The true makers of Canada. The narrative of Gordon Sellar, who emigrated to Canada in 1825

GRDON SELLAR

*

PROFESSOR J.S.WILL

it*.

GORDON SELLAR

The U. S. Campaign of 1813
to Capture Montreal.

CANADA'S BEGINNINGS

The advantage of a writer devoting his attention to one
subject is shown in the volumes published by Robert Sellar of
Huntingdon, Q., which bring out the various phases of the
lives ol the first settlers in Canada. In them future genera-
tions will find photographs of Backwoods life. The largest
of these books is the History of the County of Huntingdon
($2), in which the settlers tell their own story, noted down in
nearly 150 interviews. The second in size is the True Makers
of Canada containing the narratives of two settlers in the
County of York,0nt. Morven (50c) tells the story of a party
of Highlanders who, during the American revolution, made
their way through the wilderness of the Adirondacks to get
to Canada and be under the British flag. Gleaner Tales ($1)
are truly Tales of the Canadian border, bringing out the lights
and shadows of an age that is gone. The Tragedy of Quebec
($1) tells of the disappearance of English-speaking farmers
from that province.

For Sale by

ALBERT BRITNELL

263 Yonge-St., Toronto

The Narrative

of

Gordon Sellar

who
Emigrated to Canada in 1825

ALBERT BRITNELL
263 & 265 YONGE STREET
TORONTO

1916
Copyright, Canada, by Robert Sellar, 1915.

SECOND PKINTING ONE DOLLAR

80324?-

GORDON SELLAR

CHAPTER I.

While my mother was a servant in Glasgow she
married a soldier. I have only a faint remembrance
of my father, of a tall man in a red coat coming to
see us in the afternoons and tossing me up and down
to the ceiling. I was in my fourth year when his
regiment was hurried to Belgium to fight Bonaparte.
One day there rose a shout in the streets, it was
news of a great victory, the battle of Waterloo. At
night mother took me to Argyle street to see the
illuminations, and I never forgot the blaze of lights
and the great crowd cheering. At the Cross there
were men with bottles, drinking the health of Wel-
lington. When my mother caught me up to get past
the drunken men she was shivering. Long after-
wards, when I was able to put two and two together
I understood it was her fear of what had happened
father. She went often to the barracks to ask if
any word had come, but except that the regiment
was in the thick of the fight they could tell nothing.
It might be three weeks after the battle that a ser-
geant came to our room. Mother was out working.
He left a paper on the table and went away. When

8 The Narrative of

mother came home late, she snatched the paper up,
gave a cry that I hear yet, and taking me in her
arms fell on the bed and sobbed as if her heart
would break. I must have asked her what had
happened, for I recall her squeezing me tighter to
her bosom and saying My fatherless boy. Long
after I met a comrade of my father, who told me
he acted bravely all day and was cut down by a
dragoon when the French charged on the infantry
squares at the close of the battle. My mother got
nothing from the government, except the pay that
was coming to him, which she told me was 17s 6d.
Mother kept on working, mostly out of door jobs,
washing or house-cleaning, a neighbor being asked
to look after me. When I got old enough, she would
tell me, while I was in bed, where she was going,
and in the evening I would go and meet her. Some-
times, not often, she got sewing to do at home and
these were bright days. We talked all the time and
she taught me much; not simply to read and write
and cast little sums, but about everything she knew.
My reading book was the gospel of John, which she
said was fullest of comfort, and it was then my faith
in Christ took root. There could not be a more con-
tented or cheerful mother, and her common expres-
sion was that when we did our duty everything was
for the best. She had a sweet voice, and when she
sang one of Burns' songs neighbors opened their
doors to hear her. I was nearly ten when a bad
time came. Mills closed, the streets were full of idle
workmen, and provisions got dear. Mother got little

Gordon Sellar 9

to do, and I know she often went hungry that I
might be fed. She might have got her share of the
relief fund, but would not think of it. She told me
time and again to be independent. That hard win-
ter made all the families in our close draw nearer
to one another, and every hour there was some deed
of helpfulness. The best friends of the poor are
the poor. We were struggling on, hopeful and un-
murmuring, when the word passed from landing to
landing one morning that the boy who was sick in
the first flat had been visited by a doctor, who said
he had typhus. Mother took her turn in sitting up
with him at night until he got the turn and it was
for the better. It might be a week after, I went to
meet her on her way home from the place where she
had been at work, and saw how slow she walked and
the trouble she had in getting up the stair to our
room. She gave me my supper and lay down on
the bed to rest, for she said she was tired. Next
morning she complained of headache and did not
rise. Neighbors came in to see her now and then.
I stayed by her, she had never been thus before.
When it became dark she seemed to forget herself
and talked strange. The woman next door gave her
a few drops of laudanum in sugar and she fell
asleep. When she woke next day she did not know
me and was raving. Word was taken to the hospital
and a doctor came. He said it was a bad case, and
she must be taken to the hospital at once, and he
would send the van. It came, the two men with it
lifted her from her bed and placed her on a stretcher.

10 Ihe Narrative of

A crowd had gathered on the street to see her
brought out and placed in the van. I thought I was
to go with her, and tried to get on the seat. The
helper pushed me away, but the driver bent over
and gave me a penny. The horse started and I
never saw my mother again. I ran after the van,
but it got to the hospital long before I was in sight
of it. I went to the door and said I wanted my
mother; the porter roughly told me to go away. I
waited in front of the building until it got dark,
and I wondered behind which of the rows of lighted
windows mother lay. When cold to the bone I went
back to our room. A neighbor heard me cry and
would have me come to her kitchen-fire and she gave
me some gruel. Sitting I fell asleep. Next morning
I was told I must not go into our room, it was
dangerous, so I went to the hospital and waited and
watched the people go in and out, One gentleman
with a kind face came out and I made bold to
speak to him. When I said mother had fever he
told me nobody could see her, and that she would be
taken good care of. I thought my heart would
burst. I could not bear to stay on the Gallowgate,
and so weary days passed in my keeping watch on
the hospital. On Sunday coming, the neighbor who
was so kind to me, said she would go with me, for
they allowed visitors to see patients on Sunday after-
noon. We started, I trotting cheery in the thought
I was about to see my mother. The clerk at the
counter asked the name and disease. He said no
visitors were admitted to the fever- ward. Could he

Gordon Sellar

find out how she was? He spoke into a tin tube and
coming back opened a big book. 'She died yester-
day,' he said quite unconcerned. I could not help,
it, I gave a cry and fainted. As we trudged home
in the rain the woman told me they had buried her.
I had now no home. The landlord fumigated our
room with sulphur, took the little furniture for the
rent, and got another tenant. Everybody was kind
but I knew they had not enough for themselves, and
the resolve took shape, that I would go to the parish
where my mother was born. Often, when we took a
walk on the Green, Sunday evenings, she pointed to
the hills beyond which her father's home once was,
and I came to think of that country-place as one
where there was plenty to eat and coals to keep
warm. How to get there I tried to plan. I must
walk, of course, but how was I to live on the road?
I was running messages for the grocer with whom
mother had dealt, and he gave me a halfpenny when
he had an errand. These I gave to the woman where
I slept and who was so kind to me despite her
poverty. I was on London street after dark when
a gentleman came along. He was half -tipsy. Catch-
ing hold of my collar he said if I would get him to
his house he would give me sixpence. He gave a
number in Montieth row. I took his hand, which
steadied him a little, and we got along slowly, an d
were lucky in not meeting a policeman. When we
got to the number he gave me, I rang the bell. A
man came to the door, who exclaimed, At it again !
The gentleman stumbled in and I was going away

12 The Narrative of

when he recollected me. Fumbling in his pocket, he
picked out a coin and put it into my hand, and the
door closed. At the first lamp I looked at it; sure
enough, he had given me a sixpence. I was over-
joyed, and I said to myself, I can leave for Ayrshire
now. I wakened early next morning and began my
preparations. I got speldrins and scones, tying them
in the silk handkerchief mother wore round her neck
on Sunday. That and her bible was all I had of
her belongings. Where the rest had gone, a number
of pawn-tickets told. I was in a hurry to be off
and telling the woman I was going to try the coun-
try I bade her goodbye. She said, God help you,
poor boy, and kissed my cheek. The bells at the
Cross were chiming out The blue bells of Scotland,
when I turned the corner at the Saltmarket.

It was a beautiful spring- day and when I had
cleared the city and got right into the country
everything was so fresh and pleasant that I could
have shouted with joy. The hedges were bursting
into bloom, the grass was dotted with daisies, and
from the fields of braird rose larks and other birds,
which sang as if they rejoiced with me. I wondered
why people should stay in the city when the coun-
try was so much better. It had one draw-back, the
country-road was not as smooth as the pavement.
There was a cut in my left foot from stepping on a
bit of glass, and the dust and grit of the road got
into it and gave some pain. I must have walk-
ed for three hours when I came to a burn that cross-
ed the road. I sat on a stone and bathed my foot

Gordon Sellar 13

and with it dangling in the water I ate a speldrin
and a scone. On starting to walk, I found my foot
worse, and had to go slow and take many a rest
When the gloaming came I was on the look out for
a place to pass the night. On finding a cosey spot
behind a clump of bushes, I took my supper, lay
down, and fell asleep, for I was dead weary. The
whistling of a blackbird near my head woke me and
I saw the sun was getting high. My foot was much
worse, but I had to go on. Taking from my bundle
of provisions as sparingly as my hunger would let
me, I started. It was another fine day and had my
hurt foot been well I thought I would reach my
mother's parish before long. I could not walk, I
just limped. Carts passed me, but would not give
me a lift. My bare feet and head and ragged, clothes
made them suspicious, and as for the gentlemen in
gigs they did not look at me. When I came to spring
or burn I put my foot in it, for it was hot and swol-
len now. At noon I finished the food in my bundle
and went on. I had not gone far when I had to stop,
and was holding my sore foot in a spring when a
tinker came along. He asked what was wrong.
Drawing a long pin out of his coat collar he felt
along the cut, and then squeezed .it hard. I see it
now, he remarked, and fetching from his pouch a
pair of pincers he pulled from the cut a sliver of
glass. Wrapping the cloth round it he tied it with
a bit of black tape, and told me if I kept dirt out
it would heal in a day or two. Asking me where I
was going, we had some talk. He told me the parish

14 The Narrative of

of Dundonald was a long way off and he did not
know anybody in it by the name of Askew. I was
on the right road and could find out when I got
there. He lit his pipe and left me. I walked with
more ease, and the farther I went the hungrier I
grew. Coming to a house by the side of the road I
went to the open door and asked for a cake. I have
nothing for beggars, cried a woman by the fire. I
am no beggar, I answered, I will pay you, and held
out a halfpenny. She stared at me. Take these
stoups and fill them at the well. The hill was steep
and the stoups heavy, but I managed to carry them
back one at a time and placed them on the bench.
She handed me a farl of oatcake and I went away.
It was the sweetest bite I ever tasted. It was not
nearly dark when I climbed a dyke to get into a
sheltered nook and fell asleep. Something soft and
warm licking my face woke me. It was a dog and
it was broad day. What are you doing here, laddie?
said the dog's master who was a young fellow, per-
haps six or seven years older than myself. His staff
and the collie showed me he was a shepherd. I told
him who I was and where I was trying to go. Collie
again smelt at me and wagged his tail as if telling
his matter I was all right. I went with the lad who
said his name was Archie. He led to where his
sheep were and we sat down in the sunshine, for it
was another warm day. We talked and we were
not ten minutes together when we liked each other.
He unwrapped from a cloth some bannocks and
something like dried meat, which he said was braxie.

Gordon Sellar 15

It was his noon-bite, but he told me to eat it for he
said, We go back to the shelter today, and by we he
meant collie. He had been lonesome and was glad
of company and we chattered on by the hour. At-
noon, leaving collie in charge of the sheep, we went
to the hut where he stayed and had something to
eat. He said his father was shepherd to a big farmer,
who had sent him with two score of shearling ewes
to get highland pasture. We talked about every-
thing we knew and tried to make each other laugh.
He told me about Wallace, and we gripped hands on
saying we would fight for Scotland like him, and I
told him about Glasgow, where he had not been. A
boy came with a little basket and a message. The
message was from his father, that he was to bring
the sheep back early on Monday, and the basket was
from his mother with food and a clean shirt for the
Sabbath. We slept on a sheepskin and wakened to
hear the patter of rain. After seeing his sheep and
counting them, Archie said we must keep the Sab-
bath, and when we had settled in a dry corner of the
hillside he heard me my questions. I could not go
further than Who is the Redeemer of God's elect ?
but he could go on to the end. Then I repeated the
three paraphrases my mother had taught me, but
Archie had nearly all of them and several psalms.
A shepherd would be tired if he did not learn by
heart, he said; some knit but I like reading best
Then he took my mother's bible and read about
David and Goliath. That over we started to sing.
Oh we had a fine time, and when a shower came

16 The Narrative of

Archie spread his plaid like a tent over the bushes
and we sat under it. He told me what he meant to
do when he was a man. He was going to Canada
and get a farm, and send for the whole family. A»
we snuggled in for the night, he told me he would
not forget me and he was glad collie had nosed me
out in the bushes. If I found in the morning he
was gone, I was to take what he left me to eat. Sure
enough I slept in; he was gone with the sheep. I
said a prayer for him and took the road.

It was shower and shine all day. I footed on my
way as fast as I could, for the cut was still tender.
Towards night I neared a little village and saw an
old man sitting on the doorstep reading. I asked
him if I was on the right road to Dundonald. He
replied I was, but it was too far away to reach
before dark, and he put a few questions to me. Ask-
ing me to sit beside him we had a talk. Did you
ever see that book? holding out the one he was
reading. 'It is A Cloud of Witnesses, and gives the
story of the days of persecution. I wish every man
in Scotland knew what it contains, for there would
be more of the right stuff among us. I was just
reading, for the hundredth time, I suppose, the trial
of Marion Harvie, and how he who was afterwards
James King of England consented to send her, a
poor frail woman, to the gallows.' From the Cov-
enanters he passed to politics. He was a weaver
and did not like the government, telling me, seeing
where I came from, I must grow up to be a Glasgow
radical. Seeing I was homeless, he said he would

Gordon Sellar 17

fend me for the night, and, going into the house, he
brought out a coggie of milk and a barley scone.
When I had finished, he took me to the byre and
left me in a stall of straw, telling me to leave early
for his wife hated gangrel bodies and would not,
when she came in, rest content, if she knew there
was anybody in the stable. When daylight came
it was raining. I started without anybody seeing
me from the house. I was wet to the skin, but I
trudged on, saying to myself every now and then
You're a Scotchman, never say die. There were few
on the road, and when I met a postman and asked
how far I was from Dundonald, his curt reply was,
You are in it. I was dripping wet and oh so per-
ished with cold and hunger that I made up my
mind to stop at the first house I came to. As it
happened, it was a farm-house a little bit from the
road. I went to the kitchen-door where there was
a hen trying to keep her chicks out of the rain.
There were voices of children at play and of a
woman as if crooning a babe to sleep. I stood a
while before I ventured to knock. There was no
answer and after waiting a few minutes I knocked
again. A boy of my own age opened the door. An
old woman came towards me and asked what I want-
ed. I am cold, I said, and, please, might I warm
myself? She was deaf and did not catch what I
said. 'Whose bairn are you?' she asked me. 'Mary
Askew's,' I replied. I noticed the younger woman
who had the child in her lap fixed her gaze on me.
'Where are you from?' grannie asked. From Glas-

2

18 Ihe Natirrave of

gow and I am so cold. Laying down the child in
the cradle, the younger woman came to me and
sitting on a stool took my hands. 'Where did your
mother belong?' she asked in a kind voice. 'She
came from the parish of Dundonald.' 'And where is
your father?' 'He is dead.' 'And is your mother in
Glasgow?' 'She died in the hospital/ and the thought
of that sad time set the tears running down my
cheeks. 'You poor motherless bairn!' she exclaimed,
'can it be you are the child of my old school com-
panion ? Have you any brothers or sisters ?' 'No, I
have nobody in the world. 'Did your mother leave
you nothing?' In my simplicity, not understanding
she meant worldly gear, I untied my bundle, un-
covered the cloth I had wrapped round it to keep
it dry, and handed her the bible. She looked at
the writing. 'I remember when she got it, as a prize
for repeating the 119th psalm without missing a
word.' Putting her arms round my neck she kissed
me and holding me to the light she said 'You have
your mother's eyes and mouth.'

The boy and girl took me to the tire, and, when
grannie was got to understand who I was, she
bustled round to heat over some of the broth left
from dinner and while it was warming the little
girl forced her piece into my mouth. The other
boy came to me full of curiosity. Feeling my legs
he whispered, 'You're starvit.' By-and-by a cart
drove into the yard. It was the master with his
hired man. When he was told who I was, he called
me to him and patted me on the head. That night

Gordon Sellar 19

I slept with Allan, the name of the older boy. His-
brother's name was Bob, and the girl's Alice. The
baby had not been christened. The name of tha
master of the house was Andrew Anderson.

20 The Narrative of

CHAPTER II.

Hating to be a burden on the family I was eager
to work. Too weak for farm duties, I helped about
the house and came, in course of time, to earn a good
word from grannie. Tho of the same age, there was
a great difference between Allan and myself. He
could lift weights I could not move, did not get tired
as I did, and as the stronger took care of me. We
were all happy and getting-on well when trouble
came from an unlocked for quarter. The master got
notice from the factor that, on his lease running out
the following year, the rent would be raised. He
did not look for this. During his lease he had made
many improvements at his own cost and thought
they would more than count against any rise in the
value of farm lands. He remonstrated with the fac-
tor, who said he could do nothing, his lordship wanted
more revenue from his estate and there was a man
ready to take the farm at the advanced rent. He
was sorry but the master had to pay the rent asked,

Gordon Sellar 21

or leave the place. If I go, what will be allowed
me for the improvements I have made? Not a shil-
ling; he had gone on making them without the land-
lord's consent. You saw me making them and en-
couraged me, said the master, and I made them in
the belief I would be given another tack to get some
of the profit out of them. The factor replied, Tut,
tut, that's not the law of Scotland. The master felt
very sore at the injustice done him. On his lord-
ship's arrival from London, accompanied by a party
of his English friends, for the shooting, the master
resolved to see him. On the morning he left to inter-
view him we wished him good luck, confident the
landlord would not uphold the factor, and we wearied
for his return. The look on his face as he came into
the kitchen showed he had failed. He told us all
that passed. On getting to the grand house and
telling the flunkey he had come to see his master,
the flunkey regarded him with disdain, and replied
his lordship was engaged and would not see him.
Persisting in refusing to leave the door and telling
that he was a tenant, the flunkey left and returned
with a young gentleman, who asked what was his
business, saying he was his lordship's secretary. On
being told, the young man shook his head, saying
his lordship left all such matters to his factor, and
it would do no good to see him. Just then a finely
dressed lady swept into the hall. Pausing, she cried,
'Tompkins, what does that common-looking man want
here? Tell him to go to the servants' entry.' 'He
wants to see his lordship,' was the reply. 'The idea !'

22 The Narrative of

exclaimed the lady as she crossed the floor and dis-
appeared by the opposite door. The master could
hear the sounds of laughter and jingle of glasses.
'My good man/ said the secretary, 'you had better
go: his lordship will not see you today.' 'When will
he be at liberty to see me?' asked the master, 'I will
come when it suits his pleasure, I must have his
word of mouth that what the factor says is his de-
cision.' The secretary looked perplexed, and after
putting a few questions, among them that he had
paid his rent and wanted no favor beyond renewal
of his lease on the old terms, he told my master to
wait a minute and left. It might be half an hour
or more when a flunkey beckoned the master to fol-
low him. Throwing open a door he entered what he
took to be the library, for it had shelves of books.
His lordship was alone, seated by the fireplace with
a newspaper on his lap. 'Now, say what you have
to say in fewest words,' said the nobleman. Stand-
ing before him the master told how he had taken
the farm 19 years ago, had observed every condition
of the lease, and had gone beyond them in keeping
the farm in good heart, for he had improved it in
many ways, especially during the past few years
when he had ditched and limed and levelled a boggy
piece of land, and changed it from growing rushes
into the best pasture-field on the farm. 'Gin the
farm is worth more, it is me who has made it and I
crave your lordship to either give me another tack
at the same rent or pay me what my betterments
are worth.' His lordship turned and touched a bell.

Gordon Sellar 28

On the flunkey appearing, he said to him, 'Show this
fellow to the door,' and took up his newspaper. As
the master finished, he said to us, 'Dear as every
acre of the farm is to me, I will leave it and go where
the man who works the land may own it and where
there are no lords and dukes, nor baronets. I am a
man and never again will I ask as a favor what is
my due of any fellow-mortal with a title.' We went
to bed that night sorrowful and fearing what was
before us.

When he took anything in hand the master went
through with it. Before the week was out he had
given up the farm, arranged for an auction sale, and
for going to Canada. My heart was filled with mis-
givings as to what would become of me. I knew
crops had been short for two years, and, though he
was even with the world, the master had not a pound
to spare, and depended on the auction-sale for the
money to pay for outfit and passage to Canada. I
had no right to expect he would pay for me, and all
the more that he would have no use for a lad such
as I was in his new home. It was not so much of
what might happen to myself after they were gone
that I thought about, as of parting with the family,
for I loved every one of them. I knew they were
considering what to do with me, and one day, on the
master getting me alone, he seemed relieved on tell-
ing me the new tenant of the farm was going to
keep me on for my meat I thanked him, for it was
better than I looked for. These were busy days get-
ting ready. Alice noticed that, in all the making of

24 The Narrative of

clothes, there were none for me, and I overheard her
ask her mother, who answered in a whisper, that
they had not money enough to take me along with
them. Alice was more considerate than ever with
me. To their going grannie proved an obstacle. She
would not leave Scotland, she declared, she would
be buried in it, she would go to no strange country
let alone a cold one like Canada, nor cross the sea.
Her favorite of the family was Robbie, on whom she
doted. 'You will not leave him?' asked the mistress.
'Ou, he'll gang with me to Mirren's,' the name of her
daughter in Glasgow. 'Oh, no; Robbie goes with us
to Canada.' It was a struggle with the dear old soul,
and in the end she decided she would brave the
Atlantic rather than part with the boy.

The last day came. The chests, and plenishing for
the home they looked forward to in Canada, had
gone the day before and been stowed in the ship
at Troon, and the carts stood at the door to receive
the family and their hand-bags. The children and
all were seated and the master turned to me before
taking his place. He shook my hand, and tried to
say something, but could not, for his voice failed.
Pressing half a crown in my little fist he moved to
get beside the driver, when Robbie cheeped out as-
tonished, 'Is Qordie no to go wi' us?' 'Whist, my
boy; we will send for him by-and-by.' At this
Robbie set up a howl, and his brothers and sisters
joined in his weeping. The master was sorely moved
and whispered with his wife. 'His passage-money
will make me break my last big note,' I heard him

Gordon Sellar 25

say to her. 'Trust in the Lord,' she answered, 'I
canna thole the thought of leaving the mitherless
bairn to that hard man, John Stoddart; he'll work
the poor weak fellow to death.' Without another
word, the master hoisted me on top of the baggage,
the carts moved on, and Robbie looked up into my
face with a smile. We were driven alongside the
ship as she lay at the quay. She was a roomy brig,
and was busy taking on cargo. Our part of the hold
was shown to us, and the mistress at once began to
unpack the bedding, and to make the best of every-
thing. 'Is it not an awful black hole to put Chris-
tians into?' asked a woman who was taking her first
survey. 'Well, no, I do not think so; it is far better
than I expected.' She had a gracious way, the mis-
tress, of looking at everything in the best light

In the afternoon a man came on board to see the
captain about taking passage, and they agreed. He
had no baggage, and as the ship only supplied part
of the provisions he had to go and buy what he need-
ed for the voyage. He asked the master to let me
go with him to help to carry back his bedding and
parcels. We went from shop to shop until he had
got everything on his list; last of all he visited a
draper and bought cloth. On getting back to the
ship he was tapped on the shoulder by a seedy look-
ing fellow who was waiting for him, and who said,
'You are my prisoner.' The man started and his
face grew white. I thought it strange he did not
ask what he was a prisoner for. 'Will you go quiet-
ly or will I put these on?' asked the man, showing

26 The Narrative of

a pair of handcuffs in his coat pocket. 'I will give
you no trouble/ was the answer, 'only allow the boy
to stow these parcels and bags in my berth.'

'I think the boy had better come with you; I will
wait till he is ready.' I wondered what he could
want with me. He led us up the street to a large
building where he placed us in charge of a man even
more greasy and with a worse look than himself. It
was quite a while before he returned and led us into
a large room. There was a long table, at its head
sat two well-dressed gentlemen, and at each side
men with papers before them. 'May it please your
lordship and Bailie McSweem, the prisoner being
present we will now proceed.' He went on to ex-
plain that the prisoner was a member of one of those
political associations that were plotting to subvert
the government of the country, even thinking they
<;ould organize a revolution and drive his majesty
from the throne. He need not dwell on the danger
State and Church were in from the plottings of those
desperate men, and the need of all upholders of the
•Crown and Constitution suppressing them with a
firm hand.

The gentleman who was addressed as his lordship
nodded in approval, and said, 'There is no need, Mr
Sheriff, of referring to those unhappy matters as we
are fully cognizant of them. What about the pri-
soner?'

'He is a member of the Greenock union, proceed-
ings were about to be taken for his arrest on a charge
of sedition, when somehow he got wind of what was

Gordon Sellar 27

about to take place and, knowing he was guilty,
attempted to flee the country. I can produce, if ycu
say so, witnesses to prove that he skulked into Troon
by back streets and secured passage to Canada on the
Heatherbell, which sails in a few hours. I have one
witness now present.

His lordship remarked the Sheriff deserved credit
for his vigilance and the promptitude with which he
acted. 'I suppose/ he added 'we have nothing more
to do than order his being sent to Greenock for ex-
amination and trial?'

'That is all we need do,' answered the Sheriff! Just
then a loud voice was heard in the hall demanding
admission, a sound as if the door-keeper was pulled
aside, and a sharp featured man came in. 'What
business have you to enter here?' demanded the
Sheriff.

'I will soon show you. What are you doing with
that man ?' pointing to the prisoner,

'Leave at once, or I will order you to be ejected.'

The man, who was quite composed, said to the
prisoner, 'Mr Kerr do you authorize me to act as
your attorney?'

'Yes,' he answered. 'Very well, then, I am here
by right. Now, Mr Sheriff, hand me over the papers
in the case.'

The Sheriff, who was red in the face, 'I shall not,
you have no right here; you're not a lawyer.'

Addressing the magistrates the man said he was a
merchant, a burgess of the city of Glasgow, had been
chosen by the accused as his attorney and was acting

28 The Narrative of

within his rights in demanding to see the papers.
The magistrates consulted in a whisper and his lord-
ship remarked there could be no objection. The
Sheriff, however, continued to clutch them. 'You
ask him/ was the order of the stranger to Kerr, 'he
dare not refuse you.' Reluctantly the Sheriff hand-
ed them to the stranger, who quickly glanced over
them. 'Is this all? he demanded. 'Yes, that is all/
snapped the Sheriff.

'Where is the warrant for Kerr's arrest?'

'None of your business where it is.'

Speaking to the bench, the stranger said there was
neither information nor warrant among the papers
he held in his hand. The only authority they had
for holding Kerr was a letter from a clerk at
Greenock, stating one Robert Kerr, accused of sedi-
tion, had fled before the papers could be made out
for his arrest, and that, if he was found trying to
take ship at Troon, to hold him. 'I warn you/ said
the stranger, shaking his fist, 'that you have made
yourselves liable to heavy penalties in arresting
Robert Kerr on the strength of a mere letter. There
is no deposition whatever, no warrant, and yet a
peaceable man, going about in his lawful business,
has been seized by your thief-takers and made pri-
soner. If you do not release him at once I go forth-
with to Edinburgh and you will know what will
happen you by Monday.' He went on with much
more I do not recall, but it was all threats and warn-
ings of what would befall all concerned if Kerr was
not released. The Sheriff at last got in a word.

Gordon Sellar

'The charge is sedition and ordinary processes of pro-
cedure do not apply.'

'You might have said that 30 years ago when you
infernal Tories sent Thomas Muir of Huntershill to
his death, and William Skirving and others to ban-
ishment for seeking reform in representation and
upholding the right of petition, but you are not able
now to make the law to suit your ends. You are
holding this man without shadow of law or justice,
and I demand his being set at liberty.'

'Quite an authority in law !' sneered the Sheriff.

'Yes, I have been three times before the court of
session and won each time. I knew your father,
who was a decent shoemaker in Cupar, and when he
sent you to learn to be a lawyer he little thought he
was making a tool for those he despised. Pick a
man from the plow, clap on his back a black coat,
send him to college, and in five years he is a Con-
servative, and puckers his mouth at anything so vul-
gar as a Reformer, booing and clawing to the gentry
and nobility. Dod, set a beggar on horseback and
he will ride over his own father, and your father
was no lick-the-ladle like you, but a Liberal who
stood up for his rights.' The bitterness and force
with which the stranger spoke cowed his hearers.

'These insults are too much,' stammered the Bailie.

The stranger at once turned upon him. 'O, this is
you, McSweem, to whom I have sold many a box of
soap and tea when you wore an apron and kept a
grocer s shop. Set you up and push you forward,
indeed. You have got a bit of an estate with your

30 The Narrative of

wife's money and call yourself a laird ! The grand
folk having taken you under thei r wing, you forget
that you once sat, cheek-by-jowl, with Joseph Ger-
rald, and now you sit in judgment on a better man
than a dozen like you .'

'Mr Sheriff, shouted his lordship, 'Remove this man
to the cells.'

'I dare you to put a finger on me,' and he grasped
a chair ready to knock down the officer who ad-
vanced to obey the order. 'I am within my lawful
rights. Dod, wee Henderson would ask nothing bet-
ter than to prosecute you before the lords of session
were you to keep me in jail even for an hour. Re-
lease this innocent man Kerr, and let us go.'

'You are a vulgar bully,' exclaimed his lordship
haughtily.

The stranger dropped his bitter tone, and asked
smoothly, 'May I ask your lordship a question? Will
you condescend to say how many of your lordship's
relatives are in government offices, and is it true
your wife's mother draws a pension, all of them
living out of taxes paid by the commonalty whom
you despise ?'

His lordship affected not to hear him, and beckon-
ed the Sheriff to draw near who conferred with the
magistrates in whispers. I overheard Bailie Mc-
Sweem say, 'I know him, he's a perfect devil to
fight; better to have nothing to do with him,' and
the Sheriff's remark, 'He has got a legal catch to
work on.' When the Sheriff went back to his seat,
his lordship said curtly, 'The accused is discharged',

Gordon Sellar 31

and he and McSweem hurriedly left. The stranger
gripped Kerr by the shoulder and pushed him before
him until he reached the street. 'Now, I must leave
you, for I must see what my customers are out of.'

'Tell me your name?' asked Kerr, 'that I may
know who has done me such service.'

'Never mind; you are under no obligation to me.
A wee bird told me you were in trouble and I am
glad to have been in time to serve you.'

'You do not know all the service you have done*
You have saved more than myself from jail, and an
innocent wife and children from poverty. Do let me
know your name that I may remember it as long
as I live.'

'Daniel M'farlane, and my advice is to quit Scot-
land right off, for these devils are mad angry at your
giving them the slip. They will get the papers they
need from Greenock and have you in jail if you
are here tomorrow.' A grip of the hand, and the
stranger was gone. The whole scene was such a
surprise, so novel to me, that every part of it fasten-
ed on my memory.

On reaching the brig we found the sailors stowing
away casks of water. Kerr and myself had been
given the same berth, and Allan and Robbie had the
next one. Saying he was dead tired, for he had
been on his feet since leaving Greenock, Kerr turned
in though the sun had not set. An hour or so after,
a number of men came to the wharf to see him. I
found him asleep. They asked if I was the lad the
officer took along with him to be a witness. Gather-

32 The Narrative of

ing in a quiet corner they had me repeat all that
took place. They said they were Liberals and glad
to hear the black nebs had won.

The noise overhead of washing the deck awoke
me, and I knew by the motion of the ship we were
sailing. On getting up I saw Troon several miles
behind and Ailsa Craig drawing near. Allan and
myself, with Robbie between us, were snuggled on
the lee side of the longboat when Kerr appeared.
He was interested on hearing of the men who came
to visit him and said it was hard to be hounded
out of Scotland, which he did not wish to leave, for
saying constitutional reforms were called for. 'I am
no worse used,' he added, 'than the man whom that
county we are looking at starved when he was
among them and built monuments to him when he
was dead.' The town of Ayr was in sight and he
named several of the points Burns had named in his
songs. 'Think, my laddies, of a man like Burns be-
ing told by the officials over him to keep his Liberal
views to himself, that it was not for him to think
but to be silent and obedient. And he had to swal-
low their order to prevent his losing the petty office
which stood between his children and starvation.'

The breeze that taken the brig so far down the
firth soon died away, and we rocked gently south of
Ailsa Craig. In the hold folk were busy getting
things in some sort of order, while on deck the sailors
were putting everything in shipshape. This breath-
ing spell was fortunate, for at dark the wind came
in squalls, and on rounding the Mull of Can tyre the

Gordon Sellar 33

ocean swells sent most of the passengers to their
berths seasick. I escaped and was able to help the
family and Mr Kerr, who almost collapsed, and was
not himself for a week. His first sign of recovery
was his craving for a red herring. The mistress was
early up and bustling round to find she had to face
an entire change in the methods of housekeeping to
which she had been used. There was a little house
between the two rnasts named the galley, and here
the cooking was done. The cook was an old man,
gruff and crusty, who had spent most of his life in a
Dundee whaler. In the Arctic region his good na-
ture had got frozen and was not yet thawed out
He would allow nobody near and got angry when
suggestions were tendered. He made good porridge
and tasty soup, anything else he spoiled. As these
alone were cooked in bulk and measured out, the
passengers took to the galley the food they wished
to be cooked That each family get back what they
gave in, the food was placed in bags of netted twine
and then slipped into the coppers of boiling water.
The mistress was a famous hand at roley-poley, and
for the first Sunday after sea-sickness had gone, she
prepared a big one as a treat It looked right and
smelled good, but the first spoonful showed it had a
wonderful flavor. In the boiler the net beside it held
a nuckle of smoked ham. The laughter and jokes
made us forget the taste of the ham and not a scrap
of the roley-poley was left. Our greatest lack was
milk for the children, and we all resented being
3

34 The Narrative of

scrimped in drinking-water, though before the voy-
age ended we became reconciled to that, for the
water grew bad.

Gordon Sellar 35

CHAPTER III.

There were 43 passengers. There were two fami-
lies besides our own, and outside of them were a
number of young men, plowmen and shepherds, in-
tent on getting land and sending for their people to
join them the next spring. There was an exception
in a middle-aged man, brisk and spruce, who held
himself to be above his fellow-passengers, and said
nothing about where he came from or who he was.
The only information he gave was, that he had been
in the mercantile line, and that he was to be address-
ed as Mr Snellgrove. He waved his right hand in
conversation and spoke in a lofty way, which to
Allan and myself was funny. When he had got his
sealegs and his appetite, he began lecturing the pas-
sengers as to what they ought to do, enlarging on
organizing a committee, of which he was to be head.
I think I see him, strutting up and down the deck
by the side of the captain with whom it gratified
him to walk. The only other passenger besides him
who was not connected with farming was Mr Kerr

Hie Narrative of

to whom I became much attached. He was well-
informed on subjects I had heard of but knew noth-
ing, and we talked by the hour. His companionship
was to me an intellectual awakening. Among his

o c?

purchases in Troon was material for a suit of clothes,
which he made during the voyage, for he was a
tailor. He had left Greenock in such haste that he
had not time to go to his lodging for any of his be-
longings. Mr Snellgrove affected to despise him both
for his trade and his political principles, and never
missed an opportunity to sneer at him; Mr Kerr
never replied.

