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Fergus: A Scottish Town By Birthright
Pat Mestern, author of several earlier books and an ardent booster of her hometown, has produced an entertaining personal account of Fergus, while maintaining the historical perspective and utilizing the rich oral history of the area. Her lighter look at some of the characters and the escapades that add flavour to life in small-town Ontario make this a delightful read. Ghost stories and "the legacy of the one-legged chickens" are memorable examples of her Fergus. The settlement of Fergus, originally known as Little Falls, was founded by two Lowland Scots, Adam Fergusson and James Webster, both advocates by profession. The practice they introduced of giving all new streets Scottish names is still maintained by the local council. "I first met Pat Mestern back in 1988 when I arrived in Fergus, Ontario, to perform at the Highland Games. Her gracious reception was the aperture to a community which directly conveyed to me a sense of 'The Auld Country.' The charm of the town and its surroundings along with the enthusiastic greeting I received from the audience is remembered well and has endeared the people of Fergus to me. I am delighted that this community now has a publication to portray its history so that kindred Celts can discover this 'Wee Bit o' Scotland' in Canada." - Alex Beaton, Glenfinnan Music Ltd., Woodland Hills, California.
128 pages, Paperback
First published June 15, 1995
2 people are currently reading
4 people want to read
About the author
Pat Mattaini Mestern
9 books9 followersA Glimpse Into a Well Known Author’s Life:
Hello there. Thanks for dropping in for a browse-round. Perhaps a little bit about me would pique your interest in my books? I spent my childhood years in an eccentric, chaotic environment which guaranteed a titillation of the senses. I absorbed information and history through the vibrant lifestyles and memories of my grandmother, mother, father and a plethora of interesting people that lived in the area. I was surrounded by books, music and stimulating conversation. I was allowed to read any book that piqued my attention, no questions asked.
Mother, who could turn a loaf of bread and a tin of sardines into a meal for twenty, was a down-to-earth, sensible person with a wonderful sense of humour. She was the backbone of the household and had direct links to both Sir Walter Scott and a passenger on the Mayflower. On the other hand, Dad was one of the most eccentric individuals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He was born in Canada to parents of Italian heritage and prided himself on being an original back-to-the-lander even though his land was only two acres at the edge of the village. He dabbled in greenhouses, an orchard, beekeeping . . . all the while working full time at a factory job to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads - barely.
Dad’s maternal grandfather worked on the Eiffel Tower in France before immigrating to Wellington County, Ontario. My paternal grandfather, Charlie Mattaini, designed and built many of the beautiful bowstring bridges seen throughout Wellington, Grey, Dufferin and Bruce counties in Ontario. My paternal grandmother, who lived next door, was the only grandparent that I knew. She was passionate about life, an excellent seamstress and an astute business woman, at a time when the words business and woman weren’t thought of in the same sentence. Among other enterprises, she ran a boarding house through which a large number of immigrants passed, each with an interesting story to tell.
I found that history, as taught in school, was boring but I revelled in the anecdotal/folkloric variety heard around the dining room table. I was, and still am, an avid, fast and retentive reader. I did have a great high school English teacher, and mentor, Miss Amy Yourex, who boarded with Grandmother. My learning included attendance at grade and high schools and a stint at a business college where I admit that I went more to learn how to type - fast - then for any other reason.
I’ve never lived more than a mile from my childhood home. As a sweet young thing, I married Ted Mestern, and shortly thereafter moved into a heritage 1879 limestone house, aptly named Stonehome, which is still our home. Assuming the role of wife and mother in this heritage building, that is so powerfully evocative of the past, really matured my potential as a writer of historical fiction, and local history. My creative bent was further stimulated by a stint at the local County Museum where a love of history really came to the fore and took flight. The bent was also fuelled by a full-time job that kept me attuned to local scenarios and happenings, of political and cultural natures for a number of years - all providing food for thought, grist for the pen.
