The Days of my Life
CHAPTER 10 LEAVING HOME
I little thought when
I returned from Lake Rosseau what a change was about to come over my life, but
the most important events of our lives are often those least expected. It had
been arranged that I should stay in Toronto for a few days on my way home, and
when I got to Lady Robinson's ever hospitable home I found that I was to go
from there to stay for a week at my cousin Mrs. William Cayley's house on
Beverley Street. Their family was a large one, necessitating a large staff of
servants, and the housekeeping was undertaken by Mrs. Cayley's youngest
daughter Sophie, of whom I have spoken before. She found the work arduous and
her father had suggested a housekeeper. This suggestion had been carried out
but it was not a success. As Dora passed through Toronto she saw Sophie, who
told her of their difficulties, and she was moved to ask if I would not be of
use in the emergency. Mrs. Cayley, still smarting from the trial her
housekeeper had been, said it would be useless, as I would "only flirt with her
boys", so when I arrived in Toronto I found awaiting me the ordeal of going to
"The Home" -- as the house of the Hon. William Cayley was called -- for a week
of probation.
I felt it a terrible trial. I barely knew them and after our
simple home this fine establishment with its nine servants seemed overpowering.
Lady Robinson, in the kindness of her heart, did a little "fixing up" of my
person, and I think it must have been at that time that Sarah Bennett was
deputed to send down my best dress. Lady Robinson saw that my pigtail was duly
arranged on top of my head and purchased for me a very large tortoise shell
back comb. I felt as if the days of my childhood were indeed over, though I
remember kind Mrs. Cockshutt saying I "never was a child". A good many of the
family were away, so the visit was not quite as terrible as I expected. We had,
I remember, a small dinner party and I had to go in to dinner on the arm of
Mrs. Cayley's brother, Mr. John Boulton.
I must confess that it was a
happy day to me when I got safely back to Brantford and my mother. Nothing
further had been said of my living at "The Home", so I settled down to teach
the very few children who returned to our school. All the older ones had gone
to the new Presbyterian College. It was about two weeks after this, I think,
when a letter came from Sophie begging me to come at once. "Do not mind
clothes," she said, "I will see to all that." (I believe Mrs. Cayley had said I
"did not know how to flirt".) And so I went, feeling very small and shy and
frightened.
The journey, which is short and easy now, was a trying one at
that time. You went on a branch line of the Grand Trunk Railway to Harrisburg,
waited there indefinitely, then took a train for Hamilton, and after another
wait a train for Toronto arrived. The station, now called the Old Union
Station, was not yet built, but there was a small building somewhere in that
neighbourhood where I disembarked and there Sophie and her sister Mrs. Glascott
met me and brought me up in a cab to their house. I can feel myself now sitting
at lunch at that big table, so filled with people, watching with envy the boys
drinking ginger beer but too shy to accept it when offered me.
Now I may
as well go over the inmates of my new home. First of course was the Hon.
William Cayley, a tall stout bald-headed old gentleman, the soul of kindness
and hospitality. Mrs. Cayley was a little lady with a quick decided manner, of
whom I was very much afraid, but she was always very kind to me. The eldest
daughter Harriet was married to Mr. James Cartwright and living in Napanee, but
the second, Minnie, was at her father's house with her husband and five little
children. The two eldest were girls of seven and eight, Ethel and Amy. Then
came Willie of six, little Philip just three, and Arthur, a baby. Two others, a
boy and girl were with their father's people in Ireland. Mrs Cayley's youngest
daughter was Sophie. She was about twenty-five. and a very serious
earnest-minded Christian. She had left the Church of England some time before,
as had both her sisters.The two youngest sons were also at home, Hugh and
Arthur, boys of just my own age and soon great friends.
