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Adeline’s Journal: December 5 – 26, 1813

Thistledown Farm

December 5, 1813

Dear Janetta,

These last days have been very hard. I am so jittery and yet heavy at heart. It is difficult for me to make up my mind about anything and now my health seems to be suffering as well. I would be just as pleased to lay abed as get up and when I am up I feel so ill I could crawl back under the covers. A weariness comes over me at the oddest times and mother has noted it. I do not wish to be a worry to her or Father and yet here I sit, unable to finish the simplest task without tearing up. Perhaps things will be better in the spring, when the ground has thawed enough for us to bury my husband properly.

Mother and Evvy have been urging me to go to see the doctor in Johnstown, or at least consult dear Mrs. Randall. They are convinced that I need a tonic of some sort. Perhaps it would be prudent. In that case, I would much prefer Mrs. Randall’s advice. She is our nurse/midwife, after all and knows many remedies that doctors do not, things she learned in her old Scottish home and things that she has learned from the elder women of White Wolf’s lodge.I shall ask William to take me over to see Mrs. Randall and that will put Mother’s mind to rest.

Hopefully, Adeline

Thistledown Farm,

Friday, December 10, 1813

Dear Janetta,

Wonderful news! I am an aunt now. Elizabeth was delivered of a lovely little girl baby. William has decided to name her Victoria

Elizabeth” after our dear departed sister. Victoria and Elizabeth are staying here a week or so until Elizabeth gains her strength back. Her labour lasted more than a day and she is exhausted, but “Vicky” as we call her, is a strong little baby who makes her demands known in no uncertain terms. Mother is laughing again, as she used to and I find her cuddling our new resident very often though Elizabeth protests that Vicky will be spoiled beyond all hope of redemption.

Mrs. Randall attended Vicky’s birth, but was so busy with Elizabeth, she had only time to ask me a few questions, look me over quickly and sigh. She said that she would take time to talk to me in a day or so when things were a bit more settled around here. Her serious demeanor somewhat alarmed me, but I don’t have time to think about much more than helping Elizabeth with the baby and preparing meals with Mother.

Hurriedly, Adeline

Thistledown Farm

Sunday, December 12, 1813

Dear Janetta,

If my writing is barely legible it will be no wonder. I am still shaking from my visit with Mrs. Randall. Robert brought her back today to look in on our newest family member and her mother. She is very pleased with Elizabeth and Vicky. William is beaming ear to ear, although none of us got much sleep last night with the baby waking every three hours for her feeding. Once she was satisfied with the progress of her charges, Mrs. Randall sat me down with my parents for a serious discussion.

To say I was concerned would be stating it verymildly. First of all, Mrs. Randall asked me how I was feeling generally, aside from my obvious grief. I told her that I was extremely tired and that sometimes, although I have a good appetite, I can’t always keep my food down, but that seemed to be happening less and less. I asked her if there was a tonic I could take and she patted my hand. Then she asked me in a very low voice, if I had missed my monthly and I looked at her in shock.

“Oh, it can’t be that, can it?” I’m sure I turned paper white.

Mrs. Randall smiled and patted my hand again. “Yes, my dear, it can be. I believe you are expecting a little one, probably this spring.”

You can imagine my astonishment. Mother and Father came immediately to my side. Robert left the room.

“Oh Adeline, we will have another little one. How wonderful!” My mother’s eyes were filled with tears as she embraced me. My father looked very serious. He assured me that they would be helping as much as they could. I could only think of my dear Charles and that his child would never know him. I felt numbed and I must say, I still do.

Sadly,

Adeline

Thistledown Farm

December 26, 1813

Dear Janetta,

Mother, Eveline, Elizabeth and I have been knitting and sewing every spare moment. Vicky needs winter clothing and we are also preparing for my child. I try to imagine how our child will look – more like Charles I hope. I have come to think of the baby as a precious proof of our love for each other, but I do worry about how I shall provide for my little one.

Christmas was quiet. We did exchange gifts. Elizabeth had made warm scarves for Mother, Eveline and me and thick wool socks for Father and Henry. Eveline gave me a pretty pair of baby nightgowns embroidered with tiny blue birds. Henry and Father made me a fine pine cradle and mother had made a soft tick for it out of one of Henry’s old shirts. We sang carols and Father led us in prayer. Afterwards Mother and Eveline served us a good supper of roasted wild turkey that Father had caught, with some potatoes, turnips, and onions. I had made the dessert, a maple pudding over baked apples which turned out very well. We sat around the fire and Father read some poetry aloud. Mother had a bundle of letters from our cousins in England that she had been saving to read aloud. They were full of Christmas greetings and news about the war in Europe.

