With our local traditions in relation to the grandiose chieftain above described, one or two stories are in circulation, in which his young kinsman Allan amusingly figures. Alive to pleasantry—as so many of our early worthies in these parts were—he undertook, it is said, for a small wager, to prove the absolute nudity of the knees, &c., of his feudal lord when at a ball in full costume: (the allegation, mischievously made, had been that the Chief was protected from the weather by invisible drawers.) The mode of demonstration adopted was a sudden cry from the ingenuous youth addressed to the Chief, to the effect that he observed a spider, or some such object running up his leg!—a cry instantly followed by a smart slap with the hand, with the presumed intention of checking the onward course of the noxious thing. The loud crack occasioned by the blow left no room for doubt as to the fact of nudity; but the dignified Laird was somewhat disconcerted by the over zeal of his young retainer.
Again, at Kingston, the ever-conscious Chief having written himself down in the visitors' book at the hotel as The MacNab, his juvenile relative, coming in immediately after and seeing the curt inscription, instantly entered his protest against the monopoly apparently implied, by writing himself down, just underneath, in conspicuous characters, as The Other MacNab—the genius of his coming fortunes doubtless inspiring the merry deed.—He held for a time a commission in the 68th, and accompanied that regiment to York in 1827. Riding along King Street one day soon after his arrival in the town, he observed Mr. Washburn, the lawyer, taking a furtive survey of him through his eyeglass. The proceeding is at once reciprocated by the conversion of a stirrup into an imaginary lens of large diameter, lifted by the strap and waggishly applied to the eye. Mr. Washburn had, we believe, pressed matters against the young officer rather sharply in the courts, a year or two previously. A few years later, when member for Wentworth, he contrived, while conversing with the Speaker, Mr. McLean, in the refreshment-room of the Parliament House, to slip into one of that gentleman's coat pockets the leg-bone of a turkey. After the lapse of a few minutes, Mr. MacNab, as chairman of a committee of the whole House, is solemnly seated at the Table, and Mr. Speaker, in his capacity as a member, is being interrogated by him on some point connected with the special business of the committee. At this particular moment, it happens that Mr. Speaker, feeling for his handkerchief, discovers in his pocket the extraordinary foreign object which had been lodged there. Guessing in an instant the author of the trick, he extricates the bone and quick as thought, shies it at the head of the occupant of the Chair. The House is, of course, amazed; and Mr. MacNab, in the gravest manner, directs the Clerk to make a note of the act.—We have understood that the house occupied by Mr. Fothergill (where we paused a short time since) was originally built by Allan MacNab, junior, but never dwelt in by him.
We now arrived at the Don bridge. The valley of the Don, at the place where the Kingston Road crosses it, was spanned in 1824 by a long wooden viaduct raised about twenty-five feet above the marsh below. This structure consisted of a series of ten trestles, or frames of hewn timber supporting a roadway of plank, which had lasted since 1809. A similar structure spanned the Humber and its marshes on the west side of York. Both of these bridges about the year 1824 had become very much decayed; and occasionally both were rendered impassable at the same time, by the falling in of worn-out and broken planks. The York papers would then make themselves merry on the well-defended condition of the town in a military point of view, approach to it from the east and west being effectually barred.
Prior to the erection of the bridge on the Kingston Road, the Don was crossed near the same spot by means of a scow, worked by the assistance of a rope stretched across the stream. In 1810, we observe that the Humber was also crossed by means of a ferry. In that year the inhabitants of Etobicoke complained to the magistrates in session at York of the excessive toll demanded there; and it was agreed that for the future the following should be the charges:—For each foot passenger, 2½d.; for every hog, 1d.; for every sheep, the same; for horned cattle, 2½d. each, for every horse and rider, 5d.; for every carriage drawn by two horses, 1s. 3d. (which included the driver); for every carriage with one horse, 1s. It is presumed that the same tolls were exacted at the ferry over the Don, while in operation.
In 1824 not only was the Don bridge in bad repair, but, as we learn from a petition addressed by the magistrates to Sir Peregrine Maitland in that year, the bridge over the Rouge in Pickering, also, is said to be, "from its decayed state, almost impassable, and if not remedied," the document goes on to state, "the communication between this town (York) and the eastern parts of the Province, as well as with Lower Canada by land, will be entirely obstructed."
At length the present earthwork across the marsh at the Don was thrown up, and the river itself spanned by a long wooden tube, put together on a suspension principle, roofed over and closed in on the sides, with the exception of oblong apertures for light. It resembled in some degree the bridges to be seen over the Reuss at Lucerne and elsewhere in Switzerland, though not decorated with paintings in the interior, as they are. Stone piers built on piles sustained it at either end. All was done under the superintendence of a United States contractor, named Lewis. It was at him that the italics in Mr. Angell's advertisement glanced. The inuendo was that, for engineering purposes, there was no necessity for calling in the aid of outsiders.
From a kind of small Friar-Bacon's study, occupied in former years by ourselves, situated on a bold point some distance northwards, up the valley, we remember watching the pile-driver at work in preparing the foundation of the two stone piers of the Don bridge: from where we sat at our books we could see the heavy mallet descend; and then, after a considerable interval, we would hear the sharp stroke on the end of the piece of timber which was being driven down. From the same elevated position also, previously, we used to see the teams crossing the high frame-work over the marsh on their way to and from Town, and hear the distant clatter of the horses' feet on the loosely-laid planks.
The tubular structure which succeeded the trestle-work bridge did not retain its position very long. The pier at its western extremity was undermined by the water during a spring freshet, and gave way. The bridge, of course, fell down into the swirling tide below, and was carried bodily away, looking like a second Ark as it floated along towards the mouth of the river, where at length it stranded and became a wreck.
On the breaking up of the ice every spring the Don, as is well known, becomes a mighty rushing river, stretching across from hill to hill. Ordinarily, it occupies but a small portion of its proper valley, meandering along, like an English tide-stream when the tide is out. The bridge carried away on this occasion was notable so long as it stood, for retaining visible marks of an attempt to set fire to it during the troubles of 1837.
The next appliance for crossing the river was another tubular frame of timber, longer than the former one; but it was never provided with a roof, and never closed in at the sides. Up to the time that it began to show signs of decay, and to require cribs to be built underneath it in the middle of the stream, it had an unfinished, disreputable look. It acquired a tragic interest in 1859, from being the scene of the murder, by drowning, of a young Irishman named Hogan, a barrister, and, at the same time, a member of the Parliament of Canada.