Sarah Ann Thomas was born in Darlington, Durham, England in 1863 to William Thomas and Sarah Evans Morse. She died in Chicago, in 1944. While most people of the time didn’t venture very far from home, Sarah lived a daring life spanning 81 years, three continents, three marriages, seven children, and countless adventures due to her firm stance on the importance of following your heart.
The original story was written by Sarah for two reasons: to help solidify her sons’ American citizenship, and in response to a (very popular) diary published by a girl named Maud. It was later typed up by Sarah’s daughter-in-law Irene. No changes have been made during transcription, despite a handful of objectionable words or phrases. Sarah’s Story is a family heirloom that has captivated her descendants for decades. We hope to preserve it for future generations and share it with anyone who may enjoy it.
On a broad expanse of land, not far from old Roseberry Topping in the north of England, stood a fine old home with its walls almost covered with ivy. On the front lawn stood many huge oak trees, some with seats built around them, beautiful flower beds filled with all kinds of old fashioned flowers, tall hollyhocks, sweet William, snapdragons, and all the rest of them. Between the front lawn and the tennis court was a rock garden with all kinds of wee plants and flowers, together with ferns peeking out between the rocks. Then came what was called the back garden, where a variety of vegetables and fruits grew in production. A little further on was a large grassy plot used for a drying ground, croquet, and so on. It was enclosed on three sides by a trellis, on which had been trained both apple and pear trees. Just inside this enclosure, the boys had built their rabbit hutches. Then came the berry bushes: gooseberry, black currant, red currant, raspberries (both red and black,) and the best of all, big beds of strawberries. How we children loved to take a saucer of sugar and eat all the strawberries we cared to, regardless of any washing. I wonder how many little green worms I have eaten.
At the far end of the garden were the stables, carriage, cow house, pig sty, kennels, and so on. As a rule, there were two ponies and a carriage horse, the former for the children to ride, or mother to attach to a pony carriage, made like our Irish jaunting car except that the seats were inside instead of outside. The house and front part of the lawn were enclosed by a tall iron fence, the back by a brick wall, on the top of which was embedded broken glass to prevent anyone from climbing over.
Such was the home of “Big William,” as he was so lovingly called by the whole countryside. His family consisted of his wife and eight children, and I was one of them. He was a partner as well as the general manager of an iron and steel works company that had plants in several places and an office in London. His business took him away from home a great deal of the time, leaving the upbringing of the children to Mother, who was almost puritanical in her discipline.
We lived about two miles from the village where the workmen and their families lived. It was a neat little village, with a recreation center, an Episcopal church, and what was called a board school, free to the village children, a nice inn near the railway station, and all kinds of small stores. Such were the surroundings in which I lived most of my young life, except the winters when Mother took us to the French Riviera on account of the bronchial trouble of my sister Kitty. The nearest school available for us was ten or twelve miles away, therefore we had a resident tutor. Everything seemed to be done at home. The shoemaker came to measure us for our shoes, the dressmaker would come and stay for weeks making our clothes, and the barber came to cut our hair. I look back over a sea of memories, and smile at the differences in my life then and now and often wonder if I was wise to take the bit in my teeth and follow the dictates of my heart. I thought so then.
When I was old enough I was sent to boarding school with my eldest sister. What a heartbreaking time that was for me! Cooped up in a classroom nearly all day, with just a few minutes of play in the morning and afternoon, then out for a walk from twelve thirty to one thirty, a teacher with each class, walking with us two abreast until we got into a park or someplace where we could run around for a while, and then walk solemnly back. How I missed my home, pony, garden, and most of all, my freedom. I think the greatest thrill I ever experienced with that first Christmas holiday after I enrolled in boarding school; the bliss of being home again and taking part in the festivities.
As far back as I can remember we went through the same ritual: a few days before Christmas the boys would go into the woods and bring in a huge log that had been cut months before. They tied it securely with stout ropes and pulled it through the snow to the road leading to the house. When they got in sight, we little ones were allowed to run and climb on the log and be pulled into the yard. On Christmas Eve this log was placed in the hall fireplace, sometimes burning for two whole days. After placing the Yule Log, we were supposed to go at once to bed, in order for Santa to come and leave his gifts. The next morning after breakfast, Father would join us in the hall where the tree was always placed, and forming a ring we would march around the tree singing carols. Then there was a mad rush to find out what our packages contained. I have often since then marvelled at the patience of my dear father with a lot of noisy children.
Then the Waits’ would come and sing carols. The children would wait for another custom that I have never seen outside of England: that of little girls with shawls over their heads trying to look like the Virgin Mary. In their arms they would carry a box containing a nest of hay, in the middle of which was placed a tiny doll meant to represent the baby Jesus. When you answered their knock on the door, they would uncover the box and permit you to look while they, with their sweet little voices, would sing of the birth of Christ. They then were given money, and Mother would also give them oranges, candy, and cake. Those were such happy days.
This was my life until I was seventeen years old, with the exception of the change made in my school a year previously when I was put into finishing school. I could finally go home every Friday evening until Monday morning. This arrangement made me much happier. My one ambition was to become a singer, and I was studying hard to that end with the help and encouragement of my teacher. Finally, I persuaded the latter to talk to my father about it when he called for me one Friday afternoon. My teacher assured him I had the voice and ability, and with proper training would become a success. To my joy, Father was quite willing, and it was decided I should train for that to the exclusion of everything else.
My happiness was complete, and I could hardly think or talk of anything else. I saw myself on the opera stage thrilling hundreds of people, the beautiful costumes, and thousands of other things. On our way home that evening, my cup of happiness was overflowing. I was impatient to reach home and tell them about it. Alas for my lofty dreams. Mother was consulted about it and she was perfectly horrified and indignant with Father for giving his consent and encouragement. She flatly refused to allow me to carry out my plan or even think about it anymore. This made me resentful and rebellious. I could not help a feeling of bitterness toward her.
I could not understand why she felt such a horror to my going on the stage, nor why she treated me like a child when I was over seventeen. She was a veritable martinet, bending everyone to her will, even my father. On the other hand, she was good in so many ways. She never hesitated to help anyone in need, anyone who was sick, or any other trouble they might be in. She had a brother in Seville, Spain, married to a Spanish lady. Having no children of their own, they adopted the orphaned son of one of her distant relatives. When this boy left school, my uncle wanted him to learn the iron and steel business thoroughly and also to learn to speak English properly. They brought him to England and my father placed him in the home office. Seeing there was no suitable place for him to live in the village, rather than let him live at the inn, Mother took him into our home, adding one more to her already large family, feeling it was her duty. In all these matters she was good, even if she was harsh.
The addition of Carlos into our home was to change the course of my life. He was a dark, handsome young fellow with a small moustache that the boys made all manner of fun of, and constantly tried to make him shave it off. He took their banter good-naturedly but kept his moustache (and his resolve.) He had been brought up a Roman Catholic, but attended our church and entered into all the entertainment and so on that was connected with it. In fact, he became like one of the family. The time soon came when I began to look eagerly for Friday to come so that I could go home, and in the degree I hated Monday morning when I was to return to school. In other words, Carlos and I were becoming more than fond of each other. I was to leave school at the end of the next term, and how eagerly I looked forward to it!
That year there had been much unrest among the workmen, and Father was always worried. Every week or two he would be called upon to settle some dispute or another. Finally, the works were shut down because the men wanted what they called the “sliding scale of wages.” That meant that when the price of iron and steel went up, so did their wages.
This took place at a time when men began to talk about unions in England. One of my brothers, Walter, championed the cause of the men, and much to the consternation of Father, he was invited to make speeches all over that part of the country. While Father was sympathetic to many of the demands of the men, he could not permit his own son to be publicly on the other side of the owners, seeing that he was one of them.
This caused a great commotion at home, and Father and Walter had many stormy scenes, the result being that Walter had to choose between leaving home if he should continue his speeches, or go to Australia, where he had so long wanted to go. He chose Australia and a small sheep farm near Sydney much to the alarm of Mother, for that had been where they sent prisoners years before, having been made a penal colony.
This turned out to be a grand enterprise for him, in spite of all the drawbacks he suffered at first. His letters were very entertaining, telling of the strange customs and speech which he found difficult at times to understand. Sometimes he could hardly believe they were speaking English at all! A few years later he bought an orange and lemon grove. He was on the road to success.
Things were now more peaceful at home, but not at the works, which even more were shutting down, causing much hunger and distress. Although Mother was puritanical and severe, she was nothing if not charitable. She obtained permission to use a large hall that had been built by the company for recreation and opened a soup kitchen. Huge pots and kettles were taken there. The vegetables and other food came from our own kitchen and garden. She also had some of our pigs and sheep slaughtered, and when those were gone she solicited help from the tradespeople in a large city nearby, getting soup meat, rice, and many other things. She called for women from the village to help, and many more volunteered than was necessary. She then had our sewing machine brought there and had warm clothing made over from any that we could collect, and new ones fashioned when we could not get more. I felt very important when I was put in charge of the sewing department and thoroughly enjoyed the work. Truth be told, I was quite willing for that state of affairs to continue indefinitely, except for the want and suffering it caused.
When the works shut down, Carlos took the opportunity to go home to Spain. He had some property left by his parents. He confided in me that he was going home to sell it, and then he would ask Father and Mother’s permission to marry me. We had kept the fact of our love from them up to now. They thought it was just good comradeship because we all looked upon him as a cousin, and they thought nothing out of the way at our being together so much. I missed him dreadfully and was so very glad that Mother had given me something to keep me busy. It made the time more endurable until his return.
Father was now away a great deal of the time, trying to bring about a settlement among the men and end the strike, for it had affected all the plants. He was usually accompanied by a recent member of the company, Major Elwon, who had retired from the army on account of his health and was a close friend of my father. He was an old bachelor, living with his widowed mother on a beautiful estate not far from our home. His mother was a very dignified old lady who must have been very beautiful when she was young. However, she was somewhat of an invalid, and had to use a cane to walk. We girls loved her, but at the same time stood very much in awe of her. She was so very abrupt. Whenever I see “Whistler’s” picture of his mother, I am reminded of her. Every Christmas we all received lovely gifts from them both.
From her we received great help, sending us all kinds of food and clothing for our poor people in the village, as well as money. She thought it was very wonderful of me to undertake the management of the sewing department, giving me much more credit than was coming to me, for I got a great deal of advice from Mother. The worst thing about it was that I had to be there almost all the time. I loved to work among them, mind their babies while they made little garments for them, and many other things.
The country was in a frightful state of unrest caused by the fiery speeches of the agitators who had been influenced by a man named Hyndman, the first Socialist leader in England. He was putting all sorts of new ideas into the minds of the working men, who in turn were making demands of the employers that had never been heard of before. Added to all this was another year of bad crops, the fifth in succession, and suffering ran rampant throughout the country. Finally, the masters and men came to an agreement, and the men resumed work. That was joyful news to me, for it brought Carlos back to me, and all the world was bright again as far as I was concerned.
The days when Father visited the distant plants, his man came quite early to drive him to the railway station. One morning he left as usual, but soon we saw the carriage coming to the front gate instead of turning into the stable, and someone riding with him. It was our horror to see that Father was not able to get out by himself or even stand alone. He was a big man, six feet two inches tall, and weighing over two hundred pounds. It took the coachman, the clerk that was with him, the houseman, and the gardener to get him upstairs. Father had fallen on the railway station platform, the victim of an apoplectic stroke, while waiting for his train. He lived two more weeks, but never again regained consciousness.
This was to be the first major tragedy of my life. To this day I remember the sense of desolation I felt. How could I go on living without him? Even now my heart is filled with sadness as I look at his dear face, as I do all the time, for I have a painting of him and another of Mother hanging on my wall where I am, always before me. He was no ordinary father to me; we were chums. Every Friday afternoon I went home from school with him and the Major, whose home was not far from ours. I could always rely on Father to concede to my every wish, so naturally, I adored him. After they laid his dear body beside those of his ancestors, my world was shattered, and had it not been for Carlos, it is hard to say what crazy thing I may have done.
For reasons which I have never been able to understand fully, we were obliged to give up our home. It seemed that Father had lost a great deal of money during the strike and depression. When his affairs were settled, it was decided we could not keep up the big house, and that we must move to a summer home that was situated near the sea. We were mournfully preparing to carry out these plans when one evening Mother came to my room and asked me with a very serious air if I loved her well enough to help her. This so astonished me that I hardly knew how to answer her, but said that of course I did. She then disclosed to me the fact that the Major had asked her permission to propose marriage to me. This made me recoil with dismay, for while we all loved him, it was as a big brother or an uncle. I told her no. No, I could not do that. I didn’t tell her that I had already pledged my word to Carlos. I was too afraid.
I asked her why she asked me to marry a man old enough to be my father and one whom I certainly did not love in that way. She then explained to me that the Major had offered her the use of the dower house as long as she lived. The dower house is usually used by the widow of the owner of an estate when the eldest son marries. In my case, I was to live in the manor house with him and his mother, while my mother and her family would occupy the other house. That seemed to her an ideal arrangement. Once more I refused to marry him and asked why he could not marry my sister, Kitty, as she was older than I. Mother replied, “The Major asked for you, not Kitty.” I was asked to sacrifice my future with Carlos so that they could secure a lovely home. All this was running through my mind while she was pointing out what a wonderful home and position I would have and the marvellous stables that would be mine. The latter she thought would be very attractive to me, for I loved horses, and regretted the fact that I would have to give up riding. She went on to point out to me how good the Major’s mother would be, for she wanted her bachelor son to marry and settle down. (I found out later that he was too fond of the chorus girls to suit her.)
When she mentioned his mother, I started crying again because I was rather frightened of her and shuddered at the thought of living under her stern rules. I think if such a thing could be, she was worse than Mother! I still refused, and then she began to cry, too. This took me by surprise, and I began to feel that I must be absolutely wicked to keep everyone from being as happy as she said I was. When I found she was so insistent, I told her of my love for Carlos, and that he had asked me to be his wife. Upon hearing this, she did indeed get angry and declared she would not allow it. She argued that as his wife I would be a nobody with very little money and no position. And where was my pride? I begged her to let me take a position as a teacher and in that way I could help support her, but nothing would do. I must marry the man who would make it easier for her. She left me, saying that if I was a dutiful daughter and loved her, I would do as she asked and accept the Major.
I went down to the drawing room and found that Carlos was not at home. I was anxious to see him at once and tell him before Mother should see him, not knowing what she might say to him. It got to be quite late, and I let Mother think I was going to bed, but instead, I went out by the side door and waited until Carlos came home. When I told him all the dreadful facts, he became furiously angry and asked if I wished to give him up and carry out the unjust plan. I assured him it was breaking my heart to even think of such a thing. He said, “Then, my darling, nobody shall ever take you from me.” My heart was glad, but I was still dreadfully afraid.
The next morning, just as I had anticipated, she told Carlos that as we were getting ready to move into a house too small to spare a room for him, he had better look for another place, not even mentioning my name. She did not guess how deeply we loved each other and thought that I would soon get over it if he was not around all the time. He took a room at the inn, which displeased Mother very much, and she gave me orders not to see him except when he should come to visit us; order I very promptly disobeyed! I was so outraged to think that even though I was supposed to be married soon, she treated me like a child who had no mind of her own.
The poor old Major came to me and said he had received permission from Mother to ask me to be his wife, telling me that of course, he realised the great difference in our ages, yet he felt sure he could make me very happy and would devote the rest of his life in trying to do so. He took out of his pocket a small case, and upon opening it disclosed a wonderful diamond ring which he wanted to put on my finger. This I would not permit, and I saw a look of disappointment in his eyes. Why did I have to hurt this good man, who had been to us like a dear relative? I tried to explain without hurting him that I did not love him as a girl should love the man she marries, and would not marry him without it. He, like my mother, said he was sure I would love him in time, and I was not courageous enough to tell him I never would. He left me saying that he would expect me to let him put his ring on my finger next time, when I had time to think it over. He quite expected I would marry him.
What a coward I was! Why should I be frightened to death of Mother? But I was, and I tried to keep out of her way. In those days, girls were supposed to carry out the plans mapped out for them, even when it came to marrying. I think I would have gone insane at that time had it not been for the advice and comfort I got from my dear one. Maybe I would have sold myself to that good old man, not being able to withstand the pleadings that were brought to bear on me.
Carlos came to me seldom, but I managed to see him almost every day, and in that way kept my resolution. In the meantime, it was given out that I was to be married. Mrs. Elwon, the Major’s mother, came over and surprised me by kissing me, and saying how happy we would all be together, and how she had always wished for a daughter. She informed us that she was having all kinds of alterations made at the manor house for my comfort and pleasure. I think maybe I could have loved her after all. How my conscience bothered me, because I was still determined not to marry the Major, but how was I to escape it? I could not quite see.
The moving was postponed, and the house put in order again. The dressmaker was at the house making most of the trousseau, and everyone was happy except for me. The Major was now a frequent visitor, but I had not let him put his ring on my finger. I still had hope that I would escape this marriage.
How strange it is that sometimes a very trivial thing will alter the current of many lives. Just a little sentence overheard by me altered mine and many others in consequence. One day the barber came to cut our hair. This was done in what used to be the nursery. I was waiting to have mine attended to when I heard the following conversation between the maid and the barber: “Are you going to London on the excursion train?” “No, I did not know there was an excursion.” the barber answered. “Yes, there is a big train pulling out on the night of the 13th.”
Their conversation continued, but I had heard only that last sentence repeating itself over and over again. That night I could not sleep. A thousand things were chasing themselves through my mind, and by the time dawn was breaking, I had come to my decision. For a few days, I was quietly making ready to carry out some plans that I had made. I went out as usual to meet Carlos and asked him to lend me some money, giving him several pieces of jewellery in return, which he very promptly and indignantly refused to take, until I refused to take the loan unless he did so. He was, of course, very curious about this most unusual request, and I told him I wanted to buy something and I did not want Mother to know what it was, because she may not agree to my doing so, which surely was the truth. The following morning I gathered up a few small articles I had set aside, including my little black leather jewel box that contained all that I possessed of value, together with a lovely new ulster that had been made for me, put a large thick veil over my hat, and getting my valise that I had hidden in the stable, started on a journey that was to take me thousands of miles.
I boarded that excursion train that I heard the barber speak of and started for London. To say that I was scared to death would be putting it lightly. I thought every moment someone would get on that would recognize me, or maybe they had found the letter I had intended to be found the next morning when I did not go down to breakfast. Fortunately for me, the coaches in England are small affairs holding only eight people, except the third class, which is a little larger. On the platform, I saw many that I knew, but seeing that all the seats were filled in our coach, they could not get in. How thankful I was when the conductor locked our door and blew his whistle! My heart once more began to beat normally.
I had written to Carlos telling him I would write from London, giving him some address where he could send his letters, provided he wished to write to me after my doing such a daring thing as to leave home by myself. This troubled me very much until I did hear from him finally.
On arriving in London the next day, I took a cab to one of the hotels I knew Father had been in the habit of staying at, for I seemed to feel safer there. The first thing I did was to write to Mother, telling her everything except where to find me because I knew she would immediately send one of the boys to take me home. I expressed my regret at not being able to carry out the plans that she had made for me, and that I was sure I could take care of myself and would keep her informed of everything except my abode until I was of age.
After posting this letter, and one I had written to my dear one, I was both hungry and very tired, as much from mental strain as bodily fatigue. That first night in London, however, I made up for the sleep I had lost the night before. I did not go down to breakfast until nearly noon. I then bought all the papers that I thought would be useful to me and went back to my room. Two things I must do immediately: the first was to find a nice room within my means because I could not afford to stay in the hotel indefinitely. Then I must look for some means of earning a living. How in the world did one go about that other than through the papers? I had made up my mind that teaching was the only thing that I was really fitted for, so I looked and found quite a number of openings that I felt I could fill. But how to get to the places advertised was puzzling me, as cabs were too costly. As I sat in my room trying to make up my mind what was best to do, the happy thought came to me to try and find one of the homes conducted by the sister of my Episcopal church. This I had no difficulty in doing. I was received by one of the sisters who conducted me into a large room with two long tables running almost the length of the room with benches on either side. At one end of the room was an immense fireplace, topped by a mantel on which stood an old-fashioned clock that ticked solemnly on, reminding one that time waits for no man. Along one side was a big sideboard piled with plates, glass, and so on, therefore I concluded it must be the dining room.
I was taking all of this in when the door opened and a very dignified yet sweet-faced old lady entered, robed in the familiar gray that I had always admired. I explained the reason for my visit. I told her I had arrived in London on the excursion train, wishing to make that city my home, but in order to do so I must find employment, and until I did, was desirous of finding an economical, safe place to live. I very carefully kept from her anything that would lead her to guess that I left home secretly, or even that I had one. I explained that my father had died, and I must now make my own living. She inquired as to what I could do, and I had to confess very little, except teach or sew. She assured me that I should not have much difficulty in finding employment. She then nonplussed me by asking, “What references have you?” This had never occurred to me, and I had to tell her that I had never worked for anyone and had no one to whom she could write. She then explained to me that it was very unusual to try and place me without it, but that if I cared to I could remain there for a while and she would see what I could do. She little knew how very much I wished to, because I was rather afraid of the big outside world, now that I had thrust myself into it. I was most happy to know that I would be allowed to stay there and would be safe, if not very comfortable, also that they had stipulated I should pay hardly any more for a whole week than I was paying the hotel for a day.
This was a new and strange experience for me. I stayed on perfectly content with those gentle Sisters, helping in many more ways than I thought possible. My work with Mother’s charity gave me an insight into the needs of poor people, and the Sisters were surprised at the number of things I was capable of doing. One funny thing rather curbed my pride, however. I was making some aprons for the Sisters, and they required large pockets. The cloth was striped. I put the pockets on with the stripes going the reverse way and thought they looked particularly nice. Not to the Sister, and I was very much embarrassed when she said, “Oh, my dear, the pockets must be put on the other way with all the stripes going the same direction.” I think this taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten, for from that day on I have been rather fussy about such things, and also that what pleases me may not please another.
Those Sisters were wonderfully good and patient. I learned there something of the other side of life because those good people took in many girls that could not pay anything at all, many of them coming in sick and hungry. I would have liked to become one of those Sisters, but could not give up Carlos, and must wait until I heard from him. If he disapproved of what I had done and ceased to care, then I would join them, and I felt I could be as happy there as I would ever be without his love.
I was waiting anxiously for a letter from him, half dreading that he would not approve of the step I had taken. I went back to the hotel and found a letter there for me. My relief was unbounded when I read that he was overjoyed at what I had done, and would write me every day when I gave him a permanent address. He wrote to me of the consternation and indignation my actions had caused at home. They accused him of being the instigator of the whole thing, the poor dear fellow. He had no more idea of my whereabouts than they did. He was shocked at the idea of my looking for a position and begged me to let him send me money so that I would not have to do so. This I refused as quite unnecessary and wrote him that I liked the idea of being independent and earning my own living. I told him I was about to take a position at the home of the doctor who attended the sick in the home where I was staying. He was looking for a governess for his young daughter and after asking me innumerable questions, he gave me the opportunity to see if I could prove myself capable.
I found a lovely family of three sons and a little daughter of ten years, rather spoiled and inclined to be petulant and wayward. In a very short time, however, I had won her over and we were good friends. I had no difficulty in obtaining obedience as well as love. I was treated as one of the family, and made to feel quite at home in my new surroundings. I would be even happier if I could see Carlos sometimes. The doctor’s wife was delighted with what she pleased to call my control of little Norah. Every day I took her walking in Hyde Park, and the sight of the equestrians in Rotten Row made me think longingly of my home before the death of my father. How much I had suffered since he had left us.
