Daniel Small Lost Ottawa
**February 5, 2018** ·
A hot summer day at Black Rapids, c1960, Grandpa having me jump in off the pier.

Today, a certified ghost story, one of the hair-raising creepy, sort, and told by Mr. John Boyd, who lived just south of Carlsbad Springs. Mr. Boyd lives in Gloucester, but the story concerns the township of Nepean opposite Black Rapids. The chief actor in this exciting story was Mr. Boyd’s father, a north of Ireland man, who came to Canada in the 1830s, and settled near Black Rapids on the Gloucester side of the river.

Recollection of Drowned Lands on River Sticks (Styx), Rideau Canal

In the1850s there began to sift into Gloucester strange stories about a ghost that was being frequently seen across the river in Nepean, on a vacant farm on the edge of what was known as the “drowned lands”. The stories grew clearer and more circumstantial. Many persons were seeing the ghost, or whatever it was.

One night at the Boyd home representatives of the Padgett, Davidson, Mulligan, Nash, Stratford and Collins families discussed the supposed ghost, and came to the conclusion that the matter should be investigated. Alex Boyd volunteered to do the investigating. It was winter at the time. The next night, being full moonlight, Mr. Boyd decided to make the trip, and make it alone, so that the ghost would not be scared away by too many people. Mr. John Boyd says his father after getting across the river into Nepean went to the home of Allck Mulligan. It was near Mr. Mulligan’s that the vacant farm was and besides Mr. Mulligan was stated to have frequently seen the apparition.

When Mr. Boyd arrived at the home of Mr. Mulligan, Mr. M. confirmed the statement that he had often seen the apparition. He showed Mr. Boyd the spot where the ghost was always seen at aspot near the edge of a marsh. He, however, advised Mr. Boyd not to go alone. One could never tell what might happen. Mr. Boyd said that he was not afraid and that he came alone by choice. Leaving Mr. Mulligan’s comfortable fireside, Mr. Boyd started alone for the deserted farm, and took up a position at a point near the line of the spectre’s regular progress.

He waited with an afterwards admitted nervousness. Shortly after 12.00 (midnight) Mr. Boyd became aware of the approach of a white spectral object. He could observe the form of a man, but there were no features, and the limbs were not clearly defined. But the object moved. It sort of glided along. There was no sound of crunching snow, nothing, but a deadly silence an uncanny silence. Mr. Boyd’s hair began to literally rise on his head. But he fought back the fear that began to assail him.

He had felt himself in the presence of something supernatural. As the white indefinite object drew near Alex Boyd steeled his nerves. He aeciaea to speak to tne tning. ae in a often heard in Ireland that if one spoke to a ghost, it would be set at liberty from its wanderings. As the spectre came within 50 feet the Gloucester man called out: “Who are you and what do you want?” There was no response. When the ghost was nearly opposite him, Mr. Boyd again called out: “Speak, what troubles you?” Again no answer, but the apparition glided slowly by.

Archives of Ontario
Lock, Dam, &c at the Black Rapids – Men pumping Water out of the Lock, to hang the Gates &c, 1830

By this time Alex Boyd was fully convinced that he was talking to a ghost. Cold perspiration broke out over him. He decided, however, to follow the apparition in the hope that it would lead him to the source of Its trouble. The ghost kept on its course, skirting the marsh and heading towards the river, the direction in which Mr. Boyd would have to go to get home. The pace of the ghost accelerated, but the man managed to keep up with it, plowing through deep snow and climbing over obstacles. He noticed that there were no marks on the snow where the ghost moved. He knew then that the thing he followed was supernatural.

In due time the apparition cane to the Rideau River. It descended the bank, and went out onto the snow, covering the river. As Mr. Boyd got to the top of the bank, he saw the appartion go into thin nothingness and just disappear. Mr. Boyd went home that night full of wonder as to what it was an about. Had there been a murder committed on the vacant farm or had some former occupant of the farm been drowned In the river? Later other people from both sides of the river saw the appartion,, but Alex Boyd did not have any desire for a further sight of it. He agreed with Mr. Allck Mulligan that ghosts were good things to leave alone.

From Lost Ottawa

Kris GibbsMy father was the Lockmaster at Black Rapids for the better part of a decade. If memory serves me, it was from the early to late 90s.

Jimmie EllacottWhere I learned to swim in the 50s with my sister Bev.

