SOUTHONS FAMILIES’ LIFE.
The younger
members of the home circle often plead for a story, “Please Auntie, tell us
about when you were a little girl in the back woods of Canada”. It seems
the young folk appreciate a true story and so it may be of interest to them
also. To introduce the narrative it will be necessary to explain what led my
father to choosing a place so far removed from civilisation as it was simply
dense forest in the eighties being a hundred miles north from the
shore of Toronto. Here he went
to build a home for my mother, three girls and two boys from twelve to four
years of age. While the story is true a few of the names will be fictitious.
First of all his wanderlust must have been in his blood. His grandfather Snowden was a retired naval man, who owned a farm worth some thousands of pounds near the seacoast, in a place called Mommy Marsh[1] in Kent, England. My father spent his school vacation here often climbing the trees to gaze out over the ocean to watch the ships as they passed, so these surroundings must have fostered a love for the sea. His mother was first cousin to Jane Austen an authoress of some note in bygone days, whose brothers Sir Francis William and Sir Charles John Austen attained to some notoriety as naval men between the years 1774 to 1865.
My father was born September 18th 1827 there were six boys and two girls in his family, he was the second youngest boy. I shall give these names, as some reference will be made to them later on. The eldest was named Stephen after his father, the second Thomas, then Henry, John; Gabriel was the youngest of the boys following these Mary and Dorcus.
About the year 1843 my father made the acquaintance of a lad about two years his senior and they had ran away from home to a shipping town where this boy friend forced his money and his possessions from him left him to fend for himself. So he returned to his home but most unfortunately taking the typhus fever germ with him. He nearly lost his life and was never quite so robust in health afterwards as he told us he hardly knew what it was like to be tired before this. Both his father and sister Mary contacted the disease and died from it. The death of these two was the first break in the home circle and was the cause of much sorrow.
After the death of his father the home Moat Farm passed to the eldest brother Stephen. His grandfather Snowden had two sons fathers father was the eldest of the two and naturally had expectations, but on my grandfather’s death it was found he had cut him off with a shilling and left his all to the younger son. This made a difference in father’s family after the death of both his father and grandfather, they each found it necessary to think and plan for their future, his brothers Thomas and Gabriel sailed for Australia during the gold rush days.
When my father’s health returned his craving for a sea faring life returned too. After much earnest thought and consultation, his mother and eldest brother Stephen decided to let him have his way so he was apprenticed to a captain trading between England and Tasmania or Van Dieman’s Land as it was then called. Father was over eighteen years of age at this time. There were other lads of about his age on the sailing ship. The captain proved a cruel tyrant frequently using the rope end for minor offences upon the lads. Father fell from a staging and cut his lip severely. When the captain was flogging him one day he opened up the wound again and father carried the scar for the rest of his life.
After months of sailing the ship returned to England again, the lads and he left the ship being helped by the boatswain who hid them in his coal cellar. The captain and officer from the ship went to the boatswain’s house and remained to dinner. As they suspected they were there. It may be imagined how the lads felt until the captain had gone. After duly searching and dragging the Thames for them word was sent to his mother he was lost. As soon as discreet. Father left his hiding place and returned to his home of course leaving his possessions behind him. You can be sure he never saw the captain again.
When father had been home for some time the desire to travel again took possession of him. He persuaded his brother John to accompany him to the United States of America. His mother had a cousin named Colgate who had gone over some years before and started a soap and candle factory there so on reaching the city of New York they made their way to his home. The old gentleman secured them kindly and made them welcome. Father travelled in all seven times between England and America. At one time Mr. Colgate employed him as clerk in his warehouse and he has walked the streets of New York with hundred of dollars and a loaded revolver on his person as he passed between the warehouse and bank. A partnership in the business was offered to him and so his future would have been assured but a lady living in the home had formed an attachment for him. He had been corresponding with a lady in London whom he afterwards married and as he could never tolerate the idea of trifling with another’s feelings. He left Mr. Colgate’s home rather hurriedly. They felt this keenly as they trusted my father and did not understand the situation. This was referred to years afterwards through Mr. Colgate’s son corresponding with my father. A friend advised him to write and explain the circumstances to him. I do not remember if he did. I have heard my father say “A flirt should be treated as any criminal as one who trifles with another’s affections is as guilty of a crime” This is quite an old fashioned idea but the principle is good today.
I might mention here that Mr. Colgate when he left England resolved to follow the advice of his friends and be faithful to his God in all his business relations. This he did and on starting his manufactory in the USA he decided to pay a faithful tithe of his income. God so prospered him that he kept on giving more and lived on the tithe and gave nine tenths to God. He eventually became a millionaire. At his death his money was divided between his two sons. One son Samuel Colgate afterwards became a millionaire at his death. His widow married an English Earl and was referred to as one of the most beautiful and accomplished ladies in New York society.
My father’s mother was a Particular Baptist and her devoted Christian life had a marked influence on her family. When a young woman she had quite an experience an Uncle Thomas Austen managed to get her money from her. He married his housekeeper and left his money that she received the benefit during her life but after her death it reverted to grandmother’s family. At the time in her life when this happened my grandmother was quite a young woman and so she was quite troubled over it. One day while crossing a meadow she came to a footbridge over a creek. While walking over it she had such an assurance that God would never forsake her. She soon obtained a position as governess in a family. She lived to the age of eighty-five and often remarked how truly she had been cared for and how she proved the promise of God in her experiences. She was the granddaughter of Sir John Austen, an Irish nobleman. My father was pleased to tell us of these things as he always endeavoured to teach.
The lesson that God never forsakes one whom trusts Him and always honours those who honour Him. Several of grandmother’s family joined the church she attended. My father was one of them. He to was particular to live up to his profession and so we can look back and profit by his influence. After my father left Mr. Colgate’s home he and his brother John went across to Canada where they took some land about fifty miles inland from Coburg on the shore of Lake Ontario. He remained there for a few years. His brother John married a Miss Jane Findlay whom he met while living there. They all went to England when my Uncle John and his wife sailed for Australia.
