1914-06-20

In the year 1854, the Cadets of Temperance and the Sons of Temperance were not holding their own as organizations, and this brought the Good Templars to the front. The order had its origin in the United States, and as it admitted both sexes to membership, it soon became popular. Father Adam got mighty lonely in the Garden of Eden, and to keep him from getting lonesome, so that he would not get into bad habits, Eve was sent to keep him company. The girls in the old days had much more influence over the habits of the young men than they have in these degenerate days, and for this reason the order of Good Templars seemed to spring into popularity as by magic. Hamilton lodge No. 2 soon had a large membership, and as the majority were young people, the influence for good was marked in the habits of the young men. Hundreds were kept out of saloons, and grew to be total abstainers, though some fell by the wayside. Through the influence of the Good Templars in Hamilton, the first check on the saloon was the closing up on Saturday night at se3ven o’clock, and that law became general throughout Upper Canada. It was a good law, for it closed the drinking places so as to give families a chance to get a portion of the weekly wages of bibulous husbands. The Good Templars first introduced street preaching on Sunday afternoons in the interest of the discussion of temperance. That old Hamilton lodge did grand work for humanity and temperance in Hamilton. In an evil hour, the green-eyed monster crept in, and a feeling of hostility to an American order was cultivated by a few ultra-loyal men who had designs on the order for political purposes. The result was a split in the order, the secessionists calling themselves the British order. While a lodge was organized in connection with the new order, it did not have a long life. To the credit of the Good Templars of Hamilton, they could not see why connection with the supreme grand lo9dge of the United States would be a detriment to temperance work in Canada. The old Hamilton lodge flourished, and its membership being on the increase, the temperance hall in White’s block became too small to accommodate the numbers who attended the weekly meetings. The second and third stories of Piper’s building, in the Elgin block, on John street, was bought by the members, each one contributing according to his or her ability, and the building was enlarged by an addition in the rear, the two stories became thrown into one.

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          In the year 1854, sixty years ago, the first lodge of Good Templars was organized in Hamilton, under the name of Hamilton lodge No. 9. Dr. William Case was elected the first Worthy Chief Templar, and among the charter members were some of the prominent business men of the city and their wives and daughters. The Sons of Temperance were doing good work among the men, and to educate the boys in the habits of total abstinence, there was a section of the Cadets of Temperance under the control of the Sons. The cadets had quite a large section, and the boys were not only pledged against the use of liquor, but they were prohibited from the use of tobacco while members of the order. At the age of eighteen, the boys were supposed to graduate into the Sons of Temperance, which many of them did, and at the same time, they were absolved from their pledge against the use of tobacco. It was the fond hope of the founders that the boys, not having acquired the appetite for tobacco would continue to abstain from its use during life; but they were typical sons of Adam, and could not resist temptation. Among the boys active in the cadets were many who afterwards became prominent in Hamilton life. At least two who in afterlife were editorial managers of the Spectator were model boys in their youth and were members of the Cadets. That was away back in the early ‘50s. The use of intoxicating liquors was more general in those days, and total abstainers were few and far between. In almost every home, the decanter had a prominent place on the sideboard, and dad had to have his tansy bitters before breakfast to sharpen his appetite, and his regular nips at stated times during the day. The laws against the sale of liquor were not of much force, and as the license fee was merely a nominal sum, not more than $50 a year or less, there were double and treble the number of taverns and shebeen shops in Hamilton to supply the demand of not more than ten thousand populations than there are now to quench the thirst of over one hundred thousand. The world moves and temperance has taken a long stride ahead. There are more total abstainers now than then in then in proportion to population, but the mischief of it is the drinkers consume more than their share. The result is, the statistics show that more liquor, of all kinds, is drunk now, per capita, than at any period of the history of Canada. This is bad. It sounds strange to say that more liquor is drunk while the majority of people, counting men, women and children, are total abstainers.

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          A history of that old lodge would be interesting, and its death a lesson in these days when designing men are using the sacred cause of temperance to bolster up a political party. Political action was the death-blow to the order of Good Templars, not only in Canada but in the United States. At one time, it was the most powerful temperance organization in America. Designing men got control of it for their own personal use as a political rallying cry and the end came. The old thread-worn cry of “Vote as you pray” had its effect, and the churches were appealed to. The same conditions exist today, and the temperance banner, under which men of all parties can safely rally, is being dragged in the dust in the interest of one political party.

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          In the year 1854, the Canada grand lodge of the Good Templars was organized in this city. Sixty years have worked wonderful changes, and it is doubtful if more than a dozen who were connected then are living now in Hamilton. Dr. Case, who was connected with the organization of Hamilton lodge, was honored by unanimous election to the office of grand worthy chief Templar, and a Hamilton man was made grand secretary. The institution of a grand lodge gave the order in Canada a standing, resulting in the organization of subordinate lodge in nearly every town and hamlet in Upper Canada. For ten years or more, the order was on the top wave of prosperity, and then the plotters for political action got control, and so ended for years the work of the Good Templars in Canada, and also in the United States. Recently, there has been an effort to revive the order and place it on a substantial basis, and the meeting of the grand lodge in this city this week shows encouraging signs in its report of work done during the past year. A number of subordinate lodges have been organized, and the roll of membership gives evidence of a healthy increase. This old Muser had the honor of taking part in the organization of the first grand lodge in Canada, and while adhering strictly to his temperance pledge, he dropped out from the order when the “Vote as you pray” fellows got control for their own aggrandizement.