Day followed day without relieving the monotony.
At times we could get a glimpse of the topsails of a
ship gliding along the horizon, but usually the ocean
seemed to have no other tenant than our own stout
brig- One afternoon the cook rushed out of his den

o

with the shout 'There she spouts!' and looking where
he pointed we saw a whale cleaving the waves. We
were in our third week out when we ran into a fog.
The wind fell and the brig rolled in the swell, caus-
ing her tackle to rattle and sails to flap as if they
would split. The second day the fog was thicker,
and the ocean smooth as glass. For fear of collision
with another ship, the lookout man kept blowing a
horn, which had a most dismal sound. The captain
and mate tried to get the sun at noon but could not
find the faintest trace. After dinner a gull flew past,
which made the cook say he smelt danger. A few
were below but the most of us were on deck when
a slight bump was felt and then another. The rat-

Gordon Selkir 37

tling in the rigging stopped and the ocean swell
broke on our stern. The mute rushed to the com-
panion scuttle and shouted to the captain, that the
ship was grounded. In a minute he appeared, his
face white and twisted with anguish. His anxiety
was not alone for the passengers and crew but for
himself. He was owner of the brig and if she was
wrecked he was ruined. The mate was casting the
lead and when he shouted 'We are on a sandbank'
there was a sigh of relief deepened by the carpen-
ter's report that the ship was not making water.
Grannie, who had managed to creep up the ladder
from the deserted hold, remarked 'We are sooner in
Canada than I expectit.' Her exclamation brought
the reaction from our dread and we burst into laugh-
ter. 'It is not Quebec,' shouted Allan in her ear, 'we
are aground.' 'A weel,' she replied, 'I will cling to
the rock o' my salvation '

The order was given to get ready the boats. There
were two, the yawl that had been hauled on top of
the house on deck, and lay keel up. Oars were mis-
laid and on hanging her to the davits it was noticed
in time there was no plug in the hole for drainage.
The other boat, which was our reliance, was the long
boat abaft the foremast. Its cover was torn off and
we saw it was filled with all sorts of odds and ends
that had been stored there to be out of the way.
These were pitched aside by willing hands and the
tackle had been fastened to hoist her overboard,
when there was a shout from the fog of Ahoy. We
saw a man in yellow oilskins rowing towards us.

Th e No, rra tive of

Jumping on board, he asked 'What is keeping you
here?' 'You tell us,' replied the captain, who was
overjoyed to see him. The fisherman said we had
been drifted by the current towards Newfoundland,
and had the ship not grounded she would, in a few
hours, have been dashed against the cliffs that line
the shore and every soul been lost. It was the most
wonderful escape he had ever known.

'How are we to get off?' asked the captain. 'You
will float off when the tide makes.' 'And then what
will we do if there is no wind?' 'You will go on the
cliffs, but there will be a capful of wind at ebb tide.'
The captain had sent for his chart, and the fisherman
pointed out where the brig stood. He said if a breeze
•did not come in time for her to make a slant south-
wards we were to take to the boats and row to the
cove which he covered with his thumb. 'If you can
get your anchor over the side, it may help you,' he
added.

He and his comrades were out catching bait. He
heard our horn and then saw our lump of a brig
loom through the fog. We were sorry to see him
leave and row off to his schooner, of which he had
the bearings. To hoist the anchor from where it
had been stowed when we lost sight of Tory island
and bitt it to the chain was tedious work but it was
begun. We waited hopefully for the tide and, sure
enough, it lifted us gently. On feeling we were
afloat once more we gave a cheer. Soon after a faint
breath of air was felt, the ship got steerage way, and
we slowly hauled off the dreaded coast. The breeze

Gordon Sellar 39

cleared the fog and in the rays of the setting sun
we saw the cliffs against which we might have been
shivered and the fishing-boats to which our friend
belonged.

On gathering in the hold our talk was of our
escape. The master said it was proof to him God
was with us; we thought we were lost when we
grounded, yet that sandbank was what had saved UP.
Just then Mr Snellgrove came clown the ladder. 'I
have just bade the captain good night/ he said, 'and
I am authorized by him to inform you all danger is
past. Had an executive committee been appointed
the moment the vessel struck matters would have
gone on with less confusion. We are safe, how-
ever, notwithstanding we have a Jonah on board.'

Mr Kerr who was, like all of us, excited by the
accident, asked, 'You mean me?'

'Yes, you are a fugitive from the justice which
would have punished you as you deserve for sedition.
The world has come to a strange pass when tailors
would dictate to the Powers ordained by God how
the realm is to be governed. For one I am loyal to
my King and his advisers in all they ordain. Eng-
land's glorious bulwark is her throne and the nobil-
ity who surround it.'

The little man stood on the lower rungs of the
ladder, in front of the lantern that swung from a
beam, so I saw him clearly. To our surprise Mr
Kerr came forward and spoke slowly and quietly.
'I do not wish you, my fellow passengers, to look
npon me any longer as a fugitive from justice, and

40 The Narrative of

will explain how it comes that circumstances give
color to the charge. I have a brother, older than
myself and father of a large family. One day in
April, a clerk in the sheriff's office, who is a cousin,
came to rne at night to tell me that a spy who had
attended a meeting of the Liberal club, had laid an
information that my brother had spoken disrespect-
fully of the King, George the Fourth, and his ad-
visers. On the strength of this, a warrant was pre-
pared for his arrest on the charge of sedition. The
spy had made a mistake in the first name and had
given mine instead of my brother's. My cousin said,
if I would disappear the prosecution would be baffled.
To save my brother, for a prosecution would ruin him,
I fled at once, going to Troon, where I knew a ship
was ready to sail for Canada On the officers going
to my lodging to arrest me, they found I had gone.
How they came to know I had gone to Troon I can-
not say. Probably they sent word to all ports where
ships were ready to sail. As you know, I was ar-
rested on board this boat and discharged, because the
magistrate had no authority to hold me. It was to
save my brother that I am here. What he said at
the club I do not know, for I was not there.'

'A plausible story,' said Mr Snellgrove, 'but you
told a lie when you answered to a false name before
the Troon magistrate.'

'I told no lie,' answered Mr Kerr in a calm voice,
'for I was not asked to plead, but I knew I could
have saved myself and have sent my brother to jail
by correcting the mistake of the spy.'

Gordon Sellar 41

Mr Snellgrove was about to say more when a mur-
mur of disapproval caused him to slink to his berth.
My master came forward and taking Mr Kerr by the
hand said, 'I respected you before; I honor you now,'"
and all, men and women, pressed to shake his hand.

After breakfast next morning there was much
talk over our escape from death, and the more light
thrown on it in discussion the stronger grew the
feeling that we had been saved by the interposition
of Providence. Had the brig not struck the sand-
bank and done so at low tide, not a soul would
have reached land, and relatives would never have
known what became of the Heatherbell unless part
of her wreckage was picked up. There ought to be
public acknowledgment of our rescue and expression
of our united thanks. The captain agreed it would
be right, so, that afternoon, all hands assembled, ex-
cept Mr Snellgrove, who sat at the bow pretending
to read a book. The impression made on me, by the
sight of the sailors joining in the psalms and the
children gathering round their mother's skirts in
wonder, has survived these fifty-five years. The
master at the request of the captain, took charge-
Re read the story of Paul's shipwreck and then
prayed with a fervor that made me cry. To the sur-
prise of all, he asked Mr Kerr to improve the occa-
sion. He began by saying it was not for mortals to
judge the ways of God, to complain of visitations or
to condemn acts that are inscrutable, but it was the
bounden duty of man, when good did befall him, to-
ascribe the praise to God. They had a marvellous

42 The Narrative of

escape from a cruel death, and without inquiring into
the how or wherefore it was our part to acknowledge
the hand that saved us. After a good deal more in
that strain of thought he changed to the purpose of
our \7oyage. We were crossing the ocean to escape
^conditions in the Old Land that had become a burden
to us, hoping, in the New Land before us, there would
be brighter surroundings. To preserve that New
Land from the mistakes and evils that blast the Old
was a duty. To try and reproduce another Scotland
such as they had left would be to reproduce what
we were leaving it for. What we ought to try is
to create a new Great Britain in Canada, retaining
all that is good and dropping all that is undesirable.
I want, he said, to see a land where every man is
free to secure a portion of God's footstool and to
enjoy the fruits he reaps from it, without an aristo-
cracy taking toll of what they did not earn, and a
government levying taxes on labor to support sol-
diers or to subsidize privileged classes of any kind
whatever their pretences.

How much more the speaker would have said I
do not know, for Mr Snellgrove, who had come for-
ward on his beginning to speak, here shouted 'Trea-
son!' The master to prevent a scene, for a young
shepherd moved to catch hold of the offender, gave
out the 100th psalm, and we closed in peace.

The hold was so dark that Mr Kerr could not see
to sew, so on tine days he worked on deck. Sitting
beside him he taught me how to handle a needle, for
lie said every man should be able to make small re-

Gordon Seller 43

pairs. He advised me to seize every opportunity to
learn. When a boy lie could have learned to speak
Gaelic and regretted he had let the chance go by.
Should he get work in Montreal, he would study
French. A man's intellect grows by learning what-
ever accident throws in his way, and the man who,
from foolish conceit, refuses to take advantage of his
opportunities remains a dolt. Read and observe, he
said, and you will be able to say and do when your
fellows are helpless. He got cuttings of canvas from
the bosun, shaped them into a blouse, and got me to
sew them together. The other boys laughed at me,
and called me the wee tailor, but the blouse did me
good service for many a day. While so much with
him, I asked Mr Kerr about his political trouble.
Though a Liberal he belonged to no club and was
against using other than constitutional means to
bring about reforms, and these reforms must come.
It could not continue that Great Britain was to be
ruled by a parliament composed of aristocrats and
their creatures, for the great mass of the people had
no voice in it. No Methodist, Baptist, or other dis-
senter was allowed a scat in parliament, and there
were noblemen who controlled the election of more
members than the city of Glasgow. Manchester and
Birmingham have no members. Half of Scotland is
owned by a dozen aristocrats. Whenever you hear
men shout disloyalty and claim to be the only true-
blue supporters of this country, you may be sure
they are selfishly trying to hold some privilege to
which they have no right. He told of many of his

44 The Narrative of

acquaintances who had been prosecuted for petition-
ing for the mending of political grievances, of a few
who had been ruined by imprisonment and law costs,
of the men who had been banished to Australia, and
the three men who had been hanged. Hundreds had
fled, like himself, to escape prosecution.

After our misadventure off Newfoundland our voy-
age was prosperous. Coining on deck one sunny
morning we saw land, which was Cape Ray, and be-
fore the sun set we were in the Gulf of St Lawrence.
We were not alone now, for every few hours we
sighted ships. They were part of the Spring fleet
to Quebec, now on their voyage home with cargoes
of timber. One passed us so close that the captains
spoke, and when the homeward captain shouted lie
was for the Clyde there were passengers who wished
they were on board her, and the tear came to their
eyes when they thought of Scotland and of those
who were there. The Bird Rocks were quite a sight
to us, but the Ayrshire folk held they were not to
be compared with Ailsa Craig. On the Gulf narrow-
ing until we could see land on both sides, a white
yacht bore down to us and sent aboard a pilot. He
was a short man, with grizzled hair. Being the
first Frenchman we had seen, we gathered round
him with curiosity and listened to his broken Eng-
lish with pleasure, for the tone was kindly and he
was so polite, even to us boys. He brought no very
late news, for he had left Quebec ten days before,
when the weather was so hot that laborers loadinor

O

ships dropped in the coves from sunstroke. Each

Gordon Svllar 45

tack that brought the brig higher up the river
changed the scenery; a range of forest-clad hills on
the north bank, and on the south bank a row of
whitewashed cottages, so closely set that they looked
as if they lined a street, broken at intervals by the
tin-covered roof and steeple of a church. There were
discussions among our farmers as to the narrowness
of the fields and what kind of crops were on them,
for they looked patchy and were of different colors,
which the pilot was generally called on to decide,
and it was funny to watch his difficulty in under-
standing their broad Scottish speech. Reaching
where the ebb tide was stronger than the breeze,
anchor was dropped for the first time. Before the
tide turned, the pilot cried to dip up water, and
there was a shout of delight when we tasted it and
found the buckets were filled with fresh water.
Wasn't there a big washing that day! As much of
a splashing as the porpoises made who gambolled at
a distance. Cool, northerly breezes helped us on our
way, and exactly five weeks from the day we left
Troon we came to anchor off Cape Diamond, which
disappointed us, for we looked for a higher rock and
a bigger fort. On the ship mooring, the pilot sat
down, and in a frenzy of delight at his success in
bringing her up safely, flourished his arms and
chuckled in his own ' language. Darting from a
wharf came a fine rowboat with four oarsmen, and
an official in blue with gilt buttons holding the helm.
We were so engrossed in watching it, that we did not
notice Mr Snellgrove had joined us, decked out grand-

46 The Narrative of

ly in finest clothes. Before the captain could say a
word to the customs-officer, Mr Snellgrove asked him
whether the governor-general was at his residence,
and on being told he was, said he would accompany
his majesty's official on shore, and, so saying, stepped
on the boat and seated himself in silent dignity in
the stern, turning his back to us who were looking
on. The officer's visit was brief; the boat pushed off
and we had our last look of Mr Snellgrove, trans-
formed from a steerage-passenger into a dandy ex-
pecting to mix with the grandees of Quebec. Next
day, in talking with the captain, he told the master
Snellgrove had kept a draper's shop at Maybole,
failed for a big sum, and had come to Canada ex-
pecting to get, with the letters of introduction he
had from a number of noblemen, a government
situation.

The intention being to weigh anchor on the tide
flowing, leave to go on shore was refused to the pas-
sengers. The captain, having to report at the cus-
toms, he, however, took Mr Kerr with him, to get
materials for repairs he was making to the captain's
clothes. Mr Kerr caught hold of me, and I had a
hurried look at what appeared to me to be a foreign
town, leaving out the street that ran along the har-
bor, which seemed to be lined with taverns frequent-
ed by soldiers and sailors. Mr Kerr bought a fancy
basket from a squaw, as a present to the mistress,
who had been kind to him. While we were gone,
she ship was visited by boats offering bread for sale
and willing to take in exchange split peas or oat-

Gordoif SelLir 47

meal. Black lumps were held up as maple sugar.
They were so dirty that curiosity was soon satisfied..
The boat that brought us a pilot, went back with
Snellgrove's trunk. On the tide beginning to flow
the anchor was lifted and we were borne upwards,,
passing the crowd ashore, among whom were many
soldiers. A gun was fired from the citadel and the
flag fluttered down, for it was sunset when we got
into the stream. Everything being new and strange
nothing escaped us, and every passenger was on deck
watching. The number of ships surprised all. There
were rows of them for two or three miles, in the
midst of fields of the logs which were to form their
cargoes. As I sat beside Mr Kerr in the twilight^
he spoke of the sights I could not help seeing in the
street along the waterfront of Quebec, or hearing the
language used. There was evil in the world of which
a man should try to keep ignorant. It was not
knowledge of the world to look into, much less
to dabble in its filth. A lad who kept his thoughts
clean was repaid by health and happiness, while en-
tertaining evil imaginings led to a weak intellect and

~ o o

discontent with oneself. I had noticed before, when
anybody began a dirty story that Mr Kerr rose and
left. Another time he told me, his constant effort
was to think only of pleasant things, to try and re-
lieve what was disagreeable by looking from a sunny-
standpoint and to meet disappointments by search-
ing if there was not some good in them.

On the tide beginning to turn, the anchor was
dropped. The tide is felt as high as Three Rivers

48 The Narrative of

and it is possible for a ship to go that far by float-
ing up with it. The second night after leaving

'Quebec we were startled by a loud knocking on the
companion of the forecastle and an imperative shout
To tumble up. An east wind had come and every

•minute was valuable. The anchor was lifted and
sails set, and before the sun appeared we were sweep-
ing past Three Rivers. Interest was kept up by the
'villages and fields we passed, and it was the decision
of the farmers that it was poor land badly worked.
More novel to us, was the succession of rafts we met,
each covering acres, with masts and houses on them,
and men along their sides keeping them in mid-
stream by means of long oars. As we passed up
lake St Peter the wind freshened, the clouds came

"lower and the rain poured. The captain and pilot
were in great glee, for they told us if the wind held

-we would pass up the St Mary's current and anchor
off Montreal before dark. Strong as the wind was
and with every sail set that would draw, it was
found we could not stem that current without h,elp,

•so the ship was brought close to the bank, a rope
passed ashore, and a string of oxen appeared, who
helped to draw her into calmer water. The night
was dark and rainy but we kept on deck and vratch-
ed the lights of Montreal.

They had not been at sea a week when the three
farmers had agreed they would keep together on
reaching Canada and take up land side by side.
They were also of one mind in making Toronto (it

'-was not so named then) their starting point in search

Gordon Sellar 49

of new homes. The captain's advice was, that one
of them should take the stage at Montreal; by so
doing he would get to Toronto at least a week ahead
of the rest of the party, in which time he could hunt
up land. This would save delay and the expense of
staying in lodging while looking for a place to settle.
It was arranged the master should go. At daylight
he got ashore and was in time for the stage that left
for Prescott. We were all up early that morning,
eager to see Montreal. The clouds had gone and the
mountain looked fresh and green. The town con-
sisted of a few rows of buildings along the river.
There being no wharf or dock the ship was hauled
as close to the shore as her draft allowed, and a
gangway of long planks on trestles set up. Nearly
every passenger walked over it to say they had set
foot on Canada. A number of the men went into
the town to see it. In two hours one of them was
brought back drunk and without a copper iu his
pockets. Mr Kerr told me he would stay in Mon-
treal if he got a place. He returned in the after-
noon to tell us he had got work and to take away
his few belongings. He bade all good-bye. On
coming to me, I went with him, for he had asked
the mistress that I go with him to see the town.
The narrowness of the streets and the foreign look
•of the houses with their high-pitched roofs impress-
ed me less than the muddy roadways, for I had
never thought there could be a town with unpaved
streets and no sidewalks. Mr Kerr, on his way to
his boarding-house, showed me the shop where he

50 The Narrative of

was to begin work next morning. While we were
in his bedroom a gong sounded for supper. It was
all new to me, the people, their talk, and the food.
I wondered to see meat and potatoes for supper, hot
buns, and apple-pies. After supper we had a walk,
and in going along one of the streets there was a
man before us carrying a baby. Raising her head
above his shoulder the child looked at us and said
something to him. Without reflecting, I wondered
how a child could have learned French so early in
life. On turning back to the ship Mr Kerr took me
into a shop and bought me a cap, and I had need of
one. On corning in front of the ship, he shook my
hands as if he did not want to let me go, and made
me promise I would write him and tell where we
had settled. For himself, he would stay in Montreal
at least long enough to get his belongings by ship
from Greenock.

The captain having given notice that everybody
must leave the ship next day, there was early bust-
ling in finishing packing and arranging for the next
stage in our journey, which was to be by a Durham
boat to Prescott. Carts were on hand to haul our
luggage to the canal, where lay the boat that had
been hired for our party. A carter hoisted a chest
on his little vehicle and hurriedly drove off. Instead
of taking the direction of the other carts, lie went
straight up the dump that led into the town. I
shouted to him to stop He laid his whip on the
horse and drove faster. It flashed on me he was a
thief, and I ran after him. I could never have

Gordou Kellar ."1

caught up to him had it not been market clay and
the street was crowded with people and carts. I
jumped up beside him and pulled at his collar to
make him stop. He tried to push me on to the road,
but I clung to him, when he lashed me with the
whip. I shouted for help, but all being French they
did not know what I said, but they saw something
was wrong and with many exclamations the crowd
stood staring at us. Just then a little, stout man,
in a black gown, elbowed his way through the crowd,
and asked me in English what was the matter. I
told him the carter had stolen the chest. He spoke
to the carter in French. 'The man denies it/ said
the priest, for such I now guessed he was. I hur-
riedly narrated what had happened, and for proof
pointed to the name painted on the chest. Speak-
ing with severity to the carter, the fellow turned
his horse towards the river and the priest told me
he would take the chest back to where he got it.
'But he may not do so,' I exclaimed. The priest
gave me a sharp look, as if surprised that I should
be ignorant of his power 'He dare not disobey me/
I thanked the priest from the bottom of my heart,
and in a few minutes the carter had dumped the
chest on the spot where he had taken it and drove
away. On telling the mate what had happened, he
said it was common for emigrants, both at Quebec
and Montreal, to be robbed by fellows who regarded
them as fair game.

We followed the cart that took the last of our
luggage, forming quite a procession, and each one of

The Narrative of

us who was able carried something. I had a bag in
one hand and an iron pot in the other. Grannie
held a firm grip of Robbie, who she feared might
be lost in Montreal, for the puir laddie hadna a word
of French. On coming to the canal we were disap-
pointed with both it and the boat. The canal was a
narrow ditch and as to the boat, it was short and
narrow and had no deck, except a few feet at either
end. 'We cannot live in that cockle-shell!' exclaim-
ed Mrs Auld. Her owner replied 'She was one fine
boat, new, built by Yankee.' He was the only one
of the crew who understood English, and was quick
in his motions. He soon had all we brought with us
stowed, and when a corner was found for the last
chest, it was a surmise where the crew and passen-
gers could find standing-room. The decked portions
were allotted the women and children, ti=e men and
boys roosted on top of boxes and bales as they could.
When all was ready, the conductor took the helm,
the crew lined up on the bank with a tow-line over
their shoulders, and off we started. The weather
was fine and the country we passed beautiful. At
the first locks we came to, the mistress stepped to a
farmhouse beside the canal, and came back with the
pail she had taken with her full of milk. It was the
first the children had since we left Scotland. It was
late in the day when the boat got to the end of the
canal; the conductor, who told us to call him Treffle,
said we would wait and have supper before going on
the lake. Driftwood was gathered and fires made,
pots and pans being set on stones. The crew fried

Gordon Sellar

fat pork, which, with bread, was their supper. We
made porridge, for we had still a good supply of oat-
meal, and of ship-biscuit. The sails were hoisted
and we got away before it was quite dark. The wind
was westerly, so we had to tack. Had it not been
that the boat had a centreboard we would have made
small progress. The centreboard was a novelty to us,
and we could see how close it helped the little vessel
to sail in the eye of the wind. The size of the lake
surprised everybody and all the more when Troffle
told us it was the St Lawrence. 'My, it is a big river
and it is in a big country!' exclaimed Mrs Auld.
Everybody had to sleep as they best could; some
slept sitting, more by leaning against one another, no-
body had room to stretch himself. We were tired
and glad to rest in any way. Mrs Auld said we were
like herring in a barrel, packed heads and thraws.
In waking at daylight we heard the sound of water
dashing and roaring, and looking upwards saw the
river tumbling downwards in great waves, which
were, for all the world, like those of the Atlantic in
a gale, except that they stayed in the same place.
Treffle said these waves were due to the rushing
water striking big rocks in the bed of the river, over
which they kept pouring, and gave the name Cas-
cades to the rapid. The boat was tied up, as the
crew were to have breakfast before their hard work
in making a passage past the rapids. I went with
the mistress to a house that was not far away for
milk. A smiling woman met us at the door and
asked us inside; the house was clean and neat. We

The Narrative of

tried to make her understand what we wanted but
failed until I put the pail between my knees and
imitated milking a cow. She laughed heartily and
by signs made us know she did not have a cow.
Stepping to the fireplace she dipped a tin into a big
pot that simmered in a corner and handed it to the
mistress. It was soup. Holding out some money,
she made signs to fill the pail Having done so she
picked out five coppers from the money offered, and
bade good-by with many a smile and nod. The
soup proved TO be tine, just one drawback, its flavor
of garlic. 'They use no split peas to make their pea-
soup here,' remarked Mrs Auld, 'and ifc is an im-
provement,' 'No, no,' interjected TrefHe, 'soup be
good because all time kept boiling; pot by the fire
Sunday to Sunday.' The chill in the morning air
made the hot soup grateful.

Gordon Sellar

CHAPTER IV.

Our curiosity as to how our boat was to get up the
rapid was soon satisfied. Along both sides of the
boat ran a stout plank, to which were securely fas-
tened a row of cleats about two feet apart. The
crew gathered at the bow, each man holding a long
pole with an iron point. On the order being given
by the conductor, who held the helm, two men
stepped out and took their place on the planks, one
on each side, and dropped the iron points of their
poles into the river, until they struck bottom. Then,
pressing the end they held against their shoulders,
pushed with all their might. As the boat yielded
to their thrust, they stepped backward down their
planks, making room for another man in front, until
there were four on each side of the boat, pushing
with their utmost strength. As the men who first
got on the planks reached the end, they jumped aside
and made their way to the bow to begin anew the
same operation, of dropping their poles into the
water, tucking the head of them into the hollow of
their shoulders, and, leaning forward, push as they

56 The Narrative of

did before, receding step by step, the cleats giving
the needed purchase to their feet. The current was
swifter than any inillstream, yet the boat was push-
ed slowly up until we reached the entrance to a
canal, smaller than that at Lachine, for it was only
2£ feet deep and so narrow that the crew jumped it
when they wished to cross. It served the purpose,
however, of enabling the boat to pass the worst part
of the rapid, where it foamed in great billows.
Quitting the canal the swift current was again met
and the setting poles again put into use. Our lads
were eager to try their hands, but a few minutes
was enough, their shoulders being too soft for the
work. Those of the crew were calloused almost like
bone, but even to them it was hard work, for the
sweat rolled down their faces, as they struggled
along the planks bent double. On reaching the next
rapid, Treffle asked all who could to get out and
walk along the bank, as the boat was drawing too
much water. Robbie wanted to go with us, but
grannie clung to him. 'Should the boatie cowp, who
would save him gin I was na at hand?' she asked.
To help the crew, we pulled at a towline until she
got to another small canal. As we went on, we had
the excitement of watching boats pass us on their
way to Montreal, shooting the rapids. They were
heavily loaded, mostly with bags of flour, yet ran
down the foaming waters safely. To us boys, was
more exciting the passage of rafts, for they splashed
the water into spray. Having overcome that rapid,,
we all got on board, and the crew had an easier time

Gordon Sellar 57

in pushing along until we got in sight of a church
perched above a cluster of cottages. The mistress
asked Treffle how they made the passage before the
small canals were cut where the rapids were most
dangerous. He explained, that at the first rapid all
the freight was unloaded and conveyed in carts to
the landing-place on lake St Francis, while the empty
boats were poled and towed close alongside the edge
of the bank, avoiding the boiling water. In those
days the boats were lighter and sailed in companies,
and their crews united to take them up one by one.
The village, the Cedars, was to be ths resting-place
of the boatmen until next day, and scattering among
the house?, where a few of them had their families,
they left the boat to the passengers. Treffle led the
way to houses where provisions could bo bought and
at prices so low that the women wondered. Saying
nothing so good to make men strong, he bought for
the mistress a big piece of boiled pork, which, sliced
thin, we enjoyed either with bread or our ship-
biscuit. We watched the baking of bread. It was
fired in queer little white plastered ovens set in front
of each house, looking somewhat like beehives placed
on top of strong tables. The ovens are filled with
wood, which is set on fire, and when the oven is hot
enough the wood is raked out, the loaves shoved in,
and the door shut. We youngsters gathered round
one on seeing the woman was about to open it.
When she drew out the first loaf, with a fine crust
and an appetizing smell, we could not help giving a
cheer, it was so wonderful to us. We went back to

The Narrative of

the boat with a lot of food, to which was added fish,
bought from a man as he landed from his canoe,
which we fried. That evening- we had the best meal
since we left home, and at night had plenty of room
to sleep, for the air being hot a number of us slept
beneath the trees. We safely got past the fourth
and last of the rapids, floating out of a little canal
into a large lake. The wind was still in the west,
so we had to keep tacking, and it was afternoon when
we passed Cornwall and steered for the south side of
the St Lawrence. Allan was pointing out to Grannie
what was British and what was American; she re-
marked, on comparing the houses on the two banks,
'That gin Canadians wad build houses of wood, they
ocht to hae the decency to paint them ' On nearing
the landing-place at the foot of the rapids, Allan
pointed to a group of people and told her they were
Yankees. She shook her head, she did not believe
him, they were too like our ain folk to be Yankees.
The Soo is the longest rapid of (he St Lawrence
measuring nine miles, but is not nearly so wild as
those we had passed, having fewer waves and in-
tervals of smooth water. There was no canal to
help in getting to the head of it, and it was beyond
the strength of our crew to push the boat up with
setting-poles. There was a towpath along the U. S.
bank on which stood three yoke of oxen. A stout
cable was hooked to their whiffle-tree and they start-
ed. On getting fairly into the strength of the current
the crew dropped their poles into the water, and it
WAS all men and oxen, strained to the utmost, could

Gordon Sellnr 59

do at times to stem the sweep of the mighty tide.
It was slow work but we won to smoother water
and the boat tied up for the night. It was hot when
we entered lake St Francis, it was sultry now. Along-
side us was a Durham boat like ours, but longer. It
was packed worse than our own, men, women, and
children huddled as close as captives on a slaveship,
and like ourselves worn out with fatigue and facing
the thunderstorm that we heard coining without
covering of any kind. The quiet determination to
endure much in the belief that we were coming to u
country where we would better our condition sus-
tained all in doing our best to make light of our
trials. To a young woman, who was trying to get
a fretful baby to sleep, the mistress sent me with a
tin of milk and we. had some talk. I asked if she
was not sorry she had left the Old Land. 'No, no,'
she replied, 'we had no prospect there; here, with
hard work we have the prospect of comfort and of
depending on nobody for work or help.' She kissed
her babe and speaking to him said, 'Yes, Willie, you
will never know in this country what your mother
came through.' It was this hope that sustained us
all. There was only a small house in sight and the
near bush was scrub, so we did not ask to go on
shore and had to wait patiently, for the heat and
mosquitoes kept us awake. The storm did not last
long, but wetted all to tht? skin who could not creep
under the decked parts of the boat. It brought great
relief in freshening the air. The boatmen were astir
before daylight, hoisting the sails, for the wind had

60 The Narrative of

turned to the north, as it often does after a thunder-
storm. There were places, where the current ran so
fast that setting-poles had to be used, but we got on
well, and, by-and-by, sighted two towns — Ogdens-
burg and Prescott, the one bright and tidy, the
other with a weather-beaten uninviting look. We
rejoiced to see a small steamboat at the Prescott
wharf. It was waiting for the stage from Montreal.
A bargain was made to take our party to Kingston.
On the boat we had met at the Soo coming in, she
had too many emigrants for the steamer to take on
board, but her captain agreed to tow her, The offer
was made to let any of the women change boats, but
none accepted. Like ourselves, they were travelling
in families and feared to be parted. We were real
sorry in bidding good-by to the crew of the Durham
boat, for they had been kind and made companions
of the children. As one wee tot came up to her
special favorite, she pursed her lips to be kissed;
the Canadian took the pipe out of his mouth and
gave the queerest cry of delight I ever heard. We
could not speak to each other, but in the language of
grimace and expression of countenance the French
Canadian excels. The Montreal stage at last ap-
peared, drawn by four horses, and on its passengers
getting settled in the cabin, the steamer began her
voyage. She was not like the steamboats of later
days, which are houses built on hulls. She was
just a good-sized barge with an engine and two
paddle-wheels, which sent her along at a slow rate,
all the more slowly on account of her towing the

Gordon Sellar. (51

Durham boat. Our party crowded her fore deck
and our baggage, piled on the freight she had when
we got on, was higher than her paddle-boxes. We
stopped three times to take on wood during the pas-
sage, reaching Kingston next morning, where we
were to get a steamer for Toronto, but had to wait
for her arrival. She was a larger boat but of the
same pattern as the one we left, having her cabins
below deck. There were over a hundred emigrants,
and we so crowded the steerage that we were packed
as close as in the Durham boats. The prospect of
being so near our journey's end made us endure dis-
comfort cheerfully I remember how the great size
of lake Ontario impressed us all, having an horizon
like that of the Atlantic. We had wondered at the
width of the St Lawrence and at where all the
water came from to dash down its rapids, but this
great lake surprised us more, with its sea-gulls and
big white painted ships bowling along. Mr Auld
remarked the county of Ayr would be but an island
in it, and Mr Brodie that you might stick Glasgow
in a corner and never know it was there were it not
for the reek. Many were the surmises as to how the
master had got on, if he had got land, if he would
meet us, and what our next move would be. The
mistress shared in none of their anxiety. She was
calm in her confidence of her husband's ability and
energy. She was convinced he had secured land
and that he would be waiting on the wharf when
the steamer sailed into Toronto. They were what
every married couple ought to be — of one mind and

(>'2 The Narrative of

one heart. Our first sight of Toronto pleased us all,
and wo had a long view of it, sailing round the ishind
before reaching the entrance to the harbor. Our ej'es
were strained as we came near the wharf in the hope
of picking out master among the people who crowd-
ed it. All of a sudden Robbie shouted Father, and
a man waved his hand, whom, as the boat drew closer
in we all recognized. The sailors were still hauling;

£-* CT

the steamer into her berth, when Mr Brodie shouted
'Have you got land?' Yes was the reply. 'Thank
God!' ejaculated Mr Brodie, and we all said the same
in our hearts; the relief we felt only emigrants, ai'ter
a weary journey, to a strange country can know.
Pressing round the master, with Ruth in his arms
and Robbie pulling at his coat tails, he said he had
got land, not far from Toronto, and had secured carts
to move us that day to take possession. First of all,
he said, we will have dinner.

Gordon Sellar

Here I stopped. It was my youngest daughter
who insisted on my telling How I Came to Canada,
and I had consented on condition she would write
down what I said, for I am a poor penman and no
speller. Recalling what had happened in my early
life, and I did so generally as I lay in bed in my
wakeful hours, I dictated to Mary as she found
leisure. On reading over what she had written I
had only one fault to find with her work — she had
not taken down the Scotch as I had spoken it. She
had put my words, so she said, into proper English.
She protested against my halting in rny narrative
with the arrival at Toronto, and insisted I <ro on

~

and tell of our life in the backwoods. I cannot re-
sist her pretty way of pleading with me when she
wants anything, for she is so like rny tainted mother
that I often start at the resemblance. To me, in i>er
young face and figure my mother lives ag-iin. The
agreement was to tell How I Came to Canada. To
that I now add, How we Got On in its Backwoods.

tit The Narrative of

Gordon Sellar 65

HOW WE GOT ON IN THE BACKWOODS

CHAPTER V.

SEEKING FOR LAND

Leaving Mr Auld and Mr Brodie to see to the un-
loading of the baggage, we followed the master up
the brae to the street that faces the lake, aad en-
tered a tavern. While waiting for dinner he told us
of his experience in Toronto, not all, for he added to
it for a week afterwards, but the substance of his
complete story I will tell at once. The morning after
his arrival he went to the office of the surveyor-
general, and found several in the waiting-room ; three
he recognized as having come with him in the
steamboat from Kingston. Like himself they all
wanted land. Talking among themselves, an Eng-
lishman, who said he had been in Toronto four days,
declared he had got sick coming to the office; he had
thought there would be no difficulty in getting a lot
and going to it at once, but found it was not so.
The money he had to carry them to their new home
was going in paying for board of his family. Unless
he was assigned a lot that day, he would cross to
the States. All were eager to get their lots at once;
Canada invited emigrants yet, when they came to
5

66 The Narrative of

her door, there was no hurry in serving them. The
master asked the reason, and got a number of an-
swers. One was that there was too much formality
and redtape, another that the officials were above
their business and treated emigrants as if they were
inferior animals, but the reason that struck the mas-
ter most was that given by the emigrant who said
this was his fourth day, which was, that if an emi-
grant had any money they wanted him to buy land,
instead of giving him a government grant. While
they were talking the headman of the office walked
past them, accompanied by a gentleman in military
uniform, and went into the inner room. Both gen-
tlemen were speaking loudly. 'Yes,' said the sur-
veyor-general, 'we are building a future empire here,
and would like more recognition from the Home
government of our services. We are doing a great
work with imperfect means.' 'Ah!' exclaimed the
officer, 'what do you need?' 'We need more money
and more officials to direct the stream of immigra-
tion.' So they went on gabbling, while by this time
there were over fifty of us in the waiting-room and
round the door outside. Getting tired, the master
asked a clerk who was passing in to see the sur-
veyor, to tell him there were a number of emigrants
wanting lots and if he would be pleased to help
them. We heard the message given and the reply
'I am engaged with Colonel Rivers, and cannot pos-
sibly see them today ; go and take their names
and the places where they are staying.' So we gave

Gordon Sellar 67

our names, said the master, and came away sick at
heart. While waiting in the tavern at a loss what
to do a man came into the barroom and asked if he
was Mr Anderson. He had heard he wanted land
and could introduce him to a party who would sup-
ply him at a reasonable price. 'I have not come all
the way from Scotland to pay for land; I expect to
get a lot on the government's conditions.' You can
get such a lot, replied the stranger, but when you
see it you would riot take it. All the government
lots are in the back country, and often wet or stony.
What you want is good land and near a market.
He talked on, trying to persuade the master to go
with him and make a purchase, but he said he would
take time. to think over what he had told him. The
stranger pressed him to come to the bar and have a
treat; the master said No. After he was gone the
master asked the tavern-keeper if he knew the man.
'Oh, yes, he is a runner for the big bugs who have
land for sale.' 'How came he to know I wanted
land?' 'Were you not at the surveyor - general's
office this morning and left your name? There is a
regular machine to get all the money out of you
emigrants that can be squeezed.' The landlord said
nearly all the desirable land was held by private
persons, who had got large grants under one pre-
tence or another and who were selling it for cash,
when the emigrant had any, or on mortgage if he
had none, for if he failed in his payments they got
the lot back with all the improvements the emigrant

68 The Narrative of

and his family had made. After dinner the master
took a walk, and passing along the street the
thought struck him that he should call at the post-
office, for there might be a letter from Scotland.
Asking a gentleman to direct him to the office, the
reply was he was going that way and would show
him. 'You're a Scotchman,' remarked the gentle-
man, 'What part are you from?' From Ayrshire.
'That is my native county.' So they talked until
the office was reached. Standing at the door, the
master told him of his perplexity about getting
land. 'Ask if there is a letter for you,' directed
the stranger. There was none. 'Now come with
me and I will try to find out some way to help
you.' They entered a large store, opposite the
market-place, of which the gentleman was owner.
The place was crowded with customers waiting their
turn to be served. Taking him into a cubby-hole
of an office he asked the master to speak frankly,
to tell him how much land he wanted, what money
he had, and the number of his family. When he
had learned all, Mr Dunlop, for that was his name,
said, 'You may give up your notion of getting land
for the fees. All the good land, so far surveyed, is
in the hands of our gentry, who live by selling it
or of speculators. The lots the survey or -general
would give you would be dear for nothing, they are
so far away. You want to be as near the lake, or
,a town or village as you can manage, so that you
-can buy and sell to advantage. Many who go on
.remote lots have to leave them after undergoing

Gordon Sell&r 69

sufferings no Christian man or woman should en-
dure. I am busy now; corne back at four o'clock
and I will find out what can be done '

On returning to the store at that hour he found
Mr Dunlop had been called away, but had left a
letter, which he was to deliver. With some diffi-
culty the master found the house. There was a
man and woman sitting in the shade on the stoop.
Reading the letter he was asked to sit down. The
master described the man as short and thin and
well up in years, but wiry and active. His wife
was comely for her years, with a placid expression.
In reply to his first question, the master addressed
him as Sir. 'Use not that word again; all men are
equal before God; use not the vain distinctions by
which so many try to magnify themselves and set
themselves apart from their fellows." The master
was taken aback. The wife explained that they
were Friends, whom the world named Quakers,
and that their yea and nay meant what they ex-
pressed; they desired directness and sincerity in
speech. Both took much interest in what the mas-
ter told them, for they kept questioning him until
they learned how he came to leave Scotland and of
the voyage. They were struck by his account of
the ship grounding off Newfoundland and the wife
remarked 'Thee did well to give thanks to Him
who saved you.' The address of Mr Kerr they ask-
ed for, and the master promised to get it. 'He has
suffered as we Friends have and still do, for we
have no voice in the government of the country and

70 The Narrative of

can hold no office.' A girl came to the door who
said supper was ready. The master rose to leave.
'Nay, thee must break bread with us; thee art a
stranger in a strange land,' said the wife, as she
took hold of his arm. The evening passed too
quickly, for the master enjoyed his company. On
rising to go, the Quaker told him he had a block of
land he had taken for a bad debt. 'And what is the
price you put on it?' asked the master. 'I do not
sell in that way. Thou must see the land and if it
suits thee, come back, and I will tell thee its price.
Thee take breakfast as early as they can give it, and
you will find a man * horn we call Jabez waiting to
lead thee where the land is.'

