So it’s Friday the 13th and you’re probably saying to yourself, “So what, who’s superstitious?”

I am, for one. This particular Friday, October the 13th in the year 2000 happens to be my birthday and it’s a reminder that superstitions about this day may not be all nonsense.

Years ago, more years ago than I care to remember on a day I’d like to forget, I celebrated my 13th birthday on – you guessed it – Friday the 13th. If anyone was asking for bad luck it was me but I shrugged off my fortuneteller mother’s forewarnings and set out on my newspaper route.

Later that day I was coasting down a grade on a friend’s bicycle when the frame snapped and I wiped out. I went flying over the handlebars and ended up in a ditch with multiple scrapes and bruises. It was collection day and the money that was in my paperbag went flying. Later when I counted my change at home I was a dollar short.

Now losing a dollar may not seem like such a big thing today but in the late 40s a buck was big money. It was my spending money for the week; that buck would have taken me to a matinee movie, where after I purchased a soft drink and chocolate bar I would still have change left over.

The bike was a loss as well, the frame being unrepairable. This accident convinced me that any birthday on Friday the 13th was unlucky. Which, by the way, is contrary to popular folklore. Having a birthday on Friday the 13th is supposed to be good luck; that’s what the Encyclopedia of Superstitions says and I’ll let you know if it’s true after this day is over.

As for why Friday the 13th is supposedly unlucky, you could say it all started with the naming of the day after a Norse goddess who was a witch. Friday came to be called the “witches Sabbath,” thanks to the goddess Frigga who later became Freya and was identified with this day. It was believed that on this day each week, 12 witches and the Devil usually met – 13 evil spirits up to no good, as they say, and one of the reasons for superstitions about Friday the 13th.

Over the ages, the number 13 was believed to be unlucky and some say it started with the “Last Supper” when there were 12 disciples and Jesus at the table. Friday was the day of the Crucifixion. Eve wheedled Adam into tasting an apple on Friday. The Encyclopedia of Superstition says that Friday used to be the 6th day of the week. And six, the number biblically associated with man, also relates to the Devil.

In Norse mythology one of the legends tells of a banquet in Valhalla (the Norse paradise) in which 12 guests were plagued by Loki the God of Deceit, who was the 13th uninvited guest. In Pagan traditions, 13 was regarded as a sacred number and therefore was looked upon as evil by Christians.

Throughout religion, Christian and Pagan, you will find that Friday and the number 13 have a special significance. Thus all sorts of beliefs and strange superstitions have grown up about the day and the number. An old English folktale says, for example, that the weather on Friday determines the weather to follow. A variation of this belief says that the weather on the last Friday of the month will show what the weather will be for the following month.

The British used to say that unlucky people are “Friday-faced.” If you laughed at this and the other superstitions mentioned here, I remind you of one more British saying: “Laugh on Friday, weep on Monday.”

It may surprise some that Nova Scotians were involved in and deeply affected by the American Civil War. The “bloodiest conflict in American history” had long reaching consequences in this and the other Maritime provinces. Historians estimate that at least 10,000 Maritimers served with the Union and Confederate forces during the Civil War. Many of these men, and in at least one case a woman, were Nova Scotians.

The Maritime Provinces’ involvement in the Civil War is told in detail by Greg Marquis in his book, In Armageddon’s Shadow, which was published in 1998 by McGill-Queen’s University Press. Prof. Marquis’ book is available through the Annapolis Valley Regional Library and I recommend it to anyone interested in the Civil War and Nova Scotia’s involvement. Canada was about to become a nation when the Civil War raged and Marquis presents an interesting view of Nova Scotia’s waffling on the issue of joining Confederation.

With Prof. Marquis’ permission, I’ve taken excerpts from his book that refer to Nova Scotia and in particular, the Annapolis Valley. Chapter three (The Race Question) has a reference to a black Nova Scotian who served in the Union navy.

