Saskatchewan Life in the Vast Prairie of Canada

Saskatchewan Kingsland

This part of Canada with its vast prairie land was all new to me. I had three places that I preached; Kingsland was the center of my operation. To do what was expected of me during the week, I made pastoral calls to individuals in my territory. I would cover 35 miles and preach three sermons on Sundays.

By special arrangement my board was provided by the three churches. At the close of the last evening service, I would stay at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Ard; they were parishioners of one of the churches. The following morning I would set out early and return to Kingsland, a distance of 15 miles.

The three churches also provided transportation for me. A horse. I did not know the first thing about horses. The horse belonged to the Bronco family. The first day I rode the horse it seemed to be going well at first but all of a sudden the horse swung to one side of the road to avoid some hay, the noise the buggy made frightened the horse. From that time on I knew that if the buggy squeaks it would then scare the horse.


In order to get in the home where I was stayed- I would have to tie the reins of the horse to the fence or post, that way if the horse was spooked by the sound he would not run away. One morning as I was coming home I dismounted the horse, and the horse started to eat some grass before I tied him to the fence post, so I put the reins down on the ground and proceeded to open the gate…The wheel of the buggy made a noise and the horse dashed for the protection of the barn. For some reason the horse passed between the pump of the well and some farm equipment- then the buggy detached from the harness…and only God knows how…the horse came to a stop. It was a miracle that the Bronco’s three-year-old daughter who ALWAYS came out to greet me was not around.

Miss Margaret MacLaurin Taught Deaf Students in Sign Language and Lived at the MacKay Institute for Deaf

Thank you Alexis for the OK to put the photo of "The Macay Institute" in this Blog and I will as you said not include on a Web Page like Ancestry, But thank you again and I will only use on the blog http://pascaldiflorio.blogspot.com/ .

Permission received on November 25th, 2009, via email to use image of Mackay Institute for Blog. please contact Imtl.org if you wish to copy not to be used without permission.

Picture by W. H. Care; contact us Imtl.org has no relation with owners of this building
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This link brings you to the Mackay School's author http://archive.org/stream/gu_deafdumbblind00widd/gu_deafdumbblind00widd_djvu.txt



A Compilation by

THOMAS WIDD,

Principal of the Mackay Institution for Protestant Deaf-mutes, Montreal.


He opens with this quote.

TO THE READER

"Having suffered from the most intense deafness for
more than thirty-five years, and labored as a teacher
and missionary to the deaf and dumb for twenty years,
the Compiler of this little work is, in consequence,
thoroughly acquainted with the requirements of this
afflicted class. He would urge all who possess any
influence, however small, with our Legislators, to use
that influence to obtain for the deaf-mute, , in the
name of humanity and justice, the same facilities for
education and spiritual instruction, as are enjoyed by persons
who can hear and speak. He wants justice, not charity."

Miss Margaret MacLaurin...

This came about as a result of attending a party of a number of students and young ladies invited by Miss Adair, the sister of my very good friend, Cyril Adair. Miss MacLaurin was invited to the party because she was one of Miss Adair’s music pupils. During the evening Margaret was Frank Underhill's partner and he escorted her home. After a few days I decided to invite her to go out with me.

I did not know the young ladies address, nor did I remember her name. I turned to my friend Cyril, He furnished me with all the information I needed. I phoned the young lady and having described who I was, I then asked her to go out with me. She consented to go out. She lived in the Mackay Institute, where she taught deaf mute pupils. That year we saw each other about once a week. About the end of April we parted for the summer.

I went to Saskatchewan, Kingsland. This part of Canada with its vast prairie land was all new to me.

The Year was 1915...

Family and friends expected Pascal to be in the new land 4 or 5 years…and come back to Italy and become a Priest of the Catholic Church, by 1915 he was 5 years overdue with what seemed a complete conversion a believer in Christ…NOT A Priest of the Catholic Church.

The year was 1915 and I took an examination for university entrance. I was successful; hence, was admitted to the Wesleyan College and McGill University in the fall of the year.

Life was quite different after I had enrolled for the degreed programs, a Bachelor of Arts, and Bachelor of Divinity. I roomed in the Wesleyan College and bought my meals at the college dining room.

The years I spent there were rewarding. I met many students from other parts of the world. Many students and some professors joined the army because of the nations at war.

The First World War (WWI) broke in 1914, and I entered college in 1915. My address was 750 University St. Montreal, Que. Canada. The summer came and I worked in Montreal so I was able to keep my room on University Street.

Two of the summers while in school I lived in Notre Dame the Grace, with a Grieco family. In exchange for my room and board I taught family members English. The family had a garden that I was able to help take care of, for this I had free access to the vegetables. This I did for two or three years, after which I applied for a church in the Western part of Canada.

I applied to the Methodist Board of Missions. The reply was negative. The reason given was that I did not have “good English.” The man in charge, Dr. Manning, had never seen me; and, Dr Manning had never heard me speak.

Interesting missionary story of the many Methodist that worked in the Western part of Canada during the turn of the century- click …Smoky Lake History a nice web site that is worth a look…copy and paste www.smokylake.com/history/

So I applied to the Presbyterian Board of Missions, in Toronto. A few days later I received a letter that said, “You are appointed to Kingsland, Saskatchewan, Alberta." "Further information will follow." Sever days later I was informed that The Board would pay my traveling expenses plus 10 dollars per week.

This new position was offered at the same time I had met a young lady, Miss Margaret MacLaurin.


This is another web page worth a look life as a circuit riders this web site is interesting…this is a quote from http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~methodists/circuit.htm

Even with the establishment of churches, the circuit rider continued to be an important person. He covered a wide territory on horseback and made many pastoral visits. Methodist circuit riders met with people on the edge of a forest, in a shanty or in a local home. The early missionaries, or circuit riders, were heroes. Carrying their few possessions in their saddlebags, they rode hundreds of miles, braved extreme hardships, even risked their lives, to reach the Indians and those settlers from Europe and the British Isles who had made their homes in tiny, isolated communities in the wilderness. These saddlebag preachers had no fixed homes, were dependant on their co-religionists for food and shelter, and received a salary of $100 to $200 a year.

Saskatchewan teacher recounts story of a blizzard in 1919 … the harsh environment
MY NARROWEST ESCAPE
Alameda, Sask (1919)

"In spite of the terrifying experience I am going to tell about, one of my pleasantest memories is of the winter I spent in Saskatchewan, teaching in a small rural school with eleven pupils."

Click Saskatchewan for story

or paste address http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~cansk/school/My-Narrow-Escape.html

My experience during the Summer of 1914 proved to be a Valuable one...

The little book of the Gospel according to St. John the Apostle was connected by the people to Saint Joan of Arc; when I talked about St. John the people gave credit to Saint Joan of Arc.

The people knew little about the Gospel and the teachings of Jesus. They had their prayer book. Very few people knew the English language; and called it, “La Mauvaise Langue,” meaning- The Bad Language. They almost venerated their priests.

(I had to look up the word… Venerated...good thing I did as I do not know Latin!)
Definition of Venerate: to honor in recognition of qualities of holiness, excellence, wisdom.


After five months, from the first of May to the end of September I returned to Montreal and reported to the secretary of the Bible Society. On the basis of the reported activities, scriptures sold, scriptures donated and conversations carried on with the people of that territory I had visited it was thought I had carried on a good experiment.


Upon my return to Montreal I began again to look for work and many times it seemed that the efforts were in vain. Yet in the end I managed to earn more or less enough to meet my obligations.

Soon after my return I was accepted a probationer for the ministry by our Italian Methodist Church and by the District Conferences. I was appointed by the District to do some missionary work among the Italians in and around the city of Montreal.

My missionary work was to preach on Sundays, visit homes showing religious and educational pictures and teach night school classes in English. I also accompanied people, who did not know how to speak English to help them secure work. The result of this work was... some of the people came to church. This type of service seemed to be appreciated.

Examples of life on the road...

By sunset I arrived at another camp. There I had supper and slept. In the morning I had my breakfast and left. At one place I had to walk along the rivers edge. The tide was coming and the ground was soft, I was frightened because my feet sank. Fortunately there was a small branch, I took it an used it to extricate myself from the sinking sand. The first chance I had I returned to a more populated land.

As I went along I learned of Professor Bielair and his wife who were spending the summer in their summer home. I knew the professor in Montreal. He was a French Professor at McGill University. The professor and his wife invited me to dinner and to stay over-night. Professor Bielair’s wife was the daughter of Father Chinique, a converted Roman Catholic Priest. Before I left he told me that there were very few Protestants in that part of the country. The nearest Protestant was ten miles away.

There was a French Protestant Mission Church under the direction of a student pastor for the summer. As I traveled a gravel train overtook me. The man in charge stopped the train and invited me to ride. He asked me where I was going and who I was. As it turned out he himself was a Protestant. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a dollar and gave it to me.

At Lake Long, the train dropped me off; and, there was the mission church and the young Pastor. We were delighted to see each other. Absolute strangers but behaved like “old friends.”

During my stay at the mission church we talked about many things; of the many things, one stands out in my mind. What the young pastor related to me was a narrow escape he had visiting a church. The young pastor said he was asked by several Roman Catholic French Canadians to preach on Saint Peter. Was Saint Peter the Prince of the Apostles?

Was Saint Peter the first Bishop of the Roman Catholic Church? My missionary friend agreed to preach on the subject.


The missionary set aside the Sunday to preach on the subject of Saint Peter. He preached. As usual there was a division of opinion; some folks were even enraged. One day after the missionary spoke he went out to make some “pastoral calls”, and as came out of a home a man came out of another home screaming and carrying an axe! That axe carrying person was determined to kill the young preacher. My new missionary friend said he rushed to his buggy and horse and ran for his life.

It is incredible really, what some people are willing to do “in the name of church or in the name of religion.”

My experience near the Shrine of Saint Anne de Beaupre...

I proceeded towards the Shrine of Saint Anne de Beaupre, one of the famous shrines of the Roman Catholic Church. Once there I observed many groups of people that came from a distance walking along and singing. Most of the pilgrims knelt as they entered the church and on their knees they took themselves to the statue of Saint Anne. Many hoped for miracles- and why not! Displayed were hundreds of artificial limbs, which were indication of miracles performed by Saint Anne.

After this I went to a camp for workers who were building a road along the Saint Lawrence River. This was to lead to Murrey Bay. As I went along I came to a group of temporary buildings, which served as, an office and sleeping quarters. Here I met a road engineer who invited me to his office.

The road engineer inquired about what I was doing, I told him about my mission. This man asked me my opinion. I told him "it seemed that the people were poor and superstitious; yet, they had very costly church buildings. Moreover, the people had to pay for Baptisms, Funerals, and weddings."

Upon hearing this the gentleman said, “this is not so, get out!” And he said “If you were not an Italian I would throw you in the Saint Lawrence River.”

To this I replied, “Sir, you invited me to your office and asked me for my opinion.” “This I have given you! I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings.” And I left.