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          Scientists have discovered that ice cream and candy are a sure cure for the drink habit, and that if the remedy is persevered in, the boozeries will have to retire from business. It certainly is a very pleasant cure, and is worthy of a trial. But the mischief of it is that the boozer prefers the irrigating process, and as a general thing, he wishes his throat was a mile long that he might feel the delightful irritation produced by the genuine stuff. Oranges and apples, and indeed so many antidotes for the drink habit have been prescribed, that one is lost in amazement that the army of drunkards seems to be enlisting new recruits all the time. It is like Tennyson’s Brook, it goes on forever. Legislation does not seem to stem the torrent, while the fountain head, the distilleries and the breweries, seem to pour forth their everlasting streams. Remedies without number have been prescribed, but appetite is stronger than the desire to be cured. Dr. Keeley, an army surgeon in the American civil war, hit upon a remedy that has cured thousands of the drink habit, and if persevered in, it is effectual. The remedy has been taken by a few Hamiltonians with good results; but there are others who have tried it who have gone back to their old habits. Then there have been remedies advertised that are utterly worthless, and the men who put them on the market should be prosecuted for fraud, for they only hold out a hope to the wife who is willing to pay anything if it will only cure her husband of the unfortunate appetite. Some of these remedies can be out into the coffee the man drinks, so the advertisement says, and he will never know what he has taken till his wife tells him later when he is cured. This is a cruel fake, and it is a deliberate misrepresentation. Any person may be cured of the drink habit if they only have the moral courage to quit it and take such remedies as the Keely cure. There is a drink that is in common use that has been denounced by the highest medical authority in the United States, Dr. Wiley, formerly head of the United States marine hospital bureau. It is sold by druggists and restaurants, and is so seductive that once a taste for it is acquired, it is hard to break away from. It is not intoxicating but is much worse – it is a soothing drink that leads in the end to the cocaine and morphine habit. Shun it if you value health and comfort.

1914-04-18

The passing of Edward Bethune, on Friday of last week, removed another old-timer from the stage of action. During the latter years of his life, he was a comparative stranger in a town where he once was active. Sixty years ago he was a partner in the confectionery business of Ecclestone & and Bethune, the firm conduction two of the leading shops in Hamilton. From the first knowledge, the writer of these musings had of Mr. Bethune, he was always interested in religious work. In 1855, he joined the volunteer fire department and was a member of No. 1 company, having a his associates George Tuckett, Charles Newberry, Harry Harding, Joshua Phillips, all prominent in business circles. In looking over the old roll of the company, the only one now living in Hamilton is James Phillips. How time rolls around! Of the 135 names of No. 1 in 1855, how few are left! The minutes of the old fire company are full of quaint doings. For instance, Edward Bethune presented, at a meeting, a bill of 17 shillings, 6 pence for beer, and after some discussion, it was allowed. The boys of No. 1 often indulged in beer and crackers and cheese at their meetings, but not to a hilarious extent. Charley Smith, the oldest living fireman in the city, celebrated his eightieth birthday a week ago last Sunday. He was born in New York city and came to Hamilton when a boy. He joined the old department in 1847, and was captain of a boys’ company, the engine being a present from John Fisher, of the firm Fisher and McQuesten, and was made in their foundry. Of No. 3 company, there are but few left. It was a temperance company, and no one was eligible for membership who smothered his face in the foam of a beer mug. The few survivors of the old department are men now ranging along about the eighties, exempting Colonel John Stoneman, and he was only a boy when he first began as a torchbearer.

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          Probably one of the oldest men in Hamilton, and without a doubt, the oldest business man, ended life’s journey on Friday of last week. David Galbraith was in his ninety-sixth year; he was born in Stoney Creek and lived there till arriving at man’s estate, when he moved into Hamilton and engaged in the grocery business. When Mr. Galbraith was born, on the 18^th day of February 1819, Stoney Creek was a more important point than was Hamilton, or Head of the Lake as it was then called. Being raised on a farm, his inclinations led to a farming life, and he became a student of fruit raising, which was then in its infancy, especially the cultivation of the peach, starting the first peach-tree nursery in this section. When he first came to Hamilton, there was but one brick cottage in the village, and that stood on a knoll on the corner of King and John streets. On the first of October, 1841, Mr. Galbraith opened a general store in a frame building adjoining the Waldorf hotel on the east, and did business there till early in the fifties, when he moved across the street, opposite the Waldorf. He was successful as a business man. He took an active part in politics and represented St. Patrick’s ward in the city council till he was appointed one of the commissioner in 1855, to organize a system of waterworks for the city, in connection with Charles Magill, Adam Brown, M. Wilson Browne and Peter Balfour. T. C. Keefer was the engineer who planned the system, and the commissioners ably seconded his efforts. There were diverse opinions as from whence should the supply of water come, some favoring a canal from the Grand river, others going still farther to Lake Erie, while others thought the bay would be the cheapest. Mr. Keefer decided that the present source of supply would be the purest and best and his plan was adopted by the commissioners. It was no slight undertaking for a town of less than 11,000 inhabitants to undertake, and that, too, at the beginning of one of the worst financial panics that ever visted Canada. The estimated cost of the system was $440,000, and the commissioners completed their at but little more than the engineer’s estimate. For this amount the pumping station at the beach with a complete outfit of machinery was built, the reservoir on the mountain, about180 feet above the level of the lake, was constructed, and thirteen miles of pipe, extending from Wellington to Bay street, and from Hannah to Barton, with one hundred hydrants, was completed. To provide for a population of 25,000, it was estimated would require an additional $40,000. This was the system that David B. Galbraith helped to organize. Adam Brown is the only survivor of the first board of water commissioners of Hamilton. They planned wisely and well. After Mr. Galbraith retired from business, he was appointed to a position in the customs service, which he held till superannuated. He was always in the front rank of those who loved the city and was ready to make sacrifice for its advancement.

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John Wannamaker, formerly postmaster-general of the United States, does not take kindly to long Sunday services. Now no one can accuse Mr. Wannamaker of a lack f reverence for the Sabbath, for he has been an earnest worker in the church and in the Sunday school from his youth up, but he has the courage of his convictions and is not afraid to speak out in a meeting at the mid-year conference of the Pennsylvania State Sabbath School association held in Philadelphia last week, he said, “You spend too much time fussing with programs, speeches, meetings and movements. You will win greater success if you adopt some of the methods used by Billy Sunday, the evangelist. Religious services are too long and too dry anyhow, and the church or Sunday school that expects to meet with success must deliver the goods the people want.” Some people object to Billy Sunday’s language. It’s pretty hard to break away from the language a fellow has been using since childhood, and we should not overlook the harvest to examine the harrow too closely. Mr. Wannabaker added that Sunday schools should try to follow the principles of vocational training by discovering and developing the inclination of each pupil.