“One Afro-Nova Scotian who served for the Union was Ben Jackson, from Lockhartville…. Using the name Lewis Saunders, Jackson joined the U.S. Navy in 1864… He first sailed on the brig Chalerdonia from Horton at the age of sixteen in 1851. During his stint with the navy, ‘Lewis Saunders’ served on the frigate USS Potomoc, the Richmond, and the Carolina. He saw action in the attack on Fort Morgan and was wounded while posted to the Richmond during an attempt to remove an explosive mine from the Mississippi. He appears to have served as a gun captain in the 2,700-ton steam sloop. This Bluenose sailor was treated at Pensacola, Florida, and at Brooklyn naval base hospital before his honorable discharge in 1865. He returned to Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley, where a road outside Hantsport bears his name.”

A Nova Scotian won America’s highest award for valor, the Congressional Medal of Honour, during the Civil War. Marquis writes that the award was won by Halifax’s Charles Robinson while serving as boatswain on the gunboat Baron de Kalb in the western theater. Robinson was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honour for bravery in 1862. Robinson returned to Halifax where after a career as a policeman and storekeeper, he died in 1891. On his death, Marquis notes neglected to mention his Civil War service and his rare achievement.

Other Annapolis Valley references in the book include one with a Kentville connection. “Walter Wile of Kentville remembers family tales based on a series of old letters sent to his aunt from his four uncles, all of whom were in the Union regiments,” Marquis notes. A Kings County resident, Hugh Munro, served in a Maine regiment. Wounded at the siege of Charleston, Munro was mustered out in 1864 “and received his pension in later years at Welsford.” On page 221 mention is made of the infamous Confederate raider Tallahasse capturing a Boston-bound ship loaded with wood from Kentville.

Prof. Marquis discusses the commercial climate during the Civil War and several references to shipbuilding illustrate its importance here in the 19th century. “Maitland at the mouth of Nova Scotia’s Shubenacadie River was a beehive of activity with twenty vessels on the stocks at one point in 1863. ‘From Canning upwards to Truro,’ a journalist reported, ‘the whole shore is speckled with shipyards.’ The Minas Basin shore from Noel to Five Mile River built thirty-five vessels… in 1863 and 1864.”

A former lecturer at Saint Mary’s University, Prof. Marquis now teaches history at the University of New Brunswick.

The photograph of John MacKinnon, the “Burnt Piper,” has him gripping a set of bagpipes with stubs of fingers. The write-up with the photograph tells us MacKinnon, born in Inverness County in 1869, worked in the coal mines and served overseas as a pipe major during World War 1. He was called the “Burnt Piper” due to having his fingers blown off in a mining accident. It was said that MacKinnon would never play again but he treated his stubs with oil obtained from eels and made them supple. In this way, he continued to pipe and became noted as a player. It was considered remarkable that he was able to finger technically demanding tunes on the stumps that remained of his fingers after the accident.

The persevering John MacKinnon, who refused to let the loss of his fingertips stop him from piping, is one of nearly 1700 pipers profiled in Scott William’s book, Pipers of Nova Scotia. Published this summer, William’s biographical sketches begin in the year 1773 when the ship Hector arrived in Pictou Harbour with piper John MacKay aboard.

Since the day of the Hector’s arrival, Nova Scotia’s Gaelic community has produced countless bagpipe players, and compiling biographical sketches of even a fraction of them would seem to be an impossible task; after all, nearly 227 years have passed since John MacKay piped the Hector settlers ashore.

However, six years ago that task was undertaken by Antigonish teacher, author, composer and noted piper Scott Williams. The result is a valuable reference source on more than 1650 pipers, many of whom have enriched the province with their music.

At first glance, it would appear that Pipers of Nova Scotia was compiled solely for the piping fraternity. But it is more than a book about pipers. In effect, the work celebrates our Gaelic cultural heritage as it relates to the bagpipes. With his biographical sketches of early Nova Scotia pipers, for example, Williams reveals the ancient ties between Scotland the old and Scotland the new.

Many of Nova Scotia’s earliest pipers were born in Scotland. One was John Roy (Iain Ruadh) MacKay. Born in Scotland in 1753, MacKay was the hereditary piper to Sir Hector MacKenzie of Gairloch. In 1905 he immigrated to Nova Scotia with two sons who were also pipers. MacKay is noted for bringing classical pipe music, piobaireachd, to the province. Another example is Donald MacIntyre. Born in Scotland about 1748, MacIntyre immigrated to Cape Breton around 1820 and sired a line of pipers; his son, grandson and two great grandsons were pipers. Another MacIntyre, also Donald, came from Scotland in 1826 and also sired a distinguished line of pipers.

