The early days of Eden Mills

Eden Mills, a short distance up the Eramosa River from Guelph, has a reputation as a quiet and picturesque rural village. But, it wasn't always so. When Aaron and Daniel Kribs arrived the site on 14 April 1842, it had a good water supply but not much else to recommend it (Mercury, 20 July 1927):

Finding that there was sufficient fall in the bed of the river to raise about eight feet head of water at that place, they proceeded, after building each a shanty, to clear the ground for the mill dam. This required a good deal of courage, for a more dreary or unsightly looking place could not be found in the whole township, than it was at that date.

Despite the rough nature of the terrain, the availability of water and timber, plus the determination of the brothers, made them press on:

However, the Messrs. Kribs pushed ahead, and by the 1st of October of the same year, had the dam completed, the saw mill running, and a good one it was too, for an old fashioned water mill. Having a good lot of pine trees convenient to the mill, they set to work sawing lumber, and very soon the people found a way to get it out from the place. Although they had only a miserable apology for a road, yet the lumber was taken away as fast as cut, and they did very well that fall and winter.

(Postcard of "Mill pond, Eden Mills," ca. 1955.)

Daniel Kribs was born near Hamilton in 1816 and moved with his family to Eramosa in 1826 (Globe, 6 December 1898). The new mill was evidently the Kribs brothers' chance to make a name for themselves. So, they called their new locale "Kribs Mills" (sometimes spelled "Cribbs Mills").

("Grist Mill," ca. 1923; Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-15-0-0-340. These stone buildings replaced the frame mills built by the Kribs.)

Flushed with success, the Kribs brothers added an oatmeal and a grist mill to their enterprise. Unfortunately, this addition proved their undoing. The millwright they hired to construct it did a poor job, resulting in an underpowered mechanism that could grind only a fraction of the capacity required to run at a profit.

The brothers persevered but could not make good their debts.

In the spring of 1846, Adam Lind Argo came to the town and saw an opportunity. He offered the Kribs $5000 for their operation and lands and, although it was only half their investment, they accepted and washed their hands of the operation. Daniel Kribs later moved to Guelph, where he became a court bailiff and a respected member of the community.

Adam Argo was born about 1809 in Foveran, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and immigrated to Canada in 1836. He gained milling experiece in Bridgeport and Preston before striking out on his own. Thanks to his experience and acumen, he was able to remodel the Kribs's mills and keep them running in the black.

Unsurprisingly, Adam chose to rename Kribs Mills and selected "Eden Mills" instead. Various stories are told about his reason for this choice. One story is that the name "Eden" was adopted to help attract interest in the otherwise unappealing locale, rather as Erik the Red choose the name "Greenland" for the icy North Atlantic island he was trying to sell back in frosty Iceland. Another story is that the name "Eden" had a Biblical provenance: Just as the original Adam came from Eden, so this new Adam would return there, in a manner of speaking. Another possibility is that Mr. Argo choose "Eden" in memory of his homeland, where there are a number of places featuring that name, such as Eden Castle in Aberdeenshire.

(Postcard of street scene of Eden Mills, 1905; Courtesy of Wellington County Museum & Archives A1989.101.)

Whatever the reason, Eden Mills ultimately proved attractive. The Mitchell’s Canada gazeteer of 1864 gives the following description and list of village enterprises, suggesting a thriving community:

Eden Mills, C.W.—A village, situated on the river Speed, in the township of Eramosa, count of Wellington, containing a good female school, three churches and Mechanics’ Institute library with 460 volumes. Distant from Rockwood, a station on the Grand Trunk Railway, 3 miles; Guelph 7 miles. Daily mail. Population 250.

Antony, Jackson	shoemaker
Bardswell, Meshack	retired
Boyle, Andrew	blacksmith and wagon maker
Burrows, Wm.	shoemaker
Cook, Charles	cabinet maker
Cook, Frederick	cabinet maker
Davidson, John A.	carpenter and builder
Davisdon, John A.	collector, land agent, issuer of marriage licenses, commissioner in B.R. conveyancer, &c.
Dowrie, David	carpenter
Esson, John	builder
Fielding, David	grocer
Frain, James	wagon maker
Harmston & Henderson	builders
Harris, John	hotel keeper
Hay, John	shoemaker
Hortop, Henry	flour mill
Jackson, Anthony	general merchant
Krase, Greorge	cabinet maker
Little, James	miller
Malcolm, Mrs.	female school
Meadows, Sam’l	postmaster, general merchant, sewing machine agent, and potash manufacturer
McDonald, Alex	tailor
McDonald, John	cooper
Richardson, Ralph	wagon maker
Ritchie, William	builder
Stewart, Alexander	builder
Sullivan, Timothy	blacksmith
Watson, Wm.	mail stage proprietor
White, James	constable and lime burner
White, Thomas	retired
Wilson, James	J.P., and oatmeal mill
Wilson, Peter	woollen manufacturer
Zouart, John	retired

The sharp-eyed reader will note that Mr. Argo had sold the mill by this time (1850), and relocated to Fergus.

Despite being largely cleared, local trees continued to play a significant role in the village. In 1872, some local men performing statute labour nearby discovered a human skeleton in an advanced state of decay with a flagstone laid across its breast (Mercury, 19 June 1872). They supposed that it was an Indian burial, as it was found under the roots of an old pine tree and must have predated the arrival of settlers. It crumbled to dust on removal.

In 1890, Mrs. William Geddes of Eden Mills was killed in an unfortunate accident involving a tree near the village (Mercury, 31 July 1890). She and her children had gone berrypicking with some friends in Mr. Anstee's swamp. The two parties had just gone their separate ways towards home when the children ran back saying that their mother had been struck by a tree. Her friends hurried to the spot to find that Mrs. Geddes had been killed outright and was lying next to the tree that had felled her.

In 1912, Eden Mills was hooked up to the electrical grid, like many towns in southwestern Ontario, to receive power generated a Niagara Falls. Construction of the Hydro corridors resulted in the felling of many trees, which met with some protest, reflecting a rise in interest in forest conservation advocated by people like Edmund Zavtiz of the Ontario Agricultural College (OAC). In a letter to the editor of the Globe (12 June 1918), J.E. Carter complained of "the great destruction of our beautiful shade trees along our highways by linemen who butcher them." He drew particular attention to "a fine row [of rock maples] near Eden Mills" that had recently suffered this fate. Carter noted that the Ontario Tree-Planting Act limited the powers of linemen to trim roadside trees and urged rural residents to exercise their rights to defend them.

(Postcard of Eden Mills showing General Store and post office, mill, and building located south of mill, 1912; Courtesy of Wellington Museum & Archives, A1989.66.)

Besides trees, water was a crucial part of Eden Mills early history. Of course, it powered the mills themselves but it also provided opportunities for recreation. In 1843, a party of young men were working on construction of Kribs's grist mill and decided to take a little break from the hot weather in the mill pond. Two of the party, Gerow and Duffield, got in over their heads and disappeared under the water. Daniel Kribs came upon the scene and managed to pull them out. Duffield appeared to be dead but local resident Stephen Ramage applied some "resuscitation techniques" and restored him to life.

Despite this close call, the mill pond continued to be a popular local swimming hole.

(Postcard, "Mill stream, Eden Mills, Ont.," ca. 1955.)

Of course, the mill pond and Eramosa River were popular places for locals to go fishing. So, it was the setting of many fish stories, such as (Globe, 20 July 1886):

An ex-student of the Agricultural College, now employed near Eden Mills, made loud professions of his abilities as a fisherman. Some persons, however, had so little faith in his attainments in this line that they made a wager that a young lady of the neighbourhood could outfish him, he however, to catch six to her one. The result was the young woman caught nine fish, one of which was a trout weighing a pound and a half, while the ex-student caught six shiners [minnows].

Grrl power! It would interesting to know who these fisher folk were. The young man whose angling pretensions were so ignominiously punctured may have been R.A. Ramsay, a local lad who had graduated from the OAC four years earlier.

