Chapter 6
As the autumn came on, our mother began to plan arrangements for the ensuing winter, which would be our last in England. She decided to take lodgings in Broadstairs and allow Graham to go daily to Mr. Burbidge’s School, while my sister would have lessons in French and German from masters who would come over from Ramsgate, only two miles from us. Just at this time she heard that our old friend Miss Barham, whom we had known so well in Port Hope, was coming to England. She was now about fifty years old, and had gone to Canada thirty years before as governess to Dr. Hayward’s family. She afterwards taught the children of several well known persons; the Cartwrights among others and the Cayleys, and when we knew her she was teaching the daughter of Colonel Williams and lived in the large house opposite to our cottage, of which I have spoken. Her last position had been with the Rev. John Cayley, who had a church in Whitby. She had taught his sisters years before. My mother wrote and asked her to come and spend the winter with us, teaching us and superintending my sister’s studies. She was quite willing and it was soon arranged. We had no difficulty in getting lodgings in the town, as though Broadstairs was not a well known summer resort like Margate and Ramsgate, a few of the residents rented rooms during the summer and were glad to have a chance of making a little money during the long winter season.
The rooms mother engaged were in a large comfortable house, very near the meeting room and next door to our valued friends Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, and with them lived my special friend Miss Harrington. We had four bedrooms and a large front sitting room, with all attendance and cooking, for the modest sum of £1-0-0 a week. Our land-lady had a sick husband and two children and when we knew was a tidy, industrious woman. We moved in on October 1st 1871 and Miss Barham soon joined us. Then began a very busy cheerful winter. I greatly enjoyed my studies with my new teacher, and though her methods were undoubtedly old-fashioned, I learned a great deal that winter. I learned from such books as Magnall’s Questions, Child’s Guide, Mrs. Markham’s History of England and Glendorf’s French Method, books which I suppose are now not only out of date but forgotten.
When lessons were over at twelve o’clock I was always sent out to take a walk and made my way regularly to the seafront. There was always wind off the ocean, and how I loved battling against it. Sometimes I met Major McCarthy’s children, “Blackie”, a fine handsome girl about my own age, and her little sister and brother, Dora and John Darby. When we met the walk was very pleasant for all concerned, and once in a great while we went onto the pier and played games, but this was frowned upon by some older brother who happened to see us and we were forbidden to repeat it.
I remember one day in particular Blackie had been sent a message to the town hall, and when we met there and had finished our little business, we discovered an auction sale of furniture going on in an opposite room. “Let us stay a little while and watch,” said Blackie, and I was more than willing. We thought it a most delightful amusement and enjoyed ourselves immensely.
My sister spent several mornings a week at the house of Mrs. Bligh, a sister in the meeting. Her daughter or daughters were quite good artists, and helped Dora with her painting. In the afternoon we sewed and read aloud with Miss Barham. We read the History of the Reformation, by d’Aubigny, nearly all through. Then there were music lessons from Miss Barham for us both, and the French and German masters also took our time; not that I learned anything from them, but for the French at least I was supposed to be present. In the late afternoon I studied my lessons, but in a very dilatory manner. I always sat in the rocking chair by the window, and between each few sentences looked out to see if the Miss Marches or Miss Harrington or our old friends the Atchesons were passing. My training had not been such as to promote diligence.
On Saturday afternoons we often went for long walks, and one thing I always did was to blacken all the boots for Sunday. Mother and Miss Barham and Dora attended most of the evening meetings, and my brother and I had good times at home. I remember one day he produced a sparrow he had caught, and we plucked it and roasted it in front of the open fire, suspended by a string, which we took turns to hold. Often too we talked of Canada and the adventures we meant to have there; how we would go together to some wild part and build a house and hunt and fish. This we had planned from our early childhood. On Saturday evenings I often went to tea with Mrs. Taylor and stayed for the prayer meeting at their house for the Gospel.
My first efforts at Sunday school work began in that house. I found the little boys knew nothing of the Lord Jesus, and begged to be allowed to teach them on Sunday afternoons. Not long afterwards a Sunday school was begun in the meeting room and I was entrusted with a class of little ones, much to my joy. So began my work with children, which has continued almost steadily for about forty-five years. There were teas too at intervals in the meeting room, and we went over and cut bread and butter and seed cake, for tea meetings were simple affairs in those days and very happy.
And so the winter passed, bringing us each day nearer to the inevitable parting. I have moved from many towns during my life, and have felt the giving up of old associations to a greater or lesser extent, but I think leaving Broadstairs was perhaps the hardest wrench of all, not only to me but for all of us, except perhaps my brother. I felt that I never should see any of the dear friends again, and I never did. My bullfinch I gave to Miss Harrington, and the canary I had also acquired went back to our faithful Susan, who came from her home in Canterbury to bid us goodbye.
We were laden with presents from all our kind friends and a great many came to the station to see us off that bright %/lay morning when we left our happy seaside home. We spent a week in Croydon with Mrs. Taylor, and I remember Mr. Wigram came down to say goodbye. Then we went up to London. My mother stayed at her father’s house; she felt leaving him very deeply. Dora and I stayed at Aunt Tennant’s and I think Graham must have been at my great-grandmother’s. We all dined there one day and our Great-uncle Alfred took us to the zoo. Another day Uncle Fred took us to the Kensington Museum. But the days passed quickly and on May 22nd we left London for Liverpool and sailed on the ship France on May 23rd. It was a slow vessel though fairly large, and we were eleven or twelve days at sea. It did not affect me much, but poor Dora was very ill all the way; I think she was only present at the first and last meals. We arrived in Quebec on June 3rd and my mother sent us three children on at once by boat to Toronto, while she waited to see after her luggage.