a tale passed down by grandchildren, a tale that paints John in a different light. According to them, he had been “a whisky smuggler all his life in the old country,” a man who knew the back trails and the hidden glens, always one step ahead of the Excisemen. They say his real name was McIntosh, and that he took the name Crerar to disguise himself when he fled to Canada.

When Timothy finished, a calm settled in the clearing. The forest around them seemed to pause, just long enough for John to fully absorb the weight of what he had heard. Here was a man who had shaped the land with his own hands, who had endured sickness, loneliness, debt, and uncertainty, and who had risen above it through sheer determination.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looks off into the distance as if he sees the place he speaks of. “I came from Berwickshire, in Scotland, from near the town of Lauder. I settled in this township in the summer of 1832, when this and the adjoining township began to be settled.” Referring to North and South Easthope townships.