In 1967, Fenelon Falls resident Alice Moffat looked back on eighty years that she had spent in the community as Canada was celebrating its centennial.
KAWARTHA LAKES-My parents were born in Scotland. My father in the lowlands near Kelso, Roxboroughshire. He served eight years apprenticeship in the iron works at Floors Castle. He could tell of many amusing incidents like when he was asked to repair the key of the gate lock. The gates were more like huge doors and the key was quite large compared to our modern keys. He took the impression of the key in a cake of laundry soap and with this pattern he made his own pass key. A pass was required to enter or leave the grounds and the gates were kept locked.
My mother was born in the Highlands of Invernesshire, Isle of Skye. She could speak and read Gaelic and a prized possession is a Gaelic bible brought from Scotland by her family. My maternal grandmother was Flora McLeod, from the Isles.
My mother was a real pioneer, and I loved to hear her tell of her early life in Canada, coming at an early age with her parents and family. They spent thirteen weeks at sea in a sailing vessel. They settled near Eden, Mariposa Township in a dense forest of virgin pine. “Lightning bugs” were a mystery and frightening. The howling of wolves at night was always present. Livestock could not be kept till buildings were available to house the animals and protect them from bears, wolves, foxes, etc.
When a clearance was made and grain grown, it was harvested by scythe or cradle and raked with a wooden rake by hand, and bound by hand also with grain straw. Horse drawn reapers came later, but still much of the work remained to be done by hand. The early settlers used oxen to cultivate the land. Thrashing was done by flail and it was a long trip to Port Hope or Cobourg to market the grain. The farther they went the better the prices got. Blankets and full cloth—a coarse grey material, was processed from virgin wool and made by hand into clothes. Maple sugar was used as a general sweetener. Eggs were fed to pigs as there was no market for them. Grain was taken to a mill to be made into flour and meal. Homemade tallow candles were used for light and later coal-oil lamps. Timber that would be priceless now was burned to clear the land, and a logging bee was an occasion for a party. This would be in the 1850s.
My parents were married at Woodville, Ontario, Canada, January 19, 1865, by Rev. John MacTavish. They settled in Cameron, where my father had a shop. Their first home—a good looking frame house still stands there on a street corner. It is an example of the good lumber available in those days. The contract to build this house in 1864 was $100.00.
There were four boys and four girls in our family, of which I am the youngest. Only two of us remain—a brother and I.
I was born in a seven room log house in Fenelon Township. It was a comfortable house for that age, but had few conveniences. The ceiling and walls were done with lime. A large white wash brush and my Mother’s sore hands are distinct memories. The white floors were scoured with sand. Carpets were mostly home woven and were hard to keep clean. (There were no vacuum cleaners then.) There was a lime kiln at Coboconk and fresh lime was used a lot for cellars, walls and sanitation.
I have memories of old fashioned flowers, large golden Calendulas—we call them Marigolds—Sweet William, Sweet Mary, Scarlet Lightening, Old Man, Mint, etc.
When I was still quite young there was a large white brick house built on the homestead and eventually the old log house was torn down which I always regretted. There had been an Indian camping ground on the homestead and we often found pieces of pottery, arrowheads and skinning knives, etc.
There was a poplar tree on high ground that can be seen for miles around. When I was threatened with discipline, I was sent to this tree for a gad [goad, a stick used as a whip] (how young and gullible I was then). I never remember the gad being used, but the mental agony I suffered was punishment enough for a heinous crime.
No one lives at the homestead now. The orchards are all gone and I have nothing but memories left, but I shall cling to them.
As a child I always had a nice collie dog for company and what pleasure I got from simple commonplace things. I had a “good” doll, but I loved a 10 cent doll much more. A candy cane or an orange was a treat, and how much the well earned word of praise meant. The cuddly little kittens, but oh! The tragedy of having to dispose of some of them.
As I grew older my appreciation of the beauties of nature grew also:
Simple Things by Grace Crowell
I have found such joy in simple things
A plain clean room, a nut-brown loaf of bread,
A cup of milk, a kettle as it sings,
A shelter of a roof above my head.