Next morning as the sun was rising over the lake,
the master overheard a man in the barroom asking
for him, and hurried from the table. He was tall
and gaunt, with a set mouth that spoke of decision
of character. At the door were two saddled horses
and in a few minutes they were trotting up Yonge
street. When they had to slow down, on account of
the road becoming full of yawning holes, Jabez had
much to say about backwoods farming. He had not
the personal experience of a settler, but had seen
much of backwoods life and had known scores who
had tried it. 'Not one in five succeeds,' he said, 'some
fail from not having money to feed their families
until enough land is under crop to maintain them,
others from going on stony or sandy lots that yield
only poor crops, and not a few from going where it
is marshy and fever-and-ague prevail. Many go into

Gordon Sellar 71

the backwoods who have not the muscle for its hard
work or who will not be content to live on pork and
potatoes, until they can get better, yet even they
might do had they perseverance and self-denial. The
Scotch and the North of Ireland people, accustomed
to hard work and spare living, seldom fail.' They
were riding past much land in bush, generally with-
out a strip of clearing. Jabez remarked the curse of
Canada was giving land to people who would not go
to live upon it, who had no intention of clearing it,
but held it to sell. A deal of that land you see was
given as grants to old soldiers. A colonel could claim
1200 acres, a major 800, a captain 600 acres, and a
private 100 acres. Not one in twenty who drew
their lots meant to live on them, and of the few who
tried most of them failed and left. Speculators had
their agents round taverns and stores ready to buy
soldiers' tickets, and got transfers for a few dollars,
sometimes for a keg of whiskey or a hundredweight
of pork. If you want to kill a country, deal out its
land as grants to old soldiers. It does the soldiers
no good and keeps back settlement, for the grants
they got are left by speculators unimproved, to the
hurt of the genuine settlers, who want roads opened
fences put up, and ditches dug. You will find out
this yourself when you begin to clear a lot. This
giving away land to soldiers is well meant, but sol-
diers wont go on it and it is just a way to make
speculators rich. No man should get an acre from
the government unless he binds himself to live on
the land and clear it. On the master saying he was

72 The Narrative of

told much land was got by politicians, Jabez grew
warm in denouncing them. Whatever party was in
office, used the land as a means of bribery. They
bought the support of members by grants of land
and, when an election came round, got the settlers to
vote as they wished under threats of making them
act up to the letter of their settlement duties or of-
fering back-dues and clear titles in return for their
support. No candidate opposed to the government
can be elected for a backwoods county. With such
talk Jabez relieved their journey until they came to
a side-road, which was a mere bridle-path. Up this
they turned, passing through solid bush. It was a
bright, hot day in the clearings, but under the trees
it was gloomy and chill, with a moist odor of vege-
tation which was grateful to the master, and this
was his first experience of the bush. Fallen trees,
which lay across the track, their horses jumped, as
they also did on meeting wet gullies. Jabez said the
path had been brushed by an Englishman, rumored
the son of a lord, who had bought the block of land
intending to stay on it. That was the only improve-
ment he made. He came late in the Fall and society
in Toronto was more agreeable than felling trees. He
bet on horse-races that took place on the ice and
spent the evenings at cards. In the spring his money
was gone; had to sell his land to pay his debts, and
returned to England. On reaching the end of the
bridle-path the horses were hitched. Jabez searched
among the brush until he found a surveyor's stake.
Placing a compass on top of it, he cut with his jack-

Gordon Sellar 73

knife three rods which he pointed. He pushed two
into the soil on either side of the stake, and went
ahead with the third. Posting the roaster behind the
first, he told him to keep the three in range and to-
shout to him if he stepped on either side. Produc-
ing from the bag behind his saddle a hatchet, be
went forward, cutting down the brush where it-
blocked his straight course. When some hundred
yards away; he cried to the master to come on, it
was all right. On joining him Jabez pointed to a
scar made in the bark of a maple. 'That is the sur-
veyor's blaze, made five years ago. I was in doubts
where to find it, for the weather has blackened it.
We are all right now, and will find another farther
on.' So they did, several more, though they were
so faint only the trained eye of Jabez could detect
them. As he came to each tree, he used the hatchet
to make a fresh blaze, while any branch that ob-
structed the view between the blazed trees was
lopped off. Suddenly it grew lighter: they were
again in the sunshine and before them was a sheet
of water. It was too small to be called a lake; it
was just a pond, set in the heart of the woods. The
master was greatly taken with it and leaning over
a log drank heartily, for the water was clear and
sweet, though warm. 'We may as well rest and
take our bite here/ remarked Jabez, producing from
the pouch slung at his back some soldiers' hard tack,
with thin sliced pork between instead of butter. He
explained it was hard to tell the quality of the soil
in the woods, and many were deceived, especially as

74 The Narrative of

regards stones. The forest litter covers them, and it
is only when the plow is started that the settler
finds he has a lot that will give him many a tired
back in trying to get rid of the worst of them. When
you find big trees, maple or any other kind of hard
wood, it is a sure sign the soil is rich, but if the trees
are scrub or of soft wood it is certain to be poor.
Pine is not to be relied on as indicating good land
for the settler. The tallest and finest pines are often
on the top of stony ridges. Starting anew, they
came to the streamlet that fed the pond and a short
tramp beyond it Jabez spied another surveyor's
stake. 'This is the western limit of Bambray's lot;
between the two stakes he has 400 acres.' He asked
the master if he wanted to cross the lot lengthways
•and see the two ends, but he saw no need, for so far
as he could judge the land was all of the same
•quality. 'Supposing I buy the lot, how am I to get
into it?' 'You will have to continue the bridle-
path to where you place your house, and that is
enough for an ox-sledge.' 'That means some work?'
'Yes,' replied Jabez smiling 'there is nothing to be
had in the bush without hard work; it is hard work
and poor grub.'

Coming back to the horses, they found they had
•finished the oats Jabez had brought, and were nib-
bling at the leaves within reach. On regaining
Yonge street, the horses were watered at a tavern,
Jabez dropping five coppers on the counter, the
pricrf of two drinks. 'You are expected to drink
when you stop to water a horse, but I want no

Gordon Sellar. 75

whiskey, I prefer to pay for what the horse drinks.'
Arrived in Toronto the master said he would go
and see Mr Bambray after supper.. Jabez asked him
to remember that Quakers do not dicker, so if the
price was too high for him to pay to come away at
once.

The master found Mr Bambray reading a news-
paper, told him he was satisfied with the land and
would buy it were the price within his ability. The
Quaker took from a desk a sheet of paper; pointing
to the figures written on it he said, 'I do not deal in
land, believing it not to be agreeable with the teach-
ing of the Gospel to make merchandize of what God
intended for all his children. I do not consider it
right to buy land you are not able or do not mean
to make use of, but secure with a view to sell at an
advanced price to the man who will cultivate it.
These 400 acres were transferred to me for a just
debt which the man could not otherwise pay. On
this line is the amount of that debt, here are the
legal charges paid by me in the transaction, and
here is interest. The whole totals $472, which is
the price.' The master was surprised, for from what
he had heard of the prices asked for land so close
to Toronto at least double would have been sought.
'My friends and I are able to pay that sum to you
and we take the land.' The Quaker moved not a
muscle. Taking up a quill he wrote out a promise
of sale, and was given a bank of Scotland note for

' O

ten pounds as surety. Inquiring what steps he
would next take, the master was advised to secure

7G The Narrative of

the services of Jabez for a month at least. 'Thee
are ignorant of bush-farming and need an instruc-
tor, otherwise loss will befall thee and much trouble.'
Arranging for the final transfer of the land, the
master sought out Jabez. He and two brothers
carried on a cartage business. Jabez said there
would not be more calls than his brothers could
attend to until August, and he would go if he was
willing to pay two dollars a day for himself and an
ox-team. 'That is settled,' replied the master. 'Now
what is to be done first?' 'To cut out a sledge-road
across your lot, so that you may get your freight
in.' To help he was to hire a man, and it was ar-
ranged to start at daylight.

Next morning Jabez appeared at the door of the
tavern with an ox- team, and seated beside him in
the wagon was a youth. 'This is Jim Sloot, who
can handle an axe with any man. You have that
to learn. It is the axe that has made Canada.' Ar-
rived at the bridle-path that led to their lot, they
had a day's work on it brushing and prying off
fallen trees. On reaching the lot master had bought,
trees had to be felled to continue the path. These
Jabez and Jim assailed, while master trimmed their
branches off with a hatchet. On the evening of the
third day they were in sight of the pond, when the
master left, for the Kingston boat might arrive next
morning, and he must be on hand to meet his fami-
ly. How he met us I have already told.

Gordon Sellar 77

CHAPTER VI.

FIRST DAYS IN THE BACKWOODS

Our freight, as Jabez termed it, filled three wagons
and started up Yonge -street. A fourth wagon carne
to the door of the tavern for the women and chil-
dren, I being left to help them. We were told to
stop at Mr Dunlop's store for supplies that had been
bought. He came out to see us and in a minute
was thick in talk with the women about Ayrshire.
On the team starting he declared meeting them was
like a visit to Scotland. The driver pointed out to
us how straight Yonge-street was; runs forty miles
to Lake Simcoe straight as the handle of my whip.
It was a jolty, hot drive but we enjoyed it hugely;
everything was new to us and we were all in high
spirits at the prospect of our long journey being
about to end and in coming into possession of our
estates, about which there was no end of jokes.
Mrs Auld was in doubts as to what name they
would give their hundred acres, while Mrs Brodie
settled on Bonny braes for hers. 'But we have not
seen a hill since we left Montreal,' remarked the

78 The Narrative of

mistress. 'I dinna care/ rejoined Mrs Brodie, 'Bon-
ny braes was the name of the farm we left and it
will make the woods hamelike.' When we spied at
a distance several men standing by the roadside we
gave a shout of joy and were soon reunited. The
laughing and talking might have been heard half a
mile away. Jabez now took the lead. As the
wagons arrived he had caused them to be unloaded
under a clump of hemlocks, the chests and pack-
ages being arranged to make a three-sided enclosure.
In front he had started a fire, over which, slung
from a pole resting on crotched sticks, was a pot,
and soon the mistress was preparing supper. It
was dark before we had settled for the night, which
was so warm that sleeping under the trees was no
hardship. Jabez covered the dying fire with damp
litter, the smoke of which kept off the mosquitos,
which pestered us dreadfully.

In the morning Jabez was the first to be stirring.
Giving me two pails he directed me to go to a house
I would find a bit down Yonge-street to get water,
and, if they had it, some milk. The house I found
and also the well, but how to draw water out of
it I knew not. There was nobody stirring until
my awkward attempts to work the bucket brought
a man out. I told him who I was. 'You are an
emigrant and this is the first sweep- well you have
tried to work. Well, now, you have got to learn,'
and he showed me how simple it was He was
much interested when he heard of our party and
of their camping out. 'Stay a minute till I tell

Gordon Sellar 79

mother.' Coming back to the door he cried to rne-
to go on with the water and he would fetch milk
after a while. The porridge was ready when he
and his wife appeared with the milk. He called his
wife mother, which we thought strange. She was
a smart, tidy woman and was soon deep in ad vice-
to our housekeepers about bush ways of doing things
and bush cookery. After they had gone their chil-
dren, three in number, came shyly round and watch-
ed us with open-eyed curiosity.

Jabez was in haste to get us moved to our own
location, and to do so had provided two oxsleds.
Taking charge of one and Sloot of the other they
dragged the first loads over the bush track, all the
men, except the master, following. On returning
for a second load, Jabez reported Brodie and Auld
were pleased with the land and that Allan and the
children were having a wash in the pond. How to-
get grannie through the woods concerned the mas-
ter. Jabez solved the difficulty by making a com-
fortable couch on his sled, on which she rested, with-
the master on one side, Robbie running alongside
of the ox, and myself following. So slowly and
carefully did the ox step that grannie was little dis-
composed. On stepping from her rude conveyance,
she gazed in wonder on the pond and the forest
that encompassed it. 'This is our new farm,' shouted
Allan in her ear 'A' this ground and the lakie?*
'Yes,' answered Allan. 'An thae trees?' 'Yes,' re-
plied her grandson, 'father is laird of it all.' She
stood for a minute or two as if dazed; and then a

The Narrative of

light came to her face as if she had suddenly com-
prehended it all. She stepped to the master, and
laying her hands on his shoulders said, 'You have
foeen a good and true son and weel you deserve to
be a laird,' Seeing a black squirrel jump from tree
to tree Robbie darted off with a shout of glee.

Jabez cut a number of poles, and with them and
%lankets made two roomy tents, which were to give
shelter until shanties were built. Before sites for
them could be picked out it was necessary to divide
the 400 acre lot. Brodie and Auld were to get each
•a hundred acres and they were agreed in choosing
the portion of land that lay south of the road and
included -the pond. The master, as I found later,
would have liked that part for himself, but willing-
iy agreed to their choice. The next point was to
divide the 200 acres between Auld and Brodie.
Covered equally with heavy bush there was no ap-
parent difference, yet a division had to be made.
•Jabez, seeing that one waited on the other to decide,
cut two twigs and held them out between his
fingers. 'The man who draws the long one, gets
the east half, and the short one the west.' Brodie
drew the long bit of stick and Auld the short. It
was agreed to raise Brodie's shanty first, as he had
young children, and the Aulds could stay with them
until their own shanty was ready. Brodie selected
'the spot for his home, and we began at once to
cut the trees that stood upon it. Saturday evening
-Jabez and Jim returned to Toronto to stay over
.Sunday. The weather had been warm with two

Gordon Sellar 81

showers and camping was no discomfort beyond the
inconvenience to the women. There was no com-
plaining, for we were all in good spirits, buoyed up
with the prospect of future prosperity, and determ-
ined, if hard work would ensure it, we would not
spare ourselves. Our tasks for the week were end-
ed and we gathered on the site of Brodie's house, sit-
ting on the felled trees. It was a calm night with
soft air, the moonbeams making a pathway of light
across the pond. None seemed inclined to speak,
just wanting to rest and enjoy the peaceful hour.
It was Alice who broke the silence by starting to
sing, and song followed song, all joining when there
was a chorus. It was a strange thought that came
into my mind, that for all the ages these woods and
lakelet had existed this was the first time they had
echoed back our Scottish melodies. When Alice
started Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon, we help-
ed in the first verse, but as the scenes we had left
rose before our minds voices quavered, until all be-
came silent, tears flowed, and Mrs Auld was sobbing.
This wont do,' cried the master, 'we have come here
as to a land of promise and there must be no look-
ing backward. We go forward. Alice, start the
second paraphrase and then to bed.'

I have seen many a fine Sabbath morning but
none to me like that one which was our first in the
bush. The serenity of air and sky, the solemnity
of the woods, the stillness sweetened by the song
of birds, struck even the children, who were quieter
than usual. After breakfast and things were tidied
6

82 The Narrative of

up we had worship. The master read selections from
the closing chapters of Hebrews, and his prayer
was one of thankfulness to the Hand that had pre-
served us on our journey and brought us to a quiet
resting-place. Mrs Auld heard the children their
questions and had a lively time in scolding and
coaxing them by turns to never mind the squirrels
but attend to what she was saying.

The dinner things had been cleared away when a
visitor came out of the woods. He had a red, flabby
face, framed in a thick whisker turning grey. The
chief feature of his dress was a long surtout, that
had been part of a gentleman's dress-suit in its day
and a shabby tile hat. Addressing the master with
deliberate ceremony, he told how he had heard of
new-comers and felt it his duty to welcome them
and tender his services. He had been four years in
Canada and his experience would be of high value
in directing them what to do. Growing voluble he
pointed out what he considered were the mistakes
we had already made, ending with a plump proposal
that, for his board and a certain money considera-
tion, he would take the direction of the settlement
and guarantee its immediate prosperity. He paused
and asked for a drink. Mrs Auld handed him a
dipper. Smelling it, he said experience had taught
him the prudence of never drinking lake water
without its being qualified by a few spoonfuls of
whisky. 'If you will be so kind,' he said to Mrs
Auld, 'as to bring your greybeard, I shall have
pleasure in giving a toast to your new settlement.'

Gordon SelJar 83

'Whisky! cried Mrs Auld, 'there's no a drop to be
found here.' Turning to the master he said, 'This
will never do; you will need bees to raise the shan-
ties, to chop, and to fallow, and not a man will come
unless there is whisky and plenty to eat. A keg of
Toronto's best will b'e to you a paying investment/
The master, who had remained silent, carefully mea-
suring the stranger, now spoke. 'I thank you for
your advice, as to your help we do not need it, for,
as you see, we are strong in ourselves.' The Eng-
lishman, for such he was, grew angry. 'You un-
mannerly Scot, you will have cause to regret scorn-
ing my services. I never had such a reception, for
in the poorest shanty they greet you with a cup of
welcome.' So saying he disappeared. In telling
Jabez of him next day, he said the master had done
well to come out squarely. Bees had grown to be a
nuisance and a loss. When they heard of one,
drinkers would travel ten miles to attend and
others came just for the sport of the day. The
settler would run in debt to lay in a stock of food
and whisky. Out of the crowd that would come
several would not do a hand's turn, but drink and
eat; part would work during the forenoon and then,
after dinner, join in the talk and drinking; while
the remainder would put in a faithful day's labor.
It often happened that bees ended in quarrels, some-
times in fights. A settler, Jabez said, would do better
to use the cost of drink and food in hiring labor.

In the afternoon the women began writing letters
to Scotland, using the tops of chests to rest the

84 The Narrative of

paper on. The sheets were crossed and recrossed,
for postage was high, fifty cents the half ounce.
Allan and I walked into the bush to see what it
was like. The trees were all large and well set
apart with little underbrush. Fallen trees and de-
caying logs abounded. Whether it was jumping or
going round these that caused us to lose our way
I cannot say, but after a long walk we failed to
sight the pond. We made a fresh start and tried
another direction without success. 'We are lost, for
sure,' exclaimed Allan. Putting his hands to his
mouth he let out a yell that startled the crows from
a tree-top. We listened, there was no answering
sound. Then he whistled long and sharp. Again no
answer. Jabez had pointed out to me that the
north could always be known by more moss grow-
ing on that side of trees, and I decided we had been
travelling in that direction. If we could have got
a glimpse of the sun we would have known for
sure the points of the compass, but the foliage of
the tree- tops prevented a ray getting through. We
walked smartly, as we thought southwards, when
Allan again yelled with all his might. Strange to
say, an hillo came from the woods on our left and
quite close to us. We hurried in the direction of
the sound and came out on a small clearance with a
shanty in the middle. A well-made young fellow
stood at the door. 'Lost your bearings, eh?' he ask-
ed. 'Yes,' answered Allan, 'and glad you heard my
yell.' He led us into the shanty; the table was
spread for supper and a man and woman were seat-

Gordon Sellar 85

ed ready to begin 'These two fellows are Scotties,
new-come out, and got wandered,' was our intro-
duction. Responding to a hearty invitation, seats
were found and we helped to dispose of the dried
venison and bread that was on the board. 'Did you
ever taste coffee like that?' asked the woman as
Allan passed in his tin for a second supply. 'That
is bush-coffee and better than the storestuff. It is
made from dandelion roots and I will tell your folk
how to make it.' They were Americans and had
led a wandering life, for the father was a trapper.
Game becoming scarce from growing settlement on
the American side he had crossed into Canada and
had spent the last two winters round lake Simcoe.
'There is no hunting after February ' he said, 'for
every critter then begins nursing and the fur is not
worth paying for, so we came south and took this
shanty, setting to work to make axhelves and
shingles, there being ready sale in Toronto. We
move back to the lakes in the Fall.' I asked him
about the shanty. He replied that it was not his
nor did he know whose it was 'Like enough some
poor emigrant drew the lot and after breaking his
back with hard work in making a clearance, found
he could not pay the price and just lit out. You
will find deserted shanties everywhere in the bush
left by families who lost heart.' He showed much
interest in our coming and we had difficulty in get-
ting him to recognize our location. It was not until
I mentioned the pond that he recognized the spot.
<Why, you aint much over a mile to go.' When we

86 The Narrative of

were about to start the whole family got ready to
go with us. 'The sun won't set for an hour yet, and
there is good moonlight,' said Si mm ins, for that he
told us was his name. 'Did you never get lost?' I
asked. 'That is a foolish question to ask of any-
body born in the woods for they never lose their
sense of direction.' He advised me to carry a com-
pass and take its bearings in going and follow them
in returning. Suddenly Mrs Simmins burst into
song. It was a hymn, sung in a style I never
heard before, but have since at many a campmeet-
ing. Her voice was strong, rising to a shriek at
high notes. The husband and son joined in, enjoy-
ing it as much as she did. In telling rne of the
alarm felt at our not returning to supper, Alice said
they sat fearing something had befallen us, and that,
if the night set in, we might be lost and never be
found alive, when suddenly they heard from the
depths of the woods the words

Then let our songs resound

And every heart be love;
We're marching through Emmanuel's ground

To fairer worlds above.

Distance mellowed the harshness of the voices and
the words sounded like a message from heaven.
Their distress was that neither Allan's voice nor my
own was distinguishable. Glad they were when we
emerged from the trees and joined them round the
fire that had been made to blaze as a guide to us.
Our visitors made themselves at home at once.
'Why do you call your son Sal?' asked the mis-
tress, 'that is a girl's name.' The reply was, 'His

Gordon Sellar 87

Sunday came is Salvation Simmins; we call him Sal
for short.' 'And your husband addresses you as
Jedu; what name is that?' 'I was a girl of sixteen
before I was baptised, and the preacher gave me
the name Jeduthan, because I was the chief musi-
cian.' 'Jeduthan was a man, the friend of David.'
'Bible don't say he was a man, and for years and
years I was the chief musician at the campmeet-
ing?. Guess it was the same in David's time as in
ours — the women did the heft of the singing?' Then
she began singing, husband and son helping. 'Why
don't you all sing?' she asked, 'aint you got religion
yet? My, if you heard Elder Colver you would be
on your knees and get converted right away.' The
mistress said they did not know the words of the
hymns she sang, when she became curious to hear
us. Alice struck up Come, let us to the Lord our
God, and we all joined. 'Whew!' exclaimed Mrs
Simmins, very pretty, but that aint the stuff to
bring sinners to the penitent-bench — you have to
be loud and strong. Ever hear a negro hymn? No,
well we will give you one, Whip the ole devil round
the stump.' As they sang they acted the words. We
parted with mutual good wishes, the mistress re-
marking, after they left, that God spoke in divers
ways and their presentation of His truths, though
rude and wild to us, doubtless suited the frontier
population among whom they had lived and did
good. 'The ax before the plow, the ox-drag before
the smoothing harrow,' added the master.

On Jabez appearing next morning he had six bags

88 The Narrative of

of potatoes on the ox-sled, which were for seed as
well as eating, and said he had left a load of pine-
boards to be hauled through the bush to floor the
shanties. They now had to decide what kind of
shanty they wanted. The cheapest, he told us, for
all, men, women, and children, had gathered to hear
about the building, — was a house twelve feet by
twelve, with basswood staves for flooring or the
bare soil, an opening that served both as door and
window, with a blanket to keep out the cold, bass-
wood scoops or elm bark for the roof, in which a
hole was left to let out the smoke. There were
many such shanties, but living in them was misery.
From that sort they varied in size and finish, all
depending on the settler's means. With $25 a good
deal could be done. Size and finish were agreed on,
it being understood the master, who had most money,
would have a larger house. This being decided, Mr
Brodie set to work to dig his cellar and I was sent
to Simmins to see if he could supply shingles for
the three shanties and to ask Sal if he would hire
until they were finished. I took the compass and
found their clearance without trouble. In return-
ing Sal, who carried his axe, blazed the trees, so
that it would be easy to know the way. The fol-
lowing morning his mother accompanied Sal. She
came to show how they made bread in the bush,
and had brought a dishful of bran-risings. Ex-
plaining what yeast was and how to treat it, she
set a panful of dough. When the mass had risen,
she kneaded it, and moulded it into loaves. The

Gordon Sellar 89

bake-kettle having been warmed, the loaves were
placed in it, and when they had risen enough, she
put the cover on, and planted the kettle in a bed
of glowing embers. The bread was sweet and a
welcome change to the cakes made on the griddle
or frying-pan. We had more than bread that day..
Mrs Simmins pointed out plants, like lambs quarter
and dandelion, whose leaves made greens that add-
ed relish to our unvarying diet of pork. How much
more she taught I do not know, but her visit was
a revelation to our women-folk. Grannie was de-
lighted with her singing because she could hear it.-

90 The Narrative of

CHAPTER VII.

ANDREW ANDERSON S DIARY

In Scotland it had been the master's custom to
keep a record of work done, and of money paid or
received. On parting with a neighbor, a farmer
who had a notion of emigrating, he was asked, as a
favor, to keep notes of his own daily experience.
He had his doubts as to accounts of Canada he had
read being correct, and knew whatever the master
set down as to climate and other conditions he could
depend upon. The book in which these notes were
made was never sent, the master having learnt his
friend had taken a new tack of his farm. From
this journal I will now quote.

June 21. — Rushing work in getting up the shan-
ties. Four men felling trees and sawing their
trunks into the desired length. Awkward in chop-
ping, I took the job of squaring the logs with the
adze-ax. Gordon notched the ends as I finished
them. Digging his cellar Brodie struck clay, which
Jabez tells me is worth money to us. Under Ailie's
direction, the children planted potatoes round the
stumps of the trees as they were cut down, and
made a garden on a bare strip of land on the pond

Gordon Sell»r 91

bank. Have got all the boards drawn from Yonge-
street. Slow-work with an ox-sled, having to dodge
to avoid striking trees.

June 22. — Jabez helped Brodie to finish his cellar,
lining it with red-cedar poles. Great heat. Oxen
drawing logs for the shanty.

June 23. — Began raising today. Jabez, never at
a loss in finding the easiest way, had left standing
two trees at the site of the house. Placing a stout
pole in their crotches, long enough to reach across
from one to the other, he attached a pulley. An
ox, hitched to the end of the pulley-rope, hauled
the logs to the spot and pulled them up as needed.
This saved much lifting and the walls went up
quickly. Gordon had notched the ends of the logs
so exactly that they went together without trouble.

June 24 — Have got Brodie's house up to the
square and began putting up the rafters. Cloudy;
heat more bearable.

June 25 — Saturday; eager to get the shanty fin-
ished all hands turned to the work, got the shing-
ling finished and the ground floor laid. Mrs Brodie
moved in at dark. Though there was neither door
nor windows in place, she said she was prouder of
her shanty than the Duchess of Hamilton could be
of her palace.

June 26 — The heat of this country surpasses any-
thing we ever knew in Scotland. All very tired
and glad to rest in the shade, with a smudge to
keep off the mosquitoes. Strange to say, the chil-
dren do not seem to care much about the heat.

82 The Narrative of

June 27 — Jabez arrived with a wagon loaded with
lumber. Drew on sled first the doors and sashes,
which he had got a carpenter to make for Brodie's
house, which Gordon fitted in Afternoon being wet,
we helped to lay the loft floor and to chink the
house from the inside. Gordon put up two wide
shelves in the corners for beds, and is making a
table with benches on each side to sit on. The table
has crossed legs; the benches have no backs.

June 28 — Everything being ready, began on my
house.

June 29 — Made good progress, for we have been
gaining experience.

July 1 — The roof being on, moved into our shanty^
well we did, for it poured at night.

July 2 —Had a long talk about chimneys for our
houses. The right way is to have a mason build
them. There may be stones on our land, but there
are none in sight. Jabez says we will have to put
up with stick chimneys. In the hot weather we are
having, cooking out of doors is all right unless when
it rains.

July 3 — The Sabbath rest beneath our own roof
was sweet. Mary pleased and happy and mother
proud of the house.

July 4 — Leaving to Gordon the finishing of our
shanty, the rest of us tackled with might and main
Auld's. How quickly Jabez and Sal can hew down
a tree is a wonder to me.

July 5 — Auld moved his belongings into his shanty
this evening, though it is not half done. Gave Jabez,

Gordon Sellar 93

money to bring out with him on Monday morning
the iron-fixtures for our fire-places and the lime for
the chimneys.

July 6 — On going out this morning saw a deer
with her hind drinking at the far end of the pond;
beautiful creatures. Thank God for the Sabbath.
Without it we would have broken down with our
hard toil.

July 7 — Jabez brought word from Mr Bambray
that he wanted us on the 9th to give us our deeds.
Told me he could not finish out a month, as he had
expected. Business had become brisk in Toronto,
and his brothers needed his help. He started at
once to build the chimney in Brodie's house, so that
we could see how to do the other two. In laying
the floor a 6-foot square had been left uncovered
for the fire-place. In a frame of heavy elm logs
that fitted the spot, puddled clay mixed with sand
was rammed hard. Two jambs were built with
brick which Jabez had brought and across them a
thick plate of cast iron, which was to support the
front of the chimney. The back of the chimney
and sides had the few stones found in digging the
cellars, and on top of them was laid more brick until
the ceiling was reached. Care had been taken to
build in a crane to hang pots. From the floor of
the loft squarely cut pieces of cedar, 2 inches thick,
were laid in clay mortar, and as the work went on
were plastered with the same mortar inside and out,
until the top was two feet above the ridge-board.
Jabez said there was no danger of the cedar sticks

94 The Narrative of

taking fire. They were so well-beded in the clay
that when it hardened the chimney was all one piece.
If it fell, it would not break.

July 11 — Brodie, Auld, and myself accompanied
Jabez on his going to Toronto. Mr Bambray had
arranged everything and in an hour we had paid
him and each of us had his deed. We asked him
about securing a road to our lots. He said two
blocks of bush lay between them and Yonge-street.
Both were owned by a man who was holding to sell,
and he was afraid any influence we could exert
would not compel him to make the road, though that
was the condition on which the government had
given the land. Met in the tavern several emigrants
eager to get lots, all discontented with their treat-
ment at the government office. One said he would
go to Illinois. Asked how he would get there. Told
me by Buffalo and lake Erie; land sold there at
$1.25 an acre and no bush to clear.

July 12 — Tired and rainy. Auld and Brodie came
over to square our accounts. From the time we left
the ship till we got into our shanties, we lived in
common. Found Brodie had least money and more
mouths to fill. His wife said she did not fear — they
would strachle through until they got a crop. We
had a long talk about getting a yoke of oxen, which
we must have. Offered, if I got them, they would
pay me in days' work. I decided to put up a stable
to be ready when I bought a yoke.

July 13 — Took a tramp to see rear of my lot,
Gordon guiding with a compass. All of a sudden

Gordon Sellar 95

the bush ceased, and on finding I stood on the edge
of a swamp, I got angry at my being fooled into
paying for a cattail marsh. There is quite a stretch,
not very wide, angling across the width of my lot.
On thinking it over, am satisfied Bambray knew no
more about its existence than I did. Returning home
I followed the creek, which starts from it. There
was a little water flowing. Noticed, where the creek
leaves the marsh, a stretch of tall wild grass.

July 14 — Could not sleep thinking about the
swamp. Got Gordon to make a dozen cross-staffs
and started for it to take levels. Found the marsh
sloped towards the creek, and between where it en-
tered and a hundred yards down the creek there is
a fall of three feet, so the marsh can be drained.
Dug down in several places and found the marsh to
be a deposit of black soil on top of clay.

July 17 — The Simmins family spent the afternoon
with us. He knew about the swamp, and called it a
beaver-meadow. The grass that grew at the head
of the creek would make hay good enough for cattle.
Said I would find the dam the beavers had made if
I searched a while, and if I got out the logs that
formed it, the water would have a free course into
the creek.

July 18 — Spent all Saturday cutting grass at the
head of the creek. It is fine but long. Turned it
today and, if rain keeps off, will be ready to cock
tomorrow afternoon, the sun is so hot and the grass
so ripe.

July 19 — Had Sal, Gordon, and Archie come and

96 The Narrative of

help to find the dam the beavers had built. On a
-crowbar showing us where the logs were buried'
shovelled off the dirt and pried them out. It was
wet, dirty work but we managed it. Cleared the
bed of the creek of the rubbish that choked it at
its head. Sal found a turtle, which he carried home.

July 20 — Brodie and Auld came early and we set
to work to get logs ready for the ox -stable. Very
dry and hot.

July 21 — Piled the hay in two stacks and thatch-
ed them as well as we could. We had just finished
when a thunderstorm burst.

July 23 — Gordon, who has made furniture for all
the houses, set up a cupboard for Ailie, of which she
is quite proud. The lad has a wonderful knack, and
-can copy anything he has a chance to examine. A
deluge of rain; never saw such a downfall in Scot-
land. Lasted six hours and then came out sultry.

July 24 — Sal stepped in while we were at break-
fast with the hind quarter of a deer, his father had
come on during the heavy rain and shot. First
fresh meat we have had. Found it dry eating. Sun-
day though it was, walked with Sal to head of
creek and found water was running freely into it
from the marsh. Coming back Sal spied bees round
a tree and said he would get the honey next month.
Told me the names of the different squirrels and
birds we saw and he had fun with a ground hog.

July 30 — Although the weather has been warm

have worked steadily chopping down trees; the

-sound of the axe coming from the three lots. On

Gordon Sellar 97

each of them there is now quite a clearance. Jabez
had shown us how to make plan-heaps, and we so
fell the trees, which will save hard work when we
come to burn. Except myself, all are getting to be
expert with the axe, though Sal, with less exertion,
can chop down two to Allan's one.

August 1 — Growth far outstrips that of Scotland,
and no wonder, there is no such heat there. In
thinning turnips and the like Ailie kept what is
pulled for boiling; they make good greens. We had
a long talk about buying a yoke of oxen at once,
and Brodie and Auld agreed to help me with the
stable for them.

August 3 — Fixed on spot for stable and began
preparing logs for it, choosing cedar and pine as
being easier to handle.

August 8 — Began raising stable. Gordon made
very neat corners.

August 9 — Had stable up to the square when we
dropped work.

August 11 — Got the rafters on. Having no saw-
ed lumber or shingles, will have to cut basswood
staves and scoops.

August 13 — Stable finished and all proud of it.
There is a roomy loft which will be useful for more
than fodder, for I am told when there is no bed in
the shanty for a visitor they 'loft him.'