Scott Williams notes that the MacIntyre family was “one of the strongest piping families in Nova Scotia,” and founded the very first pipe band in the province. The piping MacIntyres were only a few generations out of Scotland; they are typical of many Gaelic immigrant families who brought Scottish piping traditions to Nova Scotia.

In addition to celebrating the Scottish connection, Williams profiles contemporary pipers who were the “tradition bearers during and after World War 11.” Among them are Fraser Holmes, Wallace Roy, John A. “Black Jack” MacDonald, Ross Stone, Herman Beaton and Sandy Boyd, all pipers extraordinaire who today are household names.

In compiling Pipers of Nova Scotia, Scott Williams has provided us with a valuable resource, preserved our piping traditions, and created a work future generations will cherish.

In a paper read before the Nova Scotia Historical Society in 1936, R. D. Evans wrote that before 1815 the bad state of provincial roads, “together with the smallness of the population,” had prevented the establishment of stage coach lines.

After 1815, Evans continued, conditions changed and a new era of internal communications had dawned. By 1815 the “great roads” of Nova Scotia had become reasonably passable in summer and winter and there was a clamour for better postal service and an overland passenger service, i.e. the stage coach.

One shouldn’t be misled into thinking that the “great roads” Evans mentions were truly great in the sense of being grand or above normal. Upon reading Evan’s discourse on the stage coach, I found that in 1815 there were only two “great roads” in the province, and these were labelled “great” simply because other existing roads were, by comparison, in deplorable condition year around.

One of the great roads extended from Halifax to Windsor and on to Halfway River near Hantsport. If I remember my history, parts of this road were first laid out by the Acadians. Though designated a great road, Evans says that the track to Windsor was “regularly full of ruts, holes and wash-outs, and during the wet seasons of spring and fall was nearly impassable.” It was on this great road and the other great road that ran from Halifax to Truro, that in 1815 a passenger and postal service was proposed.

In this period many Annapolis Valley roads, for the most part, were mere paths. As noted, the Acadians engaged in road building. Eaton’s Kings County history devotes an entire chapter to roads and travel and the author notes that the Acadians cleared a road “eighteen feet wide, all the way from Minas to Halifax.” This undoubtedly was the foundation of the great road Evans describes and the track the first stage coach traveled.

Evans credits one Isaiah Smith with taking the initiative and setting up the first stage coach line in the province. According to Evan’s account, Smith began his run from Halifax to Windsor on February 14, 1816. Eaton’s history disagrees with Evans, noting that “it must have been shortly before 1816 that a stage coach line was established between Halifax and Windsor.”

Eventually, the stage coach line was extended to Kentville and beyond. Service to Kentville began when the Western Stage Coach Company was formed early in 1828. Evans says that Western reached an agreement with the government to run stage coaches three times a week in summer and two or three times a week in winter between Halifax and Annapolis. Eaton gives the starting date of the run to Kentville as 1829.

The run from Halifax to Annapolis took the better part of two days and the fare according to Evans was approximately 10 dollars. Eaton gives the fare from Halifax to Kentville as six dollars. Keep in mind that Evans wrote his account in 1936 and Eaton around 1900. Evans converted the 1828 passenger fare of two pounds, 10 shillings into the equivalent in 1936 dollars.

Isaiah Smith’s coach line first ran once a week with accommodations for six passengers. By 1855 the stage coach was running daily between Halifax and Annapolis with stops every 15 miles to change horses. During the stage coach period, Kentville was an important stopover. From Mabel Nichol’s book, The Devil’s Half Acre, we see that “coaches east and west met at the Kentville Hotel and exchanged passengers, freight and mail, it being the headquarters of stage travel….”

The half-century era of the stage coach in the Annapolis Valley ended with the arrival of the railway.

The old map of the Maritimes came in the mail recently and the first thing I noticed on looking at it was that in 1747 New Brunswick as we know it didn’t exist.

You’ve probably read in the history books that the boundaries of Nova Scotia once extended well into New Brunswick. I assumed that history was right on this, but I also believed that when Nova Scotia took in parts of New Brunswick, both provinces existed at the same time with the latter as a smaller entity.

