_Colonel Talbot’s residence—Camp-meeting—Barn—Mrs Aldgeo—Moravian
Indian village—Cheap fruit—Runaway slaves—Excursion to Bear
Creek—Mr Goose—Soil—Agricultural Notices—River Thames—Unhealthy
appearance of inhabitants—Chatham—Plains—John Macdonald—Colborne
Furnace—Neighbourhood of Amherstburgh—French inn._
In travelling from London to St Thomas, we were told of a Methodist
camp-meeting in the neighbourhood; and as I had long been anxious to see
one, we agreed to attend on the Sunday, when the meeting would be
fullest. Early in the morning, people, in waggons and on horseback, were
streaming in crowds through St Thomas towards the meeting, and as I was
afraid of losing patience before evening, when the richest scene is said
to take place, we embraced an offer of going to Colonel Talbot’s in the
forenoon, distant about twelve miles west from St Thomas. The colonel’s
residence may be described as a cluster of mean wooden buildings,
consisting of dwelling-houses, stables, barns, pigstyes, and
cattle-shades, constructed and placed seemingly without regard either to
convenience or effect, commanding a view of Lake Erie, from which it is
distant about 200 yards, and at the mouth of Ottar creek, a small brook,
with clay banks of considerable height. The clay banks behind the
colonel’s house have a barren and naked appearance, while the lake in
front is too near. The situation, nevertheless, has capabilities to make
a fine place, when taste shall build a habitation. The garden, which was
badly kept, contained some fine apple and pear trees, which we viewed
from the outside of the fence. There were a few weeping willows, the
first I saw in Canada, and which raised the colonel considerably in my
estimation, as they are not, I believe, indigenous to the country.
The cleared ground may extend to about 200 acres, and is partly clay and
partly sand. The fences and general appearance of the place seem to mark
the Colonel as an indifferent manager, both with regard to neatness and
profit.
On the creek there is a site of a mill, which was burnt down by the
Yankees during the war, and which remains unrepaired. The colonel is
said to have narrowly escaped being captured at this time, by a party of
Americans, who came intentionally to take him prisoner. The colonel, at
the time of their arrival, happened, it is said, to be occupied in
milking cows in the fields, and thereby escaped detection till he
reached the woods.
It was my intention at one time to have introduced myself to the
colonel, who was observed standing at his door, when we were only a few
hundred yards distant; but the accounts received in the neighbourhood
induced me to think there was very little chance of our interview being
attended with pleasure, and I withdrew without making his acquaintance.
We returned to St Thomas, which we left at half-past four, in a waggon,
for the camp-meeting, and on our way met multitudes of people on their
return home. It now became evident we had been too late in visiting the
meeting, to see the greatest assemblage, but consoled ourselves that the
most fervent worshippers would be more readily distinguished. Our waggon
was left within a mile of the meeting, and we proceeded on foot through
the forest. The ground in the midst of the forest had been prepared for
the occasion, having had the brush or underwood removed, and trees laid
in parallel rows, by way of seats, for five or six hundred people. On
entering a square, formed by tents, in which the people reside for four
or five days together, I was disappointed at the smallness of the
assemblage, which did not exceed three hundred souls. Many people were
walking up and down, engaged in mirthful conversation, and five or six
small groups were standing in different parts, singing hymns in a low
tone. At this moment I observed a comely young woman in front of a tent,
laughing and nodding familiarly to a numerous acquaintance, which
induced me to think she might be engaged in attending a tent for
entertaining the company. She bore a striking likeness to a valued
friend in Scotland; and while engaged in tracing the resemblance,
feature by feature, she and a younger companion jumped into a waggon,
and seated themselves in a conspicuous situation, as if wishing to
attract attention. On walking round the square, I was riveted to the
spot by the sweetness of a young lady’s voice, dressed in white, with a
very broad gipsy straw-bonnet, and black veil hanging over her shoulder.
Her figure was above the middle size, slender and graceful, her features
expressive and handsome. She was accompanied by another lady, wearing a
bonnet and veil of the same description, and a gentleman, seemingly her
sister and brother, and all were engaged in singing. From the appearance
of things, I concluded the people had a short time before been engaged
in taking tea.
