From the book “How Dear to My Heart” by Walter Kilborn Billings
My cousin Eck Kilborn, a boy of about my own age, and doubly related to me, (his mother was a first cousin of my father and his father a brother of my mother), was an only child and so for companionship was always ready to come to my house. We were great chums, and I am sorry to say we seemed to get into more trouble than any others of my family. His home was about four miles from mine, and he was always planning, when we were together, some reason for my going home with him.
One day he and his father and mother came to our house, driving a team of horses on a lumber wagon with a high box. They had a spring seat raised up and resting on the side board of the box. A heavy buffalo robe was thrown over the east, hanging down in front and behind and touching the floor of the box.
My Cousin suggested that, about the time they would be ready for home I get into the box, crawl under the seat inside the robe, and lie down on an old cushion he had put there for me. At last they were ready, and I climbed in and we started off. We had decided I should crawl out when we were well on our way and too far from my house for me to be returned. All went well, although the stone road was so rough that I got a lot of bumps on the way down. My cousin said he would kick the robe with his feet when it was time for me to appear, and I watched patiently for the signal. Finally it came. I crawled out in front of my aunt and uncle. It was too late for them to turn back and take me home, so they decided to drive on and send word to my grandfather’s that I was with them.
My family missing me, started to search the barn, down at the creek and at the neighbour’s. Finally word came to them that I had hidden in the wagon and was at my cousin’s. My parents came down that night for me and as punishment I had either to take a thrashing or agree not to go to my cousins for two months. I was just a little fellow only seven years old, so finally I took the strap, on Eck’s advice.
Buggy Shafts were the poles in front of the buggy that attached to the horse
One day my cousin came to see me, driving with his parents in their covered buggy. It was quite new, and had such high wheels that to climb in you needed a box to stand on. They had unhitched the horse, and left the buggy in front of the barn. My sister, my cousin and I were playing around it and as there was some mud on the wheels we decided to run it down to the creek, going around by the cow path and on down where it was not to steep. My sister climbed up in the seat, the back curtain of the top was rolled up and I got in and held up the shafts, my cousin pushing behind. Finally as we moved off, he climbed up on the axle and stood looking through at me in the shafts. The buggy gained speed. I tried to make the turn and keep in the track but fell. I hung on to the shafts and was dragged down almost to the high edge of the gravel pit where there was a drop of about forty feet to the boulders and water below, when the ends of the shafts started digging into the ground. I still hung on and finally we stopped…
They had to hitch the team to the back of the buggy to get the shafts out of the ground and haul it back up the hill. My sister was crying and I was muddy and scared. One shaft was splintered but they took a strap from some old harness and wound it around and put some tacks in to get home. I had already suffered my punishment as I was sore and sick for a week- but we didn’t wash the buggy!
My cousin Eck was a great one to go exploring wherever there were old machines or iron stored. On one of his visits with us we went up into our shed, that later was moved away to make room for the more modern woodshed. There were a couple of scantling nailed against the end of the building and cleats nailed on making a ladder to climb up to the little square door opening into the upper floor, It was quite a feat to go up this ladder, open the door and climb in.
We three, my cousin, my sister and I were all up there. Eck was pulling out an old piece of iron that lay on the floor. The sap buckets made of wood at that time, were piled one above the other on the floor, and as he pulled again, he tipped over the pile of buckets. Al at once there was a loud buzzing, and a cloud of bumblebees swarmed around our heads. My sister was nearest the door and she tried to get down the ladder, but got several stings before getting outside. I took off my new hard sailor hat and started fighting the bees with it. My cousin headed for the door and he got his share of stings. When I finally got down, all that was left of my new hat was the brim.
It was a warm rainy day in August. To deaden the stings, my sister said to go out and get some mud from the road, put it on the spots and let it stay there for awhile. The road at that time had been covered with red cinders from the Chemical Works, and the mud from these left a red stain on everything it touched. But we did not care! We started daubing our stings with mud so that when we were through we looked like spotted tigers. We went into the house, and didn’t we get it! “Where in the world have you been and what has happened?” my mother exclaimed.
When later I rescued the crown of my hat, Mother sewed it to the brim and I had to wear it like that all the rest of the summer.
As told by Marble Billings many years ago, about 1879
Shortly after I was married and moved to my farm east of Lyn, I was called to the door one morning in November by a neighbour, William Judson, who said that he had left his horses out in the back pasture the day before, and finding a couple of inches of snow on the ground next morning had started out to bring them home. On arriving at the pasture, which also contained a growth of shrub trees, he found his horses in a very excited state, running around with heads and tails up, snorting and very scared. His dog, which had preceded him into the grove, started barking and growling, running around a clump of bushes, and finally with an awful howl, started for home.
On approaching a little nearer the grove, he saw a large black bear digging in the leaves for some wild apples that had fallen from a small apple tree growing there. At once, realizing he could do nothing alone, he had hurried to me to bring my dog and a gun, a muzzle-loader shot gun, which I first loaded with buckshot. Then I routed out another neighbour, Clark Clow, also Firman Judson, and Henry Rowson, who each had shot guns, which were soon all loaded with buckshot or bullets. Then we started back to the pasture.
Of course our several collie dogs were all excited at seeing the guns being loaded, and upon arriving at the grove, the dogs got the scent of the bear aand started tracking him along a ditch that crossed the side road and into the Rowsom woods. Soon they caught up to him, barking and racing towards him, when suddenly Mr. Bear turned and gave one of the dogs a cuff with his paw, and started chasing them. By this time we were getting pretty close to him and one man fired. The bear then turned, and coming to a big elm tree that had proved the tallest in the woods, he started to climb it, keeping on the side farthest from the hunters. Up and up he went and finally stopped where there were a couple of big limbs branching out making a little shield for him from the shots now being fired. Finally, when a well aimed shot penetrated his ear he squealed, and started backwards down the tree again.
Mr. Rowsom finally fired. The bullet penetrated his brain and he fell backwards to the ground. I had not fired my gun before as I knew it would have been of no use, but when the bear struck the ground I ran up and held the muzzle of my gun to his head, but the bear was dead. By George ! We were an excited bunch.
We got a wagon and team into the woods and loaded the carcass on. Putting the side board up so that it would not roll off, we drove up to Lyn to the hay scales which at that time were at the side of the street opposite the Baxter Block. We had covered our prize with blankets and we were over to the store and asked whether they would come and weigh our bear. Of course everybody laughed for they thought it was a joke. But when we lifted off the blankets and side board there was a mad rush towards the wagon.
Our bear weighed over four hundred pounds, and we sold the hide for seven dollars. I have always been sorry I did not buy it myself, as it would have made a lovely sleigh robe.
I have heard my father tell this true story many times, and always it was so real that we children listening were very much disturbed by it, especially when it was told to a neighbour about our bed time.
A Bear Sleigh Robe. This robe was made out of the fur from a Black Bear shot by John Johnston on his farm south of Lyn around 1895. It was used on their cutter in the winter to keep them warmThe Black Bear Robe measures 4′ x 5′ and has a wool backing on it
It was about the middle of January. We had been nearly snowed under from a week’s snow storm, then rain that flooded the flats along the creek, and a sudden change to a very cold weather that froze the snow, making a glare sheet of ice from the Lyn Road down across to the creek that was still level with its banks.
