You can glean a lot from old newspapers – what grandpappy paid for butter and eggs, what life was like in the horse and buggy days, and so on.

People like to read the old papers. On the other hand, the newspaper directory a friend discovered in the library at Acadia University would probably turn most people off. However, since the directory added to his database on historical Kentville, Louis Comeau was excited by his find. “I found an 1871 directory of North American newspapers at Acadia,” Louis said. “It has a section on Kentville and the Valley. You should have a look at it.”

Look at it I did. I was in the University library the next afternoon. And on the shelf beside the 1871 directory I made another discovery, a later edition of the same publication dated 1903. The directories were compilations of U.S. and Canadian newspapers and magazines, which at first glance seemed to contain dull, trivial, totally useless, out-of-date information.

At second glance I realized the old directories were more than lists of newspapers and magazines. The publishers, a New York company, were thorough in some ways, providing population statistics as well as a list of newspapers and magazines published in Nova Scotia during the 1870s and the early 20th century. Before radio and television, newspapers were the most important means of communication. The fact that a town published its own paper hinted at its commercial status and importance.

Thus we learn from the directories that some of today’s sleepy little byways were once prominent centers in the 19th century. In the late 1800s, for example, newspapers were published in Hantsport (the Advance with a circulation of less than a thousand) Bear River and Parrsboro.

Prominent centers such as Kentville, Wolfville and Windsor each had two newspapers in this period. The 1871 edition of the directory shows only one paper was published in Kentville. This was the Star, a four-page issue published on Thursday with 700 circulation. However, the 1903 edition which listed papers published in the 1890s gives two Kentville papers, The Advertiser ( 1,520 circulation) and the Western Chronicle with a readership of 1,908.

No doubt an indication of their prominence at the time, Windsor and Wolfville also boasted two newspapers in this period. Windsor had the Hants Journal, a Wednesday issue and the Tribune, published Friday; both papers had a readership in excess of one thousand.

Wolfville’s two papers were the Acadian, a Friday paper, and the Acadian Orchardist, published Tuesday, with both papers having a circulation of more than a thousand. Acadia University’s publication, The Athenaeum, was also being published in this period.

The old directory tells us that many of the weekly newspapers being published today in the Annapolis Valley existed 100 years ago. As well as the papers already mentioned, (The Advertiser, Acadian and Hants Journal) the Berwick Register, Bridgetown Monitor, Middleton Outlook (now the Mirror) Digby Courier, and Annapolis Spectator were being published a century ago.

In the 1890s Nova Scotia also had seven daily newspapers; only one has endured as long as the Valley’s weekly papers.

In 1881 the Nova Scotia Historical Society included in its publications the journal of an early Annapolis settler, John Witherspoon. The journal was tattered, incomplete and in places indecipherable. However, John Witherspoon lived through a turbulent period in our history and the Society believed his observations and impressions were worth preserving.

In the autumn of 1757, John Witherspoon had the misfortune to be cutting wood near the fort at Annapolis when a band of Micmacs raided the area. Taken prisoner, Witherspoon was sold to the French and carried to Quebec. Witherspoon spent two years in Quebec until he was liberated by Wolfe and his journal, written in tobacco juice, records that period.

On the journey to Quebec, there was a brief period of freedom when Witherspoon and several other prisoners seized a canoe and fled into the wilderness. Pursued by the Micmacs and the French, the escapees were taken only because Witherspoon’s companions found alcohol and drank themselves into a stupor. “How easy we might have got ofe (off) had it not been for strong drink,” Witherspoon lamented in his journal.

While his spelling in places was atrocious, Witherspoon’s journal tells us he was intelligent and a keen observer. He lived at a time when hunger and disease were rampant in village, town, and city, and Witherspoon often refers to the terrible living conditions. In an entry dated March 19 (1758) Witherspoon writes: “I understand the smallpox is in Canneday (Canada) of which a great number have died. This sore and contagious disease the French call pockot. As to the number of dead I do not rightly hear, but some say seven hundred. Here is three sore calamities on this people at once, the sword, famine and pestilence.”

