There are many peoples of interest that surface during an ancestor search.  One individual that speaks loudly from the past is Doctor Samuel H Fee (about 1840- August 31, 1905).  I found him in the 1881 census of Canada living close enough to the Hersey family to make his way into David John's Flood Run tale.  It is likely that the Herseys knew the Fee family, by reputation if not personally.  (Oddly, living in Kingston simultaneously is another Samuel Fee, a bookkeeper.  Although David John most likely knew Sam Fee, the bookkeeper, he does not enter into our regard.)
 
Samuel and his parents, John and Mary Jane, along with two siblings, immigrated to Kingston, Ontario from Ireland during the Great Famine in 1847.  There are many stories of hardship that accompanied this particular wave of immigration.  Along with impoverishment, the stories include horrific Atlantic passages, sickness, isolation, and death.  The Fee family, however, became a success story.  John Fee became Kingston's Postmaster, marrying one of his daughters to the Assistant Postmaster.  An older brother became a merchant.  Another sister married a carpenter.  The family was close and was still living together as young adults in the 1871 census.  Seemingly well-to-do, the family also had one servant living with them.
 
Samuel attended medical school while living in Kingston: the Kingston hospital was an excellent training university.  In 1862 Samuel endeavored to expand his medical experience in a novel fashion for an Irish-Canadian.  He travelled south to Albany, New York, and volunteered as a surgeon in the United States Union Army.  During the months of November and December, 1862 Samuel witnessed the terror and inhumanity of the American Civil War participating in the Battle of Fredericksburg, Virginia.  It must have been a brutal experience. 
 
On a whim I wished to include a physician in David John's story and Samuel Fee was an easy inclusion.  With the aim of obtaining more information on Fee I did some investigating.  The first record I found for him was an August 31, 1905 death record. 

 Revolver shot.  An intriguing and alarming entry.  Murder?   I investigated further.   Ultimately I discovered this obituary in the 1905 Journal of the American Medical Association:

Samuel Fee, a real man, suffering from depression in the summer of 1905, killed himself. 
 
There is, of course, more than this to Sam Fee.  He followed his father's path and became an important civil servant in Kingston.  Civil War doctors often came away from the field with resolve, wanting to improve medical care.  Fee was one of these individuals.  He worked many years advocating better sanitation for the area, including the improvement of drains - the cause of the 1878 flood on Thomas Hersey's property. 1  2  3

For unknown reasons Samuel appears to have remained single; there is no record of a marriage and he is alone in each of the Canadian censuses in which he appears.   He became depressed alone.  He died alone.  There are no descendants looking for Sam Fee, lauding his medical work. 

"Get, in, Get, in ya' disheveled vagrants.  David, donna' ye' 'ave a brain?  Ya' left de front door of t’office unlocked when ya' left!!"
 
Oh, mental agony.  David had known he had forgotten something.  This put him even closer to the breaking point.  Thomas knew it.
 
"Leave David alone, William. He's been through a hard day.  And did you know that you near killed us racing up Princess Street?  You almost ran us down.  Are you mad?" 

William was brooding and silent as the brothers climbed into the carriage.  Then he motioned the cabby forward, yelling 'to ta’ 'ospital, man,’ and he snapped shut the carriage door. 
 
"Sorry," William muttered.  More silence enveloped as the carriage rocked and bumped full speed towards medical help.  But William just couldn't keep quiet. Dramatically rolling his “r's” he proclaimed,
 
"I been oot checkin' on everyone. I just was at your house, David, not twenty minutes past.  My Eltea (Elthea Annie Hersey McRossie, 1843–1904) is with your 'Lisabet (Elizabeth Kells Hersey, 1845–1931) now, David, an' your children."
 
Oh, praise God, William.  Thank you," said David, gratefully.
 
William struggled to keep his thoughts to himself.
 
"Lisabet's a wreck, David.  How could’a leave her alone with da children?  And ye boys outside in da rain muckin’ in as much mud as t’ey could.  Really, David!  Canna' ya’ control t’ose two renegades?"
 
At this, David finally blew his proverbial top.  He yelled at the top of his voice:
 
"So what, William.  Why shouldn't they play in the rain?  What is so sinful about that?  Why shouldn’t the two get as much enjoyment out of life as they can? There surely is enough pain and grief for them later in life." 
 
