EARLY DAYS IN WELLAND COUNTY

By

META SCHOOLEY LAWS

              The first volumes which the County Historical Society have published lie open before me as I write.

             They are most interesting and should have a place in the library of each of us, in whose veins flow the blood of the men and women who wrestled this beautiful fertile country from the forest; who faced and overcame untold hardships, privation, danger, toil, loneliness-that you and I might reap the fruit of their labor in peace and plenty-yes, in what they would term luxury.

             For, let us bear in mind, that the Battle of Ridgeway, June 2, 1866, was not only the only battle, was not even the most important battle fought on the soil of this fair country. Even Beaverdams, Lundy’s Lane and Chippawa, spectacular though they were, and important, playing their part, and no small one, in the history not only of this section but of the whole great Dominion, pale as in memory or imagination we recall or visualize the men and women whose whole lives were one long warfare; who enlisted, not under the glare and excitement of drum and fife and martial glory, but who-came in two’s and three’s; in families, in clans; sometimes, though rarely, in communities, and footsore and weary marched to and encamped in the wilderness which they purposed to conquer. Few indeed were they who lived to see their aim accomplished; but through the horrors of the hungry years-the fear of hostile Indians, and fierce wild beasts-they persevered, and we live in these beautiful surroundings, the site of their struggles. Shall we forget them? God forbid.

             It is with this thought that the life-story of one such woman comes to pen today. She was not alone, but typical of those in her day, and many who may read this sketch owe, as does the writer, much of the best in them to her influence. It must be that we inherited qualities of mind and character, as well as the contour of our faces and the color of our eyes, from those who have gone before.

             It was early in 1812. Some few years before that the McKays, among others, came to Humberstone. The Geady farm was their homestead. A little log cabin stood in the clearing, and a few stumpy acres were under cultivation. The mother was Christine Metlar; her people had settled in Pelham. How the acquaintance was formed, unfortunately, is not recorded. But perhaps the solder-pioneer had aided in building the military road which passed through that section and now forms a part of Provincial Highway No. 3, or one of its feeders, the old Canboro Road, the eastern section of Talbot Street, which in those early days connected this section with the far east-Detroit.

             At any rate they married and around them was a family of sturdy boys and girls. But the war-cloud loomed up and Gilbert McKay buckled on his sword and bidding goodbye to wife and little ones, some of them mere babies, answered, as did all the men of his day, to his country’s call. He lived for his country-remember all these pioneers did that-and he went forth to die for it, if need be.

             It was a last goodbye. After the war his sword was returned to the family and is now in the possession of a great-granddaughter.

             Anna McKay was but nine years old, the oldest of the girls.

             The mother and children struggled on for a few years, then she married John Steele, whose grandsons, Jefferson, O.L. and Chas. E., are well known in the county.

             Anna kept house for her brothers until she was seventeen, then married J.B. Schooley, whose home was across the Fort Erie Road, little more than a trail then connecting the lake settlements. More than once has reference to her been made in these articles.

             The little two-roomed cabin with its big stone fireplace and swinging crane, which J.B. had in readiness, was reached by ox cart. The old crippled uncle sat in the high home-made rocker awaiting them. The furniture, a few chairs and benches and tables, were home-made. Rough planks made the floor, but there was one luxury-glass windows.

             The section was quite thickly settled and grandma told the hardships so casually and stressed the happiness of the sociability of those days, when real necessity bound people together in a sociability which was genuine. From the Indians who came to her home she learned the medicinal value of herbs, a stock of which she always dried and labeled.

             The doctors were few and far between and her skill and knowledge was known for miles around. She grew flax and wove it for household linens. She carded and spun and wove the wool for dresses for herself and daughters, and made full-cloth for grandfather and the men. She helped rake and bind the grain. The little cabin in a few years was replaced by a huge-hewn log house, whose fireplace stood in the writer’s childhood just back of the “new house” built seventy years ago.

             She was always interested in what she termed “the Lord’s work.” To her the minister towered head and shoulders above other men. For seventy-five years she was a member of the Methodist Church, and many a tale she told of the old circuit riders who were her most honored guests. Her home was the scene of many a service and she thought nothing of going to Morgan’s Point or MacAphie’s or even Lundy’s Lane with the baby in her arms and one child before her on the saddle and two others behind holding to her skirts. We make no such effort to go to “Quarterly Occasion” now.