Subjected to starvation rations in Quebec, Witherspoon’s health deteriorates rapidly. Oddly, he takes a friendly attitude towards his captors. Describing almost unbearable conditions, he sympathizes with the people who hold him since they seem to be suffering as much as he is. “One almost every day see’s men executed for deserting from their colours and, indeed, these men’s living is so mean I do not wonder at it; and their work very hard, their allowance is the same as the prisoners, one pound of bread and half of pork per day.”

Quebec is under siege during the latter part of Witherspoon’s internment and as the battle for Quebec culminates Witherspoon writes that “my flesh is clothed in worms and clods of dust, my skin is broken and becomes loathsome.” Witherspoon describes the various skirmishes which he can witness from a distance through the prison bars. Then came the news that Wolfe and Montcalm had been killed. “These two Generals fell near about one and the same time and died very near together,” Witherspoon wrote in his journal.

Soon after this entry, Witherspoon is released but we are unable to read of his rejoicing. The last pages of his journal are incomplete or missing.

John Witherspoon returned to Annapolis and to his farm. There he raised a family and apparently lived a long and happy life. This note by the Historical Society gives us an inkling of his life after his release from the dungeons of Quebec:

“In the census for 1769 he (Witherspoon) is enumerated, and in the census of 1770 as at Granville, the master of a family of eight persons, one man, three boys, one woman and three girls, all Protestant and Americans; had 2 oxens, 3 cows, 3 young cattle, 5 sheep and 2 swine.”

In the 70s my favourite newspaper columnist occasionally ran a piece with odd, interesting and little-known facts he said he had discovered by chance. The columnist usually explained that while researching he happened to find trivia he believed would be of interest to readers.

I mention this columnist because like him I occasionally come across interesting information unrelated to the topic I’m working on. Along with a bit of Internet humour, this column contains some of these discoveries – the trivia I found while looking up other things. But first some kooky English I discovered in my e-mail box recently.

“If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn’t it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged, models deposed and dry cleaners depressed?

“Even more, bedmakers will be debunked, baseball players debased, landscapers deflowered, bulldozer operators degraded, organ donors delivered, software engineers detested and musical composers will eventually decompose. On a more positive note, perhaps we can hope (some) politicians will be devoted.”

While looking up Nova Scotia history on the Internet I made note of this first for Kings County: “The earliest recorded attempt at organizing agriculture in Nova Scotia came in 1789, with the first farmers’ organization, the Colonial Societies, in Horton.” This tidbit from the Department of Agriculture and Marketing added that the purpose of the Societies included marketing of crops and maintaining a circulating library.

In a recent column on the Acadian expulsion I mentioned that Eaton’s History of Kings County may not be accurate regarding details of the Noble massacre. I based this comment on a discrepancy between Eaton’s description of the massacre and research work noted author Will R. Bird did for a provincial government publication called Historic Nova Scotia. Eaton Gives the number of New England militia killed as 100 with 15 wounded and 50 taken prisoner. Bird writes that the number killed was 75, with 60 wounded and 69 taken prisoner.

Ever wonder how the four card suits – hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds, got their name? Here’s what I discovered while looking up a non-related topic in reference books at Acadia University:

Some 600 years ago card makers in France decided to design cards to represent the four classes of people in French society. Hearts, represented the heart of the community, the clergy; spades, the points of spears, represented the military class (it was the English who later called this suit “spades”); clubs has its roots in the picture of a clover leaf representing farmers and peasants; the diamond was chosen to represent the middle class, mostly made up of merchants who in that period used diamond-shaped tiles as exchange.

Re the “Mac” and “Mc” discussion in a recent column, a reader, Lad Javorek, has thrown a different light on the topic. Lad tells me that when his wife was growing up in Sydney, Cape Breton, she was under the impression that “Mac” in a surname usually meant the person was Protestant, while the “Mc” surname was Catholic. The Javoreks tell me this wasn’t a hard and fast rule, however.

Welch’s grape juice concentrate (red not white) has been moving fast from grocery store shelves lately after the announcement that it’s high in flavonoids, a substance that supposedly helps ward off heart disease. While flavonoids may prove to be another of those miracle substances that fizzle out, there’s no need to buy expensive grape juice concentrate if you want to be on the safe side and take a daily dose. A local pharmacist tells me that plain old tea is also a good source of flavonoids.

When I was a youth several friends were trapped by the tide at Blomidon and clung to the side of a cliff all night. Stranded by swift moving tides, I spent a cold, stormy night on Boot Island some years ago with two companions. On a lesser scale, a miniature tidal bore on a stream feeding the Cornwallis River once caught me on a sand bar and in an instant the water was over my boots.

While these were minor calamities – more tragic tales can be told – these incidents taught me to respect the waters of Minas Basin. Rising 10 and more meters in the space of an afternoon, the tides of the Minas Basin are swift and relentless. Those tides have been called “spectacular.” “awesome” and even “treacherous,” but Avonport astronomer Dr. Roy Bishop may have provided the most fitting description.

In a recent talk at the Kings Historical Society Dr. Bishop remarked that the Minas Basin tides are “literally the eighth wonder of the world” and should be better publicized. “We have a tourist attract, the highest tides in the world,” Dr. Bishop said in effect, “and no one talks about it.

“Most of the time we take the tides for granted,” Bishop added, (an observation the majority of us Minas Basin dwellers will have to agree with). “The only time we really take notice is when something spectacular happens, such as an exceptionally high tide or when a dike floods.”

It’s impossible to discuss the gravitational effect of the moon on the ocean without using the arcane language of science. But while he used illustrations and a smattering of math and physics (of which I understood nothing) in his talk on the Minas Basin, Dr. Bishop explained in layman’s terms what has always been a mystery to me – why some tides are higher than others and what caused some disastrous tides in the past.

Dr. Bishop likened the Gulf of Maine and the Bay of Fundy to a giant bath tub from which water sloshes into the Minas Basin. And “slosh” it certainly does. In it journey up the Bay the tide passes Cape Split at a speed of 94 miles per hour. The volume of water that moves up the Bay is massive. Dr. Bishop said that the water flowing past Cape Split at tide time is equal to the volume of water in all the rivers of the world.

Cape Split is well-known for its tremendous rips and whirlpools and it’s a popular local attraction. But one doesn’t have to venture over the trail to the Cape to witness the awesome tides. The government wharf at Hantsport has the “most spectacular tides,” Dr. Bishop says, and is the best area to view the daily rise and fall of the Minas Basin. At times the tides at the wharf reach 15 meters.

As for what causes extremely high tides, Dr. Bishop explained that several factors must coincide or combine. Low barometric pressure, the moon being at its closest point to the earth, and strong southerly winds can combine to produce tides that break over the dyke walls, which happened as recently as 1977. When the south winds are extremely high during this combination of meteorological factors, the result can be disastrous. The famous Saxby Gale of 1869, which flooded hundreds of acres of dykelands, destroyed homes, railways tracks and bridges, and set back the development of this area for years is a prime example.

If it hadn’t been for the massacre of Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Noble and his troops, the Acadian deportation never would have taken place, writes retired Kentville teacher, Gordon Hansford.

While much has been written about the expulsion of the Acadian in 1755, Mr. Hansford said in a letter to this columnist, “little mention has been made about one of the events that led to this deportation, which was the massacre of New England troops at Grand Pre in the winter of 1747.”

In my column on March 27 I suggested that the main reason for the expulsion were the farm lands the Acadians had wrested from the sea and the wilderness. Mr. Hansford disagrees. “I feel that although there are always those who seek to profit from political events, the (expulsion) was not planned as a ‘land grab’ by the English from Massachusetts,” Hansford says. Following the Noble massacre, the “commander of the Halifax garrison could not allow a hostile element to exist in his rear,” Hansford continued. “Regardless of the details of the taking of the oath of allegiance, there was a definite hostile element in existence at Grand Pre.”

