Written in 1928
Read first the few pages of "childhood" at the end of this
book }
Henry and I were married at Rostrevor, on Decr.
[December?] 28th - 1876 - His 27th birthday - I was 19
At that time he had been stationed as Sub-agent of the Bank
of Ireland, at Navan, Co. Meath for some years - and there we
spent the first six months of our married life, in a little
old house looking out on an open space opposite to the church
and close to the Bank - a very pretty situation, & they had
made the house run so nice & comfortable, and our faithful
Maria Reilly was there. She had been his servant - & continued
with us afterwards for many years.
He always greatly disliked the routine work & timetable
of his work in an office, but his father, like so many poor
Irish gentry could afford nothing better - He had managed
to send Arthur, his eldest son, to Trinity College Dublin, and
to send him to India as a Civil Engineer, in the East India
Company, where he had a long and distinguished career - and
built many of the railways & great bridges, there today - and
{There was a "scrap book" at Baltinglass with all his Indian
(photographs) and one devoted to his work, including the
bridges - I remember well his showing them to me, & telling
the history &c, &c, of each - (in dear Baltinglass days)}
finally he was drowned in a flooded river The [Teesta?] near
Darjeeling (a Mr [Kuster?] was with him & also drowned)
Anglo-Indians I met in Rome remembered it all - in the
fulfilment of some urgent duty connected with his work - Some
friend wrote a little history of his life in India and of all
he accomplished there - We have a copy of it somewhere one at
any rate has been found I write it could be found - (probably
in Black Box) He was all that was good and noble - He had a
rare and beautiful nature, simple, dignified & reserved - and
with deep feeling - There was a likeness between him and
D'Arcy -
Henry was six years younger than Arthur, and by the time
his turn came to be sent out into the world, Mr. Anderson had
lost nearly everything in a long-drawn-out lawsuit, which,
though he was entirely blameless, went against him and he
never was well off again - He had been for many years and
continued to be Agent to Lord Aldborough (who predeceased him
by some years) who lived at The (Stratford) Lodge, Baltinglass
- in a fine old house on the top of that well-known ridge &
wood (Burnt down later) - He was a very strange man almost
insane, and the last of his race - But he loved Grandpapa
Anderson very much and entirely on him, and he, in turn gave
unbounded devotion to Lord Aldborough's estate and interests,
often seriously to the neglect of his own. I see now, that
Henry did feel the same about Sir Edwards (Lord Aldborough)
affairs & troubles - a curious view of Questions in both -
Grandpapa was a most charming man, a typical Irish Gentleman
of the old school, and with great abilities, but with a
strange wont of balance and practical common sense - and
ruined in later life by religion [see back cover of this
book], with its strange changes and vagaries came as he grew
older to absorb him, and caused great family unhappiness
To go back to Navan (Co. Meath 25 miles North West of
Dublin) - Henry had made our little house run so nice - pretty
carpets & curtains & some new furniture bought in addition to
what had been there, when, before my advert, he and two
men-friends had lived in it together - and their old servant
remained with us - Dear Maria Reilly factotum first. and then
nurse to the children, and with us many years - a most
respectable woman & excellent nurse - and a true friend to us
all, in the good old fashioned way - Her father was the O
Hagans' steward, and they (The Reillys) were a family of the
old school faithful and devoted to their employers -
What a plunge ! to be a married woman - in a house of my
own, and suddenly confronted with duties and responsibilities
- Everybody in the place, and from all over in the country
coming to call on me, for Henry was well known and a great
favourite, and several girls there had set their caps at him.
It was all very strange, and no mother to counsel or talk to,
no Papa, no "children", i.e. sisters and brothers for company.
I was often dreadfully homesick -- But everybody was most kind
and friendly. The Merediths of the Bank were very nice, and
Alice, their eldest daughter, about my age, became a friend.
She is now the wife of the Bishop of Limerick and lost three
sons in the War. Many people took me out for drives and of
course there were dinners and teas given in my honour, and I
had pretty dresses to wear, and liked it all, tho' rather shy,
but my dearest neighbours were the O'Hagans. Mrs. O'Hagan was
the widow of a Naval Captain. Mary and Nellie, John and Hugh,
her children. What a home that beautiful Boyne cottage was,
with its trees and garden, and the river Boyne flowing past
it. I loved to go there and many a delicious meal we had with
them all, and talk and fun and companionship. They remained my
friends through life, and Henry's, whom they had known long
before I went there. Now, all dead but Nellie, who lives in
Dublin and with whom I still correspond. (1929 -- Dear Nellie
is gone too, quite suddenly. I loved her very much. She was
about my age.)
At the end of six months, in June 1877, Henry was
appointed sub-agent at Listowel, Co. Kerry. It meant increase
of pay, and a good-sized though ugly house in a street -- and
it was a change, and interesting to us both. Many goodbyes and
good wishes from the kind Navan friends. Henry went on to
Listowel, and I to Rostrevor. I let him get our house in order
for us. He took Maria Reilly with him -- and about a month
later, dear Papa took me there. How well I remember the long
journey, (250 miles, By Coach?) with a break at the McNiffs
(At erstwhile moving into Grafton Park) in Dublin and another
at a hotel in Limerick -- where we got quantities of ripe
fruit and red currants, raspberries, etc, and walked about and
were interested in the town. From there by steamer down the
Shannon to Tarbert. Such a wild, strange place! and on, by
outside car there waiting us to Listowel 8 or 9 miles off.
What a drive it was in the dark evening -- such a crazy Irish
driver, Scanlan, and the car without springs! Papa uneasy
about me, and both of us obliged to "hold on." But what a
welcome when we reached the house -- with lights and supper.
Henry so delighted to have me with him again -- and Maria glad
to too, and any amount of talk and things to be asked and told
-- and all the "improper meals" in the house to be admired and
discussed.
Papa stayed a fortnight, and during that time took me,
for a little treat, to Killarney, in the same County -- for
several days. We stayed at a nice hotel -- and went by boat
from lake to lake, entranced by the exquisite, dreamy, poetic
beauty of it all. Still vividly real to me, and his dear
presence and talk -- and all the Irish melodies and their
verses by Tom Moore, in my mind. I remember hoping that my
coming child would love nature as much as I loved it, and she
did.
We were over four years at Listowel. It seems much
longer, looking back. A strange, eventful time and with new
experiences and a great many troubles.
One great trouble, lasting all the time we were there,
was that the Bank Manager had been acting dishonourably, as
Henry soon discovered, misappropriating money and allowing
clients to have financial favours to which they had no right.
He ought to have been reported at once, but Henry never could
bring himself to do that, because it would have meant ruin to
the Manager, and his very nice wife and 6 or 7 children.
