Read Ebook: Travels in Nova Scotia in the Year 1913 by Hine C G Charles Gilbert

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When it was time to depart on the following morning Mrs. Crowell thought that fifty cents would be sufficient as the meals had not been very substantial, which was true enough, but the room was clean and my host and hostess were kindly people, and so far as I was able to judge the food was sustaining.

The two and one-half miles into Barrington were without incident, except for a strange bird that crossed my path. It was not a partridge, nor was it any ordinary escape from the barnyard. It stood as though its usual occupation was looking for berries rather than worms, and walked with a dignity that the domestic hen never possessed.

It is claimed for the old meeting house in Barrington that it is the only church in Canada of its age that has been retained in its original form inside and out; others that remain have been altered and built over until little or nothing is left of the original. This only escaped destruction by a narrow margin, as some time in the eighties the Legislature decreed that the building should be demolished, owing to its dangerous condition. But local pride came to its aid at the last moment, and by the application of two or three hundred dollars where most needed, it was put in good repair, and at the present time two denominations worship every Sunday within its old fashioned box pews.

Some eighty families from Nantucket and Cape Cod emigrated to this place between the years 1761 to 1763; about half remained to form a permanent settlement. Work was probably commenced on the church shortly after, as by 1765 the building was finished and dedicated. With the first settlers came Samuel Wood, a Congregational pastor. He held services here and at other points along the shore as far as Yarmouth, but when the Revolution broke out, returned to his former home and became a chaplain in the American army.

In the meantime, about 1770, the New York Methodist Conference sent Freeborn Garretson to this region to proselyte. He was received but coldly, however, though permitted to preach in the meeting house. He failed entirely to win any converts to his cause, and finally withdrew to the woods to commune with his Maker. While offering up his supplications for light and guidance he was overheard by some of the people, and these, spreading the report abroad, aroused much curiosity which led to a considerable attendance when a second meeting was held. It does not appear, however, that any were deeply impressed.

After those attending the meeting had returned to their homes a Mrs. Homer asked her less hospitable half where the minister was stopping, and on being informed that he did not know, she took a lantern and went forth to seek him. Either through thoughtlessness, or because none was quite brave enough to take this expounder of a strange religion to his home, Mrs. Homer found him at the meeting house in the act of spreading his surtout on the floor for a couch. The good lady brought him to her home and later became his first convert.

All this I have from one who evidently takes a great interest in the church, but whose name has fallen out of its proper brain cell and been lost.

Other annals have I none.

At Barrington I made my home at a large square house just east of the livery stable, rather than at the hotel. The place was clean, and the meals were good; the hot muffins were worthy of a poet's pen. The house was full, chiefly of commercial men, which would seem to indicate what they thought of the situation.

I was given the last vacant room, but there came one after me also seeking lodging, whereupon the landlady turned to me with the remark that I was his only hope, as there were two beds in my room. I did as I would have had him do had the situation been reversed, and found no occasion for regret. He was a very earnest gentleman, and amusing withal, much given to conversation not wholly instructive, though I did learn that silk socks were better for tired feet than is the more plebian cotton article. I was so unfortunate as not to secure my companion's name, but ascertained that when not devoting his time to greatly increasing the fortunes of the firm for which he traveled he resides on the farm of his mother in Yarmouth.

PORT LATOUR AND BURCHTOWN.

Even this early I clearly saw that to walk all the coast line between Yarmouth and Halifax could not be done at my leisurely three miles or less per hour. It is three miles when no pictures intervene or no friendly Nova Scotian comes along with a ghost story or tale of the seas: Under such circumstances time is not of the essence of the contract.

It was necessary to visit Port Latour, as here were the ruins of an old fort to be photographed, and when I saw "Livery Stable" writ large across a Barrington barn, there came the thought that this was a Heaven sent opportunity to economize time, the twenty miles to Port Latour and back could be more easily accomplished and abundant time remain for the visit. But no one was about the stable. A call on a neighboring house elicited the information that the livery man was driving a commercial individual to some far hamlet, while his chief and only understudy was employed in like manner in another direction. Finally a man was found on the road who thought he could harness the one horse left, but when it came to a conveyance he hesitated. Of the two on hand one was new and undefiled, the other freshly painted, so he suggested that I take his open wagon, as mud could not harm it, and the horse was led to his barn, where the operation of hitching up was completed. No credentials on my part appeared to be necessary, not even my name was asked, nor did I ask the price until evening came, when I learned that the charge was .50 for the day.

