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Ca J^'n an SAINT JOHN LN THE OLDEN TDIE. Mr. JAMES WOODROW Road a sketch entitled •• Saixt Joirx ix the Olden Time." At verv sliort notice, he said, he had put toij^etlier some incidents in the history of Saint John whicli niiixht l)e of interest. The information was borrowed from - Ilannay's History of Acaiha," '• Ilalihurton's History of Nova Scotia," an(l a variety- of som-ccs. rpHE place where this city and neighborhood is located was once J- the capital of a nnmber of nations. Here, it mii^dit be said, was the Parliament of several Indian tribes. From this place went forth numerons e.\])editions of warfare when conncil and arbitra- tion failed to keej) the peace. Five hundred years ago the Milicetes had their headquarters above the Grand Falls. A tradition of an attack upon them by the Mohawks will be read this evening by another. When the white man first landed here the Micmacs had their headquarters at the mouth of the river. At a subsequent period they were displaced by the Milicetes. The time allotted will not permit any account of the results (or, more properly speaking, the failures) of the plans of John Calvin, Margaret of Navarre, Coligny and others to plant French Huguenot settlements in the New World. Henry of Navarre renewed the plan at a later j>eriod and sought to make a home for the Huguenots in Acadia, with the excejition that he hoped to have dwell side by side in peace and harmony both Protestant and Catholic. In 1603, De Monts, a Protestant, with a number of French Huguenots, arrived in the Passamacpioddy Bay, landed at an island now sometimes called Neutral Island, at the mouth of a i i 4 SAINT JOHN IN TlIK OLDKN mfE. I'ivor wliicli lie ii.'iiiicd tlic St. Cntix. Oti lliis island a siii.'ill plarc of woisliip was ('rc('t('ther. Acadia ))assed through many dianges. In the time of Oliver ' U Cromwell it was captured by tlie British, but subsequently restored jie to France. Again it was in possession of England, and again ; restored. At one time it was an aj)pendage of Massachusetts. Of ic course St. John passed through all these changes. ; w St. Jolin was at one time captured by Col. Church, the cele- 1 set brated New England military leader, tit the time of the war known ] as King PhillijVs war, when the Indians sought to exterminate the 117 settlers in New England and the other British Provinces. After at its restoration to France, and as often as it was held by P'rance, St. iCo John was a rendezvous from which French and Indians went forth fd to harass New" England and the New England people. In the time of Whitefield, New England was aroused to capture Acadia, hold it iSt for the Crown of England, and settle it with a New England popu isix lation, Whitefield himself finding time in the midst of his revival iMe services to encourage the movement. Largely to the New England Puritans is due the honor of the substitution of the British flag for^bin that of the French in these Lower Provinces. The French flatilWl es SAINT JOIIX IX Tin: (H.DEX TIMK. sin.'ill itliU'c of las lu'ltl. On :»V :iimI limo)»nlatirin. One of the relies of the Freneh o(U'U]»ation of St. John is an old well on Fort Jlowe, new covered u|>. This well lia<>isoned. It is not iiiaiiv vears since bovs were aeeustomed to reniove the eovcrinii of the well and throw in jtehhles, to eateh some sound indieatine(ially in of Claude de i with the officers «\ ho had conimanon sent from New Knixl.'ind. the mouth of ^ The j)ro))osed settlers beintr maiiily Conirretrationalists, tliey ;e(niently, wiien ■ demanded guarantee's that their civil and religious rights should !)»■ a Tour became \ resj)ected. Governor Lawrence, to meet their demands, obtained overnment, and ' from the Ki?ig the cek-brated document or charter of rij^hts, known aown as Fort la ' in ILdiburton's history as the Charter of Nova Scotia, which irnar- le story of Fort \ anteed to Dissenters or Nonconformists the same |>rivileir<'s they ienioved in New Enirland. The iirovisions of this charter were time of Oliver | faithfully observed for a time, l)ut its violation at a subse(|uent juently restored | period led to much dissatisfaction and agitation. and, and again | Settlements oi New England people were formed at Yarmouth, ssachusetts. Of |Cornwallis, Livorj)ool, and other places. The jxtpulation of Halifax was considerably reinforced from New Englan J< ]i( (•( to ar w SI Pf nu to th( months. Aiuoni,' the roTKlltlons the followiiiij: were siH-cificfl : Their secrets she shiiU keep (^lose ; tlielr coiiiin.'iii«liiU'iits (they. She sliiill not j»ljiy (!!ir(ls or dice ; matrimony she si>;ill not contraet, nor ale- houses fre<|iicnt. On tiufir juirt tliey agreed to providi' for her in siely. SIk' shall C'lrk'toii w is appninti'tl (Jovi'viior. Tlic ('"Hiiicil was jncsltlcd cvfi- intract, nor ale- ' l,y rjovcnior Carlcton, and consisttd of ^Messrs. IU'V( riy Ifoliinson, ivianiel Uliss. A Lijiislature for the l'n.