1883 - June - 3

        A visitor to Hamilton in June 1883, identified only as Mr. Trevellick, visited Hamilton and was given a tour of the city. He later spoke with a Spectator reporter and a portion of the conversation follows :
          “ ‘I drove today with one of your aldermen,’ said Mr. Trevellick last night, ‘to the top of the mountain, and though I have visited many cities in both the old and new worlds, I never saw such a beautiful and grand panorama of lovely nature as was unfolded to my eyes today from your mountain top. But I can’t see why your people have such glorious surroundings should allow their streets to be in the abominably dirty and disgraceful condition that they are in today. Although the surroundings are beautiful, you cannot be happy with them, for our happiness depends not only on the use of things, but where to use them and how to use them, and you do not use your surroundings right or you would have your streets harmonize with them.”¹

¹ “Hamilton and Its Streets : What Mr. Trevellick Thinks After a Tramp Around Town and a Visit to the Mountain Top.”

Hamilton Spectator.  June 27, 1883

On Wednesday June 27, 1883, the Spectator published an extensive history of the strip of land known as the Beach Strip.

The article focused on the period from 1823 to 1883 :

“The beach in 1823 was the same narrow strip of land that now divides Lake Ontario from Burlington Bay; but, it was then covered by low scrubby oak and undergrowth, the only path through which was an Indian trail leading to the camps of the Six Nations Indians, which were pitched at different points along the beach. The vicinity of the bay was then swarming with game of all kinds, and it was no trouble for a man to go out before breakfast and procure enough game to last for several weeks. At that time, there was no white inhabitant at the beach, and in Hamilton itself, there were only three brick houses built.”²

² “Burlington Beach : A Few Interesting Facts in Its History”

Hamilton Spectator.  June 27, 1883.

Around 1823, a number of fishermen, emigrating from Nova Scotia, took up settlement on the beach strip, including the Dynes, Shabaneaugh, Corey and Fish families. In the early 1820s, it was necessary for area residents to go to York (Toronto) to get their corn ground:

“As this was a great inconvenience, John Dynes procured a grant of land from the Government on the promise that he would establish a mill to grind corn for the neighbors, which he continued to do for many years.”²

Also, early in the 1820s, there was no connection between the lake and the bay, except for a small outlet which dried up in the summer. All freight destined to Hamilton on lake freighters had to be landed at the Beach, carried across the strip of land, and then taken across the bay in scows.

In 1829, a five year project to construct a canal across the Beach strip was begun:

“That canal was 22 feet wide, 500 yards long and 8 feet deep, and it was provided with a wooden swing bridge for the accommodation of foot passengers and vehicles, but as this bridge was only a few feet above the water line, it was carried away one night on the decks of a small schooner and deposited in the bay. After this accident, a ferry was provided, and a man procured to run it across the canal for the convenience of the fishermen.”²

The ferry was first operated by Captain Thompson who ran it for 18 years at a salary of $600 a year, paid by the Marine and Fisheries and Inland Revenue departments. As the ferry did not average more than one trip per month, it was quite easy for one man to carry all the responsibilities of both ferryman and lighthouse keeper.

In 1844, the canal was enlarged and the piers were rebuilt, making the canal 170 feet wide at the lake entrance and 126 feet wide at the bayside, with a total length of 100 yards. The depth of the canal varied between 18 and 25 feet, except for an obstruction, a sandbar running across the channel which was only 12 feet 9 inches below the surface.

By 1852, the traffic across the canal was up to an average of five vehicles a day, necessitating the hiring of a ferryman who was paid out of the lighthouse keeper’s salary.

In 1877, the Dominion government leased the beach property to the city of Hamilton for a summer resort. The Beach road was then clayed and graveled. Then the Hamilton and Northwestern railway was laid across the strip of land, making it convenient for city residents to reach the area.

Summer residences began to be constructed :

“Within the last three years, 1880-1883, 78 beautiful summer residences have been built within a quarter mile from the canal, the ferry has been run from daylight to dark, the two lighthouses have been attended to with the strictest regularity, and the whole of the Government property is being well looked after and is in good condition.”²

“ ‘If this rain don’t stop right smart,’ said a reporter going home about 12:30 last night to a policeman, who was keeping out of the rain from a veranda on John street, ‘there’s going to be some fun before morning.’ The scribe’s prophecy was right. There was some fun before morning.”³

³ “Rain on the Rampage : Wednesday Night’s Storm and the Disasters It Caused”   Hamilton Spectator. June 28, 1883

The heavy rainfall of Wednesday, June 27, 1883 began about 7 p.m. and kept increasing in severity as the night progressed.