In the great tradition of the pasttime, local anglers' exploits were always open to question, for example (Mercury, 17 June 1887):

The Rev. J.C. Smith, B.D., and Mr. Geo. Sandilands, manager of the Central Bank, were trout fishing in Eden Mills yesterday. Mr. Sandilands told a glowing story about trout, and trout fishing. The reporter would at any time take Mr. Sandilands’ word for $20,000, but when it comes down to veracity on a fishing expedition it is another matter. Mr. Smith was not seen on the streets to-day, and thus the promised one true fish story of the season is knocked on the head. It is privately whispered, however, that the catch was beautifully small.

Doubtless, more than a few whoppers were fished from the Eramosa at Eden Mills.

As it happens, more than water flowed through Eden Mills. In 1886, following a tip, police officers raided Johnston's Hotel there looking for violations of the Province's new Scott Act (Mercury, 24 December 1886):

Edward Johnston, who keeps a hotel there, was the suspected party. His premises were searched, and underneath the bar in the cellar was found a small still in full working order. The still was erected on the top of a common wood stove, with worm in a cold water tub near by. A considerable quantity of wort in different stages of fermentation was also found, together with distilled spirits. The whole was seized and the wort destroyed. The still and fermenting tuns were brought to Guelph.

Having been caught red-handed, Johnston pleaded guilty and was fined $50.

(Stone hotel building in Eden Mills, 1973; Courtesy of Wellington County Museum & Archives A1985.110.)

It seems that Johnston learned his lesson. A short time later, we learn of thirsty patrons being turned from the doors of his hotel (Mercury, 4 February 1888):

On Wednesday afternoon, it seems Mr. Arch. Robertson, living near Eden Mills, went home from Guelph with enough liquor to make him quarrelsome. Being refused entrance to Johnston’s hotel in the village, he ran foul of Mr. David Shannon, and in the encounter received a black eye. In the evening he returned with the assistance of James Rouse and William Hillis and visited Shannon’s house. Shannon was called to the door and assaulted by the trio, and had his window and sash broken. Shannon swore out an information and on the three parties appearing before Squire Strange they were fined $20 each, $5 costs each, $3 for the damage done, and bound over to keep the peace for 3 years. The villagers were much annoyed by the unseemly row, and trust that the result of this case may prove a warning to others disorderly disposed.

Unfortunately, it seems that later proprietors of the hotel were not so scrupulous. Joseph Zinger, who kept the hotel in the 1890s, was found guilty of illegally selling liquor on several occasions.

Matters came to a head in 1904 when the Prohibition League of Guelph complained to authorities about lax enforcement by W.S. Cowan, the license inspector for South Wellington. The Inspector, they said, took no action despite numerous complaints made by the League against establishments in Everton and Eden Mills. Indeed, his superiors were unimpressed with Cowan's defence (Globe, 27 February 1904):

The department wrote to him twice about the matter, and he replied that he had made an inspection, and at Eden Mills had confiscated so much liquor as to necessitate a team to take it away. The department decided that he should have known of the open violation long before, and that after such glaring evidence of incapacity there was no alternative but to ask for his resignation. He declined to resign, and the department removed him.

What did the neighbourhood think of a village where the license inspector hauls away a wagonload of illicit liquor and his bosses figure that he isn't trying hard enough?

(Postcard of Eden Mills showing General Store and post office, mill, and buildings located west and south of mill, 1912; Courtesy of Wellington County Museum & Archives A1989.66.)

Besides wood, flour, and whiskey, Eden Mills was once set to become a petro-town. Apparently, enough oil had been dug up in the vicinity to prompt villagers to form the Oil Company of Eden Mills (Globe, 19 January 1866). Directors were appointed and capital not less that $4,000 was sought. At the inaugural meeting, it was resolved that

the shareholders, owning land at a distance not greater than three miles from Eden Mills, agree to bond their land for oil digging purposes at a royalty of one-eighth of the proceeds of the well, or wells sunk by the Company—said shareholders binding themselves, at the time of taking stock, to hold their lands open for three years for the company for that purpose, and said contract, when executed, to extend to 99 years.

The village was said to be in "a fever of excitement." Test wells were dug and samples sent to Toronto for analysis. Yet, after a year or so, Eden Mills' search for black gold did not pan out and the village never did become the Calgary of South Wellington.

(A forest of oil derricks in Los Angeles, Toluca Street, ca.1895-1901. This failed to materialize in Eden Mills. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

One of the challenges for residents of the village was its relative isolation. When the Grand Trunk Railway from Toronto to Guelph was built in 1856, it went through nearby rival Rockwood instead of Eden Mills. So, when the Guelph Junction Railway was proposed in 1886, to connect Guelph to the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) line at Campbellville, residents saw a chance to catch up. After a village conference, Messrs. Laing and Nicol were sent to a meeting of the directors of the new railway to urge them to adopt a route through the village (Mercury, 6 April 1887). They acknowledeged that a route through Eden Mills would be a little longer than the one proposed near Arkell but argued that it would have compensating advantages. Eden Mills was home to many gravel pits that could supply building materials cheaply. It's grist, oatmeal, and shingle mills produced much material that could be shipped from a station in the village, not to mention the plenteous turnips! The directors promised to relay the proposal to Mr. Jennings, the CPR Engineer, though they were not optimistic for its prospects.

As residents contemplated this gloomy news, things suddenly looked up. A navvy, that is, a civil engineering construction worker, soon appeared in the village, equipped with boots, shovel, and spade. Residents inferred that the Junction railway was to grace their village after all! Alas, it was not so and the people of Eden Mills had to deal manfully with their disappoinment (Mercury, 19 April 1887):

The new arrival was received with open arms, but when he avowed, on being questioned, that he knew nothing about the Guelph Junction, he was treated to the cold shoulder, and plainly made to understand that his [ab]sence would be a relief, and if he did not go he would be assisted.

In the end, the CPR decided on the shorter route and Eden Mills was bypassed again.

However, the patience of villagers was finally rewarded when the Toronto Suburban Railway (TSR) was built between Toronto and Guelph in 1913–1917. This was made possible by the extension of Hydro power to Eden Mills in 1912. When it became operational in 1917, the TSR enabled residents to ship and receive goods from their local station. In addition, visitors could readily arrive by train to enjoy events such as dances put on in Edgewood Park (later Camp Edgewood). Residents could get to larger centres for their amusement and convenience.

(Oatmeal mill, Eden Mills, ca. 1923; Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-15-0-0-341.)

However, by the time the TSR arrived in town, a rival mode of transportation was taking hold, that is, the automobile. At first, cars were largely expensive summer amusements for wealthy urbanites. Early car owners from town would take their vehicles for joyrides through the countryside, spooking the horses and annoying rural residents.

Some residents occasionally lashed out against these urban elites by setting traps for them in the roadways. On one occasion, Mr. Walter Harland Smith, Liberal candidate in Halton County, met with just such an improvised obstacle (Globe, 12 September 1911). He had finished addressing a meeting at Eden Mills and was driving to Campbellville for another when, just near the top of a hill near Brookville, his car crashed into a barricade of logs and stones thrown over the road. He and his two companions were ejected from their auto and badly shaken up, though not seriously injured. However, their car was completely wrecked.

It may be that this attack was directed specifically at Mr. Smith as a form of politial opposition. If so, it nonetheless employed a tactic that was also directed indiscriminately against car operators in rural areas of Ontario, and elsewhere, at the time.

(Map of Eden Mills, 1906; Courtesy of Wellington County Museum & Archives A1985.110.)

However, by the end of the Great War, car ownership had become more common, including among rural residents. One news story about an unfortunate incident following a wedding in 1919 shows that there were at least two automobiles in Eden Mills by that time (Globe, 24 October 1919):

Death came quite suddenly to-day to Frank Ramshaw, a highly-respected citizen of Eden Mills. In company with Geo. Gordon, he was returning home in a motor car from a wedding.
In another car just behind him were his son and several others, and when about three or four miles from Rockwood this car overturned and went into the ditch. The car ahead stopped, and Mr. Ramshaw got out and went to a nearby farmhouse to secure assistance. He came back only to find that everything was all right and no person hurt.
While he stood there, however, he suddenly fell forward, and almost before anyone could reach him he expired. Death was no doubt due to heart failure brought on by the excitement due to the accident. Mr. Ramshaw was about sixty-five years of age, and was well known. He leaves a wife and several children.