\in(c was Iconvened, and met in King Street, hut was suhse(juently transfnrtd vinces the popu- |to Fredi-rieton. I From the aroounts piMislud it np) ears tliat soon after tin- wiM'e risintjfs at arrival of the Loyalists St. John was laid out for a city, and streets lie other jtlaces. ^ were surveyed, Piddie < tticts were cstahlisht d. "NV. S Oliver was ! Fort Cumber- | Sheriff, Bartholomew Crannall was Common Clerk, and Bolert ve u)> hopes of her elect to the \ LM-, and owning all force against f the revolution, having his for-^t' i Straight Shore, n Fort Cumber | iParker Controller of Custoin> There was a Fire Com]iany called the T.'nion Fire Club, \\lii< h met at Mallard's Tavern in King Strci-t Adino I'addock had a medicinal stuie. He ni.oved from King to ]'.: ee WilMam Street. There was a tavern out o^ toAvn, lu-ar liie present locality of the Public Ilosjiital. Among the notices in the lioyal Gazette there is tli.'it of W. S. ;e was not in a |01iver, Sheriff, who advertised to be sold at public auction a Negro he and his i)arty iMan and Boy belonging to the Estate of the late Charles McPherson. ng with them as I Among the other notices is one of John Chaloner, who adver- e, however, not tised for sale a lot of land in Prince William Street, SOxliOO, one of lished themselves the attractions being a good spring of water, iricton), at Fort The Postmaster of St. John was Charitable Sowers, who had unction with the the Post Office in his liouse in Dock Street. Mails were conveyed Col. Allen's party; to Halifax, via Annapolis, once in two weeks, and at a later date 1 expedition wentlAvockly. In 1799 William Camjd ell was Postmaster. His ofKce in. They finally Iwas at the jilace now known as Chnbb's Corner. Those who had lade their way t()|business with tl)e I'ost Office stood on the sidewalk. Time would not permit to refer to the religious movements in 3ned a war vessel, St. John — tlie preaching in the streets by Ileniy Alline ; the unsnc- n warriors tlireat- jcssful efforts of Hev. Mr. James, a missionary sent out by the ountess of Huntington, to gather into one Church, on a Congre- ul they dispersed, rational basis, all the Dissentv.rs from the Cluirch of England ; the >t. John (which at )rganization and erection of Trinity Church, and the subsequent ced by the arrival establishment of worship by the other denominations. Suffice it to nention that in 1799 the Church Wardens of Trinity were Messrs. lorsfield and Rogers, and the Vestrymen Messrs. Gabriel Ludlow, tumn other Loyal SAINT JOHN IN THE OLDEN TIME. Ward Chii»man, William Hazen, Munson Jarvis, Thomas Whitlpck, Nathan Smith, Thomas Elmas, Colin Campbell, Nehemiah Rogers, Isaae Lawton, Thomas Beer, and Samuel Hallett. Political feelint; ran as hi2ch in the olden time as it does in our day; by the accounts which have come down to us it was even higher. Among the i)a])ers and documents of the day were those of Israel Perley, of Maugerville, who characterized the course of the ruling powers' of the Province as arbitrary and injudicious. Mr. Perley contended that in many cases men of ordinary capacity were preferred to places of trust and profit, while men of superior abilities were ignored; that the rulers of the Province stood in the way of progress ; and that Dissenters were not allowed the rights and privileges w^iich had been guaranteed. For these and other reasons not only were consiilerable numbers of the old inhabitants leaving the country, but many of the new comers had grown discouraged. Mr. Perley's opponents characterized him as a disappointed office- seeker, and otherwise sought to destroy the force of his arguments. Among th(^ curious documents is an Election Petition of 1793. This docunumt specified that there had been an election for mem- bers to represent the City and County of St. John in the New Brunswick Parliament; that the following persons had been duly elected, viz., Tertullus Dickenson, Richard Liglitfoot, Peter Grim, John Boggs, Richard Bonsall, and Alexander Reid ; that they had been elected by a decided majority in accordance with the regula- tions of Governor Carleton, but thi^ the following persons had received certificates of election and had been sworn in as Members of Parliament, although by the votes they were in the minority, viz., Jonathan Bliss, Ward Chipman, Christo))her Billop, William Pagan, Stanton Hazard, and John McGeorge. The petitioners stated that while the election was in progress supporters of the majority had been placed in irons, that one of the candidates had been put under arrest, and that great intimidation iiad been practiced. Whether the statements were reliable or not, the document was signed by William Barclay, Richard Stockhall, Samuel Theall, Wm. Tredwell, John Johns, Nathaniel Travis, Adam ITennigar, Jasper Stymest, Henry Peters, Wm. Burtis, Matthew Partelow, Walter Fowler, Joseph Alward, Jeremiah Mabie, Nathan Brujidage, Ezekiel Barlow, John Chubb, John McAlpine, John Melick, Enos Flew welling, and otliers, to tlie number of 174. SAINT JOHN m THE OLDEN TIME. The political history of St. John vould alone 0(!caipy an even- ing. With the other inhabitar 's of the Province the peoj)le were divided on the great questions tliat came up for discussion. The young people of the present time can form but a faint idea of the long and protracted struggle of a portion of the people for tlieir civil liberties and equal religious rights, a struggle in which manv now living had an active share. If there were time, allusion might be made to the progress of the city, the extent of its business, its successes and adversities. An account of its fires Avould be interesting, even if no reference were made to the great fire of 1877. Some of these to|»ics may possibly be assigned to gentlemen who are expected to follow. THE MAIDEN'S SACRIEICE. A Tale of the St. John River. Bv JAMES HANNAY. Eead by Mrs. I. L. BEMAJs"^. I N the sweet days of summer, Five hundred years ago, Where the broad Ouygoudy Swept on in might below; On