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Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: August 1814

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: August 1814

A fictional account of the War of 1812 as told through the journals of a young woman, Adeline Price.

Sunday, August 7, 1814

Dear Janetta,

We have had no news of the war beyond an awful battle in a place called Lundy’s Lane, not far from the huge waterfall on the Niagara River. Hundreds of men lost their lives there when forces with the British army commander, Lieutenant-General Gordon Drummond, were attacked at the supper hour. William, who brought us this news from Fort Wellington, said that in the dark it must have been very difficult to tell one’s friends from foes. I asked William if there was any word about Robert or White Wolf, but there was not. All we can do is pray that they will return safely.

As for Bourke, thankfully no one has seen him or anyone of his description on this side of the St. Lawrence. Even so, Father and Henry keep the muskets beside them.

I had so hoped to have my sons back in our own home by now, but Blueberry Creek Farm still lies in ashes and I suppose we won’t see it until next summer. Oh how, I wish this ugly war was done and all of us living peaceful lives as we were before.

Regretfully,

Adeline

Sunday,August 14, 1814

Dear Janetta,

We took the babes to Johnstown in the wagon yesterday to have them Christened by the Reverend Bethune. I dressed them in their best baby robes and Mother gave me two of her shawls to wrap them in. They slept during the drive there and woke up wailing, so I had to nurse them before we went to the reverend’s place of residence.

Elizabeth and William are the boy’s Godparents. The boys were Christened Andrew James and Charles William. Andy and Charlie were very quiet during the Christening and I felt so proud of my little sons.

Afterwards we drove back home and had a late supper of garden vegetables and one of the old hens that Evvy had stewed with onions. I was very relieved that nothing untoward had happened because it is the first time we had ventured away from the farm with my babes. I did notice that Father had taken his musket and so had William. Thankfully, they were not necessary.

Happily,

Adeline

Tuesday, August 16, 1814

Dear Janetta,

I had a terrible shock in the earliest hours before dawn. We were awakened by a musket shot which seemed to be right outside our bedchamber. Father bolted down the stairs with his musket in hand and Henry hot on his heels, but much to our relief it was Arthur Randall, who, unknown to us, was keeping an eye on the farm for his brother, Robert.

Arthur apologized for frightening us, but he had spied a fox creeping into the hen house and had speedily dispatched the thief. Father thanked him and Mother made him a warm breakfast before he set out for his own home at the O”Meara’s.

Father says that the fox tail will make a handsome collar for mother’s winter coat and the rest of the pelt might make smart warm booties for the twins. It was kind of Arthur to keep watch but, perhaps it is unnecessary as no doubt Bourke has had enough revenge. I voiced that opinion,but Father said he was keeping his musket by his side, nonetheless and Mother nodded her head.

“Don’t forget for a moment, Addie, we are still at war.” Henry piped up and Evvy squeezed my hand.

My heart sank when I considered the dangerous world into which I had brought my sons. I wonder if things are as worrisome in dear old England.

Keeping you in prayer,

Adeline

Tuesday, August 30, 1814

Dear Janetta,

Today should have been a beautiful summer’s day. The weather was perfect, warm with a gentle breeze ruffling the grass and trees. The sky was pale blue with just a skiff of white cloud and as the rest of the family was out harvesting the furthest oat field, I was left at the house to look after the twins. I dressed them in their tiny lawn night shirts, nursed them and tucked them into their cradles under the shady maple near the well. Pirate wanted to go with Henry, Father, William, Mother and Evvy, but Father told him to stay with me and so he went to lay down and sulk between the two cradles.

Pirate has become an excellent watch dog now that he is almost fully grown. He dotes on the twins and is very proprietory. I therefore felt that it was an excellent opportunity to do some harvesting of the bounty of our garden. I took my reed basket and the musket Father had left for me and settled myself down between the rows of carrots and beans.

Now the garden has already produced many baskets of turnips, potatoes and beets which we have stored in the root cellar Father and William built on the garden side of our stone house. They dug it deep enough so that Father can stand upright in it. They lined it with stones and set down a flagstone floor and fashioned a wooden plank door for it to keep out the snow. Then Henry and Father made some shelves on two walls and a place for wooden barrels set on cedar fence rails to keep them off the floor. Mother put up crocks of wonderful currant and wild berry jams. The black berry, raspberry and wildstrawberries have been abundant this year. Evvy made jam herself from blueberries she harvested at my farm, which isn’t much now without a cabin.