"Inspectors" came and went -- always anxious events! But the
Manager contrived to explain away everything, and to hold out
without discovery until we had left the place. When Henry's
successor at once reported the state of affairs, and W. M. was
dismissed, he took himself off to America, leaving his whole
family to be supported by his wife's father, who lived in
Cork. Some of them went to America afterwards, but they were
unfortunate. We lost sight of them. No blame of any kind was
attached to Henry. He pulled things together at that office in
a wonderful way and put a stop to much lax and improper
business, and was a Terror to Evildoers, excepting the chief
cause of it all -- and of course as years went on and we knew
them better and felt for them more, any action in that quarter
became more and more impossible.
I shall never forget the sleepless nights, the agonies H.
[Henry?] went through and I with him, of course -- and I so
young and inexperienced.
Otherwise, we had an interesting life there, though not
all sunshine, by any means, troubles and anxieties of our own.
The fates weaving us a web of varied hues, then as now
But how young we were! and hopeful, energetic, ready for
anything and how kindly we were welcomed and received by
everybody there -- not only in the town, but outside, living
in their beautiful country places, calling having us to
dinner, teas, "evening parties," drives, pic-nics [picnics?],
there was no end to it, and we were ready to enjoy it all, and
return it, in our small way. The George [Hewsons?], the Wm.
[William?] [Harveys?], the [Mores?], the Smiths, several
family of Fitz-Maurices, Mrs. [Maxwell?], and the Scanlons,
all out in the country; and two families of Sandes, one
Fitz-Maurice, the McCutcheons, Burkes, [H------?], Creaghs,
and later Baronsfeathers, in the town.
Much of the surrounding country was dreary black bog --
very curious flat, shaky roads running straight on for miles,
and the men cutting peat, and donkey-carts carrying it away to
be dried and sold. It was the only fuel in the place. Nearer
to the town there were lovely woods -- "Ballinruddery," with
the river Falls flowing below them -- our favourite walk, full
of fruit trees, plums, and one large cherry tree, I remember,
with double blooms. I found a little withered branch of it,
when going through our things -- gathered by H. [Henry?] for
me.
The Smith's house was out beyond Ballinruddery, & often
we walked out to see them and have tea. He was a retired Lab
[Labour?] -Inspector and they had several lively pleasant
daughters. Mrs. [Maxwell?] and her nieces the Scanlons lived
at Woodford Cottage, in the same direction. They were dear
friends, all dead now, but one, who married Mr. Bateman, a
School Inspector, & had many children, and lost several sons
in the war. Mrs. George Houston, a very pretty woman, too much
admired by Mr Massey, the Resident Magistrate, and much talked
about. The William Houstons of Finage, a lovely old place, and
such jolly young people, lost all their money afterwards, sold
things and went to Australia. The eldest girl was married to
the Captain of the ship they went out in. The Harnetts, great
friends, he is a solicitor -- and his younger daughter,
Florence, I still correspond with a little. We went to no end
of parties at the houses of all these pleasant Irish people,
and gave parties in return. I made the cakes, and all our
pretty wedding presents were in requisition -- and such
pleasant evenings - talks, fun, games, music, young and older
people happy together. I can see and hear it again as I write.
On 9th July Violet was born. What a beautiful creature
she was! Everyone admired her, and beautifully dressed, always
in white. Kind relations sent many gifts, and she was
perfectly lovely in a white "pelisse" and bonnet, trimmed with
swansdown [swan's-down?] . Her eyes were beautiful she seldom
cried, a happy healthy baby _ How Henry loved her I could not
possibly describe! He would have kept her in his arms forever.
The moment he came in, he took her up out of her cradle and
moved her and walked about with her. That would kill a modern
baby, of course -- but it did her no harm. She was noticed
and admired by everybody, rich and poor, in the place; and
Maria carried her out in her arms for walks or to sit in the
gardens of Garterard, Lord Listowel's place close to the town,
where certain families were allowed to walk and their children
to play when he was away from home, which was nearly always. I
could go on for ever, with reminiscences of that spring time
of our lives - so much of it was beautiful. It had its dark
and hard sides too. Inadequate servants, too hard work for me.
I was going to write inadequate means, but that would hardly
be true, as we always had enough to live on, and even to save
a little from. We often had guests to stay with us dear
Mother, Papa, Mr. Anderson -- sisters -- Wm. [William?]
McNeight and others. We kept a cow so as to have plenty of the
best milk -- but that was later. When there were four children
I learned to make butter for our own use. We had found, in the
large yard behind the house, and no end of eggs to eat and to
sell. There was much for me to learn and to do -- and how
Henry worked! to keep everything going and to make our little
enterprises a success. He rented a small farm, just a few
acres of grazing land on Ballygrennan Hill, some miles out
from Listowel, and attended all the fairs round about, buying
bullocks, improving and fattening them on this land, and
selling them later, at a profit. He made a good deal of money
in that way.
What energy he had! Up at 4 or 5 on the morning of a
fair. I with him of course, his breakfast by the nursery fire,
and off on foot or driving or riding (we had a horse for a
while) -- there was no train in those days -- to distant
places - not back till evening, getting his cattle driven out
to the farm -- and thereafter, his and my walks to see them.
They were taken care of by a man called Tade Donegan, who,
with his family, lived in a cottage on the place, and two of
his daughters were our servants. Honora and Bridgit. Often he
and I would walk out there, many miles, before breakfast, or
summer mornings. How interesting it all was! how I flung
myself into it all, along with him! Our friends thought us
brave and enterprising, and so we were.
D'Arcy was born on the 27th of July - 1880, a big, fair,
grave, solemn boy. The delight of Violet "mine brudder
[brother?]".
(I can see again the little group at the fireside in my
room _ Dear old Mrs. Breen, the baby on her knee _ the bath _
& Violet, dancing with joy! the loveliest angel of a child.)
Henry was delighted with the boy -- but he did not notice any
of his children, as he did Violet, while she was little;
though dearly loving them, playing with and teaching them.
About that time the Baronsfeathers came to Listowel. He
as manager of the Provincial Bank, later established there. I
liked his wife and we became great friends, she was a good and
sensible woman and so nice, in every way. He very foolish, and
inclined to be fond of drink. Several times she came late at
night to the house to bring Henry to go and look for her
husband, who had gone out and not come home. H. [Henry?],
always so kind, would drive off and generally find him and his
friends away at some distant village oblivious of everything
but the shining hour. Charley was born at Listowel, and later,
Violet would be invited to spend a day with him -- playing
with and going out with him -- playing with and going out with
him and his nurse, and always coming home to the evening with
a box of Edinburgh Rock. Another favourite place for her to go
was Mrs. [Maxwell?] cottage, with a lovely garden and field
and trees. Maria would take her there, and the Scanlon girls
loved to play with her. what memories of that time come
crowding back! Sweet and tender, also many of deep anxiety,
strained relationships between Henry and Mr. M., the Manager
of the bank, and always a heavy cloud of fear that an exposure
of the real condition of the affairs of that unfortunate and
misguided man, would come inevitable -- also about drink. He
was too fond of it, as were so many there -- and it was
resented that H. [Henry?] did not drink at all, or join in
their orgies. Good and evil, inextricably mixed, there as
always, in character, in circumstances. Harmony and proportion
missing. Great ability with strange limitations. True,
generally, but I mean now about H. [Henry?] nothing ever quite
right or quite happy -- and he would not get on with other
men. Looking back, that fact repeats itself from first to
last.
