Did you know that in 1914, the New Brunswick government had initiated a project to build a roadbed from Shediac to Prince Edward Island for trains to cross? I didn’t! I learned about it by reading a letter written by a man on vacation in Shediac that year.
Two years go, I received an email from Gerard Richard from Naples Florida who was on vacation in New Brunswick just prior to the CMA 2019. At that time, he had sent me a travelogue written by his father when he visited the Shediac area at 24 years old in 1914.
I have recently reread the document and received authorization from Gerard to post a transcription on our website. To me, it is an extremely interesting letter to read. It was originally handwritten, and at one point, his wife made a typed copy. It is from this typed copy that I transcribed the document ( I apologize if there are typing mistakes). I hope you enjoy!
William H. Richard, the author of this letter, was the son of Dominique Richard and Domitilde (Tilda) Leménager (LeBlanc) from the Shediac area. (see genealogy below)
Vacation Aug. 1 - 15th, 1914
Written by William Henry Richard to his chums in Millville when he was 24 years old
I left Millville at 1:00 o’clock Saturday Aug. 1st, with another fellow from Millville, Ed. Hartnett, and reached Boston at 3:00. Registered at the U.S. Hotel on Beach St. Had a fine chicken supper and went to Keith’s . Good show. In the morning went to mass in a church at the corner of Harrison and Beach St. The interior of this church is most beautiful, but the district in which it is situated now, il little more than a slum; a very low class of people living around it, from several different nationalities, including Chinese and Armenians. The congregation, therefore, was very cosmopolitan and one affording a good chance to study types. We took an elevated car from Beach St. near the Hotel, for Central Wharf. The boat left Sunday morning Aug. 2nd at 10:00 sharp. The Gov. Dingley is its name. We were only on it about a half-hour before it started. In the morning I ate a very heavy breakfast, and had apples in the Hotel before I left. The day was a particularly calm one, but the boat commenced rocking almost at once. Many who know, on the boat, said it is the nicest boat on the line, from a point of interior finish, but for construction, it is very poor, being what is known as “top heavy” and very easy to rock. At 12:00 I knew I didn’t feel just as I would on terra firma, but I insisted on having a broiled chicken dinner at 1:00, along with potato chips. At about 2:00 I was sick. Not bad, not to begin with some, but I felt mean enough to suit me. So I went to sleep in the stateroom and stayed there until 6:00. I refused to eat supper. I went on the top deck, the worst place for seasickness, although I did not know it at the time, and remained looking at the beautiful moon, which was a fortunate part of the trip, until 8:00 when I deemed it advisable to return to the stateroom, for I had another spell. I retired at 9:00 and slept until 3:00, when I was awakened by the boat’s whistle blowing every minute, for we had run into a fog and couldn’t see a foot ahead.
At 5:00 Boston time we docked at St. John, N.B., 6:00 o’clock St. John time. We were in the midst of a severe thunder shower which continued for about an hour longer and stopped. It did not clear up however, and the morning continued misty and damp. We got on the street at about 8:00, when we boarded a car for the St. John depot. I noticed immediately that everything in street traffic was the opposite to the states. We entered by the door at the left. All switches are to the left, and when you pass a team it is always to the left, not to the right. The ride from the wharf to the station is about 20 minutes. The Conductor comes around with a fare box, that’s what I would call it, about five times the size of those used by the Rhode Island Company, into which the fare is inserted. It does not register, but there are two windows to the box and you can see your coin in the box, showing that the conductor has not your fare and that it is in the company’s receptable. We checked our baggage and went out to look for a good place to eat breakfast. We asked a cop and he showed us a place that he called good, but in appearance it resembled many of those on South Main St., in Providence. On pursuing our search for a half hour we came to the conclusion that high class restaurants in St. John were scarce, if at all, so we inquired of the paper boys and they told us that up on King’s Square we should find some good ones. We went there, but they didn’t really appeal to us, and we thought we would inquire of a civilian for a good place to eat before we would enter any of the restaurants. We met a man coming along whom we decided to ask and he proved himself a perfect gentleman, not like you would find in Boston, for he had time to escort us to the Park Hotel.