I wrote to Mother telling her that I was safe, well, and earning my own living. What a thrill of pride it gave me to be able to tell her that! I did not dare tell her where I was, because I knew she would send for me immediately. She could do that until I was of age. Carlos kept me informed about them. He wrote me that they were furious because they did not know my address. They had not yet moved but had sold nearly everything they could not use in the smaller house, including the animals. Soon I got a letter from Carlos telling me he was coming to see me. While overjoyed, I did not know where to see him. I did not dare invite him to the doctor’s house because they knew I had no friends in London, for I kept the fact that I had some relatives there from them and if they discovered he was from my home they might ask questions that would embarrass Carlos to try and evade. I had made the mistake of never going out except on Sunday, and any errand the doctor’s wife might send me on. On those occasions, she would call a cab and send me to Whiteley’s, where was sold everything one needed from the cradle to the grave, including the coffin. There was nothing to do but write him that I would meet him on the Sunday following his arrival, at the door of the church I attended, which was near Westbourne Terrace, where the doctor lived. I was, of course, very agitated at the prospect of seeing my dear one again, and I am afraid fit for very little work, which I was thankful was very light.
After what seemed to be ages, he wrote me that he was to arrive on the following Saturday, and would meet me at the place designated the next morning. When I saw him standing there I could hardly resist throwing myself into his arms, which was my gladness. Instead of going to church, we went to Hyde Park, where he told me of his plans that he had come to London to discuss with me. They filled me with both joy and apprehension, dare I do this that he proposed? He had given notice of his resignation to the company and wished me to do the same to my employer, for that is the law in England, if I was still of the same mind and willing to trust my future to him. I had to assure him again that it was because of my love for him that I took the step I did.
Now, in England, you must publish the banns of marriage for three successive Sundays if you wish to marry, and that was what he had come to London for so that there would be little chance of anyone forbidding them. We went back to the little church where I attended and did so. He had written me of his intentions of going into business in Brazil, but I did not expect that to happen for some time to come, and this turn of affairs rather took me off of my feet and I went about as in a dream. To my disappointment, he had to leave again at once.
When I told the doctor and his wife that I was leaving and the reason why, they were of course astonished, but more than kind about it, and chided me because I had not brought him to the house. I did not tell them that I did not care to until we were safely married. They gave me a number of lovely gifts, among them silk for my wedding dress, so they said, but I had my own ideas about that. I thought of the one that was being made for me when I made up my mind to leave home. I could never wear it. My idea was that a girl should be dressed in white, and I was, although not as elaborate as the one I had left in the sewing room at home.
The few weeks following were full of excitement, for even though it was to be a very small private affair, I found many things to do getting ready for it and the sea voyage that was to follow. How different from the wedding that was being prepared when I left home, with all its show and finery covering my rebellious heart. As I sit in retrospection, I am still thankful that I had courage enough to take that excursion train to London, and so escape being sold as chattel for the benefit of others, to finally be united with the one who was more to me than life itself, even though it was for so short a time. I was, for the time, supremely happy, unconscious of the sea of trouble I was drifting into.
I did not forget those Sisters of Mercy with whom I stayed when I arrived in London. I paid them a visit to tell them of my altered plans, but I found the doctor had already told them. They were sincerely glad to hear of my great happiness and offered any help within their power, which I thoroughly appreciated but declined. Carlos wrote to me almost daily and now sent his letters to the doctor’s house, which was a great relief to me as I did not have to worry anymore to go to the hotel for them.
We were finally married in the little church around the corner and left for Southampton after a nice wedding breakfast given to us by the doctor’s wife. I have never forgotten their kindness to me. For the first time, I boarded the S.S Vestris, little thinking that I was destined to sail on her many more times. What a wonderful trip that was for us! I have always been a good sailor, often being the only woman to make an appearance at the breakfast table the first morning out. Not so for my poor Carlos, who just could not stay up and said he could eat nothing, and for several days he was confined to his bunk. I had the steward iibring one tempting meal after another, but he could not even look at it. When one is seasick, the only thing that they wish for is to die, so they say. On about the third day, I persuaded him to chew on a little hard tack and then take some weak tea. This settled his stomach and paved the way for broths and so on. Getting everything out of his system seemed to do him an immense amount of good, for he ate like a wolf for the rest of the voyage, telling me laughingly that he had to put on all those pounds he had lost before he was to start work again.
The rest of the voyage was delightful. We had no bad weather after leaving the rough waters of the Bay of Biscay and looked forward to our first stop, which was Vigo, Spain, but only long enough to discharge and take on mail. Then on to Lisbon, where we were allowed to go on shore for a few hours while some freight and mail were taken on board. Carlos was in great demand, being the only one who could speak Spanish to the tradespeople. We bought fruit and wine for our use on board and thoroughly enjoyed them. We made no more stops until we reached the beautiful Madeira Island, where we bought some of their lovely embroidery and two wicker chairs from the bum boats alongside. I have always had a desire to live on that island where the temperature remains ideal all the year. Continuing our journey, we soon sighted the northeast coast of South America and ported at Pernambuco, then again at Bahia, which was our last stop before reaching our destination - Rio de Janeiro. This we did on schedule and although we had had a wonderfully happy time on board, we were glad to reach the place that we hoped to call home. I shall never forget the thrill I got when we steamed into the harbour of Rio. It was in the late evening, the shore lights added to those of the ships, and the dwellings on the hillsides made it look like a veritable fairyland.
Because of the medical inspection, we were not allowed to land until the next day. Our papers must have been all right, as well as the health of the passengers, for we were not detained and were soon in the customs house waiting for our luggage to be inspected. We were rather dismayed at the bad odour prevailing and found it came from the markets near the wharf, where all kinds of fruit and vegetables lay rotting in the broiling sun, becoming putrid. Sanitation had been sadly neglected, which is why Yellow Fever was so prevalent in the city those days.
We drove to one of the big hotels looking out onto the ocean and found the city beautiful. One main street we drove through had wide sidewalks paved in mosaic to represent huge bouquets of flowers. In the middle of the street ran a wide ribbon of grass with beautiful flower beds every now and again. To me, it seemed especially beautiful, for we had no such flowers in the north, except those grown under glass.
I had, of course, written to Mother while in Vigo, telling her of my marriage. I wrote again on our arrival in Rio, giving her the office address of the man that Carlos was thinking of joining in a business venture, and hoped to hear from her soon, for of course, I was very unhappy about my estrangement from them all. We felt the heat very much but knew what to expect, and did as everyone else did: dress lightly, keep indoors in the middle of the day, and make the best of it until you become acclimated.
My husband’s friend had a beautiful turnout of a carriage and two horses, which he placed at our disposal together with his coachman, to hunt for a small home. Most people who could afford to, lived in the hills, as it was much cooler and healthier. After a rather tedious time, we found what we thought would do, although it was larger than we needed. I took great delight in getting it ready for our occupancy, using light wicker furniture as much as possible, quite a contrast to the heavy soli furniture and drapes of my old home. Our drawing room furniture we bought at Maple & Co. of London, and it would not reach us for some time. We were quite satisfied without it, reveling in the knowledge that we had a home of our own and each other. How strange those houses seemed to be after our comfortable, convenient houses of England. The kitchen was a strange little affair, away from the rest of the house, about five feet square with very little accommodation. On one side was built what was called a fogão, of solid brick, about four feet high, on the top of which were left four or five holes about eight inches deep. In the middle of these holes were placed an iron grating to fit, leaving an outlet for air on the side. Each time you wished to cook, you must put in a few chips of wood, kindle them, and then very carefully place a few handfuls of charcoal on top. Very soon you would have a nice little bed of embers ready to cook with. It is wonderful what a grand dinner can be cooked on those little spots of fire. How different from the big kitchens with gleaming pots and pans hanging around the walls in England.
At last, Carlos came home with the bill of lading for our furniture that we had bought in England. Now we could finish arranging our home. When we had done so, it was grand, so we thought, yet there seemed to be something missing. I kept looking around for the cozy fireplace and a number of things that make our English homes so inviting. Here we had to make everything look as cool as possible, guard against the mosquitoes, and keep the snakes out, for there were plenty of the latter on the hillside. We had to sleep under a mosquito net which I disliked very much at first, and would often leave it hanging over without tucking it under the mattress; until one night I saw an enormous spider with a body about the size of a small walnut, crawling on the inside of the net. After that, I had much more respect for the netting and did not forget to tuck it under the mattress.
We were very happy in our new home and had met quite a number of English speaking people, some of them Americans. We attended a nice Episcopal church. The clergyman was Reverend Mr. Kinsolving, and afterward Bishop Kinsolving. Carlos had bought an interest in a coffee plantation and other business that sometimes took him to Santos, and I would accompany him. In due time I received a long, mournful letter from Mother telling me of all the humiliation I had caused them all, as well as the poor Major. She upbraided me roundly, telling me what a dreadful example I had set for my sisters, and that she was sure I would regret my disobedience and could not be happy knowing what pain I had caused them all. In that, she was very wrong, for we were supremely happy, but once more I wondered if I had been a wicked wretch to think of myself instead of them.
My brother in Australia was doing so much better than even he had expected. He added both land and sheep to the place Father had bought him. He wrote to Mother to go out to him with the girls and boys if they cared to, as there were great opportunities for anyone with the will to work. He told Kitty she could marry a millionaire anytime she wanted to, as there was a great shortage of nice English girls there. Mother refused to go to such an uncivilized place with them. She could not be convinced that it was safe, as it had been where they sent all the life convicts, for Sydney had been a penal colony years before. They finally settled in the house we used to spend most of the summers in, and with what income she finally had could live very comfortably, so I ceased to worry. I could not see why I should be so severely punished for refusing to give up the man I so dearly loved in order to enable them to live in greater luxury. In time I received many nice letters from them all, which of course made me much happier, for I had missed them all dreadfully. I sent them many gifts of rare plants, curious, sugar cane, lovely flowers made of feathers of every colour (dainty pink, green, red, blue, yellow, gray, and many others, not dyed, but taken from the birds of these colours.) I also sent them some coffee grown on my husband’s plantation that I had to have roasted, for they would not know what to do with green coffee.
My husband’s business was getting better all the time. They had bought a small vessel and lighters and were now transporting their own goods instead of paying high freight rates. I kept pretty close to home now, for in a few months our home would be brightened by the little one who was coming. I had no plenty to keep me busy, and what a pride and joy it was to me as I finished each little garment, some of which I have today, more than fifty years later. Carlos was absurdly happy and seemed never to be able to do enough for me. As the time was growing near, Carlos wanted me to go to England for its birth, as he had more confidence in the doctors and the care I would get, and also because he wanted the baby to be born in England or his native Spain, and seeing that I would not have any relatives there at all (nor he either), we decided on England. He proposed to go with me, but would not be able to stay. I preferred him to come later in time for its birth, so as to take me, or should I say take us back home. This he agreed to do.
I sailed about the beginning of September and arrived on schedule. Kitty and Charles, my sister and brother, were at the docks to meet me, and I was welcomed with open arms. On reaching my mother’s home, I found the girls all excitement about the coming event. Mother seemed to me to have aged too much in that time, as she was not the old imperious domineering Mother of former days. I don’t know that I liked the change, for she seemed sad and beaten. To my joy, I found that they still had Jerry, one of the ponies, and the little carriage. When I saw him my eyes filled with tears, for I remembered so vividly the day Father had given him to me.
My little son was born on November 14th, 1886, on a Sunday afternoon when the church bells were ringing for Sunday school, for that was the time they held it in that town. Poor Carlos, who had arrived only a few days before, was dreadfully agitated, thinking surely I must be going to die. When he was told he had a son and that we were both alright, he would not be kept out any longer. He had been brought up Roman Catholic, and the first thing he did was to kneel down beside me and give thanks to God for bringing us both through the shadow of death in safety. How good and kind was my darling.
In about three weeks I was up and around, and made arrangements to go to church, for in England in those days the first time a woman goes out after the birth of a child is to be churched. That is, to give thanks to God for a safe delivery. This was called, “the churching of woman.” We then had him christened and called him Carlos, after his father. We stayed in England until after Christmas, and what a royal time we had! If only my beloved Father could have been there to march around the tree with us like in the old days, my happiness would have been complete. Mother was very loath to have us leave, and tried to talk Carlos into allowing us to stay until summer, but he would not think of doing so, and neither would I have let him go without us.
We had an immense box made and took all manner of things with us that were hard to get out in Brazil, including a perambulator. We got home at the end of January and how glad I was, in spite of the heat, to get into my own dear home once more. Carlos behaved like an overgrown schoolboy, bringing home all kinds of toys that the baby paid no attention to. I found the heat very trying but took every precaution to keep as cool and well as I could because I was nursing my baby. I had my same native cook and got a relative of hers to do the housework and help with the baby. These women were almost full blooded Indians but were faithful good women, devoted to the baby, droning funny songs to him that I did not understand.
Very soon I was strong again and used to the heat. We lived principally on fruit, vegetables, fish, fowl, and eggs because refrigeration was not as complete as now, and was not imported as readily as today. Bread was never made in the house because there were no ovens, but the most delicious French breads could be bought, as well as all kinds of pastry and cakes. I must confess that I liked the bread much better than I had at school or even home, for there we were not allowed to eat it until it was two or three days old on the idea that it was not healthy to eat fresh bread. How I reveled in eating what I pleased!
There was quite a colony of English people there, as well as Swiss, German, and Italian, attracted by the mines (metal and diamond.) There is very little coal in that country, but all kinds of lumber may be had cheap. Then there was cotton, sugar, tobacco, tapioca, cacao, and the morocco leather industry. Good workmen were very scarce as slavery was abolished and the slaves left for the cities. Therefore the plantation owners as well as the farmers were willing to pay well for labour. Many went there with the idea of cultivating big modern farms, but most of them failed because they did not know how to cope with the soil and climate. There were thousands of Germans setting up small colonies all over Brazil, as well as Italians. Many new manufacturing plants were opening and the country was prospering rapidly. In spite of all of those, however, it was in a great state of unrest politically. Every once in a while there would be rumours of revolution. There were some, the younger generation, who wanted the empire to form a government patterned after that of North America. Every few days Carlos would come home with tales of unrest everywhere.
His business was increasing steadily and we were contented and happy. His chief trouble was getting good help for the plantation, for by now abolition of slavery had become absolute. The influx of immigration did not relieve the situation much, for they could speak neither Portuguese nor English, and worse still, they could not stand the heat and would fall over, sometimes dead. My poor boy was having a worrisome time of it. I was getting quite worried about him for he had complained about pains in his back for some time. I insisted on his consulting our English doctor. After an examination, his kidneys were said to be affected, and it was necessary for him to take a rest and take care of himself. I prevailed on him to do so, and we planned a trip home to England. This rest and sea air did him worlds of good, as well as the baby and myself.
This time our stay in England was not very long because things in Brazil were getting in a precarious state and Carlos was anxious to get back to the business, so we had to make our stay a short one. When we arrived in Rio there were threats of revolution again, and the same old political upheaval was in progress. But, once again, revolution was averted for a time at least. We had been home only a few months when another scare of Yellow Fever took place. The government was trying to clean up the city by putting in a sewage system and so on. There was fever in Bahia and several other places. We were taking every precaution, boiling all the water we drank and keeping to ourselves as much as possible, not knowing then that it was the deadly mosquito that we had to guard against. I had forbidden the two maids to go into the city. I found, however, that was unnecessary, for they were more afraid of the dreaded disease than I was. They knew all about it. They knew that you could get it and be dead in a few hours.
I was dreadfully worried about Carlos persisting in going to the office and tried to persuade him to go to Buenos Aires with a shipment that was soon to go. He laughed at me and said, “Oh darling, don’t worry. I am tough. I will be all right.” He was, for a time, and I was beginning to be less fearful about him when one day his partner came to me saying that he had his carriage outside waiting to take me to the hospital where they had taken Carlos, who had been stricken with the dread fever. When I got there, he was dreadfully ill, but conscious, and tried to talk to me. I tried to take him home, but the authorities would not allow it, as he could not be moved from there. I lost my beloved husband that night, the blackest in all my life.
They hardly wait until they are cold before sealing them up and burying them. The authorities took possession, and you could do nothing except pay whatever expenses had been incurred. They buried him at once, and my heart, too. I tried not to think of my lost happiness, but when I did, it was to recall a beautiful love - the kind that I believe comes just once in a lifetime. The very thought of my lost love seemed to transport me to a world of divine beauty, where you lose all thought of self in the enchantment of the proximity of the soul to the one you would gladly have laid down your life for. That love was mine for so short a time and has never been forgotten. The fusion of two young and pure hearts, to which there is nothing holier on Earth. I would have prayed to die, too, but my thoughts turned to our little boy. For him, I must live and carry on, and forget my great sorrow. If anything happened to me now, he would be left an entire orphan as his father had been. For him, I must put forward all my efforts to carry out the plans his dear father had made. How cold and desolate my home seemed now, without his cheery presence. I think my old self died then, and I became a resentful, bitter woman.
I was at my wit's end to know what to do. I could not make up my mind whether to stay there or go home to England. My late husband’s partner came to my assistance at once, offering to do anything he could for me, inviting me to stay in their house, thinking it would be less lonely with his family. This kind offer I refused. I told him I was afraid to live in Rio now, in case I lost my boy too. He then spoke of the business that I now owned half of, and offered to buy my share if I would take payment in gold every three months, giving me a substantial sum down. This I was only too glad to do. Through his help also I soon disposed of my belongings, for everything was like new. However, I gave almost half to my good maids who had stood by me so faithfully in my dark hours. I closed up my beautiful little home that had been a paradise to me and went to the hotel again until I decided where I would go.
I had written to an old friend of our family who had lived in Buenos Aires for years, asking about conditions there, and was waiting for an answer. He very kindly answered at once, telling me there were many opportunities there, especially for teachers. Here I was, faced with the fact that I must learn another language for they spoke Spanish and I had just mastered Portuguese well enough to be able to carry on an indifferent conversation. In spite of all this, I made up my mind to go there rather than to England. Destiny seemed to be leading me in.
On account of the fever, I had difficulty in obtaining passage, so we went overland to Sao Paulo in order to get away from Rio, and took passage there. We found on reaching Montevideo, Uruguay, that we were to be put in quarantine on Flores Island. We landed on a bare, ugly little island, with nothing to see or do but think about and grieve for my lost darling. I wrote to Mr. Shoobridge, my friend in Buenos Aires, and told him of our detention. He wrote me that he had already found that out, but would get in touch with the steamship company and find out when we would be released, and meet me at that time. This was indeed a great relief to me, for I felt very much alone. Here I was entering another large, unknown city to fight my battle alone again. I did not let this daunt me, however, because Mr. Shoobridge had written me a very glowing account of the possibilities for me there, and offered his help. I tried to form some plan whereby I could keep Carlitos with me. I had money enough to start a small business of some kind, and what I wanted most was to open a girl’s boarding school. I thought of many different things but had to put them aside for I could not speak the language well enough.
At long last the day came when we were informed that as no Yellow Fever had broken out, we were to be taken to Buenos Aires the next day. My friend was there in the tug boat as it pulled alongside our ship, some three miles from the landing. We were taken first in the tug boat, then in small boats as far as they could go in the shallow water, after which we were carried to dry land by strong men who made that their business. I wondered what kind of a strange place I had gotten to! My friend had arranged for a nice room for us at one of the largest hotels, and after seeing us there, very kindly went back to see my luggage pass through the custom house. How thankful I was for this help, it being a very tiresome ordeal, especially with my baby. I discovered that Mr. Shoobridge lived in one of the suburbs of Buenos Aires with his three daughters, a son, and a housekeeper. He told of his wife’s death in his first letter to me in Rio, and how it had just about wrecked his home.
I stayed on at the hotel until I made inquiries about opening a school. I went to see the clergyman of the church that my friend attended, and also the British consul, to get their opinion. They both were quite enthusiastic about the idea, assuring me that in their opinion it would be a success, and they would be glad to help me secure pupils. They also advised me where to locate, and this coincided with my friend’s idea. I had a rather hard time finding a suitable building, but after I did, I soon had it fitted out, ready to receive the children already enrolled. My greatest difficulty was in finding teachers that could speak both English and Spanish properly, for while I learned a great deal from Carlos, I did not then either read or write Spanish. I had spent much more money than I thought it would take for equipment, but I had everything complete. It took no time at all to fill every desk, and I made up my mind to enlarge the schoolroom as soon as I was quite sure I could make a success of it. Of course, it was constant hard work, and very confining.
I got a maid to look after Carlitos (little Charles) and help in the bedrooms. I found her to be capable and very good to my little boy. Among the first of my pupils were Mr. Schoobridge’s three daughters; lovely and refined children. Especially sweet was the youngest, with her yellow curly hair. She very soon crept into my heart, for she was only seven years old and missed the love of her mother. How she loved to crawl onto my lap with my boy on the other side and listen to me tell them fairy tales or sing to them. Little Amalia could speak better Spanish than English. I was not only teaching them English, but they were teaching me Spanish! I quite believe the contact with these children saved my mind. I could not sleep at night but would spend the time thinking of and grieving for my beloved dead husband and father. It was undermining my health. I was becoming indifferent as to what became of me here, almost alone in a strange land. I must do something about it, pull myself together. I thought of my little son, his boy that he had made such plans for. I must not lose courage, or what may happen to him? The contemplation of this made me ashamed when I realised that I had been thinking too much of my loss and not enough of him, who was now my only tie to life. He was such a bonny boy in his little velvet suits and lace collars. He would be my Carlos all over again. I would live for him alone. I was glad to have little Amalia to play with him, and when I got too blue I would go and romp with them until I could get hold of myself again.
Sometimes I found myself wondering if I had not better go back to England, for my heart was so desolate, but my pride would not let me. Would they not be justified in telling me that I had ruined my life, and should have done as they had wished? No, I could not go home, alas, for my pride. Then again, I knew I could not do as well there as in Buenos Aires. Money was not nearly as plentiful. Besides, it would be cowardly to give up now, but I was lonely just the same.
Buenos Aires was a very gay, as well as an important city. All the good opera companies found it much more profitable than either Paris or London. I longed to attend once more as I had with Carlos. It was not long before the opportunity came for me to do so. Mr. Shoobridge was in the habit of coming to see his girls quite often, and on one of these occasions asked me if I would care to go with him and his son. I was still in mourning, but I saw no reason why I should refuse. I felt that Carlos would want me to go. Was it not the very thing that I needed? I was grateful for his thoughtfulness and gladly accepted. In England, one was supposed to stay in deep mourning for a year, in half-mourning for the next year in which you added a little white, maybe a collar or frill, to your attire, to keep within the bounds of good taste. The second, you may attend informal affairs. I was not in England and did not know the customs of this country. So what? I did not need to do any of these things to remember my loss. What I did need was something to get me out of this rut of despondency.
I affiliated myself with the church once more. I made a number of nice friends there and joined them in their charity work. Mr. Shoobridge came quite often, and would also join us after church to stay for dinner. Many times we went to Palermo where the races were held. This always gave me a great thrill, for I had been a great rider all my life and loved to watch the horses of the equestrians riding back and forth as they do in Rotten Row in London.
The Argentinians are a pleasure-loving people. In Buenos Aires after six o’clock in the evening, traffic is stopped on the principal shopping street, the Calle Peru, until the next morning. The store windows are brilliantly lighted, and people congregate there to walk up and down window shopping and to meet their friends. On feast days, of which there are many, they would dance and sing, and it was always a scene of gayety. Before Lent, they hold a carnival for one week, when the whole city turns out for fun. There would be all kinds of wonderful floats. Everybody who could would go masked. They take with them little tubes called pomos, filled with sweet-smelling water, and they would squirt it on the passersby, as well as bags of confetti. At the end of the week, valuable prizes would be awarded to the best float, performers, and so on. I took little Carlitos and Amalia one evening to see all the clowns, the hideous and beautiful costumes, and the lovely floats. I made a mistake in doing so, for I nearly lost Carlitos in the crowd, and got home exhausted trying to keep hold of both of them.
