Category Archives: Biography

Friedrich Emanuel Doering – world traveller, sheep rancher, dentist, trapped by Germans – born Philipsburg, Ontario

Dr. Friedrich Emanuel Doering.

Word has come through the Red Cross informing us of the death of Dr. Frederich Emanuel Doering in a nursing home on the Isle of Jersey on September 14, 1943, in his eighty-ninth year. Over a period of years he paid occasional visits to America, as is well remembered by his many New Church relatives and friends in Canada and the United States; and he attended several General Assemblies, including the one held in London, England, in the year 1928.

We are indebted to Miss Celia Bellinger, his niece, for the following sketch of his career:

He was born in Phillipsburg, Ontario, in May, 1850, and was baptized and confirmed in the New Church by the Rev. F. W. Tuerk of Berlin, now Kitchener. The older brothers and sisters of a family of thirteen attended the New Church school at Urbana, Ohio, but after the death of their father, Christopher Doering, the younger children were unable to attend that school.

Dr. Doering studied dentistry in Canada. Later he took a postgraduate course in Philadelphia and graduated as Doctor of Medicine. He worked his way through medical school by practicing dentistry in small mining towns during vacation.

After graduation he sought adventure in new fields, and established a large practice in Johannesburg, South Africa, and later one in Pretoria. As his love and interest had also been in sheep ranching, he procured large tracts of Government grants in Kenya Colony, near Nairobi, which he stocked with herds of cattle and sheep.

Africa had become his home, and after the Boer War he devoted his talents to the development of the country he loved so dearly. But when he retired from active duty he became a world traveler, searching out remote places of the earth; for his interest lay in the opening up and development of new lands.

Finally he settled in a comfortable home in Jersey, one of the Channel Islands, where he found keen pleasure in experimenting with a French gardener in raising unusual fruits, grains and trees.

At the outbreak of the war he was in London, England, about to sail for Canada. Being taken very ill, and returning to his home in Jersey to convalesce, he was unable to leave when the Islands were occupied by the Germans in June. 1940. All communication with the outside world was cut off, and in the course of three long years he received and answered but two messages from members of his family, through the instrumentality of the Red Cross.

New Church Life, January 1944, Vol. LXIV [submitted by Wayne Babb 2014]



The above Trust holds monies available “for the purposes of educating such male children who are citizens of the Dominion of Canada as are selected by any minister of the General Church of the New Jerusalem in Canada, in consultation with the Trustees (Royal Trust Company, Toronto) provided, however, that such applicants shall embrace the faith of the New Church and shall be acceptable to my trustees.”

The obvious intention of the will is that such male students shall receive their education at a New Church school. Therefore the parents of male children who are citizens of the Dominion of Canada, and who embrace the faith of the New Church, desiring to benefit from this Trust by sending their children to the Academy of the New Church during the school year 1955-1956, are asked to communicate with the Rev. Norman H Reuter, 14 Linwood Avenue, Kitchener, Ontario; the Rev. Martin Pryke, 35 Elm Grove Avenue, Toronto, Ontario; or the Rev. Roy Franson, General Delivery, Gorande Prairie, Alberta. Application should be made before April 15th.

New Church Life Vol. LXXV January 1955 No.1


A Tale of a Slave of Wellesley Township


I was born in Petersburg, Va. When very young, I was taken to Montgomery county. My old master died there, and I remember that all the people were sold. My father and mother were sold together about one mile from me. After a year, they were sold a great distance, and I saw them no more. My mother came to me before she went away, and said, “Good by, be a good girl; I never expect to see you any more.”

Then I belonged to Mr. T–N–, the son of my old master. He was pretty good, but his wife, my mistress, beat me like sixty. Here are three scars on my right hand and arm, and one on my forehead, all from wounds inflicted with a broken china plate. My cousin, a man, broke the plate in two pieces, and she said, “Let me see that plate.” I handed up the pieces to her, and she threw them down on me: they cut four

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gashes, and I bled like a butcher. One piece cut into the sinew of the thumb, and made a great knot permanently. The wound had to be sewed up. This long scar over my right eye, was from a blow with a stick of wood. One day she knocked me lifeless with a pair of tongs,–when I came to, she was holding me up, through fright. Some of the neighbors said to her, “Why don’t you learn Eliza to sew?” She answered, “I only want to learn her to do my housework, that’s all.” I can tell figures when I see them, but cannot read or write.

I belonged to them until I got married at the age of sixteen, to Mr. John Little, of Jackson. My master sold me for debt,–he was a man that would drink, and he had to sell me. I was sold to F–T–, a planter and slave-trader, who soon after, at my persuasion, bought Mr. Little.

