Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago

Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago

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Title: Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago
Author: Canniff Haight
Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6663] [Yes, we are more than
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LIFE IN CANADA FIFTY YEARS AGO:
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS AND REMINISCENCES OF A
SEXAGENARIAN.
BY CANNIFF HAIGHT

"Ah, happy years! Once more who would not be a boy?"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage._

TO THE YOUNG MEN OF CANADA,
UPON WHOSE INTEGRITY AND ENERGY OF CHARACTER
THE FUTURE OF THIS GREAT HERITAGE OF OURS RESTS,
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

When a man poses before the world--even the Canadian world--in the
role of an author, he is expected to step up to the footlights, and explain
his purpose in presenting himself before the public in that capacity.
The thoughts of the world are sown broadcast, very much as the seed
falls from the sweep of the husbandman's hand. It drops here and there,
in good ground and in stony places. Its future depends upon its vitality.
Many a fair seed has fallen on rich soil, and never reached maturity.
Many another has shot up luxuriantly, but in a short time has been
choked by brambles. Other seeds have been cast out with the chaff
upon the dung heap, and after various mutations, have come in contact

with a clod of earth, through which they have sent their roots, and have
finally grown into thrifty plants. A thought thrown out on the world, if
it possesses vital force, never dies. How much is remembered of the
work of our greatest men? Only a sentence here and there; and many a
man whose name will go down through all the ages, owes it to the truth
or the vital force of the thought embedded in a few brief lines.
I have very little to say respecting the volume here with presented to
the public. The principal contents appeared a short time ago in the
Canadian Monthly and the Canadian Methodist Magazine. They were
written at a time when my way seemed hedged around with
insurmountable difficulties, and when almost anything that could afford
me a temporary respite from the mental anxieties that weighed me
down, not only during the day, but into the long hours of the night,
would have been welcomed. Like most unfortunates, I met Mr.
Worldly Wiseman from day to day. I always found him ready to point
out the way I should go and what I should do, but I have no recollection
that he ever got the breadth of a hair beyond that. One evening I took
up my pen and began jotting down a few memories of my boyhood. I
think we are all fond of taking retrospective glances, and more
particularly when life's pathway trends towards the end. The relief I
found while thus engaged was very soothing, and for the time I got
altogether away from the present, and lived over again many a joyous
hour. After a time I had accumulated a good deal of matter, such as it
was, but the thought of publication had not then entered my mind. One
day, while in conversation with Dr. Withrow, I mentioned what I had
done, and he expressed a desire to see what I had written. The papers
were sent him, and in a short time he returned them with a note
expressing the pleasure the perusal of them had afforded him, and
advising me to submit them to