I never thought it would ever be used for anything but produce. As I was working away filling my basket, the sun got warmer and I took off my straw bonnet to wipe my brow. I noticed that Pirate was standing up, the hair on the back of his neck straight up and he was growling. My skin began to prickle, though I was unable to see anything to disturb him.

I listened carefully and thought I heard far-off hoof beats coming in our direction. It might be White Wolf and Robert Randall returning from the battlefront but they wouldn’t approach without hailing us. I knew it couldn’t be anyone else as the harvesting was to go on all day and it was barely noon. Mother had prepared a lunch to take with them.

As well, I knew that Pirate would not growl at Arthur or any of the Randalls.

I had to protect the children. I ran over and snatched them out of their cradles and dashed to the house but midway there, I changed my mind. The house would be the first place anyone would look. I went instead to the root cellar, lifted up the door and scooted down the steps after sending Pirate to get Henry. I hoped he would understand and he seemed to as he ran off into the woods. I closed the door again and peered out a small knothole that father intended to fill.

It wasn’t long before I could hear a horse snorting and the swishing sound of someone dragging something through the long grass around the house. I peered out the knothole once more hoping to see a familiar figure. The figure I finally saw was familiar but not in a good way. The man’s back was turned but I could tell that the green military jacket he wore had no longer the appearance of care. It was missing trim and had a bedraggled hem needing patches. The hair was long and tied with a dirty ribband in a style long out of fashion. The beard was unkempt and his buckskin breeches were in sore need of cleaning. When he finally looked in my direction, my breath caught in my throat. It was Bourke, the same Bourke who had kidnapped me and menaced my life. It was the man who murdered my husband.

“I knows yer here, Adeline. I knows yer hide’n but yer ain’t goin ter get away this time. I got yer man and I will get yer.”

At that very moment Charlie began to stir and complain. Immediately, Bourke looked in our direction and it seemed my heart stopped beating. How would I protect my children? It was at that moment that I realized with horror that the musket was in the garden with my basket of vegetables.

“Hide’n in the root cellar I see! Clever gal! Very clever, but not enought to fool Jacob Bourke. Oh no…”

I needed a weapon, anything. While he was talking I went back down the steps and kicked a basket of onions over with my foot. Onions went rolling all over the root cellar floor. I put the twins wrapped in thin blankets into the righted basket and pushed it behind one of the barrels. Then I felt along the floor for a cedar stave to use to trip Bourke down the stairs or beat him.

The door above me began to open and I attempted to shrink further back into the shadows. Suddenly, I could hear Pirate barking from afar and voices shouting. The door slammed shut.

“Damn all, someone’s comin’” hissed Bourke, “Yer saved this time, but I’ll be back. Yer goin’ to pay, Oh yes.”

I could hear Bourke limping away and then the sound of hoofbeats as he fled. Pirate was barking loudly now and growling with a fierceness he’d never had before. I thought Bourke would be far away now, but I heard musket shots and decided to stay where I was until I knew who was in the yard. There were more shouts and I recognized a familiar voice.

“Adeline, are you safe? Addie, O God, why don’t you answer? If Bourke has touched one hair of your head or hurt the babies I will make him pay.”

I snatched up the basket with my two wailing babes and stumbled out of the root cellar. Robert darted forward and pulled Andrew wriggling and crying, out of the basket. He looked him all over, hugged him and handed him to me saying,”there there, little

fellow, here’s Mama.” Then he lifted Charlie out and I followed him into the house. White Wolf, inscrutable as ever, reloaded his musket, mounted his horse and rode away following the tracks left by Bourke’s mare. Not long after, Father, William and Henry came on the run after hearing musket shots and Pirate’s barking.

“Father, Robert and White Wolf saved our lives,” I gasped and I recounted to him as best I could, the morning’s narrow escape.

“I am very grateful to Robert and White Wolf for rescuing you, Daughter, but I think it was very brave of you to hide in the root cellar. I shall contrive a way to lock the door from the inside should you ever need protection there again.”

Mother and Evvy were horrified, when they returned on the run, to learn about my ordeal, but relieved to know that we were safe and well.

It wasn’t until he was assured that we were out of danger that Robert returned home to his parents. I knew how grateful they would be to have their son home whole and hale. At the same time, I was very grateful to God that Robert and White Wolf had chosen to return at that time.

I am so frightened of this horrible person that I cannot sleep, but the candle is guttering. I need to sleep for the babes arise in the “wee hours” as Mrs. Randall would say.

