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Leaving Mr Auld and
Mr Brodie to see to the unloading of the baggage, we followed the
master up the brae to the street that faces the lake, and entered a
tavern. While waiting for dinner he told us of his experience in
Toronto, not all, for he added to it for a week afterwards, but the
substance of his complete story I will tell at once.
The morning after
his arrival he went to the office of the surveyor-general, and found
several in the waiting-room; three he recognized as having come with
him in the steamboat from Kingston. Like himself they all wanted
land. Talking among themselves, an Englishman, who said he had been
in Toronto four days, declared he had got sick coming to the office;
he had thought there would be no difficulty in getting a lot and
going to it at once, but found it was not so. The money he had to
carry them to their new home was going in paying for board of his
family. Unless he was assigned a lot that day, he would cross to the
States.
All were eager to
get their lots at once; Canada invited emigrants yet, when they came
to her door, there was no hurry in serving them. The master asked
the reason, and got a number of answers. One was that there was too
much formality and redtape, another that the officials were above
their business and treated emigrants as if they were inferior
animals, but the reason that struck the master most was that given
by the emigrant who said this was his fourth day, which was, that if
an emigrant had any money they wanted him to buy land, instead of
giving him a government grant. While they were talking the headman
of the office walked past them, accompanied by a gentleman in
military uniform, and went into the inner room. Both gentlemen were
speaking loudly. ‘Yes,’ said the surveyor-general, ‘we are building
a future empire here, and would like more recognition from the Home
government of our services. We are doing a great work with imperfect
means.’ ‘Ah!’ exclaimed the officer, ‘what do you need?’ ‘We need
more money and more officials to direct the stream of immigration.’
So they went on gabbling, while by this time there were over fifty
of us in the waiting-room and round the door outside. Getting tired,
the master asked a clerk who was passing in to see the surveyor, to
tell him there were a number of emigrants wanting lots and if he
would be pleased to help them.
We heard the
message given and the reply ‘I am engaged with Colonel Rivers, and
cannot possibly see them today; go and take their names and the
places where they are staying.’ So we gave our names, said the
master, and came away sick at heart. While waiting in the tavern at
a loss what to do a man came into the barroom and asked if he was Mr
Anderson. He had heard he wanted land and could introduce him to a
party who would supply him at a reasonable price. ‘I have not come
all the way from Scotland to pay for land; I expect to get a lot on
the governments conditions.’ You can get such a lot, replied the
stranger, but when you see it you would not take it. All the
government lots are in the back country, and often wet or stony.
What you want is good land and near a market. He talked on, trying
to persuade the master to go with him and make a purchase, but he
said he would take time to think over what he had told him. The
stranger pressed him to come to the bar and have a treat; the master
said No. After he was gone the master asked the tavern-keeper if he
knew the man. ‘Oh, yes, he is a runner for the big bugs who have
land for sale.’ ‘How came he to know I wanted land?’ ‘Were you not
at the surveyor - general’s office this morning and left your name?
There is a regular machine to get all the money out of you emigrants
that can be squeezed.’ The landlord said nearly all the desirable
land was held by private persons, who had got large grants under one
pretence or another and who were selling it for cash, when the
emigrant had any, or on mortgage if he had none, for if he failed in
his payments they got the lot back with all the improvements the
emigrant and his family had made.
After dinner the
master took a walk, and passing along the street the thought struck
him that he should call at the post office, for there might be a
letter from Scotland. Asking a gentleman to direct him to the
office, the reply was he was going that way and would show him.
‘You’re a Scotchman,’ remarked the gentleman, ‘What part are you
from?’ From Ayrshire. ‘That is my native county.’ So they talked
until the office was reached. Standing at the door, the master told
him of his perplexity about getting land. ‘Ask if there is a letter
for you,’ directed the stranger. There was none. ‘Now come with me
and I will try to find out some way to help you.’ They entered a
large store, opposite the market-place, of which the gentleman was
owner. The place was crowded with customers waiting their turn to be
served. Taking him into a cubby-hole of an office he asked the
master to speak frankly, to tell him how much land he wanted, what
money he had, and the number of his family. When he had learned all,
Mr Dunlop, for that was his name, said, ‘You may give up your notion
of getting land for the fees. All the good land, so far surveyed, is
in the hands of our gentry, who live by selling it; or of
speculators. The lots the surveyor-general would give you would be
dear for nothing, they are so far away. You want to be as near the
lake, or a town or village as you can manage, so that you can buy
and sell to advantage. Many who go on remote lots have to leave them
after undergoing sufferings no Christian man or woman should endure.
