"A tree sometimes unobserved would fall across the fence, and the sheep would stray into the woods, which was fatal to them; or, the fastening to their pen would be left just one unlucky night not secured, and the morning would show a melancholy remainder of the fine flock that had been folded the night before. All of these mishaps were serious vexations to the early settlers. The mill was a constant draw upon my father's purse. A part of his lands had been sold at a very low price (but not low at that time)—one dollar the acre—to assist in building it, and now it had to be kept in repair. The dam breaking, machinery getting out of order, improvements to be made, bolting cloths wanted, and a miller to be paid—to meet all this was the toll, every twelfth bushel that was ground. During the summer season the mill would be for days without a bushel to grind, as farmers got their milling done when they could take their grists to the mill on ox-sleds upon the snow. Few grew more than sufficient for their own consumption and that of the new-coming settler; but had they grown more, there was no market, and the price of wheat, until the war of 1812, was never more than half a dollar a bushel; maize, buckwheat, and rye, two shillings (York) a bushel. The flour mill, pecuniarily speaking, was a great loss to my father. The saw-mill was remunerative; the expense attending it was trifling, its machinery was simple, and any commonly intelligent man with a day or two's instruction could attend to it. People brought logs of pine, oak, and walnut from their own farms, and my father had half the lumber for sawing; and this, when seasoned, found a ready sale, not for cash (cash dealings were almost unknown), but for labour, produce, maple sugar or anything they had to part with which my father might want, or with which he could pay some of his needy labourers. There were some wants which were almost unattainable with poor people, such as nails, glass, tea, and salt. They could only be procured in Niagara, and cash must be paid for them. There was not yet a store at Long Point. Great were the advantages of the half-pay officers and those who had a little money at their command, and yet their descendants appear not to have profited by it. It is a common remark in the country that very many of the sons of half-pay officers were both idle and dissolute; but I am happy to say there are many honourable exceptions. At the head of the list of these stand our present Chief Justice (Sir John Robinson), and Dr. Ryerson, the Superintendent of Education, and many others who deem it an honour to be descended from an United Empire Loyalist. From a multiplicity of care, my father had postponed, from time to time, going to Toronto, or Little York, as it was then called (where the seat of government had been removed), to secure the grant of land which had been promised to his family, until after the departure of his friend General Simcoe, who was succeeded as Governor by General Hunter.
"When my father made application to General Hunter, he was told that an order from the Home Government had limited the grants to the wives and children of the U.E. Loyalists to 200 acres each; but said that if the Order in Council had passed for the larger grants, of course my father should have the lands he had selected; but he, not foreseeing the change, had not secured the order, and General Simcoe's verbal promise could not be acted upon.
"The autumn of 1804 found us still in the original log-house. It had been added to and improved, but the stick chimney had not been replaced by brick, as my father looked forward from year to year to building a better house in a better situation; but he found so many improvements actually necessary, and so much to be done each spring and summer, that although a great deal of material had been prepared, the house was not yet commenced. One fine bright morning, as some visitors were taking their departure, there was an alarm of fire, and, sure enough, the stick chimney had caught and communicated to the garret, and in a few minutes the whole of the upper part of the house was in flames. Our visitors, who had not gone beyond the threshold, joined with the family and labourers in getting out the furniture as fast as possible. Nearly everything was saved from the lower part of the house, but all that was in the garret was lost. The garret had been used as a store-room, and contained cases which had not been unpacked since they came from New York, but were left until a better house could be built. These things—linen, bedding, and some nice little articles of furniture, and various little nicknacks which were prized beyond their value—were a great loss: but the greatest loss was a box or two of books. These were not to be replaced this side of New York, and to a young family the loss was irreparable. A part of Pope's works, a copy of Milton's Paradise Lost, Buchan's Family Medicine, and a Testament with commentaries, were all that were saved. A small quantity of plate also, which had not been unpacked, was found in a very unsatisfactory state. The family took shelter in a house built for and occupied by the miller and his family, sending them to a smaller tenement. The situation was airy and beautiful, and, with a few alterations and improvements, was more comfortable than the first log-house. This my mother rather regretted, as discomfort would have hastened the new house. Although allusions were made to New York, no time had yet been named for their return. My father used to assure my mother and friends that he would go as soon as she said the word; yet these remarks were always accompanied by a particularly humorous expression of countenance.
