Hope Macniven
Mr. Hope Macniven, of Ingersoll, had the pleasure in his
younger days, during the first quarter of the present
century, of seeing and hearing many of the most eminent
men in Britain. He heard Doctor Chalmers and Edward Irving preach, before Irving went to London, where he became so famous ;
he saw on the stage those eminent tragedians, the elder and the younger
Kean; he was also fortunate enough to have seen Sir Walter Scott and
Thomas Campbell, the author of the 'Pleasures of Hope' and 'Exile of Erin ;'
And he also saw, in Glasgow, the distinguished author of 'Virginius,'
Sheridan Knowles, famous also man Elocutionist ; he had an opportunity of
frequently seeing Lord Brougham, and Lord Byron's friend, Sir John Cam.
Hobhouse ; he also beheld the burly figure of that bold champion of popular
rights, William Cobbett; and was in close intimacy with Henry Scott Riddel,
author of that magnificent song ' Scotland Yet,' Mr. Macniven sent a copy
of his poems to that distinguished statesman, W. E. Gladstone, and received
a letter of thanks, under the seal of the Royal arms, with the Premier of Great
Britain's autograph attached; he received a similar mark of favor from Lord
Lorne. Mr. Macniven has had the honor of conversing with the brillant D'Arcy
MacGee, and of an intimate acquaintance with A. McLauglan and Evan McCol,
and Hamilton's sweetest song writer, William Murray. The late Mrs. Macniven
published a small volume of poems some 20 years ago.
poem by James McIntyre
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Adventure on a Raft
The following adventure happened in the experience of an
Ingersoll man.
' Truth is strange, stranger than fiction.'
A man rafting down the river,
Time he will remember ever,
He shouted, ' Pole, the raft to land,
Or we'll be wrecked upon the strand.'
But captain gave him a reply
That all danger he would defy ;
But, in another moment more
Part was wrecked upon the shore
Of a Nova Scotian bay ;
The other half was borne away.
Enough to make a person shiver,
Man was drifted out of river,
All alone on the broken raft,
Driven where e'er the wind did waft ;
Right out on the open sea,
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poem by James McIntyre
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Dairy Ode
Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.
The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.
Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.
Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.
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poem by James McIntyre
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Brodie Castle
The following sonnet on Brodie Castle Nairnshire, Scotland, was written
by my venerable Uncle, Thomas McIntyre, of St. Catherines, and father
of John B. McIntyre, Ex-Grand Master of the Independant Order of Odd
-fellows, and now, and for many years, an Alderman of the city of
St. Catherines. It was written by him as an acrostic on the words Brodie
Castle. I have taken the liberty of transfusing it into common verse. The
lines prove the old gentlemen to be kind hearted and as having a great
affection for his native land. He has been in. St. Catherines for half a
century, engaged in the same business I have been employed in for
about one-third of a century, in Ingersoll.
Scotland has produced three great shepherds
Talford, the inventor of Suspension Bridges,
Ferguson, the Astronomer, and Hogg the
Ettrick shepherd, the great song writer.
Brodie Castle,ever dear to my heart,
For there I first played my humble part.
When only thirteen, I there had employ.
In the position of a shepherd boy ;
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poem by James McIntyre
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People Will Talk
The following lines were written at the request of a little girl,
who said she would recite them at a Sunday School
entertainment. She wished it written to the refrain people
will talk. I presume the ideas in the following are nearly,
altogether original, or they are very differently worded
from the old pieces under the title of 'People will Talk.'
Dressing in fashion will be called vain,
And they'll call you a dowdey [sic] if you are plain ;
But do what is right, lot that be the test
Then proudly hold up your head with the best-
For people will talk.
You will never be wrong, if you do what is right,
And this course pursue with all of your might ;
And if you're a child, going to school,
Or full grown up, take this for your rule-
For people will talk.
The best way to do is to let them rave,
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poem by James McIntyre
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Potato Bug Exterminators
During the summer of 1883 we were walking along past a large field of
potatoes in North Oxford, where we beheld the strange spectacle of a
pair of bipeds drilling their offspring to march up one potato row and
down the other, so as to annihilate the enemy, who had assembled in
vast armies, dressed in yellow garments, and who were committing
fearful depredations on the fruits of the husbandmen, until the valuable
auxilliary forces rushed to the rescue of the farmer, o'erwhelming the
enemy and with one fell swoop, bringing on them consternation and
ruin dire. It appears that the foe, or their progenitors,
had been citizens of Colordo in the far West. And that,
having conquered all before them, they sought another
World to conquer here.
When we do trace out nature's laws,
And view effects, and muse on cause,
For the future there's great hope
If we our eyes do only ope.
With joy they will often glisten,
If to truth one doth but listen ;
But people often turn deaf ear
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poem by James McIntyre
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Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese
In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people, I believed that it could be realized. I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford companies factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was making there. This company with but little assistance could produce a ten ton cheese.
Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies could join
To furnish curd for great combine
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.
Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd they would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.
So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
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poem by James McIntyre
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The Shires on the Moray Frith
Worthy of either song or story
Are the Shires found Frith of Moray.
Here lies the valley of Strathspey,
Famed for its music-lively, gay.
Elgin cathedral's 'prentice aisle
Is glory of that ruined pile.
What modern chisel now could trace
Fine scuplture of that ancient place?
And Forres, famed for Sweyn's stane,
In honor of that kingly Dane.
'Graved with warriors' runes and rhyme
Long prior to historic times.
For a thousand years it's been forgot
Who was victor-Dane or Scot.
It is the country of Macbeth,
Where good King Duncan met his death,
And Barren Heath-that place of fear-
Stood witches' cauldron of Shakespeare.
Nairn's Cawdor Castle strong remains-
Full worthy of the ancient Thanes.
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poem by James McIntyre
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St. Andrews Anniversary
The following is a clipping from an old Ingersoll paper
on St. Andrew's Anniversary, 30th November, 1868 :
The Anniversary of Scotia's tetular [sic] saint was celebrated on Monday with great eclat
by a dinner at Mr. Douglass' Hotel. The spread on the occasion was excellent ; not
only Scotia's sons, but many who came from merry England and the Green Isle were
present. After the cloth had been removed Mr. McIntyre took the chair, and Mr. Sorley
the vice chair. Songs, speeches and toasts became the order of the evening The
following original piece was rendered by Mr. McIntyre in good style :-
Scotia's sons to-night we meet thee
With kindly feelings we do greet thee
In honour of the land of Heather
Around this board to-night we gather.
Land where the fields for border edges
Have garlands of blooming hedges,
Land of the whin and of the broom,
And where the bonnie blue bells bloom.
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poem by James McIntyre
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Tercentenary Ode on Shakespeare
We had the honour of delivering in 1864 the principal address at the
tercentennial anniversary of Shakspeare in the Town Hall,
Ingersoll, before a large audience, and we read the following ode
on the occasion:
' Shakespeare requires no marble monument;
He lives forever in our wonder and astonishment.
BEN JONSON.
Three centuries have passed away
Since that most famous April day
When the sweet, gentle Will was born;
Whose name the age will 'ere adorn.
That great Elizabethian age
Does not leave on history's page
A name so bright, he stands like Saul
A head and shoulders over all.
Delineator of mankind,
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poem by James McIntyre
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