The 1747 map quickly put the kibosh to this erroneous notion. In 1747, according to the map, greater New Brunswick was called Acadia. The map shows that what today is the Fundy shore of New Brunswick once belonged to Nova Scotia. If I remember my history, it seems to me that Nova Scotia also once included part of Maine; however, I couldn’t determine if this is true from a study of the map.

Anyway, Nova Scotia was much larger some 250 years ago. The accompanying legend appears to designate Nova Scotia as a country along with Canada; Cape Breton is shown as a separate province.

“A new & accurate Map of the Islands of Newfoundland, Cape Briton, St. John and Anticosta,” the legend reads, “together with the neighbouring Countries of Nova Scotia, Canada & c drawn from the most approved Modern Maps and Charts.” Note the spelling of Cape Breton and Anticosti. St. John is the Acadian name for Prince Edward Island and this brings up a curiosity in the map.

There is an indication that the map was produced by the British. But oddly, as in the case of Prince Edward Island, many of the Acadian place names are incorporated in the map. As noted, the area above Nova Scotia was called Acadia. Grand Pre is shown as “Grand Pray,” which is a strange phonetic misspelling. The Acadian settlement around New Minas is shown as “les Mines,” the place name the Acadians used.

Minas Basin is shown as “Les Mines,” the original French designation for this body of water and the surrounding shoreline, coined I believe by Champlain. In fact, all along the Nova Scotia shoreline the British retained the Acadian names. While few place names are shown inland, all are Acadian in origin. An exception is Windsor which is shown as “Piqiquit,” which is Micmac in origin.

The general land area comprising the western end of the Annapolis Valley is shown by the strange name of “le Basques.” Obviously of French origin, since most place names on the map are, this is puzzling. Why, one might ask, did the Acadians refer to this area as if there was a Basque connection?

With so many Acadian place names on the map, it’s surprising that the Bay of Fundy already has its current name. It’s something to check out, but I don’t believe that in the period of Acadian occupation the French called this body of water the Bay of Fundy. In Watson Kirkconnell’s work on Kings County place names, the author notes that if one were to travel to Kings County from France by ship in the 17th century, “one would come not by the ‘Bay of Fundy’ but by la Baie Francoise (the ‘French Bay’ or Frenchman’s Bay’). so called by Sieur de Monts in 1604.”

The 1747 map came to me compliments of Ivan Smith, Canning. Readers with Internet access can view the map at [no longer available], which is Mr. Smith’s history website. The origin of the map is David Rumsey’s online collection of old maps, found at http://www.davidrumsey.com/.

In his examination of the 1788-1872 account books of Kentville merchant Henry Magee and storekeeper Edgar Bishop of Aylesford, Rev. Kennedy B. Wainwright often needed the skills of a cryptographer.

When studying the ledgers, Wainwright occasionally found words and phrases that were mystifying and defied explanation or decipherment, unless one had a historian’s knowledge of time period being studied.

“Many of the articles in common use at the time of Confederation are now almost forgotten,” Wainwright explains when discussing the obscure words he found in the ledgers. “Salerus would puzzle many a cook today as she is familiar with baking soda,” he writes about what apparently was once a common item in the kitchen.

“Wiscey would confound most of us,” Wainwright continues, explaining that it is an abbreviation for linsey-woolsey, “a coarse cloth made from linen and wool which was the ancestor of our flannelette.”

Perhaps the most unusual and most puzzling item in the old store ledgers – Wainwright says it appears in the ledgers no less than 50 times – has to do with ladies’ fashions. “Then there is an elusive ‘skeleton’ which was evidently very popular with the fair sex… at that period. It is not a misspelling, like ‘shall’ for shawl; and it was not a ‘bumbler’ or an ‘artificial’ or a girdle or a shirtfront. It was bought by the yard and there were 19 different prices paid for the article marked ‘skeleton’.”

If you haven’t puzzled it out by now, Wainwright adds a few clues. “When ‘skeleton’ was bought there is usually an accompanying item marked ‘binding, tubular braid, etc.’.” The ‘skeleton’ was the wires or frames for the hoop skirt, “so fashionable,” says Wainwright, “in the sixties of the last century.”

