My father, on his arrival at Long Point, promised my mother that if she would remain contented for six years at Port Ryerse, and give the country a fair trial, if she then disliked it, and wished to return to New York, he would go back with her — that party feeling would by that time have greatly subsided.

My mother now claimed my father’s promise.  He at once acquiesced, and left it to her to decide when they should go, my father well-knowing that however much my mother might wish to return, when left to her to decide, her better judgment would say "Not yet," as the improvements must all be a sacrifice.

To sell his property was impossible.  My mother postponed the return for a few years, but could not relinquish the hope of emerging from the woods, and be once more within the sound of the church-going bell.

My father’s property was fast improving.  He had planted an orchard of apple, peach, and cherry trees, which he procured from Dr. Troyer, whose young trees were a year or two in advance of his own, and he had procured a few sheep which were pastured in a field immediately in front of the house.

But all their watching could not preserve them from the wolves. If they escaped by the greatest care for a year or two, and the flock increased to twenty or thirty, some unlucky day they would find them reduced to ten or a dozen.

A tree sometimes unobserved would fall across the fence, and the sheep would stray into the woods, which was fatal to them; or, the fastening to their pen would be left just one unlucky night not secured, and the morning would show melancholy remainder of the fine flock that had been folded the night before. All of these mishaps were serious vexations to the early settlers.

The mill was a constant draw upon my father’s purse.  A part of his lands had been sold at a very low price (but not low at that time) — one dollar the acre — to assist in building it, and now it had to be kept in repair.

The dam breaking, machinery getting out of order, improvements to be made, bolting cloths wanted, and a miller to be paid — to meet all this was the toll, every twelfth bushel that was ground.

During the summer session the mill would be for days without a bushel to grind, as farmers got their milling done when they could take their grists to the mill on ox-sleds upon the snow.

Few grew more than sufficient for their own consumption and that of the new-coming settler; but had they grown more, there was no market, and the price of wheat until the war of 1812, was never more that half a dollar a bushel; maize, buckwheat, and rye, two shillings (York) a bushel.

The flour mill, pecuniarily speaking, was a great loss for my father.  The saw mill was remunerative; the expense attending it was trifling, its machinery was simple and any commonly intelligent man with a day or two’s instruction could attend to it.

People brought logs of pine, oak, and walnut from their own farms, and my father had half the lumber for sawing; and this, when seasoned found a ready sale, not for cash (cash dealings were almost unknown) but for labour, produce, maple sugar or anything they had to part with which my father might want, or with which he could pay some of his needy labourers.

There were some wants which were almost unattainable with poor people, such as nails, glass, tea, and salt.  They could only be procured in Niagara, and cash must be paid for them.  There was not yet a store at Long Point.

Great were the advantages of the half-pay officers and those who had a little money at their command, and yet their descendants appear not to have profited by it.  It is a common remark in the country that very many of the sons of half-pay officers were both idle and dissolute; but I am happy to say there are many honourable exceptions.

At the head of the list of these stand our present Chief Justice (Sir John Robinson), and Dr. Ryerson, the Superintendent of Education, and many other who deem it an honour to be descended from an United Empire Loyalist.

From a multiplicity of care, my father had postponed from time to time, going to Toronto, or Little York, as it was then called (where the seat of government had been removed), to secure the grant of land which had been promised to his family, until after the departure of his friend General Simcoe, who was succeeded as Governor by General Hunter.

When my father made application to General Hunter, he was told that an order from the Home Government had limited the grants to the wives and children of U.E. Loyalists to 200 acres each; but said that if the Order in Council had passed for the larger grants, of course my father should have the land he had selected; but he, not foreseeing the change, had not secured the order, and General Simcoe’s verbal promise could not be acted upon.

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Copyright 1994-2014 John Cardiff and Port Ryerse Environmental and Historical Society

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