Two ships passing in the archives

We promised that this blog would include some of the stranger items in our collection and today’s choice delivers in spades.

Tucked among the archives is a leather bound book on navigation published in 1733 – a time when navigators were still working to find New Brunswick on the map. The work is titled: The Modern Navigator’s Compleat Tutor : Being a Comprehensive Treatise of Plain and Spherical Trigonometry. The book, printed in long-ago London, feels wonderfully ancient in the hand with thick pages stamped heavily by a mechanical press, and with spelling conventions long since abandoned. The opening pages denote that the work is by

“Joshua Kelly With whom Young Gentlemen and others are well Boarded and Completely and Expeditioufly Qualify’d (on Reafonable Terms) for any Bufinefs relating to Accompts and the Mathematicks.”

Translation:  Kelly was a teacher who ran a boarding school where he instructed would-be sailors and others in mathematics, particularly, trigonometry.

We have been able to uncover very little about Joshua Kelly and his school in Wapping, but what interests us more about this lovely old tome is what it tells us about another school... the French Village School of 1924.

It may seem an impossible jump from 1733 London to 1924 French Village, but that is the wonder of archival documents – they seem able to transcend time and space. This ancient work with its difficult spelling (and, quite frankly, impossible trigonometry explanations) was once a lesson book used at the French Village School in 1924. We know this because the inside front cover is well doodled by a student;

“John Noel Gibson, April 18^th / 24, aged 10 years.” Someone cautioned us that perhaps this student was working away on his navigational trigonometry in 1824, but another turn through our archives uncovered the French Village School Records from 1924. There among the scholars is John Gibson, age 10, Master Doodler.

OK, we may have made up the Master Doodler part.

There are a great number of school books in our collection, but no other is of such an age – or enjoyed such a very long life on school bookshelves (never let it be said that New Brunswick does not make the most of its education dollars). 

The reason why a book of navigational trigonometry from 1733 was used in the New Brunswick classroom of 1924 might forever remain a mystery. But it seems somehow fitting that this work on navigation, and the school records of one of the book’s last students, have come to rest together in the archives.

Two ships with a shared history of travel through time.

For the brave of heart (and the strong in mind) we have included practice questions from the book for you to try. Click on the image below to enlarge the text. Show all of your work. Please be authentic in your method – no cheating by using a sextant.

Don't go against the grain

 It’s wrong to have favorites. But sometimes we just can’t help ourselves.

Here at the museum, there’s a special place in our hearts for today’s artefact – a hand carved wooden grain shovel.

Now, when most people fall in love, it’s not with farming tools (John Deere enthusiasts excepted).  But when looking at the simple beauty of this shovel, many strong hearts have skipped a beat. Carved from a single piece of hardwood, the shovel is silky smooth from years of use with a golden patina. It is perfectly balanced; the handle is exactly right; the scoop even and true.

Like we said…. shovel heaven.

Some visitors have suggested that the shovel may have been employed for shoveling apples rather than grain. In the past, it was believed that anything which came in contact with apples had to be made of wood; otherwise it would hasten their spoiling and compromise the taste. It was for this reason that all tools used in the production of cider and apple butter were treen-ware (tools made completely of wood without using nails or screws). But the mouth of our shovel has such even colouring that it seems impossible that its scooping-past was in the orchard. Our local farmers are careful – but even their skilled hands would have spilled a little juice to stain the shovel.

The likelier explanation is that the shovel was used in grain processing. Grain shovels were treen-ware as well but for a very different reason; tools made of wood rather than metal would not create sparks which could start a fire in the granary. 

A bad way to finish the harvest indeed.

In either case, whether your shovel-vote falls on the side of the apples or the grain, we're sure you’ll agree, this is a splendid piece of homemade ingenuity.

But if your vote is for apple, know that you're going against the grain.

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

It’s true. We've asked the question; "What do you do with a drunken sailor?" more than a few times here at the Kings County Museum. 

No, we don’t get a lot of inebriated visitors. The problem stems from this odd little artifact – brass knuckles.

This glittering bit of danger originally belonged to Captain Solomon Davis, a sea captain from Hatfield Point. Born in 1840, Captain Davis made his living aboard the wooden ships that followed the Saint John River to the sea. During this period, brass knuckles were as common on board a ship as the strap was in the village classroom. Like the strap, the use of the knuckles depended in great measure on the behaviour of the crew - and the discipline style of the captain.  

Solomon Davis was a well-respected man of the community and an able captain. But, when far from the securities of shore, he was also the point of justice for his small floating community. Did Captain Davis ever actually use these brass knuckles? Possibly not. Their mere presence may have been all the deterrent needed in times of trouble. 
Simple. Effective. And a little bit terrifying. 
Let's hope there was never an issue with a drunken sailor to bring the matter to a head.

Captain Davis’ journeys took him around the globe and we are fortunate to hold a number of artefacts from his travels; a large painted fan from a trip to China in 1870, a feather cape from India in 1872, and a quilt made by Solomon and his wife during a passage from Bombay in 1875. It's a wonderful selection of objects revealing a unique snapshot of the work and global experiences of men like Captain Davis. But, the object that might speak loudest about those days of sail, present on all voyages, is the brass knuckles.

