The Ghostliest "Ghost Town" in Middlesex

Located on Napier Road in Adelaide-Metcalfe Township, the ghost town of Napier is a one-of-a-kind place. Nestled in the woods on the Sydenham River, Napier has a feeling of abandonment about it. It's undoubtedly Middlesex County's most romantic-looking vanished village. I've been here many times, somehow drawn to the place.

This area was first settled about 1829 by retired British military men. Among the most important of these was Captain Christopher Beer, who spent 14 years in the Royal Navy. In 1830, he received 800 acres of land in what is now Napier, where he built a two-storey log home and a large barn. In fact, 1835 was referred to by the locals as "the year Captain Beer's big barn was raised."* Most of the able-bodied men in the west end of the county assisted in its construction.

Another early settler here was Captain Robert Johnston, a Waterloo veteran who arrived with his family in 1832. Like many military men, he received land for his service. He wasn't the average settler, though; he arrived in the wilderness with bagpipes, a piano, 30 complete sets of military arms, and about £2,000.** Those sets of arms came in handy during the Rebellion of 1837; Johnston taught local women how to shoot so that they could defend themselves against attack while their husbands were away fighting the rebels. Not surprisingly, Johnston had the funds to build himself a large brick house with six chimneys on the east side of the future village site. Anglican church services were apparently first held in this home since it was large enough to hold a congregation.

One of the first public buildings constructed here was St. Mary's Anglican Church. The land for the church, on a hill north of the village, was donated by Charles Preston. The exact construction date varies with the source, but the church was completed around 1843. The oldest remaining church in Middlesex County, St. Mary's Chapel of Ease holds an annual Decoration Day Service in June. It's a day I try not to miss, since it's an opportunity to enter a primitive pioneer building that's usually closed. 

Attendees gather at St. Mary's Anglican Church, Napier, on June 28, 2026, for the annual service.

A cemetery surrounds the church. When Captain Christopher Beer died in 1871 at the age of 80, he was buried under a stone that reads "Anchored in the harbour of eternal rest." What more fitting tribute to a sea captain?

The grave of Captain Christopher Beer at St. Mary's, Napier.

In another corner lie the remains of Joe and Mary Wrinkle:

The original, now nearly illegible Wrinkle grave marker, next to a newer monument.

The replacement monument was recently added by Joe and Mary's descendants.

Joe was a fugitive slave from Louisiana who followed the Underground Railway to its ultimate destination, Canada. According to Napier resident Dana Bernier, who related Joe's story at this year's Decoration Day service, Joe was offered his white bride as partial payment for work on a local farm. According to a booklet entitled Napier Remembered, Joe worked on the Beer estate, and his wife was Mary McPhail of St. Thomas. When folks asked her why she married Joe, she replied, "His gracious manners and kindly ways took my fancy. The colour of his skin doesn't matter."*** I'd like to think Mary had some choice in her marriage. 

The array of signs at St. Mary's: the blue plaque unveiled by a descendant of Christopher Beer, a contribution from the Middlesex Historic Trail, and the 911 sign indicating 1418 Melwood Drive. 

Another early building here was a schoolhouse. The earliest school building was on the St. Mary's churchyard site, but, in 1866, a two-room school was built on Mary Street. The school building standing on Mary today, S. S. No. 3 Metcalfe, was built in 1900, the different brick colours suggesting it was built partially from the bricks of the earlier school. For a while, this building was a Women's Institute. By the way, according to this, the township would like someone to buy it. 

Metcalfe S. S. No. 3 is now boarded up. Note the Middlesex Heritage Trail sign on the entranceway.

Eventually, a bustling village developed here on the banks of the Sydenham. Johnston built a store and gristmill in 1838, importing millstones from Scotland that had to be hauled here by oxen from Port Stanley. Johnston also built a sawmill to harvest the black walnut trees in the neighbourhood. Not surprisingly, an early name for the community was Johnston's Mills. Later, it was known as Puffing Town from the sound of the steam engine at one of Johnston's mills. Apparently, it was one of the earliest, if not the earliest, steam engines in western Ontario. 

Later, after the Township of Metcalfe was created in 1840, the village was named Metcalfe. It was not until a post office opened here on November 6, 1851, that the village was named Napier. Where does the name originate? Well, it might have been named after Sir Charles Napier (1782-1853), British general during the Napoleonic Wars, or his brother William (1785-1860), another general, who wrote History of the War in the Peninsula. Perhaps some of the military men at Napier served under one or the other? 