A little while after entering the square, five or six old men placed
themselves in front of a rude platform erected for the preachers, and
commenced singing in a loud strain, on hearing which the different small
parties came and joined the old men. The singing lasted about ten
minutes, when praying succeeded, and each individual pronounced a
different prayer aloud. At this time a minister placed himself on the
platform or pulpit, and in a stentorian voice, ejaculated an impassioned
prayer, which, by degrees, excited the feelings of the people below him,
and when they reached what he, perhaps, considered the proper key, he
descended and joined them on his knees.
I was standing close beside the worshippers, on a trough used for
collecting the juice of the maple in spring, leaning my back against a
tree, and gazing on the extraordinary scene. Many individuals of both
sexes were bellowing at the utmost pitch of their voice, and clapping
their hands in seeming transport; others were whining supplicatory
strains, and wringing their hands in despair. The comely young woman and
her companion, formerly noticed, joined the group in a standing position
in the first instance; they soon became bathed in tears, and ultimately
joined in prayer in a state of high excitement. A very emaciated old
woman, with dishevelled locks of silvery whiteness, shrieked so loud and
piteously, that the minister’s voice became unheard, and something like
a thrill of uneasiness vibrated on my nerves. Such was the confusion and
discord, that I was unable to collect two connecting sentences from the
prayer of any individual. When the devotees had seemingly reached the
highest pitch to which their feelings would strain, the lady with the
gipsy bonnet stepped forward near to where I was standing, and commenced
singing in the most soothing and melodious tone. She was joined by her
sister and brother, and soon afterwards by all the sect. In this manner
prayer and praise succeeded each other, during which the feelings of the
worshippers were alternately excited and lulled by minister and nymph,
like ocean by tempest and calm.
Many bystanders were laughing at the exclamations and postures of the
worshippers; others were reading newspapers, or carelessly engaged in
conversation. One individual, more prominent in his ridicule than the
rest, was rebuked for his conduct by one of the sect, when a controversy
ensued between the parties, who were listened to by a crowd collected
around them. On approaching the disputants, one was openly avowing his
unbelief in the Bible, and the other, without meekness, condemning his
sentiments and conduct; but neither possessing the power of arranging an
argument, I left them engaged in the hopeless task of trying to convince
each other.
There was something so different in the impassioned supplications of the
minister, whose aim seemed to be to rouse the feelings, without
impressing the minds, of his audience—in the time, place, and manner of
addressing the Supreme Being, so different to what I had been accustomed
to in the Presbyterian worship of Scotland, that at first I could not
believe the sect was addressing the same Deity. The earnest, excited, I
may say hysterical, devotions of one party, the indifference and
unrestrained scoffing of the other, gave rise to such conflicting
emotions, that I arranged to meet my friend in half an hour, and retired
from the multitude.
In the meantime, fires had been lighted up on the ground in different
parts of the square, one six feet high near the platform, and a few
candles were glimmering in the tents. The foliage of the maple and oak,
so remarkable for richness and variety of autumnal tints, formed a
beautiful canopy over the heads of the people, and, when gilded by the
flames of blazing fagots, and intermingled by rising sparks, had a
supernatural and solemn effect. Could I have alone contemplated nature
unconnected with the part humanity was acting, my enjoyment might have
been great, but the wailings of fellow-beings, and the shouts of boys on
reaching the ground, disturbed returning repose.
On again approaching my friend, a preacher was thanking the Almighty for
the manifestations of his goodness since they had met together, and
concluded by requesting all who desired to be released from their sins,
to accompany him to another place, and a procession to the place ensued.
This consisted of a small enclosure, formed by a single rail of
saplings, nailed to the standing trees, in the centre of which were two
branchless trunks lying parallel to each other, and is perhaps what is
termed the pen. Here the preacher again requested all who earnestly
desired to be relieved from their sins, to come within the lines which
had been prepared for them.
The whole devotees then prayed promiscuously aloud, and when at the
height of excitement, the nymph of the gipsy bonnet commenced singing,
standing on the outside of the enclosure, and was joined by the people
within.
When the singing ceased, it was announced that Brother Fraiser was to
preach, and the people assembled around the shade on the seats prepared
for them, after being repeatedly requested to do so. At the conclusion
of praise and prayer, a text was given out, and sermon commenced. Mr
Fraiser now discovered that he was hoarse, perhaps from previous
exertion, and in the midst of his apology to the audience, I took my
leave at half-past eight o’clock.
