Patrick Loughnane, who has been over here from Ireland for 28 years, tells me the natives of Cork are different. They speak with a different kind of accent and are noted for being contrary of mind, Patrick said.

My great grandfather was a native of Cork and I was interested in what Loughnane had to say about the city and the people of the area. I’ve read that Cork refers to both a place and an attitude, or I should say a particular frame of mind. In a book I have on touring Ireland in the 1930s, the author quotes an Irishman as saying, “Don’t be hearing him; he’s of the Cork thinking.”

The Coleman surname is common in Cork and the outlying areas, a fact I discovered when we were on a tour of Ireland. I had the idea that I could open up a telephone book while in Cork, look up someone with the Coleman name and learn all kinds of interesting things about my ancestors. As it turned out, it was a ridiculous idea. I found page after page of Colemans, a name that in and around Cork is as numerous as Smith is in telephone books here. I checked several telephone districts and found there were more Colemans that you could shake a shillelagh at.

This is St. Patrick’s Day week and I’ve been reminiscing about the all-too-brief time we spent in Ireland. I found little evidence of what Patrick Loughnane said was the Cork attitude but perhaps this was because our visit in that area was brief. Most of the Irish people I talked with in areas outside of Cork were open, friendly, and inclined to talk your ear off if you gave them an opening.

During our tour, we passed by and through places with names recognized the world over as Irish – Killarney, Blarney, Tralee, Tipperary, and so on. There was a stop on a rugged mountain road for a sip of that legendary Irish brew, poteen, supposedly illicit but our tour guide had obviously arranged to have a tinker-like lad meet us what a jug of the stuff in what passes for wilderness in Ireland.

And speaking of wilderness, the rugged coast around the Ring of Kerry in the southwest of Ireland is impressive. It is much like our Fundy shore but on a wilder, more desolate, and certainly grander scale. When I think of Ireland the picturesque, windswept shoreline around the Ring of Kerry comes to mind immediately; and when we go back to Ireland, this is one of the areas we’ll visit again.

While I rarely drink alcoholic beverages, I knew I couldn’t visit Ireland without sampling a Guinness. Entering an Irish pub and ordering a Guinness was an experience, an embarrassing experience, and I’ll always remember it. The custom in Ireland is to pour a glass of Guinness, let it stand until it settles, and then top off the glass. Not being aware of this, I made a bit of fuss when the barkeep poured my glass, took my coin, and then set the glass out of reach behind the counter. I got a baffled, perhaps pitying look when I asked for my glass before the barkeep had the chance to top it off.

Here in Canada, by the way, St. Patrick’s Day is more of a celebration involving food and drink than it is in some parts of Ireland. When I inquired in Blarney about how St. Patrick’s Day was observed, I was surprised to learn that it is looked upon as a religious celebration. There are ceilidhs, of course, but not necessarily on the scale they are held here. In the Valley, for example, St. Patrick’s Day is often used as an excuse to have a few extra drinks and to party.

The stereotype of the Irishman as a hard-drinking, rabble-rousing lover of Gaelic jigs and reels can be blamed for this. St. Patrick’s Day for some is an excuse to let loose. Some of us with Irish ancestors celebrate the day quietly with Irish music and an Irish dish or two at supper.

When Marguerite Woodworth compiled the official history of the Dominion Atlantic Railway in 1936, she included historical nuggets that often had little or nothing to do with railroads. I like to think of them as historical asides, or comments and trivia added simply because they were interesting or in some way rounded out Woodworth’s history.

Early on in her history, for example, Woodworth comments on the stagecoach service that started in June 1828 and ran three times a week between Halifax and Annapolis. There were two coaches, Woodworth said, “connecting at Kentville where the Royal Oak Inn offered accommodation for travellers and stabling for the coach horses.”

The coach trip from Halifax to Kentville occupied a full day, Woodworth said, at this point tossing in one of the asides that history trivia buffs dote on. In a footnote, Woodworth informed that “Public notice was given April 19, 1826, that Horton Corner would hereafter be called Kentville in honour of the Duke of Kent.”

