The Knoll

Author Unknown
November 26, 1980

“The Knoll”, located at the end of Maiden Lane (so-called because a number of elderly spinsters lived there) is on the land which originally formed part of Lot No. 12, a 200 acre grant deeded by letter patent on July 31st, 1834, by the Crown to Andrew W. Hennigar, and ran from a 60 rod (990 feet) frontage on the Kennebecasis River, south easterly inland through the present Town of Rothesay in the Grove Avenue area back to the base line of the grant near Mackay Highway.

On December 1st, 1840, the land was sold to William Harding Jr., a farmer, for 650 pounds sterling ($3,163.87 Canadian) who in turn sold it to Joshua Scribner, another farmer, on September 11th, 1841, although the deed was not registered until May 19th, 1853. Seth Scribner, truckman, and his brothers and sisters inherited the land on the death of Joshua and he sold to J. Morris Robinson, banker, on September 21st, 1877.

Mr. Robinson divided the tract into lots, one of which 400′ x 600′ is referred to as “The Knoll” and this was deeded to J. Harry Robertson, accountant, for $1,500. On November 1st, 1894. The present house was probably built around 1877, the year “Rothesay College” was founded as the house had some connection with he early days of the school, I believe as an auxiliary dormitory.

The property was again sold, on January 4th, 1898, to George A. Freeze, Agent of Main Central Railway; what George paid was not disclosed, but he turned the place over to John A. Pooley, barber, on May 21st, 1903, for $2,000. The barbering business was good enough for John to hang out until April 7th, 1911, when he should out to James B. McMurray, superintendent of dredges, and his wife Jane.

On May 11th, 1917, Elsa Majorie Ellis bought the property. She and her husband Harold had been living in Saint John and summering in Rothesay Park; he had attended “Rothesay College”, as Rothesay Collegiate School was then known, over on the next hilltop, from 1898 to 1902 and the location would therefore have been familiar to him; also, his uncle James G. Robertson owned “Karsalie” now Shadow Lawn.

The original house had a two-story ‘ell’ containing the kitchen and third bedroom; the other bedrooms each had a marble fireplace, directly above the two in the ground floor rooms. Later, the vacant formed by the ‘ell’ was eliminated with the addition of a dining room off the kitchen and a large bedroom above, which accounts for the incongruous inward slope of the stairway wall.

As with so many older home the driveway circles the house; it was much easier for a horse to go around then back and turn, particularly with a sleigh.

A barn with a mansard roof to match the house, and cathedral-like hayloft doors, together with an ice house in a shady stand of black spruce on the northern side, provided facilities with a rural existence.

The area was much more utilized for agriculture at that time; old photographs show pastureland where brush and trees now grow. Tom Bell’s Jersey cow was allowed to graze the lower part of the property; it’s owner resided in the large house across the highway from Shadow Lawn. On two sides Fred Taylor’s prize winning dual purpose Shorthorns would be chomping away contentedly, while on the third side David Goldie’s Jersey, and horses Minnie and Easter, would be lifting their heads warily to see who was coming up the land.

A capable and enthusiastic cook, and with sic children, Elsa Eliss had a pressing need for a large and ready supply of fresh eggs. And so, a poultry house and flock of hens provided the answer. I cannot recall any garbage disposal system; what we didn’t eat the hens did and anything else went into the coal and wood kitchen stove or the furnace; the few cans and bottles went to the barn until winter and were then hauled away to some unknown destination.

Society has now come to the point where we buy food wrapped in plastic (made from expensive and diminishing crude oil) and gift wrap the remnants in more plastic to be picked up by a $25,000 garbage truck…and we find the cause of high prices baffling. Well, not all of us.