Memoir of the Life ■OF- DONALD CAMERON. WITH RE/VV\RKS -75Y- HIS SOM ARCtllBALD. -OF Vellore, Vaughan Tou/nsbip, County o¥ York, Ontario. WESTON : PRINTED AT THE TIMES OFFICE. 1893. ; JV»? lif;- Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-thiee, by Archibald Cameron, of Vellore, at the Department of Agriculture, Ottawa. TO THE SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF INDUSTRY. I, Donald Cameron, was born and brought up in Baramolach, in the Parish of Kirkmichael, Glassary, Argyleshire, Scotland. The date of my birth was the 24th day of June in the year of Our Lord, Seventeen Hundred and Ninety-three. My father's name was Archibald and my mother's name, Agnes. The name of my grandfather, on my fathers side, was Duncan, and that of my grandfather on my mother's side, William Cameron. Both my grandmothers died before I was born, so that I am not quite sure of their given names. I think, however, that the name of my father's mother was Crawford and that of my Mcjther's mother was MacNeilage. My father's occupation was that of a Herd in Baramolach — it was also the occujjation of my grandfather till his death. After the death of my grandfather, Duncan, my father had the whole charge of the farm. Very often ho had to do the buying and selling for his master, and I as the eldest of our family helped him according to my strength. When he thought he could spare me he sent me to service. He hired me with Mr. Alexander Campbell, of Edderline, at four Pounds Stg. for half a year — I was then in my fifteenth year. Mr. Campbell was a very kind master to me, and all the servants were likewise very kind to me , some of them having been my school- mates. I had the charge of cattle and sheep — a very laborious task — however I put in my time, which was up at Martinmas. Then I went home and went to school during the Winter season. My father left Baramolach and moved to Kintyre the next Spring. Mr. Campbell wanted me back again and my father con- sented. The wages at that time I do not remember, but afterwards I know they were advanced to fifteen Pounds, Stg. After peace with France my wages were reduced to twelve Pounds Stg. Although at this time I was working the farm and in the absence of my master, had the charge of the work and marked in a book and kept the time -4- of tlio Ifibonrers. I tlmu^lit my own wa<4oa, ivh likowiso tlii! \vh<^08 of my folIow-liilMdirurs, too liLtli! and ho [ left, l)iil(liny faiouull to Mr. Campltoll, of Eildorlino, in May, iHli). My thoughts had Ixteii turned to Canada and accordingly I prepared to omis^rate and make a homo in that now country. Buforo I camo away, I married on the 24th of May, Christian McLevon, an amiaMo, godly young woman, a native of my own Parish. Wo shipped at Criuan Canal on the 2;Jrd day of Juno and landed at riontronl on the 21st day of August. We lefc Montreal for Lachine and while remaining hero a few days some of our friends left us and crossed to Chat eauguay. A part of our littlo property was left on tho wharf as the storehouse could not contain it all. This we had t(t watch by turns over night. When my turn came thoro oune with it a great shower of rain ; and from that I caught lake fovor from which I sullered severely. This fever lingered long with mo — indeed I may say that I was not well till the n)onth of Marcli of tho following year. Wo de[)arted from Lachino (m our Westward journey with a numhor of acquaintaiicea, calling at several points on the way. First we called at (jlengarry, from that we went on to Kingston and from thonco to York, where we remained ono day. Wo loft York on the 24th September, 1810, and arrived at Queeij- ston the same day and remained theve over the following day, that be- ing Sabbath. Next day, the 20th of Sept., we departed for Fort Erie in a waggon and arrived at Fort Erie on 28th September. At this j)lace I was very unwell, but my dear wife was to me a kind nurse and greatly encouraged and consoled me in all my tnMiblos. We left Fort Erie on the 10th of October, 1819, in a slip keel or Durham boat and arrived at Point Ebinew and remained there four days. Sickness had prevailed among us and at length had C(mi])leted itg sad work, for hero a number of our fellow-passengers had to bury some of their children. A great deal of delay occurred at this place. Some of the })a8sengeis got tired waiting jind commenced to travel forward on foot. I was so unwell that I could not undertake to travel by land. However, in a few days we started with the boat at a slow rate. All things went well till one day above Miller's Bay we encountered a great storm — so great a storm thiit we were like to founder. We put back to Miller's Bay and let her run on the sand. We all landed except oae old man and his two sons, but very soon they had good reason to repent their headstrong choice, for next morning the boat appeared with her deck all under water, and there — 5— wns the old iimn Btiiiidiiig in n aiul plight aiul cHlliiig