After moving into Stonehome, Clara Young, the main character in my first novel, “Clara”, was quick to imprint her unusual talents into my fertile mind, even though she’d been dead for thirty-four years. Clara, an eccentric spinster, owned “Stonehome” 1879 through 1931. I began to keep journals, gather folkloric stories and finally turned to writing, my first love - after hubby and children, of course - much to Miss Yourex’s delight because she said that she always knew I’d be a writer. I well remember the pivotal point in this blossoming career. As I left the dinner table one cold, stormy November night in 1977, Ted asked what I had planned for the evening.
“I’m going to write a book.
Hello there. Thanks for dropping in for a browse-round. Perhaps a little bit about me would pique your interest in my books? I spent my childhood years in an eccentric, chaotic environment which guaranteed a titillation of the senses. I absorbed information and history through the vibrant lifestyles and memories of my grandmother, mother, father and a plethora of interesting people that lived in the area. I was surrounded by books, music and stimulating conversation. I was allowed to read any book that piqued my attention, no questions asked.
Mother, who could turn a loaf of bread and a tin of sardines into a meal for twenty, was a down-to-earth, sensible person with a wonderful sense of humour. She was the backbone of the household and had direct links to both Sir Walter Scott and a passenger on the Mayflower. On the other hand, Dad was one of the most eccentric individuals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He was born in Canada to parents of Italian heritage and prided himself on being an original back-to-the-lander even though his land was only two acres at the edge of the village. He dabbled in greenhouses, an orchard, beekeeping . . . all the while working full time at a factory job to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads - barely.
Dad’s maternal grandfather worked on the Eiffel Tower in France before immigrating to Wellington County, Ontario. My paternal grandfather, Charlie Mattaini, designed and built many of the beautiful bowstring bridges seen throughout Wellington, Grey, Dufferin and Bruce counties in Ontario. My paternal grandmother, who lived next door, was the only grandparent that I knew. She was passionate about life, an excellent seamstress and an astute business woman, at a time when the words business and woman weren’t thought of in the same sentence. Among other enterprises, she ran a boarding house through which a large number of immigrants passed, each with an interesting story to tell.
I found that history, as taught in school, was boring but I revelled in the anecdotal/folkloric variety heard around the dining room table. I was, and still am, an avid, fast and retentive reader. I did have a great high school English teacher, and mentor, Miss Amy Yourex, who boarded with Grandmother. My learning included attendance at grade and high schools and a stint at a business college where I admit that I went more to learn how to type - fast - then for any other reason.
I’ve never lived more than a mile from my childhood home. As a sweet young thing, I married Ted Mestern, and shortly thereafter moved into a heritage 1879 limestone house, aptly named Stonehome, which is still our home. Assuming the role of wife and mother in this heritage building, that is so powerfully evocative of the past, really matured my potential as a writer of historical fiction, and local history. My creative bent was further stimulated by a stint at the local County Museum where a love of history really came to the fore and took flight. The bent was also fuelled by a full-time job that kept me attuned to local scenarios and happenings, of political and cultural natures for a number of years - all providing food for thought, grist for the pen.
After moving into Stonehome, Clara Young, the main character in my first novel, “Clara”, was quick to imprint her unusual talents into my fertile mind, even though she’d been dead for thirty-four years. Clara, an eccentric spinster, owned “Stonehome” 1879 through 1931. I began to keep journals, gather folkloric stories and finally turned to writing, my first love - after hubby and children, of course - much to Miss Yourex’s delight because she said that she always knew I’d be a writer. I well remember the pivotal point in this blossoming career. As I left the dinner table one cold, stormy November night in 1977, Ted asked what I had planned for the evening.
“I’m going to write a book.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 17, 2021
This is one of Pat’s books that I bought. I have read this once and I am reading it again. Very interesting book to use to get to know more about Fergus. May I suggest you read it.
March 28, 2009
A great easy to read history of Fergus, Ontario, Canada with lots of historic photographs
September 20, 2024
I borrowed this book from the Fergus library over and over again when I was a kid growing up there. I'm delighted to have found it again!
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews