1915-03-20oo

Digging up historical reminiscences is often better work than trying to write them, for then we get recollections of others. In the year 1883, when Frederick W. Fearman had rounded out fifty years’ residence in Hamilton, his wrote a very interesting story of events, dating back to the year 18-2. These will be interesting reading, not only to the old stagers but to the younger generations. It proceeds as follows :

“Fifty years ago this month in 1833, our family came from Norfolk, England in the New Post packet ship Ontario. We were on the ocean six weeks, and two weeks on the Erie canal to Oswego. Then we took passage on a schooner to Port Dalhousie, and from thence to Hamilton in royal style on a farmer’s hayrack. Hamilton was but a small place then. There were but three brick houses in it, and the bush came to the corner of Wellington and King. Wellington street was called Lover’s Lane. It was beautifully shaded with forest trees at that time, and for some years after. Mr. Peter Hamilton’s fields reached down John street close to the wood market, and the boys used to have grand times gathering hickory nuts. His residence was on the spot where Mr. W. Hendrie now lives, and the farm gate was on Main street. At Dundurn, the woods commenced again, and there was a crooked, narrow sandy road to the old bridge. Splendid duck shooting was to be had at the heights; black duck, mallard, teal and now and then a canvasback. Redheads and coweens were not carried home in those days. Thousands of wild pigeons also would fly over this place, as they would come up to the high ground from over the lake and bay, they could be knocked down by sticks or shot by the hundreds. This bird seems to have left this part of the country altogether now.

“On the southeast side of the city, there were but very few houses south of Main street. The old Springer homestead was located near thecorner of Hunter and Spring streets, and in the fall, in cider-making time, it was the spot where the boys most did congregate, and good long straws were in requisition. The lakeside was, in summer, a busy place then, as the wharves were building, and there were a good many hotels down there. Some of them have disappeared. The old hospital is one of them., and the Burlington glass works is another, and the roughcast building on the corner of Macnab and Burlington streets another, but the glory of that locality has departed. The opening of the Great Western railway changed the travel and traffic to other parts of the city. Hamilton was noted for its dust and dirt. On a windy day, it was almost unbearable.The clouds of dust would sweep down York and King and Main streets so as to put a stop to business and all trades suffered very much from this cause. It was after one of those days that I wrote a petition to the mayor to call a meeting to take into consideration what was the best plan to provide water for the city. The meeting was held. John Fisher, mayor, was chairman, myself secretary,  and from that meeting sprang our waterworks, which have been such vast benefit to the community.

“The Gore was a very Sahara – dust, sand and mud the most of the year. I have seen this spot nearly filled with long, white-covered emigrant wagons, on their way from the eastern states to the then far west of Illinois, Western Ohio and Indiana. They would come there for the night with their cattle and horses, sleep in the wagons or prairie schooners, as we used to call them, and at break of day, they were gone. Next evening, another lot would be resting there. What has been the result of this immigration? Look at the cities, towns and farms of these states today. I was told then that the farm was sold to the first man on it for one dollar an acre, and if not taken up the first year, after survey, then 75 cents, next 50 cents, and if not taken up them, they were called swamp lands, and sold to anyone who would give 25 cents an acre for them. But the first sale was to actual settlers only. It is evident that the railway scoops, temperance society society grabs, and ministerial boomers had not then come into existence, as almost all the tillable land of those states was taken up by actual settlers. I remember the day of the Queen’s coronation. It was the first celebration of the kind held here, and a jolly time we had – bonfires and fireworks of a primitive kind. I don’t think we had any firecrackers. Anyway,  the boys were better than they are now, and wouldn’t use if they had. There were some hotels of note. The old Promenade house was the principal one. It stood where the Bank of British North America stands now. It was the stage house. The arrival and departure of the stage was quite an event, and caused a great stir, as it was the most rapid and stylish mode of travel. This house was also the resort of commercial men, and the host (Burly) was well known by all travelers. The Cambria house was kept by a Mr. Cattermode, who was also an emigrant agent, whose books were very severely commented upon, as he, like those of that ilk of the day, was apt to draw the long bow. The house was situated at the corner of John and Main streets, and was principally patronized by old country emigrants of the better sort, and it was celebrated as a place where they got rid of a good deal of money and a good deal of whiskey which could be had pure at 16 cents a gallon. There was also another hotel on the spot where Wanzer’s factory is now, kept by Mr. Chatfield, and it was noted as the house where all the big bugs were put up, and at that time we stayed our first night in Hamilton. It was found on that occasion that individuals did reside at this establishment, and they nearly ate us up, and the reputation was a correct one.

“There is now but one building on the Gore that was there then – I mean D. Moore Co.’s on King street east. The buildings in this section were all of one or two stories, of wood. I do not know of but two men who are in business now who were doing business then, and they are John Winer and Dennis Moore. All have passed away, and I now find more names of acquaintances in our city than I can in the city. Such is life.

“Times were hard soon after this. In ’34, ’35 and ’36, business was bad; no money, prices were low. All trade and truck; no cash for anything. The storekeepers used to print their own shinplasters, and each run a bank of his own. He was president, and board of directors both, until the government put a stop to it. Wages were very low. Laboring men, 50 cents to 75 cents per day, or less. Mechanics, not much more, paid in truck. Produce was very cheap. Butter 7 to 9 cents; eggs, 5 cents; whitefish 3 to 4 large ones for a quarter; potatoes 15 cents a bushel, wood $1 to $2 a cord, meats, grains and flour equally low, but still hard to get, as there was no trade, business or money.  General discontent prevailed, and the Rebellions of ’37 took place. The Family Compact were wiped out; responsible government became a fact, and the country prospered.

“Some years after this, the Indians surrended the townships of Seneca and Oneida, and they were surveyed and sold to actual settlers at $4 and $5 an acre. The lands were taken up at once, and many of the lands were paid for by half the pine timber on them. I helped survey this land under Mr. Kirkpatrick, P.L.S. I mention this to show the extraordinary rise in the value of timber since then. These fine large pines were often sold at from $1 to $2 apiece. Mr. Bradley, of the city, informs me that he pays from $80 to $1000 for each of them. There was plenty of very fine walnut , also cut into lumber at $15 and $20 a thousand, which is now worth $100 for the same quantity, and none to be had in this locality. These lands are now worth from $50 to $80 an acre.

“The churches were few and far between. Old King street Methodist was in use, although I have seen it full of sheep since then. It was afterwards repaired and used for divine service. There were no Episcopal, Presbyterian, or Catholic churches here. Rev. Mr. Geddes used the court house. As to schools, I first went to a school called ‘Miss Sewell’s Select Ladies’ Establishment’, where a few lads were admitted. It was kept on the corner of King and Walnut streets. I think the name is on it still, and the building has not had a coat of paint since then. A Mr. Randall also had a large school in the old Cambria house on John street, lately pulled down by Mr. Hoodless. Mr. Randall was a club-footed man, but could throw a ruler straighter than a shot. Most of the teachers then were men who were unable to make a living in any other way. I often think of them in comparison with the twelve schools, the 116 teachers and 6,000 scholars of Hamilton today. I give you a few extracts from the early public school records of a later date : ‘The earliest data of the public schools in this city go back to 1847 – a period of 36 years. At that time,

the city was divided into six sections each of which there was one schoolhouse, containing one school room, presided over by one school teacher. One of those schools is described as good, four as midling, and one as inferior. Two were 18 by 20 feet, and two 22 by 24 feet.The houses were all frame buildings, four in ordinary repair, two in bad repair. All were suitably provided with desks and seats, according to the idea of the time, four had special arrangements for ventilation, not one had a playground. Of these six school buildings, only one was owned by the board, the others were rented. There were no fewer than 28 private schools in Hamilton; today there are not two worthy of the name. Central opened in 1853, preparations occupied three years.’