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The present tightness of the money market and the consequent depression in business does not seem to make any appreciable difference in the value of real estate in Hamilton. While the transactions are not as many, yet prices keep advancing steadily. The scarcity of inside property stiffens up the price. There may not be as much building within the next few months, but this will not reduce the value of houses, rather tend to an increase in price. The prospect for the building of new churches and of improving the old ones is going to set a good many thousands afloat during the coming summer. If money is as scarce as it is claimed for it, then it is certainly not among churches, for the Easter reports indicate a liberal giving that is unprecedented. Seventeen years ago, a newcomer to Hamilton was in search of a lot on which to build a house, and he was offered about seventy-five feet on the corner of West avenue and King streets – the corner just east of the First Methodist church – for $2,000. The site was all that was desirable, but being from the country, he had the horror of the noise of the street cars passing by, so he let it pass. There are three brick houses on that lot, which pay an annual rental that would have been a big interest on the $2,000 invested. However, he let the opportunity pass. A couple of years ago, the trustees of the Methodist church offered $15,000 for the lots, and would have gone a little better rather than miss getting them. The owners turned up their noses at even $20,000, and now are holding them at $30,000. This is but one instance of the increasing value of property in this city. We might cite several cases where large sums have been paid for desirable lots even within the past couple of years, but this one takes the bun. We presume the assessors have not yet learned the increased value of that property, but somehow or another residence property keeps on increasing in value according to the assessors.

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Those get-rich-quick advertisements we read in the daily papers certainly offer tempting inducements, and thousands of dollars pass from the pockets every year of the gullible ones into the pockets of the sharpers. For instance, an advertisement which has grown gray in the service is that which offers to furnish literary employment to those who want it, where they can make a good salary writing for the newspapers, and it does not cost the applicant a cent. Generous souls, to give free information to those ignorant of newspaper work! But when the applicant writes for a position then the advertiser gets in his work, and bleeds the unfortunate one so long as there is a dollar to be had, and at last to find out that there is nothing in it. Then there other advertisements of a similar nature offering free information that will make the fortunes of the applicants, and all one has to do is write and have the good thing handed out to them without fee or reward. When one writes for information, then a small fee is required, and so it goes on so long as the innocent one can be gulled. These sharks live on the ignorance and gullibility of those who are always who are always on the lookout for some means by which they can get rich without work. Pay no attention to such advertisements and you will save money.

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How are you this morning? Fine and dandy, are you? Want to know how to remain in that condition? Then listen to the advice of a governor of an eastern state: “Take a good long walk every morning; eat wholesome food; refrain from alcoholic liquors; refrain from excessive use of tobacco, and particularly from inhaling the smoke; and, having attended in all these matters, pray hard, for nothing can keep you healthy and strong except the Grace of Almighty God.” Here is a recognition of the Supreme Director from a man who finds time in the midst of the cares of a great office in a great state, to remember the things that be of the spirit. He has learned that the restful spirit makes for bodily health and strength – an easy lesson to learn for which no particular cult is needed – just calm, common sense. Some of us learn it early, some late, but to all the fact some day comes home that the troubled, vexed spirit makes much of pain and ill for the outer man, doesn’t it?

1918-06-06

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

          One hundred years ago, Dundas had the only newspaper and printing office in the Gore district. The name of the newspaper was the Phoenix, and it is probable that it was among the first newspapers printed in Upper Canada. The editor and publisher was Richard Cockrell, and the subscription price was $4.50 a year, one half to be paid in advance. The copy of the Phoenix we had the privilege of handling, originally belonged to Nathaniel Hughson, he being a regular subscriber, and was dated September 28, 1819, and was the property of R. G. Bigelow, who was a nephew of Mr. Hughson. Mr. Bigelow died in this city a couple of years ago. At the time we had the Phoenix, we suggested that the authorities of Dundas  should get possession of it, and preserve it as an ancient relic of one hundred years ago, but, unfortunately, the opportunity was allowed to pass, and the probability is that after Mr. Bigelow’s death the paper may have been destroyed. Nathaniel Hughson was one of the early settlers of Hamilton, and one of the main streets leading to the bay was named after him.

          That the Phoenix had but a brief existence is more than likely, for the next printer we have any record of as living in Dundas was G. Heyworth Hackstaff, whose name appears on the title page of a book printed for Dr. Thomas Rolph, of Ancaster, in the year 1836. The title of the book was  “ A Brief Account with Observations, made during a visit to the West Indies, and a Tour Through the United States of America, in Parts of  the years 1832-33; Together With a Statistical Account of Upper Canada.” Ancaster had its first printing office and newspaper in 1826. The paper was called the Gore Gazette. It had but a short life, and was succeeded by the Gore Balance,

          The Rolph family settled in the neighbourhood of Ancaster and Dundas early in the thirties, being natives of England, and there may some of the early settlers who have not forgotten them. In the year 1832, Dr. Thomas Rolph having determined to change his residence for some one of the colonies of Great Britain, he was prevailed upon by a West India planter to visit his plantation before deciding upon his future location. On the 17^th of November, 1832, the doctor bade farewell to England, arriving in Carlisle bay, Barbados. While the doctor was charmed with the country and climate of the West Indies, there seemed to be something lacking to make it the ideal home he was in search of. The truth of the matter was, his mind had already been biased in favor of Upper Canada, with Ancaster as the haven of rest, and go where he would, the descriptions he had received from English friends who had already settled in the Niagara district was the loadstone that drew him thitherward. The doctor spent a couple of years wandering in the United States, but his British birth and training finally decided him that henceforward the Ancaster hills and the Dundas valley were to be “Home Sweet Home.” His future career and success in life showed the wisdom of the doctor’s decision.

          The old muser has the pleasure of reading a history that was written of a locality in which he spent the early part of his life, and it recalls pleasant memories of boyhood days when, with other boys and girls, we hiked out on holiday afternoons to drink the waters of the celebrated Ancaster sulphur springs. That was more than sixty years ago, but the days will never be forgotten. Dr. Thomas wrote his “Observations” in the year 1834 – the year memorable to the writer of these musings as being the date of his giving his first ell as a salute to the old Union Jack. Ancaster and Dundas were then the leading towns at the Head of the Lake, and Dundas had a printing office that was supplied with type equal to anything we have at the present day for first-class book printing, and the quality of paper was superior in finish to that now in use except for costly book work. As Ancaster was Dr. Rolph’s objective point when he arrived in Canada, and for many years after the home of his choice, let us take a start there.