There was a great victory in Europe. Our Uncle Nestor’s son, Ralph, is serving in the Royal Horse Artillery and his unit, the rocket artillery, was fighting under the command of the Swedish general in Saxony near Leipzig. He lost the sight in his left eye in the battle and is now back home in England. Grandmother Price is relieved that there will be no more soldiering for him. We have two cousins from my mother’s side of the family serving on two different ships in the Royal Navy. They were still at sea when Grandmama wrote her letter. There is great hope that they will be home soon though, now that Napoleon had to scurry back to France. Of course, that news is a month old. There has still been no reply to Charles’ letter about our marriage from his family. Perhaps they are not pleased. Or the letter maybe at the bottom of the St. Lawrence.

I long to go back to Blueberry Creek Farm.

Your friend,

Adeline + One

Open the Clouds – a hymn for the Spring

Open the Clouds

8 5 8 5

Open the clouds, let the rain fall,

Let it fall on me.

I’m in need of cleansing, O Lord,

Let the rain fall on me.

Open the clouds, let the sun shine,

Let it shine on me.

I’m in need of your light, O Lord,

Your Son shine on me.

Open the clouds, let the wind blow,

Let it blow on me.

Put the Spirit wind in my sails,

Let it blow on me.

Open the clouds, let the world know,

Show the world through me.

The world needs to know You are Love,

Show the world through me.

I Was – an Easter Hymn

I Was

I was the whiplash and I was the thorns

That made my Saviour bleed.

It’s sin that caused him pain and suffering,

But he’s forgiven me.

Refrain:

He paid the price for me.

He paid and set me free.

Jesus, Jesus, my precious Lord,

He paid the price for me.

I was the hammer and I was the nails

That pierced his hands and feet.

My sins were laid upon his dear head

And he paid the full receipt.

I was the sword plunged into his body

To prove that he had died.

And I was the stone that sealed his tomb,

But he rose on Eastertide!

Springtime Poetry

Hopefully Spring is just around the (brrrr) corner. Here are two poems I wrote for spring.

Line Dancing

My clothesline is doing the salsa today –

It took the blue denims to get underway.

My flannelette nightie is starting to swing,

While the red plaid pajamas perform highland flings.

The white percale sheets with their corners so neat

Are twirling and swirling, a marvelous feat!

And Granny’s old housecoat twists in the breeze

With Junior’s bermudas and daughter’s bright T’s.

You’ll never see a fandango so fine

As my laundry is dancing all over the line.

Spring Song

Flowers for a bouquet,

Tadpoles in a jar,

Rocks inside our pockets

So we know where they are.

We skipped across the meadow,

Splashed across the pond,

Climbed up all the hillsides

To see the farms beyond.

Cattails are aplenty,

Pussy willows too,

Busy bees are buzzing,

Now what’s left for us to do?

Adeline’s 1812 Journal for November 1813

The following excerpt is from the diary of Eveline Price (Adeline’s sister).

Thistledown Farm

Wednesday, November 17

Dear Diary,

This has been a very somber day for our family. We had the unhappy duty of burying my brother-in-law, Charles, who was murdered by persons as yet unknown, while tending to his animals on Monday last. Addie is beside herself with grief and none of us can understand how someone so well-liked could come through a major battle unscathed only to be cut down yards away from his cabin door. William, Robert Randall and White Wolf are scouring the forest for whatever coward saw fit to shoot my dear brother-in-law in the back.

Addie was writing in her journal when it occurred and the shot startled her. She immediately ran out to the lean-to in time to see Charles attempting to crawl to the cabin. She told us that he managed to say,” Sorry, Addie” and then died in her arms. At first, she didn’t completely take in what had happened. Then, she , in a daze, saddled her horse, Goldie, and rode all the way to the O’Meara’s where she found Arthur. Arthur said she was hysterical, but he and his wife, made her tea and heard the story. Then he went to get Robert and Mr. Randall, who drove the wagon to Blueberry Creek for the body.

I was setting the table for supper when Father, as pale as the snow, came rushing in to tell us that Mr. Randall had arrived with Charles’ body. He said that Robert and Arthur were not far behind with Adeline. Mother immediately sent Henry to fetch William.