The main problem caused by the vast amount rainfall occurred in the southwestern portion of the city where the water running down from the mountain caused considerable flooding. Damage was extensive to many properties in the area.

Around 1877 or 1878, a pipe drain had been built on the mountain top by the city authorities. It’s purpose was to accommodate any heavy overflow in severe rain events, overflows which had regularly flooded the cellars of many homes near the escarpment.

Early in 1883, part of the earthwork under the drain had given away, and the matter had not been repaired by the city.

Water which should have been running through the drain was simply spreading over the fields :

“Wednesday night’s heavy rain filled the drain almost to overflowing, but the water soon found an outlet in this hole, and came rushing across the fields in a small stream at first, but gradually increasing in volume until a perfect torrent wound its way along. The course of this stream was in a zig-zagy direction, but it finally reached the barn of the Mountain View hotel, poured over the stone edge by it, came around in front of the barn and into a large pond that has been dug out in Jocelyn’s quarry.”³

As the water filled the pond, it bypassed a drain which formerly used to handle the overflow. The water rushed down the road in that vicinity in a great torrent towards the toll gate and the John street steps ending up near an embankment where it went over the edge with a roar:

“As an eye-witness said to a reporter this morning, it looked like a miniature Niagara Fall. For fully 60 feet along the side, it poured over in a perfect torrent. In a few minutes, the steps looked as if they had been struck by lightning. Some of them went sailing down John street.”³

Below the mountain brow, the rampaging torrent of water caused great damage, particularly to a house owned by Mr. E. Brown, where two immense gullies were carved out:

“These gullies are about fifty feet apart, and both are fully 30 feet deep. The water rushed down through the yard and around the house creating great destruction as it went. Stone fences were thrown down, the yards flooded and the gravel paths swept of their gravel. The cellar is flooded with water. Near the coach house a small shanty stood that was swept away. All around the premises, the ravages are fearful to look at. Huge stones were carried along and deposited in heaps around. Immediately at the back of the premises, a deep gully was cut, through which the water poured down with frightful velocity.”³

After damaging the grounds of Arkledun, the stream split in two, part of it headed towards James street through the property of Mrs. McLaren’s home, Oakbank, causing great damage. The other part of the stream headed straight down John street :

“Great pieces of stone were whirled around here and flung along the roadside. All the flotsam and jetsam of a sea shore are strewn along here. Planks from sidewalks, fences and wood from the John street steps are scattered along.”³

Farther down John street, the torrent of water caused much havoc:

“Probably the first place flooded on John street was the little frame house occupied by Jimmy Hiscox, the chimney sweep. Jimmy’s sign still hangs out there. But the house is empty. It is a wretched little place. Here the water fairly poured in. All down the street, houses were flooded and cellars filled. Drains choked up and the water kept flowing down, utilizing every available outlet. A woman living above the wood market had a hen sitting on some eggs in her cellar. This morning she found both hen and eggs floating around in several feet of water.”³

Where the great stream of water went after it reached Main street, nobody could find out:

“Probably with its bulk reduced through frequent splitting, and by failing into the drains, it gradually died away.”³

1883 - June - 1

        “Diurnal Epitome : What Goeth On In and About  the City”
          Hamilton Spectator. June 8, 1883

-      An Indian is trying to get on the police force.”

-      Geo. Midwinter now runs the Rock Bay park, and has renamed it Bay View park. It is a pretty spot. The Clara Louise will run from Bastien’s wharf to Bay View park weekdays and Sundays.

“Materialized Spooks : A Haunted House in the Rue de Macnab”

Hamilton Spectator. June 9, 1883.