My father married a Miss Elizabeth Harris of London with whom he had corresponded for some time. She also was a Particular Baptist. Father and his wife went over to Canada to his farm soon after they were married. My father was about 26 years of age and of a cheerful nature and very fond of travel. He remained on his farm in Canada for about twelve years where one son was born named Caleb for my father. When Caleb was about eleven years of age a great sorrow befell them, his mother died of consumption. This so depressed my father that I can only remember him as a sad quite man. Soon after his wife’s death father returned to his old home in England taking Caleb with him.
After some time spent at school he apprenticed him to the grocery trade. Father taught school for a Mr. Tabor who had a boy’s school in London. Later on he went as a tutor to a gentleman’s son who lived near Headcorn in Kent where he attended a Baptist Chapel in Smarden. There he met my mother claiming relationship as they were cousins and so he made acquaintance of her family. My mother’s name was Boorman. Her father Thomas Boorman was a farmer. Her home Moatenden House near Sutton in Kent. So both my mother and father were born in Kent called “The Garden of England”. Grandfather Boorman held the office of deacon in the Smarden Baptist Church for years. My mother lost her mother a short time before she met my father. There had been fifteen children born in my mother’s home she being the youngest and the only unmarried daughter. Her father and she were almost inseparable. As her father married again her position altered in the home and her stepmother made it plain to her that she would be pleased if she made her home elsewhere. My father persuaded her to accompany him to America so they were married October twelve 1868 and sailed from Liverpool the same day.
Travelling by water was not so pleasant in those far away days as it is today and on a sailing ship with poor accommodation and seasickness too. My mother soon wished herself back in her peaceful English home again. After some weeks of sailing they arrived in New York. Some of mother’s relatives had gone over to America with the Puritans and of course were quite americanised. They had made their home in the Catskill Mountains so my parents visited amongst them for some time. Eventually making their home in the city of Utica, New York where I was born September 5 1869. My father here obtained a position as night watchman in a warehouse and walked the place with a large dog besides him, alas carrying a loaded revolver.
In June 1871 a little brother was born but passed away in July 1872 of Cholera Infantum, which was quite an epidemic in the city that year. My parents grieved much over their loss and my father wrote a these few verses in memory of him.
Thy mother oft now in her dreams
may clasp thee and call thee her own
but vanished her dreams she will weep
her darling her idol hath flown
with plaything and innocent mirth
little sister shall wake thee no more
but parted forever on earth
may you meet on happier shore
sweet infant, how short was thy race
thy life was to suffice below
but soon thy dear Saviour’s embrace
shall banish all sickness and woe
the thought of thy freedom from pain
is balm to these sorely hearts riven
believing our loss is thy gain
for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.
As my mother had never been away from her home surroundings before naturally she felt the separation from loved ones very much at times, being amongst strangers and in a strange land so father wrote this poem for her. Moatenden House was part of an old monastery and opposite the door opening off the upstairs passage leading up to the garret was a dark stain on the wall said to be human blood. Mother said no amount of cleaning would remove it as it always showed through again. No one knew really how old the house was.
A stranger passing by
the strange old fashioned place
might nothing there descry
of beauty and grace
none living now may tell
by whom was built and when
nor I define the spell
that binds to Moatenden
Its quaint high peaked roof
the windows broad and low
and massive chimney prove
‘twas built long long ago
yea long before St Paul’s
proud dome was planned by
when those stout oak timbered
walls was reared at Moatenden
Dear dear old house at home
where first I saw the light
how could I ever roam
from scenes of youth so bright
I see thee oft in dreams
there loved ones smile again
I wake and clearer seems
dear distant Moatenden
There on the old porch seat
on glorious summer eve
my dearest friends still meet
the cool sweet air to breathe
air by the rose perfumed
that once was mine to train
where other fair flowers
bloomed in front of Moatenden
Beyond the meadow spread
where [a child] oft played
where sheep and lambkins fed
or sort the old oak shade
the birds that sang above
I did not envy them
not dreaming I should rove
far far from Moatenden
I loved as others have
bade native place adieu
and crossed the ocean wave
far distant lands to view
my love met fond return
he loves me now as then
but yet my heart will yearn
for dear old Moatenden
Though each line start a tear
write oftener to me
send news of all so dear
across the wide wide sea
it doth my bosom thrill
when by a well known pen
I’m told they miss me still
at home at Moatenden.
After we had been in America about three years, my brother Caleb came over from England to live with us. Then shortly after we all went across to Canada. My father had transferred his farm there to a Mr. Williams for a property in Wicklow. This was on the main road, which ran along the lakeshore. There he kept a general store and post office for about ten years and here my sister Betty was born also a Brother Thomas and Sister Joyce and Brother Henry. Father did well with his store. Things seemed bright for us. My Brother Caleb and a young man helped him. Mother had help in the home and so gave her time in the store too. Mails were made up and sent three times a week to Vernonville, Eddystone, Centreton and farther up from the lakeshore.
Father almost idolised his eldest son and when he desired a holiday to England he allowed him to go for six-month trips. While there he married a young lady who he met when living there before and with whom he corresponded for some time after. He then returned to us in Wicklow with his wife and her sister. Father’s Brother Henry and his wife accompanied them on the voyage but my uncle died of a heart failure and was buried at sea. This was a grief to my father as he had been looking forward with glad anticipation to meeting him again. On my brothers return to Canada father took him into partnership with him in his business this meant another home to support as well as our own. After a time he opened another store in Vernonville, five miles up from where we lived, but my brother failed so father helped him start a farm near the lakeshore. All this was added outlay and led to father mortgaging his store and property. As time went on he found himself unable to meet the repayments which so worried him he had a stroke. He never quite recovered from its effects when out walking any distance he always carried a stick to help him. It was a sad experience.