“I do not remember by one wholesale house. This was Colin C. Ferrie and company’s, a large, white clapboard structure on the corner of King and Hughson, where the Bank of Commerce is situated. They did quite a large business. The manufacturers were slim. There was a Mr. Harris’ gun maker, where Myles’ coal office stands, and he would perhaps turn out a gun or rifle a month, but they were noted as good articles. There was also a man, on the corner of John and Jackson streets, known for making good augers, and I guess he could turn out a dozen or so in the year. There were no railways. The first railroad meeting was held on the wood market, on John street, and an ox was roasted, or rather warmed, as when it was cut up was as raw as an east wind, and used as a baseball now; the catchers, however, coming off the worst. Long since then I have been 24 hours on the road between the Falls and here, and travel all the time, and twelve to fourteen hours between here and Toronto. I think that the first steamer we had was the John By, a small craft that was afterwards wrecked on Marygold Point, across the lake. When she came in at Land’s wharf, where the H. & N. W. elevators is now, there was quite a commotion.

“Now all this is changed. We live in the best age the world ever saw. An age of steam railways, telegraphs, telephones, quick transit and passage, low postage and a greater share of comforts to the whole people; less political wrangles and greater catholicity of spirit amongst the different denominations of the land : churches and schools everywhere, and a regard for the Sabbath that is observable by everybody. Our merchants and manufacturers, with equal railway facilities, ask odds from no one. They are princes in their calling, and their motto is, as it always has been, ‘I advance.’ I consider Hamilton to be the most pleasantly and favorably situated city in Canada. Its location at the brink of the lake and bay is beautiful. It is now clean and well-provided with water, and there are as fine buildings, residences, churches and public offices as are to be found anywhere, and also thousands of houses that are principally owned by the people who live in them – built out of their earnings since they came here. Most of the streets are well-planted with shade trees and well-dranied. The soil is excellent. All varieties of fruit and vegetables suitable to this climate are grown here and vicinity to perfection, as our market will demonstrate. I joined with a few of the people on Park street in planting the first street with shade trees and now almost all the private streets are planted with them. We have copied a good deal in the matter from the States, and we have considerable to learn. The habit of throwing old boots, stovepipes, etc.into the street will have to be got rid, many of the ugly high fences taken away, and the old leaves from trees swept  up tidily, good asphalt sidewalks provided, and the streets kept in better repair, and last and most important of all, two or more good parks set apart and made free to the people before we can be called a first-class city. I hope to see this done. We had once the opportunity to purchase Dundurn for less than $25,000. It was prevented by a few who would oppose any improvement, and though we could have been greatly benefitted by the purchase, the opportunity was lost, and now we must do the next best thing.”

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It is like looking backward into some other world to read Mr. Fearman’s letter, written thirty-three years ago, of incidents occupying in Hamilton away back in 1833. Probably no man in his day knew more about Hamilton than did Mr. Fearman. For long years, he was connected with its business and social interests, and he organized a business, now conducted by his sons, that was not only profitable to himself, but of great value to producers on the farm and to city consumers. Such a letter should not be lost or forgotten in the future history of Hamilton, and therefore we gave it a place in the Saturday Musings.  

 

1915-05-08ak

A Methodist minister in this city on last Sunday preached a practical sermon on giving help to others. He quoted that passage which tells us that we brought nothing into the world and we take nothing out of it, therefore the folly of hoarding up money for others to squander. While it is true that we can take nothing out of this world, yet it is a duty as well as a pleasure we owe to ourselves as well as to those dependent upon us to lay by a portion of our earnings as we journey through life, so that when age or infirmity come upon us we will not have to call upon the city for relief. And if there is no one depending upon us, or if we have to leave it to distant relatives, what a delightful scramble they have over it, and what pickings there are for the lawyers! An old bachelor married a young woman whose home was within sound of St. Paul’s chimes. It was a case of May and December, but December had the wealth and May had youth and good looks. The old man left quite a fortune to his young wife, and, besides that, her husband’s brother left a few thousands which came to her. But a cousin of her husband’s, two or three times removed, hankered after some of her wealth, and she butted with a lawsuit when the will was being probated, declaring that the old man was not as sound of mind as he ought to be, and the result was two or three years’ delay, a bench of judges, and all the lawyers that could possibly get into the case, all doing their level best to beat the young widow. To make a long story short, the case was finally settled by the payment of a certain amount to the cousin, $15,000 court expenses, and a few of the thousands to the lawyers. It is a hard matter to make a will that will stick, so after all, so after it was not bad advice the parson gave when he suggested that to spend a little in benevolence as one passes through life is not an bad idea. Captain J. R. Foraker, of the United States army, made a will in 1910, dividing his estate among his sisters and a brother. A year or two afterward, the captain got married, but neglected to make a new will or provide for his young wife, and when he died recently, the will came to be probated, and his father, formerly Senator of Ohio, and his sisters and brothers learned for the first time of its conditions. Did they grab the estate, which amounted to $50,000, and leave the young wife penniless? Not much. They promptly signed a voluntary waiver by which they relinquished all claim to the estate, and the father is administering the will in the interest of his daughter-in-law.

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Albert Bigelow, at one time a leading merchant in Hamilton, brought nothing into the world, nor even to the city of Hamilton when he came into it a young man from his home across the seas. He began his business life in this city in a humble way, but by careful management he accumulated a fortune of over $86,000 in the crockery business. His store was on the south side of King street, between James and Hughson. Albert Bigelow was an active man in the affairs of this city sixty and seventy years ago. He was not much of a mixer among men outside of business matters, but was always liberal in giving to worthy objects. He kept a bachelor’s home on upper James street, and one of his greatest pleasures was to lay in a hammock, swung on the verandah of his home, and keep time to the sound of the chimes of the Church of the Ascension. Richard Juson, who owned the nail factory on the corner of Cannon and Hughson streets, and also a hardware store on James street, where now stands J. W. Robinson’s department store, was one of the leading members of Ascension church, and presented the church with a chime of bells, but through an error somewhere one of the bells was left out. Albert Bigelow was a Presbyterian, and he had a horror of a chime of bells, as much so as did the ancient Presbyterians object to the introduction of a “kist of whistles” into the services of the church. But the chimes grated harshly on his ears on the calm summer Sabbath mornings, and he would lay in his hammock and keep time to the Runic rhyme of the bells. “Damn-Dick-Juson-and-his-chime-of-bells!” The good angel no doubt marked out that little damn, considering his beneficent gifts to the three homes for poor children which were then in existence in this city. We have heretofore given a brief history of Mr. Bigelow, so it will not be necessary to retell the story. On the 5^th of July, 1873, Albert Bigelow thought it about time to settle his worldy affairs according to his wishes, so that there would not be any litigation about the disposition of his property after he would pass away. He had neither wife, nor children, having spent his life as a single man. It used to be told of him that in his youthful days, he loved a beautiful girl and that all arrangements were made for their marriage when the angel of death called her home. He never loved again. Mr. Bigelow selected as executors of his estate two prudent men, T. M. McKenzie, of Dundas, and William Proudfoot, one of the leading attorneys in Hamilton, having full confidence in their business ability that the trust would be carefully handled. He had two sisters living in the city of New York, and to each of them he willed $10,000, and to his faithful housekeeper, Margaret Hefferman, he left $1,000. The balance of the estate, amounting to $65,106, after the repayment of the court costs and the fees for the administrators, was to be divided equally between the Childrens’ industrial school, the Hamilton Orphan asylum, and the Boys’ Home. The Industrial school is now known as the Girls’ home, 179 George street, the orphan asylum is now known as the Aged Woman’s Home, 195 Wellington street, the Boys’ home has kept its original name. Nearly $60,000 was divided among these institutions through the beneficence of Mr. Bigelow, and yet the name of the generous donor has long since been forgotten, and as none of the anniversary occasions is even mention made of him. Rip Van Winkle said after his twenty years’ sleep in the Katskill mountains, on his return to the village of Falling Waters, ‘How soon we are forgotten when we are gone.’