The house was, as
I have said, a very large one, but the rooms were all spacious and the two
larger bedrooms had each a dressing room, quite as big as an ordinary bedroom
today. Furnaces were not the order of the day in 1876 but a huge coal stove in
the immense square hall and a second in the back hall were kept going and there
were fires in the grates in nearly every room. How pleasant and "homey" the big
dining room used to look in the morning, with its bright cheerful fire and the
shining brass kettle on the "hob". The tea was made in the dining room and it
was one of my duties to make it. I remember Mrs. Cayley instructing me: "Six
spoonfuls, and be sure to make it by nine o'clock". A separate room could not
be found for me, so Sophie generously shared hers with me-a large square room
with two doors, one opening on to the front hall and the other on to the back
hall where the nurseries were. A large bow window looked over the garden. The
front of the house was right on the street, but the back, where the drawing and
dining rooms were situated, looked over the garden. A sloping terrace led you
to a beautiful croquet lawn, where Mr. Cayley used to play croquet on sunny
afternoons with his old friends Mr. Todd and Mr. Michie and others whose names
I have forgotten. At each corner of the lawn was a flower bed, brilliant with
verbenas and petunias. To arrange these for the table was one of my duties and
one I fear I did not excel in. Behind the lawn were trees and at the northwest
corner Mr. Cayley had built a house for his son Frank when he married, and
there they lived with the one baby Emma. All the south side of the garden was a
shrubbery where the Glascott children played and where occasionally the cow
pastured.
What pleasure Mrs. Cayley took in her cow, or perhaps it would
be more correct to say out of the milk, which was brought to the store room
twice a day and put to stand in large flat milkpans. I do not think "creamers"
were thought of then and if they had been I am sure dear Mrs. Cayley would have
considered them an abomination. How she enjoyed skimming off the thick yellow
cream, putting some in this little jug and some in that; one portion for "Mrs.
Frank" and another for "Mrs. John" the wife of her eldest son, who was rector
of St. George's church on John Street just round the corner. On Sunday evenings
the whole family assembled in the pretty drawing room after church. I can see
them now, each in his accustomed place, my grandmother, who was constantly
there, on one side of the little centre table and Mr. Cayley on the other. Then
the long row of servants filed in and we had prayers, followed by supper.
My duties were very light. I taught the little girls for an hour in the
morning, helped Sophie to arrange the dessert and the flowers and kept the
elder children in the evening while late dinner was going on. Hugh and Arthur
and I had breakfast and "supper" together, at 8:30 am and 6 pm, and many a
merry meal we had. Another of my duties was to go occasionally to the wine
cellar with Arthur, to fill the little demijohns with port and sherry. It was a
slow process, as the wine ran in a very small stream from the cask. but Arthur
always borrowed the storeroom keys in preparation and his pockets were well
filled with nuts and raisins and apples of which we freely partook.
He was
a very dear boy, so kindly and sweet tempered, a very real Christian. We had
many grave talks together and I was very fond of him. Hugh was at the
university and a clever lad. He seldom talked to anyone, but spent long
evenings in study, coming down at 9:30 pm with tousled hair and ink-marked coat
to get his evening tea - such a contrast to Arthur in his evening cut-away coat
and spotless shirt and tie. I remember Arthur instructing me in the art of
sucking cream through a lump of sugar. He was the apple of his mother's eye;
she would have given him anything.
But I must not linger over these days,
pleasant in so many ways, for I loved the little children and never wearied of
caring for them, and Sophie and I were tremendous friends, doing everything
together. Many a pleasant drive we had in the little carriage, going to visit
some of the poor in the meeting, who lived at a long distance. Not that it was
very far to any part of the city. Berkeley street bounded it on the east, the
Asylum on the west and Bloor Street on the north.
So the days went quickly
by and Christmas came in sight. Oh what preparations went on; the days Sophie
and I spent in town examining this and that with a view to presents for the
family and servants. Eaton's and Simpson's had not appeared, but Catto had his
shop on King Street and at the southeast corner of King and Yonge, where the
Canadian Pacific Railway buildings now stand, was a long, low, dimly lighted
shop, considered the best dry goods store in Toronto: "Kaye's". It was there
Sophie bought the brown merino dress for herself and a navy blue dress for me,
which were made exactly alike, with tight-fitting "basques" and long skirts
touching the ground, and a little train at the back, looped up during the day.
