“October 26, Tuesday. Digging potatoes. I went to a raising.”

This is a typical entry in the diary of Dempsey Corner farmer Dimock Freeman Bowlby in that it is brief, at times cryptic, and at the same time a revelation.

For a full year in 1909 when Bowlby’s age was 40 kept an account of his daily activities. All of the entries are similar to the one quoted above and for the most part, refer to work activity on the farm and in the woods.

Reading the diary, I got the impression that life in the period Bowlby chronicles was a constant struggle to wrest a living from the land. With the exception of the period in which Bowlby refers to a stint in the militia, he is constantly working the land and there is scant mention of recreation, leisure time or social activities. “I went to the woods in the morning,” “I got the oxen shod,” and “we were hauling manure and packing apples,” read typical entries.

Dimock Freeman Bowlby was born on January 11, 1869, and died on April 25, 1933. He was undoubtedly too old to serve in the armed forces during world war one since he would have been approaching 50; but as mentioned, he had militia training which was obligatory in that period. Bowlby lived in a time when most people dwelt on and worked the land and his diary indicates it was a life of constant labour. At the time, the majority of Nova Scotia’s population lived and worked in rural areas and enjoyed what economists referred to as a “agrarian economy.”

So what was life like in rural Kings County early in the 20th century? Mr. Bowlby may have been stinting with words but his diary entries said enough to glimpse farm life at the time. In the era before tractors were in common usage his beast of burden was the ox; he had horses as well since he mentions going for a drive and there is an entry referring to the cost of pasturing a mare and colt.

We can also infer that the barter system was in effect in 1909. There are various references to receiving goods for goods and apparently, money didn’t change hands.

Bowlby was typical of farmers in that period in that he practised mixed farming. He had cattle and sheep, was a fruit grower, and grew a mixture of vegetables, among them turnips, potatoes, beans, corn and tomatoes.

Another revealing entry is the one quoted above about the “raising.” I assume this referred to the raising of a barn or some sort of farm building on the property of a neighbour. In Bowlby’s day it was common for friends and neighbours to come from miles around to assist in the raising of a building; actually, it was one of the few social events in that era.

However, despite the almost daily entries about farm work, it wasn’t entirely all labour and no play in the early 20th century. There are references in the diary to evening drives, presumably with horse and carriage, visits by friends, the occasional trip into Kentville, and church on Sunday. There is even time for activities that possibly were of a charitable nature but the entries were too brief to determine this.

Mr. Bowlby’s diary for 1909 was transcribed by his daughter, Janet Parker Vaughan of Middleton, who donated a copy to the Kings County Museum. I’ll take another look at Mr. Bowlby’s diary next week, concentrating on his militia career. As mentioned, Bowlby spent time in the county militia and the diary contains interesting details on this aspect of farm life nearly 100 years ago.

It lies dormant today but there was a time when the Port Williams wharf linked Valley apple growers with markets around the world.

In fact, it was the apple industry seeking cheaper access to markets that led to the wharf being constructed. Several history books tell the story about the conflict between fruit growers and the shipping lines, among them Anne Hutten’s Valley Gold, W. C. Milner’s The Basin of Minas and Its Early Settlers and the community-written history, The Port Remembers.

These and other histories document that Valley apple growers, threatened by exorbitant rates of shipping lines that apparently reduced farm profits to zero, lobbied the government to build a wharf at Port Williams. On the conflict and the important role played by the Hon. J. L. Illsley in having the wharf constructed these histories agree; they differ, however, on exactly when the wharf was opened and who was behind the movement to have the wharf built.

Anne Hutten writes, for example, that “with characteristic Valley independence, George Chase decided to fight the shipping monopoly.” Hutten said that Chase, a prominent local farmer and entrepreneur, exerted pressure on Illsley, then Minister of National Revenue, to have a wharf built at Port Williams.

Hutten indicates that the wharf at Port Williams was operational by 1930 but gives no firm date for its construction. In The Port Remembers the editors write that apples were being shipped out of Port Williams in the late 1920s, indicating there was some sort of meagre wharf at this time, and that a larger wharf was built in 1930. “A new 230 foot wharf was built in 1930,” they write, “and along with it a steamer berthing bed, 310 feet in length and 43 feet in width.” This book also credits George Chase as the moving force behind the move to build the wharf.

