1861-1866.

Personal Incidents.—Dr. Ryerson's Visits to Norfolk Co.

During the years of 1861-1866, Dr. Ryerson was chiefly engaged in his official duties, and part of the time with the University question. There is, therefore, little to record during these years except personal matters. The following letters from two of his brothers indicate how strong was their attachment to him:—

In September, 1864, Dr. Ryerson wrote the following account of visits which he made to his native county of Norfolk:—

I conclude this epitomised sketch with three remarks. I am satisfied of the truth of what I have long believed, that a small boat is as safe, if not safer, than a large one, if properly constructed, fitted out, trimmed, and managed. I believe that many a large open boat, if not capsized by the wind, would have been swamped by the waves over which my little craft rode in safety.

I have never experienced the benefit of out-door exertion and the comfort of retirement to the same degree as during these excursions, besides daily riding on horseback and preparing all the wood consumed at my cottage. Between two and three years ago I found it painful labour to walk one mile, I have since walked twelve miles in a day, besides attending to other duties—an improvement of my general system, which is already acting sensibly and encouragingly on the seat of thought and nervous influence. In my lonely voyage from Toronto to Port Ryerse, the scene was often enchanting, and the solitude sweet beyond expression. I have witnessed the setting sun amidst the Swiss and Tyrolese Alps, from lofty elevations, on the plains of Lombardy, from the highest eminence of the Appenines, between Bologna and Florence, and from the crater summit of Vesuvius, but I never was more delighted and impressed (owing, perhaps, in part to the susceptible state of my feelings) with the beauty, effulgence, and even sublimity of atmospheric phenomena, and the softened magnificence of surrounding objects, than in witnessing the setting sun the 23rd of June, from the unruffled bosom of Lake Erie, a few miles east of Port Dover, and about a mile from the thickly wooded shore, with its deepening and variously reflected shadows. And when the silent darkness enveloped all this beauty, and grandeur, and magnificence in undistinguishable gloom, my mind experienced that wonderful sense of freedom and relief which come from all that suggests the idea of boundlessness—the deep sky, the dark night, the endless circle, the illimitable waters. The world with its tumult of cares seemed to have retired, and God and His works appeared all in all, suggesting the enquiry which faith and experience promptly answered in the affirmative—

My last remark is the vivifying influence and unspeakable pleasure of visiting scenes endeared to me by many tender, and comparatively few painful recollections. Amid the fields, woods, out-door exercises, and associations of the first twenty years of my life, I have seemed to forget the sorrows, labours and burdens of more than two score years, and to be transported back to what was youthful, simple, healthy, active, and happy. I can heartily sympathise with the feelings of Sir Walter Scott when, in reply to Washington Irving, who had expressed disapprobation in the scenery of the Tweed, immortalized by the genius of the Border Minstrel, he said,—

Dr. Ryerson was very bold and skilful in the management of a sail boat, as may be inferred from the foregoing incidents. On one occasion, a few years ago, while sailing on the Toronto bay in his skiff, he was overtaken by a gale, during which the steeple of Zion Church was blown down, but, through God's goodness, he reached terra firma in safety.

He frequently sailed his little craft, as he has mentioned, from Port Ryerse and Port Rowan to his Long Point cottage—a distance of thirteen and nine miles respectively—and that, too, in all sorts of weather, and sometimes when much larger boats would not venture outside of the harbour.

For many years Dr. Ryerson was considered one of the best shots at Long Point. When over seventy years of age, he killed from seventy to eighty duck in one day in his punt and with his own gun. In the spring of 1880, when in his seventy-eighth year, he was overtaken by darkness, and, not being able to reach his cottage, was compelled to remain all night in the marsh. Rolling himself up in his blankets, in his boat, he quietly went to sleep. In the early morning he was rewarded by capturing nine wild geese.

He crossed Lake Ontario, between Toronto and Port Dalhousie, four times alone in his skiff (only sixteen feet long), and three times accompanied by his son. Fear was unknown to him, and he never lost his presence of mind, even in the most perilous circumstances.

Another favourite recreation of his was riding. He was often seen before six o'clock in the morning enjoying a canter in the suburbs of Toronto.

Writing to me from Ridgeway in August, 1866, he said:—

To-day I left Toronto in my little skiff for Port Dalhousie. The lake was as smooth as glass the greater part of the day, and the latter part of the day there was not a breath of wind, so that I had to row. I got into Port Dalhousie in the evening. I was at the Queen's Own camp at Thorold yesterday. I visited a large number of tents, and examined the whole mode of living, and especially of cooking. It was amusing, among other cases of the same kind, to see several young gentlemen of Toronto cooking, and others assisting. I saw them cutting their meat, etc. They have the reputation of being the best cooks in the battalion. I go to Port Colborne in the rail cars, and will proceed in my skiff to Port Ryerse, or rather to Port Dover first. I hope to get there to-morrow. I went over the battle-ground here last evening.

As many people were curious to know how Dr. Ryerson spent his time at his Long Point cottage, the following letter, written to his cousin, Major Ryerse, in April, 1873, will supply the information. It relates to one day's experience, and was about the average of these experiences there:—On leaving the island cottage, I paddled and pushed my boat about six miles in the marsh, Monday forenoon. I rowed all the way to Port Ryerse against a head wind, one part of the way so strong that I shipped a good deal of water, and got wet. I was from two to eight o'clock rowing from my cottage to Port Ryerse. I was too wet and fatigued to walk to your house, but went to bed at nine, got up at five, and started for Simcoe at six. I walked eight miles out of ten on the ice, from Port Rowan over—going the other two miles by water, in a skiff which we took with us on a hand-sled. During the first eight days I did not go out in the marsh at all, but devoted myself wholly to my papers and books. The second week I went out three times, about three hours each, got a little game, but not enough to leave any on the way, except to a few friends. I am now beginning to enjoy rest more than exertion; and am not certain when I shall come again, or whether I shall come at all again.

While on his educational tour in 1866, Dr. Ryerson wrote to me from Napanee, and said:—There was a very large meeting in Picton on Saturday and another here to-day, and both went with me in everything, with showers of compliments and almost enthusiastic feeling.

A large number of the oldest settlers and Methodists were invited to meet me last night at Mr. Dorland's, in Adolphustown. The service in the evening was to them a feast of fat things, and some of them spoke of it as the happiest occasion of their lives. I felt very happy with them. They said it reminded them of "old times."