Chapter 24.
It was perhaps some time in September that we received two letters which altered the course of our lives a good deal. The first was from a cousin, Mr. John Boulton, brother of Mrs. William Cayley. He said that he had come in touch with a young Englishman, Ffoulkes by name. He was I believe the nephew of a bishop. This young fellow, it appeared, was anxious to go west and Mr. Boulton wrote to ask if we would take him in. I believe the arrangement was that he was to work for his board, but the amount of work he did would have provided a poor living for a sparrow. Graham did not like to refuse, so he wrote to say we would take him if he could find his way up. Our second epistle was from my mother, saying that she thought of spending the winter with us. My sister Dora was going to Colorado Springs with Sophie Cayley. Sophie had not been well and had been sent to Colorado Springs the previous winter. She was much better for it and now she was returning and had persuaded Dora to accompany her. Mother had succeeded in renting her house, so she had nothing to tie her in Toronto, and she felt a desire to see us and also the “Great North West”.
We felt we must add to our sleeping capacity, and so we arranged two rooms upstairs. The floor had been down for some time, but we had only used it as a storeroom. I put up curtains and made two fairly good rooms, and Graham made a window in the roof. I was to occupy one room and the young men the other. This would leave my little bedroom, which now shared the window of the sitting room for my mother. The sitting room too would no longer have a bed, or I should say a buffalo robe, for my brother never used a bedstead. Of course we had to send the child home. I was very sorry to part with her, as I had become very fond of her, but I could only hope that her sojourn with us had been really blessed to her. It was pleasant to think of seeing my dear mother, though I feared she would rather object to the very rough life.
Mr. Ffoulkes came first. He arrived by the mail, one afternoon, and soon made himself very much at home. He had no idea of manual work, as might be expected, but he was good tempered and not given to grumbling, nor did he get at all homesick.
In the beginning of November Graham went to Emerson to fetch my mother, who had been staying there with Mrs. Scott for several weeks. The journey out had improved very much since I first came, and he arranged for her to spend one night at the hotel on the prairie, and the second at Nelsonville, so she arrived without mishap. It was very nice having her, and I think on the whole she enjoyed her winter.
Graham had changed the little white pony for a good sized mare who could go with Dolly, but we still had old Dick, and Graham got a little box of a sleigh, in which mother and I could drive the pony, and we had some charming drives. Unfortunately Mr. Ffoulkes undertook to drive in the little cutter. He took me out one bright, crisp, frosty morning, when the snow was deep on the ground. “I shall drive under that clothesline,” he said, as we passed a settler’s house. “I would not,” I said, “Dick hates to have anything touch his ears,” but he insisted, and before we knew any more, we and the cushions and wraps were in the snow, and Dick was tearing off with the sleigh. Graham was very much annoyed, as he said when a pony had once taken to running away, it would go on doing so, and he was right; we had little more comfort with him, and one day Mr. Ffoulkes was driving him down a short hill, and instead of holding him up hastened him forward, the sleigh came against his legs, and in a few moments he had kicked it all to pieces.
In addition to extra people, we had extra dogs that winter, Mr. Harvey leaving his collie, Major, and the tiny Skye terrier, Beauty, with us. We also had our own dog Syndicate and his mother Flossy, and Frank Wood’s dog Jack, though not actually boarding with us, spent most of his time at our house, To feed these beasts was a care in itself. I had a quantity of frozen fish, and used to boil it with “shorts”, which we had for the pig. I must tell how Beauty tried to adopt a little pig. She was a dear little dog, and attached herself to mother, always jumping on her lap if she sat down. One day Graham brought in a tiny newborn pig. It was not much bigger than a kitten. He had not expected the little creature so soon and three or four others died of cold. We put this one in a basket by the fire and fed it a little condensed milk. Our cow was dry and we had had no milk for a long time. When Beauty saw the basket she was interested at once; had she not often brought up a family of puppies in such a basket? She sat up and begged to look in, and when we put the basket on the floor she jumped in, cuddled the baby piglet to her, and tried to give it a drink. She kept it warm all day and at night, a warm stye having been provided, Graham put the little thing back with its mother and she, having no sense, let it be stepped on by the cow.
At Christmas we had a fine time distributing presents and clothes to the Sunday school. Dora and Sophie had sent us up a wonderful parcel of clothes collected from interested friends in Colorado Springs, mother had brought up a big bundle of candy and presents, and we spent many pleasant hours dividing and arranging our gifts. On Christmas Day, being very fine, Alfred drove us to the various houses. I was so glad for mother to see all my friends and scholars. In the Frenchman’s house there was great poverty. They had partitioned off a corner of the house for the hens, about thirty. “They are all we have,” said the poor woman, “and for the children’s sake we had to try and keep them alive.” Not one of the little girls had a petticoat, or a shoe or stocking, and the dear little baby four months old was dressed in a piece of an old horse blanket. We felt our charity was well bestowed there. The Bradleys also had built a second room to their house and were decidedly prospering, also the Fosters, but the clothes and toys were very welcome in each house.
