H- 
 
. / 
 
 MY BOY LIFE 
 
 By Rev. John Carroll, D.D. 
 
 ■ t m m * 
 
 BEN WEN 
 
 By Jennie Pebrett. 
 

MY BOY LIFE, 
 
 PRESENTED IN A SUCCESSION OF TRUE 
 
 STORIES, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN CARROLL, D. D. 
 
 " The child is father to the man." 
 
 —Wordtworth, 
 
 A BOOK FOR OLD OR YOUNG. 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS, 
 
 78 & 80 King Strbbt East. 
 1882. 
 
s=£=S'H™~"'--^^ 
 
rotbication. 
 
 TO 
 
 ALL THE SELF-MADE MEN 
 
 (both lay and clerical,) 
 
 IN OUR WIDE CONNEXION; 
 
 and to all 
 
 THE NOBLE BOYS, 
 
 WHO INTEND TO BE 
 
 SUCH MEN AS ARE MEN 
 IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 WITH 
 
 SENTIMENTS OF PROFOUND CONSIDERATION, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE HUMBLE AUTHOR. 
 
 Ramblb Lodob, August 18, 1881. 
 

 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 FEEL myself honoured in being asked to write 
 an introduction to these autobiographic sketches 
 of my beloved and venerated friend, the Rev. Dr. 
 Carroll. I have read these sketches with pro- 
 foundest interest — often with moistened eyes, and 
 often with an irrepressible smile. The greater number 
 of them have undergone the practical test of publica- 
 tion in a periodical having a circulation of nearly 
 twenty thousand copies, and have proved exceedingly 
 attractive not only to juvenile but also to adult readers. 
 By reading these " True Stories of Boy Life " sixtj^ 
 years ago, every Canadian boy and girl of to-day may 
 learn invaluable lessons. And those who have left 
 their youthful days far behind them will find here 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 agreeable reminiscences of the past and a vivid insight 
 into the social condition of the early years of this 
 century in this province. 
 
 While thankful to God for the ameliorated circum- 
 stances of society at the present time, and the greater 
 educational and religious advantages enjoyed by the 
 youth of to-day, let us be thankful also to the grand 
 old pioneers who, by their lives and labours, have 
 made Canada what it is. Conspicuous among these 
 have been the Methodist Missionaries of Canada, who, 
 with Bible and saddle-bags, carried the glad message 
 of the Gospel to the lonely cottages of the frontiers- 
 men in the depths of the primeval forest; and con- 
 spicuous among these Missionary heroes has been the 
 author of these sketches. 
 
 By thousands all over this land to whom he has 
 ministered the bread of life, this record of the provi- 
 dential leadings of his early years will be read with 
 intensest interest ; and to many more of a younger 
 generation, we trust, these pages will make known 
 the circumstances under which were developed that 
 genial character, earnest piety, and unwearying zeal, 
 which we all so much admire in him whom all who 
 know him love to call our revered and honoured 
 Father Carroll. Though having more than reached 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 the allotted span of threescore years and ten, his 
 heart is as young as when he .vas a boy. He still 
 possesses more vivacity and more energy ; he still 
 reads more books, writes more pages, travels more 
 miles and preaches more sermons than many a man 
 not half his years. May he long flourish in his 
 hale old age — full of years and full of honours — and 
 still enrich the world with his ripe and mellow 
 wisdom, and with still more of his racy and readable 
 books, is the earnest prayer of his friend, 
 
 W. H. W. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOI 
 
 I. — Why this Book, and What About It 1 
 
 II. — My Pap^nts and Nativity 5 
 
 III. — My Little Twin Brother, 16 
 
 IV. — A Long Rough Journey Performed in Unconsious 
 
 Infancy 27 
 
 V. — My Eldest Brother's Beautiful Life and Tragic 
 
 Death 32 
 
 VI. — Our Indian Neighbours 40 
 
 VII. — Child Memories of the Alarms and Hardships 
 
 of War 49 
 
 VIII. — A Three Days' Coasting Voyage 72 
 
 IX. — Our First Places of Abode in York, and How 
 
 we Came to Occupy them 75 
 
 X. — The War Spirit among the York Boys 78 
 
 XI. — Neddie, my Little Playmate 83 
 
 XII. — Recollections of the Long-Log House 92 
 
 XIII. — Fond Memories of Certain Domestic Animals 101 
 
 XIV. — The Ghost Lore Current during my Childhood. . . 109 
 
 XV.— How I Earned my First Felt Hat 116 
 
 XVI.— The "Elmsley Field," and its One Tkagio Memory 121 
 
• • 
 
 XU CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 XVII. — The Rise of an Institution which Influenced 
 
 MY Destinies for Good 129 
 
 XVIII. — How I Chanced to Get the First Prize 134 
 
 XIX. — How I Invested my Found Money 141 
 
 XX. — A Tramp to the Bush in Sugar Time with 
 
 YounCt Ladies 147 
 
 XXI.—" Old Gray," the Mill Horse 157 
 
 XXIL— GoiNo on a Bush Farm 163 
 
 XXIII.— Driving an Ox Tea vi , 168 
 
 XXIV.— More Work on a Bush Farm 176 
 
 XXV. -" Old Kate," the Mare, and 1 182 
 
 XXVI. — My Pets and Property in the Bush, and What 
 
 Became of them 192 
 
 XXVII. — A Christmas Week that Ended Wrong 204 
 
 XXVIII. — An Impulsive Act — A SuddeK Departure from 
 
 the Bush 211 
 
 XXIX. — Some Account of my Dear Old " Boss " 219 
 
 XXX. — Butternutting on Sunday and its Punishment 229 
 
 XXXI. — A Mis-spent Sunday that Ended Well 235 
 
 XXXII.— My Last Accepted Dram 242 
 
 XXXIII.- How I came to go among the Methodists 246 
 
 XXXIV. — The Crisis I have always called Conversion ; 
 
 AND When, Where, and kow it took place. 253 
 XXXV. — What Modicums of Knowledge I Possessed at 
 Fifteen ; and how I had Stumbled into 
 
 THEIR Possession 260 
 
 XXXVI, — My Boyish Thoughts of a Business for Life, 
 
 and THE One I finally Chose 277 
 
 XXXVII. — A Summary AND Connection of the Foregoing 
 
 Pages 285 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 WHY THIS BOOK, AND WHAT ABOUT IT ? 
 
 IT will be perceived at a glance, that it is autobw- 
 graphical — and many will say, " therefore, 
 egotistical." If the word egotistical is used in the 
 sense of " vain and self -conceited," then I trust all 
 candid readers will exonerate me from the charge ; 
 hut if it only means something about the writer's self, 
 then I accept the characterization, — albeit, I think 
 ejoistical would be more appropriate. Besides, if I 
 live to finish the whole work, of which this is an 
 instalment, it will be much about other persons and 
 things, as well as myself, namely, almost all the leading 
 personages and events that have crossed my path in 
 the course of my humble journey through a long, 
 diversified life. These matters ought to be of some 
 
2 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 interest and importance, if I am of rone. One word 
 in defence ot works of this character in the abstract : 
 Some one has said, " Almost any one's autobiography 
 would be valuable, if he only knew Avhat to icll, and 
 how to tell it." Yes, and the more commonplace his 
 career, the more likely to come home to the business 
 and bosoms of the many. Say that John Carroll is 
 of no great account, and I will agree with you ; but 
 it is all the more likely that the story of his life will 
 enlist the sympathies of the " common run." 
 
 A history of my own life and times is something 
 which scores of persons have urged me to write, for 
 years and years. And several years ago I commenced 
 to write what I entitled, " The Lessons of a Life- 
 time," and had written five or six hundred pages of 
 large foolscap, when other plans were suggested. In 
 that work I divided my life into natural epochs, and 
 gave in each an account of the outward and physical 
 circumstances of that period ; my Tnental or Intellectual 
 life (including the development of my faculties from 
 childhood, my schools and schoolmates, such as they 
 were, and of my methods of inquiry and study) ; my 
 religious or spiritual life ; my ministerial and official 
 life ; rtiy literary life, &c., &c., &c., as the epochs tran- 
 spired, under separate headings, or departments, 
 deducing the lessons the events had taught me and 
 those which I thought others might learn from my 
 blunders, which were many. But I found that after 
 all the time, ink, and paper I had expended, I had not 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 8 
 
 passed over a third of my career, and the unfinished 
 part was the most crowded and important of my 
 existence. With the many engagements I am con- 
 stantly drawn into, I did not see how I was to tind 
 time and strength to finish it ; I was not sure but that 
 a plan of work so complex and unusual would prove 
 tiresome ; furthermore, I saw it was going to be a 
 very expensive work to publish, and the question was, 
 would the sales defray that expense ? 
 
 At this juncture I was led to draw on some of the 
 materials for an account of my early life in a series of 
 " Stories " for the amusement and instruction of the 
 young readers of Pleasant Hours. These I found 
 interested many of the old as well as the young who 
 had read them. I rather anticipated they would 
 engage the attention of adidt minds as well as 
 juvenile ones, for I myself had ever felt an interest in 
 accounts of the boyhood and youth of any person who 
 had attained to any measure of public attention, and 
 I also found it was the same with other people. Be- 
 sides the incidents I related, while they referred to 
 matters which would naturally take the attention of 
 young minds, were not told in nursery, but common 
 phraseology, which would command the respect of 
 adults, and which the well-schooled children of our 
 country in this day understand as well, or better than 
 grown people. Then, as to those particular remini- 
 cences, many of my friends wished to see them collected 
 and preserved in an accessible and permanent form. 
 
4 . MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Therefore, after conversing with my scholarly and 
 versatile literary friend, the Rev. W. H. With row, 
 A.M., whose taste and judgment I very much confided in, 
 I concluded to abandon the larger and moie elaborate 
 project, and to cover the ground embraced in my his- 
 tory by a series of sketchy volumes, each one complete 
 in itself, and saleable as an independent book, yet an 
 essential part of a greater whole ; that if I did not live 
 to finish that whole, what I had actually accomplished 
 would not seem a mere fragmsnt ; while each one of the 
 sections, in each volume, would be a microcosm — a little 
 narrative by itself and making a complete reading for 
 a sitting, yet bearing a relation to the other sections. 
 
 This, T imagine, will be particularly the case with 
 the first volume, which is largely made up of the 
 " True Stories," retouched, supplemented, and wrought 
 into a somewhat homogeneous whole. I say " some- 
 what," because, from the way it has come into being, 
 it will, perhaps, be found that some parts are rather 
 discursive and others repetitious. 
 
 As it is, the public have it. Take it, and make the 
 most of it you can ; for, on the subject of my boy life, 
 it is all you will get — except my blessing, which you 
 have already, and shall have. Amen. 
 
 Those who desire more of these lucubrations, relating 
 to" further stages of my humble life, will please indicate 
 their wish to me, or to the authorities at our Publish- 
 ing House, that I .nay know how to act in the future. 
 
 The Author. 
 
No. 11. 
 
 MY PARENTS AND NATIVITY. 
 
 IN many biographies, whether written by the sub- 
 jects themselves, or their friends, there seems a 
 great effort to conceal any thing like obscurity or 
 poverty, in their origin. This in my opinion, is weak 
 and despicable, and hints and innuendoes about the 
 nobleness of their ancestral line are still worse ; both 
 proceed from the silliest kind of affectation and vanity. 
 I, therefore, entirely concur in the truth and manliness 
 of the following from the poet Saxe : — 
 
 "Of al] the notable things on earth, 
 The queerest one is pride of birth, 
 
 In this our fierce democracy : 
 A bridge across a hundred years, 
 Without a thing to save it from sneers 
 ■ (Not even a couple of rotten peers) 
 
 A thing for laughter, flouts, and jeers. 
 Is American aristocracy. 
 
 Depend upon it, my snobbish friend, 
 Your family thread you can't ascend, 
 Without good reason to apprehend, 
 
6 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 « .-.' You may find it waxed at the farther end, ' , ) 
 
 By some plebeian vocation ; 
 Or worse than that, your boasted line 
 May end in a loop of stronger twine, 
 
 That plagued some worthy relation." 
 
 I never heard that any of my forefathers, either on 
 the paternal or maternal line, had been hanged, but 
 the "waxed end" might be found if looked after in my 
 genealogy. 
 
 My father was a saddler and harness-maker by trade 
 and understood well his handicraft ; he was dis- 
 tinguished for substantial wo/k, and excelled particu- 
 larly in the department of saddles and neck-draft 
 collars. In his time in America, people travelled two 
 or three, if not four times, as much on horseback as in 
 carriages ; hence the demand for saddles. Some of my 
 earliest recollections are of amusing myself among the 
 litter and scraps of his shop, and of some of the tools 
 he employed — such as his tack -hammer, his wooden 
 mallets (one faced with shark skin), and his long iron 
 "collar rods" employed in stuffing the rims of the 
 draft collars with long straw, which were left as hard 
 as wood and as polished as if made of marble. An- 
 other peculiarity was that the collars were left in an 
 almost circular form, he never using any collar-block 
 but the horse's neck, to which alone, he said, it must 
 be fitted. Nothing would arouse his anger so quickly 
 as for a visitor to his shop to squeeze a new collar into 
 an oblong shape, as they often felt an impulse to do. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. , 7 
 
 " Pox take it, you fool ! " he would say, " Do you know 
 the mischief you are doing ?" . , , * . . * 
 
 or my father physically, I have this to say : he was 
 an old man when I first remember him. He was full 
 twenty years older than my mother ; I and my twin 
 brother were the last of twelve children; he must, 
 therefore, have been close on to sixty years of age 
 when I was born. But from what I saw and learned, 
 he came of a strong, long-lived race of men. He was 
 considerably above the medium stature — about five 
 feet, eleven — he may have been six feet before he 
 began to settle down. He was big-boned and mus- 
 cular, not less than one hundred and eighty pounds in 
 weight. Had great weight of arm and hand ; and had 
 he never ill-used himself, he would have been for many 
 more years than is usual, a very hale and powerful 
 man. All the encounters into which his convivial 
 habits led him, were said to have issued in victory, but 
 the particulars would edify no one. One I will men- 
 tion because it shows how strength and daring may 
 serve a man's safety in a rude and lawless state of 
 society. When we lived at the Grand River in Canada, 
 among the Six Nation Indians, and the still worse 
 behaved white squatters on the Indian lands, just 
 before the war of 1812, when he could not have 
 been less than sixty years of age, occurred the fol- 
 lowing: H«, having by his "Britisher" ways made 
 himself unpopular with the disafiected around, of 
 whom there were said to be many, was one day 
 
8 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 going to mill with a team of horses and ^ist of grain, 
 accompanied only by a half-grown boy, and called at a 
 tavern to rest his horses and warm himself. A well- 
 to-do ard purse-proud Canadian Dutchman (one Staatz) 
 a younger and more vigorous man than himself, some- 
 what under the influence of liquor, came in, accom- 
 panied by several of a kindred character, and charged 
 the old man with having stolen his whip, who, when 
 father denied it and failed to produce it, began chasing 
 the old gentleman about the room. Father, except 
 when under the influence of liquor, was not particu- 
 larly passionate — and never quarrelsome— but rather 
 fair-spoken (though boastful and pretentious); and on 
 this occasion at first made no resistance ; but at length 
 he disengaged himself, stepped back, and threw off his 
 great-coat ; and when his assailant approached again, 
 father knocked him down, like a bullock felled by the 
 butcher's axe ; and when he arose, knocked him down 
 again. This cooled the Dutchman's courage and awed 
 the rest. Now Staatz suddenly discovered that Mr. 
 Carroll was a most honourable and excellent man, and 
 proffered to treat him. My brother William, who 
 witnessed the scene, and twice related it in my hearing, 
 did not say whether the treat was accepted or declined ; 
 but, judging from the old man's well-known belief in 
 the potency of the social glass to feed, and clothe, and 
 satisfy, and compose all difficulties, and assuage all 
 evils to which flesh is heir, it is likely the glass was 
 accepted. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 9 
 
 Father was a native of Old Ireland (the North of it, 
 the County Down, and Town of Ballynahinch) but 
 came with his parents to America (the Old Colonies) 
 when quite young, and learned his trade in the City of 
 Philadelphia. The rest of the family lived near by, in 
 the town of Reading — on land, I suspect. His father, 
 who was a Roman Catholic, as far as he was anything 
 (not bigotted) and who often received the prefix or 
 Mac to his name by countrymen, had been tossed about 
 the world for many years as a sailor. Father said his 
 mother was, as he pronounced it, " a Presbytayrean." 
 If asked about his own religion, of which he had not 
 much to spare, he would answer, "Protestant." Though 
 far from being a truly religious man at any time of 
 his life, I am bound to say, that though sometimes 
 profane, he never treated sacred things with irreverence; 
 but could so talk on religious subjects as to leave the 
 impression on strangers, that he was a very religious 
 man, especially if he had a glass in his head, which, he 
 always maintained, used to " brighten his ideas." 
 
 He used to maintain that he was a blood relation of 
 the celebrated Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, in Mary- 
 land, who, he boasted "owned a whole manor;" but, 
 as he never liked to spoil a good story, I am inclined 
 to suspect that with regard to his claim to anything 
 like an intimate relationship to the celebrated signer 
 of the Declaration of Independence, he must have 
 drawn the long-bow somewhat. For, if a good tough 
 yarn were wanted, commend me to old Joseph Carroll 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 at any time. Father s oldest brother "Jeems " as he 
 called him, however, was indeed a very respectable and 
 influential man of large means; and like Charles 
 Carroll, a great devotee of the American colonial cause. 
 But my father early quarrelled with the colonists, and 
 joined the British standard, and served to the end of 
 the war. He must, however, have been committed to 
 the revolutionary cause for a time, for he was afraid 
 to return to the family upon the acknowledgement of 
 the Independence of the United States. His brother 
 James, however, wrote him word to come back, and he 
 would " intercede with Congress in his behalf." But 
 he had become so fierce a " Britisher " that he sent 
 word he would " see him and Congress d — d before he 
 would make any intercessions to them." The con- 
 sequence was, he never saw his relatives after. Father 
 never called the Americans anything but " rebels." 
 
 His department in the army was the artillery, and 
 he ranked as a bombardier, wearing a sword by his 
 side, one edge of which was a sword-blade, the other a 
 saw. He had sometimes acted as a sapper, and used 
 to show a scar from end to end of one of his fingers, 
 which had been laid open by the point of a pike that 
 he was parrying, which had been aimed at him while 
 with a detachment he was storming a stockade. 
 Some of his war stories would be thrilling, if there 
 were space to register them. 
 
 He was disbanded along with his corps in the West 
 Indies, where he had served some time. The discharged 
 
MY BOY LIFE. ^jf 
 
 troops were destined for Nova Scotia and New Bruns- 
 wick, but being embarked in an unseaworthy old hulk, 
 (an East Indiaman), which had been repainted and in- 
 sured for a fabulous sum, and then intentionally run 
 upon rocks in the Bay of Fundy, they were wrecked. She 
 became a total loss, and a vast number of the passengers 
 perished, while the captain and crew, in collusion with 
 the fraudulent underwriters, escaped in their boats. 
 Those of the passengers who escaped, of whom my 
 father was one, did so mostly by constructing a raffc 
 out of the broken timbers of the ship, after father 
 personally had been " eight and forty hours on a 
 spar." To tie their raft together they made cordage 
 out of an old cable, the only means of cutting which 
 was a dull razor, while they tore out the several strands 
 with their teeth. Two men, one of whom my mother 
 afterwards knew and esteemed, were wafted ashore on 
 two puncheons lashed together. The raft was picked 
 up and the suffering freight brought into port totally 
 destitute, my father among the rest. 
 
 My parent selected New Brunswick as his place of 
 residence, where he drew a small, poor lot of land — I 
 think on the shores of the Nashwaak. He might have 
 succeeded well in a worldly point of view, only for 
 some defects ; he had rather superior powers of mind ; 
 had education sufficient to transact business ; his con- 
 versational powers were adapted to prepossess people 
 in his favour ; and he was almost the only person with 
 a knowledge of his most necessary trade in a wide 
 
12 .MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 new country. So lately as 1853, almost a century 
 after, I was visiting relations in that part of the 
 Province, and met with those who told me of his 
 celebrity for skill in his business, and said that speci- 
 mens of harness he had made were still in preservation. 
 But sad to say, he was a poor manager ; changeable 
 in his plans — trying, from time to time, hunting, 
 fishing, lumbering, and farming, as well as his own 
 proper vocation. Then his convivial proclivities, 
 induced by his song-singing and story-telling gifts, 
 with the love of liquor acquired in his seven 
 years' .ioldiering experiences, during which he used to 
 boast, that he sometimes drank a dozen glasses of 
 liquor in a morning and passed muster on parade as 
 a sober man. He was not, however, a lazy man, but 
 quite disposed to labour, had not his work been often 
 interrupted by the causes I have mentioned ; and the 
 avails of his labour squandered despite the industry, 
 capability, and economy of the woman it is a wonder 
 he ever gained. 
 
 My mother was in all respects the opposite of my 
 father. The young and lovely daughter — for she was 
 a most comely woman — of a grave Quaker man, of a 
 singularly amiable disposition, only eighteen when 
 she was induced, clandestinely (in the absence of a 
 mother's guardianship, who had died a short time before), 
 to marry a man of forty (claiming of course to be 
 much younger). Oh ! what poverty, privations, shifts 
 and turns, neglect and abuse, that poor woman suffered 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 13 
 
 by beinof " lured " by the songs, blandisbraents, and 
 persuasive tongue of a man, vastly her inferior, " from 
 her native home," a home of full and plenty. Heroically 
 she struggled with insufficient supplies of provisions 
 and covering for day and night, living in dilapidated 
 houses in that severe climate, to provide for and raise 
 her large family of boys, preparing the materials of 
 which their clothes were woven, and making it up 
 into garments herself when woven. The elder ones' 
 garments were made of the new cloth, and the little 
 ones' clothes of the cast-ofF coats and trousers of the 
 older ones. The first thoroughly new suit I ever wore, 
 at the age of eight or nine, was of striped homespun 
 carded and spun by my tireless mother's hands, while 
 doing for a family of ten or twelve, without any domes- 
 tic help — something she never had. Oh ! my precious 
 mother ! my soul is agonized by the remembrance of 
 thy sorrows ! And glad I am that I had the 
 chance of doing something to soothe thy mind in thy 
 later years ! 
 
 Father's changeableness led to a great many weari- 
 some moves, till at last, through my mother's per- 
 suasions, he resumed his own proper business in 
 Fredericton, and a pretty home was bought, and 
 through her economy money enough was saved to pay 
 for it. During the time the family resided there was 
 the one green spot in their domestic life, the only 
 oasis in a wide, dreary desert But, alas ! that was not 
 to last ! From the Masonic lodge he and others would 
 
14 • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 adjourn to the tavern. There, while mellowed into 
 maudlin generosity, he was induced to become 
 responsible to a large amount for a brother mason — 
 that brother failed without securing father ; father 
 seeing the storm rising, under cover of coming to 
 Upper Canada to look after securing the claims he 
 had for services rendered to the British Government 
 for land, stepped out of the way, and dear mother and 
 her four eldest boys, the youm-'^st only four years of 
 age, were left to face the tornado, which swept all 
 away. He was gone two years and five months, during 
 which, though the second eldest boy lost his sight 
 during the time, mother maintained herself and children 
 in tidiness and comfort. Nor was her husband's 
 return, though he vaunted a grant from Gov. Simcoe 
 for a thousand acres of land in his pocket, anything 
 but a source of anxiety to his wife and hapless boys. 
 Oh ! drink, thou art a demon, and thy name is legion ! 
 Several years longer residence in New Brunswick 
 added two more boys to the family, and brought down 
 our history to the spring of 1809. 
 
 Then it was resolved to remove to Upper Canada to 
 locate and settle on their thousand-acre demesne. In 
 a boat they descended the St. John River to the Bay 
 of Fundy; but they must perforce remain in the 
 fisheries in Passimaquody until the four eldest boys, 
 Joseph, James, William, and Thomas, could earn 
 money enough to enable the family to complete their 
 journey to the much anticipated land of promise. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 15 
 
 Father always located his hapless family in some out of 
 the way place, and on this occasion he pub them in one 
 of the three only huts on the islet known as Saltkill's 
 Island, so named after its owner, John Saltkill, a 
 bachelor Quaker, who had obtained a grant of it for 
 services during the Revolution, my mother in imminent 
 nearness to a confinement. There twins were born, of 
 which two I was the eldest. There was just one 
 family on the island besides ourselves, a Mr. Isaac 
 Clarke and his wife. The circumstances of our birth 
 are described in the next section. I was named John 
 Saltkill after the proprietor, who wished to keep me 
 and make me his heir ; and my mate was named Isaac 
 Clarke after the other resident — christening there was 
 none. None in the family were baptized till long 
 after (which they all were, except poor Isaac and 
 Joseph), one now, and another then. My brother did 
 not live long enough to assert his middle name ; and 
 I threw Saltkill away, and kept to John alone, when 
 I came to choose for myself, v" v! 
 
No. III. 
 
 
 
 MY LITTLE TWIN BROTHER. ^ 
 
 F sisterly affection — that is, of a sister's love to 
 a brother, or the tender attachment which the 
 kind ways of a sister will awaken in the heart of a 
 brother — I know nothing, having never set my eyes 
 on my only sister, who was born and buried many 
 years before I came into existence. 
 
 Of the attachment between brothers of diffierent 
 ages I know something. I know that the beauty and 
 tenderness of little brothers will awaken a feeling of 
 care and kindness in the heart of a " big brother " 
 when rightly constituted. Of Joe, the oldest and best 
 of brothers, who died at the age of twenty-two, when 
 I was no more than two or three years old, I had 
 long a dim recollection, probably stereotyped by the 
 oft-recited traditions in the family of his sympathy 
 for our weakly mother and her two last-born infants. 
 Indeed poor Joe's beauty of person, nobleness of 
 character, early piety, and early and almost tragic 
 
J MY BOY LIFE. 17 
 
 death, dwelt upon again and again, was an heir-loom 
 and species of almost ancestor-worship in our rude 
 household. 
 
 For the next oldest, Jim, I had a peculiar kind of 
 affection, because he was very big and very strong, 
 and would good-naturedly allow half a dozen little 
 ones to cling to his legs and neck while he thus carried 
 us about the house, and allow us to make a horse of 
 his knees, while he trotted us up and down, and 
 allowed us to belabour the imaginary horse with a 
 stick from time to time. I am not under so great ob- 
 ligations to him for teaching me to box when a little 
 older ; but in time there was a better attachment 
 between us. He loved books and reading ; but about 
 the age of manhood his sight became so impaired by a 
 disease, which fell into his eyes from serving his King 
 and country in the militia, during the war of 1812, 
 that he could no longer read for himself. But I early 
 became an expert reader and fond of a book, and being 
 very small of my age, I could sit on his knee next to 
 his best ear (for his hearing was also defective), and 
 read to him by the hour. Our interviews were not 
 only " readings," but discussions the while. I remem- 
 ber the questions and talk to which the perusal of the 
 blessed Bible, the Pilgrim's Progress, and sundry 
 histories we read gave rise. 
 
 The next oldest brother, Bill, and I were never so 
 intimate ; he was long absent in the army, and soon 
 after returning from the wars he married, and lived 
 2 
 
18 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 apart from the rest of the family. There was an at- 
 tachment between him and me, but it was distinct 
 from any of the rest. 
 
 The next brother, Tom, was more among us, and we 
 younger ones had occasion to feel for him as clients 
 towards a patron, or preserver, if not of children to a 
 parent. Dear Tom, thou wast noble and lovable; 
 but in the end somewhat unfortunate, yet rest on in 
 thy fifty years' sleep in the dust of the earth. 
 
 George was six years older than I, and somehow 
 gave me a marked patronizing regard ; but as he was 
 peculiar and a little whimsical in his likes and dislikes, 
 I had to treat him a little cannily. 
 
 Nat was the next one to me who survived for any 
 length of time ; and there being scarcely four years be- 
 tween us, gave us a greater community of feeling than 
 between me and any of the others, excepting one. But 
 when young, like all children and boys, we had our 
 contentions as well as our social pleasures. 
 
 Of that other one, my mate, or twin brother, I set out 
 with the intention more especially of writing. As he 
 died before quite ten years of age, all I have to say will 
 bear the impress of childhood, and will be more likely 
 to interest children than older persons; although there 
 is something to be learned by the old in recalling the 
 experiences of childhood. 
 
 My parents said we were born within half an hour 
 of each other — I the first, be the last — on a small island 
 in the Bay of Fundy, on a very foggy night. We 
 
IfT BOY LIFE. 19 
 
 were unusually small — our traditional weight, or light- 
 ness, though often mentioned, I have forgotten ; but 
 this I remember to have heard them say, that one of 
 the tiny teacups of that day, not more than a third as 
 large as the smallest now in use, easily covered the 
 entire of either one of our visages. We were born on 
 the journey from New Brunswick to Canada, partly 
 by water and partly by land, and resumed our way- 
 faring three weeks after our birth. We must have 
 suffered great discomfort as well as our poor mother, 
 for we cried almost every waking moment till our long 
 journey was ended, and for long after. We were both 
 weakly,' but I was said to be the stronger of the two, and 
 soon began, it was said, to help myself, learning to sit 
 alone, by being placed in a horse's draft collar on the 
 floor, at the age of six months, and took to my pins 
 and stubbed about the floor at eight months. 
 
 Being largely cast on my own resources, I think my 
 mental faculties must have been very precociously 
 developed, especially observation and memory. I re- 
 member, almost consecutively, since, at my mother's 
 knee, my nose and chin just overtopping it, I had to 
 be fed by her with a spoon, when I could not have 
 been more than two years old, if I was that. In all 
 those visions of ths past, my memory recalls a little 
 white-headed chilJ, rather less than myself, standing 
 by my side, grovelling with me on the ground, or lying 
 in the same cot, such as it was. Our attachment to 
 each other became very great. We were inseparable 
 
20 MY BOY LIFE 
 
 in our little plays and amusements, which were mostly 
 extemporized, our playthings being invented by our- 
 selves, no money ever being spent on toys for us. 
 Some of these may be particularized before I have 
 done. Before we could speak plainly, our gibberish 
 was understood by ourselves, when no others could 
 interpret it. This gibberish at length crystallized into 
 a kind of dialect, which was used, between ourselves, 
 from choice when it was no longer a necessity. Thus 
 salt was "sock," crust was "pick-pick," and water 
 was " tubity." On one occasion I was not to be 
 found, and great alarm was felt on my account. The 
 adjacent premises were searched, and my name was 
 pronounced by all the older members of the family 
 without eliciting any answer, but when my little mate 
 came near where I was seated and hidden in the 
 growing grain, and called out in his piping little voice, 
 " Donny ! Donny ! " I responded " No ! " Whether I 
 was thus refusing to disclose myself, or whether we 
 used no for yes, I cannot say ; but the noise I made 
 revealed ^y hiding-place. I think we were both pre- 
 disposed to solitary amusements ; certain I am that 
 we seldom asked or had more to join in the play than 
 our two selves, for neither of us ever admitted that he 
 had more than "one brother." Like all children's 
 amusements, they were mimic occupations of men, in 
 which imagination supplied the place of real re- 
 semblance. The stirring scenes of the war-time filled 
 us with military ideas and occupations ; by bestriding 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 21 
 
 a rod of elder and putting a yellow, tassel-like wild 
 flower in our c«ps, we imagined ourselves light horse- 
 men, and galloped away on some important express ; 
 or square bits of leather, purloined from the regimental 
 shop^ arrayed in paralled rows, were opposing armies, 
 while a bullet or marble rolled by each alternately 
 won the battle for the General the fewest of whose 
 soldiers were knocked down. 
 
 When, "wild war's deadly blast was blown, and 
 gentle peace returning," we imitated the rural occupa- 
 tions to which the erstwhile soldiering family came 
 back, suggesting the idea of fields and flocks. Com- 
 partments made by chalk-marks, on the floor or hearth, 
 were the fields — parti-coloured beans were the various 
 kinds of cattle, and downy willow buds were the sheep. 
 Many a fort or farmstead, according to our fancy, rose 
 among the bushes or elsewhere ; and partial to the pro- 
 fession of the baker and pastry cook, we perpetrated the 
 usual number of mud cakes and pies. We sometimes 
 went a-fishing and caught chub, but we were seldom 
 favoured with any more artistic tackle than a pin-hook 
 tied to the end of a piece of thread. 
 
 We were very much alike, and neighbours with the 
 confidence that they knew us apart, almost always 
 called us wrong — John for Isaac, and Isaac for John. 
 My mother also, once when we were stripped for bed, ' 
 mistook us, and gave me a flogging she intended for 
 hiin. We knew each other's thoughts almost in- 
 stinctively, and our opinions almost always coincided. 
 
22 . MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 His capacity, however, was slower than mine, and he 
 was always one class behind me at school. As I was 
 the eldest, I was invariably the spokesman when we 
 were sent of an errand together ; and although I am 
 sure he had more physical courage than 1 (that is, he 
 was not so cautious about boyish quarrels and fights), 
 yet I seemed always to assume the position of patron 
 and protector to my little brother. Our affection for 
 each other was very great, and one uttered the most 
 piteous pleadings when he saw the other about to re- 
 ceive a flogging. We seldom told tales on each other, 
 but were very loyal to one another, concealing each 
 other's faults and misfortunes, or anything which was 
 likely to humiliate the other. 
 
 When we were between nine and ten years of age, 
 we were introduced for the first time into a newly- 
 formed Sunday-school, the first ever held in the Town 
 of York, now the City of Toronto, and one of the first 
 in the Province. We frequented it together from 
 November, 1818, to the following June, when, un- 
 happily, a Sunday night's play-spell led to his death. 
 My mother had become a Methodist about a year 
 before, and became exacting about the proper observ- 
 ance of the Sabbath ; but there were neighbouring 
 children and boys, not over well conducted, who 
 sometimes lured us from the right way. One Sunday 
 evening after supper, some of these congregated in the 
 yard at the back of our house, and we all joined in a 
 noisy play. Our mother came out and forbade its 
 
MY BOY LirE. ^ 23 
 
 continuance ; and from the quietness that followed, 
 she thought we had returned to the house and gone 
 to bed. But we had removed to a back street, out of 
 the way of those in the house, and resumed our play. 
 It was a very active one, called " Hunt the Bear." 
 Isaac received some rough treatment from one of the 
 boys, at which he took offence, and withdrew from 
 the play, and threw his heated person, reeking with 
 perspiration, on the wet grass under the falling dew. 
 Neither he nor we had sense or reflection enough to 
 rescue him from the peril. At a somewhat late hour 
 we stole into the house and went to bed. In the 
 middle of the night he awakened his mother by crying 
 out for a drink, saying, " mammy, I am burning up 
 inside ! " A blighting fever was upon him. In the 
 morning the family physician was summoned, and did 
 his best according to whatever skill he had ; and our 
 mother tried her simple remedies. His hip, where he 
 had lain on the grass, was in violent pain and much 
 swollen, and I was sent to the fields to gather wild 
 herbs supposed to possess healing virtue (Oh ! with 
 what painful desire and hope I gathered them) ; and 
 hemlock boughs were brougjit, and placed in tubs of hot 
 water, over the steam of which he was fomented ; but 
 alas ! after the lapse of eight days, during the most 
 of which he raved in delirium, God released him from 
 his sufferings. True, he had lucid intervals, when he 
 confessed his sins and prayed earnestly for himself 
 and for all his frienda For days he rejected food, but 
 
24 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 at length called for some and ate it with voracity, 
 saying there was a hollow place in his stomach where 
 he wanted to put the food to remove the distress. 
 Oh ! how tearfully did I watch his bed-side, agonized 
 by his want of recognition and appreciation of me. 
 What would I have done to save him, or to call him 
 back when he was gone ? Oh ! it was a cruel blow 
 and blight to my young heart. 
 
 The company present after death and at the funeral 
 in some measure diverted me from my sorrow ; but 
 when the people were dispersed, and the current of 
 affairs returned to its usual channel, the desolation and 
 loneliness I felt no tongue can tell. It seemed more 
 than I could possibly bear. I gathered up his little 
 playthings — among others a tiny house-frame — and 
 shed my tears over them. Long after his death, my 
 d'isire for his company became so agonizing and un- 
 bearable that, although I knew ifc was vain, I went 
 out by myself and called him aloud. Often I dreamed 
 that he came to life : once, that he came up from the 
 graveyard in his shroud to the potato-field where I was 
 hoeing the pota ^es we had planted together, looked 
 through the fence to my unutterable joy, and said, 
 " John, I will go up to the house, put on my clothes, 
 and come back and help you." The ecstacy awoke me 
 to the sad certainty that I was bereaved for ever of 
 the dear, ever-present companion of my ten years' life. 
 
 I should have said earlier, that I followed his body 
 to the grave, borne on young men's shoulders, walking 
 
MY BOY LIFE. fS 
 
 next the coffin, hand in hand v/ith my poor stricken 
 mother, to whom he had always shown the doting 
 affection of an infant (much more so than I ever did 
 myself). We laid him in a grave dug in the comer of 
 St. James' Cathedral Square, Toronto, where the 
 parochial school-house now stands ; but when the clods 
 began to rattle on the coffin lid, it was more than I 
 could bear to see my dear little brother Ike buried up 
 in the earth, and I begged to leave. A kind-hearted 
 neighbour boy, John Harper, about two years older 
 than myself, kindly accompanied me the half mile or 
 more which intervened between the churchyard and 
 our house, and very considerately came over often to 
 keep me company and assuage my grief and loneli- 
 ness. He is still alive, a respectable old gentleman 
 doing business in this city. We have been life-long 
 friends. 
 
 A tender incident occurred soon after. The little 
 grave never had a headstone ; we never passed that 
 way but we stopped to look through the fence, and 
 sometimes to weep, but always to feel intensely. One 
 of the first times a member of the family went that 
 way after his burial, he beheld a pretty young rose- 
 bush planted on his grave, about where his breast 
 might be supposed to be. It surprised and delighted 
 us much ; but for a length of time we were kept in 
 ignorance as to who had performed the graceful act 
 of kindness. At length a widow lady informed my 
 mother that her little son, about a year older than I 
 
26 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and my brother, had returned weeping from the funeral 
 V (he had not been a playmate, but was one of the 
 Methodist Sunday-School with us), and begged of his 
 mother to allow him to dig up one of the only two 
 rose bushes growing in their garden. She consented, 
 and he loosened it from its place, and planted it on 
 the dead Sunday scholar's grave. When I discovered 
 who had performed this soothing act of kindness, I 
 made his acquain .ance, and ever felt an almost 
 brotherly affection for dear, generous Nelson Reece. 
 After the lapse of years many of our town boys be- 
 ^ came scattered like autumn leaves, and I lost sight of 
 ' Nelson, but never forgot his kindness. If still living, 
 I should like to see and thank him once more before I 
 die. At least I pray that I may meet him in heaven, 
 where I expect to join my brother. 
 
 " Oh ! that will be joyful, 
 " To meet and part no more ! " 
 
 It will heal a wound that has been made to bleed 
 afresh (though sixty years ought to have obliterated 
 the scars), by recalling the companionship and loss of 
 my Twin Brother. 
 
 This story has its moral ; but every child can and 
 will moralize for himself, and I will not insult his 
 intelligence by doing it for him. 
 
No. lY 
 
 Jb^ 
 
 A LONG ROUGH JOURNEY PERFORMED IN 
 UNCONSCIOUS INFANCY. 
 
 T least, so said my parents, for often and often 
 I heard them dwell on the wearisome details. 
 Some reference to those details is necessary 
 as a connecting link between my first sketch and the 
 second. When the infants were only three weeks old, 
 as a necessary first stage of our intended removal to 
 Upper Canada, father transferred his family in some 
 sort of boat from Saltkill's Island, near the Province 
 line, to Campo Bello Island, just beyond the American 
 line ; so that I barely escaped being born a citizen of 
 the United States ; but " a miss is as good as a mile," 
 and with the Britisher sentiments in which I was 
 brought up, I was exceedingly glad of that miss, and 
 was none too well pleased, when I became old enough 
 to know the facts, that I so early inhaled the air of 
 Yankee-land — a land the inhabitants of which my Tory 
 
28 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 father persisted in calling ", rebels." Knowing my 
 sensitiveness to any aspersion on my loyalty, when 
 my brothers wanted to teaze me, they need but call 
 me " Yankee ! " to put me in a rage. My next ojOest 
 brother had a trick of doing that, much to my annoy- 
 ance. I had a way, however, of turning the tables 
 upon him; he had one vulnerable spot : he was a seventh 
 son, and his father used to call him "Doctor," of which 
 the little fellow would have been very proud, but for 
 a.n unlucky surname he involuntarily received. On our 
 voyage he had the misfortune to fall down the hatch- 
 way into a large pan of batter ready prepared for a 
 breakfast of pancakes, from which immersion he re- 
 ceived the cognomen of " Dr. Batter ; " and when he 
 annoyed me beyond endurance by calling me "Yankee/' 
 I generally silenced his battery, by telling " Dr. Batter^* 
 to shut up — I might say, that the juvenile physician's 
 invariable prescription, when asked for advice, was a 
 " bread and milk poultice." 
 
 Our passage from Campobello to New York, in a 
 small sailing vessel, heavily laden with plaster of Paris, 
 was a very rough one. The waves ran mountains 
 high, the decks were drenched with salt water, and the 
 hold was flooded nearly all the time. The poor weak, 
 mother suffered much ; and as to us infants, it was said 
 the briny baths to which we were subject, chafed the 
 skin off our tiny bodies, and made us as red as a couple 
 of boiled lobsters, which we very much resembled in 
 size and otherwise. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 29 
 
 Friends found in New York solaced the family- 
 somewhat for a short stay ; but we soon embarked in a 
 sloop on the Hudson for Albany; which, though crowd- 
 ed, was a slight improvement on the first stage of our 
 journey. At Albany, father hired the horses and wag- 
 gon of a farmer, whom he met in the market, by the 
 name of Cantield, a Methodist, who proved a good man, 
 (who I surmise, for certain reasons, afterwards became 
 a travelling preacher), to drive us forward, through 
 the long length of the " Empire State," from its Capital 
 to the Niagara Eiver, the dividing line between New 
 York State and Upper Canada. It was a terrible 
 journey to a person in my mother's circumstances. 
 The narrow box of the waggon was crowded with 
 some effects, which mother had brought from her 
 father's affluent home, when she left it first, and had 
 not parted with, but which she clung to with tenacity 
 to the end. The twins and the next two youngest 
 boys rode in the waggon Tom, always a good nurse, 
 must have often ridden, to relieve his mother of the 
 infants. Ever faithful and sympathising Joseph 
 walked on one side of the waggon and William on the 
 other. James, always a favourite of the old gentleman's 
 accompanied his father, who walked on ahead, under 
 pretence of pioneering and preparing the way 
 which largely consisted in testing the liquors at all the 
 dram shops on the road. It is but just, however, to 
 say, that his story-telling and song-singing capabilities 
 constituted the key which unlocked some hearts to- 
 
so MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 ward us. So also his knowledge of Low German 
 which he spoke fluently, having learned it when a 
 youth in Pennsylvania, stood us in good stead. Once 
 the waggon had stopped for the night at a Dutch tavern 
 in the Mohawk Valley ; the babies were very cross and 
 the people looked very glum ; and mother, who had 
 ridden all day in a springless waggon over logs and 
 stones innumerable, was ready to faint with fatigue. 
 A gloomy night seemed in store for her. But when 
 father came in and accosted the people in Dutch, all 
 was changed ; the old Dutch landlady wore a pleasant 
 smile ; one stout Dutch girl took one baby, and another 
 girl took the other ; and mother was ensconsed in the 
 rocking chair, received a good supper, got early into a 
 soft bed, and had one good night's rest. 
 
 We passed through Schenectady, and the incipient 
 villages of Auburn, Cayuga, Canendagua, Onendaga, 
 Batavia, &lc., now more cities than anything else ; but 
 the country as a whole was new, and a great part of it 
 a howling wilderness. Mudholes were countless, and 
 sometimes nearly bottomless ; the family avowed that 
 sometimes all that was visible of the horses were their 
 heads. The greatest difficulties and sufferings were 
 encountered in the Tondawanda Swamp, of far famed 
 length and depth. Mother's memories of its holes and 
 causeways were excruciating. 
 
 The Americans are proverbially inquisitive, and in 
 their then ruder state they were especially so. With 
 patriotic zeal to secure settlers, they were anxious for 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 31 
 
 US to stop in the country, and wished to know "Where 
 we were going ? " Through all the earlier stages of 
 the journey, father answered, " The Holland Purchase." 
 This was true, for we were going there — though much 
 farther. His answer served its purpose until we passed 
 beyond the " Purchase," when something else had to 
 be tried ; what it was I never learned. At length, our 
 almost interminable journey drew towards its close, 
 and our American Cousins learned we were going to 
 Canada to augment the number of King George's sub- 
 jects. We infants were only six weeks old when we 
 reached our journey's end. 
 
 We crossed the rapid Niagara with such facilities as 
 the backward civilization of the day afforded, and 
 spent the first winter in Queenstown. From there we 
 removed to the Ten Mile Creek, living both at the 
 " Lower Ten " and then at the " Upper Ten," consuming 
 in all, I suspect, the best part of two years. Just as 
 we were preparing to leave the place, the greatest 
 possible affliction fell on our hapless family, which I 
 assigr to a section by itself. 
 