In 1857, J. G. Sutherland moved to Napier, acquired the mills from Johnston, and built a new woollen mill. His enterprises dominated the community for many years. In fact, it was Sutherland who built the store known as the Napier House in 1872.

Napier House store is in poor condition as of spring 2026. 

Eventually, the Napier post office moved into the building above. Sutherland's son-in-law, W. S. Calvert, took over the store afterwards. Calvert eventually became a federal Member of Parliament. 

At its height in the 1860s, Napier's population may have been about 250. The community had merchants, inns, saloons, blacksmiths, and mills. This "capital" of Metcalfe Township had a map of its own in The Illustrated Historical Atlas of the County of Middlesex (1878):

So many streets and lots laid out! But whether all the lots were occupied is a matter of conjecture at this point. Most of the streets have reverted to bush. 

There were other churches here besides St. Mary's. A frame Methodist church was built on Clover Street in about 1860, but both the church and Clover Street are gone. A Presbyterian church was built in the south end of the village about 1864, but was replaced by another in 1887. The latter, St. Andrew's, still stands, but it appears to have closed.

When an organ was installed in the church above, staunch Presbyterians were horrified. One older man, who often slept through sermons, said he never had the same feeling of sanctity while sleeping in church after the organ was added. Another fellow claimed that "it would not be long before the devil would have a fiddle in there too." Sure enough, years later, a fiddle accompanied the choir.**** 

What happened to Napier? How did such a bustling community become the backwater of today? It's mainly the fault of the railroads. Both branches of the Great Western Railway (later the Grand Trunk and still later the CNR) bypassed Napier. The northern branch passed through Kerwood and the southern through Glencoe. Next, the CPR and the Michigan Central skipped the village. The people of Napier (what were they called ... Napierites?) expected to build a station on a hill south of the Napier House, but there was never any need. Much business was lost over the years as settlers moved to points along the railway. 

It's also been suggested that once the walnut trees were depleted, there was less work for the sawmills. But whatever the reason for Napier's decline, it didn't "go bust" overnight. Instead, it slowly faded during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The post office closed in 1915, and the village became part of R. R. 3, Strathroy. 

What else remains at Napier? Well, there's the Masonic Lodge next to St. Andrew's, a 1950s building replacing an earlier version declared unsafe:

Photograph and caption taken from the Middlesex Historic Trail sign at the Masonic Lodge.

This millstone from Sutherland's gristmill sits in front of the Masonic Lodge.

Today, there are numerous newer homes in the hamlet. I can't blame people for wanting to live in such a peaceful spot. Can a ghost town still be called a ghost town when it's grown in recent years? I think so. Napier is nothing like its 1800s heyday. 

On my last trip to Napier, I visited Dana and Nancy Bernier's unofficial Napier museum and archives in their garage. The collection could be archaeological (pottery, bottles, and other artifacts) as well as historical and archival (photographs of the Wrinkle family, news articles, etc.). Dana and Nancy also moved a local pioneer log cabin to their yard and restored it:

A pioneer cabin, rescued by Dana Bernier from a nearby baseball field where it was used as a concession stand.

*"Scorched Lodge Goat Mystery To Masons of Township of Metcalfe," London Free Press, January 30, 1932, p. 8.

** Napier Grist, Woolen Mills Aided Growth of Community," London Free Press, May 21, 1949, p. 31.

***Ruth Merrick, Napier Remembered: Memories of Metcalfe Township's Pioneer Community. Arva: The Medway Valley News, 1991. A quick look at ancestry.ca indicates that Joseph H. Wrinkle (1829-92) married Mary Sarah McPhail (1843-86) who came from St. Thomas. 

**** "Scorched," LFP, p. 8.

St. Mary's Napier, Oldest Church in Middlesex

Normally, if you want to see the pioneer buildings constructed by our ancestors, you have to visit a museum like Fanshawe Pioneer Village. That's because most of our early buildings were torn down and replaced with larger, grander ones as soon as it was practical to do so. If not demolished, the earliest buildings were usually modernized to include electricity, plumbing, openable windows, and insulation. Nobody likes privations. 

That's why it's fascinating to enter one of those rare pioneer structures that's almost completely unchanged. I'm talking about St. Mary's, Napier.

St. Mary's Anglican Church, Napier, southwest of Strathroy in the Township of Adelaide-Metcalfe, held its Annual Decoration Day service on Sunday, June 22, 2025. Fred Cahill, who lives down the road, rode his horse, Beauty, to the event. She was a reminder of those long-ago days when most of the congregation arrived by horse and buggy. 

