One Day O.H.M.S.

Here’s a lovely, wry letter to the editor of the Charlottetown Guardian, printed February 27, 1926, about the joys of being a mail carrier in wintery rural Prince Edward Island.

I think that “breaking a road” meant creating a path with horse and sleigh over newly-fallen snow so that it would be easier for other travellers, and I believe it was up to each landowner to do the section of road that ran in front of their property. I would guess this might have included knocking down tall banks by shovelling. People being people, not everyone would get around to breaking the road early enough after a storm, or at all, as the mail carrier finds out.

In some spots, where winds would regularly leave substantial drifts in the road, section of fencing would be taken down in late fall so folks could travel through a flat field over the winter, so when the writer talks about “going over tree tops, on the road through fields, dodging a fence here, a post there, and a barn some place else,” they weren’t exaggerating.


ONE DAY O. H. M. S.

Sir.— As I was sitting enjoying a good “home fire” this evening, I decided I would get my pen and paper, and write a few lines concerning “One day O. H. M. S.”

This winter especially we have to contend with an immense lot of snow, and storms mostly, every second day. However when the storm eases and the sun shines again, we make ready for our journey (over an unbroken road.) We wait awhile and it’s soon shovelled out, after the men go home with frozen feet, hands, etc. After going to the P.O. we bundle up the mail that has arrived the night before (or what’s left of it) and start our journey with a good, faithful horse that’s not afraid of a few feet of snow. The old horse will wade along stopping at the boxes, some are on sticks, some on snow-banks, and some on posts. Nevertheless we get along a few miles.

“Are you cold, come in, come in—rest your horse—and get warm.” You will welcome the voice of a farmer calling from his barn door.

“Thank you but I must keep on. I am not cold, since the roads are bad the travelling is slow. Good day.”

After going some distance, a man will meet you.

“Glad to see you—you must have had a bad road.”

Farther on a woman will appear.

“Isn’t it cold, if you can’t get through the rest of the way call in and have a cup of tea.”

“Thank you” but on we go. Then comes a turn to the right.

“Whoa—Hello Mr. Snowbank you are in a very convenient place, right on the middle of the road, huh.”

“A step ahead old horse—whoa wait that won’t do, can’t get through that, lay still till I get you unharnessed and the sleigh back—good job I took the shovel, old horse, comes in pretty handy sometimes—all clear come around now if you can. I’ll get you back in the sleigh again and we’ll go back to the P. O.—This won’t make our Route any shorter, old horse, although we have to turn back.”

“Oh good-day sir—yes, yes all right now—thanks—bad roads, bad roads, yes a lot of breaking done on that road this winter—well good day.”

All right, old horse we will go right back home, perhaps “Mrs—“ will be insulted for not calling for that cup of good tea, but we must get back.”

“Hello there” comes a voice like a clap of thunder. “That road broke”—

“No” then some words too numerous to mention.

“Come on old horse never mind h’m”—

“Funny for a man to drive a mile or two out of the way if that’s a passable road, and another man drive a mile or two out of his way for a Doctor if that is a passable road.”

“Too bad we Mail Couriers didn’t have Reindeers, or a few St. Bernard dogs, that could go over those “Passable Roads” then some of our box holders wuld have more time to make false statements.”

Sir.— would you consider a mile of road solid snow banks passable? I find that the individual who has the longest portion of the road to break alone, grumbles the least.

After going over tree tops, on the road through fields, dodging a fence here, a post there, and a barn some place else, we get back to the Post Office.

“Road not broke, had to turn back Post Master.” Now in the sleigh and home again where a good supper is waiting for both.

“Ahem—But its glorious too, to be On His Majestys Service.”

I am, Sir, etc.,

MAIL COURIER.

Feby 24th. 1926.

Charlottetown has a flag, and I’ve never seen it before?

That green-and-white flag in the background of the photo below? It’s the flag of the City of Charlottetown, and I don’t remember ever seeing it before it was helpfully pointed out to me by Councillor Mitch Tweel in this morning’s Guardian.

Screenshot of a page of the Guardian newspaper that shows a man with grey hair wearing a dark top who is gesturing with his hand. A green-and-white flag is behind him.

It’s quite striking. Looks a bit like the diagram for the most boring, frustrating game of chess ever conceived.

A flag design of five green rectangles on a white background, with a purple-and-white crown in the middle rectangle.
Svgalbertian, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

But it’s a good design because even I, rural PEI mouse who obviously doesn’t spend enough time in the Capital, knew immediately what it represented: the five squares that were part of the original 18th century city plans.

