Chapter 3
I well remember the journey from Croydon to Margate. Mother had gone on a few days before and Dora and I traveled alone, which was quite an event to begin with. Moreover, we had sixteen or eighteen trunks in our care, which, I for one felt quite a responsibility. On our arrival my first thought was to identify them, and I could not understand why my mother and the guard seemed so entertained as I counted them gravely over.
We spent the winter in the same lodgings where we had been in the spring. We had a cheerful sitting room with two windows looking into the grounds of an old church. My sister went to school at once. Her hours were from nine to five, and with lessons to learn in the evening we did not have much of her company. I remember she learned a part of Longfellow’s “Miles Standish” that winter and how interested and delighted I was in it. Her only holiday was Saturday afternoon, and then my brother sometimes came over from his school in Broadstairs. He generally was accompanied by Fred Robinson, the son of our old friends Sir James and Lady Robinson of Toronto, who had been sent to the same school. He also spent his holidays with us quite often, and then I had a lively time, being the devoted slave of both boys. But usually I was a pretty lonely little girl, often shut up for weeks together with bronchitis.
I think it was that Christmas my dear mother sold some of the small amount of jewelry she had reserved, and bought us some educational games and a desk for each of us. She never minded how much she denied herself for us and how little we appreciated it. Looking back I can see what a problem she had to deal with, increasing as we grew older and more difficult to handle, and also becoming so much more expensive to feed and clothe. I have heard her say that her one confidence was in God; that she committed us to Him, feeling that what she was unable to accomplish He would bring to pass through the discipline of circumstances.
In the spring of 1868 we left the lodgings and took a house at some distance from the sea―7 Addington Street I think was our new address. Our mother thought she might eke out her scanty income by renting some rooms during the summer, but I do not think it prospered very much. However, we had some “paying guests” from the Croydon meeting, who were very pleasant people and often took me out with them on their walks.
I do not know whether the Margate Beach has changed now, but in those days it was a wonderful place, to me at any rate, though my mother was inclined to speak of it as “noisy and vulgar”. To begin with the crowds of people were an interest in themselves, then the long rows of bathing machines, drawn farther and farther out, by the patient horses, as the tide receded. In one spot stood numbers of donkeys, with saddles for boys or girls, only 6d the hour, but how seldom was 6d available. Then near to the donkeys were fascinating goat carriages of every kind and description, but these we despised as only for babies. These things might be seen at any time during the summer months, but there were also occasional visitors in the shape of traveling shows of various kinds. Christie Minstrels, with their black faces and white hands, acrobats of different ages and ability, happy families, consisting of cats, rats, mice, birds and perhaps a monkey all living in one cage. Then the performing animals abounded; a pony who could repeat the multiplication table, dancing bears, monkeys with all kinds of tricks to show off, white mice who ran the Oxford and Cambridge races, canaries who told your fortune and so on and on. Crowds surrounded each show, and I do not wonder that our mother did not care for us to often visit the “sands” in summer time. But in the autumn and on fine days in winter it was delightful to walk by the sea and watch the great waves dashing and foaming as they rushed in from the ocean, or if the tide were down to search the pools for crabs or jelly fish.
In the autumn of 1868 a new interest came into my life; a little boy about four years old came to live with us. He was a delicate child and the doctor ordered sea air for him, so for about a year he made his home with us. Dear little Frankie, what a pleasure he was to me; I never wearied of caring for him. I took him out to play in the square, I dressed him in the morning and often put him to bed at night, and when I had succeeded in teaching him all his letters I was indeed proud of my first pupil.
I do not think anything in particular happened that winter, but the following summer our kind old friend Mrs. Taylor came from Croydon to pay us a visit. She was always greatly interested in my sister’s progress at school. She had done remarkably well at Mrs. Ray’s and had learned about all she could there, so Mrs. Taylor was very anxious that she should go to a more advanced school. After some inquiries it was decided that she should go to a small boarding school in London, kept by a Miss Somerville. She was a highly educated lady and an excellent musician. To this school Dora went in September, 1869, and not long Afterward it was arranged that my mother should join Miss Somerville in London and keep house for her. Also I believe she was to help a little in the school. The idea seemed a good one, as mother would be near Dora and also I would have the advantage of good instruction. So early in December we left Margate, storing our furniture in the house where we had been living.
To some it may seem that our mother thought very lightly of moving, but it must be remembered that she was an officer’s daughter and had been used to going from one place to another from her earliest childhood. As a very young child the family traveled much in Europe, and I have often heard her say that she could speak English, French and German without mixing them, before she was five years old.
Before I say goodbye to Margate I must mention the great kindness of Mrs. Ray and her daughters, where Dora went to school. Though I did not attend the school, I was always invited to any little treat or picnic the girls enjoyed, and I had a standing invitation to tea on Monday evenings, when the old sergeant who drilled the girls came, and between times there was much fun and frolic. Indeed a regular game was begun and carried on Monday after Monday which ended in an impressive wedding ceremony, the girls all being dressed up and my mother lending her beautiful wedding veil to the bride. Often in those times schools were not very happy places, girls and boys being restricted in food and exercise, but no girl at Mrs. Ray’s ever suffered a pang of hunger, and I believe they were well cared for in every way. To their care we handed over our little Frankie when we left for London, and he made a nice pet and plaything for the school girls.
I must not forget to give a word to my cat, the “patient Griselda” as Dora called her. To me she meant a great deal. I think I might say she was my dearest friend and companion. She never resented the liberties I took with her; she allowed herself to be dressed in doll’s clothes and never put out a claw. I remember taking her out to walk one evening in front of the house, holding her forepaws. As I had to bend down to assist her in this way my eyes were near the pavement and to my great joy I spied a shilling. I spent it in replacing a much loved baby doll which I had lately broken and which rejoiced in the name of Archibald Montezuma Douglas.