The Noble massacre is usually ignored when the plight of the Acadians is discussed, and as Hansford points out, it was evidence of a “hostile element.” which if anything is putting it mildly. In his letter Hansford gave a brief account of events leading to the Noble massacre:

“Lieutenant Governor Mascarene …. appealed to Governor Shirley of Massachusetts to send 500 volunteers to Nova Scotia to help the small garrison here. Noble lead these troops to Annapolis and marched them to Grand Pre, with the intention of building a blockhouse there. Some of the troops sailed up the Bay of Fundy, landing at what is now Morden, and then marched over the mountain to Grand Pre under conditions of severe hardship since winter had descended in all its severity.

“Because of the winter conditions, the proposed blockhouse was not built and the troops were billeted out in 24 civilian houses in the Grand Pre area. An Acadian from Grand Pre made his way to Beaubassin (near Amherst) and reported the presence of the New Englanders to the commander of the French garrison there, an officer named Ramesay. He proposed to attack the English as soon as possible.

“Marching on snowshoes, the French troops arrived in the dead of night during a snowstorm. They immediately attacked the farm houses where the New England troops were billeted, killing Colonel Noble, his brother, and 100 others, according to Eaton’s History of Kings County. Fifty English were captured and 15 were wounded.”

While Eaton’s History isn’t accurate regarding details of the Noble massacre, there is little doubt that some of the Grand Pre Acadians participated in the attack. The slaughter may have been avoided, however. Acadians friendly to the New Englanders warned Noble that a French attack was coming but the Colonel ignored them. On page 131 of Calnek’s Annapolis County History we find the following: “They (the Acadians) warned Noble of a probable attack on him at Grand Pre, but he, deeming it impossible for an enemy to reach him during the deep snow, treated their apprehensions with levity.” Murdoch’s History of Nova Scotia, volume 2, page 106, confirms that Noble was warned by the Acadians of an imminent attack.

“Are you a Mac or a Mc?” a friend asked an acquaintance when I introduced them recently; he explained unnecessarily that “Mac” meant his surname was of Scottish origin, while “Mc” (he pronounced it “Mick”) was Irish.

We’ve all heard this nonsense before about “Mac” and “Mc” being Scottish and Irish and it isn’t 100 percent true. My acquaintance pointed out, for example, that he was a “Mac” but he traced his Irish ancestry back at least 12 generations. As far as he could tell, he said, his ancestors were of good Irish stock “and always had been no matter how we spell our name.”

If I threw the surname “Svensen” at you and asked its origin, you’d probably say Swedish or perhaps Norwegian. However, I once met a Newfoundlander named Shaun Svensen who swore that his great grandfather came from Cork and he had a genealogy going back to 10th century Ireland. George had that wonderful Newfoundland Irish accent and the whimsical Irish sense of humor; despite his name, he was more Irish than some of the natives I met when touring Ireland a few years ago.

The study of surnames and their origin, whether Irish, Scottish or otherwise, is a fascinating pastime. While they can be misleading, as in the case of Shaun Svensen, surnames often indicate racial origin and in some cases pinpoint our ancestor’s occupation and the area in which they once lived.

I find it strange that like some once common words, surnames will sometimes fall out of usage. Old time accounts – journals, diaries, histories, etc. – often mention family names that have either totally disappeared or are uncommon today.

The explanation for some disappearing surnames can be found in the obituaries. Occasionally the obituary of a departed soul explains that he or she was the last “immediate member” of the family. On his or her death, in other words, there were no related survivors carrying on with the family name.

Attrition certainly explains why some surnames vanish. And people have been known to stop using surnames that have racial, religious and demeaning connotations. A book I read recently about Irish immigrants in Canada and the United States noted that some families changed their names after they arrived so they wouldn’t be mistaken for “the poor trash from across the water.”