He had had a nice little iron pump built in the hill near the back door but the man who built it in made it so each time water was needed we had to prime it by pouring a bucket of water down it first. So father had removed it and got a long pole with a hook on the end and was using a bucket to draw water up with. I was standing by his side when he fell backwards fortunately, as had he fell forward he would have fallen into the well. I felt greatly alarmed and said “Oh father what is the matter?”, he could scarcely speak, tried to rub the side of his face with his hand and said ”Tell mother tell mother I’m not well”, so I ran in and told her “Father has fallen down and could not rise”. She came out quickly and saw something must be done to help him so had help to lift him in and lie him on the sofa. The doctor was sent for. I remember his grave face and his advice to keep him quite and perfect rest. It was some time before he was able to get about again. He was so nervous that for two or more years he would never walk out any distance without one of his children with him as he feared another attack but as time went on this passed off. He never had another stroke but he was never quite the same after, as he seemed to age prematurely. All his life he had been a student and had an excellent memory but after his sickness his memory was not so trustworthy.
There were many pioneers to the backwoods of Canada in those days. So when plans to sell up our home were made my father thought it would be the best move he could make to take us up there and try to make a home, not realising he was not so strong as when he first went over to Canada. When he decided to take a trip up to spy out the land a friend accompanied him up to Chandos. This place was one hundred miles from Lake Ontario. The government of Canada allowed at that time a man and his wife to take a selection of about one hundred and sixty acres each. My father selected one allotment while my mother was able to buy about three hundred and sixty if my memory serves me right, as her father in England sent her some financial help about this time. Friends tried to persuade my father not to go so far away with a young family but it appealed to him as being the best he could do under the circumstances so after his return to Wicklow he began to plan for our removal there. He took three more trips before we all went to live there finally and now I will try to tell of our preparations and experiences and life for three years while we lived in the dense forests of the back woods of Canada.
We had an Indian pony. He was a sturdy little fellow and willing. Billy by name and a family pet. We had the usual vehicles for use during the different seasons. There was a cutter; this is a light vehicle on runners and sleigh for winter use. Then there was a buggy and light wagon for the summer trip. Father had a cover made for this and so travelled gypsy fashion, as this was the only means of travelling the long journeys. There was a good road nearly the whole of the way. It was a long dreary route as one went far away from civilisation up through Vernonville. The road led on passed Hastings and Warsay, Young’s Point and the Burleigh Rocks to Apsley, this was the last village before reaching Chandos. Fifteen miles further on then one was in the backwoods at last the soil was beautiful rich loam, clay foundation and needed little cultivation to produce good results and to a strong healthy enterprising man an ideal place to build up a comfortable home in a few years time. It was well timbered many cedar swamps, stumps, lakes, rivers, creeks and marshes. After the first trip my father took my second sister Betty with him for company. The trip was always taken in easy stages camping as night drew on or staying at different homes as one got away from the small towns and villages en route. Father met with a family near his selection who were very hospitable. There were 10 in the family all hard working pioneers; these were 6 boys ranging in age from thirty to fourteen years. He stayed in their home, employing some of them to help him clear the ground and build a cabin for us. So he had fifteen acres cleared and a comfortable warm place for us when we finally reached there. This was in the summer of 1881 often returning again to Wicklow and making some preliminaries. Father took another trip taking me and a younger sister Joyce.
We were quite a little party and enjoyed the trip most of the way passing the Burleigh Rocks, a long stretch of hills with tall dead pines left so by the previous bush fires, the rocks in patches left bare. All looked so weird and lonely, made one fell homesick, never can I forget the impression it left on me. We travelled on passing lakes, Stony Lake, Rice Lake, so called because of a bed of rice growing in it in the distance looking like a water fall. On the way we passed through the district where father had made his first home in Canada and there were flourishing homesteads being all well settled country at this time and it was my pleasant privilege to meet some of these former friends of his earlier years. We saw the graveyard where his first wife was buried also my baby brother who died in the city of Utica. Here my father expressed a wish to be buried also but that was not to be as he passed away in another country but I am digressing.
We also met a Mr. Polly’s wife and daughter who made us welcome and we stayed in there home. I had met Mary-Ann Polly before as she had made periodic trips to our store in Wicklow, driving a pair of horses 50 miles down and would stay a night or two in our home. She used to visit very quickly and trade her goods - butter, eggs etc. in exchange with us. There was also Mr.Findlay’s where we would stay. He was father of Uncle Snowden’s wife and always made us feel welcome, also a Mr. Thurston who seemed pleased to renew former associations. The last place of special interest to me was the Village of Apsley being the railway terminus being 15 miles from our home to be.
Then we were in the backwoods and log cabins were the order of the day. These can be made comfortable and warm and quite neat too. The ends of the logs are dove tailed together and the logs squared outside and are fitted together snugly. In some cases the crevices in between fill in with wedge shaped strips if wood and moss which there was an abundance as it grows on the cedar trees in the swamps and looks very beautiful. Others make a sort of mortar of clay and plaster the walls smooth. Some paper over the inside while some white wash. Then the roofs are made of logs hollowed out and laid side by side and a second row laid on the top turned the opposite way so covering the gaps between. For the flooring, logs are hewn and squared and placed very closely side by side or split down and made to look like boards by those who are more ingenious with the use of an axe, as tools are often not to plentiful there. In the wintertime the cabin is always banked up two or more feet with earth to make it snug. This is always removed in the summer months. The cooking stove always stands well out in the room and the stove pipe run around in the room so conserving the heat, while in the sitting room and the bed room there is the usual box stove which holds a good amount of wood. We were fortunate in having a cedar swamp on each of the farms which is so useful for some of the building purposes, being easier to cut up.
One farm had a nice creek running through it and also part of a large marsh while the Paudash River ran along side of the other separating it from an adjoining farm. The marshes are quite numerous and are a great asset as they are pasturage for animals. The grass is stacked for winter use, for bedding for all animals must be housed during the cold season - Connors Marsh was on part of one farm and on this where the walls still in good condition which some former lumberman had built and left. When taking some of the pine and cedar trees off, the government hold the right to take a certain percentage of these. With the help of some neighbours who father had employed to help him a comfortable cabin was built for us and the cleared land had been mostly planted ready for our use before the family moved to Chandos.
