The trail of love : an appreciation of Canadian pioneers and pioneer life

Front matter

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* the estate of

J. Stuart Fleming

Foreword

The time and place of one’s birth have more influence on our own lives and on those of others than most of us imagine. It was my good fortune to be born of parents who hewed their home out of the Canadian wilderness, and to spend my early years among the pioneers of Wentworth and Halton Counties in the Province of Ontario, the simplicity and honesty of whose lives has been steadfastly engraved upon my memory. As a result, it is perhaps only natural that a most persistent call has come to me to record in a way that will be imperishable a few of the virtues of these honest and upright lives.

Were it not for my great love for my father and mother and the men and women of their generation, and did I not believe that a record of some of the events of those noble lives would be an inspiration to the young people of our land, I would not have undertaken the preparation of this volume.

FOREWORD

I lay no claim to any literary talent nor to any ability as a writer. Indeed, if I had such, it is quite possible that this seeming duty would not have been impressed upon me and, with all this, I thoroughly realize that because these men and women who laid the foundations of early Canada were plain, wholesome people, whatever is written concerning them must be inscribed in words of similar character.

Had I not been over many of the forest trails myself, travelling along the various trails which life with its characters presents; had I not many times stumbled and fallen ; had I not been picked up by the hand of love and started again on my journey along the trail of love, and had I not been carefully nursed by a devoted mother and a father of the thorough pioneer type, I should perhaps not feel the same impulse to chronicle these incidents; but having accepted the genuine hospitality of the early pioneers, and having been permitted to share in these many blessings, it makes me desire to return this in the only way that seems open to me.

FOREWORD

The business — lumbering — in which the writer engaged in his early manhood presented two distinct sides of life — good and evil. The material in these pages is hot from the soul of experience. Having partaken of the joys along the trail, having likewise encountered dangers that almost caused me to lose my way, my strong desire is to have a heart-to-heart talk with my readers and to point out some of those dangers. If my experience assists any one to follow the trail of love through life’s journey and to keep closer to nature and the simple life than would otherwise be the case, my efforts will have been crowned with success.

W. D. F.

PART V. Observations Along the Trail .... 253

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

A Typical Canadian Pioneer, Grandfather Jacob

Cummings Frontispiece

My Beloved Mother 17

An Old-time Log Cabin 20

Grandmother Flatt 28

Mrs Henry Richardson 36

White Pine Monarchs .44

Grandmother Flatt and Five of Her Daughters 48 Mother and Her Daughters ..... 62

Father and His Brother James . . . .74

Father and Four of His Brothers . . .78

George Harbottle, Sr .88

Some of God’s Giants 96

An Old Walnut .110

A View in Glenhaven 114

One of God’s Winter Pictures .... 120

A View at Chedoke 120

W. D. and Mrs. Flatt ...... 125

Our First Drive on the Magnetawan . . . 131

Shipping Waney Board Timber to Ontonagon . 142

Loading Timber at Ontonagon .... 148

Waney Board Timber Along the Railways . . 156

An Old-time Lumber Camp Interior . . . 166

Loading Timber on Lake Superior . . . 176

A Record Load of Logs 180

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The Walking-Boss at Lunch . . . .182

Driving Logs on the Taquahaman . . . 182

At a Landing on the Taquahaman . . . 184

Driving Timber Over the Falls .... 187

Timber Decked Along the Railway . . . 192

A Record Load of Waney Board Timber . . 202

Father and Sons, Partners 216

“ Choice Goods,” an Imported Shorthorn . . 222

The Champion Shorthorn, “ Cicely ” . . . 226

Unloading British Shorthorns at Quebec . . 226

“ Day-Dream Five ” and “ Morning Dream ” . 288

The Calf that Cost Three Thousand Dollars . 238

“ Spicy Marquis,” a Toronto Exhibition Champion 246

Mrs. Flatt and Willie 252

In the Gardens of Lakehurst Villa . . . 254

Mrs. Flatt — A Recent Photograph . . .256

Willie and His Dog “ Ben ” .... 256

Members of Hamilton Boards at Lakehurst Villa 258

A British Columbia View 260

Near to Nature’s Heart 2-60

Communing with Nature 260

On the Lawn at Lakehurst Villa . . . .260

A Group of Friends 262

Hamilton Horticultural Society .... 262

MY BELOVED MOTHER.

PART I The one great purpose of Creation, love

The sole necessity of earth and heaven.

— J. G. Whittier.

