E. WARNER DESCRIBES A HOLIDAY RAMBLE IN SOUTH ONTARIO
He and Mrs. Warner Wheeled Through Niagara District, which they say is a Capital Place in which to Spend a Vacation. –An interesting and Descriptive Letter Telling of their Outing
[People’s Press, 4 September 1900]
E. Warner of the Central Business College contributes the following interesting letter to the Stratford Beacon:
Holiday reviews and outings are quite apropos now, hence by your kind permission I will give you a brief sketch of our two weeks outing during our “general outing” from the Classic City.
On July 24, Mrs. Warner and I mounted our silent steeds for a genuine constitutional. We left Abingdon, a place 20 miles south west of Hamilton, and about 10 miles south of Winona, at 2.30 p.m., when old Sol. was just gently introducing to us some of his 80 degree temperature, to be followed in the course of a few weeks by more burning doses. We sped along, passing field after field of ripe grain, which unceasingly pleaded for help and care of the wise farmer, and reached Fenwick, a “sandy” village at 5.45 p.m. Here speed must necessarily be a silent watchword for heavy strides would only take you a snail’s pace, while heavier ones would turn the front wheel at right angles to the rear one-not the choicest position for even a tourist, disregarding the scorcher. We ran on to Fonthill and reached this “elevated” place at 6.15 p.m. where a “full rest and no quarter” was made after the run of twenty-four miles. This little place is on a small mountain, for you can here see the waters of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, also the mist rising up from Niagara Falls, thirteen miles distant.
Next day we were shown through the famous nursery of Morris, Stone & Wellington. The nursery occupied over 400 acres of choice sandy land. Of course, to a sight-seer this was not the most interesting time, for either spring or autumn would be better, as the packing corps of men would be engaged. Now the men were “potting” roses by the thousand for winter, and arranging them methodically in the hot houses. We saw specimens of the wonderful imported plant from France. The seed was worth $300 an oz. They started the cultivation of the plant here by getting a limited number of grains such as you could hold on the end of a penknife. The plant had a large, bell-shaped flower, was variegated, the more decided ones being purple, mauve, pink, white, with numerous modifications. It requires a temperature of 80 degrees F., and retails at 25 cents a pot-a very reasonable price indeed.
After a big rain on the 27th, we left Fonthill for Welland. This would have been impossible on ordinary roads, but there is a bicycle path all the way, and one that is no mere ornament or sidewalk. The town of Welland is situated on the Welland canal about eight miles from Port Colborne. It is also upon the Chippawa river. The people of Welland have a very healthy town, good water being one main reason. The inflow of water for the waterworks comes from the canal and the refuse is emptied into the Chippawa river. A short time previous the town had voted on a bylaw to the extent of $40,000, which money was to build a town hall, a public school, and to be used for sidewalks and street improvements. The bylaw carried easily and now we saw the outcome Cockburn Bros. & Co. of Buffalo had the contract for the concrete sidewalks and they had four gangs of men at work. We saw a twin brother to the roadroller in Stratford. The town hired this one for $8 a day, and every idle day $4 was to be paid. The main streets were being torn up and improved by the macadamized method. They made no boulevards, however. As the canal divides the town into halves, it was a problem to know just how to get the steam roller from one side of the canal to the other. A communication was sent to the Government to send an inspector to know if it could be brought over the canal bridge, but before the reply came it was ferried over on a huge scow. The court house and jail of Welland are ancient. They have a beautiful new house of refuge, which is situated near the outside of the town. I thought first it was some M.P.’s residence, but later reports in the coming year will verify or annul my supposition.
We left Welland on the 27th for St. Davids, via Port Robinson, Allanburg and Lundy’s Lane. All along the canal you see guards in khaki suits, doing their duties nobly and heroically. Gunpowder plots are reviewed in history, but in our midst we have dynamite plots, one or more of which have already made history, and that, too, of the most interesting kind for the dwellers along the canal. On either side of the canal you read the inscription, “No thoroughfare.” A very critical point, of course, is the aqueduct at Welland. Here the government has invested one million and a quarter dollars in this wonderful piece of work, where the Chippawa river is made to flow under the Welland canal.
