1903-08-22

It has been a wonder to strangers visiting in Hamilton that a congregation composed of hard-headed practical old Scotchmen ever thought of building such an architectural dream for a home of divine worship as St. Paul’s church. There is not a more ornate or esthetic work of the builder’s art on the continent of America, and it stands today as a monument of the liberality and refined taste of the men and women who worshiped in the little old  frame building that moved from the site to give place to the new St. Andrew’s. Some years later, the name was changed to St. Paul’s, but why it would be difficult to learn, as the name of Andrew had the genuine Scotch ring to it. The cornerstone was laid on the afternoon of September 14, 1854, in the presence of a large gathering. Professor George, of Queen’s college, Kingston, opened the ceremonies with a prayer, after which the cornerstone was deposited in place by John Young, Esq., who was presented with a handsome solid silver trowel. The Rev. Robert Burnet, pastor of the church, made the dedicatory. It was a day long to be remembered in the history of the church. The larger part of the old congregation have finished life’s journey, but their work so well begun on that September afternoon still stands as an ornamental and as a memorial of the liberality of those who contributed to its erection. Probably it might be interesting at the time, nearly fifty years later, to give a description of the edifice. The design is of the early decorated style of English Gothic architecture.  There is a basement under the whole of the building for a school and lecture room, but this was abandoned many years ago, and a building for that purpose was erected at the west end of the church. The tower rises 100 feet to the top of the parapet line, where it reduces to the octagonal style, the best clustered with pinnacles and their canopies. The spire is built of stone, which is pierced in two divisions, on rich belts. The main entrance is by a column-arched opening 14 feet high, forming a porch under the tower. The architect was W. Thomas, and the building was erected under his superintendence. WE can only learn from one man now living who was engaged on the building during the three years that it took to construct it. His life, that began with all the hopes and prospects of a bright youth and mature years became clouded as age passed, and he is now spending the remnant of his life in the house of refuge, not through any fault of his own.

          Only a few of the members are now living who were active in church work when St. Paul’s was built, and the only names our informant could give us are George A. Young, Miss Young, Mrs. Bellhouse, Mrs. Wm. Allen, James Vallance, Alexander Milne, Wm. Ronald, Matthew Leggatt, John Jeffrey. Others may yet be in the land of the living, but even the best of memories cannot be relied upon after a lapse of half a century. James Vallance can certainly lay claim to being the oldest attendant of St. Andrew’s and St. Paul’s, for he was born and christened in the old frame building that so many years was consecrated to divine worship. When a youth, he joined the choir of the church, and today he sings as sweetly as he did sixty years ago, only that now he takes the bass part. He was one of the leading members of the choir when the new St. Andrew’s was dedicated.

          The old frame church stood on the site of the present handsome church. It was probably one of the first Presbyterian churches built in the city, and in its day numbered among its congregation that assembled in it, many of the men and women who were a power and moral force for good in the early history of Hamilton. When it was decided to build a new church, the old one was moved over to the corner of Charles and Jackson streets, and the congregation worshipped there till the new building was dedicated in 1857. During the time that the Rifle Brigade was in Hamilton the old frame church was used by the government as a military school, and it was afterward sold to the German Roman Catholic congregation. The bell that is now in the tower of St. Paul’s church was brought from the old country away back in the early history of the old church, and it was the first Protestant bell tolling in the city. It still rings out as clear as when it first called the people together for divine worship nearly three quarters of a century ago. How many a tale of the olden times its music tells.

          The trustees and building committee must have been men of great faith, for they began the construction of the new church without know where the money was coming from to finish it; but as a number of them were men of means, the work was never stopped for want of money, for they supplied the shortage from their own bank accounts, and neither they nor their heirs ever got it back again. Once the trustees put their hands to the plough, they never turned back until the last furrow was finished. The church in reality stands as a memorial to their generosity, and it is to be hoped that their names are engraved on a tablet, and that it finds a prominent place in the building. As we said in the opening paragraph of this reminiscence, St. Paul’s is an architectural dream and accredit to the esthetic taste of the men and women who made it possible half a century ago. To erect such a building was a large undertaking; it took nearly three years to complete the work. There were no dedicatory ceremonies beyond declaring the church open for the worship of Almighty God.