My school was prospering, but it kept me confined. All my evenings were taken up correcting papers, preparing needlework for the next day, and trying to keep the housekeeping expenses straight. I was very anxious to make a success of my life, otherwise, I would have the sneers and criticism of my family, and I was very much gratified to find my venture turning out so well. I was busy as usual one evening, trying to make my accounts balance when Mr. Shoobridge was announced, as he usually visited his girls on Sunday. He explained that he had come to talk business with me. He had heard from some of his friends of a good business that was for sale, one that would make very much more money than my school was making. The lady who was selling it had made her fortune big enough for her to retire to her home in the United States. The business was a very large rooming house, or rather a boarding house, for she also served two meals a day. Mr. Shoobridge explained it all to me, saying that the chances for making money were much better than my school. This proposition overwhelmed me, for while I was beginning to feel much more confident in my ability to make a living for both of us, I really did not think I was capable of undertaking that kind of business, and I felt afraid and told him so. It was entirely out of my line, and I knew nothing about conducting such an establishment. Then again, I had my school running smoothly, and it was more to my taste. While it did not give me the returns he quoted, I was sure of my ability there. I reminded him that I still had money coming to me every three months from Brazil. He talked me into seeing the home and the lady who was selling it. I found it a big rambling place, two stories, with a large beautiful patio filled with tubs of plants and flowers. I was quite impressed with it all and had to admit the prospects she pointed out were very alluring. I had to make up my mind at once for I was told it would not remain on the market very long. After some further investigation, and the advice of the husband of one of my friends, I bought it with the understanding that she would stay there until I sold my school. Just what made me think I could manage it I don’t know. Was I being led still further by destiny?
I had no trouble at all disposing of my school and made a little money doing so. I took over the business, and what a feeling of dismay had experienced when I realised what a job I had on my hands. I, of course, kept the help that was there. The cook, I found, was a very capable woman, and with the two Irish girls as maids, together with the nurse I had for Carlitos, I found I had worried myself unnecessarily. My greatest problem was arranging the meals. How did one manage to change the menu every day, and cater to the taste of so many people? I am very much afraid I would have lost instead of made money had it not been for the help of that good old cook. It was she who helped me over this difficulty for a long time after I took over.
When Mr. Shoobridge proposed this business venture to me, he also told me that he would like very much to close his suburban home and take a suite of rooms in my place if I took it, as the expense was great and he had so much trouble with keeping a satisfactory housekeeper since the death of his wife. Of course, I readily agreed, seeing that he had helped me so much on my arrival in Buenos Aires. He not only came with his son but had quite a number of young friends who would like to come too, as soon as I had room for them. Among them were two Americans.
I soon had my house filled with English speaking people. The two Americans occupied one large room, explaining that rent was more than they wished to pay separately. I found them very nice, gentlemanly chaps, but rather strange in their manner of talk. One of them, Thad Cannon, was quite a jolly witty fellow, and would often keep those at the dinner table in roars of laughter with his funny jokes. Our dinner hour was seven in the evening, and many times they would sit there long after exchanging funny stories, true or otherwise. As I look back, I realise that although I had gone through so much sorrow and grief, those were my last carefree days. Before long I noticed that Mr. Cannon was spending more evenings in the drawing room than formerly. He taught us how to play poker, and that game became quite popular with them. Of course, they played only penny ante, as most of them were young office fellows, and while they all made good money, it took a great deal to live nicely. The other American was a Mr. Elmer East. He did not know how to play cards and seemed very reluctant to learn, but Mr. Cannon soon bullied him into doing so. Often they would roll back the carpet and dance while some good natured guest would play the piano for them. It seemed like one huge family. Mr. Cannon paid me quite a lot of attention, even going to church with us. He invited me to go to the theater with him, which I did on several occasions.
I had fitted out a tiny room leading out of the dining room to be an office and linen room combined and spent most of my time there. Mr. Cannon soon found this out and would come and sit in the dining room. He found I was keeping my accounts in a small book and insisted on opening what he called “a set of books” for me. I of course appreciated his kindness, but they were not any more legible to me than my little old despised book. He was a dark, handsome fellow, with a small moustache; very attractive in every way. He worked for the Belgrano Railway Company and dressed very smartly, as did his friend Mr. East, except for the silk hat that the latter wore. Finally, he asked me to marry him. What was I to answer him? I had already refused Mr. Shoobridge, an old man, and here I was asked to marry a man four years younger than myself. I had grown to think quite a lot of Thad, as I now called him (at his request), and did not like to hurt him as he seemed so very serious. I tried to explain to him that I did not think I cared for him in the way he thought and did not intend to marry again, as I did not think I would ever care for another man well enough to marry him. I asked him if we could not be the good friends we were, and sincerely hoped we would. He did not say very much but seemed very much hurt, and that troubled me afterward more than I cared to acknowledge to myself. I was very much astonished about a week later when he came to me to pay his rent, saying he was leaving the next day for his home in the United States. It was my turn to be hurt now, for he had not said anything about it, and I did not dream that he had taken my refusal so seriously. I really did not know what to say to him. If only I had not let him go, what sorrow I would have averted for both of us. I felt a great deal more perturbed about it than I ever thought possible. However, I gave him a letter of introduction to some of my relatives in London and asked him to go and see them, which he did, and stayed with them for a few weeks.
The day after he left so suddenly I asked his friend Mr. East why he had left. He said he did not quite know, but expected he was disgusted with the country and got homesick. Everybody regretted his leaving, I most of all. I missed his genial good fellowship and ready smile. However, life had become much too busy and complicated to leave much time for repining, little dreaming that he had found a place in my heart that he was to keep as long as life should last. He wrote me a long, beautiful letter from London, enclosing his picture, which I still have. He stayed only a few weeks in England and then took the final trip to his home in Cairo, Illinois, USA.
I now had much more confidence in my ability to conduct my business in an efficient manner and began making a great deal of money. I had caught on to the way one had to haggle as to the price asked for things, also to the way business was done. I did not have to go to the market, for it came to my door. The butcher, with his huge baskets of every kind of meat wrapped in immaculate linen cloths, the baker, and the greengrocer came also, but you had to watch the latter when he was weighing anything, which they usually did in a sack hung on a scale. While you were looking at the scale, he would put his foot on the sack and cheat you out of about a quarter of your purchase. Unless you were a gringo, as I was at first, you watched out for this. The milkman would bring the milk to the door in big cans and ladle out as much as you wanted. If you had ordered butter the day before, they would churn it on the way to town, the method being to put the amount of cream needed in tall cans, which he inserted in leather pockets on each side of his horse. By the time he reached the city, the jogging of the pony had churned the cream into butter. On reaching your door, he scooped the butter up in a ladle made of wire and cheesecloth and there was your butter. If you wanted it salted, you did that yourself, but you certainly got fresh butter. Then, if you wanted really fresh milk, that was easy. He brought the cow to the door and you gave him a container. He milked the amount you wished for. All of this was very strange to me.
Fruit was plentiful and fine except for apples, which did not flourish there. Every day the laundress would come and take your linen down to the river to wash. This they did by pounding the dirt out of them with a smooth stone, bringing it home beautifully clean and white after being spread out in the sun most of the day. The customs of the country were entirely different also, but I had to carry on like everyone else. Any time between seven and nine in the morning everybody was served a cup of coffee in their rooms. Breakfast was served generally between eleven and twelve and was more like a dinner than a breakfast. It generally consisted of soup and a dish that was served every morning called puchero, made of all kinds of vegetables and beef boiled together; then, another kind of meat, potatoes, salad, sweets, and cafe-au-lait, a mixture of coffee and hot milk. I did not serve anything else until seven o’clock dinner, except my own afternoon tea. If I had a native lady caller I would serve mate, which is an herb served in a mate cup. The cup is made of small scooped-out gourds and they are placed in the sun and dried until they become hard and look like bakelite. The mate is sucked through a silver tube with a perforated spoon-like end to prevent the leaves from coming through the tube. If you are partaking of this in a native Argentinean’s house, you will as a rule see a small Indian made appear in the doorway with the cup on a silver salver. She will take the first suck to clear the tube, then she offers it to each guest, in turn, to take a suck until the cup is empty, then it is refilled. Sanitation never seemed to enter into their minds.
Dinner was served at seven and was quite a big affair because I had to try and satisfy everyone. There were, at first, English, American, French, and Argentineans staying with me. Sometimes I was at my wit's end to get things different and acceptable for everyone each day, and would have had a much harder time doing it had I not received such wonderful help and cooperation from my cook. I was becoming more efficient every day, and what had seemed to be an alarming undertaking I now accomplished without any trouble.
All was going on very smoothly until one day there were rumours of a revolution, but I was not too much worried about it. I thought it would pass as those in Brazil had. Not so, however, for very soon we heard the boom of a cannon, and the shells began to fall, even into my patio! Snipers were firing from the roofs of the houses toward the soldiers below until it was not safe to go into the street. Business in the city was almost at a standstill as men were afraid to venture out. Those in my house amused themselves as best they could. Some played cards and so on, others just walked around like caged lions, cursing the revolutionists. Those were very trying days for me because I could not procure food enough for that big crowd, as the tradespeople had ceased to go into the streets. There seemed just one thing for me to do. I did most of the shopping for staple goods such as coffee, tea, sugar, and so on at a large store a few streets away. So I made up my mind to go out myself and get whatever I could carry home.
I put on a large black cloak, took a big bag with me, and ventured out, looking fearfully about to see if the street was cleared of soldiers. My house had iron gates wide enough for a carriage to drive into the patio. I pulled the gates together carefully so that I could get in again quickly on my return. I reached the store without any mishap and bought all I could carry, filling my bag and the corner of my cloak as well, feeling well pleased knowing I had enough for a few days, and thought surely all would be settled by that time. I started back with my load and had gotten about halfway home when, to my horror, soldiers seemed to appear from everywhere and the revolutionists were shooting at them from the housetops. There I was in the middle of them! For some reason or other, I did not lose my presence of mind. I took a tighter grip on my precious food and started running, never stopping until I reached home, only to find that the big gates had been locked in my absence when they heard of the shooting, and I was on the outside with firing going on all around me. I knocked frantically on the drawing room windows which face the street, and in doing so dropped several of my packages. You can imagine the look of astonishment on their faces when they saw me outside! They rushed to let me in, and some of the men came into the street to pick up my parcels. While doing so, some officers rode up and demanded entrance. They saw so many men in the same house and thought they had uncovered a nest of revolutionists who had been firing from the roofs. They were going to arrest all of them and would have done so had it not been for Mr. Shoobridge. He sent for the British and French consuls, as well as Mr. Baker from the American consul. Finally, they satisfied them that we were not enemies, and they departed.
A very sad thing happened the day after the above took place. Two of my English boys sneaked out to look for one of their friends, intending to take him to their room until all was quiet again. On the way, one of them was killed, and the other came back with his clothes all smeared with his comrade’s blood and brains. That put the fear of God into the hearts of all the rest, and there was no more talk of going out until all the trouble was over. Surely the good Lord had been watching over us, for when we were able to go out we discovered that a great deal of damage had been done. The church at the corner was almost destroyed, yet apart from shells falling into the patio, my house was untouched, not even a window broken. During all these trying days, my guests were very considerate and patient, doing without many things they had been having, but at least I did manage to give them enough to eat, thanks to my escapade in running the gauntlet between the fighters. I was censured very much for exposing myself to such danger, especially by my American guest Mr. East, who seemed very much perturbed by it. Finally, all was quiet and things began to take on a normal aspect once more, and people began to lose the jitters that never fail to take possession of them under conditions of that kind. My house was getting the cleaning it sadly needed.
I was surprised one morning to receive a large box, and upon opening it, found it filled with the most gorgeous flowers. I was wondering where they came from when I discovered a tiny envelope; in it, a card with Mr. East’s name on it. I did not quite know what to make of it, as I saw no reason for this attention. That evening he said he would like me to accept them as a token of his appreciation of my efforts on behalf of everybody during the past trying times. I accepted them of course, and was very pleased at his thoughtfulness. I received many after that, as well as invitations to go riding with him in the early morning out to Palermo and the country, where riding was good. These invitations I never had courage enough to refuse, for it was the one pleasure I loved best, and I had missed it more than anything else. I found I could always out-ride him, which rather piqued him. I suppose it was because I had ridden all my young life. He became most attentive to me and finally asked me to marry him.
This disturbed me very much. Why did they want to marry me just when we became good friends? I did not feel for him or anyone else the affection one should feel for a man that one was to share the rest of one’s life with. All that love, as far as I was concerned, was buried on my lost darling’s grave. I believe there can be only one such absorbing love when the very soul of one goes out to meet the other. Such was the love of Carlos and myself. I told him very frankly, but he argued that he was sure I would in time, telling me that he loved me with a love that he did not know existed before, and that he felt sure I would return it in time. He went on to argue that I ought to have someone to help run that big business. This I would not concede, for I considered I was doing very well by myself, and would rather continue to do so. I was to regret it in after years that I did not remain in that frame of mind. He was a most persistent fellow, but I felt that real love was not for me again. I could not help having the greatest respect for him. He pointed out to me that if I married him, we could between us soon make enough to be independent because I had told him I did not intend to give up my business. He held a very good position with a big English company, La Compania Gas de Belgrano, and drew a good salary in gold. Gold was necessary because the paper money fluctuated so much that one would never know how much was coming to them, or what it would be worth, so it was always stipulated how you were to be paid, in paper or gold.
He told me about his family in the States, and gave me a very glowing account of them, saying that his father was a very prominent judge in one of the northern states. We were married the next May and went on a short honeymoon to Rosario, for while I had good help, I did not care to leave for too long a time. By the time we returned to Buenos Aires, the weather was becoming uncomfortably cold, as June, July, and August are the winter months there. The houses were built without any provisions for heat. The bedrooms, except for those on the back and front of the house, had no windows but depended on the doors, which were made of slats very like a Venetian blind, for air. I conceived the idea of putting some kind of heat in the drawing room. I had heard of a store where they sold heating appliances imported from North America.I found a gorgeous heater covered here and there with shiny nickel trimming and mica windows that disclosed the glowing embers within. How happy I was at the find, and contemplated a comfortable winter. Imagine my disgust when the landlord refused to allow us to install it on account of the hole that had to be made in the wall and the ugly pipe on the outside. We had to sign an agreement to leave the premises as we found it before he would let us put it in. You can well imagine how popular that room became, as it was like a big family home, and I could have filled one twice the size because of that fact.
Those months were quite happy and profitable, but very strenuous for me. My health was not like it always had been, and I had to send for the doctor who had attended to Elmer sometime before. He informed me that I would have to cease working so hard, or I would lose the little one that was on the way. I, of course, did stop doing anything at all strenuous, but lost my little one at eight months, a boy, who is resting in the British Cemetery in Buenos Aires. My little boy.
This was a great sorrow to us both, and it was a long time before I could banish the sight of his dear little form in the lovely white coffin, and I just moped around. I had the misfortune to lose my best maid by marriage, and things around the house were not running as smoothly as they had been. I had to do a great deal of the work that I had trusted to her, and it was just as well for it gave me less time to brood over the loss of my baby. I tried to get out of doors more, and would often walk down to Elmer’s office and ride back with him. If I got there about four o’clock I would find the porter serving tea and biscuits (cookies) to the office force. I expect this will bring a smile to the lips of the average businessman in the country. Imagine going into the gas company’s office on Michigan Blvd. in Chicago and seeing all the clerks drinking tea. It would be funny!
Almost every Sunday and feast day Elmer would insist on going out to the races or theater. I was getting to be my old self. I took up my Sunday school work again. Getting among the children always did chase away the blues. Carlos was growing so fast and gave us both many happy moments with his constant baby chatter. Again rumours of revolution were heard on every side. This time I made up my mind that I would not be caught without a good supply of food. I bought things that kept, including canned milk, which was not nearly as plentiful as now. What a blessing it would have been in those days if we had had all the different canned goods that we are blessed with today! What little we did have was not to be trusted as it so often spoiled and ptomaine poisoning would result. The wonderful system and facilities we have today had not been brought to such marvellous perfection, and people had little faith in anything that came out of a can. I bought sugar, flour, and potatoes by the sack, and filled my store room with all kinds of salt fish, hams, and so on, for I had profited by the last lesson and saw to it that my larder was filled. Many anxious days followed, and the least unusual sound would set you to wondering if the revolution had started. I knew at least that we would not suffer as far as food was concerned, but the waiting and uncertainty got on one's nerves. To our great joy, the politicians patched things up and peace was once again restored.
Several months had gone by since the above took place and I was expecting another little one. I took every precaution in case I should overtax my strength, but to no avail, for I lost another little boy, and he too was laid to rest beside his baby brother. The doctor was a personal friend of Elmer’s, belonging to the same club and the English Literary Society. He had a long talk with Elmer and advised him to send me away for at least six months, to take a trip to England or go to the country. This I refused to do because I had no one that I could depend on to manage my business, and I did not propose to let it run down as I felt sure it would. As time went on, I found that something had to be done, for instead of gaining I was losing ground and could not understand why. This set me to thinking, and I wondered what would become of my little Carlitos if anything happened to me. I made up my mind to sell the business and live in a small house, much to Elmer’s joy. I cannot say that I was entirely contented, for I had been leading such a busy life and liked it. I missed the excitement of caring for so many people, planning meals, and looking out for their comfort. I missed the entertainments we had in the evenings. In other words, I was lonely.
With all this rest, I was not getting any stronger, so I told Elmer I would follow the doctor’s advice and take a trip home to England. What to do with the home was now my problem. We inserted an advertisement in the paper and had several answers at once. We rented it to a younger couple who had just married; Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. Elmer went to live with some American friend of ours by the name of Perkins. I sailed again on Lamport & Holt’s S.S. Vestris. That trip across the Atlantic was not a very enjoyable one for me until we passed the equator. It brought back too many bitter memories. I had no ambition to enter into any of the entertainments or dancing until we sailed into cooler weather when I began to feel much better.
Little Carlitos had a great time on board going over. He was a good little fellow, and everyone seemed to take possession of him. One day he wandered on the deck alone from the state room of one of the ladies who had taken him from me for a while. When lunchtime came, he was nowhere to be found, the lady thinking he had returned to me. I was nearly frantic. Everybody from the Captain on down was looking for him, even into the lifeboats. The appalling thought came to me that he must have fallen overboard, and I think I was about to throw myself after him when one of the officers came walking along the deck holding him by the hand, unconscious of the fact that everyone had been and was looking for him. It turned out that he had taken Carlitos down to see the engines, where nobody but the officers or crew were allowed, and nobody thought of looking there for him. I always dressed him in little velvet suits with lace collars and cuffs, or white sailor suits. He ran to me with his face, hands, and white suit simply smeared with black grease, looking awful, but how I hugged him to me! After that, I got a long thin rope and tied one end around his waist and the other around my own to be sure of his safety. I was very glad to be on shore where he could run about and not give me heart failure every time I lost sight of him.
We, my boy and I, arrived in England about the middle of January and found the country in mourning for the young Duke of Clarence, who had been dead only a short time. Some of the people were at Southampton to meet us, and after seeing our luggage through the custom house, took the boat train to London, visited relatives for a short time, then on to Birmingham, Leeds, and York, where I had more relatives. After that, on north, where I stayed with Mother and Elizabeth, who had married a young doctor. I found Kitty happily married to an artist, and Ann married to a businessman in Birmingham.
I heard from Elmer by every mail steamer, long, nice letters, but always complaining of being lonely. He missed little Carlitos, to whom he had become greatly attached. I had a good time at home, but it is strange how one can be wearied away from it. Things did not seem the same. The old friends were scattered, even the people in the village were strange, with the exception of a few. All this made me feel desolate, and a great longing for the past filled my heart. The past when I had walked these paths with my father and husband I had so passionately loved. Why had I been foolish enough to go back to see the old home and scenes of my childhood? It seemed I just had to. Last of all, I went to the place where my father had been laid to rest, and on his grave poured out my sorrow in a flood of tears I could not restrain. I wonder if his spirit came to me there and put the thought in my mind that I must cease pining about things passed and go steadily forward on the paths that I had already taken, and always make the best of whatever happened, and as I trusted in God, so would He take care of me. I sat on the stone bench in the enclosure of the plot of ground that contained the remains of many generations of my family and seemed to bury my grief there, for I left feeling much better. Maybe it was the good cry I had. I took the train back to Mother and my little one, who could always chase away the blues.
I was beginning to feel restless with nothing to do but mope around and found it hard to keep the resolutions I had just made. Elmer’s letters did not mend matters either, and finally, I got one that was a little too much for me. Why stay on here, discontented, when he complained about being so lonely? I made up my mind to go home, so I sent word to my dressmaker in London to have the frocks I had ordered hurried up, and the same word to Ireland where they were making some shirts for Elmer. I got in communication with Lamport & Holt’s shipping agent for sailing dates. I found that in two weeks the S.S. Vestris was sailing again and I decided to set sail on her, for I knew that vessel like home, as well as the officers, and that makes a great difference as to your comfort. My frocks arrived on time, but not the shirts, so I was leaving without them. The luggage and little Carlitos were already in the cab and I was just about to step in when the shirts arrived and were put in the cab just as they were. After a nice but uneventful voyage, we arrived in Montevideo only to learn that because we had taken on mail at Rio de Janeiro we were to be put in quarantine on Flores Island. We were dreadfully disappointed, but there was nothing to do but make ourselves as comfortable as we could and make the best of it. I received wires or letters from Elmer every day, as well as flowers, magazines, and candy. We were glad to be on shore even though we were prisoners on a miserable island. There had been a nice crowd on board, among them Reverend Kinsolving, who had recently married. I had known him previously in Brazil and was glad to meet his young bride. Flores Island is a barren strip of land not far from Montevideo, and our hearts sank at the thought of spending two weeks or more there. The captain of the Vestris assured us that we would not be put in quarantine, and was greatly surprised and very sorry when he found out we were to be retained. He ordered from the ship stores a big packet for each lady containing first a lovely black teapot, sugar, condensed milk, tea, and a box of cookies and a fruit cake so that we could have our afternoon tea at least, for he knew we would not get it on the island. I kept that little black teapot until a few years ago when I gave it to one of my daughters-in-law, who was collecting old china.
Time on the island passed more quickly than we anticipated. In the daytime we read and so on, and the men who could borrow or make a fishing pole fished. In the evening, we cleared the barren old dining room and danced there to the music supplied by some of the passengers. At last, the time for our release came. When our boat reached the landing in Buenos Aires there was the usual crowd, but not Elmer. I saw several who looked like him, one of them frantically waving a handkerchief, and I thought it might be he, but on looking at his face I found that I was mistaken. In the meantime, our boat was being made fast to the wharf. I was wondering why Elmer had not met us and feared that something had happened to him. I had gotten little Carlitos safely over the gangplank and was watching the hurry and bustle that always goes on when a ship docks when someone came from behind and just hugged me. I turned and saw the man of the white handkerchief. It was Elmer with a Van Dyke beard. No wonder I did not recognize him, he looked entirely different! He looked very distinguished in his Prince Albert coat and silk hat. Elmer was quite a Beau Brummell, and very much the gentleman.
How happy and relieved he was to have us home again, glad not to have to wander from place to place seeking amusement in the evening. We gave up the little house we had sub-rented to the Taylors and found one a little larger with a patio filled with flower boxes big enough for my boy to play in. We were very comfortable in the new home. I got Helen, one of my old maids back, the girl who had been nurse to Carlitos. Winter was ahead of us again and the same old trouble - no heat. This time I bought a portable oil stove, but did not like the disagreeable odor it sent out, and I was rather afraid of it, but it did keep the room warm. That winter I was rather busy making things for the bazaar that was held every year by our church. Elmer and I took up our morning riding again until I found I had to stop any violent exercise because I was again to have a child. How anxious and worried Elmer was! He would not let me do anything but rest in case I would lose this one too. Fate, however, was kinder to me this time, and a son, Alfred, was born to us on the 2nd of March, 1893. Although both of us came near entering the dark valley, we were spared, and in a few weeks, I was well and as vigorous as I had ever been.
About the beginning of the following September, I was very much surprised and happy to receive a visit from an old friend of my late husband, owner and captain of a sailing vessel, who before they got their own, carried cargoes of coffee for them. He always came to see us when in Buenos Aires. He had just arrived from Rio and now that we had room again, we asked him to stay with us during his time in the city. Elmer enjoyed his many yarns, and would sit late into the night listening to them. On one occasion Elmer said, “Now, Captain, if you were going to the United States, we would go with you.” He was joking of course, or so I thought. The Captain replied, “I wish I was going there. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, for it gets very lonesome sometimes.” That night I twitted Elmer about his remark to the Captain and told him that I did not have the faintest desire to go to North America, especially in a sailing vessel, much as I respected the Captain. I was an old sailor and knew that it was tedious enough to take these long voyages on a steamer, let alone when you had to depend entirely on the wind. He remained quiet and thoughtful all the next evening, and I thought maybe he was having trouble getting the monthly reports off to London on time. Many men in the office were Argentineans and they thought that “mañana” would do.