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One day last week the board of managers of the Aged Women’s home invited the public to attend the dedication of the new wing that had lately been completed to the building. This enlargement now increases the accommodation so that fifty or more old ladies will have a happy home in which to spend the remaining years of life. It was through the benevolence of Mrs. John Thompson, who died recently, that this was made possible at this time. Mrs. Thompson provided in her will a gift of $10,000 for the enlargement of the home, and an additional sum as a trust fund, the interest of which was to pay the entrance fee of old ladies without money or friends to pay for them. What better use could the kind-hearted Mrs. Thompson make of her money than to provide for the comfort of those who might otherwise be homeless. It beats giving to foreign missions. The other day when William Vallance’s will was probated, the Aged Women’s home was not forgotten, for he left $1,000 towards its endowment fund. The management of the home is in the hands of a careful board of trustees of men and women, who not only give of their time, but are generous givers of money. They will always be glad to receive gifts of money to perpetuate one of the best institutions in the city.

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The Aged Women’s Home, with the new wing added, is said to be one of the finest homes of the kind in Canada, and the manner in which it is conducted and provided for is a credit to the thoughtfulness of the men and women who have been its managers from the day it first opened  its doors for the admission of its first occupants. Every comfort that money can supply is provided for the dear old ladies, who otherwise might have suffered because of their lonely condition. Mrs. W. C. Brekenridge, who has been an active members of the board of managers for many years, read a very interesting history of the institution from its beginning. While the names of some of the early donors to the home are recorded in the minutes, from which Mrs. Brekenridge briefly quotes, no mention whatever is made of the liberal donation made by Albert Bigelow, which we learn amounted to over $17,000. Everybody in the early days was interested in the orphan asylum, and liberal donations were made. As the cost of the new wing was greater than Mrs. Thompson provided for in her will, the managers have a deficit of some $6,000 to provide for.

Here is Mrs. Brekenridge’s paper :

The erection of our new wing has led to many questions being asked regarding the history of this building. There seems to an impression with not a few that this home was once a private residence, so perhaps a few extracts from our early records may be of interest at this meeting.

The Ladies’ Benevolent society was organized in 1846, and in 1848, these ladies established an orphan asylum, and in connection with it a day school for the children of the poor. Through the ravages of the cholera in 1847 there were many destitute orphans left upon the town who found a home in the orphan asylum, and over 100 children attended the day school; and we read that the public examinations at Christmas in the city hall, showed the progress both in religious and in general knowledge the children were gaining. With such numbers there was urgent need for a larger building, and in 1851, the mayor, John Fisher, gave 100 pounds toward the erection of an orphan asylum. There were also donations of 20 pounds from John street Presbyterian church, 35 pounds surplus fund from the Hamilton assemblies, and 10 pounds, 5 shillings from the Historic society. In all, 681 pounds and 2 pence were subscribed, and the building committee – Sheriff Thomas, John Fisher, John Young and Edward Jackson – elected the site where we now are.

In the fall of 1854, the building we now occupy was completed at a cost of 1,602 pounds, 12 shillings and 7 ½ pence, Mr. Fisher adding to his first gift 94 pounds for fences and outbuildings, and Nehemiah Ford 10 towards the cost of painting and glazing. The churches – Wesleyan, Knox, St. Andrew, Christ, Ascension and Park street and John  street Baptists – sent their contributions to the work, and 8 pounds, 2 shillings and 6 pence were received from the firemen’s ball. Through the influence of Sir Allan Macnab, M. L. A., the first grant of 100 pounds was received from the government. In 1854, free education having been provided by the city council and the Central school opened, the day school for destitute children (or, as it was then called, the destitute school) was given up and the orphans received the undivided attention of the valuable superintendent and matron, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. The work of the Benevolent society was actively carried on. Over 5,000 loaves of bread, 161 cords of wood, groceries, bedding and clothing were given to those in need.

The work was then, as now, supported by the generosity of the public.  In 1850, the ward collections amounted to over 200 pounds, and in 1854, in addition to the Building Fund, there were donations of almost 600 pounds.

These few extracts taken from the records of 60 years ago are perhaps of greatest interest to those among us to whom the names of the early workers in this society bring remembrance of kindred and friends.

In 1877, through the bequest from Mrs. Edward Jackson, who had been treasurer from the beginning of the society, with the addition of money bequeathed to the home years previously by Mrs. Hess, additions and alterations were made for the Aged Women’s home department of our work.

In the intervening years, changed conditions brought changes in the character of our work. Many societies have arisen for the care of the poor. The orphan now finds a home through the work of the Children’s Aid society, and to us remains the care of the aged and infirm.

The outstanding events of this year’s work have been given to you in the reports just received, with an account of the receipts and expenditures.

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On last Sunday the congregation of the Macnab street Presbyterian church celebrated the sixtieth anniversary of its organization, and a brief sketch of its history in these musings may not be out of place. Nearly ninety years ago, the first Presbyterian congregation was organized in this city, and a frame church was built on John street, about the middle of the block where the Gurneys afterward built their foundry. The members were mainly composed of Americans, and the church was known as the Revival Presbyterian. John Fisher and Dr. Calvin McQuesten, proprietors of the first foundry built in Hamilton, on the site where now stands the Royal hotel, and J. P. Dickerman, were the founders of the church, and the Rev. David Marsh was its first pastor. Dr. Marsh continued   as pastor until 1835, when he was succeeded by the Rev. Mr. Firman, who was pastor for about three years, and shortly afterward the church ceased to exist. When the Methodists decided upon having a central church down town, for the King street church was then far out, being on the corner of King and Wellington streets, a number of members  from the King street church leased the White church on John street, as the Revival Presbyterian was then known by that name, and what is now the Wesley church was organized. In the year 1833, the Rev. Alexander Gale, at the invitation of seven persons, two of whom were Episcopalians , came to Hamilton, and he held his first service in a private home, the small congregation sitting around a table. In 1835, a frame building was built on the site now occupied by St. Paul’s, and in this building Mr. Gale preached acceptably until 1844, when the church in Canada was divided, and he severed his connection with the Church of Scotland, and was one of the twenty-three ministers who organized the Presbyterian church of Canada. The majority of the congregation of St. Andrew seceded with their pastor, and out of this condition Knox church was organized, the building on James north being erected in 1845, the cornerstone of which was laid by the Hon. Issac Buchanan. Mr. Gale occupied the pulpit of Know church until 1847, when he accepted the chair of classical literature in Knox college, Toronto. Two other ministers succeeded Mr. Gale as pastors of Knox church, and in 1854, the Rev. Robert Irvine was inducted as pastor.