At Lundy’s lane we saw a relic of the present year’s jubilations over the South African war successes. In an oddly built caravan, with Mafe-king No. 2., painted on the side in large white letters. From Lundy’s Lane we wheeled for the mountain, about directly north, and passed over the track of the new electric radial railway, viz., the Niagara Falls, St. Catharines and Toronto Ry. The road is now completed as far as St. Kitts, and the first car ran over it this month, reminder of the road to Port Dalhousie to be complete early in the future. We also passed over a bicycle path which runs from Thorold to Niagara Falls and which is an improvement on the heavy sand roads. From the mountain road you get a fine panoramic view of the lower country and can see boats plying on the lake twelve miles away. Having partially descended the mountain we made our headquarters at “Lookout Place,” about one mile from St. Davids and six miles from the Falls. The night we arrived we attended a garden party at the village and heard a good program, on which the prospective M.P.’s figured. Of course they soared and lived in the higher digits, but wait till the transfigurations to naughts! We also heard some of Paul Hahn’s captivating strains of instrumental music. He is of Toronto and those who have heard him certainly have enjoyed a rare treat.
On July 30 we journeyed to Thorold passing under the Welland canal on our way. We found a picket stationed on each side of the tunnel and numerous police patrolling the locks above, which at this point are very near each other. Thorold looked quaint and slow, and is much cut up with railroads and canals. During our stay around here one of the Dominion police who was guarding one of the locks, was fired upon by two supposed dynamiters. It was at 1 o’clock a.m. One of the men said, “Give it to him,” meaning to Dunn, the policeman. They fired three times at him, but missed. Then they fired upon the marauders and they bolted immediately. Traces of blood were found the next morning.
We saw here a large freight boat if about 400 tons capacity, pass through the locks. She was called “Wm. J. Averell” of the Ogdensburg line, and was now coming down the mountain in water! What cannot the hand of man accomplish?
On July 31, we went to old Niagara-on-the-Lake. This is a beautiful town-14 miles from the Falls. In 1792 it became the place of residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Canada, and the first session of the Parliament of Upper Canada was held there. A little distance away stands the old fort, and around it the famous Niagara camping ground for the soldiers. There were many pleasure campers at Chautauqua grounds; also in the old Niagara Park about one hundred tents could be seen. We were driven from here along the Niagara River to Queenston, passing many new commodious summer residences, the most of which belonged to Americans. A good bicycle cinder path runs from Niagara to Queenston, a distance of eight miles, beside the winding and picturesque Niagara river. Connecting Queenston with Lewiston, N.Y., is a fine new bridge over which vehicles may pass, and which heretofore was a broken link in the Niagara gorge belt line, but now completes one of the most exciting and interesting summer routes in the world. Thousand during the summer months enjoy its beautiful scenery and visit the many points of interest.
We visited Brock’s monument on Queenston Heights, and saw the fortification of earth in the adjacent grove, both being reminders of the war of 1812, and causing that which made history to live over. Brock’s monument is seven miles below the Falls. It was erected to perpetuate the memory of Sir Isaac Brock, who fell here in 1813. The first monument erected here was destroyed by explosion on April 17, 1840, and was replaced by the present one in 1853. A week before we visited it four cannons were placed about it, two directly in front, and two facing the river gorge. It now resembles a fortress. The monument is 185 feet high, the base being 40 foot square and 30 feet high. The cylindrical shaft is 75 feet high by 30 feet in circumference, having a Corinthian capital 10 feet in height, carrying in relief a statue of the Goddess of War. Over this is around dome 7 feet high, surmounted by brock’s statue and can be reached by 250 spiral steps, starting from the interior of the base. It costs 25 cents to ascend. Imagine the view from the top of this monument at such an altitude! It is transporting, indeed! Toronto, 40 miles away, can be seen on a clear day. We saw it. At Queenston the electric cars wind their way up the mountain side, this road being a part of the Niagara River Ry.