The road follows the shore of Barrington Bay as far as Villagedale , then crosses to the eastern side of the point where reposes Port Latour. The morning was full of sunshine, the spruces and hemlocks made strong shadows against the high lights of the sun illumined landscape, while many pleasant views over Barrington Bay charmed the hours away.

Solid Rock is possibly two-thirds of the ten miles to Port Latour, and must be inquired for to be found, as the spot lies on the shore a quarter mile from the road and across a farm. It is merely a group of unusually large granite boulders against which the waves break, the surroundings are extremely beautiful and a rugged lane that covers part of the distance is captivating in its primitive simplicity. In itself it was worth the entire trip. Words would be a mere catalogue of its component parts; they cannot describe it as it appeared on that brilliant afternoon when the depths of the hemlock shadows were almost black.

My acquaintance with the Latour House is confined to a dinner, and I know not what the rooms are like. But I know what the people are like and that, with the dinner to back them, is enough. William B. Crowell, the proprietor, unharnessed my horse, put him in the stable and gave him a feed of hay, and when I wished to return walked a long quarter mile from his boatshop to harness up, and all he wanted was ten cents for the hay. I only had five cents and a quarter; he had no change, and positively refusing the quarter, accepted the smaller coin perfectly satisfied that he had done the proper thing, and his wife who runs the house may still be his better half. Her chicken dinner was good right down to the last mouthful, the charge was but thirty-five cents, and I could not force a half dollar on her.

A pleasant, friendly, unmercenary spirit seems to be the usual thing throughout this coast region of Nova Scotia.

This village is charmingly simple, inhabited by a race of sailormen with whom it is not difficult to become acquainted, the Atlantic coast is at the door, and I have no doubt but that a week here would pass as a puff of steam on a dry day.

Now for our history. Claude Turgis de Sainte Etienne, Sieur de la Tour and his son Charles de la Tour left France in 1606, when the son was fourteen years of age, to mend their fortunes in the new world. After one Argal ravaged these coasts in 1613 and destroyed the French settlements, Charles attached himself to one Biencourt and lived with him among the Indians. Biencourt, when dying, bequeathed to Charles his rights in Port Royal , and named him as successor in command. This is 1623.

Arriving Claude landed and presented his case to the son in the full assurance that the latter would promptly accept the situation and the new honors which would flow therefrom, but Charles seems to have been only half La Tour, the other half, much the better, probably represented his mother, and he confounded his father with the following melodramatic effusion:--

"If those who sent you on this errand think me capable of betraying my country, even at the solicitation of a parent, they have greatly mistaken me. I am not disposed to purchase the honors now offered me by committing a crime. I do not undervalue the proffer of the King of England; but the Prince in whose service I am is quite able to reward me; and whether he does so or not, the inward consciousness of my fidelity to him will be in itself a recompense to me. The King of France has confided the defense of this place to me. I shall maintain it, if attacked, till my latest breath."

Claude then threatened the obstinate boy and finally attacked the fort, but Charles defended his post with such success that the English commanding officer, who had not counted on resistance, having lost several of his best soldiers, informed Claude that he would abandon the siege.

William E. Smith of Port Latour, whose ancestors have dwelt here for many generations, told me that an older member of the family who died some years ago, and who knew much of the early history of the region, had stated that Claude La Tour at first attacked the fort from his ships, and being unsuccessful in this, sailed around into Barrington Bay, where he landed his men at or near Solid Rock, and marched them across to attack the fort in the rear.

A small, swampy strip immediately north of the fort is said to have been caused by the digging of a trench in which those who fell in the battle were buried.

Claude was placed in a most embarrassing position. He could not well return to England, much less to France. He had no money or men, and the only course left to him was to appeal to his son's clemency. He presented the situation to his wife and suggested that she return to England, but she preferred to accept what might come to her husband. Claude then applied to his son for permission to live in Acadie, which appears to have been readily granted, but it was stipulated that neither he nor his wife were to come into the fort, though Charles gave his word that neither should want for anything.

The terms were hard, but there was no alternative and, with the permission of the English commander, Claude and his wife and servants disembarked with all their belongings and the two vessels returned to England. Charles caused a suitable house to be erected at some distance from the fort and took care of their maintenance. M. Denys relates that he found them there in 1635, and that they were well off.