"About this time the London district was separated from the Western, and composed what now forms the counties or districts of Middlesex, Elgin, Huron, Bruce, Oxford, and Norfolk. The necessary appointments were made, and the London district held its own courts and sessions at Turkey Point, six miles above us on the lake shore. The people, in a most patriotic manner, had put up a log-house, which served the double purpose of court-house and jail. The courts were held in the upper story, which was entered by a very rough stairway, going up on the outside of the building. The jail consisted of one large room on the ground floor, from which any prisoner could release himself in half an hour unless guarded by a sentinel. The juries for some years held their consultations under the shade of a tree. Doubtless it was pleasanter than the close lock-up jury-room of the present day. My father, in addition to his other commissions, was appointed Judge of the District Court and Judge of the Surrogate Court. Turkey Point is a very pretty place; the grounds are high, and from them there is a very fine view of the bay and lake. General Simcoe had selected it for the county town, and the site of a future city. Now it boasted of one house, an inn kept by Silas Montross. There was also a reservation of land for military purposes. But the town never prospered; it was not in a thoroughfare, and did not possess water privileges. Twenty years afterwards it contained but the one solitary house. The county town was changed to a more favourable situation, Vittoria. My father's young family now gave him great anxiety. How they were to be educated was a question not easily solved. Schools there were none, nor was it possible to get a tutor. A man of education would not go so far into the woods for the small inducement which a private family could offer.
"Magistrates were not allowed to marry by license, nor could the parties be called in church, for there were no churches in the country. The law required that the parties should be advertised—that is, that the banns should be written out and placed in some conspicuous place for three Sundays. The mill door was the popular place, but the young lads would endeavour to avoid publicity by putting the banns on the inside of the door; others would take two or three witnesses and hold it on the door for a few minutes for three successive Sundays, allowing no one but their friends to see it. In many places marriages used to be solemnized by persons not authorized, and in a manner that made their legality very doubtful; but the Legislature have very wisely passed Acts legalizing all marriages up to a certain date. The marriages that took place at my father's used to afford a good deal of amusement. Some very odd couples came to be united. The only fee my father asked was a kiss from the bride, which he always insisted on being paid; and if the bride was at all pretty, he used, with a mischievous look at my mother, to enlarge upon the pleasure that this fee gave him, and would go into raptures about the bride's youth, beauty, and freshness, and declare that it was the only public duty he performed that he was properly remunerated for.
"Application had several times been made to the Rev. Mr. Addison, the only clergyman in the country, who was living at Niagara, entreating him to come to Long Point and baptize the children. All who had been born there remained unbaptized. This summer his promised visit was to take place, and was looked forward to with intense anxiety by both parents and children. I used to discuss it with my elder brother, and wonder what this wonderful ceremony of christening could mean. My mother had explained it as well as she could, but the mystical washing away of sin with water, to me was incomprehensible, as was also my being made member of a Church which was to me unknown. I wondered what God's minister could be like, and whether he was like my father, whom I looked up to as the greatest and best of anyone in my little world. At last Parson Addison arrived, and my curiosity was satisfied on one point, and in my estimation my father stood higher than the clergyman.
