Brantford, December 22nd.—Rev. John Ryerson writes: During my long missionary tour I preached about ten times, always with liberty and freedom. Since I returned home I have resumed all of my domestic and private devotional exercises, and after my missionary labours realize the return of quiet peace and spiritual communion. Recently, after much prayer, I received a great blessing to my soul, the peace of God coming down upon my heart and going all over me, and I still have peace. God is my portion, my righteousness, and my salvation all the day long.
In September, 1864, Dr. Ryerson wrote the following account of visits which he made to his native county of Norfolk:—
In compliance with many requests, I have thought it would not be improper, and might be acceptable to my Norfolk friends, for me to give an account of my visits during the last two years to my native place, and to the Island within Long Point, which my father obtained from the Crown, and which now belongs to me—marked on old maps as Pottahawk Point, but designated on later maps, and more generally known, as "Ryerson's Island."
I may remark, by way of preface, that for more than thirty-five years of my public life my constitution and brain seemed to be equal to any amount of labour which I might impose on them; but of late years, the latter has been the seat of alarming attacks and severe pain, under any protracted or intense labour; and the former has been impaired by labour and disease. Change of scene and out-door exercise have proved the most effectual remedy for both. My first adoption of this course (apart from foreign travel) was two years since, when a month's daily sea-bathing, boating and walking, at Cape Elizabeth, near Portland, State of Maine, contributed greatly to the improvement of my health and strength. After again resuming my usual work for several weeks, I found that my relief, if not safety, required a further suspension of ordinary mental labour, and diversion of my thought by new objects. I determined to visit the place of my birth and the scenes of my youth. At Port Ryerse I made myself a little skiff after the model of one I had seen at the sea-side, and in which I rowed myself to and from Ryerson's Island, a distance of some thirteen miles from Port Ryerse, and about four miles from the nearest mainland—the end of Turkey Point.
Last autumn I lodged two weeks on the farm on which I was born, with the family of Mr. Joseph Duncan, where the meals were taken daily in a room the wood-work of which I, as an amateur carpenter, had finished more than forty years ago, while recovering from a long and serious illness.
When invited to meet and address the common schools of the county of Norfolk, at a county school picnic held in a grove near Simcoe, the 24th of last June, I determined to proceed thither, not by railroad and stage, as usual, but in a skiff fifteen feet and a half long, in which I had been accustomed for some months to row in Toronto Harbour, between six and eight o'clock in the morning.
Providing, as far as possible, against the double danger of swamping and capsizing, by a canvas deck, proper ballast, and fittings of the sail, I crossed Lake Ontario alone from Toronto to Port Dalhousie in nine hours; had my skiff conveyed thence to Port Colborne on a Canadian vessel, through the Welland Canal, and proceeded along the north shore of Lake Erie, rowing in one day, half-way against head wind, from the mouth of Grand River to Port Dover, a distance of forty miles, taking refreshments and rest at farm houses, and bathing three times during the day. The following day scarcely conscious of fatigue, I delivered two addresses; the one to a vast assemblage of school pupils and their friends, in a grove; the other a lecture to teachers and trustees in the evening.
After visiting my island and witnessing the productive and excellent garden of the family that occupies it, I returned to Toronto in my skiff, by the way of Niagara river, sailing in one day between sun-rise and sun-set (stopping for three hours at Port Colborne) from Grand River to Chippewa, within two miles of the Falls. I had my skiff conveyed on a waggon over the portage from Chippewa to Queenstown (ten miles), and started from Niagara to Toronto about noon of the first Friday in July. When a little more than half way across the lake, I encountered a heavy north-east storm of rain and wind, and a fog so thick as to completely obscure the Toronto light-house, which was within a mile of me. When it became so dark that I could not see my compass, I laid my course, with the sail reefed, by the wind and waves, reaching (a mile west of my due course) the east side of the Humber Bay, between ten and eleven in the evening, and making my way, by a hard pull, to the Toronto Yacht Club House a little before midnight.
About four weeks since my son and myself made the voyage in the same skiff from Toronto to Long Point, but proceeding by railroad from Port Dalhousie to Port Colborne, intending to spend a week or two on the farm, and two or three days on the Island.
I conclude this epitomised sketch with three remarks. I am satisfied of the truth of what I have long believed, that a small boat is as safe, if not safer, than a large one, if properly constructed, fitted out, trimmed, and managed. I believe that many a large open boat, if not capsized by the wind, would have been swamped by the waves over which my little craft rode in safety.