On July 29th 1881 Grenville and George, were born, at 6
in the morning, a lucky hour, people said. What an event that
was! not only for us but in the kindly, interested, gossipy,
sociable Irish community in which we lived. Our man Fox,
preceding Henry on his way to the office that morning,
throwing up his cap and chanting "Hurrah" -- and later,
getting drunk. Kind [affy?] Scanlon coming to see couldn't she
make for me more flannel things for the unexpected one, and
she did. Telegrams sent to Rostrevor and Baltinglass and
Dublin -- and loving messages coming in return. Dear Maria
Reilly, doing her best with the two babies and two little
children. D'Arcy only 18 months old -- but of course help had
to be got, first from a kindly woman who left her house to her
daughters and stayed as nurse for a while and was superseded
later by a daughter -- and Becky came and helped me, and
stayed several months. On her journey to us, she met Mr.
Carroll, and we got to know him. The beginning of a long
friendship. Many a time he talked of Ardglass his home - and
little did we imagine then, that D'Arcy's son would one day
own a property there.
When or how Henry got to know the Canadian Govt.
[Government?] people in Dublin, I don't remember, but he did,
and as he talked to them, I am sure, as he often did to me,
about emigrating; they, seeing him so strong and eager, and
so clear and enterprising, asked him to go to Canada and see
the country, all expenses paid, judge of it, and, on his
return give a lot of lectures on it for the benefit of
intending settlers. This he consented to do, getting
permission from the British authorities, of course, and their
giving it was considered a great compliment - He was
delighted, preparations were made, and he started off on July
20th, 1880. Violet was 2 and a half years old, D'Arcy a great
sturdy baby of 6 months. Harrie came to keep me company and
stayed till after Henry returned - He was away about two
months -How distinctly I remember his departure, Violet, with
Maria Reilly, went on the car with him a certain distance on
the road to Tarbert - I can see the car drive on - I crying -
he with tears in his eyes and his hat off, till a turn of the
road hid us from each other. He thoroughly enjoyed his time in
Canada, however, took in everything, for and against the
country and the settlers life in it - quite decided it was no
life for me - Wrote an excellent account of everything when
he came home and gave 6 lectures in different places, several
in the north of Ireland, Papa helping and introducing him, and
after we had moved to Portadown, his kind friend, our
clergymen, W. Le Doux, also facilitating the giving of the
last two or three, as all had to be in different places. They
were a source, he understood what he was talking about, met
intending emigrants after them and answered questions and gave
further information -- and in acknowledgement of all this,
when, afterwards he took us all to America, the Canadian Govt.
[Government?] Authorities presented him with passages for him
and me, four children and a nurse, from Londonderry to Quebec,
at merely nominal prices.
He brought home some nice things, buffalo "robes" white
fox skins. Curious and beautiful feather rugs made by the
Indians - He sold or gave away all, however, which was
disappointing -- any little things there still may be, bought
from the Indians, are relics of that time
How kind everybody was to me, during his absence! and
Harrie was a great favourite and much admired -- she had a
lovely complexion and very fair curly hair and she thoroughly
enjoyed herself.
All this ought to have been written before mentioning the
birth of the Twins, who came fast a year after -
When they were only 6 weeks old, Septr. [September?] 1881
- Henry was appointed sub-agent at Portadown, Co. Armagh, and
we moved there - Becky was still with us and she & I each
carried a baby, and we all went to that hospitable house,
Eastwell, in Dublin, where Sara & William Mac Neight & their
children lived - Their kindness from first to last, & their
boundless hospitality was always most wonderful to us all, not
only while they lived in Dublin but afterwards when, for the
sake of their children's health they moved to Howth - Many
happy holidays our children spent there. Henry & I going for a
part of the time, and then all going on to Rostrevor to an
equally loving and generous welcome - though, as the children
grew older, we took rooms for ourselves, generally at Mrs.
Keiltys - (the Sharkeys' house of old).
Before we left Listowel our dear Maria Reilly had to
leave us on account of her mother's health, & her father's
death - We loved her & she adored the children, especially
Violet "sure she's my own child" & it was a wrench to part
with her - We sent her off in the train (by that time extended
from Tralee to Listowel) and, as usual, Sara was good to her
in Dublin and put her in the train for Navan -- where, when
her mother died, she became again a servant of the O'Hagans,
who had originally taught her everything, her father having
been their "Herd" for many years.
Portadown was a great change, an ugly town, and the
people different from the warm-hearted Southern ones -- still,
we made many kind and pleasant friends there, and we had a
large and fine house attached to the beach-house, in which
(this last) Mr. and Mrs. Kernaghan lived. They were elderly
people, he gentle and nice. She very odd. Henry did not get on
very well with him, nor with his successor, Mr. Atkinson, who
was less pleasant - Generally, strained relationships existed.
Still it was delightful to be so near to Rostrevor and the
dear people there -- we went to them and they came to us. Also
Belfast was not far off and we used to see the Finlays and
other old friends.
In the year 1884 "Uncle Fred" Grandmama Anderson's
brother Captain Smyth, came to Ireland with his wife, "Aunt
Ruby" who had been a Miss Box of Dublin - We met them in
Dublin and elsewhere of course, and their account and
descriptions of the United States in general and the State of
Kansas (then new) in particular were very wonderful. The
climate, the social conditions, the pleasant life life and the
money to be made -- all most startling and alluring, and all
dreadfully exaggerated not to say in some (He had been a
sea-captain and had lived a wandering life, finally settling
at Wichita, Kansas) respects quite untrue. where he certainly
had become rich, and his four sons were all well off -- but as
we afterwards found out. that state of property did not always
follow for people who went there to seek their fortune? Henry
had always hated and chafed at his life in an office, his
relationships with other men, and, naturally enough, his very
limited prospects, with a family of four to do the best he
could for, He was greatly inspired by all he heard from Uncle
Fred and I, young and brave, as well as [he?] was eager to
take the final step, and "seek our fortune" in a new land. He
resigned his position in the Bank of Ireland. The authorities,
many of them old friends, were very [m--?] about it, and they
gave him œ400 to help his new enterprise - (I found the letter
from the Director of the Bank of Ireland lately - when going
through old things) Dear Papa, also gave him (or me) several
hundreds, and his brother Arthur "lent" two, which, when we
were quite able to pay it back and sent to him, he refused to
receive. Henry went out to "prospect," and to make
preparations, leaving the children and me at Rostrevor - He
disliked the place, when he got there, disliked the Smyths,
and found out how absurd their accounts of everything had
been. He saw the roughness and hardness that really existed
there, and that the life must inevitably be very difficult for
me, and dangerous for our four young children - Poor fellow!
he was in a dreadful state -- came home in despair and
declared he would not go out there at all - It was a great
crisis in our lives. He, without any prospects at home. Money
given to us to start us there -- a horrible situation, and I
had to take it on myself to say there was absolutely nothing
for it but to go - I had to take the responsibility and to
cheer him as best I (We had burned our boats, there was
nothing, else we could do) could - So, it was finally decided
on, our preparations made - The terrible parting gone through,
and we left from Rostrevor, in September 1884 -- Sailing from
Londonderry in the Allan Line Steamer, Peruvian. Our first
class passages given us at a very reduced rate by the Company,
in recognition of Henry's services (free I think) (one of my
letters describing it, kept by Mother, I have somewhere. She
should have kept all I wrote from there) to the Canadian Govt.
