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Upper Canada Sketches

<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> <div class="blockquot">Upper Canada’s favored situation—Our Great Lakes—Cases of apparent tides on Lake Ontario—Canadians as givers—Oshawa’s generous support of churches and charities—Life insurance—Amusing incidents of a railway journey—A “talking machine.” </div> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> “I glory in the spirit Which goaded them to rise, And form a mighty nation Beneath the western skies. No clime so bright and beautiful As that where ne’er was slavery; No land so fertile, fair, and free As that of Upper Canada. Hurrah!” —Adapted. </div> </div></div> A GLANCE at the outline map in this volume will show how this Province is surrounded by the Great Lakes, or tideless oceans, the peers of any in this world. Now, with a fertile soil, a most salubrious climate, the best form of government, and a working, thrifty,{210} sober people, success and the goal of wealth being ours is not to be marvelled at. Our working habits and abstemiousness are so strongly inculcated that our young men have always had the best places given them when they have gone to seek work in the great neighboring Republic. I have called the Great Lakes tideless oceans, and they are. Still, sometimes one would almost think they had tides. That the surface of Lake Ontario very frequently and very suddenly rises and again falls, within one or two hours, is very well known to close observers. Indeed, the records of the Jesuit fathers, who were the first real observers of Lake Ontario, have frequent accounts of sudden rufflings of the water, and of waves on which by some unknown cause their canoes were rocked. As a pointed illustration of this fact, my father, who was one of the earliest shipowners on the lake, had a large vessel ashore about Frenchman’s Bay. They had kedged the anchors and drawn the cables as taut as it was possible to do, and still the ship would not move. After making every effort to move it they lay down upon the beach by the ship exhausted, wondering what next to do. Suddenly, from a perfectly calm surface, there came a swell and a rise of two feet of water, when the vessel imme{211}diately, with the strain upon her chains, slid off into deep water. Here, without a doubt, was a tide, but I feel certain that at some remote part of the lake a heavy thunderstorm was passing, with a high wind, or there was some such local cause to produce this swell and apparent tide. No one has yet been able to prove that there are lunar tides upon Lake Ontario. It is unfortunately true that no very close and persistent observations have been made, yet even casual observers who live upon the lake-side know positively that these tides are not regular, are governed by no fixed law, and can never be foretold as are the lunar tides upon the ocean. I would designate these Lake Ontario tides “barometrical waves,” as they are truly caused by sudden barometrical changes at different points upon the lake; for we must never forget its great size, and that a storm or a gale may be raging over one area and at the same time the lake be perfectly calm in another.   Upper Canadians are a generous, liberal-minded people, and I fearlessly assert that they are among the most liberal in the world. In fact, I am not sure but they really are the greatest givers in the world—givers for good purposes, I mean—and I am going to show unmistakably that they voluntarily submit{212} to a tax far greater than any Government dare try to impose upon them. Take Oshawa, for example—not because it is any better or worse than other towns in Ontario, but let it stand for an average town; I cite it simply because I know it more intimately, and therefore use it as a basis of comparison. There are, in round numbers, about 5,000 persons in the town of Oshawa. Within its boundaries are ten worshipping bodies. That is, there are that many different congregations who, at stated times, meet separately for worship. I get it from one of the deacons of these churches that last year his church raised $4,400 for religious purposes. But, of course, that would not be a fair assumption for the rest, although some two or three others would come pretty near that amount. Upon closest inquiry I find that it can safely be taken, on an average, that every one of these ten worshipping bodies raises at least $1,500 yearly for religious purposes. This is putting it at a very low estimate, and is safely within the mark. Then, ten churches at $1,500 each per year gives the grand total of $15,000 raised yearly by 5,000 people for religious purposes alone. Or, taking the whole sum, and apportioning it pro rata, it will yield about $3 per head for every man, woman and child per annum, voluntarily given for these purposes,{213} which is indeed more than any government dare levy as a tax. Of course, I know that persons