"The neighbourhood was notified, and all the children, from one month to eight or nine years old, were assembled to receive baptism. The house was crowded with people anxious to hear the first sermon preached in the Long Point Settlement by an ordained minister. Upon my own mind I must confess that the surplice and gown made a much more lasting impression than the sermon, and I thought Mr. Addison a vastly more important person in them than out of them; but upon the elder part of the community, how many sad and painful feelings did this first sermon awaken, and recall times long past, friends departed, ties broken, homes deserted, hardships endured! The cord touched produced many vibrations, as Mr. Addison shook hands with every individual, and made some kind inquiry about their present or future welfare. The same God-hopeful smile passed over every face, and the same 'Thank you, sir, we find ourselves every year a little better off, and the country is improving.' 'If we only had a church and a clergyman we should have but little to complain of.' But it was a hope deferred for many long years. A Baptist minister, the Rev. Mr. Finch, was the first clergyman who came to the little settlement to reside. His meetings were held in different parts of the settlement each Sunday, so that all might have the opportunity of hearing him if they chose to attend. He preached in houses and barns without any reward, labouring on his farm for his support. He, like all the early Dissenting ministers who came to the province, was uneducated, but possessed and sincerely believed a saving knowledge of the Gospel, and in his humble sphere laboured to do all the good in his power. Many of the young people joined his Church. He was soon followed by the Methodists. Too much cannot be said in praise of the early ministers of these denominations; they bore every privation and fatigue, praying and preaching in every house where the doors were not closed against them—receiving the smallest pittance for their labour. A married man received $200 a year and a log-house for his family; an unmarried man had half that sum, the greater portion of which was paid in home-made cloth and produce. Their sermons and prayers were very loud, forcible and energetic, and if they had been printed verbatim, would have looked a sad jumble of words. They encouraged an open demonstration of feeling amongst their hearers—the louder the more satisfactory. But notwithstanding the criticisms cast upon these early preachers, were they not the class of men who suited their hearers? They shared their poverty and entered into all their feelings; and although unlearned, they taught the one true doctrine—to serve God in spirit and in truth—and their lives bore testimony to their sincerity. In this world they looked forward to neither preferment nor reward; all they expected or could hope for was a miserable subsistence. Nor was it surprising that in twenty years afterwards, when the path was made smooth, the church built, and the first clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Evans, came, that he found a small congregation. Every township had one or two Methodist and Baptist chapels. I do not recollect one Roman Catholic family in the neighbourhood. Although the Long Point Settlement was in existence thirty years before we had a resident clergyman of the Church of England, yet I cannot recollect one member who had seceded from the Church. Many had died, and many communed with the Methodists, who did not belong to them."
Postscript.—At the author's request, Mrs. Harris, in June, 1879, brought down her recollections to the close of the war of 1812-1815. The following pages are the result—written by Mrs. Harris, twenty years after writing the previous memoranda, in the eighty-first year of her age, containing some interesting particulars of the war, and stating the cause of the loss of the British fleet on Lake Erie, and the disasters which followed.
The author has not seen cause to alter a sentence or a word of Mrs. Harris's manuscript, written by herself in a clear, bold hand, notwithstanding her advanced age:
"In 1810 my father showed signs of failing health. A life of hardship and great exertion was telling upon a naturally strong constitution. He decided upon resigning all his offices, and his resignation was accepted upon this assurance, that from ill-health he could no longer fulfil the duties they involved. The Hon. Thomas Talbot was appointed his successor as colonel commandant of the militia, and the late Judge Mitchell succeeded him as Judge of the District and Surrogate Courts. At this time there were strong rumours of war between America and England, and the militia anticipated being called into active service. At the close of 1811, a large body of the militia which my father had organized waited upon him, and urged him to resume the command, as in him they had confidence. Colonel Talbot was a stranger amongst them, and lived at a distance. My father at that time was in the last stage of consumption, and died in the June following, in 1812, aged sixty years. In six days after his death war was declared, and then came troubles to my widowed mother in various shapes. My father in seventeen years had seen a lonely wilderness changed into a fruitful country. Most of the original log-houses had given place to good frame buildings, and the inhabitants generally seemed prosperous and content. Immediately after the declaration of war, the militia had to do military duty and neglect their farms. British troops passed through Port Ryerse, on their way to Amherstburg and Sandwich, and every available building was used as barracks. All merchant vessels were converted into ships of war, and they, with one or two small ships belonging to the Provincial Navy, were placed under the command of Captain Barclay, of the Royal Navy; Captain Finnes, R.N., was second in command. His ships were all of light tonnage; there were several transports, which were in constant use conveying troops and army supplies to Sandwich and Amherstburg. The lake was clear of enemies, as the Americans were blockaded within Erie Harbour, where they had two or three large ships on the stocks. They could not cross the bar at Erie without lightening their