This unassuming little frame building was built in about 1841 in the village of Napier in what was, in those days, Metcalfe Township.  Centre of a thriving community founded by retired veterans of the British Army and Navy, the church remained open for weekly services until about 1920.  Then, with a dwindling congregation, the church closed. Instead of being demolished, though, it became a Chapel of Ease, still used for occasional services like the one I attended with about 30 other people (and Beauty, the horse) last Sunday.

No, my ancestors didn't live nearby, they didn't worship here, and I don't have relatives buried in the adjoining graveyard. So why attend? Because St. Mary's is now the oldest remaining church in Middlesex County and a treat for history buffs.

The story inside the service booklet states that early settler Captain Christopher Beer (gravemarker at right) was about to build himself a new house out of the local black walnut. But when he heard a church was to be constructed, he put off the building of his own home and donated the lumber to the church project instead. The walnut was used to build the chancel, pulpit, pews, and wainscotting. It's still in there today, dark and handsome as ever. 

There was more to the building project than Captain Beer, of course. The land for the church and cemetery was donated by Lieutenant Charles Preston. The Phillips family donated the oak stringers and some bricks came from Captain Johnson's brickyard. That was how a pioneer community worked; everyone pitched in what they had, whether it was time, labour, materials, or funding. 

At one time, services were so popular that a gallery was installed to accommodate everyone. But by 1895, the  gallery was deemed unsafe and the congregation was too small by then to warrant it anyway. It was removed. 

Let's step inside and see what it's like today:

"Box pews" with doors, designed to provide warmth and privacy. Such doors were common before churches were heated, allowing seating areas to retain warmth, either from bodies sitting close together or from foot warmers. When pews were owned or rented, such doors helped ensure that everyone sat in the correct place. 

Fresh flowers for the Decoration Day service. Note the walnut pulpit.

Storage.

View from the pulpit.

Pump organ added in the 1900s has not worked for 20 years. (I heard a rumour about mice.)

Close-up of the foot pedals reading "Doherty Organ." For a history of Doherty, see here.

I wonder who was small enough to sit on the back row pews? Were Victorian bums this much smaller than ours? Or did children sit here? 

Photos and documents hang on the wall. Here's a photo of those in attendance on June 30, 1963 when the blue plaque from the Archaeological and Historic Sites Board of Ontario was placed out front. One of the gents is a great-grandson of Captain Beer. 

By the way, while sitting through the half hour service presided over by Rev. Patty Dobbs Luxton of Strathroy, I became aware of the extent to which our pioneer ancestors were at the mercy of the elements. It was over 30 degrees on Sunday and this little building has only one door, early unopenable windows, and no electricity. So no air conditioning and not even a cross breeze. The heat you can't imagine. Every time I stood up, my dress stuck to the rear of the pew. Just imagine sitting there in long sleeves, multiple petticoats and a bonnet. Egad. 

Next, think about winter. No electric heat. No insulation of the modern variety. (Could there be horse hair in those walls?) No storm windows. And I'm not sure if there was ever a wood stove. The congregation might have seen the officiant's breath in the air. Huddle with your neighbours to keep warm. 

Back outside, I trotted around the graveyard. Since I first visited St. Mary's back in the 1990s, the stones have greatly deteriorated. Aside from the monument to Captain Beer (now "Anchored in the harbour of eternal rest") the others are mainly illegible:

Some TLC is obviously needed. But I'm sure that diocese funds are woefully inadequate. What's required is a fundraising organization. Would someone like to start "The Friends of St. Mary's, Napier?" I'll join.

You may be wondering why this little church closed. That's easy. It's in a ghost town. Napier, on the Sydenham River, was once one of the most important villages in west Middlesex. It was a milling village, built to take advantage of the walnut trees in the vicinity. Once the walnut trees were depleted, there was obviously less work for the sawmills.

But in 1857, according to Lovell's Canada Directory, Napier also had a gristmill, woollen mill, school, store, blacksmith, shoemaker, waggon maker, saloon, and many homes. By 1864, there were two hotels, the Napier Inn and the Sydenham House, and a population of about 250. A post office named Napier opened on November 6, 1851, under postmaster James Keefer, who was running a store with Captain John Arthur. Mail came by stagecoach. 

In all probability, Napier faded after being bypassed by the railroads. Both branches of the Great Western Railway, later the Grand Trunk or CNR, were built elsewhere, the north branch through Kerwood and the southern through Glencoe. Later the village was bypassed by the CPR and the Michigan Central. The community just couldn't win. The post office closed in 1915. 

