkward squad--Guard
catch a young man out courting--The Fenian raid of 1866--A Catholic
priest taken prisoner--United States Government at last cries
“Stop!”--Adventure in high life--A youth runs away from
home--Tragic death of the mother of the runaway--Marries the
serving-maid--Wedding and funeral journey in one.
“In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;
For Love is heaven, and heaven is Love.”
Fenianism at first did not attract much attention. In 1865 rumors
continually reached us of head centres, drillings, armings, massings,
and other notes of warlike preparations among United States Fenians. Our
Government had spies promptly among them. Clever fellows they were, who
entered the lodges and wormed out all their secrets.
As the days went by and the rumors increased, gathering force by
repetition and transmission, our people began to feel alarmed. There
were very few sympathizers in Canada, but, preposterous as it may seem,
there were some, and certain of these, more valiant and outspoken than
others, talked of what they would do when the Fenians did come. Con.
Lyons, of Oshawa, a respectable man, working for his livelihood, made no
secret of saying he had chosen my father’s homestead farm as his share
in the prospective division of property taken by the Fenian invaders.
Timorous people became very nervous, and “the Fenians” were the topic of
the day.
Neighbors gathered nightly in each other’s houses, and debated over the
prospects, conjecturing and planning what they would do with their
horses and stock when the invaders landed. To run them off into the
forests seemed to be the general solution of that difficulty met in
advance by those who feared even the very next breeze from the south
might bring in a shipload of Fenians from the United States to occupy
this part of Ontario. Persons residing near the shore of Lake Ontario
began to watch for strange craft. The excitement was too tense to be
kept up long. Something must occur to quiet it down.
On the hot misty evening of June 26th, 1865, someone about Port Oshawa
saw the spars of a ship just
[Illustration: CANADIAN REBELLION, 1837-8. REFUGEES FROZEN IN AT OSWEGO,
N.Y.
BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO]
out from the shore, as if of a vessel at anchor. Anon the ship’s yawl
could be faintly descried making for the shore. The evening was very
still, and through the mist the ear helped the eye, as it were, as the
sound of oars in the row-locks could be distinctly heard. This regular
“swish” and “thud” of rowers in unison came to startled ears.
It was enough. A young man got a horse and rode for sweet life to
Oshawa, three miles away, calling aloud as he rode, “They have landed!
they have landed!”
Yet not all who had previously gathered at each other’s houses were
within hearing of the dreadful tidings of the landing. One Cumberland
man went to his neighbor’s door at midnight, knocked and called out,
“John, the Fenians have a’ com’d!”
In Oshawa town the consternation was too great and genuine to be
ludicrous, at least just then. Not a few persons loaded waggons with all
they could put on them, and climbing to the top of the furniture and
bedding drove away northward. “No Fenians should catch us!”
We were all summoned by the Colonel, John McGill, to assemble at the
town hall. My father shouldered his double-barrelled fowling-piece, and
I grasped a green “shillelah” in default of a gun, and repaired with
many others to the rendezvous. The illustration at page 236 is of the
“awkward squad” who thus mustered in valiant defence of their native
town.
It should not, however, be viewed with too critical an eye. Remember we
were all summoned at five minutes’ notice, no time being given even to
change our clothes. Every second the Fenians were expected to march up
Simcoe Street from Port Oshawa.
We prepared to march--men with guns in front, those with forks next, and
those with clubs in the rear. There were, however, many in the town who
did not prepare to march, but who ran and hid, fancying “one live coward
is worth two dead heroes.” Men, somehow, were rather scarce there just
then. We stood upon our arms, forks and clubs, waiting for the
word--which was never given.
Another horseman came from Port Oshawa, and told us a boat’s crew had
come ashore for milk and provisions, as well as to get their reckoning,
not knowing where they were. Inoffensive fellows enough, but they
deserved a drubbing for giving us needless alarm.
This state of feeling or tension was not confined to our neighborhood,
but was common to the country generally.
Finding there was no immediate attack imminent, our courage began to
rise, and we in that town hall, resting upon our arms or clubs, became
anxious to “wipe out” the enemy. Night patrols were set--first night,
men with guns; next night, those who had forks borrowed the guns; next,
club-men took their turn.
My father, always somewhat of a wag, arrested a young man about eleven
o’clock at night by threatening to fire if he did not halt. He halted.
It was young Allen, whom my father knew well. He begged hard to be let
off, but that could not be permitted unless he explained why he was out
so late. “I have just been over to Mr. Cinnamon’s to see his daughter.
Please let me go.” “Well, don’t you be caught out so late again
courting,” and he was let off for the time. In a few nights the watch
was discontinued. But no Fenians came that year.