[Government?] -- as I have already mentioned - After a
terrible voyage, the poor little Darlings so ill Henry and I
to, utterly prostrate, and we reached Quebec -- and from
there, by Montreal and Chicago, we went on to Wichita, Kansas
-- where we stayed first for a short time at Smyth's house,
and then took one for ourselves -- and gradually we settled
down in that strange place, so utterly foreign to us all, in
every way -- and I had to undertake a very hard life to which
I was quite unaccustomed, and of which I had never dreamed
until then, and Henry had to learn, slowly & cautiously what
to do with our money - He was wonderfully clear about it.
Kansas was a new state, land was being taken up there by
farmers and settlers. It was rich and productive. Henry, like
many others, bought tracts of it. He had good judgement in all
he did, and soon began to sell, to advantage and to make
money. He bought a large "lot" on the outskirts of Wichita and
built a good house for ourselves He became well known and well
thought of, and a personality in the place And there we lived
for two years -- with us our servant, Margaret Dagle, whom
{After Margaret's departure I had everything to do --
everything -- In England no one could understand the reality
of it, or what it meant - washing, bread making, making all
the clothes worn by the children & me, mending - & I taught
each of the four to read & write I did it well to - & was
strong & happy - with the [----?] [---?] in [friend?]} we had
brought out there with us - She was from Baltinglass, and had
been Mrs. Anderson's servant for several years -- and for a
time she was a great help to me - We paid her œ60 a year the
usual wages there! but soon she became spoiled from contact
with undesirable people, and got into trouble, and we were
thankful to let her leave, and to do without a maid at all -
the almost universal lot of every family we knew.
All the Smyth's friends called on us of course, and we
soon had a good many acquaintances, and the children had
little friends to play with, but people were too busy in their
own houses for sociability, and I did not care for any of
them, nor did we wish the children to become American in ways
and speech. So we lived very much to ourselves, and our aim
from the first was to make enough money to enable us to return
home and have our children properly educated, and to start
them well in life, instead of having them grow up in that
great but horrible country and become like its inhabitants.
I was glad when we left Wichita. Henry and his Uncle had
quarrelled and did not speak to each other. He and the sons,
Fred, Charley and Rob were on friendly terms, and I was very
fond of Anne, Charley's wife and have met her since and we
sometimes correspond. One of the [modest?] and best of women,
who is still my friend though I seldom meet her. The Kansas
climate was very severe, intense heat in summer and cold in
winter. I used to go into the children's room at night,
several times, to make sure they wore warm and well covered -
tho' a great stove pipe went up through the room from below,
and in the hot summer nights we sat fanning them, or flapping
their sheets to cool them and set them to sleep, and often in
the middle of the night H. [Henry?] and I would get up and in
thin [dri--y?] [f---?] walk up and down the hot wooden
sidewalk in front of our house -- too sultry for sleep -- or
flap the children's sheets, to cool them.
We had got, through William Mc Neight, to know the
Smithsons. He, a rich Dublin man, settled in Chicago and his
friend, Sir Edward Hutchinson, who, with his niece Miss Brown
(now Mrs. Tighe) also lived there. They had become acquainted
with each other in the Moody and Sankey religious excitement
in Dublin, years before. Sir Edward and W. Smithson became
Henry's partners in the Real Estate business in Wichita, to
the mutual benefit of all, but after a time it was discovered
that Smithson, who had the manipulating of Sir Edward's money,
had appropriated much of it, lost it, and become bankrupt. The
partnership with these people came to a head. Henry helped Sir
Edward to recover some of what he had entrusted to Smithson,
and but for his efforts, Sir Ed. [Edward?] would have been
left penniless. He and Miss Brown were full of gratitude, and
remained our friends till Sir Edward's death, and she and her
husband since.
Mrs. Tighe and I still correspond from time to time. They
were very fond of Henry and had a great opinion of his
abilities and of all he did for them so disinterestedly.
We sold our house at Wichita, when, the great "boom" in
land having died down there, H. [Henry?] decided to move to
Birmingham in Alabama (Blount Springs). Anna and Charley saw
us off, on our long, hot horrible journey in September 1886.
My long loose coat, a gift from Mother, got left behind at
Wichita -- a great loss to me, and I had no other, for long
enough! A Mr. Blackwater travelled with us. He was a banker in
Wichita, and I knew and liked his wife. He too wanted to move.
He was kind and helpful on the journey.
I remember our arrival in Birmingham, a great ugly town,
in the midst of an Iron country -- great furnaces everywhere -
and in the cool evenings Henry would take the children and me
for long drives, when we could see the glare of the smelting
places lighting up the sky.
We did not stay long there, only a few weeks, as business
in real estate was less favourable than he had expected, so we
moved to Blount Springs -- a lovely place in the hills, in the
State of Tennessee - There were musical springs there --
woods, county well, flowers, beauty. We stayed at a large
hotel, with great, shady verandahs - The children loved it and
had other children to play with. We wandered about in the
woods and were very happy. They and I, for Henry and Mr.
Blackwater went on to Pensacola on the Gulf of Mexico, to
"prospect". It was a great change and rest for me, after my
busy, hard life at Wichita - but I got ill and had to go to
bed, and was there when he returned - We thought the drainage
was not right -- and it was a wonder that the children kept
well. They were out more than I was. H. [Henry?] moved us up
to an annex on the hill-side where our windows looked right
into the heart of a great tree - It was a pleasant time.
{I can never forget what all that beauty was to me, after a
long starving from that bread of life in ugly, hideous Kansas!
It was an unspeakable ecstasy, almost too much to take in! and
the place had that special charm which only hot countries
possess, the luxuriousness of the vegetation and its beauty,
everything growing and flowering in such profusion and
spontaneity -- as delightful to live as I was to behold them
living.}
From there we went on to Chattanooga, Tennessee, Henry
preceeding us, and finding a home for us to live in. That was
the Autumn of 1886. Chattanooga was a large & busy town with
manufacturing business, and was in the midst of a "boom" in
land values. Henry bought a good deal of property there, the
Macauley Avenue property, the sale of which later (in about a
year) was very profitable. There he met Mr. Payne. How, or by
whom introduced I cannot now remember - They became partners
and friends -- and though the partnership was dissolved when
we left America, the friendship never ceased, Mr. Payne was I
think the only man with whom Henry continued on good terms. We
saw a good deal of him -- and always found him a gentleman,
and a man of high character. We knew his father and mother who
came there sometimes -- nice people. The father was a
clergyman & the American Episcopal Church -
The children went to a nice little school in Chattanooga
-- kept by two ladies -- one was Miss Josey. I forget her
surname. She was very nice, and used to ask all her pupils in
turn to dinner at her house now and then, and her father drove
them home in a buggy - They were happy at her little school -
but the place was unhealthy and the climate enervating. They
were often ill, especially when the hot summer weather
returned - We were very unhappy and anxious about them, and
Henry thought of a plan to do them good.