Screenshot from a
From Charlottetown Heritage Squares: Conceptual Master Plans and Design Guidelines, April 2012

In my defense, I poked around Charlottetown via Google Street View and saw the flag flying outside Charlottetown City Hall, but couldn’t find it in any other prime flag-flying locations like parks. It certainly isn’t part of the City’s “Great things happen here” branding. I will keep my eyes peeled for it next time I visit.

I have seen the future, and it is pre-written news

Yesterday’s online edition of the weekly Journal Pioneer newspaper featured an article from a time traveller who had the results of a party leadership vote that will be held tomorrow, February 7 (see the second paragraph of “NDP has a fresh face at the helm” from page A4). I wish they had also included tomorrow’s winning Lotto 6/49 numbers.

From page A4 of the Thursday, February 5, 2026 Journal Pioneer

While it seems likely that the new leader of the PEI New Democratic Party will be Thomas Burleigh, as I believe he is still the only declared candidate, I’m guessing it is also possible that someone could be nominated from the floor of their convention, or Thomas could even decide to drop out at the last minute.

The article goes on to point out that the results of the PEI Progressive Conservative party leadership contest, which is also being held tomorrow, “weren’t known when this column was written.” Certainly true.

I read this article early this morning and am writing this post about fourteen hours later, and I still don’t know what to make of it all.

To The Woods

Today our weather station recorded a high of +10C, which is unusually high for January. I spent the afternoon in the forest clearing trails that were first partly blocked by trees that fell during a storm called Dorian in 2019 followed by an even more severe loss of trees from storm Fiona in 2022. Looking after my mother took priority over the past few years and I just never had much time to get out with a chainsaw.

Mild weather and little snow on the ground means I have quickly pushed through some big tangles of trees the past few days and am now making good progress.

Black sleigh holding a green chainsaw and white bucket sitting on a snow-covered forest trail with cut logs on either side and standing trees in the background.
My little sleigh with chainsaw and supplies sitting in a newly-cleared section of trail.

The fresh air was wonderful, one of the many joys of a battery-operated chainsaw, though I did fire up my ancient Stihl for a bit to tackle some bigger trees. I haven’t used it much in the past couple of years and was surprised that it sparked up pretty quickly, even using some old gas. I should be nicer to it.

Black and white map of the land we occupy showing trails in white.
Map from a field day held here in 2009. Today I was working near #8 and then started the section halfway between 5A and 6.

Today I found evidence that snowshoe hares somehow get onto fallen logs to get close to the tender ends of cedar trees. After many years of seeing very few hares, there has been a spike in the past couple of years and the forest is filled with tracks. I’m guessing there are more places for them to hide in all the fallen trees and brush, but I also remember old timers talking about a cycle “rabbits”, an ebb and flow of them over a decade or more. We are certainly at a peak.

The end of a cedar branch that has been eaten off by a snowshoe hair being held in the hands of a fair-skinned person with snow in the background.
Snowshoe hare food.
A large tree leaning across a forest path, with cut logs on either side of a snow-covered forest trail and standing trees behind.
A couple of large trembling aspen that I can easily climb under and may have to wait for someone with more nerve and a bigger chainsaw to tackle.
Snow in the foreground, sky in the background, and both standing and fallen trees in the middle.
Heading home. Still lots to be done.

West Prince Forest Fire 1889

When I happened upon what is said to be the last intact telegraph pole on PEI earlier this year, I searched the islandnewspapers.ca site for more PEI telegraph information and found the article reproduced below about the 1889 West Prince Forest Fire.

The information I’ve shared about the 1960 West Prince Fire is, by far, the part of my website that generates the most emails and comments, so I’ll add this article to the pile of Prince County fire info.

Note: I’ve left the term “squaw” in as it was commonly used at the time, but want to point out it is an archaic, offensive term for an Indigenous woman and best left in the past with similar racist, misogynistic language.

For some time past forest fires — many of them started for the purpose of clearing land — have been more or less prevalent in that portion of Western Prince County lying between Port Hill and Alberton. No consequences of a serious nature were anticipated from these fires, and the people generally paid but little attention to them.

However, the high wind of yesterday fanned the flames, and in an incredibly short time all that stretch of country between Conway Station and Alberton was a mass of fire. The flames spread with great rapidity, licking up almost everything in their way. The roaring of the fire as it spread was terrific. Everything possible was done to stay the progress of the flames, but without success. The fire fiend was master of the situation.

At O’Leary, Barclay’s mills were burned down. The dwelling house of Mr. White, the dwelling and office of Postmaster Frost and several unoccupied buildings met with a similar fate. It was only by the greatest exertions that the railway station house and coal shed were saved, clay having to be shovelled upon the fire to prevent its spreading in that direction.