          When St. Paul’s was built, it was pronounced the handsomest church in Canada; and indeed it can yet claim the honor. It is built of stone from the Hamilton quarries, and the steeple and trimmings of Ohio stone. It was designed to seat 1,100 persons. The total amount of all contracts for the building complete was $44,000, of which $2,500 was expended in building the spire. Jonathan Simpson was the contractor, and his work still speaks of the faithfulness with which he followed the specifications of the architect. The old bell was placed in the new steeple, and when the old boys and girls who worshiped in St. Paul’s in the long ago returned this week to visit the home of their youth, they heard its high staccato noise inviting them to prayer.

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          But it was not granted to St. Paul’s that all would be sunshine. Dark clouds gathered and rent the sturdy old Scotch congregation in twain. It always takes two parties to make a quarrel. There was a division of sentiment, at first merely a speck, bit it grew in proportion till finally Dr. Burnet withdrew from the pastorate, and, with a number in sympathy with him, organized a new congregation and built what is now a Jewish synagogue, on the corner of Hunter and Park streets, to which he gave the name of St. Andrew’s. However, we will not enter into details. Church quarrels, like family quarrels, are generally fought out to the bitter end. It is often a wonder to the man or woman of the world why it is that people, who profess to be guided in their lives by the example and teachings of Christ, can put up the most brutal fight when they get at outs with each other. More than one minister has broken up his church because he could not have his own way in the management of affairs, and for choir fights, they are as perennial as dog fennel or dandelion, and are harder to root out. As the result of internal disturbance, the doors of St. Paul’s were closed for six years, when they were reopened on a lease from the trustees. There was a blanket mortgage on the church, under which it was finally sold, the Baptists becoming the purchasers. The trustees and building committee were heavy losers, they having advanced the money for the larger part of the original cost, and when the building was sold the price barely paid the amount of the mortgage, and the interest that had been accruing when the church was closed. It was humiliating to the proud spirit of the Scots that a Presbyterian church be sold for debt and pass into the hands of another denomination. Those who had remained loyal during all the years of adversity got together and bought the building back from the Baptists, paying them a bonus of $2,000 on the amount paid at the mortgage sale.

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          Once more the sun of prosperity shone on the historic old church that was organized in the early days when Hamilton first became a village. Dr. Burnet and the seceders had appropriated the name of St. Andrew’s for their new church, so it was decided to change the name of the legitimate St. Andrew’s to that of St. Paul, and thus wipe out forever all connection with the unfortunate feud. The church is now in a prosperous condition, free of debt, and with a scholarly and popular pastor in charge of the church. Only one serious mishap occurred during the building of the church. One of the workmen employed in building the spire fell from its lofty height and was crushed out of shape. Joseph Kneeshaw then owned a book store and bindery on the corner of King and Hughson streets (the site now occupied by the Provident and Loan building), and he was working at a ruling machine by a window that faced to the west. Happening to look out at that moment, he saw the poor fellow as he fell from the scaffolding. After the Baptists sold St. Paul’s back to its own people, they bought a lot on the opposite corner and began the erection of a new church. Evidently the contractors who were doing the stone work were sparing of lime and used sand for mortar because it was cheaper. When the north wall was well up toward the top a large section of it collapsed and crushed down in a heap. It was fortunate that the fall occurred before the building was completed, for it was liable to collapse at any time, and might have cost the loss of life. Fortunately, no one was injured.

1903-08-15

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.