Bay and James Streets, no photos presently exist of the hill that Walter Billings wrote about
Sunday afternoon my cousin with his parents came up for a visit. We two were out in the yard, playing on the crust with the big hand sleigh, and looking across to Harper’s hill, decided it would be a good chance to try a ride there. We walked up the road, climbed the fence and got the sleigh in position, then I lay down on my stomach and my cousin lay on my back. Away we went! The hill at the top was very steep, the sleigh gained speed and in seconds we were on the glare ice of the flat, then across the creek, up the bank and …Then I came to. We had gone head first into a clump of small bass-woods. My cousin seeing the danger had thrown himself clear but I had no chance; the force of the collision had knocked me out for a minute or two. We finally got back across the creek, where my cousin laid me on the sleigh and began the long pull back to the house. We finally got to the warmth of the barn where I lay down on the straw in the feed floor, in front of the cattle for an hour. When I returned to the house, where my uncle was waiting to go home, I complained of a headache and got sent to bed. Next morning I felt better but never told Mother what had happened, as I knew that she would say it was good enough for me, when I had gone sleigh-riding on Sunday.
Driving along the Lyn Road I often look down the hill. The line fence has been moved and passes close to the clump of trees we hit that Sunday long ago. The sand and gravel have been taken away to the city so that there is no more fun on Harper’s hill. But the memory of that boyhood escapade still lives.
The village of Lyn is situated in the Pre-Cambrian Shield six miles west of Brockville and one hundred and forty one miles west of Montreal. In relation to the St. Lawrence it is three miles north of the point where the ship channel crosses from the Canadian side to the American side, called by the inhabitants “The Five Mile Light” or “Cole’s Ferry”
From the time of the first settlement on the rocky ledges covered with rough scraggy timber, the name of Coleman was connected with this place, in fact until the year 1837 it was known by the name of “Coleman’s Corners”. The Leavitt’s History of Leeds and Grenville says “Able Coleman, the man who caused two blades of grass to grow where before there was only one, is characterised as a public benefactor.” It would seem that he started his first mill in 1788, the date inscribed upon the first millstone, but when government rations were with held after the second year of the settlement’s establishment, he sold the village site to a Mr. Haleck for a small sum and then went to Montreal to work at his trade as a tanner. With his earnings he bought a cow, returned to Coleman’s Corners and became a miller, tanner and farmer.
The oldest inscription in the Lyn Cemetery reads: “In Memory of Able Coleman, who departed this life in Full Assurance of Eternal Life, April 25th, 1810”
Richard Coleman bought the town-site from Mr. Halleck for he conceived the idea that it would be a fine place for a manufacturing town. It was surveyed into lots in 1813. The first house was built in 1814 by Mr. Brownson for a hotel. The same house is now occupied by (Mrs. Stephen Boyce) Mr. Charlie Lewis, although it has been remodelled and changed hands many times since then. The house now occupied by Mr. Widdis. Mr. Mel Davidson was the second one built the original builder being Capt. Stuart, and army captain.
For the next score of years the village made rapid progress under the pushing energies of its owners, Messrs. Coleman.
In 1820 a frame grist mill was erected and although not conducted on the roller system it was a great boon to the countryside. In 1837 the question of the name of the village came to the fore. “Lowell” was its new designation, no doubt because many of the settlers were sons of U.E. Loyalists, and still had tender recollections of their native state of Massachusetts. It was soon discovered however that another village in Ontario bore the same name, and it was necessary to change the name again “Lyn” was thought an appropriate one, for the word, lin, being the Scotch name of a waterfall.
In 1838 a new grist mill, larger and of improved design, replaced the earlier one. This original mill is now the Post Office and store. In 1841 a saw mill was erected. Then a tannery for the manufacture of sole leather, as well as one for the manufacture of uppers. The manufacturing of the year 1844 was given as no less than $500., all of which was consumed within the province, the raw hides being what was termed “Spanish” and imported from the United States, some of them weighing when ready for market. 45 pounds.
The Recorder of 1850 says “Thanks to the Colemans, Lyn has the most celebrated and extensive tanning establishment in the United Counties of Leeds and Grenville.” There were at this time employed by the Colemans between 30 and 40 men whose wage amounted in one year from $1500.- $1750. The majority of these men were transients, a number coming from Montreal. They lived in shacks – some on the mill road and others back of the pond. Other industries in Lyn about the same time were shoe, whip, comb and stave makers as well as a flax mill and a brickyard which made Lyn one of the best paying stations on the Grand Trunk Railway.
Lyn, although not celebrated as a seat of learning, has always had a good school. The first one was situated near where the lath factory stood and was used until it became too small for the fast increasing population. The house next used was situated near Mr. Halliday’s store. The brick one was then built and used until 1867 when the stone one now in use was built.
The social activities of the village were many. There were dances, a number of them formal, and the store being stocked with rich and expensive materials which were made up by local dressmakers. The dances and entertainment were held in the Buell and Pergan halls. There was a club called the Quintet Club, consisting of five young men-about-town who were the chief instigators of these affairs Skating on the Pond was the main sport in winter, and a game like hockey was played with sticks made from branches of trees.
The church played an important part in social the life of the village. There were parties for the children at New Year’s and the tea meetings were very popular, being like our church suppers with a program given by the local talent. In the summer there were picnics, people going by boat to Alexandra Bay, and later by the Brockville and Westport Railway to Westport.
In 1849 an Agricultural Society Fair was held, with prizes offered for horses and cattle and domestic manufactures, agricultural implements and ploughman ship with Charles Booth as Secretary. In June of the same year between 500 and 600 people attended a public meeting for the promotion of temperance. Speeches were given by Canadian and American speakers and the “Sons of Temperance” appeared in their regalia.
Until 1855 the Colemans had water for their mills from natural sources, but with the cutting of the forests, the supply was reduced. Then they bought the wild land running back from Lyn for six to eight miles, and converted marshes and shallow lakes into a series of reservoirs, canals being cut and dams erected.
In the Fellows’ Directory of 1866, we find Lyn described as a thriving and progressive village, a station of the Grand Trunk Railway. The prosperity was due to a large extent to the manufacturing’s, of which James Cumming was agent. The boot and show factory was the most recent addition to the business and was sufficiently extensive to require the services of between 40 and 50 men. The local stores were described as commodious and well stocked with merchandise of every description. The best example of this is given by an advertisement in the Fellows’ Directory which reads thus: “A.T. Trickey, druggist, general merchant, Main street, Lyn, manufactures of two conditioning powders for horses and cattle, has established correspondence with a reliable House in Montreal, receives direct from them in regular supplies which enables him to offer great advantages to the Counties’ trade.”
The Dominion Directory of 1871 gave Lyn a population of 750 and just ten years later the Lovell’s Business and Professional Directory of Ontario gave the population as only 300.
The Grand Trunk Railway (CNR) owned the sand pit but in 1940 Wells Simpson bought it from the railroad. The Brockville- Westport Railway was begun in 1885 and finished in 1888. Then on Saturday, August 30, 1952 the line was discontinued. Mr. Tobin was the last station master in Lyn.
The old red brick schoolhouse mentioned previously was burned down several years ago but was rebuilt using the same walls. It is just across the road from the present school and is now a private dwelling.
Stack’s Hotel, Main StreetWilson House HotelBronson Hotel, Lewis House
Just besides this building is another old landmark. It used to be an old rough-cast hotel by Mr. Gilleclain but is now occupied by Miss Florence Roberts. Beside this hotel there were four others – one just on the corner which was the Dr. Brown house, and one known as Stack’s Hotel, which was burned 26 years ago (1939). The double house owned by Charles Lewis and the rough-cast house where Jock Stewart lives were both very old hotels.