Goodnight dear friend,

Adeline

Wednesday, August 31, 1814

Dear Janetta,

In all the drama of yesterday, I never enquired about the war in the Niagara River area where Robert and White Wolf had been. Father today informed us that Robert was recovering from a bayonet wound that White Wolf had been tending since the Battle of Lundy Lane. I am glad our good friend is now home to recuperate.

Gratefully, Adeline

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: June & July 1814

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: June 1814

2012 by Mollie Pearce McKibbon

A fictional account of a young woman’s experiences during the war. Adeline is the daughter of James and Martha Price. James inherited the property from his older deceased brother, Andrew, who was an English soldier during the American revolution. Adeline was kidnapped by American spies and rescued during the attack on Ogdensburg. She married a British soldier, Sgt. Charles Houghton who was murdered by persons unknown a few months later. Adeline has always addressed her journal to her best friend back in England, Janetta.

The following excerpt is from Eveline Price’s journal.

Thistledown Farm

June 17, 1814

Dear Diary,

We thought we were going to lose Adeline in May after the shock she had finding her home destroyed by fire. Providentially, Mrs. Randall had come to visit Mother with the men who came to take Adeline to her property. Mrs. Randall got her immediately into bed and calmed down with some willow tea. She ordered Adeline to stay in bed for the next few days. Addie looked very frail, but we kept watch and fed her nutritious food. Gradually, she recovered her strength.

Today all our care was rewarded with the birth of Adeline’s twin boys. You can imagine our surprise! The two little fellows are very strong and although Adeline was in labour for many hours, they have arrived in the world healthy and glowing. Adeline named the first one Charles William and the second boy, Andrew James. She is so tired, but so very happy. Mother and Father are completely besotted with their two grandsons and I am once again, a very proud aunt. Henry is already working on another cradle, as we have only one on hand.

Happily, Evvy

Sunday, July 10, 1814

Thistledown Farm

Dear Janetta,

My two little angels are sound asleep beside me. If they begin to stir I push the rockers on their cradles with my foot and they get lulled back to sleep. I have them in their nappies as it is very hot today, but I have covered their cradles with a piece of very closely woven netting Mother had to keep the pesky mosquitos out. I am seated out under a shady maple and it is a blessed relief from the garden where I spent a good deal of time this morning picking beans and weeding. Andrew and Charlie seem to sleep much better under the tree than they do inside.

Elizabeth and William are here today as well. Elizabeth is taking Vickie’s nap time to mend some clothing. Vickie is eight months old and a veritable little rascal when awake. She is so much like our dear departed Victoria it is almost eerie. She has thick brown curls and merry blue eyes as well as amazing dimples. She has her father’s total adoration and Elizabeth sighs with exasperation at what William allows Vickie to do.

It is such a sorrow to me that my Charles is not here to see his beautiful sons. I know that he would have been a wonderful father, not at all like his own. Perhaps I am being uncharitable, judging a man from the words of one letter. If I ever meet him, which I sincerely doubt, I shall try to be more forgiving. He was grieving.

Contritely, Adeline

Dear Janetta,

My hands are shaking so badly, I can hardly hold the pen. White Wolf and Robert Randall stopped by today on their way to join the regiment heading to the Niagara area of Upper Canada. The war has been heating up again and although our brave navy has control in the Great Lakes once more, Jacob Brown, the American general, has crossed the Niagara River.

Robert and White Wolf have cautioned me to be on my guard, but they believe that they know who is guilty of Charles’ murder and the burning of our home. They had to tell me of their suspicions so that I could verify whether I was acquainted with the monster.

White Wolf had found some tracks in the forest around our land . He says that it appeared the person had been dragging one foot. This Robert passed on to some sympathetic Americans who do trade with both sides in this war. It was reported back through channels that a former army scout named Bourke had been drinking heavily and boasting about killing an English soldier at his very doorstep. When the man got up to leave the tavern he was dragging his left leg.

As Robert and White Wolf told me this my heart almost completely stopped. I suppose I must have looked very pale as Robert immediately put an arm around me and sat me own on the bench under the maple. I hadn’t realized I had stood up while they were speaking.

“Adeline,do you recognize that name?” asked Robert. “ Do you know anything about

this person?”

“Bourke, yes of course, Robert! Bourke was the man who kidnapped me and he was the one who held me at gunpoint during the battle in Ogdensburg.” I jumped up again and began crying.

“Bourke was the evil yellow coward that killed Charles? Why? Oh give me a gun and a horse and I will kill that blackguard as I should have the time I shot him.”