“At the corner of Macnab and Murray streets stands an old stone house, surrounded by a small plot of ground, full of weeds, and a pine board fence. This house bears the reputation of being haunted. It looks as if it was. The window panes are all broken, the shutters are rotten, the stones dirty, and all the woodwork in a fast decaying state. Inside there is nothing peculiarly startling in the appearance of the place. It is much the same as houses that have gone to rack and ruin and left for a long time unoccupied usually are. Of late, however, strange beings from the spirit world have made fires in the grates, and, on more than one occasion, neighbors have been attracted by the smoke issuing from the windows in the morning, and have forced an entrance and found the floor on fire. But the ghostly inhabitants did not stop there. Mr. W. H. McDonald lives next door, and one night the spirits sallied forth and broke one of the windows of his house. Mr. McDonald got out of bed, appeared on the back yard scene, but, by the time he got there, the ghosts had made their escape. One night soon afterwards he heard noises in his yard, and on going down, found one of the spirits there. There was a fight, and though the spook struggled hard, he got the worst of it, and it is said that the visitor from an unknown world appeared upon the streets next day with a black eye, a damaged nose and a dilapidated jaw. Mr. McDonald placed the matter in the hands of the police. Nothing was done. Chief Stewart asked him to swear out a warrant against the spirit tramps, but Mr. McDonald, not being a perambulatory directory of trampdom, could not do it, and the matter, as far at least as the police were concerned, ended. Mr. McDonald spoke to the police commissioners about it. It made no difference. The ghosts were allowed to hold high revel in the house night after night and make the hours of darkness hideous by their unearthly clatter without any check.

“Soon after Mr. McDonald had given the ghost the thrashing, he got an anonymous letter from the gang, stating that they knew what time he came home at nights, that he was watched and that they were going to ‘fix’ him for interfering with them. This was followed by another letter in the same vein. Both letters were unstamped, and went to the dead letter office at Ottawa before reaching him. The racket in the house was kept up. It is kept up still. It has grown to be such a nuisance that he has been forced to give notice to his landlord of his intention to leave the premises at the end of the month.”

The life of a Spectator reporter, a dude of Hamilton in June 1883, as described by a … reporter “

“Say, my girl’s got back on me,” said the new reporter with the sad moustache and the Oscar Wilde hair, coming into the editorial rooms and interrupting the managing editor in an editorial on the grand display of dudology – which, by the way, is currently supposed to be the missing link so long sought after by Charles Darwin – at the band concert the other evening, “ gone clean back on me and gone off with another fellow. “My heart is broke.”

“That’s all right,” responded the managing editor, “but that does not explain your absence from this office for the last few weeks. Where have you been ? I want you to understand that this thing must cease, cease right now, or we shall be compelled to substitute some other mighty intellect for yours. You’re kind of smart, you know; you have a pretty wit, you’re brilliant in epigram, your humour is immense, your satire keen, and your sarcasm as withering as an autumn leaf; but you don’t attend to your work right, and unless you brace up we shall be compelled in the classic language of the Evening Times to give you the grand bounce.

“This will not occur again,” said the aspirant for journalistic honours, “ but I’ve been feeling so bad over my girl’s cruel desertion of me that it’s made me quite sick. Have you ever known what it is to love, and to love unrequitably; to waste all the tender attractions of a young and yearning heart upon an object that cared naught for its joy or its sorrow?”

“Yes, I’ve been there,” said the managing editor feelingly, as thoughts of a recent breach of promise case in which he had played one of the principal parts, flashed across his mind, “ I have been there and I can sympathise with you. Excuse this tear. But how did it happen? Give me a pointer on the row.”

“Don’t you give me away and I’ll tell you all about it. You see I’ve been going with that girl for a long while and I’m pretty badly mashed upon her – stuck for all I’m worth, as you might say. Soon after we first commenced, keeping steady company, I taught her how to smoke cigarettes. And I you it was fine. We’d stroll up and down some of the fine avenues smoking and she’d call me ‘old man’ and ‘old fellow’ and say I was a ‘fine old card’, just like one fellow ‘ud say to another.

“Well, just before we had this row, she sent me a note saying: “ My dear Jim – she always calls me Jim because it ain’t my name – “when night begins to throw her sable mantle over the earth and pin it with a star, meet me sure. Something very, very important. Mind ten o’clock. Till then farewell.” I went to see her of course, and as I had no cigarettes I gave her a cigar that some fellow had brought me down town through the day. Well, sir, the darn thing had powder in it and it went off with a bang, an’ you’d a gone right off and died if you’d a gone right off and died if you’d seen the circus that girl went through. She turned a summersault and fell over the sidewalk an’ I helped her up and she blamed me for it, and said I’d put up the job on her an’ now she wont speak to me. She’s going with a blooming red-headed dude now with little sprouts of red hair on his face that look like the electric light – a horseshoe over the mouth and half a one on each cheek. Say, I’m agoin’ to get square on that fellow if it takes me a year. Have you got room for a conundrum?”

