Whitby Chronicle Carrier Boys' Address (Cover Page and Inside Pages), January 1, 1901

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Description

This is the cover page for a New year's address delivered by news carriers of the Whitby Chronicle to every subscriber on January 1, 1901. Inside was a poem probably written by Ross Johnston. The carrier boys for this address were Bill McIntyre and Francis McIntyre.

Click on "Reverse" at right to view the inside pages of this address.

Notes

The Whitby Chronicle Office was built in 1862 at 173 Brock Street North,(on the east side of Brock Street, south of Mary Street, one door north of the Royal Hotel). It was constructed by John Ham Perry. The Whitby Chronicle was a newspaper which contained news of Ontario County. According to Brian Winter's book "Chronicles of a County Town" (1999), Mr. Higgins started the Whitby Chronicle newspaper business in December 1856 and published the Whitby Chronicle until March 29, 1883 when he sold the business to James S. Robertson. In 1912, Charles A. Goodfellow combined the Whitby Gazette with the Whitby Chronicle to form the Gazette and Chronicle. In January 1942, the Gazette and Chronicle combined with the Oshawa Daily Times to become the Times-Gazette, and later the Oshawa Times. The Oshawa Times ceased publication on November 5, 1994.

Inscriptions

[Cover Page]
The Chronicle.
New Year's Extra. January 1, 1901.
The Carrier Boy wishes every patron and friend of THE CHRONICLE

A
Happy
New
Year

"And Many of Them."

He also advocates for at least this one day, the practice of the Golden Rule.

McINTYRE BROS., Carrier Boys.

[Inside Pages]
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Do you hear the bells a chiming?
Do you hear the loud cannonading in the air?
Or, is it but the echo of the Carrier Boy's rhyming,
As he shouts his glad message everywhere?

A New Century is born!
A New Century is born!
The Nineteenth departed in the night.
The Twentieth now is here
Whit this gladsome bright new year,
Born out of darkness into light.

Wake up, you girls and boys;
Throw aside your childish toys;
Wake up, young men and maidens fair;
Wake up, ye wives and sires,
While the young folks start the fires;
Wrap the infant year in swaddling clothes of prayer.

Yes, let prayer ascend on high,
And thanks-givings reach the sky,
For the goodness that has crowned the century gone;
For, despite the livid clouds,
And the blood-shed and the shrouds,
Blue skies and glorious sunlight oft have shone.

Sounds of victory fill the air-
Progress, progress everywhere,
And shadows cast of victories yet to be
Have marked the rolling years,
Despite the blood and tears
That have flowed on, as rivers to the sea.

A wondrous Century true;
As we look it through and through
Our minds are filled with wonder and amaze
From the darkness of the night
Such things have burst to light
As both startle and entrance us as we gaze.

Electricity and steam
And Apollo's ardent beam
In the searching light of science, well applied,
Are bringing men together,
Despite foul winds and weather,
And despite the ocean-stretches that divide.

Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
For the gladsome coming day
Which the centuries loudly herald as they fly,
When the glorious "Prince of Peace"
Shall cause all feuds to cease-
It is coming, it is coming by and by.

I'll change the tune now, if you please-
'Twill give me breath and greater ease.

A wondrous Century true has gone;
Much good and evil, blending,
Having marked the onward march of years
From start down to its ending;
For "bearded Wrong" and fair-faced Right,
Fierce warfare have been waging-
Nor has the conflict ended yet;
The battle still is raging.

Yet, gladly have our eyes beheld
The powers of darkness quailing;
The Right is pouring in its light,
And light is all prevailing;
And tho-the Century set in blood,
With sounds of strife appalling,
Yet, shall the world rich harvest reap
From seed of red-drops falling.

That seed has fallen fast of late
On many a field of battle,
Where hoary Tyranny has reigned,
And men have been as cattle;
And in the latest bloody strife,
Where Liberty lay bleeding,
The noble lads of this our land
Have done their share of seeding.

May this dear land we call our own,
With every blessing flowing,
Be rich in truest manhood still,
For centuries past our knowing,
And may no feuds of race or spite,
Nor feuds of party sunder
The ties which bind us, heart to heart
'Neath the grand flag we're under.

Our Gracious Queen is reigning still;
Long may she reign, God bless her!
And, when He calls her, may He send
A good and wise successor.
And may the British Empire still,
The world's respect commanding,
Show union true in all its parts
For human progress standing.

A word or two now, by your leave.
I've changed my plan, so you'll perceive.
Instead of details, as before,
Of great events the world wide o'er,
French English, Spanish, German, Russ
Boer fights, Bull fights or Chinese muss
And all such ilk, you know them well, --
Why, then, should I take time to tell
What's known already?-Now I'll go.
Please let your kindly hearts o'erflow
In generous gifts of your good-will,
My empty purse this morn to fill
There, thanks, and a Happy New Year's Day
To you and yours for ever and aye.

Date of Original