Love is the medicine of all moral evil.

By it the world is to be cured of sin.

— Henry Ward Beecher.

Is not perfect love perfect happiness? Is not love heaven? — William Ettery Channing.

You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out above everything else are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love. — Henry Drummond.

Man’s glory consists very much in his capacity of being God’s image — which is love. — William Ettery Channing.

In the heart of Africa, among the great lakes, I have come across black men and women who remembered the only white man they ever saw before, David Livingstone; and as you cross his footsteps in that dark continent, you see men’s faces light up as they speak of the kind doctor who passed there years ago. They could not understand him, but they felt the love that beat in that great heart, they knew that it was love — that that life was laying itself down for Africa — although he spoke no word. — Henry Drummond.

Riches take wings, comforts vanish, hope withers away, but love stays with us. Love is God. — Lew Wallace.

PART I.

THE CANADIAN PIONEERS.

These pages contain a heart-to-heart talk around the fireside of real life. If you would enjoy the reading of this book, you must tune your heartstrings to harmonize with the pioneers who by their thrift, sacrifice and devotion laid the foundation for Canada and the Empire.

If you have not been familiar with God’s forest kingdom you may have difficulty in fully understanding the trails, the trials and the joys referred to in these pages. If you wish to have your soul in harmony, love is the only chord that will harmonize with the departed spirits of our beloved pioneers. Imagine yourself far in the forest where nature is supreme, listening to the song of the birds, watching the playful moods of the squirrels, inhaling the sweet perfume of the wild flowers. This will help you to understand the joy in God’s forest kingdom.

When you can hear the trees whispering messages of love, then your heart and soul is in tune. You will see how plainly the stamp of love has been placed upon our hearts and upon all nature. When your mind penetrates deep into the forest you will discover a trail plainly blazed. You will know this trail from all others, and your desire will be to follow it. You have discovered the Trail of Love. Follow it to the little log cabin. There you will find the door open. Step inside.

If you would not grieve the spirit of the departed, lay off your wraps, sit down and enjoy in the little cabin the hospitality that was always extended by the departed. The coals in the old fireplace, that had been guarded and kept alive for so many years, have died out. The hand of love can be seen in the construction of the cabin. The logs are carefully chinked to keep out the cold. The floor has been carefully scrubbed and left very white for your coming. The silence will invite you to enter the inner sanctuary of early pioneer days and talk with the loved ones who have gone on before.

Just to the left of the old fireplace you will see a little shelf. On it are two flint stones, with some lint close by. You will find dry birch bark and shavings in the corner of the old wood-box, and you will notice that the wood-box was left filled. The departed would love to have you kindle the old fire. They will show you how to strike the flint together, how to ignite the spark, and how to arrange the wood on the old fireplace to illuminate the little cabin and to add warmth and cheer. When your soul is warm, you will notice the old chair made so carefully by the hand of love, beautifully cushioned with willow. This was made for the woman of courage. Sit down in it. Presently you will realize that someone is drawing a chair close by. When you look up into the countenance of the one beside you, if he wears the crown of love, victory and contentment, you will realize that the pioneer is beside you, taking his old, accustomed place, where he and his beloved sat the long winter nights, and planned and cheered each other for the coming day's conflict. Your conversation Avill be interrupted

2 1 by a number of little tots drawing close around the fireplace. They will not disturb you. Presently a sweet voice will be heard announcing supper. The blessing being asked, you will enjoy the good, wholesome food. Pleasure will come in watching the appetites of the little ones as they partake of delicious bread and milk. Supper over, place another log on the old fireplace and sit down. The few dishes are soon carefully washed and placed away on the old shelf.

The little clock so carefully carried in over the trail strikes eight. The little ones are seen climbing up the ladder to their warmly-prepared beds in the attic, close underneath the old rafters, where the sound of the rain and storm can at times be heard so loud and persistent that they cuddle down and thank God for His protection. The mother can be seen following the little ones, kneeling with them and all repeating :

“ Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

God bless mamma and daddy and everybody, and help us to be good. Amen.”