“Yes, spit it out. Conundrums are awfully discouraging, and I noticed since you commenced giving them to me that the number of deaths in Hamilton has increased wonderfully. But I guess we can stand another.”

“What is the remarkable dead-head pass on record.

“ I give up. Better ask Spackman, he’s a –“

“ Oh never mind him. Thermopylae.”

“ That’s not so bad. Keep ‘em up to that standard and you’ll have a brilliant future before you yet,” and the managing editor settled down to his editorial while the new reporter with the sad moustache and the Oscar Wilde hair went gaily out to hunt for news.”¹

^{1 “}My Girl Gets Back on Him”

Hamilton Spectator June 11, 1883

On Monday, June 11, 1883, the Spectator carried a follow up report on the conduct of visitors to the Hamilton Cemetery on Sunday afternoons. There had recently been an article describing how unruly visitors had been acting. So the reporter visited the cemetery again on the following Sunday afternoon and noticed a fewer number of disreputables around:

“Part of this might possibly be attributed to the fact that it was not a nice day, but the Spectator’s stand in the matter had certainly a great deal to do with  it, for in Coote’s Paradise, across the way, the reporter noticed many of the faces that had grown familiar through his Sunday visits to the burial ground.”²

² “More of the Cemetery” Hamilton Spectator. June 11, 1883.

“ ‘Here’s the way they saddle the city with children to keep,’ said his Worship to a reporter Saturday, waving his hand toward a colored lady who occupied an easy chair in his office in city hall. The lady smiled at the reporter, nestled the infant in her arms a little closer to her ample bosom and heaved a tremendous sigh.”³

³ “Charlie the Waif : Another Mother Deserts Her Offspring” Hamilton Spectator. June 11, 1883.

A Spectator reporter was summoned to the mayor’s office on Saturday, June 9, 1883 so that he could witness and report about what the mayor and city officials had to face all too often – yet another baby was abandoned to the care of the city’s relief rolls.

The back woman sitting in the mayor’s office with a baby in her arms was asked by the reporter about the circumstances by which she was left with the child :

“ ‘What was the woman like?’ queried the reporter.

“ ‘Well, sir,’ returned the colored lady, ‘I don’t rightly know. She came to my place in a cab.’

“ ‘Dis she look like a servant?’

“ ‘Well, all I knows is she said she’d lived with the mayor,’ replied the woman with a chuckle

“Wherat the scribe was guilty of cacchination, and the mayor smiled benignly.

“ ‘What she means,’ said his worship, ‘is that the girl was a domestic.’

“The mayor gave the woman order for a small sum, called in a policeman and instructed him to find the mother of the child, who, he said, must be in the city, and the woman, baby and policeman left the office altogether.

“The woman tells this story : ‘My name is Anna , and I live on Catharine street north, near Cannon. Over two months ago, the woman came to my place with a six-weeks-old baby. She came in a cab and said her name was Margaret. She called the baby Charlie. She didn’t say where she came from, nor what her right name was. She said she’d give me $6 a month to keep the baby for her, and gave me $6.25 right there to start on. I’ve never seen her since and I’ve got no business keeping the baby. Margaret is a young woman of fair complexion. With brown hair, and she was nicely dressed when she left her boy with Mts. Johnson.”³

On June 12, 1883, the Spectator account of the previous evening’s city council meeting began with the following paragraph which shows the esteem aldermen of the day had for the general public :

“When all the Hamilton aldermen get together around the council board and sit solemnly debating on what to do for the furtherance of the best interests of the Ambitious city, they present a mighty, imposing appearance, and are calculated to strike terror to the hearts of boys, if by chance, society’s juvenile members could be induced to favor the council with their presence.⁴

⁴ “Hamilton’s Aldermen : Meet and Tell of Their Past Fortnight”

Hamilton Spectator. June 12, 1883.

As Monday, June 11, 1883 was the anniversary of the feast of Pentecost and of the giving of the Ten Commandments, the members of the Hebrew congregation in the city held a special service in the synagogue located at the corner of Hughson and Augusta streets:

“It was a most interesting ceremony, including a reading of the scrolls of the holy law and the confirming of seven applicants. The scrolls were produced from the shrine and placed on the table, where they were examined , and on the confirmants coming forward and occupying the front seats of the church, the scrolls were carried in front of them, after which one of them read a portion of the law, and invoked divine blessing, then they formed in procession and walked to the shrine where they deposited bouquets of flowers as a token of their first service to God.”⁵

⁵ “Feast of Pentecost : Interesting Ceremony and Confirmation in the Jewish Synagogue” Hamilton Spectator June 12, 1883.