No. V. , ' : V . ", 
 
 MY ELDEST BROTHER'S BEAUTIFUL LIFE AND TRAGIC 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 JOSEPH, or simply " Joe," as we called him in the 
 family, was my mother's first-born, given her 
 before she was twenty years of age. Beautiful 
 in mind and body was he in infancy, childhood, and 
 youth. Before others followed and " poverty like an 
 armed man " came on apace, he received more 
 attention as to his dress and education than it was 
 possible to bestow on the rest. He was reported by 
 all who knew him to be sweet in his disposition and 
 pleasing in his manners. His love for his mother was 
 very great, and in the desperate out-post of humanity 
 she was charged to defend, he was a great solace and 
 help to her — her companion during her dreary noc- 
 turnal vigils. About the age of sixteen, an accident he 
 suffered (cutting his foot with an axe) led him to 
 serious reflection, and, his fond mother believed 
 isiued in a thorough religious change, so serious, 
 
MY r.OV LIFE. . 38 
 
 devout, and conscientious did he become. *Tis true 
 neither he nor his mother, up to the time of his death, 
 had joined any Christian Church, nor was the thing 
 practicable to any one of a family so circumstanced 
 and with such a head as ours. But the son and mother 
 held sweet religious communings ; he was an impres- 
 sive reader, and read to her out of the Sacred Volume 
 and such few good books as were attainable to them ; 
 and employed his fine voice in singing such revival 
 melodies as were in circulation among the "Newlight" 
 Baptists of New Brunswick, who were the most 
 demonstrative professors known to them. Mother had 
 been brought up in Qaker sentiments, and she knew 
 very little of the few Methodists who had found their 
 way into our native Province. Our people could 
 pronounce the names of Black, of Mann, of McColl, 
 and a few other itinerant preachers, who made certain 
 " angel visits" through the land, but that was nearly 
 all. Joe amused his friends by humble attempts at 
 verse-making. 
 
 When we arrived in the Niagara country, my 
 precious maternal parent's strength and nervous 
 system were in a pitiful state of prostration. At an 
 untoward time she first heard the Methodists, then 
 very high in their professions, boisterous in their 
 announcements, and denunciatory in their addresses to 
 the unconverted. She used to say their ministry 
 stripped her of her self -righteousness, but did not 
 inspire her with the Gospel hope. It was very inoppor- 
 8 
 
34 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 tune that she heard only those " sons of thunder," she, 
 whose bruised spirit so much required to meet with 
 the ministrations of a Barnabas. She gave up hope of 
 every kind, and sank into a complete state of 
 despondency, indeed of settled religious melancholy. 
 She, who had been so exemplary in the care of her 
 family, now gave up all effort for time or eternity. 
 We infants, suffered from the neglect to such an 
 extent, that I cannot bring myself to repeat her after 
 descriptions of our pitiful condition. She could only 
 sit and weep, and nurse her sorrows. Poor Joe, the 
 only one who understood her case, and tried, though 
 vainly, to comfort her. "Be of good cheer, mammy !" 
 he would say, " the more the ground is ploughed the 
 - deeper the seed will be sown ; you will live to yet 
 minister grace to the hearers " — a prophecy which was 
 fulfilled; but which he himself did not live to see 
 accomplished. 
 
 Perhaps I have somewhere else said in these diffusive 
 sketches that father tramped around the lake to the 
 Capital at York, to locate his thousand-acre grant of 
 land from Governor Simcoe ; but the system in the 
 Land Department was bad ; the state of the public 
 mind was unsettled by coming events ; and a new 
 executive had arisen which " knew not Joseph " 
 Carroll. The authorities advised him to defer the 
 location of his land till matters became more settled 
 (a time which never arrived to him) and that for the 
 present he had better take a cleared farm, and train 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 86 
 
 his eight boys big and little, in agricultural work 
 against the time they went on land of their own. 
 Acting on this advice, father, with his usual extra- 
 ordinary judgment, made choice of the wild region 
 about the Grand River ; and we afterwards lived in 
 two several places on those outskirts of civilization : 
 namely, at Fairchild's Creek and in the Indian Reser- 
 vation itself on the banks of the noble river. 
 
 Every arrangement was made for the journey. A 
 team of horses and a waggon were purchased and our 
 family effects were got together, and preparations were 
 made for a start. In mother's unhappy prostration of 
 mind, nearly all the little arrangements for domestic 
 comfort were made by Brother Joseph. A few days 
 before our sad catastrophe he was said to have fondled 
 his tiny twin brothers upon his lap and expressed his 
 solicitude lest they might not live to be men, such was 
 our delicate appearance. Of some such caresses within 
 the brawny arms of our sainted brother, is all the 
 recollection of , him that lingers from the morning 
 twilight of my existence. 
 
 Alas ! had brother known, he might have wept for 
 his own early fate instead of ours. Nay, mother 
 thought he had some premonition of that coming fate. 
 A few days before his death, the family heard him 
 pour from his melodious throat the hymn commencing : 
 
 "The race appointed I have run, 
 ' ""~ The corabat'.s o'er, the prize is won, ^ ^ ,. - - 
 
 And now my record is on high, 
 And all my treasure's in the sky. 
 
36 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 " I leave the world without a tear, 
 Save for the friends I hold so dear ; 
 Hut ill compassion, Lord, descend, 
 And to the friondli^ss prove a friend." 
 
 If there was any personal application made of the 
 lines, his mother, no doubt was referred to in the latter 
 ones. When he grew up to manhood a fierce spirit of 
 severity and intolerance had sprung up towards him in 
 our father's mind. There were several causes for this: 
 the junior's moral superiority was a standing reproof 
 to the senior ; the latter may have been jealous that 
 the reverence which he himself should have con- 
 strained was transferred to the eldest son and brother; 
 that son loved his mother, and was passionately loved 
 by her in return ; although allowing himself only a 
 fraction of his earnings, he dressed genteelly and was 
 attentive to his person, which somebody else was not* 
 Once when he came in with his hair fashionably cut 
 like other young men, the senior with a ridiculous zeal 
 for Christian plainnoss angrily protiounced it "the 
 mark of the beast," and approached with shears in 
 hand and haggled off, what he called the " cock's 
 comb.'* It was pitiful to see a six-foot young man 
 thus humiliated, and fain to slink away and weep like 
 a child. Often did he say to his mother, " Dear 
 mammy, only for your sake, before I would submit to 
 what I do, I would go as far as the King has a foot of 
 land ! " Poor fellow I he did not say " to the utmost 
 verge of this green earth," he had no idea, with the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 37 
 
 loyalty in his blood, of going anywhere but within the 
 Dominion of the British King. The last winter we 
 spent in our native Province the eldest boys were 
 called to do militia duty, to be ready for threatened 
 emergencies. They learned the manual exercise, and 
 Joseph's activity of mind made him particularly 
 expert. So much so that when he arrived in Canada, 
 he was employed to drill the local militia. His fine 
 personal appearance, pleasing manners, military bear- 
 ing, musical voice, and versifying powers, joined to 
 his pure and innocent social qualties, rendered him a 
 general favourite. And had he thought of matrimony, 
 no young man could have married more advantageously 
 than he. Indeed, a wealthy yeoman pressed his comely 
 daughter upon him, with the promise of a good settle- 
 ment in life. But his answer was " I will never leave 
 home so long as my mother lives." 
 
 But I must hasten to the close. The country was 
 very subject to the ague, and Jossph had been rendered 
 miserable by an attack of it for some weeks ; and was 
 very anxious to get it "broken," as it used to be 
 termed, before the family's intended removal. An 
 old Dutch quack recommended a decoction of prickly 
 ash bark and whisky. The nostrum was prepared and 
 made strong, and Joseph took a glass, and, upon the 
 advice of his mother, he soon after took another, so 
 anxious were they to be rid of the wearisome com- 
 plaint. But the draught seemed too potent, he was 
 seized with spasms. Seeing his deadly pallor, and his 
 
38 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 distorted features, his mother approached him ; but he 
 spent his last lucid moment and his failing power? of 
 speech in striving to comfort and fortify her against 
 her prospective bereavement. Soon he lost all con- 
 sciousness, and struggled out of one convulsion into 
 another for eight and forty hours. Six or eight strong 
 men tried to restrain his throes (no doubt a foolish 
 mode of treatment) till the skin was literally worn 
 from his body. During this time the house was a 
 scene of confusion and passionate lamentation. All 
 felt relief, therefore, when his great vitality was 
 exhausted, and his spirit passed away, relieving him 
 from his bodily pain. When the shocking strife was 
 over, his features returned to their placid expression. 
 There he lay, a well proportioned young man of 
 twenty-two, whose coffin measured six feet three inches. 
 Profuse were the tears shed upjon the extinguishing 
 of this light of our household ; and we never ceased to 
 talk of our brother, or forgot to weep for him. His 
 memory was an influence for good in the family. 
 
 He was laid in his grave among strangers, no 
 stone telling where he lay. After the stupefaction 
 which this stunning blow produced had somewhat 
 passed off, we picked up our traps, and drove away up 
 through the townships of Gratham, Clinton, Grimsby, 
 Saltfleet, Barton, and Ancasfcer ; on through the Grand 
 River swamp, (in which they encountered great 
 obstacles and hardships, aggravated by the passionate 
 tyranny of one who should have soothed and sustained 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 39 
 
 us all.) Alas ! alas ! alas ! for depraved human nature, 
 aggravated and demonized by drink ! But the goal was 
 reached at last. My child memories, and traditions of 
 our experiences there will be detailed in the next 
 section. 
 
No. VI. 
 
 OUR INDIAN NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 I? HAVE a good memory for things that I have seen 
 I and heard. I don't think I ever met a person 
 who could remember so many things from so early a 
 period of his life ac I can. I remember a great many 
 things, here and there, since I stood at my mother's knee 
 along with my little twin brother, and was fed with 
 a spoon, when we could not have been more than two 
 years' old. From the age of two to three years and a 
 half our family lived on a large Indian farm on the 
 banks of a noble river of Canada — the " Grand River " 
 — with more Indians than white people for neighbours. 
 To begin with, I will tell some of the little incidents 
 I remember of that period, which was immediately 
 before the war of 1812, which may interest my readers, 
 and will be the best introduction to what I will tell in 
 the next section. 
 
 I remember having had the ** dumb ague " very 
 badly for a long time. I must have become very 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 41 
 
 much attenuated — that is, very poor and thin. My 
 arms are disproportionately long and slender at any 
 time, but one day during that time I stripped down 
 the sleeve of my slip, loose at all times, and held out 
 my right arm, not thicker than a walking-stick, and 
 cried out boastingly, " See what long arms I've got." 
 A burst of laughter from the family revealed my 
 simplicity in sporting my deformity. I remember, 
 furthermore, how plenty the red plums were on the 
 flats of the river, large baskets of which were brought 
 in by the bigger boys and set on the floor, of which we 
 little ones ate without stint. From that time the ague 
 left me, and I got as fat as it was my nature ever to 
 be. Perhaps the knowing ones would say that, in the 
 absence of quinine, there was something in the bitter 
 rinds of the plums of an antif ebril tendency. Probably 
 the bitter of the rind broke the fever, and the sweet 
 pulp under the rind put the flesh on my bones. 
 
 Not far from the door there was a calf pasture, or 
 pen, with a high fence around it, in which a calf was 
 turned loose. We little ones loved to look through 
 the fence and admire the bossy, and pat his meek little 
 nose and head through the rails. But one morning we 
 awoke to see a very sad sight; bossy lay stretched on 
 the grass, with a great hole in his throat. The family 
 had been awakened by a great bellowing from the old 
 red cow, whose looks are stamped on my memory ever 
 since. The wolves were devouring her darling ; but 
 she could not surmount the fence, or else I guess she 
 
42 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 would have given some of them a hoist with her horns. 
 No one went to the rescue in time to save poor bossy 
 from the ruthless destroyers. Many a tear we shed 
 for our meek little pet, and much sorrow was felt and 
 expressed for poor OLl Red, which fed us with her 
 milk, for the loss of her baby. 
 
 I remember the woods were full of pigs living on 
 grass, acorns, wild plums, and whatever they could 
 steal. They would be considered very unusual in 
 appearance now ; they were streaked from head to 
 tail, somewhat like a chipmunk. One of them, a blue 
 pig with dark stripes, I claimed as my own. Since I 
 became older, I have learned that the colour and marks 
 I have mentioned give place to more thorough domes- 
 tication, they being the colour of the wild hog. I 
 cannot remembor what became of my pig. 
 
 The flats of the river, on the farther side, constituted 
 a natural meadow, where the cattle were pastured. I 
 remember seeing the oxen, when loosed from the yoke, 
 driven into the river, followed by some one in a canoe, 
 and swimming across to join the herd in the glades 
 beyond the river. It was a picturesque sight. 
 
 Very near our house, at one part of the time, was 
 the residence of a dignified Mohawk Chief, Thomas 
 Davis. He and his wife were large people ; and 
 though Mrs. Davis had a copper-coloured skin, she had 
 a kind, motherly heart, allowing us to take the eggs 
 the hens laid in a box in the porch, and furnishing us 
 liberally with maple sugar whenever we went to see 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 43 
 
 her ; the Indian name of which I learned and still 
 remember — ChAch-ha-tah. I may here say, that we 
 used to play with the little Indian children, in their 
 only garment of a printed calico shirt, and sometimes 
 without even that, and learned to talk with them as 
 readily in their language as we could in our own. 
 
 The old chief had a son, a growing youth, from 
 fifteen to twenty, named Joseph. We all liked Joe very 
 much, and he was a favourite companion of my three 
 eldest brothers. He thought he could talk English 
 very well, but he spoke it with the Indian idiom and 
 accent — that is, what you might call " wrong end 
 first." One day, one of the boys away from the house 
 wanted to remind his next younger brother that the 
 horses required to be watered; and he sent a message 
 to him to that effect bv Joe Davis, which he delivered 
 thus : "Tom, drink de horses, Beel says !" 
 
 Sometimes our Indian experiences were not so good 
 a joke. After war was proclaimed, the country became 
 very much disturbed. There were a great many 
 American people, disaffected to the Government, 
 squatting here and there on the Indian Reservation, 
 who hated my father, an old Loyalist soldier of 
 the Revolution, and very demonstrative in his 
 loyalty to the British Crown. They threw down his 
 fences and turned in the cattle by night ; and I have 
 heard father and mother say, that of a hundred acres 
 of wheat sown, they never reaped a handful. Perhaps 
 those Yankees stirred up the Indians, too, to be unkin4 
 
44 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 to father. I was going to tell of two ugly scares that 
 we children received at that time. A young Indian 
 man, perhaps a little intoxicated, came to the door of 
 our house, which stood open, dressed in a blanket coat, 
 with cap, or capote, of the same, forming part of the 
 garment, furnished with projections like horns, dancing 
 and brandishing a knife, which he stabbed or stuck 
 into the door. You will not be surprised that I 
 screamed and fled to the other side of my mother's 
 chair for protection. What she could have done for 
 us, poor woman, I know not, for she she was unarmed 
 and alone ; but to soothe us, and show her contempt 
 of him, she evinced no signs of fear, whatever she may 
 have felt ; and after a time the foolish fellow went 
 away. At the other time I refer to, mother was away 
 at a neighbour's, some miles distant, and, as it turned 
 out, lost her way coming back. The two eldest boys 
 and father were a long distance from home ; a brother 
 about ten years' old was living with a neighbour; and 
 the only one of any size — Tom, about fifteen, but very 
 strong, and with the heart of a lion — being tenderly 
 attached to his mother, became alarmed at her remain- 
 ing quite into the gloaming, and went to seek her. 
 This left the three youngest of us by ourselves. Nat. 
 was eight years old, and we twins were scarcely more 
 than three. The sticks of which the chimney was 
 made took fire, and we became very much alarmed. 
 Two Indians passed, to whom we made known our 
 troubles, but they only laughed. We twins could only 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 45 
 
 do what the little girl did, described by Dr. Newton, 
 when a little brother fell into a stream and was nearly 
 drowned, although he was eventually rescued and 
 brought home. The father asked one of three boys, 
 " What did you do towards saving your little brother ? " 
 " I plunged into the stream after him and brought him 
 to the bank ! " Turning to the other boy, he said, 
 " What did you do ? " "I carried him home on my 
 back, sir!" And accosting the little girl he said, 
 " Sissy, what did you do ? " " Why, pa, I bf gan to 
 cry, and I cried as hard as I could all the time." Said 
 the doctor, " Perhaps her crying did as much towards 
 the rescue as the efforts of her brothers ; it stimulated 
 them to exert themselves to the utmost." So our cries 
 stimulated Brother Nat. He was not big and strong 
 enough to fetch a pail of water from the spring on the 
 other side of the stile, but he went all the of tener with 
 the tin cup. But alas ! he had a bootless task. By 
 throwing the water on the burning spot, he contrived 
 to keep the flame from spreading for a time ; but it 
 did spread, and at length he became weary and dis- 
 couraged, and gave up. His next idea was to save his 
 mother's bed, and a chest with valuables in it, which 
 he intended to drag out of the house. Just at that 
 point deliverance came. Tom had found his mother, 
 and they were returning. When they came near 
 enough to hear our cries, he ran, and coming in and 
 seeing us covered with sweat, and tears, and soot, and 
 seeing the chimney on fire, caught a pail, ran to the 
 
46 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 spring, and returned with the pail running over — he 
 mounted the ladder to the loft, where he could dash 
 the water on the burning spot, which so effectually 
 checked the flames that the tire was soon extinguished. 
 This was a fad, but still useful occurrence ; for it 
 roused mother, who had been so sunk in religious 
 melancholy that she scarcely took any interest in her 
 family for several years. Our sufferings in the open 
 log-house, without a stove, which few possessed in 
 those days, had been very severe. Once I froze a 
 finger so badly which had been sticking out of bed at 
 night, that the nail came off', and the form of the new 
 one has been noticeable ever since. I could show it to 
 you now. 
 
 I have spoken about hens, and pigs, and cow, and 
 calf, and oxen ; I must say a word or two about our 
 two horses. In those days the land was mostly tilled 
 by oxen, but we had a span of horses for longer 
 journeys. They were what might be called " little big 
 horses ; " the favourite was almost a pony, but strong. 
 Their names were Jack and Pomp. Jack was as black 
 as jet; Pomp, or " Pompey," as we usually called him 
 out of fondness, was of a peculiar colour — I never saw 
 exactly the like of him in all my long life. Pompey 
 was a delicate mouse-colour, diversified by copper- 
 coloured spots over all parts of his body, nearly the 
 size of a copper, and quite as round. As his head, 
 neck, ears, mane, body, legs, and tail were beautifully 
 formed, he was very handsome. No wonder we all 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 47 
 
 caressed and petted him very much. He was so gentle, 
 they often hitched him to the back-log intended for 
 the fire, and drew it into the house, he coming in at 
 one door, and passing out at the opposite. After intro- 
 ducing you to Pompey, I will close this section. He 
 will appear again. I have concluded to add to what 
 was originally a " story " in a child's paper, an inci- 
 dent illustrative of the savagery in which we lived, 
 which happened to my brother James, prepared for a 
 more elaborate autobiography, which will not now, it 
 is likely, see the light. Brother Jim was the eldest son 
 living, now that dear Joseph had gone. He was a 
 young man only about twenty-one, but very muscular 
 and strong, though embarrassed by defective vision, 
 which ended five or six years after in total blindness. 
 He could yet see to work, and even to read and write 
 — though the last two became impossible before the 
 war was over, by the measles caught, while doing 
 militia duty on the lineS; before any of the rest of the 
 family became identified with the army, from the disease 
 settling in his eyes ; but what I have promised to 
 relate belonged to a period somewhat earlier. War 
 was declared, and a government proclamation required 
 all the Indian warriors to make their appearance at 
 Squire Hatt's, near Burlington Bay, within, I think, 
 " three days." Some whites and some Indians were 
 talking over the requirement at some place of meeting, 
 my brother James and a great strapping Mohawk 
 among the rest. Powless did not see how he could go 
 
48 MY HOY LIFE. 
 
 — he " had no moccasins." James, who was intimate 
 with him, said playfully, " Powless, I guess you're 
 afraid !" Perhaps this was too true ; for Powless took 
 it in dudgeon, and said angrily, " You go get your gun 
 and see if me afraid ! " Brother lauglied it oft', and 
 thought no more of it ; but the next morning, havinoj 
 occasion to pass the Indian's house, Powless opened 
 the door and called him in ; and when he had got him 
 within the wai- ^ ^"^r^n to upbraid him for making 
 the charge of cowaraice, c nd commenced to stamp, 
 and rage like a madman. Presently he sprang for his 
 knife, which was run in a crack of the wall ; James 
 sprang towards him, and clapping his hand on the 
 Indian's, just as it grasped the handle, the blade broke 
 off in the log. Foiled in that, he sprang for his axe, 
 in a corner of the room, and grasped the helve ; but 
 Jim was as quick as he, and stronger besides ; he 
 seized him by the shoulders — flung him on the floor — 
 wrested the axe from his grasp, and threw it away. 
 But as Mrs. Powless had fled so soon as the scuffle 
 began. Brother did not know but she might soon have 
 a pack of Indians on his back, and thought it prudent 
 to make his escape. The next time they met, Powless, 
 was unusually deferential. Nothing answers so well 
 with an Indian as a thorough subjugation. 
 
No. VII. 
 
 CHILD MEMORIES OF THE ALARMS AND HARDSHIPS 
 
 OF WAR. 
 
 I HAVE already given some recollections of events 
 which affected my childish imagination and feel- 
 ings, that must have taken place in the early 
 part of the War of 1812-15, while our family was 
 still living far from the " lines," as they were called. 
 I heard at the time, and often afterwards, that father 
 became disgusted with the lawlessness and insecurity 
 which prevailed almost everywhere in the country, and 
 especially among the savage and half -civilized peoples 
 of our vicinity, and thought that he and his family 
 would suffer less annoyance even where the danger 
 might be supposed to be greater : rightly judgii-g that 
 martial law was better than no law at all. The result 
 was, that in one of his visits to the frontier he had an 
 interview with the military authorities ; and owing to 
 his demonstrative loyalty and his old-time memories 
 of, and proclivities for, military life (for he belonged to 
 4 
 
50 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 the artillery through the "Revolutionary War"), he was 
 induced to join the army again as a volunteer (he was 
 too old for legal enlistment), and to enlist two of his 
 sons, who, though men for strength, were yet minors. 
 The department to which they all became attached 
 was what has been sometimes called the " Flying 
 Artillery," or Royal Artillery Drivers, i.e., those 
 who handled the moveable guns upon gun-carriages. 
 My father was a skilled saddler, harness, and collar- 
 maker, and he was put in charge cf all the harness, 
 etc., with the title of " Master Collar-maker ;" his sons 
 were enlisted as drivers and harness-makers : they 
 learned the drill, and upon occasion rode the gun- 
 horses and even served in action, but in the long 
 run were mostly required in the regimental shops. 
 William held the rank of ** Collar-maker," about 
 equivalent to that of sergeant. 
 
 As soon as the roads were sufficiently dry to travel, 
 in the spring of 1813, our indispensables were packed 
 into the double horse waggon, and mother and the 
 children, incapable of walking, were placed in it also ; 
 and our faithful Pomp and Jack were the force which 
 dragged us along. We must have taken our weary 
 way from the Grand River (above where Brantford 
 now flourishes), through the Indian Reservation till we 
 reached the townships, passing through the sloughs of 
 the " Grand River Swamp," till we sighted Burlington 
 Bay, where Hamilton now spreads its ample breadth, 
 at which point we must have descended the mountain. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 51 
 
 passing along under its shadow, and crossing " Stoney 
 Creek," the "Fifty Mile Creek," the "Forty," the 
 "Thirty," the "Twenty" (now called Jordan), the 
 " Sixteen," the " Twelve," the " Ten," the " Four Mile 
 Creek," and last of all the " Two Mile Creek," shortly 
 beyond which we found ourselves in the old town of 
 Niagara, at the military headquarters. 
 
 I have told my readers of my remembrance of many 
 things which happened before that journey ; but I 
 must confess that of the journey itself I remember 
 little or nothing, except the black coat of sturdy Jack, 
 and the pretty spots of our soon-to-be-lamented 
 Pompey. The causes of forgetfulness were, perhaps, 
 my mind was not yet enough expanded to know what 
 it was all about ; and I rather guess that a good part 
 of the journey was in the night, and that I and my 
 twin brother must have slept a good deal of the way. 
 Happily that refreshment comes to children at least. 
 
 But my attention was destined soon to be awakened 
 and my consecutive or continuous memory was to 
 commence its register of all passing events, thus con- 
 necting my childhood with my old age in a conscious 
 identity throughout. The event which caused the 
 awakening referred to was the Battle of Niagara, 
 which happened May 27th, 1813, when I lacked two 
 months of being four years old. 
 
 We had been in the town about a fortnight ; our 
 team of horses were grazing on the commons ; and the 
 mother and the youngest children had found a tem- 
 porary home, or shelter, with a former acquaintance. 
 
52 . MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 One morning my mind was attracted by a great 
 bustle. The militiamen, with their muskets in hand, 
 but in coloured clothes, were pouring into the house — 
 each to receive a badge of white cotton, or linen (in 
 those days it was mostly the latter, cotton not yet 
 having come into such general use as now), which was 
 tied around an arm by the women, many of whom 
 were in tears. You will say, What was this for ? 
 Why, we were on the eve of the famous battle of 
 Niagara. Our relatives, the Americans, were prepar- 
 ing to cross, or were in the act of crossing, the river. 
 Unhappily, both sides employed Indians, and Indian 
 warfare consists largel}?" in massacre ; and the Indians 
 would naturally think that all persons foiuid in arms, 
 not dressed in red, were " Yankees," who wore dark 
 uniforms. Therefore, our militiamen, whose clothes 
 were mostly dark, were fain to have some badge to 
 distinguish them from the enemy, lest an Indian's rifle, 
 or fusee, should be levelled at them, with the certainty 
 of being tomahawked and scalped when down. 
 
 Father and our boys were as bad ofi* as the civilians, 
 for they had too lately arrived to be, at least, " fitted " 
 with their uniforms. What my father and eldest 
 brother, who were in the action, did, I cannot exactly 
 say ; but I remember father's coming bustling in with 
 a drummer's coat for Tom, to demonstrate by its scarlet 
 and lace that he was British. 
 
 The next thing I noticed was ranks of red-coated 
 soldiers drawn up in lines near the house, performing 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 53 
 
 various movements ; and anon I missed them. Then 
 began sounds of bang, bang ; pop, pop, pop. Mother 
 said " the balls Hew like handt'uls of peas." Presently 
 a crashing sound went through the house ; it was 
 a cannon-ball which passed through both walls of 
 the room we were in, over our heads. Mother, who 
 had been several years in a state of religions mela.i- 
 choly, so that she had largely omitted her old-time 
 care for her family; now, to use her own words, 
 " ceased cariiio: for her soul, and commenced carin^x for 
 her children." The war cured my mother. Her first 
 measure was to take us out of the house, where she 
 thought we were more exposed, because of splinters, 
 than we would be in the open. She spread a blanket 
 on the ground, to obviate the dampness, under a fence, 
 with the road in front and a wheat field, green and 
 bright, behind us, on which we all sat down. Just as 
 we had begun to congratulate ourselves on our safety, 
 a cannon-ball struck in the field behind us, ploughing 
 up the ground, as they always do ; next, another ball 
 struck in the road before us, and covered us with dirt. 
 I thought it all " very funny," but had not sense 
 enough to be frightened, and cannot say whether the 
 older children were or not. But I know that mother 
 thought it " time to flit." We went back to the house, 
 tied up a feather-bed and some bedding in a sheet, 
 or blanket, and a brother ten years old staggered 
 away w^ith it on his back, we all taking the road 
 towards the " Ten Mile Creek " on foot. It was a great 
 
54 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 -T 
 
 providence we escaped with our lives ; for I remember 
 that the cannon-balls struck the stumps before and 
 behind us (mother said), even when we were a mile 
 out of town. We little witless things had no sense of 
 danger, for we cotdd scarcely be restrained from look- 
 ing after the balls, thinking it a kind of ball-playing 
 on a large scale ! We trudged or toddled on a distance 
 of four miles before we stopped. Fortunately, we got 
 into good quarters considering the times. Our horses 
 fell into the enemy's hands, and the house we left was 
 burned and all our household efiects were consumed. 
 
 An old farmer by the name of George Lawrence, 
 near the Four Mile Creek, took us in. He was a 
 Methodist class-leader, the brother of John Lawrence, 
 one of the first New York Methodists, and sometimes 
 even then met his little class in the house. Mrs. Law- 
 rence had a good voice, and used to sing the old- 
 fashioned spiritual songs which suited the martial ideas 
 of the time, representing the members of God's church 
 as an army, ending with the lines — 
 
 " We'll then niarch up the heavenly street, 
 And ground our arms at Jesus' feet." 
 
 At first (till a part of the British forces, which had 
 after their defeat retreated to Beaver Dam, returned 
 and threw up defensive works on the north-west bank 
 of the " Creek," about a quarter of a mile from xvlr. 
 Lawrence's house), we were at the mercy of the forag- 
 ing parties from the American camp in the town. It 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 55 
 
 is but just to say, however, they paid for whatever 
 they got, which is more than the old people could say 
 of the British soldiers when they came, who stole 
 everything they could lay their hands upon. Even 
 the dear old man went unpaid for the boarding of the 
 officers' mess, which was entertained in the house ; and 
 was so abused at one time because the victuals were not 
 better, that he sat down and wept to think his devoted 
 loyalty should receive such a cruel recompense. Before 
 the return of the British, our position was mado a little 
 lively by the appearance from time to time of Ameri- 
 can officers. One day, who should make his appearance 
 but our old favourite, Pompey, bestrode by an American 
 cavalry officer, well groomed and richly caparisoned ; 
 it was enough to make us sorrow deeply to see him 
 wrested from us, and in the enemy's hands. We could 
 hardly have felt worse if it had been one of our 
 brothers we saw in captivity. 
 
 The summer passed very pleasantly at Mr. Law- 
 rence's. It was a sort of house of refuge for a number 
 of many different sorts of people. As there was a guard 
 of thirty strong posted at the house, with sentries out 
 upon all the roads or avenues, and as there was an 
 officers' mess the members of which came there for 
 their meals, it was no doubt thought to be a safe 
 retreat for the otherwise defenceless refugees. There 
 was old Mr. and Mrs. Stivers, Dutch people, whose two 
 sons, Hans and Hinery, were doing duty in the " Pro- 
 vincial Dragoons," and riding express to various parts 
 
o6 MY BOY Lli'El. 
 
 of the country, and a Mrs. Cassady, who came there 
 to nurse a sick daughter, who performed, as we shall 
 see, two very heroic acts, the last day of our stay in 
 that place. I might tell of a good many queer things 
 which happened while we were there ; but I will only 
 speak of the things which impressed my childish 
 mind, and the relation of which would be likely to 
 interest children.* 
 
 The garden had its plants and flowers, and contri- 
 
 * So I had concluded when this section appeared in the form of a 
 "story' for Pleasant Hours; but I will, in this form, relate 
 one incident on which I often heard my mother dwell with glee : — 
 Some person in the house had lost ten dollars (in two five dollar bills, 
 I think), and search was made for it in vain ; and every person dis- 
 claimed all knowledge of the money. But a hired girl, out of a low 
 family, one Maria Gesso, because of her antecedents, was suspected, 
 but denied the perpetration of the theft. Mother devised a plan of 
 detecting her, or frightening her to return the money. One day she 
 she said, in the cook-house without, to young Mr. Peter Lawrence, 
 purposely, when Maria was within hearing, "Peter, I have a plan for 
 finding out the money-thief" "How is that, Mrs. Carroll?'' 
 " I will go to-night to the barn and fetch in one of the young roosters, 
 and put it under a tub ; and, every person in the house shall put his 
 hand under the tub and stroke the chicken's back ; and when the 
 person who stole the money touches him, he will crow. Her intention 
 was to daub the back of the fowl with something which would adhere 
 to the hand. She knew that the guilty person would fear to touch 
 him ; and when palms were scrutinized, when the course of stroking 
 was gone through with, the person with a clean hand would be charged 
 with the theft, and if necessary searched. But the necessity for this 
 ** hocus-pocus" work was rendered unnecessary by the money being left 
 on one of the beds in plain open sight, where the guilty person knew 
 it would be found. It was found, and restored to its owner. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 67 
 
 buted its share to our enjoyment. To watch the sheep 
 was very pleasant, and to see them penned up every 
 night in a high " bay " in the barn for safety, seemed 
 curious. It afforded us pleasure to wander in the 
 fields to play and look for flowers. One day, however, 
 we twins got considerable of a fright. We were 
 always taught to keep a safe distance from a bull, and 
 we knew his bellow ; while at some distance from the 
 house we heard what we thouofht that animal s droning 
 bellow — boo-o, boo-o — and we broke and ran for the 
 house, upon returning to which we found the noise 
 proceeded from one of the upper rooms, where a hired 
 girl was driving a large spinning-wheel, only ! That 
 was the bull. 
 
 The soldiers of the guard seemed to extract a great 
 deal of amusement out of us little ones, by doing what 
 was not uninteresting to us — such as dressing us in 
 soldier's array, putting a " forage cap " on our heads, 
 furnishing us with a stick for a gun, and lading us 
 with a knapsack. Once when thus harnessed up, I 
 fell over backwards with the weight, and could not 
 extricate myself till some one came to my relief. But 
 all this was trifling compared with what happened on 
 the last day of our stay, and those that followed 
 thereupon. 
 
 Children tired with play, usually fall asleep early in 
 the evening ; and " early to bed " makes them often 
 " early to rise." On a certain beautiful summer or 
 autumn morning, at an early hour, not too early for 
 
58 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 the sun to be up, I and my little mate were up and 
 out ; and though we had not yet breakfasted, each had 
 provided him with a rod of elder, easily broken from 
 the bushes, which we straddled, and our imaginations 
 invested it with the attributes of a horse, and we were 
 galloping up and down the road in front of the house, 
 in imitation of Hans and Hinery Stivers, who had just 
 cantered by, to execute some military command. The 
 people of the house were rather about the door and 
 yard than within doors. The table, with its white 
 cloth, was laid for the officers' mess, but they came 
 not ; yes. Lieutenant McLeod, the captain of the guard, 
 was there, and urged to take his breakfast, but he ate 
 not; he looked very pale, and his hand trembled so badly 
 that the cup of tea one of the women had handed him 
 spilt its contents over his sword, which, in its sheath 
 lay across his knees. He was a coward, and his fears 
 were awakened by what was occurring without. What 
 it was all about we little ones did not comprehend at 
 that time, but we soon were brought to understand 
 better — only I remarked that all the grown people 
 looked anxious, and no one touched the breakfast. 
 Our mother suddenly called us in from our sport ; and 
 not expecting that it was, as far as that place was con- 
 cerned, destined to end forever, we carefully stabled our 
 imaginary horses in a corner of the garden. The grown 
 people heard, what we took no notice of, sharp but ir- 
 regular shots of musketry here and there. Presently a 
 little Irish soldier, who had been posted somewhere in 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 59 
 
 the orchard, cairie running, scrambled up the steps, and 
 attempted to enter the door, exclaiming, "Lord Jaysus ! 
 Where will a fellow hide ? " To which Mrs. Cassady, 
 the heroine of the hour, replied by pushing him heels 
 over head down the steps, responding that he should 
 " Go fight like a man ! " Paddy turned on his heel, 
 and scampered away to seek some other hiding-place. 
 Poor old Mrs. Stivers the while walked the house and 
 wrung her hands, uttering the piteous lament, " Och, 
 mine poor Hans ! och, mine poor Hinery ! " In the 
 meantime it was said that American Indians appeared 
 in the road south of us, and the guard turned out and 
 prepared for action. But the officer, not so minded, 
 swore that he would " cut the first man's head off who 
 fired a shot;" and then formed his guard and started 
 in double-quick time for the cantoniiicnt on the banks 
 of the Four Mile Creek. Thus this valorous lieutenant 
 and his thirty armed soldiers left an old man and a 
 house full of women and children to the tender mercies 
 of what proved to be only ten Indians ! 
 
 Presently the dreaded Indians appeared, not in a 
 body, but Indian-like, in ones and twos and threes, 
 stealthily surrounding the premises, some skulking 
 behind this corner, and others behind that. Those 
 that showed themselves seemed strapping, stalwart 
 men, with painted faces, clad only in the indispensable 
 waist-cloth and in gaudy-coloured printed calico shirts. 
 Quarrels were frequent through the war between our 
 own Indians and soldiers, and the gravest heads in our 
 
60 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 company for a time, such as my own mother, Mr. 
 Lawrence, and Mr. Smith, a corporal of a Provincial 
 corps, who had just come in from visiting the sentries 
 concluded it was an emeute between British Indians 
 and soldiers. The confab w^as in this state when some 
 of the Indians appeared before the front gate, upon 
 which the good man of the house went out, and ottered 
 one of them his hand, and it was accepted; but 
 another savage came up with a scowl on his face, and 
 seized Mr. Lawrence by his neck-cloth and made him 
 his prisoner. Seeing this. Corporal Smith, whose gun 
 did not chance to be loaded, put his hand behind him, 
 and was in the act of taking out a cartridofe from his 
 cartouche-box, when an Indian, who was skulking 
 among the weeds of the garden, levelled his fusee and 
 shot our would-be defender through the hand and the 
 cartouche-box into the small of his back, where the 
 ball remained. He would have fallen, but he caught 
 by the garden gate, and by the aid of his musket con- 
 trived to help himself up the steps, which were high, 
 and into the house, whither the Indians rushed after 
 him. To ease his pain, he lay down on his back in the 
 middle of the floor. 
 
 With the curiosity of a child, I watched it all. Two 
 Indians advanced towards him, and one stood over his 
 head with an uplifted tomahawk, while another stood 
 at his feet and presented his loaded fusee towards his 
 breast, as though they would despatch him at once. 
 At which the courageous Mrs. Cassady rushed forward 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 61 
 
 and with her unlifted arm knocked the tomahawk one 
 way and the fusee anotlier, exclaiming, " Don't murder 
 the man in the house." Her courageous bearing awed 
 the Indians ; and at her direction they assisted her in 
 taking off his accoutrements, and after a little while 
 he was led away ^. prisoner ; and we afterwards learned 
 that death put an end to his sufferings, three days after 
 receiving the wound. 
 
 When the search began by the Indians through the 
 house, mother thrust us four little ones into a pot-hole 
 under the stairs, and stood with her back to the door 
 and her face confronting the Indians, like a bear at 
 bay against the hunters defending her cubt^. Still 
 cherishing the idea that they were British Indians after 
 all, as one of them passed she patted him on the shoulder, 
 and asked him if he were not "a friend to King 
 George." She was the object of an ugly frown, but 
 received no material injury. Our assailants passed 
 through the house, upstairs and down, but, strange, 
 to say, took no booty of any kind. The whole atiair 
 was so singular throughout as to lead to various con- 
 jectures as to who they were and what their particular 
 object. Some doubted their being Indians at all, but 
 thought them disaffected white men in the country 
 around, only disguised as Indians, and that their object 
 was to surprise and capture or kill the members of the 
 officers' mess. 
 
 The surprise and sorrow of that day was increased 
 by a son of the family, George Lawrence, jun., who had 
 
62 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 been out on duty with the militia company to which 
 he belonged, being brought in with a buckshot wound 
 in the thigh, which he had received in the skirmish 
 which was general between the advanced pickets of 
 both armies — the American, which lay in the town of 
 Niagara, and the British, posted at the Cross Roads. 
 I think there did not prove to be any reason for it, 
 but the Lawrences resolved to retire further into the 
 interior ; and a waggon was got ready, furnished with 
 a feather bed, upon which the wounded militiaman 
 was placed, and they moved off, to be further away 
 from the scene of conflict. And mother thought she 
 must needs go also. She had no one to lean upon 
 for guidance or support ; father had been taken 
 prisoner at the battle of Niagara. He had, it is true, 
 been discharged on his parole of honour, and we had 
 seen him once through the summer. But as he had 
 taken service after his parole, it would have been death 
 for him to fall into the enemy's hands ; on which 
 account he attended only to such duty in his depart- 
 ment as lay farthest from the lines. The British 
 army was preparing to vacate the camp at the Creek 
 and to retreat. Mother with her children prepared to 
 follow in its wake. We had eaten no breakfast, but 
 each child had a large " sea biscuit " in his hands. 
 When we arrived at the fort we met our brother Bill, 
 just mounting his military horse to come and see what 
 had become of his mother. He, too, had been on short 
 allowance, and when we met him we were so glad to 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 63 
 
 see him that, with the generosity and improvidence of 
 childhood, we forced our biscuits upon him, and, as the 
 result, never broke our own fast for twenty-four hours. 
 What with our smallness, and feebleness, and the 
 bundles we had to carry, it took us till the sun went 
 down to toddle over the causeway and mud through 
 the six miles of the dreary " Black Swamp Road," 
 mostly skirted with woods. We found the road 
 strewed with military articles shaken off the waggons 
 in the flight from the approaching enemy. Some 
 articles were picked up by the oldest boy, and preserved 
 as souvenirs as long as the family held together, but 
 alas ! we found no food. Towards evening our fright- 
 ened British Indians began to steal back to their camps, 
 very anxiously inquiring of us if we had "seen any 
 Yankees ? " One of these poor fellows lay in the 
 road, very sick with the " shaking ague." The violence 
 of his headache led him to ask our mother for a 
 " string," in default of a handkerchief, to tie around 
 his head. Alas ! she had none to give. The two older 
 boys had a hard time of it, having had to carry us 
 two little ones on their backs from time to time, my 
 little twin brother pleading most piteously, the while, 
 to be allowed to " lie down and die." But they tugged 
 him through, and about sunset we arrived at Brown's 
 Tavern, at the " Upper Ten Mile Creek," and got a 
 supper of weak tea, bread, and skim-milk cheese, for 
 which mother paid five dollars — a dollar for each one. 
 Sleep that night was refreshing to us, weary and foot- 
 sore as we were. 
 
64 MY HOY LTFK. 
 
 1 had better not spin out my story in dwellin^f on 
 any details excepting those which illustrate the topics 
 on which the title of the present section pledge nie to 
 write. It is sufficient, then, to say that the mother 
 and children found shelter in a small log-house, with a 
 roof of bark, occupied by a woman who also had 
 several children, to whom there was another added" 
 while we were there. During her sickness we had to 
 make a tire out in the neighbouring grove, and stop 
 there. I think, however, we did not fare very ill : 
 there was a large orchard near, fruit was pretty well 
 matured, and in war time all things were common, so 
 that we treated ourselves to roast apples, not wholly 
 without other accompaniments. Once we disturbed a 
 nest of reptiles coiled together, preparing, perhaps, to 
 hybernate for the winter, which gave us a great fright ; 
 but as snake stories are not very agreeable, I dwell 
 upon it no further. When it began to be cooler, we 
 removed two miles further westward, and stopped for 
 a time at the " Twelve Mile Creek," near where St. 
 Catharines now flourishes. But I do not remember 
 much of our residence there. There could have been 
 nothing very stirring, or I should have been likely to 
 have remembered it. 
 
 In the fall it began to be unsafe, or at least it was 
 thought so, to remain so near the frontier. It was 
 after Proctor's defeat, and the British army was con- 
 centrated (intrenched) at Burlington Heights, at the 
 head of the bay on the margin of which the City of 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 65 
 
 Hamilton now spreads itself abroad, and thither it was 
 thouc^ht necessary for us to go. But how should we 
 get there ? All the horse teams were impressed to 
 convey military or Government stores. Mother, how- 
 ever, now thoroughly cured of her religious despond- 
 ency, was pretty energetic. She found a man who 
 owned a yoke of oxen and cart, with whom she bar- 
 gained to convey us the thirty miles, more or less, to 
 the " Heights," for the sum of $20. We were piled in, 
 and off we started. The jolting in that springless 
 vehicle over the rough roads of that day did not, how- 
 ever, so shake up my ideas as to enable me to remem- 
 ber much about it. 
 
 We had an acquaintance at the Bay, wbo had often 
 shared our hospitality, a Mr. Nathaniel Hughson, 
 whose name is commemorated in that of one of the 
 streets of the " Ambitious City." His place was sought 
 for and found, and they did not repel us ; but what 
 could they do ? His house was not very large, consider- 
 ing his family, at the best; and he had the meat 
 contract for the army, which required a great many 
 assistants and made a great deal of " clutter " — besides 
 which, the house was crowded with soldiers and 
 teamsters. Mother was fain to make a " shake down" 
 on the floor, fencing its boundaries with such impedi- 
 ments as came to hand, into which we five turned for 
 the night, and slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 Our next move was to the house, or place of a 
 worthy German family, by the name of Smuck, or 
 5 
 
66 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 "Smoke," as they were called, near the Binkleys, 
 about half way between two distinguished r/laces, 
 which were then in the womb of the future — Hamilton 
 and Dundas — we used to hear of a village of some 
 celebrity then, some miles away, Ancaster by name, 
 but I never saw it till forty years after. Our good 
 entertainers were new settlers and had enough to do for 
 themselves. There was a one-roomed old log-house, 
 with an open fire-place, with loose boards ior flooring. 
 Then there was a newer part, an addition to the old 
 house, also of logs, unfinished. Half of the place was 
 floored, and half unfloored ; but the chinking had not 
 been put in between the logs, and there was no 
 chimney, and there could be no fire, although the 
 weather now began to be quite frosty. Although 
 there was a sick officer in bed in the old part, we some- 
 times stole in to warm ourselves at the fire. This made 
 the floor boards always to rattle, which greatly dis- 
 turbed the weak nerves of the sick officer, made more 
 irritable than his wont by the ague. One day he bid 
 his " orderly " to bring his brace of horse-pistols (he 
 belonged to our corps, the flying artillery) and 
 threatened, with the emphasis of an oath, to " shoot a 
 dozen of us." Happily he did not carry out his threat 
 or I should not be writing these chronicles. Then he 
 turned to my mother, and said, " Mrs. Carroll, I intend 
 to have your husband tried by a court-martial and 
 shot ? " " Why, Colonel, what has he done ?" " Why, 
 for not sending you to Lower Canada ? Do you not 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 67 
 
 kno>v that there was an order for all soldiers' wives to 
 depart to Lower Canada ? " "I hope you do not rank 
 me with ordinary soldiers' wives, because my husband 
 saw fit to turn out in troublous times to help defend 
 his country — I shall not go." The mother defeated 
 the Colonel, at least she silenced his battery ; and next 
 day he retreated himself. 
 