August 14 — Had arranged to walk to Toronto, for
none of us have been inside a church since we left
Scotland, but the sun came out with such a blister-
ing heat that we had to give up our intention. It is

7

98 The Narrative of

awfully lonesome in the bush, and were it not for
the work you are forced to do, we would get vacant-
minded. It has been a great blessing in every way
that the three families settled together. I can believe
the report that a family planted in the depths of the
bush, without a neighbor nearer than three miles,
abandoned all they had accomplished to get company.
August 15 — While chinking the stable, Gordon
helping, I heard a crash and a cry from where Allan
was chopping. We ran to the spot, and my heart
jumped into my mouth, when I saw him lying as if
he were dead under a big branch. I was for drag-
ging him out, when Gordon showed me the move-
ment would bring down the butt of the branch on
his body. He ran for help. Ailie came tirst and
then Brodie, and while the three of us held up the
limb of the tree, Ailie pulled him out. She was
calmer than any of us. Carrying him to the house,
we had the satisfaction of finding there was no bone
broken. A blue mark above the right eye showed
where he had been struck. As he was breathing
easily we had hopes he would come to, but it was
long before he did, and it was the most anxious
hour Ailie and I had ever known. When he open-
ed his eyes, and looking wonderingly round asked,
'What is a' the steer aboot?' we never before thank-
ed God with such fervor. Gordon had run for Mrs
Simmins, and while we were keeping wet cloths on
Allan's head, she hurried in. Looking at the mark,
which was now swollen, and feeling all round it,
Mrs Simmins declared there was no fracture of the

Gordon Sellar

skull and that the blow had only stunned him.
'Well for him that he is a thick-headed Scetchmaa
or he would have been killed,' she remarked. Tak-
ing a fleam from her pocket, she lanced the lump
and let it bleed freely. 'If bruised blood is left to
get into the system, there will be a fever, in which
many a man has died.' Allan fell asleep and when
he woke it was to ask for a drink.

Aug. 16 — Allan woke this morning all right, except
feeling giddy. He will never again have as narrow
an escape with his life. The tree he was felling, a
big maple, in falling toppled over a dead tree beside it,
which was so rotten that it fell in a shower of pieces.

Aug. 18. —Went to see the swamp and glad to
find it was drier. The water has got vent and is
seeping into the creek. Could walk on parts that
would not carry before. Looked it over to plan how
to drain it. Gordon, who was with me, said, Cut a
ditch up the centre. I showed him that would not
do when the swamp came to be plowed. The right
way was to cut a ditch across the head and have it
empty into another along the south side to the creek.
Looked at me in wonder as he asked if I ever ex-
pected to plow it. Said I would grow grain on it
before other three year?. On returning he and I
did a bit of underbrushing, piling as much of the
brush as we could round the felled timber to help to
burn it.

Aug. 19 — Kept underbrushing all day.

Aug. 20 — So hot gave the ax a rest. In the after-
noon a thunderstorm. The downpour tested the roof

100 The Narrative of

of the stable, which leaked in only one place, where
a scoop had split.

Aug. 21 — Quite cool with a brisk northerly breeze.
Wife and myself started for Toronto, and never en-
joyed a walk more. Did us good to watch the clear-
ances as we passed along. Fall wheat all cut and
stacked. Barley being cradled and oats looking
extra heavy though short in the straw. The sight
of gardens and patches of potatoes pleased Ailie,
and we both were surprised by the Indian corn,
which we never saw before. It was tasseling. The
bell was ringing when we reached Toronto and had
to ask our way to the Presbyterian church. The
crowd was going to the Episcopal and Methodist
churches. The service was dry and cold, but it did
us both good to worship with our fellows once more
and join in the psalms. As we were walking away
I heard somebody behind us call, Andrew Anderson,
and looking back saw Mrs Bambray. Told her we
were going to the tavern for dinner. 'Thee shall go
to no tavern on the seventh day,' and slipping her
arm into my wife's, led us to her house. Pointing
to a door she told me to go in and I would see what
I never saw in Scotland, and led my wife upstairs.
Opening the door I found myself in a backshed,
with Bambray rubbing ointment on a negro's arm.
The man was a runaway slave and had arrived that
morning on a schooner from Oswego. Bambray had
washed him and dressed him in clean overalls. He
bade the negro pull off his shirt so that I might see
the marks of the welts made by a whipping he had

Gordon Sellar 101

got with a blacksnake whip and his master's brand,
made with a hot iron, on his right arm. The left
arm had got injured in his flight and had an un-
healed wound. The poor fellow said he came from
Maryland and had known no trouble until his wife
had been taken from him and sold. His master
ordered him to pick on another woman, but he
loved his wife and ran away to find her; had been
caught and whipped to within an inch of his life.
Hearing slaves were free in Canada, he took the
first chance to slip away. He hid during the day,
and at night, guided by the plow in the sky, kept
northwards. He got some food by visiting negro
huts, and at one of these he was told how a band
of white people helped negroes seeking their liberty.
Finding a house he was directed to call at, lie found
it was true. The man fed him and ferried him
across a river and gave him the landmarks of the
next house he was to call at for help, and from one to
another he was passed along until he got to Oswego,
where he was hid in the hold of a schooner whose
captain was an Englishman. It had taken him a
long time to make the journey, he could not tell me
how long, for he did not know the days of the week
much less the months. On getting to Toronto he
was guided by a sailor boy to Bambray's house,
which was one of several where runaways were
sure of help. Asked Bambray what he would do
with the man. When fit for work he would be
given an ax, saw, and sawhorse and was sure of
earning a living. 'Me strong,' said the man, stand-

102 The Narrative of

ing up, 'and me free.' Left Bambray's late in the
afternoon and got home before sunset.

Aug. 27 — A week of steady work chopping. We
must get clearances big enough to raise crops for
next year's living no matter how hot the days are.

Aug. 28 — The Simmins family spent the day with
us. They leave for the lake Simcoe country. All
three like the free life of fishing, trapping, and
hunting, and spoke as if they were going on a holi-
day. If they did well and got a big pack of furs,
they intend in the spring to try Illinois, so we
may not meet again. They sang and talked all day
and we parted with sorrow. The days are still hot
but the nights are cool with heavy dews.

Aug. SO — Each day hard at work felling trees.
When I first saw our lot and how thick the trees
stood on it I could hardly believe it possible we
could clear the land of them, yet we have been here
scarce three months and there is a great slash. Tak-
ing the trees one by one and perseverance has done
it. Burning the felled trees that cumber the ground
is the next undertaking. This cutting out a home
from the bush is work that exhausts body and mind,
but the reward is what makes life sweet to right-
minded people — independence.

September 1 — Had new potatoes to-day. They
are dry and mealy and abundant in yield. I may
say this is the first food the land has given us.

Sept. 2 — Had a chance to send a note to Jabez to
look out a suitable yoke of oxen. On going to
Yonge-street found a long building going up. It is

Gordon Sellar 103

a tavern. The street is lined with them all the way
to Toronto and how far north they go cannot say.
Being the leading outlet there is much traffic on it.
Saw several parties of emigrants pass. Imprudent
to come so late in the season. They will have their
sufferings when winter sets in for they have not
time to prepare for it. Experience has shown me
emigrants should come early in spring. I spoke
with one lot. They sailed from Liverpool to New
York and thence by the Erie canal to Oswego, avoid-
ing the ordeal of the St Lawrence rapids. It seems
strange but it is so, the United States is Upper
Canada's market. In comparison, little freight either
goes or comes by Montreal. This ought not to be.
The reason given is, that Lower Canada will not
help to improve the St Lawrence route as it would
not be to her benefit.

Sept. 5 — There is a plague of squirrels — black, red
and grey. Robby keeps killing them and we have
them on the table every day. Pushing the chopping,
for our next year's living depends on the size of our
clearances. Weather being cooler, work not so ex-
hausting. Had a scare yesterday from a bear trot-
ting to the pond. It had its drink and fled on
seeing us.

Sept. 9 — Had word from Jabez to come to town
as he had a yoke of oxen bought for me.

Sept. 10 — Walked to Toronto, taking Gordon to
help. Am no judge of oxen. They cost $60. Be-
sides them had to pay for logging-chain and an ox-
sled. Gordon spent the time in the wheelwright's

104 The Narrative of

shop where I bought the sled. On Jabez telling me
we would need somebody to teach us how to handle
oxen and to burn a fallow, I went to see Sloot, and
bargained with him for a week's work. On getting
all that was needed for my neighbors and myself
the sled was heaped up; we walked, Sloot driv-
ing. It was near midnight when we reached home,
but Ailie and the family got up to see the oxen by
candle-light.

Sept. 11 — Sunday though it was, Sloot, taking the
boys to clear the way, had to go to the stacks near
the swamp for hay to feed the oxen. It was a work
of necessity. They came back in the afternoon with
a small load, for the track was rough.

Sept 12 — Sloot and all hands were up at sunrise
to set fire to the brushpiles. The day was cool with
a breeze that helped the fires. Burning the logs was
next taken in hand, and being green and thick they
were slow to burn.

Sept. 13 — The weather was again favorable for
our work of burning the logs but, despite a strong
wind, they burned slowly and we had to keep pok-
ing and turning them to get a hot blaze. The smoke
and heat were like to overcome me, but Sloot went
ahead. He was born in the bush and all its work
is second nature to him. Washed in the pond and
got to bed late.

Sept. 14 — Auld and Sloot, Allan helping, worked
all night with the logheaps, which I found this
morning much reduced in size. The logging-chains
and the oxen today came into play, the partly con-

Gordon Sellar 1 05

sumed logs being hauled to form fresh piles. By
dark there was quite a clearance.

Sept. 15— Light white frost this morning. Help-
ing neighbors. Sun came out on our starting to burn
at Auld's but the wind blew a gale, and we had a
splendid burn.

Sept. 16 — Pouring rain and glad of it, for all of
us except Sloot are dead-tired. He says the rain
will wash the charred logs and make them easier
to handle.

Sept. 17 — Spent the day hauling the biggest of
the partly burned logs to make a fence acror.s the
clearing. The smaller stuff we heaped up and set
on tire. Allan handles the oxen very well consider-
ing. Wanted Sloot to stay another week, but he
could not. He is a civil fellow and not greedy..
Ailie sent a queer present to his wife. Before Mrs
Simmins left she explained and showed how to se-
cure and dry dandelion roots to make coffee. In
lifting potatoes, when a dandelion root is seen, it is
pulled carefully, or, if scarce among potatoes, dug up
carefully in the fall so as to get the entire root.
The roots are washed, dried in the sun and stored
away. As wanted for use, a root or so is chopped
small, roasted in a pan until crisp, then ground, and
made like ordinary coffee.

Sept. 24 — All week we worked at getting crop-
into the fallow. After clearing it of sticks, we used
spade, grape, and rake to get it something near
level. Gordon studded a log with wooden spikes
which we dragged over the worst of it. On getting

100 The Narrative of

the best seedbed possible, sowed wheat. The soil
had a topdressing of charcoal cinders and ashes that
I thought would help. If the seed gives an aver-
age yield, will not have to buy flour next year.

Sept. 26 — Rained all day yesterday; at night clear-
ed with quite a touch of frost. Busy chopping to
-enlarge clearance. The young fellow who came out
with us from Scotland and got drunk at Montreal,
appeared at our door this morning. He had lived
chiefly in Toronto and his appearance showed had
done no good. Wanted a job. Agreed with him to
dig ditch in the swamp, the understanding being if
he got drunk he need not come back. Leaves are
burning color.

Oct. 2 — Sat most of the day on front step taking
in the beauty of the trees that overhang the pond
-on three of its sides. I can compare them to noth-
ing but gigantic flowers. Steeped in the haze of a
mellow sun the sight was soothing. Nothing like
•this in Scotland. The birds have gone; the swallows
•left in August.

Oct. 9 — Been a sorrowful week. On unpacking
-our baggage on arrival in the bush, found my
mother's spinning-wheel was broken. Gordon man-
aged to mend it and I bought ten pounds of wool.
This she washed, teased, and carded, and proud she
was when she sat down and began to spin the rolls
'into yarn. Tuesday afternoon Ailie and Ruth went
•to pick wild grapes, and the rest of us were at our
work in the bush. Grannie was left alone. She had
Amoved her wheel to the door to sit in the sunshine,

Gordon Sellar 107

where she could see the brightness of the trees and
enjoy the calm that prevailed. How long she span
we do not know. On Ailie's return she was startled
at the sight of her bending over the wheel. She
was dead. While stooping to join a broken thread
God took her. Next day buried her on a rising bit
of ground overlooking the pond. What a mother
she was I alone can know. I shall never forget her.
Last evening there was to us a marvellous display
of northern lights. When daylight faded pink
clouds appeared in the sky mired with long shoot-
ing rays of white light. The clouds changed shape
continually, but the color was always a shade of
red. At times the clouds filled the entire north-
eastern sky.

Oct. 10 — Crying need for rain; everything dry as
tinder; air full of smoke.

Oct. 15 — My worker at the ditch insisted he had
to go to Toronto. Gave him his pay and knew he
would not come back, despite his promise. There
are more slaves than black men. The man of whom
whiskey has got a grip is the greater slave.

Oct. 17 — Closed the house on Sunday morning
and all walked to Toronto to attend worship. To-
day yoked the sled to an ox, for our path to Yonge-
street is too narrow for two, in order to find settlers
who had produce to sell. Bought corn in cob, apples,
pumpkins, and vegetables, but only one bag of oats,
few having threshed. Was kindly received and
learnt much. In one shanty found a shoemaker at
work. He travels from house to house and is paid

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by the day, his employers providing the material.
Agreed with him to pay us a visit and he gave me
a list of what to get in Toronto.

Oct. 18 — Spent day in trying to make everything
snug for winter.

Oct 19 — Went to Toronto determined to find out
whether there is no way of compelling the man who
owns the land that blocks us from Yonge-street to
open a road. First of all I called upon him, and he
received me civilly. I told him how our three fami-
lies were shut in. Asked if we would not buy his
lot, he would sell the 1200 acres cheap and give us
time. Answered we could not, we had all we could
manage. He thought we were unreasonable in ask-
ing him to make a road which he did not need. It
would be of use to us but not to him. Asked him
if the conditions on which the lot was granted did
not require him to open a road? Replied, that was
like many other laws the legislature made, arid
which were disregarded everywhere in the province.
When I said, since it is law it could be enforced, he
smiled and said there was no danger of that. Was
pleased to hear of our settlement behind his land
and hoped it would help to bring him customers.
Turning from his door, I made straight for a law-
yer's office, to make sure whether the owner of
vacant land could not be forced to open a road. The
lawyer, an oldish man, listened to my story and told
me to give up the idea of compelling the making of
the road we needed. You are a stranger and ignor-
ant of how matters stand. The law is straight

Gordon Sellnr 109

enough, that whenever the government gra nts a lot,
the receiver must do his part to open a road, but
the law has become a dead letter. Two- thirds of
the granted land is held by men who have favor
with the government and who are holding to sell.
Did you ever hear of Peter Russel? When a sur-
veying party came in, he found out from their re-
ports where the lots of best land were, and made
out deeds to himself. 'I, Peter Russel, lieutenant-
governor, etc., do grant to you, Peter Russel,' such
and such lots. If you sued the gentleman you visit-
ed this forenoon you would lose. The court officials
all have lots they expect to turn into money and
would throw every obstacle in the way. Should
your case come to trial, it would be before a judge
who is a relative, and who holds patents for thou-
sands of acres of wild land. The condition in their
titles about cutting out roads, is like those that re-
quire a house to be built and so many acres of land
in crop before a patent is issued. There are thou-
sands of settlers worse off than you are, for you say
you have a sled-path to your house. The lawyer
apoke candidly and showed his sincerity and good-
will by refusing to take the fee I offered.

Oct 20 — A real cold day; fine for chopping and
the sound of trees falling was heard every hour.
Wheat is growing finely. Had a talk with Auld
and Brodie at night and agreed we would improve
the sled-track to Yonge-street, seeing there was no
prospect of the owner doing anything.

Oct. 22 — Surprised by a message that there was

110 The Narrative ol

a bull-plow waiting for me at the corner-house on
Yonge-street. Jabez had told Mr Bambray about
the swamp, and he sent the plow to help to bring
it into cultivation.

Oct. 24 — Took the plow out to the swamp, which
I found pretty dry at one side. Yoked the oxen to
it and I plowed all afternoon. Felt good to grip
the stilts once more.

Oct. 29 — Spent three days on the sledroad and
the three familes joined in the work. Cut a great
many roots, filled hollows, and felled trees whose
branches obstructed. It is now fairly smooth but
far too narrow for a wagon.

Oct. 30 — Surprised by a visit from Jabez, who
came on horseback. Said he had a chance to give
Gordon a few weeks' training with a carpenter. He
was not now busy himself, as the shipping season
was over. Brought Ailie a basket of fresh water
herring. Left after dinner.

Oct. 31 — Gordon started early for Toronto, with
his bundle over his shoulder. We shall miss him
sadly. In the evening our neighbors came and we
held Halloween as heartily as if we had been in
Ayrshire.

Nov. 1 — Bright and frosty. Took the oxen back
to the swamp; found there was not frost enough to
interfere and turned over a few ridges, and cast
waterfurs leading to the ditch.

Nov. 2 — White frosts fetch rain in this country
and a cold rain fell all day. Sawing and splitting
the logs we had set aside for firewood.

Gordon Sellar 111

Nov. 3 — The rain turned to snow during the night
and there are fully four inches. The youngster*
hitched an ox to the sled and started off, shouting
and laughing, for Yonge-street to have their first
sleigh drive. Came home in great glee in time for
supper. Robbie says he wants a sleigh bell.

Nov. 5 — Snow gone; clear and fine. Chopping
down trees.

Nov. 6 — A peaceful autumn day. Heard a robin,
and wondered how it came to be left behind by its
comrades. Had a walk in the bush in the afternoon
thinking of mother and the land I shall never forget..

Nov. 7 — Shoemaker arrived. A great talker. Tells
of families where the children had to stay in all
winter for lack of boots.

Nov. 12 — A week of steady clearing of the land;,
we shall have a great burning in the spring. Have
had hard frosts every night. Going to Yonge-street.
to see if I could get oats for the oxen, for the swamp
hay is not nourishing and they are young and grow-
ing, found provisions remarkably plenty and cheapy
especially pork. Bargained for a two-year old steer
which the farmer promised not to kill until steady
frost set in. Thankful \\e did not go farther into-
the bush. It is a blessing to be near older settlers
who have a surplus to sell. There was a smoky haze
over the bush today, and the sun shone with a sub-
dued brightness; very still with a mellow warmth.
Was told it was the Indian summer.

Nov. 20 — Had four days of Indian summer and
then a drenching rain from the east, which stopped

112 The Narrative of

chopping. A black frost today, dark and bleak.
Had a letter from Gordon yesterday, who is happy
in learning so much that is new to him. He was
^at Bambray's for dinner last Sabbath and spent
an evening at Dunlop's. He will make friends
wherever he goes.

December 3 — There has been nothing worth set-
ting down. Have had a long spell of grey, cloudy
days, which just suited felling trees and under-
brushing. Have got our patch of wheat well fenced
in, not to keep cattle out, there are none near us,
but to help to keep a covering of snow on the
wheat. Robbie trapped a coon that haunted the
barn and it made fine eating. He says the pelt will
<rn ake a neck-wrap for his mother.

Dec. 7 — Went to get the steer I had bargained
for. The farmer suggested instead of butchering
the beast and hauling the carcase it would be easier
to drive it on foot and kill it at home, which I did.

Dec. 8 — Killed the steer, which dressed well. Auld
and Brodie took away their portions to salt down,
but Ailie followed Mrs Bambray's advice. After
the pieces are hard frozen she will pack them in
snow.

Dec. 10 — Began to snow gently yesterday and
continues. There are now about six inches.

Dec. 11 — Bitterly cold; never felt the like. What
Burns calls cranreuch cauld gets into the bones, but
-this frost seems to squeeze body and bones, pinch-
ing and biting the exposed skin.

Dec. 13 — Ailie is never at a loss. On Mrs Brodie

Gordon Sellar 113

telling the children woke at night crying from cold,
she had no blankets to give her. Having sheets we
brought from Scotland she took two and placed as
an inside lining the skins of the squirrels Robbie
had killed. Simmins had taught him how to tan
and give them a soft finish. Brodie and Auld's
houses are cold because they only half chinked
them. Mrs Auld said the blankets were frozen
where the breath struck them and the loaf of bread
could be sawn as if it were a block of wood. Both
now believe Canada's cold is not to be trifled with
and are scraping moss off the trees to caulk between
the outside logs the first warm spell.

Dec. 14— The frost holds. Worked all day with
Allan. Does not feel cold in the bush. The trees
break the wind that is so piercing in the clearings.

Dec. 15 — Milder; in the sun at noon almost warm.
Got out ox-sled and went with Brodie along Yonge-
street to buy pork. Bought three carcases. People
are kindly. Have never called at a house where
we were not invited to return and pay a family visit.

Dec. 19 — Have had a three day snap of frost,
Either getting used to the cold or are adapting our-
selves to meet it, for do not feel the discomfort we
did. Ruth going to the ox-stable without putting
a wrap over her head got her cheeks and ears
frozen. Robbie trapped a hare. Pleads for a gun.
Ailie will give him a surprise New Year's morning.

Dec. 24 — The snow helps greatly in hauling fallen
trees and logs. Give them their own time, and
oxen beat horses in handling difficult loads. Gordon

8

114 The Narrative of

came walking in this afternoon, quite unexpectedly,
for we did not look for him until this day week.
He says Christmas is the big day in Toronto, and
not New Year's day. His master had shut his shop
for a week. He gave him a deerskin jerkin as a
Christmas present.

Dec. 27 — Gordon has been busy making snow-
shoes. His first pair was for Ruth, who can now
walk in them. Snowed all day; not cold. He has
taught her to ride one of the oxen.

Dec. 28 — A thaw, much needed to settle the snow,
which was getting too deep. Youngsters shovelled
a strip on the pond and made a tine slide.

Dec. 31 — Made preparation to keep Hogmanay, in-
viting our two neighbors. Had built a big fire, with
a beech back-log, so heavy that an ox had to haul
it to the door, and put a smaller one on top, while
in front split wood blazed, and made the shanty so
light that no candle was needed. The young folk
had a great night of it, and braved the frost to go
to the stable door and sing their old Hogmanay
rhymes. The feast was plain as plain could be, but
contented and merry hearts care not for dainties.

January 1, 1826 — All gathered again in our shanty
after dinner, when we had a fellowship meeting to
thank God for all his mercies, and surely, when I
review all the dangers he has led us through, and
the mercies he has bestowed on us during the year
that has gone, we have good cause to adore him.
Gave Star and Bright an extra feed of oats.

Jany. 2 — Ailie had just sat down after clearing

Gordon Sellar 115

the dinner dishes away, when Ruth came running
in crying she heard sleighbells coming up our road.
I went out and was astonished when a sleigh came
in sight, the horse dashing the snow into powder
breast high. It was Mr Dunlop and his wife, who
had come to pay us a New Year's call. They stayed
an hour and it was a happy one, for Mr Dunlop is a
heartsome man. Was greatly taken with the im-
provements we had made. His wife brought a pack-
age of tea for Ailie. She made them a cup of dan-
delion coffee which, after their drive, they relished
with her oatmeal cakes. In parting took me aside
and told me if I ran short of cash to come to him.
He is a friend. After they were gone, Robbie and
Allan came home. They had to have a tramp in the
bush to try the gun their mother had got for Robbie.
They brought in three partridge and two hares, and
were in great spirits. Gordon had bought the gun
from an English lad who had come to Canada with

O

the notion that it was full of wild beasts and In-
dians. He found he had no need of it.

Jany. 4 — Have had a heavy snowstorm with a gale
of wind. The snow here is not flaky, but fine and
powdery, fills the air so you cannot see ahead, and
sifts through every crevice. Thankful when the
blast died down. Mrs Auld declares if the summer
heat and the winter cauld were carded through ane
anither Canada would have a grand climate. The
two extremes are indeed most trying.

Jany 5 — Work in the bush stopped by the snow,
is so deep that when a tree is felled half is buried.

116 The Narrative of

CHAPTER VIII.

THE EPISODE OF TILLY

Jany 7 — All were in bed last night when I was
aroused by a knock at the door. Thought one of
my neighbors needed help, but on opening was sur-
prised to see it was Jabez. Excused himself for
alarming us by saying his errand was a matter of
life or death. A negro girl, who had fallen into
evil hands at Buffalo, had escaped to Canada and
was followed by desperate men trying to retake her.
An attempt had been made to kidnap her from the
family that sheltered her in Toronto. She had to
be hid until the search was given up, and he could
think of no place so safe as with ourselves. Mr Bam-
bray asked us, in God's name, to take care of her
for a while. 'Where is she?' I asked. 'In the sleigh
at the door.' I told him to fetch her in, or she
might freeze. He lifted her in, for she was numb.
It was a bitter night. Laying aside her wraps, we
saw, for Ailie and the whole family were now look-
ing on, a mulatto of perhaps sixteen years of age.
Alice and Ruth chafed her hands and feet to restore

Gordon SvJlur 117

her circulation, while Ailie was getting a hot drink
ready. Looking at the poor child I guessed her
miserable story and told Jabez we would keep her.
After getting warmed he drove off.

Here I have to break into the master's diary in
order to give what happened afterwards, which he
did not write down. The girl, who said her name
was Tilly, got quite reconciled to us next day. She
was from Kentucky, had been sold to a saloon-
keeper at Black Rock, and rescued. She shuddered
whenever she spoke of him. Passed from one
friendly hand to another she reached Toronto, and
was living quietly there as a servant. One evening
there was a rap at the door and she went to answer.
On opening it she beheld the fellow who claimed to
own her. She screamed. Putting his hand over her
mouth he lifted her to a sleigh, which drove off.
Two passersby, who saw what happened, ran after
the sleigh and on its halting at a tavern, one hur-
ried off for a constable while the other kept watch.
Entering the tavern they demanded the girl, and
under threat of arrest the fellow had to let her go.
If he had not, the crowd in the barroom would have
piled on to him, for in Toronto Yankee slavehunters
are detested. Mr Bambray, on being told of what
had occurred, made her case his own. He consulted
Jabez who suggested burying her in the bush with
the master's family until the search was given up.
Tilly was modest and eager to help, and at worship

118 The Narrative of

showed she had a beautiful voice. The day passed
quietly and so did Sunday. The master had meant
to go to Toronto to church, being the first Sunday
after New Year's day, but the frost was too intense
for an ox-drive. Tilly had a great collection of
hymns, and in the afternoon we sat and listened.
It was a peaceful Sabbath and we went to bed
happy and feeling secure. I was lying awake,
thinking of the poor slave - girl so unexpectedly
thrown among us, when I thought I heard the
crunching of the frozen snow under horse's feet
and sleighrunners. I jumped out of bed and look-
ing through the window that faced our road, saw a
sleigh with two men. I hurried down stairs and
wakened the master. He had just got on his feet
when the door was forced in with a crash. A tall
fellow entered, whom we could see distinctly, for the
fire was glowing bright. 'I have come for my nig-
ger, and it will be worse for you if you make a
fuss.' Without a word, the master rushed at the
fellow and was thrusting him out of the door, when
he used a trick, doubtless learned in a hundred bar-
room fights, of thrusting his foot forward and trip-
ping the master, who fell on his back. In a flash
the fellow had him by the throat, forcing back his
head with his left hand while his right fumbled
under his coat. I guessed he was after his bowie-
knife. I gripped his arm and gave it a twist that
made him let out a yell. Jumping straight up, he
made to grab me, when Allan, who had just ap-
peared, swung out his right arm and dealt him a

Gordon Sellar 119

terrific blow on the face. He fell like a tree that
had got its last cut. The other man now looked in,
and seeing his comrade insensible and bleeding, cried
out to us, 'You will hang for this!' 'Take the brute
away and begone,' shouted the master, 'or you will
answer for this if there be law in Canada.' Taking
hold of the fallen man he dragged him to the sleigh.
Lifting his head in first, he got into the sleigh and
pulled the rest of the body into the box. Hurriedly
pitching a robe over him he drove off, afraid we
would arrest him. Just as the sleigh got on to the
road, there was a shot above our heads, it was
Robbie who had loaded his gun and fired out of
the window. As it was only shot, it probably did
no harm, but showed the driver we had firearms.
The excitement over, the master staggered to a bench
and fell down. Examining his throat we saw how
the fellow had squeezed it so tight that his finger-
nails had torn the flesh, and the thrust backwards
had strained the muscles of the neck. We got him
into bed and the mistress and Alice sat up all night,
applying cloths wrung out of hot water to ease the
piercing pain. None of us slept much, and Tilly
was greatly excited. I should have mentioned, when
the affray was over, and I am sure it did not last
five minutes, she went to Allan and kissed the hand
that had knocked down her persecutor. We talked
at breakfast over what we should do next, when it
was agreed I should go to Toronto with word of
what had happened. On reaching Yonge-street I
got a ride on the first sleigh that came along. Jabez

120 The Narrative of

was astounded at my news and took me to see Mr
Bambray and others interested in Tilly. Jabez at
once started to find out what had become of the
fellow, and all agreed that nothing should be decided
until he reported. He was not long in getting trace of
him and when he came in after dinner it was to tell
the bird had flown. Fearing arrest, his face band-
aged, he had been lifted into a long sleigh, and lying
in it as a bed, had been driven westward. 'He will
get to Hamilton this afternoon/ said Jabez, 'and is
likely by sunset to be safe on Yankee soil.' It
was suggested Jabez should go next morning and
arrange with the master to keep Tilly for a few
weeks. 'Will the fellow, who knows now where she
is, not plan a second attempt?' 'No danger,' said
Jabez, -'the doctor who dressed his face told me he
would not be able to go out for weeks, and was dis-
figured for life. He damned the Scotties who had
done it.' When Jabez told how he had received his
injuries, the doctor, an Englishman, got hotly in-
dignant. 'Had I known, the fellow would have
been now in prison.' He would see his friend, the
Chief Justice, to have him outlawed. I stayed with
Jabez overnight and our drive in the morning was
most enjoyable. There was no wind and just frost
enough to make the air crisp, the sun shone on the
snow until it sparkled, while the sleighing was
splendid. Jabez had taken one of his best horses
and the swiftness of the drive was exhilarating.
The road was crowded with farmers' teams heading
for Toronto, Jabez knew them all and they all knew

Gordon Sellur 121

him. One question troubled him, and that wasr.
How the Buffalo scoundrel had come to know where
Tilly was hid? To satisfy a surmise, he drew up at
the tavern that had been opened opposite our road
to question its owner, who frankly gave the desired
information. The two men stopped at the tavern
to get warmed and had several drinks. One of them
said he was looking for his daughter, who had run
away from home. He had traced her, he thought,
by being told a man and a young girl had been seen
driving up Yonge-street Friday night. The tavern-
keeper said he saw such a couple turn into the by-
road in front of his place, and wondered at it, for it
was rare to see anybody enter that road. Question
followed question and the men learned all they
needed to find the house, and to attack it. On tak-
ing a parting drink, the tall fellow exclaimed, 'I have
got her.' Reaching home we found all well except
the master, whose neck was still swollen and pain-
ful. He was lying on the bench near the fire. Jabez
explained his errand and the message he brought.
The master pulled the head of Jabez close to his
mouth, for he could only whisper, and said, 'You
tell Mr Bambray that what happened Sabbath night
made me an abolitionist, and the girl will stay here
until she wants to leave. Is not that your mind,
Ailie?' 'You have spoken what was in my own
mind, Andrew.' Tilly, who was standing by, burst
into tears, and clasping the mistress by the neck
kissed her saying, 'I will serve you good.' She was
the most grateful creature I ever met. Jabez st ay-

123 The Narrative of

ed until after dinner, and, on leaving, promised to
give us a hand when it was time to burn our brush-
piles. Tilly made herself useful not only in our
home but those of Brodie and Auld and proved to
be a real help.

Jany 16 — Thankful I can again bend my head
without pain. The woods are a glorious sight. It
snowed yesterday morning. Before dark the snow
turned to rain, which froze as it fell, encrusting
everything. On the sun coming out bright this
morning the trees sparkled as if made of crystal
and the branches of the evergreens hung in masses
of radiant white. So Alice described them, and we
all agreed a sight so beautiful we never saw.

Jany 17 — Robbie and Allan set off on snowshoes
for a day's hunting and came back in the afternoon
-carrying a deer, which they had run clown, being
enabled to do so by the crust on the snow breaking
•under the poor animal's hoofs. There are more than
men hunting deer. Last night we heard the wolves
in full cry as they were chasing them.

Jany. 21 — Astonished by a visit from Mr and Mrs
Bambray. They visited all the houses and seemed
^pleased by what they saw. Had a long talk with
-him about how the province is being governed. Mrs
Bambray brought clothes for Tilly. The thaw we
have had has lowered the snow, and chopping down
^trees has been going on.

Jany 22 — The day being moderate and the sleigh-
dng splendid drove to Toronto, the oxen going faster

Gordon Sellar 123

than a man could walk. Sought to see the minister,
who accepted certificates of Ailie and myself. Sacra-
ment is March 26.

Jany. 25 — Visited the farmer from whom I bought
the steer. We had a hearty welcome. Ailie much
taken with their stove and its oven, and curious
about Canadian ways of housekeeping. Ruth was
given a kitten.

Jany 27 —Great snowstorm.

Jany 28 — Quite mild this morning, a warm wind
from the south. Snow melting. At noon there was
a sudden change of the wind to the northwest, which
rose to a tempest, overturning trees and making most
doleful sounds as it swept through the woods, where
it broke off branches by the thousand. Became pierc-
ingly cold. Such quick changes cannot be healthy.

Jany 30 — More snow with strong east wind.

Feby. 9 — After ten days of stormy weather, today
is fine and bright. The snow is over three feet on
the level. Impossible to work in the bush. Gordon
is preparing for sugaring, making spouts and buckets.
I have to get a kettle to make potash and will buy
one now, for it will serve for boiling sap.

Feby 1 4 — Rain, snow sinking fast.

Feby 18 — Went with the three boys to Toronto
and bought potash kettles. They cost $12.

Feby 24 — Sun is gaining strength and days are
lengthening. Can see the snow wasting in the sun.
In the shade, freezing hard. Are doing good work
in the bush.

Feby 26 — Snowing thick and fast, but not cold.

The Narrative of

Feby 28 — Sky without a cloud and mild. Gordon
tapped a tree or two, but there was no sap.

March 6 — Roused by a hallo so hearty that no-
body except Jabez could utter it. The fine weather
had made him tired of the town and recalled the
sugar-time of his youth. He picked out the maples
to be tapped, those most sheltered and facing the
sun, and quickly their bark was bored and spouts
inserted. In the afternoon there was a fair run.
By that time the large kettle had been slung and
the tire started. It was a big play for the young-
sters, and their shouting, when Jabez poured sap on
the snow and it turned to candy, might have been
heard a mile away.

March 11 — Jabez left, taking as part of his spoil
a jar of syrup and a lot of cakes of sugar. Under
his teaching Ailie quickly learned to sugar off, and
did it over the kitchen fire in the biggest pot. Sent
cakes as presents to Mrs Bambray and Mrs Dunlop

March 12 — All tired after the week's sugar-mak-
ing. Surprising what a quantity was made, due to
the Aulds and Brodies helping, who got their share.

March 18 — Have had no sugar- weather this week;
frosty with strong winds, and some snow. Allan,
with help of Mr Auld, began hauling boards from
sawmill, which we will need for barns.

March 20 — Gordon awakened us by shouting 'A
sugar snow.' There had been a light shower of it
during the night, and the air was soft. Holes were
rebored and there was a fine run of sap. Likely the
last, for there is now hard frost.

Gordon Seller 125

March 25 — Have made preparations for the sacra-
ment. Weather has been tickle, sometimes snow,
then rain, but always blowy with cold nights.

March 26 — Fair overhead but sleighing heavy. Got
to Toronto in time and had a solemn and, I hope, a
profitable season. Recalling past occasions, Ailie was
much affected on taking the cup in her hand. She
was anxious about there being no word from Scot-
land. Before leaving Toronto I went to the post-
master and got a letter. It was from her sister, whose
husband had a rented farm at Lochwinnoch. They
have decided to follow us to Canada, and ask that
I look out a farm for them. They hope to have
over a thousand dollars after paying their passage.
When we got home Robbie's news was that he had
seen a robin.

March 27 — Gladdened when I woke to hear the
sound of birds. The robin here is not the Scottish
redbreast, being much larger and with a different
note. People I spoke to at church yesterday said
we are having an unusually late season. I am weary
of the sight of the snow, which is now wasting in
the sun. Heard frogs at a distance last night. The
long winter is a serious offset to farming in Canada.

April 3 — Jabez with Sloot came this morning to
start burning our fallow, and before dark we had
made great progress. There is enough snow and ice
left to make it easy for the oxen to haul logs.

