1883 - July - 2

At an early hour, Tuesday, July 2, 1883, a large number of people assembled in the vicinity of the Hamilton’s Central Fire Station. The attraction was the introduction of the fire department’s recently purchased engine to the general public.
          About 10:30, the engine was wheeled out and taken to the vicinity of King and John streets, where it would undergo some testing :
          “At 10:43, the light was applied to the furnace. In 3 minutes, the steam rose to 10 lbs., 4 ½ minutes 30 lbs., 5 minutes, 40 lbs., 5 ½ minutes, 50 lbs. At this time, the water was turned on, and the engine set in motion, and at 6 minutes, a stream was sent through 150 feet of hose and a 1 ½ inch nozzle over Sanford, Vail and Co.’s building. The stream rose gradually and went over the college flag staff in 9 minutes.”^1
1 “The New Fire Engine : Shows the Citizens What It can Do in Throwing Water.”   Hamilton Spectator. July 3, 1883
          Various other tests and comparisons with water pressure were undertaken, and the engine performed to most everyone’s satisfaction. However, a strong wind was blowing during the engine’s trial, taking away somewhat the force of the water.
          Alderman McKay kept a close record of the engine’s performance and indicated that he was perfectly satisfied. Another alderman, who did not wish to be identified, felt that the engine should be returned to the company that made it.
          D. B. Collier, a representative of the manufacturer of the engine felt that it had not been given a fair test because of the wind and because the nozzles on the hoses were so old that they were bent and out of order. Mr. Collier declared that further tests were required.
          On Wednesday afternoon, July 4, 1883, citizens in the Hamilton area were enjoying beautiful summer weather. A reporter for the Hamilton Spectator decided to travel west along the Hamilton and Dundas Street Railway and pay a visit to the Valley City.
          Conductor George Ball, in charge of the train, was particularly congenial towards a crowd of young folks who had a car all to themselves as they travelled to Ainslie’s Woods for a picnic.
          There was some inconvenience on the journey as the recent heavy rains had washed out part of the line. The ladies, especially, were not too pleased to have to change cars and walk over railway ties which had been laid over a washed-out embankment.
          The journey was nearly completed with the train entering the Dundas town limits when Conductor Bell quickly jammed on the brakes, and the engineer blew the whistle :
          “The reporter, who was taking his ease on a bench, jumped like lightning to his feet prepared for a smashup and a first-class item, but George got the train stopped just in time to escape running into a cow which walked lazily across the track as if it didn’t matter whether the car struck her or not.
          “But, as George said, ‘If the car had struck her, it would have been bad for the coo.’ And possibly it might had been bad for the train too. Chief Fitzgerald might read the bylaw concerning the prevention of cattle running at large.”¹
                One of the reporter’s purposes in going to Dundas was to inspect the progress of the construction of the town’s waterworks reservoir.
          Excavated into a hillside near the Grand Trunk railway station, the reservoir was to be spring fed and have a capacity of 1,000,000 gallons:
          “The toiling scribe had just reached the top of the hill, near the reservoir, when a terrific thunderstorm came on, and lifting his eyes, he beheld a dozen workmen making lively time getting out of the excavation and running to the friendly shelter of a bridge and shed nearby.
          “The reporter joined them and enjoyed their conversation for about half an hour. It did not seem to be very hard to convince them that they could do no more work that afternoon, so the scribe was inclined to think, but after he had walked over to the reservoir in the rain, and lifted about three pounds of clay on his boots, he made up his mind that he, for one, wouldn’t care to wheel a barrow around that reservoir to any extent at that time.”¹
                Heading back down the hill, the Spectator representative passed the paper mill of John Fisher and Sons, which he noted seemed to be doing a fine business utilizing both steam and water power.
          Back on King street in the business district of Dunas, the reporter to note of the town’s use of asphalt pavement:
          “Hamiltonians are interested in pavements, and walks, for the wooden sidewalks there are bad enough in all conscience. They may be pleased to know that the people of Dundas are delighted with asphalt sidewalks, and intend to replace the rotten wooden sidewalks they now have, as fast as they decay, with asphalt.¹