 But though the Colonel had left, there was not 
 much room for us in the apartment warmed by the iire^ 
 and our part was too cold to be endured ; so we were 
 forced to lie in bed, by day as well as by night, to keep 
 from becoming starved with the cold, a confinement 
 rather irksome to restless childhood. At length our 
 biggest brother, Jim, made his appearance : he had 
 been in the militia, and took the measles, which 
 affected his eyes, and, to a great degree, deprived him 
 of his sight, on which account he was unfit for further 
 service and was exempted. He had hovered about 
 our path, and employed his time in working for the 
 farmers, now in much need of assistance. He built a 
 good fire for us in the shelter of the oak bushes : there 
 we spent a good part of the day-time, alternately 
 roasting and freezing, first one side and then the other. 
 
 Once a playful puppy took my mother's pocket to 
 play with, containing all her money, to the amount of 
 $100 perhaps, and she would likely never have seen it 
 more, if he had succeeded in pulling it under the logs 
 of the new house. 
 
 After a while, we got narrower, but warmer quarters. 
 
68 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 In default of barracks, the sappers and miners and 
 their assistants had made huts by digging places, 
 perhaps, ten feet square, in the ground, to which there 
 was an entrance made at one side, by means of a 
 tren'ih, like the descent to a root-house ; the roof of 
 slabs rested on the surface of the ground, and met in 
 the centre ; and the only light obtainable was what 
 came down a low, but capacious chimney, and what 
 entered by a hole in the door, about the size of an 
 ordinary pane of glass, but innocent of the glass 
 itself ; so that if you received the light, you had to 
 let in the wind ; and if you closed the aperture to 
 keep out the storm, you excluded the light. Once the 
 hole was left open, — a snow-storm occurred through 
 the night while we were all asleep, and the snow 
 drifted in so badly, that we could not get the door 
 open till the snow was removed by the slow process of 
 shovelling it through that narrow hole. By barring the 
 door, we were tolerably secure from intruders. Once 
 there was a dreadful free-fight between our own 
 Indians and soldiers, and some of the former were 
 very badly beaten. One of them lay groaning all 
 night by our chimney, but we were so alarmed with 
 the fray without, that we dare not unbar the door to 
 succour him. We hoped that the warmth of the 
 chimney might keep him from totally perishing. Once 
 our mother had to dress the back of a thieving 
 soldier, who had been whipped till it was a complete 
 jelly. Such is sin ; and such the severities of martial 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 69 
 
 law. Our water was obtained from the Bay by an 
 almost interminable Hight of steps cut in the very 
 steep bank, while the slipperiness of the steps from 
 the ice with which they were encased was such that we 
 went down and up at the risk of breaking our necks. 
 
 When the winter was well on, a residence for the 
 family and regimental harness-maker's shop for father, 
 in one, was provided near what is now the centre of 
 the City of Hamilton. It was mor& spacious than our 
 last abode, but much colder. The far end of the 
 chamber (reached by a flight of very steep stairs 
 without a baluster) was unfinished, and a floor — 
 nothing but lath and plaster between us and a shop 
 below, kept by an old Scotchman. Once a dishonest 
 artilleryman, billetted upon us, was prowling about in 
 that dark, unfinished part of the loft, went through, and 
 fell under the ire of the old shopman. There was no 
 stove, you may be sure, and only a feeble fire on the 
 hearth : to enable father to have his " waxed ends " 
 soft enough to rive freely he had to keep a pot of 
 coals by the side of his work-bench. The place was 
 too open to expose us to any injury from the emission 
 of the poisonous gas. While in this place we had t.-^ 
 eat pork instead of butter ; and eat it raw, for want 
 of cooking. Sometimes the bread was without salt. 
 
 The spring came, and with it a genial sun, as also 
 an order to advance to the Niagara River once more, 
 the American army having evacuated the country. A 
 well-known army teamster came and conveyed us along 
 
70 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 the road at the base of the Mountain, througli the 
 streams T have already mentioned, wliich interested me 
 very much to pass. I learned the names of his fine 
 span of mares, and have not forgotten them till this day; 
 let " Jin " and " Doll " go down to posterity. In due 
 time, we reached Queenston, where the regimental 
 harness- maker's shop was located — over that of the 
 blacksmith. There we were again a united family for 
 a time — father, mother, Tom and Bill, and even poor 
 camp-follower Jim was there from time to time. We 
 also made the acquaintance of several non-commis- 
 sioned officers, who were often in, each of whom had 
 an individuality of his own, and felt his importance 
 quite enough : there were Sergeant-Major Whittam, 
 Bugler Eastham, old Mr. Thomas, the farrier (very 
 pretentious), Petrie, the good-natured blacksmith ; 
 young Francois, the French-Canadian, who " blew and 
 struck," the merriest fellow of the whole. The cold 
 had passed away ; we knew nothing of style, and did 
 not hanker for it ; and simple, but satisfying devices 
 beguiled the time, such as the music of the Jew's 
 harp. Petrie could manufacture them (the tongue cut 
 out of a sword- blade), and play on them when made. 
 I never heard that his range of tunes went beyond, — 
 
 * ' Molly, put the kettle on, 
 We'll all drink tea, 
 Molly, take the kettle off, 
 It will all boil away." 
 
 But he practically received many an encore, for we 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 71 
 
 never tired of the one, but called for it again and 
 again. We had also an extemporized puppet-show of 
 a character I never heard of since, except among those 
 who learned it then and there, which was witnessed 
 with unbounded delight. But it would take too much 
 space to describe it so that one who never witnessed it 
 would have a mental view of the play. I will not, 
 therefore, go into details unless they are called for. 
 Our social hilarities were brought to an end, by a 
 journey required to be performed by father, who took 
 mother and the four youngest with him, which will 
 furnish incidents enough for a section by itself. * Some 
 ^vill say, " Why have you not said more about 
 religion ? " Alas ! there was no religion to tell about 
 in those days. 
 
No. VIII. 
 
 A THREE DAYS COASTING VOYAGE. 
 
 IN my last section I described our family's residence 
 in Queenston during the latter part of the winter 
 and the spring of 1814. As soon as the spring 
 was well open and navigation was considered safe, my 
 father was ordered by the army authorities to go to 
 York, now Toronto, and take charge of the military 
 saddle and harness-making and mending department 
 in that place. lu was arranged for my mother and the 
 four youngest boys to go with him. The eldest of 
 these boys was about eleven, the second eldest nearly 
 nine, and we two youngest five soon after we arrived 
 in York. 
 
 The Government had provided for our transport m 
 something like a schooner, called the St. Vincenly 
 named after General Vincent. She was a poor old 
 craft, rigged up hastily for the service. We embarked 
 from the banks of the Niagara River, and dropped 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 73 
 
 down the stream till we arrived at its muuth, the 
 location and character of which my readers know from 
 their school atlases, which are something we had not 
 in my earliest school days. Arrived at Fort George* 
 we did not dare to stand boldly across the lake, even 
 supposing our frail craft could have endured the winds 
 and waves, in which case, with a fair wind, we might 
 have run across in half a day ; but, alas ! there was a 
 cruel war between two English-speaking nations — a 
 very wicked state of things, and just then the United 
 States had the upper hand on Lake Ontario. Besides, 
 our old schooner was very frail, and I guess was im- 
 perfectly armed. I remember there was at least one 
 big gun on board, for I herird them fire it off, but I 
 could not say if there were any more. So, also, there 
 was a small company of marines (or sea soldiers) on 
 board, for I saw them perform drill ; and there were 
 several military men on board, belonging to other 
 branches of the service ; but whatever they might 
 have done on land, I think they would have been no 
 great protection to our vessel. Besides, many of them 
 were invalids, sick and wounded, who were being sent 
 from the dangers on the " lines " to the hospitals at 
 the capital. 
 
 From what I have said, it will be seen that we were 
 not in a state to brave the enemy and the winds and 
 waves, by seeking to scud straight across the lake, but 
 we had to coast the great angle of the lake towards 
 its " Head," as it used then to be called. Fortunately, 
 
74 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 I think, our craft was so flat-bottomed that she could 
 go quite near the shore, to which we could tie up at 
 night, which was done. I am very sorry to say, that 
 I have every reason to believe that the soldiers and 
 sailors on board were arrant thieves, and instead of 
 being the defenders of the peaceful farmers, they con- 
 trived to elude the watch, and to go on shore in small 
 marauding parties under the cover of darkness, and 
 bring away anything they could find. I know they 
 brought calves, for one of them gave me a great fright 
 by my encountering his bleat and his glassy eyeballs 
 in the darkness of the " hold," to which I had gone, 
 which sent me screaming for protection to my parents. 
 It was said, though I am not sure that I saw it myself, 
 they brought away a colt one night in mistake for a 
 calf ! Alas ! all the tender things fell under the 
 butcher's knife, but poor coltie was pitched overboard ! 
 Sin causes war, and war is always attended with 
 cruelty and wrong. Let us pray that the " Gospel of 
 peace " may so prevail, that the nations may " learn 
 war no more." About the third night after leaving 
 Niagara, we entered Toronto Bay, and moored the 
 vessel under the guns of what is now known as the 
 " Old Fort," though it was then called the " New 
 Garrison." How this chancre of terms came about, 
 perhaps I will tell at some future time. 
 
No. IX. 
 
 OUR FIRST PLACES OF ABODE IN YORK, AND HOW WE 
 
 CAME TO OCCUPY THEM. 
 
 I SUSPECT we spent the first night in what you 
 now call the " Old Fort," if we did not ramain in 
 the vessel; a sleepy-headed child might hd excused 
 from not taking in the scene correctly at once. 
 Soldiers' families were not allowed in the barracks, but 
 a friendly artillery-man, a Mr. Elder, shared his hut 
 with mother and the children. It was very small, and 
 stood on the brow of an escarpment over the Bay, 
 and the ground on which it stood, more than a genera- 
 tion ago, tumbled into the water. Mr. E. was well- 
 conducted and kind, a well-informed Scotchman, but 
 his wife had fallen into the too common fault of 
 women connected with the army — drink. She may 
 have mended when she got out of it. Years after, 
 Mr. Elder became respectable in a civilian's position ; 
 and his son was often a good-natured playmate of 
 mine. Poor Aleck Elder, once tried for his life ! The 
 ordnance land was then covered with swamps, which 
 
 .f-:'\ 
 
76 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 gave rise to little rills of water falling over the bank. 
 In the mouth of one of these near the hut, George made 
 a net of a basket, and caught as many little fish as 
 both families could eat. 
 
 We were crowded and annoyed ; we were neither in 
 garrison nor town, and mother was exceedingly desirous 
 to get out of the place ; besides, father needed room 
 for his mechanical department. There was an amiable 
 and gentlemanly young officer, belonging to the 104th 
 regiment, a native of New Brunswick, by the name of 
 Haskings, who knew the respectability of mother's 
 relations, the Ridouts ; who, when he heard who she 
 was, came to see us ; and afterwards interested him- 
 self very much to get us a place. After we became 
 acquainted with the people of the town, we learned 
 how that Capt. Haskings, had ridden about the streets 
 for days in search of a house. But every place was 
 full, and no whole house could be secured all to our- 
 selves. Our first abode was a tall, weather-beaten 
 framed house, with a passage-way running through it, 
 on the north-west corner of Duke and George Streets, 
 the low two rooms on the east side of the hall of 
 which we obtained as a matter of favour, and ate our 
 first meal ofi* a large chest. A little cross-legged pine 
 table soon followed, and we began to exist. Still 
 there was another family, besides ourselves below, and 
 the upper part-of the house was full of French- 
 Canadians. A few mornings after our arrival, mother 
 made an agreeable acquaintance. A comely young 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 77 
 
 married woman, by the name of Barber, occupied a 
 neat little house across the road from us. They met 
 in the street, and found that both (at least Mrs B.'s 
 parents) were from New Brunswick ; and as they 
 both knew, or at least knew of, many of the same 
 persons, they began to question each other about this 
 and that individual ; and they soon found that they 
 had a common knowledge and friendship of many 
 people, which was, as we all know from experience, a 
 source of pleasure. At length, said mother, as the 
 plot thickened, " I wonder whatever became of Sally 
 Rodney ? " At this the young woman burst into tears 
 [the first time I ever saw a person weep for joy,] and 
 said, " Why she's my mother ; and is alive, and living 
 out on Yongc Street." Sally Rodney was a sinister 
 daughter of Lord Rodney, a naval officer, who spent 
 some time in New Brunswick, and lured one of the 
 handsomest young women of the country from the 
 paths of propriety ; and Sally Rodney was the result. 
 Sally had married fairly well, and we afterwards often 
 met her. This her daughter married an agreeable 
 man, an American, with some education, who was 
 afterwards my first eflfectual school-teacher, and will 
 come into view in the next section. Across the way 
 from our place, mother renewed her acquaintance with 
 the family of Stephen Jarvis, Esquire, respectable people, 
 from Fredericton, grandfather of the present sherifi* of 
 the County of York. This was a solace to her. Sht and 
 old Mrs. Jarvis were life -long friends and intimates. 
 
;:',..' ; ,. No. X. 
 
 THE WAR-SPIRIT AMONG THE YORK BOYS. 
 
 C^HILDREN will alvv^ays take notice of little things, 
 I like themselves. A little boy or girl going 
 ■ ~ along the road with a friend will draw the 
 friend's attention to all the chickens, and birds, and 
 kittens, and lambs, and rabbits, and squirrels in the 
 journey. So, also, boys are more observant of other 
 boys they meet with, or see, than their adult friends 
 would be likely to be. On this principle, it is not 
 strange, especially as I had two brothers a little older 
 than myself, who were quite as observant as I, 
 with better means of knowing ; it is not strange, I 
 say, that I should become acquainted with the 
 sayings and doings of the York boys from about the 
 year 1814, to, say 1818, if no further, when my years 
 ranged fro:rj five to nine. 
 
 Boys, alas ! are only too apt to be boisterous, rude, 
 and quarrelsome in any place or time ; but in York 
 audits vicinity, during the war, and until Sunday- 
 
MY BOY LIFE. ' 79 
 
 schools began to spring up in 1818 or '19, they were 
 very much imbued with the war-spirit, and found 
 great enjoyment in mimicking the military doings and 
 manoeuvres which they witnessed around them. True, 
 there was no actual fighting to be seen after the battle 
 of York, yet there were some " sham battles." One of 
 these, especially, I witnessed, intended to represent 
 a bush-fight, enacted on the outskirts of the town 
 northward across the fields, perhaps into the woods, 
 which then were quite near. The only victory accom- 
 plished was that of frightening all the hens and chickens 
 and timid horses, and that of scaring the poor docile 
 cows out of a day's milk, and far away into the 
 woods. 
 
 This kind of work captivated the imagination of 
 the youngste':'S, and they arrayed themselves, in twos 
 and threes and larger numbers, against each other, 
 pelting one another with stones and clods almost every- 
 where, insomuch that it was dangerous to walk the 
 streets. As far as there were any schools, one school 
 was arrayed against another, even on to a later day, 
 as Dr. Scadding has shown in his " Toronto of Old," 
 besides the one I have described. 
 
 The two great hostile sections arrayed against each 
 other were those of the " Old Town boys " and the 
 " New Town boys." What we now know as Jarvis 
 street was the boundary between their respective 
 dominions. All on the east side of that street belonged 
 to the " Old Town," and were expected loyally to bear 
 
80 ' " MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 fealty to its military commanders ; and all on the west 
 side of the above-mentioned street were ruled as 
 bearing allegiance to the " New Town " and its military 
 authorities. 
 
 Henry Glennon, the son of a deceased physician, a 
 neglected, unruly, bad youth, was accepted Captain- 
 General of the Old Town boys ; and Master Chewett, 
 a youth more respectably connected, but quite as 
 foolish, was the Commander-in-Chief of the New Town 
 boys. I should think their forces pretty well balanced 
 in point of numbers ; for if the Old Town had the more 
 compact, or dense population, the New one had a 
 wider area to draw from. 
 
 They had had various encounters, " scrimmages," and 
 parleys ; but at length they met on a common near 
 the dividing line between the towns, and adjacent to 
 the residence of the deceased Dr. Glennon, a part of 
 which house my father occupied as a residence and 
 regimental harness-maker's shop ; that is to say, at the 
 corner of what is now known as George and Duchess 
 streets. This I witnessed, though none of our family 
 were allowed by our parents to take part in the 
 misdoings. At first they were drawn up in two 
 bodies, confronting each other ; still they seemed to 
 hesitate to encounter the danger and responsibility of 
 actual conflict, and flags of truce passed between them, 
 and a parley was being held. This, however, was 
 interrupted, and an action was precipitated by some 
 New Town boy shying a pebble which struck the Old 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 81 
 
 Town commander on the top of his head. His fol- 
 lowers rushed upon the others to avenge the insult, 
 and the battle became general, and missiles of all kinds 
 flew about in a manner dangerous to all. Both sides 
 had provided themselves with ammunition in the 
 shape of small stones, which, however, being heavy to 
 carry about, could not be largely accumulated, and was 
 soon expended ; and both armies were fain to supply 
 themselves from the bed of McGill's Creek, which 
 meandered in a valley where Queen street now extends. 
 Parties were sent from both sides to the Creek to 
 obtain the necessary supply of the munitions of war, 
 and on meeting at this common arsenal, conflict 
 ensued. One instance I mention. A large boy, 
 Alexander Hamilton, of the Old Town, took up a large 
 stone, and threatened to crush a smaller boy^, fighting 
 on the other side, unless he surrendered, and marched 
 him in a prisoner, and he was bestowed in the garret 
 of the Glennon house. 
 
 Nevertheless, the New Town boys had the best of 
 it, and the Old Towners retreated and sheltered them- 
 selves in and around the common residence of the 
 Glennons and my father. Matters now became too 
 serious for any further toleration — every window was 
 in danger of being broken. The old " Master Collar- 
 Maker," a soldier of two wars, became aroused, went 
 cu^^ and soon quelled both armies — and there was a 
 I'ull in hostilities. Whatever conflicts they may have 
 had after that, they never came in near proximity to 
 6 
 
82 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 US. Thus we were saved from a spectacle we could 
 well spare. 
 
 The case of poor Lloyd, the prisoner, was peculiar j 
 he geographically belonged to the Old Town, for he 
 had lived on the east side of Jarvis street. He was, 
 therefore, regarded as a traitor. They detained him in 
 durance vile, away from his widowed mother, till the 
 next morning. A court-martial was assembled, which 
 condemned and flogged him, and then released him, on 
 condition of taking his oath that he would fight no 
 more against them while he remained in the Old Town. 
 In default of a Bible, he was sworn on a P«,oman 
 Catholic Prayer-book ! He escaped the consequences 
 of his oath by the family moving, a few days after, 
 into the New Town. 
 
 All I have narrated must justly seem to the well- 
 taught boj^s of this day as very silly, as well as very 
 wicked. It was the result of bad training. Gospel 
 preaching and Sunday-schools came in a few years 
 after, and rescued into the paths of virtue some of 
 these boys ; but my young friends must not be sur~ 
 prised to learn that many of them turned out ill — 
 idle, drunken, and profane — coming bo poverty and an 
 early death. Learn to be thankful for your oppor- 
 tunities, and to improve them. 
 
No. XI. 
 
 <( 
 
 NEDDIE, MY LITTLE PLAYMATE. 
 
 
 FTER our parents came to live in the Town of 
 York proper (for we stopped some time in an 
 artilleryman's hut on the bank of the Bay, 
 near the garrison, which many years ago fell into the 
 water from the encroachments of the waves), we took 
 up a house, or two rooms of one, on the corner of what 
 are now called Duke and George streets. One of the 
 first walks we children took was up George street, 
 then overgrown with grass, till we crossed what is now 
 known as Duchess street, into the farm property of 
 Secretary Jarvis, which came dowi '. to the north side 
 of said street, which, however, was innocent of a fence, 
 for the soldiers had stolen it for fuel, such being the 
 morals of war-time. Coinciding with what we now 
 call George street, or in continuance of it, over the 
 creek and ravine which I described in my last section, 
 there was a bridge, which two park-lot holders had 
 built on the line between their property as a means of 
 
84 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 reaching the back parts of their respective farms. It 
 had once been a waggon-road, but the most of the 
 planks had gone the same way as the fence rails (Oh ! 
 war, thou art indeed " a civilizer !") ; but some of the 
 planks, however, were left, and were laid lengthwise 
 of the bridge, so as to furnish a means of egress and 
 ingress to foot passengers — a pretty ticklish one too, 
 for the bridge was high. 
 
 . In crossing the narrow pathway for the first time, 
 we met a little boy, who was returning from beyond 
 the creek, whither he had been alone — for, as we 
 afterwards found out, he was a fearless, self-reliant 
 little fellow. He was dressed in a little black slip — 
 mourning, perhaps, for a dead father ; for he was the 
 ovphan son of a deceased physician, who had been in 
 his lifetime capable, and in a good practice, but who, 
 alas ! had fallen by the hand o£ a destroyer whom 
 doctors at leapt ought to know enough to avoid, but 
 who, alas ! has laid many of that profession low, as 
 well as myriads of others — namely, Drink. He was 
 a plump, ruddy, pretty IHtle boy ; and, contrary to 
 the custom among boys in York, we neither abused 
 nor tried to frighten him, but asked him of his parents, 
 his name, and age. He told us he was named Edward, 
 that he was four years old, and that he was the son of 
 Mrs. Glennon. 
 
 His father's late property was hard by, at the corner 
 of George and Duchess streets, the then northern limits 
 of the town, and his mother still maintained her 
 
MY BOY LIFE. Hk 
 
 possession of a third of it ; and it turned out that the 
 remaining two thirds of it soon after was hired by my 
 father for his regimental shop and residence. Thus it 
 happened that our two families became very well 
 acquainted, and Noddle became the constant playmate 
 of my twin brother and myself. And after that brother 
 died, he became dear to me because he had known my 
 dear playmate. He told us when we first met (I mind 
 it well) that he was " four years old." He was there- 
 fore within a year of our own age, for we were five. 
 Our tastes were consequently very much the same, 
 and what was sport to one was sport to the other. 
 Though, childlike, sometimes we had our disagree- 
 ments and battles, upon the whole we agreed very 
 well, and we longed for each other's society when 
 apart. 
 
 After two or three years we both removed to other 
 places ; my family to a more convenient and permanent 
 residence, and his mother and family to a little house 
 on Yonge street, not far abovei Queen, given in lieu of 
 her claim on what was afterwards called the " Lons- 
 dale House," from that or the purchaser. Our respec- 
 tive houses were still comparatively near together, 
 and continued so, althou^^h other moves afterwards 
 took place. The " Old House," where we lived together 
 under the same roof, was still to both of us a subject 
 of fond and frequent reminiscence and a tie of affection- 
 ate regard. 
 
 Edward's parents had been born and brought up 
 
86 • ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Roman Catholics ; but his father was no more ; and, 
 there being no stated services of the Roman Church in 
 the town in that early day, and the Protestants having 
 befriended the widow in her destitution, his mother 
 had become more liberal than is usual with members 
 of that Church. And well she might have been. 
 Knowing that she had a great many mouths to feed — 
 for there was Henry and John, Kitty and Theresa, 
 Eliza and Edward — soon after her bereavement, that 
 quaint but benevolent early citizen of York, Jesse 
 Ketchum, drove a noble milch cow one day to the 
 door of the widow, and never resumed the loan. The 
 Church of England parson also eailed and gave her 
 a present of money ; but as he very judiciously coun- 
 selled her to " take up some industry," his gift was 
 
 not highly- rized ; Mrs. G , alas ! like too many 
 
 brought up in genteel idleness, regarded the advice to 
 work for herself as an " insult," according to her own 
 declaration. She sometimes, however, attended the 
 ministrations of Dr. Stracha-n, and I should not wonder 
 if Neddie, her youngest child, had been dedicated to 
 God in baptism by the Doctor's hands. Sure I am, 
 the boy learned the catechism of the Anglican Church 
 in the public school, of which the Doctor was Rector, 
 where the orphan received his tuition free. Once, on 
 a vacant day, finding him playing at the door, Neddie 
 took me through the school building, where, for the 
 first time in my life, I saw an artificial globe. Show- 
 ing how much my playmate was petted, I may tell 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 87 
 
 that a well-dressed man on horseback meeting us that 
 day, or near that place on another day (I won't be 
 sure which), accosted my little companion kindly, and 
 on opening his purse presented him with a large silver 
 dollar ! Upon the donor and his dollar hangs a tale, 
 and as I do not pretend to be methodical, I may as 
 well now tell it. It should teach my young readers the 
 evils of dishonesty, untruthfulness, and boastfulness, 
 and that unlawful gains are usually soon squandered. 
 I do not call the well-dressed young man on horseback 
 a gentleman, although at that time he had plenty of 
 money to spend, and claimed to be a German Count, 
 kept the most aristocratic company, and it is said that 
 some of the most pretentious fair ones of the little 
 capital were dying for love of him. He then had 
 plenty of hard cash, but it was soon spent, and the 
 last I heard of him was, that he was fain to support 
 himself by attending a tavern bar. It was known 
 afterwards that his only claim to German nobility was 
 a German name ; that his previous place of residence 
 was the United States, where he had filled some clerk- 
 ship, perhaps in a bank, or some Government office ; 
 but that being entrusted with a very large sum of 
 money to convey from one place to another, he had 
 decamped with it and fled to the British dominions, 
 where at that time, I surmise, there were no arrange- 
 ments for extraditing such felonious runaways. The 
 rest of his history has been already told. 
 
 But to return to my playfellow. I have said enough 
 
88 ' . MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 to indicate which way the religious proclivities (if they 
 might be termed such) of the G family were tend- 
 ing. Ours, at our first acquaintance, were w ithout any 
 decided Church leanings — certainly not to either the 
 Romish or Anglican Church. In 1818 the Methodist 
 meeting-house was built, and my mother became a 
 member of the Church, while I attended the Sunday- 
 school ; so that the religious affinities of my early 
 friend and myself led to a divergence, and when, at 
 the age of fifteen, I became converted, our intercourse 
 was entirely broken off*. For that I am sorry now, as 
 I think I might have possibly done him good, if I had 
 still conversed with him from time to time. 
 
 Yet I kept him in sight enough to know that his 
 course was doubtful, if not downward, of which I am 
 now to give an account for the purpose of admonition. 
 
 Sympathy for the mother would have opened promi- 
 nent places for the children, if they had steadfastly 
 remained in the places they had from time to time 
 obtained. The mother had very little domestic 
 authority, and the children did pretty much as they 
 liked. The marked unsteadiness of the eldest son was 
 enough to give all the others a wrong direction. He, 
 often changed from place to place till he came to 
 manhood, when he left the country. The two eldest 
 girls did fairly well, considering their disadvantages. 
 The youngest girl was subject to fits, lost her reason, 
 and, at the age of fourteen or fifteen, fell into the fire, 
 of which injury she died, thus releasing her friends 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 89 
 
 from fafbiier solicitude. John, the second son, was 
 the most stable and industrious of the lot ; obtained a 
 situation in Lower Canada ; and in the long run rose 
 to respectability and wealth, and did somewhat for 
 his relations. 
 
 But now, to confine myself to Edward, my hero. 
 Had he been wise and industrious, he might have done 
 well. He was a comely boy, and naturally attracted 
 people to him — he was popular among those of his own 
 age. Then, he was favoured by the gentry, and might 
 have obtained a good education free of charge ; but 
 he was averse to study, and only went to school by 
 fits and starts. He did not like work any more than 
 study, and when at home, did not render that aid to 
 his lone mother he might have done. As a specimen 
 of what a good son would never do, when his mother 
 requested him to provide her some wood before he 
 went away to play (wood was then to be had for 
 picking up — it lay about the common), he flew into a 
 passion, and exclaimed, " Mother, you are eternally 
 wanting wood !" And I do not know that he would 
 have procured her any, only I offered to bear him 
 company and help him. A few armfuls of limbs, and 
 roots, and big chips, procured me his companionship 
 for the rest of the day. He who will not work for 
 his widowed mother is not likely to work for others. 
 He went to be shop-boy ; commenced learning the 
 printer's trade, &c. In short, he was 
 
 ** All things by turns, and nothing long." 
 
90 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 After I went out into the ministry, at the age of 
 nineteen, when he must have been about eighteen, I 
 almost lost sight of my childhood's playmate for many 
 years, although I often, as I do now, thought of him 
 with tenderness and pity. I heard of him at long 
 intervals, and I believe that this is about the substance 
 of what happened to him during those years. He had 
 picked up more education than had fallen to the lot of 
 the most of his early associates ; and he was hand- 
 some in young manhood ; was naturally graceful ; 
 and, through his mother, had seen good society, 
 which had exercised a measure of its refining influence 
 on his external manners. Moreover, his brother had 
 tried to introduce him to the means of self-support, 
 and helped him in various ways. But I have reason 
 to believe, that he had grown up an idle changeling, 
 not wholly free from the vices of drink, licentiousness, 
 gaming, and general wastefulness. 
 
 About middle life with me, I was appointed to a 
 large western town, now for some years a city. There, 
 by some means, I learned that a few years before a 
 young man of the name of my early friend had come 
 to the place, and, under the auspices of a wealthy 
 brother in Montreal, opened up a large stock of goods, 
 and commenced business as a merchant. He was pre- 
 possessing, and people thought well of him for a time. 
 Genteel families opaned their doors to him. In one of 
 these there was an exceedingly fascinating young lady 
 from New Brunswick, to whom E. G. paid his addresses 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 91 
 
 for a time, not witliout encouragement, till she dis- 
 covered certain flaws in his character, and saved herself 
 in time. He idled away his time, neglected his busi- 
 ness, wasted his substance, and fell into debt. His 
 brother had to rescue him and close his business up ; 
 and was w^ll content to be rid of the responsibility by 
 giving him a small annual stipend, on condition that 
 he would keep at a distance. He now sank to the 
 position of a common loafer ; and when I arrived at 
 the place, he was the hanger-on of a tavern in a neigh- 
 bouring country village, where he held some paltry 
 position. 
 
 Before I left those parts, I took to preaching in that 
 village, and I have reason to believe he once in a 
 while came to hear me preach. Being one day in a 
 shop in the place, a person came in with a dissipated 
 look, but trying to maintain a shabby gentility in his 
 appearance, in whose features I saw traces of my early 
 playfellow. He affected not to see or know me, but I 
 arose, went across the room, and, for the first time 
 in twenty-five years, accosted him. Reaching out 
 my hand. I said inquiringly, "Edward Glennon, I 
 believe ? " Affecting to suddenly recognize me, he 
 said, " Mr. Carroll." But he was not inclined to be 
 communicative, and soon withdrew. He never 
 amended his course, but died soon after of the fruits 
 of his irregular habits. Alas ! alas ' my young friend ! 
 
'.:.:':,■,-.;. No. xn. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LONG-LOG HOUSE. 
 
 IF I have ever spoken or written in glowing terms 
 of the pleasures of the fireside, the images have 
 heen a reproduction of the remembrance of 
 homely domestic enjoyment in the same long-log 
 house. 
 
 The close of the war of 1812-15 found father, 
 mother, the eldest son and brother, and the four 
 youngest children, or brothers in York, and the 
 second and third sons " on the lines," or in the 
 neighbourhood of Niagara River. Although I think 
 there was no need of it (they could have come by 
 themselves), father went after those two, saw them 
 get their discharge, and returned with them to our 
 humble home in York. The weary journey was 
 performed on foot. I remember the day of their arrival ; 
 and we were all glad of their return. We had not seen 
 them for a year, and they were more manly-looking 
 than when we had seen them last. They were yet in 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 their regimentals. Tom was only eighteen ; Bill was, 
 perhaps, twenty-one ; but both were large, powerful 
 men. One of their pleasures when they arrived at 
 home was to have little John, a child not quite six 
 years old, climb on the knee of the eldest brother and 
 read a part of the paraphrase beginning with — 
 
 ** Behold, the mountain of the Lord 
 In latter days shall rise," 
 
 to show his proficiency in that art — ^gained by spelling 
 out the words by himself. 
 
 War times are wasteful times; and they had not saved 
 much of «neir pay and prize money. They had been 
 discouraged in trying to save by a disheartening inci- 
 dent. One of them had saved $100, which he inclosed 
 in a letter, in ten golden " eagle pieces," and entrusted 
 to a comrade, who was coming to York, to fetch it to 
 his mother ; but the messenger " got on a spree " by 
 the way, and broke the letter open, and spent the 
 contents in drink. True, after a time, he brought the 
 letter, minus the money, with a drunkard's remorseful 
 confession when his debauch was over, but never made 
 good the money. Such is one of the painful fruits 
 of drinking, then, alas ! more common than now — too 
 common although it still is. 
 
 The whole family had to turn to some industry. 
 Two cows were purchased, and first an ox team, and 
 then a span of horses, and the cultivation of neigh- 
 bouring farms and fields, with teaming, wood-chopping, 
 
\ 
 
 94 ; • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and wood-hauling, became their business ; so that I 
 will have no elegancies or luxuries to speak of.* 
 
 To have room for the whole family and labouring 
 men whom the}'' sometimes hired and boarded, and 
 accommodation for their cattle and teams, they had to 
 have larger premises. One of these was secured on 
 the corner of what we now know as Bay and Rich- 
 mond Streets, the only house then on those four 
 corners, then the property of the late Andrew Mercer, 
 from whom the Reformatory is named. The building 
 was only of logs, but they were new, and they were 
 dressed, or " hewed," as it was called. True, there 
 was only five rooms in all, besides a capacious cellar, 
 whi^h served to store our potatoes and apples. There 
 was also a barn and horse-stable, with sheds. 
 
 The reason why the remembrance of this homely 
 
 * Father and brothers cultivated what was called the " Jarvis Farm." 
 It being the property of Secretary Jarvis and afterwards of his son, 
 Saml. P. Jarvis, Esq., which intervened between Capt. McGill's farm (the 
 centre of which was McGill Square, where the Metropolitan Methodist 
 Church now stands), on the west side, and v.hat then used to be called 
 the " Selby Lot," then swampy and wild, (afterwards the property of 
 Col. Allen, on the east side. The front of the Jarvis farm came down 
 to Duchess Street. George Street's northern extremity ended at the 
 Jarvis farm gateway, and Jarvis Street went through the centre of the 
 Jarvis farm — through the very house itself. Quite a large stream ran 
 across the front of the farm, now concealed by subsequent improve- 
 ments. Beyond the creek was an orchard, which I used to be set to 
 watch against the depredations of school-boys when the apples became 
 sizable ; but such tiny defenders as I and my twin- brother were 
 treated with jeers by the lawless invaders. 
 
' MY BOY LIFE. 95 
 
 place is so precious to me is this : all the brothers 
 excepting William (lately married) were still at 
 home, and he was often there. There was then 
 a great deal more talking than reading. Most 
 persons were dependent on conversations or oral com- 
 munications for learning and mental entertainment ; 
 and our household contained several very great talkers. 
 The oldest boys had all seen life, and had their war- 
 stories to rehearse. Scores of old comrades or war 
 acquaintances called and remained a longer or shorter 
 space. Father was an old man of long observation in 
 the world — in Ireland, the old Colonies, New Brunswick, 
 and Canada. He had experiences as a mechanic, a 
 soldier in two wars, farmer, lumberman, hunter, fisher, 
 and I know not what else, with a great memory 
 and great volubility. Mother, too, had her tales from 
 her own side of the house, relating to two or three 
 generations^ which extended back to New Brunswick, 
 and both New and Old England. Then, there were some 
 half-dozen others, who in some way belonged to the 
 household and joined the circle around the large open 
 fire in the largest room, which was kitchen, parlour, 
 dining, and sitting-room all in one. Among the work 
 hands, or boarders, there was Nickerson, a journeyman 
 wood-chopper, whose scheme it was to earn money 
 enough to take him to Germany, where he expected to 
 prove his heirship to an estate, and become a gentleman. 
 There was " Old Boatswain " (or "Bosen "), a constant 
 drinker, with a red face, an American, who had been 
 
96 ; • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 in the American army, 1 think, whose dialect was New 
 Englandish, with some frequently recurring expletives 
 to help him in his lack of words. One of these 
 phrases was, " Not that alone." Once, one of the com- 
 pany irreverently expressed a wish to go to heaven if he 
 could have "a keg of rum along." Boatswain, equally 
 profane, instantly assented, and true to his Yankee 
 instincts, said, " Not that alone, but a kittle of biled 
 corn." There was Sayers, an American, too, and 
 unmistakeably such in dialect, who once undertook to 
 sing what he called " an old seafarin' song," which 
 wound up with an expectation, when his voyages 
 were over, of — 
 
 ** Sending for his friends and relations, 
 Andgittiu' a bar'l of beer." 
 
 He, too, I think, had been in the American army. 
 There also was Mitchel, who lived with his French 
 wife in a room upstairs, who was an Irishman by birth, 
 and a Protestant by education, who had learned the 
 French language in the cities of Quebec and Montreal, 
 but had turned Catholic to reconcile his father 
 and mother-in-law to their giving him their " Shar- 
 lette," as he called her, whom, however, he had borne 
 far from a well-to-do home in Montreal. Mitchel had 
 been in the Voltigjeurs during the late war. There was 
 also an ignorant, uncouth fellow, a Canadian, whose 
 name I have forgotten (I am sorry, too, it suited him 
 so well). He had served in the navy on the back 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 97 
 
 lakes during the war of '12, whose narrative of 
 adventure ran upon "Lake Sincoe" and "Pena- 
 tangashin." He was a widower, I believe, and was 
 sometimes accompanied by a freckled, wrinkled, and 
 wizened-faced little boy with a red head, who looked 
 as though he had been luhipped up rather than 
 " brought up." It was said his father used to tie a 
 rope around him and throw him overboard into the 
 water to "make him tough," pulling him up again 
 after he had a spell of struggling for his life. Old Cole, 
 now partially blind, who had known brother James in 
 the militia, sought refuge with us for a time, was an 
 interesting song-singer. 
 
 Next to'story-telling of all kinds, song-singing was 
 one of the ingredients of our social enjoyment. None 
 of these songs were very bad, but I fear they would 
 all fall under the condemnatory prohibition of John 
 Wesley, as those which " do not lead to the knowledge 
 and love of God." Father was a melodious singer, 
 with a memory well stored with songs of all kinds^ 
 embracing love, war, and Masonry. His "Jemmy 
 Riley," the Irishman who stole the heiress, and 
 thought to escape the penalty by putting her on the 
 horse before him, to make it appear that she ran 
 away with him, and not he with her ; " Love in 
 a Tub," which told that a lover obtained a rich wine 
 merchant's daughter by getting her headed up in a 
 particular cask, and purchasing it, closing the bargain 
 by saying : 
 7 ' 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 *' I've bought it, and paid for it. 
 And so it is mine, 
 Let what will be in it, . » 
 
 Beer, ale, or wine." 
 
 He had party songs, relating to his native isle; among 
 the number were such as the " Green to the Cape," 
 Croppy Lie Down," and others. Sometimes he gave 
 us a refrain in the native Erse, or Irish. I remember 
 some of the words, but fear to undertake putting 
 them on paper. He usually sang " Burns' Farewell " 
 with great pathos, and others equally pathetic. The 
 time would fail to undertake to recount his stories ; 
 they were endless. Mitchel used to create unbounded 
 hilarity by singing the Frenchman's aspirations of 
 invading England " mit his flat-bottomed boat, to land 
 zoost at Dover," which attempt John English, "mit his 
 big ship;" "and ball big as a pumpkin," always frus- 
 trated. For of him the Frenchman sang: — 
 
 "He tump us, he 'trike us. 
 
 He make so much clattare ; ' ' 
 
 He make tree, four, verra good ship 
 Fall down in the vatare." 
 
 This, of course, liad reference to Bonaparte's threatened 
 descent on England, which he could never carry out, 
 the remembrance of which gave the listeners ecstatic 
 pleasure-; for all the Britishers were intensely loyal, 
 so recently had they come out of the French and 
 American wars. This feeling was also flattered by a 
 song relating to a sea victory, which used to be sung 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 99 
 
 by a young man, Barney Glennon, often in, who had 
 served in the lake marine during the war. This related 
 to the "boasting La Pique," which had "been taken 
 by the brave British tars of the Blanche." Nickerson 
 was a singer, and also gave us one song describing a 
 nautical victory achieved by " Old Dreadnought," — 
 
 ** Whose sides were oak, her keel was box, 
 Launched oflf the stocks, 
 
 Bound to the main.". 
 
 One of Nickerson's Masonic songs, relating to Solo- 
 mon's Temple, supplied us with some scriptural 
 knowledge before there was a whole Bible in the 
 house. About this time, however, the entire Bible 
 came. Before that, there had been only a large Testa- 
 ment with a metrical version of the Psalms, the 
 Paraphrases, and a few hymns, including some of Dr. 
 Watts' and Bishop Ken's. Other books were rare, and 
 of a very ill-assorted character for the most part. 
 True, there were a few school books containing some 
 good pieces in prose and verse, such as the " American 
 Selections " and the " English Reader." The eulogies 
 on Washington and Franklin, and other American 
 notorieties, used to call out vehement denunciations 
 from father's "Britisher" tongue. An allegory read in 
 the family about this time, relating to John Bull and 
 his son Jonathan, who had run away from home and 
 cleared him up " thirteen farms " (corresponding to the 
 then number of the United States), whom the old man 
 
100 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 would not suffer to enjoy the use of the mill-pord, 
 used to tickle father's risibles, and produced bursts of 
 liughter. A volume of songs about Robin Hood, Will 
 Scarlet, Little John, and the rest of the outlaw's men 
 and their joint exploits, gave us about all the 
 knowledge we had of mediaeval England. That work 
 and the Newgate Calendar, with the doings of Jack 
 Sheppard and others of that ilk, were not likely to 
 give us youngsters very law-abiding notions. Nor had 
 the autobiography of Philip Quarels, the bigamist, 
 and Stephen Burrows, the jail-breaker, any better 
 tendency. 
 
 How thankful my young readers and their parents 
 and guardians should be, that the young are not now 
 left to the companionship of such books ! At present, 
 I dismiss the long-log house and its memories. 
 
No. XIII. • 
 
 FOND MEMORIES OF CERTAIN DOMESTIC ANIMALS. 
 
 IT is good to have children brought up among the 
 cats and dogs, horses and cows, and hens and 
 chickens, to mention no more. The children learn 
 something by watching the animals ; the animals are 
 company for the little ones ; and the companionship 
 nourishes domestic affections in a family. The brute 
 animals owned by our family I know had the effects 
 mentioned on me. 
 
 Our first span of horses, after the war, were old Jack 
 and Bob. Jack was black, with a red nose, like a 
 certain species of bear in our country. Bob was a bay» 
 not so large as the other, but able to keep up his end 
 of the double-treo pretty well. He was the favourite, 
 as he was good-tempered. Jack was peevish and cross ; 
 he would bite if he was not pleased, and we children 
 kept a prudent distance from him. Bob would not 
 bite, but if you gave him a smart slap on the side with 
 your hand, he would give a piteous groan. If you 
 
102 * MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 were on liis back and gave him a kick with your heel, 
 as is often done, to urge him along, he would utter this 
 2froan. I never observed this peculiarity in any other 
 horse. By this habit we once recovered him when he 
 was lost. But more of this a little further on. We 
 bought this span of horses after the war from an army 
 teamster, who had allowed, if he did not encourage, the 
 horses to go as fast down hill as they liked. Hence, 
 when they came to the brow of a descent, they wanted 
 to run, instead of " holding." This, of course, was 
 very undesirable and dangerous ; but father, being an 
 old man, seemed unable to curb them, and the vice 
 seemed rather to increase than otherwise. In one 
 journey, father broke and lost a portion of his load, and 
 was pretty badly injured himself. But Tom was a stout, 
 resolute young man, and leaving another employment, 
 he came home and took charge of the team, and soon 
 reduced them to submission. His method was, to hold 
 them with a strong hand, and to chastise them severely 
 with the whip for any disposition to run ; so that they 
 became afraid to repeat it. This lesson may be of 
 value to my young readers, if they ever should become 
 teamsters, and have to deal with horses which have 
 this trick. 
 
 Tom, like most young men, when he came of age 
 fancied a horse of his own, and usually had one for 
 his pleasure. His first purchase was of a first year's 
 colt, which died before spring. His next purchase 
 was a funny little pony, which rejoiced in the name 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 103 
 
 of Button — which name T suppose he received because 
 he was so small and so round. He was so round 
 th^t it was almost impossible to keep a saddle upon 
 hiia; and the boys, in striving to gain his bare back, 
 often rolled off on the farther side. But then, that 
 was no great disaster, as they had not very far to 
 fall. How many hands high, or low, he was I do 
 not now remember ; or what breed of horses he was 
 of. I should say he was a cross between a Shetland 
 and a French-Canadian pony. He was, however, 
 very beautiful, being very symmetrically formed, and 
 as black as a coal. He might have drawn a carriage 
 adapted to his size and strength, but he was not big 
 enough to be matched against an ordinary-sized 
 horse ; yet we were once so forced to try and match 
 him. Some dishonest person took old Bob out of 
 his pasture and rode him far away, and we were 
 ignorant of his whereabouts for several weeks. In 
 the meantime the family ran out of wood, and 
 some must be drawn from the cord wood piles in the 
 "bush."* But as we had no single-horse waggon or 
 cart, with harness to suit, there was no way for it 
 but to try and extemporize a mate for old Jack, 
 long enough to draw a few loads. Button was, there- 
 fore, caught, and harnessed up in Bob's harness, by 
 making alterations, and giving him what the teamsters 
 call " an advantage on the double-tree," so as to make 
 
 * Our folks bought large areas of standing timber and ';ut it up iuto 
 cordwood, and drew it t' town, and sold it for fuel. 
 