Increasing popularity of private automobiles decreased interest in the TSR, which ran mostly at a deficit and ceased operations in 1931. Sections of it are now operated as trails by the Guelph Hiking Club, including in the vicinity of Eden Mills. (Mill pond, Eden Mills; Courtesy of Google Street View.)

Of course, there is much more to the history of Eden Mills, which is perhaps best known today for the Eden Mills Writers Festival. Suffice it to say that, despite initial appearances and a few challenges, Eden Mills did become an attractive and lively locale.

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The following works were consulted for this post:

• Quaile, D. (2007). Eramosa anecdotes. Ayton, Ont.: Wordbird Press.
• Thorning, S. (22 March 1999). Milling had long, difficult history in Eden Mills. Wellington Advertiser.

William Macalister' falls

One Guelph postcard that puzzled me when I picked it up is the following, purporting to be of McAlisters Falls, Guelph, Ont. Guelph is well known for being sited along the Speed and Eramosa rivers but it is not noted for any waterfalls, unlike, say, Niagara Falls or Hamilton, which bills itself the "city of waterfalls."

I have never found another reference to this site, so it seemed as though the card might be an in-joke on the part of the publisher, Mr. A.B. Petrie. Indeed, the card was mailed in 1909 to a Mrs. M. MacAllister of Ameronto, Ontario, from someone who did not sign his name but said that, "you will notice me on the other side of this card." The spelling of M(a)cAl(l)ister is different but niceties of spelling were not always top of mind with people dashing off postcard messages for the next mail pickup.

More light was shed on the mysterious Mr. McAlister when I saw the following (Courtesy of the John Kelleher collection):

The name is spelled differently but Mr. W.W. MacAlister is much easier to place. William Wilson Macalister (1855–1930) was born in Kingston, Ontario, and moved to the Guelph area young enough to have been educated at the Rockwood Academy (Mercury, 11 April 1930). He lived and worked in Guelph his whole life, being a bookkeeper and later business manager in the Mercury office for 25 years. His obituary adds that, "Curling and bowling were his favorite pastimes, and he was a charter member of the Royal City Curling Club, and the Guelph Lawn Bowling Club."

Macalister's love of lawn bowling would explain the postcard of the bowling green with his name on it.

The location of "The Camp" were Macalister had his summer home was Victoria Park, a private park along the south shore of the Eramosa River on what is now the east end of the Cutten Club, abutting Victoria road. The Park was set up by the local Boating Club as a destination for pleasure seekers from Guelph and its environs. People could rent a boat and supplies in town and paddle or row up the Eramosa to the Park, where they could enjoy walks, swings, picnics, music, light shows, and lawn bowling.

It was also possible to camp there. Serious campers could take tents, furniture, cooking utensils, etc. and stay the whole summer. During the week, residents of the "camp town" could paddle into town for work and paddle back for dinner. For locals in the late Victorian era who wanted to camp but had not the time, money, or inclination to rough it in the Muskokas, pitching a tent in Victoria Park was a welcome alternative.

William Macalister was such a man. He and his family spent every summer camping in the park for many years. He was so closely associated with the facility that his comings and goings were sometimes mentioned in the paper, e.g., (Daily Mercury, 7 September 1892):

Mr. W.W. Macalister has pulled up stakes after camping for six weeks at Victoria Park, and has moved his family back into town.

No doubt, it didn't hurt that he was a long-time member of the Mercury staff.

Mr. Macalister so adored Victoria Park that he purchased the property. The following notice afterwards appeared in the Daily Mercury (10 July 1894):

Notice to trespassers.

Any person found trespassing on the property as described below, will be prosecuted. That place known as the Macdonald Farm, south of the river and the back part of the same farm, now owned by W.W. Macalister, between the Brock Road and the Victoria Park, also on the roadway to last mentioned property from the York Road.
Note—The only public entrance to Victoria Park is by the river and the York Road by Victoria Bridge.

James Taylor
W.W. Macalister.

The Macdonalds were the farmers who owned the property and from whom the Boating Club rented the land on which Victoria Park stood. People from town sometimes reached the park by walking across the Macdonald's property on the south bank of the Eramosa. The notice in the paper was intended to dissuade people from accessing the property in this way. Access was supposed to be by the dock on the Eramosa river or the path from the nearby Victoria road bridge.

This point brings us back to McAlister's Falls. Between the bank of the Eramosa and the camping grounds of Victoria Park is a shale bluff. Boaters landing at the dock had to climb up steps cut into the bluff in order to reach the campground and its attractions. Flowing in the other direction is a creek that rises in what is now the University of Guelph Arboretum. This creek cuts cross the Cutten Field golf course, tumbles down the bluff and into the Eramosa river just opposite the City Waterworks.

Could the site where this creek drops over the bluff be McAlister's Falls? Here is a photo of the site I took in 2020.

This "falls" is filled with rocks and fallen tree limbs, whereas the postcard falls is clear and more presentable. However, the scale and rough layout of both falls are similar and a little imagination suggests that, if the modern site were cleaned up, the two might resemble each other closely.

So, it appears that, although William Macalister was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery, his marker may really be this little waterfall next to the campground that he loved so much.

(The location of Macalister's Falls, along the south bank of the Eramosa in Guelph.)

McQuillan's bridge

Without fanfare, the County of Wellington advertised for tenders for the construction of six concrete bridges (Engineering and Contract Record 1916, v. 30, n. 21, p. 46):

Sealed tenders will be received by Jas. Beattie, Esq., County Clerk, Fergus, up to 2 p.m. on Thursday, June 1st, for the construction of the following concrete bridges for the County of Wellington:

Four concrete arched trusses of 70 ft., 65 ft., 60 ft. and 30 ft., spans, and two 14-ft. slab bridges.

For plans, specifications and estimate of quantities, apply to
Bowman & Connor
31 Queen St. W., Toronto.

So far as I can tell, the 70 ft. concrete arched truss bridge was to become the new "McQuillan's bridge," that is, the crossing over the Eramosa River on the boundary line between Guelph Township and Puslinch. This bridge, like its wooden predecessors, was known as McQuillan's bridge after the McQuillan family whose farm lay immediately to its north.

The McQuillan bridge is shown in the off-centre, real-photo postcard below:

The postcard was not addressed or mailed but has "Guelph le 1er Mais 1919, Ontario Canada" written on the back, suggesting it was taken on the 1 May 1919.

Today, McQuillan's bridge can be viewed from its replacement, the Stone Road bridge, via Google Street View:



A comparison of images shows that McQuillan's bridge retains its original form, although the knobs that once capped its midsection have since gone missing. The little shield in the middle of the crosspiece over the centre of the bridge says "1916," to celebrate the year of its construction.

This type of bridge is commonly known as a bowstring bridge, to describe how the parabolic shape of the arches on the deck resemble the curve of a bow with its ends held in tension by a bowstring in the form of the bridge deck. The metaphor is apt: The bridge works by suspending the weight of the deck from the arches by virtue of steel bars in the vertical columns and handles the horizontal thrust of the arches by virtue of steel bars embedded lengthwise in the deck.

Engineers of the day called the design a concrete truss bridge with a suspended floor. This type of bridge originated in France in the early years of the 20th Century and quickly spread elsewhere, including Canada. Frank Barber (1914) wrote a short article describing the type of bridge and its early deployment in Ontario, in which he was closely involved. For example, Barber had designed the Middle Road Bridge between Toronto and Mississauga in 1909.

As Barber explains, an important advantage of the bowstring bridge is that since the superstructure of the bridge resides entirely above the deck, it does not need to be raised high on large abutments. A look at McQuillan's bridge from a low angle shows that its designers were happy to have it sit low over the Eramosa River, on the plausible assumption that nothing large needed to pass under it.

McQuillan's bridge was designed by the engineering firm Bowman and Connor of Toronto. As engineers for Wellington County (and Waterloo), they designed and oversaw the construction of many such bridges in the region.

The winning tender for this construction project went to Charles Mattaini of Fergus. Mattaini was born and raised in Vergiate, Italy, near Milan, where he worked as a mason. He immigrated to Canada in 1898 and continued his work in the construction trade (Mattaini 1979). In 1903, he moved to Fergus with his new bride, Marie Landoni, and set out his shingle as builder with expertise in foundations, cisterns, water troughs, culverts, bridges, sidewalks, etc.