W. C. Milner, who was chief archivist of the province at one time, tells a slightly different story on the origin of the Port Williams wharf. He credits Planter descendant William H. Chase with bringing the wharf to Port Williams. “Believing that the railway toll on apples, enroute to England, was excessive,” Milner writes, “(Chase) secured wharf extension at Port Williams and contracted with steamship companies to load with apples at Port Williams.”

Within a year of the wharf being completed Valley growers were shipping half a million barrels of apples out of Port Williams. “Vessels from abroad were… able to come in on the highest tides in the world, right past Valley orchards laden with fruit,” Anne Hutten writes, saving “millions of dollars in freight charges over the long haul.”

The wharf at Port Williams was constructed by Canard native Charles Wright, a Valley builder who is the subject of a soon-to-be-released book by Daphne Frazee. The wharf probably was completed around 1926 or 1927. These years are arrived at by talking with Edgar Bezanson of Aldersville. Mr. Bezanson remembers working on the wharf when he was about 17 years old; he is 97 and will be 98 next March.

When Hutchinson’s Nova Scotia Directory was published in 1864, Oak Point, or Kingsport as it was later to be called, didn’t rate a listing. But some 30 years later, Kingsport had a rail line terminating at a bustling wharf and connecting in Kentville with the provincial railway system.

Looking at Kingsport today it’s difficult to picture a time when it had several hotels and one of the best-known shipyards in eastern Canada. W. C. Milner pays tribute to Kingsport’s shipbuilder Ebenezar Cox in The Basin of Minas and Its Early Settlers (published in either the 1920s or early 1930s) noting that “in the shadow of Blomidon” he “built in about 30 years thirty vessels measuring, on the average, 1000 tons each.”

A. W. H. Eaton in his Kings County history practically ignores Kingsport, mentioning only that is a “favorite summer resort” and including a poem mourning the loss of its famous oak tree. Eaton also neglects to mention Ebenezar Cox in the few lines he devotes to Kingsport shipbuilders.

However, despite this oversight by Eaton, Kingsport’s importance in the late 19th and early 20th century can been seen by the number of hotels it once boasted. In my notes, I recently found a reference to Kingsport having as many as three hotels in its heydey. When I mentioned this to that walking encyclopaedia, Leon Barron, he pointed out that there were more than three establishments that operated as hotels or inns. “Cora Atkinson only mentions three in her book (Kingsport by the Sea, which is out of print)” Leon said, “but there were actually four.”

One of the hotels only operated for a few years, Leon said. This was the Longspell Inn – some sources spell it Longspeil – which opened in 1910 and burned down in 1913. Atkinson mentions the Longspell Inn in her book, briefly describing the opening on a “glorious day” on Friday, July 1, when a large crowd gathered. Nothing like it was seen “since shipbuilding days,” Atkinson observed.

Immediately south of the United Church was the Sunnyside Inn, which is mentioned by Atkinson. Leon speculates that the Sunnyside Inn likely sprung up around the time the Cornwallis Valley Railway was completed.

“To the east of the Daniel Cox house, now owned by Mrs. Stockall,” Atkinson writes, “is the E. C. Borden hotel.” Leon believes this was called the Kingsport Hotel and it opened in 1891. “It was demolished some time ago,” he adds.

The Central House was another Kingsport hotel and around 1898 it was owned by a gentleman called Pryor Corkum. Leon recalls that for a time the Central House was managed in the 1890s by one Stevie Repetto.

Besides operating a hotel in Kingsport, E. C. or Elijah Borden also has another claim to fame. Leon tells me he was the first station agent in Kingsport; he was also the collector of customs for the port of Kingsport.

In a letter describing a tragic airplane crash in her area during the last war, Hants shore historian Edith Mosher mentioned Boot Island. “There is a Boot Island mystery, by the way,” she said without telling me what it was.

Unfortunately, Ms. Mosher passed away before I could ask for details on the Boot Island mystery. I mentioned her comment several times in columns about the island, hoping that a reader might be aware of what Mosher was referring to. There was no feedback and I assumed that any knowledge of a Boot Island mystery died with Ms. Mosher.

A few days ago, however, Ted Sanford of Woodville called to ask if I’d be interested in reading an account about Boot Island and its mystery rock. The account was written in 1985 by George Spencer of Summerville. A copy of the account was found in the papers of Mr. Sanford’s late wife.