It seems you are standing on most wonderful ground at the Heights when you begin to consider and meditate upon the history and geology of the place. We were told that the Horseshoe Falls are constantly receding, and within the memory of some had receded 250 feet. The question arises, where did this recession begin? Geologists tell us, and their answer has been accepted at the mountain near Queenston and Lewiston. The whole waters of the lakes there foamed over the dam, and the low lying land between the mountain and the lake some twelve miles of territory in diameter and extending from Hamilton to Rochester, was once the bed of the lake instead of rich, alluvial, fruit producing territory.
We visited the wonderful Falls of Niagara, ever interesting in appearance, even when viewed many times. It was delightful day, for you would imagine you were in fairyland, in the midst of the mists and rainbows continually. Queen Victoria Niagara Falls Park, which was opened on May 24, 1888, has grown in beauty and grandeur ever since, and now you find yourself in 100 acres of veritable flower gardens and evergreen lawns. Space will not permit of further description of the mighty cataract familiar to us all.
We returned to Abingdon on Aug. 4, via St. Davids, St. Catharines, Jordon, Beamsville and Smithville, with invigorated and refreshened constitutions.
A Regular Subscriber
E. Warner
[People’s Press, 28 August 1900]
Miss Mary Ann Dalton, an old, well-known and respected of Welland, died at Port Burwell on Friday last at the age of 42 years. She was temporarily residing at Port Burwell with her brother Thomas Dalton, who has chare of dredging operations there for Hingston & Woods. Her death was from an acute ailment of bowels and was very sudden, her illness not being over 24 hours duration. The body was brought to Welland, where the funeral took place on Monday, services at the R.C. church by Rev. Father Trayling, and interment in burying ground adjacent. Deceased had many friends and the funeral was largely attended. One brother, Thos. Dalton, and one sister, Mrs. Duffy of Waterford, N.Y., survive to mourn their loss.
[Wellamd Tribune, 24 August 1900]
Eli Gregory, an old resident of Louth township, died at the Fifteen last Monday evening, (20 August) in the 75th year of his age. He was one of the oldest magistrates in the county of Lincoln. He leaves a widow, four daughters and two sons.
[Welland Tribune, 24 August 1900]
Friday afternoon last, Aug. 17, Mrs. George Killins passed peacefully away at her home at Dunnville, after a long and extremely painful illness, borne with patience and resignation. The maiden name of deceased was Emma Bouck; she leaves two brothers and a sister who reside in Welland county, and one son, R.N. Killins, Dunnville. Deceased was an attendant of the Methodist church, respected and beloved by all who knew her.
Thorold News
[Welland Tribune, 24 August 1900]
In the death of John Allison the township of Thorold has suffered a loss that will be long felt. He was a man very highly respected to all who knew him.
Mr. Allison’s sickness was a long and painful one, which he bore with patience. Diseases of the heart are at times very flattering, and until very recently his friends had strong hopes of his recovery, but fate would have it otherwise. On Tuesday morning, the 14th inst., the fatal malady worked its course, and John Allison was numbered among the dead. His illness lasted about six months. The funeral took place on the following Thursday, when a very large gathering of relatives and friends met at the family remembrance to pay their last earthly duties to one whom they loved and regraded so highly. The interment was in the family plot in Drummond Hill cemetery, Lundy’s Lane.
John Allison was born in Stamford township, came into this township in his early boyhood days, and since then has lived on the same farm in “The Beech Woods” settlement which the family hewed out of the original forest. By industry and frugality they have acquired a large property which they have been wise enough to take care of and still retain.
Mr. Allison’s great-grandfather came to this country from England about 1790, and settled in the Niagara district.
In public matters in township and county, John Allison always took a prominent part. Politically he was a life-long Conservative and had considerable influence among the members of his party. His views were liberal, and he had a moderate way of expressing them, which gave him favor with opponents as well.
In municipal affairs, likewise, he was always to the front. He served several years in the township and county councils, and as a public servant, his highest aim seemed always to be to do the best that he possibly could for those whom he was elected to serve.
The sisters whom he leaves to mourn the loss of a beloved brother have the heartfelt sympathy of the whole community.