in a ceaseless torrent Which down the Grand Falls bore, Over the steep, with sudden leap, Full eighty feet and more. There on the bank above it An Indian town arose, Where dwelt the warlike Malicetes. The Mohawks were their foes. Those red-skinned sons of slaughter Had joined in many a fray, With savage ire and carnage dire, Shaming the light of day. But buried was the hatchet, They went to war no more ; The little children gambolled About each wigwam door. Around that savage village Were maize fields waving green ; So calm the scene, you scarce would deem That war had ever been. Sakotis and his daughter. The dark-eyed Malabeani, Sailed up the Ouygoudy Beyond the Quisbis stream, And there upon an island They rested for the day. Their hearts were light, the skies were bright, .And Nature's face was gay. (10) But, like a clap of thunder When the heavens are calm and clear. The war-whoop of the Mohawks Fell on their startled ear. And a sharp flint-tipped arrow Pierced old Sakotis' breast ; Ere Malabeam could raise him. Her father was at rest. And bounding through the thicket, On rushed a savage crowd Of Mohawks in their war paint. With war-whoops fierce and loud; And ere the orphan'd maiden Had time to turn and tly. They bound her fast. All hope was past. Except the hope to die. And one who knew her language Said : " When the sun goes down Your bark canoe shall guide us On to your father's town. Do this, your life is spared you. Then wed a Mohawk brave; Refuse, your doom is torture. Or worse, to be a slave." Then said she : " I will guide you, And wed a Mohawk brave ; Since you have slain my father, I will not be your slave. The stream is swift and narrow. And those apart may stray, Bind your canoes together, And I will lead the way." THE MAIDEN'S SACBIFICE. 11 Just as the gleam of darkness Spread over hill and vale Down the swift Ouygoudy The Mohawk fleet set sail. Three hundred Mohawk warriors Chanted a martial song, Their paddles gleam upon the stream And swift they speed along. In four long lines together, Each to the next bound fast — The maiden in the centre — The great canoe fleet passed. And Malabeam, what thought she As on in front she flew. Driving apace with vigorous arms Her light and swift canoe. The night was dark and gloomy, The sky had scarce a star To gaze upon the pageant Of fierce and savage war. No moon shone on the river. Her gentle beams were paled. And through the gloomy tree tops A south wind sighed and wailed. But little cared the Mohawks, The wind might wail or sigh, The moon might hide her glory And clouds obscure the sky. With hearts intent on slaughter, With thoughts on carnage red, They toiled, and still before them The strong arm'd maiden sped. But now the Indian village Lies but a mile below. A sound like muffled thunder Seems on their ears to grow. " What's that ?" " 'Tis but a torrent," The Indian maid replied, " It joins the Ouygoudy, Which here flows deep and e.wid" But louder still, still louder The sound like thunder grew, As down the rapid river The swift flotilla flew. On either side the foam wreaths Shone like a line of snow. But all in front was darkness, 'Twas death which lay below. Then, with a shout of triumph, The Indian maiden cried : " Listen ye Mohawk warriors Who sail on death's dark tide ; Never shall earth grave hide you. Or wife weep o'er your clay, Come to your doom, ye Mohawks, And I will lead the way." Then sweeping with her paddle, One potent stroke, her last, Down to the fall her barque is borne, Its dreadful brink is pass'd ; And down the whole three hundred In swift succession go. Into the dark abyss of death Full eighty feet below. And vanished in a moment, Like a meteor shooting star, The savage Mohawk warriors In all their pride of war. No eye beheld them perish. No living human ear Heard the lost band's despairing crv Piercing the darkness drear. But many a day thereafter. Beyond the torrent's roar. The swarthy Mohawk dead were found Upon the river's shore. But on brave Malabeam's dead face No human eyes were set, She lies in the dark stream's embrace, '. he river claims her yet. The waters of five hundred years Have flowed above her grave, But daring deeds can never die While human hearts are brave. Her tribe stil! tell her story Around their council fires. And bless the name of her who died To rescue all their sires. ^ ^' SAINT JOHN." Hv J. G. WHITTFER. Hkad n\ Mus. CHARLES MacMICIIAEL. [In 1647. in the absence nt Charles St. Kstienne I)E la Tour, Lord of Saint lohn, Fort la Tour — on the West side of the Harbor— was attacked by Charnise D'AirLNAY, Lord of Pentagoet. The Fort was gallantly defended by Madame LaTocr for nine davs, but was captured by D'Aulnay. Whittier tells the story of the arrival of Chari.es St. Estienne de la Tour subsequent to the departure of 1)'.\iilnay.] (( T O the winds give our banner! Bear homeward again ! " Cried the Lord of Acadia, Cried Charles of Estienne ; From the j)row of his shallop He gazed as the .sun. From its l)ed in the ocean. Streamed up the St. John. O'er the blue western waters That shallop had passed, Where the mists of Penobscot Clung damp on her mast. St. Sauvenr had looked On the heretic sail, .'