Oh I did not want to leave our pleasant home and the beautiful lakeshore with its beach. Father used to drive us down in the buggy on Sunday and holidays taking lunch, buffalo rugs and books. He and mother would sit in the shade and read while we children enjoying the sand and bathing with warm sunshine. It was just like the sea beach and very fascinating to us, running in and out as the waves rolled to and fro. One day my brother Thomas, who was about two years of age, was running in and out of the water got washed off his feet and was being carried off by the waves. He had his mouth wide open and was in danger of being filled with water. He looked so very comical so that my father had to laugh so at him but to me it was too awful as it seemed he sure would be drowned so I ran in up to my waist in the water and pulled him out. That sent us all back home again as we two were well wet so spoiled the day for us all. Each day from the upstairs window the lake could always be seen in its changing moods as the ocean. On the bright days reflecting the blue sky and the white sails of the ships, which traded across its waters or on stormy days one could see the white horses as they rode on its stormy waves. Then within a half mile the cars could be seen passing to and fro on the Grand Trunk Railway line.
Grafton Bay Station was two and a half miles from our home and a mile up the hills another beautiful spot, the Village of Shelter Valley with its cluster of houses and flour mill. So much beauty within near access of us and the patches of woods with the different foliage, natural parks dotting the landscape. We may be thought partial, although we have travelled in different lands no beauty to us has surpassed that of our Canadian home of the long ago with its lakes, valleys and hills. Also the beautiful foliage of its trees with their autumn tints and the evergreen trees showing in such striking contrast to its pure white of its snows in winter seasons.
There was another reason why I did not wish to go. I loved the new red brick schoolhouse, which had but recently replaced the little grey stone one. How I should miss the sound of its bell in the back woods and the school mates and kind teacher who was a Christian gentleman, in every sense of the word. He used to open the school session each day by reading an extract from the good old Book of Prayer. He was good at discipline to, but before administering the punishment would give the reason for it and tell us too how he would rather take it than give it. Was it any wonder we learned to love him and tried our best to please him and that tender memories still linger? I begged my mother not to go. Some of the neighbours knew of my not wanting to leave and told me I might return and make my home with them. Early closing was not in vogue in those far away days and ours being the only store many congregated of an evening to talk of events of the day. The subject of conversation was our leaving the village on this particular occasion and who should be taking over the store. My mother was promised the management of it if she would remain. Not being slow to express my mind I spoke out and told my wishes. When the wheelwright said I could stay in his home although he had a family of six children, his generous offer and sincerity has never been forgotten. It was distressing to me leaving the dear home; that many nights I would lay awake thinking it over while father was away on these trips to Chandos. There were important duties placed upon me. My mother had to give her time to the store work without help there had been three men to help before, being the eldest mother gave me responsibilities. There were the trips both to Grafton and Colbourne for supplies. I grew to enjoy the store and post office and also helping in the home. My attendance at school was very irregular but I learned to take some responsibilities, which perhaps was a better education at that time. Mother confided in me and I learned to sympathise with her in our reduced circumstances for she often declared it was a comfort to talk to me.
Father was not a strong man and not fitted for such hard work as pioneering in a new country. He felt it the best thing he could do at that time so in February 1882 we left our Wicklow home for the long cold journey to the back woods. The last trip my father took up to Chandos he took Betty again and left her with a neighbour who offered to take care of her as we were all shortly to follow and although she longed to accompany him back home she cheerfully remained as she was always anxious and willing to help and share her part in all our enterprises. She felt the cold so keenly there it affected her health and mother felt we did not arrive a day to soon to save a worse calamity but that was all in the long ago. On our journey there was father, mother, Thomas, Joyce, Henry who was our youngest 4 years and myself. We had a comfortable box sleigh with the usual buffalo rugs, but it was so cold we often got out for a run to get warm. Two teams which had taken the remainder of our goods up to Chandos over took us on their way back to Wicklow advised mother to put up at the stopping place before it grew dark. One man over took us with a horse and vehicle and kindly offered to take two of us to help on the journey so Joyce and I were allowed to go with him. We went cheerfully, but as the others did not arrive that night my youthful mind pictured them as being frozen on the way. However next morning word came to us they had reached Mr. Polly’s home safely and so we put in a pleasant week end with our kind friends which made a break for us in a long trip as the ground was covered with snow. It often drifted across the road completely covering the fences and so a track is cut across country making the distance shorter than by road. We made a short cut over a lake and while crossing this Thomas’ ears were frozen. In the distance we saw a wolf running along at the end of the lake but they seldom attack when alone. When we reached the other side we found a hotel we were able to get refreshments and a good warm.
In all we were about four days travelling. There was good hospitable neighbours called Hogan with whom we stayed for a short time when we reached Chandos and one daughter, a young women and I went to our cabin and tried to make it home like and comfortable for my mother before she arrived. It would not be possible for me to tell all it meant to her reared in an English home with every comfort to go to such a rough place, but she was brave for the sake of the children endured and tried to make the best of things for the three years. We lived there, and here seven months after our arrival my youngest Sister Laura was born. This was a never forgotten event. I awoke in the night and realised my mother was ill. Father called my Sister Betty and me and gave us the lantern told us to go to a neighbours a half mile through thickly timbered land being so dark and but a foot track through from our home we lost our way. Providence must have directed our steps after wondering for a short time we struck this clearance which surrounded their home and we and them were thankful we had not wondered further, as it is quite an easy matter to get lost in thickly timbered country. So our kind neighbour came back with us and helped in a very material way. There is no place where more real kindness is shown than in those pioneering countries each one seems so dependent on the other for help in emergencies and very many times one person proves the truth of the old proverb,” A friend in need is a friend indeed”.