At this point my poor lambs began crying, wailing no doubt in fright hearing their mother so distraught. Robert immediately picked up Charlie and began soothing him and Evvy ran from the house to comfort Andrew. I was beside myself I am ashamed to say, but oh how I wanted to scream my fury!

It was Father who rushed out of the barn and finally calmed me down.

“Adeline, come with me right now,” he commanded and I obeyed. He walked with me to the other side of the garden, dried my tears and spoke to me sternly.

“Adeline, I know you have had a terrible shock,but frightening your babies and putting yourself into this hysterical state is not going to accomplish anything. Now, take a few moments to compose yourself and then you will be able to tell White Wolf and Robert what they need to know.”

I did what Father told me to do. I composed myself and walked back to my sobbing children with as much dignity as possible. By the time I returned Robert was putting Charlie in his cradle and Evvy passed a slightly hiccuping Andrew to me to cuddle. Then I described the hateful Bourke to White Wolf , Robert and my father as well as I could.

Robert thought that Bourke would be careful not to return for awhile, but he urged Father to keep a close guard on me and the rest of the family. Finally, Robert spoke straight to me,

“Adeline, please take no chances. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but with Brown causing trouble, we’ve just got to pitch in and help. “

I put my hand on his sleeve and said with sincere anguish, “Please come back safely. I couldn’t bear it if you or White Wolf were ….” My eyes filled with tears again, but I did not shed them.

“Adeline, don’t you fret. We will come back. We will capture Bourke. I will never let that man harm you or your little ones!”

So they rode away and I retreated to the house to feed my babies and shed my dammed up tears. Mother and Evvy changed the boys and sang them to sleep while I sat down to write this. Writing seems to help, but suddenly I am overwhelmed by the knowledge I may have been the cause of my own love’s murder.

Oh, Janetta!

Adeline

More Poetry

Love Notes

With us oh so short a time,

The songbirds of the spring;

They build their nests among the leaves,

And then begin to sing.

The air is filled with sweet excess

Of trebled, warbled trills.

They sing of longing, loneliness,

Love songs from every bill.

They meet, they mate and raise their young

Until the air is chilled,

Then they gather, gossip and fly away

So other ears might thus be filled

With their exquisite songs of praise.

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: April & May 1814

Saturday, April 16, 1814

Thistledown Farm

Dear Janetta,

Arthur and Kathleen stopped by today to bring me the contents of Charles’ army chest so that I may choose something to keep for our little one.

There wasn’t much to show for a soldier’s life – just some military clothing,a set of draughts, some letters, a Bible, a small painting of his sister, a pewter cup with his initials, a tortoise shell brush and comb, a clothes brush, his pocket watch, and some fine linen handkerchiefs with his initials. I decided to just take one of the initialed handkerchiefs. I would dearly love to keep the pewter cup or his pocket watch, but that is something his father is surely expecting to be returned. I did go through the stack of letters. My letters to him were all tied with one of my hair ribbons that he managed to wheedle from my possession when we first began to correspond. I kept those and put everything else back in the satchel in which they were delivered.

Arthur went off to find my father and left Kathleen to chat with me. It was awkward. She is terribly shy and everything I asked her she answered in monosyllables. I did gather that her father was hoping her child would be a boy and that he wanted to name the baby after his father, Zebulon. I asked her what name she preferred and all she said was that Arthur wanted the child named after his grandfather, Nicholas. I asked if she liked either name. She just shrugged.

Kathleen looks frail, drawn and extremely frightened of the whole experience. I do not think Arthur ought to have taken her out in the sleigh. Yes, Janetta, we still have snow. We had another thick coat of it yesterday, but I’m sure that this is Mother Nature’s final flurry. I wouldn’t mind if it kept snowing. Constable Breton will be coming to interrogate me as soon as the roads firm up. If I was truly writing to you I would ask you to pray for me, but some things I just cannot bear you to know.

Adeline

Monday, April 26, 1814

Thistledown Farm

Dear Janetta,

Evvy has a suitor. His name is Hector Hamish Hamilton, if you can imagine that!Robert and Hector came by to visit today, under the pretense of visiting Father. Robert spent a few moments with me in the sitting room by the fire, while Father took Hector out to see the new foal and Evvy prepared some refreshments. Robert apologized for imposing which I naturally waved off, but he informed me quietly, that Evvy had evidently made quite an impression on his friend, Mr. Hamilton, who had entreated most pitifully to be taken to visit such a pleasant spoken and sweet-faced girl. Evvy later confided to me that she thought Hector most entertaining, but beyond that she wasn’t persuaded that he was husband material. As she is only turning fifteen this summer, it is unlikely Mr. Hamilton, the clerk of the Forwarders will be the only suitor for her.