The mother tucks the little ones in, gives them their good-night kiss and returns. You will notice the old wooden bed hewn from the small trees in the forest in the corner of the little cabin. The quilts will impress you: they are so beautifully made and the stitching so carefully done. You will recognize this as the work of the mother. Now they are carefully folded back, ready for retiring. You excuse yourself for having remained so late, when the mother insists that you remain over night. This was the nature of this beloved mother of the forest. She could not let you leave. You look about the cabin and wonder where you can sleep. You will notice how quietly the mother goes to the other corner of the cabin, opens a large box, takes out some quilts and pillows and returns to the attic. Presently she appears again and points to the old wooden bed in the corner with the comfortable quilts carefully folded back, so often occupied by herself and her pioneer husband. She informs you that when you are ready to retire this will be your bed. Do not protest ; it would be of no avail. She retires to the shakedown, close underneath the rafters of the cabin.

You are invited to sit by the old fireplace. The pioneer wishes to have a heart-to-heart talk and tell you of the joys of the simple life. If you will listen carefully your soul will be overflowing with love and your heart will be filled with sunshine and a longing for the same life. He will tell you that he came from the old homeland far across the sea the latter part of the seventeenth century or early in the eighteenth, or perchance was a United Empire Loyalist, preferring to leave all rather than forsake the old flag. You will at once understand that you are conversing with a man with a soul filled with love. He will tell you it was love that persuaded him to build the cabin; that he wished to prepare a place for his wife and little ones which they could call their own ; where they could live close to nature ; where God was always easily found; where the hand of God could be seen planting out trees, flowers and shrubs and shaping them beautifully. He will tell you how God planted seeds of love in his heart and devel-

U oped them, so that he could see the beauties of nature, and see His handiwork everywhere. He will explain how God assisted him in selecting a place for the little cabin to harmonize with the surrounding beauties. He will tell you of meeting his beloved and little ones after the cabin was completed. He will tell how God assisted them in over the trail ; of packing the blankets, the cookery, the food on his back; then he will tell you of his brave partner, of her courage, devotion and love; how kind the forest had been to her; of the trees whispering messages of love and good cheer all along the trail; how her love illuminated the little cabin; then, when they arrived at the door of the cabin together, to see the joy in the countenance of his helpmate; of kneeling together outside the cabin on a carpet of moss that God had prepared for their coming; of asking for His protection and guidance; of the spirit of joy, thankfulness and victory that ruled within them when they entered the cabin.

The clock strikes nine. You retire for sweet slumber and pleasant dreams of the joys of pioneer life. The pioneer takes the old wooden pail, goes to the spring, gets a fresh pail of water, sets it down in the old place, takes a refreshing drink and retires to the shake-down close underneath the cabin rafters. He has been too modest to tell you of the courage that was required of a pioneer or of the hardships suffered. Their joys and blessings were always considered by them sufficient to offset the hardships.

It is now morning. You have had a refreshing sleep in the old log cabin so carefully constructed by the early pioneer and made comfortable by his helpmate. If you have warmed your soul in front of the fireplace you can thank these valiant sons and daughters for the food, the comfortable bed, and for their sweet lives. And having discovered the trail in your little sojourn at the old cabin, we will now go over to the homeland from which most of these pioneers came, and travel with one of them along life’s journey.

It required a man of courage to pull up stakes in the Old Land and leave the home of his boyhood. He had hopes of seeing his loving wife and little ones again, for he was going away to prepare a place for them. If he prospered in the new land he had hopes of seeing his brothers and sisters again, but the aged mother and father were to be parted with and not met here again upon this earth. You can understand how the aged mother clung to her son and sobbed bitterly. You can understand how the father braced himself for the effort. You know why he tried to smile. He wished to help his loving partner so that she would become resigned to the son’s departure, and he wished to show the son what courage could do, knowing that he would require this lesson to fortify himself to combat with the difficulties he would have to face in a new land.

The sea voyage in those days, on small sailing ships with limited accommodation, would occupy from sixty to ninety days. The pioneer arrives in Canada, comes to the head of Lake Ontario, decides to locate in Wentworth, or perchance in Halton County. He finds a log post office established in Hamilton and writes his first letter home, giving his address to his loved ones, and telling them in glowing and enthusiastic language of the great lakes and rivers of fresh water, of the beauties and vastness of the Canadian forest, describing the place he has selected for their cabin. It is not to be wondered at that he sees the makings of a mighty empire. In his letter he tells his people that this new empire offers great possibilities to the man and woman of courage. He tells his loved one to be of good cheer, to kiss the little ones for him, and to read his letter to mother, father and all to encourage them. He pictures the future of Canada as becoming a great empire that would be a part of the Motherland, since the pioneers would be mostly sons and daughters of the homeland. His vision was correct in stating that this new world would be of great strength to the land of his birth. The letter, carefully sealed, is posted, reaches its destination in three months, and causes great commotion in the little village. It becomes generally known in a few days that a letter, which speaks highly of Canada, has been received

$8

A United Empire Loyalist and a Pioneer.

from the pioneer. It is the gossip of the village, and others talk of leaving for this new land of promise. The wife, now knowing her husband’s address, immediately starts to write. So many things have happened. Mother, father, brothers and sisters meet at the home, talk it all over, and tell the good wife what to say for them. The mother has the last word, and tells her daughter-in-law not to forget to send her love to her son, and tell him to take good, care of himself and to serve God faithfully.