What a trial those long skirts were; how muddy they used to get; no wonder
girls rejoice now in their short skirts!
At Christmas time I went home
with Dora, who was on her way back home from Barrie. I was laden with Christmas
gifts, which seemed in my eyes very beautiful. Even Mr. Cayley had told Sophie
to get me something from him, and she bought me a dear little work basket which
I used for years. Dora was in a very poor state of health and mother would not
let her go back to Barrie. She had had a very strenuous time there, Mrs. Ardagh
being very much depressed, and poor Dora's nerves had suffered. Mother too was
glad to have her with her, for my brother had decided to leave the hardware
business and go to learn farming in the spring.
The Christmas holidays
soon passed and I went back, less reluctantly than at first, though I always
felt like a stranger in that big house during the first year. The only
events of interest during the winter were lectures by Mr. F. W. Grant on
Genesis I and my having the measles. The lectures were wonderful. I well
remember how Mrs. Glascott used to come and get a bite in the storeroom and
then a cab arrived and we three went off, to listen spellbound. I do not think
I ever heard lectures before or since which fascinated me so. The measles
were as disagreeable to me as the lectures delightful. They had them at the
Rev. John's and I suppose Mrs. John brought them over to the house, where she
often came in the evening when the little Glascotts were in bed. As a result I
came down with them and was promptly sent over to my grandmother's, who nursed
me with great care.
She was living in a large, old-fashioned cottage on
John Street with her son, my Uncle Henry and his wife and their one surviving
child Charlotte, then about ten years old. I spent three weeks there and got to
know my grandmother very much better. How dull the days were. I had neither
books nor work and I spent many weary hours counting the pieces in the
patchwork hangings which my grandmother had over her windows, or the patterns
on the wall. When well enough to be up I still had no occupation and fretted
and fumed like a caged animal. My patience, I fear, was of a poor kind. My
grandmother used to stay in bed till about 10 am, sipping a cup of tea at
intervals. Then she got up and dressed, read a chapter and spent some time
tidying her room. About four or five o'clock she went out and seldom returned
before eleven or twelve pm. She went to dinner at Judge Hagarty's one evening
and to the Grasett's one evening. She also went to other places-the Denison's I
expect, for one. She always dined with the Baldwin's on Sunday after church.
She was a staunch church woman but not at all High Church and a very real
Christian. She loved to give and was never idle a moment, making little work
bags, pincushions, etc. to give away. She generally left her friend's houses
about ten o'clock, then travelled over to Mr. Cayley's and sat for an hour or
two with him, always working. I remember those days I spent with her. She would
come in at perhaps eleven and then toast a piece of cheese over the coal fire
and we supped together. I got so impatient at last that I went over to the
Ord's, who lived close to "The Home", and begged them to take me in till I was
considered "safe" to return to my usual occupation. I think this hastened
matters somewhat and I soon went back to Beverley Street. I was certainly very
impatient and it took many hard lessons before I had even the ordinary patience
women are supposed to possess.
I was very restless and ever seeking to
live as a Christian and failing. I felt I must give up anything which savoured
of the world, and my standard was too high for my faith. I did not understand
that one has to grow in grace, and expected to do great things at once. Mrs.
Glascott had a very dear friend, Alice Miller, and she used to find great help
and inspiration going to see her. I should have liked to have gone to see her,
and indeed she invited me, but I was discouraged by Minnie and Sophie from
going. I found out later the reason.