As I left I noticed a gang of men that was speaking to the road engineer, they looked my direction. I was afraid, so I hid myself behind some nearby bushes. After a while it seemed safe and I proceeded on my way.

Pascal's new job as a Colporteur...

As I became more proficient in English; and, as I learned more about the Bible, I decided to study for the ministry. Because of my decision I was presented to the Official Board of the Italian Methodist Church; and, was accepted as “Student on Probation.” Apart from my regular studies, I studied subjects which when completed would qualify me as a Minister in a French Ministry.

I was employed as a Colporteur- selling Scriptures, for the Bible House. This was a great experience for me. I traveled in the province of Quebec. I was to sell, or give away portions of Scriptures if the person interviewed showed a desire to have them. I traveled, mostly walking, through the Province and the people were mostly French Canadian and spoke French only. My command of the French language came in handy.

With my knapsack that I carried the Scriptures I walked along, and as I needed more scriptures I sent orders to the Bible House in Montreal designating the address and date that I expected to arrive in order to pick up the parcel.

While traveling I encountered many different experiences. One day, late in the afternoon I found myself a few miles from a village; but, near a house occupied by a middle-aged couple. So I rushed to the door and asked if I could stay until the storm was over. The storm lasted longer then expected and it was getting dark so I asked if I could stay; they refused. However, they gave me some milk and bread and said I could stay in the barn; so I left and went into their barn, with the milk and bread wrapped up in my knapsack with the scriptures. After my supper I laid down on the hay. During the night the rats kept me company. One of them even jumped over me. In the morning I washed my face in a little creek nearby and proceeded toward Saint Anne de Beaupre, one of the famous shrines of the Roman Catholic Church.

As Pascal Learned the English Language...He started to teach English to others...

I had difficulty in securing work. I did any job that I could find. But because of my accident; and the loss of my fingers on my right hand finding a job proved even more difficult. When I was in the hospital I thought I would have to switch and write with my left hand; but soon I discovered that I could hold the pen between the thumb and what was left of 1st finger.

Loading and unloading ships; selling Bibles…social and missionary work, (mostly to Italians), were some of the jobs that I did between 1909 and 1915. I began to teach English, to non-English speaking people.

About this time my brother Justin married and, in due time his wife gave birth to a daughter, Stella. He worked with the Grand Trunk Rail Road, as a brakeman. My brother sadly met with an accident.

I believe Justin DiFlorio died from the accident. No other remarks are made about him, his wife or daughter Stella.

looking for pictures and research

This is from the coast of Italy...I will move this to another post shortly....By now my family had expected Pascal to go back to Italy...but it was 20 years till Pascal went home to his place of birth...His 4 year stay lasted 20 years before he went home for a visit.

A Letter that confirms this is the Edith Nicholson that Pascal said was a beloved teacher...

That is the same Miss Edith Nicholson….I found a letter that connects her to Dr. Villard…when Edith resigned….a quote from her letter to her mother in 1912.

April 26, 1912

Dear Mother,

………………

I resigned on Monday. We all did. I am wondering what Dr. Villard is thinking of. His Board should ask the reason for our resignation. They will have a hard time to get people just to step in and run everything.

…

Written by Edith Nicholson


Please visit Dorothy Nixon’s web site (A Nixon-Wells Web Site) to see some of her other interesting work. Dorothy does extensive historical and educational research and writing.
Click Dorothy Nixon or paste http://www.tighsolas.ca

While at the French Methodist Institute...

I attended school year round and was able to work and go to school between October and May. The money I earned went for my room and board, tuition, books and other expenses.

While I stayed in school I paid ten dollars per month…others paid, as they were able. Most of the boys and girls were given a job of some kind to help with the tuition. Everybody had to make their bed and to keep their room in order. After we dusted and swept our rooms the teachers would conduct an inspection.

There is much for which I am grateful; the principal, Dr. Paul Villard was very understanding and so was my patient and kind teacher, Miss Edith Nicholson.

I think I gave Miss Nicholson much trouble, especially in our Bible classes. At that time I was still a Roman Catholic at heart; but the way she answered my questions disarmed me completely. Miss Nicholson became one of the most beloved teachers I ever had.

The years I spent at the Institute 1909 to 1915 were very happy ones.
…………………………………………………………

In 1915, I entered the Wesleyan College and registered for courses that would lead met to an A.B. degree. Here Miss Nicholson registered me and with great sense of satisfaction it seemed. After I registered we met often. In the course of events Miss Nicholson became Assistant Registrar at McGill University.

In 1920 I had a completed the courses for my B.A. and was to receive the parchment. At the convocation all the graduated walked to the platform. The respective names were called to receive their diplomas. Here I met Miss Edith Nicholson again. I believe she was as thrilled as I was; as she handed me my diploma she exclaimed “Good for you Pascal!”

CLICK on Nicholson…this could be a picture of Pascal’s beloved teacher who worked at McGill University. The 2nd Nicholson link is a picture from McGill...and history of McGill.
http://www.tighsolas.ca/page337.html

Awaiting Word....

After getting help from both Rev. Laidman and Dr. Lattoni , I was awaiting word from the Principal, Dr. Paul Villard so I could join the French Methodist Institute.

I could barely wait for the day when I would receive word from the admissions department that I could attend school there. The French Methodist Institute was a boarding school for the primary purpose of teaching the sons and daughters of the French Canadian ministers.

I attended the Sunday church. The service was in Italian and Dr Lattoni was an eloquent preacher.