ships and taking out part of their guns. This they could not do in the presence of Barclay's fleet. When the weather was too rough for the blockading squadron to remain outside the harbour, it was too rough for the American fleet to get over the bar; consequently we felt very safe. This was during the summer of 1813. During this summer General Brock called out the militia of Norfolk, and asked for volunteers to go with him to Detroit; every man volunteered. He made his selection of the strong and active young men. Right gallantly the militia throughout the province behaved during the three years' war, casting no discredit upon their parentage—the brave old U.E. Loyalists. During the summer, Captain Barclay used to have private information—not very reliable, as the result proved—of what progress the ships were making on the stocks. He used occasionally to leave the blockade and go to Amherstburg and come to Ryerse. The Americans took note of this, and made their plans and preparations for his doing so. There was a pretty widow of an officer of some rank in Amherstburg, who was very anxious to go to Toronto. Captain Barclay offered her a passage in his ship and brought her to Ryerse, and then escorted her to Dr. Rolph's, where he and some of his officers remained to dinner the following day. When they came in sight of Erie, they saw all the American fleet riding safely at anchor outside the bar. The Americans had everything in readiness; and as soon as the watched-for opportunity came, and the British fleet left the station, they got their own ships over the bar, their guns in, and all things ready for defence or attack. They far outnumbered the British fleet, and were of heavier tonnage. Captain Barclay consulted his senior officers whether it would be best to come into Long Point Bay to winter, where they could get supplies across the country from Burlington Bay of all the munitions of war, and leave the ship on the stocks at Amherstburg (the Detroit) to her fate, as neither the guns to arm nor the men to man her had yet been forwarded, and now could not unless by land, which for heavy guns and the munitions of war was the next thing to an impossibility. It was with great difficulty that food and clothing could be forwarded, where there was little more than an Indian path and no bridges. The wisdom of the fleet decided upon going to Amherstburg and trusting to arming the ships with the guns from the fort, and manning them with sailors from the fleet, and with soldiers and volunteers. They landed Captain O'Keefe, of the 41st Regiment, who was doing marine duty at or near Otter Creek, to find his way to Ryerse, and to tell the militia commandant that the whole frontier on Lake Erie was now open to American invasion, the new ship was launched, imperfectly armed and manned; and without a sufficient supply of ammunition for the fleet, and with little more than a day's rations for his men, Commodore Barclay was necessitated to risk an action. The result is too well known. Nearly all the officers were killed or severely wounded. Captain Barclay, who had already lost one arm, was disabled in the other arm; but they did not strike their colours to Commodore Perry's superior force until their ammunition in some ships was all exhausted, and in others nearly so. No one could have fought more bravely than Captain Barclay. At the same time, those who knew of his leaving the blockade could not help feeling that all the disasters of the upper part of the province lay at his door. In May of 1814 we had several days of heavy fog. On the morning of the 13th, as the fog lifted, we saw seven or eight ships under the American flag anchored off Ryerse, with a number of small boats floating by the side of each ship. As the fog cleared away they hoisted sail and dropped down three miles below us, opposite Port Dover. Of course an invasion was anticipated. Colonel Talbot was then in Norfolk, and he ordered all the militia to assemble the next day at Brantford, a distance of thirty miles, which they did with great reluctance, as many of both officers and men thought that an effort should have been made to prevent the Americans landing; but no resistance was offered. On the 14th, the Americans burnt the village and mills of Dover; on the 15th, as my mother and myself were sitting at breakfast, the dogs kept up a very unusual barking. I went to the door to discover the cause; when I looked up, I saw the hill-side and fields, as far as the eye could reach, covered with American soldiers. They had marched from Port Dover to Ryerse. Two men stepped from the ranks, selected some large chips, and came into the room where we were standing, and took coals from the hearth without speaking a word. My mother knew instinctively what they were going to do. She went out and asked to see the commanding officer. A gentleman rode up to her and said he was the person she asked for. She entreated him to spare her property, and said she was a widow with a young family. He answered her civilly and respectfully, and expressed his regret that his orders were to burn, but that he would spare the house, which he did; and he said, as a sort of justification of his burning, that the buildings were used as a barrack, and the mill furnished flour for British troops. Very soon we saw columns of dark smoke arise from every building, and of what at early morn had been a prosperous homestead, at noon there remained only smouldering ruins. The following day Colonel Talbot and the militia under his command marched to Port Norfolk (commonly known as Turkey Point), six miles above Ryerse. The Americans were then on their way to their own shores. My father had been dead less than two years. Little remained of all his labours excepting the orchard and cultivated fields. It would not be easy to describe my mother's feelings as she looked at the desolation around her, and thought upon the past and the present; but there was no longer a wish to return to New York. My father's grave was there, and she looked to it as her resting-place. Not many years since a small church was built on a plot of ground which my father had reserved for that purpose; in the graveyard attached are buried two of the early settlers—my father and my mother. A.H."