So the days went on and the first of
April brought "another little April fool", as Hugh said, to the house. It was a
sweet baby and Mrs. Glascott took great pleasure in it and so did I. This young
lady required a nurse to herself and as little Arthur was still a baby and
needed a nurse to look after him the three elder children came to be almost
entirely the charge of Sophie and myself. Ethel and Amy slept in two little
beds in our room and we looked after them practically altogether. Ethel was a
fair delicate child with a thick mane of fair hair. She spent most of her time
reading in the drawing room. Amy, also very fair, with short wavy hair, was a
very imp of mischief. She seemed to be everywhere, tormenting each member of
the family in turn, now insisting on peeling potatoes in the kitchen, then
hiding the gardener's tools, then dragging little Philip into some escapade
such as blacking his face with coal or helping themselves to sugar from the
sideboard. By degrees the family got in the habit of sending her to me. It was
"Go to Cousin Fanny" all day long, till at last I was rarely without her, but I
never wearied of her. She was the first little child I had ever had to love and
my whole heart went out to her and she loved me "frantically" in return. I
suppose one's first love of any kind has some peculiar fascination about it and
can never be repeated just the same again. I have had to do with many little
children since but none ever appealed to me in just the same way (of course I
do not include my own children in this statement).
In April, 1877, there
was a general meeting in Toronto at which Mr. Darby was present. His
voice was now so weak that only brothers attended the meetings during the day,
though we had some public lectures in the evenings. I think there was one tea
for everybody and that was the last time I had the privilege of seeing this
devoted servant of Christ.
Soon after the arrival of little Grace it was
decided that the Glascotts should all return to Ireland, where Captain
Glascott's father had an estate. I think the idea was that he look after it, as
his father was growing old. Mr. and Mrs. James Cartwright were moving to
Toronto and I think Mr. Cayley handed over the position Captain Glascott had
filled to Mr. Cartwright. They spent some time with us at "The Home" and then
took a house on Beverley Street while Mr. Cayley was having a house built for
them on the southwest corner of his property. Mrs. Cartwright and I were soon
great friends. She was very earnest, a most devoted Christian, full of faith
and good works.
There was much to do before the Glascotts left and the
little carriage was kept busy with shopping and visits. My especial share of
the work was to dress three large dolls for Ethel, Amy and Eva, the little
sister in Ireland. I was a neat sewer but not a skillful one and it took me
many, many hours to get all those clothes made.
During the summer I was
off and on at 'Robinson Villa", where mother was keeping house for Fred and
Osmond while Lady Robinson and Sir James and the girls went to the mountains
and later to the sea, coming home by Saratoga. Dora accompanied them, so mother
was a good deal alone unless I came up to stay with her. I always brought Amy
and sometimes Philip with me. I remember one evening we had Dolly Ord, who was
a year or so older than Amy, to tea. The little girls had tea alone and then
played in the garden. When I put Amy to bed she prayed most earnestly that she
might not be ill in the night, "for you know, Lord," she added, "that it was
Dolly who tempted me to take them". I found on enquiry that the children had
helped themselves freely to the new potatoes left from late dinner.
Dr.
Ardagh came in one day unexpectedly and declared I was pale and must come to
Barrie with him and then on to Muskoka to stay with the Ords. I had been
invited but had not expected to go, as there seemed so much to do. However I
had a very pleasant week in Barrie and two at Lake Rosseau. Amy cried bitterly
when I left but prayed every night that "dear darling Cousin Fanny would come
home quite well and as fresh as a daisy".
It was not long after my return
that the separation came. It was in September and the house seemed very empty
when such a party had gone out of it; Captain and Mrs. Glascott six children
and two nurses. I still think of that day when I see the shining horse
chestnuts lying on the ground and I go back to that morning when I walked sadly
behind the shrubbery, feeling I must be alone where no one could see my tears.
Mother had taken a house on Charles Street during the summer and got her
furniture from Brantford, and by this time she was settled in it. Osmond had
also come to live with her. Poor Dora seemed now to be quite an invalid. At
Saratoga they had consulted a doctor as to which springs they should drink
from. He looked at Dora and said she was the one who needed treatment, and
strongly recommended her back to be burned. It was nothing of an operation, he
said, and would work a marvellous cure. Lady Robinson, at her wit's end to know
what to do for the best. at last agreed, but was terribly grieved when she
found what a severe ordeal it was. Dora got home with difficulty and for many
months was confined most of the time to the sofa. Graham had gone to learn
farming in the spring, but was not finding his first venture altogether
satisfactory. Later he went for a year to Dr. Kemp's farm near Forrest.
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