Recently I was reading Hutchinson’s Nova Scotia Directory for 1864-65 and I discovered a number of surnames that seem to have disappeared – or at least are so uncommon that I’m not familiar with them. Names such as Sofield and Outher, for example, are found in the Kings County section; as is Neiley, which today is more common as Neily or Neilly. Are members of the Moune family, who farmed in Kings County in the mid-19th century, still found here? Where are the descendants of James and David Whelply, 19th century coopers?

Hants County had its share of uncommon surnames in the 19th century as well – Hanel, Coalfleet, Redon, Sherar, Drillio, Hilsher, Kissock and Beaddo, for example. Some of the surnames once common in the Valley may have disappeared because people changed the spelling. Redon may have been a misspelling of Redden, for example. Other once common Kings and Hants County names that may have had their spelling changed (or corrected) are Hanes, Bordon, Lutes, Read, Legg, Goold and Kinnie. Could these surnames be the older version of Haines, Borden, Lutz, Reid, Legge, Gould and Kennie or Kenny?

“After the Acadians were expelled for refusing to swear allegiance to the Crown, the area in and around… was settled by the Planters,” begins one community history that I have in my bookcase. Other locally written histories hint at the same thing: That the Acadians were rebellious, untrustworthy and were expelled for refusing to recognize and swear loyalty to the king of England.

If you read history works compiled by expert researchers, you’ll discover that the Acadians have for the most part been falsely branded. While some undoubtedly were rebellious and some may have deserved expulsion, the truth is that the Acadians were victims of a massive land grab by New Englanders. Even though it has been passed on as a historical truth, it’s a myth that the main reason for the expulsion was refusal of the Acadians to take any sort of oath of allegiance.

With apologies for borrowing material from the work of recognized historians, the evidence to support this statement follows. If you have some preconceived notions about the Acadians and the expulsion, these extracts will be educational.

“On the day appointed (December 25, 1726) they (the Acadians) assembled at the ‘flag bastion’ in the fort and a translation of the oath into French having been read to them, the deputies requested that a clause should be inserted exempting them from bearing arms, and some words to that effect having been written on the margin, they took the oath.” – Calnek’s History of Annapolis County.

“Determined to win unconditionally where Armstrong had lost, (Governor ‘Richard) Philipps began carefully, late in 1729, to woo the Acadians to the British side. At Annapolis he apparently persuaded 194 persons to swear ‘on my faith as a Christian that I will be utterly loyal and will truly obey His Majesty King George the second, whom I recognize as the sovereign lord of Acadia or Nova Scotia.’ Nothing about exempting the Annapolis Acadians from possible military service was added to the oath either in writing or verbally… Philipps further reported that the oath had been subscribed to by all the Acadians of the colony.” – The Atlantic Region to Confederation, a collection of historical essays by various authors.

“As soon as Cornwallis assumed the reins of government in 1747, he demanded with military emphasis that the Acadians should now abandon their position and status as neutrals under the modified oath with which, for the sake of retaining them, Philipps had been content, and take a full and unqualified oath or leave the country.” – Calnek’s History of Annapolis County.

“The next day the Council (the Executive Council of the British province of Nova Scotia) informed the (Acadian) deputies that new representation of the French inhabitants would be summoned, given one more chance to take the unconditional oath, and if they refused to do so, ‘effectual measures ought to be taken to remove all such Recusants out of the Province.’ At this point the Acadians from Minas offered to take the oath required. The Council refused to administer it.” – The People of Canada, J. M. Bumsted.

“The Acadians had, as Mascarene testified, and as abundant evidence in the Provincial Archives proves, faithfully kept the terms of the qualified oath forced on them.” – Calnek’s History of Annapolis County.

Half a ton of rum was seized, as this heading proclaims, but rest assured that the peaceful little village of Canning has not undergone some sort of metamorphosis.