             When regular service was established at the Ridge, she rejoiced. Dear Grandma! Her eyes never got too weak for her to read the Psalms, or Revelations, or Wesley’s Hymns.

             Well do we remember the occasion when she prescribed for the case of nerves with which she came in contact. “Dearie,” she said, “I can give you a cure, neverfailing, for I’ve tried it again and again-the Ninety-first Psalm: “He shall cover thee with his feathers and under His wings shall thou trust.” You knew the grand words. They were not mere words to her but the source of her strength through which in the toil of her early life, the sorrow and disappointment so much of which filled her later years, she kept serene and peaceful-just as the face in the picture taken fifty years ago or thereabouts.

             Two of her daughters passed away in early womanhood. The rest of her children, four daughters and six sons, lived to grow old. Gilbert and Benjamin were among the first business men of Humberstone village. Two of the daughters pioneered in the west, now Middlesex county. The McKay brothers had sold the homestead and pioneered there some years before.

             One of the girls knew by experience the early history of Humberstone township. On her 90^th birthday, Grandma followed this daughter to her grave in the Overholt cemetery. She lived to be nearly ninety-five and in full possession of her mental facilities fell asleep. She had a personal interest in us all, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren-33 of the former and 27 of the latter then. She even knew the birthdays of most of us. Nor did she ever lose interest in life. She wanted to examine every piece of new machinery that came on the farm. Many years she had helped thresh with a flail. She could and did “rake and bind as fast as he could if the baby didn’t need to be looked after.” The cream separator was a marvel. She was always ready to admit the superiority of a new idea, demonstrated by this or that appliance, or to criticize its weak points, and she could find them if they existed.

             She would contrast our winter supplies with her’s-vension and bear hams and pigeons. She cared little for squirrel, though she served it for dinner once to a visiting minister and his wife. The minister didn’t eat game of any kind, so grandfather was cautioned and warned to serve chicken from the platter. He did so the first and second helpings, but when the plate came back the third time with “yes, just a very small bit, if you please,” his memory lapsed and his guests were amazed to learn that they had eaten with too-evident relish the despised food. Grandma often laughed when she told how ill they were all afternoon, and never quite trusted grandfather with a culinary secret after that.

             Then they made hundreds of pounds of maple syrup. She kept a few “loaves” of sugar for special occasions. Of course every one knows that “Sugar-loaf hill,” just west of Port Colborne was so named because it resembled in shape one of these sugar loaves.

             Dried fruits or preserves in huge stone jars. She was one of the first to use glass jars, but was never wholly convinced that canning was the best method of keeping fruit for winter use. Her cheese would rival that of best factory grades of today. Her butter was always golden and firm, and kept sweet packed in stone jars in June for winter use.

             Every grandchild had a quilt of her piecing. There could only have been the same number of hours in her day that we have, but how then did she do so much-bake and brew, milk and churn, sew and knit, spin and weave-and yet have time to respond to every call of a sick neighbor, for visiting and help in the field too, but not much after the boys grew up, she hastened to tell us.

             Aye, there were many like her. Many of my readers could tell a similar life-story that illustrate so well the poet’s lines that –

             Laura Secord was one of these. Her niece in telling the story of her memorable walk to Beaver Dams as it came from the heroine’s own lips, said in closing: “Aunt Laura never could understand why people should make such a “to-do” over her, because any woman of the neighborhood would have done the same; it came her way, that was all.”

             All!! Their lives were so full of difficulties that they met and surmounted them quite as a matter of course. These women, and the husbands whose help-meets they were, made this country. We would not seem to belittle the part the men played, but by their own admission their wives were a never-failing source of inspiration to them in their work, and it means more to a woman to face life under pioneer conditions than it does to men. If you doubt it, meet in our own New Ontario or far Western Canada the pioneers of today, linked to civilization as they are by railroad, telephone, telegraph, and the latest wonder, radio, and learn. Then think back to your forbears, who cut themselves off willingly from all the meagre means of communication which then existed, and gather your family history, and teach your children who they are. Give to the Historical Society all possible aid as it seeks to secure and preserve these priceless records.

The Welland Tribune and Telegraph

15 July 1926