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THE EARLY SETTLERS OF THE ANCASTER DISTRICT

While Dr. Rolph was loyal in sentiment to the homeland where he was born, his brief experience in Canada assured him that every poor man, if he be industrious, could provide abundantly for his family by any kind of labor, manual or mechanical, for here the poorer class  of people are free from the imposts and burdens which so often sent old country people superless to be, while their children cried for bread. What an extensive field of employment for the practical philanthropists Canada presented in the early days of the last century. There were some illustrious instances to be met with among the wealthy in Great Britain, such as Earl Egremont, Lord Htyesbury, Marquis of Bute, Joseph Marriage and others who furnished the means of emigration to the honest and industrious poor, who lived on their estates in the old country, contributing to their removal  from scenes of bitter distress and strong temptations to crime, enabling them to exchange beggary for independence, starvation for plenty, and idleness and disease for health and exertion.

The advantages of emigration to the home laborers were that instead of pining away and withering in an overstocked or exhausted soil, they would strike root and flourish in the rich fields of a new country like Canada. The patriotic Duke of Hamilton purchased a large district of several thousand acres for the purpose of settling in Canada on the easiest terms all the industrious poor on his estate. Of this class of emigrants was the old Gore district settled in a large measure, and from that sturdy stock of English, Irish and Scotch has descended the prosperous fathers and mothers who have made this part of Canada one of the richest sections.

A hundred years ago a few men like the Earl of Edgemont benefitted hundreds of poor persons whom he rescued from the degradation of the workhouses and sent to happiness and independence in Canada. That philanthropic earl furnished in great part the means that brought from his own and neighboring estates in England no less than thirteen thousand poor persons to Upper Canada, the larger number settling in the Gore district. Some of the ancient families in Ancaster and Dundas can trace their ancestry back to these emigrants, and they need not be ashamed of the stock from which they sprung. An instance came under Dr. Rolph’s observation of a young English couple having rented a farm within two miles of Ancaster, consisting of 90 acres of cleared land with a house, barn, good orchard, the use of a span of horses and 12 ewes, for $175 a year, and at the end of four years, by their labor and industry, they had saved enough to buy the farm, paying a fair price for it, and all in cash. And this was only one of many such cases. The doctor gives in his pleasant history an account of a laborer whom Lord Edgemont sent out from an English workhouse and who settled near Ancaster, who had become the owner of a farm of fifty acres, with a comfortable log house, a span of horses, a wagon, a cow, hogs, poultry etc. as the result of a few short years of industry, and in addition sent home money to enable his brother and his wife to come to Canada. The brothers worked together, buying up land and stock, and in a few years ranked among the prosperous farmers of Ancaster.

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Dr. Rolph tells in his book of the winters being long and severe, but he did not consider that as a fault. The Sons of St. Andrew were enabled by the excellent sleighing to enjoy their annual festival, on the 30^th of November, 1835, at West Flamboro, persons from Ancaster, Dundas and Hamilton attending; and on New Year’s eve, a ball was held at the same tavern, got up by the same party, at which upwards of one hundred attended. A person from Brantford, writing under date March 22, 1836, says : “We are now drawing to the close of one of the severest winters which has been known for some years in Upper Canada, and we may look daily for an end as well to the amusements which it has afforded by the excellent sleighing that has accompanied it, as to all those occupations to which it has given facility.”

A Hamiltonian writes , April 10, 1836 : “The termination of an unusually hard winter, even for Canada, has taken place. On the 19^th of November the country was for the first time covered with snow, a clothing which has continued, as the ancient historian would say, even to this day. The intensity of the cold for more than four months has seldom been equaled, the thermometer during that period being frequently 30 degrees below zero …. The mildness of the weather, however, for the last few days, and the gradual disappearance of the threatening enemy, have dissipated every fear, and the heart of the husbandman already begins to leap for joy. Hard frosts still continue during the nights, but the days are delightfully fine, and the heat of the sun is rapidly removing the wintry clothing of white, which will speedily be supplied by our spring mantle of green.” Wild pigeons were so plentiful in those days that the town and country loungers used to betake themselves to the mountainside at nights, and with clubs gather a harvest of material for pigeon pies. The Hamilton mountain was a favorite roost of wild pigeons even twenty years later, but now a large reward has been offered for a live wild pigeon, and not one has been presented from any part of the American continent for many years.

Winter was considered in ancient days as the most lively part of the year, when there was about four inches of snow, with frost, making sleighing for business or pleasure from one end of the province to the other. With a span of good horses and two or three persons in a sleigh, with warm clothing, fur cap, and a bear or buffalo skin over the back and feet, one could pleasantly drive forty or fifty miles a day, enlivened by the numerous sleighs met on the road and the merry jingling of the bells. From Ancaster church to Vanderlip’s tavern, a distance of little more than three miles, across the Ancaster plains, Dr. Rolph counted sixty-four sleighs on the 20^th of January, most of them hauling saw logs to the mill in Ancaster, and some with grain. As a proof of the cheerfulness and hilarity consequent on Sleigh riding, a Canadian poet tells the story.

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THE SLEIGH BELL

Merrily dash we o’er valley and hill,

All but the sleigh bell is sleeping a still;

O, bless the dear sleigh-bell! There’s naught can compare

To its loud merry tones as they break on the ear.