The devotees were few in number, perhaps not more than sixty, and almost
either old men or young women, the Irish brogue being conspicuous
amongst the former. They seemed of the lowest class, not more than
half-a-dozen of well-dressed people being amongst them. There were four
ministers.
I could not divine why the pretty creature with the gipsy bonnet did not
join in prayer, and commenced singing at the proper time. Could her
bonnet and clothes be too fine for kneeling and tossing on the ground
like others, or had she a part to act?
At the time of my departure, there might be nearly three hundred people
on the ground, including all descriptions, amongst whom were fifteen or
twenty females, unconnected with the sect, and a great many boys. On
walking from the meeting, many youths were met on their way to it.
It is but justice for me to say, that I did not witness any act of
impropriety or indecency by the attenders of the camp-meeting; but
whether this arose from the character of the people, the time of night,
or my want of discernment, others may determine. The meeting was,
however, a small one, and in a part of the country not likely to have
furnished many examples of disregardless profligacy. Whether
camp-meetings are favourable to the cause of genuine religion, is matter
of dispute, and the greater part of those whom I heard speak on the
subject, supported the negative side of the question. Perhaps the matter
is oftener determined by feeling than reason. It would be presumption to
give a decided opinion on so serious a subject, with such limited
opportunity of judging; but something extraordinary will occur to induce
me again to visit a camp-meeting. This may be prejudice.
On leaving the camp-meeting, we proceeded to a tavern five miles
distant, on reaching which we learned that the beds and floors were so
occupied, that we could not gain admittance. We, however, obtained
permission to lodge ourselves in the barn, which, on scrambling over
several rail fences, we found open, and occupied by human beings snoring
in full chorus. The mows of grain being of different heights, we
ascended to the attics, where we passed the night. The grain seemed to
have been lately carried in, its upper surface being moist from
sweating, which, joined to currents of air passing through the openings
in the roof, rendered me so cold, that I had recourse to my flannel
shirt for the first and last time between leaving Montreal and New York.
Next morning I awoke from a sound sleep, and, like a dog, put myself to
rights by a shake, shouldered my knapsack, and took the road at
half-past four o’clock, in as good walking trim as at any former period
of my life.
The day proved hot—we dined at Delaware, a village of seven or eight
houses, situated on the Thames, over which there is a bridge, and the
road passes to the north side of the river. I was anxious to be present
at a sale of Crown lands, which was to take place at Chatham next day,
but we could not obtain the means of transport, and no alternative
remained but jogging along on foot. We called at the land-office at
Caradoc, and reached Mrs Aldgeo’s tavern an hour after nightfall, where
we found two gentlemen who had passed us on the road in the afternoon,
and one of whom I had seen at York. They were going to the sale of Crown
lands at Chatham, which one of them did not reach in time, and the other
remained at Mrs Aldgeo’s, having been slightly injured by a fall from a
waggon.
Mrs Aldgeo’s tavern is a log-house of mean appearance, having two
apartments—a kitchen, and room for all purposes. It is, however, the
most comfortable house of entertainment in this part of the country,
owing to the excellent management and good-humour of the hostess. Four
individuals slept in the same appartment, in two clean beds, in which we
were told, by way of recommendation, the Chief-Justice and
Attorney-General had slept a few nights before.
The next morning proved wet, which enabled me to see a little of the
economy of the establishment; and I particularly remarked a poor fowl
very unceremoniously knocked off a rail fence with a stick, and in the
space of twenty minutes presented at table in the shape of an excellent
stew. Mrs Aldgeo is a genuine Irish lady, from the old country, and her
kindness and loquacity during breakfast, which she served out, were
unbounded. She did not always wait for an answer to her questions; and
with a few pauses, held forth in the following manner:—
“I was married at the age of twenty-four to Aldgeo, then eighteen and
a-half, and the finest-looking man in the world. I lost him six years
ago, God rest his soul! it was a sad loss to me as—but of this no more.