Belisle’s Store
A very old bakeshop was located behind the Coon Bake shop (now closed) in what was known as the Baxter Block. There was another bakeshop back of the Oddfellows’ building. Then J.C.Cumming built the stone building across from Herbison’s blacksmith’s shop. It is now a dwelling owned by Mr. Baillie, an old Irish sailor and his daughter Rhoda. Lyn also had its own blacksmith shop. One was located behind the Coon Bakery. It was first run by George Stratton and then Bill Yates. Charles Herbison bought it from the latter and then sold out to Bill Wiley. Charles Herbison bought the old carriage shop about 25 years ago (1940) from Bill Tennant who had it for years. The stores in Lyn were handed down from family to family. Joshua Lillie ran the post office and store, sold to Mort Gardiner, and then to Omar Mallory who shared with Walter Billings. The latter ran it after Mr. Mallory’s death. These were all relations. Then Kenneth Bolton bought it and sold it to B.H.Bishop. The post office was given to Blake Mott (after Mr. Billings) and located where the W.I. is now in the Oddfellows’ building. Then David McCrady had it in connection with his hardware store in the Mason’s building. Then last year it went to Earl Miller. The Buell store was owned first by Mills and McManus from Morrisburg, then George Buell, finally James Greer. Ray Stewart bought it and converted it into a garage. The Belsile store was first a harness shop owned by Stelton Horton, changed to grocery owned by R.P. Boyd. Then William Laverty converted it into a barbershop and sold to Robert Willey who operated a meat shop there. William Quinn and Heaslip ran it for a while and then changed it into a residence. It was a general store run by Belisle. The McCrady store was owned and operated by: first A.T.Trickey, second Mort Gardiner, third C.M.Taylor, fourth John McCrady. Then John’s son Dave took over and after him his brother Frank who sold it to Earl Miler. The old Pregau store was originally a shoe making store. Alex Pergau was the shoe maker and then Jim who did mostly repairing. The building is now just a dwelling.
There have been several attempts made to have an organized sports programme. Below the Green Hill, across from the Mill, was a Tan Bark, over 70 years ago. It was burned and for some time was a baseball diamond and in winter a boarded in skating rink. About 15 years ago (1950) a rink was built behind Miller’s Store and again a few years ago another attempt was made but both failed because it was too hard to get good ice. The Jr. Farmers had a ball team for a couple of years recently.
Methodist Church then Roman Catholic Church
There is no Catholic Church in Lyn. They go in to their own church in Brockville but they have now purchased the old Methodist church and plan to have their own church here.
There are a number of Lodges, namely, the Masons, the Oddfellows, and the Rebecca’s. There is also a Women’s Institute and a Young Peoples’ Union.
The early settlers did not neglect the religious side of their life. Although they did not have a church, they held services in halls or houses. The first church was built by the Methodist body on the spot where the Church of England sheds now stand. It was the only church for miles around and people used to walk or ride long distances to attend a ‘quarterly meeting.” It would seem that this church was used by other denominations, who did not have a church of their own at that time, and it was sometimes spoken of as the “Union Church.” Maurice Brown in a letter states that he believed the first Methodist Conference to be held in Eastern Ontario of the Methodist Episcopal Church was held in it and most of the delegates were from New York State, and that a number of Bishops were in attendance. James Cumming told me when he first came to Lyn it was the only church in the village, that my grandmother used to sit in a rocking chair in front of the seats and rock and say “Amen” and “Bless the Lord.” The Methodist Episcopal Church for some unknown reason left this site and built a brick church on top of the hill above Lyn on the way to Lillie’s. The only ministers names which we can find associated with this church are Gifford, Perley, Brown (maybe also Mr. McDowell and Mr. Ainsworth). At the tie of union in 1884 of the Wesleyan Methodist and the Methodist Episcopal, to quote from Maurice Brown’s letter again “In Lyn the usual difficulty was experienced. As very often happens as to the choice of a church when they could not agree in Lyn, the Board of Wall St. Church was asked to come and make the choice. They did so and unanimously selected the one by the school which was a very fortunate decision as I will explain to you. There was a church funeral for a man who lived where Grant Hudson lives at present. A very severe windstorm came up and the Methodist Episcopal Church blew down. It was the bricks from that church that built the present Glen Buell edifice.”
Presbyterian Church, Lyn
The Presbyterians were the next to organize. Their first service was held in the ballroom of the Bronson Hotel and conducted by the Rev. William Smart, who was one of the pioneers of religion than whom no man did more for the moral and religious interests of the people for, as it is said “so long as the children of the original settlers maintain their memories. The name of Rev. William Smart will e held dear by them.” A Sabbath school was also organized in this same room by Mr. Smart and Adiel Sherwood, who was at one time Sheriff of Brockville. Services were held occasionally in the old Methodist Church and then in Pergau’s Hall until the church was built. It was only a mission station until the year 1855, when Rev. Robert McKenzie was given the charge. Rev. R.McKenzie was succeeded by Rev. John Burton who was later pastor of the Northern Congregational Church, Toronto. Then for six years the Presbyterians were without a settled minister until 1874 when Rev. Arch Brown was called and settled here.
The Lyn section of the Presbyterian congregation resolved in the autumn of 1874 to build a church and the work in connection therewith was commenced in April 1875. Donor of the building site was James M.Cassels, M.D., of Quebec, Robert Cassel was chairman. The building committee was composed of James Cumming, Chairman, Robert Bryson, treasurer, John Halliday and James Bulloch, James Hamilton, Archibald Davidson, Peter Purvis and John McNish. The architect was W.G. Thomas, Montreal, and the contractors Hugh McKay, Joshua Franklin and William Whitton, masonry and plastering, Edwin Bagg.
The building is stone, covered with slate, of the Gothic Order with an auditorium of 60 x 34. The vestry, in rear, is 10 x 16, and tower on side 14×14. Total cost was about $4000.
From “Evening Records” Brockville, Thursday, May 15, 1875 – “On Friday afternoon the 7th inst. The cornerstone of a new church for the Presbyterian congregation at Lyn was laid by the Rev. William Smart of Gananoque, assisted by the Rev. Archibald Brown, Rev. James Hastie of Prescott and the Rev John Burton of Belleville. The weather being favourable a large assembly gathered to witness the interesting ceremony. Copies of the Recorder (daily and weekly, Monitor, Montreal and Toronto newspapers and current coins of the Dominion were deposited in the stone, together with the engraved copy of the following: “Memorial –In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost on the 7th day of May in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and seventy-five, in the thirty-eight year of the reign of Victoria, and while the Right Honorable the Earl of Dufferin was Governor-General of the Dominion of Canada and the Hon. John Crawford Lt. Governor of the Prov. Of Ont. This cornerstone of Christ Church, Lyn in connection with the Canadian Presbyterian Church was laid by the Rev. Wm. Smart of Gananoque.”