The three winters we spent in Chandos a camp of some two hundred camps up there to remove pine and cedar timber from that district. This made the place less dreary as one could hear their axes on the trees and their cheerful songs as they passed to and fro to their work. The trees were felled and cut into lengths then drawn by ox teams from the bush to spots on the roadside where men with horse teams and bob sleighs draw them to the Paudash River and place them on the river banks and skid them down into the river near our home. There they remained until the river ice thawed in the springtime and then were floated down the river to Lake Ontario to the different sawmills where they are sawn up and much of the timber shipped to other countries. It is quite an interesting sight to see the logs being sent down the river. Often great piles all frozen together pass by then later on as the sun warms up they separate and the river is covered for miles with separating logs while men with long pike poles propel them along. These poles are made especially for the work, there is a sharp piece of iron on the end to push and also a hook to push or pull to help them. The men wear boots with spikes on the bottoms of them to help them keep a footing on the logs as they jump from one to another. There is considerable danger in the work as one can easily slip and get jammed between them as the thousands of logs float and bump along down stream. It is very pleasant after the intense solitude of the forest when the snow has been lying for months on the ground during the long winter. As the ice begins to break up on the river to hear the whistling, shouting and singing of the lumbermen as they come down the river on a high raft on which is a cook stove and tent etc and hear them dumping the logs down the bank as they pass down the stream. The men become quite expert in handling the timber and can dance on the logs in the river as they roll rapidly along. The logs are branded with the company’ trade mark and are separated when they reach the lake, each company looking out for their own timber. A camp of these lumbermen were quite near our home and several of them would come of an evening and sing or tell stories for us children. They used to seem to enjoy it as much as we did. They would teach us games too. One evening after much persuasion they managed to get Betty to sing some little songs for them. Being shy she went and sat alone in a corner with her hand partly over her face this made us all pretty merry. She was of an excitable nature and often unconsciously amused others by her cheerful manners. We all missed the companionship of these friends during the summer months.
It was usual for them to leave the branches and off cuts lying in the woods and so when the Indian summers came these were quite a menace and often a cause of such fires there. It was our sad misfortune to fight this dreadful scourge for two summers while we lived on the land. We had begun to feel fairly safe at last as after weeks of watching and clearing the three sides of the farm we were living on had been well burned over. The year 1883 had been especially hot and dry the sun had burned like a ball of copper through the hazy sky and fires had been raging in different parts near us. Each day we neighbours had been helping the different one whose homes had been in peril. Men would come for miles to give assistance when a homestead was in peril from the fires around. We children would be sent with our pails of water to help put out the sparks as they blew over near the homes.
One evening late in the season a neighbour who had been cutting off a marsh which was partly on our farm had stacked it ready for winter use and burned a strip around the stack for safety from fires. The fires got away from him in the dry brush while it was quite a calm night. The wind and fire came down on our home and before darkness set in we were homeless. Men came for miles to help but it seemed useless- quicker than I can tell the roof of the large barn caught on fire and while I turned from the window to reply to a question from my mother as to how the fire was going then looking back the whole roof was ablaze and in a few moments of time the cabin we were in had caught. Mother was laying in bed, as my baby sister was not more than eighteen hours old-had been directing us what to do. Our fowls had been tied in pairs to be hastily caught up if necessary, our shoes and other necessary clothes laid all near the bedside to quickly gather up. I had been instructed to take the little ones and run to a neighbours a mile farther on. On the edge of a large marsh, the children called to us as soon as the roof caught. Mother told us to run off at once but I said “What of you and baby?” She said father would look out for us you go and as we had been taught- obedience- we set of with my younger brother in my arms and Joyce holding on one side of me, Thomas was on the other while Betty ran closely at our heels. I had slipped on a stick, which rolled as I put my foot on it, fell forward but sprang up with brother still in my arms. All my thoughts was for mother and baby Laura, as we feared they might not get away in time. But the kind neighbours whose house we were running to - met us and took my baby sister in his arms -and mother with a blanket thrown around her ran bare footed by his side- and not any to soon as the bridge which crossed the creek in front of our cabin collapsed a few moments later. Sparks and pieces of burning timber were flying over our heads as we ran along and carried by the wind and set fire to the marsh edge in front of us but as the night settled down these fires died out. People came for miles and visited my mother each bringing some little gift to help replace our loss. Although years have passed the memory of these kindness are not forgotten. We are sure they will be rewarded for their loving deeds. My dear mother seemed to be miraculously kept from harm.
We remained for some weeks in our kind neighbour’s home. After the fire we found only one small cabin fourteen by sixteen had been saved which father had used as his own room. This was filled up for us and we found it necessary to spend the following winter there as there was no time to build more on before the cold weather settled down. Poor mother used to feel cramped and one day referred to the cabin as a poke of a place. My younger brother caught the word and in his baby way thought it the name for it and as he also spoke of it by that name it so amused the rest of us that we always as long as we remained in Chandos spoke of it as the poke of a place. When we collected the things saved from the fire we found there were one wooden double bed stead, two tables, two chests of drawers, two cooking stoves and about six chairs. It seemed a long cold winter for us. Betty went to stay with the neighbours about six miles away while Joyce went to another five miles from us so there were only two brothers and baby besides father and mother and myself which made it so lonely, but our dear wee sister grew so interesting and sweet that she seemed quite a compensation and helped pass many hours for us all.
When the spring came we all went to live on our father’s selection where several cabins had been erected for us so we were more comfortable and then we sent for Betty and Joyce to come home. How pleased we all were to be together again. We lived close to the Pandash River on this place so this afforded us endless pleasure - bathing, fishing and wading across the more shallow places. Then the boys and Betty would build rafts and cut long pike poles to steer the rafts about on the water. The wonder is some of us were not drowned as the children grew so daring and in places the river was very deep. Father had felled a tall cedar tree and placed some poles and planks across the river, as the bridge which crossed had been washed away by the floods. So we were able to go through the forest a nearer way than the usual road, as we had to walk about five miles to the post office and store. It was Betty and me who used to go nearly always and we were told to sing and make a noise for wild animals are frequently met with. These were the black bear, wolves and wild cats-but seldom seen if a noise is made so they may get away. We were always warned not to be late. On returning one evening it began to get dusk and we heard the scream of a wild cat. We began to call out and make a noise in a little while we heard father’s well known call and in a few minutes he met us with a lantern- how comforting it was to us.