At the end of five months the pioneer goes over the trail to the post office, but there is no letter for him. He returns to the little cabin and continues his conflict with the clearing of the forest trees from the land, hoping to have enough cleared by the coming spring to grow garden produce upon, and to have enough ready in the fall to put in one acre of wheat. He works faithfully, late and early, doing all his own work in and out of the cabin. Feeling very lonely, again he strikes the trail, asks in a calm, anxious voice if there is a letter for him. He watches the postmaster go carefully over the letters.

The last one is handed to him; then the papers are gone over and he is handed a paper. The handwriting on the outside of both letter and paper is evidence. He is satisfied. He walks outside the little log post office, opens his letter, reads it as if in a dream, reads it again, strikes the trail, and then sits down and reads each word carefully. AlFs well at home. His soul is cheered. He tackles the forest with greater determination than ever before to make a home for his loved ones. The paper received is read for many weeks beside the old fireplace and then carefully laid away. The letter is replied to, telling how he is getting along. He reports on the remarkable fertility of the Canadian soil, and holds out hope to his wife and little ones that he may have enough land cleared and enough money saved to be in a position to send for them in a year’s time.

That year was the longest of his life. How he longed and prayed for his loved ones. At last he writes home informing the good wife that he is ready to receive her and the little ones, and encloses the money to bring them over, having earned enough by extra work and by assisting another pioneer to clear his land. Five months again go by, and he receives no reply. Another month and no reply. At the end of the seventh month he receives the long-looked-for letter advising him of the ship on which his wife and little ones will sail, and giving the date they leave. The days are counted, then the hours. At the end of ten weeks from the time his family was to sail, he goes to the head of Hamilton Bay, just a little to the north of where the G.T.R. station now stands on Stuart Street, at that time a forest. He is looking for the ship with his loved ones. Each day, late and early, he sits upon the shore, watching for some object out on the lake, and praying for their safe arrival. After two weeks of waiting a white sail is seen far out on the lake. The tears trickle down his cheeks. His heart has been brave, but the close approach of his loved ones overwhelms him with joy. The ship draws nearer; large red handkerchiefs are beingwaved by those on board. Then the waiting pioneers take their great red handkerchiefs and wave them repeatedly, while shout after shout bursts forth. The voices of the women and children can be heard, some singing, some crying, some calling their pioneer kings by name.

The ship has been thrown into the wind. Orders are given to lower the sail. Presently all is happy confusion on board. The children are running about, cheered with the thought of landing and seeing daddy; the women are weeping with joy. By this time the pioneers have been permitted out on the old emigrant dock. They stand there like the mighty pine trees they have associated with during the time of separation. They can recognize some of those forward on the ship. Gradually, as lovers’ eyes meet, kisses are thrown in profusion. Then the pioneer will tell you of looking for the baby that he had left in mother’s arms, not thinking so long a time has gone by. He sees a little fellow standing beside the mother, hanging closely to her skirts, and sees the two girls and the two boys all grown so that he wonders if they will know him. Later, he will tell you of the meeting on the dock, how his dear wife looked at him from time to time and embraced him. He had not realized that his looks had changed, that he now wore a heavy beard, that his muscles had become much stronger, that he carried more flesh and had become a giant. The oldest boy recognized him by his voice. The other children knew it was daddy when they saw the mother embrace him.

The landing of the heavy boxes of luggage, so carefully packed and strongly roped, was accomplished in short order. The pioneer men had been wrestling with the giants of the forest, and these boxes were like toys to them. Soon the ship was relieved of her cargo of all sorts of boxes, principally filled with blankets, made by the mothers and wives in the old land, and warm clothing for the little ones. While the pioneer had been in Canada getting the log cabin ready, the wife, her relatives and those of her pioneer husband, had been working in the old land getting something ready to adorn the little cabin and to keep them warm. At the same time the pioneer had done his part in learning how to catch the fox, the bear, the otter, the mink and the beaver, and to use the skins for moccasins, caps, vests and mitts.