In its store logo, Herbins of Wolfville notes that they have been “Jewellers since 1885.” In his Wolfville history (Mud Creek, The Story of The Town of Wolfville) James Doyle Davison gives us an interesting aside on the origin of the Herbin business. In his section on Wolfville stores of the 1880s, Davison mentions that one Arthur W. Hoare ran the Western Book and News Company opposite the post office.

Davison writes on page 59 of the history that Hoare “invited a young man to begin a different kind of merchandising in his store.” The invitation was accepted by a former resident of Windsor, J. F. Herbin, “and thus began the well-known jewellery business.”

Picked up from a conversation with railway and sailing ship buff, Leon Barron: That on the old Cornwallis Valley Railway connecting Kentville and Kingsport, a special spur or “Y” was set up on the line apparently for the convenience of the Borden family of Canning. Leon tells me that the spur ran through Sir Frederick Borden’s backyard – where a private railway car is believed to have been maintained for him – and along the river bank behind Canning stores. The Canning Legion building rests on the old spur line.

In what has to be an intriguing aside, A. W. H. Eaton mentions in his Kings County history that Brooklyn Street, which has the distinction of being one of the longest streets in this area, was once called Shadow Street. Why was it called Shadow Street and was it named after a family with that surname? As far as that goes, where did Brooklyn come from in the street’s name and when was the change made? Any readers have answers to these questions?

A careful reading of Woodworth’s history reveals that the building of the railway didn’t go all that smoothly. Troublesome Irish workmen and monstrous storms slowed the advance of the railway through the Annapolis Valley and Woodworth gives us a few interesting details. In 1856, Irish construction workers on the Windsor branch, goaded Woodworth says by Protestant workers, began rioting and “held up the whole work of construction.” There was a pitched battle, Woodworth says, and the Protestants lost.

Another setback occurred when in October 1869, high tides caused by the Saxby Gale washed away bridges along the line and whole sections of track between Windsor and Kentville. In November and in December, monstrous tides once again tore up tracks and washed out bridges, setting construction work behind by several weeks.

Before the birth of the Dominion Atlantic Railway (D.A.R.) in 1895, the Annapolis Valley was served by several independent railroads.

Two years before the D.A.R. came into being the Windsor and Annapolis Railway (W. & A.) ran through the counties of Hants, Kings and Annapolis. In Middleton another railway, the Nova Scotia Central, connected with the W. & A. at Middleton and ran to the South Shore. In Annapolis, the W. & A. connected with the Western Counties Railway and ran west to Yarmouth.

In addition, there was the tiny Cornwallis Valley Railway (C.V.R.) which ran from Kentville to Kingsport with numerous stops in between.

All of these railways, except perhaps the C.V.R., were connected with stagecoach lines that ran into the hinterlands. These connections meant that travellers in the late 19th century could hop on any of the Valley railways and eventually reach even the most remote town or village in the province.

The W. & A., the Nova Scotia Central Railway and the Western Counties Railway regularly advertised that stagecoach connections were part of their service. That it was a fairly complete service can be seen by a train and stagecoach schedule the W. & A. published in an 1893 directory:

“The trains of the W. and A. Railway Company make connections at Newport Station semi-daily with coach to Newport; at Windsor, semi-weekly, with coach to Chester; at Port Williams Station going West and Kentville going East daily with coaches to Cornwallis and Canning; at Kentville, daily with train to Canning and Kingsport; and semi-weekly, with coaches to New Ross and Chester.”

The directory also listed the stations serving the four railway lines. Besides Kentville, which actually was owned by the W. & A., the tiny C.V.R. had only five stations along its line; these were at Steam Mill Village, Centreville, Canard, Canning and Kingsport.

The much larger W. & A. boasted 36 stations and many of their stops were in important apple-growing areas. In this immediate area, the W. & A. had stations Hantsport, Avonport, Horton Landing, Grand Pre, Wolfville, Port Williams (Greenwich), Kentville, Coldbrook, Cambridge, Waterville and Berwick. In the east, the W. & A. had stations at Windsor and Falmouth, in the west at various villages and towns now lying along the 101 highway.

It was possible in 1893 to hop on the W. & A. in Kentville and travelling west to Annapolis, connect with a steamer to St. John. A passenger on the W. & A could also transfer to the Western Counties Railway at Annapolis, then travel farther west to Yarmouth where it was possible to take a steamer to the States. Using a combination of trains and stagecoaches, it was possible to make a loop by travelling west from the Valley to Middleton, then south to Bridgewater, then eastward to Halifax and back to the Valley.