1914-02-21

What a grand treat the Spectator is furnishing its readers in almost giving away that book of ancient songs, entitled Heart Songs! It is an almost priceless collection of the songs of better days, and takes the old-timers back half a century or more ago when the words and music were familiar in the home and in the concert hall. The songs written by Stephen C. Foster carry one back in memory to the days of Jenny Lind, Kate Hayes, the Black Swan and other noted singers who made the words and music famous by introducing  them as encores. What pathos there was in the Old Folks at Home, Old Black Joe, My Old Kentucky Home, Old Dog Tray, as they came as an inspiration from the heart and pen of Stephen Foster! The songs were sung and whistled in the streets by staid old men and the schoolboy, and the programs of musical entertainments were not complete unless plentifully sprinkled with selections from the songwriters of the day. And, by the way, Hamilton can claim a distant relationship with the gifted Foster, for within the past couple of years, he had cousins living here who were to the mansion born, Poor Foster, like Edgar Allan Poe and other gifted songwriters by his genius, but his life was wasted by an appetite that has filled thousands of unnamed graves with men who seemed to be an inspiration while living. Hamilton has had its songwriters in earlier days whose names are even forgotten except by some old friend who now and then may recall them. Fifty and sixty years ago the songs of Foster were sung by every minstrel troupe – and there were real minstrels in those days, not vaudeville bawlers who do blackface stunts and call it minstrelsy – and they sound as sweetly today as we old stagers first heard them. Minstrelsy now and then are two different propositions. In the days of American slavery before the war, there was inspiration in the voices and the wild songs of the slaves at their religious gatherings, and these were incorporated into the songs of Foster and others, and at once became popular in the concert hall. It is probable that Foster wrote more songs and composed the music for them than did any songwriter of his day. It was not only in the negro dialect songs that he excelled, but Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming is a specimen in the higher lines. Minstrelsy and the writing of such songs as the slavery days suggested have become a lost art. There are but few on the minstrel stage now who belonged to the days when the Christys and Dan Rice and Dick Sitter drew crowded houses wherever they went.

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In many of the early companies, the majority of the performers were printers who had good voices and could dance a jig; it paid better than setting type at $7 and $8 a week, and then there was the added charm of a wandering life. This Old Muser recalls the visit of a minstrel company at London, The Forest City, more than sixty-five years ago. There were only five in the company, and all of them were printers from Montreal. Charles Kidner, was then working on the Free Press in London, and as he had worked with that minstrel gang in Montreal, they sent him word to advertise them and make all arrangements for the concert. The aggregation could not afford the luxury of an advanced agent, and the musical typos had to depend on their old-time friends scattered here and there in country printing offices to do their advertising. Charlie Kidner wrote a high-sounding announcement and had it printed in the Free Press office, and this Old Muser being the ‘printer’s devil’ it devolved upon him to scatter the bills after working hours, for which Charlie promised him a free ticket to the show. London had no daily paper then, and during the afternoon before the concert Mr. Kidner employed the town bell-crier to go through the streets of London and announce the coming minstrels. In the second story of the Mechanics’ Institute there was a hall that would seat about 250 people and at one end of the hall was a platform about eighteen inches high. The hall was crowded as the price of admission was only a quarter of a dollar, so after the expenses of the hall were paid there was but little left to help the minstrels on their way to the next town. Mr. Kidner paid the printing bill and the bell-ringer’s fee to help his old friends out. There were five men in the company, dressed in black pants and white shirts, and each one played an instrument as well as doing a vocal part. There was a violin, a cello, a banjo, and the bones and tambouring. Camptown Races and many of the songs that are in the Spectator book of Heart Songs were then new, and those five minstrel printers gave a three hours’ entertainment that lives still the memory of this ancient Muser.

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It is a dream to go through that book of Heart Songs for it takes the old-timer back to half a century and more ago when there was poetry in the souls of the writers, and it came gushing out into sweet melody that can never be forgotten. England, Ireland and Scotland are well-represented in the pages of the book, and it would be like writing a catalogue to give the titles and the writers. The Old Oaken Bucket, Home, Sweet Home, Widow Machree, the Low-Backed Car – what is the use of recalling the titles? Then there is a charm in the book for old soldiers who served during the American war of 1861-1865, for the well-remembered songs that cheered many a weary heart in camp and in the hospital. The old soldiers sing them at they gather at the camp fires at the annual reunions. Old Shady was one of the favourites, and it is especially so with the Muser, for we remember the author, Ben Hanoy, when he was a  student at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, where we published a newspaper before and after the war. Ben went out in the first three month’s call, and then he joined the Presbyterian church and entered the ministry. His religion did not interfere with his genius as a song writer, especially war songs, for he was the author of quite a number. What old soldier can ever forget Tenting Tonight on the Old Camp Ground? Many years the Thirteenth Royal Regiment had a spectacular play one night out in Dundurn park and Bandmaster Robinson had his band boys sing Tenting Tonight, and they did sing it with a spirit and the understanding of what it meant to the boys who sang it in camp and on the battlefield during the American war.

We could ramble on about that Spectator book of Heart Songs till we would weary the reader, and then never be able to give half an idea of what it contains. To be brief then: cut out six coupons from the daily Spectator and send them with 94 cents to the business office and get one of the books. If it has to go by mail to you, then the postage will have to be added. There are hours of solid pleasure between the covers of that book, and it will give your children a love for the songs and music that brightened your own lives in the days of your youth.

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Why is it that when men are elected to public office, so many of them become champions of the liquor interest? We have known men with reputations of being members of the church and fair, average Christians who, when elected as aldermen, take up the cudgels in defense of the saloonkeeper and are ready to vote whatever legislation will lighten the burdens of that class. And the same is true in relation to pool rooms, picture shows and everything that may have a tendency to upset public morals. One would that Hamilton is really suffering for movie picture shows the way that public officials champion every demand to increase the number. And if a man wants a license to open a liquor store in a residence neighbourhood, the whole community is thrown into commotion in order that his request may be granted. Down in the East Hamilton district a man who had no special hankering after other work, and seeing the big profits in the sale of liquor, wanted to open a store and applied for license. The good people of that district, and especially the wives and mothers, became alarmed at what might result from a too convenient shop in which to buy liquor, and the heads of the large manufacturing plants in that neighbourhood all united in a protest against the license commissioners giving official sanction to the request of the applicant, and they had quite a time in heading off the danger. But the applicant was not going to lose the prize which he coveted of making money at the expense of the homes in that neighbourhood, so he withdrew the petition from the license commissioners of the city and changed his base to acquiring a shop license from the commissioners of the adjoining district for a house just outside the corporate limits of the city. Now the wives and mothers and the manufacturers and the respectable people of that district have to go through another slog to head off the enemy. Let us hope that for the sake of morality and decent citizenship that the license commissioners in the adjoining district will sit down promptly on the application. Drunkenness and immorality will thrive fast enough without having the sanction of men who are elevated in public office. Chief Smith, in his annual report, gives a gloomy picture of the increase of crime within the past three or four years. Young men and young girls are going the downward road by way of moving picture shows and dance halls and the good people in the churches are contributing $50,000 a year to convert the heathen.