\s the songs of the Huguenot Rose on the gale. The pale, ghostly fathers Remembered her well. And had cursed her while passing With taper and bell, But the men of Monhegan, Of Papists abhorred. Had welcomed and feasted The heretic Lord. (12) They had loaded his shallop With dun-fish and ball, With stores for his larder And steel for his wall. Pemequid, from her bastions And turrets of stone. Had welcomed his coming With banner and gun. And the prayers of the elders Had followed his way As homeward he glided Down Pentecost Bay. O, well sped La Tour ! For in peril and pain His lady kept watch For his coming again. O'er the Isle of the Pheasant The morning sun shone. On the plane-trees which shaded The shores of St. John. " Now, why from yon battlements Speaks not my love ! Why waves there no banner My fortress above ? " '' Sy INT JOHN.'' 13 Dark and wild, from his deck St. Estienne gazed about, On fire-wasted dwellings And silent redoubt ; From the low, shattered walls, Which the flame had o'errun. There floated no banner. There thundered no gun ! But beneath the low arch Of its doorway there stood A pale priest of Rome In his cloak and his hood. With the bound of a lion. La Tour sprang to land. On the throat of the Papist He fastened his hand. " Speak, son of the woman Of scarlet and sin ! What wolf has been prowling My castle within ?" From the grasp of the soldier The Jesuit broke, Half in scorn, half in sorrow, He smiled as he spoke : " No wolf, Lord of Estienne, Has ravaged thy hall, But thy red-handed rival. With fire, steel and ball ! On an errand of mercy I hitherward came While the walls of thy castle Yet spouted with flame. " Pentagoet's dark vessels Were moor'd in the bay, Grim sea lions, roaring Alond for their prey." " But what of my lady ? " Cried Charles St. Estienne. " On the shot-crumbled turret Thy lady was seen ; " Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud, Her hand grasped thy pennon. While her dark tresses swayed In the hot breath of cannon I But woe to the heretic. Evermore woe ! When the son of the C!hurch And the Cross is his foe ! " In the track of the shell. In the patii of the hall. I'entagoet swept over The breach of the wall ! Steel to steel, gun t > gun. One moment — and then Alone stood the victor, Alone with his- men ! ■ C>f its sturdy defenders Thy lady alone Saw the cross-blazoned banner Float over St. John." " Let the dastard look to it ! " Cried fiery Estienne ; "Were D'Aulnay King J^ouis. I'd free her again ! "' " Alas for thy iady! No service from thee Is needed by her Whom the Lord hath set free; Nine days, in stern silence, Her thraldom she bore. But the tenth morning came. And death opened her door ! " As if suddenly smitten, La Tour staggered back ; His hand grasped his sword-hilt, His forehead grew black. He sprang on the deck Of his shallop again. " W^e cruise now for vengeance ! Give way I " cried Estienne. " Massachusetts shall hear Of the Huguenot's wrong. And from island and cveekside Her fishers shall throng! Pentagoet shall rue What his Papists have done. When ills palisades echo The Puritan's gun ! " ■i ■■ y\ 14 SAINT JOHN:' O, the loveliest of heavens Hung in tenderness o'er him, There were waves in the sunshine: And green isles before him ; But a pale hand was beckoning The Huguenot on ; And in blacknes? and ashes Behind was St. John ! In 1650 Charnise D'Aulnay was accic!ent?lly drowned at Port Royal. In 1653 Charles St. Estienne de la Tour married D'Aulnay's widow, and recovered his old possessions. In 1654 he surrendered Foit la Tour to an expedition sent out l5y Oliver Cromwell, and became subject to the English. He held the Fort until his death in 1666. THE ST. JOHN FIRE. By K. W. MR. Chairman, friends and strangers, I've been asked to say a ^somethitig'' Of our city and its burning, Of the great and awful fare fiend. Which, on date of June the twenty, Eighteen hundred, seven and seventy. Swept away our .stores and dwellings. Swept away our year long hoardings. Much I fear me ye are tired Of this theme, of its remembrance. Of the thousand recollections Of that day of direful story In the history of our city, In the chronicles of Saint John. But, as I should do my duty To myself and this occasion, To the lady who did plague me For this something on this subject, I will strive to give my version Of the great and awful burning Which, upon the date 'forenicntioned. Laid our much beloved city — City of the hills and hollows, City of the rocks and ridges — In one heap of dust and ashes, Lived I on the Mount called Pleasant On that clear and cloudless Wednesday When the cry rose ot the smoke cloud Wliich was rolling up in volumes From the portion of the city Which is designated York Point. Off I rushed to join the medley Of the panic-stricken people, Rushing 'lere and rushing hither. To convey to place of safety Household articles of home life. Mattresses and beds and bolsters, Chairs and tables, and the such like. \ViId and fearful was the turmoil As the fiery rolling demon Crept along the wharves of Lloyd, Swept away the dens of York Point, Threatened Dock Street with its fury. I myself, your story teller, Went, with others, to the rescue Of the goods in Burpee's warehouse. Close upon the stores of Scammells', Saw the liquid tongues of fire. Saw the rolling sea of redness Sweep before it every object. Staying not at stores of brickwork, Staying not at sash of iron, Leaping over gulfs of water, Leaping over half a city. Fanned to fury by a tempest, Tempest of its own creating. Naught could stay its onward progress, Se.is of water could not quench it. He who tells this story to you Was entrapped by the demon. Cut off from the road to safety, Left upon the wharf of Scammell, Near the North Wharf of the city ; But that he might now be with you, And