He had a rough wooden house built on some land he had
bought on Missionary Ridge, (now a fashionable suburb of
Chattanooga they remember a battle in the American [faded?]
North & South -) a few miles out from the town. We sent out
some beds and other furniture and one hot day Mr. Payne and he
took us all out there in a large buggy. How vividly that drive
comes back to me!
H. [Henry?] and Mr. Payne driving by turns, the four
languid little children pale and ill -- myself, very tired and
overworked, the cat tied into a "dish-pan" -- all sorts of
things packed into the buggy. The drive was most beautiful
through the thick forest on the Ridge -- great trees, a jungle
of undergrowth, and when we reached the top and saw the view,
what a view it was -- away to Lookout Mountain at the other
side of a wide valley, through which flowed the river
Tennessee. The woods were below us and the air was fresh and
fragrant and cool. The children got well instantly. It was
most wonderful.
What happy months we spent up there! They, rambling the
woods with Robert Vaughan, a farmer's son. I too, once again
drinking ("the Ridge")in beauty to such an extent that I felt
as if I could not hold it all! a queer, almost oppressive
feeling, and yet ecstasy. Henry went to his Chattanooga office
(by a local train?) every day, walking down the woody
hill-side. We, often part of the way with him, hatless, happy
and [fre---?] [pery---?]
The persimmon tree, and the Carpenters farm-house on the way
(D'Arcy too, was rolled down a hill under a roller, & might
have been badly hurt - I remember my overwhelming enjoyment of
the woods & flowers & butterflies there - so much, I could
hardly take it in -) In the evenings we all sat on the
doorsteps and watched the setting sun behind Lookout Mountain
and sang all together. I see and hear it all now -- Most
lovely in all its [-----?] We had a gasoline stove on which I
cooked our meals and Henry brought up a sack of flour, when
necessary from which I made all our bread. The neighbouring
farms supplied milk, butter, eggs, chickens and vegetables.
Our nearest neighbours were "Billy Brundage," his wife and
daughter -- old settlers, still living in a real log-hut -- a
most picturesque and comfortable place.
One day dear Henry ran into a Charcoal-pit, covered in
ashes, and terribly burnt his bare feet. That was dreadful.
Robert Vaughan carried him home on his back -- and fortunately
I had a whole 1 lb. of vaseline in its tin, and sheets of
clean cotton wool. Poor little Darling.
That was a happy summer. Towards the end of it and the
strawberry season was a great treat -- acres of strawberry on
the property and many pickers hiked to gather them for the
Chattanooga market every day. We ate at them till we could eat
no more; and Mr. Payne and his father and mother drove up for
strawberry teas with us.
{In August this year 1927, I met Mr. Payne again, after many
years, & we recalled all this including the cat in the
dish-pan & the many strawberry teas he & his parents had with
us later in our little wooden house on the beautiful Ridge -
(his second wife was with him & they [-----?] &c with
Grenville & me in London , at the [Christian Church?])
Towards the end of it Henry -- and I suppose Mr. Payne,
who was his partner, sold the McCauley Avenue property to a
Company -- or to a group of people. I do not know the exact
conditions. He made a large sum of money out of it, and we
decided to "go home"!
(Novr. [November?] 1887)
After that, what a busy time! Of course I had my sewing
machine, and I got materials and made a sailor suit for each
of the boys, a dress for Violet, pinafore, etc, etc. We got
all our things together and packed. At last we were ready to
go -- and, having sent everything away on a wagon (Mr. Payne
very helpful) we six left the dear beautiful Ridge, and walked
through the woods to the foot of the hill. Sitting here now, I
can see and hear that long-past scene - Henry and I and the
four children, after one last look at that place where we had
been so happy, walking down that path, paved with the fallen
leaves, crimson and gold.
Mr. Payne saw us off from Chattanooga. "Well, you are
getting what you have wished for so much," he said, as he
shook hands with me. We broke our journey at Cincinnati, and
were the guests of the kind Gambles, an old lady and her
daughters, cousins of Col. [Colonel?] Gamble -- for two days
-- and then home, via New York -- {Those Gambles had a large
and beautiful house in Cincinnati and were very charming
people, quite rich. They were most hospitable and kind to us,
and Miss Gamble and I liked each other and corresponded for a
long time. Colonel Gamble was a cousin and was much interested
to hear about them, he having introduced us to them. Miss
Gamble after her Mother's death, paid a visit at Windlehurst
-- (Colonel Gamble's home) and I met her again at St. Helens}
We had gone 'home' to stay there, and my delight knew no
bounds -- to leave America, once for all, to be done with its
drudgery and sordidness, to be near the dear people who
welcomed and loved us all, and above everything to escape
trans-Atlantic influences for the children, to hear them
brought up among English surroundings and to have them taught
(now becoming very necessary) by English teachers and at
English schools was my overwhelming wish and object in life -
I had taught them all to read and write, but I had neither
time nor capacity for anything more, and our determination to
prevent them become Americanised, necessarily limited the
number of their friends.
What was my sorrow and disappointment, therefore, when
after about 18 months in England and Ireland, Henry declared
his intention of going back to America - I could not describe what
it was to me or what I suffered, but it had to be -- more
heart breaking goodbyes and we went out again in May 1889, via
New York, and on to San Francisco - Our kind Mr. Carroll was
there S.F. [San Francisco?] and met us and took us all to a
very pleasant hotel where he had, at our request, engaged
rooms for us. "First impressions are so important," he said.
The owners of the hotel were most kind to us, filling our
rooms with flowers every day and giving us quantities of
fruit. The white town and its surroundings were beautiful, the
great bay and the valley and building and trees and gardens
round it, and the Golden Gate with its seal-rocks and Sounds,
where we often went by train in the warm evenings - We
took a little home in Alameda across the bay. It was cooler
and healthier there, and cheaper -- and there were lovely
walks into the hills from it where the children used to go for
pic-nics with the Slater children -
The old busy life was began again for me - in that little
house, but I liked it much better than our former places of
abode - also I liked some of our near neighbours. Dear Mrs.
and Mrs. Bonk - who were Germans but such kind creatures, and
she, so helpful to me many a time. I shall never forget her or
cease to love her. We advertised for a governess to come daily
and teach the children and had many Answers. We picked out, by
the hand-writing, all the English ones, and finally chose Mrs.
