But we must turn to the other party, still out in the capacious kitchen, whose religious scruples do not permit them to dance. Even if so, they do not fail to glance furtively through the door now and again at the graceful dancers, and almost wish their theology would allow them to join in! A feature peculiar to America is now to be enacted in the kitchen, and it is simply a play among the boys and girls. A “kissing bee” it finally came to be called, and, as time went on, grew less fashionable, though it lingers yet. In those days it was one of our institutions, and must not pass away without a remark. Someone is chosen as judge, and blindfolded and placed in a chair. Two are chosen to lead the victims to the judge, and the hands of the former are held over the judge’s head with the words, “Heavy, heavy, what hangs over?” The judge asks “Fine, or superfine?”—fine, of course, being for the lads, and the superfine for the lasses. Gravely the judge proceeds to pronounce the sentence. We will take one sentence from the judge, at random, among many from memory, which will give an idea of the general tenor of the judicial decisions. Allow the hand above his head to be superfine in this particular case. Sentence: “She must make a double-twisted lord-o’-massy with John Jones.” Now, John Jones knows what this means, and is not averse to kissing a pretty girl, for the judge generally knows his company, and the run of the sweethearts, and usually sends such together. Jones seizes the girl’s hands, elevates her arms to one side, and kisses her on one cheek, turns the hands over and elevates them again to the other side this time, and kisses her again through their arms on the other cheek. Then the next one comes up for sentence. Various sentences were of course given, but they invariably ended in kissing, much to the delight of the young men present.
Thus the jollity and fun went on, but even so with this peculiarity of American kissing I wish to unequivocally record the fact that no impropriety was ever indulged in or thought of. Perhaps kissing in this general and public way cannot commend itself, but to the participants in those days it was fun, and no harm came from it, and, so far as I can see, it had just about as many arguments to sustain it as the mazy dance has, where they all go “promenading down the centre.”
The blindfolded judge has at last pronounced upon everyone in the room, and a change of the play is sought. Charlie is present and has brought his guitar. Now this Charlie is a wealthy farmer’s son (a farmer who owns his two hundred and fifty acres and stock, and is worth $30,000 at least), who, becoming rather proficient at the school, has been away a term to the old Normal School at Toronto. It must have been at the Normal he learned the guitar and began cultivating the incipient moustache which appears upon his upper lip like a streak of soft down. Still it is a moustache, and as such it is worth cultivating. And Charlie crosses his legs and proceeds to tune his guitar, amidst the good-humored gibes of the young ladies intently looking on. He gets the tune after all, and commences to hum an air and now and again give the instrument another turn of the screws. Boldly Charlie strikes out, and it is all about “Mrs. Fogarty’s Christmas cake.” At the termination of each verse the applause of handclapping follows, and Charlie is spurred on to renewed efforts. The chorus comes in from this distance of years in my memory:
“There were plums and prunes and cherries,
And nuts and candies and cinnamon too;
There were caraway seeds in abundance,
And the crust it was nailed on with glue,
And it would kill a man twice
If he ate him a slice
Of Mrs. Fogarty’s Christmas cake.”
Well done, Charlie! and he’s free to go home with the prettiest girl in the group, and said prettiest girl is not at all averse to accept of Charlie’s company.
This is a faithful picture of one of the scenes of the days of my boyhood. From out of the assemblage of those paring bees have sprung much of the bone and sinew of our glorious Province (the freest and best under heaven). The lads have become our M.P.’s, our wealthy merchants and staunch landowners, and many, I am sorry to say, have gone to the United States and given that country the benefit of their untamable Canadian energies and sturdy physique, while others fill the professional walks in our own land.
The first Act which passed the Legislature of Upper Canada in 1792 was an Anti-slavery Act. Canadians can therefore claim the proud distinction for their flag—the Union Jack of 1801—that it has never floated over legalized slavery. There are numerous instances in our records of negroes brought with the U. E. Loyalists to Canada, or who came of their own freewill, remaining as devoted servants with their masters and one-time owners until their death—not a few of these freed slaves devoting all their earnings to support their beloved masters or provide them with comforts and luxuries in their old age; and others, to secure themselves from being separated from their old masters during their lives, binding themselves by indentures to serve them for life.
Canada is truly a land of freedom. Once within her borders the hunted slave, who had committed no crime, could claim the protection of its laws and know that he was a free man. Therefore when ill-treated it is obvious that slaves would escape from slavery and come to Canada—crossing at any part of the three-thousand-mile line boundary between the United States and Canada, and here finding security and freedom.
About Chatham, in the western part of Ontario, there were many such escaped slaves, who had reached there by what was known as the “underground railway.” These men made very good citizens and settlers. They were usually quiet, self-respecting, respectable, law-abiding, religious people—excellent servants, and often devoted to those whom they served.
Winters in the northern States and Canada east of Toronto are not conducive to their pleasure, for the negro is really and truly a child of the sun. Thus the more western townships, which are sunny and have milder winters, suit them best.