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.
At Jordan I met three children homing from school, and with Venator, Izaak Walton’s chance acquaintance, could have said, “We are all so happy as to have a fine, fresh, cool morning, and I hope we shall each be the happier in the other’s company. And that I may not lose yours, I shall either abate or amend my pace to enjoy it, knowing that as the Italians say, ‘Good company in a journey makes the way to seem the shorter.’” It seemed that teacher had gone to her home for Thanksgiving, which occurs in this land on October 20th, and as there is but one train each day and that chanced along some time before noon, the natural consequence was that school was dismissed at an early hour.
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 $25 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.
One has much time to moralize thusly while plodding along the wood roads that for the most part offer little to the imagination, unless a partridge whirrs up and over the treetops or scurries through the brush, as sometimes occurs.
One who picked me up about two miles out of Lockport and regaled me with much talk by the way, had somewhat to say concerning his father-in-law, a native of these parts, but to his way of thinking made of a superior brand of clay.
During the days of the Fenian raid along in the sixties, when all up and down the coast there was much excitement, a stranger appeared on this shore against whom the people with one accord shut their doors, dreading they knew not what. After being rebuffed at several houses he finally sought shelter with father-in-law who, fearing nothing, promptly took him in and learned in the course of time that the visitor was of Prince Edward Island, that his brother-in-law had been arrested for smuggling, and that he was the only witness against him. If he could keep in hiding until after the trial there could be no conviction, and as his host had little sympathy with government efforts to suppress the illicit traffic, the stranger was kept within his gates until he could safely return unto his own people. Ever after when he of the sheltering hand visited the home land of the former refugee, he was received with open arms and entertained with the best.