Mr. Hamilton, being in the Forwarding trade, had some very interesting information about the British naval blockade of the coast of America. It is causing much distress for the American government which has a big stake in funds it receives from taxing the shipping of goods. Although our boats are still being harassed by Americans on the St. Lawrence, most of our goods are able to get through. The biggest problem now is that the Americans occupy Fort York and have done since July last year. If only the war in Europe were over, perhaps with reinforcements we might prevail.

With hope,

Adeline

Monday, May 16, 1814.

Dear Janetta,

My hand is shaking as I am writing this. Janetta, I have been done a monstrous wrong. I don’t even know where to start, but I must think… It is a true nightmare!

Robert, his mother and father drove over in the wagon on Saturday with the constable from Johnstown. He asked me some questions about Charles and then we drove to Blueberry Creek. As we approached the cabin, we could smell smoke and Robert said that Arthur had likely begun a fire to take the chill off the cabin. Arthur and his wife have been looking after it from time to time.

As we drove through the deep woods trail and into the clearing Charles and William had prepared, we were dumbfounded by the sight of the destruction. Our cosy cabin was no more. All that remained of our dear little home were ashes and half burned logs and the chimney. There was nothing left of the linens I so carefully stitched, the china we had procured, the table that Charlie had made for us or the bed. The lean-to was smoldering. Robert and his father jumped down from the wagon and went over to examine the smoking remains. Constable Ike Breton, got out of the wagon and went to stand next to the two Randalls.

“This is most unfortunate,” the constable stated. I was bewildered and began to stutter. “But Arthur has been watching the property. How did this happen?”

Robert turned and came back to the wagon. He put his hand gently over mine and said, “Perhaps it was a lightning strike. Don’t get down, Adeline. There isn’t anything here now. We should get you back home. This is a terrible shock for you.”

Ike Breton was poking about in the ashes and he walked around the perimeter carefully searching. Suddenly, he called Mr.

Randall over to something he spotted leaning up against a pine.

“What is it?” called Robert.

“The door to the cabin with it’s hinges still attached,” answered Mr. Randall. “There is something scratched in the wood.”

Robert helped me down from the wagon and we both went over to look at the charred wooden door. There scratched deeply into the wood in crude letters were the words : “Yer man, yer home, yer next.”

“I don’t understand, “ I whispered. “What does it mean?”

Robert and the other two men looked at me gravely.

“I think it’s a threat,” answered the constable.

“We’ve got to get you back to your parents,” said Robert grabbing my arm. You are in danger?”

“But, I don’t understand,” I repeated. Rrobert hustled me into the wagon and jumped up himself. The two other men followed suit. Constable Breton spoke to me earnestly. “

“ Widow Houghton, I believe this clears your name. Whoever burned your cabin also killed your husband. He has now threatened your life too. You are in grave danger until we capture this brigand.”

It was then that I began to shiver. Mr. Randall put the warm firm wrap around me.

“Never mind, Adeline. I promise you that we will find Charles’ murderer.” Robert said. “I found a piece of green serge with a brass button when White Wolf and I went searching the first time. I’m sure it’s an American uniform button. We will turn this country topsy turvy searching I promise you. He won’t get away with it.”

I think that is the longest speech I have ever heard from Robert’s lips and it gave me comfort.

So dear friend, I have an enemy, a very dangerous enemy and I admit to being very frightened. Father and Henry keep a weapon at hand and mother won’t let me venture past the well.

Anxiously,

Adeline.

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: March 1814

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: March to April 1814

(a fictional account of the War of 1812 as recorded in Adeline Price’s Journal that she addresses as Janetta in memory of her friend in England)

Thistledown Farm

Sunday, March 13, 1814

Dear Janetta,

The icicles on the eaves are beginning to melt and I am looking forward to the day I can return to Blueberry Creek. William has promised to take me back as soon as he has finished felling the trees he needs to replenish their woodpile, but perhaps I will ask Robert. I know that I will not be settling there until after my little one is born, but I worry about our cabin and wonder if there need to be any repairs. Squirrels may have made nests in the chimney, although Arthur stops by with his wife now and then to warm the place up with a fire. Father suggested that I should rent the cabin to Arthur and stay here for the first year after my baby is born. I know it would be a practical decision, but I can’t bear to think of anyone else living in our home longer than Charles and I did together.

