"What part of the world can you point me to to show such rapid changes as have occurred here? Where among the countries of the earth shall we find a quicker and more vigorous growth? Seventy years ago this beautiful and wealthy county of Prince Edward was one dense and untrod forest. We can hardly realize the fact, that even one century has not passed away since those strong-hearted men pushed their way into the wilderness of Upper Canada. Were they not heroes?
"In the summer of the year 1795, or thereabouts, a company of six persons, composed of two married men and their wives, with two small children, pushed a rough-looking and somewhat unwieldy little boat away from the shore in the neighbourhood of Poughkeepsie, and turned its prow up the Hudson. A rude sail was hoisted, but it flapped lazily against the slender mast. The two men betake themselves to the oars. The sun was just showing his face above the eastern woods as they pulled out into the river. The boat was crowded with sundry household matters—all carefully packed up and stowed away; a very small place was left at the stern, and was occupied by the two women and the children. The mother was a small and delicate-looking creature, well and neatly dressed. Had you been there, you would have observed tear after tear dropping from the pale cheek, as she bent in silence over her youngest babe; and see, the eyes of that young father, too, are suffused with tears. Why do they weep? Whither are they bound? Not a word is spoken. They are too sad to talk. Still the oar keeps its measured stroke, and they glide slowly on, and thus may we follow them day after day. Now and then a gentle breeze fills the sail, and wafts the small boat on. When the shades of evening begin to fall around them, they push to shore, and rear a temporary tent. Then the frugal supper is spread upon the green grass, and they gather round it, and forget their toils in speculations upon the future. But the morrow draws on, with its demands upon their strength; so they lay them down to rest. In due course they reach Albany, then a small Dutch town filled with Dutch people, Dutch comforts and frugality, and Dutch cabbage. This in those days was one of the outposts of civilization. Beyond was a wilderness-land but little known. Some necessaries are purchased, and again our little company launch away. They reach the place where the city of Troy now stands, and turn away to the left into the Mohawk river, and proceed slowly, and often with great difficulty, up the rapids and windings of the stream. The rich and fertile valley of the Mohawk of to-day was then the home of the Indian. There the celebrated Chief Brant had lived but a short time before, but had now withdrawn into the wilds of Western Canada. The voyagers, after several days of hard labour and difficulty, emerge into the little lake Oneida, lying in the north-western part of the State of New York, through which they pass with ease and pleasure. The most difficult part of their journey had been passed. They reach the Onondago river, and soon pass down it to Oswego, then an old fort which the French had reared when they possessed the country as a barrier against the encroachments of the wily Indian. Several bloody frays have occurred here, but our friends did not pause to learn their history. Their small craft now danced upon the wide bosom of Ontario, but they did not push out into the lake, and away across it. No; they are careful sailors, and they believed no doubt 'that small boats should not venture far from shore,' and so they wind along it until they reach Gravely Point, now known by the more dignified name of Cape Vincent. Here they strike across the channel, and thence around the lower end of Wolf Island, and into Kingston Bay, when they come to shore and transact some business. There were not many streets or fine store-houses in Kingston at this time. A few log-houses composed the town. An addition was made to their diminished stock of eatables, and away they push again. They steer now up the Bay of Quinté; and what a wild and beautiful scene that must have been! Could those toil-worn voyagers have failed to mark it? Why do they slacken their pace? Why do they so often rest upon their oars and look around? Why do they push into this little cove and that? Why do they laugh and talk more than usual? Perhaps their journey is drawing to an end! We shall see. They go up the bay until they reach township number five. This township, now known as Adolphustown, is composed of five points or arms of land, which run out into the bay. They run round three of these points, and turn down an arm of the bay called Hay-bay, and after proceeding some two miles pull to shore. Their journey it would seem had come to an end, for they begin at once to unload their boat and build a tent. The sun sinks down behind the western woods, and they, weary and worn, lay down to rest. Six weeks had passed since we saw them launch away in quest of this wilderness home. Look at them, and tell me what you think of the prospect. Is it far enough away from the busy haunts of men to suit you? or would you not rather sing,
"'Oh, Solitude, where are the charms
Which sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.'