And a leaf-faced square upon a floor
Where yellow sunlight glimmers through a door.
I have found such joy in things that fill
My quiet days—a curtain’s blowing grace,
A growing plant upon a window-sill,
A rose fresh cut and placed within a vase,
A table cleared, a lamp beside a chair,
And book I have long loved beside me there.
Oh, I have found such joy! I wish I might
Tell every woman who goes seeking
For some elusive feverish delight
That very close to home the great joys are:
Those fundamental things, old as the race,
Yet never through the ages commonplace.
What pleasure it was to sit on a hillside to watch the sunset and the indescribable after glow followed by the symphony like sounds of night birds and other creatures, even the frogs and crickets, the night hawks, owls and the sweet notes of the vireo that would echo through the woodland and mingle with the drumming of a partridge. We liked to answer the whip-poor-will. Then there would be the domestic sound of a dog barking or the various sounds of other farm animals. In the morning the sounds were different. Our dreams of a dog barking or the various sounds of other farm animals. In the morning the sounds were different. Our dreams were often disturbed by a woodpecker or mourning doves, then roosters would crow and hens cackle. With an abundance of trees we enjoyed many song birds, the robin, phoebe, canary, humming bird, oriole with its outstanding nest workmanship and its orange breast. The cat bird made a mewing sound like a cat when disturbed but at other times is really a mocking bird. The martin, killdeer and many others. Even the squirrels and chipmunks have a part in it, and who has not thrilled at the sound of wild ducks in flight or wild geese flying in formation.
Autumn (Poet unknown)
A haze on the far horizon,
The infinite tender sky,
The rich ripe tints of the cornfield,
And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over the upland and lowland
The charm of the goldenrod.
Some of us call it autumn,
And other call it GOD.
Add bright moonlight to all this, or northern lights, or an evening rainbow, they are all part of the natural beauty of Canada.
Our wild flowers are unexcelled. It is well worthwhile tramping for miles to bring back Lady Slippers or orchids, water lilies, violets. The lovely trilliums, our provincial emblem is protected by law for fear of extinction. Bittersweet is a fall favourite with its pretty orange pod that stays bright all winter. People travel many miles to see sumac, maple and oak when frosted in fall: Orange, yellow and red.
I never got far afield as a child, but being very shy I enjoyed the wholesome interests of farm life. The frisky lamps, calves, colts and fat little pigs. The downy little chickens, turkeys, goslings, all hatched under their own natural mother. Incubators and ready hatched chickens to buy came later. When a mother hen decided to sit on a setting of eggs or no eggs at all, it took some persuasion to get her back to the business of laying eggs again. One year, when our goslings were half grown, they were nearly all killed by foxes. The turkey hen liked to steal way and hide her nest of speckled eggs.
The fields were all fenced with heavy rails which contributed to snow drifting in winter. Snow piled up like miniature mountains. Wire fences and snow helped to prevent this problem. Pitch holes, caused by drifting snow was a hazard, and all aboard a cutter would be upset into the snow. A quiet horse was desirable at such times. We had a heavy team of horses, Mag was a dappled gray Percheron, and Nell was a bay Clydesdale, and when hitched to a heavy sleigh would break out roads after a storm. Concession and side roads were the layout then and they were not built as they are now. Farmers were allotted so much road work according to their holdings. When snow became deep, roads were broken in the fields. Roads and railroads were often blocked as late as March and April. This was grim in case of sickness. One winter when we had daily need of a doctor, he had a man drive him as far as he could go, then he went the rest of the way on snowshoes. On another occasion when a doctor was urgently needed in April, he could not get through. Highways and county roads are paved now and are kept ploughed and sanded. With open roads and cars, telephones and daily mail delivery, no one is isolated. Hydro electric power has revolutionized the country to live. It is a far cry from the coal oil lantern of my country life to the push button lighting of grounds and buildings now.