104 ' MY BOY LIFE. / 
 
 his draft power correspond with his stronger mate 
 Yet, after all, poor Button seemed to cut a sorrr 
 figure. He seemed like a boy of ten years old put ir a 
 man's clothes, and made to keep up with a full-grovn 
 man in some piece of combined labour. Button's legs 
 were too short to keep up with the other, and his 
 strength too small to compete with the other member 
 of the team. Besides, Jack seemed to feel contempt for 
 his tiny mate, and to look down upon him with scorn ; 
 and when " Butty" failed to keep up, Jack's constitu- 
 tional ill-nature broke out, and every now and then he 
 turned and bit the poor little fellow severely, for 
 which ill conduct Jack himself received chastisement 
 with the driver's whip. But the mutual unpleasant- 
 ness ended at last. 
 
 My father heard of a stray horse far back in the 
 country, and went in search of him ; but as he was a 
 gicat pedestrian, and preferred walking, he went 
 on foot. Besides, I do not know but that Jack was 
 employed in ploughing, assisted or hindered by little 
 Button. About the time he might have been expected 
 home, and a few hours before he did arrive, one of the 
 younger boys came in with breathless haste, saying he 
 had seen a man ride old Bob down Yonge Street 
 towards the centre of the town ; saying that he knew 
 it was our horse, for as the man started on, after 
 stopping to inquire for " the nearest tavern," he urged 
 the animal on with his heels, upon which Bob uttered 
 his accustomed complaint. And by this utterance he 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 105 
 
 was claimed, by an older brother, who chanced to be 
 " down street " for an evening's walk. In those days, 
 at the corner of what we now call King and George 
 Streets, there was a well-known hostelry, or tavern, 
 kept by a Mr. Hamilton, before which on that occasion, 
 several persons were congregated, among whom was 
 my brother Tom. A stranger rode up and dismounted, 
 and my brother went forward and said, " You have 
 got my horse." The man said he did not know whose 
 he was ; but an old man, tired of riding, had offered 
 him the horse to ride into town, with instructions to 
 stop (as he understood it) at the first tavern. " Well," 
 said Tom, " to prove that he is my horse, when I slap 
 him on the side he will groan ;" and suiting the action 
 to the word, he did slap him, and the horse complained 
 as usual, and the stranger resigned the possession of 
 him. The man had been guilty of no dishonest inten- 
 tion as circumstances after proved. My brother 
 brought the horse hom.e to the "Long-log House," and 
 Bob was put into his old stall, and received the 
 welcoming whinny of his old mate, that had gone with 
 him through the war, laying by for the nonce his con- 
 stitutional crabbed ness. Not long after the horse's 
 arrival, father came in, and expressed great disgust 
 that the man should have disobeyed his directions. 
 But the truth was, the man did not understand the old 
 Irishman's terminology. In those days, en the east 
 side of Yonge Street, a few yards nor oh of where 
 Queen Street now crosses it, the Widow Glennon had 
 
106 • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 a little house, and kept " cakes and beer " for sale. 
 Father had said to the stranger : " I am tired of riding ; 
 take this horse, and ride on till just as you enter the 
 town, you will see a shebeen shop ; leave the horse tied 
 there for me, and I will find him." " Shebeen " was 
 the word he misunderstood for tavern, and hence the 
 mistake. That was a pleasant evening around the 
 wood fire in the " Long-log House." Bob, that had 
 been lost, was found ; and father had returned. That 
 old team served the family several years, and when 
 they were sold, in their old age, to strangers, I was 
 very sad and sorry. It went to my young heart to see 
 them led away. 
 
 But my strongest attachment was to the "old brown 
 cow." The family had several cows, first and last — 
 sometimes three or four at a time — but Old Brown 
 was a fixture and an institution in the family. My 
 dear mother preferred her to all others, and that was 
 enough. She had been the favourite cow of an artil- 
 leryman, about to be removed from York, and he 
 reluctantly offered her for sale, and jny parents 
 bought her. She was of the very best type of Cana- 
 dian cows, than which there are no better for milk, no 
 matter what breed they are ; she was large and long, 
 with smooth horns, brown in colour, plentU'ul in very 
 rich milk, and easy to be milked, for being gentle in 
 temper, she readily " gave it down," as it was termed, 
 and often yielded milk till the day of calving. 
 
 Other cows were bought and sold, but Old Brown was 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 107 
 
 kept ; and when we had but one cow, she was that 
 one. Often was it my task to feed her in the winter, 
 and often to seek her on the extensive comm<;ns and 
 free pastures that stretched away north and west 
 (especially) from the town, until I began to feel all the 
 regard for her which I felt for other members of the 
 family — and more, for others at times offended me, 
 but she never. Alas 1 at about the age of twelve there 
 was a dispersion in the family, and most of our effects 
 were sold, and among the rest the old cow. This 
 affected me much, and I could not bear to see her 
 removed. Upon this change, I went to live with an 
 older brother settled on a new farm, fourteen or fifteen 
 miles from the town, for the space of over a year, of 
 which sojourn I may have something to say before my 
 stories are ended. Often I had to walk, on one 
 errand or another, to and from the town. In one of 
 my journeys, I discovered that a farmer on the road- 
 side had purchased and possessed " Old Brown." The 
 thought that any one else than ourselves should 
 possess our old friend filled my heart with grief and 
 eyes with tears. As my eyes affected my heart, so I 
 used to turn away from what seemed " Old Brown's " 
 captivity. This grief was increased when I discovered 
 that she had met with an accident, and had been cut or 
 maimed by a falling tree, or limb, and had to wear 
 habitually a large swathing of canvas around hi^r body. 
 I could not bear to look at her — her eyes seemed to 
 reproach the family for allowing her to go among 
 
108 * MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 strangers, in her old age. The sorrow produced by the 
 sight of her was of a mingled kind : it recalled the 
 happy early associations of a family then dispersed, 
 though destined to be afterwards gathered for a time, 
 yet never under very happy auspices. 
 
 The great Linnaeus, the naturalist, believed that 
 instinct would survive death ; and John Wesley, on 
 Scriptural grounds, believed in the resurrection of the 
 brute creation. If there :: any such resurrection, I 
 shall be glad to see " Old Brown " again — and many 
 a faithful horse which I have since ridden. 
 
No. XIV. 
 
 THE GHOST LORE CURRENT DURING MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 jkL 
 
 FTER looking over the foregoing section, 
 giving an account of the various entertainments 
 around the large open fire of the Long- Log 
 House, I am reminded that one of the most exciting 
 subjects of conversation was omitted, namely, that of 
 " Spooks," or apparitions. These were a subject of 
 confabulation in our family before going there ; nor 
 were they entirely extinguished by our removal from 
 that place. 
 
 Our previous residence, at the corner of George and 
 Duke Streets, was near an old dilapidated, unfenced, 
 neglected l^urial ground ; that in the midst of which 
 now stands the old • Central Presbyterian Church- 
 There were a few graves in this resting-place o* the 
 dead upon which considerable care and expense had at 
 one time been bestowed. Some of the palings were 
 yet standing, but they were grown full of wild shrubs. 
 One grave was covered with a large, table-like tomb- 
 
110 • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 stone, resting on four pedestals, covered with an 
 elaborate inscription, the purport of which I once knew 
 well, but of which I can now remember nothing pre- 
 cisely. The tradition which figures faintly in my 
 memory relative to that grave was something like 
 this : a young gentleman of respectable, well-to-do, if 
 not wealthy connections, coming from Kingston on 
 horse-back post haste to York, undertaking to cross 
 the Don before there was a bridge, or at a time of its 
 temporary removal, was unfortunately drowned. His 
 body was afterwards recovered and buried in the 
 grave described. The spot was afterwards reported to 
 be haunted. A luminous vapor was said to have been 
 seen to exude from graves in that burial spot, which 
 might have arisen from the emission of some kind of 
 gas generated perhaps by the decomposition of animal 
 remains. Yet like a true orthodox ghost, it was only to 
 be seen at night. The result was, although myself 
 and other children often amused ourselves in that 
 graveyard in day-time, and conducted various kinds 
 of plays on the tombstone, no possible persuasion 
 could have induced us to go anywhere near it after 
 night-fall. • 
 
 Apropos of the sprites which lingered around that 
 locality, after we had removed to the Mercer House, 
 at one time the following tale received a " nine days" 
 currency : One Barney Maguire, an ex-soldier of the 
 Glengarry Highlanders, who had escaped with his life 
 from the decimation inflicted on that corps in the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. Ill 
 
 charge made by that regiment into the ranks of the 
 invaders at the battle of Niagara, had married the 
 daughter of a worthy citizen, who lived on what we 
 now call Ontario Street, had been with his wife on a 
 visit to his father-in-law on the night in question, and 
 remained till a late hour, and then started for his re- 
 sidence to the west of us on Newgate Street (now 
 Adelaide) ; but, for some reason, on his return walk, 
 he had kept one street nearer the graveyard than his 
 most direct route, so the story ran. Opposite the "city 
 of the dead " a human form came out and followed 
 the party, apparently desirous to speak to Maguire ; 
 but for fear of alarming the ladies (his wife and some 
 female friend) he abstained from accosting the appari- 
 tion. When, however, he reached home, he went in 
 and confided the child he was carrying to the hands of 
 its mother, and went out again, and opened a colloquy 
 with the mysterious visitor. It was the spirit of the 
 drowned man, who confided some important message, 
 or agency, to Barney, the purport of which was then 
 given with minuteness and particularity, (for such 
 tales have usually all necessary details supplied as 
 they pass around to make them consistent); but I con- 
 fess they have all passed from my recollection, es- 
 pecially as interviews with Maguire exploded the 
 whole as a canard. Nevertheless, the rumour in 
 the meantime, led each person in our fireside circle 
 to refurbish the ghost lore he had in his possession, 
 handed down to him from several foregoing generations 
 
112 ; • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 of his ancestors, and to relate it for the delectation of 
 the company. 
 
 Some of these were pokerish enough. One of them, 
 from my mother, related to New Brunswick, and was 
 to this effect : A solitary resident in a little house on 
 the banks of the St. John River was cruelly murdered, 
 after that the place was undeniably haunted, so much 
 so, that no boatman, fisherman, lumberman, or indeed 
 any traveller, would peril his night's rest by lodging 
 under that roof. However, a party of wild young 
 blades in going up or down the river, were driven by 
 stress of weather to seek the shelter of that deserted 
 house for one night. On entering, one presumptuous 
 fellow, as it was very dark, cried out, " Come, old Blank, 
 strike up a light ! " When suddenly to their great 
 dismay, the place became as luminous as day, and old 
 Blanksat crouchingin a corner. Deponent said they left 
 more hastily than they came. Mother also told how 
 ^he had seen a man's double in day time, before his 
 death, at a moment when he was proved to be miles 
 away, near a spot where he was soon after buried. 
 This was related to show that there were more things 
 in heaven and earth than were dreamed of in the pre- 
 vailing philosophy. There w^ere many of our Highland 
 Scotch and Roman Catholic Irish acquaintances who 
 related tales by the hour, not only of fairies (the good 
 people) — littered softly — but of the " Banshee," and the 
 "Brownie," which we liked the excitement of listening 
 to. I cannot say that any of our people believed in 
 
MY BOY LIFBk 113 
 
 them ; but in the possibility of apparitions and in the 
 authenticity of their occurrence in many cases, we 
 had the heartiest belief. The belief grew in me, and 
 as Dr. Stephens said, the apparition of old Jeffry in 
 the Wesle}^ family, *"' opened the right of way for the 
 supernatural " in my soul. 
 
 But the belief occasioned me a great deal of super- 
 stitious terror. And while the spook stories went 
 around (a baneful thing to allow among children), 
 I always stole from the outer edge of the fireside circle 
 to the inside of the circle, despite the burning heat of 
 the fire, and the danger of being roasted alive. For 
 hours the sweat would pour off me, but I dared not 
 stir. The hold which these stories had taken of those 
 who listened to them, especially the younger ones, 
 could be seen in their staring looks, or the dilation of 
 the pupils of their eyes and their glistening eye-balls. 
 
 Scarcely less exciting were the recitation of the 
 barbarous incidents of the Indian wars, which had 
 passed out of New England into New Brunswick. 
 Those were mostly authentic, and so the more terrible. 
 One of my mother's stories was of a woman, who heard 
 her little child at play in the door-yard to shriek out. 
 She knew that the savages were upon them, and it 
 would no^> do to go out, even to look after her child, 
 but to stick to her only means of defence: — She was 
 making soft soap, and a large pot of it, scalding hot, 
 was simmering over the fire, over which she stood ladle 
 in hand, and as the Indians opened the door, the front 
 8 
 
114 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 rank met a hot reception. They yelled and broke, 
 but she stood to her guns, and as each successive rank 
 came forward to the assault, they were welcomed in a 
 similar way. Till at length they all scampered off, 
 writhing and screaming with agony. When she ven- 
 tured out her child was dead, but she herself was un- 
 disputed master (or mistress) of the fort and field. 
 
 Many, many years after, when there were but few 
 remnants of the aborigines left, and no danger was ex- 
 perienced from them, a scarred old Indian called and 
 asked for something to eat. She gave him a comfort- 
 able meal and otherwise treated him kindly. So com- 
 municative did he feel that he said to her in a way of 
 inquiry, " You no remember makum soap of Indians ? " 
 " Yes ! was you one of that band ? " " Well, what be- 
 came of the scalded Indians ? " " Some berry sick, good 
 many die." " They deserved it, the rascals ! " was her 
 reply. ♦ 
 
 These reminiscenses might be multiplied indefinitely 
 but the reader has had enough for illustration ; and 
 perhaps he will say, " more than enough. " 
 
 But, perhaps, before I dismiss things terrible and 
 improbable, I shall tell that about 1816. A report was 
 raised that a wild man, or yahoo ( "yo-ho," it was pro- 
 nounced) had been seen on Yonge Street, near the 
 Gallows Hill, by one Whitesides, if not others, which 
 obtained currency for a short time. No one seemed to 
 think the thing unlikely. My own father spoke, as a 
 parallel case, of having seen a wild man, naked but 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 115 
 
 hairy, by the roadside, in one of the Southern States 
 or Provinces, by whom, or which, his horse was very 
 much frightened. I mention these particulars to in- 
 dicate the beliefs or credulity of the people, and the 
 kind of conversation which obtained among those by 
 whom my childhood was surrounded, and the con- 
 sequent influences under which my own mind had 
 to be developed. 
 
No. XV. 
 
 HOW I EARNED MY FIRST FELT HAT. 
 
 1WAS then about eight years of age, ever since which 
 I have done something towards my own support. 
 Do not suppose that I had gone bareheaded till 
 then. I had worn a cap, and that cap of home manu- 
 facture, sometimes of one material and then of another 
 — of yellow nankeen, or green baize, ornamented some- 
 times with a tassel at top, and when that could not be 
 obtained, by a large covered button and an appropriate 
 forepiece. But then, that was only a cap, and not " a 
 store cap either." I can remember how consequential 
 I felt, years after, while wearing at my work, a 
 peaked cap of red-worsted, known as a bonnet rouges 
 bought with my own earnings " out of a store." 
 
 Yet up to the age of eight years, as I have said, I 
 had never owned a veritable hat ; and I sighed to have 
 one — it would be so much more manly. Every boy of 
 any manlike pretensions wore a hat ; and if I only had 
 a hat, it would be a long stride towards manhood. 
 
BIT BOY LIFE. - 117 
 
 And was it not a happy day when mother went to the 
 hatter's and brought home a hat for each of the three 
 youngest boys ! But how great was my boast, com- 
 pared with the others, as I could say, " I earned mine ! " 
 It had been paid for by my own hoarded earnings, a 
 lot of little pieces of silver, amounting to one dollar. 
 
 The way in which I earned the money was this: we 
 still lived in the " JiOng Log-house," on the comer of 
 what we now know as Bay and Richmond Streets. 
 The square directly opposite eastward all belonged to" 
 one man, who owned a great part of York besides 
 (indeed he owned the land on the three opposite 
 corners to us) enclosed with a high picket fence. The 
 fence, or stockade, protected a meadow and an orchard. 
 The gentleman's residence was on the south-east corner 
 of the block, that is to say, on the north-west corner 
 of what we now know as Yonge and Adelaide Streets. 
 That gentleman was the son of a shiftless, if not 
 drunken father, who ill provided for his family, and 
 bound out his son where he suffered great hardship 
 and cruelty, from which he had relieved himself by 
 running away and coming to this Province, where he 
 had an older brother then living. Industry and good 
 habits marked him ever after ; especially he foreswore 
 all intoxicating liquors, in a day when the evils of 
 drinking were not generally seen. He fell into good 
 business habits, married prudently, came to York and 
 bought out the business for a song of an American 
 leaving the Province on the eve of the war ; prospered 
 
118 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and made wealth with nncommon rapidity. But, in 
 his prosperity, he did not forget his early hardships ; 
 but the remembrance of them made him thoughtful of 
 his poor relations and sympathizing to all in destitu- 
 tion, especially to poor boys, particularly if they were 
 industrious and trying to rise. 
 
 This person was homely in his ways and quaint, or 
 odd, in his expressions. This, joined to his known 
 benevolence and kindness of heart, caused him to be 
 familiarly known by his neighbors ^;.s " Uncle Jesse." 
 
 Uncle Jesse had, among several other dependent 
 persons living with him, a nephew — a sister's son — 
 by the name of John Jones. John was four years 
 older than I, but being small of his age, and very fond 
 of play, he seemed to be a mere boy for many more 
 years. Among other boyish characteristics, John did 
 not like to work alone. Unless he had company, he 
 was not very persevering, if not looked after. 
 
 In the early spring of 1818, Mr. Ketchum had 
 caused a two-acre field, bounded by Queen, Yonge, 
 Richmond, and Bay Streets, then without a building 
 of any kind u ^on it, to be ploughed, manured, and 
 every way prep'^^red for a crop of potatoes. The seed 
 was brought on to the ground, and John Jones was 
 set to work to plant them. He was wholly alone, and 
 it seemed a formidable undertaking for him. He 
 naturally hailed any boy that passed to get company 
 out of him, if he could not induce him to help. During 
 the first day of his operations, I and my little twin 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 119 
 
 brother were passing, and he called- us in, and asked us 
 to drop the potatoes in the drills for him while he 
 hoed the earth upon them. My mate refused and went 
 home ; but, being naturally obliging, I complied, and 
 John started to work with renewed vigour. In a few 
 hours the uncle came to see how his nephew was 
 getting on, and was not a little pleased to see him so 
 reinforced and prosecuting his work so well; and being 
 desirous to reward and encourage me, he opened his 
 buckskin purse, filled with small pieces of silver, and 
 offered me a piece of what was called " cut money " 
 (money used to be cut up in lesser pieces in those days 
 to make change), one half a quarter doller cut in two ; 
 but showing my preference for a piece of "round 
 money," he gave me a regular " York shilling." There 
 was no stipulation between us, but, at John's earnest 
 solicitation, I went every day ; and every day the good 
 man visited us and gave me a York shilling. Eight 
 days had elapsed before we had completed our task. 
 Every day I took my piece of money to my mother, 
 and at the end of the eight days I was the owner of 
 a dollar. With that dollar, as I have already said, my 
 mother bought me a hat. 
 
 Like all children, we* wanted to put our hats on at 
 once ; and needing hats very much we were allowed 
 to wear them. But going to work with them on in a 
 very warm day, and being employed in burning the 
 brush that had been cut down on a field, then farmed 
 by the family (a field which now constitutes the 
 
120 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Queen's Park), the coloured glaze which stiffened the 
 crimson lining of our hats, and which we had greatly 
 admired, melted and lost its colour and its gloss, and 
 caused us sorrow and disappointment : so unstable are 
 our earthly delights ! . 
 
 But I was consoled by the good opinion which I had 
 earned of Mr. K., which led him to propose to my 
 parents to have me come and live with him ; and 
 although I did not immediately comply, I went into 
 his employment ia after years, and enjoyed his friend- 
 ship until the good old gentleman's death at a very 
 advanced age. My little story carries its own moral 
 on its face. 
 
No. XVI. 
 
 THE " ELMSLEY FIELD," AND ITS ONE -TRAGIC MEMORY. 
 
 T 
 
 HIS field was a block of land facing Yon^e Street 
 from its west side, containing about forty- 
 acres, perhaps at the time when it first came 
 under my observation, mostly cleared, well fenced, and 
 with a large barn in the centre of the clearing. It 
 was the northern half of the block, formerly possessed 
 by Chief-Justice Elmsley before his death. If any 
 person is curious to know the history of that particular 
 portion of his property he has only to turn to Dr. 
 Scadding's " Toronto of Old," page 392. At the time 
 to which I refer, Chief -Justice Elmsley was deceased, 
 and the heir-at-law of the northern section of his 
 property in that locality (he who was afterwards 
 known as the Hon. John Elmsley), was a minor, and 
 living in Europe, probably for the purpose of complet- 
 ing his education ; and the property was managed by 
 Alexander Wood, Esquire, who kept a shop on the 
 north-west corner of King and Frederick Streets. 
 
122 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 I have already said or intimated that my father and 
 brothers purchased wood lots, and cut and sold the cord- 
 wood from off them, and farmed various pieces of land. 
 About the time the Jarvis farm was to pass out of 
 their hands, they engaged with Mr. Wood to till and 
 crop a large part of the Elmsley Field, he himself 
 cultivating, in the most approved Scotch method, the 
 other part. My brother James was the principal 
 manager of this particular enterprise, but all the 
 younger ones were more or less employed from time 
 to time about the place. The tims it was in our 
 possession must have included the years 1817 and 1818, 
 the former certainly. 
 
 I have several minor memories of the field, mostly 
 of a pleasant kind ; such as its broad expanse, and the 
 fragrant " smell of a field which the Lord had blessed;" 
 the pasturing of our two cows there, with the pail of 
 milk " Old Brown " gave one morning before she went, 
 and the beautiful calf that followed her from the field 
 at night (of Pink, the calf herself, I had my special 
 memories) ; the pleasant memory of burning brush and 
 rubbish. And where is the boy that does not like to 
 kindle a fire and see a blaze ? And the not so pleasant 
 memory of riding, along with my little twin brother, 
 our span of horses, round and round, on the barn 
 floor, to thresh the grain, in the absence of modern 
 appliances for that purpose. I say " not so pleasant 
 memories," for ever and anon my bare feet got a 
 scraping between the horse's side and the boarding of 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 123 
 
 the barn, which tore off the skin and made them 
 bleed. ,/ > 
 
 But T am to relate a tragic memory of that place. 
 I will be likely to tell elsewhere how that we two 
 youngest boys attended school the whole of the sum- 
 mer of 1817, at what was the extreme east end of the 
 town, that is to say, on King Street, east of Ontario. 
 On arriving at the school-house for the afternoon, 
 after partaking of our dinner, on the 11th of July of 
 that summer, the children who had remained at the 
 place told us that there had been a squabble on the 
 street, and that one gentleman had given another 
 gentleman a caning ; and while they were talking, the 
 person who had used the cane made his appearance 
 with two or three others, to whom he seemed to be 
 describing what had happened. He was a very young 
 man, but tall and large. He was dressed in a frock- 
 coat and white pantaloons. 
 
 We neither heard nor knew anything further for 
 that night ; but, on the morning of the 12th, at. a very 
 early hour, my brother William, who was married and 
 living in a small house which he had erected on Yonge 
 & treet, near the corner of what is now Yonge and 
 Albert Streets (the first erected in McCauley Town), 
 was getting his team ready to start with a load of 
 Government stores to the Holland Landing, a method 
 of forwarding which then furnished employment to 
 those who, like my brother, kept teams for hire. The 
 sun was scarcely risen, the dew was on leaf and spray 
 
124 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and all nature seemed in repose, save that a close car- 
 riage (almost the only one kept for hire in the town), 
 belonging to William Darius Forrest) generally called 
 " D'Forrest," who kept the most flashy hotel in the 
 town), was proceeding very slowly, almost lingering, 
 and stoppiLg — till there was the report of a pistol 
 heard, and a few seconds after another. Upon 
 which my brother observed that the driver on the box 
 of the carriage whipped up his horses, and put them 
 at the top of their speed. After another short 
 interval, the carriage was seen returning not very 
 fast, but with no person visible but the driver. My 
 brother said to him, " What have you there ? " He 
 answered, "The body of John Ridout: he has been 
 killed in a duel by Samuel Jarvis." 
 
 These names reveal the two principals in the broil 
 and in the death-dealing duel. It is, perhaps, too early 
 for the history of the inside details of the quarrel 
 which led to this sad catastrophe. Suffice it to say, 
 that there had been a family feud of some standing 
 between the Ridouts and the family of Secretary 
 Jarvis ; and George Ridout and young Samuel Jarvis 
 had been prevented some time before, from satisfying 
 their injured honour by the arbitration of pistols, through 
 the vessel in which they had set sail for Niagara, 
 where the duel was to have been fought, being so long 
 becalmed outside the Point, that she was overtaken 
 by the officers of justice in a row-boat, brought 
 back to town, and bound over to keep the peace. But 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 125 
 
 unhappily the quarrel was resumed between Samuel 
 Jarvis, a young man from 20 to 30 perliaps, and a 
 younger son and brother of* the Ridout family. On 
 that fatal 11th of July, Samuel Jarvis had called John 
 Ridout into his office, and aft'ir some altercation told 
 him to leave, or he would kick him out. The same 
 day they met in the street, and the younger man 
 (being the larger and stronger) inflicted chastisement 
 on the other. For the further and fatal issue of the 
 quarrel they were both answerable. Each challenged 
 the other, and the whole was evidently arranged that 
 night, while their mothers, sisters, and other friends 
 were sunk in peaceful repose. Jarvis obtained Henry 
 John Boulton as his second, and Ridout secured James 
 E. Small as his second. And, oh! sad mockery of law 
 and justice, both were legal men ! Boulton was Solici- 
 tor-General, and Small was an able pleader at the bar; 
 and both of them afterwards wore a judge's ermine. 
 
 The story told of the duel was, that Ridout being, 
 young and nervous (it was his twentieth birthday), 
 had fired by mistake at the word " two," instead of 
 waiting for the true count ; his ball cut the necktie of 
 the other. Seeing his mistake, he rushed forward to 
 his antagonist, and exclaimed, " I hope I have not hurt 
 you ? " What a pity that at this stage of the deplor- 
 able business, there could not have been some means 
 employed to prevent the matter from going further, 
 and the loss of a promising young life prevented ! But, 
 alas, no ! they were all cowards, afraid to infringe the 
 
126 : • ; MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 injunctions of a barbarous code of law, the poor victim 
 was pu^^i back at his eight paces, and deliberately shot 
 at, the ball passing through his chest, the seat of 
 vitality. He fell, and was carried into the barn and 
 laid on a board with his head a little elevated The 
 carriage presently arrived. Those accessory to the 
 homicide placed him in the coach, and then each one 
 consulted his own safety by flight, leaving the dying 
 man to pour out his blood and give up his life without 
 friend or foe to witness his death. He died before 
 the carriage reached town. Those of our family who 
 went early, as usual, to their work in the field found 
 the blood-stained board in the barn, and the spot where 
 he fell still wet. Som3 time after, I can remember 
 seeing the grass stifiened with the clotted gore now 
 dried by the sun. 
 
 A reward of ten pounds was offered for the recovery 
 of the ball, and two of my young brothers, respectively 
 of the ages of twelve and fourteen, searched a wide area 
 around for the bullet a number of times without suc- 
 cess. To say nothing of the passionate or stunning 
 grief of his relatives, there was no right-hearted person 
 but felt sorrow at seeing a promising young gentle- 
 man thus led as an ox to the slaughter. His violent 
 death made a strange, vivid impression on my own 
 childish heart and mind at the time. 
 
 The particulars of the principal's trial and acquittal ; 
 as also the failure of an attempt to criminate the 
 seconds, after the lapse of ten or twelve years, are 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 127 
 
 given by Dr. Scadding in the work above quoted. But 
 there is reason to believe that Mr. Jarvis was never 
 abl»> to acquit himself at the bar of his own conscience 
 from tlie " cry of his brother's blood," and that he 
 lived and died an unhappy man. 
 
 Some months after the occurrence, when public ex- 
 citement had somewhat abated, the feeling in our 
 family was awakened anew by an occurrence in the 
 Elmsley Field, which our brother James related at the 
 fireside the evening after. A genteel stranger, a 
 young man, came to him in the field and asked him if 
 he could point him to the spot where John Ridout 
 fell in a duel. Brother said, " I can put your hand on 
 the spot that was wet with his blood," and led him to 
 the place. The person seemed very much struck and 
 moved indeed. 
 
 ** This stranger's eye wept, • 
 
 That in life's brightest bloom, 
 One gifted so rarely, • 
 
 Should sink to the tomb." 
 
 Seeing him put his pocket handkerchief to his eyes, 
 James presumed to remark, " You knew him, sir ? " 
 " Oh ! yes, he was a very, very dear friend of mine in- 
 deed." Brother did not recognize his appearance as 
 of one he had seen before, yet did not presume to ask 
 what had been the relation between him and " the 
 loved and lost." Whether they had been fellow 
 students or companions-in-arms (for though young, 
 
128 
 
 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 they were old and large enough to have shared with 
 almost all the other young gentlemen of the country 
 in its defence during the recent war), or what other 
 tie had bound their friendship, we never knew. 
 
NO. XVII. - 
 
 THE RISE OF AN INSTITUTION WHICH INFLUENCED MY 
 
 DESTINIES FOR GOOD. 
 
 T^HIS was the building of a Methodist meeting- 
 house, and the establishment of regular preach - 
 ing: and other services in the Town of York. There 
 was an English Church in the town at the time of our 
 arrival, and for long before. But it was then in a very 
 dilapidated state. It had never been much of a 
 structure, not large, a framed, clapboarded building, 
 which had never had a steeple, or a coat of paint. 
 Some low wag scrawled upon its walls — 
 
 " Doctor Strachn, 
 " If you'd have the good- will of the people, 
 " You must paint your church and build a steeple." 
 
 Report said that the building had been used as a 
 military hospital at a time of pressure during the war. 
 The church lot had been fenced with rails, but the 
 soldiers and the rabble had burnt them up. As it was, 
 
 9 
 
X30 ..' \ MY BOY LIFE 
 
 it was the only place where the decencies of public 
 worship had been statedly conducted until the event 
 to which I am about to refer. Transient preachers, 
 among the rest the Methodists, had given occasional 
 sermons, — in the Parliament buildings, in hotel ball- 
 rooms, and in private houses, but no other denomina- 
 tion had a church of any kind, and, therefore, could 
 not collect, much less preserve a congregation. The 
 Episcopalians were the most regular church-goers of 
 that day ; and they were principally, though not wholly, 
 of the aristocratic class, such as our aristocracy then 
 were. Thus, the best bred and most pretentious 
 people had most of the form of religion, so far as it 
 related to public forms. You could see on a Sunday 
 forenoon our would-be aristocrats in their gigs and 
 elegant coaches, with liveried footmen up behind, 
 driving to that old church, the servants, dogs, and 
 horses awaiting in the street their more devotional 
 masters, or owners to issue from the sacred enclosure. 
 Some indeed walked : among these was a remarkable 
 pair, who passed our door on almost every Sunday 
 while we lived at the corner of George and Duchess 
 Streets, coming down the oblique waggon track from 
 Don Flats, looking, as a woman of my acquaintance 
 used to say, " like a couple of old-fashioned picturs," 
 the old gentleman with dangling cue, 1 think, three- 
 corned cocked hat, sloping, single-breasted coat, long 
 buff waistcoat, with large pockets, breeches, stockings, 
 aoad shoe buckles; and the old lady dressed equally 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 131 
 
 primitively, with scoop-bonnet, kerchief on her 
 shoulders, &c., but all of the best material. This was 
 old Colonel Playter and his wife, in the costume of 
 the early reign of George III. 
 
 The religious notions of our family, as far as* we 
 had any at that time, strange as it may seem of a 
 family which had been identified with the army, were 
 of a Quaker cast. Consequently, the ritualism of the 
 Church of England was scarcely adapted to attract us 
 to her altars. True, the Presbyterian family into 
 which William had married were temporarily going, off 
 and on, to the Church ; and William and Annie's first 
 baby must needs be carried to the Church and chris- 
 tened ; but then the parson would not perform the 
 rite upon the child until the father was baptized, which 
 was conformed to by him, — the first one of our house- 
 hold who received water baptism. But this conformity, 
 as yet, was not attended with any vital religion. 
 
 In the summer of 1818, just before we removed 
 from the Mercer house to a home of our own, provided 
 for the family by Brother Tom, I came one day from 
 tKe nearest store (and the only one for a long ways) 
 
 and told my mother, that I had met the man who had 
 come in from the country to put up the meeting-house, 
 
 speak of raising the frame that day, and that, contrary 
 
 to the usual practice of the times, there would be only 
 
 cakes and beer, (instead of raw whisky) given at the 
 
 raising. My father loaned them the log chains which 
 
 drew up the timbers. Soon it was enclosed, and ser- 
 
132 : • ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 vice commenced before it was finished. Next, one 
 Sunday, after we were settled in our new home, father 
 and mother went to the preaching, and father returned 
 alone, for mother had "stayed to class." In that meet- 
 ing she joined the Church on trial ; and not long after, 
 while a hymn was being sung, she found the peace of 
 God for which she had sighed nine or ten weary years. 
 After that she went every Tuesday night to class at 
 the leader's, Mr. Patrick, and I usually accompanied 
 her with the tin-lantern of the day, over holes 
 and hillocks across the commons for company. As in 
 duty bound, she received baptism ; and I being the 
 only one of the family she could control, she led me 
 forward one night when baptism was being attended 
 to, and a^ked the rite for me. As I was a sizable boy, 
 I had to promise for myself, as well as my mother for 
 me. The notable James Jackson performed the 
 baptism. The Sunday-school, which I have elsewhere 
 described, was commenced about a year before that. 
 In the meantime, my twin-brother had died — I think 
 without being baptized. During a severe fit of sick- 
 ness, from which he was expected to die, Thomas was 
 baptized. George and Nathaniel not for another five 
 or six years, at the time, they made a profession of re- 
 ligion ; and poor sightless James, not till some years 
 later stijl. Thus, one by one, here and there, all the 
 members of our Quakerized, nondescript family were 
 formally initiated into the visible Church of Christ. 
 But the frame meeting-house became our religious 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 133 
 
 home as far as we availed ourselves of it, and countless 
 blessings, even of a material kind, resulted therefrom. 
 In that spiritual birth-place of my mother, and as I 
 shall have to describe in due time, I myself most 
 assuredly passed from death unto life. In this shor^ 
 sketch, I have supplied a link, necessary to make the 
 chain of events in my lowly boy-life continuous. 
 
NO. XVIII. 
 
 HOW I CHANCED TO GET THE FIRST PRIZE. 
 
 k\IXTY-THREE years ago this September (1881) 
 there was no Sunday-school in " Muddy Little 
 York," now the fair City of Toronto, nor had 
 there ever been one. But there was one organized 
 soon after —thai is to say, about November, 1818. 
 Sunday-schools were then new and rare anywhere in 
 Canada ; one had been set on foot in Brock ville by the 
 Rev. Wm. Smart, in 1811 ; one was organized and 
 taught by the Rev. Thomas Burch, Methodist minister, 
 in Montreal, during the war of 1812, and when the 
 Wesleyan missionaries came to that city in 1815 they 
 likewise established one. But though the Rev. 
 Thaddeus Osgood, General Missionary, supported by 
 some New England society, spoke of such an insti- 
 tution in a humble school that I attended after the 
 war was over, it came to nothing till three years after. 
 In the autumn of 1818 my dear mother returned one 
 day from a visit to Mr. Ketchum's, and told us at home 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 135 
 
 that Mr. Osgood had been in town, and that Messrs. 
 Ketchum, Patrick, Carfra, and Morrison were going to 
 teach a school every Sunday afternoon in the new 
 Methodist meeting-house on King street, and it was 
 decided that we, the three youngest boys, should attend. 
 We were hardly in presentable trim to make our ap- 
 pearance there, in point of clothes and shoes especially ; 
 but an extra effort was made by father and mother 
 (the particulars of which would make a strange story 
 by itself), and on the bleak November afternoon ap- 
 pointed we were there, and so early that we had the 
 honour of kindling the fire in the sheet-iron stove out 
 of the chips and hewings from the timber of which 
 the frame of the newly-built house was made. At 
 length the patrons and the intended teachers of the 
 school 'irrived, and we were called to order, and the 
 lessons began. There were few books of any kind in 
 that early day, and not enough Bibles and Testaments. 
 My first lesson was the fragment of a Bible, a psalm, 
 pasted on a shingle, which I read and committed to 
 memory. 
 
 This school was under the patronage of the " Ameri- 
 can Sunday-school Union," which had provided spelling 
 and lesson books, bearing the device on the title-page 
 of clasped hands in token of union. Beyond this, I 
 do not remember that there were any appropriate books 
 such as Sunday-schools now have ; no hymn-books, 
 for we sang out of the books for the congregation ; no 
 library books, certainly ; and no reward books or prizes 
 of any kind for a year or two. 
 
136 • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 The first attempt of this kind was the offer of one 
 single book as a reward for the scholar who should 
 answer a certain question, which had been asked and 
 was under consideration for weeks. The question had 
 been addressed to the first class of boys — or young 
 men, almost, as some of them were — but soon the whole 
 school had come to be interested in the matter. It 
 was Christ's question to the learned among the Jews 
 (to be found in Matt. xxii. 42-44 ; Mark xii. 35-37, 
 '" and Luke xx. 22-44), How it was that Christ, who was 
 David's Lord, coidd be also his son ? The question 
 was not answered the day it was proposed, and they 
 were directed to take it home, and it made a great stir 
 in many of the homes of the children ; but it was not 
 answered the next Sunday. But the managers of the 
 school resolved that it should go to them again ; and a 
 book was to be bought for the one who answered the 
 question. This was bought, and exhibited to whet 
 the eagerness of the contenders ; and, as it happened 
 the first book purchased did not satisfy the teachers 
 and another was bought. In the meantime, the ques- 
 tion was agitated in the several families represented 
 in the school for a period, at least, of two or three 
 weeks. At length the day was set when the inquiry 
 was to be determined, and all was eagerness and ex- 
 pectation, both in and out of the school. 
 
 I was not even a candidate, for I was not in the first 
 class, but in the second, a little boy between ten and 
 eleven, while some of the first class were nearly or 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 137 
 
 quite twice my age and size ; nevertheless, I had 
 thought about the question, and with the aid of my 
 mother had made up my mind what was the true 
 answer. 
 
 The day and hour came, and the question went up 
 and down the class, and no one of them could answer 
 it. My class sat close behind, and I watched the state 
 of matters with interest. I was always eager, but, in 
 those days, very bashful. Fortunately, there was a 
 little boy sitting beside me, not quite so old, but larger, 
 who was not bashful. His father was the teacher of 
 the big class : said I to him, " Alfred, I could tell ! " 
 He immediately spoke out, " Father, John Carroll says 
 he can tell ! " As the class was now fairly nonplussed, 
 
 Mr. P condescendingly turned to me and said, 
 
 " Well, John, how could Christ be David's Lord and 
 God, and yet be his son ? " " Because, sir, Christ was 
 both God and man ; and as a man. He was of the 
 house and lineage of David.' " " Well done ! well an- 
 swered !" That was all the reward I obtained then. 
 
 The questioning went on ; and those big boys were 
 asked, " Why did the Jews refuse to believe Jesus to 
 be the Messiah ? " It went up and down the class, but 
 none could tell. Alfred Patrick turned to me, and 
 said in a low voice, " John, can you tell ? " "I think 
 so," said I. " Father, John Carroll says he can tell ! " 
 The teacher once more addressed me, " Well, John, 
 why was Christ rejected by the Jews ? " " Because, 
 sir, He did not come with the pomp and splendour 
 
138 -MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 which they expected the Messiah to come with !" 
 " Good again ! " Now, by a sort of general consent of 
 the authorities of the school, I was transferred to the 
 first class, but put at its foot. In those days the 
 practice of going up and down, according as a 
 pupil succeeded or failed, obtained in Sunday-schools 
 just as they do now in secular schools — so I began at 
 the bottom. But the questioning still went on, and 
 before the school was over I was at the head of the 
 class. That was supposed to be reward enough for 
 such a little fellow for one day, without the book ; I 
 had been admitted to the first class, and I was not 
 inclined to complain. 
 
 But what was to be done with the book ? A singular 
 conclusion was come to for a Sunday-school — the in- 
 stitution of a lottery ! It was thought and said, 
 " They have all done their best ; and though John 
 answered the question, yet as he was not a proper 
 candidate, he has been amply rewarded already ; there- 
 fore each one shall have a new chance — they shall 
 ballot for it. As many slips of paper were cut as 
 there were scholars in the class — they were all left 
 blank but one, on which the prize was marked ; they 
 were then worked between a gentleman's thumb and 
 finger, each into a little roll, put into a hat, and shaken 
 up together. The hat was passed along the class from 
 the foot to the head ; and each boy as it passed him 
 was to put in his hand and take out one of the little 
 billets. The hat came to me last, and there was but 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 139 
 
 one left to take — it was really no choice ; but, oh, joyful 
 day to me ! when they were unrolled all the rest were 
 blank but mine, and I had drawn the prize ! The first 
 Sunday-school prize that I ever heard of being given 
 in the town ! Was I not glad ? My brothers, of 
 course, congratulated me ; but no sooner was school 
 over, than I started for home to tell the good news to 
 my mother, and outstripped the rest. In crossing the 
 green in front of our house, and coming in sight of those 
 looking from the door, I lifted up my prize and bran- 
 dished it before their eyes, exclaiming, " I have got the 
 book ! I have got the book ! " I need not say that 
 my success occasioned great delight to all my friends, 
 but especially to my tender mother, whose " baby " I 
 now was, that my little mate had died. I was sorry he 
 was not there to share my pride and joy. 
 
 My young readers will be inclined to say, " One 
 book was not a great deal to make a fuss over ; I have 
 fifty books." Yes, but I had never had one of my 
 own before, unless it were a school book. Others will 
 say, " What sort of a book was it ? " Well, it was not 
 a book about religion, strange to say, though obtained 
 from a Sunday-school, and it exerted a beneficial in- 
 fluence on me, of a certain kind, all my life. It was 
 a pretty 18mo., printed on nice clear paper, with a 
 pasteboard cover of a wavy-like design. The title 
 was, " Picture of the Seasons," and the matter a de- 
 scription of spring, summer, autumn, and winter as seen 
 in Old England, adorned with pictures, and illustrated 
 
140 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 with poetry mostly from Thomson's Seasons. I read 
 the book over and over again to myself and to my 
 friends, particularly to my eldest brother, James, whose 
 sight was so impaired that he could not see to read for 
 himself. The book, besides affording a vast amount 
 of enjoyment, exerted a training influence upon me, 
 which followed me through life : it made me observant 
 of scenery and of the material works of God ; it gave 
 me a taste for descriptive poetry and the graphic in 
 style, and probably had some influence on my own 
 style after I began to write. A noticeable effect was 
 to beget a desire in my breast to see the British Isles. 
 — a desire which, after the lapse of forty years, was 
 destined to be gratifled. 
 
 The only conclusion I shall draw from the facts 
 here recorded is, that while it is a privation not to 
 have enough books, it is possible to have too many 
 — so many that the attention is distracted among 
 them. Certain it is, that a few good books, well 
 studied, are better than a great many superficially 
 looked over. Young people, make a thorough use of 
 your books that are worth reading ; and if you have 
 more than you can master, give them, or give the use 
 of them, to those who have none. 
 
JE^ 
 
 No. XIX. - 
 
 HOW I INVESTED MY FOUND MONEY. 
 
 LITTLE more than a year after acquiring the 
 Sunday- school prize, our family was in a 
 transition state, and we were all in some 
 measure upon our oars. For several years we younger 
 ones, with our dear mother, were principally dependent 
 for support upon our dear brother Tom, yet unmarried 
 and still uninjured by some ill connections and mis- 
 taken moves which afterwards made some impressions 
 on him for the worse. He had made some property 
 in the town, which he had lately exchanged for a farm 
 in Whitchurch ; and we were all delighted with the 
 prospect of living in the country, and were packed up 
 to move to it. I had even bought the fish-hooks by 
 which I hoped to catch the trout in the purling stream 
 which ran through the farm which we hoped to make 
 our future home, when suddenly our fine team of 
 horses was missing. They had strayed, or had been 
 stolen. Ail were in search of them for weeks, during 
 
142 * • MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 which time it was impossible to move. It turned out, 
 in the issue, that we went not to the farm. Boy 
 though I was, I was very sorry ; for I was always very 
 fond of a country life, and I had sense enough to see 
 that the several dead-heads in the family would there 
 be of more assistance to the bread-winners of the 
 household than anywhere else. To all human appear- 
 ance, in the the long run, it appeared we were great 
 losers by remaining in the town ; my brother changed 
 all his property for a stock of goods in the saddle and 
 harness line of business, and after a time lost it all, 
 and had to start again in a humbler sphere, and the 
 rest of us were scattered abroad. The only compen- 
 sation was (and it was a great gain, if the same event 
 would have failed to happen to us in the country), 
 that, after some years, the religious opportunities we 
 enjoyed in the town issued in the conversion of the 
 three youngest of us boys. But that is not the matter 
 I set out to tell about, but how I found a piece of 
 money, and the use I made of it. 
 
 It was during our time of suspense. I had been 
 called away from a situation where I was earning a 
 few shillings every .week, to get ready for our moving ; 
 and after our loss I went wandering about the com- 
 mons in a vacant sort of way, in hopes of finding our 
 stray horses. I was a little lame in one of my feet 
 from some cause or other, and thought myself lamer 
 than I really was, and was helping myself along with 
 a long stick, and nearing home, when suddenly I saw 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 143 
 
 in the road where Adelaide Street now runs, between 
 Bay and York, something shining in the dust, and 
 sprang forward and grasped it — it was a well-worn 
 quarter-dollar. It was long since I had had any 
 money I could really call my own, and it cured my 
 lameness at once, and I threw away my stick, walking 
 (if 1 did not run) with alacrity. I always reported 
 my gains to my mother, and usually gave them up to 
 her as a matter of course. She was the treasurer for 
 all the boys, as she had to cater for the whole. By 
 her wise management the " many littles " made a sum 
 to keep the family afloat after some fashion. 
 
 But just at that time I very much desired a little 
 money to spend as I liked. And how was it, my 
 young readers will feel curious to know, I did want to 
 spend it ? I will tell you : As I had passed up through 
 our straggling little town, which had but one business 
 street, and not much of a one at that, I discovered that 
 a new book and stationery, toy and variety store was 
 opened on King Street, among some new houses, 
 opposite the English Church, or where St. James' 
 Cathedral now stands — that is, on the south side of 
 King Street, a few doors east of Church Street ; and 
 my eyes had gloated over the books and pictures in 
 the window so long as greatly to inflame my desire 
 for a new book. 
 
 " But chill penury repressed the noble rage, : 
 And froze the genial current of my soul ;" 
 
144 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and I was going home depressed, when I saw the 
 glittering prize in the road. I liad always two reasons 
 for wisliing books to read : one was, because my eldest 
 surviving brother, James, was then almost totally 
 blind, and unable to read himself, albeit the contents 
 of a book was a great solace to him in his loneliness. 
 • He was very hard of hearing as well, and one had to 
 sit very near him to make him hear what was read : 
 but I was so small, and he was so big, that I could sit 
 on his knee opposite his best ear, and make him hear 
 very well. I must just say, that the unnatural pitch 
 I had to assume very much injured the intonation of 
 my voice, which was one source of unpopularity after 
 I became a public speaker. In the meantime, what 
 gave my dear brother pleasure afforded me delight ; I, 
 therefore, always associated the pleasurable prospect 
 of getting a new book with him. 
 
 I entered the house and said, " Mammy, if you will 
 not take it from me, and let me spend it as I like, I 
 will tell you of something I have found." She assured 
 me that unless it were wrong for me to keep it, she 
 would not take it from me. I then showed her the 
 ' quarter-dollar, and as there were no houses near, as the 
 the road was little travelled, and the money was nearly 
 buried in the dust, it was impossible to imagine who 
 had lost it ; and that, therefore, it was the property of 
 the finder — it was mine ! 
 
 Receiving permission, I turned on my heel at once, 
 hurried back to Mr. Leslie's, entered the shop, which I' 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 145 
 
 had not dared to do before, and turned over the smaller 
 books which lay upon the counter. At length I 
 selected a stitched book with a cover somewhat stiff, 
 and containing, perhaps, tifty pages. There were no 
 pictures to tempt me, but the book was fresh-looking, 
 and contained a great deal of matter in verse, which 
 always attracted me, and it chanced that its price was 
 just one quarter-dollar, and I bought it and carried it 
 awaj'. 
 
 My new purchase contained two principal poems, 
 accompanied with notes in prose, with two or three 
 lesser pieces also in rhyme. The two longer ones were> 
 first, " The Borders," — the complaints of English people 
 in the north of England of the " bordering Scots," who 
 " despoiled their fields and ravaged all their farms." 
 I know not the authorship ; it might have been Sir 
 Walter Scott. I knew nothing of him then, and for 
 long after ; but it was accompanied with notes, which 
 gave the reader an insight into monastic and civil life 
 in the middle ages. The whole thing was weird and 
 interesting to me and my auditors when I read it. My 
 mother appreciated and explained it the best of any. 
 She had heard the " Chevy Chase " sung by an intelli- 
 gent Scotchman, and tales of those olden times told 
 around her father's kitchen fire on the banks of the 
 St. John, New Brunswick, in the last century, by that 
 strange medley of persons from all parts of the world, 
 whom the glow of old Quaker Ridout's genial fire 
 attracted to share his gratuitous but ample hostelry 
 10 
 
140 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 After some years I lost my book ; but in the course of 
 still further years I read the " Tales of my Grand- 
 father," " Rob Roy," and the '' Chevy Chase," as well 
 as the more general histories of those times, by which 
 the allusions of my "Borders" became more intelligible 
 to me. 
 
 The other longer poem was the now well-known 
 production of the Moravian poet, Montgomery, entitled 
 the " Wanderer of Switzerland," one of his many pieces 
 written in the interests of freedom and fair dealing. 
 The story was very touching, and we all mingled our 
 tears with the old wanderer. I read this and the other 
 tale over and over ; and the perusal, besides affording 
 me a great deal of pleasure, begat within me a senti- 
 ment, which has been deepening ever since, of hatred 
 to all oppression and unfairness, whether civil or 
 ecclesiastical — whether from crowned heads, aristo- 
 cratic oligarchies, or democratic majorities and mobs. 
 May they all perish forever ? 
 
No. XX. 
 
 A TRAMP TO THE BUSH IN SUGAR TIME, WITH YOUNG 
 
 LADIES. 
 
 W 
 
 HEN we came to York there were two 
 families, pretty much on a par with our- 
 selves, intimate with each other, with both 
 of which we became connected — the one directly, the 
 other only remotely — two members from each of which 
 come into my unpretending story. The one of these 
 families was of Highland Scotch origin, the other I do 
 not know from where — perhaps England. The first 
 were the Mclntoshes, the second the Hamiltons. There 
 were four daughters ixi the first family and one in the 
 other, and several sons in both. My second brother, 
 William, h'">d married the eldest daughter, Annie, in the 
 McInto«h family, and my brother Thomas was destined 
 to marry the second daughter, Jane. There were two 
 other daughters, twins, Isabella and Eliza, at the time 
 of my story seventeen or eighteen years of age, very 
 comely in appearance. Bella was tall, straight, and 
 
148 "my boy life. 
 
 graceful, if not majestic in figure, with a full face and 
 rosy complexion. Eliza was darker in complexion but 
 smaller in person, and lithe and graceful in her move- 
 ments, with small and lady-like hands and features, 
 vivacious in manner and conversation, frank and very 
 amiable. Caroline Hamilton, who was destined to 
 marry their handsome brother Charlie. s the alm-ost 
 inseparable companion of the twins, i, and Eliza. 
 Miss H. was tall and graceful, but not so beautiful in 
 face and features as her more favoured companions. 
 Her brother Wilson, or " Wilse," a tall, handsome, 
 vivacious fellow, was Bell's acknowledged admirer 
 at that time. Eliza's intimacy with the handsome 
 young American, Charles Thompson, destined to be 
 her future husband, was not as yet, I think, very 
 pronounced — it was two years afterwards, I know. 
 
 About the year 1819, my brother William, the 
 husband of Annie Mcintosh, had settled with his wif.> 
 and two children on the lot drawn for his military 
 services, consisting of two hundred acres in the edge of 
 the " New Survey " of the Township of Toronto — say, 
 as the road went, fifteen or sixteen miles from the 
 town. The time to which I refer was the early spring, 
 or breaking up of winter, 1821, when I was between 
 eleven and twelve years of age. 
 
 It seems the younger girls in the two families had 
 projected a visit to William and Annie durir,^ the 
 sugar-making time that spring ; and, from what after- 
 wards happened, I suspect they had engaged, or 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 149 
 
 expected, Wilson Hamilton to be their escort. But 
 when the time came he was too busy in the shop to 
 leave, or at least to spend all the time they expected 
 to be away. But ladies, especially young ladies, do 
 not easily relinquish any project they get in their 
 heads. Defeated in one resource, they resorted to 
 another : they tramped on (for they were on foot) up 
 to the west end of the town, where my mother resided, 
 in hopes of getting one of our boys to accompany 
 them. But Thomas had started business, George was 
 in his situation, and 'Thaniel was away on a journey 
 in almost the direction they were going, but further. 
 They must have some masculine escort, and young and 
 small as I was, they asked for me and I was away on 
 an errand ; but just as they come to the door, hesitating 
 whether to go on or turn back, I made my appearance, 
 and mother joined her request with theirs, that I should 
 go with them. 
 
 I liked sugar — and where is the boy thai does not ? 
 — and once I had, when thirsty, taken a good drink of 
 sap, and the remembrance of the sylvan nectar had 
 lingered in my memory, and almost the taste of it in ray 
 moutn, during the three or four intervening years. 
 Besides, I longed to see my brother's residence in the 
 bush ; but there was a drawback — I had never felt the 
 reiining influence of a sister's presence and love, and 
 I hardly knew how to behave in the company of girls ; 
 besides, my brothers had a silly trick of teasing me 
 about little girls, until I was afraid to be seen speaking 
 
150 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 to one. 1 was almost afraid and ashamed to consent to 
 go ; but being urged, did consent, got ready in a trice, 
 and went ; and the young ladies expressed their delight 
 again and again. It was pretty late in the day when 
 we started to tramp the intervening fifteen or sixteen 
 miles along the rough and still largely unsettled road. 
 
 We passed up tlieDundasroad (Queen Street), turn- 
 ing south at where the Lunatic Asylum now is, till we 
 came near where the Dundas Street Methodist Church 
 stands ; then west, including one jog on the road, till 
 we reached the Humber, where Lambton now flourishes; 
 on up the hill and across the Mimico, where Islington 
 now displays its beauties ; and on up Dundas Street 
 till we reached the place of turning back into the new 
 settlements, of which more after a little. 
 
 Shall I tell you what the road, or country, was like 
 those fifty-nine years ago ? On the north side of 
 Queen Street there were nothing but farms and farm- 
 houses until the turn west, north of the Asylum, was 
 reached. After that it was all dark pine woods for 
 three or four miles, excepting some squatter or wood- 
 chopper's shanty, till you came out where an industri- 
 ous German, by the name of Friday, had taken up a 
 location, and joined a little farming with charcoal- 
 burning and tar-making. Then, there were no houses 
 along the plains among the scrub oaks until we 
 reached. the Humber, with its saw-mills (the first or 
 second I had seen) and tavern there. Then no more 
 houses till we reached the Mimico. After that, a very 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 151 
 
 few rough log houses, with a great deal of woods 
 between, till we came to where we must needs turn 
 north. There, fortunately, the school was just break- 
 ing up for the day, and, upon inquiry, we found there 
 was a young man, who lived only a mile and a half 
 from my brother's, just returning after his day's 
 studies. Ebenezer Austin was fairly educated, intelli- 
 gent, and rather polite ; besides, the sight of the young 
 ladies put him on his best behaviour at once. We liad 
 something like a road until we reached his father's, 
 at which time it became quite dark, and we had to go 
 the rest of the way across fields and through the 
 woods ; but young Austin was only too glad, with 
 lighted hickory bark torch, to be the guide and 
 cicerone (explaining the history and mystery of all we 
 saw) to the fair town girls. At length the light from 
 the roaring log fire on William's hearth, well on in tho 
 evening, was a welcome sight to us all ; for we were 
 very tired and very hungry. We would not accept 
 the proffered hospitality of the Austin family, noted 
 for their kindness ; and I, with my boyish bashful nes.9, 
 even refused to go into the house. But I made mysalf 
 welcome where I was known. We did ample justice 
 to the abundant farmer's fare served up by the 
 acknowledged taste of my sister-in-law, of well-known 
 housekeeping capabilities. I soon became sleepy, and 
 mounted by a ladder to my bed in the loft, made on 
 the floor near the chimney, where the constant fire 
 below heated the boards. I stretched my weary legs, 
 
152 'my boy life. 
 
 feeling the cat-tail couch a luxury, and soon fell asleep, 
 and, boy-like, slept till late the following morning. 
 
 Looking around in the morning sunshine, I observed 
 that four adjacent clearings (two on each side of the 
 well-cleared road) made a fair opening in what was 
 forest all beyond, for the wilderness bour.ded our 
 horizon — everywhere a wilderness of laige trets, 
 crowded with " underbrush " beneath. All within the 
 encircling forest was rudely made, but new — fences, 
 barns, and houses. One of the condiments that made 
 our breakfast still more appetizing was furnished from 
 the sugar-bush ; namely, pure, new maple molasses, 
 than which nothing can be more delectable. 
 
 The breakfast, moreover, was swallowed with eager- 
 ness, for we were " all agog " to be off to the sugar- 
 bush. It was simply the nearest forest land to the 
 north end of the clearing, for the sugar maple was a 
 prevailing kind of tree in that hardwood forest, and 
 large ones they were. The trees were tapped for a 
 large area around — that is, a notch was cut with a 
 sharp axe on the south side of each tree, at an angle 
 from the perpendicular of about forty-five degrees, 
 and at the lower end of the notch a " spile " or spout 
 of basswood was introduced into an incision made with 
 an iron instrument. The sap was caught in basswood 
 or ash troughs, made on the ground — it was before 
 the day of cooper-made pails. Once a day, at least, 
 the troughs had to be emptied, for when the sap ran 
 freely the troughs were filled within twenty-four hours. 
 
** MY BOY LIFE. 153 
 
 Sometimes we emptied the sap-troughs both morning 
 and evening, just as you would milk a cow ; and when 
 there had been rain, or a fall of snow and a thaw, why 
 then the water thus caught had to be thrown out, that 
 it might not dilute the sap. 
 
 The boiling place was in the centre of the sugar- 
 bush. Everything was rude and extempore in those 
 early days ; no arches or fixtures for the boilers, and 
 no store puncheons. There was a capacious " store- 
 trough " made out of a large tree. The great pots or 
 " sugar-kettles " were strung on a strong pole resting 
 on crotches at either end of the fire ; then two large 
 logs of suitable length were rolled up from either side 
 under the pots, which, with kindlings, chips, and smaller 
 wood, both round and split, of which there was plenty 
 close at hand, set on fire, soon put the whole in a 
 roaring blaze. The largest pots were filled with the 
 new sap, which was emptied into lesser ones as it was 
 boiled down to greater strength, called " syrup," the 
 strongest pot of which was kept simmering away more 
 gradually until it became molasses ; and the molasses 
 was boiled over a still slower fire ; for the nearer to 
 sugar it became, the more likely it was to boil over, or 
 to burn. The pots, during the whole process, had to 
 be skimmed often to get rid of the impurities which 
 came to the surface in the form of scum. An egg, or 
 a little piece of fat pork, served as a clarifier, by 
 making the sediment more observable in the scum. I 
 was never lazy, but rather officious in assisting at what- 
 
154 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 ever was going on. I tendered my services to aid in 
 the business, and soon learned to " gather sap," to 
 " tend the pots," to feed the fires, and even to cut down 
 and split up a sizable tree for fuel. Of course we all 
 drank a great deal of sap, syrup, and molasses, and 
 ate a great deal of hot sugar, which is very fine. 
 " Sugaring off'" was a very nice process, as it required 
 an experienced manager and a very slow fire ; and for 
 that purpose it was generally done in the house. Some 
 of the richest molasses was taken in pails, put over 
 some coals in a pot, and slowly simmered away till it 
 became gritty when cool ; it was then nearly ready to 
 pour out into the moulds, which were usually such 
 pots and pans as came to hand. William made a square 
 box, which could be taken apart when the sugar 
 became hard, which made a very pretty mould. The 
 final test that the hot sugar was ready to pour out 
 was to take out a little to cool on a lump of snow, 
 which, when it became cool, if it cracked like a piece 
 of glass when struck with the finger nail, it was ready 
 to pour out. If the desire was to make flour sugar, 
 instead of cake sugar, they kept stirring the pot till it 
 was thoroughly cool, or poured it out into a receptacle, 
 and stirred it, and it became loose and nearly like 
 brown sugar bought in the stores ; and I believe, if 
 left a little more moist, and poured out into a keg or 
 some other vessel whose bottom was open enough to 
 allow all molasses or soft sugar to run away, it would 
 crystalize and become a sort of granulated sugar, hard 
 and clear — very nice, indeed. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 155 
 
 One day William made his visitors some taffy, which 
 they ate with great delight. He boiled a small pot of 
 syrup or molasses down till it was in a state of consist- 
 ence to " sugar off," when he poured it out upon a 
 wider surface of clean snow ; and then, so soon as it 
 was cool enough to be handled, oiling his hands with 
 some clean fat, he manipulating it very much as a shoe 
 or harness-maker manipulates his wax, pulling it out, 
 folding it together, and pulling it out again. By this 
 means the gritty feeling passed away, and it became 
 stringy, and possessed the taste and all the attributes 
 of taffy. The young ladies were hugely delighted 
 with it. 
 
 And the young ladies themselves became a delight 
 as soon as it was bruited abroad in the settlement 
 (and it is astonishing how such matters travel where 
 there is little else to talk about) ; sundry bachelors 
 (one particularly); dressed in their holiday clothes, 
 contrived certain errands to William's log-house. Alas, 
 poor fellows, I think they wore out shoe leather in 
 vain ! In a day or two after our arrival, who should 
 burst in upon us at the " sugar camp " but Wilson 
 Hamilton ! After that my functions as an escort 
 passed into his hands, and I did not remain even 
 " second in command." 
 
 After the best part of a week spent in the woods, 
 we bent our steps homeward, five in number instead 
 of four, as we came. While walking onward by 
 myself in a piece of woods, I was accosted by a grave 
 
156 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 but kindly interlocutor, or questioner. He was a 
 sizable gentleman, well-mounted on a good horse, with 
 the usual paraphernalia of equestrians in those days, 
 clad in a broad-leaved grey hat, and drab overcoat, and 
 of measured speech, but not Quaker dialect ; whence I 
 judged he was not a " Friend," but one of the Methodist 
 preachers who were our almost only evangelists and 
 civilizers in those times. Seeing me, a small boy, all 
 alone in the woods, he seemed solicitous for my safety, 
 and wished to know whence I came, and whither I 
 was going. My very ready and frank answers appeared 
 to assure him that I might be entrusted to work out 
 my own objects ; he bade me good-bye in kindly 
 tones and a very pleasant voice, and spurred on his 
 steed at a faster pace than I could keep up with. 
 Mrs. Charles Wesley said that " the piety of the early 
 Methodist preachers was an excellent substitute for a 
 polite education." The stranger gentleman's inquiries 
 left a tranquilizing influence on my boyish heart. 
 Inquiries into the whereabouts of the few itinerants 
 in the Province, made since then, have rendered it 
 probable to me that I must have been accosted by 
 Isaac Bateman Smith, as by "an angel unawares." 
 Peace to the memory of tliObe men of God ! I reached 
 home in safety and my sugar-making adventure fur- 
 nished food for conversation for many days after — as 
 the cake of sugar in my pocket-handkerchief sweetened 
 my porridge. -7 ^ 
 
No. XXI. 
 
 " OLD GRAY," THE MILL HORSE. 
 
 IF I have not already told my readers, I tell them 
 now, that I spent three or four years (perhaps I 
 ought to say five, in all, including two or three 
 several intervals) in a tannery, from the age of twelve 
 to seventeen, and that for two of those years I was 
 considered as a regular apprentice to the tanner's and 
 currier's trade. Some will think I ought to be 
 ashamed to make the confession. I would be ashamed 
 if I thought there was anything sinful or mean in a 
 business which is so important to civilized countries. 
 My " Boss," or master, raised himself by following this 
 business from the low estate of a poor boy to be one 
 of the very richest, most respected, and most useful 
 men of the town during the course of a long life. 
 
 In every trade, " the youngest apprentice " has 
 usually, for some time, to do many things not properly 
 of the trade, but preparatory to it. In our estab- 
 lishment this bottom rung of the ladder was grinding 
 
168 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 the bark. In many large establishments at the present 
 day, along with other advanced conveniences, the bark 
 is ground by water or steam-power; in our earlier and 
 ruder times it was ground-in an iron mill, by horse- 
 power. John Jones, already mentioned, when I first 
 knew the establishment, was the bark-grinder, but 
 when John was promoted to the " beam-shed," the 
 " flesher," and the currying knife, others were employ- 
 ed to do this work. Two other bo-'^s intervened be- 
 tween him and me. At length 1 was called to mount 
 the mill " brow," for the bark was pounded and put in 
 the hopper above stairs, and fell into a place for its re- 
 ception below, whence it was carried away out as 
 wanted to the tan-vats. I ground tho bark both 
 before and after I became a regular " hand " in the 
 tannery. 
 
 I might here say I have pleasant recollections of 
 that dusty loft, both before I was converted and after- 
 wards ; for, by pounding up bark for the hopper in 
 advance, 1 found a good deal of time for reading. Be- 
 fore conversion, Richardson's Pamela and Clarissa, 
 with similiar works, were read there ; and after my 
 conversion the precious Bible, the Methodist Hymn- 
 book, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, Doddridge's Rise 
 and Progress, the Lives of the Early Methodist Preach- 
 ers, with many, many other good books, were read and 
 pondered in that loft. 
 
 But at the beginning of this section I had no idea 
 of writing anything very grave or serious, but to give 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 159 
 
 some pleasant reminiscences of an old horse, which 
 served his generation better than some boys and girls, 
 for the innocent entertainment of my young friends. 
 The sort of horse required for the mill must be a quiet 
 and steady one, and regular in his gait Now, these 
 qualities are seldom found in a young horse ; for young 
 horses, like young people, are apt to be flighty and 
 frisky. Hence the bark-grinding generally fell to the 
 lot of an old horse. The horse that did this work was 
 required to be kept without shoes, else the iron would 
 cut up the floor of the mill-loft too much. If horses 
 had pride and ambition like sinful men, old and young, 
 the mill-horse would have felt very much like an old 
 mechanic when his deficient sight and unsteady hand 
 seem to rule him out as unfit for the nicer work (or a 
 full day's work at least), and he is set to mending and 
 patching, or to do odd jobs of this or that; or rather felt 
 like an old preacher when, perhaps, only because he is 
 old (that is to say, has spent so very many years in 
 study, and has such a long and ripe experience), is 
 ruled out of the popular pulpits he used once to fill, if 
 not out of the pulpit altogether ; or oflf the platform 
 where once he used to be welcomed with applause, and 
 assigned humbler work to do. 
 
 Now, to my certain knowledge. Old Gray had had 
 his day of flash and popularity with young folks, for 
 he once belonged to my own brother. He was not a 
 very large, but a very well-formed horse, of an iron- 
 grey colour. Moreover, he had been very free and 
 
160 'my boy life. 
 
 spirited, and very showy in harness. I can remember 
 when he and his mate were considered a dashin^^ team. 
 He then rejoiced in the buxom name of "Larry;" but, 
 alas ! years had passed over him, and he had become 
 white ; his ribs, once covered with flesh, began to show 
 like an old man's wrinkles ; instead of being round as 
 in his prime, he had become " slabsided ; " besides being 
 old, he had been too willing, and the " free horse " had 
 been overtaxed, just as it often is with a willing 
 labourer in the Church, cr in the ministry. He had 
 descended in the estimation of his owners and the 
 characterof his work, till at last my kind-hearted old 
 master bought him to grind his bark, and knocked 
 off his shoes. He had plenty of grass in summer and 
 hay in winter, but very few oats. The plea was tl a,t 
 his teeth were not good enough to chew them ; just 
 as some very pleasant things are denied to old people 
 on the supposition that they "no longer care about 
 such matters." But I must in justice say, that though 
 Old Gray did not get many oats, he got many a feed 
 of bran or potatoes. 
 
 Upon the mention of potatoes hangs a tale. He 
 generally had his noon baiting in a vacant, or pasture 
 lot (would you believe that it was ever vacant ?) at the 
 north-east corner of Ycnge and Adelaide streets, not 
 far from the bark -mill. There was not always a halter 
 lavished on Old Gray, but I pulled him along by his 
 very long mane, or "foretop." His great age had 
 given him experience. He knew what my movements 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 161 
 
 meant as well as I did myself. When the twelve 
 o'clock cannon fired, he knew it was time to be unhar- 
 nessed, and whinnied vociferously. The boys used to 
 say that he called out " Jo-oh-hon !" Yet he did not 
 often show the same alacrity when I went after him 
 to fetch him to his day's or half-day's toil. I think 
 he showed the most reluctance at noon-time, when he 
 had not had long enough time to fill his stomach. In 
 the larger field, when I had caught him, I generally 
 utilized his back to save the labour of walking, albeit 
 the height of his backbone made it a little like riding 
 on a rail ; but sometimes, after, by dint of kicking my 
 heels into his sides and slapping him first on one side 
 of the head and then on the other, to guide him in the 
 absence of bridle or halter, I had got him to the gate, 
 and was occupied in trying to unlatch it with my toe, 
 he would suddenly start off", and gallop to the far end 
 of the field, when, putting his nose to the ground, 
 which I had no power of holding up, he would kick 
 up his heels and slide me down his neck, upon which 
 I had to recommence my task of bringing him to the 
 gate. But at the time 1 was going to speak of, he 
 was in the nearer and smaller pasture-field already 
 described, but at the farther side ; and as I approached 
 to catch him, having nowhere else to run, he galloped 
 to the gate. My good-natured, kind-hearted old " boss " 
 witnessed the performance, and interpreted it very 
 differently from what I did, and broke out in his usual 
 quaint words and nasal drone to commend and order 
 11 
 
162 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 the reward of the old horse : he exclaimed, " Gray, you 
 fine old fellow. Run to your work, eh ? John, go and 
 get a basket of potatoes and give him a good feed !" 
 So my return to work was delayed until Old Gray had 
 munched about a peck of potatoes. 
 
 I do not remember the facts of his death. I think 
 it occurred during a year's absence of mine from the 
 establishment. Unlike the fate of some human beings, 
 I never heard a word spoken against Old Gray (but, 
 on the contrary, a great deal of kindness expressed), 
 after his death. Peace to his memory ! I, at least, 
 have done what I could to give him posthumous fame. 
 
No. XXII. 
 
 GOING ON A BUSH FARM. 
 
 Ir'N several of my sketches I have made references 
 I to a crisis in our humble family history by 
 which our joint residence was broken up for a 
 number of years, and the several members of the house- 
 hold were scattered in various directions. Thomas, 
 the patron of the rest, was married and had gone to live 
 by himself, taking his mother along. A temporary 
 residence was found for poor James, though finally 
 he followed me to the country. 'Thaniel was at a 
 trade. An opening in a business he understood oflfered 
 itself to brother George, lying partly in the township 
 of Toronto, and partly in Trafalgar. And, as I had 
 always showed a preference for country life, it was 
 decided that I should join my brother William on the 
 bush farm whither I have already conducted my 
 young readers on a sugar expedition. This breaking- 
 up occurred in the month of March, or April, 1822, 
 when I was betwsen twelve and thirteen years of age. 
 
164 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 George's route and mine lay pretty much in the 
 same direction, and it was decided we should travel 
 together to the end of my journey at our brother 
 William's. We were very disproportionate in size ; he 
 being a stout fellow of nineteen or twenty, and I being 
 of the tender age already given, and small even at 
 that; but each had his wardrobe packed in a bundle 
 upon his back. We started, after an early lunch, on a 
 raw short day, to trudge fourteen miles, less or more, 
 on foot. At Wilcox's tavern, on the farther side of 
 the Mimico, we took a short rest ; and my brother 
 regaled himself and me (such, alas ! was the custom 
 of the times, no one seeing the danger), each with 
 a glass of whisky. It was a mercy that converting 
 grace, a little more than two years after, abruptly 
 and completely put a stop to an indulgence which 
 would have been very likely to have proved my total 
 ruin. 
 
 From the Mimico (for the first time to me) we took 
 the " Back Road, " which was some miles shorter than 
 the one by the Dundas Street and the turn at Custed's. 
 About night-fall we reached our brother's log-house 
 and enjoyed his bla-zing fire of burning logs. His 
 wife, for that season, was boiling all the sugar they 
 made over the domestic fire, and the new sugar and 
 molasses added to the social pleasures around that 
 homely hearth. The next day my fellow-traveller 
 started for the embryo village now called Streotsville ; 
 and after a few days returned with the news that 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 165 
 
 arrangements were made for his steady employment 
 in that region for several months to follow. 
 
 It will devolve on me now to tell how I was em- 
 ployed, and some of the things which befell me during 
 the year and a quarter, or so, of my residence there 
 The sugar-bush ; learning to chop, reap, rake, bind, 
 and pitch grain ; going to mill on horseback, hunting 
 the cattle, getting lost, &;c., &c., will probably be some 
 of the subjects on which I will dwell for the entertain- 
 ment of my readers. 
 
 First, the sugar seasons. I passed through two of 
 those during the time I remained. At the period of 
 my arrival it was pretty well over for that year; and 
 I have said the boiling was attended to in the house. 
 The sugar-bush was some distance, and the sap had 
 to be gathered and poured into barrels on an ox-sled, 
 which was then slowly drawn to the house. The work 
 of gathering the sap henceforth was mine ; and, the next 
 year, boiling it down over the camp-fire in the woods, 
 to which was added the work of chopping and fetching 
 the fuel to keep up the fire under the sugar-kettles. 
 The early spring is subject to storms, :^.id often our 
 sap-troughs were filled with rain or soft snow, which, 
 bO soon as the downfall was ended, had to be thrown 
 out, that the sweet discharge from the trees might be 
 obtained undiluted. Once, about nightfall, after a 
 heavy shower of wet snow, I was sent to empty the 
 sap-troughs at the roots of the trees which had been 
 " tapped." I might here say, that heavy frost would 
 
166 • MT BOY LIFE. 
 
 arrest the discharge, and if that continued so long as 
 to dry up the incisions or cuts in the trees, they had 
 to be "tapped" over again. Warmth and sunshine 
 were always favourable to the sap's " running." But 
 to return to my errand. I had heard of owls, and their 
 hideous noises, but learned that they were harmless ; 
 nevertheless, when I had got well into the bush, I 
 heard all around me such doleful noises as ooh-ooh, 
 hoo-hoo, and coo-o-o. 1 could not persuade myself 
 but I was threatened by a pack of wolves, and I 
 broke and ran for dear life to the house, for which I 
 was chidden and ridiculed by my brother. My 
 cowardice occasioned them inconvenience. 
 
 After one of those heavy falls of wet snow the first 
 spring, just as we had finished our breakfast, an old 
 Highland Scotch settler, living three or four miles 
 from us, burst into our house with his two stout lads, 
 John and " Jamis," as they called him, each with his 
 axe in hand, and began to lay before my brother the 
 danger of his forfeiting his lot and " betterments," if 
 the " settlement duties " on the rear end, the fifth con- 
 cession, were not completed within a fortnight. 
 Besides the clearing and fencing of five acres, the road 
 upon both ends of a two hundred acre lot had to be 
 cleared out to the depth of two rods. Mr. 
 Wallace was a distant relative of the Highland Scotch 
 family into which two of my brothers had married ; 
 and when the decision of the Government relative to 
 the completion of the settlement duties was bruited 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 167 
 
 about, Mr. Wallace's ties of clanship would not suffer 
 him to rest till " Wulliam " was extricated from his 
 peril. Two other kind-hearted neighbours came to 
 our assistance ; and by the end of the second day the 
 work was so far done (save two ungainly trees, which 
 stood on the precipitous bank of the " Tobico," which 
 crossed the road, and which they agreed to " report 
 impossible ") that two neighbours could testify to it 
 on oath.- This was the first time I crossed our forest 
 farm to the " other line ; " and when accomplished, I 
 thought myself quite a travelled person. 
 
 The two Wallace boys and Mr. Rutledge's son 
 Thomas were my first acquaintances, among whom the 
 town boy was quite a lion. I am led to fear that my 
 conversation did them no good. Alas ! alas ! for the 
 days spent in sin and folly. All praise to the grace 
 of God — within a few years my friend Thomas and 
 myself were, I believe, truly converted, and entered on 
 a religious life. 
 
 # 
 
No. XXIII. 
 
 DRIVING AN OX TEAM. 
 
 I WAS in the midst of an account of a year spent 
 on a bush farm, aiid I had only given the first 
 section of that story. Sugar-making was the 
 first thing that I learned ; the next thing I shall 
 mention is driving oxen. 
 
 I knew that my brother William had gone on his 
 farm with a noble pair, or "yoke," as they were 
 called, of tall fine oxen. But I also knew, that a year 
 or two after one of them met with an accident, and 
 that the other was sold. Just before that time I knew 
 that Thomas, in the way of trade, had become possessed 
 of a team of younger and smaller ones ; and Bill 
 coming to town, somewhat down in the mouth about 
 the breaking up of his team, Tom, with his usual im- 
 pulsive generosity, gave him his steers — or rather one 
 of them only was a steer — the other v^as what farmers 
 know as a " stag." It was these, about a year after. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. IG9 
 
 that had the fate of receiving a boy teamster, in my 
 own person. 
 
 As I became greatly ftttached to them, I will describe 
 their looks and other things about them. They were 
 about four years old, more or less, when I began to 
 drive them. Like many domestic animals, they had 
 received the names of distinguished personages. Not 
 wholly forgetful of the old war memories, one was 
 called " The Duke of Wellington," and the other 
 "■ Prince Blucher ; " but for short, they were usually 
 known and distinguished as " Duke," and " Prince." 
 "Duke" was of a lively red colour, but his face was 
 as white as the drifted snow, and I think also his feet, 
 and the " native white and red " contrasted beautifully 
 with each other. He had a large, kindly eye, and a 
 good temper ; and, therefore, I confess, he was the 
 favourite. When he put out his nose for a " nubbin " 
 of corn, if I had it to give, you may be sure he never 
 went without it. " Prince " was not bad tempered, 
 but he was less demonstrative than " Duke," and 
 looked somewhat sullen. His colour was a dusky 
 brown, or dun. His horns were the thick, straight 
 ones of a bullock, and would have been sharp-pointed, 
 had not their tips been taken off by a saw. Only for 
 their being blunted, no doubt one of them, on one 
 occasion, would have put out my right eye. I was 
 sent to the barn one day in great haste for a couple 
 of sheaves of oats, I think to feed some visitors' team ; 
 and just as I was clambering over the logs which fenced 
 
170 ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 off the " bay," where the fodder was kept, with the 
 oats under my arm, " Prince " thought it would be a 
 fine chance to get a mouthful of provender, and seized 
 hold of the heads with his mouth ; I held on, and he 
 gave a pull, when down I came, oats and all ; and the 
 blunt end of one horn struck the bone which defends 
 the right eye ; and if the horn had been sharp-pointed, 
 it would not only have pierced the skin, but would, 
 most likely, have slipped into the eye itself. But a 
 kind Providence spared it to me. I was bruised, but 
 not cut ; I scrambled up, fought off the cattle, and ran 
 for the house. " Prince " looked to be the stronger ox 
 of the two, but " Duke " was the quicker, and on the 
 whole they were very well matched, and performed a 
 great deal of work in " snaking" logs, drawing loads on 
 the sled, in summer as well as winter — waggon, as 
 yet, we had none — and harrowing the land ; for as yet 
 we had no regular plough, and the land because of the 
 yet undecayed roots, was unploughable. 
 
 I thought I had performed a great exploit when 
 first I found I could yoke them up. As there are 
 many town boys, and even boys on old farms where 
 all the work is done with horses, who may not know 
 how it is done, I will tell them. Well, then, I used to 
 take the yoke under my left arm, which was about as 
 much as I could do ; first pull out the bow-pin, carry- 
 ing it my teeth, and then work out the right end bow, 
 and, carrying it in my right hand, walk up to the 
 
 off " ox, which was *• Prince," and lay that end of the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 171 
 
 yoke on his submissive neck. The bow was then 
 thrust up through the holes prepared to receive its 
 ends, which was a pretty tough job, for I had to keep 
 the other end of the yoke, bow and all, up to a hori- 
 zontal level with the end of the yoke on the ox's neck. 
 But when the bow-pin 7as inserted in the end of the 
 bow where there was a mortice to receive it, it held its 
 place as a sort of key. It was then only the work of 
 a minute to pull out what was called the " near bow," 
 and beckon to the other ox, bow in hand, to come near 
 accompanied with the words, " Come under, Duke ! " 
 The docile creature would lower his head, and come 
 forward at once, and put his obedient neck under the 
 yoke, and was then fastened in with the bow and bow- 
 pin, as the other. Next, with a wave of the hand to 
 direct them, they would obey the word of command 
 to "go," "haw," "gee," or "whoa," as I wished. All 
 may not know that " haw," in ox language, is to come 
 near— come this way ; " gee," is to go to the right, or 
 go from you ; and " whoa," is to stop. 
 
 The most of growing boys like any kind of teaming, 
 and I was fond of driving the oxen ; they were com- 
 pany for me, on which account I got attached to them, 
 and it was not very hard work. The hardest work I 
 had to do was harrowing, because the fields were full 
 of stumps, around which I had to turn up the h?.rrow. 
 This implement wi-s made of strong, heavy wood, in 
 the form of the letter A ; this was well framed together, 
 penetrated with heavy iron spikes, each weighing a, 
 
172 ■ MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 pound at least, if not tw x The clevis by which the 
 harrow was drawn was fastened to the apex, or small 
 end, of the triangle ; to this a chain was attached, and 
 the oxen drew it over the ground, by which the soil 
 was torn to pieces ; but as it met with many obstruc- 
 tions, mostly undecayed roots in the ground, it twitched 
 and jumped about, which tried my quick temper, I am 
 ashamed to say, very much. But my principal difficult^' 
 was in going around the stumps of trees. The stump 
 often stood right in the line of my straight course 
 across the field. It was very desirable to get as near 
 the stump as possible, because the grass and weeds 
 were likely to fasten themselves among the roots, 
 therefore, I was forced to "haw," or " gee " the team 
 around it. When once around it I must bring them 
 into their former course as quickly as I could. To 
 keep as near the stump as possible, and to have 
 the harrow directly behind them when they got around, 
 I had to lift the harrow on its edge, so that the " teeth " 
 would not fasten among the roots, and to hold it there 
 till it had passed the stump, when, as quickly as pos- 
 sible, I had to throw it " teeth " downwards again, so 
 as to get hold of the first soil beyond it. This required 
 all my strength — for the harrow was very heavy — 
 and all my patience too ; because often the poor, un- 
 knowing brutes v ould jerk it rudely out of my hands, 
 defeating my purpose, and giving my slender arms 
 and back a great shock besides. I was then without 
 grace, and often lost my temper and beat the poor 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 173 
 
 oxen, much as I thought I liked them, unmercifully 
 using words the while that I have long since deeply 
 repented of. I have heard of a wicked man who "did 
 not believe that any but a real Christian could plough 
 among -stumps without swearing ; " there was a neigh- 
 bour who made pretty bold professions of religion, 
 whom he regarded as " a hypocrite," because he thought 
 he "did not feel all he professed to ; " (me day he saw 
 that neighbour in the back part of a very stumpy field 
 ploughing ; he also heard his voice, as he thought, in 
 anger and swearing, and he waited to have the pleasure 
 of hearing the shouting class-leader swear ; but as the 
 ploughman drew near, and the plough was flying from 
 side to side, he heard the good man sing the chorus: 
 
 **0h ! the way is so delightful in the service of the Lord ; 
 " The way is so delightful, Hallelujah ? " 
 
 Said the eavesdropper, " Limburner is a Christian 
 for no man could plough in that stumpy field without 
 swearing, unless he was a Christian." If lie had 
 listened to mf> in those days, I am afraid he could not 
 have made any such report. 
 
 Driving the oxen before a sled I liked well enough, 
 though once I fell into some trouble which put me 
 about a little. My brother sent me about six or seven 
 miles on a dark, short autumn day, to get a load of 
 live hogs, which he had purchased from 9, man who 
 was selling ofl* his stock, as he wanted to fatten them 
 for his winter's use and to sell. He had a good crop 
 
174 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 of corn to feed them with. With the carelessness of a 
 boy, I went off without my jacket, that is, just with 
 my shirt and trousers on. We had no sled with a 
 box, and I was expected to borrow one by the way, 
 which, the sequel will show, made my trouble worse. 
 The neighbour, dear Summerfeldt, let his name go 
 down to posterity, was obliging and the sled was bor- 
 rowed, the outward-bound journey accomplished ; the 
 pigs caught, and their feet tied together, and loaded on 
 the sled, and our faces (mine and the oxen) turned 
 towards home. About the middle of the afternoon it 
 began to rain, and about a mile and a half from home 
 it became dark, and that was not the worst of it ; 
 more than half the way there was bush, and the sled 
 road was full of mud-holes, which the oxen would 
 always shun if they could; in trying to do this 
 witn one of the worst, the team shied off to one 
 side and the " nose " of one runner passed to the wrong 
 side of a sapling, while tlie oxen dashed on, pulling 
 the sled apart and letting the pigs on to the ground. 
 There was no way of fixing up, and nothing for it but 
 to unhitch the team, leaving my load just there, and 
 drive them home, to which, as being hungry and 
 missing the lumber of the load, they had been trailing 
 over bare ground, they dashed off in double-quick 
 time. It was humiliating to report a disaster in con- 
 nection with my first piece of distant teaming, of 
 which I was ambitious and very proud. My brother 
 chided me for what he called my " carelessness/' 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 175 
 
 especially as we had to exclaim, " Alas ! it was bor- 
 rowed ! " • A night journey to untie the pigs and drive 
 them home was no light matter, for pigs are notoriously 
 hard to drive. The next day my brother went that 
 far with me and mended the sleigh, and I drove it 
 back to its owner. The sorrows and toils of that first 
 day increased my relish for the big wood fire, quickened 
 my appetite for supper, (when has not a growing boy 
 an appetite ?) and gave a relish to weary bones for my 
 humble bed. And "kind nature's sweet restorer, 
 balmy sleep," did that night, in contradiction to Dr. 
 Young, " light on lids " which had been " sullied with 
 the tears " of a hard-working boy, with no mother 
 near to sympathize. 
 
No. XXIV. 
 
 MORE BOY S WORK ON A BUSH FARM. 
 
 1HAVE told how I went to live with my elder 
 brother, married and settled in the "Bush," — how 
 I learned to drive oxen — my having to go to mill 
 on horseback, «Sz;c. I must particularize two or three 
 other kinds of boy's work on a bush farm. 
 
 1st. There was Tuy learning to chop, and my efforts 
 therein. I admired chopping very much, and aspired 
 earnestly to possess the skill and do the work of an 
 axe-man. Chopping is indeed delightful work ; it is 
 clean ; the smell of the newly-cut timber is most 
 agreeable ; you are constantly seeing the result of 
 your operations, and the progress you are making, and 
 there is a feeling of triumph when you have " knocked 
 down " a tree two or three times the thickness of 
 yourself and fifty or a hundred feet high. It is good 
 work also, if not over-done, to develop the chest and 
 the muscles of the arms — there is a great sleight in 
 the right swing of the axe, and the exercise is very 
 
MY BOY LIFE. * 177 
 
 pleasurable. But then an axe is seldom found light 
 enough for a growing boy, and too heav}' an imple- 
 ment is very wearying, and very often the handle is too 
 long, with the danger of giving yourself a poke in the 
 stomach. 
 
 However, I was pretty well provided for. William 
 was a very adroit and skillful axe-man, wielding a 
 seven-pound axe. One originally smaller, and that had 
 the " bit," as they called it, pretty much worn and 
 ground off, had been "jumped," that is, furnished 
 anew with a steel edge, and provided with a handle 
 half a foot shorter than one for a man (William made 
 his own axe-handles, and the shaping and smoothing 
 of them was a nice little job for a long winter evening 
 before the big open fire, which often furnished the 
 only light for the operation) and I was very proud of 
 it myself. It was with somthing of the pride of man- 
 hood that, after my breakfast of a morning, I whetted 
 my axe, tied my trowsers with a tow-string around my 
 legs to keep out the snow, and tramped through the 
 deep drifts to the " chopping " on the margin of the 
 cleared land. The " undcrbrushing," (cutting down 
 the underwood and throwing it into piles, as also 
 cutting the fallen timber into lengths for drawing) was 
 usually done before the snow was so deep ; being light 
 and easier done by one of inferior strength, it usually 
 fell to me. When a forest is underbrushed it looks 
 open and park -like, and the large trees are easily 
 
 attacked. There is great skill required to fell a tree 
 12 
 
178 ' • MY BOY LIFE. ' 
 
 safely. First, you must see that there is no tree in the 
 way to obstruct the one you wish to cut down in its 
 fall. If there is, that one must be chopped down first. 
 As to felling a tree, the skilled chopper first looks at the 
 " lean of it," and unless he has some special reason for 
 throwing it another way, that is the way he will cause 
 it to fall. 
 
 The most usual lean is to the south, or south-west, 
 the result of the prevailing north-east winds ; and the 
 north side may be known generally, even in the 
 absence of the sun being visible, by the moss which the 
 dampness causes to grow on that side. The first notch 
 is made on the leaning side, on the side towards which 
 it is desired the tree should fall. It is cut three or four 
 feet from the ground, according to the height of the 
 chopper. It is cut usually half way through the tree, 
 the upper part of the notch slopes the most, the lower 
 side, or bottom, is straighter across, or horizontal. Then 
 the woodsman passes to the other side, and cuts a 
 similar notch, only it is made a couple of inches higher 
 up, which greatly contributes to throw the tree the 
 opposite way ; and it might be very disastrous if he 
 did not. If the tree is very straight the notch will 
 have to be deeper, for in that case, it will balance on a 
 very narrow pedestal, but if there is the smallest lean 
 in the world, you will not have to cut the second 
 notch much more than half as deep as the first, before 
 the tree will begin to nod and quiver at the top, which 
 is the first indication of its coming down, when the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 179 
 
 chopper begins to think of consulting his safety, by- 
 getting out of the way. The final warning is a crack, 
 after the last few sharp, quick blows of the axe. 
 