Using a W. & A. station anywhere in the Valley as a starting point, it was also possible in 1893 to take the train to other provinces. The W. & A. also pioneered a “water connection” with its line. In 1893 the W. & A formed the Evangeline Navigation Company and put in service between Kingsport and Parrsboro the Evangeline, a “sloop-rigged, carvel built little boat of 50 H.P. and 25 tons capacity.”

The snowfall we’ve had this winter is nothing compared to some of the storms that rocked the province in the past. On a scale of one to 10, this winter’s snowfall ranks a three or at best a four when measured against a storm remembered as “The Great Blockage” and the “King of Storms.”

The Great Blockage began on an “eerily quiet day” in February 1905. Winter until then was described in newspaper accounts as “moderately quiet” and Nova Scotians had been lulled into thinking the worst of it was over. The storm that lambasted the province was one of the worst in over a century and literally brought the province to a standstill. Snow fell for 21 days and while no accurate records of accumulations can be found, newspaper accounts spoke of seven-meter drifts and a paralyzed economy.

In the Annapolis Valley, the Great Blockage literally felled the railway and made the few roads that existed impassable. Whole communities in the Valley were isolated and on the verge of starvation as a result of the great snowfall; only emergency measures – calling out literally the entire male population and arming them with shovels – saved the day. Newspaper accounts of the period say that it took many communities weeks to shovel out and many areas didn’t return to normal until spring.

In the scrapbooks of Arnold Burbidge, Centreville, are newspaper accounts of severe winters in the 40s that make the recent spell of weather seem almost tropical. In January of 1941 temperatures plummeted to minus 35 degrees in the Annapolis Valley. By April of that year a whopping eight feet of snow had accumulated and winter was still lingering. The newspaper accounts mentioned that 25 years earlier, in 1916, a record 40.5 inches of snow fell in the month of March.

Looking back, there was the “Year of the Frost,” the year when there were 12 months of winter after clouds of ash from a volcanic explosion blanketed North America. This occurred in 1816, which was known to contemporaries as the year “Eighteen Hundred and Froze to Death.” In that year there was no spring and no summer. In May the temperature was wintry with plenty of snow and ice on rivers and lakes. In June, 10 inches of snow fell and the cold weather made overcoats and mittens mandatory. July came in cold, snowy and icy. “To the surprise of everyone,” said newspaper accounts, “August proved to be the worst (month) of all.”

In 1855, Nova Scotians suffered another terrible winter. In his published diary, Adolphus Gaetz writes of a winter that persisted well into May. In 1894 another severe winter dumped an unbelievable 146 centimetres on parts of Nova Scotia in one month alone.

In the files of the Kings County Historical Society are several A. L. Hardy photographs that indicate snowfalls were high in fairly recent times. In one photograph taken by Hardy on January 19, 1923, work crews are clearing a massive snowbank from the D.A.R. line outside Kentville. In another photograph, apparently of the same storm, the snow piled up along the railway tracks is higher than a D.A.R. engine.

More recently a Christmas eve storm in 1944 dumped 53 centimetres on the province. More than 56 centimetres of snow fell in a 1947 storm. In 1960 one storm deposited 76 centimetres of snow on parts of the province. There were record snowfalls in 1970, and in 1981 some areas of the province accumulated 126 centimetres of the white stuff in January alone.

“The settlement of Les Mines is at the head of the Bay of Fundy. There is no cod fishing there. The settlers can fish in the summertime for shad. There are enough of these and a kind of herring called gaspereaux to feed everyone. The lands here are very good for crops. The settlers grow wheat, rye, peas, oats and all kinds of vegetables.

“There is a sawmill in Les Mines and another is to be built. They have a windmill and seven or eight water mills.”

Les Mines, which included Canard and Grand Pre, was thus described by Joseph Robineau de Villebon, Commandant of Acadia from 1690 to 1700. Commenting on the lifestyle of Acadians who moved to Les Mines from Port Royal, de Villebon said they chose to settle on land around the Minas Basin because they preferred to farm marshes rather than clear wooded uplands.