Eileen MahoneyI remember going there a lot with my parents so my Dad could put his boat in

Geoff Baker

February 9, 2018 · This undated photo of Black Rapids shows the ‘beach’ area in the lower right, with the boat tie up jetty beside it. The beach, in my experience, has very little sand and is grass right to the water, and the water is more swampy than beachy. The weir and chute are on the left in this image, and there is no beach there.

Above the dam is also without beach, but there’s a nice grassy picnic area — on my experience it’s that picnic ground that is the attraction.

David Delaneyused to go fishing there as a kid , while dad sat in the lockmasters house sharing a bottle with the lockmaster , remember an incident when a muskie pulled a little kid off the dock into the river

Margaret McNarryLoved Black Rapids! Mom and Dad would take us there for picnics and swimming. I learned to swim there. My youngest brother was always looking for the “Rabbits”!

Brian NortonRipped bathing suits sliding down that weir.

Betty PilbrowSpent so much time at Black Rapids in the early 50s. As soon as Dad got home from work we’d pack up the car with our coolers, blankets and everything else beach related! We three girls would jump off the locks when Mom and Dad weren’t looking…so much fun

Micheal KostenukIn the early 60s, my friends and I would bike there in the summers from City View. Loved Black Rapids, especially the side with the little dam/falls that we’d slide down.

CLIPPED FROM
The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada29 Aug 1925, Sat • Page 26

John T. Robertson Obituary- Caldwell Bookeeper Rideau Canal

Did Anyone Find the Lost Barrel of Silver Coins That Lies at the Bottom of the Rideau Canal?

When One Boat Filled the Rideau Lock–Rideau King

It’s BUTTON IT ON SATURDAY AT THE CARLETON PLACE AND BECKWITH HERITAGE MUSEUM-– Plus-Vickie Racey, formerly of Vintage Wear/Ware in Almonte will be at “Button It” selling vintage millinery supplies, sewing baskets, needlepoint and more!

The Boy with the Brass Buttons
A young couple were delighted to purchase the old-fashioned house in the Stuyvesant Square section of Philadelphia. They moved into their dream home in the winter of 1889, bringing their six year old daughter with them.

There was a lot of refurbishing to do, so the little girl tended to go up to the attic to play while her parents were occupied with the house. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, because the previous owners had converted the attic into a playroom. It even had a fireplace at one point, but it was currently boarded up.

After a couple of weeks of hard work, the downstairs rooms were finished. The mother, realizing that she had been neglecting their daughter, attempted to try and spend more time with her now, but the little girl seemed distracted. She kept stealing back up to the attic alone to play.

Exasperated, and perhaps a little hurt the the child was not being responsive to her attentions, the mother finally asked, “What’s so interesting up there in that stuffy room?”

“It’s the little boy with the shiny buttons,” the child replied. “He’s so much fun to play with!”

“What little boy?” the mother demanded, wondering if a servant child had stowed away in the room. She went to investigate, but found the room empty.

Certain that her daughter was just being contrary, she urged her husband to discipline the child. At her father’s stern voice the little girl became hysterical. She kept repeating that there was a little boy and he wore a blue jacket with lots of shiny buttons on it. As her father listened, he became more and more curious. Formerly a s eaman, he realized his daughter was describing a child’s sailor suit, complete with the brass buttons.

The girl’s father made some inquires about the Cowderlys, the family that lived in the house before them. He learned that they had come from England, bringing their children with them, two boys and a girl. The youngest child, a boy, was born retarded. The neighbors described the youngest boy as a sweet innocent child, but added that Mr. Cowderly was ashamed of him and tried to prevent him from being seen outdoors.

According to the boy’s parents, the neighbors continued, the young boy would often sneak out to go down to the river. The story goes on to say that one day he fell in and drowned. His body was never recovered, but his cap had been found floating in the river. Shortly after the disappearance, the Cowderlys put the house up for sale and, leaving Philadelphia, dropped out of sight.

The former seaman’s suspicions were now thoroughly aroused. He accompanied his little daughter to the attic and asked her to show him where the little boy came from. She pointed to the boarded up fireplace. Her father called in workers to open it and then to remove the mortar that cemented up a cavity beside the chimney.

As the mortar was chipped away, the corpse of a small boy was revealed. He was clothed in a little blue sailor jacket with four rows of brass buttons down the front. Further examination revealed that the back of the child’s head had been crushed by a violent blow.

The little boy had not been drowned– he had been murdered!