I have been knitting baby things with the lovely wool from my sister-in-law’s family farm. Mother has been working with her spindle and loom since January and Evvy and I have produced warm socks for Father and Henry, mittens and even vests. I have also made a pile of tiny booties, vests and even a wee coat for the baby. Mrs. Randall thinks that the baby will be born in early May. I have a sheep skin to put in the cradle for warmth over the small straw tick and a soft woolen blanket Mother made on the loom. I have talked to Elizabeth’s father about buying a ram and a ewe from him when I move back to Blueberry Creek and he has promised me two of this year’s lambs to raise for that purpose. I shall need to learn how to shear them, but it will be good to know that my baby will have warm clothes. I wonder will he or she have my coppery hair or Charles’ straw coloured curls. I spend many moments dreaming of this.

Mother’s latest letter from home mentioned that you were expecting also, Janetta. I wonder will our children ever meet one day.

Hopefully, Adeline

Saturday, March 19, 1814

Thistledown Farm

Dear Janetta,

Mother’s cat, Aesop, just dropped two mice at my feet. Henry scooped them up by the tails and took them outside for the kittens. Aesop is a great mouser, but not such a thoughtful father. Aesop is our house cat and his mate “Arabelle” lives in the barn with her six kittens. I have my eye on one of the kittens, a pretty marmalade kitty, to take home with me for a house cat. Aesop was one of Mrs. Randall’s cats she sent over a couple of years ago for a pet for Victoria, but he became Mother’s cat when Victoria died. Cats are as necessary here as they are in England. We ‘d get a lot of field mice in our flour and seeds if we didn’t have them.

Pirate doesn’t chase mice, but Henry and Father have been taking him hunting with them and they say that he is learning to flush out the grouse and pheasants even though he is not a bird dog. He sleeps on the floor on my side of the bed every night and growls when the wind or the coyotes howl. He doesn’t leave my side unless Henry whistles for him. Oh how I wish he could speak. I’m sure he saw the coward who killed my husband. I wish I was a man so I could track the villain down.

I am growing larger every day. This little fellow (I am sure its a boy) is very active. Mrs Randall is fairly “flummoxed” as she put it, to see how much the baby had increased. Mother was concerned that I was gaining weight too quickly, and wondered if we should get the doctor at the fort to examine me, but Ann, she insists that I call her by her Christian name now, spluttered that doctors know nothing about birthing, only sawing off limbs and bleeding patients.

Arthur and his wife are going to have a child soon too. Ann has concerns about Kathleen’s health. Kathleen was the youngest of six children, and frankly neglected by her only living parent. Her five brothers got properly spoiled and she grew up to be a live-in servant.

Now, I must crawl into bed. The candle is guttering.

God bless you,

Adeline

Sunday,April 10, 1814

Thistledown Farm

Dear Janetta,

Father got a letter from Constable Isaiah Breton informing him that as I am under suspicion for the murder of my husband, he is required by Magistrate Sherwood to conduct a proper investigation, beginning with my questioning and a trip back to Blueberry Creek Farm to see the lay of the land so that he may “visualize” the crime. Father got angrier with every word and Mother was crying. A nasty shiver went down my spine and I felt immediately ill. Father is wondering if we should hire a solicitor from Kingston, but we don’t have the funds for that. I know, because I am the one who does Father’s accounts. Oh, what a calamity I have visited on my family and tomorrow we bury my dear Charles.

With great sorrow,

Adeline

From Raindrops to Roses

From raindrops to roses,

That’s how nature grows,

So have no impatience

And don’t be morose.

A garden needs planning,

Good soil, tender care.

Raindrops and sunlight

Will all help prepare

The loveliest surprises,

The sweetest bouquet

And soon fragrant roses

Are then on their way.

If you prick your finger

To capture a rose,

It isn’t a nuisance

As you might suppose.

Things that have value,

Those we most desire

Can only be gained

By braving the fire.

Unfolding in beauty

Before your own eyes,

God’s greatest gifts

Often come in disguise.

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: February 1814

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: February 1814

A fictional account of a young woman’s experiences during the War of 1812.

Thistledown Farm

February 13, 1814

Dear Janetta,

At the end of January Father was summoned to Fort Wellington and told to bring me for an interview with the fort commander. Father told me that he would go alone and speak to the commander on my behalf . I appreciated his desire to shield me from the distress, but I felt that if I did not go myself it it would give a wrong impression. I know that Charles was respected and is greatly missed by his comrades and it wounds me that his friends would think the worst of me. Father and I walked through the barracks to the colonel’s office.