I was employed in hoeing cotton, a new employment: my hands were badly blistered. “Oh, you must be a great lady,” said the overseer, “can’t handle the hoe without blistering your hands!” I told him I could not help it. My hands got hard, but I could not stand the sun. The hot sun made me so sick I could not work, and, John says if I had not come away, they would surely have sold me again. There was one weakly woman named Susan, who could not stand the work, and she was sold to Mississippi, away from her husband and son. That’s one way of taking care of the sick and weak. That’s the way the planters do with a weakly, sickly “nigger,”–they say “he’s a dead expense to ’em,” and put him off as soon as they can. After Susan was carried off, her husband went to see her: when he came back he received two hundred blows with the paddle.

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I staid with T–more than a year. A little before I came away, I heard that master was going to give my husband three hundred blows with the paddle. He came home one night with an axe on his shoulder, tired with chopping timber. I had his clothes all packed up, for I knew he would have to go. He came hungry, calculating on his supper,–I told him what was going. I never heard him curse before–he cursed then. Said he, “If any man, white or black, lays his hand on me to-night, I’ll put this axe clear through him–clear through him:” and he would have done it, and I would not have tried to hinder him. But there was a visitor at the house, and no one came: he ran away. Next morning, the overseer came for him. The master asked where he was; I could have told him, but would not. My husband came back no more.

When we had made arrangements for leaving, a slave told of us. Not long after, master called to me, “Come here, my girl, come here.” I went to him: he tied me by the wrist with a rope. He said, “Oh, my girl, I don’t blame you,–you are young, and don’t know; it’s that d–d infernal son of a–; if I had him here, I’d blow a ball through him this minute.” But he was deceived about it: I had put John up to hurrying off.

Then master stood at the great house door, at a loss what to do. There he had Willis, who was to have run away with us, and the man who betrayed us. At last he took us all off about half a mile to a swamp, where old A–need not hear us as he was going to meeting, it being Sunday. He whipped Willis to make him tell where we were going. Willis said, “Ohio State.” “What do you want to be free for?

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G–d–you, what do you know about freedom? Who was going with you?” “Only Jack.” G–d–Jack to h–, and you too.” While they were whipping Willis, he said, “Oh, master, I’ll never run away.” “I did n’t ask you about that, you d–d son of a–, you.” Then they tried to make him tell about a slave girl who had put her child aside: but he knew nothing about that. As soon as they had done whipping him, they put a plough clavis about his ankle to which they attached a chain which was secured about his neck with a horse-lock.

Then they took a rheumatic boy, who had stopped with us, whom I had charged not to tell. They whipped him with the paddle, but he said he was ignorant of it: he bore the whipping, and never betrayed us. Then they questioned him about the girl and the child, as if that boy could know any thing about it! Then came my turn; they whipped me in the same way they did the men. Oh, those slaveholders are a brutish set of people,–the master made a remark to the overseer about my shape. Before striking me, master questioned me about the girl. I denied all knowledge of the affair. I only knew that she had been with child, and that now she was not, but I did not tell them even that. I was ashamed of my situation, they remarking upon me. I had been brought up in the house, and was not used to such coarseness. Then he (master) asked, “Where is Jack?” “I don’t know.” Said he, “Give her h–, R–.” That was his common word. Then they struck me several blows with the paddle. I kept on telling them it was of no use to whip me, as I knew nothing to tell them. No irons were ready for me, and I was put under a guard,–but I was too cunning for him, and joined my husband.

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My shoes gave out before many days,–then I wore my husband’s old shoes till they were used up. Then we came on barefooted all the way to Chicago. My feet were blistered and sore and my ankles swollen; but I had to keep on. There was something behind me driving me on. At the first water we came to I was frightened, as I was not used to the water. It was a swift but shallow stream: my husband crossed over, and I was obliged to follow. At the Ohio Bottoms was a great difficulty,–the water was in some places very deep,–it was black, dirty water. I was scared all but to death: but I had become somewhat used to hardship. If I had seen a white face, I would have run into the river.

By and by, we succeeded in crossing the last one. Then we struck a light at a shingle-getter’s shanty, made a fire with the clapboards and dried ourselves. We were merry over our success in getting so far along, and had a good laugh as we burned the boards and part of the shanty itself. I felt afraid at getting into a boat to cross the Ohio River: I had never been in any boat whatever. Now to get on this in the night, frightened me. “John,” said I, “don’t you think we ‘ll drown?” “I don’t care if we do,” said he. We reached Cairo well enough.