The rum seizure made the front page of an old Valley newspaper, the Western Chronicle, away back in 1916. The story of the seizure, a momentous event for the times, occupied the entire front page of the issue; there were two-inch headlines and vicious, slanderous prose that, if printed today about a similar occurrence, would have resulted in a truckload of litigation.

The story of the rum seizure is interesting for several reasons. In the early days of this century “politicking” was greased with black rum. In the late summer of 1916 an election was in progress and since some well-known local politicians were suspected of being involved in the rum-running, the Western Chronicle blatantly informed readers who they were. The story appeared the day after the seizure and the newspaper named the man who supposedly did the rum-running and his party affiliations.

It was all dirty pool, of course, and par for the way politics were played in that period. The Western Chronicle was simply showing its colours, in other words its own party affiliations. Newspapers could do that at one time, at least when it came to politics, and apparently publishers was able to get away with it.

As I prepare this column I have a copy of the Western Chronicle front page at my elbow (compliments of Leon Barron) and I find myself reading it again and again. I’m astonished and amused in turn. The headline proclaims that the “half a ton of rum” was seized at the home of one Leslie E. …. Well, never mind the last name since his relatives are probably still living here and everything in the story was based on speculation and circumstantial evidence. No charges had been laid when the story appeared, yet a leading citizen of Canning was named as the culprit, called a hypocrite and a scoundrel.

“The seizure of over half a ton of liquor, the fleeing from the country of the president of the Liberal Conservative Association, hotly pursued by provincial constable, the violation of oaths are events that have livened up the Kings County political campaign that seemed to be passing quietly,” read the lead paragraph of the Western Chronicle story.

This was mild compared to the remainder of the report. For example, “The awful disclosures have come as a horrible black eye to those who have been heeding the high sounding purity utterances of the Conservative candidates, both of whom have within a few days pledged themselves to enforce the liquor laws.” “The rottenness of the whole Tory campaign has been revealed,” is another example. As is, “The seizure of the liquor at Canning …. and other points clearly show the deep dyed hypocrises (sic) of the whole Conservative outfit.”

As the story unfolds we learn that a shipload of rum had come up the Habitant River to Canning on a night tide. When it was being unloaded and carted to the home of the Liberal Conservative Association president, a group of what the Western Chronicle described as “young manly Liberals” happened upon the scene. Acting heroically, the manly Liberal lads blockaded the house where the rum was being stored and sent for the County Constables.

The rum, the newspaper said in a parting shot, had been destined for “the carrying on of Tory corruption” in the area.

The “bible” of history books in the Annapolis Valley is Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton’s massive volume on Kings County, which was first published in 1910. While not as lengthy as Eaton’s work, W.A. Calnek’s 1897 publication records the early days of Annapolis County and dabbles in a bit of Kings County history as well. In Hants there is no “official” county history in one volume but various works collectively chronicle the Acadian, Planter and Loyalist periods.

On a lesser but no less important scale than the works of Eaton and Calnek are a number of histories on Annapolis Valley communities. There’s an abundance of these valuable works, several of which have been mentioned in this column before. Valley people would appear to be “hooked on history,” and there’s an ongoing, never-ending effort to write and publish area histories. Even as I write this, several new community histories are nearing completion and others are being planned.

While it’s impossible to do justice to the topic and many books and papers will be overlooked, I’ve planned for some time to devote a column to listing some of the local histories that have been written. A few of the following histories are out of print and can only be found in used book stores, libraries and museums; where possible I will indicate if a history is for general sale and where it can be purchased.

For starters, both Eaton’s and Calnek’s history were reissued by Mika Publishing and can be found in or ordered by most bookstores.

Readers interested in Hants County history should contact the West Hants Historical Society, which has an extensive list of community works. The Society has histories on the communities of Bramber, Centre Burlington, Cheverie, Summerville, Ellershouse, Falmouth, Newport, Walton, Rawdon, St. Croix and Hantsport.