David's voice rose higher to shriek level.  "And you know perfectly well that my daughters are very capable and able to take care of Elizabeth when her panic takes over.  I knew exactly what I was doing leaving Elizabeth in their care." 
 
The shriek acquired a jeering quality.   "And would you rather we left father in the rain, on the roof, screaming to God for all the neighbors to enjoy?"
 
For at least the third time that day Thomas rolled his eyes.  "Settle down. Settle down.  We are all brothers here.  We are each trying to do our best."
 
With these words an egalitarian silence surrounded the three for a few minutes. But William could not restrain himself.
 
"All right, all right, keep ye hats on," he muttered.  Unable to stop, William pursued the attack.  "T’at certainly brings to mind, David, what in ta name of God did you do to ya suit?  Where in tarnation is ya right boot? You look like a corpse just climbed from a grave.  So much money spent on fancies just to ruin t’em!"
 
With this, all civility exited stage (or carriage) door left.  The three rode on, yelling at each other all the way to the hospital.
 
In time, the trio arrived at Kingston’s City Hospital to receive the needed medical help.  The flooding was over.  The night cleared.  Most was forgiven. William McRossie, thinking what a fool family he had married into and satisfied that everyone was properly looked after, rode his two brothers-in-law home, bringing David John’s Flood Run to an end at last. 
  
End of David John’s Flood Run. 

Notes:

• When David expelled the words "They should get as much enjoyment out of life now; there surely is enough pain and grief for them later in life," he knew well the truth of the statement. But he knew not the bitter prophesy of coming events these words would prove to be.

 

• I must repeat myself: You should be able to tell that I am very fond and partial to my great, great, great uncle David John.  This story is, of course, fiction.   But the people, their dates, and occupations are accurate.  There was a flood on Thomas Hersey's property in February 1878 as you can read  in “Ducks in a Millpond.” The particulars of each personality are out of my imagination.  However Thomas Albert and David John Hersey both had distinctive scars, as you can read by scrolling to the end of “David John’s Flood Run Part IV.” The scars on David John's head seem unusual for a book-keeper.  I am guessing that Thomas Albert was left handed because of his rather upright signature and his scar on his right thumb. 

Daniel Hersey did indeed live only one year and two months after the February 1878 flood.  He died in Kingston on April, 1879 at the age of 82.  The cause of death as stated in the cemetery records is "debility."  The hospital certificate simply states Daniel's cause of death as "Old Age" with the intensity leading to death lasting a duration of ten days.  This does not mean that Daniel suffered from Alzheimer's  or showered the neighbors with public displays of senility.  It could simply indicate old age or weakness.
 
Certainly not a case of Alzheimer's.  Or perhaps yes, a case of Alzheimer's . 
 
However it was David John that signed Daniel's death certificate, which is unusual in that David was Daniel's youngest child.  This and other indicators have led me to the persuasion that David John, irregardless of his birth order in the family, was the individual that tended to take charge in family matters.
 
Another poignant fact is the wording on Daniel's grave marker.  His stone is engraved with the words "He Walked With God."   The stone marking Daniel's wife, Mary, who died in 1888 simply states "Blessed are the Meek."  Eight small words that speak loudly to their natures.

"Old Names for Illnesses and Causes of Death"
Defines Debility :  State or quality of being weak; weakness; feebleness; languor.

"Causes of Death in the Late 19th Century mentioned in the Register of Deaths, 1893-1907 by Karin L. Flippin, HIS 480, April 23, 1997"
 States: "Debility - Lack of movement or staying in bed"

No essay concerning any German donut is complete without a mention of John F. Kennedy. 
 
A few decades ago while touring Germany I noticed that the bakeries did not sell jelly donuts.  They sold berliners.  I remember asking a sales clerk why the jelly donuts were called "Berliners."  I was given a look of condescension, most likely because I could only speak English, and was told "because they are berliners."  Fighting back visions of Sweeney Todd, I was seriously afraid to try one, not knowing what it may contain.  The only other time I had heard the term "Berliner" was while watching a 1963 (yes, I am that old) television broadcast of John F. Kennedy in Berlin.  I heard him tell the world "Ich bin ein Berliner."  It was a moving post WWII speech inferring that we, all, are Berliners; from Berlin; we are one world. 
 