When de Villebon wrote these words in 1699 Les Mines had a population of 487 and was growing rapidly. By this time the settlement was almost two decades old and apparently included areas as far east as Windsor. In his Kings County history, A. W. H. Eaton writes that Les Mines (he called it Minas) was settled in 1680. Using J. F. Herbin as a reference, Eaton notes that Les Mines included all the land bordering on the Canard, Cornwallis, Habitant, Gaspereau and Pereau rivers and included Piziquid or Windsor.

The Grand Pre of Les Mines, Eaton writes, was much larger than it is today and at the time of the expulsion contained “225 houses, 276 barns, 11 mills and a large number of outhouses or sheds.” Two decades after Les Mines was settled Grand Pre (or what is Grand Pre village today) had a population of 487. Five years before the expulsion Grand Pre’s population had reached 5,000. On the Internet, at a site devoted to Acadian history, one can find posted the Acadian population at Grand Pre over a 50-year period; Grand Pre’s growth in this period was extraordinary, as can be seen by these census figures for various years: 1701 – 487; 1707 – 677; 1714 – 1,031; 1730 – 2,500; 1737 – 3,736; 1748 to 1750 – 5,000.

When we look at other sources, these population figures appear to be questionable. Eaton gives the Les Mines population at the time of the expulsion as 2,734, for example. Eaton also gives the total Acadian population in and near Les Mines as 8,000 around the time of the expulsion; one encyclopedia gives the Acadian population as 6,000 in Nova Scotia in the expulsion period and I’ve seen figures from other sources that are different. The 1976 publication, Life in Acadia, says that in 1755 the Acadian population numbered 18,000, suggesting perhaps that the Internet postings are plausible.

We’ll sort out the Acadian population figure at another time. What I set out to do in this column was give surnames of Acadians who lived in Les Mines and who were among the deportees. Many of these names can be found in the local telephone directory and undoubtedly some trace their ancestry to these Acadians.

Among the Acadians deported from Grand Pre were the following: Boudro (Boudreau), Commo (Comeau), Benoit, Blanchard, Braux (Breau), David, Doucet, Duon (Duaron), Dupuis, Hebert, Landry, LeBlanc, Richard, Sonnier, Terriot (Theriault, Therio), Tibodo (Thibodeau), Trahan and Vincent. Of the above family names there were 56 LeBlancs, 41 Herberts, 42 with the Landry surname, 13 Dupius and 27 Boudreaus.

The above surnames could be found in the Windsor area and along with the following, were on the list of Acadians held prisoner at Fort Edward: Melanson, Gaudet, Deveau, Suret, Dubois, Robicheau, Beliveau, Dugas, Gautreau, Girouard, Bourgeois, Potier, Gallant.

A piece of Nova Scotia glassware, perhaps a goblet or a bowl, often sold for less than a dollar at the turn of the century; today those same pieces of old glassware have increased in value a hundredfold and more.

It has been more than 100 years since glassware was first manufactured in Nova Scotia and this alone explains why the old collectible pieces have increased so much in value. In their glass collection, for example, Gerald and Roberta Bishop of Coldbrook have a Nova Scotia starflower compote – a glass bowl supported on a stem – that was passed on by a grandparent. At least 100 years old, the compote originally sold for no more than a few dollars; in 1993 the compote was listed in a Canadian antique catalogue at $130 to $140.

Before the turn of the century, there were three major glassware manufacturers operating in the province, all in the same area. In these factories, hundreds of thousands of pieces of glass products, such as chimney lamps, tumblers, goblets, bottles, etc., were turned out by skilled craftsmen.

In 1881 the Nova Scotia Glass Company opened a factory employing over 100 men and boys in Pictou County at Trenton. Lamp chimneys, lantern globes (this was, after all, the age of the kerosene lamp) and pressed tableware were among the first items produced by the Company. By 1886 Nova Scotia Glass was producing the crystalware and other pressed glass tableware that is eagerly sought today by collectors.

By 1892 the Nova Scotia Glass Company was out of business but other firms had taken up the manufacture of glassware products. In 1890 the Lamont Brothers opened a factory near the site of the Nova Scotia Glass Company, producing an assortment of glassware, bottles, jars and so on. The Lamont Glass Company operated for less than a decade.