The ledgers also reveal what the ladies of the period wore to complement the hoop skirts. Dunstable bonnets or chipp hats “and usually… a camel’s hair shawl over the shoulders.” Wainwright tells us their dresses were of “mixed cashmere, fustain, black Romsey shaloon or of silk.”

Wainwright said it was an “interesting task” to decipher some of the words in the old ledgers “because of the archaic and often crudely phonetic spelling.” Easy for him to identify were “chard” for card, “cheney” for china, “shall” for shawl and so on. Wainwright was puzzled when he came to “tala” for tallow, “cris mis” for Christmas and “tea cetel” for tea kettle. One mysterious entry from the Magee ledgers, quoted by Wainwright, probably still defies translation: “Walter Manin, he is to Let Me have My Irn work at the same as I have it from Halifax, only a Lowing carage.” This may refer to materials (iron work) for a carriage that Walter Manin is making for Magee, but it’s only a guess.

The stores of Henry Magee and Edgar Bishop were the forerunners on a smaller scale of Eaton’s and Simpsons catalogue outlets. Combine a modern drug store, a Sobeys and a Walmart – plus the horse and buggy era accoutrements – and you have some idea of the stock Magee carried in his general store. Magee (and Bishop) catered as well to the “finer sensibilities” of life as well. One shipment of goods recorded in his ledgers contained a crate of “Cream Colored Ware” and another of “Country Brown,” apparently the fancy china of the day. In the same shipment was an “assortment of dishes, basons, bedroom sets, porringers, candlesticks, china money boxes, and four dozen toy cups and saucers.”

He was one of the Annapolis Valley’s first major merchants. He opened what may have been the first super-sized retail store and mill in Kentville; and in the days before the chartered banks arrived, he may have been the county’s first financier.

Henry Magee was a prominent early merchant but before he settled here he lead an adventurous life. In two earlier columns last winter (column1, column2) I wrote about Magee’s flight to Nova Scotia during the American Revolution and about his career in the Valley as a merchant and entrepreneur. A Loyalist who lost heavily during the Revolution, Magee was compensated with cash and a land grant which he apparently parlayed into a prosperous business in Kings County.

As well as being an astute businessman, Henry Magee was also a meticulous keeper of records. And for this contemporary historians are grateful.

While researching for the columns on Henry Magee, I found several references to his old store ledgers. The story goes that the ledgers had been discovered when his son’s former home in Aylesford was being renovated. The ledgers were donated to the Nova Scotia Historical Society. Some 50 years ago the ledgers were said to have been the subject of several detailed articles in the Society’s quarterly magazine.

The Kirkconnell Room at Acadia University holds various old Historical Society publications and it was there that I discovered a volume with an article on the Magee ledgers. Published in 1953, volume 33 of the Society’s quarterly magazine has an extensive analysis of the Magee ledgers by Rev. Kennedy E. Wainwright. The article – “A Comparative Study in Nova Scotia Rural Economy 1788-1872” – looks at Magee’s ledgers, 1788-1806, the ledger of an Aylesford merchant, dated 1865-1867, and the desk book of Lyon’s Inn, Kentville, dated 1867-1872.

After a brief overview of the period examined, Wainwrights’s article accomplishes exactly what is indicated in its title. In his examination of the ledgers, Wainwright gives us an illuminating look at life in the Valley through the 18th and 19th centuries simply by telling us what our ancestors ate, what they wore on their backs and what they did for entertainment.

About Magee’s store, for example, we hear that it “dealt in everything from a needle to a plough, not to mention such items as wheat, gaspereaux, rum, snuff and even a New Testament.” From an itemized list of the goods and transactions recorded in the ledgers, said Wainwright, it is almost possible to reconstruct the economy of the period, the decades immediately before and after 1800.

I hope I’m not accused of being biased by noting only what the ledgers say about men’s clothing in those all-revealing decades. Taking the ledger’s at face value, we find that men favoured beaver hats, took snuff, smoked clay pipes, wore corduroy breeches, cherry coloured waistcoats, had buckles on their shoes and had a penchant for silk stockings. Full Wellington boots were popular with men and they apparently carried umbrellas. For outdoor activities, the men of the period donned gray homespun flannel shirts which were well stocked by Magee.