April 8 — By ourselves once more; the burning and
the making of potash finished yesterday. There is
now clearance enough on all three lots to make sure

12U The Narrative of

of raising sufficient crop to keep us, so it will not
be so much a work of life and death to keep at the
felling of trees. Chopping them is most laborious,
but burning them is worse — as much as flesh and
blood can bear. The burning we had in the fall
was to get a patch of land cleared for sowing. This
time we were prepared to save the ashes, Gordon
set up three leaches on the edge of the pond, and
as the logs were burned the ashes were gathered
and hauled by ox-sled to till them. Ramming the
ashes into the leaches as solid as possible and then
pouring water upon them fell to me and the women,
the men attending to the burning, the raking of the
ashes together, and hauling them. After soaking
all night, or longer, the leaches are tapped, when the
lye runs into a trough, made by hollowing as big a
pine as we could find. From the trough the lye is
dipped into the kettle, under which a fierce fire had
to be kept. As the lye boiled, the water in it pass-
ed off in clouds of steam, more lye being poured in
to keep it full. By-and-by a sticky mass could be
felt at the bottom of the kettle, which was ladled
into cast iron coolers, and became solid. This is
called black salts, is barreled, and shipped to Britain,
where it is in great demand. The quantity of lye
needed to make a hundred-weight of black-salts as-
tonished me. I got ten cents a pound for what we
made and that will keep us in provisions until we
have our own wheat to take to mill.

April 9 — All glad of the Sabbath rest. Warm,
the soft maples red with buds.

Gordon Sellar 1 27

April 15 — Been busy all week, mostly in clearing
and levelling the burned land for sowing. Sowed
two bushels of oats this afternoon. Drying winds
and a hot sun.

April 20 — The rain needed to start grain came
last night. Moist and warm today with rapid growth.

April 22 — Planted potatoes. Ailie and Alice get-
ting the garden stuff in.

April 26 — Wonderful growth; nothing like it in
Scotland. There is no spring here; the jump is from
winter to summer. Our bridle-path to Yonge-street
is so soft that oxen cannot be put on it. Gordon
goes back to Toronto on Monday to join the trades-
man he was with in the fall, and who has sent for
him. He will have to walk, for Yonge-street, I ain
told, is a chain of bog- holes.

May 13 — Have had changeable weather; rather
too dry and a few cold nights. The standing bush
keeps frost off the braird, which could not look
better. Busy preparing logs for building barns; we
are all working together. Three will be needed..
Except for the ground logs we are using cedar,
which is light to handle and easy to hew. Mrs
Bambray sent a bundle of apple-trees and another
of berry bushes. All planted and look as if they
have rooted.

June 3 — Gordon along with Sloot came this even-
ing to help in raising the barns. Planted corn to-
day; an entirely new crop to us. The heads will be
food for our table and the stalks the oxen are fond
of. The winter-wheat is in the shot-blade. Went

128 The Narrative of

back to the swamp and found what had been plow-
ed in fine shape. Seeded down with oats. I hope
for a good return.

June 14 — Barns are finished. Much easier to build
than were our shanties. Using block and tackle in
lioisting was a great help. Wheat is beginning to
color. Robbie saw a deer browsing in the oats, got
his gun, and shot it. Deer flesh is dry any time but
-at this season is poor eating. Potatoes and corn
have got their first hoeing.

June 27 — A dry hot spell. Scotland gets too much
rain; Canada too little. Wheat is ripening too fast.
It will be fit to cut on Monday.

July 8 — Wheat is safe; drying winds and a hot
sun made it quickly fit to lead. In Scotland it might
have been out three weeks before fit to stack. Fine
quality and abundant yield. Will not need to buy
more flour.

July 12 — Have had a plentiful rain that has saved
the crops, for oats are tilling. I answered my sis-
ter's letter at once, with directions how to come.
Have spent any time I could spare in trying to find
a lot for them. Gordon walked in this morning with
a letter mailed from Greenock, stating they were to
take ship that week. As they may be here next
week must decide quickly on a home for them.

July 15 — Allan and myself have been on the
trudge for three days, looking for a lot. Finally
decided on one with a clearance of nearly ten acres
and a shanty with an outbuilding. It is far north
on Yonge-street, but all nearer Toronto were held

Gordon Sellar 129

at prices they could not afford. The owner leaves
on account of sickness and sold the lot with its bet-
terments and growing crop for $600.

July 22 — Left home on Monday to wait in Toronto
for arrival of my brother-in-law and family. They
came on the 19th, sound and hearty. As I had
directed them, they took a ship for New York and
thence by the Hudson and Erie canal to Oswego,
where they got the steamer for Toronto. Thus they
avoided the hardships of the St Lawrence route and
saved a fortnight in time. Looking at the map, I
can see New York is Toronto's nearest ocean port.
The teams got started early in the afternoon, but the
road was rough and the horses had to walk all the
way. It was growing dark when we reached the
shanty, from whose one window gleamed a light,
and at the door were Ailie, Alice, and Robbie, who
had spent two days cleaning and making the place as
decent as possible. A table of boards, with benches
at its side, was spread with supper. A joyous hour
was cut short by the teamsters crying out horses
were fed and they were ready to return. They
dropped us at the end of our lane.

July 26 — Finished cutting the oats on the swamp
while green and stacked them. There is a fair catch
of grass.

Aug. 4 — All the grain is ripe; cutting is slow on
account of the stumps. Today there were four of
us busy with the hook. Oats are not as plump as
in Scotland ; they fill too quickly.

9

130 The Narrative of

CHAPTER IX.

THE AFTER YEARS

Further extracts from the master's diary would
not help the story I am telling you, for it becomes
such a record as many farmers keep, — when they
sowed and reaped, what they sold and bought. Hav-
ing completed the account of his first year's experi-
ence in the bush for his friend in Scotland, he ceased
noting down his daily happenings, which for him
no longer had the interest of novelty. The forest
had been sufficiently subdued to enable him to gain
a living from the land, and his life partook more
and more of the routine of Canadian farmers. He
was, however, much more successful than the ma-
jority of them, due to his energy and skill. His
first decided start was due to the existence of that
swamp whose discovery filled him with dismay. The
forage he got off it enabled him to start keeping
stock long before he otherwise could have done. In
the fall of 1826 he bought a cow and a couple of
two-year old heifers, and the following spring there
was enough milk to enable the mistress to make a
few cheese. These gave the farm a reputation which

Gordon Sellar 131

established a steady demand at a paying price. More
cows were got, no grain was sold, everything was
fed, and the master, with the help of the mistress,
led in dairying. In Ayrshire she had the name of
making the best cheese in the parish and her skill
stood the family in good stead in Canada. That
second summer the entire swamp was brought into
cultivation, and it proved to be the best land on the
farm for grass. When other pastures were dried
up, cattle had a bite on the swamp, for so it con-
tinued to be called long after it had lost all the
features of a swarnp. The clearing of the forest
went on steadily, so that each fall saw a larger yield
of grain and roots. In the fifth year the master
was rejoiced to find many of the stumps could be
dragged out by oxen, and a field secured on which
he could use the long-handled plow as in Scotland.
An unlocked for result of the draining of the
swamp and the sweeping away of the forest in
every direction was the gradual drying up of the
pond. A more striking instance was told me by a
settler who was led to choose a lot near lake Sirncoe
on account of a brook prattling across it and which
reminded him of Scotland. In twenty years the
brook was gone, the plow turning furrows on its
bed. The one great drawback to the progress of
the three families was the lack of a road to Yonge-
street. In winter there was little difficulty for then
snow made a highway, but the rest of the year no
wheeled vehicle could go over it. At one of the
sessions of the legislature, when the estimates for

132 The Narrative of

roads and bridges was up, the owner of the 1200
acre block of land that was the cause of our trouble,
made a pathetic appeal for a grant to give an outlet
to three of the thriftiest and most deserving families
he had any acquaintance with, and his appeal re-
sulted in a hundred dollars being voted. Two years
later, on being questioned by the master about the
grant, the honorable gentleman (for he had Hon.
before his name) told him he had drawn the money
but there was no condition as to the time he should
start the work. In 1830 there set in an unprece-
dented influx of immigrants, who wanted land.
The honorable gentleman saw his opportunity and
sold every acre of the 1200. Those who bought
had to cut out the road, and making it passable for
travel was hard work for years, on account of the
size of the stumps and of many parts having to be
corduroyed.

With the coming of these new neighbors, a school
became necessary and in it services were held on
Sunday. The master sought the help of a Presby-
terian minister in Toronto. He came once; on find-
ing how rude everything was, he declined to return.
A North of Ireland family was no more success-
ful with an Anglican minister. He had newly come
out from a cathedral city in the south of England
and was shocked to find the log school had not
a robing-room. The end was that a Methodist cir-
cuit-rider took in our settlement in his rounds, which
resulted in a majority of those who attended his
.services uniting with the Methodist church. The

Gordon SeUar ] 33

ministers who came from the Old Country in those
early days were singularly unfit for new settlements.
The Anglican on landing assumed he was the only
duly accredited clergyman, and was offended at his
claim being slighted, while his feelings were jarred
by the lack of conditions he considered essential to
the proper conducting of worship. The Presbyterian
ministers were more amenable to the changes, yet
their ideals were of the parishes they had known
in Scotland — a church, a manse, a glebe, tiends, and
a titled patron. The effects of State established
churches in the Old Land were thus felt in the
backwoods, which was shown more markedly in
the strife to reproduce State churches in Canada.
I look back with distress to the bitter controversy
which went on from year to year over the posses-
sion of the revenue from the clergy reserves. The
cause of strife was not altogether the money, but
the proof of superiority the possession of the fund
would give. With many it was a? much pride as
covetousness. When we recall the energy that char-
acterized the agitation over the clergy reserves, I
think of what the same effort would have accom-
plished had it been directed to evangelize the pro-
vince.

Another agitation, less prolonged but fiercer while
it lasted, was that which reached its head in the re-
bellion year. As was unavoidable, the rule of the
province on its being organized, fell into the hands
of the people who first came. They divided its
public offices among themselves and managed its

134 The Narrative of

affairs. In time these first-comers were outnumber-
ed by immigrants, but there was no change — the
first-comers held to the reins. Had they used their
power in the public interest, that would have been
submitted to, but they did not — they abused their
power for their own interests. They multiplied
offices, increased salaries, grabbed the public lands,
and laid the foundation of a national debt by bor-
rowing money. There were instances of stealing of
public funds, with no punishment following. Far-
mers became restless under an iniquitous adminis-
tration of public lands. The discontent, which was
as wide as the province, was taken advantage of by
men who designed Canada should become a republic,
and began an agitation to bring that about. Men,
like the master, who ardently wished reforms, were
repelled when they found the main object of the
leaders of the agitation was the separation of Cana-
da from Britain and would have nothing to do with
them. The first time the master met Mackenzie he
took a dislike to him, perceiving his overweening
vanity, his habit of contradiction, and his lack of
judgment. He said he was a specimen of the un-
pleasant type of Scot who meddled and denounced
to attract attention and make himself of consequence.
When he saw him shaping a rebellion he declared it
would be a ridiculous failure, that no such whitrick
of a creature could lead in the people's cause. There
were grievous wrongs to be righted, but he held the
advocacy of the changes called for by such men as
Mackenzie was a hindrance instead of a help to their

Gordon Sellar 135

being secured. Brodie's oldest son was somewhat
conceited, and had come to believe he was born to be
something else than a farmer. I think the isolation
of farm life conduces to develop that notion. The
boy brought little in contact with his fellows, does
not have his pretensions rubbed down, and comes to
think he is superior to them. I have seen many
such, who thinking they were business men, or would
shine in some public capacity, or were fitted to adorn
a profession, made shipwreck of their lives in leav-
ing the plow. Hugh was one of those. A good
fellow and a good worker with his father, he began
by frequenting corner-stores at night and before
long considered himself an authority in politics and
was ready to argue in a long-winded and dreary
fashion with any who disputed his crude assertions.
Taken notice of by leaders in the agitation going
on, appointed to committees and consulted as to
plans on foot, he became carried away and neglect-
ed his home duties. When the explosion took place
in December, 1837, he was one of those who met at
Montgomery's tavern. A decisive blow could have
been struck had the men there gathered marched
to Toronto and seized the guns stored in the city
hall. There was no man to take the lead. Mac-
kenzie vapored and complained of others, formed
plans one hour to change the next, and demonstrat-
ed the weakness of his shallow nature. Seeing this,
fanners sincerely desirous of a change in the rule
of the province, left for their homes, and the hand-
ful left were routed without trouble. Hugh was

136 The Narrative of

among those made prisoners and placed in Toronto
jail. His father was in great distress and implored
me to help to get him released. My stay in Toronto
had given a knowledge of its officials and I told
him if he was willing to pay it might be done. We
went to the home of the prosecutor for the crown.
The father told his tale and, in piteous terms, begged
the return of his son to his distracted mother. Per-
ceiving what he said had no effect, I took the gentle-
man aside and told him the father might give cash
bail. 'How much is he ready to deposit?' was asked.
I thought he had $25 in his pocket. 'Not enough,'
he replied. 'The lad can be indicted for treason
which means hanging.' 'You cannot get evidence
against him on that charge. Say what you want?'
Turning to Brodie he said if he would deposit ten
pounds, and enter into the proper recognizances he
would give him aii order to the jailor for his son's
release. Without a word of demur the father count-
ed out $40 of his painfully gathered savings and the
chancellor scribbled the order. On reaching the
prison the jailor raised objections. It was now dark
and after hours and the lad had been boarded four
days and the fees of the constables who had arrested
him had to be paid. I cut him short by asking
'How much?' The fellow eyed the father as if cal-
culating the extent of his ability to pay. 'Two
pound ten,' he said. 'Nonsense,' I replied, 'farmers
have not that much money to give away; say one
pound ten and I will advance it for him.' He nod-
ded and I passed the money. Going upstairs he

Gordon Sellar 137

threw open a door, and we saw in the hall, or rather
corridor, a crowd of men. They were silent with the
exception of one who was denouncing his being held
as an outrage, for he was as loyal as the governor
himself. The rest of them were enduring their con-
dition in sullen silence. Among them were indus-
trious farmers who had warrants issued against them
because they had been known to threaten officials in
the land-office for not getting patents for the lots
they had paid for, farmers arrested on informations
lodged by men who owed them, others by officials
who expected to share in their property when con-
fiscated, and barroom politicians who had expressed
their opinions too freely about those in power.
A few, however, were thoughtless young fellows who
had been drawn to visit Montgomery's tavern from
mere curiosity and love of excitement. The room
was lighted dimly by two lamps hung on the walls;,
the heat was stifling, the odor sickening. We look-
ed among the throng for Hugh. His father pulled
my sleeve and pointed to a far corner, where he was
squat on the floor with his face to the wall in the
stupor of despair. The jailer jostled his way to
him, and grasped his collar. Hugh turned his face
in agonized apprehension of his fate, for he told us
afterwards he expected to be hanged, and that he
was wanted. Dragging him to where we stood the
poor fellow collapsed at sight of his father and fell
on his neck. Hastening downstairs the jailer open-
ed the wicket and we were on the street. Hugh
was dazed when he saw the jailer did not follow

138 The Narrative of

'Where are we going, father?' 'Going home.' 'Have
J not to go back to prison?' 'No, you are free.'
Hugh broke down and cried. 'We will have supper
and then we will hitch up.' 'No, no,' sobbed Hugh,
*let us go home now.' On shaking hands with them
as the horse started, I saw poor Hugh was thuroly
humbled and penitent. It was not for a brief time,
for on going home he proved what his boyhood had
promised, an obedient son and steady worker. 'He
never has now a word of complaint about what is
set on the table/ whispered his mother to me.

This ridiculous attempt at a revolution had one
good and one bad effect. The good, was a change
in the government that made conditions more toler-
able; the bad, was in giving color to fastening upon
Liberals the stigma of disloyalty. The leaders in
the attempted rising had declared for separation
from Britain, and those of them who escaped across
the frontier became avowed annexationists. What
they were the Tories asserted all Liberals were and
the maintenance of British connection depended
upon their being kept out of office. The many
years that have passed have made that pretension
traditional, and whenever there is an election, I hear
the charge of disloyalty imputed to Liberals and
the claim to exclusive loyalty made by their op-
ponents.

The passing years have wrought a marvellous
<;hange in the face of the country. Our drive up
Yonge -street in 1825 was like a boat tracing a nar-
row channel of the sea. On either hand was a con-

Gordon Sellar 139

tinuous wall of forest, and where an attempt had
been made to push it back the uncarved bush pro-
jected like rocky promontories. The houses passed
at wide intervals were shanties; the clearances in
which they were set cluttered with stumps. How
different now. Handsome residences have replaced
the log-shanties, the bush has become a graceful
fringe in the background of smooth, well - tilled
fields. Like the ocean which keeps no trace of the
keels that have furrowed its wastes, these beautiful
fields are the speechless bequest of the men and
women who redeemed them from savagery at the
cost of painful privations, of exhausting, never ceas-
ing toil, of premature decay of strength. They
fought and overcame and succeeding generations en-
joy the fruits of their labors— fruits they barely
lived to taste These were the men and women
who made Canada, the founders of its prosperity,
the true Makers of the nation to which it has grown.
It is common for politicians and their newspapers
to steal for their party-idols credit to which they
have no claim, by styling them the Makers of
Canada, but no suppression of facts, no titles the
crown is misled to confer, no Windsor uniforms, no
strutting in swords and cocked hats, no declarations
and resolutions of parliament, no blare of party con-
ventions, no lies graven on marble, nor statues of
bronze, can change the truth, that the True Makers
of Canada were those who, in obscurity and poverty,
made it with ax and spade, with plow and scythe,
with sweat of face and strength of arm.

UO The Narrative of

I would not imply that being first is necessarily
a merit in itself. There must be a beginning to every-
thing and to magnify the man who felled the first
tree or reared the first shanty is no honor if unac-
companied by moral worth. I have seen many town-
ships come into existence and have known the men
who first went into them, and my sorrow is, that so
few of them are worthy of remembrance. Recog-
nizing this, I pay no honor to a man who boasts he
was the first to do this or that, and who, though
first, threw away his opportunity to benefit himself
and those who followed. I am tired of men who
posture as pioneers and founders and who have
nothing else to claim. Unless they also had moral
worth, strove to give the right tone to the settle-
ment of which, by accident, they started, they are
not deserving of more than passing notice. Scores
of times I have been struck by the differences in
settlements, how one is thrifty, and its neighbor
shiftless; one sending into the world young men and
women of intelligence and high aspiration; the other
coarse people who gravitate downward. If a first
settler is of sterling character he moulds the com-
munity that gathers around him and he deserves
honor, but the first settler of gross habits it is well
to forget. The government that tries to make a se-
lection among those who seek its land acts wisely ia
the interest of coming generations. To give land
to all who ask it, regardless of what they are, will
indeed till the country, but will be of no benefit in
the long run. I know of townships where laziness,

Gordon Sellar 14 1

ignorance, prejudice, and gross habits prevail to such
a degree that it would have been better had the
land remained in bush. The bullet strikes as the
rifle is pointed, and Canada has never aimed to se-
cure the best people as settlers. We need popula-
tion, has been the cry, get it and never mind of what
quality it is. What is more blamable, our legislature
does not even try to secure settlers who will assimi-
late. Business called me to a township one summer
where few of the settlers knew a word of English.
Is that the way to build up Canada as British?

Nature has designed Canada as an agricultural
country and such it must remain. It will prosper
as its farmers prosper, and languish when they are
not doing well. It follows their welfare should be
the first consideration, and a mistake will be made
if the fact is not recognized when they work under
unfavorable conditions.

The farmer in the Old Country can plow every
month in the year and his flocks and herds only
need supplementary rations to keep them in con-
dition. How different it is here, where winter locks
the soil in iron bonds half the year and animals
must be fed from October to May. What our far-
mers raise in sir months is consumed in the other
six, so that their labor half the year is to store up
food for the other half. The result is, that the earn-
ings of our farmers are less than half of what they
would be had we England's climate. The public
man who argues that because the Old Country
farmer can pay heavy rent to his landlord, bear the

142 The Narrative of

burden of severe taxation, and yet make a living,
the Canadian farmer should be able to do likewise,
shuts his eyes to the kind of winter he has to fight
against. That winter cuts his earnings more than
half, for, during the months the land is frozen he is
unable to do any kind of profitable farm work, in-
deed has spells of enforced idleness. The Old Coun-
try farmer can keep hired help the year round, for
he has employment for them; the Canadian farmer
needs extra hands only during summer. The result
is that his margin of profits is so narrow that he
can never pay such taxes as are collected from the
agricultural class in England. When public burdens
draw on his income to the extent that he is not
left a living profit, the Anglo-Saxon will leave the
land to be occupied by an unenterprising class of
people who are content to vegetate, not to live.
The pre-eminent essential in Canada's policy is to
make farming profitable and keep it so.

While the statement, that agriculture is the foun-
dation of Canada's life, is so often repeated that it
has become a commonplace remark, is it not extra-
ordinary that none of its public men since Simcoe's
day have acted upon it? With the words on their
lips, Canada rests upon the farmer, it would be ex-
pected the welfare of the farmer would be their
solicitous concern. In the first element of agricul-
tural prosperity, the settlement of the land, they
have kept back the progress of the country by be-
stowing it, not on the men ready and anxious to
cultivate it, but upon individuals and companies who

Gordon SelLir 143

expect to make a profit by reselling to the actual
settler. By making the land a commodity to buy
political support, the settlement of the country has
been kept back. The rule, that the land be given
only to those who will live upon it and crop it,
would have saved heartbreak to thousands of will-
ing men who came to our shores asking liberty to
till its soil, and would have placed an occupant oi>
every lot fit to yield a living. The individuals and
companies who have been given grants of blocks
of land under the pretence that they would settle
them, have been blights on the progress of the
country.

As to the danger of taxation increasing to a de-
gree that will make the working of the land un-
attractive to the intelligent and enterprising, thai
menace comes from two classes — the projectors of
public works who agitate for them from self-interest,,
and from those who have raised a clamor to encour-
age manufacturers by giving them bonuses in the
form of protective duties. Should a levy ever be
made on the earnings of the farmer to help a favor-
ed class, there will be a leaving of the land for
other countries and for better-paying occupations.

My desire is, to see Canada a land where every
man who wishes may own a part of God's footstool
and, by industry, secure a decent living. Surely it
is a patriotic duty to make Canada a nation where
toil and thrift fetch the reward of independence, a.
nation without beggars or of men willing to work
and cannot get it, a nation of happy homes where

144 The Narrative of

there is neither wealth nor luxury but enough of
the world's means to ensure comfort and to develop
in its men and women what is best in human nature.

Gordon Sellar ]45

CHAPTER X.

PARTING WITH OLD FRIENDS

My story of how I came to Canada and how the
family which made me one of their number got on
in its backwoods has taken a long time to tell, yet
I must lengthen it to make known what became of
some of the people mentioned in the course of it.
Tilly remained with us a year, when she went
to live with the Bambrays, who needed her help.
When they, later on, decided to end their days in
their native town, Huddersfield, she went with them
to England. Once a year a letter came from Mr
Bambray, with a long postscript by Tilly, overflow-
ing with good wishes, and in each letter was a draft
to help escaped slaves get a fresh start in life. The
worthy couple died several years ago, making Tilly
their chief legatee. She married a man for whom
she described herself as unworthy and who makes
her happy every day. When Ruth married she sent
her a gift of $250 to furnish her house. Ruth's hus-
band is a capable farmer, who is doing well. They
are an evenly matched team, pulling together and
.happy in each other. When Robbie came of age the

10

146 The Narrative of

master divided his farm equally between his two
sons, and bought for himself six acres fronting
Yonge-street. On this he built a commodious house
and a large greenhouse, for he designed carrying on
market-gardening. In an excavation deep enough
to be below the frost line the greenhouse was built,
and there were other devices to do with as little
stove-heat as possible. Sloot, who had been left a
widower, and having no family, became the hired
man and made his home for the remainder of his
life with the master and mistress, to whom he was
deeply attached. Twice a week he drove to market
the produce that was for sale, and though occupa-
tion not beyond their strength was their purpose,
remarkable profits were made off these six acres.
The mistress was happy in tending the greenhouse
and flower-beds, and in entertaining visitors, for
they had many apart from their own children and
grand-children, They were honored far and wide
and a drive to their house, which they named
Heatherbell cottage, to have a chat and get a bou-
quet was a common recreation with many Toron-
tonians. Of your mother I need not speak; you
know how happy we are in each other. We never had
any courtship — our lives from the first sight of her
when I ventured to seek shelter in her father's house
on that rainy day has been one long dwelling in each
other's affections. As trees strengthen with years,
our attachment has grown deeper and purer. Just
as soon as I made my footing good in Toronto, our
marriage took place. Lovers before the ceremony

Gordon Sellar 147

we are lovers still. Ah, my dear lassie, do not think
love is a brief fever of youth — a transient emotion
that fades before the realities of wedded life like the
glow from a cloud at morn. Where love is of the
true quality, it becomes purer and tenderer with the
passing years. Death may interrupt, but cannot
end such affection as ours, Love is eternal.

With Mr Kerr I kept up the exchange of letters
he asked, and the information and advice his con-
tained have helped to shape my character and opin-
ions. The year after his arrival he started in busi-
ness for himself and prospered. His wife is the girl
whom he was courting when he fled from Greenock .
Our visits to them are delightful memories and you
know how we enjoy their sojourns with us. Jabez
also became a Montrealer. The business of himsel f
and brothers as carters naturally merged into for-
warders. As trade grew it was found needful one
should be in Montreal, and Jabez went Level-
headed and full of resource he soon came to the
front in the shipping-trade.

With Mr Snellgrove we had an unlooked for en-
counter. The master was on a visit to us at Toronto.
On reading notices of a meeting to be held in favor
of Protection and of the government issuing paper
currency instead of gold, we decided to attend. The
first speaker was Isaac Buchanan, who deluged us
with figures about Bullionism and the balance of
trade. We were relieved when he ended. Then a
college professor read a paper on the Co-relation of
Great Britain and her Colonies. It was difficult to

148 The Narrative of

follow him. He was one of those theoretical men
who think forms of government and names can
make a country great. We started with astonish-
ment on the chairman saying he had pleasure in
introducing Mr Snellgrove as the next speaker. It
was he sure enough, older but still spruce, and re-
splendent in full evening dress. He did not touch
on currency, but confined himself to advocating a
protective tariff so high that it would shut out
foreign goods. That would enable manufacturers to
establish themselves in Canada, and instead of a
stream of gold going to Britain and the United
States the money would be spent for goods made
in Canada. See what a rich country we would be-
come if we kept our money here, he said; our great
lack is capital to develop our immense resources.
We had the capital in our own hands but, blind
to our own interests, sent it away to Great Britain
or, what was worse, to the United States to build
up a country that was hostile to us. Like the Gulf
Stream, which sweeping through the Atlantic en-
riches every country it touches, he would have a
golden circuit established in Canada — the farmers
would sell to the manufacturers and the money paid
them would continue to flow backward and forward
to the enrichment of both. The flowing of gold
from our midst would be stopped, and the farmers,
with a home-market for all they could raise, would
become rich and view with delight factories rising
on every hand. All this could be accomplished by
enacting a judiciously-framed tariff and delay in

Gordon Sellar 14W

doing so was not only keeping Canada poor but en-
dangering her future as a British dependency. Ap-
plause followed Mr Snellgrove's sitting down, and
the chairman praised him as a gentleman who had
carefully thought out his proposals, which commend-
ed themselves to every patriotic mind. We wanted
diversity of occupation and retention of the earnings
of the farmers in Canada; here was a method of
effecting both these desirable ends.

The master got on his feet and begged permission
to be heard in reply. He was invited to the plat-
form and, with his usual directness and force, at
once assailed what Mr Snellgrove had advanced.
He says, let us have a law that will compel us to
cease buying goods abroad, for thereby the money
now sent away will be kept in Canada. What right
has any government to pass such a law? With the
money I get for my wheat may I not buy what I
need where I see fit? Such an arbitrary law as he
pleads for would undoubtedly help the manufacturer,
but would it help me, who am a farmer? The ques-
tion I ask, is not will the money stay in Canada, but
will the money I have justly earned stay in my
pocket? I will be none the richer if the money
goes into the pocket of the owner of a factory. In
the Old Country the farmers carry the aristocracy
who own the land on their backs, are the laws of
Canada to be so shaped that the farmers here are
to carry the manufacturers? It may not be plain
to you city gentlemen, but it is to me, that under
the system you have heard advocated, factories

150 The Narrative of

would increase and their owners grow rich while
the farmers would become poor, for they would
have to pay more than they now do for the goods
necessity makes them buy. My family needs about
$300 worth of store-goods in a year. That is what
I pay now. Under Protection these same goods
would cost me $400, perhaps more. The Canadian
manufacturers would be the richer by the hundred
extra dollars I would pay, and I would be the poorer
by a hundred dollars. The point at issue, is not
keeping money in the country, but of keeping it in
the pockets of the men who first earned it by culti-
vating the soil. Canada is a farming country and
always will be, and taxing each farmer's family on
an average of say a hundred dollars a year is going
to discourage the farmer. Let every tub stand on
its own bottom. If any commodity can be made in
Canada at a profit under present conditions, I wish
all success to the man who undertakes to make that
commodity, but to tax me to give the man a bonus
to do so is to rob me of my honest earnings. We
have been told we want more population. Yes, if
it be of the right kind, of people who will go, as I
did, into the bush and carve out farms. These will
add to our strength, but hordes drawn from cities
who cannot and will not take to the plow, will prove
in the long run a weakness. If you knew the poverty
and misery that exists among the factory operatives
of the Old World you would not entertain a project
to bribe them to come here and reproduce the same
conditions. Today you have not a beggar on Toron-

Gordon Sellar 151

to's streets; adopt Protection and you will have thou-
sands of paupers. This is a new country and our
aim should be to make it one where honest industry
can find a sure reward in its forests and not be
creating factories by artificial means. As an Old
Countryman, I take exception to the land I came
from being treated as foreign and a ban placed on
the goods it has to export. When I go into a store
I like to think what I am buying is helping those
I left behind, and when I pay for the cloth and other
goods they made, do they not in return buy the grain,
the butter and cheese, and the pork I have to sell ?
I protest against our government abusing its power
to tax the farmers to benefit the manufacturers.
That is tyranny, and when farmers understand that
Protection is one of the meanest forms of despotism
they will revolt. This must be a free country, with
no favor shown to any class.

We saw gentlemen on the platform urging the
chairman to stop the master; he seemed reluctant
to make a scene. Finally he did pull him down,
stating he was not speaking to the subject before
the meeting. The best reply to the disloyal out-
pouring to which they had listened he considered
was contemptuous silence. After votes of thanks
the meeting ended. The master advanced towards
Mr Snellgrove to renew his acquaintance. Mr Snell-
grove turned his back upon him and left with a
group of gentlemen. I learned he held a govern-
ment office.

I have a more unexpected meeting to relate. The

152 The Narrative of

sixth year after my marriage, it had been arranged
Christmas should be celebrated at Allan's and New
Year's at the master's. We had been looking for
what people in Scotland dread, a Green Yule, for
the ground was bare. When we rose the morning
before Christmas we were pleased to see it white,
and a gentle sifting of snow falling. Allan came
for us early in the afternoon and we filled his big
sleigh with children and parcels. We had just got
into the house when the clouds lowered and it be-
came suddenly dark. You have seen in summer a
gentle rain prevail, until, all at once, a plump came
that covered the ground with streams of water. Once
in a number of years the like happens with snow,
and a gentle fall turns into a smothering stream of
snowflakes. In an hour the ground was so cumber-
ed that it reached to the knees of those who ven-
tured out. Supper was over and the romping of the
children was in full swing when Robbie cried he
thought he heard somebody shouting outside. There
was a pause in the merriment as he flung open the
door. The snow had ceased to fall and the air was
calm and soft. A black object was seen on the road
to the left, from which came cries for help. Allan
and Robbie dashed into the snow and struggled
through it. We watched them but it was too dark
to see what they did on reaching the road. Our
suspense was ended on seeing them returning with
a stranger, and leading a horse. Robbie took the
horse to the stable; Allan and the stranger, covered
with snow entered. After brushing him and taking

Gordon Sellar 153

off his wraps the stranger stood before us, a good-
looking man past middle life. He explained he had
left home that morning for Toronto, his chief errand
to get the supplies and presents the lack of sleigh-
ing had hindered his going for sooner. Overtaken
by the unlocked for downfall, he had halted at a
tavern undecided what to do. The barroom was
crowded. A man told him, on hearing where he was
going, if he took the first turn to his left, he would
find a road that would be passable, for it was shel-
tered by bush. Anxious to get home, and the tavern
accommodation not inviting, he had, after watering
his horse, started anew. Half an hour or so later,
while pushing slowly along, a runner of his cutter
had struck some obstacle, the horse plunged forward,
tipping the rig. On getting on his feet, on lifting
the cutter, he found a runner had been wrenched off,
and there he was helpless. Seeing the lights of our
house, he shouted, and, for a long time, he thought
in vain. While he was speaking, my memory wa&
groping to place a voice that seemed an echo of one
I had heard in the past. I looked at the face, but
in the firm-set features that told of wrestling with
the world, I found no aid. It was not until the
house- colley went up to sniff at him and he stooped
to pat its head that it flashed on me the stranger
was the shepherd-lad who had befriended me in my
weary tramp across Ayrshire. Facing him, I said,.
'Is not your name Archie?' 'It is,' he replied, look-
ing surprised. 'And do you not remember the ragged
boy your dog found under a bush, how you shared

154 The Narrative of

your bite with him; how we sat under your plaid
and read the bible and heard each other the ques-
tions?' As I spoke I could tell by his face his
memory too was at work. 'Yes, yes,' he exclaimed,
'it all comes back to me, and you are curly-headed
Gordon Sellar.' Had we been of any other race the
right thing to do would have been to have fallen into
-each other arms, but seeing we were undemonstra-
tive Scots we gripped hands though I could not hold
back the tears of gratitude on seeing the man who
had been so kind to me. His coming was no damper
to the evening's joy. He made himself at home at
once, and before he was ten minutes among us the
children were clambering over him, for he had join-
ed them in their play. He was the same free-heart-
ed, easily-pleased lad I had known. When, late in
the evening, I took him to his room, we had a long
talk, and the fire of friendship kindled on the Ayr-
shire braeside burned again. We had breakfast to-
gether long before daylight, for he was anxious to
get home. It had been settled Allan would lend his
team and long sleigh, and that I drive. The sound
of sleighbells brought us to our feet, and at the door
was the sleigh with the broken cutter piled into it
with all the parcels that had been picked out of the
snow, and tied to the seat was Archie's mare. I
hesitated leaving Alice on such a day, but she in-
sisted I must go with my friend. It was not a long
drive but it was a slow one. I turnad back into
Yonge street, where there would be a track broken,
and kept on it until we reached the corner to turn

Gordon Sellar 155

westward. We halted an hour at the corner-tavern
to feed and rest the horses, which could not have
made the headway they were making had they not
been a noble team, Allan's pride. The way, however,
was not long to us, for we had much to talk about
Archie narrated his past life, and, curious about
mine, I had to tell him my simple story. Reserve
there was none. Once again we were boys, rejoicing
in each other, and warming to one another as true
friends do in exchanging their inmost confidences.
I will not relate what he told, for I will weave into
his narrative what I got afterwards from his sister
and his father and mother, and present it in con-
nected form. We were passing down a concession,
which had every indication of being a prosperous
settlement, when Archie pointed to a brick house in
the far-distance as his. On drawing near we found
its inmates had been on the watch, for tumbling
through the snow came four children, who clamber-
ed in beside us, rejoiced to see their father and
anxious to know what he had brought for them.
On reaching, at last, the house there was gathered
at the door the two oldest of the family, a fine-
looking girl and a tall lad, with the mother, and
behind them an aged couple. A hired man took the
team, but the mare, looking to the lad at the door,
whinnied. He jumped forward and led her to her
stall. 'That is his pony,' remarked Archie. What
a scene of rejoicing on that day of joy the world
over! Mrs Craig, to give her name, told how they
had waited the night before for the coming of Archie

156 The Narrative of

until the younger members fell asleep in their chairs,
how they had kept supper warm, and how, not until
two in the morning, they had gone to bed, convinced
he had stayed overnight somewhere on the road, for
the possibility of misadventure they would not ad-
mit. The forenoon had been of more anxious wait-
ing, for as time slipped they began to dread an
accident had befallen him. To have him back safe,
and the parcels safe, was perfect joy, and the two
youngest darted from the house to try the sleds
Santa Glaus had sent them by their father. Mrs
Craig, a tidy purpose-like woman, was profuse in
thanks to me for helping her husband. Archie's
father and mother struck me, at the first glance, as
the finest old couple my eyes had ever rested upon.
He was tall and rugged in frame, as became an old
shepherd, but his face was a benediction — so calm,
so composed, such a look of perfect content. His
companion recalled grannie, only more alert. Burns
might have taken them as models for his song, John
Anderson, my jo. As the sun was setting there was a
shout of 'Auntie,' and the youngsters bounded down
the long lane to meet a sleigh that was dragging its
way through snow as high as the box. Auntie was
Archie's sister — like him yet unlike, the same fea-
tures of softer mould, lighted up with merry smiles
that told of a happy heart. And there were children
with her, and her husband, a stout hearty man with
a loud voice. Sleigh after sleigh drove up the lane,
each hailed with shouting and laughter, for each one
brought not only the elders of the household but

Gordon Sellar 1 67

their children. What a shaking of hands and inter-
change of good wishes there was, and then came
supper. There were over fifty guests, but there was
ample preparation in the big back kitchen, where
supper was served. When all had enough, includ-
ing the dogs and Maisie's pussies, the older folk
moved to the front room. In a jiffy dishes and tem-
porary tables disappeared in that big back kitchen,
and the youngsters began their games. By-and-by
a fiddle was heard, and I am afraid there was danc-
ing. We had a happy evening. Two-handed cracks,
stories, jokes, songs, made the time pass too quickly.
It was a novelty to me that all the guests were
either Irish or English; fine people, intelligent, wide-
awake as to the necessity of advancing and making
improvements. Plates of apples and fruit cake ap-
pearing notified the time for parting had come, and
in more than one mother's arms rested a little one
who had crept in from the big kitchen too sleepy to
remain longer. In shaking hands with my new-
found acquaintances, they all pled with me to pay
them a visit. Before I fell asleep, I thought of what
a tine yeomanry dwelt in the settlement, and the
misfortune it would be if, by any legislative mis-
step, they were constrained to leave the farm.