In the account, Mr. Spencer describes an unusual rock that lies on a ledge just off Boot Island. The rock is unusual in that it is granite and normally wouldn’t be found on the Minas Basin mudflats. It’s also unusual in that it has markings that are either in an unknown language or are markings typical of those created by the Mi’kmaq. Embedded in the rock is a large metal ring, which Mr. Spencer refers to as “horseshoe shaped.” Accompanying the account are photographs of the rock showing the ring embedded in it.

Mr. Spencer writes that the rock can be found off the south-easterly tip of the Boot, “about three-quarters of the distance from the (bell) buoy. I’m not familiar with marine navigation in this area but apparently the bell buoy, and what Mr. Spencer calls the red buoy, mark the channel in the approach to the Avon River.

The first thought that comes to mind is that the huge rock described by Mr. Spencer – which has what appears to be a mooring ring and is described as such by Spencer – is simply a discarded buoy anchor. It appears to be fairly close to two buoys marking the channel leading to the Avon River.

However, some sort of inscriptions are on the rock and attempts to have them deciphered by Spencer and his brother were unsuccessful. Spencer’s brother Charles copied the inscription and took it to Kings College in Windsor. “No one there could interpret it,” Spencer writes, adding that the “faculty at Kings sent it away to someone they thought might be able to (translate) it,” but nothing came of it and interest died down.

Later Mr. Spencer said he saw a newspaper account of unusual markings on rocks on an island off Shelburne Harbour, which are believed to be of Mi’kmaq origin. Spencer said in effect that the markings on the Boot Island rock were similar.

Mr. Spencer mentions that the rock can only be seen at extreme low tides. Near the rock, about 100 yards away in the mud is another curiosity described by Spencer as a “large millstone.”

In last week’s column on the early apple industry, I mentioned that service in the county militia apparently was mandatory, even for people working in the vital agricultural field. In his Kings County history, A. W. H. Eaton writes that one of the early acts of the provincial governor was to establish a “universal militia” in which “all male persons, planters and inhabitants and their servants between the ages of six and sixty” were required to serve.

By the time Aldershot Camp was up and running, mandatory militia service had come down to attending annual summer training exercises. In his history of Aldershot Camp (published 1983) Advertiser columnist Brent Fox writes that militia outfits were “paid the grand sum of fifty cents a day” per man, a sum later increased (in 1902) to 75 cents.

Eaton’s history devotes an entire chapter to the Kings County militia. I’ve read it a couple of times and I find it slightly confusing and rather hard to follow. There seems to be no clear timeline on how the militia evolved and exactly which military group followed which. There’s little doubt, however, that the county’s most famous military regiment is the Kings Canadian Hussars. With apologies of course to the better known West Novies, which while operating here is a regional and not solely a Kings County outfit.

You’ll find when reading Eaton that Kings County had several of its own regiments almost from the time the Planters arrival. Eaton says there was a period when the Kings County regiment had as many as three battalions. What is little known is that at one time a military regiment, the 68th., was based here with headquarters in the town of Kentville.

At least, it appears that the 68th was a Kentville-based regiment. A badge collector recently gave me an excerpt from a Canadian military history which shows that the 68th was formed in 1869, less than a decade after the arrival of the Planters. “The regiment was raised as the Kings County Battalion of Infantry with headquarters at Kentville,” reads the excerpt. Of course in 1869 Kentville didn’t exist so this must refer to a later period in the regiment’s when there was a town.

Eaton writes that during the American Revolution it was feared that the 68th and other militia regiments would fight against the British. “It would be perfectly natural if the people of the midland counties of Nova Scotia had sympathized with New England (in their revolt against Great Britain)” Eaton observed. As the Revolution progressed, however, the Nova Scotia government found there was nothing to fear.

Perhaps the best known of local regiments is the Kings Canadian Hussars. It’s often assumed that the “kings” in the regiments name refers to Kings County and the “C” in the regiment’s badge to County. Thus we read of the Kings County Hussars, which is incorrect. I found it amusing when at a ceremony at the Harold Borden monument in Canning a few years ago the speaker referred to the Kings County Canadian Hussars; which was playing it safe and covering all bases, in other words.

However, A. W. H. Eaton is guilty of the same reference to the regiment. In his history, he calls the regiment the “King’s County Canadian Hussars.” Of course, he may have referred to the two squadrons of Canadian Hussars headquartered in Kings County since there were squadrons in at least two other counties. The “Kings” in the regiments name must be a reference to the British monarch and not the county.