As well as rum for the men, Magee’s store stocked several varieties of tea and coffee. According to ledger entries, tea was four times as expensive as coffee.

Next week a look at what Magee’s store stocked for the ladies of Kings County and a bit about some interesting entries in the ledger of Lyon’s Inn.

Canning owes its origin to the potato, Clara Dennis wrote in her 1933 book, Down in Nova Scotia. In making this observation, Ms. Dennis must have used Eaton’s Kings County history as a reference source. Eaton said in his 1910 history that “modern Canning owes its existence largely to the potato industry of Cornwallis.”

Eaton expands on his potato reference, quoting an earlier historian who said in effect that Canning’s establishment on the Habitant River was due to several factors. Dr. Benjamin Rand observed that Canning sprung up where it did because of a convenient bend in the Habitant and the nearby meeting of roads and a dyke. The roads and dyke may have been of Acadian origin, but this is speculation on my part.

Along with Kingsport, Canning later became well-known for shipbuilding. By the middle of the 19th century, Canning was a thriving town, its success perhaps due to the potato, perhaps to shipbuilding and perhaps to its strategic river location which Rand said was a “natural one.”

According to Eaton, seven stores opened in Canning between 1839 and 1853. Since Canning was swept by a number of disastrous fires, the first in 1866, it’s unlikely that few of the original stores remain intact today. One of the oldest Canning stores was established before the first great fire and was rebuilt after being destroyed. The store is still in operation today and may be one of the longest operating, privately owned retail firms in Canning and perhaps in Kings County.

L. Newcomb’s Chinaware was established by the Kennedy family before 1866. James K. Kennedy, the original owner, sold china and household necessities such as groceries. Kennedy’s son, James E., took over the store after his father’s death. His daughter, Gladys, was the third generation to own the shop, assuming operation in 1946 when her father died.

In 1964 the store changed hands again. Lois Newcomb has owned and operated the china shop since the 60s. Previous to purchasing the business she worked in the shop for several decades. “Fresh out of school and good with numbers,” as she puts it, she was hired by James E. Kennedy as a clerk in 1938. Newcomb clerked in the store until she purchased it in 1964 from Gladys’ widower.

Writing on Canning and the Newcomb store in a 1990 Advertiser story, Heather Frenette observed that “passage through the shop doorway transports the browser into another time.” Inside the store, Frenette said, prices are about the only things that have changed. In 1938 when Newcomb began clerking in the store, a Royal Albert bone china cup and saucer sold for 90 cents. Some 50 years later, when Frenette did her story the price of the cup and saucer had reached $36; today the regular retail price is $59.

Lois Newcomb has indeed seen many changes in Canning since she began to clerk in the china shop 62 years ago. But while Main Street Canning and the business district has changed drastically, the interior of the store remains practically the same as it was more than half a century ago. The general decor of the shop is quaint in an old-fashioned way, the shelving and paneling reminiscent of our grandparent’s time.

“I try to keep things old style if I can,” Lois Newcomb says of her shop. She stopped selling groceries when a supermarket opened down the street, but the fine English bone china is still on her shelves.

In a recent letter via e-mail, reader David Webster, Kentville, said he notes a tone of disparagement when I write about the Planters in this column; and writes Mr. Webster, I appear to have a racial bias in my interpretation of events.

Mr. Webster has also taken me to task for using the word “stoned” and “stoning” in a July column that dealt with a 1763 run-in between settlers and a native Indian. In the column, I had quoted from a 1979 article by Keith Hatchard in the Nova Scotia Historical Quarterly.

“In your column of July 21“, Mr. Webster writes, “you used the word ‘stoned’ or ‘stoning’ five times. Eaton’s History of Kings County, the ultimate source of your information, uses the word ‘beaten.’ Based upon your column, it appears to me that Mr. Hatchard’s account does not agree with his source of information. By repeating Mr. Hatchard’s misleading account without comment, you imply that his source contains substantially the same information.

“The Planters figured prominently in the history of this region but, on those few occasions in which they have been mentioned in your many historical columns, disparagement seems to predominate. I regret to say that I suspect you have a racial bias in your interpretation of events.”

