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Burrows,
F.
During
the summer of 1888 a young man walked from Morden to Deloraine to make
application at the Land Titles Office for a homestead. The N.E.
quarter of 22 – 1 – 17 was granted to him and there, Fred Burrows and
his younger brother, George, both born in London, England, of English
and Welsh parentage, built a log house and stable. They bought a
team of oxen, Buck and Bright, and began tilling the soil. So the
foundations were laid for another pioneer family.
Some
of
their neighbours were: Mr. & Mrs. R. Church, Mr. & Mrs.
J. Barber, Mr. & Mrs. H. Rowson, Mrs. & Mrs. W. Monteigh, and
five miles to the East, Mr. & Mrs. David Cullen.
Mr.
Cullen from Bayfield, Ontario, had taken up his homestead early in
1882. A few months later, Mrs. Cullen and family joined
him. It was their eldest daughter, Mary, who on March 20th, 1889
became Mrs. F. Burrows. Many times have I heard my parents
describe that lovely spring day with the farmers at work seeding their
land. During the night a snow storm came on which lasted for
several days. Snowdrifts were higher than they had been all
winter and for two weeks no one ventured far from his door.
The
following summer was hot and dry so the crops were almost a total
failure. When the grain was cut in the fall a very small stack
contained my father’s crop.
Farming
was primitive in those days but sowing grain by hand soon gave way to
the seeder; the cradle for reaping to the reaper and binder; the scythe
to the mower, and the flail to the threshing machine. The first
separators had no straw carriers and men had to cut the bands of the
sheaves.
Horse
power machines were followed by those driven by steam engines.
The threshed grain was stored in granaries on the farm, but in 1904,
the C.N.R. built a branch line from Greenway through Holmfield, Lena
and Wakopa to Deloraine, thus providing an easy market for the grain.
Oxen,
as a rule, were hard working, patient animals but at times very ornery
and unpredictable as proved by the following story:
One day
my parents were going visiting. Buck and Bright were hitched to
the wagon. A short distance from home the oxen began to run –
finally breaking into a gallop. The road was abandoned, across
the prairie, over the stones, up hill and down dale they went with the
wagon following and its occupants holding on for “dear life.” As
they approached a river, nowhere near the bridge, my father, who
carried a long willow branch, began vigorously to apply it to the
leading ox and also by much “Hawing” or “Geeing,” whichever necessary,
succeeded in changing the course of the animals. Coming at last
to the bridge the crossing was made in a quiet manner as the cattle
were exhausted and, I might add, so were the humans.
Horses
replaced the oxen. With improved roads many buggies, democrats
and even ‘a surrey with a fringe on the top’ owned by Mr. Dell came
into use. Later came ‘the horseless carriage’ as my brother
George referred to the automobile of the early 1900’s. One was a
Maxwell whose owner often drove into our yard to get water for the
engine. As we lived beside the highway leading from St. John,
North Dakota, to Killarney, Manitoba, we saw many Americans passing by
in their cars.
Plum
Hollow school house was built in 1889, about one and one-half miles
north of its present site. The first trustees were J. Barber, H.
Beach and F. Burrows. It was there that my brothers, David,
George, Cecil and I were introduced tour A B C’s. We were taught
to read by the phonic system and in a very short time could read simple
stories from a child’s magazine “The Northern Messenger.” Our
work was done on slates to the ear-splitting screech of a slate pencil.
Our
first teacher was Miss A. Pollock, La Riviere, Manitoba, who taught
during the seasons of 1899, 1900 and 1901. In 1902 Mrs. George
Church, nee Miss McCaul, carried on the good work and she in turn was
followed by Mrs. David Sproule, nee Miss Montague, Mrs. Coulter, nee
Miss Effie Johnston, and Mrs. Peters, nee Miss Innes.
Transferring
to Lena our first classroom was in the Lena Hotel as the school was not
finished. Among our first teachers were Miss Wilton, Mr. G. N.
Treleaven and Mr. H. Elliott. Several of the first trustees were
R. Henry, A. E. Foster, H. Hicks and F. Burrows.
After
1892 religious services were held in Plum Hollow school house.
Before that the neighbours gathered in homes on Sunday afternoon.
When service was over, I am told, the congregation occasionally
remained for supper.
The
ministers were young students – very earnest ones too who tried to
impress their listeners. One Sunday the text was “All Men are
Sinners.” Looking over the congregation, the minister singled out
one man and with a slight change of name said “Mr. – is a man.
All men are sinners, therefore Mr. – is a sinner.” Everyone
remembered that sermon. Later the services were held in Lena and
conducted by a resident Killarney minister.
