The year following the great fire was marked by great progress throughout the Province. Farmers were again in homes which they had built upon the site of those destroyed by the devouring element. Fields once more showed signs of cultivation. With Sir Howard Douglas to stimulate the prosperity of his people, progress was the watchword—the general impulse.
Fredericton, like the phoenix, had arisen from its ashes; buildings arose in rapid succession. Wooden houses of moderate pretensions lined Queen and King streets, from Westmorland to Carleton street, the limit of the burnt district.
Business was carried on by a few upright and enterprising merchants, foremost of whom stood Rankine & Co., the leading firm of the city. This establishment was situated on Queen street, between Northumberland and Westmorland streets, in which was constantly pouring an unlimited source of supplies for conducting the immense lumber trade established by this firm, whose name shall be remembered while New Brunswick shall continue to produce one stick of timber. Many farmers of that time yet have occasion to refer to the generosity which characterized this long established firm. Many yet bless the name of Rankine & Co.
The public buildings of our city were in keeping with the private residences. No Barker House or Queen Hotel adorned our principal street as now; no City Hall, Normal School, or Court House. On the present site of the Barker House was a long two-story wooden building, designated as Hooper's Hotel under the proprietorship of Mr. Hooper. This was the only accommodation for public dinners, large parties, balls, etc In this hotel the St. George Society annually celebrated their anniversary by a grand dinner party where heart-stirring speeches, toasts and patriotic songs, were the general order of programme, of which the following verses are an example. They were composed in April 1828, and sung by one of the members of this society at a public dinner that year, after the toast of "Lord Aylmer and the Colonies." The idea was suggested to the young law student by looking upon a map showing the territory explored by the Cabots and called Cabotia. The writer will be readily recognized as one of New Brunswick's most eloquent, gifted, and favored statesmen, recently holding the highest position in the Province:—
When England bright,
With Freedom's light,
Shone forth in dazzling splendor,
She scorned to hold,
The more than gold,
From those who did befriend her;
At space she spurned,
With love she burned,
And straight across the ocean
Sent Freedom's rays,
T' illume their days
And quell their sons' commotion.
Hail, Britannia!
Thou loving, kind Britannia!
Ne'er failed to wield
Thy spear and shield.
To guard our soil, Britannia!
But rebels choose
For to refuse,
The boon thus kindly granted,
And with vile art,
In many a heart,
Black discord's seeds they planted;
Now civil war,
In bloody car,
Rode forth—and Desolation,
Extended wide,
Its horrid stride
For mock emancipation.
O Cabotia!
Old England's child Cabotia!
No rebel cloud[3]
Did e'er enshroud
Thy sacred soil, Cabotia!
The purple flood
Of traitors' blood
Sent vapors black to heaven,
And hid the blaze
Of Freedom's rays,
By a kind parent given;
But Liberty,
Quite loath to see,
America neglected,
Came to our land,
And with kind hand
Her temple here erected;
O Cabotia!
Them favored land, Cabotia!
While we have breath
We'll smile at death,
To guard thy soil, Cabotia!
When foreign foes
We did oppose,
Britannia stood our second,
And those we fought
Were dearly taught,
Without their host they reckoned;
And should they now,
With hostile prow,
But press, our lakes and rivers,
The Giant-stroke,
From British oak,
Would rend their keels to shivers.
And thou, Cabotia!
Old England's child Cabotia!
Would see thy race
In death's embrace
Before they'd yield Cabotia!
While Shamrock, Rose,
And Thistle grow,
So close together blended,
New Brunswick ne'er
Will need to fear,
But that she'll be befriended;
We need not quake,
For nought can break
The sacred ties that bind us,
And those, who'd spoil
Our hallowed soil,
True blue are sure to find us.
O Cabotia!
Our native land, Cabotia!
For thee we'll drain
Our every vein,
Old England's Child Cabotia!
Here the St. Andrews Society also gave their national celebration. Last, but not least, came the St. Patrick Society. The last named might, indeed, be called the Society. Aided and encouraged by Colonel Minchin, Hon. Thomas Bailie, Mr. Phair, and many other distinguished Irish gentlemen, the St. Patrick's Society of Fredericton at that time attained a high social position. On St. Patrick's eve a yearly celebration also took place, the place of rendezvous being situated on Carleton street, adjoining the building now occupied as the post office. Eloquent and patriotic speeches were the leading features of those meetings. The following instance will serve to give an idea of the spirit which inspired those reunions. On one occasion a member of this organization—a well-known citizen of Fredericton for many years—spoke as follows: "Mr. President and gentlemen, I wish to call your attention to a subject which should fire the heart of every Irishman. Who was the gallant soldier, the true patriot, the hero who never once shrank from the fiercest of the fight, whose only glory was in his country's cause? Who led his army conquering and to conquer, facing the foe with the calm and intrepid coolness of one who knew not the meaning of fear? Who fought with fierce determination to conquer or die when surrounded by thousands of armed guerillas on the outskirts of Spain? Who dared to face Napoleon? Who dared to conquer the iron will of the Bourbon mandate? Who but the proud 'hero of a hundred fights,'—the Duke of Wellington! What country gave him birth?" "Ireland!" was the answer, amid deafening shouts of applause which caused the building to shake beneath their feet. This is but one of the stories told of those meetings, showing the spirit of interest manifested.