Part two of a lengthy set of Reminiscences about the Village of Hamilton, written by the caretaker of the Central Public School, Thomas Ralston and published in the Hamilton Spectator on March 3, 1885.
A VERY
EXCITING CASE
It
was a trial for murder, of James, John and Chris Young, three young men who
lived with their father, a farmer near Ryckman’s Corners. The accuser was a
man confined, at that time, in jail for stealing wheat. He swore that he was
present when the three Youngs killed a young man then employed by their father,
and afterwards saw them put the body in charcoal pit, thus destroying all trace
of their victim.
Warrants
were issued for the arrest of the young men, James and Chris were taken at
once, but, not so John, who, before he was secured, had a very exciting
experience. He had made up his mind to cross the lines at Buffalo and try if he
could not find the man he was accused of murdering.
He
left his father’s on horseback, but no sooner had he emerged from the lane into
the road leading to Hamilton than he was called by a constable, who had been
watching the Youngs’ house from the tavern on the corner. He immediately
mounted his horse and gave chase. John, looking around, saw him, and then
commenced a most exciting race. Down the mountain they came at a fearful pace,
John about a quarter of a mile ahead, but the constable gaining rapidly, and
with a large horse pistol in his hand, shouting at John to surrender.
But
this John had not the least intention of doing. So they came down John street,
and as Young turned Sheldon’s corner into King street, the constable fired at
him but missed. Young kept on his way down the Niagara road, while the
constable turned into Carey’s barn to procure a fresh horse.
HERE
HE WAS FORTUNATE
in finding a racehorse called
Skuball, on which he transformed his bridle and saddle, and he was in trim to
renew the chase in a few minutes. In the meantime, John had kept up a good pace
until opposite the First Methodist church, where his girth broke and he came to
the ground. He was up in a moment, and casting his eye up the road, could as
yet see nothing of the constable; he hastily tied the girth and again mounted.
Just
at this moment, the constable appeared around the corner. The pursuit and
flight again began; but John’s horse could not long hold out against a fresh
antagonist, and when opposite Crosswaite’s – about two miles and a half below
the village, Young slipped off and fell into the woods. The constable gave him
a parting shot from his horse pistol and gave up the pursuit. He returned to
the jail and gave up the warrant to the high constable. This official
immediately saddled his horse, and went in search of Young down the Niagara
road. He called at John Gage’s, who was a constable, and he, having armed with
a rifle, accompanied the high constable.
They
rode all night, arriving at Chippewa early in the morning, and, upon going to
the barn to have their horses fed, discovered Young lying asleep on some straw.
He had walked the whole distance during the night. He was secured at once, and
a horse being provided, his legs were tied under the animal’s belly.
Thus
secured, the trio started back, John gage riding in the rear with his rifle on
the half-cock, and the high constable leading the horse by the bridle.
John
Young being securely jailed, the trial came on at the next King’s bench, and
the three brothers were acquitted, there not being a single item of evidence in
corroboration of the story being told by the King’s informant. Having gained
their liberty, John Young again departed to the states in search of the man
they were accused of murdering. He was not long in finding him. They returned
together and, in company, visited all the people in this neighborhood, thus
convincing everyone who had not already been convinced, of their innocence.
The
wretch who endeavored to have the three innocent men hung, was tried, found
guilty and sentenced to three months’ imprisonment and to stand (in the
pillory) three times, two hours each time. He had a hard experiment while in te
pillory, being pelted with eggs both stale and fresh; he stood it out and then
disappeared.
THE
PILLORY
This
pillory above and stocks beneath were erected on the vacant space between the
log jail and John street.
Two
young ladies from Beverly at one time for the space of two hours. They were
not subjected, however, to the usual pelting process as the high constable
stood at their side during their term.
Those
sentenced to be flogged were triced up to three ring-bolts in the pickets
surrounding the jail. Thirty-nine lashes was always the sentence, and one,
sometimes more, underwent this punishment after every sitting of the courts.
The high constable, being rather tender-hearted, gave each victim before he was
taken out to receive his flogging a tin cup (nearly a pint) of whiskey mixed
with gun powder, this was said to deaden the feeling.
How
sweet that may have been, no one seemed to care for this style of punishment.
Long imprisonment was impossible on account of the limited space of the jail,
and there being no penitentiary at the time, the more serious offences were
sentenced to transportation to the United States. This at least was the only
plan they could take in the limited time they were allowed to vacate his
Majesty’s dominions – forty-eight hours – and if they were caught in that
country after that time, hanging was the penalty.
The
time of holding court was like a fair – booths were erected on the vacant space
next John street, where the hungry and dry could obtain ginger-bread, pumpkin
pies and spice beer. Jurymen, witnesses and clients came from long distances
and had to stay during the sitting of the court at their own expense – no allowance
being made either for jurymen or witnesses – for two or three weeks.
On
these occasions, the taverns were filled, and an immense quantity of whiskey
drank: it was very cheap – three cents brought half a pint. Ten cents a quart,
and eighteen cents a gallon, when purchased by the barrel.
Training
day was a very lively and exciting one in the early times of the village. The
first Gore met annually on King George III’s birthday – June 4. They mustered
on the commons where the wood market now is. The men clustered around their
captains, answered to their names, after which the regiment formed in line, the
colonel paced along the front, and the men were dismissed.