Recently there was an attempt to restore one of Napier's old buildings, the 1872 Napier House store. The effort failed and it now looks like this: 

Apparently a saviour is needed here too. 

A greater puzzle, as far as I'm concerned, is why St. Marys was preserved after closing. In 1939, it was in poor repair, turrets fallen off the tower, windows broken, and the graveyard thick with weeds. It was restored, when and by whom I'm not sure. But with no regular congregation, there was no need for updates. It seems that enough people cared about St. Mary's to preserve it, even if it remained a primitive pioneer structure.  

I hope it remains for many years to come. 

Burns Presbyterian Church Mosa Celebrates 190 Years

A view of Burns Presbyterian Church Mosa from Kilmartin Cemetery across Dundonald Road, west Middlesex County. 

On Sunday, March 30 at 2:00 pm I attended a rare event, an historic church celebrating an anniversary. At a time when many rural churches are closing, it's a pleasure to see one commemorating the 190th anniversary of the congregation. 

The March 30th event wasn't an actual church service, mind you, but a celebration of the surrounding community and the role Burns Presbyterian played in it. The occasion, more historical than religious, was entitled "A Stroll Through Time." Actors portrayed fictional, but plausible, characters from the church's past, including an early Scottish settler, a later Dutch arrival, the last Precentor, a member of the women's auxiliary, etc. Sometimes amusing and often poignant, the stories of former congregants were well written and allowed the modern audience to imagine life in Middlesex County, Ontario in the Good Old Days. 

Event flyer includes an old photograph of the church and cemetery.

One only needs to stroll through the nearby cemetery to discover the pioneers were Scottish. Gravestones list McPhails and McIntyres and McLachlans and McVicars and Campbells and Monroes ... Well, you get the picture. 

These Scottish Highlanders arrived in the 1820s after being dispersed from Argyllshire (now Argyll) during "the clearances" - the forced eviction of people from their homes in the Highlands and Scottish Isles between 1750 and 1860. Why the eviction? Because their landlords discovered they could make more money raising sheep than by traditional farming, and therefore chose to dislodge their former tenants. With nowhere to go, large numbers of Scots had no choice but to migrate across the sea to Upper Canada.

Being good Presbyterians, the settlers wanted a church. The first, built of logs in 1835, was opposite today's church on the site of the cemetery. Unfortunately, after work began, the builders had a disagreement about the location. Construction stopped. The congregation spent the first winter in an unfinished building with no roof, windows or floor. Brrrr! And since there were no pews, everyone sat on exposed boards. It's hard to imagine something less comfortable. Not surprisingly, when spring arrived, the congregants gave up on this edifice and started again. The site continued as the cemetery.

Rear of flyer shows the four Burns Presbyterian Church structures. Note the typo at upper right: it should say "Early 1840s"

Another, more successful, log church was built in the 1840s. Not only did it possess four walls and a roof, it even had a wood stove to provide warmth. Unfortunately, in the days when there were assigned pews, the stove was a problem. Those who sat at the front, farther from the stove, shivered through the services. Those whose pews were at the rear, near the stove, roasted. Half way through, someone at the rear would get up and close the damper, cutting off the heat altogether and causing folks at the front to freeze. One elderly man, whose family pew was among the chilly, decided he could no longer stand this state of affairs. Accordingly, one winter Sunday he took the damper off as he entered the church and carried it to the front with him.*

But progress dictated a brick building. Hence, in 1867, a new church was built. The first service in that building was held by Dr. Robert Burns, a well-known professor of church history at Knox College, Toronto. The congregation must have been very impressed with the staunch Dr. Burns; they promptly named the church after him. It's been Burns Presbyterian Church Mosa (the latter is the township) ever since. 

Unfortunately, when the church needed a new roof, slate was chosen. Being too heavy, it caused the walls to buckle. One imagines congregants looking nervously about them as they sat in their pews, wondering if this was the week the church would collapse on their heads. Yet another building was needed.

Thus, the current church, finished in 1892, came to be. It's been redecorated over the years, of course. A controversial organ - how shocking! - forced the retirement of the Last Precentor in the 1900s. The hand-dug basement allowed for a church kitchen and offices in the 1950s. 

The words over the altar, nec tamen consumabatur, mean "and [yet] it was not consumed," referring to Exodus 3:2 in which Moses encounters a burning bush which is not consumed by the fire. In Christian theology the phrase has come to mean that God's people can survive the fires of persecution and suffering since God is in their midst. This has been the motto of the Church of Scotland since at least the 1690s. People evicted from their homes and struggling in a new land would certainly have understood.