1903-08-08

A couple of years ago, the managers of some of the large corporations in Chicago issued an order against the employment of men or boys who were in the habit of smoking cigarettes, the reason given being that the use of cigarettes dulled and stupefied the brain, and the employee was not equal to the service demanded of him. That same rule is evidently in existence, as a young man found out by not getting a position for which he was well qualified. About a year ago, a bright, young stenographer and typewriter who was only getting about $30 a month for his work, and not much prospect of an increase or of a promotion, took the fancy of one of Hamilton’s Old Boys, who here on a visit, who employed the young fellow at a salary of $45 a month. Here was a raise of $15 over what he had been getting, and the young fellow determined that if faithful service could win, he would give the best he was capable of to his generous employers. He had been in the service of the company only a few months when on payday, he found in his envelop $65, with a notice that henceforth he would draw that amount. As a stenographer he had about reached the limit, and having had experience as a clerk in a railway office in this city, he decided to make a change to where chances were better for promotion. His employer, while loath to part with him, kindly promised to help him get a position such as he desired and asked the young fellow if he would not recommend another Hamilton boy to take his place. This he did, and when the employer was in the city the other day on one of his periodic visits, he had an interview with the new application. He liked the boy’s appearance, and the quickness with which he too dictation and made a correct typewritten copy. But there was one defect in the otherwise capable applicant; his fingers showed the yellow tinge of the cigarette smoker, and when asked if he used cigarettes, the boy confessed that he indulged in the habit. That was enough. He was not employed, though he may not have learned the reason, as the gentleman said nothing more. Boys who have formed the disgusting habit of cigarette smoking might learn a profitable lesson from this incident.

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          Nearly twenty-seven years ago, a woman in Englewood, New Jersey, ran up a bill of $30 with her grocer, and soon afterwards the man died, and the business changed hands. The executors collected all they could, but the woman referred to was not among those who paid up. The grocer’s widow moved to Illinois, and the $30 debtor changed her habitation to another New Jersey town. In one of William Shakespeare’s writings, there is a sentence to the effect that “Conscience makes cowards of us all.” This was the case with the woman who owed the grocer’s bill. During all those long years, she was troubled with insomnia, and if she ever dropped into sleep, packages of tea and butter seemed to press upon her heart, and the pungent smell of spices that she had not paid for was ever in her nose; sleep was banished, and her eyelids were heavy. The sight of a grocer’s wagon passing along the street added torture to her waking hours, and the woman was haunted by the ghost of the dead grocer whom she had defrauded, and the tears of the widow were like molten lead falling upon her conscience. Twenty-seven years was a long time to suffer for the paltry sum of $30, and at times, she was almost driven to a frenzy that she feared would end in suicide. The other day she confessed to her doctor the cause of her sleeplessness, and while she had been a profitable patient all these years, taking injections to produce sleep, yet he was a humane man, and even with the prospective loss of many good-sized checks for medical attendance, he told his patient that the payment of the $30 might be the road to health and sleep. The woman sent a draft to the widow in Illinois for $30 and interest, and the insomnia immediately left her. She now sleeps the sleep of the just. As the Spectator is a preacher of righteousness to its great family of readers, we might suggest an application of the remedy for insomnia for a harassed merchant who walks the floor at night on account of unpaid grocery bills. Many truants fail to pay, therefore making it impossible for him to meet his bills.

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          In the month of July, 1854, when cholera patients in this city were dying at the rate of eighteen and twenty a day, a Norwegian immigrant was taken with cramps and the doctors and the friends of the sick man came to the conclusion that his recovery was next to impossible.  The Norwegian had considerable money, a gold watch, a lot of clothing, and several articles of value, which the friends proceeded to divide among themselves, not waiting for the formality of death to give them the claim to the property. But he didn’t die, and when he learned what had been done, he demanded the return of his stuff, which the relatives and friends refused to acquiesce in. It was not their fault that he did not die, and the doctor had given him up, the proper thing for him was to turn up his tows and submit gracefully to being placed in a coffin. The Norwegian could not see it in that light, so he got out of bed and notified the police. The property was returned, and as the Norwegian was satisfied, the case was not pressed in the police court.

