For some reason, James decided to omit names, or use people's nicknames in his memoirs. The main people presented in the story are:
Author: James M. Ewens
Mr. L----: Edward M. Loggin (see Pioneers Of Manitoba, paragraph 5)
Marshall: Hugh Marshall Dyer
F.: Frank Pearson
We spent the evening listening to our host playing the violin and I was induced to help out with a song or two, thereby letting myself in for endless evenings of sing-songs during our bachelor days. The next afternoon brought us to our journey's end.
The post-master and his wife were a superior couple and their log house was roomy and clean. Our friend, L----, had been there and informed them that we might turn up anytime, so we were accomodated with comfortable beds and what a luxury to undress and rest, warm and dry, after that week of rain and mosquitoes and misery!
The house was on the banks of Stoney Creek, where there was usually a good bridge, but again the bridge was gone and a furious current swept between high banks. Fortunately one large stringer remained under about three feet of surging water and as Mr. L---- lived about five miles south, in the morning Marshall and I decided to try crossing and make our way to our future home, leaving the two youngsters till we could come back with wagon and team for them and our trunks.
We found the stream much stronger than we had imagined, and it was with greatest difficulty that we could cling to the stringer with our bare feet, balancing ourselves by holding on to the willows that overhung the water.
We got about half-way across without mishap, but then Marshall's feet were swept away from under him, luckily I was able to grab him with one hand and after a fierce struggle he got back to safety. It is doubtful if Marshall would have been able to regain the bank if he had gone downstream, as the furious rush of water through the willows and snags and rocks would have made rescue difficult.
We had not got a mile on our road before we struck another creek which we had to swim, and about every mile what in dry seasons were only ravines were now too deep to bottom.
At last we came in sight of Mr. L----'s house, but to our disgust another creek that had overflowed its banks for about one hundred yards, flowed between us and the rest. We had managed to keep our shirts fairly dry by carrying them in one hand while swimming. We waded into this last creek and found it was shallow and had almost got to the other bank, when Marshall who was a step in front of me disappeared with a choking gurgle. I found myself going but was too far in to save myself, so flung my clothes over safely and followed Marshal. He came up using rather strong language, as he had nothing dry in which to present himself to our host.
He and his son had seen us coming and came out and gave us a hearty welcome, although we must have presented a sorry spectacle, almost naked and covered from head to foot with a mass of angry looking mosquito bites.
The next day we took the team and went back for the two boys and our trunks. We carried them all across and as the water had gone down considerably, accomplished the return journey without any mishap, except a wetting, to which by this time we were pretty well inured.
We found L---- and his eldest boy, who had come out from England with him, and put in their small bit of crop and were ready to start breaking. We were anxious to learn to plough, so the next morning L---- hitched the team, a small horse and a skewball pony, to the breaker plow and gave us our first lesson in plowing.
The team were much too light for the job, and had to rush at it to get there at all, which made the handling of a plow to a greenhorn no sinecure. Marshall and I each took turns at holding and trying to guide the plow, but despite all our efforts, and the application of an immense amount of muscle, it seemed to have an aggravating way of shooting out to one side or the other. When we struck a stone, which we not unfrequently did, the handles would either fly up over our heads or strike us such a thump in the ribs, that it is a mercy we are alive to tell the tale. L---- would keep saying, "Hold her as you would a lady, gently but firmly." We certainly were trying the firmly part, but for the life of us could not see where the gently came in. However, patience and perserverence will do wonders, and in a few days we were able to plow alone. I am afraid, however, the furrow was more like a corkscrew than a straight line.
As Marshall fancied himself a bit of a carpenter, I was left to do most of the plowing, and he helped L---- in the building of a new and more pretentious house. I am proud to look back and think that I broke nearly twenty acres with that team of screws, and they never had a feed of oats, but were turned loose on the prairies at noon and night to pick their living. The horse's name was Jim and the pony's Prince. There was nothing princely about him. He must have had a rough time with his former owner, a ship's stoker, as he was as poor as Job's turkey and mange all over.