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The congregation of Knox church being too large for the building, it was decided to buy a lot in the south end, and Adam Cook, Robert Ewing and Donald McLellan were appointed a committee to open a mission, and the present location of the Maccnab street church was selected. The congregation was organized on the 29^th of August, 1854, and the first regular service was held in the old mechanics’ hall, now the Arcade department store. Forty-six members united in the first communion service. Before the close of the year, a house of worship, capable of accommodating four hundred people was built, only six weeks having been occupied in its erection. In a little more than a year the house was found to be too small to accommodate the increasing congregation, and in April, 1856, the cornerstone of the present church was laid by the Hon. Issac Buchanan, and it was dedicated in June the following year. The American Presbyterian organization on John street, having sold its property, the proceeds amounting to $6,000, were donated to the Macnab street congregation towards its building fund.

When the disruption in the Church of Scotland took place, the congregations which espoused the cause of the Free church were left without houses of worship. Mr. Buchanan, who was then the wealthiest merchant in Hamilton, announced that he would give $250 to every congregation which would built a church, the condition being that it should be called Knox. When Knox college was established in 1845, Mr. Buchanan gave a liberal sum towards its building fund.

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The Rev. David Inglis was the first settled pastor of Macnab street Presbyterian church. Previous to coming to Hamilton, he was pastor of St. Gabriel’s church, Montreal. In 1855, he began his pastorate in Hamilton, and served the congregation till 1871, when he was called to the chair of the systematic theology in Knox college. He was one of the most lovable men occupying a pulpit in this city, and his congregations on Sunday night were largely made up of young people who were drifters, having no special church home. He had the happy faculty of drawing this class to him and finally, many of them became members of his church. This Old Muser often heard Mr. Inglis, and even till this day we have pleasant recollections of the sermons he preached. When the new central school was opened, with Dr. Sangster as head master, every Friday afternoons was given to religious instruction of the children. The minsters of the city took it by turns to talk to the children, and when it came Mr. Inglis’ afternoon the scholars were delighted because they loved to listen to him. One of the old boys told the Muser that he had never forgotten the kindly manner of Mr. Inglis, and, often, when as a boy, when he was tempted to do some foolish act, he would be restrained because he thought Mr. Inglis might not approve of it. Mr. Inglis had the love and respect, not only of his own congregation, and when he resigned his pastorate here to go as a professor to Knox college, a farewell was tendered to him in Centenary  Methodist church, at which all denominations were represented, and he was presented with an address and a purse of one thousand dollars in gold. He only remained with Knox college for a year, when his ability as a preacher attracted the attention of the Dutch Reform church in Brooklyn, New York, to which he accepted a call, and remained there till he was called up higher by the Master.

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The Rev. D. H. Fletcher, who was then a young minister at Scarboro, Ontario, where he had labored for 12 years, was then called by the Macnab street church in February, 1872, and was inducted into the pastorate in the following May. When his alma mater conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity, upon his return home the congregation gave him a cordial welcome and presented him with an address. The young people of the church also took part in the pleasant services, and added as their mite a valuable gold watch, which the good doctor always prized. On the 25^th anniversary of Dr. Fletcher’s pastorate, the congregation showed him their good wishes by presenting him with an address and a purse of $800 in gold. At the close of the year 1904, Dr. Fletcher resigned the pastorate, which was accepted the following January. The congregation in appreciation of Dr. Fletcher’s log pastorate provided in part for his future by making him an annual allowance of five hundred dollars a year.

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It is not often in these days of changes that a congregation will sit for fifty years under the ministrations of only two ministers This the Macnab street congregation has done. Mr. Inglis and Dr. Fletcher rounded out fifty years, and now the third minster, the Rev. H. B. A. Ketchen, has put in ten years of his ministry with the people of Hamilton. He came here as a young man, this being his first charge, and the congregation have taken so kindly to him that the prospect is good for him to spend the remainder of his ministerial days here. It is like getting back to the old days of Presbyterianism where the pastor begins his work when a young man with his first or second congregation, christening the babies, taking them into church membership at the proper time, and when the summons comes standing by the grave to say farewell and speak words of comfort to those who mourn. Mr. Ketchen is a preacher of ability and under his ministrations the congregation keeps on growing, and by-and-by the church may get too small to accommodate the increase.

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Macnab street church has been a blessing with liberal givers all through its history. When a new Sabbath school room, or a new vestry was needed, this money was forthcoming, and when a bell was thought necessary and an organ for the church, generous men and women furnished the necessary funds. The bell was the gift of James McMillan of Detroit, who in his youth attended the church. The handsome manse, costing $4,000 was built during the last year of Mr. Inglis’ pastorate, and was occupied by his family.

Of the original membership of the church and who partook of the first communion service held in the Mechanics’ hall, only two survive – Mrs. J. R. Cook and John Taylor. Macnab street church is the mother of two churches, St. John on the corner of Emerald and King street, and St. James, on Locke street.

 

 

1915-03-27

In giving our recollections of the Desjardins canal accident which occurred on the evening of March 12, 1857, the Muser endeavored to tell the story as correct as memory would help, yet two or three minor errors may have crept in, but nothing serious to mar the historical part. Memory at times plays it false; but think of nearly sixty years having elapsed since that memorable night, and is it any wonder that one is apt to get confused? How many people living in Hamilton today, who were her sixty years ago, can remember clearly every incident connected with the accident? We do not claim to be immaculate in writing these Musings for we are but human after all. A correspondent to the Spectator last week attempted to correct what he deemed was an error in our statement that the cause of the accident was the shifting f the bridge a few inches so that the rails on the bridge were out of gear with the rails on the main line, thus sending the engine bumping across the ties, cutting the ties and weakening them. The Spectator correspondent got his story secondhand from his father, probably years afterward. To corroborate our statement, a gentleman who was then living in Dundas was coming by train to Hamilton shortly after the new bridge had been built across the canal when the bridge veered a few inches from the rails of the main line and the engine left the track and went bumping on the ties. Fortunately, the driver was running slow and was able to check his engine immediately. The cars remained on the track, the coupling of the engine breaking away from the train, thus preventing a second accident which would have been even more disastrous than the first, for there were more cars in the train. The swing bridge was considered unsafe, for it was liable to be moved a few inches by the wind blowing down the valley. It was a short time afterward that the Great Western made terms with the people of Dundas to have a permanent bridge built across the canal. It put an end to steamboats and sailing craft running up to Dundas through the canal, and took from Dundas the proud distinction of being the head of the lake. It was a loss to Dundas as a shipping point.

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          One night last week, a vagrant was arrested on Broadway, New York, for begging. Five years ago, the young man’s father died leaving him a fortune of half a million dollars. While the money lasted the son lived high, but the time came when he parted with his last dollar. He was well-educated and a graduate of a university. He had a rich father and there was no need for him to work, and while the father lived, he was liberally supported with pocket money. Brought up in idleness, when his fortune came to him on the death of his father, he had formed dissolute habits that unfitted him for any employment, he ran the pace while the money lasted and ended in being arrested as a street vagrant. Money is a blessing when rightfully used by its possessor, but a curse when squandered in riotous living. More than one bright young fellow in Hamilton has gone down to his grave in poverty who began life with every promise of usefulness. The old registers in the house of refuge would disclose some startling secrets. The young man who takes an occasional glass of liquor never thinks of where that appetite will land him. He scouts the idea that he will ever become a drunkard or a vagrant. He thinks he can control himself; and probably he does for a few years, but the appetite increases slowly but surely till at last he becomes an outcast. His friends may strive with him for a time, but constant dropping will wear a stone, and their patience gives out. He is joined to his idols; let him alone. While his mother lives, he has a friend, no matter how debased he may become, but when death releases her from the disgrace and sorrow of a drunken son, his last hope is gone! Think of the young man of whom mention is made in this item spending half a million dollars in five years in strong drink and riotous living, and at the end spending the night in a police station for begging in the streets for five cents to buy a drink to quench his thirst!