In 1890 the Humphrey Glass Company began operations, also near the site of the Nova Scotia Glass Company, and soon became the leading bottle manufacturer in the province. Besides bottles, Humphreys produced an assortment of lamps, fruit jars, glass rolling pins and fly traps.

In a period when spirits and patent medicines flowed freely, whiskey flasks and medicine bottles were Humphreys’ specialties. Humphreys also made bottles for what at one time was the best selling patent medicine in Canada, Minards Liniment. Old records indicate that Minards may have been one of Humphreys largest customer since they usually ordered 300,000 bottles at a time.

The Humphrey Glass Company ceased operations in Nova Scotia in 1917 and moved to New Brunswick. Thus we have a period of nearly 40 years between the time the Nova Scotia Glass Company began producing and Humphreys moved out. It is the glassware produced in this period that is prized and eagerly sought by collectors. However, if you’re new to the collecting game, specializing in Nova Scotia glassware may become frustrating. Parkway Antiques is a Kentville firm that often handles estates and collections. Parkway’s proprietor Wilfred McPhee says that while there may be a lot of the old Nova Scotia glassware around, he rarely comes across it in his business. “We haven’t had a lot of it ever,” McPhee says, intimating that while there are serious collectors, there isn’t much trafficking in the glassware.

If you’re interested in old Nova Scotia glassware, an excellent collection is now on display at the Old Kings Courthouse Museum in Kentville. The “glass from the past” exhibit will be in the museum until April.

In his book on the history of the old Windsor burying grounds, Henry Youle Hind gives us a glimpse of the fate of some of the Acadians after the expulsion. We learn, for example, that a number of Acadians were held as prisoners at Fort Edward in Windsor – well over 100 I believe – and were used as a labour force long after the expulsion took place.

In general, mainstream history ignores the Acadians after the expulsion. However, thanks to writers like Hind and other researchers, the story of the Acadians after the expulsion has unfolded. You may not be surprised to know that a lot of work by individuals has gone into tracing the Acadians after the expulsion, and that much of what has been learned can be found on the Internet.

I was apprised of this recently by Lucie LeBlanc Consentino who told me about websites devoted to Acadian history. The expulsion of the Acadians is a black period in Nova Scotia history and much of the true story is hidden in our archives. But don’t take my word for it. If you have Internet access and are interested in the Acadian story, click on http://www.acadian-home.org/frames.html. One of the postings you will find at this site is the list of Acadians imprisoned after the expulsion at forts in the Maritimes, one of them Fort Edward in Windsor.

When she wrote me recently, Ms. Consentino included in her e-mail letter a brief overview of the plight of the Acadians after the expulsion. This is a story you won’t find in the history books.

“Over 10,000 Acadians were exiled to the New England Colonies or imprisoned in Britain,” Ms. Consentino wrote. “The expulsion/deportation/exile was not a one-time thing – it lasted from 1755 to 1763 when the Treaty of Paris was signed between France and Britain. At the time all exiles were repatriated to France.

“In 1758 the British realized many Acadians were living on Ile St-Jean/Prince Edward Island. They immediately went there to deport more Acadians. It is estimated that at least 2,000 died at sea when the overloaded ships went down on their way to France.

“When the Treaty was signed, a census was ordered by France everywhere Acadians were known to have been exiled. This is how the list of prisoners was obtained. Acadians were also imprisoned at Fort Edward and at Fort Cumberland that had fallen to the British and renamed from Fort Beausejour. It is at Fort Beausejour that some of my ancestors were imprisoned.

“There were not many Acadians who escaped into the woods that survived. Many had gone to Restigouche but were dying of starvation (eating leather to survive) so (they) surrendered to the British at Cumblerland.

“Many died while in exile. When the years of exile ended, Acadians resettled in New Brunswick, some to Nova Scotia (not that many) Quebec, and in 1758 many of those imprisoned in England and repatriated to France in 1763 set sail for Louisiana. These Acadians became known as the Cajuns because they would say there were A KA JIN, so Cajin/Cajun stuck.”

If you’re interested in looking for your ancestors, the Consentino website has a map of Acadian settlements dated 1700 with family names. Also at the site are Acadian census records, a list of Grand Pre deportees and the names of Acadians held prisoner at the Windsor fort.