outside the town attend some of the town churches and contribute, but I think this is fully offset by the extremely low estimate of $1,500 per church or body, for I am quite certain, if the real truth were known, it would be far more than that amount. Some of the churches will not in any way divulge the facts, and of course the amount of their contributions can be got at only approximately. I submit that the people of Ontario are the most generous in the world, and give most voluntarily, for, as I remarked at the outset, I am not claiming more nor less for Oshawa, and think I must be safe in coming to the conclusion that other towns of a similar population do likewise. Very few of us, I am sure, ever stopped before to think of what we do voluntarily in this our banner Province. It is only because we are a frugal and industrious and prosperous people that we can make this annual contribution for religious purposes. It is far greater than that for educational purposes, and yet we feel sure we are doing as much for education as any people under the sun. There is one more tax which our people voluntarily subject themselves to, which I think might well be referred to. So far as I know, no one has ever touched{214} upon the subject, and since it is becoming so general, it ought, I think, to be spoken of, to give us some idea of what we are voluntarily doing in another direction. Life insurance has become so common, and is so fast increasing, that it bids fair to be one of the great questions among us. I have been at considerable pains to get as near the truth as I can, but insurance men, however, do not care to give too many figures, and I must get all I can from policyholders and then draw an approximate estimate. Take Oshawa again for a comparison, with its 5,000 people. For the same reason as in the former case, I use Oshawa for comparison solely because I know it best, and not for any particular merit or demerit so far as it is concerned. There are three hundred policies of life insurance in Oshawa among 5,000 people. This number is certainly within the mark, as insurance men reluctantly admit. Pursuing the inquiry further, I find, as near as may be, these policies will average $2,000 each, making thereby a total of $600,000 life insurance now carried by this people. With the gross amount I am not particularly concerned, but it is the sum they yearly voluntarily tax themselves to pay to keep these three hundred policies in force that I want to discover. It is difficult to get at the sum the people pay annually, for there are so many kinds of life insurance that{215} they vary, some policies being on the plan of annual payments for life, while others are only for a stated term of years, so that it is difficult to get at the average amount. Five thousand dollars per month one insurance company has been known to receive from here. But I take it that this was a special month, and that more policies were renewed that month than usual, so it will not be safe to take those figures for any average. It is certain, however, that these three hundred policies average a cost of $30 per annum. Now, this $30 per annum is well within the mark, and I feel quite warranted in using that as a basis for comparison. This will give us $24,000 per year which the people here pay for life insurance, and I am quite right in classing these payments as among the generous acts and givings of the people, because the persons assured by these policies cannot ordinarily be expected to be benefited themselves, but are doing it and making these annual sacrifices for those who remain after their decease. Hence, these payments are charitable donations. If 5,000 people pay $24,000 per annum, that means very nearly $5 per head for every man, woman and child yearly paid in this town for life insurance to benefit those of our friends who succeed us. Now, add this $5 per head for life insurance to the $3 per head, as before instanced, annually raised for religious purposes, and{216} we have $8 per head annually paid by the people of Oshawa, voluntarily and spontaneously. Again I say, taking Oshawa as an index of the Province, one can begin to form some idea of the vast sum annually contributed for these purposes. Verily, there are no more generous people on this globe, This $8 per head is almost equal to the annual drink bill of the greatest drinking nations of the world. But then, of course, one must expect, unfortunately, that men will pay more for vices, taking the world at large, than they will for commendable objects. Ontario comes perhaps quite as near paying as much per head for commendable objects as for vicious ones as any people existing to-day. Hence, one can form no other opinion than that Ontarioans are really as moral, as well educated and thrifty, and as generous a people as there are anywhere to be found.   