Dr Lattoni went with me several times to help me reach a settlement with the Corrugated Iron Company, for the loss of my fingers. The last time we spoke with the manager he belittled my loss. We, Dr. Lattoni and myself suggested a one time, one-thousand dollar settlement; to which, the manager responded “ I would give my right arm for one-thousand dollars!”

I stumbled with Italian and English words when I replied, “Sir, I hope that someday somebody will cut not only your arm, but your head also; and, also for nothing.”

So I don’t know what the manager heard; but, together with my fervent expression he paid the 1000.00 dollars.

In January of 1909 I was admitted to the French Methodist Institute. There were 140 boys and girls. The course offered was intended to cover material from the first grade to university entrance.

This I covered in six years.

* Click ... Dr. Paul Villard - here or above to see a statement from the Principle about the “mission” of the French Institute School. This information from Dorothy Nixon’s Web Page.
* Please visit Dorothy Nixon’s web page to see some of her other interesting work. Dorothy had done extensive historical and educational research and writing.
Click Dorothy Nixon or paste http://www.tighsolas.ca

research...research...

On Sunday I went to Church…

On Sunday I went to church and there I saw the Italian Minister, Rev. Liborio Lattoni and Rev. Laidman who ministered to people of other tongues. Both Rev. Lattoni and Rev. Laidman Servants of Christ took a great interest in me. They spoke on my behalf to the Rev. Dr. Paul Villard who was the principal of the French Methodist Institute located
On Green Ave., West Mount.


In the meantime Dr. Lattoni invited me to attend the daily school of the church. I had already attended this school a couple of winters before. The pupils were mostly small children, except the 3 or 4 men like myself who were anxious to learn English.

(More on Rev. Liborio Lattoni and link to book “Ancient Memories, Modern Identities.”
Italian Roots in Contemporary Canada…by Filippo Salvatore and Domenico Cusmano.

A quote from page 62..
“The melding of his (Rev Liborio Lattoni) Love for Italy and Canada constitutes the most evident merit of his writing. To live a dual life in only one existence has been the late but profound discovery of the man and the artist who was Liborio Lattoni: the search to give his life meaning as a father, a believer and a citizen.”

Rev. Liborio Lattoni was said to be the MOST Outstanding Italian Poet in Canada with over 500 poems written, he started writing the poems in 1915.

I Could Not Afford to be Idle...

I could not afford to be idle when there was the possibility of securing another job. This I did. I looked and found work in a factory where sheet iron was corrugated. I began to work on Monday and the following Monday I met with an accident.

Another man and I operated a machine holding flat sheets of iron. One person was to hold the sheet and the other person had to hold the opposite end. The sheet had to be fed flat. One such sheet that was at my end needed flattening. I was asked by my partner to “slap” the sheet. As I slapped the sheet, he released the machine…my right hand was chewed by the corrugator.

This accident happened because my partner was still befuddled from the effects of his drinking the prior day.

The ambulance came and I was taken to the General Hospital in Montreal. The week I remained in the hospital was a trying experience. All that was left of my right hand was my thumb and one knuckle of my index finger. In order to preserve my index knuckle I had 48 stitches.
.
I was in a general ward, with about fifty patients. I did not know anybody and I did not speak English. It seemed as though every patient had at least one visitor. I alone had no one. The more I thought about how lonesome I was the more lonesome I got.

I was in great pain and had trouble sleeping in the hospital. When I did get to sleep, I would dream that I still had my fingers, and when I would wake up…I would look, I could feel the pain; but, I could not see any of the fingers- they were in fact gone. One day I was in such great pain that I could not contain myself and cried. The attending doctor exploded, “For God sake, shut your mouth.”

The nurse came and tried to console me but she could not supply. I covered my face with a sheet and cried myself to sleep. After a few more days I left the hospital and returned to my boarding house.

Fortunately the surgeon saved my knuckle, as it became very important to write, I discovered that I could write with my right-hand of that very knuckle.

Cardinal Vannutelli came to Quebec 3 September 1910

In just a few days I found a job in a glove factory. After working at the glove factory for several days the factory closed for a week…Because of the Eucharistic Congress.

Most of the workers were Roman Catholics and Cardinal Vannutelli came from Italy to represent the Pope at this Congress.

Cardinal Vannutelli landed in Quebec City as he disembarked, the people kneeled before him and kissed his garments and his feet the Cardinal was some what moved at this display of emotion and exclaimed “gente cosi ignorante non ho mai veduto!”

Translation to English was “ People so ignorant, I have never seen.”

Click Landed (underlined above) for view of article from 1910 New York Times Newspaper
The Ship "Lady Gray" escorted by a fleet of steamers sailed to Canada with the Pope
"Crowds lined the shores of the St. Laurence (River) all the way from Quebec to Montreal."

I was Miraculously Saved

Not far from Cobalt there was a paesano, Peter Tagliamonti who could increase his gang, so we went to work for him.

After a few days I was miraculously saved!

(I must cut in because I am not sure if the above statement means in a spiritual way or if Pascal is talking about the accident while working with Peter Tagliamonti…so I left it in as written.)

One day, a month after I began working with Peter, in the course of digging a ditch I uncovered a big stone. It had to be removed so I dug on two sides but before I could finish the job the whistle blew calling for dinner. Returning after dinner I discovered that the big stone had become detached and its weight had broken my shovel. Had I still been there I would have become sandwiched by the big stone and the ditch.

On another afternoon the crew needed water; so Tony, one of the finest young men I knew took the bucket to the spring for some water. An hour passed. When Tony returned we made fun of him because he had taken such a long time to get the water. We said, “At this rate the company will go bankrupt.”