We never slept at the same time; while one slept, the other kept watch, day or night. Both of us never slept at one time,–if we had, we would not have reached Canada. One morning, as I was watching by a fire we had made, John sleeping, I saw a dog, and told John. Said he, “‘t is some old white man hunting a hog,–however, we had better go from this fire.” We went down into a valley and there remained. In the afternoon, an hour before sunset, a white man came

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suddenly upon us, while we were getting ready for a night’s march. I started to run: John stood. The man said, “Stop, there!” But I kept on; his face was so white, that I wanted nothing to do with him. John said, “What did you say?” “Stop, there.” John said, “I ‘ll do no such thing.” Then hard language passed between them. The man said, “I ‘ll have a pack of hounds after you before night.” John answered him with an oath to frighten him, “You had better do it, and be off yourself, or I ‘ll blow a ball through you.” The man never had heard a negro swear at him before. They are generally so cowed down, that John’s swearing at him, alarmed him more than a bullet from a white man. It showed that he was desperate,–and that was the only reason why he used such language. The man struck spurs to his horse, and went off in a hurry. We followed him, as he went the same way we were going, and kept as close to him as we could: for, if the man got hounds he would start them at the place where he had seen us; and coming back over the same route with hounds, horses, and men, would kill our track, and they could not take us. But we saw no more of the man.

Soon after dark, we came to a lake. We found an old white man there in a shanty, who was caring for a slave that had been shot by his master a few days before. We went in and saw him,–he was an old, gray-headed man. His master had threatened him with a flogging, and he took to the river: just as he reached the water, his master shot him behind. But he got across. He was wounded, and without hat or shoes. In this place we were informed about our route. It was in Kentucky.

While we were stopping at the shanty, a day or two,

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John went out one evening with the old man, to hunt for provisions. I went to bed. By and by the dogs barked; the door opened, and by the fire I saw five white men. One said, “Who you got here?” “Only my own family.” I was afraid, and crept out slyly on my hands and knees, and hid behind an ash-barrel until they were gone.

In a few days we crossed the ferry. Then we went on, and were without provisions, except some corn, which we parched. We met here a runaway slave, who knew the route of the country above us. He was returning to his master, where he had a wife and children.

At Cairo, the gallinippers were so bad, we made a smoke to keep them off. Soon after I heard a bell ring. Said I, “John, somebody’s dead.” It was a steamboat bell tolling. Presently there she was, a great boat full of white men. We were right on the river’s bank, and our fire sent the smoke straight up into the calm. We lay flat on the ground. John read the name–Maria. No one noticed us: after the boat was gone, we had a hearty laugh at our good luck. Thinking there was no more trouble, we did not put out our fire. Presently came a yawl boat: they saw our fire, and hailed, “Boat ashore! boat ashore! runaway niggers! runaway niggers!” We lay close, and the boat kept on. We put out our fire, and went further back from the river, but the musquitoes were so bad, we made another fire. But a man with a gun then came along, looking up into the trees. I scattered the fire to put it out, but it smoked so much the worse. We at last hid in a thicket of briers, where we were almost devoured by musquitoes, for want of a little smoke.

Next day I lay down to sleep, while John kept watch.

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When I awoke, I told him I had dreamed about a white cow, which still seemed a white woman, and that I feared we would be caught. We were in the woods, in a low, damp place, where there was no bit of a road, and we knew not where the road was. We started to find a road, and then met with a white woman. I reminded John of my dream. “Good evening, good evening,” said she. My husband asked if she would sell him some bread: this was to make conversation, so he could inquire the road. “Oh yes, just come to my house, I’ll give you some bread.” We went to the house, and presently her husband came in. He asked, “Have you got free papers?” John answered, “No.” “Where are you travelling to?” “To the upper lakes.” “We are not allowed to let a colored man go through here without free papers: if we do, we are liable to a fine of forty dollars.” He allowed us to remain all night,–but in the morning we were to go before a squire at Dorrety, and, if we were free, we would go on. This was the woman’s arrangement: the man did not seem inclined to stop us. She said, “If we stop you, we shall get fifty dollars apiece for you: that’s a–good–deal–of–money,–you know.” The man asked John if he had a pistol. John produced one. The man said ‘t was no harm, he would take care of it for him,–and locked it up. They lived in a little, dirty log hut: they took the bed off the bedstead, and lay down on it close to the door, so that it could not be opened without disturbing him. The man took a nice silver-mounted pistol from a cupboard, loaded it, and placed it where he could reach it in the night. We lay on the bedstead–they on the floor. She was the evil one: she had made the plans. Their name was Smith.