When I pressed him for the reason of his being so glum, he said, “Well, I’ll tell you. Talking to the Captain about going to the States intensified my great longing to take you there. I want my father and friends to know the woman I married, for I am so very proud of you darling, and I want him to see his grandson.” We talked far into the night, him trying to figure out some way to go, me trying to avoid it. He was quite sure Mr. Olguine, the head of the office, would be willing to put Mr. Shaw, the next man under Elmer, in his place for six months and give him a leave of absence as he had not asked for a vacation before. He figured we could leave so as to be in the United States for the summer months. We agreed that theaters, horses, flowers, and all unnecessary expenses must be given up, as that trip would take a great deal of money. I really could not get very enthused and would much rather have stayed at home, but he could talk of nothing else. Of course, I quite understood his desire to see his family again and tried not to show my lack of interest because he had been so very good about my trip to England. I thought it all out and dreaded the voyage with the two children, for to take Helen would be too expensive.
Just a few nights after we had the long talk about the States and were waiting for dinner, the patio door opened and the Captain called out, “Am I in time for dinner?” He seemed quite jovial about something and said, “Well, I am inviting you to come to the United States with me. I have a cargo for Boston and I sail as soon as the ship takes on the cargo.” My alarm and reluctance was only equaled by Elmer’s joy and excitement. I explained to the Captain that while I appreciated his wonderful offer exceedingly, it would be impossible to accept his invitation as I would need many things and more money that we wouldn’t have until later. He assured me it would cost us nothing as far as the trip was concerned. I could see that Elmer was more than anxious to accept his offer, and put forth every argument in favour of it. He was quite sure the company would put Shaw in his place and give him six months' leave. We would go to the bank and arrange for them to send the money they collected for me to his father’s office. I never saw him so excited about anything. In spite of my oppression, believe it or not, within ten days we were on board the sailing vessel “Ivy,” bound for Boston and a world of grief for me, as a result of a few words spoken to the Captain in jest. Sometimes I wonder why God allows us to do the insane things we do, for surely Elmer was insane to return to the United States.
Never shall I be able to erase from my memory that awful voyage, and neither can I forget the kindly efforts of the Captain to make us comfortable. My thoughts and a great sense of gratitude have gone out to him many a time. It has been one of my regrets that I could never see or write to him after we parted in Boston.
Our voyage was supposed to take six weeks. The Captain had taken on board all kinds of extra provisions for our benefit. He turned over his stateroom, which opened into the saloon so that I could have the two children with me. I cannot think of anything he left undone that would have added to our comfort. Can I ever forget the time we had getting on board! We had to get into a little row boat to get to the vessel because the water was shallow. When we reached it we had to climb a narrow ladder that ran up the side of it while it was rolling from side to side because of the rough weather. The Captain came down to carry up the baby. The boatswain took Carlitos and we followed. Few people can realise what a difficult feat that is for anyone to accomplish when the sea is rough. It did not take long to get settled in our stateroom. The Captain swung hammocks for the two children for safety in rough water, for which I was to be on many occasions more than thankful. Soon we heard the dinner bell, and seeing that we had had a hurried breakfast, we did full justice to it even though we felt strange and cramped with the fiddles on the table on account of the rocking of the boat, otherwise, our plates and so on would be sliding all over the table. It is a work of art to be able to partake of a plate of soup without spilling it all over the table or your lap. The salt, pepper, and so on were in a cruet suspended from the ceiling, and if you were agile (or a good ball player) you would catch it on the rebound. It was a great sport for Carlitos, who did not know what to make of such strange goings on. We spent the afternoon trying to adjust ourselves to our new surroundings. That is, the children and I did. Elmer, I supposed, was with the Captain.
Tea time came and Elmer was nowhere to be found; after hunting around we found him curled up on one of the hatches looking not white, but a gray-green. The poor fellow was already seasick. I persuaded him to go to his bunk and it was more than a week before he ventured on deck again. He refused to eat anything but a few crackers and weak tea. This worried me to death because he was never any too robust. The weather was getting hotter every day for of course we were sailing toward the equator, and very slowly I might add, sometimes not making more than a couple of miles an hour. Fortunately, I had plenty to occupy my time. But poor Elmer was at his wit’s end trying to find something to relieve the monotony. He tried to make a boat for Carlos, but after nearly cutting off a thumb, gave it up. He was no carpenter. He became quite an astrologist though. Most of the Captain’s library consisted of books pertaining to either the sky or sea. It was quite fascinating to sit and listen to the Captain explain about the heavenly bodies. I too learned a lot about them before that long voyage was over.
In those waters are many strange fish, and quite often they would jump or fly on board. Then there were the beautiful little flying fish, lovely pink, yellow, red, and gray bodies with delicate transparent wings. Sometimes a whole school would fly on board and if we did not gather them up immediately and throw them back into the water they would die. They were so very fragile. We were making slow progress, and finally, when we were on the same latitude as Santos or Sao Paulo we were becalmed and remained so for ten days in the stifling heat of the tropics. Then, a little wind started up and we drifted into the doldrums, and to our horror, we were again becalmed, the sails hanging like limp rags to the masts. We had not sighted land since we left Buenos Aires and must have been about opposite Bahia by this time and at a standstill with not even a boat passing for days at a time. We were now faced with a very serious situation. We were running out of fresh water as there had been no rain for weeks, and of course, there was no condenser on a sailing vessel, therefore we had to have fresh water only for drinking, and very little of that. Of course, we always used salt water for bathing, and happily, we had a grand bathtub which was quite unusual on a sailing vessel. You can well imagine our suffering in that intense heat, without a breeze and hardly any water, added to that our supplies were now dwindling, and so were obliged to conserve them very carefully.
We had been drifting this time about twelve days when to our great relief a wind blew up, our sails began billowing out, and we were on our way once more. What a relief to feel the breeze relieve us from the torrid heat we had suffered for so long! I saw that Elmer suffered, but never complained. I expect he knew I would ask him why he had not taken my advice and waited until we could travel on a steamer. The Captain’s chief occupation now was watching the sky and barometer, for we had gotten down to the last barrel of water, and were allowed it just once a day. But the rain came, and we found we could have too much of a good thing. It came down in veritable cloud bursts for days until I thought the sun that we had rebelled against so much would never shine again. But the blessed Lord took pity on us and made his face to shine on us again through the sun.
For days we had been shut up below decks, and our relief was great when we could breathe the fresh air. We were not to enjoy this very long, though, in a day or two we began to get nasty rough weather again. The winds blew and the waves were like huge mountains on either side of us. On one side one would be going from us, then the other side would show another coming, as it seemed, right over our vessel, and there we were being tossed about like a cork on the face of the waters. Everything that was not lashed down began rolling from one side to the other, keeping the crew busy lashing them. In the dining room, dishes were rolling out of their racks and pandemonium reigned. Elmer was never a very good sailor and refused to leave his bunk, not even to eat. Not that it mattered much where you ate if you did at all. You just had to hold on tight to whatever you could get and dispense with ceremony. For safety, I kept the children in their hammocks, for little Carlitos had already had many a bump.
That night the storm was worse than ever. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the wind blew until we could hardly hear each other talk. I did not attempt to undress either of the children or myself, for to be quite frank I was just plain scared. I had been through many a storm, but not compared to this, nor was it in a little shell of a boat like that one. Our stateroom was near the companionway that led from the saloon on each deck, and every now and then we would hear a gush of water rolling down until one of the crew came and made the doors fast. All the hatches had been fastened down and it was stifling in our stateroom, but we had to stay there. Happily for me, the children slept. How I blessed the Captain for the hammocks that night, for they never would have been able to stay in a bunk. Elmer was so exhausted that he too was actually dozing among all that turmoil. The masts were screeching, sailors running overhead. It sounded as though bedlam was let loose. Suddenly came a tremendous crash just above our heads. The vessel started to turn on one side. Elmer jumped up and said, “What was that? I guess Captain must have fallen down the stairs in his rubber boots.” He had actually fallen asleep, and he was half dazed. Imagine my disgust at his seeming stupidity at such a time when we expected to sink at any moment. I am afraid I would have given him a sharp retort, but just at that moment came another crash. One door tore loose from the hook and shut with a bang, for the vessel had turned almost on its side and was apparently sinking. He jumped out of his bunk, or I ought to say fell out, and rushed to open the door, but to our dismay it was jammed and no amount of force on our part could open it. We pounded on the door and called, thinking someone on deck would hear and come to our rescue, but those feeble efforts could not be heard above the racket the elements were making and the racing and shouting of the crew.
Our state of mind can be well imagined when we felt ourselves going down, caught like rats in a trap. If I was going down I wanted at least to be on deck. Elmer was beside himself and said over and over, “What have I brought you to, darling?” I had just about resigned myself to what seemed the inevitable, and for some strange reason lost a good deal of my fear. I tried to reassure Elmer, who was pulling with all his strength at the door. The running around of the men and the awful noises we heard every now and then was awe-inspiring. Suddenly, I felt the boat begin to right itself, and to our great relief, the door suddenly opened, flinging Elmer to the floor. It seemed to me I had lived a thousand years that night. Elmer was almost beside himself and said, “Oh, darling, I thought I had brought you to death!” and would hardly release me. The storm continued and Elmer tried to go on deck, but the Captain would not let him. He had come to see how we were and to say that he thought the worst of the storm was over, but we must not attempt to open the deck door, as the waves were still very high. When dawn began to break, the fury of the elements had lessened, and in a few hours the sun was shining, the waters beautifully blue and calm. No one would ever dream that we had passed through such a terrifying night. These are the experiences that teach us that God is Lord of all creation, and we are but as grains of sand on the seashore. He indeed seemed very near that night, and I prayed very earnestly for us all. The strangest feeling came to me when I thought we were sinking, for while I was frightened to death, the thought came to me that soon I would be with the loved ones I had lost, and I was comforted and given courage to face the end with my little ones close in my embrace. That night will always live in my memory.
Later that morning we went on deck only to find it had been stripped of all the masts. Those were the noises we heard in the night. It took days to fix the masts, but at last, we were on our way again, very slowly, but glad to be moving at all, for our food was getting woefully less, and no hope of touching land before we reached Boston. We were sailing into cooler weather and small squalls, but nothing like the one we had gone through. We now began making much better time, sailing past Pernambuco and directly north, skirting the West Indies, Bermuda, and straight on to Boston with hardly enough food or water for another day. The only one among us that did not say a prayer of thanks when we reached Boston was little Carlos, as he had loved every day of that dreadful voyage because everyone on board catered to him, made him boats, full-rigged ships, carved and painted all kinds of animals for him, all of which he kept for many years. It was now December, and as we neared the northern part of the United States we felt the cold very much and had to stay below all the time. At last, we sighted land!
I wonder if anyone except those who have gone through a like experience can imagine the overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude we felt when we thought we would soon be safely on shore after so many vicissitudes. This was the first land we had seen since leaving Buenos Aires three months before. How weary we all were, and badly needing warm clothes and linen that were not sticky with salt.
I had been told of the beauty of Boston Harbour and was anxious to see it, but the temperature was about twenty below zero and I had no warm cloaks. However, I put on all I had and the Captain brought his big reefer and slicker and helped me up on deck where everything was frozen. The deck was like glass, which made it impossible to walk on, so the Captain put on over my shoes a pair of thick woollen socks. Truly the sight was beautiful. There were myriads of small islands scattered all over the harbour. These were partly covered with ice and snow, and the sun shining on them made the whole scene look like an exaggerated Christmas card. I had been made to understand that it compared favourably with the harbours of Sydney, Australia, and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. This I did not find so. This was a desolate, quiet, cold beauty, whereas Rio is all life and grandeur, with its sparkling blue waters flowing serenely on through the gateway made by mountains on either side. When you enter the harbour proper, a glorious vista meets the eye. There are huge ocean steamers from all over the world; small tramp boats, tiny sailboats. Then there are the always interesting bum boats filled with all kinds of curios, birds of every colour, and small marmoset monkeys that chatter away, trying to outdo the parrots. These the owners are trying to sell to the passengers on the big sea-going boats. Then there are the boats filled with little coloured boys trying to draw the attention of the passengers who throw silver coins into the water and watch the little fellows dive into the water and capture them before they reach the bottom of the ocean. I have at different times bought many of these little birds and monkeys, but came to the conclusion that it was cruel to take them away from their own climate because no matter how much care you give them, they rarely ever survive the change in temperature.
I seem to have digressed somewhat from my narrative, so I will continue. We were all making ready to land the next day, the boat having come to a standstill and the anchor lowered. The sensation of trying to walk or sleep on a level, quiet surface after being tossed about for three months is most peculiar. You miss the rock of the boat and find it almost impossible to walk in a straight line, and your feet seem to want to lift themselves up. The next morning when we awoke, we found to our disgust a regular blizzard was blowing. The Captain tried for two days to signal a tug to pilot us to the landing, at night sending up rockets, but to no avail. On the third day we saw a tug plowing its way through the ice toward us. After much trouble, they got the hawser on board and made fast. That was a terrifying little trip too, for the wind was blowing and we had to navigate through ice flows. We, at long last, tied up at the wharf in Boston.
I am going to state right here that I believe God is ever listening to our prayers if they come from the heart. Surely He must have had some mission for us to perform, some destiny to reach, and so it was His will that we should be saved from those awful dangers that had beset us. How can I think otherwise when I remember that out of thirteen vessels in the harbour that day, ours was the only one saved? All the other twelve went down and not a soul was saved. Perhaps some will remember that tragic day in December 1893.
I believe we must all accomplish the task and fit into the spot He assigned to us, just as each little piece in a jigsaw puzzle has a niche of its own. That experience seemed to give me an entirely different aspect on life. It taught me to live my religion day by day, rather than go to worship Him on Sunday and forget Him and those who need any little help I can give them the rest of the week. It certainly made me appreciate more fully all the blessings I had up to that time taken for granted. It also made me much more tolerant with the shortcomings of my fellow man. Believe me, when you are far out at sea and at night look up at the skies and think of the wonders of sky, sea, and land, God seems very near and real. I was very humble and grateful to Him for bringing us out of the dangers of sea and famine, for we had only a little oatmeal to eat for several days before reaching Boston, and that without either sugar, milk, or even a little salt - just oatmeal. You may be sure we were eager to go ashore!
The Captain wanted to carry the baby. He thought it would be safer because we had to climb several steps to reach the gangplank that extended from the boat to the landing. But Elmer would not trust him to anyone but himself, and so mounted the steps with him in his arms. As he reached the top step, the ice around gave way with a jolt and he nearly threw the baby out of his arms to the ice waters below. He managed to grab one of his feet, and there he was, hanging head down over Elmer’s shoulder, and he surely would have drowned if the Captain, who was right behind him, had not caught him. It was months before I could touch that poor little foot without hurting him.
We were all safely in a cab at last, headed for the hotel. Oh, the luxury of a hot, freshwater bath! I felt as though I had shed an outer skin. I really think I washed off a pound of salt that first day. We had coffee and rolls sent up to our room at once, for we were nearly starved. After I had put the children in bed for a nap, I unpacked a few things because we must stay in Boston long enough to buy warm clothes for all of us. In the meantime, Elmer went down to the docks to see to our baggage being brought to the hotel, and to arrange for dinner. What a strange meal that was to me. First, they brought our soup, which I thought was excellent, but I expect I would have thought any old soup good that day. Then the waiter came to me with a large tray filled with a platter of meat and innumerable small dishes of vegetables and placed them all before me. My first thought was how in the world could I help four people with so little food? I looked up and the waiter placed another such array in front of the Captain. I discovered that all of that was for me. Elmer smiled and explained that was the way they served in this country, not by passing around the large dishes for you to help yourself. It was all right, except that the food gets cold quickly. But what a blessing to get a meal of any kind! The Captain had been distressed to death about the long and tedious voyage, for it never had taken him longer than six weeks to make it, and he figured he would have an abundance of food. We had been three months making that trip! After staying with us until the next day, he had to leave to attend to the unloading of his cargo, and then on to New York to arrange for a return cargo. We expected to see him next in Buenos Aires on our return there, but alas, I never saw him again.
The weather was bitterly cold and I dared not take the children out until I had bought them warm clothing. I hired one of the hotel maids to take care of them while Elmer and I went to change the money I had taken out of the bank in Buenos Aires into United States money. I had no difficulty in understanding the latter because the Argentine peso was pretty much the same, but there we used very little silver, all paper and gold. There were, however, many things strange to me, and Elmer had lots of amusement at my expense. For instance, I went into a dry goods store (to me it was a draper’s shop) and I said, “I would like to have a reel of cotton please.” They did not know what it was I wanted and the young lady, after conferring with one of the other clerks, came back and said she was afraid they did not have what I asked for. Elmer then snickered and said, “She wants a spool of thread.” I then asked her for some calico and she brought me some printed goods. At that moment I saw what I wanted on the shelf almost in front of me and I pointed it out to her. Then she said, “Oh, you want muslin.” I had a big time getting what I wanted and was afraid to ask for anything without consulting Elmer. In one of the stores I went into all the girls seemed to be still eating their lunch and making the most peculiar faces about it. I called Elmer’s attention to it and he laughingly said, “They are chewing gum” and tried to explain to me what it was. It was not long before he came to me and held out what I thought was something like our toffy in England. I tried to eat it, not thinking much of it in the way of candy. In a few minutes, Elmer came to me and said, “How do you like it?” I told him what I thought of it and he asked me what I had done with it. I told him I had swallowed it of course, but thought it disagreeable. At that, he went into fits of laughter and told me it was not supposed to be swallowed. At that, I told him I thought it a rather disgusting habit. After that, I was on my guard as to what I asked for and what I ate.
Boston reminded me a good deal of any town its size in England, with its streets going every which way, not the chequerboard plan of Chicago, with its streets so easy to find. Elmer wired his father immediately when we got on shore, knowing that he must be anxious to hear of our safe arrival, feeling quite sure he must have read of the many wrecks that had occurred. After I had gotten warm clothing for us all and the laundry back, I was anxious to get away from the frozen north to a warmer part of the country and told Elmer so. He seemed undecided and very much perturbed and worried. I asked him if anything was wrong. He took a telegram out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was from his father and read, “Yes come at once, but you must tell Sarah all. Father.” I looked at him in bewilderment and asked for the meaning. He said, “Listen, darling, I must have a talk with you about something I cannot put off any longer.” The children were asleep and I was packing. He led me to an easy chair and knelt down beside me, taking both my hands and looking into my eyes very earnestly he said, “I wonder if you love me well enough to forgive a great wrong I have done you by not confessing to you before I asked you to be my wife what I must now.” I was amazed and puzzled and asked him why if there was anything to confess he had not done so and given me a chance to decide. He went on to say, “I tried several times, but felt sure that if I did you would not marry me. I wanted you more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. I was sure with you I could lead a decent, straight life. I had thought I had loved once before, but it was the love that any man gives to that kind of woman - one who would chase around with any man who would ask her, and give her the most. I was longing for a home and children, something to make life worthwhile. I felt I could attain this with you dear, and I did not have the moral courage to run the risk of losing you. I never intended going back to the United States and you never needed to know.” I asked him why he had come, and he said he could not any longer resist his father’s pleadings for a visit from him.
I told you that I was born in a small town of Metropolis, at the southern end of Illinois, where both my father and mother taught school. I was the eldest of three children, having a sister Lenora, and a brother Walter. When I was about six years old my mother died. Father gave up his position and took us to Cairo, a town situated at the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, where one of my mother’s sisters lived, the Aunt Lou of whim I have often spoken. She undertook to care for us all, Father included. Uncle John, Lou’s husband, was a contractor and builder and had a nice home. We lived very happily with them for several years.
Father wanted a home of his own again, and so married a widow by the name of Bainbridge, who had several children. We were not nearly as happy as we had been with Aunt Lou, but we had nothing to say about it and our lot was not too happy. A son was born of this marriage, and then poor Lenora’s life was made unbearable. After school, she had to devote all of her time doing housework or taking care of the baby. My own lot was easier, for I got a job as soon as I graduated. When I was still a schoolboy I became infatuated with a girl who lived about a block away from the back of our home. She was the daughter of a river pilot and was allowed to do pretty much as she pleased. As time went on, our relations became much closer, and I promised to marry her someday. I was doing as well as most young men, and much better than some. Maud knew what I was making, and I was anxious to save enough for us to get married. However, she was very ambitious and I was afraid it would be a long time before I could satisfy her. I was employed by a man who kept a general store as bookkeeper and general accountant. I soon found out many things that astonished me. Many thousands of dollars passed through my hands every week.
Maud and I saw each other every day and almost every evening. I spent almost all I made on her, yet she was not satisfied. Temptation was before me all the time. Maybe I could borrow a little of the money I was handling all the time? I did, and it was easy. To please her I gave parties, took her to theaters, bought her expensive gifts, diamonds, and other things far beyond the reach of an ordinary desk clerk. She tried to become an artist and I helped her in this too. She went to the city and while there I sent her costly gifts. I went up to see her and stayed over the weekends as often as I could. She was not satisfied to live in our little hometown. She wanted to live in the city, and in order to do that I must make five thousand dollars per year. There was no end to her ambitions and I, like a fool, tried to satisfy them. I bought some land in Wichita, Kansas, and put up a large apartment building on it. I bought other parcels of land there which I sold again, making a great deal of money on these transactions. I heard of a chance to buy a half interest in the Stevens Lithographic Company of St. Louis. That would make me the desired five thousand a year. I was making all arrangements for our wedding, and to leave Cairo. This was a difficult task that was before me. I asked the owner of the store to install my brother Walter in my place, which he agreed to do. I felt relieved.
Now comes the part I shrink from telling you dear, knowing you as I do. For years I had been taking much more than my salary from the store until I had enough to satisfy Maud’s desires and buy that land in Wichita, all the costly things I was continually giving her, and lastly the Lithographing interest that would give me the amount I needed hereafter; then I could return that which I had pilfered from the store. I had made arrangements with Maud to go to St. Louis to see a home that I thought suitable, but before she could do so I received an urgent letter from Walter telling me to go at once to Cairo. Before I could return the money to the store, all was discovered. I boarded the first train for Cairo and tried to straighten things out. The owner was of course furious and gave me the tongue lashing I deserved, as well as threatened all kinds of trouble for me. I told him of my intention to make restitution. I went back to St. Louis and turned over all my assets to my old employer, which was much more than I had taken, keeping out a sum for my immediate use. I then went to Maud and explained my present standing. When she found I had failed to make good on all my promises to her and that she would have to live on whatever I could make, she roundly upbraided me for making a mess of things, and broke our engagement (much to my relief, for she was becoming too exacting.) The idol I had in my boyhood thought gold, turned out to be very common clay.
I had made a nervous wreck of myself trying to get married as soon as possible because I could not endure the thought of her going out with other men as soon as my back was turned, anyone who would give her a good time and what she wanted. Nothing was sacred to her. I was glad to be free. I went back to St. Louis and made up my mind to go as far away as possible and begin my life over again. Leaving the old sordid life behind and try and find oblivion and surcease for my overwrought nerves. I never intended to return to the United States. I was all ready to leave in a few days when one day on the street I met the brother of my late chum Jim that you have heard me speak of. I told him all and when I had done so he said, “Wait until I can collect my clothes and pay and I will go with you.” I did not agree to this for I was sure his family would not like it, and tried to dissuade him but he said it was just what he would like to do. I bought the tickets and was foolish enough to change my name. I would begin a new life with a new name. This Thad did not like, but I had done it and meant to retain it. We reached London and stayed there a few days, long enough to find that it would be very difficult to get employment. We then made up our minds to go to Australia, New Zealand, or South America. We tossed a coin and it came out on South America, and so, darling, took me to you. On such small things do our destinies often depend - the flip of a coin. Can you forgive the past? Can you look over a stupid fellow’s weakness in not resisting the blandishments of a frivolous flirt? If you can bring yourself to forgive me, dear, I swear to God I will never, as long as I live, do anything to make you ashamed, but will devote the rest of my life to retrieving the past and make you forget this thing I had to disclose. Don’t cast me from you. Think of our boy, and forgive me for his sake. I cannot give either of you up now that I have found what true happiness means. If you do, there is just one thing for me to do, as I shall have nothing to live for. Can you be generous and forgive?