Drunken sailors take warning.

A fine line and a backward glance

The beauty of some artifacts is obvious at first glance while others need a second look. Today’s hidden history object often requires a third look… and the ability to read backwards.

This favorite gem from our collection is a series of advertising printing plates hand engraved by C. H. Flewwelling of Saint John. Although they are rather unassuming at first glance, a closer look reveals each as a miniature work of art - in reverse. Engraving plates are carefully crafted by carving fine lines into the surface of wood, copper or other metals to create a reverse image plate for printing images onto paper. We think you’ll agree, C.H. Flewwelling was a master of the art.

The artistic Charles was not only talented, he was honing his craft at an important moment. When he began Flewwelling Press in 1877, advertising and product branding were just developing into the modern approach we know as consumers today. No longer were consumers simply buying flour from their local merchant – they wanted Robin Hood branded flour. Brands were important - and the images used for those brands needed to be excellent.

C.H. Flewwelling was the only professional engraver east of Montreal at the time and his reputation for quality work meant that many of the businesses of our area had logos, images and advertisements created by his firm. Flewwelling’s hand-carved engravings graced newspaper ads, packaging labels, books and more. Our collection of Flewwelling's work includes wood and metal plates with logos and advertisements for everything from Hampton Star Matches (produced by his cousins, the G.&G. Flewwelling Mfg. Co. of Hampton),

to Arven’s White Lily Biscuits, 

to the Sumner Company of Moncton. 

Flewwelling Press was also responsible for printing things like tourist brochures for the various steamship companies. A close look at many of these booklets reveals C.H. Flewwelling’s signature in the engraved maps of steamer routes, or in the advertisements for businesses at the various steamer stops.

Take a moment and enjoy a second look at this beautiful collection.

We won’t tell if you cheat and use a mirror to decipher the text.

  

For some stunning examples of C.H. Flewwelling’s book illustrations, check out the Nova Scotia Archives' digitized copy of Story of the Springhill Colliery Explosion by R.A.H. Morrow. It contains several of Flewwelling's engraved images.

Flash cards? Who needs 'em!

So, say you feel the need to brush up on your math skills.

You could practice your multiplication facts with an app on your iPhone (yes, there is an app for that). Or you could go old school and pick up some flash cards from a school supply company. But maybe you’d rather go REALLY old school, like Catherine Musgrove, and create an artistic rendering of the multiplication tables, carefully laid out in quadrants, hand drawn in pen ink, and embellished with flourishes that would make Her Majesty’s Court Calligrapher weep with envy.

Today’s beauty is a page taken from the practice book of Catherine Musgrove, dated November 23, 1837.  Catherine was born July 17, 1825 in Millstream, Kings County, N. B., the daughter of Thomas Musgrove and Elizabeth Slipp. That would make Catherine just 12 years old when she created this minor masterpiece. The center block records, "Miss Catherine Musgrove Her Tables Sussex Millstream New Brunswick Commen'd Learning this 23rd Day of Novbr In the Year of Our Lord 1837". It would seem Catherine ‘commenced learning’ with a gusto only seen in accountant-savants.

The page contains a bit more than multiplication tables; two other sections titled "Of Money” and "Pence Tables" add to the document’s interest. Canada had a rather shaky start when it came to currency. The early days of our history show a people divided by money – or at least by what form of currency they wanted to use. The debate over dollars and cents vs. pounds, shillings, and pence went on for a long time (only resolved by the Uniform Currency Act of 1871). And even in those parts of the country that chose the British system, the value placed on each was... shall we say, creative? So extra kudos to Catherine for knowing the system in place in New Brunswick at the moment.

Interestingly, accompanying this donation to the museum was a letter written by Catherine’s grand-daughter, Alta (McLeod) Patterson, recalling how she was given the piece by her grandmother 60 years earlier. Alta commented “I never could understand why Grandmother was just beginning her tables in 1837 as she would be twelve years old then?” Here at the Museum we are more astonished by the beauty and effort put into the document.

But, then again, multiplication facts have never been our strong suit.

For an interesting overview of Canadian currency (stop laughing, it really is interesting reading), check out the pdf History of the Canadian Dollar by the Bank of Canada.

Off the rails

There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run. But if there’s anything we’ve learned from Gordon Lightfoot, it’s that everything is better with rails….. Or, is it?

In an earlier day, Hampton was a center of agriculture and forestry, with very few enterprises outside of these primary industries. But by the latter part of the 1800s, Hampton was a town with rails and this was causing a huge impact on the community and its people. The G. & G. Flewwelling Manufacturing Co. took advantage of railway access to transform local forestry into an international business. And up the street at Hampton Station, another industry was about to make its mark.