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The ancient Anglo-American hotel, that in its early days was one of the best-equipped hotels in Canada, is again passing through the deep waters of affliction. When it was built, nearly sixty years ago, Canada could not boast of many first-class hotels, and about the only one in Hamilton was the City hotel, kept originally by Thomas Davidson, and afterward by F. W. Fearman. The old stone building still stands on the southwest corner of James and Merrick streets. When it was originally built, hotel architecture was only a dream, therefore not much was spent on the interior fittings. Indeed about all that was apparently needed in a first-class hotel in those days was a comfortable dining-room and a very large barroom, as it was in the barroom where the patrons of the hotel spent the hours they had for leisure. But what the old City hotel lacked in the way of bedrooms and other luxuries, it had the reputation of setting one of the best tables of any hotel in Canada, and the traveling men of those days who had to spend their Sundays on the road away from home invariably made it a point to get to Hamilton, by steamboat or stage, on Saturday night, so as to get a few square meals. Thomas Davidson had his own gardens just outside of the city limits, and there was raised all of the vegetables, small fruits, chickens and eggs, and a pasture field where the best breed of cows was kept to furnish the cream, milk and butter for his tables. Hamilton was beginning to feel a little on the high-brow order about that time, for the old town was growing in population, and there must have been not less than fifteen thousand people, men, women and children, basking in the sunshine of the ancient mountain that had been left as a legacy to the town by the patriarchs who, with Noah, had escaped the floods. The City hotel could not be enlarged, and indeed, Mr. Davidson would not hear of such a thing : it was large enough for him, and if Hamilton wanted to put on airs and build a larger hotel, it could do it. The Hamilton business men of sixty years ago had large ideas of the future of the old town, and they looked forward to the time when it might have a population of fifty thousand. The Great Western railway had been opened for more than a year, and one express train a day ran to and from Niagara Falls to Detroit, and Hamilton was the headquarters of the road. Then they were talking about building a branch to connect Toronto with Hamilton. My, what great things were to be expected! But the fly in the ointment was the lack of hotel accommodation, and this must be furnished even if old Thomas Davidson did not take it. A company was formed and the present site of the Waldorf hotel was bought for a mere song, for lots on King street were not valued highly in those days, especially on the south side of the street and so far east from James. In the earlier days that lot was the circus grounds, and the frame buildings that were erected on it later were not profitable for renting purposes. However, the company was formed, the lot was bought, and in 1855, the cornerstone of the new hotel was laid with solemnity, and after a few bottles of champagne washed the cob webs out of the throats of the orators and those connected with the enterprise. With what interest Hamilton watched each layer of brick as it added to the growth of the structure, and when the final row was reached at the top, even us poor innocents, who never expected to have money enough to take a look-in at the new hotel, felt that we had a sort of proprietary interest in it. We have told before in these Musings with what great pomp and ceremony the new hotel was opened and therefore it is not necessary to go into details. It was christened the Anglo-American, and its first landlord belonged to a celebrated family of American hotelkeepers, and everything was in the highest style of luxury and comfort. Charles R. Coleman was the name of the first proprietor.

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The Anglo-American was too big an undertaking for a city of less than 20,000 population. It was opened in the spring of 1856, and attending the inauguration came distinguished people from neighbouring towns in Canada and the United States. Although the rates were not high, the new hotel seemed to be a losing proposition from the start, notwithstanding the efforts of the businessmen of the city to help it along in the way of balls and dinner parties. Every society patronized it for its annual banquet, but all of no avail. After struggling along for three or four years, Mr. Coleman gave it up as a hopeless task and returned to the United States. The stockholders then interested a man named Kingsley, who was the proprietor of the Robinson Hall in London, to take charge of the hotel. Kingsley was a natural-born hotelman, and he took into the management with him a man named named Rice, the firm name being Rice and Kingsley. They struggled along with the management for a couple of years, but with indifferent success till finally the Prince of Wales visited Hamilton in 1860, when a grand ball was given in his honour. At that time Rice and Kingsley were head over ears in debt to almost every businessman in Hamilton, and largely to the grocers, the butchers and the dealers in all kinds of provisions. In the hope of getting their money, the storekeepers were liberal in advancing everything for the entertainment of the prince, and for the ball, it was a great financial success. The night of the ball, when Hamilton was tired out and in dreamland, Rice and Kingsley quietly folded their tents, like the Arab, and silently stole away, never again to enter the corporate limits. When the merchants presented themselves at the Anglo-American the next morning they almost fell upon the neck of each other and wept for the vanished stores they had so liberally furnished for the grand finale. This was failure number two.

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By this time, the stockholders had become disgusted with their efforts with their efforts to keep hotel, and in the year 1861 they sold the property to the Wesleyan Methodist conference for a ladies’ college, for the mere bagatelle of $28,000, or $175 per front foot. For nearly thirty-five years the old hotel was opened as a college, and where was once the sound of revelry by night arose the voice of prayer and sacred song. The college had evidently served its day, and again the building was devoted to its original purpose. Mr. Gilkinson opened it as the Waldorf hotel about sixteen years ago, and for eight years or more consucted the business successfully. During his management it had a reputation as a first-class hotel, and it was told at the time of his retirement that he had made about $75,000 clear. Indeed, he was the first and only landlord that ever made the house pay. In order to encourage the opening of the hotel when Mr. Gilkinson came, the board of license commissioners granted him a license at the regular rate, thus saving him from having to pay a high premium toobtain the purchase of one from some man already licensed. This license is now valued as one of the assets of the Waldorf at $15,000. As stated in the outset of this bit of hotel history, the Waldorf is now passing through the deep waters of affliction, its present recognized landlord having turned its assets over to the creditors. During his eight years of management he claims to have lost about $ 50,000. Recently he bought a hotel at Chatham. What is to be the future of the ancient Anglo-American is what is worrying the enterprising citizens who bought the property with the intention of razing the old building and erecting in its place a hotel to meet the wants of this growing city. Till the future develops what is to come next, the history of the old Anglo-American hotel will be continued.