Elmer put his head down in my lap and cried as I had never seen a man cry. Indeed, I had never seen a man cry before and it thoroughly unnerved me. The horror of it all! I was dazed and found it difficult to think coherently. What could I say to this man who had been weak enough to let a frivolous, designing woman play upon his feelings enough to lead him into such temptation, to warp his best instincts, for he was a gentleman and I had always thought a refined one? Finally, when I could pull myself together and do a little thinking I told him I must have time to make up my mind as to what I wanted to do. The whole story had been so repulsive to me, as well as confusing. There were so many things I could not understand. To begin with, I tried to find out why he had returned to the United States and brought me with him to face such humiliation. To this, he had answered that his father had written him such pleading letters, begging him to go back because he needed him. Then I asked him why in common sense he had changed his name, and if he realized what that meant for me.
I told him I saw no excuse for the act, no matter how great had been the temptation. Did not Adam lay the blame of his fall on Eve? I thought it cowardly of him to try and lift the blame from his shoulders to those of anyone else. To my way of thinking, that did not mitigate his dishonest deeds. He was dreadfully downcast. How true it is that a woman can either make or break a man! I asked him if she did not wonder where he got the money to buy her all those valuable things and that property. He answered, “She knew very well what I was making so how could she help knowing? I was handling so much money all the time and thought I could put it back without being discovered.” He talked on and on but I was interested now only in trying to find some way out of his dilemma I had been plunged into. I must have a time to think it all out, for my mind was in too chaotic a state to do so then. What puzzled me most was why he came back. What kind of influence had his father over him that could bring him back to the place that had such bitter memories for him? Oh, the pity of it all. If only he had had the courage to ignore those pleadings and forget his family and past and stay where he had made so many nice friends, a lovely home, and good prospects. Why bring me into this mess that he had gotten into? And worst of all, why had he changed his name?
How could I explain that to my family? I had written to them asking them to come over and visit us if possible while we were there. Why had he let me mail that letter to them when he knew all this? I could not endure the thought of the cruel things they might say and the sneers cast at me. Those things are not looked upon as lightly. In England, you were just an outcast. I just could not make up my mind to face them. There was no sleep for me that night. Thoughts were crowding each other through my mind with such rapidity that I was just bewildered. My heart was torn. What should I do? I asked myself a thousand questions and could find no answers that would solve this problem that had so suddenly confronted me. At last, blessed sleep came and seemed to clear my brain. The next morning I came to a definite decision. I reasoned this way: If I left him, I must do so now while I had the means. I could not divorce him, for I had no cause. I married the man, not the name. Not only that, divorce to me in those days was as great a scandal as the one he had brought on himself. I refused to leave Boston until I had come to a decision in case I wanted to return at once to Buenos Aires. All that next day he pleaded so earnestly with me. I tried to analyze my feelings for him. Do I care enough for Elmer to renounce all that was dear to me and to try to live down the past with and for him? Can I muster up enough courage to face all these people who would without a doubt point a finger at him? Would it be the right thing to take the boy that he worships away from him, even if he would let me? How dreadfully difficult to decide.
I had married this man and vowed to keep to him as long as we both should live. Must I keep this vow that I had made before God in all sincerity and truth? Would He look with favour if I cast aside those vows now? Had He not listened to my prayer just a few short nights ago and saved us all from the perils of the sea? Will my conscience not upbraid me if I stumble over this first great obstacle He has placed before me? Was this the mission I had to fulfill? I must think and pray for guidance and help, as I had done so very earnestly when I thought I was losing my life. Now I was losing my very soul if I did not choose the better way in this hour of trial. Which is the better way? There is no middle path. I must give up him or my family. It took me a long time, but I finally came to a very drastic decision, one from which there was no turning back, but was to last as long as life itself for me.
I went to Elmer and told him what I was about to do but on my own conditions. I would try and forget this as if it had been a dreadful nightmare. He displayed such abject contrition that my heart was touched and I felt I was doing the right thing. Here was a handsome young man, polished and at heart good, but so very easily led; so easy that he had allowed a heartless woman to almost destroy him. Must I finish the job and let him drift to maybe worse, the father of my sons? And for me, what? If I went to my own people, what could I tell them but a made up story of untruths, or the disgraceful truth. I would do neither. How could I explain the change in my name? No, I could not endure it. Elmer asked me what those conditions were. I brought him writing materials and asked him to write to my mother and tell her I was dead, as I was indeed to them now. He was in turn horror stricken and refused to do so, saying, “Darling, do you realize what you are asking me to do?” I told him I did only too well, and that those were my terms and if he did not do this, I would go back to my home in Buenos Aires immediately, by the first ship I could get. He knew I would keep my word, and so consented to write. I myself mailed the letter being afraid to trust him to do so, and from that day they have been dead to me, and I to them.
I tried to put them out of my memory, but what a heartbreaking struggle it was. Nobody but I could ever conceive. What else could I do? My course was a drastic one and rather staggered Elmer, but I could see no other way out. I told him I had chosen my course, and that I would stand by him if he, on his part, would keep the cow he had made to me. I just could not leave his crushed broken man to his fate. If he had not changed his name I might have found some way out, but how could I explain that? People are not so dumb that they would not know it was for some sinister reason, and my pride would not stand it. Better to be dead to them all, as I could still love them.
Elmer had received a wire from his father, wanting to know when we would arrive in Cairo. He asked me what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go first. I told him that in my opinion there seemed only one thing to do and that was to go back to Cairo and live down the unhappy past. This we did after visiting some of his mother’s relatives in the east, among these an uncle who had just about completed an aeroplane. Everybody said the poor man was crazy to imagine it would fly. He died shortly after this, and the plane was never finished by him. I found these people refined and charming, especially Elmer’s grandmother, who made no end of fuss over her great-grandson. This was the mother of his Aunt Lou Poore of Cairo, the most spritely old lady I ever knew. She was then ninety-three and could still make herself useful in many ways.
I had a dreadful time trying to remember that my name was Comings. I often found myself calling Elmer “Mr. East” to the other people. It was dreadfully embarrassing. Poor little Carlos could not quite make it out, however, he soon forgot, for many strange things had happened lately. He spoke Spanish as well as English in those days, for I did not want him to forget his father’s language, but he soon forgot that too. At last, we were on our way to Cairo and I disliked the thought. The journey was very tiresome for us all, and it was a great relief to get somewhere where we could stay put for a while. We arrived late in the evening and found Elmer’s father had sent old Charlie Scott, the only cab man in the place, to meet the train. We were taken to a nice family hotel kept by Mrs. Ross, where we were installed in a suite of three rooms. This lady was more than good to me, a stranger in a strange land. One of her daughters was married to one of the Smith brothers, Jim Smith, who owned a large grocery store. That store is there today, as is the Smith family. I still retain the greatest regard for her memory, for she must have been dead many years. I did not feel equal to leaving my rooms for several days but received a number of visitors. Elmer was almost childish in his delight at seeing his father and family again. My own desire was now to get settled somewhere by ourselves, but Elmer thought it would be easier for me if we stayed on at the hotel, so we made ourselves as comfortable as we could in such small quarters.
We had been there about a week or ten days when I received a number of callers, among them Mr. and Mrs. DeRosset, the Episcopal minister, and their next door neighbors Mrs. Thrupp and daughter Theo, the latter were lovely English people, and we soon because great friends; then came Mrs. Candee of Fourth Street and her sister in law Mrs. Safford who lived with her; a very dear old lady Mrs. Galigher and her daughter-in-law Mrs. Fred Galigher, daughter of Dr. Dunning; Mrs. William Gilbert, Mrs. Miles Gilbert, Mrs. Chas. Pink and her sweet old sister Miss Annie; Mrs. Baker, a relative of the American consul in Buenos Aires, whom I had known there, and her daughter Mrs. Albert Galigher, and dear little Ella Robins; Dr. and Mrs. Gassaway too. All these called within three weeks of my arrival. I was asked to join the different guilds of my church. I was glad to do so, for I thought it would help me to forget. The Sunday after our arrival, Elmer’s brother Fred asked me if I would care to go to church with him, as he belonged to the Episcopal church too. I did, and Elmer stayed with the children. When we came out after the service, Fred said to me, “Do you know who that funny looking woman is who sat next to you?” I said of course not, they were all strangers to me. He laughed and said, “That is Maud, the girl that Elmer was engaged to for so many years.” I was surprised as she was a Presbyterian, I had been told. It did strike me as being rather strange that the first time I attended any public gathering in the town that I was ushered into a seat next to the woman who was the cause of my husband’s downfall.
On our way home, I saw that Fred was not going in the same direction as we had taken on our way there, and remarked about it. He said, “No, I want to show you where Maud lives.” He pointed to a red brick house of some seven or eight rooms, with a wood porch and several steps leading to the front door. It had no yard, but a kind of an alley running along the side. It stands today as then. Now some of my friends occupy it, a Mr. and Mrs. Rust, with their charming and gifted Margaret and Bernice. I did not know, or care except for Elmer’s sake, what kind of a reception we would receive on our arrival there, and felt glad when all the best people of the town, all his old friends, came to call on us, for I knew it would give him courage. However, whether they had received us or not, I was determined to live in the place he had left in disgrace. Elmer got work on the newspaper The Telegram, owned by one of his old friends Eugene Ellis, whom I found afterward to be a grand good man, helping everybody who came to him, including his father and three brothers. I was deeply touched when I heard of his death a few months ago, leaving several children and his widow, who was herself a very clever newspaper woman when I first knew her, before she married Gene, for whose loss I very sincerely sympathize with.
This was a strange, cramped life I had drifted into, but I must make the best of it until Elmer could make good once more. When I first saw Cairo, my heart sank. How could I stay in this miserable river town? I am afraid that I must admit there were not many sidewalks on stilts, none at all in the business part of the town. Neither did I see pigs running around the streets. Nevertheless, it was a rough river town without a single attraction as far as I could discover. In the days of the civil war, it had been quite an important place, it being the junction of the two big rivers. Those rivers were filled with boats laden with cotton, grain, and other commodities. Huge quantities were stored in Cairo until they could be reshipped to Europe. When this took place, less than half would be sent, with the rest appropriated by those in charge, who afterward became the rich men of Cairo. Those were the golden days for Cairo. Then, took, it was quite a haven for runaway darkies, many families hiding them until they could make their way safely to the north. There were all kinds of open gambling and vice of every description allowed, as I believe occurs in most river towns. Nobody seemed to care though, for a gayer little town one could hardly find; parties and dances all the time. Saturday night seemed to be the night when everybody set apart for pleasure. This prevails even today, for you will find Commercial Avenue blocked with cars, and Hinkle & Bryant’s drug store filled with young people having a good time visiting and eating ice cream. They had fairly good public schools, both white and coloured, for they do not mix them down there. In recent years, rather than allow a couple of high school coloured pupils to attend the white high school, they built one for them. There was a wonderful bridge over the river reaching to Kentucky, built by the Illinois Central Railway. In the spring when the rivers rise, they have a great deal of trouble with seep water, and very often the inhabitants would have to move upstairs if they had one. If not, to some of the small hillside towns.
Life to me got to be a little more bearable. I was kept busy with the children, helping with the church work, and visiting St. Mary’s hospital when good old Sister Fara was there. In the following November (1894), my daughter Enid was born. I had received several invitations to visit Elmer’s aunt Eliza, the widow of his uncle Dr. David Comings, who had been killed in the war. I had to postpone it until after the birth of my baby. I was not quite sure that it was not an imposition on my part to take three children and a maid into a home where there never had been any. I wrote her about this and received an urgent reply telling me that she had a great desire to see Elmer’s family. I went, taking my maid Van with me. I found she lived in her own beautiful home with her sister Laura, who had also lost her husband in the war, and her maid as well. They lived alone with only two maids. This was to be another strange experience for me. The house was big, but most of the rooms had been closed until now. Beautifully furnished, and what greatly surprised me was the number of wonderful oil paintings on the walls. It was all very comfortable and I thought we would have a nice time with those two old ladies. We occupied rooms on the first floor so that we would not have to climb the stairs all the time and so disturb Laura if she should be asleep.
Breakfast and lunch were served in a small room leading out of the dining room, but dinner we had in the dining room, and a very solemn affair it was as a rule, because Laura came down to dinner, the only meal she took outside her own room. (And I must confess that it would not have made me mad if she had taken that there, too.) Sometimes she was quite well behaved, but if anything displeased her she would behave in an alarming way, throwing anything within her reach at the one who displeased her. This did not happen often, but when it did, Aunt Eliza would take her to her room and give her something to make her sleep. Poor Aunt Eliza would be very much embarrassed and tried to explain to me that she did not like to keep her sister shut up in her room more than she could help, which I thought quite right, and I tried to lighten her burden as much as I could. What was most trying to us was the fact that after dinner, which was served at six o’clock, nobody was supposed to make the slightest noise; they should go to bed, or at least to their own rooms.
This was indeed a new life to me, and very monotonous. She had a fine grand piano in the drawing room, but it was never used, and after dinner was to my mind the time to use it, but of course, after I found it was disturbing I never touched it. I had always been a great reader, but one likes a little different pleasure sometimes. The baby was supposed never to cry, but good as she was she often did, and it made everyone nervous. I was beginning to wonder how long I could stand this sort of living, and when I could leave without Aunt Eliza guessing that it was too irksome for us all. I kept the children out of doors as much as I could. One morning, having some shopping to do, I left the two boys in the garden with Van, the baby asleep in my room, telling the maid to call Van if she cried. When I returned they were still in the garden, and going to my room found the baby still asleep. Even though I was visiting, I always found plenty to do and accomplished a lot that morning. We were called to lunch by a little tinkling bell and then the two boys had to take a nap. Although Carlos was too old to sleep in the middle of the day I made him lie down and keep quiet. The baby slept on although it was long past her nursing time, yet I hated to wake her up out of a sound sleep, so I waited a little longer and then decided to take her up, as her dinner was running all over me. I did so, but she just slept on and would not nurse. I became alarmed and called Van. She was frightened too. I sent her for Aunt Eliza who put cold water on her face. She did not move. By this time I was frantic and sent for the doctor. He came, and after examining her asked what we had given her. I explained that I nursed her and that she had never been given any other food in her life. He was greatly puzzled and asked again if I was sure nothing had been given to her, and added, “I think she will be all right though.” keeping his fingers crossed.
At this moment Van came running into the room saying, “I knew it! I knew it!” We all in one voice said, “What do you know?” She then blurted out, “That crazy old woman upstairs gave her some of her medicine!” Poor Aunt Eliza just flew upstairs, the doctor after her. When asked if she had given the baby anything, Aunt Laura said, “Why, yes. I heard the poor little thing cry and I knew a little of my medicine would make it feel good, and it did.” What agonizing hours those were for me until that awful drug had lost its power and my little girl came out of that stupor. That was the last straw. I did not need any other excuse for leaving. I told Aunt Eliza I was leaving at once. She was very much distressed and did not blame me, and I believe deep down in her heart she was glad to have us go, no matter how fond she had been of Elmer. She had never heard of the trouble he got himself into, and I am glad she went over to the great beyond without finding out.
I would like to have gone right back home to Cairo because it is a very trying ordeal to take children traveling about the country, but we were expected to visit another relative in New York state, another of his mother’s sisters, a Mrs. John Andrews, whose husband owned a nice farm. The children, especially Carlos, had a grand time with all the animals, especially when allowed to feed the chickens, ducks, geese, and so on, but as it was quite cold this did not often happen. Our visit was coming to an end and I was packing, glad to think that our wanderings would soon come to an end, and right then I made up my mind to stay at home with my little ones. In the midst of packing, little Alfred was taken ill. I sent for the doctor who told me he had pneumonia. He left orders as to what to do and left a prescription which I had filled immediately. I followed his instructions very carefully, but the little fellow got steadily worse. I sent for another doctor, but no improvement. Finally, they told me that they could do no more, and gave me no hope. The two doctors went downstairs and told Aunt Fanny that the child was dying, and they had better send for his father because he could not live until morning. We sent the wire to Elmer who was of course in Cairo. It would be two days before he could reach us on account of poor connection. After I heard what the doctors had said to Aunt Fanny, I took things into my own hands. I went into the room next to the one my little lad was about to pass away in and opened the windows wide. They all thought I was going crazy and told me so, for it was quite cold. I told them that if he was dying he should die comfortably and not stifle to death. I threw out all the bottles that had been so useless. I then sent to town for ground flax seed and dry mustard. I made poultices big enough to cover the whole of his chest and back, in fact, his whole torso, then I cut off the feet of some of Carlos’ socks and filled them with the mixture also, and put them on his feet. He did not flinch at the heat and I feared he was dead, but Van brought me a mirror and there was a faint film on it when I took it from over his mouth. Every half hour I changed those poultices, putting a piece of flannel next to him, for I feared to blister his tender skin. I was fighting for my boy’s life, and never left him for a moment. He had had no nourishment to speak of for two days, so I mixed a little milk, sugar, yolk of an egg, and a few drops of brandy and fed this to him with an eye dropper, for he would not swallow. But in this way, the mixture seemed to just trickle down his throat. The doctor came the next morning when he had not gotten word that he was dead. I very promptly dismissed him, feeling I could do better by following my own common sense. I was greatly encouraged when I found I could give him nourishment even though he showed no sign of being conscious, yet he still lived. I continued my treatment and on Saturday night I imagined I could feel his pulse getting a little stronger. I was afraid to hope too much in case it was really imagination, but as the gray dawn was breaking on the blessed Sunday morning I was sure it was true, and a little later on he moved his head. I felt that my fervent prayers had been heard once again, yet I must keep close watch and keep on as I had done, changing his poultices, and it filled my heart with hope, and my eyes with tears.
Elmer could not possibly get to us before the next morning on account of arriving at a given point just fifteen minutes too late to make connections for that small town. I was trying to eat a supper that had been sent up to me when I heard sleigh bells stop and the front door open, and before I could realize it, Elmer was bounding up the stairs. I was too astonished to speak and he explained that his train had arrived at the station where he had to change ten minutes ahead of time, and the other train was late. That gave him time to step from one to the other, thus saving half a day. Was that just coincidence? I choose to believe it was God’s answer to prayer. We were talking at our boy’s bedside. I saw him move and heard the whispered word “Papa.” That was the first indication we had of his being conscious. That, coupled with the unexpected arrival of Elmer was getting the better of me and I could not restrain my tears. I suppose it was a reaction and exhaustion. Elmer insisted on my getting some rest while he and Van kept watch, promising to call me if the least change in him took place. It was several weeks before I could take him home, but just as soon as it was safe I hurried back home before anything more could happen to them, for it seemed that some kind of a jinx was following me. That was my last long trip with my little ones.
Elmer had rented and furnished a house ready for our arrival when Alfred was taken ill, and had been living in it alone until we could travel. The house was much too large for us, so I rented the four upstairs rooms. I was so very glad to be in my own home again. Elmer had taken a much better position travelling for the Andrew Lohr Bottling Company, so he was away most of the time. This I did not mind, for my time was fully taken up caring for my home and little ones. I managed to find time to take up my church work again, once a week, which I enjoyed.
In 1900, I heard of Dr. Wardener’s house being for sale. I felt it was up to me to save it, if there was anything to save, and I thought it a good idea to try and buy a home instead of paying our rent all the time. After making inquiries, I found that by paying a small amount down I could continue paying monthly just as I did rent, the difference being that in time I would own a home instead of a sheaf of receipts. Elmer was in Missouri, so I sent for him to come and sign the papers. He came at once and seemed quite disturbed at what I had done, failing to see how we were going to meet the payments. I explained that I had figured all that out and he did not have to worry. I told him of my plan to rent all the rooms we could do without and I intended on doing my own work, and in that way, I had no doubt as to my ability to keep up the payments. This distressed him very much when he found he could not dissuade me from undertaking so big a task. It brought to his mind too vividly other days.
My hardest problem I found to be the washing. How did those old Mammies get the clothes so nice and white? I was always rubbing the skin off my fingers. Then, a happy thought came to me and I went to Sears Roebuck and bought a washing machine, and with some help from me, that solved my problem. The ironing was a tedious job, but I became a good ironer. At any rate, I was satisfied even if they did not look as nice as when Beckey did them.
We had lived in our home only a short time when I received a call from a once dear friend, none other than Thad Cannon. He informed me that he had married and was coming to Cairo to live. He wanted to know if I could take them to live as part of my family. I was glad to do so. I found Thad’s wife a nice companion and often quite a help by taking the children out walking and amusing them in many ways. Of course, I knew that time hung rather heavily on her hands as she had no other friends there and cared neither to read or sew. She soon got tired of Cairo after having lived in the big busy city of Chicago, and poor Thad had to give up his job and go back there. In the meantime, Elmer had been given a new territory and found it much more difficult to get home. He asked me if I would not move to St. Louis, Missouri because he did not like being away from home for so long a time. I sold my house, and with the equity I had coming from it, I intended on buying one in St. Louis, for nobody wants to rent a place to anyone who has a lot of children, and those who will have places that one would not think of living in.
It distressed me quite a lot to give up my home and have to go through it all again, especially as I had now another little girl. However, I considered that Elmer had retrieved himself and my mission in Cairo had been concluded and I was glad to take my family from that small town to one that presented many more advantages for them. Our household goods were crated and sent by boat and stored until I could find someplace to put them. I found it quite difficult to find a home within my means, so I rented a house on St. Louis Avenue, not far from the Suburban Gardens. I bought it and once more made a home for my husband and children, and made up my mind I was going to stay there for the rest of my life if possible. I was tired of moving around like a nomad with a lot of children. Alas for our resolutions…
I put those of the children who were old enough in the Arlington School, which was about half of a mile away. Carlos (or Charlie, as we now called him) was put into the Christian Brothers College. Those were very happy years for me. When the exposition opened I made up my mind to rent as many rooms as I could. I had six rooms available besides a big finished attic that covered the entire house. On this, I put eight cots and rented them for $1.00 each per night. I was sorry I did not have another attic, for I could have kept them full all the time. For the other rooms, I got $3.00 per day. I made almost enough money that summer to pay off the mortgage on my home. That was another strange experience for me. I sheltered people from all over the country. Elmer’s customers would ask him to recommend places to them, and naturally, he sent them to me. I therefore knew most of the guests I took in. I had many people from Cairo, too, whom I was glad to have. After the exposition closed, my home was somewhat of a wreck, but I was happy to know that in a short time, my home would be clear of debt. I turned it over to the decorators who soon had it in order again. I sold all the extra furniture I had bought, and in that way paid for the redecorating.
In 1906, my daughter Victoria was born. She was everybody’s darling, so tiny and sweet, and a duplicate of Gwen, her sister. Life was moving along pretty smoothly for us there. Elmer was still on the road and making more money than he had ever done since we left Buenos Aires. He wanted me to give up renting my rooms, but I did not see any reason for it and refused to do so. A little mission church was started in the vicinity. I took a great interest in this work. We formed a sewing guild and made all the linens ourselves, including the vestments of a choir that our young minister had formed. How proud we women were that first Sunday, to see the result of our hard labour marching down the aisle on the shoulders of those men and dear little boys. My little Victoria was the first child baptized in that church, and the vestry presented her with a gold cross which she still has and treasures, I believe, for she is a devout and earnest worker in her church, devoting a great deal of her time and money, as does her husband, even though he is a very busy businessman.
For several years nothing of importance happened to mar the tranquility of my life. I heard from Elmer almost every day. He came home about every two weeks. Life was much happier. The winters were colder than in Cairo, and while the summers were nothing to boast of, they were not as suffocating as there. We lived not very far from Delmar Gardens, and on the Sundays that Elmer came home I would prepare our dinner and pack it in a basket. When they all got home from church we took them there for the rest of the day. Those were happy days for my children, and we rarely ever disappointed them.