At about three o’clock in the morning, husband

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aroused me,–“I’m going away from here; I don’t value them, now other folks are asleep.” We both got up. John spoke roughly, “Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!” He aroused: “we are unwell, and must pass out,–we ‘ll be back very soon.” Mr. Smith got up very readily, and pulled the bed away a little, so we could slip out. As John passed by the pistol, he put his hand on it, and took it in exchange for his old one. It is a beautiful rifle pistol, percussion lock,–John has been offered fifteen dollars for it. If the man will come here with John’s old flint lock, my husband will exchange back, and give him boot. I am very sorry for my friend, Mrs. Smith, that she did not get the hundred dollars to go a shopping with in Dorrety–am much obliged to her for our night’s lodging. We went across a small stream, and waited for daylight. Then we went on to Dorrety, and passed through the edge of it, without calling on the squire, as we had not time.

One Sunday morning, being on a prairie where we could see no house–about fifty miles west of Springfield–we ventured to travel by day. We encountered an animal, which we at first supposed to be a dog; but when he came near, we concluded it to be a wolf. He yelped something like a dog: he did not attack us. We went on and crossed a stream, and then we saw three large wood-wolves, sneaking around as if waiting for darkness. As we kept on, the three wolves kept in sight, now on one hand, and now on the other. I felt afraid, expecting they would attack us: but they left us. Afterward we made a fire with elder-stalks, and I undertook to make some corn bread. I got it mixed, and put it on the fire,–when I saw a party of men and boys on horseback, apparently approaching us. I put out the fire; they turned a little away, and did not appear

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to perceive us: I rekindled the fire, and baked our bread. John managed to keep us well supplied with pies and bread. We used to laugh to think how people would puzzle over who drank the milk and left the pitchers, and who hooked the dough.

I got to be quite hardy–quite used to water and bush-whacking; so that by the time I got to Canada, I could handle an axe, or hoe, or any thing. I felt proud to be able to do it–to help get cleared up, so that we could have a home, and plenty to live on. I now enjoy my life very well–I have nothing to complain of. We have horses and a pleasure-wagon, and I can ride out when and where I please, without a pass. The best of the merchants and clerks pay me as much attention as though I were a white woman: I am as politely accosted as any woman would wish to be.

I have lost two children by death; one little girl is all that is spared to me. She is but four years old. I intend to have her well educated, if the Lord lets us.

“A north-side view of slavery. The refugee: or, The narratives of fugitive slaves in Canada. Related by themselves, with an account of the history and condition of the colored population of Upper Canada”

Blanch Alexandrine “Adine” Seagram Bowlby’s tragic death

A Tragedy Marred Holiday Celebration

Mrs. G.H. Bowlby Lost Her Life in Fatal Motor Car Collison. Cars Collided at Victoria and Edward Streets. Other Occupants Escaped With Slight Injuries

An Inquest Into Death

The holiday festivities in the Twin Cities were marred by a fatal accident in which Mrs. G.H. Bowlby lost her life and a number of other citizens were badly shaken up and bruised.

The accident was caused by a collision between two automobiles at about one thirty o’clock on Saturday afternoon at the corner of Victoria and Edward Streets. Mrs. Bowlby with the four-year-daughter of Captain Tom Seagram of Waterloo, who was driving a Peerless car, was in the back seat of the machine which was going easterly on Victoria Street. At the same time a Ford Roadster, driven by Mr. Harvey Kennedy, who was accompanied by Mr. L. Wellheuser and Mr. Harry Lang, the latter sitting on the door, was going up Edward towards Victoria. A crash came. While Capt. Seagram swerved his car sideways it received the full impact of the other car. The machines were turned turtle and the occupants thrown out and underneath the cars. They, except Mrs. Bowlby, were able to extricate themselves from them machines and willing hands were soon offered. It was found that Mrs. Bowlby was pinned underneath the car was severely injured. Her brother, Capt. Seagram, extricated her from the wreckage. She was unconscious. Medical assistance and the ambulance were summoned. Dr. Kalbfleisch was on the scene soon. The ambulance arrived; she was removed to the hospital, where Dr. Kalbfleisch arrived a few minutes later. An examination of her injuries revealed a fracture of the skull, a broken collar bone and several broken ribs, which also caused internal injuries. An operation was deemed necessary. This was performed by Drs. Kalbfleisch, Gillespie and Hagmeier but unfortunately the efforts to save her life could not be brought to a successful conclusion and her death followed. This was about half an hour later.

A post-mortem examination was held later in the day and through it the opinions of the medical men on the character and extent of the injuries received by Mrs. Bowlby were ascertained.

Injuries Sustained by Others

Captain Seagram’s injuries were: sever abrasions on the face and a severe shaking up. The little daughter aside from the nervous shock and scratches, escaped unscathed. The occupants in the other car all escaped with slight injuries. Mr. Kennedy, however, received bruises in the side of his body. But none of them were incapacitated. Both machines were badly damaged. The Peerless car, however, after it was put on its wheels was taken to a garage under its own power.