The colonel treated us with great respect. He offered me a chair and asked if I would care for some hot tea. I thanked him and said that tea would be very welcome. My father saluted and stood behind my chair until the colonel gave him leave to sit down as well.

The colonel picked up a letter from his desk and read it aloud. It was from Brigadier General Ambrose Houghton the Third, Charles’ father. The letter was cold and to the point. He and his family were distressed to learn of the death of their youngest son, not to have been killed nobly in battle, but under very suspicious circumstances while on leave from the army. He further stated that although Charles was involved with a woman (myself) and supposedly married, he had married in haste and without the permission of his father. Furthermore, although Charles was the youngest son, he would have come into a sizable inheritance held in trust from his great-uncle which would now be put back into a trust for his older brothers and sister. He concluded his letter by demanding (although that is not how he phrased it) that all of his son’s belongings be shipped back to England and that a thorough investigation into his murder be conducted immediately.

At every line, my dismay grew and, though I tried to hold them back, my tears flowed freely. Was this the letter for which my dear Charles had longed? I wondered how my very thoughtful and loving husband could be the son of someone so very unfeeling.

My father put his arm around me and bid me wipe my tears. I could tell that he was upset from the way that his lip stiffened and his voice deepened as he spoke.

“Am I to understand,Sir, that my daughter’s grief is now suspect? That now my family is to be investigated? What do we know about this man? You know how honourable our family is. My daughter is now a widow.”

“Of course, I don’t believe this, Price. , but this man is influential and my superior in rank. Houghton died under very strange circumstances and I must ask the constable in Johnstown to investigate.”

My knees were shaking as we left the office and I could feel the eyes of the soldiers boring into my back as we walked through the fort gate. Mr. Randall helped me up into the sleigh and we three drove home in silence as the shadows lengthened on the snow.

That night, as I lay in bed next to my sister, I cried and prayed as I never have before.

Your childhood friend,

Adeline

——————————-

Thistledown Farm

February 26, 1814

Dear Janetta,

Many times I have taken up my quill to write and I end up staring at the blank sheet until it disappears before me. The days are galloping by as this tiny being is making his or her self more obvious with small kicks. Mrs. Randall is pleased with the baby’s progress and keeps urging me not to neglect my meals. She needn’t worry as Mother is forever making me small tea trays and when she isn’t then Evvy is.

The war is continually in our minds, although my thoughts are centred mainly on myself these days and my wee bump. It has been quiet on the river and battle of Crysler’s farm was even celebrated at a grand ball in Quebec given by Governor General Prevost so we have been told. I don’t suppose I will ever go to a ball. Somedays when I am very melancholy, I wonder if I will ever be free of the shadows that surround me.

Sadly, Adeline.

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: January 1814

Thistledown Farm

January 5, 1814

Dear Janetta,

How differently this year has begun than I imagined. I have been a widow now for two months.Charles and I were looking forward to dancing the New Year in at one of the many fine house parties that are held in Johnstown. We had hoped that the war would be all finished by now, but still it drags on.

The Randalls had their New Year’s Eve party and we all attended it. I didn’t feel very much like celebrating, but Mother said that I needed to be among friends, not sitting alone in the cabin dwelling on my present “situation” as she calls it. She said that I could look after Vicky while Elizabeth and William danced.

I must agree, the outing did pass the time and it was pleasant to listen to the fiddle and tin whistle music. Vicky didn’t require much minding. She slept through the evening and only began fussing just as our midnight lunch was served. I spent my time tapping my foot to the music and accepting the condolences of all our neighbours.

The Randalls have a large stone and log house which they had trimmed with cedar and pine boughs. Their large stone hearth was blazing and a big cast iron pot filled with spiced cider hung over the fire on a hook. At one end of the room was a long table covered with dishes of foodstuffs, some brought by the neighbours and a lot of it made by Mrs. Randall herself. The aroma was enticing.

The fiddler, Mr. McNabb and his tin whistle player, Mr. Byrne were near the fire, while the dancers took the middle of the bare wooden floor. They formed two lines and do-si-doed up and down them. Mother leaned over to me at one point and said, “Thank goodness they haven’t taken up that “waltz step” that my mother wrote about in her letter. She says it is disgraceful and is spreading all over England. “

I was hard pressed to keep from smiling. I expect that one day the waltz will probably be considered old fashioned. Just then Robert appeared at my elbow.

“How are you, Mrs. Houghton,?”I was startled that Robert was being so formal.