Services have changed as well, not being in Gaelic since 1909. Interestingly, the flyer indicates a Gaelic Service, conducted by Rev. Theresa McDonald-Lee, will be held Sunday July 20 at 10:00 am. Who will understand it? And an anniversary service will be conducted by Rev. Laurie McKay on Sunday April 27 at 2:00 pm. How would Dr. Burns feel about female ministers, I wonder? 

I bought the church cookbook (right) while I was there. First of all, to support the church. Second, because I'm a sucker for church cookbooks, filled with delicious dips, satisfying soups, scrumptious baked goods (can't wait to try the Aero Bar Squares, made with real Aero Bars). And third, because as operational churches become rarer, so will church cookbooks. 

By the way, Burns was once a village church. The surrounding area was known as Kilmartin,** after a town back in Argyll. A post office by this name opened in 1861, operated by a John Smith. There was also a school, blacksmith, cabinetry shop, and hotel nearby. If the locals hoped to develop into a larger community, they had their hopes dashed when the Michigan Central Railroad was built through the nearby hamlet of Walkers instead. Kilmartin dwindled and the post office closed in 1911. 

Needless to say, I enjoyed my visit to Kilmartin, such as it is. The history was palpable. But there's just one thing ... the congregation has dwindled from its all time high of over 200 in 1915. Will there be a 200th anniversary?

* This story wasn't told by the actors. It comes from History of Burns Church Mosa 1835-1941. Alvinston Free Press, 1941, p. 48.

** "Kil" means church, hence the Scottish community means St. Martin's Church.

Tombstone Tourism: Decoration Day at Vinings

September 1 is Decoration Day at Vinings Cemetery, Concession 5, West Nissouri (or 22157 Purple Hill Road, Township of Thames Centre). So, when a friend decided to visit the graves of relatives who farmed nearby, I went for the ride, of course. After all, you never know who you'll find resting in one of these idyllic country graveyards. 

It's called Vinings after an early pioneer family. One Rev. Salmon Vining donated the land for the burial site, the first grave being that of his son Joseph, who died in 1855 at the age of 16 of typhoid fever. However, there's also the grave of one William Garner who died in 1837. Presumably, William was buried elsewhere and his body was re-interred at Vinings later:

Today, this is an attractive, well-cared for, Vining-filled burial ground, but it hasn't always appeared that way. In 1921, one Joseph Vining called a public meeting to deal with the "dreary desolation of long grass and berry bushes that were engulfing the stones." An army of volunteers answered his call, donating one day per week for a month to tidy the cemetery. Then a caretaker was hired, plotholders being charged $2 per plot to pay his salary. But guess what? Hardly any families paid up. Eventually, Joseph Vining's estate provided money for a perpetual care fund.* Today's trustees receive (some) money from the township. 

After World War I, the cemetery board of the period offered land at Vinings for a veterans' monument. However, West Nissouri Council opted to place the monument in nearby Thorndale for better visibility. Not that there aren't military graves at Vinings itself:

Sergeant Leonard Salter, 3rd Bn., Canadian Infantry, d. June 10, 1920, age 34.  Born in 1887 in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, to Thomas and Clara Salter, he died of pneumonia.

Wilbur Douglas Kennedy, Gunner in the Royal Canadian Artillery, d. Aug. 14, 1943 at age 23. Born in 1920 to Wilbur and Edna Kennedy, he died in Montreal following a mastoid operation.
Note the broken gravestone next to his, possibly damaged by a lawnmower. A common sight in pioneer burial grounds, broken markers usually remain unrepaired or unreplaced unless family steps in. 

Lieut. Roy L. Vining of the Canadian Machine Gun Corps, d. Dec. 19, 1918, aged 31. A son of Joseph Vining and Emma Lindley, he died of pneumonia at Guelph. 

All three men are remembered in the war memorial in Thorndale, one side of which has the additional names from World War II.

This cemetery has been expanded from its original size, an additional third of an acre being purchased in 1934. The attractive wrought iron sign was added in 1967, one of many Canadian Centennial projects across country. History in those days was important to Canadians and worth spending money on. 

Decoration Day services began at Vinings on the first Sunday of September, 1923 with 500 people in attendance. Decoration Day in 2024 had fewer than 50 and there's no service anymore. Instead, trustees held a "drop-in" event with a visitors' sign-in book. Folks came and left flowers at relatives' graves:

A word about cemetery expenses. The tree below will have to be taken down soon since it's hollow and in danger of falling, possibly damaging nearby graves. The cost will be exorbitant; perhaps some kind fairy godmother will wave her magic wand and donate the funds? 

