1883-08-21rr

“The weather yesterday, to have been acceptable to Hamilton people, should have been the proverbial Queen’s weather. But it was not. The day opened with indications of rain, and before it was far on, the lowering clouds began to discharge their contents. This spoiled the contemplated procession. It spoiled everything. Pipers, who a few moments before were anxious for a good blow, were paralyzed by the rain fall. There was nothing for it but to go up to the park and risk a drenching, or stay downtown and miss a big procession.”¹

¹ “Hamilton’s Holiday : How the Event Was Observed Yesterday.”

Hamilton Spectator.   August  21, 1883.

The damp weather of the early morning hours of Hamilton’s Civic holiday, Friday, August 20, 1883, had the effect of spoiling the holiday for many Hamiltonian’s, but only at the start of the day.

The grounds of Dundurn were left very moist long after the rain clouds had passed on:

“The order was ‘keep off the grass; no reporters or anyone else carried free.’ It was religiously carried out. Nevertheless, there was a fair turnout of the newspaper gang and they took their fate like real martyrs. It was a good day for the tailors and the laundrys.”¹

Around the noon hour, the weather, which had been threatening all morning, broke again:

“It was not the kind of rain which the poet sings of :

“ ‘Tis the golden gleam of an autumn day,

   With the soft rain falling as if in play,

   And a tender touch upon everything

   As if autumn remembered the days of spring.’

“It was heavy. It was fierce. It came down in chunks. The reporter was so wet that he wanted to take to the swamp to disrobe. But he held it out. Everybody else was else and that gave him some consolation. The conductor on his car was abnormally sober and sorry for it. But a cheery soul began to sing:

‘Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie

 Wait till the clouds roll by,

 Jenny, my own true loved one,

 Wait till the clouds roll by.’

“This enlivened the proceedings, and sure enough, the clouds did roll by and give us such weather as must have delighted the hearts of all. The sun broke through the murky mass, and beamed with old-time brilliancy on the mud bespattered streets, and the rain-begrimed raiment of the promenaders and processionists. The storm was over, and the fun began.”¹

Once the storm was played out, the delayed procession made its appearance, and proceeded to Dundurn park where, over the afternoon, a crowd of 4,000 had gathered:

“In one quarter, the games were in progress, in another dancing was going on; over there, the strolling musicians gathered an audience, and the soft-eyed Italian girl held her listeners spellbound by the mystic magic of her sweet contralto; the refreshment booths were surrounded by a big throng; the dancing platform was well-patronized, and altogether the people seemed to enjoy themselves to the full.”¹