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          In Saturday’s Musings, we briefly referred to the easy manner in which the finances of Hamilton were managed in te early days. There had been frequent hints that things were not run in the city hall as they ought to be, and as a result, the finance committee employed an accountant to make an examination of the books. The investigation showed up a rotten condition, one of the officials who had the handling of the funds being a defaulter in the amount of several thousand dollars. His excuse to the committee was that he trusted too much to memory, instead of making a record of all the money received. One method of the official was to have the mayor to certify to bills a second time. This led to the discovery that the city was being robbed , for the mayor remembered having signed a certain check for 7 pounds ten shillings, which he had certified to once before. The tavern license was one of the profitable grafts, the officer failing to turn over to the chamberlain the amount collected. Another snap was the cemetery lots, the parties getting their deeds but not credited for the amount paid for them. When the officer was detected, he made good when the proof was positive against, but as he was not under bonds, there was no way to en force collection of all. To save himself from dismissal, the officer resigned. The mayor said that the more the accounts were probed into, the worse they would be found, so the council accepted the resignation and closed the old books, the city being the loser of quite an amount. The tax collectors were also under suspicion of not turning in the amount collected, and at the meeting of the council, when it was proposed to reappoint them for another year, Terry Brannigan objected till such time as he had full reports. The collectors had not made settlement for three years, but the majority of the council was easy, and Terry’s amendment was lost. After that experience, the council required the city officers to give bond for the faithful discharge of their duties.

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          At the meeting of the City council held September 5, 1854, Thomas Beasley was elected city clerk. Richard Bull, James Wetenhall and Theodore A. Ambridge were candidates for the office, but Mr. Beasley had the call from the start and after a number of votes were taken, he was elected by 13 to 6. For nearly 49 years, Mr. Beasley has been city clerk, and never has the breath of scandal touched the official record. Probably no man in Hamilton has as good knowledge of its civic history. He is the last of the old guard, and attends regularly to business.

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          While Terry Brannigan was somewhat of a grafter when he was one of the city fathers, he served quite a useful purpose in keeping things stirred up, and brought to light many of the schemes of his fellow members in council. The city hospital was not much of an affair, and every now and then, the management was being investigated by special committees. Terry stated at one meeting a case of brutality that one would hardly expect to find in a public institution. A young man died in the hospital whose friends were very poor, and before the authorities would allow the body to be removed for burial, a demand was made for payment of $3. As the family was able to pay the money, Terry Brannigan paid it out of his own pocket to the hospital superintendent. Before the death of the young man, his sister visited the hospital to read and pray with her brother. This the superintendent would not allow, and he turned the girl out saying he wanted “no reading or praying in that establishment.” Terry made things lively for the superintendent, but it all ended in only a mild reproof by the committee.

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          One week from next Monday, Hamilton will be dressed in holiday attire to give a hearty welcome to the old boys and girls who left home in the hope of bettering their condition of life. That the majority have prospered goes without saying, for the letters to the old folks at home have been full of good cheer. Hamilton will kill the fatted calf and make merry during the few days in which the visitors will be with us Their stay will be short, but this is not their fault, for the railroad companies have cut the time so close that it will only be “how do you do?” and “Goodbye.” No doubt the short limit on the railroad tickets will prevent many from coming who have been looking forward to the anticipated visit. Those  coming from Chicago expected nothing less than fifteen days’ limit and hoped for thirty days, with at least half-fare rate. Instead they get only ten days and a rate of $13.70. It is unfortunate that the home-comers have not been more generously dealt with. Compare the above rate with what is offered on two excursions from Peoria, Illinois to Niagara Falls. The round trip from Peoria to the Falls with fifteen days’ limit is only $8.50 and the distance fully 175 miles longer, and the excursionists have the privilege of traveling part of the way by water if they prefer it. And there are half a dozen excursions this month from Niagara Falls to New York, Philadelphia, and the fashionable summer resorts, good for fifteen days, of less than $10 for the round trip.