Father had planted vegetables for our use but found the deer were helping themselves to these. Although a high bush fence had been put around they were able to get in -so he used to go early in the morning with his gun to frighten them off, when all of a sudden quite close to the path he saw a black bear jump off a log and ran of into the forest seeming quite as frightened as father was. In the wintertime on a clear moonlight night we could hear the wolves for miles around us howling it seemed the forest was alive with them. One night our neighbour had to open his door to let his dog come in the house, as the poor thing appeared so frightened. The wolves sounded closer than usual. The poor timid dears had not much when the cold winter set in. A short distance from our home we could see paths where the deer had made tracks through the snow running away from the wolves and their foot prints following them. From the selection joining ours there were miles and miles of forest where the bears, wolves, wildcats and deer had plenty of freedom. The lumber camps would kill their own meat, as they required it. The refuse was carried a short distance off and left on the snow. The bears hibernate and come out hungry thin after the winter is over. Hunger makes them bold. There was a large black bear he would come down the hill and help himself to the refuse. He had a well-beaten path down the hillside. Our neighbours had seen him a few times in the evenings so they built a scaffolding between the trees and prepared themselves with guns and ammunition and awaited bruins arrival. Just before dusk they saw him slowly lumbering down the hill. He saw them too, but they sat perfectly quite. He sat down and waited and after concluding all was safe came slowly on when he got in easy shooting distance they discharged the guns at him, so he rolled over dead. The men had told us when they called we might go and see him-so at their call off ran my brothers and sisters, soon after I more cautiously followed, but when I got close enough to see them dragging him along I yelled out and flew back as fast as I could. They laughed heartily at me and I was made a target at their gibes for some time after. We were pleased the bear had been dispatched. His carcass was cut up and salted down in a barrel. Some think it good meat- but it is rather darker than beef also more tough. Some was sent to mother but we children did not appreciate it, although we never refused a piece of venison. The deer’s’ were so different. Often when a dog would chase one across our path and we loved to see the timid creatures with their soft brown eyes- we felt sorry to see them chased about so. It was quite customary for men to go out with their dogs and guns when meat was short and then share it around.
When there were logging bees when a man wanted special work done he would call around and tell the other men in the district and fit a day when all would roll up and bring items or tools as requested and help out. The wives and daughters would go to and help care for the meals. It was impossible for one man to do some of the heavier bush work alone so the others would willingly help and all would get some help when needed. It was thought very bad form not to attend these gatherings. If a cabin was needed the trees would have been picked out or perhaps felled already. Then they would be squared and often a cabin would be built in a day or so far advanced that the owner could finish it later then.
In the afternoons there might be a quilting bee planned amongst the women, the quilt would have been fixed on a frame and ready for workers to sit around and sew the quilt through and through and some very pretty work was often done. Women used to pride themselves in their quilts-before sewing machines were much in vogue. Often they would help one another making mats to cover the floors with. These are often quite pretty. Then of an evening the young folk might have a dance, or singing and games, quite a jollification while the older ones would sit around and talk of former experiences.
Some times the pigs had been killed ready to salt for winter use, the men would help in this to. When the supper was over preparations would be made for the return to their respective homes, when all would feel pleased over a well spent day, knowing that each would have the favour extended when needed.
When the snow was melting and the sap was being drawn in up the trees by the warm sun - came the sugar camp. The trees were selected and in a central place a rough shed would be built where the kettles could be swung ready to hold the sap from the maple trees. First off all a starting notch is cut in the tree about three foot from the ground and an auger hole bored at the bottom of this and a wooden tube inserted to catch the sap and to run it into some vessel placed on the ground to receive it. Twice a day these are visited and emptied and carried to the sugar camps some bringing a horse and sled with a barrel to draw it or others have a yoke with a bucket swinging from either side. While the boiling down goes on the kettles are carefully watched, as it nears the sugar stage the sap gets very thick and burns easily and so a large kettle of many gallons may have its contents wasted. Maple syrup has a beautiful flavour. Anyone who has eaten of backen-heat pancakes and maple syrup will not forget them. Many in the back woods depend almost entirely for their sugar supply on these seasons. The sap as it oozes out of the trees is as clear as spring water and very sweet. Two very large kettles are used. These are swung between two forked poles on another strut cross piece- one holds the fresh sap as it comes in while the second receives that which a little later will be maple syrup or maple sugar-this as it goes through the process of boiling down becomes at last a dark brown colour.
When the forest leaves have returned on the trees after the cold winter has passed and the warm sunshine calls back the flowers from their leafy beds then comes the swarms of mosquitoes, black flies and sand flies. Walking through the bush these just surround one like a cloud and it is necessary to keep swinging a branch to keep them off. They always seem to know the new comers, as they are the targets for their attacks for the first season. It may be from inexperience that the new chums are served so badly. When one has put in sometime by being tortured by them one gets to devise ways of minimising their attacks. The first summer in Chandos mother woke to find she could not open her eyes. Her whole face was so swollen from their poisonous bites. As the day wore on the swelling went down but it was several days before her face looked normal. When the timber is cleared away and the country becomes more spruced up these pests disappear; only in swampy parts they are still troublesome.
In the springtime warm sunshine awakens the flowers and what beauty meets the eye everywhere one walks out the ground is literally covered with variety of kind and colour- one could not enumerate them all. There are a number of different kinds of wild fruit, raspberries, cranberries, huckleberries, buttonberries, blackberries, wild cherries and plum trees. Father got eight plum trees and planted them one for each of us and we were much interested in watching them grow. He was fond of a nice garden and so we always had a good supply of vegetables and flowers. Several families would club together, taking lunch making quite a party and go picking berries. This was quite a gala day for us younger ones. It was not wise to go unless in numbers on account of the wild animals- bears are fond of the berries and frequent the berry patches. One day a neighbour and my sister Billy went to a berry patch not far from our home when quite suddenly Mrs. Ament said come quickly we must go home at once. Billy ran after her pleading for a return to pick some more but Mrs. Ament saw a wolf but would not tell my sister until they were nearer home for fear of frightening her too much.