Yes, my poor dead husband left four horses, fifteen sheep, twenty cows,
forty hogs, ox chains, auger, gimlet, and other farm utensils. Will you
take something more, Mr ——? I will help you to a little more of the
fowl; you must eat while under my charge, and not become thin—there,
take an egg. Here is an elegant potato from the garden, where they are
planted for the old woman, as she has not time to go to the fields. My
boy will sometimes say, ah, mother, leave the gentlemen to themselves;
but I like to press old-country gentlemen, when not proud. I never press
Yankees; them boys help themselves. Yankee women are lazy
good-for-nothings, eating cake and sucking sugar all day long. I attend
to man and beast. Yes, there is no one to assist me in the house, and I
look to the fowls, hogs, and cows; in the evenings, my feet are like to
drop out of my shoes. Do you see that field on the opposite side of the
road?—my hands burnt all the brush on that field. Do take some of the
bread baked by the old woman; I bake some every afternoon—that is
handsome bread. The Scotch lawyer below, with the wooden leg, and angel
children, brought his pretty little wife here to learn to make bread. I
use no barm, but mix two parts of milk and one of water together, add a
spoonful of salt, a little flour, and let them stand ten or twelve hours
by the fire. Then make the bread with milk, as water gives it a black
colour. I make my own soap—oh, darling soap—and never boil it. My boys
have not taken wives, but my two eldest daughters are married. Did you
observe an elegant store at the corner of —— in London? that belongs to
my daughter’s husband. My youngest girl is at a boarding-school in
London, where two ladies from England have lately commenced, and I pay
for my girl $39 a-year.”
The rain ceasing about noon, we left Mrs Aldgeo’s, and reached
Howardbridge to tea, where the road passes to the south side of the
Thames. The roads were fatiguing in consequence of their wetness, and we
gladly accepted of an offer, made by two gentleman in a waggon, to carry
our knapsacks, and in whose company we next day travelled to Chatham,
where we spent the night. Some time before reaching Chatham, I obtained
a draught of water from a young girl on the banks of the Thames, to whom
I proffered a piece of money, which she declined, saying, she never
accepted money for such things. At this time my British habits were not
altogether laid aside.
The soil on the banks of the Thames, from the point where the St Thomas
road joins that from London to Sandwich, is oak openings, seemingly of
inferior quality, all the way to Delaware, and from thence, to six miles
below Mrs Aldgeo’s tavern, poor clay, with small stunted wood. From
this, passing through the site of the old Moravian Indian village, the
soil is poor sand, and a little farther on, becomes loam of the best
quality.
The Moravian Indian village is situated on a bend of the Thames, and the
surrounding lands were bearing luxuriant crops of Indian corn. The old
village was burnt by the Americans during the last war, and on its site,
a mile to the Math of the present one, some fine apple-trees are
standing, the fruit of which we found agreeable as quenching thirst.
Here I observed, for the first time, a species of hawthorn with glossy
leaves, of a smaller size, more numerous prickles, branching, and of
taller growth than the common hawthorn of the country, and apparently a
better hedge-plant. On the banks of the Thames, above Chatham,
(_Celestina Scandens_,) a climbing plant, with beautiful orange-coloured
berries, was first observed growing luxuriantly on many trees, entwined
with the vine. Apple-trees are numerous near the river, and the crop so
abundant, that they were breaking under their load. I was offered any
quantity of fruit at 1½d. sterling per bushel, gathering it myself. The
peaches were also a great crop. A pear-tree was seldom seen.
In the evening, we walked down the banks of the Thames, for the purpose
of procuring horses for an excursion, and succeeded in our mission. In
returning, we observed two men of colour crossing the river in a canoe,
and leading a horse, which was swimming. On entering into conversation
with them, I learned they were brothers from Kentucky, and both farmed
on lease, one of them renting 190 acres on the banks of the river, fifty
of which were cleared, for $20 per annum. On asking if they had run away
from Kentucky, one of them answered in the affirmative, and replied,
laughingly, I suppose you have also run away. A great many people of
colour are settled in the Western parts of Upper Canada, almost all of
whom are runaway slaves from the United States.