It is feared that a squaw and her child, encamped a short distance behind the station at O’Leary, were burned to death. Rumors of other persons being burnt are also afloat, but lack confirmation. Let us hope that the rumors may prove groundless.

Between O’Leary and West Devon the fires were burning so close to the railway track that the express train, in charge of Conductor Kelly, had to be stopped several times to examine the track before proceeding.

At West Devon, Arthur’s mills were burnt down, and all his lamber was destroyed. The heat from the burning mills and lumber, as well as from the fires in the woods, burnt the sleepers and warped the rails for nearly half a mile, necessitating the stopping of the train at that place. Here Conductor Kelly took advantage of the only clear space available, and here for a time he and his men had to work hard to keep the train from being burnt up.

Besides Arthur’s mills, at West Devon, three or four dwelling houses were destroyed. It is said also that several farmhouses in the vicinity of that place succumbed to the devouring element, but we cannot vouch for the correctness of the report.

The heavy rain which began to fall between seven and eight o’clock last evening put the fires down a little and cooled the air considerably. This enabled the men to go to work and make the necessary temporary repairs to the track, in order that the train might be able to get over. By ten o’clock new sleepers and rails were put down and other work performed which enabled the train to pass over and proceed on her way.

The train had to proceed at a slow rate of speed. The sleepers in many places were burnt, and between Portage and Conway a culvert was destroyed. Here, again, the train had to stop, and temporary repairs had to be made before they could proceed. As they went along, the greatest care had to be taken to prevent an accident to the train. The line was carefully scrutinized to see that the rails and sleepers were in their places, and that the track was free from obstructions. On the way they could see the telegraph poles and trees, as they were attacked by the flames, sway to and fro finally falling — many of them across the track, necessitating further stoppages. At Portage Mr. Wallace’s dwelling house and saw mills were burned down. Several small houses between Portage and Conway also succumbed.

So great was the heat from the flames all along the route of the fire that it was with the greatest difficulty anything could be done to stay the progress of the flames. The smoke was also very troublesome. Some of the people living in the neighborhood took the first opportunity of sending their wives and families away from home, remaining behind themselves to battle with the enemy. But their efforts were largely futile.

Conductor Kelly’s train reached Summerside shortly before three o’clock this morning, where she remained until seven this morning, when she left for Charlottetown, arriving at half-past nine.

The mails and passengers by the St. Lawrence were brought to the city last evening by a special train from Summerside in charge of Station Agent Grady. As soon as the news of the delay in the arrival of the express was received here, Summerside was instructed to make up a special and forward the mails and passengers immediately on arrival of the steamer. This was done. The promptness on the part of the railway authorities is very commendable.

The western freight train, in charge of Conductor Ryan, was held at Port Hill by order of the Superintendent until daylight this morning, when she proceeded on her way. To-day all trains except the western freight above referred to are on time.

Up to the hour of going to press this afternoon there was no telegraphic communication west of Port Hill, so that no information as to the situation of affairs to-day is available.

The Daily Examiner, September 20, 1889

Classifieds

Classified newspaper ads of yore were often fairly stale and repetitive, but every so often one popped out. Here are a couple of my favourites.

Bird House Caper – Charlottetown Guardian July 21 1948 page 9
Free Debris – Journal Pioneer June 4, 2011. Never saw who won or what their prize was.

And as an added bonus, feast your eyes on this unfortunate layout in a Lawton’s weekly sales flyer from November 12, 2011.

You can manage to get diabetes from our sales items.

Cloudy with a chance of poutine

Environment and Climate Change Canada have added colour-coded weather alerts to their weather warning system, similar to what is used in the UK Met Office and many other jurisdictions.

The blurb on the WeatherCAN app explaining what the new alert systems means spoke to me as someone who once had to issue press releases saying the same thing over and over but still somehow make it original enough to catch some news desk jockey’s eye. Bravo!

Screenshot of page from a smartphone app that compares the new weather alert colour codes to making poutine. The ingredients for poutine are in the yellow watch category with the words "The ingredients are there. We may have poutine. Get ready to act", and the ingredients are combined in the red warning category with the words "The ingredients have come together. We are having poutine. Act now!"

Thomas Phillips Family Reunion

My great grandparents, Thomas and Agnes Phillips, lived on a farm on the Ellerslie Road. Agnes died in 1920 at age 66 and Thomas four years later, aged 72. Their youngest son, my grandfather Alvin, married my grandmother, Gladys, in 1912, and I assume they lived with Thomas and Agnes as Alvin eventually took ownership of the farm.