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          Every now and then the question arises as to who was the first white man that settled at the Head of the Lake. The Beasley family claim the honor for their illustrious predecessor, Colonel Richard Beasley; then along come the descendants of Colonel Robert Land with proof that can hardly be doubted, claiming the honor for the colonel, and there you are. Daniel Defoe wrote a very interesting story in the long ago about a shipwrecked sailor, Alexander Selkirk by name, the title of the book being Robinson Crusoe, a castaway on a desert island, who boldly proclaimed himself as monarch of all his surveyed, and nobody to dispute his rights, when along came one day a savage brother whom Robinson Crusoe christened Man Friday, to dispute the ownership of the island and likely would have made a meal of poor Robinson if the quick-witted sailor had not climbed into his fort and pulled the ladder after him. In course of time, Robinson Crusoe patched up a peace with his savage brother, and no doubt they agreed not to disagree about which it was that claimed priority to the discovery of the island, but they lived on in their solitude till such time as an exploring party came along and rescued them. Now, this may be a parallel case with the Beasley and the Land occupancy of the Head of the Lake. Colonel Beasley came in at the west end of the Head of Lake and Colonel Land came in at the east end, and they may have come in about the same time, and neither knew that there was another white man on these shores. At any rate, there is no documentary proof of who was first, and the only way out of the difficulty is for the Beasleys and the Lands to get together and shoot craps for the title of being the descendants of the first white man that tread the virgin soil of the settlement called the Head of the Lake. Ancient history cannot always be relied on, as recent events have shown. Defoe in his novel tells us that the island on which the shipwrecked sailor spent many years of his life was down in Chile, and was named in history as Juan Fernandez. Who that has read the capitivating story of Robinson Crusoe will ever forget Robinson and his man Friday, and what a lonely life it was for the first white man that set foot on that lonely island. The boys and girls of the present age know naught of the thrilling description, for they do not read high-class literature of the bygone age. They can tell you all about bridge, whist or the latest thrillers in the movies, but ask them about Jack, the Giant Killer, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, the Swiss Family Robinson, or even Old Mother Goose’s Melodies and they will promptly tell you that they never heard of such characters. It is nip and tuck if they ever read Dickens or Thackery, or any other the other standard story writers. The Penny Dreadfuls sre good enough for them. Well, to get back to where we started, history will not always do to bet on, for along comes some fellow who thinks he knows more than the original author of the story and the whole thing is knocked into a cracked hat. Defoe told us that Robinson Crusoe was the first white man that inhabited the island of Juan Fernandez, and along comes a newspaper reporter the other day and makes the broad statement that Dan did not know what he was talking about. You that have kept in touch with the reports about the Dresden, a German war vessel, being chased into the harbor of Juan Fernandez, and there found a watery grave, will remember that the newspaper fellows tore to piece’s DEefoe’s story, which was written before any of them were born, for Daniel Defoe has been dead awhile now, and his body lies in a vault in Bunhill Fields, in the City road, London, England, with all the other literary and historical characters of his day. They tell us now that Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday never lived on that island, and that the old story is either a myth or a pipe dream of the ancient author. Well, what is one going to do, when such iconoclasts are already giving history a black eye ?

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          And here we are again at the point from which we started, and still the question arises, was Colonel Beasley or Colonel Land the first white man who tramped the wild grass that grew so luxuriantly at the Head of the Lake? Some of the ancient red men, who used to fish in the bay or scalped white men who out on a little frolic might be able to decide it; but they are all dead now. The records in the county registrar’s office ought to tell the story, for in them are the names of the early settlers from the days when the U. E. Loyalists hiked from the country across the Niagara river. The other day the Muser thought he would go to the fountain head of information and made an early morning call on the young ladies who faithfully guard these ancient records and find out which was which. They searched the musty tomes, beginning with the letter B and then on through L. The first entry made by Colonel Beasley was the land now known as Dundurn park in the year 1790. Matthew Cain located on the first concession in 1798, and these was afterward deeded to one of the Lands in 1800. The registrar’s books could not settle the question as Colonel Land may have entered his land on a squatter’s title before the government survey was made. The earliest history we have of Colonel Beasley is given in Mrs. Simcoe’s diary, which has been put in readable shape by John R. Robinson, the Toronto editor, who can tell you all about the building of Solomon’s Temple and of Freemasonry in Hamilton. In Mrs. Simcoe’s diary, the claim is put forth flat-footed that Colonel Beasley was the first settler at the Head of the Lake. Nowhere is the descendants of Colonel Land’s chance to call on John B. Robinson to prove and settle forever this vexed question. Colonel Beasley was an Indian trader, but none of his descendants that are now living can tell from whence he came. All they know is that he was the owner of Dundurn park, when it was part of the forest, washed at its base by the waters of the bay, or Macassa as it was called by the Indians. It is stated that the house of Richard Beasley was west of the present site of Dundurn Castle, and that the building was afterward incorporated with the castle; but this is not likely, as the first dwelling must have been built of logs, and the west end of the castle is of brick. It is hardly possible that there was a brick building in this section in those early days. The so-called castle is a substantial brick building and well-proportioned. Senator McInnes, the last owner of Dundurn Castle told our informant that the stone building at the western part of the castle, once used as a gymnasium, was built prior to the main structure. The descendants of the Beasley family claim that the colonel moved into his house at Dundurn immediately after his arrival at the Head of the Lake, and that his sons, Richard, George, David C. and Henry were borne in the house, the last born in 1793. Without documentary evidence, it is believed that the colonel’s first home was on the site of Coote’s Paradise, so-called from a Captain Coote, who spent a great deal of his time duck shooting in the marsh below the hill, which abounded with wild fowl and tortoises. Governor and Mrs. Simcoe were frequent guests of Colonel and Mrs. Beasley.

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          Teach the boys and girls to be loyal to the flag of their country. In the United States, the Stars and Stripes is raised every morning at the school house and at the close of the day, it is hauled down with all the pomp and ceremony observed by the army and navy. When the flag is raised one verse of the Star-Spangled Banner is sung by the children, and the same is done when the flag is lowered in the evening. The children enter into the spirit of it, and it brings them closer to the flag than it would be possible by any other means. No wonder that our Canadians call the Americans flag-worshippers, for it is instilled into the heart of an American child from its birth. When the civil war began in the United States in 1861, there were less than 25,000 soldiers to defend the flag. Within a week from the time President issued his call for 75,000 men, the call was answered by twice and thrice 75,000, and there was sore disappointment to those who were not mustered into the service. In Cincinnati, this old Muser was employed by the Daily Enquirer, and from that one building alone nearly fifty men gave up good-paying situations and took the oath as volunteers for $11 a month. The Muser heard the call of Father Abraham and responded with the others. Within a day or two, more than two hundred printers had signed the roll, and two companies of printers went out with the first two regiments, the Fifth and Sixth Ohio. Before the war ended nearly three million men were on the firing line in the northern army, and at least half that number under the Confederate flag. Those volunteers had been taught from childhood, Hats off to the Flag! The boy scouts in Canada are being taught , Hats off to the Flag! And the time may come when the lesson taught now may be of value to their native land. The derisive term, “flag flappers” is not evidence of loyalty at least, and the expression may in time come back to plague those who sneer at the flag of their country.