When I was a child Sunday was a day of rest, except for the work of necessity and mercy. All food was prepared on Saturday. Shoes polished and other clothing ready for Church. Definitely no play. One Sunday my brother and I discovered the neighbourhood children skating on a pond in our field. They invited us to join them. I was very uncomfortable. I did not join in but I was there—and I knew it was considered “sinful and a desecration of the Sabbath.” An older sister was sent to locate us and, I was marched home to a spanking. I can feel it yet.
My first memory of stoves, both for heat and kitchen use, was the heavy cast iron type. They were polished with Dome black lead, which was very dusty but gave a good shine. Wood was the main fuel and we had a woodbox which I often filled. It was the old fashioned kitchen of the museum at Fenelon Falls. The boards are wide and the nails are handmade. They are square with square heads. Electricity and oil are the most used fuels now with wood and coal being used less as times goes on; but who does not like to watch a woodfire on a fireplace? Even in a house heated by electricity, or by an oil furnace in the basement.
School section No. 4, Fenelon Township was a typical country school, teaching all subjects in all classes. (Classified as grades now). This school is now closed as are all the township schools with a central location at Cameron with students going by bus.
I liked going to school, but three miles to walk in all kinds of weather and frequent attacks of quinsy [a tonsil infection] were problems I had to cope with by reading and studying at home. I continued to do this even after giving up school to help a semi-invalid mother and keep house for the family who were not on their own. When I should still have been in school, we bought a large farm to help out family finances. It was high land overlooking Cameron Lake. The view was very beautiful.
When we sold this property four years later, I expressed the wish to reserve a lakeshore lot but this was not granted and soon the lots began to sell till now it is over populated.
We returned to the homestead for a year. I think it would be about 1907. Our crop that year was a complete loss from grasshoppers. Any clothing left in the field was eaten to shreds and feed and seed for two farms had to be bought. My brother took over the homestead and Mother, Dad and I moved to a nearby farm, and eventually in 1911 to town. My life in town was quiet but rewarding in a way. My parents were no longer young. My main interest was home, church and a class of lovely young girls in Sunday School, whose lives I still follow with interest and love.
We lived near Cameron Lake and on what is now Highway 35 and the cottagers were daily visitors. Our place was a half way resting place. It was a hot dusty walk into town and there were no cars and no rural mail delivery and the road was not paved. Coming from a farm we kept hens, a cow, etc. and fresh produce was always in demand. The children were frequent visitors too, some to practice on our organ (a modern one now), some to gather greens from our garden for their guinea pigs and rabbits. Some of our cottagers gave underprivileged children a holiday in the country. One little fellow had never seen a cow milked, indeed, he had never even seen a cow. He did not come for their milk supply one evening—there was no dairy then—the other children who came reported I, who did the milking, was ill. He sat in thought then asked “and who ‘squeezed’ the cow?”
Colborne Street in Fenelon Falls at this time was just a dusty road. It was sprinkled daily with a horse drawn tank that had a sprinkler attachment. The children loved to get into the spray on a hot day. When paving was first suggested there were some who objected on the grounds of a tax increase. “What is the world coming to? Paving indeed!” they said.
One of the nicest memories I have of Cameron Lake is of Sunday evenings when some of our cottagers would go out on the lakes and anchor their boats and sing and play lovely music. It is a memory one could never forget. Two of this group were afterwards missionaries, others T.V. artists and entertainers, etc.
I have fond childhood memories of a five octave Bell organ, with a music rack high above the keyboard. I believe the organs of those days were much sweeter in tone than the later models. One of my music teachers was Mr. Robert Swain of Valentia, who drove a horse and buggy through the countryside to the homes of his pupils, and when in our neighbourhood our home was his stopping place.
Dairy methods have changed many times since I was a child. The first method was milk pans that were set in the cellar till the cream rose and was skimmed by hand with a tin or granite skimmer, with holes for to drain off the milk. Sometimes a pan was heated to scald the cream, when this was shipped it was delicious. Creamers were next used and were often kept in a well. When the cream rose the milk was drained off by turning a key in a tap till the cream would register in a glass inset.
Then cheese factories were introduced and the whole milk was sent in large cans, horse drawn to the factory. We were the first call on the milk route and had to be up at four a.m. to have the milking done and ready. We had a milk stand on a level with the milk wagon. There were cups for anyone to help themselves. When the milk man was on his return trip with the cans full of whey for the pigs, Mother and I would have dinner prepared for a bachelor brother and I would get transportation with the driver to deliver it, I would walk back a distance of 1 ½ miles or so. I was terrified of the swamp road so decided to take another route which was somewhat of a trail. When I got well into the wooded area, I was aware of a crashing sound in the underbrush following me nearby. There had been rumours of a wild cat lynx in the area, and a neighbour who had been at a house of mourning and returning home after midnight had a similar experience and got his jack knife open in case of attack. Needless to say I avoided that trip ever after.
Returning to dairy methods, the cream separator was introduced, with cream only, sent to a butter factory. 1 lb prints of butter took the place of rolls and crock packing. Most people churned enough for their own use. When cows were not at pasture the butter was colourless and needed artificial colouring. It was for sale but we often grated garrots adding water and straining it in the cream. It gave the butter a nice flavour as well as colour. There were different types of churns but few people churn any more. Margarine has become popular instead of butter. Hand milking has been replaced by milking machines and all dairy produce has to be pasteurized.
When we were farming thrashing was always an event with a table spread like a banquet. When I was a child I remember horsepower threshing, with a man standing at a central platform to drive the horses in a circle to keep the machinery in motion. I loved to run barefoot on the beaten path the horses made. Steam engines replaced this method with plenty of wood and water needed.
Years ago, women often helped rake, drive the hay fork and slings and mow back the sheaves. Women drive tractors, but it is more of a challenge and fun now, compared to the drudgery of the past. Driving with a horse and buggy was neither speedy or comfortable, especially if three were travelling.
Maurice Lansfield drove a horse drawn bus to meet the historic “9 P.M. tourist special.” He carried a lantern for a tail light. Horses were terrified of motor cars. When one of my sisters came home from Toronto Exhibition with the amazing story of a “horseless carriage,” we thought she was joking. Norman Martin owned and drove the first car in Fenelon Falls.
For many years lumbering was the main industry, with sawmills all along the waterways. Also shingle mills, as manufactured shingles were unheard of. Handmade shingles were also made. In the winter, any able bodied men who could be spared off the farm went to the lumber camps. Logs were floated down the waterways to sawmills. River driving was a challenging, but dangerous pursuit.
At one time there were many large boats on the waterways. The Stoney Lake was an excursion boat and popular for church school excursions. We had to guarantee $73.00 for the trip. The Crandella had paddle wheels on either side. The Bessie Butler is government owned and I believe still in use. There were many others but now there are many small crafts privately owned.
During 1939-1945—Second World Wartime, I spent a summer at a cottage near the old floating bridge that spanned Chemong Lake near Bridgenorth. It was an unusual sight. It was replaced by a permanent structure in 1950.
To return to farming days—we always keep sheep, and with warm weather they were taken to a nearby creek where they were washed and later sheared. The fleeces for home use were carried and made into rolls to be spun into yarn. We had a spinning wheel, swifts, and reel and a homemade spindle made from part of a shovel handle and tapered at one end. It would be about a foot long. Mother twisted many a pound of wool on this homemade gadget. We had a colourful carpet made from the wool of our own sheep. The colours were home dyed. We had an abundance of hooked and braided mats. Quilts and down comforters, the down was from our own geese. Goose wings made good dusters for furniture and stairways, and one was always to be found in the woodbox for use around a wood burning stove.
Our food was plain but tasty, and there was always plenty of it. We always had porridge for breakfast. Dad and his father who sometimes stayed with us like theirs thick. They told us a story about someone who served well cooked jelly-like porridge who addressed it thus—“Dinna fear I’ll no touch ye.” Porridge and soup were served in deep plates with a flange around the edge. One morning grandfather decided to cool his porridge outside. One of my sisters decided to play a trick on him, and took the porridge in leaving a clean pate in his place. When he went for his porridge he exclaimed “Losh the dog’s got my porridge.”