upon us t<> come Hud Hiivu him from drowning. Although thu old man und Iuh 8on8 wero tukun on shoru, yut the hoiit liiy in this position with every urticlo wu hiid in the world on Vtourd for three diiya longer. On the fourth diiy we got some of our things out of the bout, and iit length H kind of windliisa was m ide l>y wliich the ho;it was raised. In this place I was very unwell and all the time in hed. But the people wore exceedingly kind to me, often coming from a distance of three and four miles to see me. One person came three miles with his waggon to take me to his own house. Here we were detained four weeks. At the eml of this time I got a g(»od deal better ; and not being willing to risk ourselves on the bcjat, we undertook to travel by land. Those on the boat started the same day in good spirits, thinking that they were sure to reach Tallxit before us. We arrived at Talbot in due time and got a grant from the Colonel of 60 acres of land. I went to my lot and had just got a few logs cut for a house when word arrived that the boat had sprung a leak and could not proceed further till spring. I and my wife got ready and went back to Long Point where the boat lay. On our arrival we got our things ashore, took a house from Captain Hutchison — a very kind man to us — and remained there fourteen months. Part of this time I was hired with a Mr. Webster. But unft)rtunately in the month of August 1820 I was stricken with fever and ague which continued with me for twelve weeks. As soon as I got better I started for York and drew land in Caledon. I loft Captain Hutchison on the lt)th day of February 1821 and arrived in Caledijn on the 1st day of March of the same year. But here misfortune again met me. By some unforseen accident Mr. Webster the teauister ran short of feed for his horses and in consequence had to leave me eight or ten milea from my place. He left me at the house of a Mr. McDougald who, although a very kind man, was unable to help me forward. I went to my countrymen in Caledon to see if I could get them to take me up — but no, not one would help me. What could be done ? Where could I turn for help ? A stranger in a strange land — I was very down hearted. On my way back I called at Mr. Wilson's in Albion. When I was tell- ing my story to Mrs. Wilson she said thjit I would be welcome to st )p at their place till I could put up a house. I thanked her for her kindness. She told me that they had no oxen, but that there WHH a iiijiii ))>' till! li.'iiiitiuf Miilloy not furoir who Inul oxen hikI tiiii^lit porhiips tiiko 1110 ti» my lot, V/oU, I wont to M»'. iMiiUoy und (old my t'llu of «li(<;i]ipoiiitniont uiul ho conHoiitod to ^t nuxt diiy, hut hu Hiiid that wu hIiomKI taku Hointi of our thiiii^H ii|> to liit* placu uh thuru was no house on my own pliico. My doar wifo Haid, as I'rovidoncu had provided a lot for us iu tho wildoinosM wo would ^;o on wili;out a hoMHo or Hliod, As I Haid l>oforo wo laudtid <»n J.st iMaroli with all that hohtnj^oil to ua. Thoro was no hoUHo of any kind to which wo could f^o, Tho j^ood old Mr, Malloy struck up liro, and after resting ourselves wo took something to oat. I he^an to clear away some of tho snow whore we were to lay our lied. Mr. Malloy said, when you have a jiiuce of ground to log, I and my pou will como and help you. I thanked him ; and then hiil(liiii^, to ^it hutwucn ii.s Jiud tlio ;,'r(>iiiul, ;iii«l iiiiliH!(l Mr. Mi(J>iiiirrii) niul utliurn woro Hoiuutimcs iu tluiir truvols «liid to h.ivo h Hlioltoi* ovor ninlit in our ciuup. Well iiftor wo wero uiuUir a iiii(lilliii<< ^'(tod Hholtur I coinmonood ciittin;.; down tlio tnins, aixl cut, I BuppoHo, about an aero. Two niun who oanio in aftor nu) wont to look for potatoes for seed and I aeeonii)aniod them. We went to Vaui,dian where I ^,'ot a few l)UHhel» after travcllin,!:^ tweiity-.six or twonty-eij^ht niile-t tho prieo paiil, £ think, was .'{ shillingH ik jionco por hushel. The other two men 1,'ot what they watited, and wo eonvtiyod the wholo with some other articles to one placo atid made uj) a little load for «»xen. There waH Honio dilUculty in gettinj^ a person and oxen to take ua home, hut at la.st we aL,'reed with Mr. MeQufirrie to <,'o with us. The tiiHt iiii^dit wo encamped at the Ilumher, the second nii^ht at our own ^»lace in Caledon. I biuied my potatoes under "ground for fear of the frost. .