If Kings County is your main interest, a book reviewed previously in this column should be read. An Early History of Windsor, Henry Yould Hind’s 1889 work, complements Eaton’s history, containing many interesting references to Kings County in the Acadian period. It is also available from the West Hants Historical Society.

Some of the communities of Kings County that have published histories are Coldbrook, Port Williams, Kingsport, Canaan, Greenwich, Bishopville, Aylesford and Prospect. Echoes Across The Valley is a two-volume history of Kingston and surrounding communities. A history of Scots Bay should is currently being worked on and should be available this summer.

Town histories include a chatty, detailed work on Kentville by Mabel Nichols (The Devil’s Half Acre). James Doyle Davison’s book, Mud Creek, is a well-researched, comprehensive history of Wolfville. The town of Windsor is also covered by several books of more recent vintage than Hinds. Historic Windsor and Windsor: A Journey in History are available from the West Hants Society.

While they aren’t truly community histories, three other books by James Doyle Davison are recommended if you would like to nurture a historical “feel” for our early days. These are Handley Chipman, Kings County Planter, Eliza of Pleasant Valley and a book that complements Davison’s Wolfville history, What Mean These Stones?

Published, written but unpublished, researched, written and gone astray.

Briefly, this describes the community, town and county histories that have been painstakingly put together in the Annapolis Valley in the past century. Many community, town and county histories have been published and I know of several that are completed or nearly so and haven’t reached a printer.

Lamentably, the third category – researched, written and gone astray – includes several histories that I’m aware of, one of them possibly of Canning and others of adjacent communities. Last week a reader told me about a longtime Centreville resident who some years ago compiled a history of that community. According to my informant the history was never published and it disappeared after its compiler died. Undoubtedly it is gathering dust somewhere in an attic or basement.

Recently I mentioned the lost Centreville story to marine historian Leon Barron. It was fortunate that I did. Leon told me that decades ago someone had compiled a history of Sheffield Mills that had never been published; and he had a handwritten copy.

Sheffield Mill lies at the head of the Habitant River. Fast becoming famous as the site of a festival that celebrates the bald eagle, the Mills is a settlement that’s about 300 years old. The Acadians were first to settle the area. In his history of Kings County, Eaton noted that there was an early crossing at the Mills which probably was of Acadian origin and may have been the first dykeing in the area.

Eaton’s history only mentions Sheffield Mills a few times. This neglect of a long-settled site may have spurred Mrs. David Ells into sitting down and recording the community’s early days. In 1935, when she was 81, Mrs. Ells penned a brief history of the Mills, equal in length to about four of these columns. Taken mostly from memory, with some assistance from Mrs. Nathan Ells and Ezekiel Illsley, Ells wrote a chatty story that deals mainly with the comings and goings of the early families of the Mills.

For genealogists or anyone wishing to trace family roots, Ells’ work is a goldmine of information. One may weary of reading about who married whom and how original grants of land were traded, sold or passed from family to family, but in communities like Sheffield Mills that’s what history actually is. Our roots are in the land and histories cannot be written without acknowledging this, obliquely or otherwise. Thus Mrs. Ells provides significant information when she traces ownership of the original land grants in the Mills.

There is more than this in her history, of course. We are told about the Acadians and the evidence that they colonized the Mills. Ells mentions the Acadian homestead sites, the Acadian apple trees, and the Acadian blacksmith shop. We are told about Samuel Borden, founder of the family that Eaton calls “one of the most important (in) Canada at the present day.” Borden received a large land grant in the Mills, running from the Mills along the entire length of Borden Street.

In its heyday the Mills had a grist mill (owned first by a man named Knight and later acquired by the Sheffield family) a saw mill, woodworking factory, blacksmith shop and a small axe factory, started by Benjamin Eaton and later moved to Canning when it was purchased by the Blenkhorns.

And like many long-settled communities, the Mills has buried treasure, long sought but never found – the mysterious French treasure mound and an old pine which marks the area where the Acadians buried valued possessions before being expelled.