Tony, having finished his section of the ditch he was to go forward; but, I asked him to dig a portion of the ditch near me. Tony did so gladly. Shortly after he started, one of the men that was up on the bank called out, “Look out! Look out!”

I looked and saw the side of the ditch slide down. Both of us- Tony and I were buried alive. I could hear the men; they, rushed to rescue us. They dug with shovels and after about 20 minutes they uncovered my head. It took another half hour to pull me out.

Meanwhile others hurried to rescue Tony, when they reached him, he was dead. A stump with its weight had broken his spine.

The ambulance came and I was taken to the hospital in Colborn, Ontario. It was several days until I was relesed from the hospital. I went back to work until the job was finished.

I left that town and traveled to Montreal.

Request Pending for use of Picture of Porcupine 1911 Fire...

With the coming of spring, a group of us decided to return to Cobalt, Ontario and look for work. I was very fortunate and found a job.

My first duty of foreman was to find six men to join my crew. The group of men I had was larger than the company wanted. Here I faced a problem; the company rejected the men, so we looked elsewhere.
..............................................................................
Restrictions on use/reproduction: Nil Copyright: Expired Credit: Henry Peters / Library and Archives Canada / PA-029808 .....for picture of 1911 Purcupine, Ontario Fire......

Click Porcupine (highlighted below) for the story of the 1911 fire …

We found work in Porcupine; the job of prospecting for gold. But upon investigation the nearest railroad was located twenty-five miles from the mining camp. Also the “company store” would be the only place we would be able to purchase the needed provisions; we decided not to go.

Another near miss for Pascal…

Porcupine Ontario, CA 1911 fire hit wiping out the whole town!

Over 70 miners killed. The people scrambled into boats and then a
dynamite storage area exploded creating 9 foot waves on Lake Porcupine
Many drowned as they fled into the lake to escape the 20-mile wide fire.

The fires flames were 100 feet high, killing some said over 200 people.

In 1908 a few years after my arrival …

After a couple of years Peter Tagliamonti and I heard of an Italian Church. The Rev. Liborio Latton was the minister and the service was in Italian. The Rev. Latton was very fluent in several languages.

In connection with Rev. Latton’s church was a day school for children; their ages ran from seven to twelve years old. The teacher was a beautiful young lady; so, Peter and I inquired about the feasibility of admitting us, as we were both twenty years old.

After attending for one week we were accepted to the school. We attended until April when we started to look for work again.

We went to work on the construction of the Welland Canal. I was there until July after which some of us went to Cobalt, Ontario, to prospect for silver and gold. We found a job there.

We slept in a tent. We made beds with brushes of pines. With the coming of the cold weather (October) we returned to Montreal where we spent the winter waiting for the coming of spring.

The monotony was broken up with the coming of snow storms we secured jobs shoveling snow and breaking ice.

Click Welland for a link to free archive read online or download, great story of a man who also worked on the Wetland Canal for 38 years. Thomas Bones the most well known man-… who threw ink on the devil.

If you do not get the Link when you click Welland Canal above try cut and paste
The Address to the link is:
WWW.archive.org/details/thomasbonesailor00gibsuoft

Click Cobalt for link to google earth location and pictures of Cobalt area.

Good thing for Pascal that he was in Cobalt in 1909, because the Typhoid Out Break missed that town.

Arrival in Montreal, Canada...

Let us now return to our arrival in Montreal, Canada...

A few days after our arrival I secured a job with the Montreal Street Railway. There were over 100 people repairing or extending the track. The foreman and most of the men were Italians.

I left to go to work in the morning at 6 o’clock am. We met the special street-car which took us to the place where we worked. Ten hours per day. Most of the men received 1.40 to 1.50 CAD per day, but I being green at the job received 1.25 Canadian dollars per day.

With the approach of winter, the month of November, the ground froze, the snow came, and the bulk of the workers, were dismissed. This meant that there would be no work except as we were able to find such as shoveling snow and such. The rest of the winter we played games, cooked our meals and, visited our paesani and went to the movies. Some of us went to school at night to learn English.

We Walked and We Sang...

I had been very ill, so my mother vowed to Saint Gerard that if He spared my life I would go on a pilgrimage, barefooted to the shrine that was 20 miles away.

There were 50 people who started with our group and we sang as we walked; then, overtaken by night we slept under the starry sky. In the morning, we started walking again, and by noontime we had reached the shrine. At the shrine hundreds of other people were already there, and even more were walking towards the group, they were singing and walking to the shrine… After a few days our group from San Pietro returned home.

I had fulfilled my mother’s vow on my behalf.

Pascal’s Barefooted Walk to the Shrine…

Another significant experience in connection with my faith...

Click on the pictures….

Water Supply for San Pietro, InFine, Italy...

The Story of the Little Madonna was believed by the Villagers...

Written by Pascal DiFlorio: part of the 11 page notes about himself…

In the course of time, some people tried to take the Madonna away to the next village. But each time they tried, there was a bad rainstorm; so, they were unable to proceed. This was tried several times and each time they had to give up the idea of taking the Madonna to Mignano - the next village.


This Madonna, that came from under a cliff and brought a wonderful stream of water.

The villagers had erected a church in gratitude for the water, and placed in a niche a large statue and the Madonna, that had brought the water. The people established a holyday in commemoration of the event.

There was a life-like statue – and this, they take in procession every year; and a statuette which can be taken only once in a century or by permission by the pope.


The people believe that the Little Madonna is the one who made the unattractive Shepherdess beautiful, and brought a marvelous stream of water, which is used to this day as a water supply for the village.