We rarely used canned food except good salmon. Homemade soup slowly simmered with a beef shank had a flavour all its own. We always had plenty of cooked vegetables, fowl and home cured meat. Salads at first were not very popular and were referred to as new fangled cold potatoes and raw cabbage. An abundance of homemade crusty bread and buns with homemade butter was really good, and such a variety of desserts, baked apples with cream, pies and puddings—no cake mix or prepared products. Any work that was an excuse for a family to get together was an occasion for a goose dinner and a warm family gathering. Even these memories are past and gone.
Mother never used a recipe but just a dab or pinch of this and that. We grew our own hops and made our own yeast. Large quantities of fruit and wild berries were preserved, now with deep freeze refrigerators, we have fresh fruit and vegetables all year.
For some unknown reason my mind keeps returning to a gold green glass pitcher with a rose imp cut on either side. It was in constant use on our table filled with milk, cream, buttermilk with grains of butter floating on top—homemade lemonade or what have you. The antique dealers begged for it. I associate it with Sunday night special supper, I kept it to the last.
A Scottish favourite dish called “Merik” was made with oatmeal, minced suet, salt and pepper and filled into sausage casings. This was first boiled, then finished in the oven. It was delicious.
We had a cold room with a half partition where we hung dressed fowl to freeze, only to find a cat had reached down and ate the popes noses off all of them.
There was exceptionally good orchards on each of the three farms I lived on. I loved to climb to the topmost branches to pick the lovely fruit. Father was successful with fruit trees and would have two perfect varieties growing on one tree by grafting. We had a ladder that was pointed at one end that was handy for apple picking and also large hooks to hold the pails, made by Dad in the blacksmith shop, where he had bellows, anvil, etc.
Mother was an expert at making soft soap. We always had a leach made with an oak barrel filled with hardwood ashes that were packed with a hardwood potato masher. Water was filtered through this to make lye. To this was added tallow and dripping fat and boiled in a sap kettle outside to make soft soap. To make hard soap, salt was added and further processed and condensed.
In those days laundry was washed by hand in a wash tub and scrubbed on a wash board. The water was heated in a copper boiler on a wood burning stove. When they were washed, they were boiled and rinsed, then blued. They were then hung out to dry for freeze according to the season. It was a cold job to hang out or take in laundry in cold weather. Now we have automatic laundromats and one does not need to wet one’s hands. I remember when it was both a task and an art to do up a man’s stiffly starched white shirt with irons heated on a wood burning stove. To stretch lace curtains was very tedious.
Over the years there has been many changes. I can remember many disastrous fires in the Fenelon Falls area, such as the Howry sawmill, the Sandford furniture factory, the Standard Chemical Plant and many more.
The tourist business is perhaps the most notable as an industry introduced and developed during this Centennial. With apologies to all concerned in the management of Byrnell Manor, I shall try to outline its development. Originally, it was an average homestead, engaged in mixed farming, but had the advantage of being located on beautiful Cameron Lake, near Fenelon Falls, and with acreage on both sides of Highway 35 [35A – Now CKL Road 8]. It was not always a highway but a dusty country road. The lakeshore was called Inverlochlin Grove and lots were sold and cottages built on it many years ago. The homestead house was enlarged and summer guests were catered to, first in a comparatively small way. The farm, south of the road was made into a Golf Course with a refreshment department and souvenirs, magazines, etc. in a tuck shop. The farm buildings were not used much now and the barn was made into bedrooms and bathrooms, staff rooms and a large lounge. What was once stabling was treated and a made into a modern kitchen with refrigerator room, a large rustic dining room, and a Golf Club room. This well-established business eventually developed into a popular boys’ Hockey Training School with famous players and coaches. Boys come from many countries to this camp school. It is heart warming to see them in church as many as one hundred in one church. The reminder of this interesting farm was made into a subdivision and is a desirable location for a home site. There is also a field used for rugby and a tennis court.