Kentville’s newest street, two-way Station Lane, was once part of the railway line that sliced through the town just north of and parallel to Webster Street. Part of the parking area on Station Lane was once a siding where boxcars pulled up to unload at the Scotian Gold warehouse.

Station Lane was selected as the name for this street after the town asked for suggestions and it appears to be an appropriate choice. The original site of the old train station is just up the way and the newest station is now a bus stop on the street.

But while seemingly appropriate, there are some who feel that perhaps the street should have been named after one of Kentville’s historic personages, a former Mayor perhaps or someone who was a major player in the development of the town.

When the town announced that it was seeking public input on a name for the new street, Kentville historian and archivist Louis Comeau had a suggestion that should have been seriously considered. Mr. Comeau’s research turned up the fact that the Lyons family has been connected in various ways with the town since the early 19th century. Comeau outlined this connection in a letter to the town and asked that the Lyons surname be considered for the new street.

Since the new street has been named, it may seem pointless to resurrect Mr. Comeau’s request that the Lyons name be connected with it. However, Mr. Comeau’s letter contained a number of historical tidbits about the town and the Lyons connection that I have never seen in print. I found the Comeau letter quite interesting and I’m sure history buffs will too; for that reason, and that reason alone, part of Mr. Comeau’s letter is reprinted here.

“Streets hold an important place in a community’s demographics,” Mr. Comeau wrote. “They tell us where we are in the present time and also tell us where we have been in the past. This new street needs a special name commemorating past persons who have contributed much to what we are now as a town.

“There is an exemplary family that fits this profile. The Lyons family has played an integral part in the town since the early 1820s. Several members have had outstanding records in contributing to (Kentville’s) development. They are:

“James Lyon, who emigrated from Ireland in the early part of the 19th century and within a decade established himself as a prominent hotelkeeper,” Comeau wrote. “He owned and operated the Stage Coach Inn on east Main Street (which is still standing as an apartment building); after this he owned and operated the Lyons Hotel on Aberdeen Street, which is also still standing and now is MacDonald Chisholm Insurance Ltd.

“James’ son, Joseph R. Lyons. He was postmaster in Kentville for 48 years, from 1892 to 1940, the longest serving postmaster in the town’s history; he died while still serving in this position at the age of 94.” (Mr. Comeau fondly describes Joseph as a noted town character.)

“Joseph R.’s son, Gerald Lyons, K.C. and former Mayor of the town. He served from 1932 to 1935 and died in office, serving the town to the very end.

“Other Lyons family members who have lived and worked here are, Miss Mary Lyons, RN, who was head nurse at the provincial Sanatorium, Lewis Lyons, blacksmith, who operated a shop near where Cleve’s Sporting Goods store is now, and his daughter, Edna M. (Lyons) Comeau, RN, who was head nurse at the provincial Sanatorium geriatrics unit.”

Mr. Comeau closed his letter with the observation that preserving the Lyons name on a street would be an “appropriate memorial to a very outstanding family in (Kentville’s) lengthy history.”

Occasionally someone will ask where I get the ideas or inspiration for columns on local history. Usually I answer, “From people like you.” Readers often give me historical tidbits that inspire columns.

Another comment I hear often is, “I must be difficult coming up with a different column every week.” Not really. This area is rich in historical lore. Starting with the Acadians, I have centuries of local history to dig into. And as I said above, people who read this column often provide leads and supply little-known facts and folklore about local history that’s worth preserving.

As for you giving me ideas for columns, let me tell you about some of the reader-inspired topics I’ll be covering here in the new year.

Church Street farmer George Woodworth recently told me about several Acadian sites on his property. George said there were remains of Acadian dykes near his outbuildings on Church street and on his dykeland property north of the Canard River. He discovered an old sluice which he said was in surprisingly excellent condition despite being centuries old.

The Acadian sites on Woodworth’s farm will be discussed in this column next spring – after the snow disappears and Mr. Woodworth can show me where the old dykeing can still be seen. I believe Mr. Woodworth’s farmland, the orchards and dykeland, once held a number of Acadian homesteads and this will be checked out and reported on.

