Chapter 42.
My mother and other advisers, Dora and Sophie Cayley, rose up in rebellion against my going to St. John alone with the two babies. Christopher was still far from well and I also was rather a wreck after such a strenuous winter, so they suggested, insisted and carried out the plan of Ethel Sydney going with me. It was of course a great comfort to me to have her; she was now about sixteen and a very capable girl. We started about the middle of April, 1890. First we had to go to Montreal and there quickly changed into the St. John train. We had one Pullman berth and as may be supposed felt a little crowded. However, the journey came to an end at last and we reached our destination in the afternoon, and it was a great joy when Jack got on to the train.
He had taken some furnished rooms—a flat really. The rooms all opened one out of the other, but on the whole we were comfortable, and I got to know my sister-in-law and her very kind husband. We were naturally pretty hard up as Jack had nothing coming in, and we lived very carefully. Fish and syrup, I remember, entered largely into our fare, both being very cheap in St. John. Aunt Vesie was also very good and many a nice little dish was brought over to us by the children and she always had us to dinner once a week. We lived very quietly, going occasionally on the ferry by way of a change, but it was so cold I had to borrow warm clothes for the children from their aunt.
Since we had stayed there on our wedding trip a little son had been given them, so now they rejoiced in six very fine children. The beginning of June they went to their summer house in Rothsay and Aunt Vesie suggested we should occupy the town house in their absence. It was a very large, comfortable house, but we only enjoyed it for one week, as Jack’s brother’s wife sent for us to come and visit her.
One fine morning, I believe it was June 5th, we crossed the Bay of Fundy and found ourselves in Nova Scotia. Unless they saw it, no one could imagine the change in climate. In St. John the leaves were only just struggling out and the grass beginning to grow. Here everything was fully out and the dandelions were the largest I have ever seen—so large and golden. A short run on the train brought us to Bridgetown where Mrs. Charles Willis lived. It was called Bridgetown I believe because of the old red covered bridge, a relic of the past.
Aunt Lou lived in a small house, but just in front was a beautiful river—when we arrived. Next morning when I peeped out to see it once more it was gone and only a small muddy stream was to be seen. These tidal rivers are seen everywhere in the Maritimes; the tide rises and falls to such an extent. This new sister-in-law was just my own age and we soon got very fond of each other. Her children were much older than mine. Emilie was about nineteen and she and Ethel were soon bosom friends. Edith was a pretty little girl of ten, and Jack and Dorothy were the same age. We spent three weeks very pleasantly there, but I was anxious to get to the real seashore, which I thought might do Christopher good.
Lou told us of a place called Lorne, “over the hills and far away”. You got board at this remote place for a sum which just suited my slender purse, and the mail man, who drove there in a buggy three times a week, arranged to take us. Jack had gone to Halifax to see Mr. Pennington, so I undertook this expedition alone. It rained all day and we waited in anxiety for our carrier. At last in the evening he arrived, and though it was a tight squeeze, Ethel and I and the two children got into the buggy and went off. It was a lovely drive of twelve miles over the North Mountain (or perhaps it was the South Mountain). We went up high hills and in the evening sunshine, going through the woods glistening with the recent rain, it was very beautiful. In some places the ground was red with wild strawberries and we longed to get out and pick, but Her Majesty’s mail could not be hindered and on we went.
Such a quaint place we got to; just a little fishing village on the sea, with a tall light house on the bank. Our destination was next door and we received a hearty welcome from our new hostess. “Come right in and have your supper; take off your things ... ” We soon sat down to a rather late meal. Our hostess was most pressing: “What will the baby have? Will he be helped to some cheese?” “Oh, no,” I replied. “Well, will the baby be helped to some lobster?” And when I declined this too, she said: “I don’t know what he would like; choose for yourself”, which I quickly did. How kind she was and how we enjoyed ourselves. The light house was kept by a man with one leg. He had crutches and used to amaze us by the way he leaped down the rather steep bank to the sea.
There was not a very good sandy beach, but lots of rocks covered with barnacles, which would open and shut in a wonderful way on a bright sunny day when the tide was down, making the old brown rocks look as if they were alive. Then beside the shore there were beautiful woods we could wander in and flowers and fungus, which Ethel and I found highly interesting. The people too amazed us. They had such simple lives. Hardly anyone had a clock and the children watched for the teacher and followed their shepherd like a flock of sheep. I have been to a good many “watering places”, but I do not think any of them were as interesting as little Port Lorne.
We were, I think, about two weeks there when Jack suddenly appeared. He had walked across the hills, about twelve miles, but he was too anxious to tell his news to wait for the stage. He had got a position in a bank in New Brunswick, the Merchants’ Bank of Halifax, now the “Royal Bank.” We were to move on immediately to the new home―Sackville. A team and wagon was to come on the following day to drive us to Bridgetown, and the next day would see us in St. John. All went smoothly and we landed at Aunt Vesie’s house on the 9th day of July. Ethel elected to go home. We could get on without her, as we intended to board, and she was beginning to be very homesick after three months away from her people. So after faithfully helping me to wash and iron the children’s clothes and then pack them up, she departed for her home on Sunday night. Monday was Orangeman’s Day and there was an immense parade in St. John. We did not wait to see it, but went out on Monday morning to Rothsay and spent a long day with Aunt Vesie and the children and the next day took the train for Sackville.