At the time the water supply was a central place for the people to wash their clothes. The water supply was also used as a power generator for a mill to grind wheat and corn, plus the people used it for irrigation purposes.

The story of the little Madonna was believed by the villagers; But one day, after I had served the mass, one of the priest’s nephews named Raphael and I…after the priest had left, we decided to handle the real Madonna …And to our amazement we lifted the Little Madonna and we were shocked to find that she was only a statue!

From that time on my faith suffered…



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Please help with a better Translation to Italian….

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La storia del piccolo Madonna era creduta dagli abitanti del villaggi…

Nel corso del tempo, alcune persone hanno provato di portare via il Madonna al prossimo villaggio. Ma ogni tempo che hanno provati, c'era una pioggia torrenziale cattiva; così, non potevano procedere. Questo era provato a parecchie riprese ed ogni tempo che hanno dovuti rinunciare all'idea di portare il Madonna a Mignano - il prossimo villaggio.

Questo Madonna, ciò è venuto da sotto una scogliera e ha portato un ruscello meraviglioso di acqua.

Gli abitanti del villaggi avevano eretto una chiesa nella gratitudine per l'acqua, e collocato in una nicchia una grande statua ed il Madonna, ciò aveva portato l'acqua. Le persone hanno stabilito un holyday nella commemorazione dell'avvenimento.

C'era una statua realistica – e questo, ricevono la processione ogni anno; ed una statuetta che può essere portato solo una volta in un secolo o dal permesso dal papa.

Le persone credono che il Piccolo Madonna sia l'un che ha fatto la Pastora poco attraente bella, e ha portato un ruscello meraviglioso di acqua, che è tuttora usata come un approvvigionamento d'acqua per il villaggio.

Al tempo l'approvvigionamento d'acqua era un luogo centrale per le persone di lavare i loro vestiti. L'approvvigionamento d'acqua era anche usato come un generatore di potere per un mulino di macinare il frumento ed il granoturco, più le persone l'ha usato per gli scopi di irrigazione.

La storia del piccolo Madonna era creduta dagli abitanti del villaggi; Ma un giorno, dopo che avevo servito la massa, uno dei nipoti del prete Raphael nominato ed io…dopo che il prete aveva lasciato, abbiamo deciso di maneggiare il Madonna reale …E alla nostra sorpresa abbiamo sollevato il Piccolo Madonna ed eravamo provocati uno shock per trovare che era solo una statua!

Da quel tempo sulla mia fede sofferta…

Some People Tried to Take the Madonna from San Pietro, InFine to MIGNANO...they FAILED every time...

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Mignano,+Italy&sll=41.464341,14.0728&sspn=0.156937,0.44014&ie=UTF8&ll=41.437579,13.986282&spn=0.078501,0.22007&z=12

The MADONNA Dell'acqua....brought the stream of Water

The MADONNA Dell’ACQUA

Before proceeding further I wish to recall a few incidents.

The MADONNA Dell’acqua, The Madonna of the Water, is the Protectress of the village.

This is the way it (the story) came about.

ONE DAY A VERY SIMPLE GIRL WHILE LOOKING AFTER HER SHEEP … there appeared a beautiful lady who asked her to go to the village and tell the people that she would like them to build her a church.

To this the shepherdess replied that she was a poor and unattractive and that the people would not pay much attention to her. There upon the Beautiful Lady put her hand over her face and she became very attractive.

At once she left and ran to the village and told the people what she had been told. The people; at first, did not believe what she told them. But, when she told them who she was…and (the people) saw the transformation, which had taken place in this girl, they believed her message.




Italian Translation….

Il MADONNA

Prima che procedere ulteriore lavo per ricordarsi pochi episodi.

Il MADONNA, Il Madonna dell'Acqua, è il Protectress del villaggio.

Questo è la maniera esso (la storia) è venuto di.

UN GIORNO UNA RAGAZZA MOLTO SEMPLICE MENTRE SORVEGLIARE LA SUA PECORA … è apparso lì una bella signora che ha chiesto lei andare al villaggio e dice le persone che amerebbe loro costruirla una chiesa.

A questa la pastora ha risposto che era uni poveri e poco attraente e che le persone non pagherebbero molta attenzione a lei. Lì sulla Bella Signora ha messo la sua mano sopra la sua faccia ed è diventata molto attraente.

Subito ha lasciato ed è corsa al villaggio e ha detto le persone che era stato detta. Le persone;, non ha creduto dapprima che li ha detti. Ma, quando li ha detti che era…e (le persone) ha visto la trasformazione, che aveva avuto luogo in questa ragazza, hanno creduto il suo messaggio.

The MADONNA of the Water

The Trip to America 1906...picture 2006

1906

I left for Naples the first of August and left Naples the 3rd of August on the boat Konick Albert, in the company of about a dozen paesani. We all looked forward to a thrilling trip across the Atlantic Ocean, with the exception of two men in our group who had been in America before. We had never been away from home, any distance.

The first few days we were very happy, but presently we passed the Strait of Gibraltar as we moved into the Atlantic… the sea became very rough. As a result many of us became sea sick, as a result we loathed the very thought of the food which we had enjoyed before. This state of mind and body lasted until we reached New York.

Before we disembarked we had to have our baggage examined after which we were taken to the Immigration Office. At this juncture we were very nervous because we had to submit to a physical examination.

As we lined up for the physical I had a bleeding nose. This frightened me because…failing to pass meant…having to return to the country we came from; and, at ones own expense. Fortunately every one passed the examination. So we proceeded to the railway station.