About the end of that year, I received a letter from Elmer asking me if I would consent to his leaving the road business and go to Cairo to work in his father’s office, saying that he had received so many letters from the latter begging him to do so. I lost all patience with him for allowing his father to wreck and influence his life as he had always done. He wrote his father telling him of my objections. In a few days, I received a letter from his father with the same manner as I had written Elmer, and I am afraid in not too friendly a tone. I wrote again to Elmer, calling to his mind the promise he had made me to never do anything that I did not approve of, and up to now he never had. This letter brought him home on the following Sunday. He assured me he had no desire to go back to Cairo, and had written me only at the urgent desire of his father, but would keep his promise to me. I would not consent, and we had a rather turbulent weekend. He tried to explain that his father was very old and needed his help. I reminded him that he was not too old to try and make trouble for me again. He said no more about it and left that night in a rather troubled state of mind. I knew he did not want to distress me, yet he wanted to accede to his father’s wishes. I never could understand why this old man exercised such an influence over him, for he never had helped him in any way since his childhood. That week I got another letter from his father which I refused to answer.
The following weekend Elmer came home as usual, and on that Sunday I was surprised to have a visit from his father. I believe they must have arranged that visit. He came to St. Louis for no other reason than to persuade me to consent to Elmer’s working in his office, for he knew he would not go against my wishes. I told them both flatly that I would not break up my home again. After a stormy time, the old judge (Elmer’s father) assured me that Elmer would make as much as he did on the road; that he would turn over his salary to him, and that he could make a great deal on the side. He seemed to think that money was all I cared for. I asked him why he could not get someone in Cairo to help him, that I was sure there were plenty capable of doing so. He replied, “Yes, but I cannot trust them.” Finally, I said to Elmer, “You may go and work for him if you really wish to, but I will not go back to Cairo. I intend to stay in the house I have worked so hard to get.” That was the way it was arranged. He had been there only a few months when I could see that his health was not as good as it might be. Every time he came home I could see a change in him, and of course was quite worried. He had written me that he would be home on the following Saturday, but failed to put in an appearance, neither did he write. I wondered why and looked eagerly for a letter from him on that Monday morning, but did not get one. That night he came home in a cab, the driver had to help him into the house. He explained that he was preparing to come home when he had some kind of a stroke and did not come to himself until Sunday, early in the morning. He drew the attention of the people with whom he was living by knocking on the floor. They sent for his father, who stayed with him all that day, and the next morning put him on the train for home. He stayed at home for nearly a month when he seemed all right again. I was still very much worried and did not know what to do. I could not go to him myself just then, and decided to send Alfred with him next time he came home, to live with and take care of his father until I could make other arrangements.
On the following March 2nd, my son John was born. Elmer came up with Alfred, and I could see that he was not gaining in health. We talked over everything and I saw nothing else to do but go back to Cairo. Alas for my resolutions.
It was now the spring of 1911 and I was faced with the ordeal of moving again, breaking up my nice home, and changing schools for the children. There was no alternative, for I could not leave him alone in his precarious condition. What was I to do? Just the same as I had done so many times before, I made the best of a bad situation. I did not want to sell my home and advertised it for rent. After several weeks I found a family that I thought would take care of it. In July we moved back to Cairo, into the sweltering heat. I was dreadfully depressed for a long time after leaving St. Louis. I missed the gardens, stores, open air concerts, and Mary’s, our little church that we had helped to create and that seemed like it belonged to us; and above all, many nice friends. Elmer had rented a house from Phil Sanp, a nice enough place, but too small and too far from his office, as it was difficult for him to get around. He had to engage Charlie Scott to take him to and from the office, and this was an expense we could ill afford. We had not lived there very long before I had occasion to go to P.G. Schuh’s drug store, and while he was waiting on me asked how I was getting along and how Elmer was. I told him among other things that our house was too small. He spoke up and said, “I wonder if you can or would wish to buy my house?” I told him I would be only too glad but that it was out of the question as it was much more than I could afford. He then said, “How do you know? How much can you pay a month?” I told him what was the most. To this he agreed, saying, “I would much rather see you and Elmer in it for less payment per month, for I know what a brave struggle you have made through many adverse circumstances.” At this, I could not keep back the tears. It was such unexpected sympathy and help. I had known him since I had first lived in Cairo, buying all my drugs and etcetera there; a big jovial gentleman who always had a smile and pleasant greeting when I went in. I have always remembered him with a sense of gratitude because it was a great help to me to make those payments come within my reach, for I know he could have gotten more. So it was arranged.
I went to St. Louis and mortgaged my home there to make the first down payment. I then had to pay like rent into the Building and Loan. I found it a lovely ten room brick house with hardwood polished floors, a veranda the full length of the house, both up and down stairs, very big rooms, and a lovely yard enclosed by the iron fence; just the place for my little ones. I had missed the nice grassy yard of my home in St. Louis and was glad to have one again. By this time Elmer had become partially paralyzed on one side. I got him a wheelchair from St. Louis and as we were only two blocks from the office, one of us would wheel him there. He was of course very happy to be living at home with us again instead of being on the road. I got all the doctors in town to treat him but to no avail. On leaving St. Louis, I made arrangements for my daughter Gwendolyn to remain and finish business college and music. She had now come home and was working with her father in the office, relieving him of a lot of tedious work, as well as doing a great deal of work for the various lawyers in town. Enid was my helper at home. They had become quite young ladies by now, and started going out to parties and so on. They joined in all the social activities and were having a happy time. I took up some church work again but could not give it the time I used to in former years.
The spring of 1912 brought more high water. The river was getting dangerously high. The citizens began moving their furniture to places of safety. We were among those who were fortunate enough to have an upstairs. We took everything up, including the piano. It was just as bad as moving again! We had a boat fastened to the porch. We made ourselves as comfortable as possible, and I stocked up on food. It reminded me of the revolution in Buenos Aires. The floods came into the drainage district, but much to our relief Cairo escaped. Things settled down to their normal routine once more. The heat was almost intolerable, the thermometer reaching sometimes over a hundred all the summer, until one felt like a rag. How glad we were to see the leaves begin to turn all kinds of beautiful colors, and we welcomed the fall of the year which meant the death of the mosquitoes that swarmed there.
My daughter Enid would be eighteen in November and she wanted to give a party if I did not think it too much work. I promised she should have one. The girls got busy and made out a list of guests. When they presented it to me I found seventy eight names on it. I remonstrated with them, for while I had two very large front rooms, they were not big enough for seventy eight people to dance comfortably. They declared they could not possibly strike one off. After a lot of thinking I conceived the idea of renting KMKC Hall. The task of carting all the things needful was a big one, however, some of the boy friends came to help. Paul Clardenen, Bob Goldsmith, Ray Teichman, and I think Flossy Buder. I engaged a small band and all was arranged with much less trouble than I had anticipated. I had prepared quantities of Claret Cup, among other things. When the first dance was over the young people congregated around the table and were served. Suddenly I heard one of the boys call out, “Come on, fellows, there is a stick in it.” Now I was not quite versed in the art of slang and did not know what he meant. I was looking for the stick and asked what they meant by that. At that, they had a good laugh at my expense but explained that it meant it was real Claret and not coloured water with a little sugar and lemon that they had been used to getting at young people’s parties. Now as a matter of fact I had made it much weaker than usual, having put in more soda water with the usual amount of Claret, lemon, sugar, and sliced cucumber, making it a very refreshing, but harmless drink. They sat down to lunch as the clock struck twelve, and made merry with crackers that they pulled, horns, and so on. They danced until three o’clock in the morning when they left, a tired, happy, lovable crowd of young people. What a refreshing sight it was to watch those happy faces, and the girls in their dainty, beautiful gowns. I knew and loved them all.
Christmas with all its joy and merriment came. In my house, it was always a busy time. First, the plum puddings to make and hang up until needed. One was always kept until Alfred’s birthday, March 2nd, which is also the birthday of my son John. Then the dolls to dress, together with other gifts to be made. The children busied themselves making decorations for the house. There was also work to be done for the church bazaar. Everyone had their own little secret packages to prepare until Christmas finally came, then dear, dear it was such a problem to get the tree in and decorated without the little ones finding out. It always took them so much longer to go to sleep that night, for they were quite sure they could hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh and would watch for his coming down the chimney. We would complete the task any time between twelve and three in the morning, then crawl into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before they were up again. When that did happen I would always insist on them getting properly dressed and have their breakfast before they could go and see if Santa had left anything for them. If they did not eat, they were not allowed to leave the table. It was wonderful to see the reproachful glances cast at those who were lagging. I knew if I did not insist on this procedure the little ones would not eat at all, so eager they were to get to their gifts. Then, the joyful rush to the front room; dear, happy, childhood carefree days.
The dreary cold days of winter were nearly over, and spring, with its promise of new life, was everywhere. All the little seedlings thrusting up their dainty heads into the sunshine, bringing forth their lovely flowers, only to be destroyed by the muddy seep water. I am sure everyone who lived in Cairo that year will remember the struggle they had to keep the water out of the city. Most of the people left town, and it was an almost deserted place. We moved upstairs again, but slept at the Colonial Hotel, leaving enough furniture in the dining room for immediate use. I sent Enid and the three youngest children to Olmstead. Gwen absolutely refused to go unless I did. This I could not do, as Elmer needed me at home because by this time he could do very little for himself. I had to let her stay on or make her very unhappy. As I look back I realize that fate was taking a hand in things that spring.
I had my coloured maid Beckey stay all the time. Little Miss Ella Robins moved to the Halliday House, for otherwise she would have been alone. My son Alfred was in the National Guard and was on duty at headquarters so he could not be with us, but came every day to see that we were alright. Every available man was on the levee filling sandbags and strengthening the weak places. The streets were deserted except for a few old men and stray dogs. The storekeepers had moved their stocks to places of safety. The place was like a city of the dead.
Every evening after dinner we would wheel Elmer to the hotel, then Gwen and I would walk up to the levee to find out the stage of the river, for at a critical time like that, it could mean a great deal. Night after night Gwen and I did that. One night it was drizzling rain. Gwen put on an old hat and raincoat and we started on our nightly errand. We had almost reached the levee when we saw Alfred hurrying toward us accompanied by a fine stalwart looking gentleman. Upon reaching us, Alfred presented the latter as Mr. Mitchell, and then said, “Mother I am dreadfully sorry that I will not be able to take you back to the hotel, for I am on duty and must be at my post in just a few minutes.” I told him not to worry, no one would harm us, and that I was going to the Halliday House to see if Miss Robins was all right. Then, Mr. Mitchell spoke up and said, “Oh but I will see your mother and sister safely back” which I thought very chivalrous of him. The next morning we (Elmer, Gwen, and I) went home for breakfast, the former saying that there was no use for him to go to the office, as no business was being transacted in the city.
We made ourselves as comfortable as we could on the first flood, and as we were doing so Mr. Mitchell called. Just when he did his writing for the Associated Press was more than I could guess, for most of his time for the next few days was spent either at my home or the hotel. One Saturday evening he asked permission to take Gwen out driving the following morning to see the work going on at the levee. I told him he would not be able to drive a car, for they were all commandeered for levee work. He answered, “Oh, I will find a car” and sure enough he did, and they went out to meet their destiny. I wondered when he was going back to Chicago, for I understood him to say he was leaving the day after we met him. We had managed to buy a chicken for Sunday dinner, but not much in the way of vegetables and so on. We had just been seated when here came Mr. Mitchell again, announcing the fact that he was leaving within the hour. I was quite embarrassed because we had so little food, but asked him to share whatever we had anyway. He declined, saying he had just eaten his dinner. Years later he told me he never wanted anything so badly in his life as he did to sit down with us. He said the little dinner looked so inviting. He left and I never expected to see him again in all my life. Before the week was gone, an immense box came addressed to Gwen. Upon opening it found it contained a gorgeous satin box filled with candy, a pair of lavender gloves, and hose. I informed her she must return the gloves and hose, much to her disgust.
In the meantime, everybody’s nerves were on the ragged edge, wondering whether those faithful workers on the levee would keep out the water. They were working night and day, young and old, rich and poor. The women made coffee and sandwiches and served them at their work. Surely God must have looked with approval on such loyal hearts, for the waters came to a standstill as it reached the danger point and started to recede. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone who has not lived through such a siege to realize the sense of relief and gratitude felt by those who had endured it. Moving from place to place and up and down seemed to be my chief occupation in those days. We got straightened out once more and I left for Olmstead to bring back the children. I found I would have to stay there a few days because a dance had been arranged for Enid and I could not disappoint her or those who had so kindly given it for her. They had been in a nice little cottage that belonged to Judge Comings, and I rather enjoyed the few days rest. The flowers were everywhere: jonquils, narcissus, hyacinths, and many others that made the place like a fairyland. The dance was a very nice affair and I think many were sorry to see her leave. She seemed to have met many nice people. However, I was exceedingly glad to have them all safely home again. It seemed to me that I had gone through enough turbulent times without that river, or those rivers Mississippi and Ohio, adding their quota, but they did just that because I was to lose my two eldest girls, Enid and Gwen, as a result of the threatening flood. It brought Mr. Mitchell to Cairo as a representative of the Associated Press. It also was the cause of my sending Enid to Olmstead where she met Martin, who fell in love with her.
Mr. Mitchell kept up a fervid correspondence with Gwen from the time he returned to Chicago, and Martin kept up a steady stream of visits to Cairo. I was in a quandary as to how to put a stop to it all, for Enid was just eighteen and Gwen sixteen and a half years old - much too young to be having such steady attentions shown on them. Typically in the middle of the day on Sundays, we would go to church, but this particular day had not been able to go, so dinner was ready on time. Elmer had settled down for a nap and I was downstairs reading when I heard Martin’s voice on the porch. He came in with his arms full of flowers for Enid. He asked me if he could talk to me alone. I took him into the dining room and there he asked if we would consent to his marriage to Enid. I called her in and asked her if she really wanted to marry Martin. She said she did and she seemed very happy. As we were talking, there came a special delivery boy to the door and they brought in a letter for me. After asking to be excused I opened the letter. It was from Mr. Mitchell asking for Gwen’s hand in marriage. Within an hour I had been asked for both of my girls. I read part of the letter to them and asked if they had arranged with Mr. Mitchell to have his letter arrive just as Martin was asking for Enid. They laughed and said of course they had not. Well, we three went in to Elmer to find out what he had to say about it all. He was just as bewildered about it as I was, but Martin went home happy with our consent.
It was quite a problem to answer Mr. Mitchell’s letter. He had been perfectly frank about himself: that he was capable of taking care of my little Gwen. I had no doubt, but how could I make up my mind to allow her to assume the responsibilities of a wife at such a tender age? To this effect I wrote him, telling him also that I could not recommend her as a cook or any work of that sort, as she had never had to do it, and asked him to wait a year or two. Very promptly I received a reply asking me if I thought he expected his wife to do any such work; certainly not, as he was not wanting a housekeeper, but a wife and companion. He asked permission to come visit us and talk things over. He came, and believe me, he was a very compelling person, and finally said, “I am giving you fair warning, if you don’t consent to our marriage when she is seventeen, I will run away with her.” Here again was a situation where I asked myself if there was anything I could do. They too became engaged and were (and are to this day) supremely happy. I have never regretted that I gave my Gwen into his keeping. What was I going to do without them I did not care to contemplate. Enid was my helper, Gwen was her father’s helper in the office, and the life of the home, and I dreaded their leaving.
This was the first break in my family, having prevented one about two years previously when Alfred came to me and said, “Mother, I am going to get married.” This so amused and astonished me that I could hardly refrain from laughing, but instead said, “Oh you are, are you? And may I ask who to?” He replied, “To Idabelle.” Then I asked,” And who may Idabelle be?” He replied rather impatiently, “Idabelle Barter.” I just replied, “No you are not, Alfred” and left him sitting on top of the big ice box in the kitchen, nonplussed. I found out who the Barters were and where they lived. I went to call on Mrs. Barter and asked her if she had heard of the absurd arrangement her daughter and my son had made. She replied, “Oh yes, Mrs. Comings, we have made all the plans.” Then I said, “But Mrs. Barter, my son has never kept himself yet, how do you expect him to keep a wife?” She then assured me that all would be well and said, “He is going to work for Arthur and they are going to live here with us.” This made me very indignant and I told her that seeing that my boy was only eighteen I would keep him from being married until he was twenty one, and that before I would give my consent to his marriage he must be making enough to keep a wife and have a home to take her to. At this, she became angry and told me I was the worst woman in the world to try and separate two people in love, and also that even if he had forty homes he should never take Ida away from her.
Alfred had been working on the Post Dispatch in St. Louis when one day he sprained his ankle and came home to Cairo until he could walk without his crutches. He was packing to return to St. Louis at the end of the week when the front doorbell rang. I opened it as Alfred was coming down the stairs, and to my astonishment, Idabelle was standing there and asked to see Alfred. By this time Idabelle was in the hall, and she saw him and ran to him, put her arms around his neck, and said, “Oh, Fred, don’t go to St. Louis without me!” I could see that he felt like a fool. He sat on the stairs and she went and sat on his lap and cried and cried, saying she did not know what she would do if he did. I could hardly believe my eyes for I did not then know that any young woman would do that kind of thing, even without an audience. I went into the kitchen in disgust. Very soon my son came to ask me if I would allow him to marry her. I reminded him that he knew my ideas about marrying without being able to properly care for a wife, but seeing that in two weeks he would be twenty one I had nothing to say. They were married the next evening, Saturday, the 14th day of February in the Church of the Redeemer.
There was something I had made up my mind to do if ever I could see my way clear to do so, and that time was now or never while my girls were still with me. It was to make a trip to Buenos Aires. I still had money there that should have come to me years before. I could get no satisfaction by mail. I neither got my letters back nor any answers. I hated to spend the money that I could otherwise put into the house, but I was determined to go and find out for myself. I left Cairo on June 11th, 1913, arriving in St. Louis late that night, and after a wait of one hour and forty five minutes started for Indianapolis, arriving there after a very restless night in the pullman. While there, a lady put her little daughter in my care as far as Columbus where some relatives met her. I was sorry to have her leave, as she had helped to break the monotony of the ride. We passed through Richland, Dayton, and Pittsburg and saw the immense amount of damage caused by the floods. We reached New York on Friday, June 13th. Think of it, Friday the 13th, and the year thirteen too! Did it portend evil to me again? I hoped not, for I had too many awaiting my return.
I spent a very busy day preparing to go on board on the morrow. I took this opportunity to go up to the top of the Woolworth Building, then the tallest in the world. The view from there was wonderful. I wondered when I was on the top of that building if anything would happen to me there, but no, even if it was the 13th. I got down in safety. This building had fifty five stories and was seven hundred and eighty feet high. I reached my hotel that evening dead tired, but happy when I found a day letter from Elmer telling me all was well at home. I had a good night’s rest before going on board the S.S. Vestris. We set sail that night about ten o’clock. The next day being Sunday, services were held in the saloon. The ocean was almost as smooth as a lake. I was busy all the afternoon making myself at home in a lovely state room which I had to myself. On Monday morning three letters and two telegrams were delivered to me that I should have received on Saturday. They were from my dear ones telling me all that had happened since I left, and that all was well at home. On June 19th we reached the West Indies. I took pictures of St. Kitts, Martinique, and Guadalupe.
We got into Barbados late on the evening of the 20th, too late to go ashore. I was awakened the next morning by such a clatter of tongues as you never heard coming from the men in the small boats who wanted to take us to shore. The first breakfast gong rang at 6:30am. After partaking of it we went up on deck to watch the little negro boys diving for silver. The little town is rather a quaint old place, the streets covered with small crushed shells, which is quite dazzling, but disagreeable to walk on. The street cars are driven by small horses, the carts by oxen or donkeys. It reminded me of places I had visited in Italy. The Old English names took me back to the tranquil days of my youth. For instance, almost the first place we came to was Trafalgar Square, and as in London it also had a statue of Lord Nelson. Queen’s Park is a beautiful spot. We returned to the ship with souvenirs and tired feet. We had calm seas and fine weather. There were a great number of young people on board, and every day they got up some kind of amusement. They were a jolly lot. On the 26th we crossed the equator and what fun those young people had. King Neptune came on board and initiated all those who had not crossed the line before. How I wished my little ones had been with me to enjoy the fun. They had concerts, fancy dresses, balls, and everything they could think of. We arrived at Bahia on the 29th where we took on and discharged both passengers and mail. We reached Rio de Janeiro on July 1st at about nine in the evening. I never missed being on deck when we entered that harbour.
The next morning six of our party, including myself, went on shore. Seeing that I knew the city, they depended on me to show them around. I took them out to the botanical gardens where they have the most gorgeous collection of palm trees, said to be the most wonderful in the world. I then took them to the markets. There you will find birds of every colour and kind: from the big beautiful Macaw with its lovely long tail feathers, to the tiny hummingbirds. The latter they make into brooches, using the head and covering its beak with gold as a dentist covers a tooth with gold, then they mount them on a pair of fragile gold wings. They are beautiful and dainty. Another souvenir they sell is dressed up ants, making them look like bullfighters, gypsies, dancing girls, etc. These ants are very big. They also sell a great many flowers made from the natural coloured feathers, very beautiful, but costly. There were all kinds of monkeys for sale, the little marmosets being especially cute, having bushy tails and tiny bodies with bright little eyes. These one carried around in your pocket.
After taking them to the curio shops we went to dinner, where we all did full justice even though the meat, as in the old days, was not very inviting. The fruits there are varied, plentiful and luscious, and everybody took a supply on board, not forgetting plenty of lemons. It is strange how everyone at sea wants lemons, especially at first, when most people get seasick. They have an idea that they stop seasickness, which is not so. The truth is that they empty their stomachs of its contents for a couple of days and get rid of an accumulation of bile. Feeling much better they give the credit to the lemons, and begin to eat like horses.
The next day I went on shore alone early in the morning, took a cab, and went to the place of my greatest joy and sorrow. My lovely little home was still standing just about as I left it, occupied, but no one anywhere to be seen. I gathered some flowers without permission and took them to the grave of my dear lost one, finding that the ache was still in my heart. Rather than allowing myself to brood over things that had passed, I hurried away to the city. I could find no trace of my late husband’s partner. What sorrowful memories all these places brought back to me. We reached Santos on July 4th. The ship was owned by an English firm, and I did not support July 4th would be anything but just another day. What a surprise I got when I went down to dinner to find the dining room profusely decorated with American flags and bunting, the napkins folded like a bishop’s mitre with a small American flag sticking up in each. The menu card had a picture of George Washington on the back and a grand dinner to correspond. In the evening they set off Roman candles and had a dance. I was quite gratified because, you see, I had become an American citizen and owed allegiance to that flag, seeing that I had several children born under it.
We at last reached Buenos Aires on July 9th. It took us quite a time to get through the customs house. I was vastly surprised to find that our vessel could now sail up to the wonderful wharfs they had built since we left so many years before. So different from my first landing in those same waters, when a tug came alongside the ocean going vessel and took us as far as the water would allow. Then we got into small boats and went a little further. Then, believe it or not, we were carried to dry land by men who made their living that way. It was certainly funny to watch a big fat man being carried to shore on the back of another man. The women they carried in their arms, and what a fool one felt. Our trunks were brought over the same way. It certainly was an ordeal, but the only thing to do was to laugh it off.
I joined several of the ladies of our party and took a room at the Hotel Provence. On the way from the landing place I noticed the streets were in quite a commotion and immediately remembered it was to them what the 4th of July is to the United States. We watched the parade from the steps of the hotel and got down in time to see the President pass. Here again, I got another big surprise, for instead of the untidy, sloppy soldiers I had been used to seeing in the old days, I beheld a fine body of men as I had seen anywhere, except maybe those of my own country and West Point here in America. I think they must have had German officers training them, for they marched in the same manner. They were also dressed like German soldiers in the old days, each with a glistening spiked helmet; and, oh, the gold braid on the officers was dazzling. Truly they were getting modern.