Could mass jelly donut consumption be a Germanic celebration of unity?
 
Thinking this was an odd name for a pastry, I asked a few of my more linguistically and gastronomically knowledgeable co-workers the same question: "Why are the jelly donuts called "Berliners?"   I received virtually the same answer from my co-workers, “it's because they are called berliners."   I think it was a cellist who said, "That's right.  JFK unwittingly told the world he was a donut."
 
Spurred by curiosity, I have read various articles debating JFK's "Berliner" statement.   Was it an awkward, near international incident-inciting faux pas?  Or was the statement technically correct in German grammar?  Most arguments seemed to vindicate JFK's usage of the term.   
 
The great JFK debate does not, however, address why jelly donuts are referred to as berliners.

In 2010 Gil Marks wrote in his "Encyclopedia of Jewish Food" that: 
 
"Since at least the early 1800s, Germans had called jelly doughnuts simply Berliners. According to a German anecdote, in 1756 a patriotic baker from Berlin was turned down as unfit for Prussian military service, but allowed to remain as a field baker for the regiment. Because armies in the field had no access to ovens, he began frying doughnuts over an open fire, which the soldiers began calling after the baker’s home, Berliners."
Read more at:
http://leitesculinaria.com/60405/writings-histotry-of-sufganiyah.html
 
Armed with this second-hand information, I concluded that in 1878 Thomas Albert Hersey Junior (1864-1956) could very well have referred to his grandmother's pastries as berliners.

by Brent Engstrom 2008

“Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.”
― John Wesley

Readers, please forgive me for making use of the Hymn "O Sacred Flood" (David John’s Flood Run Part V).  This Hymn is not contained in the June, 1898 Primitive Methodist Hymnal.  In fact, it appears to have been composed by Ohioan William Augustine Ogden (1841-1897), and was popular from about 1875 - 1940.  Whether the hymn made its way north to Canada and into the rather rigid Methodist congregations remains any hymnologist's puzzle.  

London brothers John (1703-1791) and Charles (1707-1788) Wesley, the patriarchs of Methodism, were fairly rigid in their hymn singing expectations.  John's 1761 "Directions for Singing" is filled with (at least to the modern vocalist) humorous musical and behavioral dictums. 

Nomenclature involved in the term "Primitive Methodist" appears somewhat jocular in its primeval associations, bringing a variety of puritanical punishments to mind.  In actuality the term "Primitive" in the religious sense refers to a return to origins, or the purposeful practice of a belief system as it was originally intended. The Canadian Encyclopedia defines Methodism thusly:

 "Methodism...encouraged personal holiness and a disciplined (hence "methodical") Christian life. It was distinctive in its Arminianism, the belief that individuals are free to accept or reject God's grace, and that it is possible to attain 'perfection' (the overcoming of a will to sin) in this life."

Primitive Methodism seems to have been a working-class revival in the early 1800's. Although Methodism first appeared as a schism from the Church of England, typical Methodist political tendencies leaned towards Toryism, royalism and away from rebellion (3).  This came in very handy for the protestant Loyalists in Ontario, Canada and elsewhere.  In addition, the temperance movement was a strong part of Primitive Methodism in the New World. 

According to several Canadian censuses Williamsville Village in the city of Kingston was the location of the homes of Daniel Hersey (1797-1879) and his son Thomas Albert (1839–1910), and Primitive Methodism was certainly listed as their religion of choice.  When Daniel Hersey left Cayuga County, New York and arrived in Ontario, Canada in approximately 1830 he very likely attended church in a private home, barn, or an open outdoor camp meeting led by a travelling (circuit rider) minister.  His first church meetings may have been in Cataraqui at the location of the original cemetery, or in nearby Waterloo Village.  I speculate on Waterloo Village because one source has indicated it to be the burial place of Daniel’s first wife, Mariah Acker (1795-about 1834) (1 page 34.){Please note there are a few date issues in Stephen E. Hersey’s account, some of which I will visit in later writings}.