 

1915-03-13

It is not often that great sacrifices are made in this world, but when one happens, it is done so quietly and unostentatiously that it is rarely heard of There are very few to imitate the example of the Saviour, who gave up His life to redeem even the unrepentant. But this old Muser is not going to run off on a tangent and get himself into ma discussion with some smart Alex, who always has his pencil sharpened and ready to fire in a half-column of more to tell what he knows about theology. Here in Hamilton we recently had an example of self-sacrifice that is deserving of mention even though we omit names. In one of the large manufacturing industries, a youth of about nineteen years was engaged in the counting room as clerk. He is an expert in the clerical department and stands well with the manager. He has a boyfriend whom he loves with all the ardor of youth, they being associated together through their school days. Both of the boys were industrious and of excellent habits, and both were fortunate in their working positions while the wheels of industry kept whirling. In the early part of the last year, one of the boys was laid off because work in the establishment in which he was employed had reduced its clerical forces, and the manager could hold out no hope of when the angel of industry would return. It was a great hardship for him, for he had a mother to support and she was a widow, and he was her only dependence. It was with a sad heart that he heard the office door close behind him, and not knowing when it would open again to welcome him back to his desk and his regular pay envelope. The young fellow was diligent in his search for work, but every business in the city was retrenching, and fortunate was the man or woman, boy nor girl who could get employment for even part time. With a mother to provide for, and no work in sight, the outlook was dark and dreary. His boyhood friend was more fortunate in more ways than one, for his parents were not dependent on him, and he paid his way at home as a stranger would. In exchanging confidences, the one out of work told his friend of his unfortunate condition. Now here is where the great heart of the boyfriend shone out in all the beauty of true brotherly love. You, no doubt, have read the story of Damon and Pythias, where the one became a hostage for the return of his friend, who was about to be executed, that he might see his wife and child once more before he died. Damon entered the prison while Pythias sped on his journey to see his loved ones and bid them farewell forever. You remember the story further where Pythias’ servant slew his master’s horse so that he could return to his doom. The time drew apace, but Pythias secured another mount and barely arrived in time as they were leading Damon to the block for execution. Damon never for a moment doubted his friend, but knew that something had happened to delay his return. Damon’s life was saved, and Pythia, for his loyalty, was pardoned and restored to his wife and child. The conditions may not be just the same, but they show what sacrifices are possible in the teachings of the doctrine of the brotherhood of man.

          A friend in need is a friend indeed. The boyfriends separated, and without any flourish of trumpets, the one in work went to the manager of the counting room in which he was employed and told the story of his unfortunate friend. The young fellow proposed to the manager that if it could be so arranged, he would take a six months’ holiday and have his friend take his desk in the office, and at the end of time he would resume his official duties. The manager cheerfully assented to the proposition, and would have given employment to both if the business justified him in so doing. He commended his young clerk for his manly act, and promised him not only his place on his return, but if business became brighter an increase in salary. To make a long story short, the out-of-work took his friend’s desk in the office, and the young hero, who was capable of such a sacrifice, hired out to a farmer and spent six months as a farm laborer. He did not make any blow about it, but answered all inquiries as to the change with the reply that he was learning new experiences as a tiller of the soil. When the six months of voluntary servitude on a farm had expired, the young fellow returned to his clerical duties, healthy and robust, and his friend was fortunate in getting a position. Both of them are now employed on full time, and the friendship that began at school is now stronger than ever.

          Help us to help each other, Lord,

                   Each other’s cross to bear,

          Let each a friendly aid afford,

                   And feel a brother’s care.

          Hamilton’s Damon and Pythias have set an example worthy of imitation. Both boys must make great and good men. Their names ought to be published, but it might be displeasing to them.

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          Fifty-eight years ago yesterday (March 12, 1857), the first great railway accident in Canada occurred when the evening train from Toronto was crossing the Desjardins canal bridge. The cars were filled with a happy crowd of passengers who were returning to their homes in this city after a day spent in business or pleasure in Toronto. There were probably about one hundred passengers in the coaches, and of that number between sixty and seventy went down to a watery grave. What an age that seems to look backward; almost sixty years ago! It is like a dream of the past. More than sixty families were bereaved of loved ones. Are any of the passengers of that ill-fated train left to tell the story of their experience on that terrible March evening as the train went down, crashing through the ice? To this old Muser, the picture of that train, sloping from the track, down to the water below, oft comes up as a vision. We remember it well, for with other members of the old fire department, we spent nearly the entire night in helping to rescue the bodies of the victims of the disaster. It was after six o’clock on that cold March night that the fire alarm peeled out its dismal notes from the belfry of the old police station on King William street, and the clang of the bell seemed to sound clearer and faster than usual. “It must be a big fire,” thought the firemen as they rushed to the engine house, there to learn that it was worse than any fire – it was a train of passengers that had gone down through the canal bridge and scores of passengers drowned. The firemen were directed to go down to the railroad bridge and render such help as they could. It was a wild ride to the canal, thousands of people, old and young, men and women, rushing to the scene. Mothers and fathers, wives and children, who expected the return of some loved one by that evening train, were frantic in their grief.

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          The story of that night has oft been told in the city papers on occasional recurrence of its anniversary, so we will briefly repeat it. The train was on time, and was nearing its destination when, through some mishap, the swing bridge that crossed the canal was moved a few inches not perceptible to the careful engineer, John Burnsides, who was guiding his train, as he thought, in safety to its destination, causing the engine to leave its track and go bumping onto the ties, the wheels cutting through timbers and weakening them so that they could not support the weight of the engine and cars. The fireman and the express messenger saved themselves by jumping from the train, but the heroic engineer stood up to the post of duty, hoping to check the engine and save his train and the passengers. When his body was rescued from the submerged engine the next day, he was found in a standing posture, sturdily clinging to the lever. He would have saved himself, as did the fireman, by jumping from the engine, but he braved death that he might save the hundred or more passengers in the cars. Out in the cemetery, a monument was erected over his grave by his fellow railroad men, and on it is a miniature locomotive with the bronze effigy of John Burnsides grasping the window. In the window of Thomas Lees’ jewelry store, James street north, is the clock that hung in the cab of the ill-fated engine on the night it went down. When taken out of the cab, the clock marked the moment at which the accident occurred, 6.30. The old face looks wearied and worn out, as if it belonged to another world. It reminds one of the song of the old grandfather’s clock –

          It stopped short, never to go again,

          When John Burnsides died.

          The miniature engine on that monument out in the cemetery is never allowed to become faded by sunshine or storm, but is kept bright and fresh by being regilded every two or three years. It stands as a perpetual reminder to the memory of a humble engineer who sacrificed his life that he might save others. The clock that is on exhibition in Mr. Lees’ window was handed down from one member of the Burnsides’ family to another, and finally it was presented to the Muser. Some day we may hand it over to the museum when Hamilton has such a one for the storage of ancient relics connected with the city.

          Richard Barrett was the conductor of the train, and Henry Urquhart was the express messenger. The latter is still living, aged 91 years, and is a successful contractor in Toronto.

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          In looking over items of historical interest connected with Hamilton, we found reminiscences of George Hamilton, after whom the town was called. It tells the story of the early settlement, and gives the present Hamiltonians an idea of what the town was one hundred years ago and later. In these Musings, we have gone somewhat into the early history of the town, and this selection may add new light.