L---- had a recipe for curing this unpleasant disease, but had forgotten the quantities of the ingredients. I believe it was sulphur, coal oil and carbolic acid in certain proportions. Unfortunately, he put a double dose of the latter into this concoction, and I, as teamster, was instructed to rub it well in. He soon began to show signs of objecting to this disfiguring application, but I had a will of my own too, and in the end he had a pretty thorough dressing. As it was getting dark when I finished, I left him for the night, evidently by his actions preferring the disease to the cure. The next morning, on visiting the stable to see how my charges fared, I was thunder struck to find my skewball pony as bare of hair as a baby, and resenting any approaches from myself. In a few days all his skin peeled off and left him a beautiful pink and needless to say it had affected a perfect cure. I now began to fancy myself as a bit of a vet. and had serious thoughts of putting my mange cure on the market. Alas what I have missed by not doing so, I see ladies now are rubbing it in to their heads to make hair grow, or at least to stop it falling out, perhaps it has a different effect on humans.
Our nearest town was sixteen miles away, through the brush and mudholes, one of the vilest roads that it was possible to imagine, so when groceries were needed we found it easier to walk, than to take a team and timber carriage through the mud. Many a trip Marshall and I took and brought a bag of groceries on our backs through the mud and mosquitoes. We were now in fine fit and thought little of that thirty-two miles and in the evening on our return would put on the gloves, which luckily we had brought with us. They wiled away many an evening after our work was over and as we had no books or papers, were glad of any excitement to break the monotony.
We generally had to take our turn at a week's cooking, and as the cook was supposed to first get the dinner before cooking it, I preferred the work on the farm, however hard. A duck apiece was the rule and the poor cook who failed to shoot the required number, was met with abuse in no measured terms when five hungry men answered the dinner gong. Our bread was made with soda and tartaric acid and as the acid was twice the price of the soda, we generally put a double dose of the former, which made the bread decidedly indigestible, but although we have probably suffered since from the effects, we did not grumble then, but were only anxious to get enough of anything to fill that empty void that seemed ever with us. Tiring of the monotony of dough bread and hearing that an Irish lady nearby was baking yeast bread, Marshall volunteered to go and get some yeast and instructions for baking. He returned proudly bearing a crock of yeast, and in high and mighty manner informed us he knew all there was to know about baking, and was going to give us a real treat with a batch of yeast bread. He retired to the lean-to kitchen and performed certain rites that he only understood.
Next day the ceremony of baking was performed, but after two hours in the oven and a great expenditure of fire wood the loaves remained solid as soap. A few more hours of heat failed to rouse them to life, but as dinner was ready and we were ravenous with anticipation we decided to tackle it as it was. But the first few mouthfuls caused such roars of disgust and resentment that the cook discreetly retired to the kitchen followed by chunks of a solid and soap-like substance. On making enquiries we found that he had mixed up his instructions as well as the ingredients, and had put in all the jar of yeast, which was meant for several bakings, consequently the bread tasted like condensed yeast cakes. "Never no more" did we risk our lives at the hands of this master baker, we simply refused to allow him to interfere with the culinary arrangements. We had numerous surprises at meals, however, notably when one of the younger boys took a week as cook and we found to our disgust that he had omitted to clean the ducks. Needless to say his services were also dispensed with.
L---- was a most interesting companion when in the humor. He had spent thirteen years in the Argentine, as a sheep and horse rancher. Starting with a good capital, all went well till Civil War broke out, and then disaster overtook him. His life there would make a book of interesting reading. The rebel army camped on his ranch, took his horses for the cavalry, and slaughtered his sheep to feed the hungry mob. He told the tale of hiding his favorite driving mare in the drawing room, having padded her feet, and hung a bran mash on her head in a nose bag, while the officers were eating and drinking in the next room. Having plied them plentifully with wine, he managed to escape while they were all asleep, taking his wife and young daughter in the dog-cart three hundred miles to Buenos Aires. Camping in a small tent on the road their second daughter was born. They arrived at the sea board penniless and had to wait there till their passage money was forwarded from England. L---- was a well educated and very well read man, and having an excellent memory, he beguiled many an evening with story and apt quotation from authors and poets.
