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By Beth Greenhorn

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I concluded Part 3 of this series about my grandfather, Robert Roy Greenhorn, with his departure to Fairknowe Home in Brockville, Ontario in the spring of 1889. This was the Canadian distributing home operated by Scottish philanthropist, William Quarrier.

Before the parties of children left Scotland, families in Ontario applied to Quarriers Orphan Homes for a child. During the farewell event in Glasgow for my grandfather’s departure, William Quarrier assured the well-wishers that care “was exercised in choosing suitable homes for them [the children] in the new country. Both boys and girls were watched over till they reached the age of eighteen.” (untitled [iriss.org.uk]), p. 23, March 15, 1889, the North British Daily Mail)

The application form offered families a choice of a boy or a girl and asked for the desired age range. If requesting a boy, there was a section about the type of farm the family owns, the number of hours of work each day, the acreage and the number of cows to be milked. Additionally, each applicant needed to provide the names of five character references: their minister, reeve, physician and two other prominent individuals.

The children’s placements were regulated by legally binding contracts or indentures. According to a Web exhibition by the Canadian Museum of History, the indenture forms:

…clearly set out the responsibilities of the rescue home, the child, the master, and the mistress. For a youngster under the age of ten, the master or mistress received $5 a month from the agency for lodging, feeding, schooling and clothing the child, who was expected to do minor chores around the house and farm. Between 11 and 14, children received only their board, clothing and some schooling in exchange for their labour. From 14 to the end of the indenture at aged 18, the children were expected to perform adult’s work on a full-time basis, and thus were entitled to wages. (Civilization.ca – Crossroads of Culture – Trunks and Travel / Barnardo Children [historymuseum.ca]).

My grandfather, like the majority of Home Children, came from industrial urban areas in the United Kingdom. He would have performed some daily chores while living at Bridge of Weir. However, this would not have prepared him for farm life in rural Ontario or the harsh Canadian winters (Canadian Immigration Historical Society [cihs-shic.ca]). Coupled with these adversities, many of the children were subjected to other hardships. While some Home Children had positive experiences and were treated like family members, a number experienced great suffering, including physical and sexual abuse and neglect (Compensation offered for surviving British Home Children and Child Migrants | Ups and Downs – British Home Children in Canada [wordpress.com]). Emigration organizations, including Quarriers, were expected to carry out annual visits to ensure the children were receiving proper care. According to a 1907 souvenir booklet published by Quarrier’s organization, the children who emigrated to Canada were “under careful supervision [allowing] them to grow up worthy citizens of the great Colony” (William Quarrier- Brockville Ont 7,200 immigrated – BRITISH HOME CHILDREN IN CANADA [weebly.com]), slide 2).

But as the late author and co-founder of British Home Child Group International, Sandra Joyce observed:

This is where the system began to break down. Siblings were separated upon their arrival here and though, some of the farmers genuinely cared for the children, many just saw them as cheap labour. Others submitted them to abuse of a horrific nature. Monitoring a child’s placement was usually left up to the luck of the draw (British Home Children – SANDRA JOYCE).

Each year, the children inspectors were responsible for monitoring over 2,000 children throughout southern Ontario, making this undertaking next to impossible. (Canadian Immigration Historical Society [cihs-shic.ca]).

Following their arrival to Canada, my grandfather and his brother were sent to different farm families. The 1891 Census of Canada records my great-uncle, John, age 15, working as a domestic servant for Robert and Mary Parker on a farm near Brockville, Ontario. According to my Aunt Anna, Robert lost touch with John, who had gone north and eventually settled out West. I found an obituary for a John Greenhorn on Ancestry, born around 1877 in Scotland, and deceased March 31, 1961, at the age of 84 in Victoria, British Columbia. I believe this is my great-uncle.

As mentioned in Part 3, I had hoped to find records for my grandfather after his arrival to Fairknowe Home in Brockville. Unfortunately, this information had been destroyed. During conversations with my father, Ralph, I learned that his father first lived with a family near the hamlet of Philipsville, Ontario, approximately 46 kilometres from Brockville. I do not know how long my grandfather lived with this family, but from what I understand, he was mistreated before being taken in by the Kings, who lived on a nearby farm. By 1891, my grandfather, age 12, was registered as a domestic servant living with Aulga (sic) [Auldjo] and Mary (Ann) King and their adult children, William and Christine (1891 Census of Canada). When the 1901 Census of Canada was taken, Robert was still living with Anldfo (sic) and Mary Ann King, along with their granddaughter, Gladys Marshall. I was heartened to see that his relationship with the Kings had changed. No longer a domestic servant, he was recorded as being adopted by the King family. My Aunt Anna remembered how Robert spoke highly of the Kings, who he said “were always good to me.” (conversation, August 22, 2023). The 1901 Census of Canada, combined with my aunt’s recollection, suggest that my grandfather’s circumstances had taken a positive turn, and he lived with a family who cared for him.