On September 30, 1925, all nine of Thomas and Agnes’ children returned to Ellerslie for a reunion. The rapidly growing clan would meet regularly over the following decades, into my lifetime. The last Phillips picnic I can remember was held at the West Point Lighthouse, 10 years or more ago.

My father knew most of his 38 Phillips first cousins quite well, though I could never keep them straight. Using a genealogy app (the reliable and powerful Reunion) for the past twenty years has definitely helped me with the “who’s yer father” game.

Those who met that September night are long gone, the last, Penzie (Martha Penrose “Penzie” Millar), in 1975. Their children are all gone now as well, the latest to die probably being my father’s brother, Sterling, in 2022, the youngest son of the youngest son. 

I attended the funeral of what I believe to be one of the last spouses of my father’s Phillips first cousins just last month, a woman I had heard about from my parents, and who I no doubt met at a long-ago picnic. She lived to be 105. I didn’t know anyone at the funeral, her children being older than me and having moved away many years ago, but I was glad I went to represent my branch of the family. May the circle be unbroken.


FAMILY REUNION

On the evening of September 30th the family of the late Mr. and Mrs. Thomas H. Phillips of Ellerslie assembled together with their husbands and wives at the old home. The family were all present namely: Mrs. Joshua Millar and Mrs. E. S. Burleigh, Ellerslie, Mrs. Leslie MacLean, Arlington, Lot 14, Mrs. Russell MacArthur, Enmore, Willard of Summerside, Sanford, Sargent and Forrest of O’Leary and Alvin on the homestead. After partaking of goose and other delicacies all gathered in the living room where the evening was pleasantly spent in games, music and singing till after midnight when all joined heartily in singing “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” after which all departed for their homes, hoping to meet again on many such occasions in one unbroken family circle.

From the Charlottetown Guardian October 7, 1925, p6.

A group of people facing the camera, with trees in the background
Cousins and more cousins at a Phillips picnic at Green Park, 1971. Still from 8mm film footage.

Standing tall

I’m happy to report that what is advertised as the last telegraph pole on Prince Edward Island does indeed still stand, insulators and all, on the Confederation Trail halfway between Elmsdale and Alberton, and it’s also easily visible from the Dock Road. The day I found out about the pole’s improbable existence, on a walk from Elmsdale towards Alberton, we had stopped just about halfway between the two communities at the beginning of a bend in the trail.

As we moved towards our previous-day’s stopping point, this time from Alberton, a couple of days later, I began to doubt we would find it still standing. Suddenly there it was, a few feet around a bend from where we had stopped and turned back.

Grey telegraph pole in the centre of photo, with cloudy sky at the top and leafless bushes and dried grass around. A gravel trail is on the right side.
Close up of three black insulators on the top of a grey telegraph pole. There is wire around the pole, and a cloudy sky in the background.

The PEI Railway opened in 1875, 150 years ago this year, 50 years after the first recorded passenger trail journey between Stockton and Darlington on September 27, 1825 (a gorgeous episode of the BBC Radio 4 Illuminated documentary series brings that event to life). Could this pole be 150 years old? If so, it has survived forest fires and ice storms, vandals and woodpeckers and rot. I suspect its survival might be due to the fact it is planted in a swampy area, replete with spiky bushes, at the bottom of a steep bank. “Let’s just leave ‘er, boys!”

As historic sites go, it’s not Green Gables, but it is a relic of an important Island story. The railway opened up commerce and travel to people in far-flung parts of PEI, and allowed farmers and fishers access to more markets. Building the railway nearly bankrupted our small island colony, so PEI finally agreed to join Canada in 1873 so the project could be finished with an influx of federal dollars.

In addition to signalling train travel, the telegraph that accompanied the railway brought news and could summon assistance in case of emergency. Imagine living in non-electrified 19th century Alberton, heating and cooking with wood, lighting with candles or newly-discovered kerosene, travelling by horse and wagon or sleigh, and then suddenly being able to send a telegram to your brother in Boston asking about work opportunities or ordering supplies from Holman’s in Summerside in the morning and then having them shipped to you by train that very afternoon? It would have felt like magic. And that pole helped make all that happen.

As much as it was a thrill to find the pole right there in the open, I wonder if someday it might be able to stand proud and straight inside a centrally-located provincial museum? Time will tell.

A person with pale skin wearing a hat and holding a walking pole standing next to a trail in front of a leaning telegraph pole. There is a cloudy sky at the top and bushes, grass and trees behind.
Happy Nerdmas (which is every day at my house)