Chapter 43.
After a six hour train journey we arrived, full of excitement and hopes, in Sackville. Let me remark that of all the places I ever lived in I think Sackville was quite the most disagreeable. It is situated on the isthmus between New Brunswick and Nova Scotia and is flat and bare. About three quarters of the time it rains and the other quarter it blows. We arrived in the evening and went at once to the hotel, but we could not stay there all the time with two babies, so we began to scour the country in search of a boarding house, but no one appeared willing to take us in. It was a “blowing” week and the sand, which dries quickly, was ankle deep on the roads. The sidewalks were formed of boards running lengthwise and the baby carriage, an old one of Aunt Vesie’s, fell into the cracks between the boards about every six minutes. It was a slow mode of getting about.
On the fourth or fifth day I heard of a part of a house to be rented and at once went to see about it. “It won’t suit you,” said the landlord, barely looking up from what he was doing (I think it was tailoring). “But why should it not suit me?” I inquired. “Oh I know it won’t,” he repeated. “Have you any objection to my looking at it?” “Oh look at it if you’ve a mind to; it makes no difference to me.” So look at it I did. It was on a slight eminence and you could see the sea from both sides. There was a large room downstairs and three funny little attic rooms upstairs. We felt it could be made to answer and arranged to take it and also to hire furniture from the one cabinet shop, whose owner seemed as indifferent as the landlord.
I went up to the house the next morning and cleaned the windows and otherwise began to prepare, but on coming home to dinner Jack met me with the news that he had got board for us in town and much more convenient to the bank, We went back to the landlord who remarked: “Do as you’er a mind to; its no difference to me”. The furniture dealer made the same speech, so we finally moved into Mrs. Gray’s quiet little house. We had one largish room downstairs. Christopher slept with us and Dorothy had a stretcher which slipped under the bed in the daytime.
Our life was certainly very quiet, and many a time I wearied of that one room. Christopher was far from well and I found it impossible to get any food which agreed with him. The milk he could not digest and I could not get suitable meat for broth. I tried to get a chicken and one was given me, but no one would sell one. They were queer people, mostly United Empire Loyalists descended from old Puritan families and bearing the queerest old Biblical names. Most of them “followed the sea”.
Poor little Christopher; how well I remember he used to take my hand and lead me to the place where the chicken broth was, but it soon came to an end and I could get no more. Both the children were very good, but those long rainy days were hard to get through. I remember being out one evening with Dorothy and we saw a young “coon” following its master. She was charmed and exclaimed in a loud voice: “How nicely that little beast follows its father”. She was now three and a half and amused us much with her quaint sayings. Christopher was a winsome little lad and made friends with everyone. Mrs. Gray was very kind but she was ill a good part of the time and the house was “run” by her old mother Mrs. Angwine and her little daughter Jenny.
We heard that at Amherst, ten miles away and a good sized town, there was a brother, Angus Morrison. We knew his name well from the depot and decided to visit him. So one fine Saturday afternoon we hired an old white horse and set out. The animal was not so keen to get there as we were and it was almost dusk when we reached Amherst. We were at a standstill, as we did not know where to find him. Just then a man passed and we asked him if he could tell us where to find Mr. Angus Morrison. “And what would you be wanting him for?” asked the man. We explained and he said: “I am Angus Morrison”. It seemed so clearly the Lord’s leading that we were all amazed. He took us home and we had tea with him and then turned for home. Later on we spent a Sunday with him and greatly enjoyed being once more able to remember the Lord.
About the beginning of September we began to wonder what to do for the winter; we were undecided as to whether we should remain in Sackville or return to Toronto. After praying over the matter we decided to return to Toronto and trust to Jack’s getting employment in Ontario. Our main reason for this was my mother. Dora was in Germany and expected to stay another year and we felt we could not leave mother alone. She had spent the summer in Huntsville with Fred Robinson, but would soon be coming home. This was on Sunday. On Tuesday Jack got a telegram from Mr. Strathy asking if he could take the position of manager of the Trader’s Bank at Port Hope and if he could come at once.
When the General Manager of the Royal Bank heard of this he wired for Jack to come to Halifax and see him, so off we all went to Halifax and spent Sunday with the Penningtons. We were greatly impressed with the beauty of Halifax. Mr. Pennington’s eldest son Will took us out in a boat on the Northwest Arm, and we greatly enjoyed making friends with Mrs. Pennington and the children. She had a family of seven at that time. The three older girls were so good to the little ones. Unfortunately Christopher took cold in some way and our visit was followed by his being seriously ill.
We left Sackville on September 18th. It was, of course, pouring with rain and a covered vehicle was not to be got, and as it was we so nearly missed our train that the luggage had to be left behind. But how glad I was to be going home; home to good doctors and proper food and our own house. Jack left me at Port Hope to begin his duties and I joyfully went on to Toronto. On arriving at the station I found to my great joy that mother had returned from Huntsville and was awaiting me. I took Christopher that same day to Dr. Howitt and he soon began to recover, though it was many months before he was strong and well.
We could not go on with the depot in Port Hope, so we sold it out to Mr. Dunlop, with a good deal of regret. He kept Miss Gausby on to manage it and soon after it was moved nearer to the town. Mother and I had a busy week, packing up everything, but it was done successfully, and after arranging for our furniture to come down by freight, mother and I and the two children took the train for Port Hope. It was October 1St, 1890. Our life there belongs to another period. I close this one with a verse from the old hymn of Gerhardt’s, which summarizes our experience:
“We leave it to Himself
To choose and to command;
With wonder filled we soon shall see
How wise, how strong His hand.”