Had Been Out Berry Picking

It should be added that the occupants in the Ford roadster had been out berry picking and were homeward bound with their berries.

Inquest Deemed Necessary

Coroner Dr. Kalbfleisch deemed an inquest necessary and immediately had a jury empanelled. Later in the afternoon they viewed the body of the deceased and also inspected the scene of the accident. They then adjourned until 1:30 Wednesday afternoon.

In connection with the cause of the accident the facts, it is expected, will be brought out at the inquest. Incidentally side from the cause, it is noteworthy that the corner of Edward and Victoria Streets does not afford a clear view to people traversing the streets. On three corners buildings are near the street line and hide the view from one street to the other.

Mrs. Bowlby’s Death a Severe Loss

The death of Mrs. Bowlby under the tragic circumstances caused intense sorrow among the citizens of Kitchener and waterloo. The loss sustained by the family is also keenly felt by the people of the community and b hundreds of friends that Mrs. Bowlby had elsewhere. Possessing a pleasing personality and endowed with noble qualities of kindness, charity, and an interest in the welfare of others, she had a warm place in the hearts and thoughts of all who knew her. Mrs. Bowlby gave valuable service on not a few organizations of public benefit and patriotic purposes among them being the Daughters of the Empire.

When the late Major B.H. Bowlby went to England in 1915 where he was engaged in surgical work in military hospitals, she accompanied him. Since his death which was caused by falling over a cliff in September 1917 she engaged in Red Cross work until she returned home about a year ago, to be with her father, who was in poor health.

Mrs. Bowlby was a daughter of Mr. Joseph Seagram, ex-MP, of Waterloo. Surviving her are her father and four brothers, who are Mr. E.F. Seagram, Captain Tom Seagram, Mr. Joseph Seagram, Jr., Orillia, and Mr. Norman Seagram, Toronto.

Seven Eye Witnesses Empanelled

Quite a number of witnesses are being empanelled to testify at the inquest, among them being seven eye witnesses. The jury consists of the following gentlemen: J.E. Bilger, foreman, B.H. Ziegler, J. Welker, L.S. Orlowski, Geo. C. Doerr, S.H. Hessenauer, Charles P. Knapp, George Steinmetz, J.A. Fuhrmann, V.R. Berlet.

Funeral Tomorrow

The funeral of the late Mrs. Adine Bowlby will be held tomorrow afternoon. There will be a service at the residence, 11 West Weber Street, at 4 o’clock and afterwards at St. John’s Anglican Church. After the church service the remains will be taken to Montreal.

Kitchener News Record – 21 Jul 1919 pg 1

Millicent Milroy of North Dumfries – Princess?

Millicent Milroy

Millicent Milroy

On Monday, Millicent Milroy of Rockwood was buried beneath a Monument in a Cambridge cemetery, taking with her to that grave the details of a mystery that received international attention in 1972. The inscription she had engraved on that monument explains the controversy the ex-teacher stirred. It reads:

Millicent A.M.M.M. P.St.Daughter of James and Helen Jane Milroy 1890- wife of Edward (VIII) Duke of Windsor 1894-1972

Duke of Windsor

Duke of Windsor

The initials stand for Agnes Mary Maureen Marguerite, Princess of the Royal House of Stuart. The later designation is based on her claim that her father, James, was Prince James of Scotland, pretender to that throne until he came to Canada. The monument – engraved in 1968 – gained wide attention in 1972 when the duke died. Milroy said she secretly married the duke during one of his frequent visits to Canada.


Although she refused to give any details of that event in later years,she told a Galt Reporter writer in 1972 that the marriage took place in western Canada and the couple had two sons, Edward and Andrew. Edward VIII abdicated the throne to marry Wallace Simpson, and American devorcee, in 1936. When asked for prove of her marriage, Milroy said that the duke had taken all pictures, records and momentoes of the event with him to back England. A Guelph woman who befriended Milroy in 1983 said Milroy promised to remain silent on the matter ‘They’ll have to wait until I die: then they’ll know,’ the woman quoted Milroy as saying. She added that Milroy also mentioned a family Bible that would clear up some of the mystery. Milroy, 95, was born in Galt (Cambridge) and went to school there. She taught school in Lambton Mills, Malton, Northern Ontario and Rockwood for 35 years. She also wrote a book for senior students and centred the action in Rockwood. In later years, she was a regular contributor to the Letters to the Editor section of the Mercury as she commented on events of local and national interest. She died at Guelph General Hospital on Saturday and a private family service was held Monday. She is survived by a niece and nephew in Guelph. Then internment took place in Cambridge’s Mount View Cemetery, beneath the monument that put the quite, private woman in the public eye just over a decade ago.