By the way, the people up this way have all the time there is. No one is in a hurry. They all take their time, I don’t mean waste time, but they take things easy, and there is a marked absence of worried countenances. We had a rattling good breakfast in this hotel. When we came out, we felt satisfied, of course, and we then appreciated that King’s Square was as nice a spot for the center of a city, that we had ever seen. It is a perfect square, and the streets surrounding the square are wide and well kept, and each about 150 yards long. In the center of the square is a bubbling fountain and over this is erected a band stand. Settees under shade trees are conspicuous, and are well utilized, it was told us, during the summer months, by those who find immense enjoyment in the simple things of life.
At 11:20 (now it’s New Brunswick time) we left on the train for Shediac. The journey was long, but much of the tediousness was removed by the comfort we obtained in the excellent coach of the I.C.R. Far better coaches that on the Providence & Worcester Road. The riding is heavy on this line in the summer time, taking many travelers to Prince Edward’s Island, and many had to stand the whole length of the journey. We reached Moncton, N.B., a very busy, but small city at 2:10, and we had to change coaches here, because the one we were in was on its way to Halifax, while the remainder of the train was to continue to Point du Chene, two miles further than our destination, and the end of the line. Up here there are two classes of passengers first and second class. We reached Shediac at 3:00.
Speaking of Point du Chene, a beautiful steel ship, plys daily between this point and Summerside, P.E. Island. The trip is 45 miles or so across and takes about 3 hours. At Point du Chene, they are commencing to construct a roadbed to Prince Edward’s Island. The cost of this is estimated at $10,000,000, and will take about five years to complete. Of course this is being built at a point much nearer to the island than Summerside, the destination of the Island Steamer. A space of about a quarter mile will be left open, however, for boats to pass through, and trains will run this distance on a ferry. It was very interesting to watch the trainloads of stone obtained at a quarry at Shediac, being thrown into the waters of Northumberland Straight. It is only on seeing this that one can appreciate the immensity of the undertaking, and the cost. Stones weighting from five to ten tons are simply thrown in any old way, in an endeavor to make a foundation for the roadbed. We stayed in Shediac until 6:00 waiting for a conveyance to take us to Barachois. Because of a missent letter this was due.
We were hungry of course, nothing since morning; we therefore went into what is called up that way, an Oyster saloon, and we had oyster stew and toast, and coffee, which excepting the coffee, can only be equalled in our country, but not exceeded. While in the saloon, we heard what, I suppose should be called a small band, “whoop er up”. We knew from the sound that it must be across the street. So we saw an electric sign, “Star Theater” and billboards reading “Tonight, ‘The Texan’s Daughter’”. Taking in the situation quickly we knew it was a show troupe, such as we used to have in Millville some 16 years ago, when I was very small, but not small enough to forget. The admission was 50¢ and 35¢, and I couldn’t help think of how badly the people of Shediac would be roasted if they would go and see the performance. In size the theater was about equal to ½ the size of what was the Hub, on Social St., Woonsocket.