annoy you with this gibberish, (15) 1() THE SAINT JOHN FIRE. tame the schooner of the sailor. Warjiing off to place of safety, \Var])iii,n '^^ ^" open water, .And upon the passing rigging I-eaped your laiulsnian very gladly, Soon was landed on the .South Wharf, Soon was battling with the tempest And the hurricane (jf fury. On the Square, the marl of commerce, ( )nce the maiket of the citv; Sii( h a scene was ne'er depicted. Such a sight was never witnessed Ity the eye or pen oi nujrtal; Kushing here and rushing hitlier Were the merchants of the city, Were the cartmen, able-bodied, bearing goods and bearing trinkets, Seeking for a safe asylum For the merchandise of conmierce. For the hardware of the builder, For the cutlery fron Sheffield, For thi' Iry goods bought in Lonchjn, For the wine and rum accursed; All around them screamed the engines. Useless now to stay the tempest. All around them swept a whirlwind born of heat and filled with ashes, Scarcely could one see before him, Scarcely could one face its fury ; Goods were hurried from the storehouse To the warehouse, several blocks off, Which, ere many moments passed, Was a heap of smouldering ashes. Saw I from the top of woodshed At the rear of this our chapel Many stately fabrics burning, Filled with fire from base to attic. Glaring with their fiery windows On the sun, which smiled upon them ; Saw them vomit up to heaven Clouds of smoke and fire commingled, Like the crater of Vesuvius ; Saw them tremble from their bases, Rock and bend, and crash to atoms ; Saw the church towers in the distance Gleam with flame and sink from vision ; Saw a vision of Inferno, Wild as that which Dante dreamt of; Saw the smoke of thousand households Ulaze and blacken into ruin. Households which at midday's hour Heard the laugh and voice of home life. When the sun had sunk to westward Lay a smouldering i)ile of ashes. When the moon rose (j'er the citv, Calm and peaceful and indifferent. What a sight lay there beneath it; Where had been a noble city, Tower and spire and hall adorned. Lay a pile of blackened fragments, l^ay a sea of smoke and turmoil. Long, alas! will be remembered That wild afternoon and evening, W'hen, amid the smoke and blackness, Vanished home and hope from many. I'ut what boots it for to tell you Of those sights so full of sadness, ]?ringing to your recollection Thoughts that better far were buried. Let us think no more upon it, Let us think upon the present, Then our woes may be forgotten, And the memory of the bygone Will inspire us with new effort For the Now and for the Future, For the welfare of our city, (The Dominion has no fairer). Let us hope for years to follow, When our people in this city. Now arisen froin its ashes, .Shall have clad its rocky summits, (Jnce the haunt of roaming redman. Once o'erclad with Hr and cedar. With the homes of merchant princes, With the homes of honest toilers, Full of faith in God and goodness, Full of trust for the Hereafter. IS, figi tho ret THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FUTUKE. It is necessary to exphiiu briefly respectiu!; the poor little tinmen t with which I iittempt to occupy your" worthy attention lor a few minutes. I suppose that nearly all persons are alike in occasionally tiecoinin"- "mixed" in regard to time, place and events. For instance: As a traveller, in your journeyiugs you will ]iass some dav a spot which vou knnw by hard facts you never saw J^ffore— never before was within a hun- dred miles of it— yet it has such a slnwithj fdmiUar look as to completely bewilder you. It seems like an old iiaimt of other years— yon over- hanging tree, this smoothly sloping lawn, this winding bit of' jjath, ihc green-bovvered mansion just beyond— all .so natural that you have quite a mind to give the lie to facts, and, believing in the transnugration of souls, assume that in some former state of existence you must, as a bird, have built a nest in the tree ; or. as a bee, have gathered honey across the lawn ; or, as a rabl)it, have skurried along tlie path ; or, as lidomcs- tic cat, have cauglit your mice in yonder garret and mewed your niyhtlv serenade on yonder back fence. ' "- . .-. . But, musing thus and chiding yourself for such pagan notions, sud- denly it flashes upon you that it was not in some bygone epoch you became acquainted with this scene. Xo. It was an hour you once had of day-dreamiiKj, when in Jiuiry you saw it ; a reaUzed vision, the fullil- ment of a kind of prophecy. It was a future made present to your nnnd before its time, now the real present made evidt'ut to your ei/e. But again no! This belief in visions, this foresight of coming events, is worse than paganism ; and you drift back to your foruicT- fancy, only to be equally undecided. Aiid so you hardly know yourself, or whether you are living in past, present or future ; a numimv, or a prophet, or— what ? You give it up that you cannot unbraid the tangle, the real seems so like the fanciful, the fanciful so like the real. Did you never have such a chapter in the book of your life V Ah, I know that some of you have. Some people, I grant, are level- headed, as solid as the rock under Fort Howe ; many pretend to l)e so who are not ; but some of us are liable to be mixed in" this way at times. A sort of world in one's self, a condensed eternity, as every innntjrtal is, it is no wonder that we sometimes mingle the threads and sjjoil the tigures in our weaving. But to my exi)lanation. Recently I took a voyage in the