The following year, 1866, they came and, landing, raided the shore of
Lake Erie, and the battle at Ridgeway was the result. There a number of
the militia who were called out to defend the country, many of them mere
lads, were killed. Others died later from the effects of the
over-exertion and excitement. Among the former was young Willie Tempest,
from Oshawa, a Trinity College (Toronto), student, who went to the front
with his company in the Queen’s Own Rifles.
The indignation and patriotic excitement throughout the country proved
to the invaders and any sympathizers with them within our borders that
Canadians were loyal to their own Government and would not suffer
invasion of their soil.
Called to a knowledge of the breach of national law in allowing the
arming of a hostile force within her territory, the United States
Government gave the necessary orders to her officials. This, following
the ill-success of the raid, put a stop to active Fenianism on our
western boundary line for the time.
A second somewhat similar attempt was even more quickly repulsed at
Eccles’ Hill, in the Eastern Townships, Quebec, in 1870.
Among the prisoners taken at Ridgeway was a young Catholic priest. He
was lodged in the Penitentiary at Kingston for being caught in such bad
company. At first it was thought we would keep him there, but as time
passed and the excitement against those who had caused the loss of our
men cooled, sorrow for the unfortunate misguided young father softened
our hearts. The prison doors were opened, he was bidden depart and be
seen no more in our land. He said he would not, and I believe he has
kept his word faithfully.
* * * * *
“Born with a silver spoon in his mouth” is a very laconic way Canadians
have of expressing the case of a child born of rich parents. The young
man of the following sketch was the only son and probable heir to
riches, both on the father’s and mother’s side. He had a sister, it is
true, who would likely inherit a proportion of the family wealth. In
that respect Canadians are like the people of the British Isles, who do
not intend the daughters to share equally with the sons. Among our
American cousins they have broken off from the old traditions, and the
girls inherit equally with the boys.
Unfortunately for this youth he did not get on well with his father, nor
did he shine very brilliantly at school, but through all he was ever the
mother’s favorite.
After the completion of the Canadian Pacific Rail-wax-many of the young
men of the older Provinces were disposed to try their luck in British
Columbia. Among such adventurers were two lads of the same town, and
schoolmates of this young man. This fact probably fired his ambition,
for in midwinter these two boys were joined by the young heir. Together
they ran away, going direct to Golden, a point on the new line of
railway in British Columbia. His mother had provided him with some
funds, else they had found it difficult to survive through the
approaching winter. Arrived at Golden, they secured a tent and lived in
it when the mercury registered 20° (Fah.) below zero. It is very
evident the lad had good “grit,” as is said in America, to thus come
straight from luxury to live and lodge with nothing between him and that
awful cold but a little cotton web.
On the ice breaking up in the spring the three runaways secured a strong
row-boat and ascended the Columbia River six days’ journey, voyaging by
day and camping by night upon the shore. At their journey’s end they
bought a ranch, built a cabin on it, and took up housekeeping, each one
in turn being cook. Thus two seasons passed away, and no word was sent
home direct to the parents of our youth. They had heard of him only
indirectly through the parents of the two other runaways.
The mother, though surrounded by luxury and comfort, with every wish
gratified, could no longer endure the separation, so she determined to
go and see that erring son, even if at the risk of her life, for she was
a woman whose health was uncertain and had been so for some years.
First, she had a Peterboro’ cedar canoe built, capable of easily
carrying five persons, and had it shipped by Canadian Pacific Railway to
Golden, B.C., the objective point from which the son had set out.
Taking her uncle as an escort, and her maid, she set out on the
fatiguing journey. Arrived at Golden, she took possession of the boat
and provisioned it for the voyage up the Columbia. Camping at night
with nothing but the blue canopy of heaven for a covering, they reached
the ranch at last. Then an unlooked-for thing occurred. The young
runaway laid siege to the serving-maid’s heart, and was determined to
marry her. In her precarious state of health, however, the mother, not
approving of the match, refused, and said she needed the girl to take
care of her. After a stay of some three weeks with her son at the ranch
(where the runaways were ostensibly raising horses), the mother and her
party returned to Golden, finding the journey down stream comparatively
easy. From Golden they made their way to Victoria, and thence by sea to
San Francisco, proceeding then to Santa Barbara, Southern California.
The mother hoped the mild climate would restore her health. She occupied
tasteful quarters, and for a time her health improved. She was able to
enjoy the flowers and out-of-door life and pleasures. In Southern
California their midwinter days are days of sunshine; picnics and such
pastimes are truly enjoyable. She was not, however, to enjoy them long,
for death came very suddenly and without a moment’s warning.
When the tidings of her death reached the son, he came at once that he
might convey the remains to the home in Ontario. Meeting the maid again,
and forgetful of his mother’s wishes, he married her, and took her with
him to his old home. Truly a strange journey, his bride with him, and
his mother’s dead body in the baggage car on the same train. From his
mother the lad inherited tens of thousands of dollars, and is probably
heir to many more.