On our way we were told to buy a box lunch, which we needed, before we reached our destination… the box lunch cost was one dollar. The contents: one small loaf of bread, a long link of salami, a banana, and a bottle of beer.

We left New York in the morning and reached Montreal, Canada in the evening. We were amazed at the glittering lights. We had not seen any thing like this in our lives. Shortly, I stepped out of the then Grand Trunk Rail Road Station and went to a house where I stayed for a time as a boarder.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ITALIAN …..Free Translation….I need help with the Italian Translation….

1906

Ho lasciato per Napoli il primo di agosto e Napoli sinistra il 3 di agosto sulla barca Konick Albert, nella società di circa un paesani di dozzina. Non abbiamo visto l'ora di un che l'eccitando viaggio attraverso l'Oceano atlantico, con l'eccezione di due uomini nel nostro gruppo che era stato in America prima. Non eravamo mai stati assente da casa, qualunque distanza.

I primi pochi giorni che eravamo molto felice, ma adesso siamo passati lo Stretto di Gibilterra come abbiamo mosso nell'Atlantico… il mare è diventato molto rude. Di conseguenza siamo diventati dei malati di mari, di conseguenza abbiamo detestato il molto pensiero del cibo che avevamo piaciuti prima. Questa disposizione d'animo ed il corpo sono durati finché abbiamo raggiunto New York.

Prima che abbiamo sbarcato abbiamo dovuto avere il nostro bagaglio esaminato dopo che che eravamo portati all'ufficio di Immigrazione. A questa connessione che eravamo molto nervosi perché abbiamo dovuto presentare a una visita medica.

Come abbiamo allineato per il fisico ho avuto un naso sanguinante. Questo mi ha spaventato perché…non passando significato…deve ritornare al paese siamo venuti da; e, all'ones possiede la spesa. Fortunatamente ogni un è passato l'esame. Dunque abbiamo proceduto alla stazione ferroviaria.

Sulla nostra maniera che eravamo detti di comprare un cestino, che abbiamo avuto bisogno di, prima che abbiamo raggiunto la nostra destinazione… il costo di cestino era un dollaro. Il contenuto: Un piccolo filone di pane, una maglia lunga di salame, una banana, ed una bottiglia di birra.

Abbiamo lasciato New York nella mattina e Montréal raggiunta, Canada la sera. Ci meravigliavamo al che le scintillando luci. Non avevamo visto qualunque cosa come questo nei nostri viveri. Brevemente, sono uscito della Stazione di Strada di Sbarra di Tronco poi Grande e sono andato a una casa dove sono stato un pensionante.

Pascal's Nephew on utube in 1992...wow

GAETANO VECCHIARINO in 1992 speaking.....this is Pascal's Nephew...

In fact Gaetano's Grandfather Gaetano DiFlorio was also my Great Grandfather on my mother's side of the family. Here is Gaetano speaking, I can not understand what he is saying but it is nice to hear his voice again.

Listen and watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrtZR6fpgGY

Vecchiarino, Gaetano - VECCHIARINO, Gaetano. 1923 - 2008. In Montreal on October 3, 2008, at the age of eighty-four. Beloved husband of Irma Masella, loving father of Domenica ...
Published in the Montreal Gazette from 10/4/2008 - 10/5/2008

I Need Help...a Better Translation.. Gaetano Vecchiarino Story...

GAETANO VECCHIARINO...

Good for him writing down the story as only you can tell it I will get a copy...
And I will get another translation...

2008-07-05
MY ODYSSEY. L' author of this book é Mr. Gaetano Vecchiarino, Sanpietrese resident to Montreal Canada, if wanted to obtain a copy of the book, be able to call the number seguente,514-323-2684.
This not é a simple book of memories, sufferings of a lot of years of direct and faithful deposition é and torments, bred from what the great war was called (1939-1945). While this our alive world likely the eve of a' other fatal disaster, I offer yourselves this mine terrible experience like warning and accusation against the war follía and like necessary and devoted gesture to free me the heart and the spirit from the obbrobbri and the barbarity of ció that I lived together to millions companions d' arms d' every nation, of unfortunate victims of every etá and of powerless onlookers Being able of shift. . You did not wait for a book d' author, I am alone a man that lived. You did not wait for amazing anecdotes to happy end, I is not a' hero of it a writer of Hollyhood, is alone a survivor and did not wait for a goodbye, the war tormented me but did not win me. I was born at San Pietro Finally, in province of Caserta son of Vitulio Vecchiarino and of Of Florio Sunday. My degree of education would not do envy to no, I attended little the school but the life taught me the remainder.

Pascal DiFlorio's Nephew...Gaetano Vecchiarino, who was named after Dr. DiFlorio's father Gaetano, I just found out has passed away from us to a better place I pray.

My Thoughts and Prayers go to his loving family as I know how dificult the adjustment is when such a loss takes place.

I was going to call him today and needed to find his phone number in Canada... I looked it up on www.sanpietresiallestero.com and went to look up on the web and found out ...

I missed Gaetano, and I am sorry we did not get to see each other again. I am so thankful that we did talk several times on the telephone and that we did meet many years ago when I was just about 8 years old...But I still remember the visit and will charish that.

I copied this from the web page and I can not read it so am saving till I can get translated...sorry I am not trying to copy but I do want to preserve for the memory of this lovely man who was about the last link of family that really knew my grandfather.

I had a ton of questions to ask Gaetano and wanted to ask in person so his wonderful daughter could translate...I will never forget Gaetano's energy and life.