\nd now I had to take a longer and harder journey. When wo left Long point, wo loft our ct)W behind with Ca[)tain Hulchinson. We c«)uld not tako her with ua as I had to be along with the teamster on the way, so on the 15th April I started for the cow. I felt a little depressed at the starting ; the voiuXa were then very bae, and besides I had left my dear wife and child Agnes alone — the shanty not having even a door to it. 1 arrived at Long Point and feeling anxious I started for homo the next day. I did not go far this day, for un- fortunately the cow was very poor and in a bad condition for travel- ling. On the second day I bought some corn in the ear and carried it oil my hack, giving the cow an ear now and again. I found that she soon gained by this feeding and in a few days she travelled very well. The night before I got homo I 8topi)ed in a little tavern west of the Ilumbor. The weather had been bad and i)n tho morning of the next day the people advised mo to go and seo if I could get ovor tho llu»d>er. When I went I found the river swollen from bank to bank, still I felt that I must venture across. So I returned to tho tavern for the cow, drove li^r straight into the stream and urging her forward, took hold of her tail and swam to the other bank. In this way the cow and I got safe on land. That evening I got lumio after travelling the best of three hundred miles; my dear wife and I uniting once more on tho Ist day of May. And now the woods were beautiful and green and ])lenty for the cow. It may be asked, why ~ 8- - (lid I nut Hull tlu) cui{innin^ our lifu in Caludon wo wuru vury po(»r. What, with Hickiujsa and othur ditllcidtiuH wo had to uncountur, wu had laid paHt no uionoy. VV»! iiad Ituon ftircod to live from hand to mouth, hut still wo wuro not alt(»guthur dustituto. My dear fathur had bought for mu a good timupiocu for throu poundti 8tg. and thin I had to part with. I sold it huforu leaving Long Point for two pounds tun shillings curroncy, and with this money, now reduced to two [xunids and some pntvisions — a barrel of tlour, 8(»mu pork and l)eof- we set ourselves to face thu hardships of tho forest. This was a small stock u[)on which to begin housekeeping ; but wo had a very good shelter . In tho Spring following I workotl eight day.s for a man wh>) had just come into the sottlou.unt. For my eight days work I got one harrel of Hour, which, with our own little stock in tho house lasted ua till we got Hour of our (twn. This man, with other three, lodge 1 with us while they wore doing .sottlement tluty on some laiul. Most of their j)rovisiutter from Caledon to Little York, a distance of nearly fifty miles. I once carried half a bushel of salt on my back from Tliornhill to Cidedon, more than thirty miles. After a while the salt began to melt and loft my flesh raw. The pain from this soon became very severe and much harder to bear than the weight of the salt. My back tvejjt nie in mind of this journey for a long time. Such like difflculties as these were very connnoii — so conuuon that we hardly minded them — for except \ in taking wheat to the mill and other very heavy burdens our back WHS our usual means of transport. Indeed we had difficulties of many kinds to overcome. The Canadian forest was a grand school in this respect. Almost everything we wanted to make life endur- able, we had to make for ourselves as best we could. We had to try our hand at all trades, and I soon found it necessary to try mine on a pair of shoes for myself. The shoes I had br)ught from the Old Country were all worn out. I set to work w;>h some scraps of leather and a few working tools I had by me, and made a pair of new ones. This was a trade I knew nothing about, but I succeeded —10— wonderfully well. The shoes got finislied and were a good fit — at least they did not pinch me. They might not be after the newest fashion, but they were good, strong, serviceable shoos, and I can say that the making of them tickled my patience as much as the half bushel of melting salt tickled my back. As I thought my pro8])ect8 began to brighten I brmght two steers, expecting some time they would bee. 'me oxen. And so I struggled on, having my upa and downs, but being always hopeful. In the month of August, Eighteen Hundred and Twenty-three, I went to the mill thirteen miles from my place, with threj bushels of wheat in a sleigh, remained at the mill all niglit, and next day got h<»me with the flour. In a few days after, on the 21st August, my dear wife got sick and was delivered of a still-born child. Our daughter Agnes was very sick at the time and not expected to re- C(»ver. One day we thought her very near her end, and her mother got up from the bed on whicli she had just been confined to attend to the wants of our dying child. All hope seemed gone when for- tunately I thought of trying sugar and cream, I mixed these to- gether, got her to take a little and in a few minutes we th(.)ught her easier. Soon she began passing wtjrms and from that day she was always mending. But alas ! my dear wife got wor^ie every day. Nothing we could think of gave her any relief or did her any good. Seven days before her death she lost her speech, and depend u])on it my strugf.