Historical Romance of the American Negro

by Charles Henry Fowler

We all steered up the field road on foot, and when we came to Richmond Hill, and looked around us upon the country far and wide, we were all perfectly enchanted with the view, and one and all of us exclaimed, "What a beautiful land! Fair as the Garden of Eden before the Lord! Beautiful as Tirzah!" Then we all went into the house, where we disposed of our trunks, and all the rest of our things, after which we sat down and talked, and felt thoroughly at home. Indeed, there was a home feeling about the place that was irresistible. With true Canadian kindness refreshments were immediately placed before the young man who drove the hired conveyance, and after he had helped himself to his heart's content, he took his departure for Ingersoll, where I doubt not he arrived safely in a short time.

A good supply of bread and cheese and milk were set upon the table, and each of us took a snack only, because the afternoon was now wearing on apace, and supper would be ready in a couple of hours. In the meantime, we all put on our hats and bonnets, and accompanied by several members of the family, we took a walk up to the top of the range of hills that ran away above the house, from whence we could see the sloping lands and dales that lay away beyond them; and, indeed, we had a most complete view of the whole country as far as the eye could reach. There was something perfectly sublime in the scenery that lay all around us, far and wide. How we did admire the fair-faced forest land, where the streams rolled away for Lake Erie, winding round, and round, and round; and the forests grew on both sides all down their banks, and the rest of the country was under a course of careful, splendid cultivation.

We were so much taken with the glorious views of fair and fertile Canada that we felt in no hurry to return, but sat down on the hill-top, like a lot of birds of passage resting after a long flight, and inhaled the very inspiration of the joyous scene. But at last time was called for, and we all steered back to the house, where we found Doctor and Mrs. McKenzie, of the Presbyterian Church, to which the Gibsons go, in the little country town three miles off. The McKenzies live in a beautiful mansion among the trees on the hill-top opposite Richmond Hill. (We left the mansion on our right hand before we descended the last hill). They had heard that we six had come, and in our absence had arrived to pay us a visit. Dr. McKenzie and wife are excellent company; they are highly intelligent, and come from the highlands of Scotland. We had attended his church in the town upon our last visit in the autumn of 1863.

Supper was now ready, and we all sat down around the jovial board, which was fairly groaning under an enormous weight of good things. Dr. McKenzie said grace; Mary and Margaret Gibson acted as waiters, and we had one of the best suppers that were ever served up even in hospitable Canada. After that we resolved ourselves into a sort of open parliament, and the night drove on with fun and conversation. One after another of the neighbors continued to arrive, and the enthusiasm of the night went on, grew and still increased. The piano was also brought into full play, and the girls and some of the rest of us played and sang, and a better time had never been heard along the sides of those peaceful and lovely hills. I am sure it was for all a time of extraordinary enjoyment.

During a lull in the proceedings of the night, Dr. McKenzie stated that it would be a great gratification to himself and wife, and to all their friends over these hills if a night's entertainment were given in the hall at the post-town, three miles off; and we could order the proceedings of the night in any varied way that we pleased. We informed the learned doctor that we would leave the matter entirely in his own hands, and whenever he called us up we would answer to the summons, and do our very best to please every man, woman or child who favored us with their presence.

In due course the grand entertainment came off, and what with songs, music and speeches it was declared to be one of the very best and most enthusiastic gatherings in all the chronicles of Canada.

We spent one whole month at Richmond Hill, the month of August, 1865. We walked the hills and dales, far and near, as on the occasion of our former visit we spent many a pleasant day at the homes of the dear Canadians, who never knew how to be kind enough, and a great many came even a long way to see us. We walked along the hill-tops, and sat down besides the purling streams in the forests, and read under the shade of the tall trees. Once more the two girls overhauled that grand edition of the "Pilgrim's Progress," and Tom was also taken immensely with the pictures.

But all things come to an end. We had a most glorious time among these good Canadians; we all felt greatly benefited by our visit to Richmond Hill, and Tom declared that he felt at least as well as he did before he went away to the war. So we gave the Gibsons a general invitation to come and visit us at our home in Buffalo whenever they got ready to do so. We took a fond leave of them at Richmond Hill, and some of them accompanied us to the railway station at Ingersoll, where we took the 10 o'clock train for Buffalo, and arrived there safe and sound the same afternoon.

The condition of the South after the rebel armies surrendered reminds me of the havoc wrought when a forest of great tall trees is swept down by a strong and mighty wind, and all the forest monarchs are flat on the ground. Their mighty roots are exposed to the gaze of every passer-by; an enormous quantity of earth is torn up by the terrible wrench that has taken place; and the great branches are broken and jumbled together with the great crash of the now prostrate and ruined forest. Such was the state of the South after Lee surrendered at Appomattox Court House, in Virginia. He had, indeed, no great army to surrender, and what little armies remained to the rebellion elsewhere were but of small account, and promptly laid down their arms at last.

Whilst the South fought with a valor that was worthy of a better cause, and her slave-holders and followers actually laid down their lives in thousands and ten thousands for their darling "independence" and slavery, I am never able to think without regret of the dreadful sacrifice of human lives and treasure that we of the North were forced to make to restore the Union to its former state, and to secure the freedom of the last slave in all the land. Never since this world began did a defiant, haughty and valiant race of rebels so long and so successfully resist—I might almost say the wealth, the resources, and the physical strength of half the world. It was the "strong man armed," and in his own house, fighting there with all his might and main. And how did we knock down the house and kill him? Alas, alas! we had to sacrifice whole legions of our well-beloved, both white and black, that the Union and liberty might be where they are at the present day.