Another notable change is the High School area, with students coming to Fenelon Falls by bus from distant areas. A large High School has been built. The Lindsay High School [Lindsay Collegiate and Vocational Institute] has been enlarged also.
I have vivid memories of four wars. I was not very old at the time of the South African War. I have distinct memories of it. Then World War I, when the 109th Battalion trained at Fenelon Falls and marched out Lindsay Street, their destination Lindsay and eventually overseas. Some never returned, others came back very changed. That was 1914-1918. This was “a war to end war” but in 1939-1945 we were at war again. I was in Peterborough and was downtown on V Day. The city went wild when the news came through. All places of business closed except for booths selling flags. The fire department with their ladders began to decorate the streets. The police were helpless and were carried shoulder high by the jubilant crowd. The churches were thrown open for the people to give thanks to God for victory and peace. Traffic could not get through George Street. The official celebration came later at the park in East City. It was dignified and solemn, and returned men wept openly at the memory of comrades who would not return.
“For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon
They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old
Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
The Korean War 1950-1953 is fresh in our memory. I shall not comment on it but rather pray we will have freedom from war.
I called the old home at Fenelon Falls Inverness and operated it as a summer guest home for many years. When my guests enquired about places of interest in the area, I could always recommend the Old Stone Church at Beaverton and the Hydraulic Lift Locks at Peterborough and Kirkfield. They are outstanding and worthwhile seeing.
The Old Stone Church at Beaverton was built in 1840 and has been preserved for its historic and sentimental value. Worship services are held once a month in the summer and on special occasions. The building is of grey quarried stone and there is a large cemetery surrounding it. The interior is of unpainted white virgin pine. The pews have doors on them and the collection is gathered in a wooden box with a long handle attached. The pulpit is reached by a winding stairs and is high above the heads of the worshippers. It has a sounding board or canopy overhead. The Psalms and hymns are led by a precentor (with no music). The doors have been replaced by new ones but they treasure the old large key used in the old lock and keep it. This old Scottish landmark, where gaelic was once preached, has an air of dignity and peace, and represents sacrifice and devotion. It is well worth seeing.
I recently visited the Old Anglican Church on the Hill at Fenelon Falls, the belfry of which can be seen above the trees for miles around. It has been a landmark and a historic attraction. This church was built in the early 1830s but has not been used for worship since 1902. It was converted into a dwelling at one time but has fallen into a state of disrepair. The cemetery on the church grounds is one of the oldest in the region and dates on tombstones go back as far as 1816. [This church has since been destroyed by fire in July 1967.]
The Hydraulic Lift Lock at Peterborough, Ontario is the largest of that type in the world. It is of concrete construction and took four years to build. It was officially opened on July 9, 1904. It is a marvellous piece of engineering and well worth seeing. Built in pick and shovel days. The lock at Kirkfield is of steel construction and the original cost was in the neighbourhood of $298,000.00 and $170,000.00 on a recent facelifting job. It was opened in 1907 by the late Sir Sam Hughes. Besides these two in the area there is only one more and it is smaller and located in Germany.
The first time I saw Kirkfield Lift Locks the grounds were not yet levelled. The party I was with climbed a stairway with a railing on one side, to a cat walk around the pontoon or pan. I should have known better but went too. I soon realized the sooner I got back down the better, so I clenched the railing and started back down. I met some people going up but did not dare let go of the railing, I apologized as they detoured around me and I proceeded to go on down in reverse gear. I hope they were not dizzy as I was. Afterwards, we went down under the pontoon and I still thrill at the memory of colourings on the rock cuts were moisture seeped through forming fungi growth. The lockmaster is always courteous and glad to explain this wonderful system to visitors. In 1964, sightseers other than those travelling by boat, who visited Kirkfield Lift Locks, numbered more than 25,000.