The weather was cold and damp and the rooms not heated, just as in the old days too. I was thankful I had warm clothes with me. I went over to the YWCA and made arrangements to live there, as it was an English institution and I thought I would be less lonely, and also because I found after twenty years my Spanish was not as fluent as it had been. However, before I left it was all coming back to me. There I made many lovely friends. Our evenings were spent in a large living room where they had music or some kind of entertainment every morning. While I was there I went to visit an old Cairoite - a sister of Mrs. Egbert Smith. I started my hunt for the people I had gone out there to find, but up to Saturday night, I had not been able to find anybody. On Sunday morning I went to the same old church that I had gone to twenty years before. I found it different too. It had been remodeled and was much nicer, but I did not see one familiar face as I stood at the door to watch until all had gone, which made me feel lonely and sad. Several of the ladies staying at the Y were going out to Palermo that afternoon and asked if I cared to join them. We took the train and were soon out there. I found as great a change had taken place there as I had in Buenos Aires. They had held an exposition there two years previously, and most of the big buildings were still up. They were beautiful and could be compared very favorably with those of the St. Louis exposition. In walking around the grounds I was astonished to see an immense statue of George Washington erected in honour of the USA. We stopped so long to look at George that we nearly missed our train back. We had to run and caught it by getting on the steps of the last car as it was about to pull out. We had not had time to buy tickets, but found it did not matter for no one came to collect them. In spite of the cold raw weather, there were thousands of people at the races, and the train was crowded.
After many days of fruitless search for someone I knew, I went to the British consul and he found out for me that Mr. S, the man to whom I had given Power of Attorney to collect and transact my business while I was in North America, had died shortly after we left. I could find no trace of his children. Nothing but disappointment wherever I went. I began to realize that it had been rather a mistake on my part to have undertaken that long journey and spent money that I could have applied to my house. Now at least I would cease to worry anymore about it, and made up my mind all was lost and I must forget it. I was dreadfully disappointed at my failure and would have left for home the next day but there was no vessel sailing before the Vestris made her return trip on the 24th, so I just spent the intervening time still hunting.
I went to the British cemetery and sat beside the graves of my two little sons and planted some flowers there. I left with my heart at peace as far as they were concerned. I visited both my old homes there and afterward wished I had not, for I could not help thinking of all the grief and sorrow I had gone through since leaving there. I went to church again the following Sunday, but all the faces were unfamiliar to me. On the 22nd I went to the post office and got a bundle of letters from my dear ones, and a long lovely one from Mr. Mitchell which pleased me very much. I was more anxious than ever to get home. I left on the Vestris on the 24th. I went on shore again in Rio de Janeiro to buy souvenirs for all of them at home, among them a parrot for my little John, and I had lots of fun with it on board. It is wonderful how quickly these little creatures learn to talk. I kept it on deck most of the time and everyone tried to teach it. After leaving the West Indies we had some severe storms and most of the passengers were seasick and scared to death. As for me, it seemed just a little frolic after what I had gone through in the past years. Although truth to tell, I was rather alarmed one day when sitting in the music room trying to stay put when all at once the piano came loose from its fastenings and chased everyone out until the crew made it fast again.
On the 5th of August, we sighted land, but very dimly towards night. The next morning pandemonium reigned, with everyone cheering like mad when we passed the Statue of Liberty, all the Americans singing “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” and my little parrot shouting “Hurrah!” with the rest. I felt quite sure I was if anything more thankful than any of them, but not so noisy about it. It was good to see such a happy crowd. After docking, the doctor and his assistants came on board. This examination took quite a long time. They examined with particular care the eyes of those who were not American citizens. They detained quite a number of women who were traveling alone and sent them to Ellis Island. As soon as we were allowed to pass I had my trunk and other baggage taken to the customs house and they passed without any trouble. I sent them to the Pennsylvania Station and went to the Grand Hotel myself, tired out, for it was nearing midnight. Poor little Polly was not permitted to be in my room and she certainly made vigorous objections when I did not take her out of her basket. I reached home on the 20th and found everybody and everything as well as when I had left. I also found they were just as glad to have me home as I was to get there.
“Blessings be with them all and eternal praise
Who’er has traveled life’s full round,
Whatever stages he may roam,
Finds joy to think he still has found
The warmest welcome at his home.”
It took several days for me to settle once more into harness. I was confronted with a mountain of sewing, for my two girls were to be married on Gwen’s seventeenth birthday, the 10th of December. I found they had received a number of lovely gifts from showers that had been given for them in my absence. There was now their household linen to make in addition to their trousseaus. To buy them ready to wear was out of the question. First, the cost would have been too great, more than we could afford. Then, I did not care for ready made clothes, as they do not stay together like those you make yourself. So I started out on my big task, making everything, including their wedding gowns and veils. May I be excused when I say they were beautiful and fit for any girl in the like circumstances.
The time was drawing near when they would leave me, and my grief, though silent, was nonetheless deep, but “Earth has no sorrow that heaven and time cannot heal.” I grudged giving them up even though I was gaining two grand young sons. Enid and Gwen had decided they would be married the same day, so I must arrange for a double wedding. While I was away they had made out a list of guests to be invited, and when I saw it I was amazed to find they had half of the people of Cairo, and out of town friends on it. To be exact, they had five hundred and twenty. I reduced it to about three hundred, for how was I going to accommodate such a vast number of people? They were married in our church room, and when our carriage drove into Washington Avenue two policemen had to make a passage for us to get to the door. My hope for them was that a quotation from one of Littleton’s poems would prove true for them: How much the wife is dearer than the bride. They left in the midst of rice, old shoes, and good wishes. The home seemed lonely and quiet, but I had little time to fret as I had to assume the tasks that had been Enid’s, and by the time night came I was glad to rest. We missed Gwen very much; missed her music and laughter, as well as help. She always wheeled Elmer to the office, which now was added to the rest of my work, but work never kills anyone and I did not mind it in the least.
The girls had been married just a year and three days when I got an urgent wire from Mr. Mitchell asking me to leave at once for Chicago to receive a very important future member of their family. I left by the first available train, reaching there on the 14th of December to have presented to me my first dear grandchild. How thrilled I was and how I loved that little girl, and still do. Christmas was at hand and I was torn between two desires. I wished to stay with my two girls in Chicago, yet I knew my little ones were waiting for me in Cairo. I was getting frantic letters from them telling me I must be home for Christmas, and of course, I would not fail them. I got home on time to see them trim the tree. Mignonne had managed everything as well as if I had been there. Everybody was asking questions all at once about the dear baby I had left. I had to tell them every little detail. John was utterly disgusted because I had not brought it home with me.
The holidays were passed very happily by my family, which was getting smaller each year. Charlie (Carlos) and Fred were in St. Louis working, Enid in Olmstead, and Gwen in Chicago, and I missed them dreadfully at these times. Elmer’s health was not any better in spite of the efforts of about all the doctors in Cairo and many in St. Louis. That spring we were made very happy by a letter from Gwen telling us that she and the baby were to pay us a visit. They arrived late in May. Gwen was kept busy receiving and making calls, for all the old friends were anxious to see that much talked of baby. After they had been with us about three weeks, Judge Comings died very suddenly. They stayed until after the funeral and then returned to Chicago. It seemed to me that most of Cairo was at that funeral because he belonged to about all the lodges and clubs in the town. That seemed to take what remaining strength Elmer had, and it was some days before he got out of doors again. He was offered the position his father had held in the Building and Loan Company, but to my great astonishment declined the offer. I, of course, asked for an explanation as to why he declined it, and the following is what he told me.
You remember years ago when Father came up to St. Louis and begged you to consent to my leaving the road to take a position in his office, and after several stormy scenes you told me that I could do as I pleased but you would not go back to Cairo after working so hard to buy a home there? This of course you know I did, but I kept back from you the real reason why he was so desperate to have me in the office. Well, he told me that there was a discrepancy in the books, greater than he could cope with, and must have my help to straighten them out. He gave me his promise to sell all the real estate that was in his wife’s name and so make up the deficiency. With this understanding, I left my good paying position and entered his employ. I found things were in a more chaotic state than I at first anticipated. I worked hard many months to straighten things out and intended to get back on the road, but Father could not get his wife to sign over the property she had induced him to buy and put in her name. Year after year went by and in the meantime, the original amount was mounting higher and higher through interest. I could not leave him to his fate, and so had to let you down again.
This is the reason why I cannot accept this offer. I will not cover it up any longer now that Father has passed beyond punishment on this Earth. I am going to call a meeting and tell them the facts and show them the books. While I have shielded Father, I have been on the point of destroying myself, knowing that I had failed you again. But if I had, then everyone would think I had taken it, and I do not have to tell you that I have never touched one penny except the salary Father told you he would turn over to me, his salary as secretary. Once again I had to live a life of deceit and also unhappiness in the knowledge that I was doing something that you would never have permitted, and must one day have to tell you.
He called the meeting and they still offered to retain him, but after thanking them he explained that his nerves were shattered and he must get away from it all if he wanted to keep sane. How good old Mr. Shaty and the rest were about it. They came to see me and assured me that after a thorough investigation, they were satisfied that Elmer had nothing to do with it, as the shortage happened long before Elmer was connected with the office. He was to blame for shielding his father. They could not figure out how he concealed the shortage so long alone. They did not know, and neither did Elmer tell them, that his father had help outside the office as he could not have done it by just manipulating the mortgages alone. He never divulged the name, and neither will I injure his family by doing so. Why should innocent young people suffer for the shortcomings of their relatives?
If I was so inclined I am afraid many people in Cairo would be very uncomfortable. You see, Maud was not the only one who kept a diary. I had one for many years at my disposal, started many years before the people of whom Maud writes were born, and stopped years after she left Cairo. It told of conditions at the time of the war between the states, and all the crooked things that happened in that little river town. How the cotton, grain, and so on was landed there from the boats, and how those that had charge of these shipments defrauded the owners out of half of it. After the war, they became the rich men of the town. Some of them had been living in little two or three room shacks on Cedar Street with hardly enough to exist on, and their wives going around in their bare feet. It tells of the origin of many, whose descendants would hate to have been uncovered and depicted as they really were. Those were in the days of long ago Cairo. Now I am expecting to read of the shortages of several of the more recent citizens. How the son of one of the leading families there found his Building and Loan books would not balance and found the air of California more suited to his health. Then there was a very fine gentleman belonging to one of Cairo’s best families who held a very high position in the State who I believe died in jail. These do not in any way serve to lessen the degree of culpability attached to Elmer or his father, but how many families are there without a culprit of some sort? Few I am afraid, but they just happen to escape the scandalous evil tongues of those who would rather tear one's character to pieces than help them try to regain it.
In justice to Elmer, disagreeable as it is, I must try and explain the reason for the shortage. When Elmer was in South America, his stepmother died. About three months later his father married one Adelaide Griffin, a woman who had also been married twice before. Her first husband was a Mr. Cundiff, by whom she had a daughter, Viola; the second husband, a Mr. Griffin, the father of her son Ray. She found herself left to provide for these two children. She applied for and obtained a piece of land that the government gave to anyone who would go and work it. It was a barren spot away from any kind of convenience and comfort. She and the two children lived in what they called a dugout in the state of Nebraska. Finding that she could not make a living there, she returned to Cairo and within a day or two married the judge in the parlor of the Methodist church almost across the street from his home, where he took her and her children to the utter astonishment of his family, for they had not been told anything about it.
As time went on the judge’s son Fred was sent to Racine, Wisconsin to college. Viola was also sent away to a teacher’s college. Then Ray’s turn came and he was sent to Stanford University in California, after which more real estate was acquired. Where did the money come from for all of this? She did not possess a cent and the judge made the salary as secretary of the Building and Loan. Then came the announcement of Viola’s marriage to Dr. Rendleman, and in due time the births of two daughters, Ruth and Adelaide, one of whom I believe is still living. Ray became an engineer but died quite young out west. The judge’s wife died in New York, so I am told. The above account, I believe, clears up the shortage of the Building and Loan.
When I had been informed of all that had been taking place under my very nose I was too dumbfounded to even think. I immediately turned over the Shuch house to the Building and Loan, although I did not have to. Fortunately, I had not sold my home in St. Louis, and so gave notice to the tenants that I would have to occupy it myself again, giving them time to find another home. I was glad to be leaving once more this town that held so many bitter memories for me. Just what I was going to do, I did not then quite know. Elmer was not able to walk by that time and was getting more feeble every day. He went every day to the office to try to straighten his own work out and leave it clear, but the old muddle he could do nothing with any more than formerly because the judge’s wife refused to turn over the property and it seemed the only way to make her do so was to take it to court. Whether this was done I do not know. I tried my best to divorce every thought I had of that town from my memory before I lost faith in both God and man.
I saw that Elmer was on the point of a breakdown again, not only on account of the exposure of his father’s delinquencies but more because he had shielded his father rather than be brave enough to tell me and protect his children. I found it was out of the question for him to work anymore. It was getting rather late in my life for me to go to work, but I did. I found employment with the millinery firm of Levis & Zukoski, wholesalers. In this way, we managed to get along fairly well with help from Charlie, who was working in Alton, Illinois, and who, as yet, had not married. It was strenuous working downtown in the day, and doing my washing, ironing, and all my housework in the evening. While my little Mignonne was a treasure, I could not allow her to do that hard work.
I was very pleasantly surprised one day while at work to receive a visit from an old Cairo friend, Mrs. A.E. Rust, who lived and still lives in the same house that Maud had lived in when she was chased around with Elmer and the various other fellows. She insisted on my going out to lunch with her and little Mary Bernice. I was glad to see her, even though it was for short a time. I had been working there for the greater part of a year when on reaching home one evening I heard a very familiar voice that took me back many years; a voice that had once been dear to me. When Mignonne heard me she came into the hall and said, “Oh Mother, there is a gentleman in the dining room and Papa has asked him to stay for dinner, and we only have beefsteak.” I soothed her distress by saying, “Darling, whatever we have must be good enough for unexpected guests.” That reassured her and my brave little helper busied herself, and we had a nice dinner for Thad Cannon, for that was the owner of the voice I had recognized.
We had a nice evening, but I could see that Thad was very much shocked when he heard I was working out of my home. In the course of the evening Elmer said, “Mother, Thad has come to see if he may make his home with us again.” This rather surprised me for I wondered why he did not go and live with his brother John who was living in St. Louis. He then told us of his life since returning from Buenos Aires, and here it is.
On arriving in this country I went immediately to see my family and found work with the railroad. After a time, I went to Chicago and again to work for the railroad. As I think you know, both men and women worked late in the evening when necessary. I had a stenographer who of course had to stay if I needed her, and on those occasions, I would see her safely home. I finally married her. For a couple of years, we were contented and comfortable until her health seemed to be failing. I could not quite understand it, she would be quite all right for months, then she would have to go to the doctor and be under his care for two or three weeks. This state of things went on for several years, and I was beginning to get despondent for no sooner did I begin to save a little money, then it would have to go for doctor bills, or she would take it into her head to have new furniture or something that we could well do without.
We were always moving about, for in those days in Chicago it was nearly always the custom to move on May 1st. Lulu saw a new flat and insisted on moving and getting new furniture. I consented and liked the place well enough. Her health seemed to be getting much better, for it had been almost a year since she had been ill and that of course was a great relief to me. Lulu came to the office and worked in the places of those who were away on vacation until they were over. This gave her extra pocket money to go and visit her family in the country. Some little time after her return I was called from my work to the telephone and urgently requested to go to a doctor’s office. On reaching it I found Lulu, my wife, unconscious and in a critical condition. I could not understand it, for she had not complained of being ill. I stayed with her all night, thinking every minute would ber her last. But she rallied and I wanted to take her home, but found she could not be moved for several days.
In the meantime, I had discovered the reason for the many things that had puzzled me. I took her home when it was safe for me to do so but as my wife in name only. I had married with the hope of having little dancing feet running around my home and had been saddened at the thought of the children that were not. Now I knew why. She regained her health for a long time but eventually had to go to the hospital, where they found she had cancer of the uterus. Through several years she was in and out of the Augustania Hospital where they tried everything on her, giving her radium treatments that would have cost thousands of dollars if they had charged for them. They knew I could not pay such sums of money. As it was, it took all my salary to keep her there and more, so that if I wanted to eat I had to look for extra work in the evenings in order to do so. As for buying new clothes and shoes, that was out of the question. It got so bad that for dinner I would go into a saloon and buy a glass of beer, and then I could get enough to eat for free. I had to dispose of all my furniture and as the doctors at the hospital told me they could do no more for her. I took her to the home of my parents in Cairo where she died. I buried her in Villa Ridge and then made up my mind to come to St. Louis. I have come to you people because I have nothing, not even a job. I am in debt and down and out, but I felt you would understand. I want to get hold of myself once more and if you will find room for me I know this is the place where I can do so.
Poor Thad, how my heart ached for him. I had plenty of room and could see no reason why he should not come. Elmer looked very pleadingly at me, which was unnecessary for I was very glad to have this old friend in my home. I knew also that both he and Elmer would be happy in each other’s company, especially as Elmer was tied to this chair for the rest of his life. And so it turned out life was better for both of them. He was the means of getting work for Mignonne in a railroad office so that I could stay at home more. This I now did, and things were much easier for both myself and my dear Mignonne. I found work for half days and could do my work in the mornings. Things were improving a little. At this time, Europe was waging a fierce war. President Wilson was doing his best to keep this country out of it. The poor man was condemned by some, praised by others. He was indeed having a struggle to keep his promise to do his best to keep us out of it. The times were becoming quite turbulent. The Kaiser was being impertinent to our Ambassador Girard and told him that he would take no nonsense from the United States after he had won the war and a great many other things that this country did not like. Then came the sinking of the Lusitania, and that about exhausted the patience of the American people, and as a result we entered the war.
I decided to move to Chicago as I would be near Gwen, and I thought Mignonne would do better and be happier to live near Gwen too. I had not been able to keep my taxes paid up entirely. The house needed some repairs, so I sold it and made arrangements to leave for Chicago. Charlie had in the meantime gone to Chicago and was working up there. I told Thad of my decision and asked him to find another room. He was quite put out about it but said he would do so. I took up the carpets to send to the cleaners and when he came home that night he looked at the bare floors and said, “Are you really going?” When I assured him we were, he explained his deep regret. It took me quite a few days to get all crated and ready to move, for I did all except the heavy pieces myself. All was ready to ship at last. In the meantime, Thad had not said a word about where he was going. That night when he came home he said, “If you folks are going, I am going too” and went up to his room to do his packing. Such are the ways of fate.
Our goods were loaded in a car and we took the train for Chicago, Thad with us. He had given up a good job in St. Louis but said he could soon get another in Chicago which was quite true, for he got a job with his old company, the Illinois Roadway, and stayed with that company until he passed away. On our arrival, I had to hunt for an apartment, and while finding one we stayed with Gwen and Len, but as we were quite a number, Thad went to a hotel until our furniture would arrive. We had been there about five days when Thad came in and said, “Well, I have volunteered for overseas service.” Then Elmer said, “What are you talking about? You are too old.” Then Thad explained that he had made that same remark when they had been trying to persuade him to enlist, but they said, “Oh, never mind your age, we will take care of that. We want good railroad men.” They finally persuaded him to join the 13th Railway Engineers on May 22nd, 1917. He was stationed at the Municipal Pier until July 22nd when his company A started for overseas. We missed him very much, especially Elmer in the evenings.
After a great deal of hunting, I found a very comfortable apartment on Spaulding Avenue and settled there. Mignonne got work as a stenographer with the food administration. I was fortunate enough to find employment with a large suit and millinery house that had just opened on Lawrence Avenue just three blocks from my home. They agreed to my working half days from noon until six in the evening. This suited me very well; in that way, I could attend to Elmer, who was almost helpless by now, and the two little ones, Victoria and John. Elmer could wheel himself around the apartment and look after John, the latter learning to read and write long before he was old enough to enter school, and when he did they examined him and were going to put him in the third grade. This I would not allow, but they did put him in the second. He had just turned six.
We all received cards from Thad from time to time, with many small souvenirs. We had of course sent him many packages of things that were needful and difficult to get there, but sad to say many were stolen en route, and others by our own soldiers in France. Then the government put a stop to our sending many things and must send only those things prescribed by it. As a result of the letter I sent to the Chicago Herald, he was deluged with gifts from all over the country, from Maine to California. He wrote us that he was quite bewildered and could not understand why he should get them and not his comrades. One of his buddies showed him one of the papers that a Chicago mother had sent over there, and that of course cleared up the mystery for him. He derived much pleasure in dividing sweaters, socks, mufflers, mittens, tobacco, and many other things among his comrades.
He was always taking care of the poor little orphans in France, feeding them in the mess hall when he went to his own meals. He was Supply Sergeant and often found clothing that had been turned in as too small after maybe having been boiled. He would save them for the orphans, both girls and boys. He told us of a very pathetic case. He found a little girl of five or six years old crying bitterly with hardly enough rags on to cover her little body. He tried to talk to her but his French was not so that the child could understand. He took her to the mess hall and got the good natured cook to feed her and after she had eaten enough for a man he took her to an old woman in the village who kept the canteen and asked her to keep her until he should get clothes. When he found he could not buy any in the village, he went to his supply room and found some small shirts and sweaters that had been turned in and had the old woman make something to cover her. He told the good old woman that he would pay for her food if she would keep her, and it turned out that she was keeping several children already and did not know who any of them were. She was glad to keep poor little Marcel, for that is what her name turned out to be. “In faith and hope the world will disagree, but all mankind’s concern is charity.” Pope
The year 1918 was upon us, and how we welcomed the baby spring after the bitter winter. Everybody who could was knitting, sewing, or doing something for the war victims of here in America or Europe. It was seldom that one saw a woman on the streetcars or trains without her knitting. Whenever I had a little time to spare, which I must admit was seldom, for I had my own cross to bear at home, I would go down to the Red Cross and help out a little. Elmer was getting steadily worse and more irritable every day. I could hardly blame him, for he had plenty of time to think of what might have been if he had not induced me to leave our lovely home and his good position in a country that was forging ahead too rapidly, and he with it. And for what? A life of first humiliation, then years of struggle and hard work for me, and he resented that more than anything else, but: “It is easy enough to be pleasant when life goes on like a song. But the man worthwhile is the man who can smile when everything goes dead wrong.” Wilcox
Poor Elmer could not smile anymore. It just about broke his heart when I had to go to work. I did not mind it, but was thankful that I found work that I knew I could do. My greatest anxiety was whether I could stand up under the load. It is wonderful how much we can endure if we make up our minds to, and pray for courage and strength.
“I may not prove it by deeds of daring
In the reckless spirit which young verse shows,
But a truer courage is needed for sharing
With patient sweetness your cares and woes,
O, not in sinning, and not in dying
For those whom we love is love’s strength shown.
The test of our strength lies in living and trying
To lighten their burdens, and laugh at our own.
The truest courage is needed daily
In facing life’s worries, and smiling them down.
And he who can carry his crosses gaily
Is greater than he who can take a town.
And the smallest word which lips may offer
Of praise or approved, is dearer to me
Than all the plaudits the world might offer,
Or princes utter on bended knee.”
My little boy John was now my big problem. I was afraid to have him in the streets after school and I could not keep him cooped up in the apartment with his father all of the time. I was in constant fear of something happening to him while I was at work. After much thought, I made up my mind to put him in an Episcopal school to board, not very far from our home. They had big beautiful grounds and the children were not allowed outside the fence. He could come home every Saturday and stay until Sunday evening. It was an endowed school and boys whose parents were dead or could not pay were taken in. I paid thirty dollars per month for him, as much as I could afford. I must do that or give up work. He liked the school alright, but when it came bedtime he wanted his mother and they told me he cried himself to sleep every night. Then I found that his bed was opposite a window that was thrown wide open all night, the wind blowing on him until he got a dreadful cold and earache. I found the people in charge paid very little attention to him. He was suffering from this earache so badly one day that after school hours he walked all the way to where I was working, and that was the end of that experiment. I was furious when I found out how he had been neglected.
After that, he came to me after school. He now attended the Hibbard School again. There were all kinds of entertainments going on that year, always for the benefit of the soldiers, orphans, or widows. My little daughter Victoria was frequently taking part in some charity affairs. That meant that I had to give up those evenings to accompany her. The days were just not long enough. They were begging for books for the soldiers, so I packed up a thousand books in barrels and sent them. It was just one thing after another for me.