>le was hard when I saw this dark cloud of death fast set- tling around me. Hope seemed to die within me, but all mj' neigh- bors for five miles round me were very kind and attentive, and this helped me much. I^ardly a night was 1 left alone. They made an arrangement that two would remain with me eveiy nigh — so that there was with me on the last night a man and a vtoman. My dear wife departed this life on the 7th October 1823. " All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withoreth and the flower thereof falleth away." My prospects were now dark ; and the state of my mind, as I thought of being thus left alone in the wilderness with my two little ones, no one knew but God alone. In a few days after my wife's death Mrs. Wilson tooE Agnes and Sarah with her. I was to pay for their support so much every week in work. Money I had none. But now my troubles grew worse and much harder to bear. One of my steers got I think overheated and -11- dioJ — he was the best of the two. I bought another one from a neigh- bor on credit. My own one I took to his place, yoked them togeth- er, and drove theui home. The man told me that his steer was used to stand in the yoke and that I might leave them so all night. I did so ; and what had I to do in the morning but take the hide oflF the one I had bought. This was very hard, but it could not be helped. The two hides would bring something. So I got them taken on a sleigh to Farr's Mills now called Weston. Here a man took them on his waggon f(jur miles further for which he charged me one shill- ing and six pence. The rest of the distance to York I carried them on my back and sold them to Catchum, the tanner. They weighed fifty pounds. After tliis I went some distance from home and bought another steer, and this along with the one I had, put me in a good way while I lived in Caledon. I may mention that I did not log any with my steers while in Caledon; mine were not strong enough for logging. What I did was to exchange work. That is, I gave two days work for one, which was very hard, but there was no other way that I could get along. At this time my life was a very laborious one. Besides doing my own work at home I had to travel three and a half miles to Mrs. Wilson's every night and morning. There I had to milk and feed the cow, prepare fuel and make fires. I had also to mend my children's clothes and keep them in good repair and wash my own linen. In February, 1824, it came on a great storm of snow. To Mrs. Wilson's I had then to travel morning and evening and be there before sun rising for work. There was no one travelling the road then except myself, the snow being three feet deep. Sometimes I would sink deep into the snow and then stagger from one side of the road to the other. I thought this was killing work. I thought I could not provide for myself and the two dear little ones in this way of working. It seemed impossible. Therefore I made up my mind to try for a wife. It was not in vain, and ('od directed me on a blessed errand when I went to ask Elizabeth Armour to be my wife. She gave her consent, and I have now to say that to me she has been a good and faithful w ife, and to my two little motherless ones, she has been also good and kind, and all that a mother could be. We were married by the Rev. Mr. Harris in Toronto, on the 10th March, 1824, and got home on the following Saturday. My Elizabeth was not very content with our prospects in Caledon. Indeed from —12— the (late of our marriage up to the time of our leaving she never 8een»ed to acquire any better liking for the phice, so the first offer we got for it we sold it to a man named John Drunnnond, and bought Lot No. 30, on 5th concession, Vaughaii, the place on which we now roside. It was a good change for us. and I may say that from that time to this day we have had plenty to eat and to drink and to spare. God has been good to us in the past and we may well trust Him in the future. Looking up to Him with steadfast faith we may say with the Psalmist : — *' Goodness and mercy all my life Shall surely follow me ; And in God's house for evermore My dwellin^-place shall be. " On this place we have had a time of prosperity and a time of adversity ; a time to gain in the world and a time to lose. But through all our varied life God's blessing has attended (jur exertions, R ) that we have plenty of this world's goods. I pray that we may bo •l>oking for a world beyond the grave — "for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." I might i)ut down a good deal more (jf what has hai)pened to mo in my life time since we came to live here, but I feel that I must now come to a ck)se. *' Therefore we are always confident, knowing that whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord — (fo^ we walk by faith not by siglit) — we are confident, I say, and willing rather to ba absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.' May God guide us all and prepare us for our latter end. (Signed) Donald Cameron. Dated April 21st, 1857. Postscript. — I have to mention that I interred the body of my wife Christian on my own farm. When I sold the place I still re- served my right to the burial plot, but as I had retained no title to a way of entrance, my friends thought with myself that it was best to remove the dead. I therefore in the year of Our