Before
the year of 1904 our shopping was done in Killarney – a distance of
nearly nine miles, although occasionally peddlers came to our door
selling children’s clothing, yardage goods, household wares and even a
few small tools. There were book agents too, apparently concerned
over one’s health so they could sell a Doctor book. There were
also men designing to get orders for the enlargement of pictures.
One day a man arrived on the scene selling kitchen ranges. The
salesman proved the durability of his wares by standing on the oven
door and throwing the stove lids against the wagon wheel. By
turning a handle, the firebox could be converted into a container for
burning coal. Now this was a real attraction as firewood was
becoming harder to obtain so the range was bought on the understanding
that, as there had been a considerable loss of time, the agent would
pitch off a load of hay while my father built the stack. This was
done and every one was satisfied.
With
reference to obtaining firewood from the Turtle Mountains, I should
like to say that that was a difficult task in the severe winter
weather. Father wore his warmest clothing topped by a fur coat
that was tied with a red scarf.
The
horses were hitched to the doubled-up sleigh runners on which had been
braced a bundle of hay and a feeding of oats. Horse blankets
thrown over the hay provided a comfortable seat for the driver.
As the journey of about eight miles began before dawn a very lonely
feeling permeated the surroundings. The snow stretched out for
miles around and there were no lights in the farm homes. Nearer
the woods wolves gave forth their blood-curdling howls. It seemed
strange that when a gun was carried not a wolf appeared, but when there
was no gun the wolves were extremely bold and came within a short
distance of the sleigh.
When
a
satisfactory clump of trees was located the cutting and loading
began. This took several hours and was very hard work.
Father’s failure to return from one of these trips caused our family
much concern. The time for his arrival came and passed.
Darkness came on as we watched and waited. Then we went outside
to listen for sleigh bells or a cheery voice speaking to the horses but
again we were disappointed. There were no telephones in those
days. Next morning, just after daybreak as some one was preparing
to go in search of him, we looked towards distant hill and our worries
were over. Passing the home of Uncle George and Aunt Jennie
Burrows, Father soon drove into our own yard. Everyone
cheered. Our cousins, Will and Mrs. Shaw from London, England,
were with us then, and I can remember Will saying, “Welcome home,
Fred. It’s as good as a birthday to see you.” Drifting snow
the previous afternoon had caused heavy roads. Three miles from
home the horses became too tired to pull the load. Father
unhitched them and drove them to the nearest neighbour’s home.
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Henry made him most welcome. After a night’s
rest the animals were back to their usual strength.
In
those early days strangers often appeared at a farmer’s door and asked
for a night’s lodging. No one was refused but sometimes a
sleepless night would be the result as it so happened with us.
One late afternoon a man’s request for food and shelter was granted,
but as the evening advanced it became increasingly clear from his
furtive movements and restless watchful eyes that all was not well.
This uneasiness worried my parents so that when it was time for the
evening chores my father suggested to him that he might help. Outside
the stranger walked around the house, the woodpile, granaries and
stables, then carefully examined each horse. Finally pointing to
one he remarked that that one should be able to run. A negative
reply was given.
During
their absence Mother had put the children to bed in her room, also
taking in the gun and a box of ammunition. The stranger’s bed was
made on a couch in the kitchen. Soon the light from the coal oil
lamp was extinguished and all was quiet – but not for long as the
uneasy man began his wanderings. Knocking on my parents’ bedroom
door he called “Boss, Boss.” No reply was made although both were
awake and fully dressed. Then he walked to the foot of the stairs
and said, “Come down, I know you are up there.” When no reply was
forthcoming, the worried man opened the door and went outside.
Returning to the house, he’d lie down for a short time, then rise and
follow the same procedure as before.
At
last
the long night came to an end. After breakfast the stranger
removed two revolvers from his holster. These revolvers were
unloaded, cleaned, loaded and replaced. Then to the great relief
of two anxious, weary persons the man continued on this way.
Later that day two American policemen came by. They were
searching for a man who had killed a little boy in Virginia and had
escaped custody. The description proved that it was he whom we had
befriended. The Americans kept out of sight when they arrived in
Killarney, but suggested to some townsmen that if a man answering to
the description they gave should appear at the hotel he should be
treated at the bar. This was done and soon the inebriated man was
relieved of his weapons and handcuffed. The following day the
three Americans returned to the U. S. A.
The
winters were long and cold but we were never lonely. Twice a week
– Tuesdays and Saturdays – the neighbours called for their mail.