Metal thieves stole an earlier version of this gate a few years back. This is an expensive replacement:

The way things cost these days, it's no wonder there's so many decayed rural cemeteries. Vinings is fortunate to have so many concerned local individuals to look after it and it remains one of the most attractive burial grounds near London. 

*Details from J. J. Leverton (ed.), West Nissouri Township 1818-2000. Our Heritage. Volume One, pp. 181-2.

Adaptive Reuse in Carlisle, North Middlesex

 

The Presbyterian Church Heritage Centre (PCHC) is moving into Carlisle United Church, in the hamlet of Carlisle, near Ailsa Craig in Middlesex County.*

Formerly the National Presbyterian Museum, the PCHC was located in St. John's Presbyterian, Toronto, from 2002 to 2021. But that church is currently being renovated into condominiums, forcing the Heritage Centre to find a new home. The new location will be this quaint country church built in 1879. 

Like many congregations, the Carlisle church started out in an earlier building. Carlisle Presbyterian Church was founded in 1858 in a more primitive structure, replaced as soon as funds became available. The congregation joined the United Church of Canada in 1925.

But recently, like many rural congregations in the 21st century, Carlisle United has been struggling. With 19 members left in the congregation, continued use of the building was becoming impossible. Having the PCHC move in has brought new life to these folks, even though they've had to worship in the church basement. The former upstairs sanctuary will be renovated into an exhibit hall. 

Temporary basement sanctuary

The move of the PCHC hasn't been easy or cheap. A fundraising campaign was necessary to increase the load-bearing capacity of the Carlisle church's sanctuary floor from 40 lbs. per sq. ft. to 100 lbs. per sq. ft. This involved removing the ceiling in the downstairs hall so the contractors could add the necessary reinforcement joists. But the pandemic allowed the necessary work to proceed easily, since there was no weekly worship service. 

The renovated building will include a replica chapel of the 1850s, an enlarged version of what was in the earlier museum in Toronto. Accommodating about 30 people, the replica can be used by the Carlisle congregation and for occasional weddings. The only condition is that, when visitors tour, it will be necessary to hide the church's large electronic organ. After all, no instrument of any kind was present in the strict services of yesteryear. So the plans will have to include a method of disguising that organ.

Additionally, thanks to the PCHC moving in, the church building will have a few mod cons it's never had before: air conditioning, a security system, and a phone, for the first time in its 164 year history!

Pews are currently stored in the future site of a replica pioneer sanctuary. 

Magnificent memorial windows in what will become the upstairs exhibit hall. 

The PCHC is not scheduled to open until 2024. But I have a question already. Where will visitors stay overnight or eat? Carlisle is a bit off the beaten track.  

Victoria Inn. Note Middlesex Heritage Trail sign out front. 

What I'd like to see is the old Victoria Inn, also in Carlisle, become a B&B to accommodate visitors to the PCHC. Built in 1855 by Joseph and William Haskett, this example of an early Ontario inn once featured a verandah across the front, complete with hitching posts for horses. The building has never had running water, central heating, hydro, or phone. A building more authentic than this you simply can't get. 

New owners are renovating the interior. ( I don't encourage trespassing but when a building is this close to the road it's hard to resist peaking through the windows.) I haven't heard they're planning a B&B. They probably aren't. But I can't help thinking what a fine heritage inn this would make. 

Who knows? With enough attractions this "ghost town" might be back on the map. Carlisle was one of the most important villages in north Middlesex in pioneer days, with a population of 200 or more. Settler George Shipley of Carlisle, England, named it after his home town. Building a dam across nearby Linn Creek, Shipley soon constructed a flour mill and other businesses were quick to follow. When a post office opened in 1853, it had to be named Falkirk, there being a Carlisle elsewhere already. Old maps use either name, depending on the mapmaker's point of view. The village declined after the railroads - both the Grand Trunk and the London, Huron & Bruce - bypassed it. Today, the community is mainly residential and very quiet. A good place for an afternoon drive to "get away from it all." 

* A big thank you to Curator Ian Mason for information and to local resident Doug Carmichael, member of the Advisory Committee for the PCHC, for the tour of the church interior. 

Update, December 19: Latest word is that the PCHC has received a $100,000 grant from The Presbyterian Church in Canada to finish the project.