When
you and I were young old boy, there seemed to be more romance in the world than
there is today. One thing is certain; there were fewer old maids and old
bachelors in Hamilton half a century ago. Every Jack has his Jill, and the
girls had their choice, and did not jump at the first proposal of marriage.
Probably this had a good effect on the boys and kept them in a course of moral
training that made better men of them. The old fellows of the present day are apt
to pride themselves and boast of how much better the boys were in the oden
times than now. If it gratifies their vanity, why not let them think so? One
thing is certain, there were more marriages in every thousand of the population
than there are now, and the result is that the Yankee nation has thousands of
Hamiltonians and their descendants, and Canada is that much poorer in material
wealth, because of the constant outflow of boys and girls from their native
land. Hundreds of them will come back next week to visit their old home, and
Hamilton will be dressed in its brightest carnival colours to give them a
loving welcome.
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Talking of old boys and girls awakens
memories of the past, and brings back a bit of romantic history that had a
pleasant ending though for years the sunshine was hidden behind the clouds and
two loving hearts sorrowed because of a misunderstanding such as frequently
occurs during the dreary days when young people fancy themselves madly in love
with each other. It was away back in the ‘50’s when Hamilton was laying aside
its country clothes and putting on city airs. He was a printer who worked ten
hours a day, and when Saturday came, there was no particular necessity for him
to visit a savings bank to deposit his surplus wealth, for after his board was
paid, and the other little incidentals provided, but little was left to carry
forward as a balance. She was the daughter of a well-to-do master mechanic, and
was surrounded with all the comforts and refinements of a home. The old folks
did not look kindly upon the printer as a prospective son-in-law; not but what
he was an upright and moral young fellow, and had never cultivated a taste for
high balls, but their daughter had been accustomed to a better home, and many
of the luxuries, that a printer’s salary would hardly furnish. The young people
were not so sordid, and their ideal was that love in a cottage and three meals
a day was all that they wanted to make life one sweet song of bliss.
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Life jogged along pleasantly for the
lovers and their courting days had lengthened from months into years. They were
young enough to think only of marriage as a future happiness, and he was
ambitious enough to save up to furnish a cottage and still have a hundred
dollars to fall back on should he get out of work or sickness lay its heavy
hand upon either of them. The old folks approved of the delay and began to take
more interest in the prospective son-in-law, for they reasoned that if their daughter
was satisfied to travel life’s journey hand in hand with her lover, it might be
best to let things run along smoothly. There was a picnic down in Land’s bush.
Ecclestone, the confectioner, was the caterer, and Geo. Steele and his
orchestra furnished the music for dancing. It was an all-day affair, and it is
needless to say that the young people present enjoyed every moment of the time.
But it is of the printer and his best girl that this little story has to do. A
cloud gathered over them from some hastily spoken word, and try as they could
to dispel it, they drifted further apart. It was a lovers’ quarrel, for which
neither could give a sensible reason, and on the way homeward in the evening
matters were not improved, and by the time they were ready to bid goodnight to
each other, the love of years had been forgotten and they parted in anger. The
next morning the young lady was going on a lengthened visit to some relative,
and it was long years before the two met again. Pride of heart prevented either
one from giving in, therefore there was no communication between them. By the
time she returned to Hamilton he was gone, having given up his situation, never
to return.
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When both had thought over the events
of that night, and of the foolishness that had led to the quarrel, they
repented, but neither would acknowledge to be in fault. How many lives have
drifted apart when a word would have turned the tide and brought them together.
Years passed by and the civil war in the United States broke out, and the young
man, who was then working in Chicago, was the first to volunteer when President
Lincoln called for 75,000 men. It was going to be a picnic to quell the
rebellious southerners, and teach them that only one flag should float on that
part of the American continent under the government of the United States. The
four long years of bitter war that followed dispelled the fiction. His regiment
was hurried on to Washington, and in the first battle of Bull Run, he learned
that war was not a picnic, and that it was not going to be an easy job to whip
the confederates into subjection. It is not necessary to follow him through the
four years that followed. When the three months were up, he re-enlisted for
three years, and remained with his regiment till the final guard review at
Washington in 1865, when peace was declared and the United States were again
reunited under one flag and one government. During all the years, his heart was
loyal to his first love in Hamilton, and many a time he bethought him of coming
back to visit the old home. When he left Hamilton, he burned the bridges behind
him and never wrote back. He had no relatives, the ones nearest and dearest to
him were sleeping out on Burlington Heights, waiting for the sounding of the
reveille. Naturally he thought that the only girl he ever loved or would love
had long since forgotten him and by that time was a happy wife and mother.
After the war, he drifted out west and settled on a cattle range. Everything he
touched prospered, and it was not many years till he could say with the
Psalmist; “Soul, take thine ease; thou has laid up much treasure.”