People of the Old World cannot realize the conditions of life in America, the peculiar freedom of pleasant informal intercourse common to it, without reading closely or unless they come and see us. The following incidents of a railway journey will serve for illustration. Remember that Upper Canada is covered by a very extensive network of railways, hence such scenes are always possible. An old gentleman in passing from the smoking-car{217} to the first-class coach behind, while the train was under full speed of forty miles an hour or so, had in some way been thrown or blown or jolted from the platform to the ground. He is injured somewhat badly, but not seriously. In obedience to a telegram an ambulance of the city of Toronto meets the incoming train at the Union Depot, and the injured man is gently raised in a huge blanket from the baggage car, where he had been placed after his fall, and deposited in the ambulance. A doctor gets in and sits by his head. A crowd has gathered, and, seeking to know what the trouble is, I make enquiry of a man standing near me. The man, whose sable complexion plainly betokens his African origin, without any visible admixture of white blood, courteously replies:—“Don’t exazactly know, sah, but ’spects some man fell off de kears.” And the ambulance slowly moves off to the hospital. Reaching my train, I deposit my things in the first-class coach and make for the “smoker.” About one-half of all the gentlemen do likewise. My observation is that about one-half of all Canadians, taking them “by the large,” as the sailors say, burn the fragrant weed. In Britain three-fourths would, I think, be the proportion; in Holland and Belgium eleven-tenths is, I imagine, almost within the mark. If our medical{218} men can convince us that Sir Walter Raleigh’s tobacco is decimating the human family, we may safely conclude that three-fourths of Canadians will soon pass over to the great silent majority. Well, if our medical men were to tell us so, I don’t believe we would accept their ipse dixit—at any rate, we would go on smoking, regardless of consequences. To the honor of Canadians be it said, they as a rule do not belong to the light-fingered gentry class, and our grip-sacks and great-coats left unguarded in the car are comparatively safe. It is only around the depot that any real danger of pilfering exists. There one may expect some “artful dodger” lying in wait for just such opportunities. The journey once commenced there’s no danger at all, and “traps” may be left about promiscuously. But my smoke is done, and I will return to my seat. Ah! I see someone has taken it—a lady. Of course, I cannot ask her to vacate it, although that seat by the ordinary courtesies of travel is mine by right of pre-possession and as the receptacle of my belongings. The next seat behind is occupied by a single lady, and there’s room for another person. “Is this seat occupied, madam?” in as polite a voice and gesture towards the seat as the occasion demands. “I think not, sir,” and I sit by her side. Some one of her “uncles, or her cousins or her aunts” may possibly{219} be known to me. Just how the ice is broken one can scarcely tell, but it is broken, and we chat away as the train clips off the usual thirty miles an hour. Who, I ask, ever thought of speaking unintroduced to a lady in a first-class car in England? I tried it once when a green boy, and received such a stony stare as froze me for all my subsequent railway journeys in the old land. But we do things differently in Canada. My companion chats, and so do I, and so do all my neighbors, and the car is just an incessant hum of pleasant, softly intoned voices. Such seems to be the almost universal custom in Canada, and the millionaire (we have a few) sits down beside the schoolmaster or the drummer, and it would take a keener eye than Canada has yet produced to tell “which from t’other” without previous knowledge or having been duly informed. Were I an M.P. or an M.P.P., or possibly a Cabinet Minister (with or without a portfolio), I suppose it would be among my prerogatives not to talk to my seat-mate. But not being so fortunate, I can enjoy my freedom and talk with decent, respectable people, though they are strangers. Just across the passage are seated an ancient maiden lady and an attenuated, pale, thin-whiskered merchant who has been up the city to make some purchases for his store. Now this ancient maiden lady has seen her fifty-and-two summers at least, and is{220} strong in church government, and church soirees, and church donative entertainments, ostensibly for the benefit of the poor. Just now, however, I must leave her, for the conductor has entered the forward door of the car, wearing his sombre but neat railway uniform, and is shouting out “Tickets!” Without exception everyone in my coach has the required pasteboard, and he has quickly passed us. Conductors evidently can get along well with such a class of passengers, for there’s no quarrelling or unpleasantness, nor questions for him to answer, nor anyone