merchant. In the Legislative Council (a body since abolished) Souris was represented by Patrick Walker of Charlottetown and Joseph Dingwell, a farmer ship- builder from Bay Fortune. At election time candidates made their speeches outside the polling stations and then the voters went in and cast their ballots. One of the great orators in Prince Edward Island history was Edward Whalen, who made his first political speech standing on a molasses puncheon in Annandale, and went on to represent the Second District of King‘s in the Legislature for 20 years. In Souris candidates generally spoke from a balcony, either at Moynagh’s Inn or, later, Big Jim MacDonald’s Hotel. There was no secret ballot. The voter filed past a window in a little booth or room where the returning officer and poll clerk sat to record his vote. Then he got away as quickly as possible in case his friends — or enemies —— discovered he had voted the wrong way. Government regulations posted on every tavern door forbade the sale of liquor on election day\. This edict was universally ignored: the accepted practice in King’s County was to have a barrel of rum broached on the grounds of the polling station, with a tin dipper at- tached where one could quench a thirst or feed a quarrel.

Rum, of course, is famous as a sailor’s drink, and it has long been in demand in Souris. In former times Souris was often visited by the famous fleet of fishing schooners from Gloucester in New England. When their sails were seen on the horizon word spread among the ladies of the town, and a pie social or church supper would be prepared to offer them an alternative to “demon rum." At one time Souris had 14 bar rooms, but soon after 1900 Prohibition became the law in Prince Edward Island, and they were all closed down. For many years alcoholic beverages could be obtained legally only on the prescription of a physician, and drinking became

9%,

n:

W

a furtive guilty pasttime, supported by rum-running and bootlegging. Since 1964 the sale of liquor to the public has been legal in clubs and lounges, and it has been available in government liquor stores longer than that; but the social evil of alcoholism, created by the attitudes of both “wets” and “drys” in times past, still lingers.

Adele Townshend’s nostalgic reminiscences of her Souris childhood will serve to bring our survey down to the time of living memory. “Five cents was a marvellous fortune in those days,” she recalls, “and if you didn’t lose it between the cracks of the wooden sidewalk you could buy penny goods at Mrs. Bill Poole’s store on the corner of Main and Breakwater streets. You had a wide choice of jawbreakers, honeymoons, hard hats, hunky dories, peanut bolsters, a peppermint stick with a ring on it, or a long narrow bag of popcorn with a prize in it — all at one cent each. And all, as I recall, tasted wonderful. Or you could go across the street for a cone of homemade ice cream at Vincent Maclsaac’s store. Mamie Vince's ice cream was a treat for a king. At the other end of town, on the way to St. Mary's Convent, Jim Paquet sat in his small store within reach of all the penny candy. He didn’t have to get off his chair, and you could take all the time in the world to make your choice.

“For ten cents you could see the silent movie in the Benevolent Irish Society Hall, where Marie Paquet (now Mrs. William Campbell of Charlottetown) played the piano while the pictures and captions flashed across the screen. Whatever the movie, we heard good music played by an accomplished musician. The first “talkie" to play in Souris was called “Feet of Clay”, and it took a lot of coaxing of parents to be allowed to attend. The title seemed to imply all was not as it should be. Movie patrons got a lot for their money then: a comedy, newsreel, serial (remember “The Green Archer"?), the

Irishman on parade in Souris on Sf.Pafrick's Day.