Guelph Daily Mercury Guelph, Wednesday, October 16, 1985

Dr. Mayor George Herbert Bowlby’s Tragic Death


George Herbert Bowlby

George Herbert Bowlby

George Herbert Bowlby

Well-Known Kitchener physician Meets With Sudden and Tragic End of Seaford, England – Was Assistant Director of Medical Service

“Dr. Herbert Bowlby is dead,” was the shocking information which was circulated throughout the city with great rapidity on Sunday morning, after the message had been received by relatives in the city about 10:30 o’clock announcing that Capt. G. Herbert Bowlby, M.D., had been found dead at the foot of a cliff near Seaford. Within a few minutes of receiving the news in the city a number of the civic flags were lowered to half-mast out of respect to the memory of the deceased.

The message was sent from Ottawa by the Officers in charge of Records, and was addressed to Mrs. Adin S. Bowlby, 11 Weber St., W., wife of the deceased officer, who is also in England. Mr. Reinhold Lang, who is occupying the Bowlby residence, telephoned to Capt. T.W. Seagram, Paymaster of the 118th Battalion; informing him that a message was received announcing the death of Dr. Bowlby. The relatives of Dr. Bowlby were immediately notified and the news came as a severe and unexpected shock to all. The message was as follows: – “Deeply regret to inform you that Deputy Assistant Director of Medical Service, Seaford, reports November 11th, 1916, Captain George Herbert Bowlby, A.D. M.S. Embarkation, Shoreham-in-Sea, was found dead at foot of cliff near Seaford. Further particulars will be sent when available.”

Late in the afternoon a brief cablegram was received by relatives from Mrs. Bowlby with this information “Herbert dead.” It is expected that further information as to the tragic death of the late Dr. Bowlby will be received direct from England today.

The Late Dr. Bowlby

The late Capt. G. Herbert Bowlby, M.D., L.R.C.P., A.D.S.M., was born in this city in July fifty-one years ago, and has lived here the greater portion of his life. He was a son of the late Dr. D.S. Bowlby and is a direct descendant of the United Empire Loyalists who came to Canada at the time of the revolutionary war in the United States. His ancestors originated in Nottingham, England. Richard Bowlby, of whom the doctor is a direct descendant, came to America with the celebrated William Penn, the founder of the state of Pennsylvania. Dr. Bowlby was educated at the Public and High Schools in this city, and also took a course at St. Jerome’s College. He was a graduate of Toronto University, where he received his degree in medicine. He had since become a member of the Royal College of Surgeons in London and also was a Licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians.

During his school days he was prominently identified with the athletic activities of the student and was goal keeper for the famous High School football team of 1877 to 1882. He was also identified with various cricket clubs in this city and in Toronto.

Dr. Bowlby was medical officer of the grey’s Home and at the last encampment attended the lectures on army hospital work and field ambulance work, and after passing the necessary examinations took the rank of Captain, which was recognized by the military authorities when he offered his service with the Army Medical Corps with the Canadian Expeditionary Forces. He left this city in July of 1915 to assume his duties and since arriving in England has been on duty in the large military Hospitals at Shorncliffe and more recently at Bath. He was recently appointed Assistant Director of Medical Service.

Since he has been on hospital duty in England, Dr. Bowlby has written many interesting letters to his aged mother, Mrs. D.S. Bowlby, 57 Margaret Avenue, in which he gave vivid descriptions of the scenic beauties surrounding the tow institutions at Shorncliffe and Bath. It is supposed that while taking a walk to view the scenery around the Hospital at Bath that he met with an accident which resulted in his death as reported by the military authorities.

Kitchener,BowlbyG.H.Dr.-residence-busyberlin1897During his residence in the city Dr. Bowlby took an active interest in municipal affairs and served several years in the Council and was Mayor of the town in 1901. He always took a keen interest in the welfare of the K-W Hospital and at the time of his death was a member of the Medical Advisory Committee. He was also a former Medical Health Officer. Since the commencement of the war he was active in the various patriotic enterprises of the city.

The late Dr. Bowlby is survived by his wife, who is a daughter of Jos. E. Seagram, ex-M.P., his aged mother, two sisters, Mrs. E.P. Clement, and Mrs. J.P. Fennell, and one brother D. Shannon Bowlby, all of Kitchener. It is not definitely known whether the remains will be brought to this city for burial.