          George Hamilton  made the first survey of the town lots in what is now the city of Hamilton (previous to that called Burlington) in 1813. This survey comprised that portion of the city bounded by King, James, and Hunter streets and westerly line of the Springer farm – about halfway between Catharine and Walnut streets. In 1810, there had been but three or four buildings erected in these lots stood on King street. The Grove Inn stood on the ground now occupied by the Terminal station. This name was given to the inn on account of a grove of trees which lined the center of King street, from James to Mary streets. Some years after, they were all cut down by the pathmaster – a man named Gray. The most notable building in this first survey was the log jail, built in 1817-18. It stood near the southwest corner of the square bounded by John, Main and Catharine streets and Maiden Lane. This square had been decided to the Gore district for the site of the jail and courthouse in 1816. The jail was built of hewed logs to the height of ten feet, and on the top of this was erected a frame building for a court house. The prison was divided into four rooms – two for criminals, one for debtors, and the other was occupied by the jailer and his family. All the rooms were precisely alike and about 23 x 34 feet in size, divided, two on the east and two on the west – by a hall about four feet wide. The governor’s room served for kitchen, parlor, dining room and bedroom, for the officer and his wife. They had three little boys. The jail was extremely strong so far as the outer walls were concerned, but the designer seemed to have entirely overlooked the floors and foundation, so that it was found necessary to provide the two criminal cells with substantial chains which were securely riveted around the legs of the worse class of prisoners. The others took their departure at such times as seemed to themselves best, by raising a plank of the floor and digging out under the foundation. Numerous escapes were made in this manner. In those days, criminals were not fed in the same style as they are now, one pound of bread and a quart of water being the daily allowance; however, they were not stinted in the matter of fruit, as the jailor’s boys kept them well-supplied with apples during the season. The prison was located a short distance back from John street, and on the vacant space, fully exposed to public view the pillory and stocks and whipping post were kept in readiness. These instruments of punishment were called into requisition after the session of every court. Two hours in the pillory or stocks, or thirty-nine lashes with cat-o’-nine tails, being the common sentence for rogues who committed small offenses. The more serious criminals were banished to the United States. During court times, the old jail was the center of great trouble and excitement. In those jurors, witnesses and litigants came very long distances to attend the assizes – from west of Brantford and north of Guelph. Booths were erected on the vacant space on John street end of the square, made of boughs of trees, and from them were dispensed spruce beer, ginger cakes and apple pies. Loyalty was in high feather in those days, and the writer of this sketch saw a man, who had imbibed too much “black-strap” committed to the cell for 48 hours for saying “d—m the King” – he referred his Majesty George IV. The first man hanged in the old Gore district was from this jail. His name was Vincent; he had murdered his wife. A miserable job was made of this execution, as the colored man was officiated as hangman had to swing by the culprit’s legs for some minutes before death relived the sufferer. Two young “ladies” were at one time exposed in the pillory for about two hours, much to the amusement of the inhabitants of the village. Both murderer Vincent and the girls were from Beverly. The jail was pulled down at the completion of the stone edifice in Prince’s Square.

1915-02-20oo

“Under the heading of ‘Dick Butler and Clinton,’ the Daily Public, of Clinton, Ill., in an editorial in the issue of Feb. 6, has the following to say of Richard Butler, the United States vice-consul of this city and Muser of the Spectator staff”

Hamilton Spectator.   February 20, 1915.

With the above introduction, the Hamilton Times reprinted the following tribute to the Old Muser, the long-time writer of Saturday Musings.

Mr. Butler had recently sent  a column in the style of his “Musings” on Hamilton’s local history to Clinton with his memories of that town.

The Muser had recently celebrated his 80^th birthday :

“His name is Richard Butler, but his Clinton friends remember him as ‘Dick.’ He is 80 years young, but his Clinton friends remember him as a strong, virile man, who counted his friends by the hundreds. “Dick” butler was a man who did things for Clinton. As an editor of the Public in his early days, he made a name that will last in memory long after those who now control it have passed away.

“ ‘Dick’ Butler never forgot a friend, he forgot few men he ever met.. His letter is in some respects the most remarkable piece of writing that possibly ever appeared in the columns of the Public. Pick over the men you know ten to twenty years younger that could sit down and unfold in written words so splendid a piece of history as Mr. Butler’s story. He apologizes for perhaps forgetting a few characters who have been famous in Clinton during the last forty-three years.

“Apologize? Really, it is almost inconceivable how any man could recall the names and facts of such a galaxy. He doesn’t seem to have omitted any name from Clinton’s list of immortals.

“Would that we had more men like ‘Dick’ Butler, a man who is an inspiration to young men who never knew him. It is an inspiration to work in the same office where ‘Dick’ Butler once toiled for a better Clinton. It is an inspiration to live in a town which ‘Dick’ Butler once honored by making it his home.

“You who knew him, sit down after you have read his reminiscences, and write him a letter or a card. Thank him for unfolding Clinton’s history in the way he has portrayed it. You can read the homesickness for Clinton between his lines. Honor him now, not later, for he is already past the allotted time of life. He will appreciate it.”¹

¹ “Pay High Tribute to Richard Butler : Paper in Muser’s Home Town Tells of Debt People Owe Him”

Hamilton Times.    February 20, 1915

1915-02-13

Through the courtesy of Archdale Wilson, we have the privilege of looking over a business directory of Hamilton, printed by R. R. Donnelley & Co., and illustrated by McKeon & Smith, wood engravers, for distribution at the provincial exhibition held in this city in the year 1864. If one wants to know the changes in business in Hamilton, just run through this directory of fifty years ago and compare it with the new directory of 1915. It is a new Hamilton altogether. Even the introductory to the little pamphlet gives one a new idea of Hamilton to what we gather from everyday surroundings. As a matter of ancient history, even though only a half century ago, the reading of the introductory chapter will be interesting reading. Here it is:

“Hamilton, beautifully situated on the southwestern curve of Burlington bay, occupies a delightful position on a plateau of slightly elevated ground, winding around the base of the mountain. The distance between the mountain and the bay is about two miles, and the area thus included stands the city of Hamilton, in population, wealth and commercial importance, the second city in Upper Canada. The site is singularly salubrious, the rate of mortality being less in Hamilton, as shown by statistics, then any other city in Canada, Ottawa excepted. Hamilton became a point of military importance about 1813. It was made the resting place of the army of the west, when General Proctor was defeated. To Burlington Heights, General Vincent retired after being driven from the Niagara frontier, previous to his brilliant victory over the American army at Stoney Creek, which saved the province from probable subjugation. The history of Hamilton dates back not much more than a quarter of a century. It seems but yesterday when the tract of country fringing the shores of Lake Ontario was a wilderness, and settlers still living can tell the day when hunters and fishermen alone broke the stillness of the now wealthy and proud district of Gore. The theory of colonization which has been nurtured into life and activity under the fostering care of liberal institutions on this side of the Atlantic, has belied the anticipations and ridiculed the prophetic wisdom of statesmen moving under the auspices of time-honored usages in the old world. Forests are converted into thriving settlements, and cities spring up into wealth and influence as if obedient to some magic impulse. A traveler from one of the sickly metropolises of Europe, in looking at the progress of social cultivation in Canada, at the evidence of civilized advancement observable in the institutions and business energy of the Canadian people, would be slow to realize the fact that he sees the country as less than fifty years of toil and industry have made it.