Each
captain then marched his company to the store and, going inside, ordered a
gallon of black strap. The insidious compound was made up by mixing three
quarts of whiskey and one quart of West India molasses. All kinds of utensils
were brought into service to hold the mixture while being passed around to the
brave men who waited it, drawn up in line on the road, and it was no unusual thing
to see a stalwart sergeant passing along the front carrying a chamber utensil
in one hand and a tea cup in the other, giving each man as much as he chose to
take.
The
black strap soon got in its blow, and fights were numerous and bloody. It was a
general belief that no law existed on training day, so that all disputes during
the year were settled at that time.
THE
CHOLERA BROKE OUT
in the village in 1832. The
first case occurred in a frame building in the rear of the Rob Roy hotel. A
shoemaker lived there, and it was his wife who was the first who died.
Two
cases then occurred in the house on the corner – a tavern – both fatal. No one
was attacked in that neighbourhood nearer than the corner of Catharine and
Jackson streets; but numerous persons were attacked in all parts of the
village. It proved fatal in most cases in about three hours. No remedy seemed
to avail.
There
lived here at the time a gentleman named McKenszie. He published a paper in a
small house which stood where Myles’ coal yard now stands – at the corner of
court house square and Hughson street. He had been a hospital steward during
the war of 1812-13, but had never studied medicine. He commenced practise on
the cholera patients and under his care some recovered.
His
services immediately came into great demand. His system consisted in giving
parched corn made into coffee to stop vomiting, burnt brandy and loaf sugar for
the purging, and a strong mixture of salt and water injected into the veins of
the patient. It is said that he injected as much as three pints into one of his
patients who recovered.
McKenzie
afterwards got a licence to practise, but became involved in the rebellion of ’37,
and left the country.
BURIED
ALIVE
Those who died of the cholera
were buried in all haste – some, it is said, were put into their coffins before
they had drawn their last breath – especially was this said of Mr. Tidd, the
keeper of the jail. He and his wife both fell victims, but none of the
prisoners nor neither of the turnkeys, of whom they were two, and one of them
had a wife, took the disorder.
After
the death of Mr. Tidd, the prisoners were all turned out, they promising to
come back again when wanted; but none were again seen except one McDougall, who
was in for horse-stealing, and he only again occupied his former cell after a
long and spirited chase down Main street.
Every
time the steam boat landed emigrants at the wharf, some were either suffering
or immediately attacked with the disease. To care for these people a hospital
was established on the height in one of the barrack rooms, then standing. This
was put in charge of an old soldier named Hyslop. He, as he was accustomed to
say, had been in climes that would freeze you toes off, and was thus prepared
for all contingents.
A
QUART OF WHISKEY A DAY
was his usual ration, and he got
away with it without apparently being the least affected.
The
heights, at that time, were covered by hazel-nut bushes, and among these were
large numbers of rattlesnakes. Hyslop had caught two of great size and kept
them in an empty flour barrel by his beside. They could just get their heads
partly over the upper rim of the barrel, but no far enough to have any purchase
to raise themselves.
The
old soldier, who was neither afraid of cholera or rattlesnakes, did not remain
in charge of the hospital long; he was taken down with cholera and died within
three hours.
Few
of the cases taken out to this hospital recovered, as they were, in almost
every case, in the last stage when taken there. A quarantine was established,
and Robert Hughson was appointed boarding officer. Capt. Richardson, with his
steamboat, came through the canal, and was making his way to the foot of James
street when he was met by Mr. Hughson and ordered to stop, and be examined.
This he refused to do, and ran his boat up to the wharf.
The
boarding officer was powerless alone, so he took a horse and came up to the
court house, where the court happened to be in session. He laid the matter
before the presiding judge, who issued his mandate, ordering the steamer’s crew
to be brought before him.
The
high constable took all the constables attending court, and with Mr. Tidd, the
jailer, and Robert Hughson, proceeded on the double-quick to Land’s wharf,
where the steamer had gone. All armed themselves, as they passed through the
woods with clubs.
Arriving
at the wharf, the steamer was boarded fore and aft, when
A
MOST DESPARATE FIGHT
took place with the crew who
resisted the boarding party, using iron wrenches and hand spikes, but they were
soon overpowered and marched up to the court house, where they were soundly
lectured by the judge and dismissed. The law had been vindicated, and Capt.
Richardson promised to submit to quarantine in the future.
AFTER
THE CANAL
was made through the beach, the
town took a very decided start. More stores and taverns were opened, one of the
latter, Benley’s became the stage house of a line of coaches run daily between
Niagara and Sandwich by Mr. Stephenson, of St. Catharines, of which Milton
Davis was a partner and agent in Hamilton.
All
the pork, wheat, and pot and pearl ashes, east of London, was brought here by
sleighs in the winter for shipment. Forty or fifty loaded sleighs coming in one
string down the John street road. More commodious storehouses and wharves were
created at the foot of James street.
The
store keepers then commenced to go to Montreal for their goods. They had before
obtained their supplies from Niagara. Wheat at this time sold for five York
shillings (62 ½ cents) a bushel, pork $2.50 per hundred, wood 75 cents per
load, potatoes 10 cents a bushel, butter 10 cents per pound and apples could be
had for the picking. 1
1
"Hamilton As It Was : Something Over a Half Century Ago : Remarkable Incidents Told By One Who Was There and Knows All About Them"
Hamilton Spectator. March 3, 1885