The captain and crew now come ashore, bringing with them bright-colored little trinkets and beads. The Indians have been waiting patiently upon shore with their furs to exchange for these trinkets. The exchange is quickly made. The captain blows his whistle. He jumps lightly aboard the ship, and orders are given to let loose and hoist sail. Those on the shore wave their farewell to the captain and crew, and offer prayers for their safe return to get another precious cargo of empire builders.

During this time the old Indian chief, a number of his council, and other braves, squaws and papooses can be seen standing on the shore, underneath the shade of a mighty oak, which has received its final touch in the autumn coloring and appears to harmonize with the chiefs head-gear of painted feathers, in colors of red, blue, green, purple and gold, also with the colors on the bows and arrows carried by the braves. They watched the newcomers with stolid indifference. They were a part of nature, and took all things as being a part of nature’s great and definite plan. Away back in those slumbering brains there must have been some inkling that the happy hunting ground they had enjoyed for so many generations was gradually being taken from them. I do not wonder at the old chief and his faithful squaw giving a sigh. But beyond this they offered no protest. Nature had been very kind for generations to the Indians. They had grown to respect nature, and would not interfere with nature’s laws. If she wished to receive the white man, with his wife and little ones, and clasp them to her bosom, as she had done with the red men for generations, they concluded it must be a part of a plan mapped out by the great and generous Provider on High. The Indian, individually, considering that he had lived in the wild, with no education, was considered a marvellous man by the pioneers. He was never known to forget a kindness. It was only when they would get together in numbers that some of the tribes would become dangerous. This would be caused by a leader who had gotten on the wrong trail of life, just as the mighty conflict that is being waged to-day by the British Empire and her allies against the Kaiser and his bloodthirsty military hounds results from similar causes. In this case a leader, the Kaiser, is causing all these rivers of blood, just as one bad Indian started his braves on the warpath and took the lives of the innocent pioneers. The little red papooses looked at the white children and wondered if they would ever become playmates. The young squaw would cast a lingering and not unkindly look at the stalwart young pioneer, and wonder if she could add cheer to the little cabin he had almost completed in the heart of nature. Had she known that this swarthy pioneer had become engaged to a United Empire Loyalist, or had a sweetheart in the old land waiting anxiously to receive a letter bidding her come, then she might have envied this white to-be bride. The young squaw was slender and straight as an arrow. She was a part of nature, and was satisfied to live and let nature take its course in guiding her future destiny.

MRS. HENRY RICHARDSON.

Mrs. Flatt’s Mother.

When the pioneer had completed his cabin he would tell you of the Indian walking past it without taking a second glance. To him it was a part of nature’s plan. He will tell you of a stormy night, of waking up in the morning and finding an Indian snoozing in front of the old fireplace, having opened and closed the door without disturbing him. To the Indian the cabin was a part of nature. He walked inside without asking any questions, just as he had often stepped underneath the branches of some grand old tree for protection from the storm. The freedom which the Indian had enjoyed by living in the forest for so many generations had become a part of him. He could not understand that he should knock at the door and be invited in. This was not as nature had received him. To him there was only one decorum that he must conform to, and that was nature. The Indian’s manners harmonized with nature’s. He was quiet and calm. In walking into the cabin he felt he was right so long as he did not disturb the occupant, who in turn, if he was to enjoy nature, must conform to nature’s laws.

Place another log on the old fireplace and keep it burning brightly. The pioneer and his family have started in on the Trail of Love that leads to the little log cabin prepared by the pioneer king for the coming of his queen and little ones. You will notice the pioneer walks ahead, his head erect. Deep down in his soul he acknowledges the leadership of the world’s Chief Commander and Guide, the One who guides you with his love, the One who prompted him with his love to blaze the trail that he now is starting in upon with his wife and little ones. The child that was a mere babe when he left the old land is now a little over four years old. She is now upon his shoulders, perched on top of a pack of supplies and blankets that weighs nigh on to two hundred pounds. The boys and girls follow closely with mother, who is carrying a little bundle of socks, stockings and extra clothing to have in the event of the children getting wet along the trail. They are travelling in single file — the trail is only wide enough for one. The pioneer had been over this trail many times. He had removed the fallen timber and the brush and thrown trees across the creeks, building corduroy bridges, so that the going was now made more easy for his loved ones.