Berlin Daily Telegraph 13 Nov 1916 pg 1, 5

Conrad Stroh – one of the first settlers of Woolwich

Conrad Stroh standing in front of Captain Thomas Smith's Log House.

Conrad Stroh standing in front of Captain Thomas Smith’s Log House. Image from Region of Waterloo Archives

November 10, 1899 Death of One of the First Settlers of Woolwich On Friday the 13th ult., there died at the home of his son George east of the village of Conestogo, Mr. Conrad Stroh, one of the old pioneers of Woolwich. Deceased was born in Lehrbach Hesse Darmstadt, Germany, Oct 3rd, 1811 and was consequently a little over 88 years old when he died. With his three brothers he left the Vaterland and after a voyage of 47 days reached America and came on to Berlin, where he made his home for a short time. Here he was married by Rev. Bindemann, in 1839 to Miss Annie Marie Oswald who shared his joys and sorrows for some 55 years and predeceased him about 5 years. Afterwards he took up land near West Montrose and a little later a couple of miles east of Elmira and finally he got possession of the homestead opposite the junction of the Conestogo and Grand rivers, where by preserving energy and thrift he and his partner in life succeeded in carving out of the rich virgin forest a comfortable home. Here he spent the remainder of his life with the exception of a few years prior to the death of his wife when they lived in Conestogo. Deceased enjoyed robust health until about a year and a half ago when he had a severe attack of the grippe from which he recovered but which left him in much feebler condition. A few weeks ago he was taken sick and gradually sank until released by death. During this time he had the best attention and care from his son and daughter-in-law for which he expressed his gratitude during his last days. Deceased possessed many good qualities and as a mark of esteem his remains were followed to their last resting place in the Lutheran cemetery at Conestogo by a large concourse of relatives, neighbours and friends. He was one of the founders and a life long member of the Lutheran congregation at Conestogo [St. Matthews] and a staunch Liberal in politics. He leaves behind him four sons and two daughters, all married, 28 grandchildren and 10 great grandchildren also three brothers, Yost of Woolwich aged about 77 years, Henry of Waterloo aged 81 years and John of Berlin aged nearly 91 years. Woolwich at the Turn of the Century:1900, (Woolwich Historical Foundation, Woolwich Township, Ontario, Canada, October 2001), p. 42 _____________________________________ CONRAD STROH was one of the mighty hunters of by-gone days. He lived on the banks of the Grand River, about one mile east of Conestogo, and died at the good old age of 87 some eight years ago. Conrad was an unerring marksman, and when he pulled the trigger of the old flint lock the bullet sped with undeviating accuracy to the objective point. A friend and companion of Conrad’s was Jacob Benner, of West Montrose, who was also a Nimrod who had won his reputation by practical and visible results. He, too, was a keen-sighted marksman and prided himself on never missing his aim. Although the two were fast friends there existed a little good-natured rivalry between them regarding the supremacy of marksmanship. One day a test of skill was determined on. Each was to fire at a spot on a certain. tree. Both fired, but on examination only one bullet hole was found. Both claimed it, and a dispute arose which cooled their friendship and threatened an open rupture. In those days the settlers made their own bullets and lead was scarce. Some days afterwards Benner, passing the spot where the trial had taken place, thought to save the lead by cutting out the ball embedded in the tree. Imagine his surprise when he found both bullets in the one hole. Benner communicated the discovery to his friend and the warm comradeship was resumed that was never afterwards broken. Chronicle-Telegraph Newspaper, 100 Years of Progress in Waterloo County Canada Semi-Centennial Souvenir 1856-1906 (Waterloo, Ontario, Canada: Chronicle-Telegraph Newspaper, 1906) pg 26

Goldie, an important early family of Waterloo Region

Goldie Family Long Prominent In West Ontario

John Goldie, Founder of the Family In this Province, Located At Ayr in 1844

By Dr. A.E. Byerly

The recent election in South Wellington, to which the Hon. Lincoln Goldie was returned to office in the Ontario Legislature by a very substantial majority, will recall to many throughout Western Ontario the pioneer history of the Goldie family.

There is likely no name better known in the history of Waterloo and Wellington counties than that of Goldie.  It is unfortunate, however, that only a few of the grandchildren of the original settler, John Goldie, are living in this part of Ontario.  In Guelph there remain but two grandchildren, both distinguished citizens for many years, namely, the Hon. Lincoln Goldie, provincial secretary, and his brother, Roswell Goldie, the well-known historian.