Dr. H. B. Birkenthal preached an eloquent sermon on the topic of the Ten Commandments :

“It is becoming and proper for us to celebrate this day once a year, as it has been done for upward of 3,000 years, being the anniversary of the giving of the law to Moses on Mount Sinai. Since that time, that law has ruled all nations, and whenever there is a prosperous nation, it is the result of the observance of the law.”⁵

The rabbi urged all present to be honest, and, especially, he urged the children to be true to their parents and to become good and honorable citizens.

The confirmants were then called upon to take part in public worship and read portion of scripture:

“Then, as a token of faith, they all kissed the scrolls and were declared to be initiated into the congregation of Israel, and received the blessing from the rabbi and their parents.

1883 - June - 2

        In the June 12, 1883 issue of the Hamilton Spectator, there was an announcement that several ladies interested in the Hamilton hospital had initiated an organization to be called the Duffield Home Mission:
          “The idea is a singularly happy one, forming as it does, a memorial to the late Miss Duffield, whose untiring efforts among the poor, particularly to those whose infirmities made them inmates of the hospital, were widely known and thoroughly appreciated”^{1
                1} “Duffield Flower Mission”
          Hamilton Spectator June 12, 1883
          The purpose of the ladies involved in the formation of the Duffield Home Mission was to convey flowers, and in some seasons, fruit, everyday to the City Hospital to cheer the patients so confined there.
          On Tuesday, June 12, 1883, the newly-constructed steps leading up the face of the escarpment from the head of Cherry street (later Ferguson Avenue South) were formally dedicated and named The Donovan Steps.
          At half-past four, a large party of dignitaries assembled at the top of the steps for the official ceremony:
          “Mr. John Burns occupied the chair, and in his opening remarks said that the committee of gentlemen who built these steps know that they have been a great good to the city, and especially to the locality in which they are situated. They thought it was a fitting thing that there should be a little formal opening to bring them before the public. There was also another reason why they should be publicly opened, and that was to give them a name, and the committee had chosen the name of the most promising man that the city of Hamilton had ever produced or that was sent as a representative from No. 1 Ward – the name of Ald. Donovan.”^{2
                2} “Donovan Steps : Christening the New Mountain Steps at the Head of Cherry Street” Hamilton Spectator. June 13, 1883.
          A little, girl, Miss Costello, was then called upon to christen the structure in a manner that made the some of those present wince :
          “It made the economical reporter’s heart ache to see such a willful waste of wine. The ceremony was well-performed and a cheer rose as the wine ran over the steps.” ²
                As the new steps lead directly from the mountain to the Corktown neighborhood, it was appropriate that the children of St. Patrick’s school were then called upon to sing “There’s a Dear Sport in Ireland.” Then followed a toast to Alderman Donovan.
          In his reply to the toast, the alderman began by saying how honored he was to have the steps named after him :
          “He said that 25 years ago, when he used to run around the mountain side after berries, he little thought that a flight of substantial steps, built by talented men from Mr. Miles Hunting’s firm would be called after him”²
                After the christening ceremonies were completed, the crowd adjoined to Ex-Alderman Bain’s nearby residence where a pleasant time was spent.
          The mayor was in attendance and he received a special presentation :
          “While there Mayor Magill was present ed with a black thorn walking cane which had just been received from Ireland. Mr. Magill received it with many expressions of thanks, and in his remarks said that he would prize it most highy because of the country it came from. He was proud to have been born an Irishman, and he said that it was immigrants from the mother country which had made Canada what it is.”²
                As the date, June 12, 1883 approached, there was much concern among the Hamilton members of the Knights of Pythias as to whether the weather would be favorable for their long-anticipated special day:
          “ ‘What will the weather be like?’ queried dozens of the Knights. Nobody knew. The sky looked ominous. The rain fell at intervals and the knights’ hearts sank; it brightened up, and they were correspondingly filled with joy. At an early hour this morning, anxious ones were out of bed to gaze on the prospects. They looked bad. The sun was up, but the sky was filled with clouds. Gloomy thoughts came to them. “Is all our fun to be spoiled after all?’ they’d ask themselves, and an echo would answer solemnly, ‘after all,’ which was very naughty of the echo, and it should be severely reproved for thus trifling with the feelings of the tender-hearted men with the glittering helmets and bright red plumes.