Many of the settlers are very industrious and try to make every moment tell to advantage. One little lady who was a near neighbour and we children knew well and loved to visit her home and see her garden etc. It was quite accomplished both in her neat well kept cabin as her out of doors work-she grew her vegetables, also hops to make the yeast for domestic use, growing them over a summer house in her pretty flower garden. She also grew all small fruits for home use. The strawberry plants were dug up each autumn and stored in the cellar that they might not be killed in the severe frosts and were replanted in the springtime again. Rye straw was grown to plait for summer hats - both for her own and husbands use. She can become quite artistic in making them too into different fancy plaits and shapes by practice. The wool is home spun for knitting socks, stockings and mittens or gloves also for making flannels. The coarser flannel is used for dress material and coats; all the clothes are made in the home men’s suits too- also felt shoes to be worm in the snow season. These are both light and warm, then there are the jams, preserves, pickles and honey and of course maple sugar and sugar also home made soap and candles. The more careful built what are termed root-houses -these are built of stout logs and covered roof and all with earth, a funnel like chimney from the top like a ventilator and in this the winter supplies are stored. The bins of apples and vegetables as well so they may not get frozen as when frozen they quickly rot.
When the milder weather comes, and it is some time before the new crop is ready for use again-imagine trying to dig through several feet of rock and it will give one an idea of how utterly impossible it is to dig or plough frozen ground-as the Indian summers all must help in the out of doors work. There is the clearing, planting, weeding etc. to be done. Children do their share and are taught to cultivate habits of industry -each family will exchange if one has a superfluity of any one thing as of vegetables or fruit- if a neighbour kills a pig or bullock he will sent some to others and receive the same favour later on. One must experience living in a new country to realise the thoughtfulness and kindness of pioneers for each other. There is wood to be collected and brought near home for use during the cold winter. The cabin must be banked up all around before the ground freezes hard, pine nuts gathered to make a cheerful glaze of an evening and many cut long cedars or pine splinters to make a light to read by at night, each taking his turn to keep them burning.
My father was a great reader and encouraged us to enjoy good literature by reading aloud to us. He would select something instructive and explain things to us we could not readily understand, so we received some useful knowledge as we were unable to attend school- being too far away and then there would only be school for a few months in the year out there. This was a grief to my mother not being able to give us any schooling. She was not a scholar herself as she had been too delicate as a child to study. She had fever and ague which made her quite sickly by its periodic attacks- so she felt the loss of her schooling. She attended Madam Sicklemore’s school with her sisters returning home for the weekends. She was fond of her music lessons and was often called on to entertain visitors who went to the school. She used to declare that if father had felt the need of an education he would have been more anxious about ours, but he was too weary after his days work to take up systematic studies with us so his reading to us through the long winter eves helpful as well as being a treat.
Father had both his toes frozen and as so was a prisoner to the house for months as they became very painful and discharged. One month the cold was so intense one morning going to feed the pig one was found frozen in the sty. Many times father would tell us of the beautiful warm climate of the colonies as Australia was then called and also of the different fruits. I can remember him describing Tasmania as being the shape of cucumbers of a yellow colour and growing in bunches. Then he often said he so much desired to go live there but did not realise that wish would ever be fulfilled. Every morning we all had to sit quietly while he read a chapter from the bible and had prayers- we used often to wish that he would not take so long, but as we have grown older appreciate more his wise council and example.
After we went to live on the farm near Pandash River father found it necessary to go down to the front as the Lake Ontario shore where the towns and villages were located was termed- of course he took Billy and brought back a light draught horse in his place. Billy was a pet with all of us and Caleb was quite willing to make the change with father- but oh the indignation when he returned to us with the new horse. He could never take our Billie's place although no doubt he was more suitable for the heavier work still Billy was sturdy and willing and we children could do anything with him. The new horse wanted to go back, twice he got away but got brought back, at last he got away and was missed for a week. When a neighbour’s son was cutting grass in a marsh through which a creek ran, his deer hound kept up an almost continual barking and running to them so he eventually went to see the cause and found our poor horse stuck fast in the soft marsh on the opposite side only his head resting on the bank. He had worn the skin off under his jaws struggling to get out. They got a team of oxen and ropes and pulled him up but he was too weak for want of food and water. He died through the night. He had been chased by dogs and jumped in to get away, but was unable to get up the opposite bank, as the ground is so boggy in those marshes. We took our cow up from Wicklow she too was a quite pet and would ramble through the first ford coming home sometimes with her nose full of porcupine quills. Then there was a great time to get pincers to pull them out. She eventually went to close to Mr. Porcupine and he objected and hit her with his tail, a habit if they are annoyed. A young heifer father put on the first farm which was another of our domestic pets met a sad fate. There was a high windstorm when a branch of a tree was blown down and fell on her breaking her back. So we lost her as well as our horse.
Occasionally there would be services held in the little church out on the main road about five miles away when all the Protestants would roll up to attend dressed in their best attire. One settlers wife who lived some two miles farther out than we did would walk bare foot and would carry a pair of nice black button boots and cover her neat bonnet trimmed with pale pink roses with a red pocket handkerchief removing it and putting on stockings and boots on nearing the clearance and appear as neatly dressed as any on her arrival.
There was also frequently other entertainment or perhaps a dance in the same building. All the young folk from near and far would attend and enjoy the pleasant times together then return in the early hours of the morning in the well-filled sleighs. It was very enjoyable flying over the smooth roads behind the horses with their bells ringing merrily and all singing together. My father was very strict with us and never freely gave his consent to our going out with other young folk, as he feared we might become too fond of gaiety. Mother was of a more cheerful nature. One evening a young man who had two horses and sleigh wished to take us to an entertainment. Mother referred him to me - best as I knew father’s wishes- “refused”. It was quite customary for young girls to keep company very young. They were considered quite grown up at sixteen years of age. Two of my neighbour’s daughters were married at that age. Young women were considered quite as capable there at that age as others of quite twenty years of age are in other countries we have visited.