A break from the farm work was made by a visit to Portage la Prairie for supplies. Marshall had bought a span of ponies and decided to take them instead of the farm team. Unfortunately, he had not found out that one of them named "Buggins" was baulky until he was loaded up and ready to start home. Then the fun began, Buggins refusing to shake the dust of the town off his feet. He remained an immovable statue despite all the ingenious devices and sure cures administered by various horsey individuals amongst an interested crowed on Main Street. Finally, a fire was lit under him as a last resort, but Buggins decided to die the death of a martyr and promptly laid down on it, and to save his life we had to extinguish it. We just had to wait till he was good and ready and, as there was nothing to eat within range, he at last consented to start, and once going he proved strong and untireable. About half way home on being turned loose to feed, he struck off and joined a band of Indians and their ponies on their way back to Portage. Marshall had a thirty mile trudge and a heated argument with the Indians before he recovered him. Marshall had a mind of his own and dearly loved a scrap, so it would have taken more than a band of Nitches to stop him, as the Germans found out to their cost later in life. Haying in those days was a different proposition to what it is now. All the hay was cut with a scythe. L---- was a splendid mower, having learnt the art in the old country. His strong back and long reach made it an easy job for him to run away from us tyroes. Marshall was game, however, and stuck to it like a leach and would never admit that his back and arms ached. I concluded that my anatomy was not properly constructed for this kind of work, so I followed with a home-made wooden rake and fork, and raked and coiled what they cut with the occasional help of the younger boys. Our hayrack was a wierd contraption, built on the wagon box, which rocked and swayed in an alarming manner in crossing the rough prairie. We did all the load and stack building in the old fashioned way, with our hands, and as the pitching with the wooden forks was very slow, it took some time to get all our hay up, but eventually we had a very respectable stack of well cured hay to show for our work, enough to keep all the animals till the next summer.
Harvest was almost a repetition of haying, as L---- and Marshall cradled the crop, and the rest bound and stocked it. As I had shown some skill in building hay, I was chosen to build the grain stacks. Having often watched the proceedings in England, I bound my knees in old bags, and went at it on my hands and knees, getting down between every load to pat the butts level with a board, and when they were all completed there was a fairly respectable "rick yard". Finding that my stacks were good to turn the rain, I was in great request for some years till stook threshing came in, and I got so much of it that at night I often wished I had never seen a stack, much less built one.
During the summer we tramped the country to locate homesteads. L---- was a walking encyclopedia and knew every corner stake for miles around. I finally decided to take up a quarter near at hand and one day having rustled the necessary ten dollars, I made my way on foot to the land office at Odanah and came home that night the proud possessor of one hundred and sixty acres of the best land in the world. Marshall and our young friend decided to jump two half sections that had been homesteaded but never lived on, so we began quite a little settlement of our own.
I borrowed L----'s team for a day and broke an acre as a start, which I backset later and the next year planted to potatoes, which I was destined never to harvest as the breachy herd of cattle belonging to a neighbor did all the harvesting for me while I was hired out and not able to look after it.
But, I am getting ahead rather too fast. Threshing in those days was not begun till after freeze up, so after fall plowing and backsetting were done and winter had set in, one day a horse power outfit pulled into the yard and all the neighbors coming to help, it was not long before all the little crop was safely in the granary.