[Welland Telegraph August 1900]
There’s a lot that’s seductive in titles and rank
In station and pomp and degree
And crosses and stars on a nobleman’s breast
Are mighty attractive to see
It comforts most people straight through in this life.
To think that their blood’s a clear blue,
But the salt of the earth is its common folk still
Honest and simple and true.
They hold fast to justice and freedom and right,
They’re virtuous, manful and strong,
And it’s ever their mission to straighten things out.
When the world gets entangled in wrong;
Not always we’re willing to credit them up
With the glorious things that they do,
But the salt of the earth is its common folk still,
Honest and simple and true.
Ripley D. Saunders
(For the People’s Press)
[People’s Press, 21 August 1900]
Mr. Editor- I want to tell you right here there is a field full of adventure in this world that has been overlooked by the press generally. Thinking some of your readers may be interested in the above heading, I will venture my experience in the huckleberry marshes of Humberstone and Wainfleet on the 3rd August inst. After arming myself with a ticket instead of a rifle (the latter being the custom of 50 years ago) I was prepared to face Messrs. Reavely & Wilson-more dreaded generally than the bear, and they want 25c, and insist on that amount every day; whereas the bear was quite satisfied with much less, and if you were a good shot seldom called the second time.
Being thus armed I started in for a “soft snap”-that is, to find a new place where I could fill my basket in short order. Having been driven out of the Humberstone march on the previous day (by the heavy rain) I started for Wainfleet. After I had proceeded about a mile past the town line I bolted into the ferns and alders and kept bolting until I was as wet as a drowned rat, expecting every minute to reach the open march where the berries are usually found. After wading in the wet ferns, taller than myself, for nearly a mile, I found myself tangled in the worst jungle of poison sumach, ivy, burned and fallen timber I had ever met. I don’t claim any magnetism, but sumach and ivy dearly love me wherever they catch me in that marsh.
I was seriously considering a direct retreat, when it occurred to me to climb a tree and take observations. From the tree I could make out nothing but jungle, not a clear place only directly above me where I could see the sky. As much as you know I dislike retreating, I did retreat to the high land again, where I emptied the water from my shoes and wrung as much from my clothes as I could. I then followed the edge of the march about a mile further west and from a tree could make out a number of pickers among the burnt spruce brambles, about three-quarters of a mile distant. With wounds and scratches from the burned brambles I soon found myself in the midst of the pickers (strangers to me), who were getting but few berries. I pressed on through the march to the green spruces, where I had heard the high bush berries were plentiful. Picking a few on my way which gave a number of the other pickers a chance to overtake me. We then went to the spruces, where we soon separated, they bearing off to the westward, and I to the east. After wandering over acres of a laurel scrub bedocked and cranberry covered cushion that any of your upholsterers might envy (this is its purity alone remaining of what was once “The Great Cranberry Marsh;” what a pity it could not be preserved for a park) from a tree I discovered, about three-quarters of a mile to the east, some boys picking on the outskirts of the spruce. Noting their bearing by the sun I descended to the cushioned moss again, and by the natural paths that frequently occur in this moss, I had proceeded perhaps fifty yards when down through the moss I went, with one foot into of those subterranean lakes or rivers that frequently occur in this locality. This necessitated (after getting out) another wringing and drying process, after which I ventured to examine the hole from which I made my escape, and I was quite convinced that had I brought my fishing rod I might have had at least, a string of fish; but lacking time for regrets I pressed on through the spruce to where I discovered the pickers to be ladies-two young and one elderly-their jackets and straw hats being responsible for my mistake.