In 1897, contractor William Langstroth and a team of twenty men completed a new building alongside the track, just behind the Wayside Inn & the Court House. With the building's completion, the Ossekeag Stamping Factory was born (pictured here, at bottom left, in an image bravely taken from the Court House roof). Ossekeag Stamping manufactured enamel wares, including various bowls and ladles such as the two samples below from the museum’s collection.

From its advantageous site, the Ossekeag Stamping Factory soon became an economic concern. By 1898, the factory employed about 250 men and required both day and night shifts to manage workload. For seven years the factory produced enamelware from this spot but, in 1905, the railway that connected Ossekeag Stamping to the rest of Canada brought another change.

Ossekeag Stamping Factory became of interest to another growing company - the McClary Manufacturing Company of Ontario. McClary Manufacturing was run by John McClary of London, Ontario and between 1879 and 1902 he expanded his considerable business with new warehouses in Toronto, Montreal, Winnipeg, Vancouver, Saint John, and Hamilton. In 1905, not long after McClary opened its Saint John warehouse, they bought out the Ossekeag Stamping Factory and the site was shut down.

Though many “built the mines the mills and the factories for the good of us all” during the early heydays of the rail, not all would survive. Ossekeag Stamping Factory is an excellent example of both the opportunity – and the challenge – that the coming of the railway would bring.

For more on McClary Manufacturing, see University of Western Ontario’s site: http://www.lib.uwo.ca/programs/companyinformationcanada/ccc-generalsteel.htm

Also of interest is the bio of John McClary, at the Dictionary of Canadian Biography: http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/mcclary_john_15E.html

Having a (snow) ball!

In our little corner of the globe, today is a ‘snow day’.  A winter storm is pushing through the county, snow is falling in ever increasing amounts and schools are cancelled to the delight of children everywhere.

This winter wonderland brings to mind an exceptional quilt in our collection.  Known as “The Snowball Quilt”, it is a feminine concoction of whites, pale pinks and tans, with a few splashes of brighter shades thrown into the mix. The colours have softened over time but the fabric – and the stitching – holds fast and firm. In all, the quilt is made up of 11,396 pieces carefully sewn together by hand. It was produced in the 1870s by Minnie Main Frost (later, Minnie Northrup). The quilt is widely admired whenever it makes an appearance in a display but its most remarkable detail is hidden to the eye; the quilt was made when Minnie was just 11 years old.

Although it seems so foreign today, children like Minnie were more than familiar with skills such as sewing at a very young age. All members of a family contributed to the care of the household and children were no exception.  Minnie had obviously mastered needle and thread when she embarked on this project, although family lore has it that the quilt was initially started as a practice quilt for her doll’s bed. Minnie was encouraged by her family, however, to ‘keep at it’ and the result is this full sized quilt of over 11,000 pieces and countless hand stitches. Whether a first quilting attempt or not, the piece is remarkable for its perfect alignments, number of pieces, and precise stitching.

How many ‘snow days’ might it have taken Minnie to create her masterpiece? Perhaps today is the day to resume our own unfinished projects in the linen cupboard; or it could be the perfect moment to show another generation how to start their own.  See what you can create for posterity – have a (snow) ball!

Cheers to a new year…from an old glass!

True to our promise, here we are to start the KCM's 100 Hidden Histories for 2015! 

To celebrate the New Year and the new blog, we thought we’d raise a glass, but not in just any old cup. We’re celebrating with the museum’s set of pale yellowish-green glass known as Vaseline Glass. The set seems like regular pieces of tableware… if a bit sickly in colour… but it has an explosive secret! Vaseline Glassware is another name for Uranium Glass. That’s right; it’s glass that had uranium added to the glass mix before melting. The amount of uranium could range from a trace amount of about 2% to a staggering 25% uranium found in some 19th-century pieces!

Being serious folks, we examine artifacts carefully and analytically. So to inspect our uranium glass we called in some sensitive equipment from our local technical supplier (a neighbourhood high school science lab). Our weapons of choice; an ultraviolet blacklight and a Geiger counter. True to uranium glass’s reputation, the glass began to glow a vibrant bright green under the ultraviolet light. This glow-in-the-dark display drove our team of professionals into fits of laughter. Then we turned on the Geiger counter.

Not so much laughter.

The glass registered on the Geiger counter at once with clicking. Lots of clicking. Experts explain that Vaseline glass is not harmful, that the emissions from the glass are just slightly stronger than the normal background radiation we are all exposed to on a daily basis.

But that clicking sure makes a person suspicious.

The date of our three pieces is not known – no maker’s marks are present to pinpoint a production date. Uranium glass was popular from the 1840s up until World War II – that’s when access to uranium became restricted / halted by American embargoes. In the late 1950s restrictions were lifted but only a few companies resumed manufacture of Vaseline glass. It is worth noting that what they produce today is solely decorative; Vaseline glass dinnerware is no longer made.

Our Vaseline glass collection includes the pitcher shown above, as well as two rugged drinking glasses – perfect for sharing a radioactive toast with friends. Here’s to you and to the New Year!

Cheers!

click... click... click

Discover more information (and some great pics) at the Vaseline Glass collector's website: www.vaselineglass.org