Next morning I had, of course, to visit the stables
and see the live-stock, and to judge as far as was
possible, with two feet of snow resting upon it, ef
the farm and its surroundings. Every detail told
-of a capable and energetic farmer, who knew a good
horse and the best use that could be made of pig

158 The Narrative of

and cow. There were no loose ends, everything was
in its place and in the best of order. The hour I
was left alone with Archie's father and mother was
as refreshing as a breeze from Scotia's heath-clad
hills. On asking grannie whether Mirren and Archie
were her only children she answered, 'There are two
biding with the Lord.' After listening to what they
told me of how they came to Canada, of what Mir-
ren and Archie had done for them, my heart swelled
in thanking God that filial piety still cast luster on
humanity. After an early dinner I left and reached
Allan's in time to share in the after-feast of the frag-
ments of Christmas good things. Many a visit I
have since that day paid to Archie, and many he
has to me. It may be that neither of us having a
brother we crept so close together that we are
supremely happy in each others company even if we
utter not a word.

Gordon SeJlar 159

CHAPTER XI.

MIRREN AND ARCHIE

A shepherd's wage is small, and grows smaller a*
age creeps on. The young and active get the pre-
ference and the old have to take a lower fee at each
hiring fair to secure employment. That was the
experience of Archie's father. At the best, it had
been only with thrift ends could be got to meet, but
as he aged it was a struggle. The children had to
help. Archie hired with a farmer and in time rose
to be ploughman; Mirren after learning to be a dress-
maker, found to be in service was preferable. What
they could spare of their earnings it was their pride
to give in order to keep a home for their parents.
While still a boy Archie had shaped in his little
head a plan of going to Canada, where there was a
possibility of becoming independent, and had begun
early to try and save enough to take him across the
Atlantic. He had fixed on $50 as the sum he must
have, but found, with all the self-denial he could
exercise, difficult to scrape together. Emergencies
arose that required his breaking in on his little
hoard of savings, and spring after spring he was-

160 The Narrative of

disappointed in being unable to sail. His sister en-
couraged him. Like him, she was determined to
break with the conditions that bound them in the
chain of poverty. On Sunday afternoons, when
they met, their talk was of the future that awaited
them across the sea. It was not for themselves they
planned and saved. Their ambition was to give a
comfortable home to their parents, for they
foresaw that, unless Archie carved a farm out of the
Canadian bush, they would end in becoming a charge
to the parish, which was revolting to them and which
they knew would break their parents' hearts. Of
^,11 misfortunes that can overtake them, to the inde-
pendent-minded Scot the acceptance of poor relief
is the lowest degradation conceivable. It was in the
month of March, the time when ships were getting
ready for the St Lawrence, that brother and sister
had an anxious consultation. Archie had $40. Would
he venture to go on that amount? The risk of longer
delay, the doubt if another twelvemonth would in-
crease the sum, were considered. Archie was for
risking all — he wanted to end their suspense. 'Go,'
replied the sister, 'father might not be able to stand
the voyage it' we waited two years more,' and so it
was settled.

While Archie had been scraping together the money
needed for his passage, his mother and sister had
been doing what they could to provide his outfit.
The mother span and knitted stockings, a chest was
got, and shirts and other clothing cut and sewed.
To eke out the ship-rations provisions must be had,

Gordon Sellai 161

and in this neighbors helped — the wife of the farmer
he worked for presented him with a cheese, she call-
ed it a kebbuck, and his father's master insisted on
his accepting two stone of meal, part of which was
baked into oatcakes. The step Archie was to take
was not only serious but dangerous, for many ships
in those days were wrecked, a few never heard of,
and the fear that he might not reach Canada op-
pressed those who bade him good-by. The morning
he left was trying. He kept a cheery countenance
and was profuse in his expressions of confidence of
success and that before long they would be re-united.
The father, sternly repressing his emotions in part-
ing with his only son, wrung his hand. 'When I am
on the hillside alone with the yowes I will be pray-
ing God may be with you — when you are in the
bush, will you not be praying for us?" 'That I will,
father.' 'Then,' said the old man, 'though the ocean
roll between us we will be united in spirit.' Taking
his watch out of his pocket, the father held it out.
'No, no,' said Archie, 'I cannot take your watch.'
*You must take it; my companion for many a year
it will cheer you in the woods, and keep you in
mind of the promise you have just made.' The
sister went with him to the turn of the road. She
treasured his last words and they were her comfort.
'Mirren, I have covenanted with God, that I will
never forget our father and mother and will do all
that in me lies to help and comfort them.' He strode
on his way to Greenock, whither his chest had gone
by the carrier.

II

The Narrative of

The ship made a good voyage and in time he got
to Toronto, where, with some trouble, he was given
a location-ticket for a lot. Bargaining with a teams-
ter who was taking a load to a settlement in the
neighborhood of his lot, to leave his chest on his
way, he started on foot. It was well he did, for
from what he saw on the road he learnt much of
what settlers have to do. He watched the chopping
of trees, the making of potash, the hoeing in of the
first crop, and the building of shanties, for in suc-
cession he came upon settlers engaged in all these
operations, and he was not backward in asking
questions, or slow in observing. The afternoon of
the second day he reached where the local land-
agent lived. There was a small gristmill, a sawmill,
a blacksmith shop, an ashery and half a dozen houses,
all rudely built, planted in a surrounding of stumps,
with the bush encircling all. Asking at the largest
shanty for Mr Magarth, the woman he spoke to
pointed to a man, bareheaded and in his shirtsleeves,
piling boards. On hearing his business Magarth said,
'You're the man whose chest was left here yesterday.
Well, it is too late in the day to show you what lot
you have been given. Can you count?' On being
told he could, Magarth got a shingle and a piece of
chalk and told him to mark down as he called out
the measurements of the boards. On finishing the
pile, Archie reported the number of feet. 'Just what
I guessed,' said Magarth, 'now come with me.' He
led to the door of an extension at the end of his
house, which Archie saw was a primitive shop, there

Gordon Sellar 163

being, in a confused heap, everything settlers could
call for. Explaining his daughter who kept his books
was on a visit to Toronto, he handed Archie an ac-
count-book and asked him to write down the entries
he would call off. Seated on an empty box and
smoking, Magarth recalled all the transactions since
the last entry on the book, which Archie set down,
astonished at the accuracy of the memory of the
man, who gave dates, names, and quantities with as
much ease as if reading them from a list before him.
This done, he got him to fill out his report to the
crown lands department, to write several letters to
the firms he dealt with in Toronto, and one to his
daughter, which was original in matter and expres-
sion. Archie recognized the shrewdness and ability
of this unlettered man, who carried on with ease
several lines of business in addition to his farm.
After supper he made Archie sit beside him and
asked if he would not give up his notion of taking
up land and hire with him. Finding he was de-
termined to have a home of his own, Magarth gave
him much advice as to how he should begin, not
concealing, on learning he had only a few dollars,
that he was sure he would fail. After breakfast
Magarth told him what he could not do without,
and laid in a bundle an ax, a saw, a spokeshave, an
auger, a hammer, nails, and would have added a
grindstone had there been any way of carrying it.
'You'll have to come out to us when your ax needs
grinding.' In a pail he put some flour, peas, and a
lump of pork, tying a frying-pan to the handle.

164 The Narrative of

'But I have not money enough to pay for all this,'
said Archie. 'I know you haven't,' was the reply,
'you are to pay me in ashes.' Sending a man with
him to point out the lot, and to stay long enough to
help to raise a shelter, Archie started. Their way
lay across the country, through a dense forest, for
the concession his lot was on lay to the north and
no side road had been opened to it. His guide, whose
name was Dennis, had his ax over his shoulder
and blazed the trees as they tramped on their way.
Archie wondered why he should have been given a
lot so far back when they were going over so much
land that was unoccupied. Finally Dennis halted,
and, after a little searching for surveyor's posts,
which were not hard to find, for the concession had
been laid out within a year, he showed Archie his
limits. 'The road allowance is here,' said Dennis,
'and if I were you I would put my shanty close to
it, cut the logs for it off the allowance, and kill two
birds with one stone, make a beginning on your road
and have a shanty.' Archie was willing but made
a poor fist in felling trees, and before an hour his
hands were blistered. Dennis left to him the roll-
ing of the logs to the chosen site and notching their
corners. At noon they rested, Dennis lighting a
fire and showing Archie how to cook flour cakes
and fry pork at the same time. Towards nightfall
a like meal was cooked, and creeping into a thicket
of cedars they were soon fast asleep. Next morn-
ing Dennis picked out ask-trees and hickories small
enough to make handspikes and skids and the rear-

Gordon Sellar 165

ing of the shanty began. Tt was small, 10 by 12
feet, in front 7 feet high sloping backward. Show-
ing how to lay poles to make a roof, and cover them
with sheets of elrn aud basswood bark, Dennis left
while there was daylight enough to show him the
way. Archie was alone, buried in the bush, yet was
in high spirits. The land he stood on he owned.
Everything had gone well with him so far and he
looked with steady confidence into the future. When
the shanty was finished he had to admit it was only
a hovel, which he would replace by one fit to be the
home of the father and mother whose figures were
often before his mind's eye. With hands still tender,
he went on felling trees, selecting the smaller, and
when he had got a heap together he set fire, for he
needed a clearance in which he wanted to plant
potatoes. On Saturday coming he left for Magarth's,
for he had promised to post up his accounts of the
week. On finishing all Magarth had to do, Archie
wrote his mother. When he landed at Montreal he
had sent a letter to his father telling of the voyage
and his safe arrival. Now he had to send them
word of his having got a lot and that he had made
a start in clearing it. Sunday the little hamlet was
deserted. The hired men had gone to visit friends
and had taken Magarth's boys with them. 'Tis the
only outing they get,' explained Magarth, who was
surprised on Archie's preparing to return to his
shanty, for he expected he would stay till evening.
Not wishing to be beholden too much to his kind
friend, he shouldered what supplies he had bought

166 The Narrative of

the night before and started. Among the supplies
was a hoe and a bag of potatoes to plant amid the
stumps.

The routine of his daily life was monotonous — up
with the sun to attack the trees which stood between
him and a livelihood. It was lonely but he never
grew despondent. Singing, whistling, shouting, he
kept at his work. Two of the songs of Burns were
his favorites — a Man's a Man for a' that and Scots
wha hae. On coming to the line, Liberty with every
blow, he drove his ax into the tree with vim, and,
indeed, the trees at that time were the enemies
he had to fight. Saturdays he went to Magarth's
to do what writing he might have, for his daughter
was in no hurry to leave Toronto. Each Monday
found Archie more handy with the ax, and neither
heat nor mosquitoes caused him to slacken in ex-
tending his clearance. Wet days alone made him
take rest in his shanty, in a corner of which was his
bed of hemlock boughs and fern leaves. When sum-
mer waned and the nights grew cold the lack of a
chimney in his shanty made living in it intolerable,
for the smoke circulated round until it found the
hole in the roof intended for its escape. He thought
over plans to get a chimney, but could hit on none
that he could carry out without some one to help
him. From time to time he had burnings of brush-
heaps, storing the ashes in a hole he had dug in the
side of a hillock and covering them with big sheets
of bark to keep them dry. The end of September,
on making his customary visit to Magarth's, he found

Gordon Sellar 167

a letter waiting for him. It was from his sister, who
expressed the delight they felt on hearing of his
having got a farm and built a house, and how his
letter, like the one he had mailed from Montreal,
had passed from house to house until everybody in
the parish had read them, and they had raised quite
a 'furore' about Canada and of emigration to its
woods, for the acquisition of farms of their own
dazzled all. Father and mother were well and were
kept in good spirits by anticipating the day when
they would be able to join him in his fine house.
He read the letter a hundred times and vowed anew
he would not turn aside until those it came from
were beside him.

On speaking to Magarth of the store of ashes he
had saved and of the slash of trees that were ready
for burning, it was arranged he would send two men
if Archie would clear a way through the woods by
which a one ox-sled could pass. His frequent com-
ings and goings across the lot had made a foot-path,
but there were decayed logs to push aside, brush to
cut here and there, and a few branches that hung
low. It took three days' work before he was satis-
fied a sled would have free passage. On a Monday
morning the men with the sled and oxen appeared
and the burning began. There had been a month's
drouth, so the burning went well, and when the
men went back at nights the big box on the sled
was filled with ashes. At Magarth 's the ashes were
measured in a bushel box and emptied into the
leaches that stood beside the creek. On coming to

168 The Narrative of

square accounts the ashes paid what Archie was due
and left a few dollars to his credit. Taking advan-
tage of the return trips of the sled, he had got his
chest taken to his shanty, a quantity of short boards
to make a door and a bed, a bag of seed wheat, and
a grindstone. Elated by his progress he went to the
scraping and hoeing of his clearance with a will,
lifted his potatoes, pitted them, and sowed all his
seed-wheat. Then he tackled enlarging his clear-
ance and his daily task was again felling trees. The
weather was now often cold. He chinked the shanty
but with a gaping hole in the roof to let out the
smoke it made little difference, and often he could
not get to sleep for shivering. To light a fire made
it worse, for, not being used to it, he could not stand
the smoke, which choked him and made his eyes
smart. The second week in November there came
a frosty snap. Before shouldering his ax he had
put the potatoes and bit of pork he intended for
dinner in a tin pail and buried it in hot ashes to
slowly cook. When he came back late in the after-
noon, cold and tired and hungry, he opened the pail
and found it full of cinders. The heat had been too
great. For the first time he lost heart, and starting
up, with what daylight remained, made his way to
Magarth's, where supper and a welcome awaited him.
The daughter having been back for some time, he
had given up his Saturday visits. She was big and
plump, and like her father voluble and fond of a
joke. When all the others had retired for the night,
Magarth and Archie sat by the fire. Magarth guess-

Gordon Sellnr 169

ed how it was going with Archie and told him he
could not stand out the winter. Then, with kindly
humor, he gave Archie to understand that if he and
Norah would make it up, he would take him as a
partner in his business, which was growing too large
for him to manage alone. Archie was astounded,
making no reply beyond thanking him for the hint.
When he turned into a bunk in the corner of the
store he was so tired that he fell asleep and dreamt
not of Norah but of the daily misery he was enduring.
In the morning Archie rose and, without waking
anybody, slipped out and made his way to his com-
fortless shanty, Those who love the forest know
in how many tones it speaks, varying with the sea-
son and the force of the wind. When in full leaf
and swayed by a summer breeze the sound is of
falling water, of a phantom Niagara; in the winter,,
when the trees are bare, the Northwest blast shrieks
through their tops and there are groanings diversi-
fied by sharp cries as some decayed branch is snapped
or tree falls. It was amid these doleful sounds Archie
swung his ax. He was not conscious of the bitter
cold for his work kept him warm, but his brain was
full of racking thoughts. He had toiled like a slave
for nigh six months and had accomplished little,
with every imaginable deprivation he had saved
nothing, and for the next six months he foresaw
cold and hunger, which he doubted he could sur-
vive. Here was an offer that meant comfort, and
relief from a penniless condition. Should he not
accept it? Was it not selfishness that whispered his-

170 The Narrative of

doing so? Did he not come to these woods to hew
out from the heart of them a home for those he
loved? Was he going to throw up his purpose to
benefit himself? Would that be right? There was
a whisper, You will be able to help them by send-
ing money. Is money- help all they can claim from
me? Is sending them so many dollars a month all
the command to honor father and mother means?
Do they not desire to be beside me and is it not my
duty to sustain and comfort them while life lasts?
Shall I place other cares between them and me,
leaving them second instead of first? So he went
on arguing mentally, until the larger consideration
came uppermost, Was it justifiable to marry a wo-
man for whom he had no special regard, because by
so doing it would be to his worldly advantage?
Then he, for the first time in his life, tried to define
what marriage was. Was marriage for comfort and
ease such a union as his conscience could approve?
It was a searching question, and while he swung the
ax he argued it aloud. What was marriage without
love? No marriage, he shouted, as his ax delved
into the side of a tree. Love alone can blend two
lives, and without love marriage is sacrilege. No,
he would not think of Magarth's offer, he would cast
it behind him, and go on as he was doing. Then
peace came to him, and he dwelt on the commun-
ings with his sister, and the pledge he had given
her on parting. For the first time that day he began
*to sing, and when he sat on a log to eat the bread

Gordon Sellar 171

he had brought for his dinner, he threw crumbs to a
squirrel that left her hole to survey him.

Two days later he found he would have to go to
Magarth's to get the steel of his ax renewed, for it
had chipped. He found only Mrs Magarth at home,
her husband and Norah had left on a visit. In the
store were two men, and he listened to their talk with
interest, for one was telling how a thriving nearby
settlement had built a school and were unable to find
a teacher. Asking the name of the man who had
the engaging of one, and where he lived, Archie's
resolution was made, he would go and offer himself.
A tramp of over a mile brought him to the house.
In five minutes he was engaged at a salary of six
dollars a month and to board round. The engage-
ment was for four mouths. He spent the night with
the settler and left in the morning to get what
clothes he needed and to set his shanty in order.
Word had gone round that a teacher had been se-
cured, and on his return in the afternoon there were
several callers curious to see him. His host was a
North of Ireland man, with a large family, who he
was determined should learn to read and write. He
had been the leader in the building of the school-
house, to which he walked with Archie the follow-
ing forenoon. It was a log building, about twenty
feet square. There were no desks and the seats were
plank set on blocks of wood. Every child able to
walk was there full of curiosity as to what school
was like. Archie's difficulties began at once. Not
one of the would-be scholars had a book of any

172 The Narrative of

kind; those who said they wanted to learn to write
had no paper and no slates. Had they anything
they could recite from memory? A little girl forth-
with began, Now I lay me down to sleep. With
great patience, Archie taught them the first verse
of the 23rd psalm, and, trying if they could sing it,
found there were several good voices. He felt en-
couraged. Telling them to bring books of any kind
next day, he ended the lessons by one in arithmetic,
using the fingers. The second day was better. The
children came with all kinds of books except school-
books, mostly bibles. One girl had a copy of the
crown lands rules and regulations. Only six could
read a sentence by spelling each word. They had
to be started from the beginning, and Archie had
provided for that by producing a smoothly planed
board on which he had printed, with a carpenter's
pencil, the alphabet on one side and figures on the
other. The children, with a few exceptions, were
eager to learn. Then he got them to memorize the
second verse of the 23rd psalm, and taught them a
simple hymn, singing both. They were strong on
singing, and a boy volunteered to give them a song
he had heard, which had a chorus of Deny Down.
So it went on. A supply of smooth shaved shingles
was got and with bits of chalk the scholars learned
to write simple words and cast up sums. At the
close of each day Archie told them a story and ques-
tioned to see how much of it they remembered and
understood. At the end of a fortnight three of the
settlers visited to see how matters were progressing
and left satisfied.

Gordon Sellar 173

Shifting his boarding-place each Saturday Archie
came to know the settlers intimately, and perceived
how little outside their daily toil there was to en-
gage their minds. He proposed a singing-class for
the young fellows and the girls, and set a date for
the first meeting. The evening came and there was
so great a crowd that the school could not hold them
so a number clustered round the open door. Archie
knew nothing about musical notation, but he had a
good voice and a great store of songs. The difficulty
was knowledge of the words, which he overcame by
singing whatever any number of them knew aud by
repeating in concert verse by verse before he raised
the tune. On the novelty wearing off a number
ceased to come, but no matter how cold or stormy
was the night the schoolhouse was filled by young
people who heartily enjoyed those two evenings in
the week. On a preacher arranging to hold a fort-
nightly service, they applied themselves to learning
hymns. Without knowing it, Archie had become
popular. Taking pleasure in his work the winter
passed quickly. As his term drew towards its close
there was a move to show him some substantial
token of regard. There being little money, it took
the form of a donation in kind, so, on leaving the
third week of March, he was driven to his shanty in
a sled laden with parcels of flour, lumps of pork,
butter, cookies, doughnuts, and the like. His small
wage had been paid him and out of it he sent $15
to his mother.

His shanty he found buried in snow, the drift

174 The Narrative of

against its west end overtopping it. Everything
was as he had left it, and when he had dug away
the snow and got at the potatoes he had pitted he
was glad to find them untouched by frost. He again
assailed the trees but in a different spirit from the
day when he had left. He was again hopeful of
conquering and there was much to encourage him.
The weather was milder and the daylight longer.
More than anything else that cheered him on to his
lonely task was the spring sunshine. It was awak-
ening new life in the forest, and why not in him?
On the size of his clearing depended whether he
would be able to have his parents and sister join
him when spring returned next year, and so, early
and late, he attacked the trees. The only break in
his toil was when he had to go to Magarth's for
something he could not do without and those few
hours of social talk were sweet to the solitary man.
Not the least interesting topic he heard was that
Norah was engaged to a wealthy produce-dealer in
Toronto.

On leaving the settlement where he had taught
school, the young fellows told him to send them
word when he was ready to burn, and they would
come and help him. The middle of May he walked
to attend the preaching there, and before leaving
next morning had arranged they should come the
following Monday. The number who flocked into
his clearance astonished him, for almost every ac-
quaintance he had saluted him. They came with
ox-sleds and chains and, what surprised him beyond

Gordon SeU&i 175

measure, was three women in one of the sleds who
had come to make dinner and took possession of his
shanty. They worked with a will. The logs were
hauled and built into heaps and fire set, and every
art the backwoodsman knows was used to make
them burn. As ashes were scraped they were shov-
elled into the boxes on the sleds and started for
Magarth's, returning with small loads of boards.
With so many hands the small clearance was, late
in the afternoon, put in such a shape that Archie
and two men who remained could do the rest. Be-
fore the week was out, he had oats and peas sown,
and a patch reserved for corn and potatoes. At Ma-
garth's $10 had been placed to his credit for ashes
delivered.

As he was cooking his breakfast Archie was sur-
prised by a sound at a distance which he recognized
as the strokes of an ax. Listening with rapt at-
tention, there came, in a few minutes, the familiar
crash of a tree falling. 'That means I have got a
neighbor: somebody has taken a lot at the end of
the concession/ said Archie, and he set about his
day's work in high spirits. It was as fine a day as
a June day can be, and there is no finer the world
over. The brilliant blue of the sky was brought
out by a few snowy cloudlets drifting before a gentle
breeze, which tempered the warmth of the glorious
sunshine. The heart of the young man was glad
and found expression in song and whistling as he
wielded the ax. What caused him to pause in blank
astonishment? From the woods behind him, came a

176 The Narrative of

voice singing 'O whistle and I will come to you my
lad.' It was a woman's voice, it was a familiar voice.
Dropping his ax he bounded towards the figure emerg-
ing from the bush where the sled-road entered his
-clearance. 'It is my own sister!' he shouted in a
scream of joy, and clasped her in his brawny arms.
*O, Mirren, have you dropped from the sky? I would
have as soon expected to meet an angel.'

'I am just a sonsy Ayrshire lass and have come on
-my feet and not on wings. Eh, but you've changed
— ye've worked over hard.'

'It has been sweet work, for it was for father and
•mother. Nothing wrong with them that sent you
here?'

'I left them well, and hoping to join us next spring.'

'And how did you come — what started you — where
did you get the passage money — how did you find
your way here?'

'I'll tell you after I have seen this grand house of
yours. An' this is the shanty you wrote about with
everything out and inside higgle-de-piggeldy! Ye
are a great housekeeper to be sure. Why, your
house has not got a lum! (chimney). 'Did you have
breakfast yet? Poor fellow, no wonder your cheeks
are thin.'

'Never mind, Mirren, I have planned a new house
and with your help it will soon be built.'

'That it will, Archie; it is to help you I have come.'

Sitting side by side on a pile of boards, Mirren
told how she had come. On Archie's letter reaching
.his mother with three pounds enclosed she saw the

Gordon Sellar 177

possibility of Mirren going to Canada. 'The passage
money is four pounds, mother, and there is the buy-
ing of what cannot be done without. We will have
to wait for another remittance.'

'Listen, and I will tell you what I never even let
on to your father. When he had that accident six
years ago that laid him up and we feared he would
never go to the hills again, the thought came to me
that if he died the parish would have to bury him.
I set it down that no such disgrace would ever fall
en our family if I could help it, and when he got
better I set to put-by every penny that could be
spared, and many a bank I have spun and stocking
knitted to get the pennies. After thinking over
Archie's letter, I counted what I put by and I have
one pound, seven shillings, and tenpence. Your pas-
sage, you see, is paid.'

'But I dare not leave you alone.'

'Mirren, you will do as your mother asks you.
Your brother needs help: go, and we will follow you
a year sooner.'

'I thought it all over,' said Mirren, 'and it was
settled I should go. It was quite a venture for a
young lass to go alone so far, but I was not afraid,
seeing there were the plain markings of what was
my duty. So we set to work to get ready, and here
I am.'

'Bless you, Mirren, you have a brave heart and
God helping us, we will have father and mother
with us in another twelve month, and the black
dog Want will never frighten them more.'

12

178 The Narrative of

Mirren was curious to see what Archie had been
doing, but he took her first to the rising ground,
back in the bush, where he had decided to build his
house, and then showed her his crops. The rest of
the day he spent in cutting and setting up poles to
make a shelter that would serve as a cookhouse
during the day and a sleeping- place for himself at
night. At supper she told of her journey, of the
voyage, the slow ascent of the St Lawrence, and the
steamboat that landed her at Toronto. The mate
undertook to forward her chest, and pointed out
Yonge-street, at the head of the wharf. Without a
minute's delay she gained it and began her long
walk. Late in the day she asked at a shanty that
stood beside the road how far she was from the
corner where she had to turn. . The woman, on hear-
ing where she was going, said she could not be there
before dark and asked her to stay overnight. Her
husband with the two oldest of the family had gone
to visit his uncle and she was alone with the younger
children. Mirren gladly took her offer and tarried
next morning to help in cutting and fitting a dress
for one of the girls. There were many wagons on
the road, but all were loaded with the baggage of
immigrants, who, men, women, and all except the
very young, trudged their weary way behind or
alongside of them. It was late in the afternoon
when Magarth's was reached. On telling her name,
she was cordially welcomed. In the morning she
was shown the sledroad that led to the lot of her
brother. The first sign that she was near him was

Gordon Sellar 179

hearing his whistling. Of the money she had start-
ed with she had still $2.25.

With daylight next day they started ,to work.
Mirren insisted on taking an ax with her and began
brushing the trees Archie had felled. He remon-
strated that it was not woman's work. Her reply
was, she had come to help him and she was going
to do so. 'Well, then,' he said, 'we will go to the
spot where the house is to be built and work there/
On the evening arriving on which the preacher visit-
ed the schoolhouse, they both set out to attend the
service. Mirren had a welcome that astonished her,
and when they heard her sing her welcome was re-
doubled. Archie's friend insisted on their staying
until next day. It was late that night before Mir-
ren got to bed, for the neighbors crowded to speak
with her and hear her sing. As they walked to
their humble home next forenoon, Mirren expressed
her amazement at the heartiness with which she
had been received, remarking it was her first ex-
perience with the Irish. In reply Archie said we
ought to judge people as we find them putting away
all prejudices. His sojourn among them during the
winter had made him ashamed of his misconcep-
tions— you have to come close to people to estimate
their worth, and he could say from his soul, 'God
bless the Irish: kinder hearts do not beat in human
breasts,' and told Mirren what they had done for
him.

The ox-sled that brought Mirren's chest also
brought a crosscut saw. and they tried it at once

180 The Narrative of

in cutting the logs for the new shanty. Archie's
saying he did not like to see her pulling the saw,
brought out the retort that she would not do it for
other house than one for father and mother. That
summer was the happiest they had ever known.
Their toil was exhausting but the purpose of it and
their mutual company bore them up. To hear them
singing and joking it would be thought felling trees
and pawing them into log lengths was a recreation.
Such progress was made that a bee for the raising
was set for the end of August, for the season had
been early and grain was harvested. It was a bee
that was the talk of the neighborhood for months
afterwards. Young and old came, more with a de-
sire to help the brave lassie who had won their
hearts than for Archie's sake, well-liked as he was.
With her watching them, the young men vied with
one another and never did log walls mount faster]
nor rafters span them than when they had reached
their height. On a green maple branch being stuck
in a gable peak to indicate progress, a wild huroo
arose that woke the forest echoes. When the bee
broke up all the rough work was done; what was
left Archie could do himself with the aid of a car-
penter and mason, for a regular fireplace and chim-
ney needed the latter.

The brother and sister agreed that a less remit-
tance than ten pounds would not do to bring their
parents to Canada, and how to raise the $50 was a
subject of concern to them. What produce they had
to spare would fetch little. Their perplexity was

Gordon Sellur

relieved at the close of October by a visit from two
men, who had come to find out if Archie would again
be their schoolmaster. There were more families
now and more scholars and they would pay S7 a
month and board round. He hesitated, he could not
leave his sister alone. 'Take the offer,' she eagerly
cried, 'I will go to the settlement with you.' 'What
would you do there?' 'You forget, Archie, I learned
dressmaking. I will cut and fit and add a little to
our savings.' The second week in November the
school was opened, this time under better conditions,
for a storekeeper had brought books and slates, and
Archie fetched with him a blackboard he had con-
trived to put together. With the day-school the
singing school was resumed, to which Mirren added
fresh interest. She got all the work she could do,
for few of the women knew how to cut clothes
for their children, let alone for themselves, and were
glad to pay for cutting and fitting, doing the sewing
at home. The winter sped quickly and the middle
of March saw brother and sister back to their clear-
ance and to the felling of trees. On counting their
earnings in February they found they were able to
send to their parents the desired ten pounds, with
the urgent advice to take the first ship. How they
would do on arriving at Toronto perplexed them,
until Mr Magarth gave them the address of his son-
in-law to enclose in their letter, assuring them Norah
would care for them and see to their finishing their
journey. When June came Mirren expected them
each day and made every preparation for their re-

The ' Narrative of

ception. The spot in the bush where the sled-road
ended and by which they must come, she watched
with unflagging eagerness, but day after day passed
and July came without their appearance. She was
stooping in the garden cutting greens for dinner
when a voice behind her asked, 'Hoo is a' wi' ye,
Mirren?' With a scream of joy she clasped her
father and mother. A loud shout brought Archie
from the end of the clearance where he was at work
with the ax. The reward of their toil and strivings
had come at last, they were once again a re-united
family. In the evening they sat in front of their
new shanty, the clearance before them tilled with
crops that half-hid the stumps and promised abun-
dance. 'Praise God,' exclaimed the old shepherd as
he reverently raised his bonnet, 'we are at last in-
dependent and need call no man master.' For his
age he was strong and active and his assistance
made Archie independent of outside help. The four
working together, and working intelligently and with
a purpose, speedily placed them on the road to pros-

perity.

* * * » *

One defect in the backwoods life troubled the con-
science of the old shepherd, and that was the practi-
cal disregard for religious observances. He was not
satisfied with occasional services and, when harvest-
ing was over, made a house-to-house visit to see if
sufficient money could be got to mend the situation.
Nobody said him nay yet none gave him the en-
couragement he had hoped. In the Old Land the

Gordon Sellar 183

only free contributions they had made for religious
purposes was the penny dropped on the plate on
Sunday, so the appeal to make a sacrifice to secure
stated ordinances, was to them a novelty. An Eng-
lishman asked, 'When had the King become unable
to pay the parson?' His visits also made him aware
that there were many children unbaptised and that
not one of those who told him they were church
members had received the communion since they
had left the Old Country. His resolution was taken
— he would go to Toronto and seek out a minister,
he did not care of what denomination, to spend a
week or more in this new but fast-growing cluster
of settlements. Though they did not say so to him,
the settlers thought his errand a crazy one. As
chance would have it, he did happen on a man
as zealous for the cause as himself and with no
pressing engagement for the time being. On his
arriving he started with the shepherd on a round
of visits, exhorting and baptizing, and announcing
he would celebrate the Lord's supper, the last Sun-
day before his return to Toronto. So many promis-
ed to come that it was seen the school-house could
not hold them. The minister fell in with the sug-
gestion that the meeting be held out-of-doors and
there were men found who agreed to make ready.
It was now October, and the trees, as if conscious
of their departure for their long sleep, arrayed them-
selves in glorious apparel to welcome the rest that
awaited them. The spot selected for the meeting
was the wide ravine hollowed out by the creek that

184 The Narrative of

flowed sluggishly at the bottom. On the flat that
edged the east side of the creek planks were laid
on trestles to form the table, while the people were
expected to sit under the trees on the sloping bank
that rose from it. From an early hour the people
began coming. Word had spread far beyond the
houses visited, and there were a few who had walk-
ed ten miles and over. The solemnity of the occa-
sion was heightened by the weather. Not a breath
stirred the air and the yellow or scarlet leaves that
flecked the glassy surface of the creek had fluttered
downward because their time for parting with the
branches had come. A bluish haze tempered the
rays of the sun, which was mounting a cloudless
sky. When the minister rose to begin, he faced a
motley crowd, for while all had done their best to
be clean and neat, with rare exceptions, all were in
their every day dress, worn and patched, for to get
clothes is one of the difficulties of the new-come
settlers. There were few aged, for the young and
active lead the way into the bush. There were
women with babes in their arms, and there were
many children, gazing with open-eyed curiosity.
The hundredth psalm was given out and the silence
of the woods was broken by a volume of melody.
The reading from St John where is told the insti-
tution of the last supper, was followed by a prayer
of thanksgiving, that even in the forest- wilderness
heaven's manna was to be found by those who seek
for it, with passionate entreaty for forgiveness and
cleannefs of heart. Then singing and the sermon,

Gordon Sellar 185

a loving call to remember heavenly things in the
eager seeking for what is needed for the body; the
old truth that God is a spirit and can be approached
only by each individual spirit, that no man, what-
ever his pretensions, can come between the soul and
its Maker, and no ceremony or oblation effect re-
concilement. The invitation to come to the table
was that all who loved the Lord should do SOL
Slowly and reverently those who responded moved
downward to take their seats on a bench fronting
the table of a single plank. Looking across the
creek there faced them a luxuriant vine, clinging
high on the trees that supported its mass of purple
foliage. Amid these surroundings of Nature the
love of Him who condemned formalism and who
was simplicity's very essence, was recalled. When
the parting song was sung, and the people began to
leave to attend the home-duties that could not wait,
the old shepherd expressed himself satisfied thai
seed had been sown that would bear fruit, and so
it did.

THE ENI>

Lines on the Gordon Sellar who was drowned
in his boyhood

O that day of desolation!

O that hour of dumb despair!
Why, instead, was I not taken —

The fading leaf the bud to spare?

Why thy joyous life thus ended?

"Why wert born thus to die?
Whither hast thy spirit wended—

Here a moment then to fly?

Come, O Faith, in all thy gladness,
Lift me high above my woe;

Leave with God this hour of darkness,
Seeking not the cause to know.

Nevermore, my son, I'll olasp thee,
Nevermore thy voice I'll hear.

Till I scan the towers of Salem
See thee and the Saviour dear.