gentli' litth; schooner " Sleep."" (Japt. Clear Conscience, for the famous old country. Dreamland. On the way, after threading the unpleasant channels among Nap Islands, a spell of weather struck us athwartships and drove "us sadly out of reckoninjr. A long, uncertain cruise we had of it across the night-capped waves, but at length sighted the headlands of Slumber Point, and in due time I set feet on the shore of my destination. (17) I 18 THE SAINT JOIIX OF THE FUTUliE. I inini<'(li!itt'ly found my way Ihrouu;!! Snorin.t,' A''allt'y to tlio hospi- tiihlc mansion of, my ac(|iiaiutanc(', Mr. (irand Anticipations, where 1 was made welcome for as lonir :t^ i would slay. This cosnKtpolilan j^'enlieman lived in SI. John in the years of liis youth, and I believe has' kinch-ed here at i)resent ; and of course ourcou- versulion frerjueiitly ridated to topics clusteiin!; behind that ijrim sentinel of tlie liarlior, Paitiidire Island. One day ho handed nie a l(!tter recently arrived, saying as he did so : " rerhaijs" you would enjoy perusing an epistle from the metropolis of Xew ]}runswick, showing liow things are going there V" With u " thank you."" I took the packet from his hand and read. With somewhat the same terms I say to you, my friends : Peiiiai)s you would be willing to listen to the same " epistle from the nu'tropolis of Xew Brunswick, showing how things are going there'' iuKKi-jy Eh y "Well, then, I will read it to you. Saint John, New Brunswick, Dominion Day, Jid>/ 1st, 1932. ■R. GRAND ANTICIPATIONS: My Dear Sir, — Your excellent letter of a recent date came duly to hand, its ])erusal affording me much pleasure. In reply, I most cordiolly yield to your request to write something concerning your native city for the fiftv Aears since 188'J, when you were so familiar with everything here. I ])remise at the outset that were you to pay us a visit you would liardly recogniy.e in the giant of to-day the St. John of 1882. You will remember tliut at that time we were but partially l)uilt up after the great fire of 1877, many lots not only, but tracts of the burnt district, being still heaped with the sad and blackened ruins ; many of our streets and walks had not been restored after conflagration ; many of our business iirms, if not all, had not regained their business, drawn elsewhere while we were in aslics ; our public Avorks and enterprises, schools, churches, and institutions generally, were incom})lete, feeble, or in debt. Our population (city proper) was less than 30,000. But I need not remind you of the state of things ; you will recall it, I doubt not, with vivid accuracy. Let me, therefore, place the present condition in contrast with your recollections, and thereby possibly excite your interest. Our population by the census two years ago — that is, in 1930 — was 468,000. This is seventeen times larger than it was fifty years ago ; yet, as compared with many other cities on this continent, that is not a surprising increase. Toronto has a half century of th THE SuilXT JOHN OF THE FUTURE. 19 V)l history in which she inultiplicMl more than forty-two times ; Brookl more than fifty-four times; Cincinnati more than seventy-eight times; St. Louis more tlian eigiity-nine times; while Chicaoo has an almost incredible record. Wherefore, my dear sir, it is not s(. wonderful that this good old city of St. John shoidd have multi- l»lied only seventeen times in these fifty years. Of course this ])Oj)ulation includes and occui»ies what were villages and o))en country in your day. Portland, incorjiorated many years ago, has well-nigh lost the old name ; Indiantown is no longer the wandering hamlet which you knew, but a quarter of which we are ]>roud ; Fairville is city now ; and our limits embrace several thriviuo; suburbs never heard of then. In order to accommodate such a population and breadth of corj)oration, various carrying lines were long since inaugurated, so that to-day we have horse cars along many of the old streets and several of the new, reaching l)ack to the parks. From the southern l)oint of the city, where the military barracks were in former times, we have rapid transit by a doul)le-track Elevated Railway skirting the water on both sides — by Pitt, Crown, IJrussels ami other streets on the east, and by Prince William, Dock and others on the west — making a complete circuit of the city, a train every four minutes ; also crossing the lliver at the Falls and running down well toward the salt water at Carleton Point, a train e\ery ten minutes. You will recall the old-time line of Indiantown vehicles; they went to the wall Avhen the wave of prosperity struck us, and although there, was a world of eloquent lamentations wasted over the change, the peo]>le finally rubbed their eyes wide open and saw that the age was progressive. The Micmacs, Milicetes and Fogies still occasionally speak of the cam[)hig-grounds of former times, but all that is regarded as Ancient History. To a patriarch whose boy- hood was cheered by the rattling hurdy-gurdies that used to grace the head of Market Square, these drawing-room street cars and l>alatial coaches of the Elevated Hallway seem like things of a new world; but the invincible spirit of this twentieth century is even now talking of something grander. The Ferries, too, have taken several new strides, until we have three cross-river lines; an hourly boat from just below the Falls to Partridge Island and back, stopi)ing at various piers along the route; and another that runs across the Courtenay water to Red Head and other points along the east shore. 