1883 - July 23ee

It was a quiet summer Sunday afternoon, July 22, 1883, when a reporter with the Hamilton Spectator ventured out from downtown Hamilton along York street to the Cemetery and Dundurn Park.

In his article which appeared in the following day’s paper, the reporter began by remarking that there was not the usual number of people who would visit the cemetery on a Sunday afternoon:

“For some reason, probably on account of the hot weather, the attendance at the cemetery for the last few Sundays has been small, and those who do go bear a sad face and wear somber robes, telling the tale of sorrow and bereavement.

“The last home of the departed at the present time presents a very fine appearance, the gay, blooming flowers filling the air with perfume and covering the graves with beauty.”¹

¹ “Cemetery and Park : The Excessive Heat Causes a Falling Off of Visitors.”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 23, 1883.

While the heat might have deterred those wishing to place flowers or pay their respects at the graves of those known to them, the reporter did observe others whose purpose being there was of a different nature:

“There are, however, a few who do not go for the purpose of visiting or decorating the graves of loved ones. A reporter saw a sight in the Church of England burying ground yesterday; on the grass beneath the shade of a far-spreading willow lay a young lady charmingly attired in pink muslin and having about her an air of general coolness. She was reading some book, and from the ripple of laughter which came from the direction, the reporter thought it must be something unusually funny. Stepping quickly up he saw a large yellow-covered book, and on the page where the lady was reading was a picture of a clown, and over it the words ‘laugh and be happy.’ She was happy.

“A few feet off at a pump was a young man, his clothes covered with mud and his face red and dirty. He was bathing his head and washing a wound in his hand from which blood flowed freely; around were about a dozen small boys poking fun at him, and jeeringly saying ‘why did’nt you thump him?’ The girl in the pink dress saw the man and walked away, remarking that men were awful sinners.

“Sitting at the side of a tombstone were four little girls reading their Sunday school verses and beside them was a quartet of boys and girls giggling and laughing at nothing.”¹

The reporter then crossed York street and entered Dundurn Park. As opposed to the cemetery, those wishing to enjoy Dundurn Park had to pay admission:

“From the cemetery to Dundurn park, where all looked fresh and beautiful from last night’s rain, there was very little bustle. The sole occupants of the grounds were two women fanning themselves beneath a tree; a man lying at his full length on the grass having, for the sake of comfort, thrown off his coat, vest and shoes, which a little dog was endeavoring to convert into carpet rags; two men quietly smoking their pipes and talking of their winter stock, and two little girls swinging.

“ ‘Quiet day,’ remarked the reporter to the gate-keeper, when passing out. ‘Yes, fewer people here today than there has been for a long time.’ ”¹