About four miles from our home lived a family of about six boys and four girls; all but the two youngest were grown up. These young men’s father frequently had to help him in his clearing the land and helping plant it. The father was an old man and excepting for hunting seldom did much. He kept several deer hounds and would go rambling from early to late when the weather suited him, but when his sons were about twenty years of age he would see to it that they went off to work for others. His wife was a meek kindly little woman and for miles around her influence was felt. All the neighbours with scarcely an exception would call in to see her on passing out to the store. If we failed she would complain and there was always a welcome and refreshment was soon offered. She wished mother to leave me as she wanted me for one of her sons but I preferred to go with my people. He wrote to me and sent his photo and was coming to Australia, but thought better of it for we heard he married and had a family some years later - so he recovered.
Mother used to go out and help father work on the land leaving me to do the housework. She would come in very tired as she was not used to the work- but all pioneers must adapt themselves to the new surroundings- she did all she could, for there were six children to think of. It was the custom for women to help in the out of door’s work.
We girls had to do our share. There were the potato bugs to destroy this was our work too- we used to get an old vessel and knock them off the plants and break of some of the leaves with the young ones on them and were supposed to burn them but we liked the easier way of going to the Pandash River and wash them off the dish. Father would tell us they might all wash near logs or stacks and fly back again but we liked the easy way. The potato bug is a beetle about twice the size of the ladybird, the older ones develop wings with stripes on them, the younger ones are bright red with black spots down each side before the wings grow. They are a great pest, every insect in Canada is termed a bug.
We children all enjoyed the spring time so much in Chandos when the trees begin to bud and the leaves to unfold so many different kinds, the maple trees-sugar soft and silver beech, birch, hazel, elm, and many other light green trees, with the evergreens- pine, balsam, tamarack, hemlock, spruce, cedar all showing in contrast and the beautiful wild flowers during the spring and summer.
Then when autumn drew on when the trees changed colour before they fall, the gold, brown etc. The red maple leaves, following the river down a mile or so from our home was the McDonald rapids with steep banks on either side and the masses of black berry bushes grow on its banks and the tall pines growing on the hills- so much beauty the springs creeks and lakes everywhere one turned all within easy access of which we never tired, but grew to love so. Is it any wonder no land has ever charmed as it did?
The Indians were not in that part of Ontario, but we frequently had them call at the store while in Wicklow to trade. The Indian walking along with his hands behind smoking his pipe, and his squaw walking near him dragging his hand sleigh packed high with baskets of all shapes and sizes, of course all hand made and many very handsome ones. They make the dye from bark and seeds purple magenta, yellow and the bright colours woven into the baskets, which make them, look very attractive. They do most beautiful beadwork too - shoes, slippers, pincushions, and fancy wall pockets. We had a showcase in which these were displayed. The Indians dressed much the same as the English man while the squaws wear bright plaid dresses, bright coloured beads around her neck and a small shawl over her head. Then the American Negro quite often came our way and we children were well frightened of them. They were so cheerful and comical. The jubilee singers would pay a visit and give an entertainment in the village.
I remember to when Barnham’s show of animals and the excitement as all the children would rise at 4 am to see them. The wagons with the wild ones and the covered wagons- little houses on wheels in which the performers lived also the pretty ponies of different sizes, the giraffe and elephants sometimes there was a baby elephant and we have had them come to the door and take a biscuit from our hand as they went by the store. The giraffe and elephants could be seen helping themselves of fruit off the trees as they passed by the orchards along the road. Then their keepers would ride up quickly and shout out at them to hurry them away.
After our house was burned by the forest fire my father wrote to his youngest brother who years before had gone from England to Australia during the gold rush where men for bravado would eat bank notes between pieces of bread and butter for sandwiches and pay 2/6 a pound for salt etc. My uncle had settled for years in the Goulbourne Valley in Victoria owning several farms. As his family were young he found it difficult to get trustworthy help so wrote asking my father if he would care to go there and join him as father had been to Australia when a lad and admired its climate so much he readily accepted uncles offer. He had felt the cold of Canadian winters very keenly so the warm sunshine of Australia appealed to him. Mother and we children did not like to go so far away. The younger ones did not want to leave friends and native land and were sure there would be many earthquakes as it was so hot. Father assured that my uncle had been in Australia and never experienced one so that could not be an excuse. He asked Betty and me privately not to discourage our mother from going there.
Before father and mother left Chandos they made a trip down to the lakeshore to say farewell to friends and settle some business affairs and left us children alone for a week. We felt nervous being left alone as no one knew they were gone. We were given minute instructions what to do in the mean time.
I had to take the responsibility of caring for the animals and fowls etc. One evening as we were getting ready to go and milk, a black bear came and walked around a small cabin in which we kept our meat and milk, but seemed satisfied he could not get it so went off into the forest. We were quite frightened and quite pleased when our parents returned.
At last the day arrived when we left the back woods. Father got a neighbour to drive us with our baggage to Apsley where we took a train to Peterboro and so on to Halifax where we got the steamer “Parisian” for England. I can think of no stronger temptation which has ever came into my life than the one to leave the train as we passed through our old home surroundings and go to my brother Caleb in Lakeport on the dear lake shore. Fortunately it was night time and I did not see the familiar landscape again. It took us two days and three nights to reach the port of Halifax and it was a cold trip being about the middle of December. We spent Xmas day there before we sailed from our native land. Some money my father had left to him about that time took us from the place which had been our home for three years so our experiences in the back woods of Canada ended and another phase began. In the future it often seemed we entered the days of unleavened bread, but as we look back can now realise more fully that an all-wise hand is leading us home.
When we had been in Australia about three years my father went to Tasmania taking my two brothers with him to see the country, as he had always had a desire to live there after seeing it as a young man. He was still charmed with what he saw and found things more congenial to him so wrote to us in Victoria. He thought best to remain there and in a short time my mother sisters and self went over to them in Tasmania. He wrote a poem some years before this which will better describe his mind with regard to what he thought of Tasmania than any words of mine can do, and so he was able to spend his remaining years, for he passed away in Launceston April the third nineteen hundred and one. My mother sleep’s in Deloraine. She died January the third nineteen eighteen having survived him seventeen years. So they both lie resting there awaiting the call of the Life Giver when we hope to meet in a glad re-union where parting will be no more.
[1] Could be “Romsey Marsh, Kent”