Histories

Mother's maiden name was Euphemia Roberts and was called Effie for short. Their home was between Dundee & Forfar ( possibly Forthshire). He kept a horse & two cows. There were four rooms in the house & all clothes were made by hand. Father turned his attention to market gardening & for 25 years he lived there. Father & mother had a large family. There was James, Bell, John, Annie, and William (died in Scotland) then Peter, Jean, Charles, George & Ainsworth, & two still born. The year 1854 Father & John took up four acres in the township of Proton, this was in Canada & James also was included in this move. They arrived first in Hamilton in 1853 & then moved to Proton township in 1854. They built two shanties as they were called in those days. We moved up from Hamilton to Proton in the late fall 1854. Ainsworth was born while they were in Hamilton, Ontario. The first stop was at shingles shanty Egermont Township. That was as far as any kind of team could get. From shingles shanty to the 9th concession of Proton lot 15, was twelve miles. Everything had to be carried on their backs through the dense woods. Sister Jean carried me part of the time when I would play out. Mother carried the baby Ainsworth, but mother died May 2nd 1855 & was buried in the woods where she rested for 25 years. A marker for her original grave was at the back of the barn of the homestead where her grandson Charles farmed. Later her remains were moved to Esplin cemetery at the corner of the tenth concession & the twelfth side road. So father grew some turnips on the little bit of land he managed to get ready and bought a large yoke of oxen. So in the late fall father drove them to Mount Forest, tried to sell them. All he was offered was 3 cents a pound live weight. Father sold one and brought the other one home and killed it for our own meat. The family was all home that winter except sister Bell. That winter we chopped out 5 acres. In the spring father bought another yoke of oxen then logged and burned and branded and put in 2 acres of wheat, oats and barley. By this time father's money was getting scarce but we got the crop in. It looked good till the first of August then we had frost and killed it. Then John & Peter had to work out to earn bread for those who were unable to work. John got discouraged at the wages and not much work. He worked at Mount Forest building a dam. He worked all winter so in the spring he pulled up stakes and went to the States. Landed at New Orleans. Civil war broke out at that time so John remained there about a year. His job was washing boats at Fort Sumter but then he contacted yellow fever and started for home up the Mississippi River. He got as far as Cairo, Illinois and got too sick to come any farther and died there and was laid to rest there. The man that took care of him wrote father a nice letter sending him 22 pounds in cash. Seemingly that was left after expenses were paid. He sent his violin & clothes also.
In our home we had neither chairs nor stove but had a fireplace. We cooked all our meals on coals. We had been batching for 3 years so father thought he would get along better if he got himself a wife. He married Mary McQueen an old maid of 55 years old. He got a stove & put it in where the fireplace was to cook on. Charlie, your father, stayed with us until the spring after father got married, then he left home to work for himself.
Our new log house was up and nearly finished. The following fall we moved out of the shanty and into the new one, so one night we had finished supper when a rap came on the door. Our visitor was a big Negro. Father told them to get him some supper. The news soon got to the neighbours to come and see our newcomer. James asked him if he ran away and he said no massa but I walked mighty fast.
The slave question had begun brewing at that time and Uncle Toms cabin got into print and it caused the freedom people to take sides with the Negro. James said I see you are a fiddler. Let us hear you play. So we were treated to a bunch of southern melodies and the long cedar torch of bark gave us what light we had. Brother Charles went for James Smith. He had been a singer in old London and he sure could make you laugh and feel happy with his little comments. Yes we had English, Scotch and Negro at their best that night but I got sleepy and didn't hear the end of the program. There was some happiness in those days.
The first ten years in Proton to describe is beyond comprehension. I will give you a few items as to how we lived. The whole family lived for five to eight weeks by times on biscuits made out of frozen flour and potatoes, dealt out in portions to each one at each meal in order that no one would actually be hungry. Of all the damnable places in the world was Proton. When I think of the hardships we had to come under, I get so mad. I wonder sometimes, if it wasn't the hell so many people talk about back in those times. Adder tongues, cow cabbage, leaks, ground hemlock to no end so the cattle did all right until spring, though the snow was on. In the spring the big job was to hunt the cattle. I often think of the Sunday morning Charles and I went to the river on a cattle trail through the woods to the beaver meadow south of Sandy Gillies. Wolves had attacked the cow and year old calf in the night. They brought the wolves out around a bunch of elder bushes. The calf got home, but its insides were torn out. It died. We had a hard time getting them home. They were real dangerous to go near at first. The Maitland River was some stream at that time. The swamp stayed wet all the time, but it had one good treat we could always get a fine catch of speckled trout. I thought I would go one nice fall day to McPhails in my ragged blue pants, cotton shirt, and bare feet. Archie Campbell was there. He had been there for some time so my sister sent me out to help with the turnips. Georgie was a real live boy, and I guess a bad one. He thought he was going to boss me around. He was two years older than I was, so we got into a real racket. I hit him on the head with a turnip. He ran to the house roaring his head off. I was left alone in the turnip patch till night. When McPhail got home, I was up in the shanty loft in bed, but I heard my sister tell her better half about the fracas the boys had in the afternoon. I heard McPhail say he would attend to me in the morning. It snowed that night, so I heard him get up and go to the stable. I got up and slid down the ladder and beat it home 5 miles bare footed through the snow. Yes, I may say almost naked. I remember I was almost frozen when I got home. The first suit of clothes I ever had, your grandfather made. I worked out and bought the cloth. It was the best fitting suit I ever had.
My wife, Maggie Scarlett, died and my children were at my brother James'. I went to visit your Father, Charles, before going to Michigan. He said, Georgie, let us go fishing. We went down the 17th side road near Pat Gorman's and James Wright's to what was called Shoemakers Hole. Charles got 32 fish and I got 31, so I took mine home to brother James', where my children were. That was my last fishing in that country, so good bye dear niece.

(Note from Bob Milligan. The Archie Campbell mentioned in this letter also moved to Haynes Twp. His farm was at the corner of Quick and Poor Farm roads. He appears to be no relation to Duncan Campbell (yet).)