Approaching the young ladies, as they were the nigher to me, I was in hopes they would at least acknowledge my presence. This they failed to do, and in my desperation I ventured: “Will you please tell me from which side of the marsh did you come in?” thinking thereby to exchange notes and inform each other in which part of the marsh (at least there were no berries. Imagine my surprise and chagrin when I learned I was in the presence of a real “up-to-date” society young lady, whose scornful look and up-turned nose (for my impudence) send the chills all over me. In my despair my eyes wandered to the other young lady, who no doubt saw in my looks an object of pity, possibly an orphan, and with an appealing look in my behalf she obtained the answer from her companion, “from the east side,” in as piqued a manner as could be. I was paralyzed. She, the very picture of good looks, with her nose turned up, facing her companion; I, meditating that such pride would surely have a fall, picturing in the distance a lost girl begging for some one to pilot her out of the marsh or to rescue her from some harmless snake that would give more for a frog than a bite at a good looking girl. But law sakes, I didn’t expect the fall so sudden. Miss Uptodate made three steps when down she went into a lake or river, of which “mine” was only a tributary. In answer to my better nature I would have sprung to the rescue, but experience and discretion forbade any advances on my part.
Oh how I wished she would ask for assistance, which I was only too ready to have given. But she didn’t. She scrambled out unassisted but what a wreck! The water in sheets streaming from her garments from the right arm down. In answer to her friend she said she had only gotten one foot wet. Imagine,
Mr. Editor, a snubbed, bashful, sensitive man with a very active mind being a silent witness. I don’t even allude to the size of the hole, neither dare I ask if she was from Chicago, for fear she would infer that I was alluding to the size of the foot, that made it, nor dare I suggest that she also had missed it by not bringing her fishing rod, fearing it would spoil her well-shaped mouth whose muscles I already fancied showed symptoms of relaxing. I was embarrassed. I felt that privacy on her part was now doubly desired since the purge, and expressing a wish that they would have better luck the reminder of the day, I retired in as graceful a manner as an awkward man could.
Don’t think from my ill-luck there is nothing amusing in that marsh. Before I got out I did laugh heartily at a couple of very amusing incidents, and as for the best time to pick berries, I would recommend all means the finding of berries. I had but four quarts worth. They cost me 25c.
An Orphan
We are afraid “An Orphan” proceeded to make a mash on the Huckleberry marsh and failed. Perhaps if he looked more after berries than pretty girls he might have better results.-Ed.
(From the New York Times)
[Welland Tribune, 9 March 1900]
If the Toronto Globe is well-informed, the military officials of Canada are giving attentive ear to continuous rumors of a Fenian invasion. If these rumors are anything more than fairy tales, a Celtic army is to cross the border in the spring, and terrible conflicts will then be in order. Apparently the police are to be on duty about that time for the Globe says that the officers of the Toronto garrison have taken upon themselves the responsibility of repelling the invaders, and already are making elaborate plans for carrying on the war. A few details are revealed: “The troops of the Toronto military district and other sections of Canada will assemble on the frontier for ostensible tactical operations just about the time the Fenians, according to the report, would be making their attempt to cross. For the purposes of the war game every available branch of the service in the various military districts will be mobilized, including cavalry, artillery and infantry. The troops are to be equipped just as they would be if they were entering the field for a long campaign. Military men about town are not disposed to discuss the matter, but it is said in influential quarters that if the Fenian raid is intended it will not find the Government of Canada unprepared. It is hard to tell from these remarks whether the Globe has been fooled itself or is trying to fool others. We can assure Our Lady of the Snows that she is quite safe from all of us except our Aldermen, and they will attack her only at long range and by resolutions formerly adopted as a relief from the monotony of granting sidewalk permits.
[Welland Tribune, 14 September 1900]
The death of Thomas Cumines took place at Niagara Falls, N.Y., on Tuesday morning, 11th inst., aged 64 years. Mr. Cumines had been in delicate health for a long time, but had been rather improved of late, and went to Niagara Falls for treatment, and in the hope that a change would prove further beneficial. His last serious illness and death were therefore unexpected, and the announcement proved quite a shock to his community.