1903-08-01

Half a century ago, Benjamin Dunnett was Hamilton’s only letter carrier and he covered the entire city. Now it takes a small army of carriers to do the work. Probably in no department of the public service has greater advancement been made then in the carrying and distribution of mails. A letter weighing one ounce can be sent from Hamilton to the most distant parts of Canada or the United States for two cents; and even at that low price the public is dissatisfied and wants the government to cut it in two and carry the letters for one cent. Don’t you remember, old boy, when it cost nine pence in Halifax currency – equivalent to about eighteen cents – to carry a half ounce letter from Hamilton to London, a distance of less than ninety miles? There were no envelopes in use in those days, the letter being folded up into a sealing wax. Men who could afford the luxury wore a seal on their watch guard or ribbon fob, with a heraldic device on it, with which to seal their letters. There were not many letters written in those days except on important business affairs, as it was too costly for one to keep up a special correspondence.  The tons of letters and other mail matter that is now dispatched every twenty-four hours from Hamilton alone almost causes one to wonder where it all goes to, and to whom it is sent. There is no branch of the public service that is more carefully and honestly managed than is the postal department. Millions of dollars are sent through the mails, and it is a rare thing to hear of a letter being rifled of its contents or any valuables being lost. No matter how great the temptation to the one handling the letter or package, yet the sacredness of the gummed envelope or even the string that ties the package is the safeguard that insures its safe delivery at the end of the route. To make assurance doubly sure, however, some wise officials in the postal service evolved the idea of the registry system, that insures the carrying of letters or valuable packages with almost perfect security, for which only a small fee of five cents is charged. And the money order system is another method of security. For three cents one can send $5 to any part of Canada or the United States, and larger amounts up to $200 paying a larger fee. The government not only carries your letters, newspapers, books and small parcels at a mere nominal cost, but it will also carry packages weighing as high as eleven pounds at the rate of one cent an ounce for the first pound and twelve a pound for the balance. More than this, the government has opened a savings bank and pays three per cent interest on deposits, guaranteeing to the depositor absolute security from loss.

          And yet there are kickers who think the postal service is not up-to-date. The government has given within the past half century cheap postage, rapid transit of mails, prompt delivery by carriers three or four times a day, a perfect and cheap system for the transmission of money and valuable parcels, and yet the kickers want more. Now they want the government to buy up the telegraph and telephone lines, so that they can get all this service at little cost; indeed some have the idea that the government should be a nursing mother and supply them with even a slice of the moon.

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          But we started out to tell of the days when Benjamin Dunnett was Hamilton’s only mail carrier, and here we have wandered off into the field of what a paternal government has done for its great Canadian family. Back in 1843, Hamilton had no real necessity for letter carriers; as every family managed to send at least once a day to the post office to enquire if there were any letters for them; not that they expected any, for there were not many letters written in those days because of the high postage.

          Charley Howard was the first penny postman in Hamilton, and he was appointed in 1843. The job was no sinecure for many a day he did not make 50 cents, as he was only paid for letters delivered, and the people could either authorize Charley to fetch their mail or go after it themselves. In 1846, Howard was promoted to clerkship in the post office, where he served till 1875, when he retired on a pension, dying a few years later. Benjamin Lily succeeded Howard as the penny postman, and he held the job for about eight years. Benjamin Dunnett settled upon the idea that to be a postman would not be such a bad occupation even if there was not much money in it, so he got the appointment from Edmund Ritchie, who was then postmaster. The government had not then admitted packages as part of the mail service. Mr. Dunnett worked up his route among a class of people who now and then received a letter, and who would rather pay a penny to have it delivered at their home than make frequent trips to the post office. He started out on his route early in the morning and travelled till late in the evening, and so punctual was he in making his rounds, that he was as correct in time as a clock. There was not a fortune in the business, for some days his receipts would not be over sixty cents, but he kept faithfully at it for more than twenty years. As the city’s population increased, his route grew larger, and early in the ‘60’s, he divided it with his son, E. H. Dunnett, who is now an employee in the post office. No more faithful man ever discharged the duty of postman, and when the government in 1875 appointed regular carriers on salary, the people who had for so many years been accustomed to Mr. Dunnett’s rat-tat on the door knocker felt that something was being dropped out of their daily lives. He always had a cheerful word for everybody. Even in his most palmy days, the faithful postman’s income rarely reached the salary now paid by the government, but he was happy as a king; and even though he might be wearied and footsore after tramping over the city for ten or twelve hours of the day, yet when evening came and there was a prayer meeting or a choir meeting in the old First Methodist church, on the corner of King and Wellington streets, Benjamin Dunnett was to be found in his place. He was an active worker in the church, and for many years led the choir or was a member of it. Tom White was the organist, and the two Misses Scott – now Mrs. Joseph Walton and Mrs. Richard Butler – were the leading soprano and the alto, and Mr. Dunnett sang tenor. In those days there were no paid singers in the first church, nor did Tom White charge for his playing, but the music was fine and the singers did not wobble their voices as though afflicted with ague. Benjamin Dunnett died in the year 1878, at the age of 55, the last volunteer letter carrier in Hamilton. Death came to him suddenly. He was returning home with a party from a meeting in the country, and all were singing, when he was stricken with heart disease.