I had never perfectly recovered the use of my right arm, and as the cold weather came on it pained me very much, I slept just above mother and she used to say I groaned and tossed all night. At last it was suggested that I should go for a little visit to Emerson, and perhaps the change would do me good. Mrs. Wright had another newly married daughter from Niagara on a visit. She had been teaching in a widower’s family and had finally married her employer. We felt he had the best of it, as he was older than her father and a terrible crank. I do not know what brought him to the west, for he did nothing but grumble and complain all the time. Some time in January he was returning, and it was arranged that Louie Wright and I should accompany them to Emerson. Charlie Wright drove us. He had made the sleigh very comfortable and the weather was beautiful, but the ancient bridegroom was so disagreeable, continually remarking on how much room Louie and I look and how uncomfortable we made him, that we anything but enjoyed our trip.
In Emerson there was now a little meeting, as a brother and his wife of the name of Sparrow had come up to settle. They had a tiny house, one room, and a little attic, but they made me very welcome, and I much enjoyed my stay with them, and the meetings were a great treat. Of course most of the time I spent with Mrs. Scott. She was so kind, spending hours rubbing my poor arm, but it did not get any better.
I had heard from home that a young sister, a Mrs. Russell, was living some miles out of Emerson and I was very anxious to see her. One morning Mr. Scott came in saying Mr. Russell was in town and would take me back. We went twenty or thirty miles by train, traveling in the caboose of a freight train. A jumper, as they called these small wooden sleds, was waiting for us, and we soon drove the two or three miles to his house. What a lovely spot it was, just on a river, but my mind was more taken up with dear Mrs. Russell than the scenery. She was about my age, a tall, handsome young woman, with such a sweet smile. She had two nice little boys of four and two years, Gavin and David. I cannot describe the hardships she had gone through. I remember she made the children ginger tea, as she had no milk for them, and she had made quilts with newspaper between in place of wadding. We had two very happy days together. She was so true and real, I do not think her husband was a Christian, but we much enjoyed talking together, and a friendship was begun which has lasted until now.
On Monday Mr. Russell said he would drive us all to the station in the jumper. About halfway it broke down, and we took refuge in a shack beside the road. I looked at the woman there and she looked at me, and at last we both exclaimed, “Did you not come up in the train with me two years ago?” It was the mother of William Henry, whose pranks caused me so much amusement in the train. She was getting on well and liked the country. Before we had finished talking, her husband and Mr. Russell came in to say the jumper was ready, and we embarked once more. I went this time by a regular train and next to me sat a young minister. Presently he handed me a card with his name and an invitation to speak to him on the subject of religion. I immediately began to talk to him. I forget what our subject was, but we were both so interested he insisted on walking to Mrs. Sparrow’s with me, and then we missed the house and walked all round the little town. I never saw him again, but I sent him afterwards all C.H.M.’s Notes, and I hope they were blessed to him. He was a most earnest man and most anxious to win souls.
Soon after this Graham was in town and took me home. I think he must have driven Frank Woods in, who was going home to get his bride. He had his horses, a fine pair of blacks. We set off on a Thursday afternoon. It was the 2nd of March and a lovely mild day. The snow was just getting slippery, and with no load we went at a good pace. Graham had much to tell me; it was the time of the great boom and land was being sold in every direction, at high prices. After spending three years on a homestead, a man got his patent or deed, and was then allowed to take up a fresh one. Graham had quite decided to sell his land, as his three years were now up, and go farther west. He thought he had secured a purchaser and was anxious to make all arrangements and get on to fresh land in time to do a summer’s work. It may be guessed that all this land gave us plenty to talk about. We decided that I should return as soon as possible to Ontario with mother, and join Graham in his new home the following autumn.
That night we spent in a Mennonite house, and the following day made the house of old Nimrod our objective. It was a really warm day and the snow grew softer and softer, and less and less as we went on, until when we reached the little house in the mountains, the roads were about bare. Nimrod welcomed us kindly and we spent a nice evening by his big wood fire, but the daughter was nowhere to be seen, and as soon as she got me alone the mother told me she had run away: “Could not stand the work and scolding,” but she added, “he has been so much kinder since the girl left us, I can get along, and only think, when last he went to Emerson he brought me a dress!”
