The traditional stories from frontier days and pioneering times have told the tales of brave men fighting against the elements and subduing nature in an attempt to bring some sense of order to the chaos of the untamed wild.

 In many ways, the story of the founding of New Ross, originally known as Sherbrooke, is no different.

 When Capt. William Ross, his family, and 172 disbanded soldiers made their way from the Atlantic coastline of Nova Scotia through the wilderness to the centre of the province, the interior lands were largely unexplored and completely uncultivated.

 But the founding of New Ross is not simply a tale of men battling nature to survive, but of women, and entire families, doing what they could to carve out an existence.

 As it happened, it was the Earl of Dalhousie, the governor of Nova Scotia in the early 19th century, who decided that he had to encourage additional settlement, particularly agricultural-based communities, throughout the countryside if the population of the province was going to blossom.

 So, in 1816, the governor approached Capt. Ross about the possibility of leading a group of soldiers into the heart of the province to establish such a settlement. In exchange for relocating, Ross and his fellow settlers would be assured a constant supply of provisions to sustain the community for three years.

 Capt. Ross, who was a career soldier and had travelled with his family around the world, from England to Suriname, was more than willing to lay down permanent roots. He accepted the assignment and sailed for Halifax on the vessel Archduke Charles.

 As fate would have it, the Archduke Charles was wrecked off Canso Gut and, after a brief delay, Capt. Ross arrived in Halifax where he and his family were hosted by John Lawson, Esquire.

 Mr. Lawson was such a gracious host that, upon arriving at the future site of his village, Capt. Ross gazed upon the beautiful lake below the settlement and deemed that it was fit to be named after his Haligonian host.

 Ross and his fellow former soldiers, the majority of whom had been members of the Nova Scotia Fencibles, decided that their new settlement would be called Sherbrooke, in honour of the former governor John Coape Sherbrooke.

 After an already arduous trek through uncut territory, Ross' soldiers then had to clear literally acres of forest land in order to get access to the arable soil beneath the surface.

 The butt from the first tree felled at Sherbrooke, a maple, was sent to Halifax as a token for the Earl of Dalhousie, who had a dozen egg cups made from the historic remnant to commemorate the occasion.

 Soon after the initial party arrived at Sherbrooke, more settlers were brought in, some disbanded from the German Legion, others from the Newfoundland Fencibles.

 And, for a period of time, the community seemed to thrive, thanks largely to the provisions provided under the agreement of settlement with the government.

 The families at Sherbrooke each received rations of biscuit, beef and pork, as well as a healthy supply of rum transported by the puncheon.

 But, in addition to food, the early settlers were also guaranteed a number of tools to make their tasks easier. Each man, as the household head, received a hoe, an axe, a whipsaw, a spade, a hammer, a gimlet, a grindstone, rope and nails with which to construct their homes, barns and other necessities.

 Additionally, one handsaw, chisel, auger and drawing knife were provided for every five men in Sherbrooke to share, and one large crosscut saw was provided for every 10 men to share.

 And, to aid in establishing a crop base, each family also received five bushels of potato and turnip seed.

 By 1819, however, the survival staples provided by the government had dried up and a road that had been promised to connect the settlement with Hammonds Plains had yet to be built.

 Fortunately, the citizens of Sherbrooke had made some steps along the way to make their community sustainable on its own.

 One important development was the blazing of a path between Sherbrooke and Kentville. Initially, the trail was little more than a walking path, but determined to open it up, the paymaster's wife, Mrs. Wells, took it upon herself to ride a horse all the way to Kentville.

 To the amazement of many, Mrs. Wells completed the trip and, thanks to her determined effort, government money was made available to expand the Sherbrooke-Kentville trail into a cart-width road, which afforded the interior settlement its first real permanent connection with the outside world.

 But, by the end of 1819, all was not well at Sherbrooke. Many residents were unable to maintain a level of existence comparable to what they had when provisions were flowing from the government.

 During the previous three years, whenever provisions were delayed or the stocks were running low, a handful of soldiers would threaten mutinous action if the situation was not rectified soon and free food was again readily available.

 Once the government's responsibility to provide rations had expired, and the source of free foodstuffs had dried up, a number of the same soldiers and, as a result, many families, were compelled to leave the settlement to seek out a better existence elsewhere.

 Beyond issues of sustenance, inherent dangers came along with life in Sherbrooke because of its extremely isolated nature. On one occasion, Henry Winslow was in the woods surrounding the community and, after walking for several hours, realized he had lost his bearings and didn't know his way back to Sherbrooke.

 After eight days with no human contact, Winslow, who had been forced to survive off wild berries, was brought back to Sherbrooke.

 Between the risks of the frontier environment and the depleted source of supplies, by 1820 only 67 of the original 172 soldiers and their families who had come to populate the area remained.

 But nonetheless convinced that Sherbrooke could sustain itself with proper access to the outside world, Capt. Ross pressed his case for the construction of a road from the community to the Atlantic coast with the governor.

 In the fall of 1821, with the consent of the governor, Ross left the settlement with a Mi'kmaq guide to plot a path through to Hammonds Plains. However, on the overnight voyage, the pair were caught in a rainstorm.

 Unprepared for the downpour, Ross spent the night sleeping on the soaking ground, a log for his pillow, and he soon after fell ill, never able to shake the chill that crept into his body that stormy night.

 The following May, after a prolonged illness, Capt. William Ross passed away at home in Sherbrooke.

 That left Ross' wife, Mary, in a terribly precarious position. With five children under her roof to feed, and a sixth on its way, Mrs. Ross appeared to be facing a hopeless situation. But, in spite of the environment, Mary summoned her courage and continued to build the life her husband had envisioned.

 After she gave birth to her sixth child, Lawson - also named in honour of John Lawson, who had hosted the Ross family in Halifax so many years before - Mary, with the help of the rest of the community and her elder sons, maintained the Ross farm for many years.

 In utter defiance of the circumstances, Mary Ross lived to the ripe old age of 92, dying in 1876. Three years before her death, Mary spoke of her religious faith, reflecting upon the struggles of raising children, fighting off grasshopper infestations and providing for her family in the decades that followed her husband's death:

 "Thanks to my heavenly Father," she said, "I have outlived it all."

 Sources: "Off-Trail in Nova Scotia," Will R. Bird; "History of the County of Lunenburg," Mather DesBrisay; Government of Nova Scotia.

Written and researched by Patrick Hirtle.