Christian in time became the wife of an Indian, by the name of Anthony Smart, who, she says, has been dead now thirty-eight years. They had but one child, a daughter, who was married to Abram Maricle. They had three children, one being a son, Christian’s daughter has been dead many years, but the old lady now is surrounded by grand-children to the third generation.
Some time after the close of the Revolution, a person by the name of Moore, came with his family to Canada, and settled at Napanee. By some means he learned that there was a white woman among the Mohawks, and he visited them to see if it might be his long lost daughter. Such proved to be the case. He was Christian’s father. She remembers the occasion, (it was about forty-five years ago,) her father was then a very old man. Of course, there was no resemblance between the woman in Indian garb before him, and his little girl of ten years. But there was a mark upon her arm, the result of a burn by which he was enabled to recognize his own flesh and blood. The scar, upon the left forearm, can yet be distinctly seen. Painful, indeed, must have been the feelings of the parent, to know she was his daughter, and yet knew not a syllable of her mother tongue. The natural channel by which parental and filial affection might have flowed was sealed. She says, she has a sister now living back of Napanee. She asked her father if she had been christened, and he informed her she had been. Upon our asking her the question, if she ever went to school, she says, “No;” that she was “always working hard.” Asking her the question, if she did not think she had lived a long while, she replied, “I don’t think I’ll live very long.” The Rev. Mr. Anderson informs us that she has ever maintained the character of a true Christian, and is always happy to partake of the Holy Communion, Christian’s great-grandson, himself a father, acted as interpreter.
It is possible that this woman, who belonged to another century, may live yet several years. There is much of vigor in her movements and conversation. Although shrivelled and bent almost double with age, her body seems to be well nourished, and her arms possess considerable thickness. She always enjoyed good health, and now eats and sleeps in the most comfortable manner.
We are informed by a recent letter from Rev. Mr. Anderson, 1869, that the old woman continues quite well, and works in the garden in summer.
Parliament.—Mrs. Morden, of Sophiasburgh, was born upon the banks of the Hudson, forty miles from its mouth. Her birthday stretches back ninety-eight years. She came into Canada with her father, George Parliament, who was of German parentage, born upon the sea; and like the ocean, he was through out his brief life tossed up and down with scarcely a day of calm and sunshine. The family reached the Fourth Town, and only six weeks after her father’s eyes were closed in death. Mrs. Morden has a distinct recollection of the rebellion. Her father was staunchly loyal, and she has heard him repeatedly declare that he would lay his bones in the King’s domains. During the war he was imprisoned twice, at Goshen and Poughkeepsie. She was thirteen years old when they came to Canada, and remembers the many weary days of travel by Oneida Lake. Her father walked and drove the cattle all day, her mother would sit up till late at night over the camp-kettle preparing food for the party to use the following day, so that there would be no delay on the way. Having crossed from the States, the Skenectady boats landed at Little Catariqui. The father was down below on the St. Lawrence swimming the cattle across the stream. They found their flour was nearly done. She, with a little sister, went along the shore to the village of Kingston to buy flour, she had only enough money to buy a quarter of a hundred of second flour, which she carried from McAulay’s store to the hungry company at the Little Catariqui, where they were wind-bound. She remembers the appearance of the shores as they journeyed along; the rude log cabins in the small clearings. The family of eleven children settled upon the north shore of Hay Bay. The eldest boy was nineteen years old. They now thought that they, in common with other settlers, would be permitted to work out a peaceful and happy future, but the arrow of death was already in the bended bow. The mournful occasion can hardly be appreciated, the father of eleven children in the wilderness suddenly cut down. Each of the neighbours had quite enough to do to care for his own family. All these terrible facts are fresh in the mind of the venerable lady. The events of later years are faded from her memory, but those are too deeply engraven upon her mind, by the pen of sorrow, to be erased while life lasts and mind sits enthroned. The subsequent events connected with the family for a time are no less distressing. They had one cow, the milk of which supplied them with their principal food. Fish was occasionally caught. But they often had to seek herbs and greens. For weeks they were in the greatest distress for the very necessaries of life. All of the family who were old enough went out to work. The following spring, and the subsequent ones, her mother made sugar, not to use in the family, “oh! no, that was too great a luxury.” It was all carried and sold for flour. Mrs. Morden remembers it, for she carried much of the sap. She subsequently worked out, until after several years she found a kind supporter. Mrs. Morden, whom the writer saw nearly four years ago, (1865), was then, although so old, yet vigorous and sprightly, with a kindly face, and even a sharp eye. Of all the persons it has been our privilege to converse with, there are only a few who gave such clear and appropriate testimony, and afforded so much satisfaction. She confined her remarks strictly to the questions, and we learned much in a short hour. She spoke feelingly; and with Christian nobleness said she, “I have lived a long time and had many blessings, thanks be to God.” Thus spoke the lips of one whose youth had been spent in another century.
Roblins.—The Roblin family is extensively and favorably known in Upper Canada, especially in the bay region. They, although numerous, have sprung from a common ancestry. Originally of English or Welsh nativity; at the commencement of the rebellion they were found dwelling in New York, and New Jersey. As a result of the Revolution, four branches of the Roblin family came into Canada, two of whom, John and Stephen, were brothers.
John Roblin lived in New Jersey, he took no part in the contest, but his sympathies were doubtless with the loyalists. One day, he was sitting in the door-way, when a scouting party fired upon the house as they approached. Some fourteen shots were fired. This was done without any warning, the house being inhabited by a private family. John Roblin was wounded in the knee. The party entered the house and completely ransacked it, searching for valuables; not satisfied with what they found, they demanded where the money was; John’s brother, Stephen, was suspended by his thumbs to a tree with the view of forcing him to tell where the moneys was concealed. John, although wounded, was stripped almost naked. The ruffians, who did all this under the name of “Liberty,” destroyed what they could not carry; and flour, furniture, everything in fact, was strewn about and broken. One of the party put his bayoneted musket to the breast of Mrs. Roblin, and dared her to call George her king. She fearlessly replied, he once was, why not now. The demon was pulling the trigger, when a more human comrade knocked the weapon aside. The rebels were near by under Washington, and this was a regular detailed foraging party. John Roblin was afterward placed in the rebel hospital, but the doctor was unnecessarily cruel, and so maltreated him, that he became a life-long cripple. The family came into the rebel camp, and Mrs. Roblin complained to General Washington of the conduct of his men. He had her look among the men, and promised to punish any she said had been among the party. But of course they kept out of the way.
The Roblins settled originally in Adolphustown, John Roblin died, and his widow, with the family, removed to Sophiasburgh, where she bought 100 acres of land for $25, and paid for it by weaving. She likewise cut down trees and made her hut.
Roblin, who settled in the third concession of Fourth Town, became a member of Parliament.
Simon.—John Simon was born in Massachusetts, joined the Royal Standard when the rebellion commenced. At the close of the war, he settled at first near Montreal. He soon removed to Cataraqui, and finally to the Township of Flamborough West, County Westmeath, where he lived till his death. He had three sons, Titus, John, Walter. A daughter married Detlor, another James McNabb, one Dr. Meacham, one Thompson, the last three lived at Belleville. One of the sons, Titus, we believe, distinguished himself in 1812, at the battle of Lundy’s Lane. He had been Commissary at Kingston, and moved to Toronto.