There has been a great change in the cost of living. I will quote prices from the Thursday Post, August 13, 1939:
Tender juicy steaks, 1 lb: 25c to 30c
Prime rib roasts, 1 lb: 20c
Thick meaty roasts, 1 lb: 15c-18c
Tender broiling beef, 1 lb: 10c-12c
Front quarter spring lamb, 1 lb: 16c
Boneless roasts of veal, 1 lb: 18c
Lean pork shoulders, 1 lb: 16c
Roast veal with dressing, 1 lb: 25c
Special on Saturday
1lb Sausages, 1lb minced steak, ½ lb bacon or ½ lb homemade headcheese all for 25c
No delivery without accompanying order of 25c or over. As for free tokens
Other prices listed
Orange Pekoe Tea, 1 lb: 45c
Coffee, regular, 25c, special, 1 lb: 21c
Best Red Salmon (cans), 1 lb: 35c
Pure lard, 2lbs, 19c
No. 1 Grade butter, 2 lbs (Brookfield), 49c
Homemade sausages, 2 lbs, 25c
Dance with Tommy Langlies Band 25c each
Dance with Russ Creighton’s Band 25c each
All the above quotations are authentic and can be verified.
I have sold dressed geese for 7c per lb, and whole, rich milk for 5c per quart.
An amazing example of mass production is to be seen at the Smith-Robinson farm, Angeline Street S., Lindsay, Ontario. There are three very large two storey buildings, housing many thousands of chickens. This plant is equipped with Hydro electric power for heat, light, large fans to keep the air circulating, radio to guard against panic at sudden noises. Water and food is in constant supply automatically. There are no roosts or perches, hence they eat, drink and rest, thus they are forced to quick maturity. Even the loading of these birds for shipping is quite a system. They have an auxiliary power plant in case of hydro failure. One can hardly visualize this mass of chickens. Compare it to a ‘biddie’ hen with her brood of chickens peeking out of her feathers.
I should mention the vast improvement that has been made at Fenelon Falls. With the clearing of the island between the river and canal, it is a park now. The canal has been widened and deepened, eliminating the need of a swing bridge, and holdup of traffic. It is all push button controlled from the lock house. The new bridge is a great improvement and the cliffs along the river below the falls are very picturesque and travellers say are unequalled this side of Switzerland.
Ice going out of the lake in the spring is an interesting sight with large sheets going over the dam and falls. Winter sports are held on the frozen ice out of the lake. Before hydro was generally available, ice was cut in blocks and stored in sawdust for refrigeration purposes and delivered to the houses.
With the Centennial of our Country I am reminded of a large picture of the Fathers of Confederation that hung in our house as long as I can remember. With Confederation, the problem arose of finding a suitable name for our new county arose. This was arrived at when one of the statesmen read the 72 Psalm at the 8th verse. It suggested an appropriate solution to their problem. Quote: He shall have dominion from sea to sea and from the river to the end of the earth. Hence the Dominion of Canada.
My most treasured memory of childhood and indeed my earliest, is my mother’s religious teaching that have made a lasting impression on my whole life. Presbyterian in faith in the catechism was a must, for example:
Question: What is God?
Answer: God is a spirit, infinite, eternal and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness and truth.
Question: What is prayer?
Answer: Prayer is an offering up of ourselves unto God for things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgement of his mercies.
One wonders what the next Centennial will bring. Who knows? Perhaps people will be going to the moon for their holidays. This much I know, looking back from my eightieth year, life is very short, and we pass this way but once.
It takes so little to make us sad,
Just a scornful smile on lips held dear
And our footsteps lag, though the goal seemed near,
So little it takes to make us sad.
It takes so little to make us glad;
Just a cheering clasp of a friendly hand.
Just a friendly word from one who can understand.
And we finish the task we long had planned,
And we lose the doubt and fear we had,
So little it takes to make us glad.
This story is part of our partnership with Maryboro Lodge, The Fenelon Falls Museum.
If you want to make a donation to the museum, you can e-transfer to: [email protected] or mail a cheque to :
Maryboro Lodge Museum
Box 179
50 Oak Street
Fenelon Falls, ON
K0M 1N0