 The true way to escape the falling tree is to run to 
 the right or left of them, not certainly opposite either 
 notch, not even to the last made one ; for if the tree 
 should " lodge" against other trees, it will be liable to 
 slide back over the stump, and crush the chopper, as I 
 have heard it to have sometimes happened. The 
 only danger is, (if you go far enough to the right 
 or left) when the tree falls " across the butt," as it is 
 called, which it might do if the notch was clumsily 
 made, that is, cut in more on the one side than the 
 other. But the most of bushmen know how to plan 
 the whole operation and to calculate their chances so 
 well, they are in no fear, and it usually turns out as 
 they calculated. There was a tall Scotchman, named 
 Tom Bell, in those new settlements, who had so good 
 an eye and was so experienced and so cool, that, on a 
 bet of a quart of whisky, which, alas, was then too 
 much drank, would walk (not run) out under the fall- 
 ing tree, and so calculate it, that he would allow the 
 branches of the tree top just to switch him on the 
 heels as it reached the ground. 
 
 The fall of one of these moi^archs of the forest makes 
 •sublime resounding, which is pleasant to hear at a 
 distance. This operation of felling trees I learned to 
 achieve (although not the biggest ones) while on that 
 bush farm, and the operation greatly delighted me. 
 
180 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Planting potatoes was another part of my work ; 
 and, if I remember rightly, that was all we had to do 
 with them, in the new black vegetable mould in which 
 they grew, until they were dug — the hills being built 
 as large when they were planted as they ever were, 
 and in the new soil, there were no weeds. But then 
 the labour of planting was very hard, the ground being 
 full of the yet undecayed roots of trees and bushes 
 which, after a slight harrowing, if it got that., had to 
 be cut up and drawn to the potatoes with a hoe, pur- 
 posely heavy and made of a material that would hold 
 a sharp edge. I remember a very hard day's work in 
 planting a patch for myself in an old stack-yard which 
 my brother had given me to cultivate, at the foot of 
 two large mapl^ trees, necessarily full of roots, on a 
 very hot day. It was a holiday, and my brother and 
 his wife were absent ; but cheered by the hope of rais- 
 ing a little crop, the sale of which was to procure me 
 some pocket money, I worked away till I had com- 
 pleted the job, which left my hands, hardened as they 
 were, blistered, and my slender arms so sore that they 
 ached for days ; but, alas ! I never sold my crop, and, 
 therefore, never realized the money. 
 
 / learned to reap in harvest-time, — there were no 
 horse-reapers in those days, or smooth fields in which 
 to use them, and nearly all the harvesting was done 
 with a sickle. I became possessed of one, the sole 
 inheritance from my father, and I learned to use it, of 
 which I was very proud. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 181 
 
 Pulling and "tojyplny' tar nips was another of my 
 attainments and occupations in the autunm. The 
 turnips were a sweet, luscious kind, and I regaled 
 myself while I worked. We had no apples and these 
 were a fair substitute for them. 
 
 The turnip harvest and potatoe-digging extended 
 into the beginning of the cold weather, with rain and 
 frost, and was sufficiently dreary, groping wit\ the 
 hands, as we did, in the cold, wet earth. 
 
 The threshing was done with a flail, and took up 
 a good part of the winter, as it was all done by my 
 blind brother, who taught me the art, and myself. 
 Standing on the barn floor was very cold for the feet, 
 and the log barn was very open besides. All my toes 
 were more or less frozen that winter of 1822-23. 
 
 I will leave the failure of some boyish hopes for 
 another section — such as the fowling-piece I failed in 
 getting — my calf that died — my pet squirrel that was 
 killed — and the pig I left and never claimed. 
 
No. XXV. 
 
 "OLD KATE," THE MARE, AND I. 
 
 1USED to hear a Scotch scig sung when I was a 
 boy, a period when there were more songs sung 
 than hymns, entitled " Courting the Old Gray 
 Mare." My brother William married a bonnie Scotch 
 wife, and in the long run got a mare as part of her 
 dowry, but I don't think there was any courting done 
 for the mare, and she was not a " gray," either, but a 
 chestnut. My first ride was on her bare back on a 
 distant errand of some miles. The next morning I 
 was very stiff and sore, and could hardly walk, of 
 which I complained, and was told to " supple myself 
 by working," a prescription which answered the end 
 in a few hours. Such was the regime that boys were 
 under in my day. 
 
 One of my most painful, experiences in connection 
 with Old Kate was this : My dear mother had made us 
 a visit, and there was no way of sending her home to 
 town but on horseback, and there was no saddle but 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 183 
 
 a man's st ^v^ a, borrowed of a neighbour a mile off. to 
 whom it must be returned at a certain time positively. 
 I was to accompany mother, who dared not ride faster 
 than a walk, in the capacity of a runner, like the 
 servant of the Shunammitess (read the 4th chapter 
 of 2nd Kings). This was for mother's protection and 
 safety, and to bring back the mare, and if I mistake 
 not, a bag of salt. We had a slow and toilsome but 
 safe journey to town. The mare was put in a paddock, 
 but when I went for her in the morning to prepare 
 for my return journey, she was gone : she had jumped 
 the fence and returned to her old haunts, and boundless 
 bushy pastures, then widely stretching on three sides 
 of the town, east, north, and west. I was in great 
 distress, for the saddle should be returned, and the 
 salt was needed, as sister-in-law wanted to prepare her 
 pickles. It was in vain that I started, bridle in hand, 
 taking some tempting thing to catch her, scouring 
 the commons far and wide — there was no sight of 
 Kate. How many days I sought I don't now recollect. 
 At length I resolved the saddle should go back io its 
 owner, if I carried it the whole fourteen or fifteen 
 miles. I packed it up as compactly as I could and 
 swung it on my back, taking also salt enough in a 
 handkerchief for sister to start her pickles with, and 
 turned my face westward. I had one sympathizing 
 friend, my dear old mother ; she did not desert me, but 
 walked slowly along by my side encouraging me, a 
 mile and more out of town, up Dundas (now Queen) 
 
184 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Street, hoping that I might get a lift. A short dis- 
 tance from where the Lunatic Asylum now stands a 
 farmer's waggon overtook us. It was pretty well 
 loaded with something in barrels, and there were four if 
 not five men on top of the load: the grave, and I believe 
 good owner, a tall young man, I think his son-in-law, 
 who drove, a younger man his son, and an old gentle- 
 man whom they were giving a lift on his way. Mother 
 accosted them, and interceded for me, and they kindly 
 took up not only my saddle, but myself. I received 
 my mother's parting kiss and blessing, and we started. 
 Once in a while some of us walked to lighten the load 
 and ease our jolted bones. In these intervals I heard 
 the older men talking about serious matters. I am 
 sure my good Samaritan was pious. 
 
 But, oh ! troubles never end ! About a quarter of a 
 mile east of the " 'Tobico " it was found that the end- 
 board of the waggon had come out, and the irons were 
 all lost. They must needs, therefore, stop, and go back 
 to seek the missing things, and, if not found, repair 
 the damage some other way. I was fain, therefore, to 
 transfer the saddle from the waggon to " my mother s 
 colt," and spur him on his way alone. I toiled on the 
 three or four miles to Mr. Austin's, who owned the 
 saddle, where, of course, I left it. I then cut across 
 the fields and woods for home. The load . was off my 
 back, but there wafe a load on my heart — I was in 
 dread of a severe scolding. When I stood in the door- 
 way, crestfallen enough, brother, sister, and the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 185 
 
 children were at their supper. I was called pretty 
 sternly to account for what they thought my truant 
 conduct. I explained in lugubrious tones how the 
 mare had escaped from the field — how I had sought 
 her, like Saul his asses, in vain — and how I had been 
 forced to walk home. " But what will Mr. Austin do 
 for his saddle ? We would not have had him treated so 
 for anything ? " " Yes, well, but I fetched it home to 
 him on my back." " Oh, that is well ! We're glad he 
 has not been put about for want of it. You had better 
 come and get some supper." I had a relish for it, for 
 I had eaten nothing all day but the piece my careful 
 mother had put in my pocket. 
 
 But my principal horseback experiences were in 
 going to and returning from mill. This convenience 
 for the settlers belonged to a Mr. Silverthorn, and was 
 situated on the 'Tobico, midway between two thorough- 
 fares, about four miles from our place, if I went 
 around by the road ; but I could make it in three if I 
 cut across a wide expanse of woods where there was no 
 road. We had no cart, or waggon, or sleigh, for a 
 horse, so that the grist had to be taken to the mill 
 on the horse^s back. The way was to take two bags, 
 neither quite full of grain. The grain was fairly 
 divided in each bag from the centre, so that one end 
 might balance the other. They were then thrown 
 across each other on the horse's back, something iu 
 the form of an X. In returning from mill, pretty 
 much the same was done, only the flour was put in 
 
186 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 one bag and the bran in the othe These did not 
 usually balance so well. Sometime in her life Kate 
 must have had a very sore back ; for she was exceed- 
 ingly sensitive behind the withers, and very hard to 
 saddle and to mount. It was, therefore, a ticklish job 
 to get the bags placed properly on her back ; but 
 especially it was difficult to get on top of them oneself. 
 William generally started me off 9II right ; and, in re- 
 turning from the mill, the miller did the same ; or if 
 I had to do it alone, I brought the iidgetty beast to 
 the high platform at the mill door, and threw on the 
 bags and then jumped down on them myself, in doing 
 which it was a chance if I did not knock them off 
 again. But if, by any accident, which sometimes 
 happened, the bags came off on the road, far from 
 human help, then a rusty with the old mare, and much 
 lugging and toiling were the result. One of these 
 troubles I will relate. It may seem a trifling thing to 
 tell, but it caused me as much anxiety till it was tided 
 over, and as much joy after I was extricated, as the 
 Right Hon. William Gladstone felt before and after 
 the last election in Midlothian. I iiave hinted that I 
 sometimes crossed the woods for a short cut. I think 
 I seldom went that way loaded from home, but I some- 
 times returned that way. The first time that I did so 
 I was not loaded ; for some reason the grist could not 
 be ground that day, and I returned empty, and I 
 thought I would try the short cut ; but in doing so, I 
 lost my way, and tried in vain for some time to find 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 187 
 
 it, and became distiessed and alarmed. My mother 
 taught me to pray when a child, but I am ashamed to 
 say, I had given it up. Trouble, however, made me 
 pray that day ; I was off the horse trying to grope 
 my way, and I fell on my knees in a thicket, and 
 prayed earnestly to God to deliver me. Prayer 
 soothed my mind. I rose from my knees, and had 
 only gone a few steps when I came out on the " Back 
 Road." Most, gladly, therefore, I led the mare up to 
 the nearest fence, jumped on her back, and rode home 
 with joy ; alas ! I forgot to pray till the next trouble 
 came, which was the serious one I started to tell 
 about. 
 
 This time I started from the mill loaded, and de- 
 termined to take the shorter way again through the 
 woods ; as it was late in the autumn, and the leaves 
 being pretty well off, the forest seemed more open. It 
 was pretty much an oak forest, and the woods were 
 full of hogs ' feeding on the acorns. It would be a 
 serious thing to have the bags come off and left there 
 — the hogs would tear the bags and devour the bran 
 and flour ; and, alas ! they did come off. There were 
 miry places in the cow-path that I was striving to 
 keep, which the mare always tried to shun. In doing 
 this, at one time she hugged a tree so closely in striv- 
 ing to keep the firm footing made by its r Jots, that, 
 despite all my pulling at the bridle and kicking in her 
 sides, she rubbed against the tree and pulled both me 
 and the bags from her back. I had just strength 
 
188 ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 enough to pull the bags out of the mud, brit to put 
 them on the restive beast was a task I could no more 
 perform than make a world. What was to be done , 
 If I did lif'i stop and watch the bags, the pigs would 
 eat up their contents ; and if I did stop no one was 
 likely to come to my help, for I was in the heart of 
 the forest where there was no thoroughfare, but I 
 must remain to be chilled to death and perish. I de- 
 termined to act. Fortunately the pigs had neither 
 sighted nor scented my bags; I clubbed and frightened 
 the herd from a wide area around the bags, mounted 
 and made for home. When I came out on the road, I 
 saw, to me, the most pleasant sight in the world — a 
 young farmer, by the name of Wilcox, going towards 
 bis home on " The Street," to whom I told my trouble. 
 I hsbd never known him personally before, but he ex- 
 pressed great sympathy, said he had experienced mill- 
 ing troubles himself when a boy, and turned off his 
 way to where the bags lay, fortunately yet untouched 
 by the hogs. He reloaded and remounted me, and 
 started me on my way rejoicing. I never saw him to 
 thank him since, but trust he will receive his reward 
 in heaven. Peace to his memory ! 
 
 I suffered the most from the cold from those milling 
 journeys in the winter time. I was innocent of flannel 
 underclothes on back or legs ; and I have no recollec- 
 tion of a top-coat. Boys in those days sported no long 
 boots — the first pair I ever owned I earned about two 
 years after — much less overshoes ; the coverings for 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 189 
 
 my feet were one pair of socks, and a pair of low shoes, 
 open enough to let in the snow. True, in snowy 
 weather, I think, I sometimes wore a pair of long over- 
 socks, which, drawn over my pants, kept the sno\r out 
 of my shoes, but I seldom resorted to them. On the 
 mare's back (and I dare not get off to take a run for 
 fear I would pull off the bags, and neither I nor the 
 load could be reinstated), both body, hands, and feet 
 were often agonizingly cold. 
 
 As a counterfoil to these sad tales, I may say, I re- 
 member one very pleasant ride on Old Kate. It was 
 harvest time, and the weather was fine. It was 
 thought the reapers must have something better than 
 hot spearmint tea, which they usually drank, to keep 
 up their strength (one was a tall, lusty Highland 
 woman, the best reaper in the field), and I was packed 
 off, three or four miles, with a small bag of wheat and 
 a keg to the distillery to exchange for some whisky. 
 I did not mean to call the journey pleasant because of 
 the object of my errand, although, with the light we 
 all then had, it was considered a matter of course ; but 
 my journey was pleasant, because the weather was 
 fine, and I met no accident by the way ; albeit, I liked 
 the excitement produced by a glass as well as older 
 people. I may yet tell how religion saved me. 
 
 Since the above was first in print, I have been re- 
 minded of a journey and an experience in which Old 
 Kate was a partner, which reveals some of the peculi- 
 arities of " roughing it in the bush." " The Mcintosh 
 
190 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Boys," the young men of that family, owned a large, 
 good lot of land on the Centre Road of Toronto, near 
 where Carter's Church was afterwards built. Its only 
 " improvement " was a lirge clearing, well-fenced, laid 
 down in grass. It was mid-summer, and young Robert 
 Mcintosh had been out, with one or two hired boys, 
 securing the hay. Their supply of meat had run out, 
 and the night before the journey he had spent at my 
 brother William's place. Meat had been secured, and 
 I was to accompany Robert in the morning with the 
 mare, to carry the bag of meat, on the top of which I 
 was seated. We rose very early and started, expect- 
 ing to breakfast at the shanty. Robert was a large 
 good-humoured young man (and large people are more 
 apt to be good-natured than little ones), and I liked him 
 — indeed, better than any of the brothers. He walked 
 by my side and beguiled six or seven miles with chati 
 And when we arrived at our journey's end, while Kate 
 was munching the cut grass, Robert must needs pre- 
 pare and serve the breakfast for our two selves. And 
 here was the unkindest cut of all. The meat, gentle 
 reader, was not fresh meat, for there was none to be 
 had; but salt, just out of the brine. There was no time 
 to parboil it, but it was cut in pieces and fried in a 
 pan, which process brought out a film of salt all over 
 it. To eat it was terrible, very provocative of thirst, 
 and our tea was made by putting the leaves in a tin 
 cup, and pouring hot water unto the tea. There was 
 no milk, I am sure ; that there was sugar I am not 
 
MT BOY LIFE. 191 
 
 sure. If there was, it was not suiHcient to over- 
 come the strength of the tea, which was astrin- 
 gent enough. This liquid, in default of any means of 
 keeping back the leaves, we strained through our teeth. 
 I had a thirsty journey ^n returning with the horse. 
 But a cup of spearmint-tea (a most delightful and 
 healthy Ipeverage) at night, made all right again. I 
 would not be without the experiences of that day for 
 a good deal. 
 
No. XXVI. 
 
 MY PETS AND PROPERTY IN THE BUSH, AND WHAT 
 
 BECAME OF THEM. 
 
 [[' Y pet squirrel. — A neighbour, Mr. Jacob Markle, 
 called at the door one day and said that he 
 had rescued a family of young creatures from 
 being burned up alive. The case was this : it appeared 
 that a black squirrel had made her nest and brought 
 forth her young (four in number), in a log-heap in 
 Mr. Markle's chopping. Unaware of their presence, 
 he set fire to that heap with the other piles. The 
 cries and flurry of the little creatures, when the flames 
 began to reach them, revealed their presence ; and the 
 kind-hearted man ran to their relief, not, however, till 
 one of them had been somewhat scorched on one of 
 his hind-legs. I was told, that if I would come up 
 and get him, I might have that one. The rest were 
 soon appropriated by his young relatives ; and by the 
 time I found leisure to go for him, which was not till 
 the next Sunday, (in those days, it was well if my 
 
MY BOY LIFE. * 193 
 
 Sundays were no worse spent than in such acts of 
 mercy), by which time, he was nearly healed and quite 
 tame and domesticated. I put him in my bosom and 
 brought him home. He proved to be very tame, and 
 attached himself to me at once. We provided a nest 
 for him among some tow in a little basket, but he 
 would sleep nowhere else at night but in bed with me, 
 not without being followed by some company that I 
 could have done without. When I had got into bed 
 of a night and lights were out, I could hear Jackey's 
 purring sound (which he always made when he was 
 satisfied) clambering up the bed-post, when he would 
 dive under the clothes and into my bosom. His purr 
 was a sort of goo-oo, whence my ordinary pet name 
 for him was " Goo," which he always answered to 
 when called. 
 
 His ordinary food was bread and milk, which he 
 shared with the cat and kitten, getting usually the 
 lion's share, by dashing into the middle of the dish 
 and crowding the others away. In that respect his 
 habits were something like those of a pig. His manner 
 of feeding upon any soft substance was like that of a 
 racoon and bear, and so far as I had the chance of 
 observing, was that of gathering up and crowding the 
 food into his mouth with the paw. The dog had no 
 particular liking for him, but Goo was enabled to elude 
 all pursuit at all times by running up the corner of 
 the house, and on the roof if necessary. I need not 
 say, that I was greatly attached to him, and loved him 
 13 
 
194 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 very much. But, alas ! I was doomed to be early- 
 bereaved. He was so tame and fearless, that he was 
 often exposed to danger ; and one day, seeking to get 
 into the cradle along with the baby, my little nephew, 
 seated in its foot, and not seeing Jackey, rocked the 
 rocker on to his head and crushed it so badly, that I 
 was fain to destroy him to put him out of his misery. 
 Many a sigh I heaved for poor " Goo !" 
 
 A more valuable piece of property came from the 
 same source as the squirrel, — property of which I 
 never realized the final benefit. Perhaps it was because 
 this, like the other, was a piece of Sunday work. Our 
 neighbour told me, that he and his wife were to be 
 away the following Sunday, but the bees were threat- 
 ening to swarm ; and that if I would come up and 
 keep a certain young person, who was left in charge, 
 company and aid her in ths event of the bees swarming 
 out, he would give me one of a litter of small pigs too 
 numerous all to be brought uo at home. I agreed and 
 went, found the young woman very talkative and 
 pleasant, — got a good dinner, — and stayed till the sun 
 became so low that the bees were not likely to swarm 
 for that day. The pig was then caught, and I carried 
 it the mile or more back to my home. It was a 
 little sow, not of a large kind, but pretty, and of an 
 unusual colour — mostly red. She got such things as 
 were to spare about the house, among others, milk 
 being tolerably plentiful. In imagination, I anticipated 
 the product of my potato patch to be large — they were 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 196 
 
 to be dug, and cooked, and fed to the pig — and she 
 was to grow large, get fat, and to bring me a good 
 sum of money. She did grow nicely, but it was 
 thought best not to kill, or sell her the first year ; and 
 before the second autumn came around, I saw fit to 
 leave the farm suddenly, in a fit of discontent, and to 
 throw up my interest in the pig and another piece of 
 property from which I had expected much, but realized 
 nothing in the end. 
 
 But I must tell my young readers of my bull-calf 
 and what became of him : — Where my brother Nat 
 was learning his trade in town, the cow had a fine 
 calf, which it was thought a pity to consign to the 
 butcher's knife, he being larger and prettier than usual. 
 'Thaniel bought him for me as I was to be the 
 farmer ; and after being left a reasonable time with 
 his dam, and being taught to drink milk and flour and 
 water as a substitute for his natural aliment, it was 
 thought he might now live upon grass, and I went for 
 him. I shall never forget that journey. I walked 
 the fourteen, or fifteen miles to town, stayed with my 
 friends over night, and started tolerably timely the 
 next day, Bossey's strap in hand and a switch to make 
 him step along, for my bush home. The poor little 
 animal soon learned to trot along in front of me and 
 to keep in the road, being recalled from any wayward 
 tendency by a timely twitch of the strap; But it was 
 not very long till he became tired of such continuous 
 travel. The journey was wearisome to me, but I was 
 
196 ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 cheered with the thought of my journey's end : the 
 admiration that would be given to my calf, and the 
 stately ox Bossey was to become, the suitable mate I 
 was to get for him, the fine team I was to have, and 
 the display I was to make some day at the log rollings ! 
 But it was a cause of sadness to me, that I could say 
 nothing to impart comfort or hope to my meek, obedi- 
 ent little slave. This was one of the first times I felt 
 a sorrow which has followed me all my life while 
 urging on a jaded animal without being able to inform 
 him of the rest and food that were to come. I could 
 not afford him more than a few minutes' rest at a time 
 to nibble the grass by the side of the road till noon- 
 time, which found me at the stream called the Mimico, 
 where a kind family, hy the name of Smith, gave me 
 a lock of new hay to feed my calf, and I lay down 
 beside him on the grass to enjoy the pleasure of seeing 
 him eat and rest ; but the lengthening of the shadows 
 admonished me that we must be pushing on, and I 
 urged him forward,, taking the shorter branch of 
 the road, which here diverged. On and on we went 
 My legs became weary and my heart was sore and sad 
 to have to whip up my mute companion — nay, if I 
 remember right, he often " bawled " with hunger and 
 weariness. But perseverance will bring the most 
 tedious things to an end, and, about sunset of a long 
 summer's day, I let down the bars and turned him 
 into the meadow, where the aftermath was rich and 
 tender. But the foot-sore little animal was too weary 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 107 
 
 to eat, and he lay down on the soft grass. When we 
 had partaken of our supaun and milk, I was cheered 
 by my brother's coming in from outdoors with the 
 news, that " the Bashan bull had gone to feeding." I 
 must wind this story up with a not very pleasant 
 finale. 
 
 The calf had very good pasture till the frost came, 
 but at his tender ajre he should have had more ; and 
 the lack of milk in his early life and his long journey 
 told against him, and he entered on the cold weather 
 not in very good condition to encounter and pass the 
 winter. He was turned into a stackyard where he 
 had hay enough, but he should have had warm mashes, 
 and cut potatoes and turnips. The last two T might 
 have fed him, but, boy like, I had lost my interest in 
 him — the novelty was gone. I failed also to provide 
 him as good a shelter as I might ; for want of a roof 
 of bark, or something of that kind, the snow fell and 
 rested on his frowsy little back. He became dull 
 and inactive, and one cold morning I went out and 
 fownd him dead ! And I am afraid that his unworthy 
 owner was largely accessory to his death. The thought 
 of it has often caused me sorrow and anguish. Let 
 no little boy follow my example. Compassion, as well 
 as self-interest, should have led me to a more kind 
 and careful course of conduct. I deserved the loss 
 which followed : we took off his skin and gave it to 
 the tanner, as the custom then was, " to tan on shares," 
 that is, to give me a " side " of calf, or rather " kip " 
 
198 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 leather, as it would be called, for the whole skin ; but 
 before the process of tanning was complete, I left the 
 bush and heard no more of it. 
 
 Thus, you see, I did not make ray fortune by going 
 to the " bush." And my pleasures were no better than 
 my profits. The woods were full of game. Often as 
 1 made a short cut through the forest (something I 
 was too ready to venture on, and by which I was once 
 lost for a long time), or wandered far into the woods in 
 search of the cattle, I was often startled by a flight of 
 pigeons, or the whirr of the partridge. One of these 
 with her brood of young ones, once led me a long but 
 bootless chase. No wonder I longed for a sportsman's 
 gun, something which I never possessed. On this 
 subject, my kind-hearted brother Thomas raised my 
 hopes ; he had seen a fowling-piece which he expect*^ d 
 to get for me, and the prospect greatly elated me ; 
 but, alas ! there is " many a slip twixt cup and lip ; " 
 something came between, and I was destined to be 
 disappointed. My boyhood was largely one of hard- 
 ship and disappointment ; but they were no doubt 
 intended and wrought for my spiritual good, as a 
 culminating disappointment, a year after I left the 
 woods, led me to repentance, prayer, and conversion. 
 But particulars about that by-and-by. 
 
 I had almost forgotten to tell one successful hunting 
 exploit in which I was a sharer. While on the subject 
 of game, I should have said, that though I never 
 acquired the fowling-piece for which I was sighing, 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 199 
 
 my brother had a gun, an army musket, a genuine 
 Brown Bess, which was too heavy for me to handle, 
 and, as will be seen before I have done, almost any 
 one else. We had a neighbour, Archy Armstrong, a 
 good-natured ne'er-do-well. All he was possessed of 
 was a dog (which would have starved only that he fed 
 himself on green corn on which he kept fat,) and a 
 wife and four or five little girls almost totally desti- 
 tute of clothing He occupied a house and .5mall 
 clearing on a fifty acre lot belonging to a brother of 
 his, a bachelor, who resided in another part of the 
 country, and who allowed him to occupy the place 
 free of rent. Archy was almost as much away as 
 John, for he had to work abroad for the farmers to 
 procure a livelihood for his family. On one of his 
 visits home, he had reported to us that havoc had 
 been made in his corn patch, next the woods, and that 
 the black, coarse hair left on the log fence showed 
 that the depredations had been done by a bear, which 
 had left part of his coat behind him in scrambling 
 over the log fence. That night the men and boys, 
 with the dogs, organized an expedition, armed with 
 guns and axes, and scoured the adja^A^nt woods in search 
 of Bruin, but in vain. On Monday Archy went away 
 to his work (for, alas ! I must confess to another 
 instance of Sabbath-breaking,) and the neighbourhood 
 relapsed into quietness ; but this was not to last 
 always. A few days after I was aroused from my 
 slumbers by my sister-in-law punching the underside 
 
200 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 of the chamber floor where I slept with a broom- 
 handle, and after sundry yawns, I stretched myself, 
 got up, and put on my clothes and went down, when 
 I learned that Mrs. Armstrong had tree'd a bear by the 
 help of their dog and ours, and that I was to go south 
 to Mr. Eutledge's in search of more men and dogs, and 
 if they were to be got, more guns. I dashed off through 
 the pasture field, giving old Kate a great start, which 
 produced such a snort as made me think for an instant 
 that I had encountered another bear. Mr. R. was 
 from home, but Thomas turned out with me, accom- 
 panied by Prince, their dog. We had now a formid- 
 able pack. 
 
 When Thomas and I arrived on the scene of action, 
 the three dogs were barking fiercely at the root of a 
 branchless " stub " about twenty or thirty feet high, up 
 which Bruin had hugged his way and was holding 
 them at defiance. The night was damp and very 
 dark but Mrs. Armstrong, a genuine pioneer, had 
 kindled a fire, which not only cheered us with its 
 genial warmth, but shed some light on the field of 
 action. The great want was to get a good shot at the 
 bear, sufficient to settle him, rather than to provoke 
 him to turn on his pursuers. William put a heavy 
 load of balls and slugs in " Old Bess, a hand and a 
 half " — load enough, if it did not kill the bear, to burst 
 both stock and barrel of the rusty gun and destroy 
 the gunner. The next thing was to get a " rest " for 
 the heavy musket, which few could hold steadily at 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 201 
 
 arms' length, the fence being too far away for that 
 purpose, to say nothing of getting a clear sight of the 
 game. William said, " Thomas," (the bigger boy), 
 "will you let me rest the gun on your shoulder?" 
 Tom thought it the better part of valour to decline 
 the honour of this advanced post. I volunteered, in a 
 fit of bravado, or foolhardiness, not but I suspected it 
 might be perilous — in two ways : the gun might burst, 
 and where I had to stand was in close proximity to 
 the bear, if he should be only wounded and show 
 fight. But placing ourselves near enough to get a 
 good range, while his wife held up a burning rail to 
 give him light on the subject, William banged away ; 
 and down came Bruin like a bag of sand, having, as 
 we found after, received a bullet through his jaw and 
 another through one of his paws. Then came the tug 
 of war ; he fell among weeds and long grass — the dogs 
 pitched in and occupied his attention pretty well, and 
 William rushed in with the axe ; while each furnished 
 himself with anything that came to hand, that would 
 deal a blow. But the difficulty was to hit the bear 
 without hurting the dogs, yet ever and anon, the head 
 of the axe came down upon him. At length the beast 
 succumbed to the injuries he had received, though he 
 showed great tenacity of life, moving himself by 
 involuntary muscular action after we had the skin 
 half off" his carcase. He was young, but large and fat, 
 his meat weighing about 200 pounds — the most delec- 
 table flesh I ever tasted — like delicate young beef. A 
 
202 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 hind and fore-quarter fell to each of the two families, 
 and the ofFal went to regale the dogs. His flesh, and 
 the particulars of the bear hunt, were to regale our 
 visitors, at least as long as the proverbial " nine days' 
 wonder " lasted. 
 
 Coon-hunting, was a usual nocturnal amusement, 
 and furnished an available meat-market, to Archy 
 Armstrong. Occasionally we shared the product of 
 his chase, (for which he was always amply made good) ; 
 and we found racoon to make a delectable pot-pie or 
 stew . Thus it is, that tyrant man revels in the slaugh- 
 ter of the inferior animals. 
 
 In the meantime, facilities for mental and religious 
 information were not much, while I remained on the 
 bush farm. I always liked a book, and would read if 
 I had one of tolerable interest ; but we had none of 
 any account but the precious Bible. The historical 
 parts of that I would read by myself ; and the more 
 devotional and doctrinal parts I read at the request of 
 my blind brother, who came to live with us after a 
 time, for his edification. One borrowed book I remem- 
 ber and read : it was Lieut. Byron's Narrative of the 
 Loss of the Ship Wager, lost off the coast of South 
 America, a thrilling and sorrowful tale, the main facts 
 of which remain with me till this day. Yes, and we 
 had Blanco White's Master Key to Popery. 
 
 The Methodist preachers, I afterwards learned, 
 traversed those new settlements, but they never chanced 
 to come very near us ; and neither I, nor one of our 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 203 
 
 household, ever once heard a sermon during the fifteen 
 months I lived in the woods. Once I went three 
 miles to a so-called Sunday-school, but there was no 
 religious man to conduct it ; no prayer was offered, 
 and it consisted of an hour's reading of the Bible, 
 "turn about," which constituted the whole of the 
 exercises. But that, and a singing school which 
 followed on its heels, taught by the mail carrier be- 
 tween York and Ancaster, furnished an opportunity 
 for the young people to see each other, which com- 
 prised the principal part of v/hat devotion there was 
 in the whole matter. No wonder, that for want of 
 better occupation, we fell into something like Sabbath 
 desecration. But a change came at length ; in five 
 years from that time, there was in the heart of the 
 neighbourhood, a school-house in which meetings were 
 held ; there was a society ; and I myself, for four 
 months, was, strange to say, one of the preachers ! I 
 must not, however, anticipate. 
 
No. XXVII. 
 
 ' A CHRISTMAS WEEK THAT ENDED WRONG. 
 
 F\EW holidays had I in the bnsh ; but it was 
 determined that the Christmas week of 1822 
 should be mine to go to town, and spend with 
 my mother and the few friends I had left in York, old 
 and young. What strengthened the project was, that 
 my nearest boy companion, Thomas Rutledge. was to 
 have a vacation at the same time, to be spent in the 
 same place. From the close of the war of 1812-15 till, 
 say, 1825, a great many Irish Protestant families, who 
 had come to this country through New York City had 
 been detained there during the conflict between Great 
 Britain and the United States ; but when the war was 
 over, some earlierj some later, they began to stream 
 away across the intervening wilderness, many of them 
 in conveyances of their own, towards King George's 
 dominions, some of them stopping in the Town of York, 
 and some penetrating the newly-opened wilderness in 
 the region round about. Many of those who went to 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 205 
 
 the country . left relatives in the little capital. Mr. 
 Rutledge's family was one of these ; and it was among 
 some of his relatives that Thomas was to spend his 
 Christmas week, and we were to go out and come back 
 together. The prospect of company made the project 
 of my trip the more exhilarating. My most present- 
 able suit of clothes was a summer suit of jean, and I 
 had no top coat that was presentable ; the weather, 
 also, was cold. What was to be done ? Young people 
 will half freeze themselves for the sake of appearances, 
 and I determined to wear my summer suit. So far as 
 I can recollect I put some warmer garments under, 
 and I don't remember that I felt the cold very much. 
 The activity and restlessness of my boyhood was a 
 counteraction to the cold. 
 
 Here I must make a general confession that will 
 explain some things at the close. In those days, 
 among all my acquaintances, lax ideaii of what might 
 be done, or not be done, on the Sabbath, prevailed. 
 No one would think of performing downright labour 
 on that day ; but then, no one scrupled to perform a 
 journey to see friends, or otherwise, on that day, and 
 thereby save a week-day for work. In accordance 
 with this idea, the two boys were to leave the bush 
 early on the Sunday morning preceding Christmas, 
 spend the week in town, and return on the succeeding 
 Sunday. We left early, therefore, without the scruples 
 and fears with which I, at least, came back. With the 
 alacrity and hopefuUness of boyhood we started off, 
 
206 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 taking hold of each other's hands, in places where the 
 road was smooth, and trotting along together like a 
 span of colts. 
 
 At length I greeted what had been the scene of my 
 boyish haunts for seven years, and saw my mother and 
 friends. The week was spent pleasantly enough, ac- 
 cording to my boyish notions, a good part of it at old 
 Mr. Mcintosh's, sliding on a pond with William, Janet, 
 and David, the first two of whom have been long since 
 in their graves. 
 
 But my return journey was not to be so pleasurable 
 as my journey out. Calling through the week at Mr. 
 Graham's to see Thomas, and make arrangements for 
 our return, I found out he was to get a ride home with 
 friends who were to drive a team out, but whether 
 before or after Sabbath I forget ; but I was not to 
 have his company, but to return alone. I still thought 
 it necessary to return on Sunday, to be back at my 
 Monday's work. It was rather low water-mark with 
 my poor mother's piety just then, and she did not in- 
 terpose strongly against my Sunday return journey. 
 In the meantime she had prepared a number of addi- 
 tional articles for my wardrobe, and these I was to 
 carry in a little pack on my back. Mother " rose up 
 betimes and sent me away." It was an early hour of 
 a cold morning that I walked up King Street, and saw 
 not a human being until I came opposite the old wood- 
 en Methodist Meeting-house, midway between Yonge 
 and Bay Streets, when Mr. Patrick, the class-leader, 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 207 
 
 who had been my Sabbath-school teacher, had 
 been kindling the fire in the stove to have the 
 chapel warm for early service, came out on the road 
 and turned towards his residence in Bay Street I had 
 been a favourite scholar with him and as love is the 
 effectual loan for love, I liked him very much, and was 
 glad to see him. I, therefore, hurried up and accosted 
 him (he was short-sighted and did not readily pick me 
 up through his spectacles). I was thinking how glad 
 he would be to see me, and how manly I would look, 
 stick in hand, with my pack on my back, totally for- 
 getting, for the moment, all he had taught me about 
 the sanctity of the Sabbath. He turned and looked 
 at me with surprise and displeasure. 
 
 "What, John, is that you ? Where are you going?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I live in tlie country now, have been in 
 the town for a week, and am now going back again." 
 
 "But why must you go back to-day, this is the 
 Sabbath of the Lord, you must remain till to-morrow." 
 
 " But I can't, sir, I am expected back." 
 
 " Any expectation of your friends cannot excuse you 
 for breaking the Sabbath." 
 
 " I think I shall have to go on, sir* " 
 
 " But if a tree falls upon you by the way, and kill 
 you, what excuse can you give at the bar of God for 
 breaking his Sabbath ? " 
 
 This terrified me very much, for it was quite windy 
 enough to blow down trees, but I would have been 
 ashamed to go back to my friends, and I slowly and 
 
208 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 silently moved forward, and I may say sorrowfully, 
 too, for I was sorry to have forfeited the good opinion 
 and incurred the rebuke of a man I revered and loved 
 so much. 
 
 On I went trembling. But so long as there were no 
 trees along the road near enough to reach me, I felt 
 pretty safe. This was the case along Dundas Street 
 (now Queen) till I got into the tall pine woods which 
 stretched from Col. Givens' to the plains. Through 
 those dreary three miles my eye scanned and measured 
 each tree in the vicinity of my path, to determine 
 whether it were tall enough to reach me in the road, 
 the centre of which I kept as nearly as I could to 
 escape the judicial infliction from either side. I prayed 
 in my heart, but it was that I might not be killed ; 
 and when a roadside tree seemed dangerously near, I 
 kept to the other side, and went past in double-quick 
 time. In the " Oak Plains," I went on with confidence, 
 as there were no tall trees. Thus I pushed on till I 
 reached the Mimico. There, as I had some coppers in 
 my pocket, I went into Wilcox's tavern and bought 
 and drank a glass of whisky, no one in those days 
 doubting its propriety, even for a growing boy, 
 especially on a cold day. Alas ! people thought a per- 
 son might stop drinking just before the point of 
 drunkenness was reached, although he had placed 
 himself on a slippery inclined plane, the natural ten- 
 dency of which was to shunt him off into perdition. 
 The whisky raised my confidence a little, not enough, 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 209 
 
 however, to make me take the " back road," there 
 being too many instruments of God's displeasure 
 against Sabbath-breakers on that road. However, the 
 way seemed long and I wanted to abridge it by a 
 short cut ; but in doing so I had to pass by the door 
 of a Mr. Cook, who kept two ferocious dogs, and I was 
 always very much afraid of dogs. These I had defied 
 when on horseback. But now I was on foot and alone, 
 and they came out at me, open-mouthed. I did not 
 know but the dreaded judgment was to come in being 
 torn to pieces by two ferocious dogs instead of being 
 crushed to pieces by a tree. But I bethought me of 
 an expedient : I had part of my luncheon on my per- 
 son in the shape of some Boston crackers. I, therefore, 
 employing all the soothing words I could think of, 
 doled out the crackers to the dogs, till this form of 
 backsheesh had carried me beyond the frontier the dogs 
 felt bound to protect. I then cut across the woods, the 
 nearest way to the open glade, where there was no 
 fear of falling trees ; thence I pushed on home. Still, 
 through the swamp the trees were too near for perfect 
 composure, till at length the long-desired opening 
 furnished by " our settlement " burst upon my gratified 
 sight, and, before the sun was quite down I found 
 myself, uncrushed by a tree, within the protecting 
 strong walls of our log-house. Thank God, that he 
 spared me to repent ; and in the long run repent I did ! 
 I have just bethought me, that the notion I was out 
 of danger as soon as I was out of the vicinity of the trees, 
 14 
 
210 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 was like the mistake of poor Plunket, a big, eccentric 
 and wicked Irishman, who lived some years after in 
 the lower part of the Province. He and some others 
 were out in a boat on the Lord's day on one of the 
 expansions of the Mississippi called lakes, when it 
 blew very hard and the waves ran so high as to 
 endanger the boat of upsetting. The wicked man 
 was very much alarmed, and prayed and promised if 
 God would but spare his life to refurm. When they 
 got to land, he was overjoyed, and exclaimed to his 
 companions, " I tell you what, boys, that was well 
 done ! It was a good thing God Almighty did not 
 kill me when he had a chance." He, too, was spared 
 to repent, and professed conversion afterwards at a 
 Methodist camp-mee^'ng; a certain sermon being the 
 instrument of his awakening, which led him to say 
 in the experience meeting, ^ihat, " Mr. Pollard was the 
 boy that did it." 
 
No. XXVIII. 
 
 « 
 
 AN IMPULSIVE ACT — A SUDDEN DEPARTURE FROM 
 
 THE BUSH. 
 
 T.WO several formations in my boyish mind, 
 one of longer and the other of more recent 
 standing, led to this. The crisis was painful, 
 and I hope no other poor boy may pass through a 
 similar one. I would pass it over entirely, only that 
 it forms a transition from one state of boy life to 
 another. My boyhood was a pretty hard one all 
 through ; and having an active mind and a taste for 
 reading, which furnished me with food for thought, 
 which many other boys had not, I was often led to 
 cast about in my mind for some other condition in 
 life. 
 
 My first tendency to a roving disposition arose from 
 books of adventure, such as Robinson Crusoe, the 
 Buccaneers of America — a kind of sea pirates — and 
 such others as I could lay my hands on. I was not 
 averse to effort, and was confident of my ability to 
 
212 MY BOY LU tl 
 
 take care of myself ; and, like many another foolish 
 boy, I should very likely have left home and " gone to 
 seek my fortune," as we boys used to term it, only for 
 my attachment to my mother and unwillingness to 
 give her pain. I felt she was too good a friend to 
 wound in the smallest degree. 
 
 Some weeks before the start that I made, which I 
 am about to relate, a new source of discontent, real or 
 imaginary, tended to revive these revolvings in mind 
 of the fortune-seeking project. It was hard for a 
 slender, growing boy in the bush, at best — frugal fare, 
 and work, work, work. But the winter had gone, and 
 the spring broken. That season brought great activity 
 to prepare the fields and get in the crops; the fall 
 supplies began to diminish, so as to require economy, 
 especially in the matter of meat ; and lighter diet 
 must be substituted, not over satisfying to a hungry 
 boy. These, with the relaxing effect of warmer 
 weather, made me feel weak and discontented. I was 
 several days in a sullen state of mind, and^ my feel- 
 ings were no doubt expressed i:i ray countenance. On 
 the day refer ^.d to, I was discontented wdth my 
 dinner, and wen*; back to my work in the field feeling 
 angry and fi^loomy. Both brother and his wife were 
 awa;y somewhere. I thought it a good time to leave, 
 ai}d went to the house to tell my poor blind brother 
 James, to whom I had a strong attachment ; but for 
 some reason my heart failed me, and I made no sign to 
 him. I then started down through the meadow, to 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 213 
 
 the house of Mr. Rutledge, thinking I would call out 
 Tom, my young companion, and tell him to make my 
 flight known, after I had got well away, for I did 
 not wish to give any one needless alarm, as though 
 some evil had befallen me. But Thomas was away 
 from home, and I went on, skulking in the woods on 
 the sides of the road, lest I should be identified by 
 neighbours and turned back. When I got out to the 
 corners, where I must needs turn westward, away from 
 all that knew me, or eastward, to York, where I was 
 known, I stood and hestated for sometime. Had I 
 possessed a reasonable amount of my clothes to make 
 me in any measure comfortable and presentable, and 
 had been able to leave word with any one who would 
 not impede my flight, but after a time carry back 
 word that no bodily harm had come to me, which 
 within a reasonable time, would reach my poor mother, 
 who otherwise would be distressed beyond measure, 
 the probabilities were that I would have turned west- 
 ward and gone to where I was not known ; seek tem- 
 porary means of support, by such work as I could do ; 
 and then when I got money, have gone farther. In 
 that case, the Omniscient could only tell what would 
 have been the result to me. But I had seen no one 
 with whom I could leave my message ; and my clothes 
 were scanty, and they were torn. They were my 
 ordinary working clothes, of course — coat, vest, pants, 
 shirt, shoes, and stockings. I was innocent of anything 
 more, and had no top-coat. Remember, too, it was a 
 
214 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 dark chilly day in the month of April (1823). Be- 
 sides, ray pants had met with an accident and were 
 torn badly on one side in front ; so that, to be at all 
 presentable, I was fain to put my hand through the 
 place for a pocket, and hold them together from the 
 inside. 
 
 Being in such a plight, my instinct led me toward 
 the town where my mother lived. Even that was a 
 sad resort. Thoma was just then out of business, and 
 it was low water mark with us all, George having gone 
 to the States. On my way town-ward, greatly to my 
 embarrassment, I met a neighbour (in some sense a 
 relative), the old Highland Scotchman, Wallace, whom 
 I have already mentioned. I could not pass him with- 
 out his seeing me, but when I met him said as little as 
 I could. I could not, however, escape his keen eye 
 and ready questions. I told him I was going to town. 
 But why was I going in such a plight ? Then I told him 
 the real state of the case. He chided me for leaving 
 my brother ; and I defended myself on the ground of 
 hard usage, of which I had brought myself to believe 
 I was the subject. He tried to get me to return with 
 him, by the promise that he would " talk Scotch to 
 them." But I felt it impossible to face them after 
 what occurred ; and when he almost attempted to turn 
 me back by force, I wept bitter tears, and screamed 
 with terror. Whereupon he allowed me to pass on, 
 with the pledge that I would go to my mother's and 
 nowhere else. He was to have taken my brother's in 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 215 
 
 his way at any rate ; and I have reason to believe that 
 he lodged there that night. His statement of my 
 charges exasperated them very much. I was glad, 
 however, that they were saved from suspense, though 
 they might have cause for anger. I did not take a 
 good way of severing my connection with the place. 
 Withdrawing my services was the termination of my 
 quota of contribution for keeping James, and, just at 
 that time of year, put William to great inconvenience. 
 Upon second thoughts, I would have reversed what I 
 had done, if I could. Not without solicitude, I 
 thought, " Who will rake and burn the leaves and 
 stubble ? Who will drive the oxen to harrow the 
 fields ? Who will ride the mare to mill ? And who 
 will do their errands ? Who will hunt the cattle ?" 
 
