Wayside Weeds

In Short

This collection of poems and light verse serves as a curated retrospective of the intellectual and social life of a prominent Toronto academic at the dawn of the twentieth century. Compiled by friends as a tribute, the volume blends earnest reflections on nature and friendship with witty, self-deprecating commentary on university culture, fishing, and the evolving world. It has endured as a charming artifact of a specific time and place, capturing the genial, multifaceted personality of a man who moved easily between the laboratory bench and the riverbank.

The Story

The collection begins with a scholarly introduction that frames the author as a figure of "Elysian" seriousness and playfulness. It quickly pivots to a narrative poem, "Little White Crow," which recounts a legendary clash between a Jesuit priest and an Algonkin fisherman. The priest, a man of rigid faith and poor canoeing skills, finds himself rescued from drowning by the resourceful Crow. In a gesture of supreme religious devotion, the priest bestows upon his savior a relic: the back tooth of Saint Anne, which he claims will cure everything from the vapours to the gout. The story moves to a comic climax when, during an Iroquois ambush, the fisherman loads this holy tooth into his musket to fend off the attackers. The projectile strikes the enemy chief on the nose, where it remains stuck, eventually leading to a tense, miraculous resolution when the captive priest is forced to remove it to save the chief's life.

Following this centerpiece, the book shifts into a series of lyrical meditations and humorous observations on the natural world and academic life. The author finds beauty in the "Skunk Cabbage," celebrating its hardy nature as an early sign of spring, and offers detailed, rhythmic advice to his fellow anglers in "The Song of the Bass" and "The Cowdung Fly." The narrative voice remains consistent: that of a man who takes his leisure as seriously as his work.

The final section of the book turns toward the social and intellectual landscape of Toronto. The author reflects on the passage of time in "When You and I were Young, Adam," a tribute to a colleague that traces the transition from the certainties of the Victorian era to the scientific and technological shifts of the early 1900s. He celebrates his circle of friends through toasts and elegies, acknowledging the inevitable retirement of his peers. The book concludes with a poignant, respectful address to a retiring colleague, Professor R. Ramsay Wright, framing their scientific pursuits as a quest to find harmony within the "seeming discords" of life. It leaves the reader with a sense of a life well-lived—one defined by loyalty, quiet observation, and the constant, rhythmic movement of the Canadian landscape.

How It Unfolds

The legendary rescue A clumsy Jesuit priest tumbles from his canoe into the river, only to be dragged to safety by an Algonkin named Little White Crow. The priest attempts to reward his savior with a "relic" of Saint Anne, which is, in fact, a large, decayed molar.

A miraculous defense During a skirmish with Iroquois warriors, the fisherman accidentally uses the holy tooth as musket shot. The tooth embeds itself in the enemy chief’s nose, inciting panic among the tribe who believe their foes are shedding teeth like porcupines.

The healing of the chief The priest is later captured by the same tribe and forced to treat the agonizing, tooth-afflicted chief. Through a simple, ironic gesture of faith, the priest removes the relic, secures his own release, and earns the tribe's gratitude.

The naturalist’s observations The book transitions from legend to the quiet, muddy edges of swampy streams. The author pauses to celebrate the "Skunk Cabbage," finding dignity in a plant that others dismiss for its odor, and offering a rhythmic, joyful ode to his favorite fishing lures.

The academic circle The tone shifts to the social rituals of a university town, featuring humorous complaints about "duffer" golfers and the absurdities of professional poets. These pieces reflect the camaraderie of colleagues who gather for dinners, toasts, and shared memories.

The final reflection The collection closes by looking back on a long career, reconciling the scientific discoveries of the modern age with the values of an older generation. The author bids a thoughtful farewell to his peers, framing their collective work as a noble attempt to understand the complexities of existence.

The People

Little White Crow stands as the quintessential man of the forest: resourceful, unimpressed by religious superstition, and physically adept. He serves as a foil to Father Le Cocq, the Jesuit priest, who is a man of intense, almost absurd conviction. Le Cocq is physically described as "spindle of shank" and "scraggy of neck," yet he possesses an unshakable, if sometimes misplaced, zeal. Their interaction highlights the friction between two disparate worldviews.

The narrator himself is a central presence, though he often masks his identity behind a playful, scholarly persona. Whether he is writing about the "Big Hornet" (the Iroquois chief) or his friend Adam, the narrator acts as a mediator between the wild, natural world and the structured life of the university. He is a man of dualities: a chemist who appreciates the "colloidal specks" of life, but also a fisherman who believes a "Cowdung Fly" is the most important tool in his kit.

Finally, the collection includes several colleagues, most notably Adam H. Wright and Professor R. Ramsay Wright. These figures represent the intellectual community of Toronto, acting as the sounding board for the author’s reflections on aging, duty, and the preservation of knowledge. They are portrayed not as distant figures, but as friends whose presence gives meaning to the passing decades and the "jarring chords" of professional life.

In Its Own Voice

The author finds beauty in the humble, early-blooming plants that others ignore:

The poets all reject thee, / The vulgar scorn thee or neglect thee.

(This is said of the Skunk Cabbage, which the author greets as an "old friend" in the woods.)

He uses his light-hearted wit to address the frustrations of the golf course:

A duffer must I ever be, / A duffer I have lived and died / A duffer through Eternity.

(This reflection comes at the end of a poem detailing the afterlife of a mediocre player.)

The author links his scientific background to his poetic observations of nature:

In Nature's score, with seeming discords rife, / We seek to read, with you, the note that brings / To harmony the jarring chords of life.

(This is a tribute to a retiring colleague who spent his career in the biological sciences.)

What It's Really About

At its core, the book explores the reconciliation of disparate worlds: the scientific and the romantic, the professional and the personal, and the rigid past and the fluid, modern future. The author suggests that a meaningful life is found not in choosing one over the other, but in embracing the "way-side weeds"—the small, often overlooked, and sometimes malodorous parts of existence. He argues that even in a world governed by chemistry and changing social norms, there remains an essential need for playfulness, local loyalty, and the quiet observation of nature. The collection is a quiet meditation on how one maintains integrity and a sense of wonder while navigating the "jarring chords" of a professional career and the inevitable passage of time.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the gentle, observant humor of early twentieth-century academic life will find much to admire here. There is a warm, fireside quality to the writing, particularly in the fishing songs and the poems about the Canadian wilderness, which feel both timeless and deeply rooted in a specific geography. The book captures the spirit of a "gentleman scholar" who was as comfortable debating the origins of the soul as he was frying a fresh bass over a campfire.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book's period attitudes. The poem "Little White Crow" relies on nineteenth-century tropes regarding Indigenous people and the role of the Jesuit missions, which will strike a contemporary audience as both dated and problematic. Furthermore, the light verse often assumes a familiarity with classical literature and university politics that may feel obscure. The dialect and the specific references to long-gone local figures require some patience. Yet, for those interested in the history of Toronto’s intellectual circles or the specific, whimsical intersection of science and poetry, the book remains a fascinating, if uneven, window into a bygone era. It lingers because of its pervasive, self-deprecating kindness and its sincere appreciation for the small, quiet joys of the natural world.