Mattaini's ledger for 1916 mentions a number of projects: bridge on Irvine, bridge for Erin Township, culvert at Prison Farm, County Council bridge, and McQuillan's bridge. It seems likely that he and his crew used material from the quarry at the Prison Farm nearby to complete the culvert and McQuillan's bridge.

The McQuillan family after whom the bridge was known were also masons (Daily Mercury, 23 May 1881). James McQuillan immigrated to Canada from County Monaghan, Ireland, and arrived in Guelph in the summer of 1827, only a few months after the village was founded in April. His skills as a mason and a builder proved immediately valuable. He built the first stone structure in the village, which was, perhaps, the stone school house at the corner of Neeve and Waterloo (now Fountain) streets (since demolished).

McQuillan and his family later occupied a farm on land now part of the University of Guelph along the north side of Stone Road east of Gordon Street. There he farmed and kept a tavern for some time. He then moved a little further east to a farm north of Stone Road and east of Victoria Road, which included a stretch of the Eramosa River, where he spent the rest of his life.

The map below shows the final McQuillan farm in the 1906 Wellington County Atlas. At that time, the farm was in the possession of Arthur and Bernard, two of James McQuillan's sons. On the map, the circle in the lower-right corner shows the location of McQuillan's bridge.

The box on the map shows the laneway to McQuillan's house, which he also built (since demolished), from Victoria Road. A photograph of this house was taken by Gordon Couling in March 1969 and resides in the Wellington County Archives.

("Stone house, Concession 1 Lot 10 in Division G, Guelph Township, 1969." Wellington County Archives A1985.110.)

James McQuillan died suddenly of "old age" on 21 May 1881, in his 85th year.

In 2000, Stone Road was widened to two lanes and rerouted north of the McQuillan's bridge. As noted in "The Grand River Watershed Heritage Bridge Inventory" (2013), the old bridge was designated as a heritage structure in 2004:

The Stone Road [McQuillan] Bridge is included on the Ontario Heritage Bridge List, spans a designated Canadian Heritage River route and is considered to be an early and rare surviving example of concrete bowstring arch construction in a local, provincial and national context.

It now functions as pedestrian bridge for hikers and as a memorial to the technology and taste of builders of the early 20th century.

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The McQuillan bridge is not the only memento of the prolific McQuillan family. For example, the McQuillan Block on 101–107 Wyndham Street was built by Arthur and Francis (Frank) McQuillan, two of James's sons.



The Block sits behind the tree in this Google Street View scene. Built in 1874, the Block originally extended further along the street, through the Budd's clothing store (since vacated) in the picture. In 1965, a fire destroyed the two northern units. The old sidewall of the original block can still be seen over the roof of the replacement building on the extreme left of the image.

Speedwell: The Guelph Military Convalescent Hospital

In the chilly afternoon of 8 November 1920, a group of people crossed over the Eramosa River on the sturdy, concrete bridge to the Canadian Pacific platform at the Speedwell station. They were the last patients and staff of the Speedwell Military Convalescent Hospital, commonly known as the Speedwell Hospital. They consisted of 45 walking patients, 9 "stretcher cases," 2 doctors, 7 nursing sisters, 3 vocational aides, and 9 orderlies. They boarded the 3:40pm train for Toronto, bound for Christie Street Hospital. The Speedwell Hospital was now closed.

(View of the Prison Farm from near the Speedwell train stop. Printed by International Stationary Co., Picton. Although the card is from ca. 1912, the note on the back says, "This is present Speedwell Hospital.")

The story of Speedwell Hospital begins in 1915. It had become clear that the conflict in Europe was going to be a long and grinding affair. Many personnel sent off to war were coming home badly wounded and in need of substantial care, and many more would do so in future. In June of that year, the Canadian government set up the Military Hospitals Commission (MHC) to acquire and operate a system of hospitals and other facilities to see to the needs of returning veterans. Given the pressing nature of the situation, the MHC was on the look-out for existing facilities that it could adapt for its purposes. The Ontario Reformatory at Guelph, still often known as the Prison Farm, was a good candidate. It could certainly serve the medical needs of wounded veterans but, more to the point, its farm and machine operations could provide employment and vocational training for veterans as they re-integrated into civilian life.

The choice of the Prison Farm was telling in some ways. The Prison Farm had been designed to turn young men from lives of petty crime or dissolution to lives as productive and upright citizens, learned through agricultural work or tradecraft. Although the Speedwell Hospital was to function as a medical facility, it too had a broader social function. Like the Prison Farm, it was intended to turn young men from soldiers into civilians through experience with agricultural work or useful trades.

Soldiering was generally viewed as heroic and not criminal, yet the fundamentally undemocratic operation of the military and the dependency of its rank and file on the organization were regarded as problematic for civilian life. Thus, Speedwell would be a place where returned soldiers would be honoured and healed but also helped to begin lives as the heads and breadwinners of the nation's future families.

Unfortunately, Speedwell did not succeed in this mission.

On 19 October 1917, the first 50 returned soldiers were brought to Speedwell from the London Military Hospital (Evening Mercury). The Prison Farm had been thoroughly renovated in preparation for their arrival. Of course, bars and screens had been removed from windows and iron doors replaced with curtains. Painters, carpenters, and other tradesmen from Guelph had been busy for months making the place more welcoming and less confining.

(Military Hospital, with a new dormitory wing visible on the right. Printed by the Heliotype Co. of Ottawa, ca. 1920.)

In addition, two new wings had been built as dormitories. Each was two storeys high and could accommodate 74 beds on each floor, for a total of 296. In addition, a large theatre had been constructed behind the Main Building, with a capacity of about 600. Here, soldiers could put on entertainments for each other, for visitors, or be entertained by special guests. A recreation room featuring billiard and pool tables as well as pianos was provided. A library was also fitted up, and a call for book donations put out. A canteen was constructed in the basement where patients could eat cafeteria style, if they could.

(Soldiers playing billiards at Speedwell. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.4.)

(Soldiers at a Speedwell cafeteria. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.1.)

Vocational training was also organized. Patients could get training in the trades, such as carpentry and auto mechanics. Remedial schooling was also available.

(Soldiers making furniture in a carpentry shop at Speedwell. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1978.6.5.)

As part of the deal between the Department of Soldiers' Civil Re-establishment (DSCR—successor to the MHC), command of the hospital remained with the military, headed by Lieutenant Colonel T.G. Delamere, a veteran of the first Canadian contingent to France who was wounded in action and returned to Canada. Even so, many of the staff of the facility would continue to be civilians, many remaining from the Prison Farm days.

(Real photo postcard of Speedwell, taken from the north with a Farm side road in the foreground.)

In some respects, Speedwell Hospital served its patients reasonably well. Opportunities for playing billiards, reading books, and writing letters and postcards were likely agreeable. Many special entertainments were mounted also. For example, sporting events were brought in. On 14 April 1919, for example, a boxing program was put on featuring "Irish" Kennedy versus "Battling" Ray of Syracuse (Globe). Although scheduled for 10 rounds, Kennedy knocked out Ray with two telling blows to the jaw in round 5. A wrestling match between Finnemore of Milton and Hays of Galt went nearly 25 mintues, when Hays made the second fall of the bout. The Eustis Bros. of Toronto delighted the assembled with their excellent acrobatic display. Three boxing matches between returned soldiers were well fought and ended in draws.

In 1919, amateur baseball returned to Guelph, and the Speedwell Hospital entered a team. The experience seems to have been a success as Speedwell went on to enter a team in 1920 as well.

Edward Johnson, local boy who was already an international singing sensation, put on a show to a packed audience at the Speedwell theatre on 10 September 1920 (London Free Press, 11 Sep.).

(Edward Johnson as Pelléas in Claude Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1925. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

Soldiers at the the Hospital also organized their own entertainments, which were sometimes made available for the community. For example, the Speedwell Hospital Minstrels put on a minstrel show in the old Guelph City Hall (Evening Mercury, 19 Feb. 1920). Minstrel shows were variety shows in which white men wore blackface and capered, sang, and played instruments in the manner they imagined southern African Americans did. The form had been largely superseded by Vaudville style shows but persisted as an informal kind of amusement. The Speedwell Minstrels' performance was liked well enough that they were invited to repeat it in Elora.

Ties between the returned soldiers and the community seem to have been positive. Reports suggest that many soldiers remained in Guelph after their time at Speedwell, though I have not found accounts of exactly who they were or how numerous. Connections with town were facilitated by the Toronto Suburban Railway stop at Speedwell station, across the Eramosa River from the institution. The Guelph Radial Railway (streetcar) opened a regular service to Speedwell (Evening Mercury, 15 Jan. 1920). Business on this route was so good that two extra daily trips were put on, which were filled to capacity.

(Storage building at Speedwell; Construction v. 13., n. 3, p. 97, March 1920.)

Various aid organizations, many run by women, took a great interest in the well-being of the soldiers, for example (Globe, 19 Dec. 1919):

The Speedwell Hospital Visiting Committee of the Red Cross Society at Guelph yesterday prepared the personal property bags and packages which are to be distributed to all the patients of the hospital. The committee received many generous donations for these packages, which will contain raisins, chocolates, smokes, socks, handkerchiefs, apples, and other articles. In each there is also a Christmas card and a Red Cross card. The distribution of gifts will be made on Thursday afternoon.

Soldier's Comfort Committees in many communities made goods and campaigned for funds to provide soldiers with domestic comforts. For example, the Women's Institute of Ospringe made and donated an "autograph quilt" to the Speedwell Hospital in 1919.

At the provincial level, Mrs. Arthur VanKoughnet of the DSCR coordinated a funding drive with impressive results (Globe, 7 Oct. 1919):

Oakville Woman’s Patriotic League, $200.00; Seaforth Canadian Red Cross Society, $125.00; St. Cyprian’s Carry on Club, $130.50; Riverdale Woman’s Patriotic League, $225.00; Woman’s Volunteer Corps. $125.00; Grey County Woman’s Institute, Ayton, $202.00; Ioco Good Cheer Club, $66.00; Gorrie Woman’s Institute, $54.50; Annan Woman’s Institute, $30.00, and others from individuals. Donations of comforts of various kinds were received from Sherbourne Street Methodist Church, Jarvis Street Patriotic Society, Navy League of the United States, York Rangers’ Chapter I.O.D.E., Sir Thos. Cheton Chapter, I.O.D.E., Hastings; W.I. Roseneath, Cobourg Ladies, 169th Regt., St. Alban’s Red Cross Society, North Toronto Red Cross Society and Soldiers’ Comforts, D.S.C.R., 71 King street west.

Some of the soldiers applied themselves to the domestic arts, perhaps those who were unable to work in the abbatoir or carpentry workshop. Some of the fruits of their labour, from Speedwell and other facilities, were put on display in the Women's Building of the Toronto Exhibition (Globe, 26 Aug. 1919):

There are beautiful scarves and hat bands woven on hand looms, beaded necklets and watch fobs of fine color and design; examples of metal work, hammered brass and copper; cushion covers and centerpieces in embroidery and cross stitch; excellent carpentry and cabinet work; beautifully carved and inlaid trays; hand-painted China and other things almost beyond his number.

Above all, the author heaped praise on the fine baskets that the men had made.

The author also took pains to maintain the dignity of the soldiers. Although this work was of a traditionally feminine character, it "may frequently set an example of the beauty of usefulness and simplicity to the women who exhibit their achievements in the adjoining rooms." In other words, the soldiers' scarves, embroidery, and baskets were safely masculine, and admirably so.

Of course, some items were decidedly military, such as a belt made of war trophies, a kind of art practiced in the trenches in France:

A unique contribution to the collection is a belt made from captured German regimental badges, and clasped with the regulation German brass buckle bearing a crown and the words “Gott Mit Uns.”

In spite of these efforts and the benefits they conferred, returned soldiers experienced significant troubles at Speedwell.

Some troubles were consequences of the war. For example, George William Moyser of the 71st Battery of Toronto, died as a result of ill-health caused by a gas attack suffered in France (Globe, 28 May 1919). Others were due to misadventure. Fred Tucker died as a result of falling off the top of the quarry pit at the back of the Hospital (Daily Star, 11 Aug. 1919).

Many soldiers were killed as a result of the Spanish Flu epidemic. For example, Lavelle Germain of St. Marys was taking a vocational course at Speedwell but staying in Guelph. He returned to his room at the King Edward Hotel complaining that he felt unwell. He later called for a doctor, who arrived to find Germain all but dead (Evening Mercury, 3 Feb. 1920). A whole ward of Speedwell was converted into a ward for flu victims, and several ill students from the O.A.C. were moved in (London Advertiser, 10 Feb. 1920).

Of course, the Spanish flu affected everyone. Nursing Sister Miss Geraldine McGinnis of London died of pneumonia resulting from the flu (London Advertiser, 12 Feb. 1920). She must have been very dedicated to her vocation as she had served two tours in France during the war and was in her second stint as a nurse at Speedwell.

Physically, Speedwell itself was not well suited to work as a hospital. Among the many problems was the damp. The stone walls of the institution seemed to encourage condensation, making the rooms continually uncomfortable. Dampness was a particular problem for the "lungers," that is, the many tuberculosis patients housed at Speedwell. Patients complained bitterly to a Mercury reporter who went to investigate (Evening Mercury, 8 July 1920):

Vincent is a British naval veteran, in with bronchitis. “The floors here are like the decks of a battle ship,” he said. “I had some experiences in the navy, was mined twice, but the experience I have had here are worse than the former ones.”
...
“It has to be a pretty wet place before I’ll complain of it,” said “Pick” McRae, “but you can tell ‘em all it’s too wet here for me.” McRae is a lung patient in cell number 9. Water was dripping from the walls of his cell.

As the word "cell" suggests, Speedwell retained the look and feel of a prison, in spite of the renovations and amenities. Naturally, the patients found this quality disheartening.

Speedwell had significant institutional problems as well. The DSCR's contract with the Ontario government meant that civilians staffed many of the Hospital's operations, such as the farm. Veterans felt that they should have preference for work at Speedwell and resented limitations on their opportunities there.

Budget limitations also led to conflicts among the staff. Nurses at Speedwell, who belonged to the military organization, complained that their medical duties did not allow them time to deliver and supervise patients' meals, as expected by the institution's dietitians, who belonged to the civilian authority. The dietitians complained that there was not enough money available to hire civilian staff to carry out that duty.

("Portion of the spotlessly clean kitchen at Speedwell, wherein cooking is a ?? and diet a study. No dish is used whereon one germ exists and frequent tests keep up this desirable condition." The London Advertiser, 20 Dec. 1919.)

In 1920, the situation came to a head. One hundred and fifty patients signed a petition demanding a sharp improvement in hospital conditions. They and the Great War Veterans Association (GWVA) called for the resignation of the Hospital administrators and for jobs at Speedwell to be given to veterans before civilians. Many of the nurses walked off the job in protest at conditions in the Hospital. A provincial inquiry found that want of money had led to filthy conditions falling well below the standards of a military hospital.

In the face of these problems, the DSCR decided that the situation at Speedwell was irretrievable and that the facility would be closed down. Military staff were re-assigned, civilians were laid off, and patients were moved to other facilities. The local Soldiers' Comfort Committee paid a final visit, bringing fruit and other gifts and holding a farewell dance (Evening Mercury, 4 Nov. 1920).

The Ontario government contemplated other uses for Speedwell, such as an insane asylum or merger with the OAC. In the end, they decided to return it to its former use as a prison. Local contractors were hired to put bars in the cell windows and make other preparations (Evening Mercury, 22 Nov. 1920). The theatre, which had served as a focal point for the amusement of returned soldiers, burned down in a mysterious fire during renovations (Globe, 28 Nov. 1921). The Speedwell Military Convalescent Hospital experiment was truly at an end.