Pratt. Such a nice woman. She had been a governess at home, at
a place called Hesham, in I think (Yorkshire) {Northumberland}
- she was quite a lady & spoke nicely - had married a
Chemist, not up to her level - and they had emigrated - The
children liked her and so did H. [Henry?] and I. She was kind
but strict. Many funny memories are associated with her time
with us, nearly two years. She came every day, and in the
middle of the teaching hours I used to take her a cup of tea
and some bread and butter, which she liked. I can see now, the
group round that table, the books, etc - We often had her and
her husband to tea. All of us sitting round the dining room
table. She played well on the piano. They loved the warmth of
the stove in the little drawing room. In the damp rainy season
we played drawing and writing games. After we left Alameda
they went farther west. We corresponded for a while and then
lost sight of them. She loved the children and thought them so
good and so nice. She had a particular affection for Violet. I
remember nice books she gave -
That little drawing room! In it we sat every evening- I
sewing, Henry reading aloud to the children, one delightful
book after another. Hereward the Wake was one. I can hear his
voice, and the way [----?] of parts of it, and see the dear
group drinking it all in -- and the scene from the window, an
old garden across the road, with large cedar trees and
vegetation, much like that of Italy. Up one of the cedars our
cat climbed and our dog Gyp, the latter having to be rescued.
There was a great fig tree a short way down the road, up where
the boys used to climb and fill their blouses with the fruit -
[Gayer?] flopped down one and was in a nice mess!. Every
morning after breakfast I used to walk bearheaded
[bareheaded?], with Henry, to the end of the road where he
turned round to the station for Oakland and the Ferry by which
he crossed to San Francisco and his office - On Sundays we
took little tours to places across the boy or down it. I wish
I could remember their rivers name [Saucefield?] was one.
Those expeditions were sometimes more tiring than pleasant.
Still I remember the beauty of all that coast.
The Baronsfeathers, who then lived in Scotland, fired by
Henry's success, and not very properous themselves, had come
out there with us - and take the house next to ours. He was a
foolish man, and she was of course far too hard worked. They
returned to Scotland after we had left Alameda. Many amusing
memories, and some pathetic ones gather round them. I always
liked her - tho' she was stingy and queer - and I have
corresponded with her from time to time every since - When at
Lavenham 18 months ago, she wrote last, saying she was very
ill. I suppose she is dead (yes) Dear me! how well I remember
washing day.. She at one side of the fence, I at the other,
hanging out the clothes -- and laughing together and thinking
of what our people at home would think and say, could they see
us.
Henry was not so successful in his land business during
our time there as he had been formerly. The "boom" on land
seemed to be dying down and he was afraid to buy. Several
times he went on long journeys by land or sea to distant
places. Vancouver, etc, and would be away some time
"prospecting" for better opportunities, but tho' he never lost
money he did not make much - At last, less than two years
after we had gone to California, Sir Edmond wrote to him from
Palmer House Hotel, Chicago, saying he should go there, loan
money on good security, possibly buy land near that rapidly
growing city, and do well.
He went there to them, and in a few weeks time wrote to
me to say he had decided on that course - and he told me to
give up our house (which we only held monthly, I think) sell
the furniture, etc., pack, and go there with the children - He
hired a furnished house for us in Lincoln Avenue - It was a
big undertaking for me who never had done anything of the kind
before - but he sent me directions what to do, advertise our
things, see dealers, sell, pack, get tickets, and start - I
did it, and he was pleased with the result, which pleased me -
I remember it all, and the anxiety and responsibility of it.
We all, the four Darlings and I, said goodbye to our dear
friends - the Baronsfeathers, (she ill in bed, I remember),
the McCulloughs and the dear Browns. A Scotchman, a friend of
Henry's, whose name I forget tho. He and his wife used to come
and have tea with us, took us to the station and saw us and
our luggage on the train - and off we went -- a journey of
several days and nights. "Godeys for gray suits" [Godey's
Lady's Book, a 19th century Fashion Magazine?] - dates from
then, for I provided little things and amusments for the
children on the journey, including berlin wool, needles and
canvas cut into squares, at which they all worked by fits and
starts, and some of those little pattern-worked squares I have
still among my (lost!) treasures - In one of my workbaskets.
We had books too, Black Beauty for one (stolen by a negro
porter on the train we thought) - What Darlings they were! so
good, so easy to manage, so full of ideas and resources and
games of their own - How different from the pampered children
of today, with imagination all ready - made for them -
Decr. [December?] 1890) I distinctly remember our arrival in
Chicago, and the dreary look of the great, horrid station.
Henry was to have met us, but our train was more than a day
late in arriving and he had no way of knowing when it would
come in - after waiting a while I took a cab and we drove to
Lincoln Avenue - I forget the number - there, the door was
locked -- and we were preparing to enter the house by the
Kitchen window which was un-latched! when we arrived -
dreadfully anxious and upset about us.
We were less than half a year in Chicago - It was not a
pleasant place to be in - The house gloomy and large, and
difficult for me to keep clean and in order; the climate
dreadful - bitter cold and deep snow for months. our children
and others pulling toboggans up and down in the street, and
amusing themselves. Lincoln Park was close by with a large
lake where Henry taught them all to skate - and how quickly
they learned! I used to go out them all skimming about
beautifully. One day when they all were there and I was in the
house, a cab drove up to the door and Henry was helped out of
it and into the house with a very badly sprained ankle, his
skate having been caught in a crack, and the ankle wrenched
round - He suffered much with it and it lasted many weeks -
and as he wanted to go out and attend to business he bought a
pair of crutches and went about on them at such a pace that
Sir E. [Edward?] and Miss Brown and all of us used to laugh at
him. {Sir Edward and Miss Brown were a long time in San
Francisco too, and often came and had tea with us at Alameda,
both very handsome and he charming} He was a terror in the
streets, also, in the same condition, he and Sir E. [Edward?]
and "William" Sir E's [Edward's?] man went by train to Wichita
- a very long journey, on some affairs. That was the year when
the first epidemic of influenza took place - Illness and death
were the prevailing conditions - and the funerals passed our
house in a ceaseless stream for weeks. We all were ill - the
poor darling children first - and then Henry and then I.
{[The?] Grenvilles came to my bedside, crying, and told me
"We're very hungry and there is nothing for lunch but an
Experiment (Experiments for lunch)}.