THE U. S. CAMPAIGN
OF 1813 TO

CAPTURE MONTREAL

GLEANER OFFICE

HUNTINGDON, QUE.
1914

Copyright. Canada, 1913
By Robert Sellar

It is right the intending reader of this pamphlet
should be informed that it has been declared by the
University of Toronto to be prejudiced in tone, based
on secondary authorities, and inaccurate. (Review of
Historical Publications by the University. Vol. 18).
In 1881 I spent a week at Ottawa, examining docu-
ments in the Archives bearing on the war of 1812. The
perusal gave me a shock, for they revealed the fact,
altogether unsuspected by me, that the existing his-
tories of Canada abounded in perversions and suppres-
sions of the truth, and in pure inventions. Since then
I have maintained my acquaintance with the additions
to the Archives, and pursued, so far as limited leisure
and means would permit, investigations in other quar-
ters. What J regard as of peculiar value, was noting
down the reminiscences of survivors of those times
whom I found on the banks of the Chateauguay and
Salmon rivers. So prolonged and so careful has been
my sifting of everything relating to the campaign
chronicled in these pages, that I feel warranted in claim-
ing that it is not only a reliable narrative but that it
is just to both the contending armies. That Time
will vindicate this claim I feel assured, and that the
pamphlet will yet be given the merit of telling, in a
way any school-boy can comprehend, how Canada was
saved in the Fall of 1813 by the blunders of the enemy
and the skill and daring of Colonel Morrison.

ROBERT SELLAR
Huntingdon, Que. , July 1, 1914.

THE U. S. CAMPAIGN OF 1813 TO
CAPTURE MONTREAL

On the 18th June, 1812, the United States declared war
against Great Britain, and on the 12th July followed up its
declaration by invading Canada from Detroit. The invasion
had a disgraceful ending. From Niagara a second invasion
was attempted on the 13th October, which was also repulsed.
The results of the operations of 1812 made it plain to the
authorities at Washington that efforts to conquer Canada
by invasions west of lake Ontario must be futile, for the
reason that overrunning the western territory left intact
the source from which supplies and reinforcements came
to renew resistance. It was Britain that furnished the means
to continue the war, and the channel through which she sent
them was the St Lawrence. Block that channel and the
current of supply would end. There were two points at which
this could be done — Montreal and Kingston — and President
Madison's cabinet were divided as to which should be attack-
ed. The preference was for Kingston, as being nearer the
United States and giving an opportunity for the co-operation
of the naval force that had been organized on lake Ontario.
With a United States army in Kingston no supplies could
filter past it to the British forces in the west. This was ad-
mitted, but it was also obvious that all of Canada east
of Kingston would be untouched, and that while Montreal
was in British possession an army could be brought in by
sea that might retake Kingston. Quebec was the proper
place to strike, but it was regarded as impregnable. Mon-
treal came second. Once plant the stars-and-stripes over it
and not only would all the military stations west of it, from
Kingston to Niagara, and from Niagara to Sandwich, be
compelled to surrender from lack of supplies, but the boats
and ships which brought men and material from England
could no longer land them, for Montreal was at the head of
navigation. As the importance of Montreal was realized,

6 Sackett's Harbor

the advocates of an onward movement on Kingston included
the capture of the other— a combined attack would be made
on both Montreal and Kingston from land and water.

The weak point in the defence of Canada was the slender
link that connected Montreal with the west. In summer it
was the St Lawrence, the southern bank of which, where it
was narrowest, was American, so that boats going up were
exposed to capture, and were often made spoil of. In winter,
the troops and material landed at Montreal had to make
their way westward by sleigh or wagon along a backwoods
road that skirted the north bank of the river. To inquire
why the American plan of campaign of 1812 did not include
a movement upon Montreal to snap that link, instead of
wasting strength on the shores of lakes Ontario and Erie, is
beyond the scope of this monograph. Having realized the
importance of gaining Montreal the Washington war de-
partment bent all its energies in preparation. These were
directed by Gen. Armstrong, the secretary of war, who in-
tended taking command of the expedition.

In 1813 Montreal was a town of small dimensions, con-
sisting of a few narrow streets perched on the margin of the
St Lawrence, in which dwelt less than 15,000 people. It had
no defensive works, and the worst an invader could meet
would be hastily thrown-up batteries along the river front.
The strength of the little town lay in its inaccessibility. Situ-
ated on an island, surrounded by deep and wide stretches
of water, it could only be reached., by boats. An army, how-
ever strong it might be, would be powerless to effect its cap-
ture unless accompanied by a fleet of boats. This Armstrong
fully realized, and while he issued orders to bring together
an army such as the Republic had never before attempted, he
also made preparations for the building of boats. Where
they should be built was maturely considered, when it was
decided Sackett's Harbor, at the eastern extremity of lake
Ontario, was the only place that combined security from
attack with a commodious bay. While the snow was on the
ground the felling of trees was started and the sawing of their
trunks into plank. Attracted by high wages, carpenters
crowded to the little village and a beginning was made on the
boats. These were flat-bottomed scows of such simple con-
struction that they were quickly put together. Over 300

Hampton Commands the East Wing 1

were to be built. Depending upon the current of the St Law-
rence to sweep them to the island of Montreal, the oars placed
in them were more for steering than rowing; crews to manage
them were drawn from the sailors of New England ports and
New York. French Canadian voyageurs, who volunteered
freely, were secured as pilots. What was going on was not
unobserved by the British, and an attack on Sackett's Har-
bor was planned. On the 28th May, 1813, ita garrison sight
ed a fleet which had crossed from Kingston. Landing a con-
siderable body of troops the assault was delivered next day
from both land and water, and was being crowned with suc-
cess when the Governor, Sir George Prevost, who accompani-
ed the expedition, got into one of his fussy panics and, to the
disgust of his officers, ordered the recall of the attacking
forces. But for Prevost, the campaign of the Grand Army of
the North would have ended that day.

It was obviously unnecessary to concentrate all the soldiers
designed for taking Montreal at Sackett's Harbor. It would
save the building of many boats were the army divided, the
larger part to go in the boats, which, after landing them near
or on the island of Montreal, would cross the St Lawrence
and ferry over the other portion of the army, which would
be waiting their arrival on the southern bank. This plan not
only saved the building of many boats, but had the further
advantage that, in menacing Canada by two separate
columns, the attention of the British commanders would be
distracted. So it was decided the invading army should go
in two columns, to meet at an agreed point convenient to
Montreal.

Hampton

The point chosen for assembling the co-operating corps, the
eastern column, was Burlington, on the shore of lake Cham-
plain. Here troops came in slowly. The war was unpopular
in New England, which, consequently, furnished few regiment*
for the regular army. The militia, which each State was
compelled to raise, were not available for the expedition in
hand, for a condition of militia service was that they should
be sent to no foreign country. The consequence was, the
eastern column depended on troops raised south and west
of New England, the majority coming from Virginia. There

8 The Sortie by Lacolle

being no railways, these regiments had to march, so that it
was the end of August before the force at Burlington was con-
sidered large enough to take the field. The command was
entrusted to General .Wade Hampton. His instructions were
specific, he was to co-operate with the army at Sackett's
Harbor, and to be found waiting on the shore of the St Law-
rence, anywhere between Caughnawaga and the mouth of the
Chateauguay, when the flotilla from Sackett's Harbor ap-
peared. The first step iu the journey was taken early in Sep-
tember when the army embarked on boats and crossed lake
Champlain to Cumberland Head, N.Y The British comman-
der, Sir George Prevost, had waited in Montreal all August,
expecting an attack by the army at Burlington. On hearing
they had crossed the lake he rashly concluded they were going
to join the force at Sackett's Harbor for an assault on King-
ston, and thither he hurried with his available forces. Being
instructed to make an incursion into Canada to distract th«
enemy, Hampton broke camp at Chazy, and taking again to
his boats, on the 19th September, sailed to the point where
the lake narrows into the Richelieu, and established his camp
at Champlain. From there a party crossed into Canada, sur-
prising the outpost at Odelltown, killing part of its inmates.
The first day's march was a surprise. Their chief assailants
were the Indians, who kept up a fusilade from the bush on
either side of the road, which, however, inflicted only trifling
losses. What convinced the Americans that it was impos-
sible to go on, was their inability to find water. They were
crossing a black ash swamp yet it was dry as tinder. The
beds of brooks and small rivers were dry. Scouts report-
ed there was no running-water in the Lacolle. The summer
had been the hottest and driest on record, and even rivers of
considerable size had ceased to flow and only in the deeper
hollows of their course were pools to be found. The horses
had to be sent back to Champlain to be watered in the lake;
the rank and file were desperate with thirst. A council of
war was held, when it was decided to advance farther was im-
practicable, and that the St Lawrence would have to be reach-
ed by another route than the road to Laprairie. The sug-
gestion was made they go by the Chateauguay valley. On
being notified of the proposed change, Armstrong approved
of the Chateauguay route, expressing his regret, however,

The Camp at Four Corners 9

that Hampton had not persevered as far as St Johns, the
capture of which military depot would have mystified Pre-
vowt. On the 22nd Sept. the march was begun to Four
Corners, 40 miles west of Champlain. The road was a
rough bush-track and the weather was hot, which joined to
wretched commissariat arrangements caused the march, which
occupied four days, to be unnecessarily severe on the men.
Four Corners was a hamlet situated on the eastern bunk of
theChateauguay, a email river having ita origin in two lakes
buried in the Adirondacks, and which, flowing northward,
empties into the St Lawrence a few miles west of Caughna-
waga. Running alongside the Chateauguay was a bush road
which led from Four Corners to the Basin .where the Chateau-
guay mingles its waters with the St Lawrence. The expec-
tation of the army was that it would at once take this road,
and that by the time they reached the St Lawrence, the
flotilla of boats from Sackett's Harbor would be found
waiting to ferry them across to Isle Perrot, which was the
spot chosen for uniting the two columns preparatory to ad-
vancing on Montreal. To cross the branch of the Ottawa
that separates Isle Perrot from the Island of Montreal a
bridge was to be formed of the boats that had transported
the troops from Sackett's Harbor. To the surprise and
disgust of the soldiers, they learned they would have to
stay where they were, for word had been received that the
army at Sackett's Harbor had not moved and was not ready
to embark. Until notified it had embarked on its boats,
Hampton was not to cross the frontier.

Tents were pitched on the clearings south and west of
where stands the railway-station of Chateaugay, N.Y., the
old name of Four Corners having been long since super-
seded. Hampton and his staff found shelter in the one
tavern. His haughty air repulsed the simple backwoods-
men, who, for the first time, saw a Southern planter and
the general of no mean army. He was reputed the richest
planter of his day, having 3000 slaves on his vast estates
in South Carolina, of whom he brought several to wait
upon him. He was in his 59th year and self-indulgent.
He plumed himself on his record as a soldier, having serv-
ed on Marion's staff. Little block-houses were raised as
shelter for the outposts, of which there was need, for In-

10 The March Along the Chateauguay

dians lurked in the woods and cut off stragglers. On the
1st October they made an unexpected attack on the camp,
killing an officer and a private, wounding another, and
carrying off two as prisoners. It was a trifling affair but
it had a bad effect on the morale of the army, the soldiers
contracting an absurd dread of a foe, who, though despic-
able in numbers, was unseen and unsleeping. The men
shrank from sentry duty and not a night passed without
dropping shots heard from the woods. To this natural
fear was added discomfort. No new clothing was to be
had and the cotton uniforms for summer wear, now thread-
bare and ragged, were poor protection against the white
frosts and rains of the fall. Food had to be hauled from
Plattsburg, keeping 400 wagons, drawn by 1000 oxen, con-
stantly on the road, so that the supply was subject to the
weather and often short. To hardship was added the dis-
content that comes from enforced inaction, with the result
that sickness appeared and the number of invalids in-
creased each day. Hampton was eager to go on but knew
to do so could only end in disaster until the flotilla of boats
would be found awaiting him. His instructions from Arm-
strong were precise. He was to hold fast to his camp at Four
Corners until "we approach you," and Armstrong's subordi-
nate in another letter told him he "must not budge" until
every thing was matured for the start from Sackett's Harbor.
The little army, posted in the bush, with an untrodden wilder-
ness behind them and looking down upon the forest clad
plains of Canada, where they knew they would find a foe,
chafed in idleness until the 19th October, when a messenger
arrived from Sackett's Harbor with a letter ordering Hamp-
ton to march to the mouth of the Chateauguay as the flotilla
was ready. On the 21st October the advance brigade left
Four Corners, after a stay of 26 days. Altho the army was
small, not numbering over 4000 effective men, the road was
so bad that it took several days to get the whole in motion.
A body of militiamen, 1500 in all, who refused to cross into
Canada, was left to guard the stores and camp, and to pro-
tect the line of communication with Plattsburg.

Brig.-General Izard, who led the advance, cut a pathway
through the woods. Crossing the country with celerity he
suddenly appeared before a blockhouse erected where Orms-

The British Plan of Defence 11

town now stands and surprised the guard stationed in it.
His men prepared the adjoining clearings for a camp, and
next day the leading regiments with part of the baggage-
train appeared and occupied it. There had been a decided
change in the weather. The prolonged drouth had ended and
heavy rains bad converted the road, over which long trains
of wagons and a battery of artillery had to be dragged, into
a quagmire. The distance from Four Corners to Spears
(whose lot the village of Ormstown now occupies) was only
23 miles, yet it took the army four days to cover. The route
lay through a dense bush, broken at rare intervals by the
small clearings of recent squatters. Altho the British bad
been promptly notified the Americans had crossed, no effort
was made to harrass them on their march thru' the woods.
From Spears downward, along the north bank of the Cha-
teauguay, there was a tolerably continuous succession of
clearings. Hampton had full and accurate information from
his spies of the opposition he would meet on leaving camp
at Spears.

General DeWatteville had been sent from Montreal to raise
every possible obstacle to the advance of the Americans.
There was only one road by which they could come, the track
that followed the windings of the river. A number of small
creeka, in llowing to the Chateauguay, had worn deep chan-
nels for themselves in the soft soil, so that the road crossed
a deep gulley wherever a creek was encountered. These gullies
DeWatteville perceived could be converted into formidable
lines of defence, so he ordered that the trees that topped the
banks of these gullies be so felled as to form barricades and
afford shelter for the firing-line. Between what is now known
as Allan's Corners and the foot of Morrison's rapids, a dis-
tance of four miles, there are six of these gullies. The pre-
paration of the first three of these ravines he entrusted to
Major De Salaberry. The fourth, the most important, for it
faced the ford at Morrison's, was assigned to Colonel Mac-
• donell and his Glengarry Highlanders. The sixth line De
Watteville kept in his own charge, and here he planted his
artillery. Altogether he had 1600 men at his command,
nearly all militia or regiments of volunteers.

Hampton saw that forcing these successive barricades of
felled trees was going to entail sacrifice of life, which he

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Purely Attempts a Flank Movement 13

thought could be avoided by a flank movement. Dense bush
and swamps made attempts to turn the barricades on their
north side impracticable but by sending a column along the
southern bank of the river it could cross at Morrison's ford,
and so take all the lines of defence in their rear, except the
main one under De Watteville, whom Hampton counted on
retreating on seeing his front defences had been turned. The
drawback tofch* plan was that it involved a march through a
dense bush, broken by swamps, hollows formed by creeks full
of water from the recent rains, and, worst of all, to cover
such ground in the dark, for to be effective in carrying the
ford the movement must be a surprise. The difficult task was
entrusted to Colonel Purdy, who was in command of the 1st
brigade. At dark on the evening of the 25th he led a regi-
ment of the line and the light corps down to the ford, where
the Ormstown grist mill now stands, and waded to the south
bank of the Chateauguay. His troubles began at once. To
lead a body of soldiers in daylight through an un tracked
forest, cumbered with fallen trunks and thick with under-
brush, is difficult, but to do so in the dark is to attempt the
impossible. The men straggled, and ever and anon, there
were cries for help from those floundering in marsh or pool.
To aggravate the situation, it began to rain. Purdy blamed
his guides, but without cause, for it was so dark they could
not recognize landmarks. A halt had to be called before two
miles were travelled, and the little army shivering from wet
and cold, for they dared not betray their presence to the
enemy by starting camp-fires, passed the night soaked by
the rain that now fell heavily. When their weary vigil
was broken by sunrise the march was resumed. It being
now light Purdy knew he could not take the ford by surprise,
but pushed on in the hope of forcing a passage by assault.
Fourteen hours had been spent in traversing six miles. On
stragglers from his column approaching the river-bank they
were recognized, and the alarm given that the Americans were
at hand. Macdonell ordered part of his force to cross the
river to meet them. They found the invaders' advance in a thick
cedar swamp. The Beauharnois sedentary militia fled at the
first volley, but the two supporting companies the Americans
found to be of different metal and there was, for a few minutes,

14 The Skirmish of Chateauguay

a sharp conflict. What decided the affair was the rain of bul-
lets showered down from the opposite bank by Macdonell's
men. Purdy, with exhausted and discouraged men, shrank
from giving the order to storm the ford. He withdrew his
force to what he considered a safe knoll in the woods, and,
having sent a messenger to Hampton to tell of his situation,
awaited his orders. While thus resting, Hampton's move-
ments need to be described.

The order to advance had been given early in the morning
of the 26th and, leaving baggage and teats in the camp at
Spears, the troops began their march. On the advance guard
nearing Allan's Corners, the French Canadian company that
held the outpost, abandoned their blockhouse and fled to the
breastwork behind. This encouraged the Americans, who
yelled and cheered On the main body arriving the order to
halt was given, and spreading out on the clearings the men
lit fires and cooked dinner. Hampton confidently counted on
Purdy's success, and therefore until he should hear from him
refrained from ordering an assault on the enemy in his front.
Time passed with no word from Purdy. Dinner over the men
fell in and at 2 p.m. Brig.-General Izard was ordered to bring
his brigade to the front. The Americans marched along the road,
turned into the clearing at Allan's Corners and extended in line
within gunshot of the breastwork behind which the British
force was hid. Then there was a pause. While chafing at
not hearing from Purdy, there suddenly came the rattle of
musketry from the opposite side of the river. Hampton's sus-
pense was ended, for he rashly concluded Purdy was pushing
the enemy. He sent the order to Izard to begin firing. With
regularity that did credit to their drill, the companies in turn
fired. These platoon vollies were responded to from the
breastwork in a sputtering fashion. The shooting was at
long range and with the musket of that time such shooting
was almost harmless. Nobody was killed, but it was different
with a party of American skirmishers who tried to flank the
breastwork at its north end. They encountered a band of
Indians. There was hot work for a few minutes, ending in
the flight of the Americans. At- this juncture a messenger, who
had swam theChateauguay, about a hundred feet wide, hurried
to Hampton to tell him 'that the firing he heard was caused
by an attack of the British on Purdy's brigade, which he

Hampton Returns to Four Corners Camp 15

had repulsed with difficulty. Instead of carrying the Morri-
son ford, Purdy was now on the defensive and most anxious
to extricate his detachment from a dangerous position.
Hampton sent the order for him to retreat to a point where
he could ford the river and rejoin the main army. Hampton
was crestfallen. He had depended on Purdy's flanking move-
ment, and its failure disconcerted him. He sat on his horse
silent and irresolute. He knew it was in his power to storm
the rude brush barricade that faced him and the others be-
hind it, but that would involve loss of life. He was angry with
Purdy for not notifying him earlier of his failure to carry the
ford. Had he known that in time, he would not have broken
camp at Spears. The explanation of why he had not heard
from Purdy was simple. The messenger Purdy had sent in the
morning with the despatch describing his situation had, after
much difficulty, succeeded in reaching the camp at Spears,
where he naturally expected to find the General. To his sur-
prise, he discovered the army had moved forward, and to
obey the instruction to place the despatch in Hampton's
hands he must tramp after him. The result was, that
the despatch was not delivered to Hampton until too late
for him to change his plans. The day had been dull and
now great steamy clouds were gathering that told of a
rainy night, while the brief light of a day in late October was
about spent. He would suspend operations and consider
what should be done on the morrow. The bugles sounded
his order to retire. In perfect order, undisturbed by a single
shot, the Americans filed into the road and marched back to
the field where their commissariat wagons had halted. The
pause before Hampton came to his decision was unique in
military history. His best brigade stood in line ready to
charge, yet not firing a shot, while their opponents watched
them from their place of concealment reserving their fire for
the assault that did not come. Had Hampton known that
among the watchers was Sir George Prevost it might hare
spurred him to an attempt to capture him, and end the war.
The governor-general on hearing of the Americans having
invaded Canada left Kingston and hurried to the front,
riding in with his staff while the Americans were pouring
their harmless volleys into the breastwork. Prevost wait-
ed until he saw them execute the movements that broke

16 Purdy Spends a Dreadful Night

their formation and fall into line to march to the field
where they were to pass the night, when he left for De-
Watteville's headquarters.

Interest again centres on Purdy 's movements. He had
gathered his men on a wooded point that jutted into the
river. On the land side he had made a barricade of brush
and fallen trees where a rear-guard covered him from such
another attack as an hour before had nearly routed his
brigade. His plans were made — he would send his wounded
across on rafts and then make a floating bridge of the logs
and fallen trees that lined the bank and so rescue his little
army. As rafts were finished his wounded were lifted on
them and ferried to the north bank, while axemen were
rushing the floating bridge by which the troops were to
escape. This took time, and it was dark before fit for use.
Purdy sent a message to Hampton asking for a regiment
to line the north bank to cover the crossing of his men,
for the Indians had crept up towards him and were watch-
ing his movements, firing whenever they saw a mark. The
messenger returned with the information that Hampton
and his command had gone into camp for the night a
mile west of the frail bridge Purdy had expected would
be his path to safety. He was intensely provoked. In his
report he exclaims, "I was deserted, without the smallest
guard to cover my landing. " About a hundred had cross-
ed the bridge when, on bullets beginning to come thick, its
use had to be abandoned. Those who got over found their
way to the camp as did also the wounded. There was no
help for it but endeavor to reach the ford at Spears,
which meant i-epeating the dreadful ordeal of the night
before, with the additional horror this time of being track-
ed by Indians. The floating bridge was torn apart, and the
march began, the men starving and exhausted by fatigue.
The march had not lasted half an hour when Purdy found
it was absolutely necessary to give them a rest. Getting
them into a compact mass, and posting sentries, the wearied
men slept. What followed Purdy describes: "We rested un-
disturbed until about midnight, when the enemy came up and
made an attack upon us, but were soon routed. The men at
this time were formed, and lying on the ground they were to
occupy in case of an attack, and were ordered to, and did im-

Purdy Gets Back to Camp 1 7

mediately, rise, seize their arms, and remain under them the
remainder of the night. An excessively heavy rain prevented
the firing both of the enemy and ourselves, except occasional-
ly a single gun from the former. Our troops were ordered not
to fire, but, in case of a repetition of attack, to charge
bayonets; this was accordingly done. The enemy charged
several times, and as often were put to flight. It is observable
in its place, that, so greatly were the men overpowered by
fatigue, though in a situation every way dangerous, and in
which they had every reason to believe they should be sallied
upon by the enemy every moment, many were unable to con-
quer their disposition to sleep and it was not in the power of
the officers to keep them awake."

"Inability to shoot," recalls that the muskets of thosedays
were flintlocks, therefore useless unless the priming was dry.
There was no more rest for the wearied men, for the Indians
kept up a constant alarm, yelling and shrieking, while the
Americans prayed for daylight. At sunrise they resumed their
march, and beyond an occasional shot the Indians, who were
only a small band, dared not come to close quarters The
rapid Croche was reached, the men waded across, and speedi-
ly found the food and rest they so sorely needed in the camp
at Spears.

Considering the number of Americans exposed to fire, their
loss was trifling, and almost wholly confined to Purdy's
column. Killed, wounded and missing did not exceed fifty.
It is a commentary on how popular honors are distributed,
that while deSalaberry is enshrined as the hero of the day, of
the men whom he commanded not one was killed, while the
companies that fought on the south side of the river, where
deSalaberry did not set foot, and who really won the day by
baffling Purdy's flank movement, are ignored. They lost 5
killed with 12 wounded. Of the losses of the Indians no re-
cord was made; it must have far exceeded that of the whites
for they came to close quarters with Hampton's left flank and
dogged Purdy for 24 hours.

Hampton rode ahead of his troops to camp and there he
found a messenger who had just arrived from Ogdensburg.
He handed a letter to the general who found it was from Major
Parker of the intelligence corps, sent to inform him that the
army at Sackett's Harbor had not sailed. Hampton was

18 Flotilla Has Not Sailed— No Use to Go On

thunderstruck. He had advanced into Canada in the full
belief that the flotilla was on its way and that, on reaching
the mouth of the Chateauguay, he would find it waiting to
ferry his army across to Isle Perrot. The purpose of his
movement was gone, for there was no use in pushing for the
St Lawrence when he knew there would be no boats to meet
him. He called a council-of-war, which met on the afternoon
of the 27th. He had obtained full information of the British
force that was waiting to obstruct his farther advance and
it was agreed it was too weak to be considered, it could be
brushed aside. The question the general asked them to an-
swer was, Is it advisable to push on knowing we will meet
no flotilla? The point was considered in its several lights.
Thus, after we have swept aside the enemy now in front of us
and resumed our forward march, what would the army do
when it reached the St Lawrence? While waiting the arrival
of the boats, how were 4-000 men and fully 1000 animals to
be fed, seeing the country they occupied yielded nothing and
they would be separated by a road of forty miles, through a
wilderness, from Four Corners, their nearest base of supply?
It was agreed that to go on would be to court disaster, there-
fore the army should return to Four Corners and await ad-
vices of the flotilla having sailed. When the officers rose to
leave, they had the general order to begin the retreat at once,
and the march began to their old camp at Spears. Next morn-
ing preparations were made for the longer march before them
and the baggage-train and artillery was started. In the after-
noon the last corps got underway and the Spears camp aban-
doned. These movements met with no hindrance from the
British force, which clung to its lines of defence. The Indians,
however, kept near, and on the night of the 28th surprised a
picket and added to the number of their scalps. The condition
of the road made the movement of the army slow, so that a
week passed before it regained its former camp at Four
Corners. The discontent that prevailed before the incursion
into Canada was increased by the hardships of its futile
marchings, and the men spoke their minds in a way that
would not have been tolerated in any other than a republican
army. The officers sympathized with the rank-and-file. They
had lost all confidence in their general and were eager to go
into winter quarters, which, indeed, the increasing cold was

Hampton Gives Up the Campaign 19

making imperative. The supply of overcoats was so small
that they were reserved for the men who stood sentry.

Soon after Armstrong had sent his despatch ordering Hamp-
ton to advance into Canada, telling him he would find the
flotilla waiting at the mouth of the Chateauguay to ferry his
army to Isle Perrot, he left Sackett's Harbor for Albany, hand-
ing over his command to Wilkinson, who, on learning Hamp-
ton had returned to Four Corners, sent an order to him to
march to St Regis, where the flotilla would take his army on
board on the 9th of November. St Regis was less than
three days' march from Four Corners, and the road to it was
entirely within the United States, so could be covered without
opposition. Hampton treated the order with indignation.
Wilkinson, he said, was not his superior officer, and he would
do as he deemed best. He wrote Armstrong that he would
not go to St Regis and was retiring to winter-quarters at
Plattsburg. The reasons he gave were, that the supply of
forage for the animals was exhausted at Four Corners and that
only half of his men were effective, and these were dispirited
and worn by fatigue. From Plattsburg, he said, he would
make a demonstration on the Canadian frontier to divert at-
tention from Wilkinson. Paroling all his officers who so de-
sired, Hampton hastened to Washington, and tendered his
resignation, which was accepted. Among the subalterns who
served in the campaign was John E. Wool, who afterwards
achieved celebrity. He said, " No officer who had any regard
for his reputation would voluntarily acknowledge himself as
having been engaged in the Cbateauguay encounter."

Wilkinson

The desertion of Hampton did not necessarily make the plan
to capture Montreal abortive. The purpose of his command
was more to distract the British attention than to be essen-
tial in the final attack. His movements, as a feint to conceal
the American plans, had kept Prevost on tenter-hooks for
three months and had been successful in causing him to de-
plete the garrison of Montreal to strengthen that of King-
ston. Hampton's retreat to Four Corners did more to help
the American cause than had he persevered in reaching the

20 The Army at Sackett's Harbor

St Lawrence, for it confirmed the commander of the King's
forces in his belief that the army in waiting at Sackett's Har-
bor had Kingston for its goal. Acting on that impression
Prevost left Montreal practically defenceless. His final guess
of the enemy's intentions, was that Wilkinson would attack
Kingston and Hampton, at the same time, march towards
Montreal. Knowing the weakness of Hampton's force he
considered it could be easily baffled and he would attend to it
himself, waiting for it at Lachine. It was a rare opportunity
for Wilkinson, which, however, he did not realize. He whined
over Hampton's failure to join him with his little army of
4000, while all the time he had a force in his hands that for
the purpose of capturing Montreal was overwhelming. With
the British strength bottled in Kingston, it was the easiest of
exploits to swoop down on Montreal and make it his prey.
Why he failed to do so, forms a remarkable page in American
history.

In 1813 the republic was in its infancy as regards material
resources, so that when it undertook to concentrate 15,000
fighting men at a point on its north-western frontier it was
making a herculean effort. There were then no railways and
no steamboats. Cannon, food, material of every kind except
timber, had to go by tortuous rivers with many portages on
account of rapids, while the men had to march over roads
which were canals of mud. That all difficulties were over-
come, that a fleet of several hundred boats was built, and a
fully equipped army, including cavalry and an artillery-train,
got together at the head of the St Lawrence, told of energy,,
ingenuity in overcoming obstacles, and financial sacrifice.
When, on the 19th October, Armstrong left for Washington,
where his authority as Secretary of War was much called for,
he considered the expedition ready to sail, and expected it
would do so when the weather, which was stormy, with ad-
verse winds, became favorable. As a consequence of his de-
parture, Wilkinson, from second in command, now became
chief. By profession he was a physician, but service in the
Revolutionary war enabled him to pose as a soldier. First
and last he was a politician and that at a period when public
life was a scandal; when politician meant a man who sought
position and opportunity to gain wealth. What he lacked in
natural ability, Wilkinson made up in bluster and pretence:.

Wilkinson Lets Time Pass 21

there was no louder boaster as to what he would do, no greater
failure in performance. In every public position he wormed
himself into he left behind a record of incompetency, of quar-
relling with subordinates, and a flavor of dishonesty. In his
negotiations with the Spanish agents he took bribes. While
his duties at Sackett's Harbor consisted in visits to places
on lake Ontario, whence reinforcements and supplies were to-
come, in consultations with Chauncey, the commander of the
lake fleet, in issuing orders and criticising subordinates, his
overbearing manner and bombast concealed his incompetence,
but when he could no longer avoid entering on active opera-
tions he had to find other masks. He did so by pleading ill-
health and throwing blame, when failures occurred, on his as-
sistants.

The first stage towards Montreal was leaving Sackett's
Harbor for Grenadier island, a distance of a few miles, which,
owing to storms, was accomplished with difficulty. The
choice of that island for rendezvous was designed to confirm
Prevost's belief that Kingston was to be attacked. On the
29th October all was ready for the next stage, to reach Bush
creek, 20 miles farther down the river, where the cavalry and
field artillery, who had gone forward by land, were to be in
waiting to be ferried to the north bank of the St Lawrence.
Again the winds were against the boats, and it was not until
the 2nd November that the embarkation of the army began.
On the evening of the next day they encamped at Clayton.
The British were kept informed by their spies of what was
going on, and Lieut. Mulcaster with several small gunboats
was watching for an opportunity to attack when Chauncey^
with a much superior force, appeared. Mulcaster then sailed
to Kingston, confirming the news that the expedition was not
designed to attack that place, but was bound for Montreal.

On the 4th November the flotilla ought to have been under
weigh, but bungling had kept back part of the supplies and
the day was lost. On the 5th there was no further excuse for
delay. The flotilla emerged from French creek, opposite Ganan-
oque, and streamed downwards. Neither before nor since has
Old St Lawrence been the scene of a grander spectacle. There
were nigh 350 boats, bearing an army of over 9000 men, with
a large contingent of sailors and pilots for the management
of the boats. The procession, five miles long, was gay with

The Flotilla Sails 23

flags and uniforms, the choruses of the boatmen and the
music of fife and drum adding joyous exaltation to the faith
of all on board that this armada of the inland seas was sweep-
ing onward to assured victory. It was a charming day, the
Indian summer having set in, and such progress was made
that before sunset 40 miles had been covered. That night the
army encamped at Morristown opposite Brockville. Next
day was spent on the sail to Ogdensburg, which was neared
at dark. The batteries of Fort Wellington at Prescott were
greatly feared. Colonel Pearson was there in command
anxiously waiting the coming of the flotilla. He sent an
officer, lieut. Duncan Clark, to Brockville to watch. On
the evening of the 5th Duncan caught a glimpse of the boats
which seemed to him to fill the river. Seizing a farmer's
horse he galloped to Prescott with the news. Next day the
redcoats expected to see the invader, but did not sight the
advance boats until dark. It was taken for granted day-
break would begin the fight and the little garrison slept
beside their guns. The day wore away without a boat
coming. This was due to Wilkinson's caution. Instead
of running the gauntlet at once, he had on nearing Ogdens-
burg signalled the flotilla to tie up. Next morning the
ammunition was loaded on carts and every man not needed
to manage the boats marched with them along the U. S. bank
to a bay 2 miles below Ogdensburg, where the boats would pick
them up next morning. This delay caused theTth to be lost
which was the more deplored by the U. S. staff from its be-
ing warm and fine. The boats remained tied up all day
awaiting the dark. When the moon set they rowed rapidly
down the stream, when it was proved the fear of the guns
of Fort Wellington had been unwarranted. As the long
procession of boats began to steal past, hugging the
south shore as closely as possible, a noisy cannonade was
opened, but the guns were either badly pointed or the range
was too long for their caliber, for not a boat was hit, though
one chance shot killed a sailor and wounded two. Two boats,
laden with artillery and provisions, ran aground, and were
with difficulty got off, which together with landing a body
of troops on the Canadian bank delayed the flotilla sail-
ing that day, the 8th Nov. Landing troops on the north
bank was owing to spies having sent word that the

24 A Brigade Landed in Canada

British had planted batteries wherever the river was nar-
row. Colonel Macomb was landed on the Canadian side with
1200 men to clear the bank of them. This caused skirmishes,
which invariably ended in the fleeing of the gunners into the
bush after spiking or concealing their guns. That night
the flotilla tied up at the narrows, 6 miles belowWaddington
having made only 8 miles. Here the cavalry and artillery, who
had kept moving onwards on finding the flotilla did not over-
take them at Bush creek, was found waiting, and it took much
time to ferry the cavalry to the Canadian bank; the guns were
taken on board, and so the 9th was wasted, the flotilla
making no progress. The farmers who dwelt on the north
bank of the river, when questioned by their unwelcome visi-
tors, magnified the dangers they would meet — the terrors of
the rapids, the batteries that would rake their boats wherever
the river was narrow, the bands of Indians prowling in the
woods, the lack of forage. These stories so impressed the
Americans that it was decided to strengthen the cavalry, and
so next morning General Brown with his brigade of infantry
was detailed to accompany them along with two companies
of artillery.

This formidable force found few obstructions in their
march along the road that skirted the north shore of the
St Lawrence. Shots were occasionally exchanged with
riflemen hid in the woods and two or three rude block-
houses, erected to shelter the relief guards, were burned.
Trifling as their losses were, they confirmed the Americans
in their delusion that redcoats were concealed in the bush
and were there in force. Wilkinson scattered, by means
of the troops he landed, a proclamation assuring the Can-
adian farmers he had not come to make war upon them
but to subdue the King's forces, and if they would remain
quietly at home, they would be protected in their persons
and property. This had no effect. The farms that lined
the Canadian bank of the St Lawrence were owned by
United Empire Loyalists or their descendants, and Wilk-
inson's threat, if found in arms they would be treated as
enemies, did not frighten them. They kept up a guerilla
or rather a predatory warfare on the Americans as they
marched along and, when the British troops finally did
come, joined their ranks. The promise about respecting

A British Force Comes in Sight 25

their homes was not kept, for the American soldiers, under
both Macomb and Brown, harried cellars, barns, and
stables ruthlessly, making no compensation for what they
took. With a few exceptions, the farmers saved their
horses and cattle by concealing them in the bush. The
forage they had saved for winter feed, the U. S. cavalry-
men used. What the commissariat officers bought they
paid for in Mexican silver dollars.

The day after he passed Ogdensburg Wilkinson received
a message from his agent there, that two armed schooners
had arrived at Prescott, accompanied by several open
boats filled with soldiers, and his belief was that they would
follow and try to do what harm they could to the flotilla.
On passing Point Iroquois, where there is a short rapid, a
musketry-fire was suddenly opened on the flotilla. The
assailants were a body of farmers, under Captain Munro,
who kept on shooting until a strong body of Americans
was landed, when they disappeared into the bush. Fine
weather continued. The 9th was sunny but, from trivial
causes, the flotilla was hindered, and made only ten miles.
On tying up for the night reports from spies told that
the British had perfected arrangements to obstruct by bat-
teries the running of the Soo rapids. Wilkinson ordered the
flotilla to stay where it was until the shooting of the rapids
was made safe, so he directed Brown to march early next
morning and clear the bank of the enemy. Brown, an en-
ergetic and brave man, set about his task at daylight and
found it troublesome. There was a British force of over
a thousand farmers waiting at Hoople's creek, but when
their commander, Major Dennis, learned the strength of
the Americans he sought cover and let them pass. Throw-
in g aside the obstacles that had been placed on the road,
Brown hastened on, for he had learned great quantities of
provisions and ammunition had been landed at Cornwall,
awaiting the opening of the route to Kingston. This he
hoped to capture, but the Glengarry farmers disappointed
him. In response to an urgent call they hurriedly hastened
to Cornwall, and as each cart was loaded took the road to
Martintown, into which 150 rumbled before nightfall.
The Americans occupied Cornwall without resistance.