I am busy now; come back at four o’clock and I will find out what
can be done ’
On returning to the store at that hour he found Mr Dunlop had been
called away, but had left a letter, which he was to deliver. With
some difficulty the master found the house. There was a man and
woman sitting in the shade on the stoop. Reading the letter he was
asked to sit down. The master described the man as short and thin
and well up in years, but wiry and active. His wife was comely for
her years, with a placid expression. In reply to his first question,
the master addressed him as Sir. ‘Use not that word again; all men
are equal before God; use not the vain distinctions by which so many
try to magnify themselves and set themselves apart from their
fellows.’ The master was taken aback. The wife explained that they
were Friends, whom the world named Quakers, and that their yea and
nay meant what they expressed; they desired directness and sincerity
in speech. Both took much interest in what the master told them, for
they kept questioning him until they learned how he came to leave
Scotland and of the voyage. They were struck by his account of the
ship grounding off Newfoundland and the wife remarked ‘Thee did well
to give thanks to Him who saved you.’ The address of Mr Kerr they
asked for, and the master promised to get it. ‘He has suffered as we
Friends have and still do, for we have no voice in the government of
the country and can hold no office.’ A girl came to the door who
said supper was ready. The master rose to leave. ‘Nay, thee must
break bread with us; thee art a stranger in a strange land,’ said
the wife, as she took hold of his arm. The evening passed too
quickly, for the master enjoyed his company. On rising to go, the
Quaker told him he had a block of land he had taken for a bad debt.
‘And what is the price you put on it?’ asked the master. ‘I do not
sell in that way. Thou must see the land and if it suits thee, come
back, and I will tell thee its price. Thee take breakfast as early
as they can give it, and you will find a man whom we call Jabez
waiting to lead thee where the land is.’
Next morning as the sun was rising over the lake, the master
overheard a man in the barroom asking for him, and hurried from the
table. He was tall and gaunt, with a set mouth that spoke of
decision of character. At the door were two saddled horses and in a
few minutes they were trotting up Yonge street. When they had to
slow down, on account of the road becoming full of yawning holes,
Jabez had much to say about backwoods farming. He had not the
personal experience of a settler, but had seen much of backwoods
life and had known scores who had tried it. ‘Not one in five
succeeds,’ he said, ‘some fail from not having money to feed their
families until enough land is under crop to maintain them, others
from going on stony or sandy lots that yield only poor crops, and
not a few from going where it is marshy and fever-and-ague prevail.
Many go into the backwoods who have not the muscle for its hard work
or who will not be content to live on pork and potatoes, until they
can get better, yet even they might do had they perseverance and
self-denial. The Scotch and the North of Ireland people, accustomed
to hard work and spare living, seldom fail.’
They were riding
past much land in bush, generally without a strip of clearing. Jabez
remarked the curse of Canada was giving land to people who would not
go to live upon it, who had no intention of clearing it, but held it
to sell. A deal of that land you see was given as grants to old
soldiers. A colonel could claim 1200 acres, a major 800, a captain
600 acres, and a private 100 acres. Not one in twenty who drew their
lots meant to live on them, and of the few who tried most of them
failed and left. Speculators had their agents round taverns and
stores ready to buy soldiers’ tickets, and got transfers for a few
dollars, sometimes for a keg of whiskey or a hundredweight of pork.
If you want to kill a country, deal out its land as grants to old
soldiers. It does the soldiers no good and keeps back settlement,
for the grants they got are left by speculators unimproved, to the
hurt of the genuine settlers, who want roads opened fences put up,
and ditches dug. You will find out this yourself when you begin to
clear a lot. This giving away land to soldiers is well meant, but
soldiers won't go on it and it is just a way to make speculators
rich. No man should get an acre from the government unless he binds
himself to live on the land and clear it. On the master saying he
was told much land was got by politicians, Jabez grew warm in
denouncing them. Whatever party was in office, used the land as a
means of bribery. They bought the support of members by grants of
land and, when an election came round, got the settlers to vote as
they wished under threats of making them act up to the letter of
their settlement duties or offering back-dues and clear titles in
return for their support. No candidate opposed to the government can
be elected for a backwoods county.
With such talk
Jabez relieved their journey until they came to a side-road, which
was a mere bridle-path. Up this they turned, passing through solid
bush. It was a bright, hot day in the clearings, but under the trees
it was gloomy and chill, with a moist odor of vegetation which was
grateful to the master, and this was his first experience of the
bush. Fallen trees, which lay across the track, their horses jumped,
as they also did on meeting wet gullies. Jabez said the path had
been brushed by an Englishman, rumored the son of a lord, who had
bought the block of land intending to stay on it. That was the only
improvement he made. He came late in the Fall and society in Toronto
was more agreeable than felling trees. He bet on horse-races that
took place on the ice and spent the evenings at cards. In the spring
his money was gone; had to sell his land to pay his debts, and
returned to England. On reaching the end of the bridle-path the
horses were hitched. Jabez searched among the brush until he found a
surveyor’s stake. Placing a compass on top of it, he cut with his
jack-knife three rods which he pointed. He pushed two into the soil
on either side of the stake, and went ahead with the third. Posting
the master behind the first, he told him to keep the three in range
and to shout to him if he stepped on either side. Producing from the
bag behind his saddle a hatchet, he went forward, cutting down the
brush where it blocked his straight course. When some hundred yards
away; he cried to the master to come on, it was all right. On
joining him Jabez pointed to a scar made in the bark of a maple.