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Thirty years or more had passed from
the time he bade adieu to his native city of Hamilton, when, like the old song
of Lord Lavell; “Languishing thoughts came into his head that Hamilton he would
go to see, see, see.” His old regiment was having a reunion in the city of
Chicago, and when he was so near, it was but a few hour’s journey to Hamilton.
Arriving here, he was a stranger in the city in which he was born, and where he
had grown to manhood. The city had changed but little in appearance, for the
growth of manufactories was only beginning. King street was as natural as when
he promenaded it in the evening after a day’s work was ended. The only
innovation was the bright little Gore park which had risen out of the mud hole of
his boyhood days. The old town pump was gone. He enjoyed the change. His first
enquiry was for the parents of his lost Lenore. They had joined the silent
majority. Pushing his enquiries still further he learned that the daughter –
the only one in all this world who was dear to him – was yet single. When her
parents died, they left but a small estate, and the daughter had to turn her education
to practical use. While she still called Hamilton her home, she was engaged in
another city, and by the first train he went to her. It was a joyful meeting to
both. The history of the past thirty years was gone over. Time and again had
her hand been sought in marriage, but her hart was loyal to her boy lover, and
she mourned him as one who had passed from earth years before.
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The sequel is soon told. She resigned
her position and the pair returned to Hamilton the next day, and in the little
old church on the corner of King and Wellington streets, where they had attended
Sunday school and divine service in their childhood days, they were united in
marriage. A few old friends witnessed the ceremony that bound two loving hearts
together. In a few days they left for their home in the west, where life has
been a blessing to them. Two children have been added to their joys, and in
honour of their native city, the boy was christened Hamilton. They may return
next week with the Hamilton Old Boys and Girls who have gone out to the great
west. He has become a man of prominence in the state in which he lives, and
while loyal to his adopted country, he has never ceased to love his old
Canadian home.
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There will be rejoicing in scores of
Hamilton homes next week, for the boys and girls who went out to seek fame and
fortune will return for a few days to gladden the hearts of father and mother.
Some of the wanderers have made periodical visits back the home, while to others
it will be the first time they will walk the streets that were familiar to them
in their younger days. Many of the old boys and girls went out in the freshness
of youth in the long ago, who will come back with hair silvered and faces wrinkled.
The past may have dealt kindly with them, but the advancing years leave their
mark. People who have lived continuously in one home, from youth to old age,
cannot know the joy of the home-comers. How eagerly they look out of the car
windows as the train comes down the cut from Dundas and the bay – that beautiful
bit of water color that has dwelt in memory during all the years of absence,
and how eager they are to hear the train men call out Hamilton as they glide
into the station. Some have friends to meet them, and what hearty greetings,
while others come back almost strangers to the city where they were born, or
where they spent their younger days; their loved ones – father, mother,
brother, sister – have passed from earth to heaven, and their mortal remains
peacefully sleep out on the heights overlooking the bay. What changes have a
few years made? In this world all have their shares of joys and sorrows, and
thankful should we be that time has dealt kindly with us.
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Hamilton has reason to rejoice at the
record her sons have made since they tore themselves loose from old mother’s
apron strings and moved out into the broader world of activity. They are
filling positions of trust and responsibility in nearly every city and town in
Canada; and go across the river into that country that borders ours, and you
will find old Hamilton boys high up on the ladder of prosperity. The Great Western
railway offices and workshops were grand educational schools for the boys of
fifty years ago, and if you will look in the corporation directories in Chicago
and New York, and in other railway centres, many familiar names will catch your
eye. Not alone as railway men, but many of Hamilton’s old boys have figured in
art and literature, and its girls have made for themselves a name and position
high in the histrionic art. The large majority of the sons and daughters of
Hamilton have been successful; only the few have fallen behind in the race. A
hearty welcome awaits them next week by the old boys and girls who have not
wandered away from the fold. They are coming to a prosperous city. If it were
not for the electric power that runs everything in Hamilton, they would see the
smoke belching out of Hundreds of tall chimneys, and if next week not a sort of
general holiday – for who can work when the bands are playing and the streets
are crowded with thousands on pleasure bent – they would hear the whir of
machinery in hundreds of workshops and see thousands of men and women up to
their eyes in business and making good wages. Hamilton has got to be an
industrial city almost exclusively; it used to be the great mercantile centre
for Western Canada from which the merchants in all the villages, towns and
cities, and even the little country stores, bought their stock of goods, for we
had wholesale houses in every line in the olden time when the old boys and
girls were classed as kids – or would have been had that title been in use. “There
is no place like home,” sadly and sweetly sang Howard Payne, the wanderer in
foreign land. Memory goes back to childhood, when the old band played “Home,
Sweet Home,” when concert companies sang it in the old market house (where now
stands the present city hall), and the boys and girls sang it on moonlight
excursions out on the bay. May the home-comers take back with them sweet and
pleasant memories of the few days spent in Hamilton.
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