This next part might seem off topic, but I assure you, it is relevant to my grandfather’s story. The best student job I ever had took place over two summers in the early 1980s. It involved a historical research project about heritage buildings and families in Bastard and South Burgess Township, which includes the hamlet of Philipsville. The project was led by historian Diane Haskins and culminated with My Own Four Walls: heritage buildings and the family histories in Bastard and South Burgess Township, published in 1985. This job gave me the opportunity to spend a week at the National Archives of Canada, now Library and Archives Canada (LAC), researching the Ontario census records on microfilm. I never imagined that I would eventually work at LAC, but I digress. Back to my grandfather’s story.

When I spoke with my Aunt Anna in August 2023, she brought out her copy of My Own Four Walls. The chapter focussing on Philipsville includes a photograph of Reuben Haskin’s grist and sawmill, taken circa 1900. The man kneeling on a beam and holding an axe in the top left is identified as Bill Greenhorn. I recall this photograph from my research as student 40 years ago but had never seen a photograph of my grandfather as a young man until 2018 during a visit with my cousin, Joyce Madsen, my Aunt Jennie’s daughter. After I began working on our grandfather’s story, Joyce generously gave me the portrait of Robert taken in his early twenties (see Part 1). I assumed that whoever had inscribed the names of the individuals on this photograph had misidentified the man holding the axe and had the incorrect surname. As far as I knew, there were only three Greenhorns in south-eastern Ontario at the turn of the century: my grandfather, Robert, and his brothers, John and Norval.

While working on this blog series, I learned from the 1911 Census of Canada that my grandfather was employed as a labourer at a sawmill and boarded with Reuben and Bertha Haskin in Philispville. If my Aunt Anna had not reminded me of this photograph in My Own Four Walls, I would never have made this connection.

On July 14, 1916, the Ontario Land Registry Access records for Leeds County show that Auldjo and Mary Ann King granted parts of lots 21 and 22, the land next to their farm, to Robert for $10, with unspecified conditions tied to Mary Ann’s life expectancy. Two months later, on September 16, 1916, Robert married my grandmother, Blanche Carr. (Ancestry.ca – Ontario, Canada, Marriages, 1826–1939) Born in May 1898, she was 19 years my grandfather’s junior but would have known Robert her entire life, having grown up just down the road from the King’s farm.

My grandparents owned a dairy and beef farm and sugar bush, which my family affectionately calls “the Farm.” They had eight children, seven of whom survived into adulthood: Jennie, Roy, Josephine (Jo), John, Jean, Arnold and my father, Ralph. Nellie, born in 1924, died the following year. She is buried with my grandparents in the Halladay Burial Place in Elgin, Ontario.

Life for my grandparents was not easy, especially in the early years of their marriage. Their first home, located a few properties from the King family farm, had its challenges. My Aunt Anna recalled how Blanche’s midwife described their house as “a poor shack of a place” with buckets to catch the rain coming through the roof (email from Anna Greenhorn to Beth Greenhorn, January 19, 2024). After receiving my aunt’s email, I rechecked my father’s unpublished memoir. He briefly mentioned Margaret (Meg) Nolan, the midwife who delivered all of Blanche’s children. In the 1931 Census of Canada, Margaret Nolan, age 62, was employed as a practical nurse and still living in Philipsville.

By the 1921 Census of Canada, Blanche and Robert Greenham (sic) had purchased land next to the King family, where they eventually built their house. Robert’s occupation was a farmer. They had three children: Jennie age five, Roy age three and Jo age two at that time.

During my conversation with Aunt Anna last August, she told me about how my grandparents first built the barn and where they lived while the house was being constructed. Earning a living took priority, and they needed a shelter to milk the cows. As soon as construction on the house permitted, my grandmother and aunts, Jennie and Jo, and possibly Nellie and Jean, moved in. My grandfather and uncles, Roy and John, continued sleeping in the barn until the house had some interior walls for privacy.  My father said that they had no electricity until he was in grade 10 or 11, which would have been the mid-1940s.

Farming was, and still is, hard work, requiring long hours 365 days of the year. It also demanded support from the entire family. While there was never money for any luxuries, my father said there was always plenty of food on the table, with lunch being the heartiest meal of the day. It usually consisted of mashed potatoes and gravy, several kinds of vegetables, roast beef or ham, and it always ended with a big slice of fruit pie. Most of the food was grown on “the Farm” (unpublished memoir, pp. 7-8).

Researching my grandfather Robert Roy Greenhorn’s story has been a bittersweet journey of discovery. I can only imagine how terrifying it would have been coming to a new country at the age of nine and being separated from his older brother. It is distressing to know that my grandfather was treated poorly by his first host family. I was able to find comfort that he was taken in by a kind couple, for whom he cared.

This photograph of my grandfather was probably taken in his early twenties. Having one’s portrait taken in the late nineteenth century was a special occasion. He was dressed in his best and likely only suit, and his vest looks a bit small, like he had outgrown it. He holds a scroll of paper, a prop indicating that he can read and write. The directness of his gaze conveys confidence. His body language is one of self-assurance. While my grandfather’s life was not a traditional rags-to-riches tale, his story is one of resilience and determination.

Additional Resources

• The Golden Bridge: Home (iriss.org.uk)

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Beth Greenhorn is an Online Content Manager in the Outreach and Engagement Branch at Library and Archives Canada.