Chapter 39.
The Island was a different place in 1887 to what it is now. Only small ferry boats ran to it and so irregularly that my sister said she crocheted a whole quilt while waiting on the wharf for the boat, during one summer she spent there. Then there were no amusement places, no sidewalks or hotels or shops, and very poor arrangements for carrying goods back and forth. Our things, I remember, came over in a large sail boat. We spent the last night with Mrs. Irwin and started early in the morning of May 24th Everything went smoothly and by night we were ensconced in our new home.
Mr. Murray and Jack had a tow boat in which they went back and forth to the city, while I spent long peaceful days by the lake with my dear little Dorothy. Our first three months were quiet and uneventful. I only recall three incidents which made any lasting impression. The first was the amusement we got from our cat “Flocks and Herds, Camels and Asses”. She was now a mature lady, with a son of her own. Feeling that her little kitten should be taught to hunt, she looked around for small game, but nothing could she find except frogs. These were quite new to our Irish servant, and she was much upset by the creatures hopping and struggling on her kitchen floor. As Puss carried them in to her child, she used to call him loudly: “Wou Wou, Wou Wou”. “What shall we call the kitten,” I asked Fanny one day. “It is not for us to name it,” she replied, “when its mother has already called it ‘Wou Wou’.” We kept that kitten a long time and it was always called by the name bestowed on it by its mother.
The second incident was a lecture by Mr. W. J. Lowe, the only meeting I was at during the summer. I do not remember what the lecture was about, but he said that everything that came to us was for our instruction, however trying and difficult the circumstances. If we had an illness, our first thought was of how to get over it, and we often forgot to ask ourselves: “What has the Lord to teach me in this?” If we did so we should get the benefit the Lord meant for us. The thought was new to me and I never forgot it, but it has come back to me many, many times.
The third thing vividly pictured in my mind is an adventure with my baby. She was about six months old or seven and beginning to play nicely with anything you gave her. Her favorite toy was a string of large white beads. One morning I set off with Dorothy in the carriage to go to Mim’s for lunch. I remember I wore my wedding dress. Crossing the lagoon, over which there was a narrow sidewalk, the beads fell into the water. I stooped down to fish them out, letting go my hold of the carriage. The wind caught it and in a second blew carriage and baby into the water. In my terror I sprang at once into the water, which was nearly up to my waist, and managed to extricate the child from the carriage. Some young men, seeing my distress, rowed quickly up in a boat and soon had us ashore, but of course my lunch party was out of the question. We were personally none the worse for our wetting, but my nice little leather bag and my testament, which were in the carriage, were destroyed. As for my wedding dress, when dry it was sent to the dyer.
By the first week in September Dorothy could creep all-round the room. It was a draughty place and I have since put down the bad illness she had to a cold taken in this way. She began by being feverish and cross, but soon bronchitis set in and we had a very anxious week with her. Dr. Howitt kindly came over to see her and prescribed for her and she recovered by degrees. We were up a good many nights with her. I remember the last night. Jack was worn out and dropped asleep. I felt as if I should drop, with sleep and exhaustion. Still she fretted and kicked. At last I just cried to the Lord for help and laid her in her bed. Almost immediately she dropped asleep. I lay down on a stretcher beside her and when I opened my eyes it was daylight and she was still asleep. In fear lest the fire should have gone out, I sprang up, but it was still smoldering and the room was warm. How refreshed I felt and how thankful to the Lord. This was the beginning of her recovery.
Mother had had such dismal letters from my brother, who was still in Russell, that she determined to go and spend the winter with him, and she suggested that in her absence we should live in her house, taking care of it and of my sister. This we agreed to, and the end of September found us comfortably ensconced in 147 John Street. We turned the large room in front into a book room and soon added to our stock, so we began to have quite a nice collection. Our family was soon increased by Mr. Murray returning to us, and he remained as long as we were in the house. We spent a quiet, pleasant year in John Street, our chief interests our books and our dear little daughter. It was there she took her first step and spoke her first word. She was a dear little child, with blue eyes and fair curly hair, and as she began to speak her wise speeches were a great amusement to us. My mother remained with Graham until his marriage in, I think, November, 1888, to Miss Elizabeth Gill, who made him a most capable and excellent wife. She then returned to Toronto and spent the rest of the winter in John Street with us.