 There wa.s, no doubt, a providence in the issue of 
 the movement in the long run. I would not have had 
 much chance for education if I had stayed in the back 
 country ; and, going on as I had been, I might not 
 have become converted, and then my whole life would 
 have been worse than blank. 
 
 It was dusk before I reached my mother's, and I 
 met her at first in a dark pasaage way ; and, though 
 surprised at my sudden appearance, it was not till I 
 had gone into the light that she saw the dejected, 
 weary, dirty, and ragged plight I was in. But, oh ! the 
 never failing attachment and ready resources of that 
 mother ! She provided me supper and a bed, and 
 soundly I slept from weariness and sorrow ; and she 
 
216 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 mended and made for me while I slept, so that by 
 the morning I looked passable for week-day appear- 
 ance. After fixing me up in the morning, she said, 
 " Now, John, you had better go and see your early 
 friend, Mr. Ketchum. You know he always took very 
 much to you ; perhaps he may find a place for you." 
 I went " with my heart in my mouth," as the old 
 saying is ; received a kindly greeting, and patient 
 listening to my story. After a little chaffing — he 
 always liked to tease boys — he said, " Why, yes, John, 
 you were always a pretty good boy to work ; we must 
 find something for you to do. . What must I give you 
 a month ? " " Will four dollars be too much. Sir ? " 
 " I don't know, that's a good deal of money. Do you 
 think you could melt the ore, and hammer out the 
 metal, and make four dollars in a month ? " It was 
 hard to answer anything so quaint. But he soon 
 relieved me from embarrassment, by saying, ' There, 
 go along and help Luke, the Frenchman, at that 'ere 
 job he is at ! " 
 
 This was a great boon for me. No one was required 
 to kill himself with hard work in that establishment ; 
 the food was good, abundant, and well cooked ; and I 
 had a good feather bed to sleep on at night, with 
 plenty of clothes. And, although as yet none were 
 truly religious, it was of good augury that every one 
 of the boys in the common sleeping-room bent his 
 knees in prayer before retiring to rest. For very 
 shame sake, I was forced to bend mine also, and to say 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 217 
 
 the Lord's prayer, which my mother had taught me 
 when a child. Alas ! another whole year passed before 
 I began to pray in earnest. I fear I shall have to tell 
 some stories of the following twelve months which 
 will show that I was not religious. My work was in 
 and around a tannery, but I did not commence to learn 
 the trade for two years from that time. 
 
 *^* After seeing the above in print, and pondering 
 it at leisure, I am led to believe that some of the pru- 
 dent, worldly-wise class will think that I should not 
 have made such a disclosure relative to myself and 
 friends ; but if an autobiography may be written at all, 
 it ought to be literally accurate relative to all mattera 
 great and small, however delicate, that were significant 
 in shaping the character and complexion of one's after 
 life, else such a personal history is of no value to the 
 reader. And it must be confessed that the tendency 
 in most persons is, to such concealments and colouring 
 of facts, that their statements are of no validity what- 
 ever. And what wonder if a person who afterwards 
 made a fair record should have once in the course of 
 his boyhood have had such an escapade as the one I 
 have recorded. It would scarcely have seemed boy- 
 like if he had not ; and I am writing of a boy and not 
 of a man. 
 
 As to my brother, I should, perhaps, further say, that 
 we did not meet again for fully a year after my leaving 
 and then in friendship without any allusions to what 
 had past; and a year after that again, when my 
 
218 MT BOY LIFE. 
 
 renewed conscience was tender and sensitive about my 
 past sinful life, I made a very humble confession of my 
 unfriendly remarks respecting him with many tears. 
 Indeed, one who heard it, thought that I humbled 
 m.ysoif too much. He spoke very kindly, but made no 
 concessions on his own part. Henceforth, however, 
 till his death we were on terms of the most brotherly 
 friendship ; and always took sweet counsel on religious 
 matters, regarding which, in all fundamental parti- 
 culars, we were in perfect harmony. He attained a 
 position of wealth and respectability which none of 
 my other brothers were fortunate enough to achieve. 
 
 N.B. — As to those who wish to establish their 
 respectability by leaving the impression that neither 
 they nor their relatives ever had ^. strait, or a want, or 
 a struggle, I think they are simply detestable for their 
 pride and affectation. 
 
No. XXIX. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF MY DEAR OLD ' BOSS." 
 
 EFORE I go any further, I had better give some 
 account of the gentleman I had worked for, off 
 and on, about two years, and under whose roof 
 I was to reside at least another two years and a-half — 
 first as a hired boy, and then as an apprentice. I give 
 this account because he was a very remarkable man* 
 and just now for certain reasons, he is very much talked 
 about. Indeed, his career furnishes a good example 
 and many valuable lessons for boys. If I call him 
 " Boss," instead of Master, it is from no want of 
 respect, but because that was the term most generally 
 used in this country at that time to express an 
 employer, or one who gave the word of command. 
 
 About one hundred years ago there lived a numerous 
 young family in Spencertown, in the State of New 
 York, United States. They were poor, mostly, I 
 suspect, because the father was a poor manager ; and, 
 from some hints I received from time to time in the 
 
220 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 early day, he drank as well. Alas ! it was a common 
 fault in those days, and by no means as discreditable in 
 public estimation as now ; thanks to the improved 
 public opinion brought about by the efforts of the 
 Temperance Reform. But I am bound to say, that the 
 shiftless father, became thoroughly reformed, so far as 
 drink was concerned, late in life — thanks to the 
 influence exerted over him by his virtuous son. But 
 when I cane to know the old gentleman he was in his 
 dotage, and was very childish in his talk, (if, indeed, 
 he had ever possessed any manly sense) repeating the 
 same little stories and rhymes many times over. In 
 this Ketchum family, fcr that is the name of the 
 person I am writing about, when it was completed, 
 there were at least six children — three boys and three 
 girls: of the former, Seneca, Jesse, and Zebedee, or 
 Zebulon, I suppose, for Jesse's children used to call 
 him "Uncle Zeb." 
 
 I should have said, perhaps earlier, that the mother 
 of these children, (from certain tender hints and 
 reverent allusions to her by her son Jesse) was as wise, 
 and true, and prudent, as her husband and their father 
 was lacking in those qualities. I suspect our hero, 
 Jesse, the mainstay of the family, received an impulse 
 in the right direction from his mother, of whom he 
 always spoke with great respect, not without a tinge 
 of the regretful and mysterious. She died compara- 
 tively early, long before her husband, and in their 
 native home in the United States. What were the 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 221 
 
 i 
 
 circumstances of her death I knew not, but her life 
 and character had been good. Jesse Ketchum, among 
 the many wise saws and maxims he was wont to utter 
 in after years, used to say, " I have hope of a child, 
 though he may have had a bad father ; but if has had 
 a bad mother, I can't expect any good of him." 
 
 I may as well here say, that there was an incubus 
 adapted to crush the energies of this family (a matter 
 too well known to be ignored ;) there was an hereditary 
 taint of insanity in their blood, but upon which side of 
 the house I know not. I rather supect that it was the 
 active intellect of the mother that gave way under the 
 pressure of domestic cares. I hardly think the husband's 
 mind was ever stift enough to snap. This legacy in 
 the family was an evil against which Mr. Jesse 
 Ketchum had to fight all his days, and greatly added 
 to his cares and burdens, while it gave occasion for 
 his exemplifying his unfailing brotherly kindness for 
 many long years. 
 
 Seneca Ketchum, the eldest son and brother, aside 
 from occasional aberrations of mind in later life, was a 
 man of energy and ability. He early left home, came 
 to Canada, and became possessed of some property, 
 about seven or eight miles out of York, (now Toronto) 
 on Yonge Street. 
 
 Jesse, our hero, the next eldest, was born on the 
 30th of March, 1782. The way I came to know his 
 birthday, was this : Mr. Ketchum was one day among 
 some friends in company, when the conversation 
 
222 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 turned on their several birthdays ; he was led to say 
 that he was born on the last day of the month of 
 March, when his own little boy spoke up and said, 
 " Daddy came very near being an April fool, didn't he?" 
 This made a laugh in which the father joined along 
 with the rest. 
 
 He was early bound out to a master, most likely till 
 twenty-one. What the business was I do not know, I 
 suspect not the one he afterwards adopted ; but from 
 some incidental allusions, I surmise it was farming. 
 He never spoke amiss of his master, but his mistress 
 was a cruel, capricious woman, and when a woman 
 gives away to ill-nature, she can be very ugly and 
 tyrannical indeed. Whether she had any children of her 
 own or not, I do not know, but it was evident she did 
 not feel a mother's affection for poor young Jesse 
 Ketchum. I myself heard him tell a tale of her cruel 
 caprice : he had by some means obtained a new coat, 
 and wore it to his "' Drk in the field. It being easier 
 to work in his shirt Jeeves, he took it off and hung it 
 on a bush ; and with the heedlessnes of a boy, came 
 away and forgot it. His mistress coming along some 
 time after, found the coat, and in order to make out a 
 ca^e against the 'prentice, tore the coat to ribbons, and 
 held it up as the work of the hogs, in whose power 
 she alleged Jesse's carelessness had left his garment. 
 Whether she got him punished as the cause of the 
 accident is more than I clearly understood. 
 
 As any boy naturally would, the lad revolved in 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 223 
 
 mind an escape from such tyranny. The last straw 
 which broke down his endurance was her punishing him 
 for having as she said, ill-treated one of the geese by 
 pulling out its feathers ; which charge she made up 
 out of the fact, that in pulling a goose out of a fence she 
 was vainly trying to pass through, she dropped a quill, 
 which he appropriated to make a pen to write his school 
 copy with, green quills being his only material for 
 pens. 
 
 Young Jesse Ketchum availed himself of the first 
 chance of making his escape from the bondage of his 
 stern mistress, and made for Canada, whither his elder 
 brother had gone before him, pursuing his journey on 
 foot, without money and very destitute of clothes. If 
 we had the particulars, no doubt the details of the 
 fugitive's hardships would be thrilling. But the God 
 and Father of the friendless preserved him and provided 
 for him, and brought him to his brother's place in peace 
 and safety. After events proved, as an observing old 
 lady used to say, that "Jesse Ketchum was sent before, 
 like another Joseph, to provide for his kindred." He 
 soon became his brother's partner in the business of 
 the farm and tannery ; and his brother sometimes 
 suffering from aberration of mind, the principal 
 management fell to the younger brother, who soon 
 began to display that wonderful capacity for business 
 which distinguished him through life, by which, with- 
 out any apparent bustle or effort, wealth flovved in 
 upon him from all sides. 
 
224 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 A young, energetic widow, a Mrs. Love, with one 
 little daughter (who had lost the husband of her youth 
 in a tragic manner, he having been shot in a night- 
 hunting expedition by mistake for a bear), kept the 
 house of the brothers. Jesse became attached to Mrs. 
 Love, and married her at the early age of eighteen. 
 She was his senior by a few years, and, therefore, she 
 was prepared to be his counsellor. She was shrewd, 
 capable, managing, and very industrious ; and aided 
 him in both gaining and saving. She " looked well to 
 the ways of her household. The heart of her husband 
 safely trusted in her. She did him good and not 
 evil all the days of his life. She sought wool and 
 flax, and her hands held the spindle and distaff." All 
 her household for years, were clothed by her home 
 manufactures. Her husband, therefore, was known in 
 the gate, sitting among the elders. Nor did she forget 
 to " stretch forth her hands to the poor, or to reach 
 them out to the needy." She was a cordial co-operator 
 in all her husband's charities. Especially they were 
 the life-long benefactors of all his relatives and their 
 descendants, the family, all but his mother, having been 
 early transferred to Canada. 
 
 At the opening of the war of 1812-15, he was led to 
 buy a tannery and several surrounding blocks of land 
 in the Town of York, at a sacrifice to the sellers, from 
 aliens retiring to the United States. This applies 
 especially to the property of a Mr. Van Zant. There 
 was a great demand for home manufactured leather 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 225 
 
 for none was admitted from the States. Prices during 
 the war were high and money was plenty. Cash flowed 
 in upon our hero, and he had a chance of buying town- 
 lots and farms for a mere song, which after a few years 
 had increased in value — four, five, ten, and at last a 
 hundred times. A similar purchase was made in 
 Buffalo, N. Y., with the same results. 
 
 I don't think that Mr. K. ever professed any very 
 marked Christian experience ; but from our earliest 
 knowledge of him as a householder, his character was 
 that of a Christian man. He was never known other- 
 wise than strictly moral and temperate. Indeed, he 
 was far in advance of the very best part of the com- 
 munity in the avoidance of the drinking customs of 
 the day ; he "took no snutf, tobacco, or drams." " No 
 manner of work did he, his son, or his daughter, his 
 man-servant, his maid-servant, his ox, his horses, and 
 mules, or the stranger that was within his gates, per- 
 form on the Sabbath." Furthermore, he joined hands 
 with the parson of the town in striving to break up 
 Sunday skating upon the Bay, by taking the names 
 of the skaters, and threatening them with the law. 
 
 I surmise his early religious proclivities were Presby- 
 terian ; and I am sure those of his wife were emphati- 
 cally such. But before there was a Methodist or 
 Presbyterian Church in the town, he kept a pew in 
 the Episcopalian Church, which he and his family 
 strictly attended, and where he also, I believe, used to 
 commune. When the Methodists built a church in 
 
 15 
 
226 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 1818, he was a frequent attendant and a teacher, as we 
 have seen, in the Sunday-school, which was the first to 
 be organized; and one who knew his views well^ 
 believed that if his wife had been as much inclined to 
 that people as he was, he would have cast in his lot with 
 the newly-organized Methodist cause. His house was 
 always open to all the travelling ministers who came 
 and went in those days, the Methodist itinerants among 
 the rest. From an early day family worship was con- 
 ducted twice in each twenty-four hours. Every one 
 of his large household was required to be present; 
 every one who could read, was provided with a copy 
 of the Bible, and the lesson was read in the " verse- 
 about" manner. 
 
 All the candidates for settlement as Presbyterian 
 ministers found a comfortable, loving home with him ; 
 and the first one settled in the town, the Rev. James 
 Harris, never had any other home from the first till 
 he married Mr. Ketchum's second daughter, Fidelia, 
 and went to live in a residence erected for him by 
 his generous father-in-law. The land on which the 
 church stood was his gift ; and the building itself was 
 almost wholly built at his expense, as it was planned 
 by him and the grounds were beautified by his hand. 
 Don't I remember how the ministers who came, (some 
 of them, all the way from Brockville) to install the 
 young dominie, were lodged at his house ; and how 
 their jaded horses were taken out by some of us boys 
 to one of Mr. K.'s adjacent farms to revel in the best 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 227 
 
 of pasture during their needed rest of several days. 
 That farm was just beyond where the Mount Pleasant 
 Cemetery now displays its undulating surface and its 
 white cenotaphs. 
 
 Mr. Ketchum often boarded the school-master, and 
 took private lessons from him to remedy the defects 
 of his early education. I remember that grammar 
 was one of these ; and I suspect, that those lessons 
 were all the board money the pedagogue paid. 
 
 My old Boss's practical wisdom crystallized into 
 cautions to young beginners not to "eat up their seed 
 potatoes," and not to spend all their time over " the 
 wind work " of a subject — mere talk. A refractory 
 boy, or horse, had " too much democracy in his consti- 
 tution." The large assembly room in a new mansion 
 he erected, about 1820, was not the ball room, for he 
 disapproved of dancing, but it v/as "the fourth of June 
 room" — the place for celebrating the King's birthday ! 
 
 He often talked lovingly to his horses and cattle. 
 " Mink," H favourite black horse he had raised, was 
 often caressed by the arms of his master around his 
 neck, while he was pronounced * a fine old fellow." A 
 neighbour, one fine May morning found him driving 
 his well-fed cows out of the yard, talking to them the 
 while, and saying to them, " I have fed you all winter, 
 now go away on the commons, and go and hunt ! Go 
 up there by Mr. C.'s and go and hunt." Though thus 
 thrust out they did not fail to receive something tasty 
 when they came back to be milked. 
 
228 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 But I must check my pen, for it would take volumes 
 to tell of all the poor boys and destitute families he 
 befriended, helping them in the very best of all ways, 
 by giving them employment, and by putting them 
 in a way to create for themselves a home. Some 
 other of his quaintly amiable ways may come to view 
 in the further narrations I have to make. 
 
 Not to leave this section incomplete, I must not 
 forget to say, that ho was born in Spencertown, 
 N. Y.,in 1782; came to Canada in 1799 ; removed from 
 Yonge Street to York probably about 1811 or '12 ; 
 went away to Buffalo, N. Y., the place of another 
 large property, in 1845 ; and passed away to the 
 place where he had laid up imperishable treasure, 
 September 7th, 1867. 
 
No. XXX. 
 
 BUTTERNUTTING ON SUNDAY, AND ITS PUNISHMENT. 
 
 T\HE last year of my unregenerated life, the one 
 immediately before my conversion, was a 
 perilous one for my morals and my soul. , 
 There were a great many men and boys employed in 
 the establishment in which I was employed, with a 
 good many comers and goers besides, none of whom 
 were truly religious at that time, although a revival 
 came the following year which made some change in 
 some of them. In the meantime, none of them were 
 a safe copy to follow ; and those whose age and size 
 gave them a claim to matured manhood, and whose 
 company, as an aspiring boy, I affected, were more 
 likely to lure me to wider fields of indulgence than I 
 had yet explored. Alas I *these explorations were 
 mostly made on Sunday, including sometimes the 
 garrison, among the soldiers, not excluding the mili- 
 tary canteen, where the older ones treated the younger 
 to drink. 
 
230 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 ♦ ■ 
 
 It is true, our good old Boss enjoined upon us to 
 attend some church, which we usually did at least 
 once a day ; and the churches we attended were either 
 the Methodist or Presbyterian. My spending part of 
 the Sabbath with my mother, and her proclivities for 
 Methodism, led me to attend the Methodist meeting- 
 house the oftener ; albeit my place of residence led 
 me often to my master's church. 
 
 But, the morning service over, the scattering away 
 after dinner was seldom in the direction of any 
 church. Our devotions were oftener paid to the 
 blackberries, choke-cherries, hazelnuts, and butternuts, 
 in the fields and woods of unlimited extent surround- 
 ing the town on three sides. - ! 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, John Jones, of potato-plant- 
 ing memories, asked me to accompany him up the 
 Flats of the Don, where butternuts were said to be 
 plentiful. We strolled along down Newgate Street as 
 far as what we now call Jarvis Street, then across the 
 ravine which then intersected what used to be cs^Ued 
 Lot (now Queen) Street, just where the creek which 
 coincided with it a long way, broadened out to a 
 tangled, marshy expanse, which has since received the 
 euphonious name of Moss Park. Then we zig-zagged 
 along till we got into the foad which led between the 
 cleared lots on the west and the pine woods which 
 stretched everywhere away to the Don River, which 
 had alwavs been known as " The Park," which road 
 »ow constitutes Parliament Street. On we went along 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 231 
 
 the sandy, dusty, stumpy waggon way, through the 
 woods which have since given place for the Church of 
 England Cemetery and the Necropolis, within which 
 were the remains of old Castle Frank. Then across 
 sundry gullies and undulations of the ground went 
 we, until old Col. Playter's meadows, dotted here 
 and there with lofty butternut trees, opened to our 
 view. 
 
 John was a good singer ; had both voice and science 
 for sacred music, in which he had been trained. Some 
 little time before he had been at a Methodist meeting 
 and had heard them sing the chorus to the hymn, 
 commencing — " Come, ye sinners, poor and needy," — 
 with which he was much taken, and which ran thus : 
 
 Turn to the Lord and seek salvation, 
 Sound the praise of His dear name. 
 
 Glory, honour, and salvation, 
 
 Christ, the Lord, has come to reign ! 
 
 This he sung a great many times over to beguile 
 our tramp, which began to be irksome, when, as I 
 said, the wide, green meadows, bespangled more or 
 less with flowers, the shrubs and trees, and here and 
 there a glint of the silver stream, burst upon our sight. 
 
 A word or two about my fellow-transgressor will be 
 necessary, to account for some things which are to 
 follow. He was now nearly twenty-one, and very 
 anxious to take rank in all respects as a man. He 
 had lately taken to chewing tobacco, and sported a 
 quid in the hollow of his cheek big enough to show 
 
232 ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 itself on the outside, which he thought added to the 
 manliness of his looks ; and provided himself with an 
 enormous tobacco-box, which came together with an 
 emphatic snap ; albeit, he had to keep these things on 
 the sly from the Boss, who was down on such indul- 
 gences. But if his tobacco-box was large, he was 
 small himself, which was a great grief to him. True, 
 he was strong and wiry, and few could out-work or 
 
 - out-wrestle him. He was plucky, too. But then he 
 wanted to look muscular, as well as display muscle. 
 For that purpose he, when dressed up, wore a good 
 many clothes, such as vests and drawers, to swell 
 himself out, and at that moment he had on two pairs 
 of trousers — a linen pair, which he wore in the tannery, 
 under his Sunday pants, to fill up the latter to the 
 right proportion of plumpness. 
 
 The trees were tall, but the branches when reached 
 were loaded with the largest and finest nuts. John 
 divested himself of his coat and mounted into the tree 
 
 * tops, and shook down the fruit to me, who gathered 
 them together ; and a great heap was the result. But 
 what were we to do with them now we had gathered 
 them ? Our handkerchiefs did not suffice to hold 
 them all. John bethought him of a plan to carry the 
 surplus ; he took off his under trousers, tied up the 
 legs and filled them with nuts, buttoning them at top, 
 in which way they made a sort of duplicate bag. 
 Shouldering them up, we came on until we got so near 
 the town we saw that for the present we must conceal 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 233 
 
 them ; for we would not have liked to go through the 
 streets in such a plight in daylight on any day, still 
 less on the Lord's day. That would have been utterly 
 impracticable considering the character of our em- 
 ployer. It was, therefore, agreed to cover them up in 
 a way they would not be found by others, and come 
 with a bag and get them under the cover of the dark- 
 ness of the following Monday night. We, therefore, 
 turned into the woods, somewhere near where the 
 Primitive Methodist Church now stands on Parliament 
 street. We soon found a large log from under which 
 we scraped the leaves and earth, and stowed away our 
 nuts, then scraping back the leaves and rubbish to 
 cover them, leaving the place as natural looking as 
 possible, and making a mark on the roadside to show 
 us where to turn in, the little man resumed his under 
 clothes, and we made our way back by supper-time, 
 looking as demure as if we had been to an afternoon 
 service. 
 
 We had many an anxious thought and colloquy 
 about our hidden treasure during the course of the 
 following day ; and when our work and supper were 
 ended, rolling up a bag, we stole out of town, and by 
 the time it was nearly dark we arrived at the spot we 
 were in search of. The log was there, all right ; but, 
 oh ! to our wof ul disappointment, not a single nut ! 
 Some wanton boys, like ourselves (the squirrels could 
 hardly have taken them all away in twenty-four hours), 
 had found them and borne them oft*. We had been 
 
234 ' MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 justly punished for our Sabbath-breaking. We turned 
 towards the town chop-fallen enough. For the sake 
 of better light, and other reasons, we came up King 
 street. Opposite the market stood the " English Chop 
 House," kept by a man who was afterwards converted 
 and became a zealous Methodist class-leader — I speak 
 of Mr. Bloor — and my senior treated me to some 
 refreshment of a kind to enliven our spirits for the 
 time and counterpoise our depression. By the follow- 
 ing autumn I had found an enduring source of 
 satisfaction. 
 
No XXXI. 
 
 A MISSPENT SUNDAY THAT ENDED WELL. 
 
 Y last story, of a misspent Sunday afternoon, 
 had at least a ridiculous finale ; the misspent 
 whole Sunday, of which I am now about to 
 give an account, had one element of the ludicrous 
 along with the sinful, but, thank God, ended well, and 
 put an end to all Sabbath-breaking by me forever. 
 I must tell it all, with its preliminaries, adjuncts, and 
 succeeding events. 
 
 I have told my readers, young and old, before this, 
 that my father lost his hundred acres of wheat at the 
 Grand River, by the war ; as also his beautiful span 
 of horses and waggon, by their capture by the Ameri- 
 cans, at the Battle of Niagara, May, 1813 ; besides the 
 loss of all our household effects, the burning of the 
 house in which we had been living, for which he had 
 put in a claim of something like a thousand dollars, 
 more or less, at the close of the war. After waiting 
 a great many long wef^ry years, perhaps one-half of 
 
236 * MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 that sum ^v&s granted him out of the insufficient war- 
 loss fund ; but after the grant was issued, it was many 
 weary weeks, or months, before the money was paid. 
 For some time after the issue was made, the position 
 of the family, which was now worse otf than it had 
 been for some years previously, began to look up in 
 hopes of getting what would at least give us a start in 
 some newly-projected efforts to improve our fortunes. 
 On the Sunday morning, in 1824, to which I now 
 refer, I rose from my bed with a liopeful heart, took 
 my breakfast, and joined some irreligious companions, 
 for a day's forbidden pleasure. Although it was the 
 holy Sabbath, as far as I can remember we projected 
 a walk over the Garrison Common, including a call at 
 the canteen ; but the day was doomed to be overcast 
 by two circumstances, the one trivial, the other serious. 
 Along with putting on otherwise my best, I put on a 
 beautiful pair of new shoes, the most elegant I had 
 ever ventured to buy. I knew they were painfully 
 short for me, but their finish was captivating, and I 
 could not think of relinquishing them, hoping " they 
 would stretch !" and though they pinched me severely, 
 I stuck to them, although my walk increased the pain 
 every moment. At length I turned back and hobbled 
 through the town to my mother. When I arrived 
 there, a worse sorrow awaited me ; I learned from my 
 precious mother that father had drawn his money, but 
 had deposited it away from home, probably with some 
 crony of a tavern-keeper. He had treated himself 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 287 
 
 of course ; the taste of liquor had revived an appetite 
 which had ruled him, to our sorrow, all his life ; and 
 he was now "on the spree," and drinking up our 
 little, but sole fortune [some of it was afterwards 
 recovered]. We were very sorrowful, of course. By 
 the time I had to leave for my place of employment, 
 against my morrow's work, my feet were so swollen 
 I was forced to take my fine shoes in mv hand and to 
 limp to my quarters by a back street. Just at this 
 
 - humiliating point, God's mercy interposed in my 
 
 . behalf. 
 
 I stole into the premises by the back gate, and sat 
 down on a pile of boards in the woodshed, with my 
 back towards Yonge Street, overlooking the orchard, 
 now in full bloom, and fragrant as the " spicy breezes 
 which blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle," and in full view 
 of a glorious unclouded sunset. Presently two boys 
 younger than I — Frederick Phipps and Willie Jones 
 — came in from the Methodist Sunday-School, on 
 which I, alas ! had long turned my back. There were 
 no library books, or even prizes, then distributed, but 
 each of the boys had in his hand a religious tract, and 
 they gave them up to me, who always dearly loved a 
 book, especially if it contained a story, a composition 
 which was now to lead to my salvation. One of the 
 tracts was " The Life of Old Bridget," — the other was 
 " Important Questions Answered from Scripture." 
 Old Bridget, an afflicted woman, the early part of 
 whose life had been irreligious, had been led by the 
 
238 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 • 
 
 death of her pious husband, a baker, to reflection, 
 repentance, and conversion. She afterwards became 
 a cripple by rheumatism, and was obliged to carry on 
 her late husband's business under great disadvantages 
 to support herself, performing the labours of her trade 
 on her knees instead of her feet. Nevertheless, 
 religion made her resigned and extremely happy in 
 the midst of all her afflictions. I thought — though 
 young and healthy, I am not happy, but disappointed 
 and miserable. How gladly w^ould I give up for ever 
 all that the world has to give, and accept of that poor 
 woman's lot, if I could only be as happy as she was in 
 hope of a heavenly life. That tract had so solemnized 
 and softened me, that I did what I otherwise would 
 not have done, if I had not read it, read the other 
 tract. Let no one think that biographical tracts, with 
 their pictures, are written and printed in vain. The 
 " Questions " in the other tract related to our duty 
 and sinfulness ; our redemption and salvation by 
 Jesus Christ ; the nature and necessity of repentance 
 and conversion, and the like. It deepened the im- 
 pression made by the first tract. The other boys 
 had left me alone, and I sat musing by myself. I had 
 felt awakened and alarmed, almost every Sunday 
 night, in returning from the preaching of John 
 Ryerson, William Slater, Isaac Bateman Smith, David 
 Gulp, Henry Ryan, and David Youmans, in the 
 Methodist Chapel. For, let people denounce "hell- 
 fire " preaching as much as they like, it was always 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 239 
 
 alarming sermons which aroused me the most. I 
 almost always said to myself, while under the sermon, 
 " I will be better ; I will repent and turn to God ;" but 
 no sooner had I joined the men and boys in our rooms at 
 Mr. Ketchum's, than their play and jokes drove away 
 my resolution, and I said to myself, " Not to-night ; 
 I will take another week of sinful pleasure, and I will 
 surely turn to God, and begin a religious life next 
 Sunday night." But, alas ! the following Sunday 
 evening the saino causes had the same effects, and I 
 put off my repentance again. Thus did " procrastina- 
 tion prove the thief of time," and I had lost a whole 
 year, and stood on the brink of ruin from day to day. 
 Although it will break the continuity of my story a 
 little, and make it perhaps a little too long, I must 
 relate one occurrence, for I can nowhere tell it so well. 
 One Sunday afternoon, in 1823, I went to the old 
 meeting-house, at what we now call the corner of 
 King and Jordan streets (although there were no minor 
 streets intersecting the block at the time, nor for 
 several years after) accompanied by John Jones, some- 
 times a sort of evil genius to me. Some minister, 
 whose looks did not impress themselves on my memory, 
 preached. Another preacher was seated in the long, 
 wide pulpit, who at the close of the sermon arose to 
 give an exhortation — something which was then 
 invariably given, if there was anybody to give it. I 
 perceived that he had but one leg of bone and flesh — 
 the other was of wood, and shod with iron — whom I 
 
240 " MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 did not then know, though I had heard of him, but 
 afterwards knew him well, and learned to distinguish 
 him as Thomas Harmon, the hero of Queenston 
 Heights. The exhorter soon became very impassioned, 
 stamping his wooden leg the while on the pulpit floor ; 
 and denounced hell and damnation, in no measured 
 terms, against all impenitent sinners, in a most piteous 
 voice ; but he did not forget to press the weary and 
 heavy laden to come to Christ, and welcome, then and 
 there. His address impressed me so much, that I 
 could scarcely conceal my intense emotion ; at length 
 he flung himself on the pulpit, and with hands stretched 
 out and brought together, as if grasping after some- 
 thing, he cried out, with a voice quivering and vibrating 
 with emotion, "Oh ! ye hell-bound souls !" I felt as 
 if I were just falling into perdition, and the man of 
 God was grabbing after me ! I quaked to my inmost 
 soul, and left the house after the service very much 
 solemnized. After we had passed out of hearing of 
 the dispersing congregation, wishing to bring on some 
 serious conversation with my companion, I remarked 
 to Jones, " That was a good old man that exhorted." 
 With an expression of ridicule and contempt, he burst 
 out, " Ah ! he's an old fool !" That scoffing utterance 
 was enough to scatter all my soul-concern for that 
 time, and the following week was passed in sin and 
 folly like all the others, and from week to week for 
 about three-quarters of a year. 
 
 But I must return to that Sunday night, in May, 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 241 
 
 1824, in the wood-shed with the tracts. I said to 
 myself, " I will put off no longer ; and whatever others 
 may say or do, I will save my soul. That night I 
 went alone and prayed ; and prayed henceforth every 
 day, not less than twice, but often three, four, five 
 times, and even oftener in a day. But I think it will 
 require another section before I have passed over 
 the crisis which I always considered as my conversion. 
 
 16 
 
No. XXXIL 
 
 MY LAST ACCEPTED DRAM. . 
 
 If'N my early days nearly every one drank a little, 
 I more or less, and the young as well as old. Pro- 
 fessors of religion did not see the evil of giving 
 and accepting treats, so long as it did not result in 
 visible intoxication ; and if it did once in a v/hile 
 result in that, it was considered an accident from mis- 
 calculation of the strength of the liquor, or their own 
 " strength to mingle strong drink." I might say, in 
 passing, that about the time of which I was writing 
 I was sent by my master on a certain evening with a 
 
 message to one of his neighbours. Elder D , an old 
 
 Scotch gentleman, and one of the eiders of the newly- 
 organized Presbyterian Church, with whom Rev. Mr. 
 
 J , an old Presbyterian minister from the country, 
 
 very Scottish, was a guest. He was sometimes a guest 
 at Mr. K.'s, but I suspect, for certain reasons, he pre- 
 ferred lodging at Elder D.'s. To deliver my mess :^e, 
 I was shown into the room where the two Scotch 
 seniors were in animated conversation. Vision was 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 243 
 
 almost totally obscured with tobacco smoke, and the 
 atmosphere was redolent with the fumes of hot 
 whisky, while the punch-bowl sat between them on 
 the table. They were not drunk, in the sense of 
 drunkenness which then obtained : 
 
 " They'd ta'en enough to make them canty, 
 They were na' fu', but just had planty." 
 
 Judging from the fervour of their language, they might 
 have been deeply engaged upon "the doctrines of grace." 
 
 But this is aside from the design of this story. 
 Although I had never been taught to refuse a glass, 
 from the moment I was resolved to save my soul I 
 saw, intuitively, that drinking in any degree was in- 
 compatible with what was now my paramount purpose. 
 The satisfaction produced by drink was not the sort of 
 comfort my hungry and thirsty soul hankered after ; 
 yet in a moment of weakness and shame-faced \ess, I 
 took a glass, to my deep sorrow and repentance. 
 
 Mr. Ketchum owned a small rough farm about three 
 miles out of town, on the west side of Yonge Street, 
 which, under the inspiration of the loyalty he culti- 
 vated, he called the " Wellington Farm." It was sown 
 and planted under his own supervision ; and a man, 
 one Halliday, lived in the farm-house, who had the 
 year before often worked with us in the establishment 
 in town, where he and I were fellow-labourers and 
 partial to each other. There was also a young man, 
 Samuel Tivy by name, who had joined the Methodist 
 
244 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Church a few months before me, but " having no root 
 in himself," he soon fell away. A short time after I 
 set out, I spoke to him of my purposes ; it touched 
 him — he lifted up his voice and wept — confessed his 
 faults, and the next Tuesday night he returned to 
 class with me. Nevertheless, his persuasions led me 
 to act, not only against my convictions, but also against 
 my preferences. On the morning referred to, he and 
 I were despatched to the Wellington Farm. I drove 
 the horse and cart with a load of seed for the field, I 
 think oats and potatoes ; and Samuel drove a team of 
 horses with a waggon containing a plough and harrow. 
 We had luncheon with us, and the programme was, 
 that he was to hold the plough, while I drove, and 
 Halliday, perhaps, to plant the potatoes. My religious 
 purpose was of recent origin, and, as yet, I had but 
 little faith and courage, and especially I wished to 
 conceal my change of mind from my late fellow- 
 worker. When we arrived, he brought out his tin 
 flask, and offered us a dram, and Tivy accepted it. 
 My turn came next, but I hung back and refused, and 
 would a thousand times had rather not accept, but 
 Tivy urged the usual reasons assigned in that day, 
 " A little will not hurt you," and Halliday looked so 
 surprised, that I who had so often readily taken it 
 with him should decline, that, fearing he would dis- 
 cover a secret which I had resolved to keep from him, 
 I swallowed the poisonous bait. My meditations 
 coming out had been of a religious character, and very 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 245 
 
 tranquilizing ; but presently the fumes ot* the liquor 
 flew to my head and spoiled all my pious feelings. I 
 kept away from the house and went on with my work 
 in a very uncomfortable state of mind. At noon, I 
 ate my luncheon of bread, and went out into the woods, 
 where I tried to regain my communion with God. 
 And I then and there formed the resolute purpose not 
 to touch another glass of ardent spirits; and I received 
 strength to keep my purpose, giving up whisky, rum, 
 shrub, peppermint, beer, and cider, and because of its 
 resemblance in looks to intoxicating drinks, I also 
 eschewed the harmless spruce, or root beer, which the 
 mistress used to brew every summer with the notion 
 that it would " purify the blood." This was at least 
 six years befor3 the " Old pledge " was adopted, and 
 ten, perhaps, before the formation of Teetotal Societies. 
 The position I then took was an eifectual and very 
 necessary safeguard to me. It is likely this subject will 
 fall in my way again. Religion, logically followed up, 
 leads of itself to total abstinence ; but without religion, 
 it is very hard to persevere in the way of temperance. 
 I corrected my error, and spent a very happy week, 
 almost wholly alone, carting manure from near where 
 the little Episcopal Church now stands, opposite 
 Mount Pleasant Cemetery, to the farm above men- 
 tioned. Deep and solemn were the thoughts revolving 
 in the travailing heart of that uncouth young carter 
 there, far from the haunts of polished society. What 
 the travail issued in ray next two sections will tell. 
 
No. XXXIII. 
 
 HOW I CAME TO GO AMONG THE METHODISTS. 
 
 TiHE first person to whom I unfolded my purpose 
 to serve God was my poor mother ; and I did so 
 at the first opportunity. I have said it was on 
 a Sunday night I formed the deliberate purpose to lead 
 a new life. The next day I was sent by my employer 
 with the horse (faithful " Old Mink ") and cart to do 
 some errands through the town, such as I had to 
 attend to nearly every day — namely, to call at the 
 market, and several slaughter-houses, particularly that 
 of Mr. Thomas Bright, at the corner of Ontario and 
 Duke Streets, for whom Mr. Ketchum had a great 
 regard, for what were called the " green " hides, in 
 contradistinction to " dry " ones. But on my way to 
 those places I must needs call at my mother's, who had 
 then a temporary abode on the south-east corner of 
 King and Sherbourne Streets, and avow my newly- 
 formed purpose to my best earthly friend. She came 
 out to the gate to meet me, and before we parted I 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 247 
 
 said, " Mother, I am determined to set out and serve 
 God and try to save my soul." It was like life from 
 the dead to her poor withered heart. After referring 
 lo the cheering fact that Nathaniel, the next older 
 iaan I, had taken up prayer at his bedside each night 
 aid morning, she said, " Well, John, your father is not 
 a man to look after you ; go and join the Methodists^ 
 you will find friends among them." I promised, and 
 drove off with a resolute heart. 
 
 How I managed to get through ^jhat week among 
 th3 wild men and boys in our large establishment, I can 
 hardly tell; but I kept myself as much as I could apart 
 fr<)m the rest, read my Bible and such grave sort of 
 books as fell within my reach. I almost always had a 
 book of some kind on my person and improved every 
 leisure moment. There was one lad — not of our 
 establishment, but often there — between whom and 
 myself there was a great attachment, whom, because 
 of that familiarity, I feared to meet, not feeling pluck 
 enough to avow my purpose to my old companions, 
 and I made several dodges to avoid meeting him ; 
 but a few days after it was unavoidable. I was 
 walking by the side of the horse I was driving, whose 
 heavy load prevented me driving rapidly away, when 
 I saw my erstwhile friend bearing down upon me with 
 eager pleasure in his countenance at the prospect of 
 meeting me after our longer than usual separation ; he 
 rushed towards me with, " Well, John, how are you ?" 
 In answer, I said abruptly, "Well, Jem, I'm determined 
 
248 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 to reform my life, and try to save my soul." It seemed 
 to afford him great pleasure, and he chimed in at once. 
 " And so will I, John, try to be religious, too." Poor 
 fellow ! there was now a new tie between us, a tie 
 which has never been severed. 
 
 But to return to the place where 1 lived. My serious 
 reading was taken notice of, and some of the boys sai3, 
 " John is becoming very religious." One of the hired 
 girls, Margaret Magar, an obliging creature, for who;n 
 I had always a kindly feeling, one day when I wis 
 assisting her in doing something which she could mt 
 very well do alone, said, in a way to elicit my coi- 
 fidence, " John, have you any notion that you a?e 
 going to die soon ? " " Why, no ; what makes you adc 
 me that ? " " Why, the boys think you must ha\e 
 some idea that you are going to die, or you would not. 
 be so serious, and be reading the Bible so much." 1 
 disclaimed any premonition of death, but sai4 that I 
 » was resolved to try and be ready for death wh^n it 
 did come, as all are exposed to death. Not many 
 months after, that young woman came and joined the 
 society class to which I belonged ; and when I 
 travelled my first circuit her house was one of our 
 stopping-places in our monthly rounds. She still sur- 
 vives, a venerable and much respected widow at the 
 head of an affluent household, all of whom are members 
 and supporters of our Church in the rising town of 
 Alliston, now rejoicing in the name of Mrs. Fletcher.* 
 
 * Since the above was in print, Mrs. F. passed away in holjr 
 tranquility. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 249 
 
 During that first week I was surprised into the last 
 profane word I ever allowed myself to utter, the 
 result of an evil habit. I was riding old Mink to 
 pasture, barebacked, with nothing to hold or guide 
 him but a halter, when, suddenly turning a corner, he 
 was set upon and frightened by a dog, which angered 
 me so, that I bestowed at least one word of abuse upon 
 the cur, which I instantly felt defiled my mouth, and 
 repented of, and, through the grace of God, never 
 allowed myself to use again. Thus did I bid farewell 
 to foul lansruao-e forever. 
 
 The next Sunday I met my brother Nathaniel at 
 our mother's, and with many tears stated my purpose 
 to him, which he was prepared to approve, for he had 
 started one or two weeks before me. He told me he 
 had been at class-meeting, and asked me to accompany 
 him the next Tuesday evening. We tried to improve 
 that Sabbath in attending the meeting-house on King 
 Street. The circuit preachers were absent at the 
 second of the two famous camp meetings held in the 
 Township of Ancaster, and we listened to exhorters, who 
 declined entering the pulpit. The one for the morning 
 was John Huston (from the country), afterwards a 
 travelling preacher ; and the one for the afternoon, 
 " Willie Clarke," a gifted young Irishman, who, how- 
 ever did not wear his piety very threadbare, but many 
 years after gave a son to the travelling ministry, a 
 very devoted man, who died early. 
 
 To fulfil my engagement about going to class on 
 
250 . MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Tuesday evening, and yet not be observed by my 
 fellow-boarders, I slipped out supperless when they 
 went in to tea, turned up Newgate Street (now Adelaide) 
 to Bay Street, till I saw my brother coming over the 
 commons. We met and walked together to the class- 
 leaders's (Mr. Patrick's) door. The class that evening 
 was very small — nearly all the more lively and 
 prominent members (and there were only about thirty 
 in all,) were still absent at the camp meeting — perhaps 
 eight or nine at the most. Mr. Doel " met" the class, 
 and I was impressed and thrilled by everything I saw 
 and heard. The manner in which they received my 
 impassioned declaration of purpose — the testimonies 
 of all — the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs by 
 which they " taught and admonished " each other — 
 were all touching and exciting to me. But I was most 
 of all impressed by the way poor John E-ichards, him- 
 self a poor " Ready-to-halt," seized my hand after we 
 had got out into the road, and exhorted me with tears 
 never to imitate his early backsliding from his first 
 love among the Baptists, when a boy in England. 
 Though a man of sorrowful spirit, he was most blame- 
 less in life and conversation. 
 
 During the conversation which took place between 
 John Richards and my brother (who were of the same 
 trade, and well acquainted,) that evening in the road, 
 I heard them speak in glowing terms of admiration of 
 the deep piety and intense devotion of a young man, 
 now absent with others at the camp-meeting, who had 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 251 
 
 been a member of the Church abort three months. 
 When the opportunity offered I naturally clave to 
 such a one, and met with the utmost condescension 
 from him, though fully ten years older than myself. 
 We lived hard by each other, and were destined, on 
 the evenings when there were no meetings, and often 
 after the society meetings were over, to go out of the 
 town, either up Yonge Street or Dundas Street, and 
 thence into the woods, sometimes in winter as well as 
 summer, and for hours to pour out our souls to God in 
 prayer, and to each other in Christian communion. 
 Great was the benefit I received from that heavenly- 
 minded young man. That was John Russell, whom I 
 portrayed as an "Early Classmate," in the pages of 
 my first work, " Past and Present." 
 
 For four weeks I met in class with dear William 
 Patrick, without being formally received on trial (as 
 the usage then was), or my name being inscribed upon 
 the class-book. The quarterly love-feast was approach- 
 ing, and the actual members received their tickets, 
 without which they would not be permitted to enter. 
 The love-feast as was most common then, was to be 
 before the eleven o'clock service on Sunday morning ; 
 the doors to be opened at half-past eight, and closed 
 at nine. The leader said to me, " John, you have no 
 ticket of admission ; but I will keep the door, and if 
 you are there by the time I unlock it, I will let you 
 in." I was there a full hour before the time, sitting 
 upon a log not far off, employing the interval in 
 
252 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 reading my New Testament and Hymn-book, with 
 which I had provided myself, and always carried on 
 my person. (The Hymn-book I read consecutively 
 through, as much by course as the Bible.) At length 
 the leader approached down the road ; I rose to my 
 feet and went to meet him ; he opened the door and 
 let me in. When the speaking began [ declared my 
 purposes. At the close, the church door was opened 
 for the admission of members, by the " preacher in 
 charge," Rev. John Ryerson, giving an offer to any 
 who "wished to join on trial," "to stand up." 
 Nathaniel and I arose, the only v:>nes who did, and our 
 names were taken down, after an appeal had been 
 made to the members, and we were accepted by show 
 of hands, a usage which should never have been 
 dropped. At the close of the love-feast, the Lord's 
 Supper was administered, and we joined in the Holy 
 Communion for the first time. That ever memorable 
 and pregnant event occurred in June, 1S24>, fifty -seven 
 years ago, when I lacked about two months of fifteen. 
 A tie was then created, which, thank God, has never 
 yet been severed, and I trust it never shall. 
 