On the morning of the 5th September we left Chatham for Bear creek,
under the guidance of Mr John Goose, who owned a property on the banks
of the Thames, four miles below Chatham, inherited from his father, who
was one of the original settlers. Mr Goose was a sensible, well-informed
man, of a weakly constitution, and had let his farm on shares to a
Yankee, by which he obtained half the produce for his labour. Mr Goose
rode a brown mare, with a filly foal running at her feet, in the
language of the country styled a colt, a term applied to the young of
the mares, without regard to sex. My friend C—— and I rode chestnuts, or
sorrels, without shoes, the reins were stout ropes, and the saddles
without panels or girths. On, however, we jogged up the Thames, and
crossed over to Bear creek, which we reached about four o’clock, and got
some refreshment at the house of Mr Goose’s brother-in-law, whom we
found sowing wheat. The ostensible object of our journey was to examine
some lots of land which had been offered us by letter in the township of
Dawne, and regarding the situation of which we could not obtain
information till arriving on the creek, when we learned it was in the
opposite direction where we were, and so swampy that no person could
live on it. We then commenced descending the stream, and passed the
night with Mr B——, friend to Mr Goose, sleeping soundly on the floor.
Next morning, we descended the creek four or five miles below, where its
waters are on a level with those of Lake St Clair, and crossed over to
the Thames, which we passed below Chatham in a canoe, swimming the
horses by its side. Here we parted with Mr Goose, much pleased with his
conduct, paying him $4, or 16s. 8d. sterling, for the services of three
horses and himself two days.
The soil, on the banks of the Thames, varies from soft sand to strong
clay, and may generally be termed heavy loam. Our first and most
easterly line from the Thames to Bear creek was poor sand, gradually
improving to fine loam on approaching the creek. The banks of the creek
showed the richest description of sandy loam; and much of what is termed
bottom land, more especially above Mr B——’s property, is perhaps too
rich for first crops. This richest of land, extending to both sides of
the creek, and containing a thousand acres, was unoccupied, for sale,
and could have been bought at about $3 per acre. Our lower line, from
Bear creek to the Thames, was invariably fine loam.
I consider the soil on the banks of the Thames, around Chatham, superior
to what I saw on Bear creek, from containing a greater portion of clay;
both are, however, excellent, and objectionable only on account of their
lowness, and proximity to the marshy plains around Lake St Clair, though
only ten or twelve feet above its waters, yet twenty miles distant from
its shore. The forest exhibited few cradle knolls, which proves the soil
of stronger texture than that of Blenheim, Wilmot, or the neighbourhood
of Goderich, cradle knolls being a sure indication of sand, except where
trees are prostrated by a whirlwind or hurricane.
The agriculture of the Thames and Bear creek do not merit much notice.
Bear creek, and the country between it and the Thames, is very thinly
settled, and the clearances of small extent. The habitations are mean,
and the inhabitants seemingly poor, and without enterprise or industry.
The chief market has hitherto been Detroit, and the population have, in
a great measure, been shut out from the rest of the world. Mr B—— told
me thirty bushels of wheat have been given for a bushel of salt—now five
is the price. I did not see a clearance of any extent going on, while
some portion of rich cleared soil had been abandoned or neglected; and
when overgrown with weeds, and destitute of grass, exhibited complete
sterility. Natural clover of any kind was not visible, nor had the seeds
of any been sown. The settlers had never applied any manure, and seemed
to lead easy lives. The wheat harvest was gathered previous to my visit.
Buck wheat was uniformly a poor crop, being injured by drought, and in
many cases also by frost. Indian corn was by no means good. A field of
barley on Bear creek, as the first crop on bottom land, was destroyed by
mildew. A portion of millet on the same field was uninjured, and the
only instance in which I have seen such a crop.
Bear creek is a small stream, about half the size of the Thames, and
propels two grist mills, and a third at Mr B——’s is being erected. We
examined the lowest mill; the water-power was not economically applied;
the house without a door; the machinery entirely of wood; and the whole
erection a bauble of the worst construction. There were perhaps fifty
small parcels of wheat for grinding in the mill, and six or seven people
were waiting to carry away their flour. This mill cannot make marketable
flour at present, and its undurable construction may be considered
fortunate for settlers. Grist mills are much wanted in the country, none
being effective on the Thames, and I was told wheat has actually come
from Michigan to be ground at this wretched mill.
The river Thames, the letters of which are invariably pronounced soft by
the inhabitants of the country, is of small size, incapable of moving
machinery for want of fall, and when seen by me, perhaps not more than
equal to the power of a grist mill with one good pair of stones, if fall
could be obtained. The banks are low and uninteresting. The water is on
a level with Lake St Clair, and is navigable five miles above Chatham.