“Let him visit Hamilton, drive up and down its spacious streets, look into the great wholesale establishments’; step into banking houses and witness the extent of accommodation accorded to commercial enterprises; let him visit the Central school, and contrast the educational advantages of Hamilton with those of cities of the same size in Europe or on the continent, or look through the Young Ladies’ seminary, when in full operation after midsummer holidays; let him stand at the depot of the Great Western railway and mark the bustle and activity at the arrival  and departure of every train; see the long train of freight cars, bringing the products of foreign manufacture for consumption here, or carrying away consignments from large city wholesale firms to distant parts of the province; let him take his stand on the brow of the magnificent mountain which flings its grassy summit against the southern sky, and see the multitude of persons surging along the principal avenues of trade, the countless chimneys of mechanical industry, the magnificent carriages and costly equipages rolling along James or King street; the palatial suburban mansions, the seat of wealth, comfort and literary refinement – let him survey the busy hive at his feet – restless, sleepless, tireless yet hopeful and say whether the community of interests, the fusion of national restraints, and the commercial fellowship which have built a city of twenty thousand people do not promise still greater results.

“The temporary embarassments under which the city labors have retarded, but not destroyed, the enterprise of its citizens. In 1850 – fourteen years ago – the population, according to authenticated census returns, was less than 11,000. It was 35,000 in 1858, and in the three following years lost a third of its population. It was 19,000 at the census three years ago, and has now risen to 22,900, and we have hopes that the recently passed city relief bill will tend to augment the numbers.

“The wholesale trade of Hamilton is greater and more attractive to distant buyers than that of any other city in Canada, with the exception of Montreal. Some of the most extensive wholesale firms in Canada, having branches in Toronto, London and Brantford, center in Hamilton; and we think it would well remunerate country merchants – who may be at the exhibition, and who do not make this their market of purchase – to take a look through our wholesale warehouses, and compare prices with those of other cities in the province. Our wholesale merchants are direct importers from the places of manufacture and growth, and their customers receive the benefits of first profits. It will also reward visitors from a distance, who wish to avail themselves of city prices and fashions, to note down the enterprising firms whose establishments are herein illustrated.”

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Fancy the fresh-looking Thomas Lees, though his head has been frosted with departed years, being the oldest and only man in business today that belongs to ancient Hamilton. He began business as a watchmaker and jeweler on John street in the year 1861, and in 1864 moved into his present location on James street. At that time Hamilton had thirteen jewelers and watchmakers to keep time and bedeck its women and girls with diamonds and other precious jewels. In the directory before us, Lees is represented in the same building which he now occupies, with a large sign directing customers where to find him. Burrow, Stewart and Milne, three husky young molders, began business in 1864, but not in time to get their names in the directory. Two members of the firm – Stewart and Milne – still continue the business, Mr. Burrows having passed away a few years ago. There were six foundries in Hamilton in 1864, but no members of the firms except Mr. Stewart and Mr. Milne are living now. The D. Moore Co. is the oldest tinsmith firm in the city, dating back to 1828, and that firm began the foundry business along in the ‘40’s, in the stone building on Catharine street north, erected by G. L. Beardmore for a tannery. A fire one night decided Beardmore in favor of a change, and the building passed into the ownership of the D. Moore Co. and was converted into a foundry. All this, however, leaves Thomas Lees as the oldest living businessman in the town.

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We will take an airplane trip through the 1864 directory, and if we strike a name that is in the directory of 1915, we will be glad to place the owner in the Hall of Fame as an ancient Hamiltonian. We will take 1864 as the foundation. There were two wholesale shoe stores then, one wholesale clothing manufacturer, three wholesale druggists, six wholesale dry goods, and not one connected with firms we have here now to answer roll-call. Of other wholesale firms, there were two earthen and glassware, four fancy goods, nine groceries, four hardware, three leather, two saddlery hardware, one stationer, two importers of wine. Not a member of the old firms left to tell the story of fifty years ago. There were only three architects then, not one of them now to plan an earthly house. Sixteen bakers made the staff of life – not one of them in business now, William Lee being the last one to throw in the sponge. Fifteen barbers represented the tonsorial art, and Charles Dallyn is the only one left to tell the story. Of thirty-five barristers only one is left to plead his own cause. Eleven blacksmiths pounded the anvil; where are those lusty fellows now? Three billiard halls were enough in 1864; it now takes sixteen to develop the muscle of the sports. Only two of the old shoe dealers are in business now. Seven breweries made beet to quench the thirst of the ancients; two breweries do the job now. Of the manufacturers of brooms and brushes, only Meakins and Sons represent the six old firms. Fourteen builders and contractors built up Hamilton in those days, not one of whom is in business now. Not a bookseller or a bookbinder in business in 1864 is here now to reveal the edges of life. It only required 24 churches to lead the Hamiltonians in the straight and narrow path in 1864; now there are 93 congregations, representing almost every denomination, yet they can’t hold the town level. Nineteen clergymen lifted up their voices every Sunday against the sins of the world, and eighteen of them have gone home to glory, having done the best they could while here to keep Hamilton from going to the bow-wows.  One of them got translated to the Methodist Book Room in Toronto, and his job is so pleasant that he is loth to give it up. Coal was so little used in Hamilton that only Thomas Myles could find it profitable to run a coal yard. J. Blachford and Henry Snelgrove buried the dead. Ten confectioners made life sweet to the taste, but now one of them is here to tell the story of the days when they sold pure ice cream. Eight druggists compounded the jalap and rhubarb that cured the ills of the community, and that they did their work honestly is evidenced that such a disease as appendicitis was unknown in those days. Twenty-one establishments supplied  the ladies with dry goods; not one of the proprietors lives to tell how the husbands swore when the bills were rendered. Twenty-four physicians, one of them being a lady, looked after the health of the town, and not one of them has a place among the 113 physicians of today. There were sixteen hotels, 21 saloons and 58 taverns to feed the hungry and quench the thirsts of the thirsty; about all are gone to meet their unfortunate customers in the other world. Ninety-six boozeries and only 23,000 population; today the population is over 100,000, and it only takes 61 saloons to satisfy their thirst. The town is progressing.

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It is like going through a graveyard to follow up that 1864 directory. Only three business men of that year live to tell the story of the ups and downs of this hundred-year-old town. Well, the Muser that will review the 1915 directory fifty years from now will have the same story to tell.

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From 1857 till the case of the civil war in the United States, Hamilton, as well as all of Canada, was hard hit. It seems impossible to separate the two countries either in prosperity or adversity; when business is good over there, it is the same here. Hamilton’s brightest days were during the building of the Great Western railway, for then money was plentiful, there was work for everybody, and the population increased through the employment in the railroad shops and the large number of men employed running trains, most of whom made their home in Hamilton. When the Great Western officials began to divide the shops among other localities, and almost side-tracked Hamilton, the panic of 1857 broke loose, and the population went hiking to more prosperous towns; houses were emptied and hard times came. In 1858 the census showed a population of 25,000; in 1861, it ran down to 19,000. The people could not pay their taxes, and the city could not pay even the interest on its indebtedness. It was not until Hamilton became an industrial city that the sun of prosperity began again to shine on it. The old town is now passing through the deep waters of affliction, but with the prospective opening of factories, the old song, Hard Times Come Again No More can be sung by the Elgar choir, and the toilers will chant as they march to the workshops, that though It’s a Long, Long Way to Tipperary; the good times are coming once more.