1914-02-07

In McClure’s Magazine for February there is a very interesting story, there is a very interesting article on button making, and it recalls to the writer of these musings how near it happened nine years ago that a branch of that industry sought to establish a factory in Hamilton. It is an interesting story and we will tell it with all the brevity its importance demands. Some twenty-five years ago, a German living at Muscatine, Iowa, went out on a fishing expedition in the Mississippi River, and in trailing along the bottom of the river, his hooks caught in a bed of fresh water clams and he hauled a large one to the surface. The German, in his native land, had worked in a button factory, and the finding of the bed of clams suggested to him the possibilities of making buttons out of the shells. He took a number of shells home and boiled them clean, and then with some tools he had used in the button trade in the old country, made a dozen of buttons and sewing them on a card, sold them for ten cents to a storekeeper. That was the first dozen of buttons ever made from the clam beds of the Mississippi, and out of that was created an industry that has brought millions of dollars to a few towns along the river in Illinois and Iowa. Down in Louisiana, more clam beds were discovered, and this started the button industry in some of the river towns there. The interior of the clam shell gives a bright ivory surface, and the samples in possession of the Muser are interesting. Prior to the discovery of the clam beds in the Mississippi river twenty-five years ago, there were no pearl buttons made in America, and those made in foreign countries were from salt-water clams or mussels and were principally handwork, the machinery in use being very crude. The discovery of freshwater clams in the Mississippi river and the German’s knowledge of the button industry, opened a new field for labor, and from being a lumber town, Muscatine went into clam shell fishing and button making. It was some time before machinery was invented to do the work, and the buttons were made with the crudest kind of tools. Three young Irishmen who had a plumber’s shop in Muscatine finally invented a machine and the first one was rented for one dollar a day to the German who first discovered the wealth of shells in the river. Hundreds of those machines are now in use in the towns on the Mississippi, from Muscatine down to New Orleans, and the ivory button trade amounts to millions of dollars annually. The manufacturers successfully compete with the foreign product, and with the liberal duty under the McKinley tariff, thousands of women and children are earning good wages. Some of the fishermen have been fortunate in finding in the clam shells pearls of great value, for which they have realized $5,000 for a single pearl. Two men employed in one of the factories, working side by side, found in the shells two valuable pearls. At once they threw up their job and started for Chicago, where they sold the pearls for $2,000 each, and lived on the fat of the land till every dollar was spent; and they returned to Muscantine, tramping and riding on the buffers, and again took up their old job of button making. An Iowa German went out one day fishing and hauled in a big black clam shell. When the shell was opened, there was nestling inside a handsome pearl. A Chicago jeweler who was in Muscantine at the time looking for pearls paid the German $3,000 for his find. “Goodbye to Muscantine,” said the German; “I am off for my old home in the interior of the state and will buy the farm on which my family are now living as renters.” The magazine article is full of interest, but it is what Hamilton lost that we are going to tell briefly.

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        In the month of March, 1906, a member of a large button firm doing business in Burlington, Iowa, came to Hamilton to look over the field for the purpose of starting a factory here. There was a widespread reputation of Hamilton as an electrical city, for at that time the Cataract Power company, through John Patterson, was sending broadcast the fame of Hamilton as the coming great industrial city. And, by the way, no Hamiltonian did more, or as much, to bring to this city American capital and industries. The Burlington capitalist was well-pleased with the outlook, and at once began to plan for the opening of a factory. Very wisely he called at the American consulate to obtain such information as would naturally help him, and was thus put in communication with John Hall, who had charge of the industrial promotion of the city. To start right, the capitalist was advised at the consulate to learn from the departments at Ottawa on what conditions he could bring in machinery and the material to make buttons, and John Hall opened correspondence with Ottawa. The answer was that the machinery would be admitted at a nominal sum, but that a duty would be charge on the blanks from which the buttons were made. The proposition of the Burlington manufacturer was that he should be permitted to bring in the blanks as it would be too costly to ship the whole shells on account of wastage, as from each shell not more than half a dozen blanks could be produced. The remainder of the shells would be worthless except for road building, and the question was whether they could get enough out of the refuse to pay the cost of transportation. As the government would not yield anything on that point, the proposition fell through, and Hamilton did not get the button factory, nor is there a factory in Canada today in that line of business. So certain was the Burlington man that the government would readily accede to getting an industry of that kind, which did not interfere with any other Canadian industry, that he had made a contract for a building for his business. A sample of the blanks was sent to Ottawa, so that the officials could see just what the company asked free entry for. The writer has a handful of the blanks which he kept during the past nine years and were lying forgotten in a pigeonhole in his desk till the reading of the magazine article recalled them to memory. The Burlington Manufacturer intended to begin operations with a force of fifty or sixty hands, men and women, and as the trade developed the number would be increased to keep up with the demand. Those employed in the Iowa factories are earning good wages, and there was no reason to suppose that less would be paid here. The electric power was the great inducement for the promoters to come to Hamilton with their industry. A short-sighted policy kept the button industry out of Hamilton and out of Canada. We might mention here that at first the refuse of the shells had no value, but one day a button maker crushed a number of shells into powder and fed them to an old hen that had about retired from the egg-producing business, and immediately Biddy got busy and began laying again. That was the beginning of a new industry, and now the pulverized shells are sold as chicken feed.

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        Those who visit the hospitals with benevolent intent meet with cases and incidents that touch their hearts. The other day a lady visitor was passing through the children’s ward when she was attracted by a childish voice singing so sweetly a hymn she had learned in the Plymouth Brethren Sunday school. The little girl was unconscious while singing, for in her seasons of delirium there is a hint of a kind of tender sweetness in her voice that is like the flavor of old music half forgotten. Father and daughter were both in the hospital at the same time, suffering from typhoid fever. As the child neared the end of each verse, her voice died away, and became lost; and then she would begin again, the same result following. The lady visitor and others in the ward were so overcome with the child’s singing that they were moved to tears, for the air and the words of the hymn, with the sweet cadence of the voice of the unconscious singer, lifted them from this world for the moment to the land beyond in which the child wandered in her delirium. The hymns and songs that one learned in childhood are never forgotten, for they come back in after life as a pleasant memory of home and mother. The small audience that were attracted in the hospital ward that afternoon by the voice and song of the fever-tossed child will never forget the influence upon them for the time being. The songs of our youth never pass from memory. Many a man and woman who has been lured into the paths of error and sin have been checked in their unfortunate course by hearing the songs they learned at mother’s knee or in the Sunday school. The story as told by the lady visitor at a meeting of ladies recently loses its force when put into cold type for the readers of these musings, but it may recall pleasant thoughts of childhood to some who have not given much attention to things of the past.