Many pleasant or funny little memories remain of those
months, but as a whole they constituted a very trying and
unpleasant chapter of our lives. Sir Edward and Miss Brown, at
the Palmer House were are only friends - and we saw a great
deal of them and they were a great pleasure to me - and also
to H. [Henry?] who did no end of things for him in connection
with the recovery of all that could be saved from Smithson -
What an amount of work it meant, and all disinterested, as
Henry would not take a penny by way of reward -- as they very
much wanted him to do - "The most foolish wise man I have
ever met," Sir E. [Edward?] used to say of him. {H. [Henry?]
hated the act of writing and never wrote at all, if he could
help it - I wrote all his correspondence, to his dictation -
it was immense - I remember one day at Alameda writing
ceaselessly for 7 hours - and feeling quite ill after it - I
can remember those endless letters & myself sorting writing
thro' H's [Henry's?] dictation once them - copies [Henry?]
made in a press by damping their paper (sic)} The writing fell
to my share, no end of it! {Sir E [Edward?] gave me my little
gold watch - I have it still, tho' superseded by a wrist one}
Heavens how I worked in those days We found, after
advertising, an English girl to teach the children. Miss
Touch. She was a good teacher, and very nice - her name an
alteration of LaTouche. she often stayed to lunch or went to
the Park with the children for skating. A great, tall, very
good looking woman. Chicago was and of course is ever more
now, an enormous, extraordinary place, the lake shore
(Michigan) rather beautiful, and bordered with great villas
and houses built of every imaginable kind of marble and in
every conceivable fantastic style, according to the taste of
the owners. The people in the streets ugly to a degree, common
looking, and their manners very rude, the German element
prevailing largely - I shall never forget how terrible the
cold was. I remember taking Gayer with me one day to order a
barrel full of oranges in a distant part of the town and how
he suffered, and I too - from the icy wind and the snow - On
this occasion. I picked up a little rubber stamp on the
sidewalk and on it was "T. Anderson." What odds?
I can't remember details, but Henry did not like the
business there, nor think it worth remaining in America for -
The very active "booming" years had quieted down - people said
for ever, but that of late has changed, I believe. At any rate
he decided that we should "go home." The children needed
better teaching, and a different life -- and we all welcomed
the decision with joy.
I suppose Colonel Gamble (Mother's cousin) must have
heard about it from her, for one day Henry had a letter from
him, asking him would he think it worth his while to take the
post of his Agent, develope [develop?] and manage his large
estate in and round St. Helens at a salary of œ600 a year -
This was a great and very opportune event to us - and H.
[Henry?] wrote saying he would accept the offer with pleasure.
We were also to have a house, free. {Colonel Gamble had met
Henry several times at Rostrevor when Col. G. [Gamble?] had
come there in his yacht, the Aline - & he must have seen that
he was a very clever & capable man, & one who could undertake
& fulfil that important wish - )
So, only five months after our 1891 settling in Chicago, we
left it joyfully, and full of hope - The only people we knew
to say goodbye to were Sir Edward and Miss Brown, and we were
very fond of them and they of us - We were often at their
rooms in Palmer House, and they in our house, for tea and
talking, and laughing and fun - He particularly charming and
remarkably handsome - They remained in Chicago only a few
months after we left, and followed, to England.
One morning, before starting on our journey Miss Brown came
out, bringing with her, from him, for me a little gold watch,
with a "fob" chain -- a present, accompanied by a sweet note
of thanks and appreciation of all I had done and helped Henry
to do, by my constant writing, in connection with his business
and misfortunes, and wishing me happiness and rest "in the
more congenial land to which you are hasting."
- Who could understand my delight at such an unexpected
pleasure, falling to my share! The dear little gold hunter
watch, for me, who had so few "things" of any sort. It has
been my friend and pleasure and companion ever since, and is
so still, though partly superseded just lately by a little new
gold wrist watch, also a pleasure - I had been given by
Mother when I was married, one of her two very handsome old
gold watches - but it was too large for me and I gave it to
Henry who wore it for many years and then sold it, a pity!
Over and over again Sir Edward had tried to make him take
money or shares or reward of any kind for all his work for him
- but into that quixotic side of his nature nothing would
induce him to do so, and the harder he worked the more
obdurate he was in his refusal. This, and his father's
devotion to Lord Aldborough was quixotic. he worked for him,
and not for himself. Sir E. [Edward?] did leave him in his
will, an interest in some lands in the north - an underveloped
area of the U.S., but I believe that it was proved that the
title was bad, or in some say they were useless. We never
got or expected anything - We met them often after their
and our return to England, in different places, also at their
pretty house, Fauna, Rathgar, Dublin, (where he died) and
since then. Mr. and Mrs. Tighe in London and in Rome and
later Bordzhera - where they died.
It was in May 1891 that we started for Ireland, going
through Canada. Toronto, where we visited the Cookes. Edward
Cooke's brother, William, and his family, who were very
hospitable and kind to us, in spite of having no [tenants?] -
she a nice woman. I remember her opening the lid of a small
box at the foot of her bed, and letting me look in at the
little clothes of the child she had lost.
We had a good voyage home - paid visits at Rostrevor. Oh!
the delight of seeing them all again, standing at the gate to
welcome us, as always! I can see now, the smiling group. Papa
and Mother and the Sisters - and this time we were home, not
to go to America again - Happy weeks there, and then at almost
equally dear Slaney Lodge. The two spots of earth that I have
loved beyond all others, not even expecting Italy - no words
could possibly express what I felt and feel still for both
places. Rostrevor, of which I am a part, "the hole of the pit
from which I was digged" - a quite unique feeling.
Baltinglass, unspeakably dear too, and always a place of rest
and happiness of account not only of itself, but the dear
people all of whom I loved, but very specially Rebecca (Dear
dear "Aunt Reby") who was so wonderful and so charming, in
spite of very plain looks (which don't matter at all!) and
homely surroundings - she was loved by everyone. All the
children of all the families - and by everyone who knew her.
How often now, I would give anything, for a talk with her,
full of love, experience, and wisdom as she was - Then we
went to Seaford and to Dulwich waiting for Henry's predecessor
to leave St. Helens and all to be ready for the new work.
In February 1892 we went there - stayed a few days at
Windlehurst where the Gamble family were most kind - and then
we had to take a little new house on the outskirts of the
town, till Carr Mill Cottage was ready for occupation - The
Gambles had thought that we should live on Cowley Hill, in the
town, full of [] and close to everybody - but both Henry and I
had fallen in love with little Carr Mill Cottage - in the
country nearby, a pretty little house with good lawn and
trees, close to the lake, "Carr Mill Dam," nearly a mile long
and prettily surrounded by trees at the opposite side -
From our little place a flight of steps led down to it and we
had a boat - the children soon learned to row, and then used
under Henry's eye, to jump into the water and swim ashore -
The wild lovely Deer Park adjoined our grounds. The children
loved it full of bracken and bushes and little paths. There
"Parry Par" and "Single Stick" were built and lived in - and
just above it was the Ash path, bordered by hedges and ferns,
leading to Stollin Hey - an old empty house with gardens etc
about it, where often we had out of doors tea, asking all the
children we knew, and games and fun. The four Jos. [Joseph?]
Gamble boys, Dorothy Gamble, daughter of the Willie Gambles -
David Gambles son Lance who told lies and was objectionable.
The Bishops - Rite Conny and Charley and George - Charley
killed in the War, afterwards and George died very young
(epiliptic [epileptic?]) - The Hammill boys, Landsdale,
Norman Allan and Jack - Allan died young, Norman was killed in
the War, Mrs. Hammill died lately - Dear, nice people, and
they were very fond of the boys. Our three spent part of one
summer holiday with them (Ramsey) at the Isle of Man - a
delightful time.