“We are led to believe,” Mr. Webster continued, “that a dispute between settlers and a native revealed a racist attitude in colonial people and the tendency of historians to overlook events which put them (the settlers) in a bad light.” This is what I wrote in the column and this was my interpretation, rightly or wrongly, of the dispute between the settlers and the native Indian.

Concluding his letter, Mr. Webster asked for answers to two questions. “Where in Eaton’s History is the word ‘stoned’ used to describe this incident? Where in this history is there any indication that (the Indian) was being tormented?”

In reply to Mr. Webster I wrote as follows:

You are correct in your statement that Eaton does not use the word “stoned;” nor is it indicated in the history that the Indian in question was “tormented.” Both words were used by Hatchard in his account as per my quotes. Mr. Hatchard may have made an error when he talked about the “stoning,”, but he also may have had another source other than Eaton. I’m interested in knowing the facts here – was (the Indian) actually stoned? – and am writing Mr. Hatchard through the Nova Scotia Historical Society for a clarification. I will be glad to pass the results of my inquiry along to you.

As for my bias, I take the stand that historians tend to glorify events and historic figures a bit too much and some skepticism is healthy. I note that you said nothing about the fact that people like Burbidge and other notable figures of the time kept slaves. And finally, tell me that the incident involving (the Indian) and the settlers would be thrown out of court today simply because someone apologized.

In an e-mail reply to the above, Mr. Webster’s astute comment places the settlers-native affair and the slavery issue in context:

“This is a very long and involved subject,” Webster wrote, “but, in few words, the actions of an individual in some past era should be judged within the context of the conditions which prevailed at that time as opposed to current conditions.”

So what did they do for recreation around here a century ago? How did our ancestors entertain themselves, and what did they use for communications? How did the “basic necessities” of the average household today compare to, say, the average household 100 years ago?

We’re all interested in history and curious about how our ancestors lived. This is probably why Bria Stokesbury, the curator of the Old Kings Courthouse Museum in Kentville, decided that an exhibit with the theme “what a difference a century makes” would be appropriate and interesting. Called Museum Millennium Mania, the exhibit features items that were in general use at the “dawn of a new century (in) 1900.”

Many of the items in this exhibit come from the collection of Louis Comeau. who has continued and expanded on the work of his father, Lin, began decades ago. As Louis points out, he is very active in collecting documents, photographs and artifacts concerning Kentville. To date, he has collected over 6,000 items on the town’s history, most of which he has researched, catalogued and preserved.

Now, a brief description of the exhibit; here’s what you’re missing if you don’t get into the museum:

If you like looking at photographs a century and more old (and most people do) the exhibit has a display from the Comeau collection. For example, from downtown Kentville are photographs of various stores in the years 1885 to 1900. Included is a photograph of a longtime Kentville landmark, the Red Store. Opened in 1852 by James Edward DeWolfe, the Red Store, which stood on the corner of Main and Cornwallis, was a grocery for most of its existence. The store was demolished in 1960 and was replaced by a pharmacy.

Before the movies, before radio and television, what did gramps and granny do for entertainment? Stop thinking naughty; I mean, what did they do for musical entertainment. One answer is the Gramophone. The exhibit has a Gramophone from the Comeau collection that was made in 1900 by the Talking Machine Co. A brief but interesting history of early “talking machines” is included with this exhibit.

A century ago young mothers took the wee one out for some fresh air in what we call a baby stroller and granny called a perambulator. The perambulator (a donation to the Museum from the Malcolm Eaton family of Canard) old chairs including a Victorian wheelchair, coins, the early telephone, bicycles of a century ago and much more are included in the exhibit.

This exhibit is on until the end of August but there’s much more to see in the Museum. The Museum was once the County courthouse and the upstairs courtroom is little changed from the time the Robinson murder trial was held there in 1904. Adjacent to the courtroom is a dyke exhibit, a miniature reproduction of how the dykes and aboiteaux appeared in Acadian days.

There’s also the Planter kitchen, the Victorian parlour and the “living fossil” display. If you’re interested in reading about local history, the Museum offers various papers and books about Kings County. Visitors can also access genealogy files which have been compiled by the Kings Historical Society.