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          Till the year 1853, the postal service of Canada was under the administration of the service in Great Britain. In that year, it was transferred over to the Canadian government. The first post office in Hamilton of which we have any record was in a frame building that stood near the corner of King and John streets – about where Waugh’s store is. From there it was moved to James street, between the Sun Life building and the Masonic block, where it occupied a frame building that looked very disreputable even in those days of Arcadian simplicity in Hamilton. The authorities were ashamed of the building, and sometime in the early 1850s, the office was moved into the room at the corner of James and Rebecca streets, and there it continued till the government built a handsome stone building on the lot now owned by the Sun Life. Henry A. Eager was the second clerk appointed after the Canadian government assumed control, his commission dating Jan. 1, 1854, and he now ranks as the oldest postal employee in the service, having served for nearly half a century. Don’t think from this that Mr. Eager is an old man, for he has only turned the threescore and ten mile post, and if there is anyone waiting for his official shoes on account of his years in the service, they may just as well hunt for another job. Officeholders rarely die, and they never resign. Mr. Eager is credited with being one of the best postal men in Canada, and he is as bright and active as when he began a low-priced clerk to work his way up to being the assistant postmaster. He has seen all the changes in the postal service from the time the sending of letters by poor people was almost prohibiting, because of the high rate of postage, down to the present when one can send a letter for 2 cents to almost any country in the world. Mr. Eager learned the printing business in the Canadian office in Hamilton, and when he left the case and the old hand press, he entered the government service.

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          On the 17^th of May, 1875, the present letter carrier system was put in operation in this city, eight men being employed. Now there are 44 carriers, and they make from three to four deliveries a day. The wages of the carriers range from $1.50 to $2.25 a day. From their pay is deducted 5 per cent to provide a retiring allowance when they leave the service, the amount they pay in and 4 per cent interest being all they receive. Prior to 1893, the employees of the postal service were paid a pension during life when superannuated; now they only get a retiring allowance, and the money belongs to themselves because it is held out of their pay. Those now in service, and who were appointed prior to 1893, are entitled to a pension when superannuated. There are now connected with the Hamilton post office 83 clerks and letter carriers and all except 14 were in the service prior to 1893.

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          In 1862, it only required ten men, counting postmaster, assistant and clerks, to attend to the mail service in Hamilton; now it takes 83, and every one of them earns the salary he receives. There is no loafing in a post office as everything must be done on time, and from Postmaster Brown down to the men who load and unload the sacks from the mail wagons, each has a duty to perform that must be attended to without delay. From the time he enters the building in the morning till the moment he leaves in the afternoon, Mr. Brown is here and there and everywhere, seeing that each department is on time. He is one of the most affable of men, and always can spare a moment to answer questions connected with the postal service. As Mr. Brown is a perfect encyclopedia of the history of Hamilton, it takes quite a bit of his time to answer letters of inquiry sent to him as postmaster. Mr. Brown was appointed in 1891, and has made a study of the requirements of the service in every branch.

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          About the only change in the post office work from what it was fifty years ago ids the dating of letters and canceling the stamps on all mail matter. Till a few years ago, this work had to be done by hand, and in an office that handles as much mail as here in Hamilton, it would require the services of no less than half a dozen quick men to do the canceling. It has also been required of late years for the postal officials to stamp the date and hour on the back of each letter received by mail so that the party intended can tell whether or not there has been any delay in the delivery. The old, slow method would not work nowadays. A few years ago, an ingenious Yankee post office clerk conceived the idea of a machine that would do this canceling and dating, and the result is to be seen in Hamilton, where an electric machine is at work that will date and cancel the stamp on 100 pieces of mail in one minute. A woman can attend to the machine, and do more work in an hour than a half dozen men with the old hand dater and canceler.