Having entered the houses of many of the settlers on Bear creek and the
Thames, and observed the countenances of hundreds of people seen on
roads and in fields, I was particularly struck with the sallow, dried,
and sickly appearance of the inhabitants. Perhaps, in the course of
three days’ travelling, I did not meet half-a-dozen of healthy-looking
individuals;—a recently-imported old-countryman could always be
distinguished by his complexion, and often, also, by his portliness of
figure. While speaking on this subject, Mr Goose did not like the
chuncky (stout) appearance of Britons, and could not comprehend why the
skin of their faces seemed to creep like Muscovado sugar. Ague was
evidently not a stranger to the country; and a lodger in the tavern at
Chatham was suffering under the complaint.
Chatham is on the south bank of the Thames. Twelve months ago it was
said to contain only five or six houses; now there are nearly twenty. It
is visited by steam-boats; and from being situated at what may be termed
the head of the Thames navigation, it is certain of rising at no distant
day. There is a rumour of making Chatham, instead of Sandwich, the seat
of the district courts, which would be a more convenient situation; but
the growth of Chatham seems to be independent of this alteration.
After parting with Mr Goose, and dining at Chatham hotel, kept by Mr
Cartier, a French Canadian, and who was enlarging his house from an
increase of business, we engaged Israel Williams, a man of colour, who
owned an excellent farm in the vicinity of Chatham, to carry us with a
waggon and pair of horses south to Lake Erie, and round the lake and
Detroit river to Sandwich.
Two roads led to Lake Erie, one by what was called the town line, and
another across the plains. Having heard much of the plains from Mr
Goose, who said all the farmers in the neighbourhood cut hay from them,
and that a squatter had been successful in growing crops, although
considered barren, I was anxious to see the plains; and accordingly took
them on our way to the lake, although Israel Williams had never
travelled the road.
We left Chatham about half-past nine, and soon reached the plains, two
miles north of Chatham. At the east end, where we passed through, they
consist of an area between two and three miles wide, and as far as the
eye could reach to the westward, destitute of trees, except small spots
here and there, bearing shrubs and stunted trees of various sizes, and
which resembled islands in a lake. A number of dwarfish willows were
growing in most places, and the grass consisted chiefly of two species,
which occasionally reached the horses’ ears. A number of beautiful
flowering plants adorned the plains, but being thoroughly wet, and rain
falling heavily at the time, my botanizing zeal abated, and I contented
myself with adding the seeds of four or five to my collection, gathered
without descending from the waggon. Williams missed the tract leading
into the forest on the south side of the plains, which we perambulated
for upwards of an hour, till reaching a house, containing a ragged,
dirty, and miserable looking family, a boy of which acted as our guide
till entering the forest. We reached what the people of the country call
Frogmore-street, a newly opened road leading from Sandwich; from which
we were directed to Lake Erie, but missing our way a second time, it was
about sunset before we came in sight of the lake, having been nine hours
in travelling a distance of twelve miles.
When emerging from the woods on Lake Erie, we passed a camp-meeting of
the Jacksonite Methodists, which I felt no inclination to visit. On
enquiring to be directed to the nearest tavern, I was told there was not
a tavern on the road for thirty miles, but that almost any farmer would
receive us for the night.
Our first three or four applications for accommodation were
unsuccessful, the houses being filled with the attendants of the
camp-meeting; but we at last gained admittance to the house of John
Macdonald, from Appin, Argyleshire, Scotland. Application had in this
solitary instance been made by Williams, and John reluctantly consented
to receive us, under the impression we were people of colour like
Williams. John was surprised to find us of the same complexion as
himself, and still more so when I said he must be a countryman of mine,
from his dialect as a Scotchman. He put a thousand questions about my
visit to the country and the state of Scotland, and when satisfied that
I was not an impostor, his joy seemed unbounded. John was a true Scotch
Highlander in every respect, and spoke the English language in the comic
purity, if I may use the expression, of his countrymen,—his phrases of
“her nainsell,” and “gosh, man,” being as fresh as if from Appin the day
before. I enjoyed his originality, and admired his warmth of heart,
amply displayed in anecdotes of his past life, which he continued to
relate long after we went to bed.