After supper, songs as usual enlivened the evening, when someone suggested the gloves. Most of the Canadians had never seen such things, but were anxious to try conclusions with the green Englishmen. These strong, active, hardy lads were no mean antagonists and gave Marshall and me some pretty rough handling, as their idea was to hit, and hit as hard as they knew how. At last one of the owners of the machine put them on with me. He was a active as a cat and with muscles of steel and the fun waxed fast and furious. His old grandfather an old Cumberland man, sat in the corner and cheered him on, shouting, "Hit 'im on the nase, Garge", which he tried his best to do and sometimes succeeded, making me see stars. I kept dogging him and edging away as I saw by his looks that he was taking things in earnest. At last he landed me one, and stepping back to save myself, the old man's legs caught me behind the knees and I landed on my back in the corner, amidst the cheers and shouts of his adherents.
I am afraid my temper was a little ruffled after this, as I had been playing pretty lightly and had taken some pretty rough stuff without retaliating. Jumping to my feet, I began to let myself go and soon had him on the retreat. He made a wild dash at me just as I was leading for his face and the result was rather startling. His head struck the log walls with a thud that would have put most men out of business, but he was up and at me like a wild cat, trying to tear off the mitts. Things had gone far enough, so with some difficulty we adjourned until some future meeting. Many a night during threshings, for several years, those old mitts created fun of the liveliest description. Laughing until our sides ached, we watched these young amateurs knocking the stuffing out of one another.
Winter brought heavy snow and we found plenty to do, getting firewood and logs out of the bluffs. The snow was drifted so deep that we could not get the team in in in some places, so had to carry all the wood out over the snowdrifts. Occasionally they would not carry the added weight of the load and we would disappear with the wood on top, which was quite past a joke.
Marshall had got himself engaged before he left home and now decided to go home, get married and bring his bride out in the spring. In order to get the necessary funds for the journey home, L---- had to sell some of his wheat and advance him the money, which meant drawing the grain to Carberry, a trip of thirty miles across the plains. As we had no sleigh, L---- got some oak out of the bluffs, and soon had quite a respectable looking running gear manufactured. It was built on the same principal as the Red River cart, all wood, no iron entered into its composition. As we had only a few gunny sacks and the box was hardly grain tight, one of our best sheets was requisitioned, the box was filled loose and the bags were placed on top.
We were up early and a good way on our journey, when the sun rose on a snappy 25' below morning. Things went fairly well for a bit, although the wooden runners ran heavily and made the ponies sweat. There was too much play in the pole and soon the sleigh started running off the trail, which was about four feet high, and bringing the team up short. Not being very good to draw, we had to unload the gunny sacks and after much persuasion, we got the sleigh on the trail again about 100 yards away. Did you ever carry gunny sacks full of wheat one hundred yards? If you have you will sympathize with us. But it had to be done and after a series of what seemed endless trips, we were loaded up and made a fresh start. But drive as carefully as we could, the same thing happened so often that we lost count and ten o'clock found us only six miles from home, but luckily near a neighbor's house. We gave up all hope of arriving at our journey's end with this outfit, so we left the sleigh and loaf and walked home.
The next two days were spent in building another sleigh but that one seemed to suffer from the same complaint and the neighbor taking compassion offered us the loan of his iron shod sleigh which we gladly accepted and we made the trip to within a few miles of Carberry that night, sleeping at a small stopping house, and getting to the station in good time the next morning. We then had to bag up the loose wheat, carry it into the car, weigh and dump it, getting the necessary money just in time for Marshall to catch the express, leaving me a homesick, dejected looking specimen of humanity to wend my weary back over those thirty miles of bleak, bitterly cold country.
As it got near spring, L---- got word that the bride and bridegroom were on their way out, accompanied by the bride's sister, L----'s wife and a small son and daughter. The day before they were due to arrive, L---- started with the sleigh to Carberry, leaving instructions for us to have the house clean and ship-shape. There then ensued a riot of house-cleaning. I rashly volunteered to scrub the floor which had not seen soap and water since it was laid. Not having anything larger that a nail brush, it was a long and wearisome job, but I surveyed my handiwork with some pride when it was done.
Unfortunately the travellers had stayed over a few days at New York, throwing us out of our calculations. After keeping everything in apple pie order for two or three days, we got rather careless, as some bachelors have a way of doing, and the party turned up unexpectedly.
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