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        It recalls to the memory of the Muser an incident of the civil war in the United States of half a century ago. Soldiers in time of peace are generally regarded as harum-scarum sort of fellows, but when it gets down to real war a great change comes o’er the spirit of one’s dream. Then there is a difference in the professional soldier – one who enlists because he likes a dashing uniform and an easy time – and in the volunteer soldier who comes to the front when the flag of his country is threatened. Over two millions of the men and boys volunteered from 1861 on till the last call was made for more human food for powder. At first many those from the north hardly knew what a musket was for, and the same was true of the large army that came up from the south. Hundreds of thousands left wife and children, mothers and sisters, and to the rataplan of the drum and the piercing tones of the fife, they marched to fight for what they believed was the right, and not as professional soldiers. Those boys went from home and its influences, taking with them the training of their childhood days. By the campfire at night, they sang the songs of home and the hymns they had learned in Sunday school and church. The ribald song was rarely heard, as the singer would be speedily hissed down. These surroundings will in a large measure account for the morale of both armies. Here and there some would drop by the wayside in an evil hour, forgetting the past. Card-plying was one of the pastimes in camp, with poker on the side for very small stakes; but there was one thing remarkable, that when the long roll beat for a prospective brush with the enemy, no man carried a pack of cards with him – they were scattered hither and you; the testament and book of sacred songs could be found in nearly every man’s pocket, Protestant and Catholic. One of the greatest comforts to the sick and wounded in the camp hospitals was the visits of a quartet of singers of an afternoon, and how the poor fellows did enjoy the songs of home and the songs they sang in church and Sunday school, especially the grandest of all songs, Home, Sweet Home. That little girl in the city hospital, even in her delirium, wandered back to the songs she learned in the Plymouth Brethren Sunday school. There is a power in music that haunts us even when other incidents in life are forgotten.

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        The incident herewith related has been referred to in a former musing some years ago, but as now new readers are added to the Spectator and the older ones may have forgotten it, it may stand repetition. During the civil war in the United States, there was brought one night into the camp hospital on the banks of the Kanawha river, in West Virginia, a sergeant of the Third Virginia cavalry, a stalwart young fellow, but broken down with long and hard campaigning. He had been seized with fever while on duty and brought to the hospital for treatment. From the first, the surgeons had no hope of his recovery, for his mind had wandered off to the days of his childhood, and his then present condition was a blank to him. He had a rich tenor voice when in health, and all night long he tried to sing that grand old Methodist hymn, A Charge to Keep I Have, a God to Glorify. His voice started in strong at the first, but as he proceeded, it died away as though the sound came down through the Kanawha valley. He never got beyond the first verse, for before reaching the end of the four lines his mind and his voice seemed to be in another world. Toward daybreak in the morning, he seemed to rally for a moment, and then with one more effort he raised his voice in the same old hymn, and toward the close of the first verse, his immortal soul returned to the God he glorified in song. What an effect that trooper’s song had on the other patients in the hospital and to their dying day, they never forgot that old hymn. The trooper was born and raised in the mountains of West Virginia, and probably he first heard that hymn from his mother or at the church and Sunday school from the old itinerant preachers who travelled the circuit before the days of war. Mothers teach your children the songs of home and of your Christian faith, and when they go out into this world the remembrance of them may oft keep them from straying into forbidden paths.

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        The other night the bank clerks in Toronto held a meeting to form a union that might tend to better their financial condition. Bank clerks are supposed to be young men of fair business education and refinement – and to prepare for this costs time and money, even after schooldays are ended. They are expected to dress decently and to lodge in boarding houses of the better class. As a general thing, they are gentlemanly in their habits and are expected to have the entrée of decent society. And all this has to be done on a salary that a corporation laborer would turn up his nose at. Being refined in his manner, the bank clerk is a sentimental fellow in his way, but such a thing as falling in love with some sweet girl is out of the question, for one of the rules o Canada banking-houses is that no clerk, under any circumstances, is permitted to marry until he has reached a salary of $1,000 a year. It does seem a little cheeky for a lot of bloated bondholders, who are directors and managers; with marriageable daughters that mamma is anxious to transfer to the head of a family, to pass such outrageous laws. It is a crime against nature, and it is only a wonder that bank clerks are as good and virtuous as they are. Is it because directors and managers think $1,000 and over clerks are more honest than the young men on the $600 and $800 payroll? Well, these young Toronto fellows would like an increase of salary so that they can lay by a few dollars by the time they are financially ready to take a wife; and this Muser hopes that they will be able to so forcibly present their claim that the directors will add a trifle to each clerk’s pay check. It is well enough for the directors and managers to lay by so much a year for an officer’s pension fund, but not one in a hundred of the clerks are ever heard of as pensioners. Long before they arrive at the pensionable age, they drop out of banking and go into some business that their financial education has fitted them for. And, by the way, go into any banking house in Hamilton, and you will rarely see a grey-headed clerk. Then who are to get all of that pension money we read of in the annual reports? One bank appropriates $100,000 a year of the earnings of the stockholders’ money and lays it aside to pay some manager or officer a big pension. Better pay the workers decent salaries and let them provide for their future, the same as the common stockholder has to do. The clerks in Hamilton also held a meeting this week, but they were cautious in letting their wants be known. It was proposed to organize a special club, where they would spend their evenings. Boys, keep out of the club business, and whatever leisure hours you have, spend them in the society of good girls. By and by the directors may modify that $1,000 salary rule; or, better still, they will raise you up to that figure, and let your provide your own pension scheme.