Mr. Cumines was a native of England. In politics he was a Conservative; in religion a member of the Church of England. He had carried on a drug business here (Welland) for nearly thirty years, and although rather retiring from publicity, was a very influential and most highly respected member of the community. In his demise this community loses one of its most upright and honorable business men. He filled the office of coroner for many years, and with exceptional ability and good judgement. As a mark of the public loss sustained in his demise, the county flag at the court house was flown at half-mast from the time of his death until his funeral. He leaves a widow, daughter of the late James Mcglashan of this town, three daughters-Mrs. C.P. Godden, Toronto; Miss Nellie and Miss Ethel-and one son, Mac, who is a member of the Northwest Mounted Police. The relatives have the sympathy of the community most fully in their sad bereavement.
The body was brought to Welland on Tuesday, the funeral taking place on Thursday afternoon. A large concourse of friends assembled at Holy Trinity church to pay their last respects to the deceased. The service was conducted by Rev. Dr. Johnstone. The pall-bearers were: Hon, R. Harcourt, W.M. German, Sheriff Smith, Col. Morin, I.P. Willson and D. Ross. Interment was made at Fonthill cemetery.
[Welland Tribune, 29 June 1900]
The late William Buchner, whose demise occurred on Tuesday last, was born in the township of Crowland on the 24th of December 1843, the son of S.W. Buchner of that township, and afterwards of Fonthill. The Buchner family are among the pioneers of this section, and are of U. E. Loyalist stock, the predecessors of deceased having come here from New Jersey about the year 1778, preferring to forswearing their allegiance to Great Britain.
In his younger days the deceased William Buchner taught school and followed farming. When the contracts for the Welland canal enlargement were let he gave up farming, and for several years followed the business of contractor, having with his brothers, an extensive contract on the piers at Port Colborne, and afterward other work.
That Mr. Buchner was a man of ability and force of character is amply shown by the public offices he held. Although differing in politics from the majority of electors in his native township, he was repeatedly elected its reeve, and for one term held the Wardenship, the highest municipal office in the county.
In politics he was a Conservative, of the most pronounced character, as was the family to which he belonged. In 1875 he was the Conservative candidate for the Legislature against Hon. J.G. Currie, and though defeated his powerful antagonist, Mr. Currie, had but 78 majority. Mr. Currie was unseated on protest after this election, and Mr. Buchner was again his unsuccessful opponent.
Soon after this he was appointed collector of customs at Fort Erie, and after retiring from that position again did a business as contractor, and latterly an insurance business.
About the time of the Fenian raid, with the loyalty for which the family was noted for generations, he raised a cavalry company, of which he was elected captain. He was afterward appointed Major and, later, Lt.-Col. Of the Second Dragoons, and at the time of his death was on the reserve of officers-being third on the list for the Domino in point of seniority.
In 1873 Mr. Buchner united with the Methodist church, and has ever since been an active member, taking special interest in the Sabbath school work. He was married in the year 1878 to Phoebe M. Brooks, third daughter of late Geo. Brooks, of St. John’s Ont., who with one son-Brooks-and two daughters-Clarabel and Margaret –survive to mourn their irreparable loss.
There also survive three brothers-John of Toronto, Harry of Boston, Mass., and Warren of Pensacola, Florida and two sisters-Mrs. George A. Hill of Niagara Falls, N.Y. and Mrs. B.C. Canby of Wainfleet.
Mr. Buchner’s death was so sudden that it proved a terrible shock to this whole community and especially to his family and friends, to whom it fell as a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. He was around as usual the day before his death, went to bed and apparently to sleep as usual. About 5.30 Tuesday morning, (26th inst.,) his wife was awakened by his quick breathing, and a very brief examination shewed that something serious was wrong. Two doctors were immediately sent for, but deceased breathed his last a few minutes after one doctor arrived and before the other came. The doctor pronounced the cause of death to have been angina pectoris, commonly known a spasm of the chest.
The funeral took place yesterday; burial at Dawdy’s cemetery, Pelham. A very large attendance of friends gathered to pay the last tribune of respect and sympathize with those who mourn.
The casket was beautifully decorated with flowers, among them being a pretty wreath from the county Conservative Association. The pall-bearers’ were: Harry Buchner, Dr. John L. Buchner (brothers of deceased), Ford, Warren and Charles Hill (nephews), and F.M. Hagar (brother-in-law).
Rev. A.E. Russ conducted the funeral service.
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