          “But, as the morning wore on, a change came o’er the spirit of the day’s dream. The sun came out bright and strong, the storm clouds disappeared from the surface of the clouds, and about 11 o’clock, a grand blue dome stretched overhead, flecked here and there with splashes of soft white clouds, and the hearts of the knights rose and their spirits recovered, and they congratulated themselves that they were going to have a glorious day after all.”^{3
                3} “The Pythian Knights : Celebrate Their Great Gala Day in Hamilton”
          Hamilton Spectator. June 13, 1883.
          The Spectator reporter ventured out of the office and found that things were going to be fabulous for the Knights:
          “The city presents a holiday appearance, gay flags float proudly in the breeze from shops around, and buntings of as many colors as human skill and ingenuity can weave, spread themselves gaudily in front of the retail shops. All together the city looks bright, cheerful and gay.”³
                Throughout the morning, groups of uniformed members of the Knights of Pythias from all over Canada and from parts of the United States came to Hamilton for the big event.
          The Knights of Pythias from Buffalo, New York were particularly welcomed:
          “The train was 25 minutes late, and the Hamilton knights walked up and down the platform in groups of two or three waiting for it to arrive. At last, the train came slowly down the line, and the Hamilton men drew themselves up in single file, as the train came up to the platform, to welcome their brethren. The band was grouped down near the far end, and the exhilarating strains of ‘Yankee Doodle’ floated out on the morning air as the Buffalo men stepped off.”³
                A procession was formed and the American guests, accompanied by those who welcomed them, marched in style to a downtown hotel:
          “Crowds of people followed them. Small boys by the score gazed at the show. They ran between the knights and the bands, tripped on the sidewalks and did all in their power to raise the mischief that the heart of the average small boy so delights in”³
                At one o’clock sharp, a formal procession was lined up in front of the Pythian hall on Macnab street. The processionists intended to get to the market square for a demonstration of their precision drilling abilities, but the crowds present  to watch the event that there was not enough room left for the Kiights maneuver. All that could be achieved was the taking of a group photograph, after which the Knights marched away to Dundurn park for the rest of the day’s activities:
          “Long before the procession reached Dundurn park, the crowd had commenced to gather, and when the bands and the gaily dressed knights reached the gate and marched along, an eager sea of expectant faces lined the paths and gazed at the show. A pretty sight the knights looked as they wound their way along, their bright plumes and glittering helmets forming a vivid contrast with the cool, green sward and waving foliage.”³
                The main events of a very full series of scheduled plans for the day included a lacrosse game, a baseball game and competitive marching drills. In the evening, there were more competitive marching drills, an exhibition of Indian war dances and finally dancing under the stars:
          “Dancing was kept up with great vigor to the music of Nelligan’s string band, and as the night was of a sort suitable for dancing, that proved to be the leading attraction for a large majority of the younger pleasure-seekers.”³

                It had been nearly 25 years since the once unsightly space in downtown Hamilton known as the Gore had been transformed into the urban oasis known as Gore Park. The fountain, the shrubbery, lawn and flowers were lovely, but the park was surrounded by an iron fence, the gate of which was opened only on very special occasions.
          Finally on June 19, 1883, Gore Park truly became a public park:
          “At last, after years of talk and discussion, the Gore park has been thrown open to the public. The ‘interesting ceremony’ was performed at 10 o’clock this morning by Chief Aitchison, of the fire department, in the presence of a number of citizens. For a long time after the gates were thrown open, the passersby looked in amazement at the few who were inside enjoying the cool breeze that was borne through the spray from the fountain, and when, at last, a lad more bold than the rest, ventured in, he kept his eye upon the nearest gate, toward which he retreated as the chief drew near. A few improvements could easily be made in the park, such as placing a number of benches under the trees in the center, thus allowing persons to sit and enjoy the surrounding beauty without destroying the grass or flowers. The park will be opened at 7 o’clock every morning and close at 8 in the evening, and will be looked after by the fire department.”^{4
                4} “The Gore Park : Formally Thrown Open for the Enjoyment of the Public”
          Hamilton Spectator. June 19, 1883.