The “One-Thousand-and-One Society” of those days was an organization formed among those who habitually drank and spent nights at bouts, and was a recognized order among them. Probably there never was any written constitution or by-laws to govern them; still the rules of the society were as well known and as fully recognized as if there were such. The fundamental rule which they were to observe in their drinking was that no one must drink more than two gallons at one sitting without rising and reporting the matter to the recognized chiefs of the order.
We must, in all charity, believe that the liquid in this case would be beer—in any case it could hardly be spirits; still I am led to believe, in many instances, before the great goal of the two gallons was reached, the beer would be frequently mixed with spirits.
The landlord in those bouts of the Thousand-and-One Society never forgot to make his quota, not only in the matter of change, as before enlarged upon, but some of them used to boast that a landlord ought to be worth $5 per day to his own house by his own drinking—that is to say, he would take all the treats the company would offer him, and thus imbibe his own liquor and keep the pay therefor at twopence per glass to the amount of $5 per day.
Those were the days of pugilistic Ontario. Let there be a ploughing match, for instance, a fight was sure to take place at it. Indeed, a “raising” or a bee of any kind was never complete without a fight. It would appear that persons would take that plan of settling old feuds or grudges, and whiskey-fights were considered as much a matter of course as it was for men to assemble.
Annually during one day in June all the able-bodied men of military age had to assemble for drill in Toronto, and I have it from some old men who used to go from these parts, that at every such training there were fights in the morning before they commenced and likewise in the evening when they were dismissed from drill. They tell of a big bully at one training in Toronto who boldly dared any one to fight, and who finally succeeded in arousing a small but plucky man to stand before him. A ring was formed, and the bully punished his small opponent shamefully. There was a man from this locality who had his feelings irritated by the unequal and harrowing spectacle. He happened to remark, “I wish he’d serve me so,” and the bully took him up. It is needless to add that they had all been drinking more or less. Our man quickly pulled off his coat and stepped before his big antagonist. This time the bully had aroused the wrong man, for our hero possessed the strongest arm and hand anyone was known to have in the locality, and in a few blows he thrashed the bully clean and fair, felling him to the ground, and giving the prostrate man a vigorous kick as a parting salute. But this was a fair fight, whereas generally in those days they did not scruple to “strike below the belt,” while gouging, biting and kicking were common accompaniments.
But the picture is not a pleasant one, and I shall not further dwell upon it. Surely we should be thankful that our Province has improved in its ideas of temperance and conduct, as the world at large has in the great march of reform ideas.
AWKWARD SQUAD. FENIAN RAID, 1865.
BARCLAY, CLARK & CO. LITHO. TORONTO