Next morning I walked over John’s farm, consisting of 200 acres of most
excellent land, forty of which had been cleared in fourteen years,
during which he had not applied any manure, and which I testify had not
accumulated to an inconvenient degree. His Indian corn was about the
best crop I saw in Canada, with exception of some belonging to the
Indians on the Grand River. The quality of his wheat was excellent, and
part of his farm carried this crop and peas alternately; the extent of
wheat being limited to the assistance he could obtain during harvest.
John had two sons on adjoining farms, in the same state as their
father’s, and a third who had lately married, lived with him. John had
twelve acres of good land, which had been gradually cleared in obtaining
timber for different purposes, and which a week’s work of his son would
render fit for cultivation; yet it had remained for years in a state of
comparative unproductiveness. He wondered at me not having tasted unripe
Indian corn, on which every creature, he said, lived in this country, as
they did on herrings in the west of Scotland during the season; and he
roasted two ears for me, which I did not highly relish. John’s house was
very mean-looking, and he accounted for it by the want of saw-mills in
this part of the country, which rendered boards dear.
We left John Macdonald after breakfast, and travelled to Colborne
Iron-works, in the township of Gossfield, and had a late and
uncomfortable dinner where the workmen board. A bed was obtained for us
at the house of Messrs Calhoum and Field, proprietors of the
works,—which was a log-house of recent erection, plain and rough,
externally and internally.
The furnace had been burnt down a few weeks before our arrival, and all
hands were engaged in reconstructing it. The whole erection, with
exception of the fireplace and chimneystalk, was composed of wood, and
one of the most temporary buildings it is possible to conceive. The bed
of ore lies in a marsh a mile and a half distant, and is what is called
bog-ore, one or two feet thick, with six inches of peat-earth on the
surface; and I was assured by Mr Field that the earth thrown aside two
years ago was now fruitful of ore. The iron-work is expected to consume
the coke of nearly 200 acres of forest yearly; and the company would
clear any farmer’s woodland for the coke it produced. This may be worth
the notice of settlers, and is given from Mr Field’s statement.
We examined some land for sale in the neighbourhood of the iron-works
before breakfast; after partaking of which, we travelled a few miles
south, to the shores of Lake Erie, round which we passed to
Amherstburgh, which we reached in the evening.
Williams had at one time resided at Amherstburgh, and landed us at what
he considered the best house, kept by Mrs Drake, which was a large old
dingy uninhabited looking tenement. Mrs Drake was seated with Mr M—— at
tea, or supper, as it is generally called, on our arrival, which suited
us well, as we had not dined,—a brace of roasted ducks being on the
table.
After tea, we walked down the banks of the Detroit river and Lake Erie
four or five miles, and returned through the fields, at some distance
from our former line. The evening was clear, calm, and delightfully
cool; the still glassy lake adorned with beautiful wooded islands, the
American steam-boats, with music playing and unfurled sails,
majestically ascending the limped and smooth-gliding Detroit, together
with the gracefulness of vegetation and richness of soil, so enchanted
us, that we resolved, contrary to our original intention, to devote
another day to the neighbourhood of Amherstburgh.
Next morning, Williams drove us up the banks of the Detroit, till we
reached the bridge crossing the Canrad, where we parted with him.
Ascending the Canrad a little way, we turned to the right, up a flat
piece of ground, in the centre of which there is a small brook, and
where we spent some hours agreeably in examining plants, and adding to
our collection of seeds. We returned through the lands belonging to the
Huron Indians to Amherstburgh, and in the evening extended our walk in
the direction we had passed the night before.
We left Amherstburgh soon after sunrise, to walk by Sandwich to the town
of Detroit, and breakfasted by the way at a small inn with a French
sign. The innkeeper had very little English, and we found some
difficulty in understanding each other. Our fare consisted of poor green
tea, bad butter, and worse bread. There was a fireplace in the kitchen,
which was without furniture, except a table and chairs. The room was
well lighted, and separated from the kitchen by a partition of lath,
without plaster of any kind. There were two beds in the room without top
or posts, with fine rich old printed bedcovers and pillowslips of the
same, clean and neatly arranged. The upper story was accessible by a
ladder. The father told me his family consisted of six children; the
mother and two children had died a few weeks before. The children are at
school; the masters seldom remain long, being too fond of whisky.
We arrived at the ferry opposite to Detroit about noon, which we crossed
by a steam-boat of small size which plies every quarter of an hour, and
took up our abode at an excellent hotel.