26 Colonel Morrison and His Men

When Brown got as far as Barnhart island he sent a
trooper to Wilkinson with a despatch telling him the
rapids were clear and to come on at once, as it had begun
to rain and the men had no tents. The letter was handed
to Wilkinson early in the forenoon and found him in per-
plexity over evidence that the British had overtaken him.
Early in the morning three boats flying the British flag had
been sighted coming down the river. They were the gun-
boats in which Mulcaster had pursued from Kingston. Two
were merely scows with a 6-pounder in their bows. The
third was larger, with a 24 and 32 pounder. They opened
fire. On the Americans sending ashore two heavy cannon
whose shot reached them, they drew out of range. Next
came sounds of firing from the woods on the north bank,
showing the British were in touch with McComb's troops.
There was still daylight enough to make the trip over the
Soo rapids and the flotilla got under weigh. When it had
sailed a few miles Wilkinson changed his mind, saying it
was too late to shoot the rapids, so the gunboats tied up
at Cook's Point, and the flotilla in the bay on the other
side of -the point. Mulcaster with his gunboats anchored
as near as was prudent, firing an occassional shoe that
always fell short. On the river bank redcoats were several
times sighted and there were skirmishes with the American
rearguard, entailing a few casualties. The nearness of his
foe troubled Wilkinson, for a strong British force could
follow and attack the rear of that part of his army that, to
lighten the boats, would have to march along the road on
the north-bank of the St Lawrence to join the flotilla at
the foot of the Soo rapids. In the big log-building where
Cook kept tavern Wilkinson took up his quarters and had
a night of it with boon companions. Scouts reporting a
considerable body of British regulars encamped in a pine-
grove three miles west, every precaution was taken against
a night attack; the soldiers slept on their arms and strong
patrols covered the camp." The night, however, passed
without alarm.

How this force of British regulars came needs to be told.
When Lieut. Mulcaster, R.N., sailed into Kingston harbor
on the 6th November and reported to the commander,
General Rottenburg, that the flotilla had sailed for Mon-

Follow the Flotilla 27

treal, and that Kingston was not to be attacked, prompt
action was taken. The sailor was asked if he would un-
dertake to convey a corps of observation, in pursuit of the
flotilla, and he answered yes. Despatch was used, and, on
the night of the 7th, four barges, bearing detachments of the
49th and 89th regiments, rowed out of Kingston harbor
and found Mulcaster and his gunboats in waiting. The
little force of redcoats was under command of Joseph Win-
ton Morrison, colonel of the 89th, he being senior officer.
The American fleet, under Chauncey, were blockading the
river with the express object of guarding Wilkinson's rear,
by preventing the British gunboats on lake Ontario fol-
lowing him. The St Lawrence, however, is wide and at
the foot of Ontario has many islands. Mulcaster had a
pilot who knew all the channels, and slipt past Chauncey
in the darkness. Every expedition was used and next
evening Prescottwas reached, where the discouraging news
awaited them that the Americans had safely run the gaunt-
let of Fort Wellington's guns. Being no longer need-
ed, part of its garrison was ordered to join the corps of
observation. This reinforcement consisted of the two flank
companies of the 49th, a body of militia, and thirty In-
dians, raising Colonel Morrison's force to 800. Anxious
as he was to overtake the flotilla, he tarried long enough
next day at the hamlet of Waddington, on the U.S. bank, to
recover a quantity of military stores which the Americans
had captured from a convoy of barges a short time before.
After this exploit Mulcaster hastened to overtake the flot-
tilla. On seeing it had tied at Cook's point, Morrison and
his men landed to await developments, while the gunboats
dropped down near enough to open fire, which the Ameri-
cans returned, without damage to either. The British
troops encamped under the pine-trees and passed an un-
comfortable night.

The morning of the llth November dawned bleak and
cloudy, with an east wind that told of coming storm. The
night having passed without sign of the enemy, Wilkinson
declared he was confident the British dare not attack him,
and ordered that the boats be got ready to sail and that
the troops who had been landed to lighten the boats
strike tent and start on their march to Cornwall. The

28 Wilkinson Decides to Fight

movement on both land and water was in progress when
Mulcaster renewed his fire from the gunboats and at the
same time the Americans beheld a long red column issue
from the woods and form in line of battle on a cleared
field on the farm of John Crysler. Seen at a distance of
over a mile, the force looked imposing, and Wilkinson
concluded it was necessary to disperse it. The order
to the flotilla to sail and to the troops to march to Corn-
wall was countermanded and General Boyd detailed to
give battle. There was confusion and unpreparedness
that caused delay, and it was not until after dinner the
advance was sounded, when General Swartout's men
moved on the line of skirmishers thrown out by Morrison,
who from bush and ravine were keeping up a lively fire .
The skirmishers were militia and Indians who, seeing they
were outnumbered, fled for shelter, and the sight of them
running evoked prolonged cheering from the American
spectators on the boats and the river bank, who took their
flight as a prelude to that of the column that stood beyond
them. That column was composed of well-tried soldiers.
The battalion of the 49bh was of Brock's own regiment,
and had been with him when he fell at Queen ston Heights t
their commander was now Lieut.-Col. Harvey, the hero of
Stoney Creek. Colonel Morrison and his battalion had
arrived in Canada a short time before from service on the
Continent. He was of a type of which the British service
has never lacked representatives — a devout Christian.
Duty called on him to make a stand despite his inade-
quate force, and he did so in simple faith that the justice
of the cause he was called upon to maintain, would secure
victory. The men in arms before him were where they had
no right to be, they had come to seize a country to which
they had no claim, they had been sent by a government
that had broken the peace by declaring war against Britain.
If ever a righteous cause was to be upheld at risk of life,
it now faced him. His sense of justice impelled him to
drive back the invader whence he came, his love of inde-
pendence to scorn to yield to men intent on forcing a for-
eign allegiance on Canada. Satisfied in conscience of the
justice of the cause whose flag he bore, his knowledge as a
soldier told him of the risk he ran in offering battle

The Armies Face to Face 29

against such fearful odds. With 800 men he was challeng-
ing a General who had it in his power to hurl several thou-
sands against him.

The field upon which the impending battle was to be
fought, was a stretch of clearings along the north bank of
the St Lawrence. The plain, broken by stumps and snake-
fences, with occasional trees, was nowhere of any great
width, for it dropped into an ash swamp that ran along-
side it. Morrison had chosen for his position the part of
the clearance where it was narrowest, his left resting on
the swamp and his right on the St Lawrence, where Mul-
caster with his gunboats secured that flank. For the se-
curity of his left flank he trusted to the impassability of the
swamp. The field was a short half milewide yet there were
not men enough, tho' spread thinly, to form a line across
so that there was a wide gap between the 49th and CryBler's
buildings, in and around which were posted the militia
and a party of sailors. In front of the column was the
eideroad leading north, whose low log-fence afforded
some protection, while a short way east of the road ran a
ravine, shallow where the creek issued from the swamp, but
deepening as it neared the St Lawrence. It was this gully
which caused Morrison to select his position, for it would
be an obstacle in a charge and to the passage of cavalry.
Morrison had three field-guns, 6-pounders: he posted one at
each end of his line, and one in the center. It was near-
ing 2 o'clock on that raw and gusty afternoon when the
British saw six columns advancing towards them across
the plain that lay between them and the flotilla, fully two
thousand strong. That was not all Morrison had to en-
counter with his 800. Behind the columns sweeping to-
wards him were the several thousands held in reserve on
the flotilla or encamped on the river bank. He was face
to face with the entire force Wilkinson had at his com-
mand. Allowing for the detachments sent to Cornwall that
force must have numbered 7000. The Americans regarded
it as inconceivable that the British would make a stand.
They took as granted, that, when their first line drew near,
the redcoats would disappear among the pine trees behind
them. So on they marched, trampling the fall-wheat with
which the field was green, confident of an easy victory,

s«

$ *

m §

PLAN OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF CRYSLER

The Plan shows the position of the Combatants
at the Opening of the Battle

The Battle of Crysler 81

with waving banners, bouncingly keeping 8tep to fife and
drum, laughing and shouting, confident they were about to
see the men who composed the thin red line that confront-
ed them, to use their own phrase, skoot for cover. As
soon as the Americans came within range they began
firing, shouting derisive cries to their opponents, who
stood silent and stock-still, firing not a shot. Not till the
advancing enemy neared the edge of the gully did Morri-
son give the word, when a volley rolled forth. More ef-
fective was the small six-pounder at the head of his line.
The Americans came to a halt. They did not expect this.
They began firing by platoons across the shallow ravine,
which they did not attempt to cross, the British steadily
replying, uutil the American commander, General Boyd,
to end an indecisive long-range duel, asked his friend
General Covington, to take a regiment and turn the
British left. The Americans wheeled northward, crossed
the ravine, and bore down on the end of Morrison's line,
who met the attack by changing the formation of the 89th,
so arranging the files that they faced north instead of east.
This difficult movement of echelon was effected under fire,
yet done as steadily as if on parade. As the Americans
advanced, the 89th poured into their ranks a steady fire
while the little cannon raked them. Boyd's order was
that Covington should charge, but this withering shower
of bullets stopped his advance. His men swung backward,
firing as fast as muskets could be loaded. Covington, who
was mounted on a white horse, while urging his men to
charge, fell mortally wounded, so did his successor, and the
third who took command also fell. It was a contest be-
tween discipline and numbers, between skill and inexperi-
ence. The combatants were of the same stock, and equal
in natural courage, but few of the Americans had been
under fire until that hour, and naturally wavered over
coming to close quarters. With fit officers they would have
charged as their general ordered. Boyd saw how critical
the situation was and hurriedly sent reinforcements, and
they were needed, for the rank-and-file were wavering and
many were slinking away. For half an hour the fighting
went on and during that time the Americans suffered their
severest loss. When their firing slackened Morrison felt

32 The Americans Defeated

the decisive moment had come and ordered the 89th to
charge. They crossed the gulley, reformed, and advanced
with levelled bayonets. The foe retreated slowly at first,
then broke rank and crowded down to where their boats
lay. Boyd saw the possibility of a rout and to avert
that danger tried a diversion. He ordered a column of
fresh troops with two cannon to threaten an attack on
the south end of the British line. To repulse this, Morri-
son had to halt his advance and hasten down across the
field to meet this new assault. On coming up with the
enemy his men fired a volley and then made a bayonet
charge. The Americans fled, leaving one of their cannon
and part of their number, who were made prisoners.

General Boyd now realized the day was lost and that
the most he could do was to gain enough time to reach the
boats. During the fight a squadron of dragoons stood be-
side the boats as a reserve. Boyd sent the order to their
commander to gallop up the road that ran along the St
Lawrence bank and endeavor to get behind the British
column. On seeing them coming the 49th turned to meet
them and the 89th, farther away, hurried to their support.
The dragoons came dashingly along and the danger of
their succeeding was imminent. They had reached the
ravine which, if they were able to cross, would have left
them free to take the British position in the rear. The
leading files dashed down into the ravine and while crowd-
ing up the opposite bank a volley, at point-blank range,
from the Crysler buildings, that stood on the west side of
the ravine, emptied so many saddles that the men were
seized with panic, and wheeling their horses galloped back
to the boats. That volley was fired by a cluster of sailors
and U.E. Loyalists — farmers who had volunteered to save
their homes.

It was now 4 o'clock. The plain in front of him was
strewn with dead and wounded, and everywhere Morrison
could see the Americans running towards their boats, and
leaping into them when reached. He ordered a general
advance, and his soldiers, now assured of victory, raised
a mighty shout. On they swept towards the flotilla, until,
on coming within range of the gunboats, Morrison had to
8ound a halt. Protected by the big guns of the armed

And Take to Their Boats S3

boats the last of the Americans got on board, while the
routed cavalry stopped not in their flight until they reach-
ed Cornwall. The east wind that had prevailed all day
had backed the current of the St. Lawrence, so that part
of the boats had grounded, and pushing them into deeper
water took time and added to the confusion. On the
ground left by their foes, the British found they had abandon-
ed partof their stores, which they did not stay long enough
to reship. Among the spoil were overcoats, blankets, and
knapsacks of which the Americans had lightened them-
selves before advancing to the fight, and which they did
not tarry long enough in their flight to recover. The
storm was now on, first rain, then sleet, which changed to
snow. The victors, cheered by their success, bore cheer-
fully the discomforts, the hunger and exposure, of a
miserable night by their camp fires. The American boats
found their way by the moonlight to the landing at
the head of the Soo rapids on the U. S. bank, which was
reached at 9 p.m. In the wild storm the wounded were
carried ashore to find such cover as barns and stables af-
forded. Their moans and cries in the boats and now when
lifted on shore increased the distress of the shivering sol-
diers and sailors as they faced the blast, and they clamor-
ed before their officers it was time to give up and go into
winter quarters.

Wilkinson naturally minimized his losses, reporting 102
killed and 237 wounded, being careful not to tell how many
he had lost as captured. This is certain, the British found
over 40 American wounded on the field of battle and the day
after the fight gave honorable burial to 100 of their dead.
Americans taken prisoners numbered 100. The British
had 22 killed, 147 wounded, and 12 missing, so that one
out of every five who took part in the engagement had
dropped out — an unusual percentage.

Daybreak found the crews in charge of the flotilla astir
and as the boats got ready they steered into the current,
which swept them into the Long Soo, when its mighty tide
hurried them swiftly to calm water at Barnhart island
where they found General Brown with his brigade, and
who had made preparation for their camping. Shooting
the rapids was an expeditious method of transporting the

34 Wilkinson Will Go Wo Farther

army and Wilkinson had soon his command once more
concentrated. There was only one sentiment in that army
about him, and it was, that he was an incapable. The de-
feat of the previous day was due to his lack of executive
ability. The flotilla had spent eight days in making eighty
miles enabling Mulcaster and Morrison to overtake them.
A log, set adrift in the channel, would have
made the distance in two days. With proper man-
agement the army ought now to have been on the
island of Montreal. As it was, between the weather
and their pursuers, they looked for continued disasters.
Among those who greeted Wilkinson on his landing on
Barnhart island was Colonel Atkinson, who explained
he had come from Pour Corners and had waited at St
Regis for the flotilla. The letter he bore from Hampton
stated he would have been glad to join Wilkinson at St
Regis but had not provisions for his men or forage for his
horses to make the march. Professing to be indignant,
Wilkinson secretly rejoiced over the message — it gave him
an excuse to abandon the expedition and shoulder its
failure on Hampton. He called a council-of-war and laid
Hampton's letter before them. On Hampton's refusal to
obey his order to be at St Regis, he dwelt with voluble
severity. Just when the grand object of the expedition
was within grasp it had been snatched away by Hampton's
extraordinary, unexampled and unwarrantable conduct,
which was an outrage on every principle of subordination
and discipline. He told the officers that, without Hamp-
ton's army, he would not undertake to go to Montreal.
All but two agreed to going into winter-quarters. Speak-
ing among themselves, the officers were ready to go on un-
der Brown : none desired to proceed farther with Wilkinson.
Despicable as were Hampton's motives in refusing to
march to St Regis, his not going saved the Republic from
another disaster to her arms. St Regis was a miserable
Indian village on the edge of what, in 1813, was a wilder-
ness. The country affording no supplies his army would
have been reduced to starvation before the flotilla appeared.
Thecouncil decided the flotilla should make for the Salmon
river, as a safe place for it to winter, and that it go at once.
Wilkinson then issued a general-order to that effect in

Wilkinson 35

which he declared "He with lively regret and the deepest
mortification suspends the attack on Montreal, but he as-
sures the army it is not abandoned." The dragoons left
that afternoon for Utica, making their horses swim to the
United States shore, and then the flotilla sailed for Salmon
river, where the first boats ended their career at 3 in the
morning of the 13th November.

There was no justification for Wilkinson's abandoning
the capture of Montreal. He was within three days' easy
sail of it and had an overwhelming force for the purpose.
On the 8th December, when the Salmon river camp had
been got into something like shape, a roster was taken,
and it showed an army of regulars of 8,143, and that after 3
weeks during which desertions were of nightly occurrence
and there had been many releases on furlough, so that
when, at that eventful council on Barnhart island it was
decided to give up the advance on Montreal, Wilkinson
must have had nigh 10,000 apart from cavalry and boat-
men, and he knew full well there were not hundreds for his
thousands in front of him. The defeat inflicted by Colonel
Morrison explains his eagerness to escape further contest.
Morrison was about to pursue him in Mulcaster's boats
when he was astounded by the surprising information that
the Americans had fled the scene.

Three miles above the mouth of the Salmon river, where
the first rapid gave power, there stood a small grist-mill
and a saw-mill, and clustered about them the shanties of
those who found employment in them, together with two
taverns and a store or two. On a knoll near these was a
blockhouse, where a small garrison was kept. Late in the
afternoon of the 13th a courier brought to the little hamlet
the surprising word that the array of the north was coming
and to prepare for the reception of the wounded. Hours
passed before the head of the melancholy procession of
boats was seen stealing up the moonlight waters. The
wounded men were carried to the blockhouse until it was
filled and other cover had to be sought. General Coving-
ton died before he could be borne ashore. His body was
taken to Ware's tavern and buried with military honors
the following day. His name is perpetuated by the pretty
village of the present day, its original name, French Mills,

36 The Camp at Fort Covington

giving place to Fort Covington in 1817, when a munici-
pality was organized. The word " Fort " was prefixed to
distinguish the new town from Covington, Ky. The body
of the General with those of two other officers were, after
the war, exhumed for final interment at Sackett's Barbor.
Not all the boats found moorings in the Salmon river.
A few openly rowed to the Canada shore, the soldiers
preferring desertion to the hardships before them. Worse
still was the conduct of many officers, who sold the
stores on their boats and pocketed the money. With
what boards were in the millyard flimsy sheds were run
up, but they were far too few and the majority of the men
had to live in tents. -On the 1st December hard frost set in.
The wretchedness of their condition can hardly be exag-
gerated. The country was a wilderness, with no store of
provisions to draw upon except what had been brought in
the boats and that was speedily exhausted. Before a fort-
night rations had been reduced to barely enough to main-
tain life, and there were regiments that went without bis-
cuit for four days, and when they were to be had, were of a
quality that even starving men loathed them, for they were
mouldy and had been made from the flour of sprouted wheat.
The meal designed as poultices for wounds, the doctors
had to order to be cooked as food for the sick and they
reported that, without proper food and medicines, it was
impossible for those under their care to recover. Dysen-
tery, inflammation of the lungs, and typhus-fever soon be-
came prevalent, but, more frightful than these diseases,
was a paralysis of the limbs — a dry rot or withering of
the extremities. The physicians ascribed its cause to bis-
cuits made from smutty flour, and were happy, in pre-
scribing opium to relieve the pain of the sufferers, to find
that the drug also counteracted the disease. Before
Christmas one-third of the army was unfit for duty; how
many died during those six dismal weeks is unknown.
By that time lumber had been obtained and huts were
erected for those who had been under canvas, while the sick
and wounded had been conveyed to Malone, which village
was converted into an hospital. The conduct of many of
the captains of companies was shameful. In the sufferings
of their men they saw an opportunity of making money.

The Order to Disband 87

They did not revise the rolls they sent to headquarters
and drew pay and rations for men who had deserted or
found graves on the banks of the Salmon river. The pay
they pocketed, the rations they sold to the survivors.
That there were honorable and patriotic men in the army
is undeniable, but the majority of the officers were ignor-
ant and unscrupulous; school-district and ward politicians,
-who owed their positions to the influences of caucus and
partyism, and who made the campaign a means of en-
riching themselves. As depicted by those who served
under them, a more despicable set of men never officered
an army; blatant as to their patriotism and hatred of
Great Britain, yet defrauding their own government and
making secret offers at Cornwall of the provisions and
war-material they meanly purloined On getting their
pay, which was only $6 a month, the soldiers spent it
in buying food from the settlers, who came in sleighs
from a great distance to find a market for their produce
in the stricken camp. When the St Lawrence froze de-
sertions increased, for it was known the British garrison
at Cornwall was ready not only to welcome them but to
make up any arrears of pay due them by the U. S. govern-
ment. As the weary winter days passed discontent in the
camp grew into mutiny, so that one morning a big crowd
of them actually started to march to Sackett's Harbor and
were with difficulty persuaded by the commanding general
to return. Their only excuse was, that anything was bet-
ter than the hardships they were enduring.

While his army was in this dreadful state, Wilkinson
was living in comfort at the residence of a leading citizen
of Malone, whither, the day after his troops went into
camp, he had been borne in a litter on the shoulders of
eight men. Whether his illness was the result of unavoid-
able causes or arose from drink is in doubt, but it certain-
ly had no effect in checking his boastful inclinations. He
kept writing to Washington advising what ought to be
done to capture Montreal, speaking as if his army were
eager and ready for service and he was the general to
direct the campaign. The disappointment of the American
people at the failures of Hampton and Wilkinson was in-
tense and their expressions of indignation loud. Had the

38 Cause of the Failure

army on the Salmon river been kept intact it could, when
spring came, have taken again to its boats and occupied
Montreal before reinforcements arrived by sea, but its dis-
organization went on so rapidly that to save the remnant
the order was sent from Washington to divide what was
left of it, 2000 to march to the barracks at Sackett's Har-
bor and the remainder to those at Plattsburg. On the 3rd
February preparations for abandoning camp were begun.
The masts of part of the boats were cut and the hulls then
sunk. The remainder were set fire to and burned to the
water's edge. In all, 328 boats were destroyed. The huts
and stores that could not be moved were burnt or dumped
into the river.

The grand campaign to capture Montreal and with it all
Canada west of the fortress of Quebec thus ended in defeat
and disaster, in mutiny and shame. Wilkinson was court-
marshaled and Armstrong was compelled to resign, but
neither they nor any responsible for the miscarriage of the
campaign were punished. While Hampton, Wilkinson,
and Armstrong were primarily responsible, the cause of
failure lay with the American public. The success of the
revolution of 1776 had intoxicated them with pride and to
those who took part in it they attributed qualities to which
they could lay no claim. Men were rated as heroes who
were mere blusterers; self-sacrifice attributed to men who
took advantage of the disorders that prevailed during the
revolution to enrich themselves, and patriotism ascribed
to bosoms where selfishness reigned. That the triumph of
the Revolution was due to assistance from abroad, to
French money, fleets, and armies, was ignored, and ascrib-
ed to Washington and his generals. So it came, when war
was declared in 1812, the men who were embalmed in the
public mind as the personification of every military virtue
were given command. The result was disastrous. Hull,
Dearborn, Hampton, Wilkinson, Armstrong were all
veterans of the revolution, and in their respective failures
throw a side-light on the quality of the leaders of the
revolution. The war lasted another year, and there was
fierce fighting along the Niagara frontier, but there was
no renewal of the attempt to capture Montreal. The cam-
paign which ended on Crysler's farm ensured its safety.

Crysler Turned the Scale 30

Wilkinson declared it was not the event of the llth Nov-
ember that caused his abandonment of the campaign. It
is self-evident, however, that had Morrison's little army
been routed he would have had no excuse to give up his
advance on Montreal. He would have met no opposition
to give him concern until the spires of that city met his
sight, and, even then, its paltry garrison of 200 sailors
and 400 marines, drawn from the fleet at Quebec, and a
mob of militiamen dragged from their homes by compul-
sion to shoulder a gun, could not have withstood him.
With Montreal in U.S. possession all the British troops
west of it, cut off from their base of supply, would have
had to surrender, and the stars-and-stripes would have
flown over all Canada west of Quebec. It was the battle of
Crysler that saved Canada. At the distance of a century
we perceive events in their right proportion, and recog-
nize Crysler to be the decisive battle of the war of 1812.
So long as Canadians rejoice in being Britons they ought
to cherish the memory of Morrison and his eight hundred.

Addenda 41

Colonel Joseph Winton Morrison

Was the son of an officer in the British army, who w*a
stationed in New York during the period before the war of
Independence. He was born in 1773. On the family re-
turning to England he was educated there, and, while still
a stripling, got a commission in the army. He was moved
about a great deal, seeing some service in the field, and
rose to be Lieut. -Colonel. On the war of 1812 breaking
out, he was sent with his battalion of the 89th regt. to
Halifax, and the following summer was ordered to Upper
Canada. While in garrison at Kingston he was detached,
as told in the foregoing narrative, to follow the flotillp, of
Wilkinson. For his victory of Crysler he received no
official recognition, beyond being awarded, with the other
officers who fought with him, a medal. The summer of
1814 he and his battalion served on the Niagara frontier.
At Lundy's Lane he was so severely wounded that his life
was despaired of. He was sent to England, making a slow
recovery. In 1822 he was ordered to India, and in the
wars with the natives greatly distinguished himself. Ex-
posure to an unhealthy climate broke down his constitu-
tion, compelling him to return homeward. While the ship
was making her way to England he died, aged 57 years.
Efforts to secure a portrait of him for this monograph
were futile. The following is the official despatch in which
he reported the battle of Crysler —

Crysler, Williamsburg, Nov. 12, 1813.

Sir,— I have the heartfelt gratification to report the bril-
liant and gallant conduct of the detachment from the centre
division of the army as displayed in repulsing and defeat-
ing a detachment of the enemy's force, consisting of two
brigades of infantry and a regiment of cavalry, amounting
to between three and four thousand men, moved forward
about two o'clock In the afternoon, from Cook's Point,
and attacked our advance, which gradually fell back to
the selected position for the detachment to occupy, the
right resting on the river and the left on a pine-wood, ex-
hioiting about seven hundred yards. The ground being
open, the troops were thus disposed —

The flank companies of the 49th regiment, and the de-
tachment of the Canadian regiment, with a field-piece, on
the right ; under Lieut. -Colonel Pearson. A little ad-

42 Addenda

vanced up the road, three companies of the 89th regiment,
formed in echellon, with a gun; under Captain Barnes, with
the advance on its left, supporting it. The 49th and 89th,
thrown more to the rear ,with a gun, formed the main body
and reserve, extending to the woods on the left; which
were occupied by the Voltigeurs, under Major Herriot, and
the Indians under Lieut. Anderson. — At about half-past
two the action became general, when the enemy endeavored,
by moving forward a brigade from his right, to turn our
left, but was repulsed by the 89th regiment forming en
potence with the 49th regiment, and by moving forward,
occasionally firing by platoons. His efforts were next direct-
ed against our right, and to repulse this movement, the
49th regiment took ground in that direction, in echellon,
followed by the 89th. When within half musket shot, the
line was formed under a heavy but irregular fire from the
enemy. The 49th was directed to charge their guns, posted
opposite to ours, but it became necessary, when within a
short distance of them, to check this forward movement, in
consequence of a charge from their cavalry on the right,
lest they should wheel about, and fall upon our rear, but
they were received in so gallant a manner by the com-
panies of the 89th under Captain Barnes, and the well
directed fire of the artillery, that they quickly retreated,
and by a charge from those companies, one gun was gain-
ed.— The enemy immediately concentrated his force to
check our advance, but such was the steady countenance
and well directed fire of the troops and artillery, that
about half-past four, they gave way at all points from an
exceeding strong position, endeavoring by their light in-
fautry to cover their retreat, who were driven away by a
judicious movement made by Lieut. -Colonel Pearson.
The detachment, for the night, occupied the ground from
which the enemy had been driven, and are now moving
forward in pursuit.

I regret to find our loss in killed and wounded has been
so considerable, but trust a most essential service has been
rendered to the country, as the whole of the enemy's infan-
try after the action precipitately retreated to their own
shores.

It is now my grateful duty to point out to your honor
the benefit the service has received from the ability, judg-
ment, and active exertions of Lt.-Col. Harvey, the deputy
adjutant-general, for sparing whom to accompany the de-
tachment I must again publicly express my acknowledge-
ments. To the cordial co-operatio» and exertions of Lt.-
Col. Pearson, commanding the detachment from Prescott;
Lt. -Col. Penderleath, 49th regt.; Major Clifford, 89th regt.;
Major Herriot of the Voltigeurs, and Captain Jackson of
the royal artillery, combined with the gallantry of the
troops, our great success maybe attributed. Everyman
did his duty, and, I believe, I cannot more strongly speak
their merits than in mentioning our small force did not
exceed eight hundred rank and file.

To Captains Davis and Skinner, of the quarter-master
general's department, I am under the greatest obligations

Addenda 43

for the assistance I have received from them; their zeal
and activity have been unremitting. Lieut. Haggerman of
the militia and Lieut. Anderson of the Indian department
have also, for their services, deserved my public acknow-
ledgments.

As the prisoners are hourly being brought in I am un-
able to furnish your Honor with a correct return of them,
but upwards of a hundred are now in our possession;
neither of the ordnance stores taken, as the whole have
not yet been collected.

I have the honor to be, Sir,

Your most obedient, humble servant,

J. W. MORRISON,
Lieut. -Col. 89th regt., Commanding.

To his Honor General DeRottenburg.

Wilkinson's Official Report of the Battle

A variety of reports of the British movements and coun-
ter movements were brought to me in succession, which
convinced me of their determination to hazard an attack
when it could be done to the greatest advantage; and there-
fore I resolved to anticipate them. Directions were ac
cordingly sent by that distinguished officer, Col. Swift, o(
the engineers, to Brig. Gen. Boyd, to throw the detach-
ments of his command assigned to him in the order of the
preceding day, and composed of his own, Covington's and
Swartwout's brigades, into three columns, to march upon
the enemy, outflank them, if possible, and take their ar-
tillery. The action soon after commenced with the ad-
vanced body of the enemy, and became extremely sharp
and galling, and with occasional pauses, but sustained
with great vivacity in open space and fair combat, for up-
wards of two and a half hours, the adverse lines alternate-
ly yielding and advancing. It is impossible to say with
accuracy what was our number on the field, because it con-
sisted of indefinite detachments taken from the boats to
render safe the passage of the rapids. Gens. Covington and
Swartwout voluntarily took part in the action, at the head
of detachments from their respective brigades, and ex-
hibited the same courage that was displayed by Brig. Gen.
Boyd, who happened to be the senior officer on the ground.
Our force engaged might have reached 1,600 or 1,700 men,
but actually did not exceed 1,800; that of the enemy was
estimated from 1,200 to 2.000, but did not probably amount
to more than 1,500 or 1,600, consisting, as I am informed,
of detachments from the 49th, 84th and 104th regiments of
the line, with three companies of the Voltigeur and Glen-

£arry corps, and the militia of the country, who were not
icluded in the estimate.

44 Addenda

It would be presumptuous in me to attempt to give a de-
tailed account of the affair, which certainly reflects high
honor on the valor of the American soldier, as no ex-
amples can be produced of undisciplined men with inex-
perienced officers, braving a fire of two hours and a half,
without quitting the field, or yielding to their antagonist.
The information is derived from officers in my confidence,
who took active parts in this conflict; for though 1 was en-
abled to order the attack, it was my hard fortune not to
be able to lead the troops I commanded. The disease with
which I was assailed on the 2nd of September, on my
journey to Fort George, has, with a few short intervals
of convalescence, preyed on me ever since, and at the
moment of this action, I was confined to my bed, and em-
aciated almost as a skeleton, unable to sit on ray horse,
or move ten paces without assistance. I must, however,
be pardoned for trespassing on your time a few remarks
in relation to the affair.

The objects of the British and Americans were precisely
opposed; the last being bound by the instructions of the
government, and the most solemn obligations of duty, to
precipitate their designs on the St Lawrence by every prac-
ticable means; because this being effected, one of the
greatest difficulties opposed to the American arms would
be surmounted, while the first, by duties equally imperious,
to retard and if possible, prevent such descent. He is to
be counted victorious who effected his purpose! The Brit-
ish commander having failed to gain either of his objects,
can lay no claim to the honors of the day. The battle
fluctuated, and seemed at different times inclined to the
contending corps. The front of the enemy were at first
forced back more than a mile, and though they never re-
gained the ground they lost, their stand was permanent
and their courage resolute. Amidst these charges and
near the close of the contest, we lost a field piece by the
fall of an officer, who was serving it with the same cool-
ness as if he had been at a parade or a review. This waa
Lieut. Smith, of the light artillery, who, in point of merit,
stood at the head of his grade. The enemy having halted
and our troops being again formed into battalion, front
to front, we resumed our position on the bank of the river,
and the infantry being much fatigued, the whole were re-
embarked and proceeded down the river without any fur-
ther annoyance from the enemy or their gun-boats, while
the dragoons, with five pieces of light artillery, marched
down the Canada shore without molestation.

It is due to his rank, to his worth, and his services, that
I should make particular mention of Brig. Gen. Covington,
who received a mortal wound directly through the body
while animating his men and leading them to the charge.
He fell where he fought, at the head of his men, and sur-
vived but two days.

The dead rest in honor, and the wounded bled for their
country and deserve its gratitude.

Addenda 45

DeSalaberry's Official Report of the Skirmish of
Chateauguay

ON THE CHATEAUGUAY RIVER
26th October, 8 p.m.

Sra, — In the action of this day, which began by the
enemy attacking oui- advanced pickets, in great strength,
on both sides of the river, the enemy has been obliged to
abandon his plan. Our pickets, supported in time by the
Canadian Light company, 2 companies of Voltigeurs, and
the light company of the 3rd Embodied Militia, behaved in
the bravest manner. After the action, we remained in
quiet possession of the abatis and posts we occupied pre-
viously.

The enemy's force appeared to me to have been at least
1500 men, with 250 dragoons and 1 piece of cannon. Three
of our men, who saw the American army passing at beat
part (place) make it out amount to more. There were
about 30 cannon with them.

I cannot conclude without expressing the obligations I
owe to Capt. Ferguson, for his cool and determined con-
duct and his extreme readiness in executing of orders.
Capt. Daly, of the 3rd Batt. , cannot be surpassed; he con-
tended with 50 men against a force ten times in number.
Capt. Daly is wounded in three places. Capt. Bruytre
behaved with gallantry, and was wounded. Captain J.
Robertson and Jochereau Duchesnay have evinced great
gallantry, and so, indeed, have many officers employed,
particularly aide Major Sullivan, whose bravery has been
so conspicuous. Capt. Lamothe, with a few Indians, ex-
posed himself very much, and so did Capt. Hebden of the
Voltigeurs.

By correct information there appears no doubt the enemy
have returned to the Outarde.

This report is made by woodfire light.

I have the honor to be, Sir,

Your most obedt. servt.,

DESALABERRY

Lt-Col.

Two officers wounded.

Light company, Canadian regiment, 3 killed and 4
privates wounded.
Voltigeurs, 4 wounded.
3rd Batt. light company, 2.killed, 6 wounded, 4 missing.

To Major-Genl. DEWATTEVILLE

46 Addenda

Hampton's Official Report

The army was put in motion on the morning of the 26bh
October, leaving- its baggage, etc. , on the ground of en-
campment. On advancing near the enemy it was found
that the column I had sent (the previous evening to cross
by a ford and take the enemy in the rear) was nolj as far
advanced as anticipated. The guides had misled it, and
finally failed in finding the ford. We could not communi-
cate with it, so waited the sound of attack from below. At
2 o'clock firing was heard on the south side of the Chateau-
guay river, when our troops advanced rapidly to the at-
tick. The enemy's light troops commenced a sharp fire,
but Brig.-Major Izard, advancing with his brigade, drove
him everywhere behind his defenses and silenced the fire
in front. This brigade would have pushed forward as far
as courage, skill, and perseverance could have carried it,
but, while advancing, the firing on the south bank of the
river ceased, and word came the ford had not been gained.
The enemy retired behind his defenses, but a renewal of his
attack was expected, and our troops remained some time
in their position to meet it. The troops on the south bank
of the river were excessively fatigued. Its purpose having
failed, Colonel Purdy was ordered to withdraw his col-
umn to a ford 4 or 5 miles above and cross over. The day
was spent and Gen. Izard was ordered to withdraw his bri-
gade to a position three miles in tho rear, to which place
the baggage was ordered forward. The slowness and order
with which Gen. Izard retired with his brigade must have
inspired the enemy with respect. They presumed not to
venture a shot at him during his movement. The unguard-
edness of some part of Purdy's command exposed him to
a rear attack from the Indians, which was repeated after
dark, entailing some loss These attacks were always re-
pelled and must have cost the enemy as many lives as we
lost. Our entire loss in killed, wounded, and missing does
not exceed fifty. In its new position, within three miles of
the enemy's post, the army encamped on the night of the
26th and remained until 12 o'clock of the 28th. All the
deserters, of whom there were four, concurred In the infor-
mation that Sir George Prevost, with three other general
officers, had arrived with the whole of his disposable force
and lay in rear of the defenses.

Oleaner Print, Huntingdon, Q.

Sellar, Gordon

The true makers of
S4 Canada

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