2008-07-05
LA MIA ODISSEA.L’autore di questo libro é sig. Gaetano Vecchiarino,Sanpietrese residente a Montreal Canada, se desiderate ottenere una copia del libro, potete chiamare al numero seguente,514-323-2684.Questo non é un semplice libro di ricordi, é testimonianza diretta e fedele di molti anni di sofferenze e tormenti, generati da quella che fu chiamata la Grande Guerra (1939-1945).Mentre questo nostro mondo vive probabilmente la vigilia di un’altra funesta catastrofe, vi offro questa mia terribile esperienza come monito e accusa contro la follía bellica e come gesto necessario e devoto per liberarmi il cuore e lo spirito dagli obbrobbri e le barbarie di ció che ho vissuto insieme a milioni di compagni d’armi d’ogni nazione, di sciagurate vittime di ogni etá e di impotenti spettatori del delirio spietato dei potenti di turno..Non aspettatevi un libro d’autore, io sono solo un uomo che ha vissuto. Non aspettatevi aneddoti rocamboleschi a lieto fine, non sono un’eroe ne uno scrittore di Hollyhood, sono solo un sopravvissuto e non aspettatevi un addio, la guerra mi ha straziato ma non mi ha vinto. Sono nato a San Pietro Infine , in provincia di Caserta figlio di Vitulio Vecchiarino e di Di Florio Domenica . Il mio grado di istruzione non farebbe invidia a nessuno, ho frequentato poco la scuola ma la vita mi ha insegnato il resto.

Pascal about Pascal

Pascal DiFlorio,

son of Gaetano and Antonia DiFlorio, born in San Pietro, InFine, Province of Castera, Italy on the 20th of June, 1889. I had a brother, Justin, and a sister, Domenica, both younger than I, both of them have gone to a better land we trust.

Pascal DiFlorio,
figlio di Gaetano e Antonia DiFlorio, sopportato dentro San Pietro, InFine, provincia di Castera, L'Italia sul ventesimo del giugno 1889. Ho avuto un fratello, Justin, e una sorella, Domenica, entrambi i più giovani della I, entrambo sono andato ad una terra che migliore ci fidiamo di.

From Sea to Shining Sea on the Albert Konick

I left for Naples the first of August and left Naples the 3rd of August on the boat Konick Albert, in company with about a dozen paesani. We all looked forward to a thrilling trip across the Atlantic Ocean, with the exception of two men in our group who had been in America before; We had never been away from home, any distance.

Greek translation... (invite any corrections to the GREEK translation)

από θάλασσα σε φωτεινό θάλασσα από την ο Albert konick
, έφυγα για Νάπολη την πρώτη του Αυγούστου και αφήνεται στη Νάπολη την 3η Αυγούστου για το πλοίο konick Albert, στην εταιρεία με περίπου μια δωδεκάδα paesani. Όλοι μας προσβλέπει σε μια είτε ταξίδι σε ολόκληρο τον Ατλαντικό Ωκεανό, με εξαίρεση δύο άνδρες της Ομάδας μας οι οποίοι είχαν στην Αμερική πριν· είχαμε ποτέ δεν ήταν μακριά από το σπίτι, κάθε εξ αποστάσεως.

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Italian Translation...(invite any and all improvements to translation...)

Dal Mare a Brillare di Mare sull'Albert Konick ho lasciato per Napoli il primo di agosto e Napoli sinistra il 3 di agosto sulla barca Konick Albert, nella società con di un paesani di dozzina. Non abbiamo visto l'ora di un che l'eccitando viaggio attraverso l'Oceano atlantico, con l'eccezione di due uomini nel nostro gruppo che era stato in America prima; non eravamo mai stati assente da casa, qualunque distanza.

The first few days we were very happy; But, presently we passed the Strait of Gibraltar as we moved into the Atlantic the sea became very rough. As a result many of us became Sea Sick. As a result we loathed, the very thought of the food which we had enjoyed before.

This state of mind and body lasted until we reached New York where we disembarked; But, before we got off we had to have our baggage examined after which we were taken to the Immigration Office. At this juncture we were very nervous because we had to submit to a physical examination.

As we lined up for the physical I had a bleeding nose. This frightened me because, failing to pass meant having to return to the country we came from, and at one's own expense. Fortunately everyone passed the examination. So we proceeded to the railway station.

Leaving Home at 18 Years Old Alone....

I left San Pietro on the first of August 1906. I departed from Mignano for Naples. My mother, my father, my sister and my brother were all with me when I took the train. This was the first time I had boarded a train. All of us thought that I was to return to Italy after 4 or five years. The fact turned out differently, in that I returned after 24 years, and not alone; For, at this time I was married to a lovely girl, Margaret MacLaurin.

My Father was in America

My father was in America. In fact he had been in America twice before I had ever gone; And, then my father came back again after my brother Justin got here. When asked why he had come he answered; "To see how you were getting along."




At this time we were staying as boarders with Zia Erminia, the mother of Minnie Carbone and Antoinetta Donate. He (Pascal's Father Gaetano) stayed for about two years before leaving.









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I was to join the Priesthood...

There was a school for boys and girls, they were separated, and the school went up to the seventh grade. Those who could pay could send their children to Cassino or some other place. I was sent to school to be a priest; Don Peppino, who had a private school in his home charged a moderate amount. The attendance was from five to a dozen, the time in was from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. I was intended for the priesthood; Because of this I was made an acolyte and thus I was called upon to assist the priest in the service of the Mass. I was fortunate to attend for about 4 years.

Matthew The Greatest Book Ever Written

I have looked so long and so hard for that sermon...or any sermon from Dr. Pascal DiFlorio, that I am about ready to write it myself....just kidding.