20 THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FVTUIiE. On P!irtrioint in the former centurv, she soon became in conse- (jiience the great summer jtort. l>eside, forty or more years ago capitalists from abroad as well as at home began to see some of our immense advantages as a port, ami hence capital flowed in without stint ; soon Government also came to our help, making valuable im])rovements. And m)w step on board the launch and we will see it for our- selves. First, look al)out you on this upper water, old Indiantown harbor. You see piers everywhere, crafts from every up-country line of water-way ; twentyfohl more business than when you used to batlie, fish aiul ])lay hereabouts. Here, too, arc vessels from many a foreign country, lading and unlading at these wliarves — a sight your boyhood saw only at the docks in the harbor below. This is owing to a free ship lock built by Government, by which the Falls can be surmounted in ten minutes at any stage of the tide. Blasting has also been conducted on such a scale in the river bed and in the cliffs on either side of the Falls, that it is a safe and simple thing for craft to run the narrovvs as we are doing now. As we i)roceed you observe the unbroken line of piers between the Falls and Navy Island, where in your day were almost unbroken native shores, with perhaps one dock and a mill or two. At Navy Island the steam dredge and dynamite have again been at work, THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FrTlJliE. 21 nnrl you miss the former flats and fishiti^-frronnds. N<>w a deep, wide eliannel divides between tlie islaiwl uikI F«»rl I'oiiil, aifordiiiijc tii'teen feet of water at low tide. The flats helow the island have liecn sooojied out, the rocks broken u|> and removed, and exeellent aneliorage for vessels under eight iumdred tons exists for aen-s where in your day tlie boys waded at low tide. T*roceedini; fartlier, vour eve will be attiaeted bv tln' vast (lis- idav of dry doeks. Fifty years ago vi-ry little of this thiiii; existed. St, Jolm, wliile offerini; the l»est facilities in the world for ship repairing, had not develojied those facilities. Tint in time it eame to be understood that our hiu'h tides might be made the source of our gi-eatest enrichment. Dry doeks of stupendous dimensions were gradually constructed, fllled at high tide and emptied at low tide, thus racing her rejuvenated charms, and she glides away to sea once more, a thing of life, to tell, the white winged and steam-driven world of crafts where to find this "fountain of yoiith." In this respect St. John, with her Avonderful dry docks and high tides, is to the mercantile navies of tlie world what the famous all-healing springs are to human flesli, Tliis port is the great resort of sick shi]>s. It is less expensive, quicker and far better in the matter of injury and racking to frame and macliinery, and in good and substantial re)»airs, for a vessel needing much of a job to come here from the States, from South America, and even from England and other lands across the sea, than to stay at home for said repairs. This, then, being the discovery of this half century, turn your eye, as we proceed, where the flats of Carleton Point inside the breakwater used to be visible. Where now are the reaches of mud and the forests of fishing brush that once covered so many acres there ? Gone ; and in their place a remarkable array of dry docks and shipyards, containing scores of invalid craft, here for their health. ;l 22 THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FUTURE. But anotlier equally notable improvement you witness, as here in mid-harbor we float a few minutes and gaze around. It ir, low tide, but where are the reefs and ledges that in 1882 used to thrust their back fins out of water, like ship-eating sharks? You remember where the old harbor beacon j>erched on the rocks; you remember where the great buoy used to float; you remember what care was requisite to make our port and thread our channels without becom- ing impaled on some crouching ledge. All changed now. Govern- ment has been in here with dynamite and dredge, and now the rocks that once endangered ship]»i!ig are piled in yonder new and mighty breakwaters and storm defences. The best anchorages in our harbor for largest shijis are nc^w ]»recisely where the reefs once lay. But as we round the southern j)oint of the city you must notice the stretcli of wharf buildiuLjs on almost as tirand a scale as even Liverj»ool or New York, right into which the great ocean steamers may run and be housed while they discharge and take on passengers and carijoes, Fiftv vears at-o not one of these great structures was in existence; now our half dozen lines of Euroj)ean steamers, our dozen lines of States and coast steamers, and several South Ameri- can boats, are tlius acc(^mniodated. The Intercolonial Railway, you sec, as we turn into Courtenay Bay, has dredged the shores, remov- ing the alhivium nccumuhtted in bygone ages, and now the eastern front of the city for half a mile is lined with wharves and slips. Here, too, is another display of dry docks and shij)yards. But we have been on the boat long enough ; we will be set on shore at what was once ^larsh liridge, but so no longer now for twenty-five years. You will note the improvements here, both on water and on shore — wharves ; wide, deep channel ; shi|)yards beside which those of 1880 were ridiculous; great storage buildings; and a new era all about. Having heaid so much of the harbor, you will naturally wish me to write of the city itself; it has kept i)ace with the rest. Come and walk from the old military ground to Union Street. You find comparatively few residences ; they were needed for business, or were removed, and on their site these great business structures were erected. The residences are mostly up town, back town, or on Carlet(»n Heights. The old city limits contain less population than in 1877, fifty-five years ago. Business called for the space and the people had to yield to the demand. Thus is explained the widen- THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FUTURE. 