Lord 1855, re- moved the dust of my wifo Christian to Mrs. A.llen McKinnon's burying ground at the church on L<.)t No. 12 on Eth con., Caledon. (Signed) D.C. REMARKS BY ARCHIBALD CAMERON. I may state that these slight sketches of u portion of my father's life came into my hands after his death. Ho evidently penned them towards the close of his life, and it is interesting to find him thus engaged. He had stood the heat and burden of the day and was drawing near the haven of rest. Even then his mind reverts to the past. In memory he revisits the scenes of his early trials and lingers fondly on all the way by which the Lord had led him. Doubtless, this very employment was to him then a source of strength and comfort. In pnntin^ his manuscript, I beg bo say that I have not done so with a view to general publicity. It is not for a moment supposed that his simple unvarnished narrative lays claim to that kind of merit. It is addressed not to the critical eye but to the sympathetic ear. It is, in short, printed with the sole object of circulation among his relatives and those who were his personal friends, and I have ample reason to know that many of these will read with interest the story of his early Canadian struggles as given in his own words. There is but little more that I need add. My father's manuscript closes M'ith his marriage to Elizabeth Armour, who became my mother. I know that some of my relatives of the younger generation would like to hear something about her. They want especially to ask me a question or two about their Canadian ancestress — who she was 'i and whence she came ? I will therefore venture on a few details. Like my father, she was of Scottish birth and up-bringing. She M'as the daughter of Alexander Armour and Jane Love and was born in the Parish of Kilchenzie, on the 12th of April, 1797. The Armour family came originally from Ayrshire, and claimed, I believe^ some distant cousinly relationship with Bums' "Bonie Jean." This may not be much; it certainly does not give a patent of nobility, but still it is something in these pedi- gree-loving days, to be able to claim a connection with one so far- • _14_ fumod in Scottish song. Part of the family consisting of John Armour and his twf) sisters, Jean ahd Elizabeth, emigrated in the year 1820 and in due time landed in the United States. For some months they stayed in the t«>wn of Pitsburg, but feeling restless and longing for a sight of the old flag, they set out one bright morning with a team of hores and waggon for Canada. The roads were very bad and the journey slow and toilsome. Several weeks were spent on the road and when they had crossed the Canadian frontior and reached the River Credit, then they encount(^red their main difficulty. The bridge had been swept away and the river was full of floating logs — how were they to cross ? Fastening the box firmly on the waggon, John Armour mounted one of the horses and with the aid of a long pole to ward off* the floating logs, swam the team across. The two girls followed. Young and active, they made their way across the logs, jumping where necessary from tme log to another until they reached the opposite bank. John Armour, with his sister Jean as his housekeeper, rented the farm which has years ago given place to Mount Pleasant Cemetery. Elizabeth took service with first Peter McDougal and then Colonel Duncan Cameron, whose farm has long ago qeen swallowed up by the city of Toronto. There she re- mained about two years — in fact up to the date of her marriage with my father. Their life in Vaughan was somewhat chequered — now prosperous and again adverse. They had difficulties to meet and surmount, but upon the whole their nidustry was rewarded with substantial and growing prf)sperity. Nor did they forget, even in these early days of hurry, to cultivate the social side of life. They had many warm friends ; among these were the various members of the Malloy family, Arthur McNeil, Johii McLean, Donald Mc- Naugiiton, and a hast of others — all good and true men. A sturdy race were these old settlers — men distinguished alike for sound com- mon sense and the solid homespun virtues, and warm hearted withal. Each one seemed to vie with another in promoting good fellowship, and thus it was that our fathers lived in the olden times — all helping by their gonial kindness, to smooth the asperities of the wilderness and diffuse happiness around them. One thing more. My father was an elder in the Presbyterian CI arch of Vaughan in connection with the Church of Scotland. He was ordained by the Rev. Peter McNaughton in the year 1833, and regularly performed the duties of his office up to the date of his -16— death. I mivy say that ho always felt and manifosted a deep interest in the prosperity and welfare of his church. My father died on the 11th August, 1858. My mother died on the 18th April, 1883. Both lie till the resurrection in St. Andrew's Churchyard at Maple, on the 4th concession of Vaughan.