The following is a re-print of a past column by former Advertiser columnist Stephen Thorning, who passed away on Feb. 23, 2015.
Some text has been updated to reflect changes since the original publication and any images used may not be the same as those that accompanied the original publication.
Disputes over land boundaries can be contentious issues, turning neighbours into bitter enemies. On occasion, the arguments can lead to violence.
That was the background to a tragic case in Maryborough Township in 1892.
James Lewis and John Eby had been neighbours for years, farming the two halves of Lot 6, Concession 6. Lewis owned the north half of the lot and Eby the southern portion, at the corner of the concession road and the sideroad between lots 6 and 7. The farms, each of 100 acres, were a couple of miles west of Moorefield.
In the early years of the township, when roads were still in a primitive condition, Eby used a driveway off the sideroad to get to his house, and Lewis entered his farm on a right-of-way along the back of the Eby farm, also off the sideroad.
The two families made an agreement that Lewis could use the right-of-way until either party desired to change the arrangement.
All went well for many years. Then, in early 1890, Lewis sold his farm to a man named John L. George. He was from Ayr, where he had worked in the well-known John Watson foundry and farm implement plant. George and his wife had decided they preferred a country lifestyle, and moved to Maryborough.
Relations between George and his neighbours, the Ebys, were amicable for the first months. George was fully aware of the agreement, and was willing to continue it. By this time, John Eby was dead. His widow and bachelor son, Andrew, managed the farm.
In the fall of 1891 George decided to construct new buildings on his farm, and at the same time change his access to a driveway onto the Concession 6 roadway, rather than through the back of the Eby farm onto the side road.
Complicating the issue was the fact that the location of the lot lines at the back of the two farms was not known precisely. Eby and George began to quarrel about the matter, and eventually it went to court. There the two men agreed to have a proper survey made, with expenses to be shared equally.
Rather than engage a surveyor in Wellington familiar with the area, George and Eby agreed to hire Lewis Bolton from Listowel. Bolton completed the work as specified in March 1892, but a couple of weeks later he received a letter from John George, who complained that there was an error in the survey.
Surveyor Bolton, who was a qualified Public Land Surveyor, offered to run the lines again, and if it turned out he had made a mistake in the original work, there would be no charge. Otherwise, Bolton would make a charge for his time and expenses.
John George did not reply to surveyor Bolton. He did advise Eby that he was not satisfied with Bolton’s survey. Eby replied, in writing, that he would wait 10 days before moving any lot-line fences, and that George, during that time, could hire any qualified surveyor he wanted to make a new survey, and he would comply with the results. Eby believed there was nothing wrong with Bolton’s work.
George did not respond to his neighbour’s missive. Neither did he bring back Bolton or hire another surveyor. Having heard nothing after two weeks, Eby, assisted by seven of his neighbours, gathered on the morning of April 16, 1892, to move the fences to the new locations as indicated by Bolton’s survey. From his barnyard, John George saw the work party proceeding to the back of the Eby farm. In a rage he went into his house, grabbed his shotgun, stuffed a couple of cartridges into his pocket, and headed in the direction of Eby and his helpers.
When George neared the party, Eby was in the process of driving a stake to use as a base for the new fence line. He climbed up onto the existing split-rail fence, aimed the shotgun and fired. And then fired again. Both barrels contained spent shells. George emptied them, and put a fresh shell in the gun.
His third shot was certainly more effective. Nine pieces of buckshot struck Eby; the most dangerous pieces were one between his eye and nose, and another in his throat. It could have been a lot worse; later investigation revealed 67 pieces of shot in two posts.
What is astonishing is that none of the men seemed alarmed by George and the fact that he was only 50 feet or so away, and aiming a shotgun at Eby. According to those present, not a word was exchanged between George and any of the men.
John George immediately fled after pulling the trigger. Five of the men who were helping Eby took him as quickly as possible to his house, and a couple went to find Dr. Cassidy in nearby Moorefield. When told of the nature of the injuries, Dr. Cassidy sent a telegram to Drayton, asking Dr. McWilliams for assistance.
Dr. McWilliams did not arrive at the Eby farm until early in the afternoon. Working together, the two doctors probed, trying to find the pieces of shot. After working four hours they located and removed only one, in Eby’s hand, though the entry points of the eight others were plainly visible. Dr. Cassidy feared that complications could be serious, especially if infection set in at the wounds in the face and neck.
Meanwhile, two of Eby’s helpers that morning went to Drayton and laid an official complaint before magistrate Burrows. He, in turn, sent Constable Flath in pursuit of John George. The serious nature of his actions seems to have dawned quickly on George. Within an hour of the incident he surrendered to John Paterson, a magistrate who lived on Concession 7 of Maryborough.
Late that same afternoon John George was in Drayton, appearing before magistrates Cross and Burrows. On hearing the evidence of the witnesses, they committed George for trial at Guelph. They refused bail, considering the case to be a serious one, with obvious evidence of premeditation, based on the fact that George had removed the spent shells from the shotgun and reloaded in plain view of the witnesses.
The incident took place on a Saturday morning. News of the affair spread quickly that day, because Saturday was the traditional day for farmers to go into town for their weekly shopping trip. It was virtually the only topic of conversation in Moorefield and Drayton that afternoon, and by the time church was out the following day there was hardly a person in Peel and Maryborough who was not familiar with the details.
The doctors remained with Eby overnight to monitor his condition, and make fresh attempts at removing the buckshot. They continued to be fearful of infection setting in, though their patient seemed to be stable that day and the next.
On Monday morning, Constable Flath, with his handcuffed prisoner, boarded the morning train at Drayton bound for Guelph, where John George would await trial on a charge of attempted murder, and perhaps worse.
[To be continued next week.]
*This column was originally published in the Wellington Advertiser on July 13, 2007.