The next day was a Saturday I shall never forget. We set off between seven and eight. The weather had changed; the ground, now bare round the house, was hard frozen, the sky was dark and lowering, and a few flakes of snow were already falling. We drove on as rapidly as we could, but the snow fell faster and faster. Another sleigh was just behind us with two men in it. “We are stopping for dinner at Lorneville,” they shouted, and we stopped for an instant to discuss it. One of the men was a dark-eyed lad, and as his father talked to Graham, he began to make advances to me. Graham often laughed at the horrified way in which I said after we parted: “He winked at me!” “If you can stand another five miles,” said Graham, “we will go on to the French settlement; it is our only chance of getting home tonight.” I was quite ready and we pushed on, but the snow was getting heavier and the trail was unbroken. I remember as we ate our dinner at the French house, we could not see the barn, though close to the house, the snow was so heavy. We found Joe Bradley at the settlement and took him with us, as we passed his house. Our next eight miles was through the bush. We had to go slowly but did not feel the violence of the wind as on the prairie. It was about six o’clock and dark when we got to the Foster’s and ran in for a moment. My scarf was frozen round my face; even my eyelashes had frost on them. They hastily made me a cup of tea, and a little warmed and refreshed we set off again. We both knew the road well, but in the darkness and blinding snow and terrific wind, could distinguish nothing. The horses, however, seemed to know every step and Graham left them to find their own way. Many a one has been lost in less blizzard than we were encountering, but we were preserved, and about eight o’clock thankfully drew up at our own door.
The storm raged on for two more days until every trace of a road was obliterated. On Tuesday or Wednesday the men we had left at Lorneville came along, having had to dig through many of the drifts, which had settled and become hard. After this we had no mails for a month; everything was “strictly shut up” on account of the enormous quantity of snow. It had not been an eventful winter but a good deal was crowded into that last month. The first thing that happened Mr. Ffoulkes froze his big toe, and as he refused to wear moccasins and would take no care of it, he had a very sore foot. I think the next thing was our young friend Irwin’s illness. He was living alone in his shack, and missing him from the place where he usually worked, Graham went to look him up and found him very ill. It looked like pneumonia. Graham advised a mustard plaster and out on a large and powerful one and left him. When he went back the next morning he found it was still on and the poor lad terribly blistered. At mother’s desire, Graham took over the sleigh and rolled the invalid up and brought him to our house, where mother nursed him back to health again. And then came that drive which I took with Alf, when he asked if I would be his wife and I consented. Mother was very happy about it. Of our feelings I will not speak. It was also during that month that the house took fire. Graham was away and mother and I had been washing. We had just finished when Mr. Ffoulkes strolled in saying, “Are you aware that the house is on fire?” Then there was scurrying up and down. There was a ladder to lead to the roof where the fire was, but we found it had rotted. Then we had no ropes to haul up water. Mr. Ffoulkes stood on a chair in the attic and dashed water up at the burning roof. He soaked himself but did little else. At that juncture Alf came along. He got the long reins belonging to the horses, strapped them together, and succeeding in mounting the ladder, had Mr. Ffoulkes hand him up pail after pail of water till the danger was over. Of course we had let the fire out, and when all was over our floor resembled a skating rink.
A week or so after this Graham and Mr. Ffoulkes walked to Norquay, about ten miles. Coming back Mr. Ffoulkes got both feet frozen in the wretched shoe-packs he was wearing instead of moccasins. He would have sunk down many times and frozen to death, but Graham half dragged and half carried him, till he reached the house. I shall never forget the sight of his feet frozen solid to the ankles. We worked with him nearly all night. The pain was terrible and we kept pouring coffee and beef tea down his throat to keep him up. Mother gave him her own bed and came up the ladder to share my attic.
The end of the month was now approaching. The snow was going down a little and trails were being made. In our little home all preparations were made to get away at a moment’s notice as soon as the mail should come in. Alf and I spent long mornings in Frank’s house, cleaning it up and preparing for the young bride. At last, as is so often the case, everything came at once. Frank and his wife arrived and came to our house on a Saturday night. At the same time the mail came in, making it necessary for us to leave first thing on Monday morning. The weather changed and a grand thaw began. Sunday was, I am sorry to say, spent over last packing. My dear Punch I gave sorrowfully to Mrs. Frank Woods, who I am sure was very kind to him. Mr. Ffoulkes bought most of our things, such as cattle, etc and was to remain for a time in the house. Graham had persuaded Alf to accompany him in his quest for pastures new, and as soon as he returned from taking us to Emerson and meeting Mr. Harvey they were to start. So was spent my last Sunday in Beaconsfield. I have moved times many and various, but with the exception of Broadstairs, I have never felt such keen sorrow at leaving any place, before or since.
My china I packed and we took it with us to leave in Emerson. Another box was packed with little valuables and left with one of the boys. Our personal things we naturally took with us. Dear mother had been splendid all winter, putting up with all kinds of inconveniences and minor hardships, without a grumble, and now I do not think she regretted turning her face towards civilization once more. But this is a long chapter and I must leave the account of our journey for a future one.