“Robert, you’ve known me almost all my life. It is perfectly acceptable that you would address me by my Christian name,” I smiled.

“If you wish, Adeline. I just want to be proper.” he replied. I couldn’t help noticing how he was twisting something in his hands.

He cleared his throat and thrust an object out to me saying, “ I want you to have something for your little one, so I made this for you.”

He dropped a small perfectly formed spoon into my lap. It had a curved handle and was fashioned from hard maple. Then from his pocket, he produced a little wooden bowl. The two objects made an exquisite set. I gazed at them in amazement.

“Robert, how very lovely! Whenever did you have time to do this? How kind you are! Thank you, so much for thinking of me.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. My condition was fairly well-hidden under my loose woolen gown, but it wouldn’t be long before everyone would know.

Robert looked at me in alarm as the tears spilt down my cheeks.

“Oh Adeline, now I’ve made you cry! I am so sorry.” he stammered.

I put my hand out to rest on his arm and assured him that I was just touched by his thoughtfulness. “It doesn’t take much to make me cry these days,” I said, “ Your mother assures me that it is partly my condition. Please, don’t give it another thought.”

Robert got up as my mother returned to the settle. She placed Vickie, now dry and soothed, back into the blankets in the cradle Mrs. Randall had provided for the evening and I gently rocked it with my foot. I thrust Robert’s gifts into my reticule and smiled at him.

Just before midnight everyone was called to the meal table. Evvy brought Mother and I two heaped plates. Everything was delicious. We sat chatting and eating when suddenly, an altercation near the outer door drew our attention. One of the soldiers from Fort Wellington, a big blustery fellow known for his fondness for strong drink was toe to toe with, of all people, Robert Randall. Robert was flushed and his fists were clenched as he raised his voice and demanded that the ruffian leave.

“That’s right then, mate. You would jump to her defence!’ sneered the obviously drunken man. “I think it is damned obvious to the whole army just what happened to him. She shot him in the back!”

Oh Janetta, when I heard those words, I almost fainted. The soldier was talking about Charles and he was…

A horrible hush crept over everyone and I felt as though everyone was looking at me. In truth, no one would look my way.

“Get out of this house!”, growled Robert and he lifted his hand to physically shove the man out the door. This time, Arthur intervened. He grabbed the soldier by the arm and twisted it behind his back.

“Well, now, Pt. Pettigrew is feeling a bit under the weather, aren’t you me lad?” Arthur opened the door and shoved the man outside. Two of the man’s fellow soldiers swiftly followed him carrying the man’s heavy coat but as they left, he was heard to shout, “Murderer, that’s what she is!”

Immediately, my father came to me with William and Elizabeth. My mother was as pale as the linen on the table. My head began to swim and I must have fallen because the next thing I knew mother was fanning me and Mrs. Randall was offering me a sip of brandy.

I asked to be taken home and as swiftly as possible and so we quickly assembled our belongings and left with apologies to the Randalls.

With anguish,

Adeline.

Thistledown Farm

January 21, 1814

Dear Janetta,

It has been quite a while since I last picked up my quill to write in this journal. Mother has been keeping me very busy sewing baby things and mending the family work clothes. I think she has been attempting to distract my thoughts from my sorrow and my dismay. As I mentioned, some of the soldiers at Fort Wellington and some of the other settler families are suspicious of the circumstances around the death of my dear Charles. Now it seems, I have been cast, by some, into the role of husband-killer and to be honest, I can understand how strange it seems that someone would shoot Charles and manage to vanish into the air. As unlikely as it may seem, that is exactly what happened and my heart is breaking. I don’t want our child to grow up thinking that I could be a murderer. O Janetta, what can I do? His murderer is still at large.

Sadly,

Adeline

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: December 1813 Continued

Adeline’s War of 1812 Journal: A Fictional Account of a Young Woman’s Experience During the War of 1812

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

Raindrops to Roses

From Raindrops to Roses

From raindrops to roses

That’s how nature grows,

So have no impatience

And don’t be morose.

A garden needs planning,

Good soil, tender care-

Raindrops and sunlight

Will all help prepare

The loveliest surprises,

The sweetest bouquet,

And soon fragrant roses

Are yet on their way.

If you prick your fingers

To capture a rose,

It isn’t a nuisance

As you might suppose.

Things that have value,

Those most we desire

Can only be gained

By braving the fire.

Unfolding in beauty

Before your own eyes,

God’s sweetest gifts

Often come in disguise.

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