‘That is the surveyor’s blaze, made five years ago. I was in doubts
where to find it, for the weather has blackened it. We are all right
now, and will find another farther on.’ So they did, several more,
though they were so faint only the trained eye of Jabez could detect
them. As he came to each tree, he used the hatchet to make a fresh
blaze, while any branch that obstructed the view between the blazed
trees was lopped off.
Suddenly it grew
lighter: they were again in the sunshine and before them was a sheet
of water. It was too small to be called a lake; it was just a pond,
set in the heart of the woods. The master was greatly taken with it
and leaning over a log drank heartily, for the water was clear and
sweet, though warm. ‘We may as well rest and take our bite here'
remarked Jabez, producing from the pouch slung at his back some
soldiers’ hard tack, with thin sliced pork between instead of
butter. He explained it was hard to tell the quality of the soil in
the woods, and many were deceived, especially as regards stones. The
forest litter covers them, and it is only when the plow is started
that the settler finds he has a lot that will give him many a tired
back in trying to get rid of the worst of them. When you find big
trees, maple or any other kind of hard wood, it is a sure sign the
soil is rich, but if the trees are scrub or of soft wood it is
certain to be poor. Pine is not to be relied on as indicating good
land for the settler. The tallest and finest pines are often on the
top of stony ridges.
Starting anew, they
came to the streamlet that fed the pond and a short tramp beyond it
Jabez spied another surveyor’s stake. ‘This is the western limit of
Bainbray’s lot; between the two stakes he has 400 acres.’ He asked
the master if he wanted to cross the lot lengthways and see the two
ends, but he saw no need, for so far as he could judge the land was
all of the same quality, ‘Supposing I buy the lot, how am I to get
into it?’ ‘You will have to continue the bridlepath to where you
place your house, and that is enough for an ox-sledge.’ ‘That means
some work?’ ‘Yes,’ replied Jabez smiling ‘there is nothing to he had
in the bush without hard work; it is hard work and poor grub.’
Coming back to the horses, they found they had finished the oats
Jabez had brought, and were nibbling at the leaves within reach. On
regaining Yonge street, the horses were watered at a tavern, Jabez
dropping five coppers on the counter, the price of two drinks. ‘You
are expected to drink when you stop to water a horse, but I want no
whiskey, I prefer to pay for what the horse drinks.’ Arrived in
Toronto the master said he would go and see Mr Bainbray after
supper. Jabez asked him to remember that Quakers do not dicker, so
if the price was too high for him to pay to come away at once.
The master found Mr Bambray reading a newspaper, told him he was
satisfied with the land and would buy it were the price within his
ability. The Quaker took from a desk a sheet of paper; pointing to
the figures written on it he said, ‘I do not deal in land, believing
it not to be agreeable with the teaching of the Gospel to make
merchandize of what God intended for all his children. I do not
consider it right to buy land you are not able or do not mean to
make use of, but secure with a view to sell at an advanced price to
the man who will cultivate it. These 400 acres were transferred to
me for a just debt which the man could not otherwise pay. On this
line is the amount of that debt, here are the legal charges paid by
me in the transaction, and here is interest. The whole totals §472,
which is the price.’ The master was surprised, for from what he had
heard of the prices asked for land so close to Toronto at least
double would have been sought. ‘My friends and I are able to pay
that sum to you and we take the land.’ The Quaker moved not a
muscle. Taking up a quill he wrote out a promise of sale, and was
given a bank of Scotland note for ten pounds as surety. Inquiring
what steps he would next take, the master was advised to secure the
services of Jabez for a month at least. ‘Thee are ignorant of
bush-farming and need an instructor, otherwise loss will befall thee
and much trouble.’ Arranging for the final transfer of the land, the
master sought out Jabez. He and two brothers carried on a cartage
business. Jabez said there would not be more calls than his brothers
could attend to until August, and he would go if he was willing to
pay two dollars a day for himself and an ox-team. ‘That is settled,’
replied the master. ‘Now what is to be done first? ‘To cut out a
sledge-road across your lot, so that you may get your freight in.’
To help he was to hire a man, and it was arranged to start at
daylight.
Next morning Jabez appeared at the door of the tavern with an
ox-team, and seated beside him in the wagon was a youth. ‘This is
Jim Sloot, who can handle an axe with any man. You have that to
learn, It is the axe that has made Canada.’ Arrived at the
bridle-path that led to their lot, they had a day’s work on it
brushing and prying off fallen trees. On reaching the lot master had
bought, trees had to be felled to continue the path. These Jabez and
Jim assailed, while master trimmed their branches off with a
hatchet. On the evening of the third day they were in sight of the
pond, when the master left, for the Kingston boat might arrive next
morning, and he must be on hand to meet his family. How he met us I
have already told. |