Goldie,John1793-WaterlooRegionHallofFameJohn Goldie, who was the founder of the family in Ontario, was born Marcy 31, 1793, in the parish of Kirkswald, Ayrshire, Scotland, and came to Ayr, Ontario, in the year 1844.  Mr. Goldie was a great lover of plants and flowers and received a thorough training in botany.  He entered university, where he turned his attention to language.  He was married on Waterloo Day, June 15, 1815, to Margaret Ballantyne Smith, daughter of James Smith, a well-known florist and botanist of that day, residing at Monkwood Grove, near Minishant, Ayrshire.

Explores In Canada

Mr. Goldie came to America in 1817 and landed at Halifax, where he did some exploring and also on the north shore of New Brunswick and collected specimens of many plants and flowers, several of them new to science.  Thence he traveled to Quebec and Montreal, meeting at the later place Frederick Pursh, the celebrated botanist, who presented him with a copy of his book The American Plants.  Mr. Goldie was the discoverer of a beautiful fern near Montreal, which was named by Dr. Hookuc after him, the Aspidium Goldianum. Goldie,John-AspidiumGoldianum  Three shipments of his collections to the old land were lost.  He had been for two years collecting in Canada, New York and New Jersey, and the fruits of those two years research were gone.

However, he was able to get together a goodly collection of plants after his first failures to get them across, and those he took with him on his return to Scotland in the fall of 1819.  He later made trips to Russia and was able to introduce into England a number of plants heretofore unknown in the country.

Mr. Goldie had been so well impressed with the land across the seas that his two sons William and James preceded him to the United States.  Mr. Goldie and the remaining children emigrated from Scotland in 1844 to an area near  Ayr, which they named Greenfield after a place near their home in Scotland.  With Mr. and Mrs. Goldie were their children, John, David, Elizabeth, Jane, Margaret and Mary.  William, who had been in New York, now joined the family in Ayr, but James remained in New York until 1860, when he came to Canada and settled in Guelph.

The Ayr Farm

At the farm near Ayr, Mr. Goldie imported fruit trees, shrubs and plants from England, and in a letter to his son in New York we obtain a picture of the varied activities of the Ontario pioneer.  Quoting from that letter, “We sowed our wheat on the 9th of April.  It looks very well except a bit that has been much hurt by the wine-worm.  David is plowing the high field for our grass crop.  William and I have been very busy rooting out the pine stumps and have made a considerable clearance.  I would strongly advise against buying a wagon, as John can make what we want in that way and money is wanted to pay for our land.  We have wood seasoning for a common wagon.  John has his machinery in operation and it answers well.  He has made several beds and other things and is likely to get plenty of work, but the evil is that the cash is not easily gotten,”

Ayr-GoldieMillingCo-Envelope1904-ebayThe first industry established by the Goldie family along with their farm work was a sawmill, but this was given up in 1849 and the sons, William, John and David worked hard in 1850 to finish building their flour mill, which had been planned along with an oatmeal mill.  In November it was complete, but for several years it was a struggle to keep going.  From 1854 the business began to be a paying one, and at last success came to the young men who had planned, built and struggled along against severe odds and hardships.

Galt-Goldie&McCulluochFoundry-0001-drawingfrom1897The mill at Ayr continued to be run for many years by John Goldie and his son David.  John, Jr., along with his brother-in-law, started a sawmill in the Township of Esquesing, near Acton, which they operated for several years.  However, in 1859, John, Jr., returned to Galt and with Hugh McCulloch bought the Dumfries Foundry.  This establishment is now the largest in Galt and is owned by the sons of John Goldie, Jr., and Hugh McCulloch.

William Goldie, the eldest son, was never married and died in the United States in the early sixties.  John, Jr., died in 1896, David died in 1894, and James in November, 1912.

Elizabeth, the oldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Goldie, Sr., was married to Sydney Smith, of Galt, later of Acton, and she died in 1854, having been born November 9, 1820.  Jane, the second daughter, was married to Andrew McEwan in 1847.  She died in 1862 and left seven children.  Margaret was married to the Rev. Dr. Caven, of Knox College, Toronto, and died May 22, 1913.  Mary married Andrew McIlwraith, of Galt, in 1862 and died in Galt in April, 1911, a family of five surviving her.

John Goldie, Sr., gave up active business in his later life and devoted his time to his beloved flowers and plants.  He died in July 1886, in his 94th year.  His wife died February 21, 1878, in her 87th year.  They were indeed honored pioneers of western Ontario.  The milling business so successfully started by John Goldie and his sons continued to be run by David Goldie, and as it was one of the first mills in Ontario to adopt the roller process of making flour, enjoyed a large measure of success in consequence.  The mill was sold some years ago and passed entirely out of the hands of the Goldie family.  The old homestead at Ayr is still in the possession of the family.

Free Press London Ontario – November 23, 1929 – retyped by Jane Gillard