23 ing of the new city limits and the annexing and u]i ])uildiiiir of Portland, Indiantown, etc., to afford homes for tlie out-driven people. This has been the story of all growing cities. Old London and new London comi)are as one with forty ; New York once reached to Canal Street, then to Bond, next to 85th, tlicn to 21(ith, ten miles from the point, and now perhajis to Alliany ; Phihidclpliia began on four square miles, then nine, then twenty three, and now one hundred and twenty-seven. As might be expected, raih-oads have grown and nia'j,nified with the growth and imj»oi-tance of the port. There are now tw<' shore lines — one east, one west ; a Salmon liivei- and Miramichi country line ; the great double track Intercolonial, witii its brandies, and three through trunk lines to the northern and western portions of the Dominion. Only three hours to Bathurst, instead nf eight as fifty years ago; only ten to Quebec, instead of twenty-two; only fourteen to Montreal, instead of twenty-eiglit ; oidy seventeen to Ottawa, instead of forty. And by the Suspension Bridge, with its double track, the St. John liiver has been compelled these forty-five years to keep its grip from tl;e throat of through travel. You remend)er the moist and balmy fogs of otiier days. Well, we still enjoy that luxury in this '20th century ; excejit that now- adays our immense and numerous factories witli their almost count- less smoking chimneys and steaming pipes, our iiarbor full of steam shlppi'ig, and our seventeen times more house fires and chimneys, vie with old ocean, and we never lack for a breath of almost every flavor of smoke and fog you can name. If in your old age you should j)ay a visit to the place of your nativity, you can take your choice of dainty and sparkling adulterations of atmosphere. Our manufactures are immense as com])ared with those of former days, when the cotton mills were so new here. Now we turn out in a we 3k more than the produce of a whole year then. Where then St. John loaded a car, we now loaarks of large extent, and several smaller ones of most inviting character, all readily reached by our poi)ulation on holiday and ail occasions. In those days we haei no college or university for lad or lass. The public schools and two or three private institutions absorbed 24 THE SAINT JOHN OF THE FUTUBE. the effort and ambition of our people. You may well remember the Madras and Leinster Street, where the young idea was taught to shoot ; the Victoria, which essayed to give the finishing touch to the education of our beautiful misses. Whoever would drink deeper of the Pieriar. sjtring must post to Fredericton or Sackville, to the States or bonny England. Now this, too, is changed. We ask no odds of the world in the matter of educational facilities. Our elementary schools are unsurpassed in any respect, while old Fort Howe hill V)ears a magnificent University for our young men, and on the lovely banks of Lily Lake rises a Ladies' Seminary fit for the daughters of a Queen. The frogs of fifty years ago in that vicinity have resigned the serenading business to sweeter singers. Of j)ublic libraries we then had none of anv consequence ; now the serene goddesses of Literature, Science, History and Religion preside over six such noble institutions, containing, in the .aggre- gate, hundreds of tliousands of volumes. And, my dear sir, your old time saying that St. John had least of such institutions of any equally ))roud city in all America, could hardly be uttered now. J>ut best of all I have to write, and with this my letter must close, our churches, the Y. M. C. A., and all other philanthropic enterprises seem to flourish with almost millenial i>rosj)erity. Rum and intemperance have now for many years been unknown evils among us. The jail is the most rickety, unused building in the city, while the police are getting rich in peaceful avocations, their clubs and uniforms occupying a quaint case as ancient curi- osities in the City Museum. Old Union Street Congregational Church, where you used to chance in occasionally to hear Pastors Dodds, Woodcock, Blanch- ard and others, was long ago pulled down to give [jlace to a great publisiiing house ; but another church edifice, of grand and imposing dimensions, on a more convenient site, now throws open its sacred enclosure for that i)eople, and the days of their juvenile history are no m re, — they are a mighty host for every good word and work. It would do your soul good to look in and see the few white haired remnants of the former flock amid the great concourse of other and young(!r |)eople. Ihit having wearied your i)atieiice with so long an ej>istle, and engaging to write you again in a few years, when we number a million peojde, I remain, etc., P. R. EDICTOR. now