What a change it was, especially to me, to be plunged
into such a different mode of life, from the one I had lived
for years in America! I found it difficult at first to manage
servants, and to have to arrange life, and every detail of
it. on a different scale, to go and to give dinner parties -
and to do a good deal of calling, giving and going to teas.
dreadful work parties! then (and now too I suppose) considered
necessary and proper thing for charitable work - We had two
horses, a groom, Murtagh, who, with his wife in the gate lodge
- Kindly Irish creatures and he a good groom - We had a nice
dog-cart, and the children all learned to ride under Murtagh's
tuition. A governess, - I forget the name of the first who was
not much good - but Miss Rowland was very good and lived with
us a long time - and the dear little Fraulein Rinda, {and
Fraulein Jane} a German but love her still. {We also had a
daily Tutor for the boys - Mr Gregory} - Colonel Gamble,
mother's cousin. {who used to come to Rostrevor by sea mainly
every summer to see her in his yacht, the Aline and had my
sister out on cruises several times} How well I remember him
and how much I loved him, one of the best of men - and in his
own way very clear. His father was a man of considerable
property in the North of Ireland, Mr. Josiah Gamble, of the
Green, Co. Fermanagh - a fine old place, where I remember
going to a visit with mother, as a small child. They were
people of position and wealth, and Sir David, the only son,
joined with a Mr Proctor (Proctor and Gamble) of Liverpool, a
great chemical firm. One of them had discovered some chemical
process by which a very essential ingredient was made and
distributed at immense profit. He amassed a very large fortune
- All his 7 sons except one, Arthur, who became a clergyman,
were partners in it. {This great business was afterwards sold
at an enormous price to the United Alkali Company, a great
"combine" which brought up all the Chemical Cos [Companies?]
of England - Sir David regretted selling, but could not hold
out against the universal change} - all each and well
married, did with fine houses and a position in the
neighbourhood. All refined to a degree and good and fine and
rich, but dull and unattractive. Shy, dull and formal. They
were most attentive to us and the admired and loved the 4
children. At Christmas, dances were given at some of their
houses for all the numerous young relations. The parents,
too, of course - (H. [Henry?] and I all 4 children went to
them) - and our children went to Liverpool once a week, driven
to and from the station by Murtagh, and accompanied by the
governess. to have [------?] lessons. - It was a happy time -
with the Darlings growing up about us - but a very busy, too
busy one for me. No servant would remain with us long because
we were in the country. It meant my training local maids and
doing much cooking, etc. etc myself -Also I had to make all
the bread for the family, no baker delivering it then. Twice a
week an enormous "crock" full of dough, leavened with yeast -
An arduous job, but I had done the same in America and had
become an expert, and the bread was delicious - Also "Jinny
Linns" which I used to make in America and which the children
loved. It was Mrs. Moore who showed me how to make them first
-- and so named them (Sally Lunns I am sure).
Henry's work was very important - the entire development of
the large estate which Col. [Colonel?] Gamble had bought not
long before, in addition to what he already owned in & near
the town of St. Helens, where his fine house Windlehurst had
been built - The new purchase included much outlying property,
many farmers and houses, Carr Mill Lake and our "Cottage",
with the Deer Park & all the surrounding land not only on that
side of the town, but in other directions - He gave Henry a
free hand, thinking a great deal of his ability to do it well,
and fastly - Of course every move & undertaking had to be
discussed with Col. [Colonel?] Gamble - but H. [Henry?] had a
large and clear plan of the whole in his mind & of what seemed
best for it, in every aspect. No money was spared - H.
[Henry?] had a foreman & gangs of workmen under his direction
and supervision - roads were made, fences put up, walls built,
hedges planted (he introduced golden privet to brighten that
dull bleak landscape) tenants dealt with - and soon the whole
face of the country has changed from a black, [profane?]
wilderness to at any rate a civilised region - Sir D. [David?]
used to drive about it in his carriages, H. [Henry?] often
with him & once or twice I - to see & be pleased with it all -
and friends or guests at Windlehurst did so too - It was great
work, & well done, but Henry never seemed happy in it, tho' it
was really the sort of thing that suited him - He did not do
with anyone "over" him - and at the end of two years he
decided to give it up - We had many many talks about it & I
was very sorry for several reasons. We had a nice position
there and income enough - but it was evident that it could not
go on much longer, without some unpleasantness - and that, to
me would have been awful!
How well I remember the afternoon when Henry wrote his letter
of resignation of his post, to Col. [Colonel?] G. [Gamble?] -
a nice letter - D'Arcy and I think Gayer were sent to deliver
it - The children were all sad about it, & so was I - when the
two little boys returned from that errand D'Arcy burst into
tears -
Dear Col. [Colonel?] G. [Gamble?] came out next day & was so
nice, kind & understanding (Oh! how trying it all was!) but he
was very disappointed & grieved - Had hoped we were fixtures -
He loved me & the children, Violet especially - & he gave her
œ100 in Harrods Stores Stock, on her 21st birthday - He and
all the family and we remained friends always, just the same;
& wherever we lived afterwards he & a daughter always came to
see us & have tea & spend an afternoon - nothing but good
feeling to the end - and when he died we lost a true friend -
Violet's great friend was Alice Bishop a G-child
[Grand-child?] of Sir D. Gs - She came to stay with us at 110
[Shool-----?] [Rd.?] Blackheath Some weeks or months after
this momentous decision the four children and I left St Helens
for Tonbridge - Henry had visited the place & made enquiries
about the school, and liked it, so we moved there - perhaps it
would have been better to send the boys as boarders to some
other public school - but they were so much the same age - &
there was Violet too, to be considered; & it would , I suppose
have been beyond our means - I know & knew nothing about what
our income was - I accepted his decision -
Septr. 1894 I can distinctly see our departure from St Helens
I & the children - & Harry Gamble (the lame youngest son)
coming to help to see us off - H [Henry?] had to remain behind
to finish up everything and to get our furniture sent to
Tonbridge, - That journey I shall never forget; nor, as we
progressed away from that horrible black country, into
ever-increasing beauty, civilisation, order, finish - Now my
soul rejoiced in it all & went out to it all - also I
experienced a sort of relief & freedom in the change from
north to south, and in the conditions of life - Youth, and the
spirit of enterprise made everything interesting -
Our house "Stoneleigh" on London Road, just outside the
town, was not ready for us - & our landlord, Mr. FFoliott very
dilatory about the repairing [etc?] - We went to lodgings -
Mrs Brown's rooms very uncomfortable! - A few days after our
arrival there the boys began school - Violet and I walked to
the beautiful old entrance to the School House with the three
dear little fellows, looking so nice in their new Eton suits &
black & white straw Tonbridge School hats - She and I stood at
the opposite side of the street, and watched them cross it,
and enter the old gates - I can see it now, and memory recalls
that important event in their lives - as clearly as if the
gulf of years & all the tragedies that have intervened since
that day had never been - My little Angel with me too - even
then, so wise & so sweet, my companion & helper then & ever,
until her tragedy - When Henry arrived with us we moved into
our house. Stoneleigh a pleasant enough detac