At about 8:00 we reached my Uncle’s place in Barachois. This is a fine place, in a very level country. You can see from the door of the house across a mile or so of land to the Northumberland Straits, on whose waters, an object 12 miles away could be seen. The air up this way is very different from ours, and this coupled with the level country accounts for the fact that one can see so far. Another peculiarity I noticed was that the length of day was greater than we have at home, in other words the sun sets about a little more than an hour later, and rises correspondingly earlier. The evenings here are very cold, and it is no place for the summer “unders—–“. At 9:00 an overcoat is not out of place. The first night we retired kind of late, staying up talking, and we rose a bit late in the morning. I noticed, however, that the sun was just as hot in the day time as at home, but the heat isn’t felt because of the cooling breezes, that are always doing their duty. However, one can get, I think, more badly sunburned here than at home, in the same length of time. I noticed that wild roses were just finishing their bloom, and also the white daisies. I was surprised too, at breakfast to be treated to a mess of strawberries. But they were some strawberries, not our kind — they were nice and sweet and they would almost melt in your mouth – they had that feeling. String beans and peas, were just coming out for the first time, so you can see that things are somewhat behind our state, in the fruit and vegetable line. They are eating new potatoes however, now, but potatoes that far excel any that I have ever eaten in the states. Haying is being completed now, which is about a month later than in the states. To travel anywhere anyone has to take a buggy, but the horses are fast and well kept and fine in appearance. We spent our time in several ways. I worked some at making hay. I drove the mowing machine (I am not saying how long) and gathered the hay in piles (not am I going to say how many piles) but I will say that I didn’t stay very long at loading the wagon from the ground, for I found it much too difficult for me, being as I am unaccustomed to this kind of labor. We went trout fishing (Did we catch anything? Such a foolish question) in a pond near the house. We also went picking berries once, and between two of us, who never picked berries since we were 10, two quarts in an hour, may give you an idea of the size and quantity of them up in the Province of N.B.
A very interesting experience, which I will not forget right away, was a buggy drive to Point du Chene, and then, when the tide had gone out, riding up from Point du Chene to Cape Brulee, a distance of three miles, in the buggy, with the horse up to his waist and the wheels over their hubs. The horse enjoyed it and so did we. We could have gone along the shore for a distance of 20 miles had we the time and the desire, so you can imagine the kind of sea shore it is. But we also had a few experiences at digging our own clams, for our chowders. You go along the shore and look for small holes in the sand. This is a sign that a clam is hidden in the sand. The operation is to get down on your hands and knees and dig with your hands until you come to the fellow and pull him up. One must be careful not to go too fast for it is dangerous that you will come upon him quicker than expected ad you might cut your finger, as I did, on his shell. Of course if you were to undertake digging clams, commercially, you wouldn’t do it in this laborious manner, but for amusement it is fine. We made several trips to the shore.
In the evenings we enjoyed several parties at different houses along with one or two at my uncle’s. The old time fiddlers and organ players, were a treat to us, for we are not used to hearing many play be ear down in the states. There are some good singers among them. In one house where we went they had one of the latest Columbia Graphaphones and when we heard the pieces played with which we were familiar, it hardly seemed we were separated from the states more than a few miles instead of over 600.
The Sunday I stayed there we went to high mass and the priest was very careful about pronunciation of his words, and every ceremony was carried out with precision and without any evidence of haste. He spoke about the war and prayed, first for peace, and then for the success of the British and French armies if peace could be had in no other way.
I had a 24 mile buggy ride to Upper Aboujagane, where I Have relatives residing. Oh my what a ride. I felt it all the next day. The roads are very rough. They are of a species of clay, very hard, after a rain and not even at all and you can imagine the kind of riding it is. All along the road it was a pretty sight to see the blue berry bushes, all blue, as it were inviting passers to take possession of them. Along the road we came to three “drinking fountains”. A spring somewhere in the woods on a hill, of course, with its water transmitted over the fields by means of a hewn wooden pipe, into the trunk of a tree, along the road, hewn with an axe. Just the same the horses make good use of them, and on such long drives, without them, it would be a handicap. I saw the most beautiful and large fields of oats I ever saw and the farms are thick with potatoes. Oats and potatoes predominate in this section. The potato stalks are large, hight, and perfectly green yet, and while they have some potato bugs, they are by no means as common as at home. There is no talk heard among the farmers of scientific farming but when a man can get 450 bushels of potatoes from an acre, I think he is in position to beat many a theoretical college professor at the game of raising potatoes.
The food in every house I stated, is about the same standard, very wholesome, very plain, but exceedingly healthy. Dishes are scrupulously clean. I never ate beef after leaving Boston, and I was just as well off as if I had at every day, as I do at home, and I am more firmly convinced now that it is not a necessity and perhaps it is true that one is better without it. The people up there live well, eat well. They are not rich as we understand it, yet they are highly prosperous, having many of the riches that money cannot buy.