Father was postmaster from the year 1892 to 1905. The mail was
carried by Mr. J. Williams, assisted by his son Arthur, and later by
Mr. H. Hunter, from Killarney to Lyonshall, Wakopa, Lena and back to
Killarney.
There
were parties and dances for the adults. Neighbours often came
during the evenings and we chatted, played games or had a sing song.
As
children we were well supplied with books and games. A game
called “Din” requires special mention as I am sure it was the noisiest,
most amusing game ever made for children. Each card represented a
different part of an animal, eg. dog’s leg, pig’s snout, donkey’s tail,
etc. The same number of cards was required to complete a set for
each of the various animals. The cards were shuffled and
dealt. Each person decided on the animal he wished to complete
and tried to trade off his other cards. By grunting like a pig,
barking like a dog, etc. he made known the cards of the animal he
desired. You can imagine the weird sounds that were
produced! Sometimes our parents played with us. Mostly, I
think, in self-defence.
Spring,
summer and autumn were the busy seasons. The men worked early and
late in the fields. Mother also worked early and late. She cared
for the needs of four children as well as discharging her many other
duties.
Mother
was an excellent housekeeper and a good cook. Grandmother Cullen
in her quaint Irish way would often remark, “All my daughters and
daughters-in-law can make a bite that you could eat.”
During
the summer a half day was taken for the annual picnic and a day for
picking wild raspberries in the Turtle Mountains. There were barn
raising “bees” followed by a dance as well as quilting “bees” enjoyed
by the women.
The
summer’s main event was “The Killarney Fair.” Everyone for miles
around attended at least one day. After considerable anxiety by
the children concerning the weather the day usually dawned bright and
clear. Chores were done in record time; lunches were packed and
we were soon on our way. Arriving at the “Grounds” which were
then East of Town, the relatives – A. E. Foster’s, J. Cullen’s, G.
Burrow’s and W. Shaw’s were contacted and a place and time for lunch
decided upon. In a shady spot the women spread newspapers on the
grass, covered them with tablecloths and then arranged the food.
What an appetizing display! Varieties of sandwiches, pies and
cakes. There were lemon tarts, strawberry tarts, cookies, cream
puffs and all sorts of dainties to whet appetites that required no
whetting.
The
women spent the afternoon viewing the handicrafts, chatting with their
neighbours and watching the judges as they awarded the prizes for the
animals and poultry. The men were even more interested in the
animals but they also spent considerable time examining the new models
of machinery. The ‘games-of-chance’ stationed along the midway
were well patronized. The children crowded around the
merry-go-round. Excitement reigned supreme!
The
afternoon parade was led by the Killarney Ladies’ Band, the Mayor of
the Town and the executives of the Fair Board. Following came the
prize-winning animals – horses and cattle of various classes and ages –
all groomed to the nth degree and led by their proud owners.
In
the
evening we attended the grandstand performance with its many thrilling
acts. One that impressed me particularly was “The Knife
Thrower.” A man and woman came on the platform. The woman
stood with her back to a board wall and was entirely covered by heavy
paper. Standing at a distance of a few yards from her was the
blindfolded man with a long-bladed knife in his hand. When all
was quiet, the woman rattling the paper would designate where a knife
was to be placed. This performance continued until the woman was
hemmed in by knives. To create more excitement the thrower would
deliberately toss a knife too high. It would disappear behind the
stage. A great sigh of relief was heard when the paper was torn
and the woman stepped out entirely unharmed.
Then
came the fireworks and soon the men could be seen hurrying to where
their horses were tied. The animals were frightened by the swish,
explosion, and bright lights. It would take two men to hitch the
horses to the vehicle in which the mother and children had seated
themselves. The driver took his place, wrapped the reins tightly
around each hand and the homeward journey began. Away from the
noise and confusion the horses calmed down to a steady pace. The
children closed their weary eyes and the Big Day was over.
The
years passed on and the children became adults. David (deceased
1952) who married Myrtle Hefford of Miami, had three sons, John, James
and David. George, who never married, passed away in 1942.
Cecil, who married Evelyn Martin of Shoal Lake, has one son
Brian. These four children gave much pleasure to their
grandparents and are ample assurance of the name being carried on.
As for
me, after a life time of teaching, I now have time for recollections
which include happy memories of my life at Lena and Killarney.
Yes,
there were days of happiness, but there were also days of sadness,
anxiety, and deep disappointments. Through it all my parents had
Faith, Hope and Courage which helped them to weather the storms of
life. Charity was shown too by their willingness ‘to go the
second mile.’
“Their
labours o’er, may they rest well.”
Anne Burrows
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