The story seems to have been patched together from several accounts of the settlements along this coast which differ in some details. One account states that after the battle Claude sailed to Port Royal and came back later at the invitation of Charles, who hoped to persuade his father to break his alliance with England and tell what he knew of the condition of the English. And, having now no great expectations from his adopted country, Claude accepted the invitation and told Charles that the English were preparing to capture his fort. On this the La Tours and other Frenchmen took council among themselves and decided to form a settlement at the mouth of the St. John River, Claude to command there and Charles to continue at his old post.

At the time of the expulsion, 1755, the fort was destroyed and the village wiped out. And to-day nothing remains but a few grass grown mounds. These have been excavated to some extent, but nothing was found beyond a few clay pipes and other matters of small moment. Those of the Acadians who wandered back after the expulsion are said to have established themselves in Pubnico.

That my time should be used to the best advantage, a train was taken at Barrington for Burchtown, originally a settlement of colored people who escaped into the English lines in New York during the Revolution. This lies some seven miles west of Shelburne; these miles are chiefly through woods, much of which has been desolated by forest fires, and looks as forlorn as a tramp attempting to shut out the winter winds with a covering of newspapers. It was a pleasant change to come out on the Roseway River, even though this meant sawmills, which are eating the heart out of the woodlands.

SHELBURNE AND THE ROAD TO EAST JORDAN.

Shelburne has a history that is peculiarly interesting to the people of the United States, as it was settled by Loyalist refugees immediately after the Revolutionary War.

Colonel Alexander McNutt about 1765 secured a grant of land at Port Razoir, and arrived from Ireland with about three hundred settlers. He called the place New Jerusalem, but Colonel McNutt seems to have been an obstreperous gentleman and his little settlement was in almost constant hot water, and within a short time boiled down to a small residuum.

In the year 1782 one hundred heads of families in New York, sympathizers with the English cause, bound themselves to settle in Nova Scotia. These were led to believe that the city which they were to establish would become the capital of the Province, and many men of wealth and position were among them. All were respectable; no family was admitted unless some member could vouch for its good reputation. Within a year four hundred and seventy heads of families had signed and on May 4, 1783, eighteen brigs and many schooners dropped anchor off New Jerusalem and landed five thousand persons.

On July 20th Governor Parr arrived at the new settlement and, having landed, proceeded up King street to the place appointed for his reception. This may have been what is now known as the "Governor's House," as it is said to be so called because some Governor made a speech from its steps. Here he made a short address in which he signified his intention of calling the place Shelburne. On the 23d he dined in the house of Justice Robertson with the principal inhabitants.

About September a second hegira of Loyalists arrived from New York. Many of these were undesirable characters who lowered the tone of the place greatly. Others followed, and within a short time there were sixteen thousand inhabitants settled here, nine thousand of which drew government rations. At the end of four years the government rations ceased, and as the place could not support so many, it began to dwindle. In 1798 a storm which destroyed wharves and shipping made matters worse, and by 1818 Shelburne was reduced to three hundred inhabitants.

About 1855 ship-building began to be an important industry, and the place took an upward turn. In 1864 an academy was built, but the day of the wooden ship is passing, and while Shelburne still has two small yards where fishermen are built, the town has dwindled again and is now a delightfully sleepy old place where one can lounge on a box at the smithy door or on a bit of timber near some growing fisherman and harken if he will to tales of the good old times.

On the way into Shelburne I passed a beautiful clump of goldenrod whose waiting seed vessels were as a halo in the bright sunlight, and shortly after turning the corner came upon the picturesque disorder of a shipyard framed between the stubs of willows whose aged trunks suggested that they might date back two hundred years. The scene aroused huge anticipations in the breast of the camera.

After a dinner in the Atlantic House I proceeded to ask questions of such as were gathered in the hotel office concerning the town. One of those present offered to pilot me about, and we ventured forth together. The Governor's House is still standing on King street; the only other old house that my guide seemed to know of is the "Thompson" house. When it was built or by whom I did not learn, but it is supposed to have been erected at an early period, as the walls of the lower story are solid wood, some six or eight inches in thickness, presumably made so for defensive purposes.

Being left to my own guidance I naturally selected the waterfront, where quite soon was discovered a boat shop that was at the moment turning out dories, presumably part of the equipment of a fishing schooner, the hull of which was nearing completion in an adjoining shipyard.

The weather conditions were ideal for pictorial effects. A sky filled with damp clouds and a misty atmosphere that graduated the distance lent themselves to some beautiful and striking pictures; particularly was this so when the clouds thinned and the sun almost broke through. The east wind was very successful as a scene-shifter, rumpling the water in a gentle way while pushing the cloud masses on and off as they were needed.