"With the first glimmer of the morning's light, all hands are up and at work. A small spot is cleared away; trees are felled and a house is built. I fancy that it was not large nor commodious; that the rooms were not numerous nor spacious. The furniture, I suppose, did not amount to much either in quality or quantity; an inventory thereof would probably run somewhat after this fashion—a pot or two, perhaps a few quite common plates, cups and saucers, knives and forks, a box or two of linen, a small lot of bed-clothes, etc., with a
"'Chest contriv'd a double debt to pay—
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.'
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is no fancy sketch, but one drawn from the shadows of the past. You may find hundreds of similar adventures in the past history of our country. Such was the first home of the young wife whom I have mentioned. She had once lived in comfort, but by the fate of war the home of a father and husband had been confiscated, and hence they had sought for a dwelling-place in Canada, when England offered other homes to those who had fought her battles. A grandchild of that couple now stands before you.
"We can form no correct idea of the difficulties which beset these early inhabitants, nor of the hardships and privations they endured. They were not unfrequently reduced to the very verge of starvation, yet they struggled on. Tree after tree fell before the axe, and the small clearing was turned to immediate account. A few necessaries of life were produced, and even these, such as they were, were the beginnings of comfort—comfort indeed, but far removed from the idea we associate with the term.
"But time rolled on. The openings in the forest grew larger and wider. The log cabins began to multiply, and the curling smoke told a silent but cheerful tale. There dwelt a neighbour, miles perhaps away, but a neighbour nevertheless. The term bears a wide difference now-a-days. If you would like an idea of the proximity of humanity and the luxury of society in those days, just place a few miles, say six or eight, of dense woods between you and your neighbour, and you may get a faint conception of the delights of a home in the woods.
"There are some here, I presume, who have heard their parents or their grandparents tell of the dreadful sufferings they endured the second year after the settlement of the Bay of Quinté country. The Government was to provide food, etc., for two years. It could hardly be expected that men could go into the woods with their families, and clear up and raise enough for their support, the first or even the second year. The second year's Government supply, through some bad management, was frozen up in the lower part of the St. Lawrence, and in consequence the people were reduced to a state of famine. Men willingly offered pretty much all they possessed for food. I could show you one of the finest farms in Hay-bay that was offered to my grandfather for a half hundred of flour, and refused. A very respectable old lady, whom numbers of you knew, but who some time since went away to her rest—whose offspring, some at least, are luxuriating in comfort above the middle walks of life—was wont in those days to wander away early in the spring to the woods and gather and eat the buds of the basswood, and then bring an apron or basketfull home to the children. Glad were they to pluck the rye and barley heads, as soon as the kernel had formed, for food; and not many miles from Picton a beef's bone passed from house to house, and was boiled again and again in order to extract some nutriment. It seems incredulous, but it is no fiction, and surely no homœopathist would desire to be placed on a lower regimen.
"I feel it unnecessary almost for me to tell you that the largest proportion of the first settlers of this province were Americans who had adhered to the cause of England. After the capture of General Burgoyne, many of the Royalists with their families moved into Canada; and upon the evacuation of New York, at the close of the war, a still greater number followed. A large proportion of these were soldiers, disbanded and left without employ. Some there were who had lost their estates by confiscation; so that nearly all were destitute and dependent upon the liberality of the country whose battles they had fought, and for whose cause they had suffered. In order, therefore, to reward their loyalty and relieve their present necessities, as well as to supply some means of future subsistence, the British Government determined upon making liberal grants of the land in Upper Canada and other provinces to the American Loyalists. The measure was not only an act of justice and humanity, but it was sound in policy and has been crowned with universal success.