Adeline is inconsolable, but Mother says that it is best that she cry now. I know that she is trying not to upset us, but she cried herself to sleep beside me last night and when I woke up her cheeks were wet. My heart aches for her. She didn’t want anything to eat, but I pressed her to at least have some toast and tea. She ate it and then immediately fled to the outhouse. I suppose that is to be expected under the circumstances.

Sadly,

Evvy.

Thistledown Farm

November 24, 1813

Dearest Janetta,

I have been Mrs. Charles Houghton for such a short time and now….now I am a widow. I can hardly write this, but mother thinks it might help me. I must apologize for all the smudges. The tears come on me unbidden. I am trying to keep busy, but I break down so often, I’m of little use. The funeral was very brief – it is winter. In the spring we will bury Charles in the orchard beside Uncle Andrew and dear little Virginia. Mr. Randall built a good coffin and we lined it with my wedding dress , I could never wear it again. Father is preparing a fine field stone memorial with his initials and the date. I have tried to write his parents, but how do I write such awful news to people I’ve never met, people who have never even acknowledged our marriage?

Everyone has been very kind, although I did have to answer a lot of questions from the Lt. Colonel because Charles was murdered. I am so fortunate that my family is known and respected, because I have no witnesses and Charles….was shot in the back. Such a cowardly act! I keep thinking, that if only I had gone to look after the animals as usual, Charles might still be alive.

Last night, after Evvy fell asleep, Mother came upstairs and sat beside me on the bed. She held me in her arms and whispered that she had hoped that I would never have to suffer such a terrible loss so young. Then we both cried.

From now on I shall take my tears outside. I don’t wish to add my grief to what Mother bears already. Somehow, I must gather myself together and carry on. I have a farm to manage and animals for which to care. Father wants me to stay here for the winter…I’m not sure. Robert and Arthur have vowed to find the villain, but all I can remember of that terrible day is the sound of the musket and Pirate barking.

Your heartbroken friend,

Adeline

Butterfly Lullaby for Eilish

Here is the lullaby I wrote for my granddaughter, Eilish.

The Butterfly Lullaby

For Eilish

Where do butterflies sleep

When they go to bed?

There’s a green grassy place

For their wings to spread.

Where do high-flying birds

Find a spot to rest?

They can cuddle right down

In a leafy nest.

Where do tiny mice go

When the wind turns cold?

As daylight is fading

They find a snug hole.

Where does my sleepy one

Lay her tired head?

My arms and my lap make

A cozy warm bed.

I will sing you to sleep

With my heart’s own song

When the sky becomes dark

And the moonbeams long.

A New Hymn for Sunday

Here is the hymn I wrote for the lectionary passage for this Sunday (Matthew 5: 13-20).

Salt and Light

8/7/8/7

Salt and light our Saviour calls us,

Salt and light so we must be,

Sharing hope and truth with others

With our love and empathy.

Salt and light our Saviour named us,

Pure and honest we must be,

Consecrate our days to Jesus

So God’s kingdom we will see.

Salt and light we must be bearing,

Pain and hatred to confound.

It’s God’s love that we are sharing;

Spread it gently all around.

Little One – Another Lullaby

Little One

A lullaby for my granddaughter Kaytlyn

The world is turning, Little One,

The sun’s gone out of sight.

It’s time to close your eyelids now

As day turns into night.

The woolly lambs are in their fold,

The bunnies are in bed.

Even squirrels up in the trees

Are gathering dreams instead.

As all the stars climb in the sky

And half the world’s asleep,

God’s angels guard us, Little One,

And in his love we’ll keep.

Oh Kaytlyn, you’re my Little One,

I treasure every part.

Your tears, your signs, your smiles, your cries

Are nestled in my heart.

A Lullaby for My Grandson

I have written a lullaby for each of my three grandchildren. Here is the lullaby I wrote for my very first grandchild, our grandson, Owen.

Little Baby Wonderful

Little baby Wonderful,

Little baby mine;

The sky is full of stars tonight,

The breeze is apple wine.

Shall I rock you on the sea

Where fishes swim and leap?

The waves will sing you lullabies

Until you fall asleep.

Little baby Wonderful,

Little baby mine;

The sky is full of stars tonight,

The breeze is apple wine.

Shall I rock you in the woods,

Where forest creatures creep?

The owls will whisper fairy tales

Until you fall asleep.

Little baby Wonderful,

Little baby mine;

Your eyes are full of stars tonight,

Your breath is apple wine.

I will rock you in my arms

Where you are safe and warm,

And I will sing you lullabies

Until the day is born.