My travels finally brought me to the blacksmith's shop of one who is now living on the fruit of his earlier industry. In the long ago he cared for the feet of the stagecoach horses, and as they had a way of wanting to be shod at all hours of the day and night, the mighty man worked overtime more often than not. Now he directs while others do the heavy work, or stands at the door of his shop and entertains callers.

As I stood here helping to shoe an ox the "cow-reeve" passed. This is a duly elected official of the town in whom is vested authority to comprehend all "vagrom" cows that may be leading too gay an existence in the streets of Shelburne. These he removes to the pound and shares with the poundmaster such emolument as comes from the sad faced owner of the segregated cow.

As the "cow-reeve" passed there was a great flood of strong language from those idling about, from which I gathered that he was not the most popular man in town; in fact he was more than once invited to go where only the bad are supposed to abide--not conscientious officials who do their duty. It was further suggested that if he desired to have the contour of his nose or other features altered he should attempt to interfere with the oxen awaiting in the open street the attentions of the blacksmith, but he, being a man of peace, opened not his mouth.

And it was thus that I discovered what a "cow-reeve" was. It seems that this official in his zeal for the public good had, a few days before, attempted to uphold the majesty of the law as against the owners of certain oxen, but when the said owners charged on him he discreetly withdrew.

Shoeing an ox is somewhat more complicated and tedious than shooing a hen, but the effects are more lasting. A strong cage is constructed that no ox may break down; the animal is then coaxed within with much noise and slapping, bars are closed on his neck, a heavy cloth is passed beneath the body, one end being pulled aft between his legs. This end and the side are then attached to windlasses which are set up until the ox might easily suppose he is being fitted with a new pair of corsets. The hoof to be shod is next strapped securely to a block, and the incumbent is about as helpless as the first Frenchman in the ditch at Waterloo. After that the shoeing is a mere detail.

The only milestone that I observed during the trip intimated broadly that the miles were twenty-one between Shelburne and Lockport, but I am inclined to believe it somewhat less; for instance, I had only joggled six miles out of the pedometer at Jordan, while those of the neighborhood called it seven. It may be that some time someone in authority has said, "Let there be seven," and it was seven. All day the pedometer fell just a little short of the local figures.

We discoursed of many things of mutual interest: The surprising fact that in the far country from which I came Thanksgiving does not occur until late in November; the joys of skating; apples; the bumps one receives in this naughty world, this being somewhat personal to the small boy of the party, who had but recently fallen on stony ground and was at the moment nursing a swollen lip. The scene of the accident being near at hand we stepped one side to view it and, having found the identical stone that proved so hard, proceeded on our way. They were quite as ready to be friendly as I, and accepted the stranger as a matter of course without wonder, and made no attempt to learn why I was as I was; we had our little jokes and our hearty laughs and walked thus together for perhaps half a mile, and I think were none the worse for a little light conversation.

At East Jordan I pulled up at the house of Munroe with a hopeful expression on my countenance, and was told by the mistress of the house that she would do the best she could. This consisted of bread and butter, pickled beets, milk and two kinds of cookies, was filling and, so far as I have been able to judge, nourishing.

Mrs. Munroe has thirteen to look after, and at the time was cooking enough to last most of them a week in the woods, where they will cut pulpwood. Norma, the eldest of eleven, is now a trained nurse in Boston, and earns each week. The local doctor says there is not another girl in the county with as little education as she had a chance to secure who could have passed the examination. "You know the eldest child in a large family does not have great opportunity for education." Norma spent three weeks at home last summer, but could not stand it longer. A smart little shower passed to the westward while the lunch was being disposed of, the only one that occurred during the day.

My course from East Jordan lay through woods; one glimpse over the head of Green Harbor was the only variation. If one can judge by the names of places the people here have no great inventive faculty. For instance, the five towns on Jordan Bay are Jordan, Jordan Ferry, Jordan Bay, Lower Jordan Bay and East Jordan.

The ox, which is the common carrier of this region, is seen everywhere on the road, always harnessed to a yoke which is fitted around the horns so that all the pull comes on the neck. The Biblical injunction, "Be ye not stiff necked as your fathers were" would never do for Nova Scotian oxen, whose value would be greatly lessened were they other than stiff necked as their fathers were. Their beautiful, great, soft eyes indicate a habit of thought that would hardly make them entertaining companions, but they accomplish much heavy hauling.

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