The following memoir was written by Clara Lovina Hinton (nee Peer) in her 88th year. Transcribed from the original document by her grand-daughter Julie Hinton, the memoir reminisces her father, Reuben Peer Senior (1820-1899).
Lost But is Found
How time flies. Here I am 88, 2nd day of last Sept… Born in 1873.
I look but do not feel old and in the night my memory is very active, especially about the earlier years. My special time tonight is the story of my father as he so often entertained his evening visitors with tales of his early days.
The Story Teller
Neighbors and friends would gather in the big living room to listen as father would entertain them to yarns of his early days. Sometimes it would be about races and other times of fights which he had come out of by hard earned victory. One he called the “Bulls run”. He could hold his listeners’ attention. The men who were mostly his neighbors could not be persuaded to leave so their wives had to wait until he finished.
The Contest
I must go back to his childhood. He was keen and full of activity but what a memory and he dearly loved a contest, and to excel. The minister offered a prize. It was a Bible to the boy who would memorize bible verses. The one who could repeat the most verses was presented with a Bible.
Well father, who was 14 or 15, had a wonderful memory and he wanted to win that bible so he set to work to earn it. On the Sunday that was set for the boys to recite, a larger crowd than usual was present. There were five or six boys in a row in front. Some of the boys had a chapter. One had had two chapters, others a few verses. Reuben Peer was called.
He began and went from chapter to chapter. He had the New Testament book after book and was sailing along in his glory for he knew that the other boys were beaten. The minister was anxious for him to get finished but he saw there was no let up and he said he must dismiss the congregation, but Reuben was not nearly through, but he took the Bible the minister gave him. He thanked the minister and said he had not nearly finished.
His brothers John, Henry, Stephen, Oliver, and the youngest, Mid, were proud of him as also were his sisters, Pertan, Hannah, and Mary.
The Seminary
Well the Church people led by the minister went to work. They said such a prodigy must be sent to school. There was no High Schools close in those days, so they arranged for him to attend a seminary in Morristown, U.S. It was just across the St. Lawrence.
In his earlier years an uncle came up from Montreal and wanted him to go home with him. He said he owned a block there. They were French and had been driven out of France and were called Huguenots. It was the early days and France was having plenty of trouble. Peter Peer, Reuben’s father, married an Irish girl whose name was Graham.
Reuben had a great deal of trouble at his school in Morristown. It was during this period he learned to fight. It was a case of take your own part or lose out. I cannot remember how long he remained but eventually he came home and would not go back.
From the Father to the Son
He was a great worker and soon was quite well to do as they used to call it when a man prospered. In those days clearing the land was a job in which many were engaged. Peter Peer had a grant of land but it was all timber. He had to give one section to pay for a team of oxen. These were the early days. That section or community is now one of the best agricultural districts. Life went on regardless of any hardship.
The Peacock Messengers
Well father had a beautiful team of dapple greys. They were called the Pecock Messengers. His pride in telling about them showed his love for them.
One of his tales was about crossing the Bonchere. I have looked in my P.S. Geography and it is not marked on this map but it is a tributary of the Ottawa River. There were very few industries in those early days principally clearing the land so it could be planted for food. There were no good roads and the logs had to be burned as saw mills were not plentiful and there was not much lumber required. There was a great deal of ashes and these were turned into potash, one of the commodities that was profitable. Soon all the available ashes in the settlement were turned into potash and teams would go far into other settlements to bring back a load of ashes.
Having equipment necessary and his wonderful greys, he was a regular teamster and went far a field.
One beautiful bright winter morning he started north to collect a load. He went far. The second day he crossed the Bonchere River. The ice was perfect and he made good time, and by Friday had collected his load and was ready to return.
The weather was very mild; in fact the day grew very warm. He noticed the change as soon as he had started for home. About noon he reached the place where he had crossed the river earlier in the week.
The horses were in great fetal and spun over the ice like whirlwinds. Toward the centre, the water was splashing against the high sleigh box. He saw, to his dismay, the river was breaking up. The mild weather had done the trick. He could see his team was traveling on the icy ridge while on either side water was flowing.
He stood up and held firmly to the lines and talked to his horses in a soothing voice, “Steady boys, steady.”
The team hardly let their feet rest on the road. They knew the danger. If they could reach the far shore it would be by the skill of those horses. Sometimes he felt the sleigh swerve but they kept sailing on. On the far shore a number of men had gathered to witness the wild struggle of the horses to keep on the cone of ice which constituted the road. It was a race with death. The high stepping light footed animals won out. They knew their master’s voice and showed their metal and courage.
As they reached the bank a man stepped forward and said, “Young man you should be horse whipped. This road has been condemned at the beginning of the week.”
Said father to him, “If you think I deserve it, feel my shirt” and there was no sign to say it was condemned.
They rubbed the horses dry and he rested them over night starting early the next morning for his home.
~ Clarissa Lovina Hinton