Mr. Woodworth also inspired a future column on another Acadian site. Readers will recall that on a couple of occasions I’ve mentioned the so-called “windmill hill” a slight hill or rise of land on the Canard dykes off Church Street. It is believed that this was the site of an Acadian grist mill operated by wind power.

Mr. Woodworth mentioned that an “archaeological dig” is in the works at the site. I’m checking this out. I’ll have a column on the Acadian windmill and include other possible mill sites that readers have mentioned lately.

The story of what happened to the Acadians after the expulsion has never fully been told. Thanks to a reader, Lucie LeBlanc Consentino, I have some interesting history on the fate of many Acadians after the dispersal. Ms. Consentino’s material will be the topic in a column next week.

As recently as last week I mentioned, as I often have, Kentville historian and collector, Louis Comeau. As I’ve said before and will say again, Mr. Comeau has a valuable and possibly unique database of historical material on Kentville and the immediate area that should be recognized and perhaps made available for public consumption.

On more than one occasion Mr. Comeau has provided inspiration and information for columns on local history. In a column coming up in the next [week], I’ll have the contents of a letter that Comeau wrote to Kentville’s town council. In the letter Comeau suggests a new street in Kentville should be named for a man who operated two early hotels in the town, one of which was famous in its day, I believe for entertaining royalty. The letter contains some little-known history on Kentville’s early days and readers will find it interesting.

Readers comments, telephone calls, letters and e-mail submissions are appreciated and most welcome. Thank you, everyone.

If you are a history buff, that is, if you’ve made an effort to learn about the history of the immediate area, you are aware of the role of religion in the lives of our ancestors. In some ways, religious beliefs shaped and defined the history of this area. Religious intolerance, which has been making the news lately, was to a degree a factor in shaping society.

What reminded me of the connection between history and religion is a comment a friend made about Kentville and the Catholic Church. We were discussing early Kentville history and he noted that the town’s borders once stopped on the south bank of the Cornwallis River. “That’s why they built the Catholic Church where they did north of the then town limits,” he said. “They wouldn’t let them into town.”

“They,” I assumed were either political leaders or the citizens of the town who were non-adherents of the Catholic Church. Anyway, the friend’s remark was a reminder of the role religious intolerance played in our history. And while I had heard before that Catholics were once excluded not only from Kentville but from living on the floor of the Annapolis Valley, it seemed like one of those bits of folk nonsense that persist over the years.

My interest in this folklore about Kentville and possible Catholic exclusion piqued, I decided to question Kentville’s unofficial historian, Louis Comeau. I asked Comeau if there was any truth to the story that some recognized religions and their adherents were once banned from Kentville.”

“While I’ve never seen anything in print,” Comeau replied, “folklore has it that the Catholics were once forbidden to build a church in Kentville.”

According to family folklore, Comeau said, his Catholic ancestors and other Irish Catholic settlers weren’t welcome in Kentville or anywhere in the settled areas of the Valley floor. “In Kings County, the Irish had to be content with homesteads on the mountain. Look at how many Irish families you find that have been settled for generations on the North Mountain, for example,” Comeau said in effect.

Comeau also told me that when his ancestors sailed from Ireland, they left as Malones and arrived as Lyons, apparently believing they would be discriminated against if their Irish surname revealed they were Catholics.

One of Comeau’s ancestors, James Lyons, operated the Kentville Hotel or Stage Coach House on Main Street in Kentville and later opened the Lyons’ Hotel on Aberdeen Street, where Macdonald Chisholm Insurance now stands. Comeau said that according to family folklore, Lyons was a successful businessman only because he kept his religion a secret. “This was in a period when Catholics weren’t accepted,” Comeau said.

Comeau’s research indicates the old boundary of Kentville on the north was the Cornwallis River. This was still the boundary when St. Joseph’s Church was completed in 1853. But whether the church was built outside of Kentville because of religious intolerance cannot be determined.

For some insight on this, we must turn to Eaton’s history of Kings County. “The legal difficulties under which Roman Catholics laboured in Nova Scotia after the introduction of civil government in 1749, were for a long time very great,” Eaton writes. Eaton was referring to an act passed by the government in 1758 than banished “every popish person… and every popish priest” from the province.