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Information about Speedwell and its institutional problems comes mainly from:

Durham, B. (2017). “The place is a prison, and you can’t change it”: Rehabilitation, Retraining, and Soldiers’ Re-Establishment at Speedwell Military Hospital, Guelph. 1911-1921. Ontario History, 109 (2), 184–212. https://doi.org/10.7202/1041284ar

The Toronto Suburban Railway: Guelph's streetcar to Toronto

On 12 April 1917, a lone streetcar from Toronto pulled into Guelph. On hand to greet it were a passel of railway dignitaries along with a clutch of curious locals. Officials with the Ontario Railway and Municipal Board and with the Toronto Suburban Railway (TSR) itself climbed on board for a "trip of inspection" back to the Big Smoke (Toronto Globe, 13 April 1917).

Before their departure, Mr. R.T. Hagen, Chief Engineer of the TSR confirmed that regular service between Guelph and Toronto was slated to start on Saturday the 14th although there would be but one car per day each way. On 1 May, after a period to identify and correct any difficulties, more frequent service would begin.

The new service was immediately well patronized. Although regular railway service between the Royal City and the Queen City had been established for decades, the idea of riding the trolley between the two (or points along the way) seemed to fulfill a need.

The cars themselves sound as though they were quite inviting. Car 101, a passenger car built at the Preston Car and Coach Company, was well appointed, finished in attractive cherrywood. The upper sashes of the side windows were glazed with leaded glass. Cars were entered from a center stairway that reached to street level for added convenience.

(TSR car #105 in front of old City Hall, Carden St., January 1918. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-15-0-0-268.)

At the back of the car was the Main Room, featuring green, plush, upholstered, high-backed seats with headrests and footrests. A polished bronze handle on the aisle sides allowed passengers to seat themselves with dignity. A pushbutton was provided in each setting so that riders could inform the motorman of their desire to get off at the next stop. Overhead were luggage racks for storage and a three-ply, poplar veneer ceiling. A private toilet was located at the front.

At the front of the car was the Smoking Room, outfitted with low-backed seats upholstered with green pantasote—imitation leather—for a look reminiscent of a gentlemen's club. In service, the Smoking Room would have been filled with clouds of hot ash and tones of gentlemanly conversation. At the front of this room was the motorman's compartment, with the pedals, gears, levers, bells and gongs needed to control the train and communicate with its passengers.

Travelers on the TSR often used it to commute to larger centers for shopping or socializing. It became common practice for the Railway to add a trailer car to the Saturday train for shopping purposes. Ladies from smaller places along the line would visit Guelph to do their shopping and could deposit their purchases on the car over the course of the day. In the evening, the car would leave the Royal City to haul its load of goods and women on their trip home.

Traveling to parks was also a popular use. Guelphites were known to ride the TSR to attend dances at Edgewood Park in Eden Mills. In 1925, the TSR purchased Eldorado Park, a private park along the route in Chingoucousy Township, now within the town of Brampton. The idea was to boost ridership on the line by providing an attraction for passengers to visit, much as the Guelph Radial Railway (streetcar) built Riverside Park in 1905. A Ferris Wheel and Merry-Go-Round were added to make the proposition more attractive.


("Electric railways, Canada (1923)"—apparently a special excursion train from Toronto to Eldorado Park. Courtesy of British Pathé)

The Toronto Suburban Railway began life in 1890 as the Weston, High Park & Toronto Street Railway Company, with service centered on the town of West Toronto Junction (now known simply as "The Junction"). Two prominent railway wheeler-dealers, Sir William Mackenzie and Sir Donald Mann, known as "King" and "Duke" respectively, acquired the TSR in 1911 and began an ambitious expansion program. A line to from Lambton to Guelph was surveyed in 1911–1912, although grading and track-laying was delayed due to the Great War. Plans to carry the line through to Berlin (now Kitchener) were never realized.

(Sir William Mackenzie, April 1917. Courtesy of Library and Archives Canada.)

(Sir Donald Mann, 1907. Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.)

When the TSR Guelph line began operations in 1917, it had only four cars, 101, 104, 105, and 106, the first two being passenger coaches while the latter two also included baggage compartments. Cars 102 and 103 had burned in a fire at the Preston Car Coach Company before they could enter service. By 1918, it was clear that the TSR required more capacity, which was met by the purchase of four used, wooden, open-platform cars from the New York Elevated Company. These old wooden cars made for quite a contrast with the modern, steel cars already on the line.

(TSR car at Stop 101, in front of the Grand Trunk Station (now VIA—not seen) on Carden St., 1919. A trailer acquired from the New York Elevated Co. is attached behind. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-15-0-0-267.)

Two further passenger cars, 107 and 108, were added in the mid 1920s, along with a locomotive and a car-snowplow.

(TSR car #107, manufactured by the Niagara, St. Catherines & Toronto Railway (NS&T) in 1924. It was returned to the NS&T in 1935 and was rebuilt and used by that railway from 1943 through 1959. It is seen here on the Martindale trestle on the Port Dalhousie West line, 8 September 1957. Postcard by JBC Visuals; photo by Robert J. Sandusky; from the author's collection.)

The TSR had a number of interesting features. First of all, it was electric rather than steam powered. Electricity generated at Niagara Falls had recently been brought to much of southwestern Ontario, so it was available for expansive projects such as regional transportation. Power was provided to the TSR line by an overhead system suspended on brackets attached to 35 foot (10.7m) high wooden poles carrying a 25,000 volt AC, three-phase, 25 cycle current.

Power substations were built at intervals along the line to convert this power to DC for the trains. One was constructed in Guelph on Bay Street (now James Street East) although, in the event, it was used as a freight shed instead.


(Intended TSR power substation, 22 James St. E. Courtesy Google Street View. In Guelph, the TSR used the local streetcar tracks from Carden Street, down Gordon Street and then went its own way along James Street East.)

One of the implications of this system was that TSR trains gave a spectacular show in certain weather conditions. Consider a reminiscence by Jack Watkins, who recalls a memorable trip to take in a hockey game:

"I remember going to Georgetown on the thing, one night in the '20s. It was during a sleet storm—you should have seen the fireworks display from the trolley pole! We were going to see Guelph and Georgetown play hockey. We had to crawl from the suburban station to the arena. I can't remember who won the game!"

Of course, high-power electrical systems can also be quite dangerous. Norman Paul, TSR electrician at the Georgetown power substation, was electrocuted to death on 28 April 1917 (Acton Free Press, 3 May 1917). He was found unconscious with a skull fracture and both arms badly burned. It seems that he came into contact with a live wire and was hurled violently to the floor. He was rushed to Guelph General Hospital but never recovered.

Another feature of the TSR was that its route was notoriously curvy. Its riders estimated that 1/3 of the route consisted of corners instead of straight lines. The result was that the train lurched perilously from side to side during operation. Indeed, the wide, semi-circular seat at the back of the Main Room was known as the "thrill seat" because of the sideways distance it would travel as the train went along. Passengers remembered the line "fondly" as the "Corkscrew Railway" or the "Seasick Railway" as a result.

The reason for this meandering layout was to economize on land acquisition expenses. Where keeping the track straight meant purchasing expensive property, Mackenzie and Mann opted for cheaper, swervier rights of way. Besides the immediate savings, this strategy may have seemed shrewd since even a somewhat jolty trip on a nicely-appointed train was more comfortable than a trip by horse-and-buggy on the province's rutted and potholed roadways, which was the main alternative for many of the TSR's passengers.

Finally, the TSR had some impressive bridges. The most spectacular was the bridge over the Humber River just west of Lambton Park. It stood at 711 foot long and 86 feet high (217 x 26m). Passage over this vertiginous bridge may have added a giddy touch of vertigo to go with the nausea induced by the rest of the route.

(TSR car crosses the Humber River high bridge, 1920. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-15-0-0-266.)

In spite of its initial popularity and considerable virtues, the TSR was not a paying proposition for long. After the Great War, automobiles found ever greater favor with the public, for both recreation and commuting. Busses began to transport groups of people between cities. Governments encouraged this trend through a broad program of road improvements and expansion. No similar effort was made to encourage rail travel, which suffered accordingly.

The TSR began to operate at a deficit in 1921. Perhaps to address this issue, the company began a freight service in 1923. One customer was the Prison Farm, which shipped milk and produce to Toronto over the line. Thus, the TSR truly became a milk run!

Even so, any hopes of profitability faded from view. The TSR ceased operations in 1931. A delegation of Acton residents went to the Canadian National Railway (CNR) office in Toronto at the time to protest the plan. (In 1918, the TSR was acquired by what later became the CNR.) The meeting ended quickly after the complainants admitted that they had made the trip to Toronto by car.

Although the TSR's assets were sold off and its tracks dismantled in the mid-1930s, some reminders of its existence remain in and around the Royal City. At the end of James Street East, past the intended power house, a trail atop the old railway bed leads under the Cutten Club along the south bank of the Eramosa River past Victoria Road and to the old Speedwell stop, near where a concrete bridge led over the river to the Prison Farm. Another section of the old railway bed can be enjoyed at the Smith Property Loop nearby in Puslinch, which is available for walking and biking.

Anyone interested in the TSR specially and local railway history generally must also visit the nearby Halton County Radial Railway on Guelph Line. The HCRY has restored trains and facilities from regional railway history and lies on a section of the TSR right-of-way through Halton County. It is open May through October.

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Thanks to the Guelph Public Library and Guelph Civic Museums for assistance with research for this post.

I consulted the following sources for this effort:

• Coulman, Donald E. (1991). "By streetcar to Toronto: Commuting from Guelph the electric way," Wellington County History v. 4, pp. 37–48.
  
• Kennedy, Raymond L. (nd). "Toronto Suburban Railway: Guelph Radial Line."
  
• Marshall, Sean (2016). "Mapping Toronto’s streetcar network: The age of electric—1891 to 1921"
  
• Salmon, J.V., et al. (196?). "Rails from the Junction, Part II: The Toronto–Guelph interurban."
  
• n/a (1981). "Toronto Suburban Railway: 50 years since abandonment," Upper Canada Railway Society Newsletter, n. 382, pp. 3–9.
  

Let me know about any other substantial sources in the comments, please.

Boating on the Eramosa

The Speed and Eramosa rivers have always been central to life in Guelph. John Galt chose a site by the Speed so that the swift current of the river could provide water power for mills that would process grain and lumber harvested from the surrounding region. As a result, mills shaped the early geography of the Speed, as occurred at Goldie's Mill.

Unlike the Speed, the Eramosa river keeps a languid pace, making it less attractive for milling. In the town's early days, the Eramosa (often known as the Eramosa branch of the Speed) was remembered for its use by an immense flock of passenger pigeons for a rookery in 1835. Of course, it was also used as a source of water for people and animals.

As far as the citizens of Guelph were concerned, the Eramosa came into its own later in the 19th century as a place for recreational boating. Increasing incomes allowed for some leisure time and extra cash to spend on boating gear. The usually docile current also rewarded the rowers' or paddlers' efforts more easily than did the Speed.

(Stereograph of rowers at Victoria Park on the Eramosa River. Note the Victoria Road bridge in the background. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.73.)

At the same time, around Confederation, rowing began to gain nationwide attention as a sport. In 1867, Robert Fulton, George Price, Elijah Ross, and Samuel Hilton, of St. John, New Brunswick, crossed the Pond to compete in regattas against top European Crews. The arrival of these "colonists" was greeted with some derision but the sneers vanished as the team left their competitors in their wake. They won the Paris Exposition regatta, becoming famous thereafter as the "Paris Crew." In England, they beat the cream of the Oxford University, London, and Leanders clubs—all this in an old-fashioned boat 100 pounds heavier than their rivals'. They returned to Canada to a tumultuous welcome.



(Courtesy Heritage Canada.)

The success of the Paris Crew was followed by that of Edward "Ned" Hanlan of Toronto Island. Ned Hanlan developed a local reputation competing in single sculls events in the early 1870s. He won the national championship in 1877 over a five-mile course in Toronto Bay.

From 1878 until 1884, Ned Hanlan covered himself in glory. He won the American championship in Pittsburgh in 1878, the English championship in 1879 on the Tyne, and the world championship in 1880 on the Thames in London before a crowd of 100,000 spectators. This victory made Hanlan Canada's first world champion in an individual event and an instant hero throughout English Canada.

Besides being a superb rower, Hanlan knew how to work the crowds:

Hanlan's popularity, celebrity even, resulted as much from his showmanship as from his rowing. He often toyed with opponents, slowing down, taunting them, blowing kisses at spectators, faking collapse or rowing in zigzags. (The English press lectured him sternly for his flamboyance.) He was easily Canada's "first national sporting hero," at least in English Canada. After his first English triumph he was met back home by a flotilla 5 kilometres long. In New South Wales a town was renamed Toronto in his honour. He endeared himself to Torontonians by stressing his Canadian identity. He actively took part, like any celebrity today, in numerous promotions, particularly in whistle-stop autograph tours on the eve of races. He organized his own touring shows, raced local heroes, and indulged in showboating, performing tricks such as rowing in a straight line with only one oar.

(Courtesy of CanadaSports150.)

Rowing fever quickly spread to Guelph. In April 1870, the first Guelph Boating Club was organized, accounting for about 35 members (Hacking 1873). The focus of the club was on boating for pleasure and they took some trouble to clear the river of obstructions so that it could be more easily navigated.

Indeed, it seems likely that boaters set out the local geography of the Eramosa River that remained so familiar to Guelphites for about the next fifty years. Hacking's city directory (1873, pp. 18–19) makes mention of several locales along the river connected with boating:

The Eramosa branch is specially admired by pleasure-seekers. Some distance up is an island known as “Rice Island,” and, higher yet, a spot that from its beauty has been christened “Paradise.” The approach to this spot is very fine, especially within half-a-mile of Victoria Bridge, where the long straight watery avenue, thickly clad with shrubs, and the bridge seen in the distance has a really artistic effect. Another place of resort is “The Rocks,” where good duck-shooting is to be had. Here commence a series of shallows, beyond which boating is impracticable.

Several now unfamiliar names occur here. At the time, there was only one island in Eramosa River near Guelph, a small island near the foot of Bell Avenue. Presumably, this place is Rice Island. There is no explanation given for the name but it may be that wild rice was observed to grow there. On Google Maps, the island has been dubbed "Goose island," presumably for the favor it has found with some Canada Geese. (See map below.)

Paradise refers to the area where the Eramosa bends southward about a half-mile east of the Victoria Road bridge. Today, this area is occupied by the Royal City Jaycees Park and the neighboring land subsequently turned into lakes by prisoners of the Reformatory in the 1920s–30s. Paradise was known as a beauty spot and a picnic ground. For example, the Daily Mercury (23 June 1879) relates that:

Chalmers’ Church Bible class boated to Paradise on Friday last and pic-nicked in the beautiful shade to be found there. It was a pleasant party.

Apparently, amenities such as swings and seats were provided. In 1880, the locale is described as "Bradley & Craig’s pleasure grounds," Bradley and Craig being the proprietors of the brand new boat house erected near the Dundas Bridge (and the site of today's Boat House and Tea Room). This note implies that Bradley and Craig had built up an integrated business: renting out boats in the town and arranging a pleasant destination in the township for customers to make for.

(Bend of the Eramosa River at Paradise, 2017. Author's photo.)

In addition to such feminine pursuits as swinging and picnicking, Paradise offered more manly forms of amusement (Daily Mercury, 9 June 1880):

Take care.—Pleasure parties going up the river to Bradley & Craig’s pleasure grounds at “Paradise” yesterday, report random shooting at the range while boats were passing up and down, and no red flag shown. The whistling of a bullet and report as it strikes the target may suit the ears of men and growing boys, but when ladies and children are on pleasure, it will be well for the marker and marksmen to have a care. It will be well, too, for passing navigators to stop and give some kind of alarm when in sight of the target, and then pull by as quickly as possible when the red flag is hoisted.

Today, Guelph rowers must find other incentives for pulling hard on their oars than dodging bullets.

The directory also mentions "The Rocks." The location of this feature is cleared up in the reminiscences of David Allan (1939, p. 98) where he recalls that The Rocks had later become a quarry used by the Reformatory. This locates The Rocks on the north bank of the Eramosa close to Stone Road.

(The Rocks, after quarrying by prisoners of the Ontario Reformatory, 2017. Author's photo.)