We were getting letters quite frequently from Thad. Some had been censored so that they were almost unintelligible, but they let us know that he was all right and still among the living. Then too I was always expecting that Alfred would be sent across. Three times he had been on his way to France and just as many times brought back because he was needed to teach there in Texas, and much to his disgust he was never sent over, for which I was profoundly thankful. He enlisted to go over to fight or fly, and did neither over there, for once you are in the army you do as ordered, not as you wish. He was flying all the time, teaching others how to take pictures up in the air, and that kept me anxious all the time. That awful war took not only the flower of the world’s manhood but wrecked the nerves of the women. Charlie did not go into the army but went to work in a munitions factory, whereby he could help me. Please God keep us out of another.
At last came the never to be forgotten November 11th when all the world went mad with joy. In downtown Chicago, utter strangers would hug each other, men actually kissing each other as Frenchmen do. The streets strewn with ticker tape paper, horns blew, people crying from joy. That was a day to be remembered as long as life would last. From then on, the main interest for all those who had dear ones across the sea was when they would be coming home. Will Thad get home safely, despite the number 13 that had followed the company all through the war? Originally they were called the Third Reserve Engineers. Then on Friday, July 13th, it was changed to the 13th Engineers. When they left the Municipal Pier on July 19th they had to have three different trains, and each one of them had thirteen coaches. They began to wonder if it would be good or bad luck for them when the steamship St. Louis, to which they had been assigned quarters, was attacked by a super dread naught German submarine. Failing in their effort to torpedo the ship, the submarine had come to the surface and at once commenced shelling. The St. Louis of course immediately replied with her guns, and going full speed zigzagging all the time, soon out distanced the enemy. They then faced destruction by floating mines; however, thirteen must have meant luck for them, for they arrived safely at Liverpool, England.
I had thought or hoped that Alfred would be mustered out in time to come home for Christmas, but we were disappointed. He was kept for months at Kelly Field in Texas for photographic duty. We had cards from Thad and a letter telling us that the government had called for volunteers to join the British Expeditionary Force for duty in Russia and that he had joined them and would be on his way by the time we received the information. It was Gwen’s turn this year to have the Christmas party, and we managed to get Elmer there without too much exertion on his part, although he was getting very weak and helpless. The party was a grand success, as is everything Gwen undertakes.
Besides the duties I already had, I undertook to attend the telephone calls in the evenings in the office of Dr. Beers nearby. Then, also, I was put on as a judge at the election quarters of our precinct, so if I had any spare time, I don’t know when it was. The spring and summer passed without anything unusual taking place. On August 22nd Elmer got a wire from Thad saying he would be home the next day. I had to be at the election headquarters all that day and of course, could not leave until after the polls closed. The children and Elmer made him welcome in my absence and had a grand dinner ready by the time I got home. How fine he looked in his smart uniform, and very brown after his voyage from Russia. He went back to work for the Illinois Central Railway where he had worked so many years. His return cheered Elmer up a great deal, for now, he would have someone who would have time to share his evenings with, and of course, Thad had so much to tell him about the war, both in France and Russia. He became weaker as the months passed until he could no longer sit up, nor feed himself. I had to give up my work of course and attend to him. This was a dreadfully trying time for me, as well as him. He would not let anyone do anything for him except myself, and if I left his room he would beg me not to be long away. His one concern was whether I had forgiven him for bringing me so much grief. I was forever having to assure him that I had done so at the time. I told him I would stand by him in Boston, so many years ago.
For twenty three nights and days, I did not leave his side except when absolutely necessary. I had no sleep all that time except fitful naps at his side. I was on the verge of a breakdown myself when God in His mercy called his soul to Himself and his poor wasted body to rest, just as the leaves began to fall on August 29th, 1920. I believe I have kept my promise to him when he told me the pitiful story of his youth. I know I can look into my heart and find it clear of anything that could make me feel guilty. I have been his helper in every sense of the word, bringing up his children to the best of my ability, destroying none, but loving them all. Farewell, Elmer, my husband. May you rest in peace. I have kept my promise to you.
He had known many years of great happiness in his home with his children, and I know he died at peace with the world. We held his funeral in Chicago, but I took his body to be buried in Beech Grove, near Cairo, for I knew that was his desire. By this time my finances were in a depleted condition, which made me pretty despondent. I dreaded the idea of going into debt, but help came to me in my hour of need. Here I want to acknowledge a debt of gratitude I owe my son in law Len and daughter Gwen, also my son Alfred. The former paid the funeral expenses here in Chicago, the latter those of buying the lot in Beech Grove and the expenses there. This would have been unnecessary had not the friendship that Elmer had felt for an old friend. Will Williamson induced him to take out insurance in a Masonic Order that failed after our paying into it for years, and of course, Elmer could not, on account of his health, get insurance in another company. After we laid him to rest, I returned to Chicago the same day and we reached home more dead than alive after a month without sleep, except what I could catch now and then. We stayed on in the northside apartment until our lease expired, and then moved to the south side.
Charlie became engaged to a young lady with whom he had gotten acquainted with while working in Alton. On June 11th, 1921 they were married and came to Chicago to live with me. We lived there on the south side only a few months when Thad asked me once more to marry him. Now I had nursed Elmer for years aside from having to go out to work to support him and the two younger children as well as myself, and I wondered if it would be wise to take this step. Thad had left the army with chronic bronchitis and I may have to spend the rest of my life nursing another sick man, and I figured I better leave well enough alone. Not that I did not have the deepest regard for Thad, but I was weary of so much responsibility and care. Yet, deep down in my heart, I knew that if he did become an invalid I would care for him whether I was married to him or not. I would never permit him to be taken to the soldier’s home where he would fret himself to death by loneliness.
I thought it all out and told him I would marry him after we both had enough money to buy a big enough house that I could make a living by. He had nothing when he left the army. This he reluctantly agreed to, and we became engaged and were very happy. I requested him to say nothing about it to anybody until we could attain our object. Poor dear Thad, he was so happy that I was glad I had consented to at least become his wife. He was exceedingly fond of my children, especially Mignonne because he said she reminded him of myself when he first knew me and asked me to marry him all those years ago.
On April 1st, 1922, Charlie and Irene’s little daughter Jacqueline was born. We were all quite happy to have a baby in the house. Thad came to me one day and said he had a chance to buy a house on Lake Park Avenue at a price within our reach, and asked if I would take it until we could find a better one. I agreed of course and rented from him. I had stipulated a house big enough for me to earn a living if he should become unable to work like Elmer had. It was a stepping stone toward our goal. We moved in, but Charlie and Irene decided they wanted to go housekeeping, so they went to live on Ellis Avenue. With Mignonne’s help, I made a lovely little home of it and could rent out three rooms. I think we had lived there about four months when Thad had a chance to double his money and could buy the house we thought would make us a nice living. He came to me and said, “Darling, I am ashamed to ask you to move again, but I can make enough to buy the house we want.” In the meantime, he received a bonus of three hundred dollars from Illinois for his service in the war. This added to what we had, and it was enough to buy the house we wanted. A big, beautiful place of eleven rooms, all hardwood finish and floors, complete billiard room, a garage at the end of the yard, and best of all, within three blocks of all transportation, as that is very important when you wish to rent rooms.
There were three stories, about as good as three apartments. The third floor had two large rooms, a small kitchen, three big closets, and a lavatory in the hall, which I rented for $12.50 per week. My two daughters, Mignonne and Victoria, occupied the front room on the second floor, which also had a lavatory in the hall. They paid me $12.00 per week each for room, board, laundry, dressmaking, and mending. Then there were two rooms that I rented for $10.00 each per week with two people two a room. Thad occupied one on that floor and paid me the same as the girls. This left me the first floor of four rooms and the billiard room (which everybody used) for myself and my boy John. In all, I was making $275.00 per month. I paid Thad $75.00 per month for rent, and he in turn put the same amount and paid on the house, and in this way, we would soon have enough equity to warrant our getting married. In this way, if anything happened that would necessitate his ceasing to work, I could carry on alone. I now, for the first time in a good many years, began to see the sunshine through the clouds I had passed through in my struggle to carry on.
“A sacred burden in this life to bear
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin
But onward, upward, till the goal you win.” Kimble
The above admonitions are not easy to carry out when your burden reaches the point where you think you must surely sink under it. Many times I have reached that point and would have done so, had it not been for the thought of the children, for them I must make the effort. Now I had almost reached the goal. Thad was now pressing me to set a date for our marriage and I gave him one. He also insisted on my wearing the lovely diamond ring he had carried around for so long. The children were more than happy about it, for they all loved him; they could not help it because he was a loveable kind, and had always been good to them.
One day Mignonne came to me and said, “Mother, I would like to give a birthday party for Bert, if you don’t mind.” Bert was her would-be fiance and his home was in the south. I told her that of course, I did not mind, but would be glad to help her all I could. I asked her when it was to be and she told me it would be on the 1st of September. Now this both amused and surprised me, for that was the date I had given Thad for our wedding day. I arranged that they should do all but see to the food and cake, for those I would attend to. I went to the caterer famous for his cakes and ordered a wedding cake and a birthday cake with Bert’s name and age on it. They invited their friends and Thad and I invited ours without telling them. Then I remarked to Mignonne that as it was to be rather a big party, she ought to invite Len and Gwen, and the children would stay with me. She said, “But Mother, they won’t want to come to a part of youngsters.” I told her very well and said no more about it, but I called Gwen and told her I wished them to come. Gwen also said that Len would not have much fun, but they would come anyhow.
The 1st of September came, and with it all kinds of boxes from the caterer. Mignonne caught sight of some and said, “Why Mother, what in the world do you want with so much?” I had rather a hard time keeping the wedding cake from them. The time came for the guests to arrive, and they were nearly all there when our clergyman came and asked for me. Just at that time I came down to the foot of the stairs where Thad was standing waiting for me, and led me into the living room among the astonished looks of them all, especially when the minister came in dressed in his robes. We were married surrounded by my children. They then realized why I wanted Len and Gwen there. They were all very much put out that we had kept it from them because they would have made much more elaborate preparations. That was exactly why I did not let them know. I did not want any fuss.
We had a wonderful time and Len drove us to the wharf where we took the boat to Wankesha. We had a peaceful, happy time. On our way there, while sitting on the deck, Thad turned to me and said, “At last, my wife. I had hoped to call you that thirty four years ago.” I could not help thinking how wonderful are the ways of God, for all those years later He had brought us together again, after all the tribulations we both had gone through. Did He, in my far off country, choose me to be the one to succor these two harassed souls, for I did that very thing. Or did He punish me for breaking one of His commandments, honour thy father and mother, by not marrying the man she had chosen for me? I tried very hard to figure it all out. Must I still believe in a God that had allowed me to suffer so many trials and sorrows?
I have brought my children up not to fear but to love God, because I believe that God is love. I still have not lost my faith in Him, in spite of everything I have gone through.I now think that in the next plane, or life, maybe I will understand why all these trials have been put upon me. Maybe it is a test to see if I am worthy of a higher plane. That there is a higher one I have no shadow of a doubt. When this body of mine wears out, it will be cast off just as a snake casts its skin, and my soul will enter another body. It is immortal and will go on forever, wherever God chooses to send it. Yes, my faith in Him is unimpaired. He gave me a short period of unforgettable joy, and then snatched it away from me only to replace it with humiliation, grief, and resentment - three things that would surely have driven me insane had it not been for the love of my children. If God meant to chastise me, He certainly made a good job of it, for he just about crushed me, but then He sent Thad to comfort me, and he did. I quite expect that some who may chance to read this narrative will think that this way of reasoning is a flight of the imagination, but it is not, for I firmly believe God has work for us to do, a niche to fill, just as we find a place for each piece in a jigsaw puzzle. I cannot help thinking so. He needed a pawn who could take it on the chin for the job I was called upon to do. I have taken it on the chin, yet I do not hate my fellow man, but rather do I love most people. (It has to be someone really despicable for me to dislike.) I would like to live on forever if I could be of some use to someone, otherwise, I am ready to go onward to that other and, I hope, a higher plane.
Thad and I returned to the home we had both worked so hard to acquire. Life took on a new luster and became happier than I had ever expected it to be again. I was making enough money and more to keep up the house and pay the expenses of John. Thad took care of the payments on the house. It seemed to have dropped that mantle of care that had enveloped me for so long and all my world was at peace again. Thad and John were always chums, and that made me glad. The two girls, Mignonne and Victoria, were having a happy time too with their young friends. Victoria was much more fond of a gay good time than her sister was and wanted to go out to theaters, dances, and so on. Unless Mignonne went with her she was not allowed to go. She prevailed on the latter to accompany her, and that took Mignonne out a good deal, for which I was very glad because she was too much of a stay at home. They had many friends that came to the house, amongst them a tall, dashing, handsome young fellow named Art. I very soon saw that an attachment was growing between him and Victoria, and in a short time, they became engaged with my consent, for I thought Art a very fine young fellow. In the following spring, they were married. They had a lovely wedding in our home, where I met a number of Art’s relatives. They left for a honeymoon in Saugatuck in his car. She left quite a blank in the house as she was always full of fun. It was so quiet. Thad missed her very much too. He missed his little game of cards with her in the evenings, as well as the music she would play for him; the old tunes and songs of long ago. Yes, we missed our little girl, but:
“Blessings be with them, and eternal praise,
Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares,
The poets, who on earth have made us heirs
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.” Wadsworth
Victoria’s marriage left us only four. I had now to put away my sewing or whatever I had been in the habit of doing in the evening and take Victoria’s place in entertaining Thad. He belonged to all kinds of clubs, and the Masons as well, and I would ask him if he did not want to attend any of them so as to break the monotony of spending every evening at home. He would say, “No, darling, those places are for fellows who have not got a happy home and wife like I have. This is where I prefer to be.” I, of course, was happy to have him say that, but I wanted him to feel free to go when he pleased. However, unless I went with him, he never went out. He was happy and contented. Our aim was to clear off the mortgage on our home as quickly as possible, and this we were doing.
Mignonne was still working in the same place and was happy in her work, as I know she had the goodwill of her coworkers, and she in turn thought a great deal of each and every one of them. This makes a great difference in one’s work. If those with whom you are associated are congenial, then it is not drudgery, but a pleasure. John was in high school and doing well, so life was happy and smooth for me now. Enid had several girls. Carlos had moved to St. Louis and had a son, Billy, added to his family. Both he and Enid have their own homes, for which I am very thankful.
That summer, Thad and I took a trip out west and to the greater part of the south. We visited Hollywood where one of his nieces and the sister of his brother John’s wife had, and I believe will have, important positions as secretaries to some of the producers there. Seeing how they were made took away a great deal of the glamour of pictures when I saw the make believe of it all. I remember going into one of the hotels to have dinner and in the lobby sat Charlie Chaplin and several of the actors whose faces are familiar to all Americans. It seemed as though I was looking at a picture. Los Angeles is very beautiful and Thad and I thought maybe we would go there to live someday. On our way home we went to Birmingham, Alabama. Thad wanted to visit the convent where his father’s sister had been a Mother Superior. They welcomed us as ordinary people do, not a bit cold or severe. They showed us all over the place and when we left presented Thad with several things that had belonged to his aunt. We arrived home in time for Thad to go to work the next day when his vacation would come to an end, looking and feeling rested, ready for another year’s work.
How good it was to be home again even though we had had such a good time. All seemed well with our world until Mignonne came to me one day saying that while making some purchases in a drug store a few blocks away, she had been waited on by a pharmacist whom she had known many years before while going to college in Chicago. He recognized her and wanted to know where she lived and what her telephone number was. This information she refused to give to him. He, however, questioned the mailman and got it anyway. He was many years older than she was and had a son seven years old, but was divorced. This latter fact disturbed me very much as it is generally a thankless job to bring up another woman’s child while she is still living, and I hoped his visits would cease. On the contrary, it was no time until she announced her betrothal to him if I approved. I asked her if she really wanted to marry a man so much older than she was, and had a son that she must bring up. I tried to make her see that it might not always be pleasant for her because his mother was still alive and would without a doubt influence him. I was worried and asked her if she was quite sure she wanted to marry him under the circumstances, and she said yes. Now, I had made a vow never to interfere with my daughters when it came to choosing a husband, so I had nothing more to say. They were married the following June. How I prayed my lovely little Mignonne would be happy all the days of her life, as she most certainly deserved. They left on their honeymoon for Pelican Lake up north, and after spending about three weeks there returned and started housekeeping on the second floor of our home, which we turned into an apartment for them. Thad was exceedingly glad that she decided to stay at home at least for a time, until they would buy a home of their own. Mignonne wanted to continue working until the stock that she had in the company would mature, and that would not happen for about two years. Thad and I tried our best to persuade them to buy a home, but they told us flatly that they did not want to, so we desisted. She continued to work and is still at the same place.
Thad’s health began to worry me. The bronchitis that he had contracted in the army was troubling him more every day. I wanted him to go south, but he refused to do so unless I went with him. This I determined to do. Without Thad knowing I wrote to his brother John who was and is Vice President of the Missouri Pacific Railway, and told him of my fears and asked him for his help in having him transferred south. I knew that all he had to do was write a letter to officials there and it would be accomplished without any trouble. I waited anxiously for his reply. When it came it said, “My advice to Thad is to stay where he is.” I never told Thad of this reply that I got from his brother. I just filed it away with my papers. Then I wanted him to go to the soldier’s hospital down where it was warm. I would stay in Chicago just long enough to sell the house and then join him. This he consented to do before the cold weather would come again. We realised we would have to sell at a great sacrifice for the depression was upon us. I knew, however, we would have enough to live on comfortably but economically and was prepared to make any sacrifice if I could prolong his life.
We put the property on the market and he was getting things in shape to leave, but it was too late, for on the 10th of October he was taken ill with bronchial pneumonia, was hurried to the Illinois Central Hospital where he died on October 16th, 1932. Once more I was left to mourn my dear dead. It seemed to me too cruel that I should be called upon to suffer as I had done, and now the only link left of my youth, this grand honourable gentleman in every sense of the word, was taken from me to mourn alone.
“Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days,
None knew thee but to love thee
None named thee but to praise.” Halleck
Deposited upon this silent shore of memory are images and precious thoughts of you, dear husband, that shall not die and can never be destroyed. You will live in our hearts forever until we can all be united on that beautiful shore or plane, wherever God calls us. I will not and cannot say that he is dead. He has just gone before me and I know he is waiting there for those who have loved him here on this plane that we call Earth. On the 19th day of October, we laid him to rest in Cedar Park Cemetery, and I returned once again to my lonely home. It took me many months to regain my poise and courage again. There was nothing of interest for me to look forward to now. There was no one that depended on me anymore, for John was able to look out for himself. All my other children were married and had their own homes, families, and interests. What to do now I could not decide at once. There was no necessity now for me to sacrifice my home, and after long deliberation, I made up my mind to carry on as before and pay off the mortgage. Of course, I did not make as much money out of my home now as I had formerly when I rented the rooms separately and rents were higher, but I made enough to accomplish what I set out to do. I therefore took the house out of the agent’s hands until such a time as the market would improve.
Years passed and the market was at its lowest ebb. I began to feel the burden too heavy for me to carry on any longer, being seventy six years old. I figured I had done enough hard work, and last spring, 1939, I sold my property, furniture and all, and am now living in the home of one of my children. This is indeed a strange life for me after more than fifty years of trials, responsibilities, and work, to have none of these to contend with anymore, but just to do as I please. I do keep busy, however, as there is always someone you can help along if you so desire. I have just finished making a quantity of articles for the bazaar to be held at the church of Dr Preston Bradley in return for the pleasure I derive from listening to his grand talks and service every Sunday morning.
I appreciate having lived in a very wonderful age. I very well remember when people from the country coming to the city would blow out the gas just as they did their lamps or candles. The electric light was a marvel, as also the telephone, the victrola, the talking machines with their enormous horns, the silent films, the talkies, the radio, automobiles, aeroplanes, the wireless, the submarines, television, etc. These and many other wonders within the span of my life - just one marvellous thing after another. If only those wonderful scientists would confine their efforts to the betterment of mankind, what a Utopia this world would be; whereas the greater part of them now are bending every effort to discover more deadly means to destroy. We are taught that God guides our destinies, that even a sparrow’s fall is noted by Him. If this is so, will someone please tell me why He permits such people as Stalin and Hitler to live as a scourge, destroying His handiwork? I do not presume to question the ways of God, but it does seem to me time to cut down such rank weeds before our own country is drawn into the holocaust they have started in Europe, cutting down the flower of young manhood to satisfy the crazy ambitions of a few fanatics, as was also the case in the world war of 1914 to 1918. To my way of thinking, the best way to stop the slaughter is for the common soldier, every man of them, to lay down their arms and refuse to kill his fellow man. Let those who advocate war go out and fight it themselves instead of sending poor, innocent youth out to be targets. And what for? I have one son who would be a potential target, therefore I pray God we may be kept out of it.
As for Elmer’s widow, she has emerged from all those troubled waters without losing faith in God or man, hoping to live just as long as she can be of use to her fellow man. When the time comes that she ceases to be, then her prayer is that she may be taken to join all the loved ones that have gone before her, without being an invalid, or troubling anyone for very long. I have the satisfaction of knowing that all of my children are happy in the possession of their own homes, except John who is too fond of travelling to settle down to married life yet. I am six times a great grandmother, maybe no one can tell. I may live to be a great-great Grandmother. I am hoping, however, to live long enough to see Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini punished as they deserve, for I cannot believe God will allow might to triumph over right.
13th Railway Engineers – 74, 77
Argentina
Buenos Aires
Belgrano Railway Company – 24
British Cemetery – 29, 66
Compania Gas de Belgrano – 28
English Literary Society – 30
Hotel Provence – 65
YWCA – 65
Palermo – 22, 28, 65
Rosario – 29
Australia – 4, 16, 39, 44
Bark Ivy – 34
Boston – 34-35, 38-41, 78
Brazil
Bahia – 14, 19, 36, 63
Pernambuco – 14, 38
Rio de Janeiro – 14, 32, 39, 63, 66
Santos – 16, 36, 64
British Expeditionary Force – 77
Building and Loan – 57, 68, 70
England
Birmingham – 31
Leeds – 31
Liverpool – 77
London
Hyde Park – 12
Rotten Row – 12, 22
Westbourne Terrace – 12
Whiteley’s – 12
Roseberry Topping – 1
Southampton – 14, 31
York – 31
France – 74, 76, 78
Illinois
Alton – 71, 78
Cairo
Andrew Lohr Bottling Company – 52
Beech Grove – 78
Cedar Street – 69
Church of the Redeemer – 62
Colonial Hotel – 58
Commercial Avenue – 49
Halliday House – 59
Hinkle & Bryant Drug Store – 49
KMKC Hall – 57
PG Schuh Drug Store – 56
St. Mary’s Hospital – 49
Chicago
Augustania Hotel – 72
Cedar Park Cemetery – 85
Chicago Herald – 74
Ellis Avenue – 79
Hibbard School – 76
Illinois Central Hospital – 84
Illinois Central Railway – 49, 78
Lake Park Avenue – 79
Lawrence Avenue – 74
Municipal Pier – 74, 77
Red Cross – 75
Spaulding Avenue – 74
Villa Ridge – 72
Olmstead – 59, 60, 68
Lamport and Holt – 30, 32
Lusitania – 73
Madeira Island – 14
Maple & Co. of London – 15
Missouri
St Louis
Arlington School – 54
Christian Brothers College – 54
Delmar Gardens – 54
Exposition – 54, 65
Levis and Zukoski – 71
Stevens Lithographic Company – 43
Suburban Gardens – 53
National Guard – 59
New York
Ellis Island – 66
Grand Hotel – 66
Revolution – 18-19, 26-27, 30, 57
Spain – 4-5, 14, 17
SS St Louis – 77
SS Vestris – 14, 30, 32, 63, 66
Uruguay
Flores Island – 20, 32
Montevideo – 20, 32
Yellow Fever – 14, 19-20
| Cape
Girardeau MO |
Union | |
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Pulaski | |
| Scott MO | Mississippi MO | Ballard KY |