A few of the first settlers of Yonge, Elizabethtown and Augusta, deploring the want of religious ordinance, applied at the beginning of the present century to the London Missionary Society to have a missionary or minister to settle over them. The directors of the Society recommended Rev. Wm. Smart who had just completed his theological study at Gossport to accept the call implied in the petition, and offered to pay his passage and outfit. Mr. Smart, having acceded to the proposal, and having been ordained in the Scotch Church, Swallow St., London, arrived in Elizabethtown (no Brockville) in October 1811 and commenced his ministerial labours there extending them to Coleman’s Corners, Yonge and Augusta In 1812 the people under his care were formed into a regular ministerial charge. In 1846 he resigned the charge of Brockville, but continued to preach for some time to the rural part of the congregation. Coleman’s Corners (Lyn) was, after Mr. Smart left the district, supplied with preaching by the Rev. Mr. McMurray and the Rev.J.K.Smith who succeeded the charge of Brockville. The first minister of Lyn and Yonge was the Rev. Robt. McKenzie who remained from July 5th 1859 to 1862. He was succeeded by the Rev. John Burton, who was ordained on November 17, 1864. Under Mr. Burton’s pastorate the congregation of Fairfield was united with Lyn and Yonge. Mr. Burton accepted a call from the congregation at Prescott on Feb 4, 1868. After his departure the Fairfield congregation was separated from Lyn and Yonge and the charge remained vacant yill May 19, 1874 when the Rev. Archibald Brown was inducted. He office bearers being: Elders, Jas. Hamilton, John Halliday, James McNish, John Dickey, Jacob Warren and Wm. Forrester. Board of Managers: Robert Bryson, Treasurer: James Cumming, Archibald Davidson, John Armstrong, Peter Purvis and James Bulloch. Trustees of Church Property: Robt. Bryson, Peter Purvis, James Hamilton and James Cumming. The chief subscriber was James Cumming who promised twice the amount given by any other donor. All the pews were numbered on brass plates affixed to the pew. At the right and left of the pulpit are square pews which had a certain social distinction. The right one was occupied by the Manse family, and the one on the left by th Cassells family who gave the land to the church for one dollar. At the rear of the church is a magnificent memorial window placed by the Cassells family. It was imported from Belgium in 1875 and placed there when the church was dedicated. Underneath the centre panel of this window is their coat of arms.
The church was dedicated by Rev. Dr.MacVicar, the principal of the Presbyterian College, Montreal on Feb. 6, 1876 and was known as Christ Church and was so registered in the deed of the property. The offering at the opening amounted to $146.00. The proceeds of the tea meeting amounted to $240. The bill advertising this meeting is in good preservation at the Manse. The communion cloths used for the covering of the front pew are still in good condition and were used when the Presbytery met here in 1950. The Baptismal Font was presented by James Cumming in memory of his wife and is of Italian marble. It was placed in the church in 1893. The pulpit was hand made by the uncle of George A.McNish (elder for over 40 years) in 1876. It was a labor of love as it took over a year to make. The church bell was brought over the frozen St. Lawrence in 1870 and weighs half a ton. It was first put in the Wesleyan Methodist Church but when in 1939 the congregation moved from that church to Christ Church the bell was also moved. The cost of the bell today would be more than $1500.
In 1916 Anniversary Services were held. The following excerpt being taken from a paper owned by Miss Mary Cumming, Lyn, March 1, 1916: “The 40th Anniversary Services of Christ Church, Lyn, was conducted by the Rev. S.G. Brown of Almonte on 27th inst. The Methodist Church cancelled their service in the morning so that all could attend and commemorate the opening of Christ Church in Lyn 40 years ago. The Rev. Gentleman in the morning spoke on “Influence of the Hill” in furnishing inspirations to Christians in all ages. The first Pres. Missionary to Lyn came from the Hills of Scotland sent out by the London Missionary Society in 1811. He held his first service in the Court House in Brockville in the morning and preached in the upper room of a tavern in Lyn in the afternoon nearly 105 years ago. After 65 years of faithful services between Kingston and Cornwall the Rev. Wm. Smart gave his last public address at the opening of Christ Church, Lyn, 40 years ago. The old members who took art in the opening of the church 40 years ago, were taken to the Hilltop by Mr. Brown’s stirring sermon and with the presence of their Methodist brethren, notwithstanding the storm raging without, the uplifting power of God’s presence was felt in this Anniversary Service. At the evening meeting Mr. Brown spoke most touchingly of the Heroism of Canadians in the present crisis and craved the prayers of all for a new consecreation for God, King and Empire. Mr. Brown’s eldest son having given up his life as an offering for his country, with the Princess Patricia’s, gave point to his words of cheer and comfort for those whose friends are now fighting the battles of the Empire. His eloquent, uplifting discourses last Sabbath will linger in the memories of the worshippers of Christ Church.”
At the time of Union in 1925 the Presbyterians and the Methodists decided to use the Methodist church, but as the years went by it was decided to move back to the Presbyterian Christ Church, for the costs of repairs became so extensive to the Methodist church when it was hit by lightening twice. In keeping with this decision renovation of Christ Church was begun. This included digging and extension of a cellar in order to have a Sunday School room and kitchen. Following this renovation, which cost over $4000. which was paid off in two years, Dr. Kent of Queen’s University re-opened and dedicated Christ Church in October 1939. Since this time six memorial windows have been installed adding greatly to the atmosphere of worship with God’s house.
The membership of this Church has altered since 1940 from a rural congregation to a suburban one since so many of the congregation work in the different plants in Brockville and live in Lyn.
The list of ministers which has served Christ Church is as follows: (Before the building of the church) Rev. Wm. Smart 1811-1846; Rev. Mr. McMurray, Rev. J.K. Smith, Rev. Robert McKenzie 1859-1862, Rev. John Burton 1864-1868, Rev. Archibald Brown 1874- ?; Rev. J.J. Richardson; who was the first minister called after the church was built in Rev. A. Brown’s term of office. Rev. J.J Wright; Rev. Chas. Daly, Rev C.E.A.Pocock 1916-?, Dr. D.M.McLeod, Rev Mr. Gardiner, Rev Mr. McCrea till Union in 1925. Rev R.A. Delve 1929-35, Rev A.S. Doggett 1935-40 when Chrisy Church was reopened. Rev H.B. Herrington 1940-42, Rev C.K. Mathewson 1942-59 (the present)
Records in connection with the early history of Lyn congregation are scarce and we have to rely on the memory of those who knew in their early years or learned from the lips of the older generation, the facts connected with the origin of St. John the Baptist Church.
St. John the Baptist Anglican Church
The first trace of an Anglican service in this locality is found in connection with a “United Church” which stood where the Anglican church sheds now stand (these have been removed, but position would be about one hundred yards east of the church). There are in St. John’s Church at present a pair of wooden collection plates with “St. Paul’s Church, Lyn” written on them. Whether we take this as evidence that the Union Church was called St. Paul’s or not does not alter the fact that tradition states that it was the first in these parts, several denominations, including the Quakers, using this old “Union Church” as a place of worship. The Church of England Services there were conducted by Rev John Stannage, who came from New Dublin to officiate. The fate of this building is not known to those who supplied the previous information, but for some reason the Anglican services were transferred to Pergau’s Hall in the present Pergau bock in Lyn. There Dr. Lewis, Rev. Stannage and Rev. Mr. Jones held services while the present church was in the course of construction.
The construction did not proceed very rapidly as the Brockville Recorder points out in its article on the subject “That the number of people holding Anglican views in this community were few.” In the course of ten years from 1858 to 1869, the work lingered for some time only the basement being finished, i.e. foundation. Then renewed efforts completed the task in August 1869. On Sept. 1, 1869 it was opened by Bishop Lewis.
In the period of construction James Coleman of Coleman Brothers, the millers of Lyn, were particularly active. It is reported that Peter Pergau supplied the lime for the building, that the rough stone was quarried on the B.C. Brown place now owned by Joseph Bolin, while the dressed stone came from Hector Bradfield pace east of Brockville and was dressed by a stone cutter named Dyer, and was teamed to Lyn by the men of the congregation. Also, that Edwin Bagg who lived where C. Imerson now lives had the contract for the carpentry work. The stone fence in front of the church was built by George Monteith, who lived in Lyn and is buried here.
At the opening service in 1869, Dr. Lewis, former rector of St. Peter’s Brockville, and then the Bishop of the Diocese of Ontario, was present and confirmed a large class. Other clergy present included Rev. John Carroll of Gananoque, Rev. G.J. Low of Delta, Mr. Denroche of Arnprior and Mr Cook of North Augusta.
The following clergy have given of their services to the church during the past years: Kearney L. Jones, Henry Auston, G.W.G. Grout 1881, T.A. Smith 1901, J.D.P. Wright 1912, John Lyons 1917, T.F. Dowdell 1925, A.E.U. Smart 192, Ernest Teskey 1926-33, F.O. Ware 1933-41, R.M. Savory 1941-42, R.S. Foreman 1942-44, A.B. Caldwel 1944, E. LeGrow 1944-45, J.B. Hall 1945-47, F. Payne 1947-50, J.M.Cameron 1950 –
Lyn has become a residential village for the people who work in Brockville and commute every day by car or bus. Lyn has lost its importance as a manufacturing village and it can never hope to be the site of large factories for it has no waterfront nor railway terminal. Its future lies in its growth as a village for workers who wish to live in the quiet of the country, when the St. Lawrence Seaway is finished which will bring with it the extension of manufacturing sites along the shores of the river.
The Church has a vital function to perform in such an industrial residential area for it must bring to those people who do a monotonous factory job a wider vision of life, its worth and its meaning, for this is the only institution which cares for other than material values in the lives of these people. The sad part is that many of these people have become so busy with the material on every day and all days that they do not take the interest in the church which the first hardy founders of this village did. It thus provides the church with an opportunity and a challenge which I am sure the Spirit of God will use for the furthering of God’s Kingdom.
A story about growing up in the 1950’s By Ellery Edgeley
It could never be said, we kids were ever bored, or, had nothing to do! Regardless of the fact we lived in a smallvillage in the country, some activity or interesting diversion could always be found, to entertain ourselves, and occupy our recreational time. Typical of young children, we discovered a new and very different way of having fun, spending a few hours just relaxing, and, at the same time, touring the country side. Each day, Monday through Friday, the mail had to be delivered to the surrounding rural areas of Lyn, and this particular job belonged to a man named Mr. Ladd. Early every morning he would pick up the mail from the post office at Miller’s General Store, load his truck and head out to the back areas to deliver it. During the summer holidays one of the kids, who happened to be hanging around the store, asked Mr. Ladd, if he could go along, and assist him with the mail, and he agreed. This, as it turned out would be of great help, because now, if the mail box was located on the right hand side of the road, the truck pulled over and the helper could put the mail into the box, thus saving Mr. Ladd, from having to put the truck out of gear, hold the brake, lean over and place it in himself. The truck he drove was an old dark blue 1930’s Chevrolet with a square cab designed to hold two people, and on the back it had a large platform enclosed by front and side racks, probably used at one time to haul cans of milk. Having this helper along became a daily practice. Some of the other kids found out about these little jaunts their friend was making, so they asked Mr. Ladd if it would be all right if they could come along too, and being the good soul he was agreed. It wasn’t long before word spread, and soon the back of that old truck was beginning to fill up with anywhere from six to over a dozen kids. I honestly believe, even it there had been twenty or more kids, wanting to climb aboard and ride along, Mr. Ladd would have found some way of piling every one on. And the group was not all boys. This was one activity in which boys and girls joined together and shared the fun.
Mr. Ladd usually departed from the general store around 9:30 a.m. so everyone would have to be there shortly before then. As a rue, most kids our age are not early risers and hate to get out of bed in the morning, especially during the summer holidays, but there was always a couple who would be there at 8:00 anxious to get underway. One, by one, each of us would saunter up to the gathering place, some still half asleep, and wait, as Mr. Ladd sorted his load of mail.
There was one particular chap, named Dickie, who on many a day managed to just barely make it on time. Everyone would begin yelling for him to hurry up, and he would come running down the street, still munching away on his peanut butter and toast. His hair would be uncombed, sticking straight up, and he appeared as though he had slept in his clothes all night. Just as the truck started up, Dickie would jump up onto the back with the help of many hands.
The entire rural route usually took about three hours to complete. The long duration of time it took was probably due to the fact that very road travelled was dirt, with the exception of about half a mile. On hot, dry summer days a long cloud of dust trailed the mail truck as it journeyed along with its cargo of mail and kids. Leaving the village, we headed west into the country which contained some of the most beautiful dairy farms to be seen anywhere. In their lush green pastures, large herds of Holstein cows, along with a sprinkling of Jerseys could be seen grazing, while other fields contained clover and sprouts of corn. There were fields of uncut hay and its tall strands flowed like waves in a sea of green, as gentle summer breezes blew across them. The air had what we called, “that farm smell”, a combination of hay, silage and manure. Farmers were always busy working, whether on a tractor or driving a team of horses, but sometimes if they were near the road, they would often stop and come over for a short visit with Mr. Ladd and we kids. It didn’t take long, and after a few trips, we got to know everyone on the mail route. Not all of the homes on the route belonged to farmers; countless others were owned by people who were employed in the Town of Brockville. Besides travelling by farms the route also wound its way through heavily wooded areas, and in some places ran parallel to a couple of beautiful lakes.
During those long, hot summer days, only one thing ever stopped us group of kids from making the daily trip. Rain! On these days, only a helper went. But the rest of the time, the number always varied. As the days passed, we all became closer, like a family. We’d tell stories, make up games to play, and sing all kinds of songs. Riding in the open air with the wind blowing in our faces was thrilling and refreshing. There were a couple of spots o the route, where apple trees grew next to the road, and late in the summer they would start to bear apples. Mr. Ladd would sometimes pull off to the side of the road under them, and let us pick a few to eat. At this time of year, they were still quite green so we didn’t eat that many. No one wanted to get a stomach ache or worse. Most times, we’d just use them for target practice, throwing at a tree of large boulder in a field.
As I mentioned, the mail route ran through several heavy wooded areas, and one particular road on it was called ‘The Devil’s Door’ road. Located in the Yonge Mills area about five miles west of Lyn, it derived its name from the fact that it possessed a secret doorway to the bowels of the earth, and Devil himself. A short distance from the road an entrance to a passage-way could be seen, running between towering, deep crevice, rock edges on each side. Tall trees and a heavy concentration of thick brush shrouded the entire area in darkness, giving it a frightening, foreboding look, as if to warn any curious or daring soul, they should proceed no further. Should one be foolish enough to do so, they could be in grave, perilous danger. Wild stories were abound, of individuals, who had dared fate to enter ‘The Devil’s Door’ never to be seen again. It had been said to, that young children in particular should stay far away from the area, and never, never, venture too close, because the Devil would get them, and take them back to the centre of the earth. Each morning that old mail truck full of kids, had to pass by ‘The Devil’s Door’!
Every day, as we approached and passed by, everyone on the truck would stare at that entrance in fear, and pray that the old truck wouldn’t break down or quit right there. Once by we all breathed a little easier. Sometimes as we neared the door Mr. Ladd would slow down the truck, and holler ot and ask, if anyone wanted to get off and see the Devil. There was never any response; there were no brave takers on that truck. Still we were curious. Deep down inside, we all knew we wanted to see what was hiding beyond that entrance. The question was, were we brave enough!
Finally after much deliberation, we had all decided that the time had come. We should enter ‘The Devil’s Door’! The next morning we all gathered at Miller’s General Store, excited and ready to follow through with our planned escapade. With new found courage, we asked Mr. Ladd, if he would stop at ‘The Devil’s Door’, and take us in. He paused for a few seconds, glanced around at the dozen wide eyed kids and asked. “Are you sure you want to go in there? The Devil might get all of you kids!” At the moment we were still in village and everyone was brave, so without hesitation, a chorus of voices hollered out. “We’re not afraid of the devil, we’ll go in! There’s no devil there anyway.” With a twinkle in his eyes, Mr. Ladd agreed. “OK, I’ll stop and take you in, but remember, I warned you.” Everyone piled onto the back of the old mail truck and in boisterous, wild chatter we all began saying what we’d do when we got to the door and came face to face with the devil. As we pulled away, we secretly wondered if we’d ever see the village again.
A short distance from Lyn, we began making our first mail drops. ‘The Devil’s Door’ was still about a half hours drive yet, but the closer we got the more silent everyone became. There was no more brave talk or singing. Each person was quietly wrapped up in their own thoughts. As the truck turned onto ‘Devil’s Door’ road, all the bravery suddenly seem to dissipate. Everyone’s mind went into high emotional gear, conjuring up all kinds of wild notions and scenarios, about what may lie in waiting ahead. With intent eyes, we scanned the woods, expecting at any moment now, for a red man with horns, goatee and long sharp pointed tail, to leap out and pounce on all of us defenceless children. With his three pronged spear, he would force us deep into the bowels of the earth. The old truck rounded a slight bend in the road and came to a stop. There it was! The ‘Devil’s Door’! Now, as we stood in the safety of the truck, it looked more foreboding and sinister than ever before. Mr. Ladd turned the motor off, and got out of the truck. The silence was deafening. What if it wouldn’t start up again? Maybe we should leave while there was still time. Besides, I don’t recall seeing a rural mail box here on the side of the road with the name ‘Satan’ emblazoned on it, indicating a stop. “All right, who’s coming”, Mr. Ladd invited us. For a few second, no one spoke or moved. “I’ll go” came a voice, not exactly exuding a tone of courage. One by one, individuals climbed down from the truck, until a meagre total of seven brave soles gathered beside Mr. Ladd. Four boys and three girls. “What’s the mater?”. He asked, “Doesn’t anybody else want to come?” As the rest of us cowered in the back of the truck, I said “No Thanks, I can se it fine from right here.” No sense in chancing fate, I thought; all of those stories we heard, might just be true. I wasn’t about to be taken by the devil, down into the dark abyss of the earth, and hell below, sentenced to an eternity of stoking furnaces or worse. I was almost certain I hadn’t committed and sins recently, but then, maybe I had. Just to be on the safe side, I’d better not go. Better safe than sorry. As I looked around, it was relieving to see, that I was not the only smart person on board that truck. Or should I say, coward! Someone should stay behind anyway, in case something terrible did happen, we could go for help or let relatives know what had happened, when the others failed to return. All we could do now was watch, as Mr. Ladd, led the seven foolhardy, ‘would be’ adventures, into ‘The Devil’s Door’, and beyond. Slowly, they moved ever so carefully along the front of the towering stone walled ledge which ran up to the door and disappeared into the darkness beyond. This was probably, the last time we would ever see our friends again. We waited for what seemed an eternity. “Maybe we should holler and see if they’re OK!” someone peeped up. “No! Keep quiet! Do you want the Devil to know we’re here?” So we waited. Sitting there I knew that I had made the right decision not to go. Suddenly, screams came from somewhere deep in ‘The Devil’s Door’. Now, the screams verified I had been right. “What are we going to do?” Somebody yelled “Let’s get out of here!” All eyes were focused on the door entrance. “No. We have to wait for them.” The terrified screams continued, and before we could move someone came bolting out from the entrance. It’s always been said that boys can run faster than girls, this day proved it. For boys came blasting for dear life, out from the darkness and towards the safety of the truck and their waiting comrades. “Where’s everyone else?” Then came the three screaming girls, scrambling like the devil himself were chasing them. “What happened?” we demanded. Everyone was trembling with excitement! Still huffing and puffing to catch their breath, they quickly related their horrifying experience beyond the door way. Once they were deep inside the dark passage-way, surrounded by hugh trees, someone though they had seen what might have been the Devil himself. Mr. Ladd had seen the person or object first and warned the rest and, it was then that everyone began to scream and run for their lives and safety. “Oh no!” someone shouted. “Where’s Mr. Ladd? The Devil got him!” Now we were all doomed for sure we thought. Suddenly a relieved voice cried out. “There he comes, he’s OK! The devil didn’t get him.” Funny but Mr. Ladd didn’t seem to have the same urgency to run fro the entrance that the others did. As we watched him walk toward the truck, everyone was wishing he would hurry faster so we could get as far away from that spot as quickly as possible. “Where’d everybody go?” he asked.” I though you wanted to see the Devil and his passage-way.” No one spoke a word. We just stood in the back of the truck and stared at the entrance, waiting to see if the Devil was coming after us. As Mr. Ladd opened the door, and climbed into his truck, I could not help but notice a wide mischievous grin on his face. It was then that I began to wonder, just who the real devil might be. Much to our relief, the old mail truck fired up and slowly we crept away from “The Devil’s Door”.
We kids continued to ride along on that mail route for the rest of the summer, but every day when we passed by ‘The Devil’s Door’, everyone fell silent. To compound our fears, and apprehension, every so often, Mr. Ladd would slow down as if he were going to stop, and then ever so slowly drive on. The subject of ‘The Devil’s Door’ was never brought up again.
It had been a fun and mist unforgettable summer, but it came to an end. September meant we kids had to return to school, leaving Mr. Ladd to drive the rural mail route alone, without our help and company. In some ways it was probably a relief for him, not to have a bunch of noisy kids along, but then, being the kind of man he
Arthur and Hazel Ladd in 1940
was, I think he truly missed us. And now, the dark old blue mail truck, with its load of carefree children and our eerie, creepy visit to ‘The Devil’s Door’, are happy memories, from a time long ago.
My first drive in Eastern Ontario was on a June afternoon. My Mother, my two brothers, Herbert and Roy, and myself had arrived at Brockville only that morning and had been met by my father who had several months before accepted a position of district manager of the present Mutual Life Assurance Co. of Canada. We were the guests of his old time friend, John Elliott, on the staff of the Brockville Collegiate. It happened to be Circus day and so that morning I stood on Pearl St. and witnessed my first Circus parade, and shuddered with terror and delight as I saw the huge lumbering elephants and the cages with ions and other wild animals.
In the Early afternoon we had our first drive out to our new home in Lyn. I can still remember the exclamations of my mother over the beauty of the winding creek near the Billings’ home which always attracts my attention today.
When we reached the stucco covered old stone house that father had rented from Mr. Nelson Shipman we found that it was still in the process of being painted by Mr. Shipman’s nephew, Horace Gardiner. And the cute little front porch was all wet paint. It was only a little while before my brother Herbert had gotten his nice new suit covered with wet paint, much to the annoyance of my mother.
It was not until the following fall that I started to school. My first teacher was Miss. Ena Williamson, who had charge of the junior room which then occupied all of the lower floor. She became the wife of Dr. George Judson at the end of the year and my next teacher was a Mrs. Knapp. When I was promoted to the Senior room, my teacher was Miss Christina Wilson for the four years I spent there. When the Entrance examinations were tried, out of a class of eight pupils only one failed. The required marks for passing were 422 and I had the honor of heading the class with a total of 581 marks. Later on when I became a student in the Brockville Collegiate, it was found that I had obtained the highest marks of any student in the newly formed first form.
The original BCI before the fire of 1929 destroyed the school
At that time the Lyn students travelled to Brockville on the Grand Trunk Railway. The station was about a mile distant from the village and the students usually walked to catch the 8 a.m. mixed train which was very irregular in its time, sometimes not reaching town until nine o’clock. However we were not late very often. We would proceed to the school via the William Street crossing and return the same way to board one of the passenger cars awaiting us. Our evening train left at 5 p.m., so by the time we had reached home it was usually six o’clock. As we had left home by 7:30 a.m. it made a long day. On the train we met other collegiate pupils from Mallorytown and Landsdowne. I remember the three Fairlie Boys fro Lansdowne They were the sons of the Presbyterian Minister there and have since become leading Canadian citizens.
Before the year was over the Grand Trunk ceased to operate that nice little train and it was necessary for the Lyn pupils to obtain other transportation, several ‘loads’ were organized. The driver of the largest load was Howard Everts who later became a Public School Inspector in Saskatchewan. The son of our Methodist Minister, Milton Perley, was the driver of another load which included his sister Aleda, Lucy Cumming and myself. I well remember on one occasion when we were returning home right near Nigger Hill [1], Milton stopped to get a few nice apples from a near bye orchard. But I would not partake of any of these apples as I said they were ‘stolen’. It is interesting to note that Milton became a Methodist Missionary to China in later years!
Concerts in these days were few and far between and sometimes were held in conjunction with a sugar social or a strawberry festival. At one of these held in Buell’s Hall I can recall Mr. James Cumming as chairman introducing a young lady ‘who had come all the way from Scotland to sing the song “Green Grow the Rashes O!”. She shortly after became Mrs. Gordon Cumming. On another occasion in the school hall (the former junior room downstairs) I remember the Billings boys, Horace and Tom, amusing us greatly by the song “Johnny was the One I Wanted”. Horace died at an early age, but Tom is now Dr.T.H.Billings, in charge of an important city church in the U.S. Another performer on that programme was Frank Fulford who captivated us with his violin solos. He later became a wealthy man and lived in a castle in England.
C.P.R. Wharf Brockville
One great event in our lives was the time our Sunday School ran an excursion. We were transported from the B&W station to the C.P.R. dock in Brockville on flat cars, furnished with crude board seats and decorated with evergreen trees which however did not afford protection from the flying cinders. Next we boarded the steamer “John Haggart” for a wonderful trip among the Thousand Islands and I expect had our picnic lunch baskets with us. My mother was busy chatting to Dr. Jusdon when she was interrupted by her small daughter dashing up and exclaiming “Herbie’s lost his cap. It fell into the ‘crik’! That remark nearly finished Dr. Judson, I thought he would never stop laughing at one for calling the might St. Lawrence – a ‘crik’!
During the general elections of 1896 the boys and girls of Lyn Public School became keenly interested in politics and wore red or blue bans of ribbon to indicate their arty as ‘Grits’ and ‘Tories’. I think Mr. James Cumming was the Liberal candidate on that occasion but did not succeed in winning. However when Wilfred Laurier became the new Prime Minister, the village had a big celebration and Sir Charles Tupper was burned in effigy.
[1] Located on the Lyn Road app. ½ km south-east of the intersection with the Howard Road. So called because a black family, Mr. and Mrs White lived there.
Long ago, the death of an unidentified tramp led to a merry wake by the farmers of the region west of Lyn.
In the early 1800’s, two farmers found the body of a transient in a field north of Jones Creek. While they were discussing their find and wondering whether or not they should send a rider into Brockville to fetch a coroner, Charles Jones, the pioneer merchant and miller of Elizabethtown, rode up.
Jones, who had mills in Brockville, Jones Creek and Yonge Mills, as well as a general store in Brockville, told the farmers that Brockville had no coroner, and in fact the nearest medical examiner resided in Gananoque.
He also ventured the opinion that it was not necessary to incur needless expense and that the best thing to do under the circumstances was to give the victim a decent burial.
He suggested a cheap coffin be purchased and the unknown tramp laid to rest. He contributed $2.00 towards the cost.
After his departure, the farmers proceeded to search the pockets of the corpse, finding another $2.50. Neighbours were notified, and since there was no minister in the area, one of the best educated and influential settlers was chosen to conduct the service. The coffin was made in Lyn and the tramp duly placed in it.
The funeral service was held at a log house at Yonge Mills. The tramp was interred at an area graveyard, and after the service, the mourners discovered they still had $1.50 unexpended.
The question immediately arose, as to how it should be spent. By Universal consent, the mourners decided that the fund should be invested in spirits. In those days $1.50 bought quite a quantity of liquor. In fact, the gathering was supplied with a pail full of the best whisky available in the district. Every man present had several cups, until the pail was empty. Then they went home happy. Nothing was thought of the matter, the custom of ‘drinking’ being almost universal.
The tramp’s grave was never marked and the exact location is unknown today.
I have been reliving those old days and getting a great deal of pleasure in doing so. We didn’t know it then, but those were very happy days, with loads of fun and very little responsibility. Our main worry was to make the grade and do as little work as possible.
Going to BCI in 1910. Margaret Fodey, Jack Clow, Vada Clow and Gladys Latimer
My first year at Brockville Collegiate Institute (BCI) we went in with Milton Perley. He had remained behind when his father moved and was staying with Dr. Sharpe. Jessie and Herb Kilpatrick, Gertrude, Milton and I made up that load. He drove a sorrel horse called “Katrina”. I can still hear him say “You’re not pullin’ together thar, Kit”. After Milton left Lyn, we went in with Alfred McCready. It was a three seated democrat and quite a load for one horse. The occupants were changing now and again as they graduated or were satisfied with a short term. I am a little hazy about this load, but Mabel Greer, Sam McCormick, Harford Steed, Ed, Pettem, Fred and Helen Barlow, and always Gertrude and I. It seems to me that Arthur Judson was along too. The last two years we went with Howard Everts with and old white horse that used to take blind staggers and try to climb trees. Quite frequently something would break, and no matter how near we were to Brockville we always ‘turned tail’ and walked home in order to enjoy a day’s skating, snow shoeing or tobogganing on Billings’ Hill. We thought the fresh air would do us good, and Tommy Marquis (BCI Teacher) always took our excuses. He had a soft spot for the Lyn kids.
Occasionally we used to buy bottles of soft drinks and each have a straw in the same bottle, to see who could get the most. I remember one night the girls bought a basket of peaches, and the boys took the same notion that same night. Of course we thought we ought to eat them before we got home. I am ashamed to say that Gertrude and I each ate 24, but Helen being smaller, and of smaller capacity, could only manage 20. Of course the peaches were not of the large variety. It is a wonder we didn’t burst, but nothing happened. Some contest!