Adeline’s 1812 Journal: November 1813

Adeline’s 1812 Journal: November 1813

A fictional journal as it might have been written by a young woman in Grenville County during the War of 1812.

Blueberry Creek Farm Saturday, November 13, 1813

Dear Janetta,

William rode in to visit me today. There was solemn news of a huge battle at Mr. Crysler’s farm many miles east of here along the St. Lawrence shore. William said that he had reported that he, Charles and White Wolf had seen the American gunboats approaching and that Lt. Duncan Clark had warned the settlers along the river shore. The weather has been a miserable mixture of snow and sleet, not the best for a battle, but the Americans have been harassing the ships and boats on the river for some time, so an attack was expected.

First of all, William relieved my mind about Charles, Father, And the Randalls. All of them got through the battle without major wounds, thank the Lord, but sadly, Charles’ friend, John Thompson, was killed instantly right beside Arthur Randall in the last skirmish. The Americans had been hit hard and seemed to be retreating, although our soldiers were greatly outnumbered. Suddenly, one company wheeled round and began advancing towards our men. Our troops led by Lt. Colonel Morrison and Major Heriot fought very valiantly and in the melee John was killed and Arthur wounded in his left hand. The doctor was able to remove the bullet and bind it. The settler women nearby were helping to find the wounded and aid the doctor.

I was thrilled to hear of how bravely our young men acted along beside the professional soldiers and I was grateful to William for coming to let me know that my dear Charles was still hale. The militia is pursuing the Americans, but I am trying not to be too concerned. I am keeping myself busy while I wait for Charles to return. I have completely cleaned our cabin, shaken out all our blankets, quits and coverlets and I have made some drapery for around our bed out of two old quilts mother gave me. They will help keep out the cold. I filled our kindling box, trapped some rabbits just like Father taught Henry and me. I’m glad Father taught us how to snare partridge and grouse too, as I don’t think I could shoot well enough to bring down anything as large as a deer or even manage to drag it back home through the woods. Besides, musket balls are scarce now. I must save them for the stray lynx, fox or bobcat that might try stealing our few chickens.

William didn’t stay long as he was anxious to see Elizabeth. Her time is getting close. Their baby is to be born in December. I do hope all will go well. However, I could tell from Williams face, when he first arrived that the battle must have been horrible. He had promised Charles he would stop by. I shall keep myself very busy as it helps the time pass and I will do less fretting. I hope Charles returns home soon.

I was hoping that William might have a letter from Charles’ parents in England. We have been expecting one as Charles has written them about our wedding. I expect it has been delayed by the war against Napoleon or perhaps the mail was seized by the Americans. I did hope to have good news to tell my dearest. I miss him so and I won’t be truly happy until I see him here by our hearth.

Longingly, Adeline

Blueberry Creek Farm Monday, November 15, 1813

Dear Janetta,

Heaven be praised! Charles returned home today. Pirate and I ran out to meet him through the wet snow and I could hardly let go of him once he’d dismounted. He looked so very weary. I could see that the battle had taken a toll on his spirits and his body. He stabled his horse and I got to work preparing a hot luncheon. We had the two rabbits I had snared in a good stew with some of the root vegetables from Thistledown Farm. I made a batch of biscuits and for the final course we had blueberry bread pudding. Charles declared himself well satisfied and we sat for awhile drinking hot tea while he described the battle. He said that although our men were outnumbered by the Americans, clever planning by our commanding officers and the help of the Indian warriors like White Wolf and his people turned the tide in our favour. He also said that the American army had tried to attack Montreal in Lower Canada but had been repulsed at Chậteauguay at the end of October so perhaps they know now that we are not to be easily conquered.

“Oh Addie, ” he said,”the fighting was so fierce and in all the smoke and cannon fire it was hard to tell who had the upper hand at Crysler’s farm. I can’t describe the sights and sounds, they were terrible. Young men moved down, enemy or our own, all cut down by deadly fire. There were screams, moaning, some men crying for water or their mothers or sweethearts. Poor John, I thought we would both return home unscarred, but then at the final volley from the enemy, he was done. Thank the Lord it was swift. He didn’t linger. A lot of our comrades lost legs or arms. We must pray that they recover. Some will not.”

Charles sat in silence a long while squeezing my hand. I cried for both of us.

Now Charles and Pirate have gone out to check on the animals and bring in some………

At this point the journal trails off into a sharp downward stroke of the pen and an ink blot as if the pen had been dropped.

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