for him to eject from the train. It is manifest from his facial expression that he is in good humor with us, his passengers, and that his dinner likewise has agreed with him. This lady opens conversation with the merchant sitting near her, and without waiting for a reply to the opinions she expresses, continues an unchecked stream of talk on her favorite subject. Resignedly, patiently, meekly, Christianlike, this helpless merchant submits. And it is poured on, over, twisted, every side brought forth, while he calmly folds his long white wasted hands over his breast. Some young city men are coming down to a country town to attend a ball, and they make a lively party of themselves. Their fun and mirth and overflowing spirits do not annoy us, but we cannot help catching the contagious infection of mirth, and we are all goodnatured <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_027.jpg" width-obs="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /> <div class="caption">SARAH TERWILLIGAR’S ATTEMPT TO FLY TO HEAVEN. THE WORLD TO COME TO AN END. BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO </div> </div> {221} in this car, except possibly aforesaid ancient maiden lady, who is still too deep in “church government” for the contagion to catch her. With questionable zeal a young Salvation Army fellow and a couple of Salvation Army lasses, seated near the farther end of the car, boldly strike up. The tune may be melodious, suggestive of piety, musical, well-rendered, and withal nicely done, for one of the female voices is really sweet. It gets monotonous, however, at the beginning of the third verse, and we cannot enjoy our conversation. “Will you kindly stop?” Perhaps the word kindly is not suggestive enough—at any rate, it does not produce the desired quietus, and the hymn-singing goes bravely on. Our uniformed conductor has come in again with his cry of “Tickets!” Someone suggests to him “Will you be good enough to ask those persons in the rear end of the car to cease their singing?” It has the desired effect, even if the “kindly” aforementioned did not. Yes, Canada is pre-eminently a free country, but the wisdom of such efforts among a mixed assembly of promiscuous railway passengers is just questionable. No doubt there would be in that coach Catholics as well as Protestants, agnostics as well as saints—and heaven only knows but Moslems and Greeks may have been there as well—so I think I am right in saying that their zeal is quite{222} right, but its peculiar manifestation just a little questionable. The next seat behind mine contains two young men who have so far on this journey pored with eager interest over the Globe’s columns. Church government, city boys’ ante-ball merriment, nor Salvation Army songs have as yet distracted their attention from these columns which they seem to be devouring. They explain, however, that they are Toronto University students on their way home, and have not for some days had an opportunity to find out what this world has been about. Did you ever in your peregrinations encounter a veritable “talking machine?” Well, I did once, and I must ask you to allow me to leave this coach for a moment to describe that machine. A few seasons ago I had occasion to go to Britain in the month of January. Now, it’s a long ride down to Halifax, and let the Pullman be ever so comfortable, one feels now and again like walking forward and seeing what the others are doing. In the smoker I found a long-featured, cadaverous, wizened, pinched, saffron “bag of bones,” with a wrinkled parchment cuticle drawn over them, made in the form of a “talking machine.” He was talking the first time I went into the car, and talking every time I entered it. There is just a dim recollection with{223} me, that I went some ten times into that car on the way down to Halifax, and the “machine” was always in order, and always going. He went into the steerage, and I heard him several times when on the steamer, from the cabin deck, still in order, and always talking. At Londonderry he got on the tender with me. As he came down the gang-plank his voice was still raised, and for three mortal long hours I had to endure his idle “clack,” while the tender took us ashore. Next day, when purchasing a railway ticket, again I encountered him—still talking. I think I could with clear conscience take my oath that he talked all the way home (Belfast) while in that train. In fact, he had talked himself poor—poor in flesh, I mean, for I do not know what may have been his possessions in the coin of the realm. This was my first real observation of a genuine “talking machine.” In this coach to-day we had another, but of the feminine gender, which, under ordinary acceptances, would seem to be more in the general fitness of things, when coming from the sex to whom speech is so easy. This old lady sat in the corner at the forward end of the car. She had come from Ohio, and her talk ran equally as well upon ordinary sublunary things as upon those of more elevated character. The Sphinx,{224} or the Delphic Oracle, or who was Junius?