 We had no presiding elder, as was usually the case, 
 that day, but dear old Father Youmans acted as elder, 
 it being what was then called "only a temporary 
 quarterly," . - [ 
 
No. XXXIV. 
 
 THE CRISIS I HAVE ALWAYS CALLED CONVERSION ; AND 
 WHEN, WHERE, AND HOW IT TOOK PLACE. 
 
 I FORMED the purpose to seek and serve God in 
 the month of May, 1824 ; went to class-meeting 
 a fortnight or so after; and about four weeks 
 after that attended a love-feast, and was received on 
 trial for membership in the Church. 1 found a happy 
 difference between a religious and an irreligious life. 
 My meditations of God were sweet ; and sweet were 
 the " drawings from above." Sometimes I thought I 
 had a true Christian experience, and even professed it ; 
 at least others might have understood me so. But 
 then I had feelings and thoughts of a different kind. 
 I felt at times a great sense of darkness and depression, 
 and I could scarcely tell why. I had heard that death 
 was pleasant to the thought of a Christian ; but 
 " through fear of death, I was still subject to bondage." 
 I said, "If it be so with me, indeed, why am I thus ? " 
 I read several extraordinary experiences, in which the 
 
254 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 subjects spoke of seeing heaven open, and Christ upon 
 the cross. That I had not seen, and concluded I was 
 not converted. I foolishly sought for evidences or 
 grounds of hope in my own inward experiences, and 
 found none. Next I began to look out of myself, but 
 not, as I should have done — to Christ by the eye of 
 faith — but with the eye of the body, for signs and 
 wonders, and portents in the sky ; and resolved to 
 accept of nothing short of that, that I might have a 
 thrilling experience to relate. To gain it, I wept, and 
 groaned, and fasted, till my countenance became hag- 
 gard, and my eyes were swollen in my head, insomuch 
 so that those around me noticed it. I became dis- 
 appointed, dissatisfied, and even vexed and grieved 
 with God, because he did not hear my cries. I was in- 
 clined to lay the blame on Him. 
 
 I used to remain to the Sunday noon class, as well 
 as go to the one on Tuesday nights. It had a very 
 inefficient leader (James Hunter, no great credit to the 
 cause), and was, therefore, usually met by the preacher 
 who had occupied the pulpit immediately before. On 
 one of these occasions, when the Rev. John Ryerson 
 was both preacher and leader, I complained — with a 
 burdened heart, and with floods of briny tears — that 
 " I had ' asked,' and had not ' received ; I had, ' sought I 
 and had not ' fonndl " as if charging God with 
 promise-breaking. The leader reminded me of Saul 
 of Tarsus, who was three days in distress of soul, and 
 thus tried to comfort me ; yet little comfort did I ac- 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 255 
 
 cept ; I thought if I could but get far enough away 
 from the haunts of men, where I could use my voice 
 in supplication to its utmost extent, it might ease my 
 agony of soul. After dinner, if indeed I took 
 any, I passed up Yongo Street, and about where 
 Elm Street is now I turned westward into the woods, 
 and getting into a thicket behind a tree, I fell on my 
 knees and began to pray and cry, yea scream ! while 
 the tears streamed down my cheeks till my throat 
 ached with pain, but no comfort came. While I was 
 thus employed, a familiar voice accosted me ; it was 
 that of my childhood's friend, Edward Glennon, ac- 
 companied by a number of lads and young men. They 
 had been seeking amusement abroad during the Sab- 
 bath hours, and hearing my cries they had come 
 towards the place. Edward said, " John, what are you 
 doing there ? " " Ned, I am doing what you ought to 
 be doing — asking God to have mercy on my soul." 
 "Well," said he, "you need not pray so loud." Rising 
 from my knees, I said, " I will go whe ce I can pray as 
 loud as i like," and rushed still farther into the thicket. 
 But I returned to the chapel at night as sad as I left 
 in the morning. I heard that Neddy said, " John 
 Carroll had been a good fellow," he was " sorry he had 
 turned hypocrite." 
 
 But gradually I became more calm, and wisely de- 
 termined not to prescribe a way to God ; and looked 
 for comfort in the ordinary means. Sometimes I 
 thought I found the promises sweet, but still it was a 
 
256 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 question. Have I received the pardon which I know 
 Christ purchased by His blood ? Often and often did 
 I repeat the verse which says : — 
 
 " 'Tis a point 1 long to know ; 
 
 Oft it causes anxious thought ; 
 Do I love the Lord or no ? 
 Am I His or am I not ? " 
 
 The day of deliverance, however, was near. The 
 month of August had come, and with it Conference. 
 Our circuit preachers, Revds. John Ryerson and 
 William Slater, were away. A supply was provided 
 for the York pulpit for that day from a neighbouring 
 circuit — the " New Settlements," embracing nine or 
 ten townships to the north-west of the town — as it 
 proved a junior, who had been travelling the previous 
 year under the direction of the presiding elder. I had 
 gone, as usual, to the chapel timely, before the hour of 
 preaching, and after kneeling had seated myself on 
 one of the short seats to the right of the pulpit, where 
 the male members generally sat, facing the sisters on 
 the other side, and was occupied, as was my wont, 
 in reading my Testament, or hymn-book, when a 
 stranger in the garb of a preacher (with dark frock coat 
 of some thin coarse material, and a broad-leafed hat in 
 his hand) passed before me, groping his way up the 
 pulpit stairs. He was medium-sized, rather coarse- 
 featured, with coarse brown hair, freckled both on face 
 and hands, with a meekly, stooping carriage. He 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 257 
 
 kneeled a while in silent prayer, and then rose and 
 commenced the service. His manner was solemn and 
 subdued, but he read well, and his voice was strong, 
 clear, and flexible, and very pleasant to hear. By the 
 way he held the book to his face, it was evident he 
 was very short-sighted ; and his accent was slightly 
 Irish. His prayer lifted us heaven-ward at once, and 
 the poor seeking boy among the rest. His text, Gal. 
 iii. 13, " Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the 
 law, being made a curse for us," was fundamental, and 
 graciously timely for me. I thought it was the ablest 
 sermon I had ever heard ; or rather, I thought not 
 then of the sermon as a performance, but of its theme 
 or subject. I forgot my sorrows and perplexities. In- 
 deed, I thought not of any kind of introspection — I 
 was looking outward and upward ; and, without 
 knowing it, "looking unto Jesus." I was, uncon- 
 sciously believing upon Him with my heart unto 
 righteousness ; and thinking that if I had a thousand 
 souls, I could cast them all upon Him. I had an en- 
 couraging story to tell in class ; and went home and 
 to Sunday-School, oh ! so very happy. 
 
 That evening the stranger preached again, with 
 equal sweetness and power. His morniiig sermon was 
 on the work done /or us; in the evening, it was the work 
 to be wrought in us, from the words, " Except ye be 
 converted, arid become as children, ye can m no case 
 enter the kingdom of heaven." Matt, xviii. 3. His 
 description of a convert so exactly tallied with what I 
 17 
 
258 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 felt, that I said to myself, " Sure enough, I AM con- 
 verted ! " In the morning I received the witness of 
 God's spirit ; after the evening sermon, I had the 
 witness of my own spirit How truly did I now go on 
 my way rejoicing ! 
 
 I afterwards heard that it was the Rev. Rowley 
 Heyland, who had been thus made the instrument of 
 leading me to Christ. He was ever afterwards my 
 favourite preacher, of all those in the Connexion. I 
 loved the very ground upon which he walked. And 
 had Rowley Heyland been as studious as he might 
 have been ; more attentive to his person and the minor 
 proprieties ; and if he had never become committed to 
 the management of property acquired by marriage, he 
 would have had few equals and no superiors. As it 
 was, all his life, and it was a long one, he preached, 
 from time to time, with the Holy Ghost sent down 
 from heaven. It was characterized, ever and anon, by 
 what the old preachers used to call " shocks of power." 
 
 A few weeks after my conversion, through the 
 effect of a sernioT> by Father Youmans, I received a 
 further blessing — a persuasion that God had cleansed 
 my inmost heart. What I experienced in those days 
 prepared me to receive the testimony of Scripture 
 relative to God's speaking to holy men of old. With 
 Paul, I truly felt that God had " revealed his Son in 
 me." I assuredly " tasted the good word of God," and 
 " felt the powers of the world to come." When I arose 
 in the morning, it seemed as if all creation was praising 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 259 
 
 the Fountain of Beneficence; and when I laid my 
 head on my pillow at night, it would have delighted 
 me It 1 had possessed the assurance that I should never 
 open my eyes on this material creation more. Surely 
 It IS proof of the supernatural and the divine that 
 an uncouth, unlettered boy was so illuminated and so 
 blessed ! 
 
 " Should all the plans that men devise, 
 ^ Assault my faith with treacherous art, 
 I'd call them vanity and lies. 
 And bind thy Gospel to my heart ! " 
 
No XXXV. 
 
 WHAT MODICUMS* OF KNOWLEDGE I I'OSSESSED AT 
 FIFTEEN, AND HOW I HAD STUMBLED INTO TJEIR 
 
 POSSESSION. 
 
 I SPEAK mainly in this section of such kinds of 
 knowledge as belong to what is usually called 
 education or learning. But as there can l)e no 
 knowledge where there is no mind, no intellect, to 
 hold it (for an imbecile, an idiot, can have no know- 
 ledge) therefore a retrospective inquiry into the pro- 
 cess by which knowledge has dribbled into a young 
 mind will naturally involve, to some extent at least, 
 the discovery of its gradual development. 
 
 I have said in other parts of this })ook that the 
 
 * Tlie hypercritical, watching for evidenceH of the old itinerant's 
 illiteracy, may say, " Modicunis is Latin, and its plural is niodifa." 
 Well, may not extraneous words become so domesticated, as to • on- 
 form to English modes of inflection. I suppose Shakes])eare knew 
 English, if he did not know Latin. He says : — 
 
 •' What modicums of wit he utters." 
 
MY BOY LIKE. 261 
 
 faculties of attention and memory in me showed 
 theiiis(;]v(!s vary (;arly by comparinf( notes with 
 oth(;rs ; ] now tliink, earli(;r than in mr)st chil<h-en. It 
 was noticed at home, that J took learni n^r easy, and 
 that it was a pity that I couhl not liave opportunities 
 for a liberal education. About *1820, when I was 
 ten or eleven years of age, some respecta>)l(} p(;ople 
 occupied for a time an unfinished upper part of a house 
 belon<(ing to my brother Thomas, on their way to 
 settle beyond Lake Simcoe. A lady of that company, 
 then a youn(^ married woman, Mrs. Charles Partridge, 
 informed me, full fifty years afterwards, tliat my 
 pat(;rnal-h<}arted brother, Thomas (of course, unknown 
 to me) had spoken to them of his little brother John's 
 readiness to take learning, and his own regret of his 
 inability to furnish him with the means of gaining 
 such an ac({uisition as he liad a capacity for receiving. 
 But I am proceeding too fast. I be<;an with the 
 intention of trying to recall the first little glimmerings 
 of light which shone in on the morning twilight of 
 my infant mind. I must have become accpiainted with 
 the meaning of words earlier than most children. I 
 can remember, that during the excitement and alarm 
 attendant on the inroads of the American Indians at the 
 house of Mr. Lawrence at the Cross Roads, mentioned 
 elsewhere, in IHVi, when I could not have been more 
 than four years old, that when Mrs. Cassidy knocked 
 away the fusee pointed at the breast of the wounded 
 Corporal Smith lying on the floor, and exclaimed, "Don't 
 
262 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 murder the man in the house !" that, from my defect of 
 hearing, which must have shown itself thus early, I 
 thought she said, " Man of the house," and instantly 
 thought " he is not the man of the house — Mr. Lawrence 
 is the man of the house." So early had I picked up 
 the meaning of a colloquialism, which, I suspect, 
 children of that age do not usually know how to 
 apply. 
 
 I think I knew how to repeat the days of the week, 
 consecutively, about the age of five, and soon after the 
 months of the year. Soon after that, I began to learn to 
 count ; but I think I had not attained to the ability to 
 count a hundred till some time later still. Beyond 
 the number ten, I think it was not so much a matter 
 of arbitrary memory as of reasoning and reflection. 
 Reflection taught me, that after ten, it was merely a 
 repetition of the same process, the two, three, four, 
 five, and so on, being repeated again. After a while it 
 dawned upon me, that twenty, thirty, foi ty, fifty, sixty, 
 seventy, eighty, and ninety were a development of 
 one, two, three, etc. ; or twos, threes, and fours of tens. 
 
 I learned my letters at home without a teacher, 
 perhaps, with some assistance from my next older 
 brothers ; although T am sure it was the prompting of 
 curiosity which led me to seek to find out ; and by 
 myself I learned to combine the letters and spell out a 
 sentence in the New Testament, or among the hymns 
 at the back of it. I was not six years old when I could 
 perform this exploit, of which I was very proud. 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 263 
 
 Just about this time a hawker came to the door with 
 trifles of various kinds to sell, and for " a York shil- 
 ling," as seven-pence halfpenny was then called, 
 we purchased a very small primer, which among 
 other little matters, gave the length of the several 
 months in a little rhyme to help the memory, thus : — 
 
 "Thirty days liath September, 
 April, June, and November ; 
 All the rest have thirty-one. 
 Excepting February alone. 
 Which claimeth just eight and a score ; 
 But in every leap year we give it one more. ' 
 
 This 1 immediately learned, and thenceforth was able 
 to determine the length of any given month ; and to 
 this day I have no other way of determining. 
 
 The following winter, there being no school handy 
 for us little ones, Mrs. Glennon, the Doctor's widow, 
 who lived in the other end of the same house as the 
 one in which we lived, who had received a fair 
 education when young, and who had ample necessity 
 for anything she could make, was persuaded to set 
 up a school in her own place, and commenced with 
 a good many little children and growing girls — indeed 
 some of the latter were young women for size — and 
 four of our family were sent to her school ; but I now 
 suspect, I derived no benefit from that first attempt in 
 the scholastic line. Our teacher had no experience or 
 tact in teaching. And she was totally without skill 
 or authority to govern a school. She never could 
 
264 MY nOY LIFE. 
 
 govern her own children, three at least of whom were 
 in that .school. She was a very small person, and the 
 big boys and girls treated her with contempt, and 
 none so much so as her own eldest daughter, Theresa, 
 a very hoydenish girl. One day " Trase " became 
 utterly unmanageable, and set her mother at defiance. 
 Indeed, the latter confessed she " could do nothing 
 with her." Upon this, a stout, strong, young woman, 
 by the name of Ann Skinner, a step-daughter of the 
 late Mr. Senclair, long of the Don Mills, sympathizing 
 with Mrs. Glennon (for the school was now wholly 
 demoralized) offered her services to punish Theresa, 
 ami received permission, and commenced operations 
 with a will. But the refractory girl had no disposi- , 
 tion to submit patiently. Besides what she lacked in 
 strength, she made up in natural fighting qualities. 
 So that it soon became a rough and tumble battle 
 through the room, over benches, tables, and chairs, and 
 on to the bed, which stood in the corner, the curtains 
 of which (duly emblazoned with Bluebeard and his 
 wives) were pulled down. It ended in a sort of drawn 
 battle, Theresa getting a pretty thorough slapping and 
 Miss Skinner getting a punch in the eye which left it 
 painful and inflamed, and I suspect blackened in the 
 end — a pity for the young lady, for she was a very 
 comely person, and not undeserving. She afterwards 
 married Mr. John Hayes, the " Jack Hayes " of the 
 young men's nomenclature. 
 
 The reader will expect to hear that an academy 
 
MY BOY LIFK. 265 
 
 conductod on such eclectic principles could liardly sus- 
 tain itself \(n\(r, find that it soon collapsed, thus ftiving 
 nie a lorii; eoll<;<^e vacation ; which was no ^n-eat 
 interruption of uiy improvement, as the reader will 
 surmise, when 1 tell him 1 was taui^ht, in spelling the 
 word Aaron, instead of saying " double a-r-o-n," to 
 say " hi<r A, little a, r-o-n — Aaron." Reverence at 
 least was tauglit })y our Roman Catholic preceptress, 
 which was to how our heads when we pronounc(;d the 
 name of Christ. 
 
 I W(mt no more to school until " our hoys " had 
 returned from the war, which school open(Ml the sum- 
 mer I was six years old. It was taught hy th(; Mr. 
 Barber I have already mentioned, the husband of Miss 
 Kendrake, the granddaughter ot' Lord Rodn(5y. This 
 school also was set up at my parents' solicitation. Mr. 
 Barber was a slender person, who had lost some of the 
 fingers from one hand, which constituted a justification 
 of his natural indisposition to work. Before the school 
 enterprise, he had been, I think, a sort of auxiliary of 
 George Carey, who ran a sort of stage from York to 
 Niagara, that I think was hauhud off when the war 
 closed. Barber wanted employment ; he had some 
 little education, and a school was needed in our section 
 of the town for those who did not attend the District 
 Grammar School, which was mostly appropriated by 
 the descendants of the Family Compact. " Old Judd '' 
 taught a school in the easu end of King Street ; but a 
 school was required to succeed one which had been 
 
266 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 taught by an old gentleman by the name of Bennett, 
 held near the junction of Richmond and Yonge Streets, 
 in his own residence, who for some reason had given 
 up. Mr. Barber opened near the same spot, in a 
 longish, low room, painted red, with a long front 
 window, which building had been used by a person 
 known as " Old GofF," as saddle and harness-maker's 
 shop, who, I think,about that time went to "the shades" 
 by drink, as nearly every fourth or fifth person did in 
 those days. The property around that corner had 
 belonged to a Mr. Chesney, a man of some substance, 
 who died and left a wife, known for a time as the 
 Widow Chesney, during whose widowhood things 
 were going to wreck. But about the time it came 
 much under our notice, a bachelor Scotchman, by the 
 name of Drummond, came to the place, courted and 
 married the widow and the property ; set up his busi- 
 ness of carpenter, joiner, and builder, and put the 
 whole premises in a thorough state of repair. He lived 
 and died a man of respectability and substance. 
 
 There was a large school made up of young people 
 of various ages, from toddling infancy, almost up to 
 adult years. Five of our family went there, including 
 Tom, a great favourite among the young ladies for his 
 good looks and gallant ways, who was trying to remedy 
 the hiatus in his school studies created by his two 
 years' service in the " Flying Artillery." Mr. Ketchum 
 sent four pupils, Miss Love, his step-daughter ; Miss 
 Polly, his own eldest daughter, (then very beautiful) ; 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 267 
 
 Miss Fidelia, afterwards Mrs. (Rev. James) Harris; 
 and William, then simply known as " Sonny Ketchum." 
 Hiram Street, son of Mr. Timothy Street, afterwards 
 the founder of Streetsville, a buckish boy of sixteen or 
 seventeen, was there all the way from the Niargara 
 River. A very popular young fellow, not much older, 
 by the name of John Cameron, attended there, who 
 went from home for a time, learned to drink, came back 
 a sot, and died in a cart, about the age of twenty or 
 twenty-five, in which he was being conveyed from the 
 street, where he was picked up in a state of destitution, 
 to the hospital. Allan Jeffrey was there, a very fine 
 lad in disposition and looks, who lived where Yorkville 
 now stands, his father's the only house in the place. 
 
 I was a great favourite with the teacher, and was 
 never punished by him except once, when my little 
 brother, our unfailing companion — Ned Glennon — and 
 myself, had the misfortune to underestimate the 
 strength of one of Mr. Drummond's broad boards, on 
 which we were " teetering," which broke beneath our 
 weight. Mr. Drummond complained, and we were 
 feruled on our right hands. The others cried, but I 
 boasted that I never winced. I suspect the master 
 favoured me. That was my only punishment during 
 the whole of my school-life anywhere. 
 
 I learned to read and spell, and was at the head of 
 the second class. I seldom missed a word in those days, 
 which was more than I could say in after years. Spelling 
 W'^-11 is the fruits of drill, which must be gone into 
 
268 'my boy life. 
 
 thoroughly, early and long. But, alas ! interruptions 
 came, and I found it hard to surmount the effects. 
 
 Early in the autumn we had a great spelling match 
 between our school and Mr. Judd's. It was a regular 
 challenge, I think, from Mr. Judd, whose strong point 
 was spelling, duly prepared for, and came off on a 
 certain sunny day. We assembled at the Red School 
 House, — were duly drilled, — charged as to how we 
 were to behave, marshalled, and marched in procession 
 down the road which formed the boundary between 
 the town and the adjacent farms, which we now know 
 as Richmond and Duchess Streets, till we reached the 
 corner of Duchess and Ontario Streets, but that we did 
 not do continuously ; for, if I remember right, at Sher- 
 bourne Street we made a detour northwards into what 
 we now call Queen, went down that street to Ontario, 
 when we turned south, to a sort of avenue, or bower> 
 formed by parallel rows of cherry-trees on the northern 
 corner of the Ridout property, the use of which was 
 granted to the schools for the spelling match, a spot 
 which is yet without houses. Only the first class on 
 each side was brought into action, which some of the 
 best spellers in the lower classes regretted. Further- 
 more, that class itself was winnowed to leave out 
 doubtful ones. But, as far as our side was concerned, 
 the selections were not all judicious ; a girl by the 
 name of Betsey Hardy, who had afterwards a not very 
 enviable history, was, through the master's partiality 
 retained, and by her frequent failures brought us 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 269 
 
 defeat. Besides, Mr. Barber was hardly the man to 
 cope with such a determined old pedagogue as Judd. 
 They took turns in giving out spellings, and what 
 word failed on one side passed to the other, while all 
 the failures were duly registered according to a system 
 agreed on before hand ; but where there was any 
 difference of opinion. Barber had not pertinacity 
 enough for Judd, and acknowledged our defeat. Many 
 of the gentry of our little capital came to witness the 
 display ; and in the end, the scholars were rewarded 
 or consoled by a treat of luscious peaches, and, if I 
 rember right, cakes as well. That was the first of the 
 only two school treats in which I remember to have 
 been a participant. That was nearly sixty-five years 
 ago. 
 
 While attending that school, I first heard the project 
 of a Sunday-school from the lips of its first Missionary 
 in Canada, the Rev. Thaddeus Osgood, who addressed 
 us, and offered the first prayer I ever heard, by both 
 of which I was solemnized and wept, hiding myself 
 behind others to conceal my emotion and tears. The 
 projected Sunday-school did not come into operation 
 for four or five years to come. 
 
 The winter came. The school closed,* and my 
 schooling was interrupted, during which I pretty 
 nearly lost all I had gained ; albeit I did con over the 
 Testament from time to time, and a copy of Dr. Watts' 
 " Divine and Moral Songs for Children," which consti- 
 
 * As an easy employment, our teacher adopted that of Bailiff. 
 
270 * MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 tuted almost my only reading book. Often did I pore 
 over — 
 
 *• The voice of the sluggard, 
 I hear him complain," &c. ; 
 
 "Let dogs delight to bark and bite. 
 For God hath made them so," &c. 
 
 which, with others of a similar character, left no ill im- 
 pression on my infant mind and heart. Once I received 
 more commendation than I deserved, by helping out 
 my mother and brother William in some discussion of 
 theirs on the subject of our Lord's resurrection, by 
 turning to a chapter on the subject which I had been 
 spelling out by myself, and which, if tested, I fear 
 was the only one I could have read intelligibly. I 
 was then in the neighbourhood of eight years old. It 
 was about that time I used to hear read the songs about 
 Robinhood already referred to, but which I could 
 scarcely say I was able to read myself, though I did 
 afterwards. 
 
 The only schooling I received for nearly or quite 
 two years thereafter was one fortnight, in which I took 
 an older brother's place in Mr. Judd's school. His aca- 
 demy was conducted in the " Old Yellow House," quite 
 an institution in its day. For a long time, there was the 
 concession of a small lot on the corner of Ontario and 
 King Streets for a market, though not built on for a 
 long period after the time to which I refer. The 
 yellow house came next eastward of the vacant lot, on 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 271 
 
 King Street. Who built and owned the house origin- 
 ally I know not ; I know, however, it was owned and 
 occupied for a dwelling by Dr. Stoyles after his second 
 marriage (to Mrs. Matthews'). It had at one time been 
 one of the most pretentious houses in the infant town. 
 It was only a story and a half in height, with dormer 
 windows in the roof, and gne if not two bay windows 
 below, facing King Street. It covered a good deal of 
 ground both below and above. How it had come so 
 early to be a hack for all purposes, I know not ; but 
 for many years the lower front rooms were rented for 
 school purposes, and the upstair 's apartments were 
 rented as residences for the poor. For a long time it 
 bore the name of being haunted ; and one room, I 
 know, which was used as " black hole " to confine 
 refractory pupils in was dreaded for that reason by 
 such hapless urchins as had the misfortune to be 
 doomed to solitary confinement therein.* The wood, 
 when there was any, was stored and chopped there. I 
 say, when there was any, for there was sometimes a 
 famine of that indispensable article ; and then the 
 scholars were turned out to gather fuel, consisting of 
 roots and limbs o2 trees, old knots, and bits of bark, to 
 be picked in plenty in the Park, which began on the 
 east side of Parliament Street, and, which, despite all 
 the poaching by townspeople, was down to a much 
 later period, covered with trees and logs. 
 
 * Eiejht or nine years after, a Methodist Society class met in that 
 room. 
 
272 * MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 Mr. Judd's method of teaching was characterized by 
 the spelling, which was a large element in the exer- 
 ciser, being conducted in chorus, the good spellers 
 leading, and the learners following, and all at the top of 
 their voices, thus : 1-e-g-e-r, leger ; d-e, legerde; m-a-i-n ; 
 legerdemain. " The noise was as the sound of many 
 waters," and could be heard for a great distance around. 
 It suited the teacher well enough, for he was quite 
 deaf ; and it was fun for the children. And a great 
 deal of this sort of drill made them ready spellers of, 
 at least, all the words in the text book. 
 
 There was a stout boy at that school who gained an 
 undesirable notoriety in after years. His name was 
 William (usually called "Bill") Bastedo, some relative 
 of Mr. Joseph Rogers, who had come from his country- 
 home to learn the hat making business ; and it was 
 thought desirable for him to receive schooling early, 
 before he settled down to his trade. He was a kind 
 of silent, diffident lad, and other boys, for a time, 
 rather put upon him ; but his temper proved to be hot 
 when roused, and when he resorted to blows, (school 
 boys* usual method of settling difficulties) then he proved 
 to be possessed of unusual muscular strength and strik- 
 ing power. I remember he awed us all one day : a lad a 
 head taller than himself, was asked a civil question by 
 Bill, and gave an impertinent answer, upon which 
 Bastedo, by a blow under the ear laid him flat on his 
 face. This discovery was a misfortune to my hero, 
 who thenceforth became a buffer and engaged in 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 273 
 
 battles innumerable, in one of which encounters he 
 broke a man's jaw. All sorts of dissipation followed 
 in the train of this penchant for fighting, and issued 
 in the waste of more than half his life. But the grace 
 of God is greater than the strength of the pugilist. I 
 was told, some seven or ten years ago, by a young 
 relative of his that " Old Bill " was still alive, and had 
 become a Christian and a Methodist, for which I felt 
 thankful to God. 
 
 The following summer, that is in 1817, a large 
 school was conducted in the same place by a new 
 teacher, and I suspect a more competent one than any 
 I have mentioned, a Mr. Castles, a Scotchman, not 
 large, but determined enough to hold the biggest and 
 most rebelliously inclined boy in subjection. Some of 
 his " trainings " of those big ones, I remember. Our 
 master boarded with Mr. Ketchum, who, I think I 
 heard, received lessons from him out of hours. Mr. 
 Castles was not an unkind man, and I confess I loved 
 him, and believed I was a favourite with him. He 
 was the first teacher I had known to pray with his 
 school, which he did sometimes, — perhaps on Monday 
 mornings. Saturday afternoons he taught the Church 
 of England Catechism, to all whose parents desired it. 
 Unhappily, my parents did not desire me to learn it, 
 under the supposition, that all that related to "baptism," 
 and " godfathers and godmothers " was inapplicable to 
 me and my brothers, as we had never been baptized, 
 much less had we ever had a godfather or godmother. 
 18 
 
274 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 But I have deeply regretted the omission, since I have 
 been able to understand how important and valuable 
 it would have been to know that formulary, and 
 especially to have committed to memory the Ten 
 Commandments and the Apostles' Creed. The result 
 of the omission was, I had to commit them to memory 
 after I began to prepare for the ministry. 
 
 Before I dismiss the subject of " my schools and 
 school-masters," to use a phrase of Hugh Miller's, 
 I must not forget, in the interests of correct history, 
 to tell that up to my ninth year, I never attended a 
 school where geography (at least with maps) and 
 grammar were taught ; " the three Rs " constituted 
 the curriculum, and the first R, so far, was all that I 
 had learned. American books were largely used ; for 
 we had then no national ones of our own, nor for long 
 afterwards. Webster's was our spelling-book, which dis- 
 placed old English Dilworth, with his n-a,na; t-i,nati; on- 
 nation. Something at which my " Britisher " father 
 was furious, denouncing the tion shuns, in no moderate 
 terms. The American Selections also largely displaced 
 the noble English Reader of Lindley Murray as a 
 reading-book. Selections to read and declaim on 
 special occasions, from one or other of these books, 
 constituted all the elocutionary training given, which 
 did not leave any of us very finished elocutionists. 
 
 With the close of Castle's school, in the winter of 
 1817-18, at the age of nine and a half, my school-going 
 almost wholly ended, until at the age of seventeen, I 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 275 
 
 started anew and pursued a course on my own account. 
 True, about the as^e of eleven, Mr. James Bigelow, a 
 famous teacher before that, set me a few copies, taught 
 me how to hold my pen, and showed me how to make 
 the letters of the MS. alphabet. Also, did I not go 
 one month, a little later to Mr. Appleton, a iierce 
 English pedagogue, who uever learned himself to place 
 his aspirates aright ; (he taught in Market Lane) and 
 learned something of the first four rules of arithmetic. 
 Furthermore, I was about as long, a year later, in Mr. 
 Spragg's Central School, perhaps a little longer. But 
 I never could " get the hang " of the Lancastrian 
 system, employed therein. Drill and parade seldom 
 do much for children ; there must be more personal 
 contact with the teacher's mind ; and the child must 
 have time to think out his lessons. 
 
 That was my last schooling for a long time, except 
 what I learned at the Sunday-school, where, in those 
 days, we did spell as well as read ; and we learned 
 much relative to the meaning of words, in which latter, 
 by a kind of intuition, I excelled all of my own age. 
 But then I was behind in spelling, and my teacher, 
 Mr. Patrick, would not allow me to move down when 
 I failed in that respect, on the ground, that "John," 
 unlike the rest, " had to work instead of going to 
 school." I thought out the etymology of many of the 
 words I was taught to define afterwards, while at 
 work by myself in the bush. I have spoken of what 
 books were accessible there. In town, the year before 
 
276 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 my conversion, I read the whole of Cervantes' Don 
 Quixote, and thought it the prince of story- books ! 
 
 I might have continued to go to night-school, after 
 I returned to town and got a place ; but I was so far 
 behind in school learning, that I was ashamed to be 
 pitted against other boys, who had possessed greater 
 advantages ; albeit, I had read more books, and had 
 quite as much general information as they. It was 
 leligion which stimulated my mind afresh and over- 
 came this false shame, and it was a subsequent desire 
 for the ministry, as I shall have to tell, which put me 
 upon regular study. 
 
 Thus, when I was converted at fifteen, I could read 
 pretty well, scrawl my name, and, by counting my 
 fingers, do a sum in simple addition. I had a good 
 many facts of history in my head ; yet as J. knew 
 nothing of geography and chronology, they were in a 
 pitiful jumbje ; and my blunders in story-telling, 
 which then obtained as an amusement among boys, in 
 which Arabian-like accomplishment I was conceded to 
 excel, have seemed very ludicrous to myself since I 
 became better informed — only that the remembrance 
 has often covered my face with blushes. Oh ! ignor- 
 ance, what a humiliator thou art ! 
 
No. XXXVI. * 
 
 MY BOYISH THOUGHTS OF A BUSINESS FOR LIFE, AND 
 THE ONE I FINALLY CHOSE. 
 
 T\HROUGH the lowly situation of my friends and 
 the sordid influence of my surroundings, I 
 cannot say that I ever seriously thought of a 
 liberal, or a learned profession, until it was too late to 
 secure so elevated a prize. True, when I was very 
 young, and off and on, till I was converted, my father's 
 and brothers' war stories, and my own war ex- 
 periences, made me sigh for thu profession of arms ; 
 my idea being to begin as a. common soldier, and to rise 
 from the ranks to, of course, a command ! That pro- 
 ject, however, never advanced the first step towards 
 realization. 
 
 I was noted, they said, from a child for arguing my 
 own case, whenever my views were crossed, or I found 
 myself in any disagreement with others ; on which 
 account they used to call me " the lawyer," and to say 
 
278 MY BOY UFE. 
 
 I would do well in the legal profession. But, certainly, 
 there was no serious thought of our moving in that 
 direction, and if we seriously intended it, to all 
 human appearance, the object was impossible of 
 achievement to us. It would not have been a popular 
 profession with us or our friends, if practicable, as a 
 general opinion among us was that all lawyers were 
 rogues, and it was next to impossible for them to be 
 otherwise than such. 
 
 But one other liberal profession did once open to 
 me in a form that was practicable ; bat I myself turned 
 from it for want of interest. Just about the time 
 the break-up in our family took p'ace in the spring 
 of 1822, when I was revolving the matter of going 
 out to my brother in the bush, a physician, a 
 near neighbour, who had observed my industrious 
 habits, and that I had been brought up among horses, 
 and furthermore, was told by mother that I had a 
 good capacity for learning and was fond of bocks, if 
 not of study, proposed to her, that I should come 
 and live in his family, groom his horse, do his errands, 
 and attend his office in his absence ; and that he 
 would furnish me with books, and teach me all that 
 he knew himself — both preparatory and professional, 
 and open my way into practice. Such a method was 
 then not unusual. Students " studied with a doctor," 
 as it was termed ; went to New York, or some other 
 distant place for lectures ; came back and went before 
 a board of medical examiners, and if approved, were 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 279 
 
 licensed. Dr. McCaig, who made the proposal was not 
 a haughty, stuck-up sort of man, but very plain and 
 condescending, his practice being largely among the 
 humbler classes, especially those of his own nationality 
 — the Irish ; and I have no doubt, that so far as non- 
 pretentiousness was concerned, we would have got on 
 together well enough ; and yet, though largely the 
 poor man's doctor, I have reason to believe he was 
 well educated, both in general learning and that which 
 related to his profession as the majority of physicians 
 in his day, and better indeed, than a great many. He 
 had the reputation of being very skillful. And had I 
 then possessed the advanced views I held afterwards, 
 I would have accepted his offer. But all my friends 
 belonged to the operative classes in society, and any 
 aspiration to anything higher, was like a desertion, if 
 not a reflection, on them. We were all so narrow, as 
 to think that gentility and pride were inseparable — a 
 great instance of folly, but not the only one of which we 
 were guilty. Besides, I had predilections for farming ; 
 and, just then, was all agog to go to the bush. By the 
 choice I made, I escaped, especially as it was then con- 
 ducted, one of the most slavish professions a human 
 being could engage in. Besides, in not going to Dr. 
 McCaig, I escaped something worse. He and his wife, 
 I believe were Protestants, perhaps — as North of Ire- 
 land people often are — of Presbyterian proclivities ; but 
 whether, if I had gone with him (for he soon after 
 went out on Yonge Street, near where Newtonbrook 
 
280 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 now stands), . would have come under those influences, 
 which, two years after, led me to Christ, and four 
 years after that again, into the ministry. Besides, not 
 being converted, I would have stood a chance to go 
 far in the opposite direction. If I had remained un- 
 converted and continued to live in his family, I would 
 have been almost sure to have become a drunkard, a^ 
 so many in that noble profession (strange to say) have 
 done ; the Irish national beverage, whisky punch, was 
 an institution with them ; and I think I was informed, 
 that poor McCaig's early death was largely due to 
 drink. If true, it was a pity, for, from all I ever 
 heard, he was a noble man. Alas ! Alas ! for the 
 many mighty fallen ! There is no telling what might 
 have been, had I gone into medicme ; but my good 
 friend. Dr. James Brown, then of Peterboro', used to 
 say to me, when he saw the energy and industry I put 
 into the ministry, " Mr. Carroll, if you had b*^en a 
 doctor, you would have made a fortune." 
 
 A real aspiration of mine, of a semi-liberal kind, was 
 more feasible, and might have been attained, if my 
 friends had possessed discernment and reflection, or 
 any energy been shown, or pains taken to plan for me, 
 and then to carry their plans into execution — that was 
 the career of an artist. I always had a quick eye 
 for external appeara.nces and a disposition to reproduce 
 them. I very readily cut the profile of almost all 
 visible objects in paper — especially, sheep, oxen, horses, 
 dogs, and men ; also, it was thought that I could 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 281 
 
 draw them correctly on a slate, which I amused my- 
 self for hours in doing. And when that canvas 
 was not wide enough I filled tae great wide hearth- 
 stones with these rough cartoons ; or the floor and 
 walla of the house with crayon sketches in chalk. To 
 sketch from nature seemed always to me one of the 
 most desirable of accomplishments ; and yet the op- 
 portunity of even attempting to learn it, did not occur 
 till far on in life, when my engagements were too 
 numerous to leave sufficient leisure for the necessary 
 practice. As a trade, because of these tastes, I would 
 have preferred that of painter to almost any other ; 
 only I did not like the idea of being suspended in mid- 
 air painting the walls of a high house or a steeple. 
 Otherwise, if I had once got into ordinary house and 
 sign painting, it would have led to portraits and the 
 finer parts of the art. But I never met the man to 
 learn from, or the opening in any respect. I have in 
 some measure indemnified myself for the loss, and 
 gratified the graphic propensity in my mind by a great 
 many pen-portraits and pictures of scenery as well as 
 human persons. It would afford me pleasure now to 
 furnish the letter-press for pictorial illustrations of 
 books, and I have furnished some, but never done any- 
 thing of that kind that paid me for my time. 
 
 Another fancifal attachment to an impracticable 
 scheme, and one that would have been less beneficial 
 to me than that of an artist was this. When I was 
 about seven or eight years old, it was discovered, that 
 
282 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 while describing ary scene between persons that I had 
 witnessed, that I unconsciously personated the people 
 I described ; and that I had ready and accurate powers 
 of mimicry. One of the first of these occurrences that 
 I recollect was the appeal of "Mother Long," an affected 
 old coloured neighbour, to Mr. Drummond, already men- 
 tioned, for assistance to get her " cross-grained little 
 brat " (as she called him) of a son, John, free from the 
 consequences of a case of assault and battery (or " salt 
 and batry," as it used to be called,) brought against him 
 by a Mr. He ward, who lived hard by, which struck 
 them as so histrionic as to cause them great amuse- 
 ment, and they afterwards brought me forward to re- 
 enact it for the amusement of visitors. These powers 
 of mimicry often led those who knew ina to say, that 
 "John would make a good play-actor," and that I 
 " ought to go on the stage." I always delighted in 
 spectacular representations, and had I been trained, I 
 might have made a comic actor at least. Whatever 
 good elocutionary drill might have done me, play-act- 
 ing would have ruined me as to morals and religion. 
 Upon the whole, therefore, I have cause to be thank- 
 ful, that no opening for following this bent occurred ; 
 albeit, I am sorry I never had the first lesson in 
 elocution and declaiming in any school that I ever 
 attended. 
 
 Having eliminated all the visionary schemes that 
 flitted, for a short time before my fancy, I may say, 
 I was shut up to some form of manual labour — ©ither 
 
, MY BOY LIFE. 283 
 
 farming, to which I have said, I was partial — or a 
 mechanical art. The prospect of a farmer's life, bow- 
 ever, closed with my leaving my brother's ; and I 
 became a boy of all, or any work, about a tannery. 
 When I v^as converted I was receiving the monthly 
 wages of four dollars. At that wage T continued to 
 work for one year after my becoming religious ; and I 
 now wish I had never souorht any other relation ; for 
 my wages would have soon been increased, and would 
 have gone on increasing every year as my strength and 
 activity increased. And with increased wages, I might 
 have done more for an old, infirm father and mother, and 
 a blind brother whose only income was a pension of £20 
 ($80) a year ; besides I might have saved something to 
 educate myself. Many well-intentioned friends said I 
 ought to learn a trade. Of theso, the late Joshua Van 
 Allen, a zealous young Methodist, then very influential 
 in the junior circles of the York society, was especially 
 forward and earnest. And as there was nothing so 
 attainable as Mr. Ketch urn's business, through my 
 mother, between whom and him there was a great 
 mutual respect, I applied and was accepted to 
 learn the tanning and currying trade ; and gave up 
 the horse and cart, the hayfork and shovel ; and 
 took up the " flesher " and " worker," and in due 
 time the " scouring brush," and ' currying knife ; ' 
 but then as I was supposed to be learning a business, 
 I had to keep on at the wages I received when only 
 fourteen ; now I was sixteen and on to seventeen 
 
284 
 
 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 and over. The whole matter was against my ccrx- 
 victions for all this time, there was not an hour I 
 did not revolve in my mind the Christian ministry 
 as a life-work. But that must be relegated to a 
 separate article. 
 
No. XXXVII. 
 
 A SUMMARY AND CONNECTION OF THE FORGOING 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 1 RELINQUISHED the idea of a continuous nar- 
 rative — first intended, and even drawn up far 
 beyond the period of my boyhood, for reasons 
 assigned in the preface ; in doing which, I have pro- 
 bably failed in leaving a correct succession of the 
 events that transpired in my young life for the first 
 fifteen years of my existence. To supply this lack 
 to such as might be inclined to complain of it, I now 
 furnish a digest and summary of the pen-pictures 
 above exhibited, briefly supplying some omissions. 
 Those who do not need any 'SUch presentation may 
 skip this section. 
 
 The reader is hereby reminded that I was born of 
 parents of unequal ages, a father of about sixty, and 
 a mother about forty, the eleventh child, and the last 
 but one, who was born half an hour after me, whom I 
 have survived more than sixty years. I only just 
 
286 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 escaped being born in Fredericton, the capital of New 
 Brunswick, to be brought into the world on Saltkill's 
 Island in Passimmaquady, Bay of Fundy, N.B. A few 
 days after my birth I removed across the Province 
 line to Campo Bello Island within the State of Maine, 
 U.S. At three weeks old, we went by a sailing vessel 
 to New York ; thence by a sloop up the Hudson to 
 Albany ; next in a springless lumber- waggon over, or 
 through (literally through) execrable roads to Youngs- 
 town on the Niagara River. Then ferried across to 
 Queenstown, U. J., where we remained till the follow- 
 ing spring. 
 
 Lived about two years in the Niagara Country, 
 mostly on the Ten Mile Creek — partly at the " Lower 
 Ten," and partly at the " Upper Ten." Just as we 
 were about to leave that region, somewhere near the 
 Twelve, I lost by a cruel death my best and ablest 
 brother, Joseph. Then, in sad desolation as a family, 
 we proceeded by a toilsome journey to the Grand 
 River country, where we lived in two several places — 
 at Fairchild's Creek, and on an Indian farm belonging 
 to Chief Davis, on the river bank in the heart of the 
 Indian country. 
 
 In 1813, father joined the army, and trailed us out 
 to Niagara, where we witnessed the battle, a fortnight 
 after our arrival there. Mother and we, her four 
 youngest children, escaped out of the town during the 
 action, and fled to the Cross Roads, four miles away, 
 and took up our abode at the house of Mr. George 
 
MY BOY LIFE. 287 
 
 Lawrence, where we remained a good part of the 
 summer, until we were disturbed by an onset of 
 American Indians. Upon which, we tied towards the 
 interior, suffering great fatigue and hunger by the 
 way — passing through the Black Swamp road, and 
 spent the early part of autumn in the vicinity of the 
 " Upper Ten " Mile Creek and the Twelve. 
 
 Our next removal was to Burlington Bay, where we 
 lived, or existed — first in an unfinished house, then in 
 a hole in the ground at the Heights, and next in a loft 
 in what is now the centre of Hamilton City. With 
 the removal of the army, we went to Queenston, 
 where, for a time, we were a united family again, 
 living over the military blacksmith's shop. 
 
 Early in the summer of 1814, father, mother, and 
 the four youngest children, coasted around the Lake to 
 York ; where, after a short interval in and near the 
 fort, we took up our abode in the town, in which we 
 remained till the close of the war. 
 
 That town was the base of the family's operations 
 so long as we held together as a family of any sort. 
 My several places of abode after the war, till I went 
 to the bush in 1821, were the corner of George and 
 Duchess Streets ; Duke Street, a short time ; the 
 corner of Bay and Richmond; near the corner of 
 Richmond and John Streets ; Adelaide, near York ; 
 and Duke, once more. And after returning rrom the 
 bush, at Mr. Ketchum's, corner of Yonge and Adelaide, 
 till my conversion and afterwards. 
 
288 MY BOY LIFE. 
 
 *^^* A friend suggests that I may not live to produce 
 the volumes promised io succeed this ; and in that 
 case the more important part of the story of my life 
 will remain untold. In the event of my passing away, 
 the reader may be told, that I began to exhort about 
 one year and a half after my conversion ; a short 
 time after which, I left my business and spent about 
 two years at school, and in teaching, during which 
 period I exercised my gifts in public constantly — went 
 out as a supply on a Circuit before I was nineteen, four 
 years after my conversion — and have spent all the 
 time since, fifty-three years, in some form or another, 
 in the Christian ministry. 
 
 THE END.