I felt the time pass all too quickly, and I had decided on leaving Thursday Aug. 13, but I went to a picnic of the Moncton merchants at Point du Chene the day before and had such a good time that I could not resolve to leave on the following day with the thoughts of such enjoyment, so I decided to keep quiet and rest Thursday and leave Friday. There was no dancing at the picnic, except on a very small platform I saw about 6 couples dancing a sort of a quadrille. Dancing is very rare up this way.
I never saw a more happy contented people in my life than those I met in New Brunswick. I would gladly at any time, exchange places with them. True it is they don’t see a whole lot of money, and those that work for others work for small wages, but they mostly all are farmers, and they are close to nature, enjoying what God intended man should enjoy. They see their crops grow, they are conscious that their labors had something to do with it, and they trust in God for everything. They are absolutely honest, they are not scheming tricks to play, they are not staying awake nights thinking how to make money, how to beat their neighbor, but after reciting the rosary altogether each night, they retire to sleep, and to thank God for having given them the grace to live that day, and praying that it if is his will, to do the same for the next. There is none of this fast stuff, the tango, and all that bosh, but those people up there enjoy life in a way that none, who are continually searching for pleasure, who cannot find happiness in their homes, who are constantly thinkingof what will come up next, can appreciate. I tell you with all the truth in my power, I was never so impressed in all my life. I have learned a lesson I shall carry to the grave. I have read of such life, but didn’t believe. Now that I have see it, I am convinced. I cannot go to New Brunswick now, but their life is my ideal, and if ever, later on in life, I can go there, I shall or else enjoy their life here as they do there. I was never more lonesome for a place than I am for the vacation land I left. I wasn’t lonesome for home, but lonesome when I got home, because my home happens to be where it is. Propriety prevents me from speaking as I would, but you should see the girls up that way. They all sew, make their own clothes, trim hats, cook, work in the fields, are healthy, strong and vigorous, adore their parents, eager at every turn to help them and intelligent. Most all play some kind of instrument, they all read (of course, the English language is but little known to many) write good hands, better than many of us who have gone to school all our life, and all this with but a few years’ schooling, obtained for the most, only in the winter months. And what a calm looking lot of girls. Perfect women every one; modest, unassuming, emulating St. Paul’s description of what a women should be. Don’t take offence at any of this I am just stating the facts, not exaggerations, rather condensing.
I had considerable opportunity to speak French up there. I had to do it about three-quarters of the time. The men can talk English some, but the women hardly any. Not enough for conversation.
We left Shediac Friday Aug. 14th at 1:10 and reached St. John at 5:45. We left St. John at 5:45 Boston time. One hour after having reached the station from Shediac, on the Provincial Express, carrying sleeping cars, into which we got.
War has the country going pretty much, even where I was staying. Many of the young men have enlisted ant the farmers are storing in extra quantities of flour and other material needed in anticipation of a long wait for any more. On the railroad bridges the government has guards stationed to guard the property. In St. John we observed this situation ourselves.
We reached Boston Saturday morning Aug. 15th at 8:30am. Took a train at 11:00 for Pawtucket, reaching there at 12:10 and took a train at 12:17 for Millville, to which we arrived at 1:20. This completes the route, briefly, very briefly too, for one can see so many things in a two week’s trip to such a distance, that it would take much paper and time to tell.
Recollections of my trip will, I am sure, remain vivid, for the strong longing to again be in the Province of New Brunswick, will not lessen, rather increase, and I hope that I am not fated like the poor citizen who “never saw Carcasonne”, but that next year, 1915, if circumstances make it possible , I may at least enjoy a visit to God’s own country, four time as long as mine in 1914.
There is no one that appreciates neatness more than I, and who is eager at all times to contribute towards it, but this was written hastily, as spare moment only were available, and full concentration of thought upon the work in hand was hardly possible, so I trust that cross outs and misspelled words, and strike-overs, and the like, will be pardoned, by a consideration of the causes.