—it made no difference, for she was equally at home on all these. Our ball-going city chaps quickly saw a place and time for fun. First, they chaffed her, and squarely they got their answers back, rather to their discomfiture. They hit upon politics finally. Just what hers were I did not make out, but at this subject she rose in her might, and standing with the index finger boldly extended, laid it down right volubly—rather more than the ball-going boys bargained for, and to the infinite amusement of all the other passengers. Our uniformed conductor touched her gently upon the shoulder and requested her to sit down. Silence for a few moments followed, but the fun was too much for the boys to lose it, and she as a talking-machine ran too easily to quit. Again upon her feet, again the index finger, and another request to sit down. Her station reached at last, the conductor and brakeman with alacrity help her off and deposit her parcels with her on the platform. The conductor raises his hand, a “toot” from the locomotive, and away. The conductor jumps aboard, heaves a great sigh, and almost audibly says—if not in words, at anyrate in thought and action—“I’m glad to get rid of that talking-machine.” “Supper! Twenty minutes for supper!” and for fifty cents we get a substantial, good meal and are{225} not particularly hurried. That reminds me to say that those places where they give the traveller a good meal are always known and commented upon and sought after. Cornwall, for instance, is noted in many travellers’ memories for its pies. So the traveller who happens there at the time of blueberries—ye gods, he’ll have a feast for a king! Then again, of some railway restaurants I am sorry to defame our our fair country by saying that they consume very much of the traveller’s precious twenty minutes before they wait on him, and he pays his fifty cents for a sight of the empty dishes and the seductive odor of cooked meat in the room behind the screens, but not yet served up to the pilgrim having only twenty precious minutes. The eating-house at Orangeville did not on some former occasions strike me as being particularly alert to save the traveller’s precious lunch time. The ancient maiden lady has gone; so has my single lady, and as most of us now remaining in the car are passengers for destinations far away, we have gradually settled down for a really comfortable journey. Most of the seats are now occupied by only one person, and he or she can lounge at ease. But hold! there’s a woman crying bitterly. What’s the trouble? Word soon goes around the car that this poor woman has been robbed of her purse and her{226} railway ticket as well, and she weeps deeply and unfeignedly, as if her heart would break. There are whisperings among the ladies, and soon one of them has interviewed her. A gentleman approaches and consults with the weeper and the lady. Result, this gentleman gets into the passage in the middle of the car, and makes a little speech. Assures us he’s from Illinois, and has seen this woman on his train all the way. Knew she had a ticket; in fact, saw her with it. Says she had a through ticket from Chicago to some place away down in Maine. Had a little money besides, but while crossing the river at Detroit and Windsor some mean thief stole ticket and purse. Had only a few quarters left in a pocket, which the thief did not get. With these quarters has paid her fare since the robbery so far, but now her money is all gone, and she has not a friend in this part of the world. “And now, look a-here, ladies and gentlemen, let’s give the poor woman a lift; a dollar a piece won’t hurt any of us, and here goes.” Taking off his soft felt hat and putting a dollar greenback in it, around the car he goes with the hat extended. Dollars and half-dollars fall into the hat as the tour of the car is made, and he comes to the weeping woman and unceremoniously dumps the whole lot into her lap. “There, there, now; dry up your tears—you’re all right now, and you can pay your fare through.{227}” This woman’s sudden change from bitter weeping to smiles through her tears was a pleasure to see, and I can fancy something kept rising in the throats of many of the passengers, which it took a good deal of swallowing to keep down. So the world is not so bad after all, and Canadians have hearts and open purses when assured that the need is a true one. “Did you say the next station is mine, conductor?” Well, I will put on my great-coat and go out into the darkness, for it is eleven o’clock, and I leave this coach with its peculiarities of human nature, not doubting but the next one I step into will contain its quota, peculiar enough, though possibly in other ways.{228} <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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