(This note was dated Feb, 24, 1952, from Prescott, Route 2)
It was Christmas morning about the year 1886. We had been up early to get down to the kitchen where the eight stockings had been hung the night before. Now we were all in one big bedroom looking at the candy elephants, pigs, sheep and rabbits that were already pretty sticky by repeated lickings from various tongues.
Breakfast was just starting when father came in from the barn to say that a big snow storm was coming from the east and he guessed with the two feet of snow already on the ground it would not be safe to attempt the trip down home, as he always called the old farm house just out of Brockville on the Chemical Road. However, although the storm had started, father decided the team could make the trip. The big sleigh had been in readiness for a couple of days; straw had been placed in the bottom of the big box and some carpet spread over this and the sleigh had been backed into the shed to keep the snow out of it. At last we all piled in and were away. The toll-gate was just east of our farm house and as we drove through, our neighbour came out to wave to us. We always paid our toll by the year so did not have to stop, but cheered and sang “Jingle-Bells” as the horses raced through. Years later in a letter I had from a woman who lived as a girl at the toll-gate she told me how much she had always envied us our trip to Grandfather’s on Christmas Day. We usually met Tom Billings, his brother Horace, and their father and mother, Bruce and Polly, on their way to Aunt Jule McCrady’s house just west of the village. We of course gave them a “Merry Christmas”!
Old Farmhouse on the Chemical Road
Driving into the yard at Grandfather’s, we were all ready to cry “Christmas Box” to the Johnsons (Aunt Lizzie) and the McLeans (Aunt Ida) whom grandfather had already brought out from Brockville for the day. Such a racket as we always yelled them down and fairly smothered them with hugs and kisses! Then, into the big kitchen we went where on the table was a large bread pan filled with popcorn all salted and sweetened, and on the side table six mince pie that had been brought in from the back porch where we knew a thirty gallon milk can contained many more. These six pies soon would be placed in the oven to be warmed. Beside these pies was a big dish of the loveliest raisins on the stems, dishes of candy, nuts and oranges, that mother had forbidden us to sample. The delicious scent of the big gobbler roasting in the old stove greeted us! My grand-mother had told me it was the one that had chased me out of the yard a couple of weeks before and I did not feel bad that we were to get even with him now.
With about twenty-five to feed, Grandfather got busy, standing at the end of the long table. Grace was said, plates were passed, heaped with mashed potatoes, squash, cranberries and that turkey. It seemed that we children would never be served as plate after plate went by, but at last we were all told to go ahead. I was short and fat and stubby but I am sure no one that day had more to eat, as Grandfather always had an eye on our plates. Poor mother had some trouble watching for fear we took the biggest piece of fruitcake, but when an extra piece fell off in front of me I didn’t put it back.
Then the candy, dates, nuts, oranges and lovely red snow apples came along but by this time we were nearly ready to rest for an hour or two anyway. The big Christmas tree in the parlour all strung with popcorn and ribbons, was a sight and we went in on tip toe to peek at it. Then the doors were thrown open and we were able to sit around on cold haircloth chairs and sofas until our names were called and we went up to get our parcels. I remember on this occasion there were six or seven pairs of lovely leather mittens in sight, and as one or two of them had fur cuffs I wondered which ones were for me. That was a great day. I got a pair of mittens, but one of the cousins got the ones with the fur on them. But they wouldn’t have been big enough for me anyway.
I can remember Grandmother sitting in her rocking chair in the dining room by the box stove which had been stuffed with big sticks of wood. Grandmother aalways wore a little lace cap and a lovely shawl over her shoulders. Aunt Belle hovered over us to see that we were all wrapped up for the trip home. Uncle Bob Johnson had given me a quarter during the afternoon and I kept my hand in my pocket all day for fear I might loose it. I haven’t that quarter now, but I never took care of a twenty-five cent piece as long again.
Well, horrible thought, father was outside and said we had better get ready at once for home as the storm was worse. They wanted us to stay at grandfather’s all night but to find beds for twenty-five of us was impossible. We climbed into the sleigh, the robes were thrown over us as we sat in the bottom of the box, and in five minutes we were all asleep. The horses plunged through the drifts out in the fields, where the roads were blocked, and finally we were awakened at our own door. What a day! What a memory! Children who travel now in motor cars have never had the lovely experience of a trip to Grandfather’s in the sleigh at Christmas time.
This story is taken from the book “How Dear to My Heart” by Walter Kilborn Billings, published in 1954.
with us we went up into our shed, that later was moved away to make room for the more modern woodshed. There were a couple of scantling nailed against the end of the building and cleats nailed on making a ladder to climb up to the little square door opening into the upper floor, It was quite a feat to go up this ladder, open the door and climb in.
where the lath factory stood and was used until it became too small for the fast increasing population. The house next used was situated near Mr. Halliday’s store. The brick one was then built and used until 1867 when the stone one now in use was built.
village in the country, some activity or interesting diversion could always be found, to entertain ourselves, and occupy our recreational time. Typical of young children, we discovered a new and very different way of having fun, spending a few hours just relaxing, and, at the same time, touring the country side. Each day, Monday through Friday, the mail had to be delivered to the surrounding rural areas of Lyn, and this particular job belonged to a man named Mr. Ladd. Early every morning he would pick up the mail from the post office at Miller’s General Store, load his truck and head out to the back areas to deliver it. During the summer holidays one of the kids, who happened to be hanging around the store, asked Mr. Ladd, if he could go along, and assist him with the mail, and he agreed. This, as it turned out would be of great help, because now, if the mail box was located on the right hand side of the road, the truck pulled over and the helper could put the mail into the box, thus saving Mr. Ladd, from having to put the truck out of gear, hold the brake, lean over and place it in himself. The truck he drove was an old dark blue 1930’s Chevrolet with a square cab designed to hold two people, and on the back it had a large platform enclosed by front and side racks, probably used at one time to haul cans of milk. Having this helper along became a daily practice. Some of the other kids found out about these little jaunts their friend was making, so they asked Mr. Ladd if it would be all right if they could come along too, and being the good soul he was agreed. It wasn’t long before word spread, and soon the back of that old truck was beginning to fill up with anywhere from six to over a dozen kids. I honestly believe, even it there had been twenty or more kids, wanting to climb aboard and ride along, Mr. Ladd would have found some way of piling every one on. And the group was not all boys. This was one activity in which boys and girls joined together and shared the fun.
stockings had been hung the night before. Now we were all in one big bedroom looking at the candy elephants, pigs, sheep and rabbits that were already pretty sticky by repeated lickings from various tongues.
With about twenty-five to feed, Grandfather got busy, standing at the end of the long table. Grace was said, plates were passed, heaped with mashed potatoes, squash, cranberries and that turkey. It seemed that we children would never be served as plate after plate went by, but at last we were all told to go ahead. I was short and fat and stubby but I am sure no one that day had more to eat, as Grandfather always had an eye on our plates. Poor mother had some trouble watching for fear we took the biggest piece of fruitcake, but when an extra piece fell off in front of me I didn’t put it back.
They wanted us to stay at grandfather’s all night but to find beds for twenty-five of us was impossible. We climbed into the sleigh, the robes were thrown over us as we sat in the bottom of the box, and in five minutes we were all asleep. The horses plunged through the drifts out in the fields, where the roads were blocked, and finally we were awakened at our own door. What a day! What a memory! Children who travel now in motor cars have never had the lovely experience of a trip to Grandfather’s in the sleigh at Christmas time.