The Rocks are part of a series of rocky prominences along the Eramosa River, which were given the name the Eramosa formation in its honour. Geologically, these "Guelph dolomites" take the form of compressed layers of bituminous shales and may be as old as 425 million years.

Speaking of The Rocks in particular, Williams (1915, p. 2) notes that:

South of the prison farm near the Eramosa river, a coral reef rises through Eramosa beds which have been eroded from its top but still flank its sides. The reef is 35 yards wide by 85 yards long and rises about 20 feet at the centre.

It is interesting to think that the banks of the Eramosa River were once the site of a coral reef.

Besides their interesting geology, The Rocks were known as a good place to find wild food. Ducks for shooting have already been mentioned. In the summer, wild berries could also be found there (Mercury, 25 July 1904):

A party of berrypickers, on the dairy farm at the Rocks, of which there are quite a number, had a fright on Friday. One of the ladies nearly tramped on a snake about three feet long. They thought that it was a rattle snake by the sound that it made in its flight. It was a question of whether the ladies or the snake were more scared. Apparently the snake went for its cover, but it is certain that the ladies left the berry patch for home.

As Guelph grew, the geography of the Eramosa sustained more alterations. On 25 June 1886, another private park took shape on the south bank of the Eramosa just west of Victoria Road. The Park was named Victoria Park, after both the nearby road and, of course, the British Queen. The Boating Club made arrangements to rent the land from its owner, Mrs. Evan MacDonald, cleared it up, added tables, chairs, and other amenities suitable for picnics and camping. A sturdy dock was installed on the riverbank, along with stairs carved into the Eramosa rock for the convenience of those arriving by boat or from the nearby road.

A lovely description of Victoria Park is provided in a letter sent as an advertisement to the Acton Free Press to entice customers from further afield to enjoy the Park's offerings (22 July 1886):

... the banks are replete with natural beauty; green hedges dotted with flowers, and interspersed with vines that mount in tangled profusion to the tops of the trees in some places, and fringed at the water’s edge are ferns reflected in the clear mirror of the river, and you row along in a fairy land of nature’s own. You land at a broad wharf when you reach Victoria Park, and a sidewalk of strong planks winds away inland through ferns and tangled brushwood, and mounts on a strong stairway, with romantic seats here and there, the face of the precipice. Or, if you wish a glimpse of moss-grown boulders and lovely lovers’ walks, leave the plank walk and follow the path round the foot of the rocks which tower high over your heads, where you will find much to interest you, especially if you have with you the one person of all the world to you, to help you enjoy it.
If you mount the steep stairway you will find a high dry open space, with grand trees here and there, seats are placed round some, swings are hanging from others, and there is plenty of scope for the largest party to have the best of all good times.

The dock, seats, and swings are now gone, but the place where Victoria Park used to stand can still be accessed from the Guelph Radial Line trail or the easternmost hole of the Cutten Fields golf course.

(Victoria Park Landing, Guelph, ca. 1910, published by W.G. Macfarlane, Toronto. Author's collection.)

Later reminiscences cast a rosy glow over the pleasures of Victoria Park. During the warmer weather, people would often paddle out every Friday to camp there for the weekend. The most determined clients would camp there all summer, paddling downriver for work each morning and returning each evening.

Boating together was considered a highly romantic activity and it was said that, "Many a prominent business man in Guelph today can look back and thank the old canoe excursions for the helpmate who has been his life partner since those days of carefree companionship" (Mercury, 20 July 1927).

During its heyday in 1895–1900, boating to Victoria Park was a focus of leisure activity for many Guelphites. Campers would enjoy musical entertainments including the singing of a young Eddie Johnson (later a world-famous tenor) and the piccolo playing of Arthur Wheatley. At midnight, boaters would return to town en masse, still singing:

All the way, the river valley would echo and re-echo to the noisy choruses which were shouted lustily all the way down. Hands and arms would be made into grappling irons and the great armada of frail craft would be welded together on the return trip. Only those in the rear would paddle, and that just enough energy would be expended to keep the fleet in motion.

Another landmark arrived on the Eramosa River in 1888 in the form of a bridge to service the new Guelph Junction Railway, which initially ran from the Priory to the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) line at Campbellville. As the railway is operated by the CPR, the bridge is often referred to simply as the CPR bridge.

(The River Speed—Guelph, Ontario. Publisher unknown. Note the CPR bridge in the background. Author's collection.)

Although viewed with great fondness, the Eramosa River, like the Caney Fork River, is a taker and a giver. A number of boaters drowned in its waters and accounts of these events relate more of its geography to us.

The most noted drowning in the Eramosa in that era was of Hector Cooper and Eugene Gagnon on 24 May 1905. Cooper was then finishing his third year at the Ontario Agricultural College (OAC) while Gagnon, of Quebec, was taking commercial and English training at the Central School in preparation for studies at the OAC (Evening Mercury, 25 May 1904). The boys had become good friends and had decided to go for a paddle up the Eramosa at 4 o'clock that afternoon. They rented a canoe at the Boat House and set out.

A half-hour later, their canoe and a coat were found floating on Hood's bay by other boaters. Upon being informed, Mr. Johnson, owner of the Boat House, suspected that the boys had tipped over and set out for home to dry out, leaving the canoe for him to bring in. This sort of occurrence was not an uncommon one. Nevertheless, finding some of Cooper's letters in the coat pocket, Johnson sent word to the OAC to locate the boys. When Cooper was not to be found, a search party set out along the river. Cooper's body was found a few yards west from the corner turning into Macdonald’s spring. Gagnon's body was found a few hours later about fifty yards further downstream.

Both boys were fit and Hooper was said to be an excellent swimmer, so the cause of their drownings remained a mystery.

The term "Hood's bay" likely refers to George Hood, a butcher who had lived on a property on the York Road at the intersection with the eponymous Hood Street, still bearing that name today. His property backed onto the Eramosa river near where it changes from a westerly to a northerly heading. At a guess, then, Hood's bay may refer to a stretch of the river that widens out northwest of this bend, behind the location of St. Mary's Ukrainian Church today.

(Hood's bay, 2018. Photo by author.)

The feature referred to as Macdonald's spring must then be what local cartographer Jeremey Shute calls Whiteley's Creek, which rises on the University of Guelph campus and flows down through the Cutten Fields, emptying into the Eramosa River just east of Hood's bay. The Macdonalds owned the property on the south bank of the Eramosa in town and their home and other buildings lay near this stream.

Last, but not least, among the familiar places in the landscape of Eramosa boating was the Waterworks. The city Waterworks were built at the foot of Ontario street on the banks of the Eramosa in 1879. Since the waterworks were public property, the location was treated as a public park and boaters with their own craft would use it as a launching point.

Unfortunately, the accessibility of the waterworks also made it a hangout for idle young men. Sometimes, these "loafers" amused themselves at the expense of boaters (Mercury, 14 June 1887):

Bad boys—there is a fine opportunity for the police to nab the number of bad boys who congregate lightly on the Rivers edge in the bushes behind the water works. They sit there, and as every boat goes past, most vulgar and unbecoming remarks are made about the occupants, which are most revolting to the ears of the lady occupants as well as the gentleman. The employees of the water works, although having nothing to do in the matter, for the sake of decency chase them away whenever they can, but the young scamps are so wide-awake that whenever they see them approach they scamper off among the bushes and hide, only to return again when all danger is passed. A policeman in plain clothes would have no difficulty in nabbing the whole gang.

Whether or not these miscreants were ever caught I do not know.

As postcards of the Edwardian era attest, boating on the Eramosa remained a popular pastime. However, the Guelph Boating Club of 1895 came to grief in 1900. An attempt to form a new club was made in 1927 but did not succeed. With the adoption of automobiles, people took drives out in the country to have their picnics. There was talk of paving parkways along the Speed so that it could be enjoyed by car (Mercury, 28 September 1918), though the money to do so was lacking.

(Scene on the river Speed, Guelph, Canada. Published by the International Stationary Company, Picton, Ontario, ca. 1910. Author's collection.)

In addition, the geography of the Eramosa was the subject of more changes, for example, with the arrival of the Ontario Reformatory. However, that is a matter for another time.