A Country of Our Own

by Karleen Bradford

  Cook was pleased and showed me how to make cranberry sauce after we soaked the cranberries in water all morning.

  Here is the recipe:

  1 teacup of water, 3 teacups full of cranberries, and a whole scandalous cup and a half of sugar.

  We mixed them all up, put them on the stove, and boiled them very gently until the cranberries popped open.

  Cranberries are very sour and that is why they take so much sugar, but I was aghast. Mam would never use that great an amount.

  All is in readiness for dinner tomorrow. Here is our menu:

  A boned turkey with a boned chicken inside it

  Cranberry sauce

  Smashed turnips (I could do without that!)

  Roast potatoes

  I could write a whole journal describing how Cook boned the turkey (with my help, I must add), and how all the remaining spaces inside the birds were filled with stuffing. It will be a masterpiece.

  For dessert there will be cake, the Christmas pudding that Cook made on Stir-up Sunday, and sweets.

  And elderberry wine! Not that I will get to taste that, I’m sure.

  Sad it is, though, that although it has been right cold there is no snow to speak of. Instead of a white winter wonderland, we have slippery, frozen mud to make our way through for the Christmas Eve services.

  No time to write more. I will describe it all after Christmas Day when I get the time.

  Thursday, December 27th, 1866

  Finally! Snow! And a fair amount of it. Mister Bradley was off to work this morning, but I’m sure he must have had a hard time of it, trudging through the drifts. The rest of us are tucked into the house, trying to stuff up cracks and keep the drafts out, and keeping the kitchen and the parlour fires burning.

  Jean-Louis turned up with firewood this morning, bless him. He had the horse pulling the sleigh for the first time this year. James had gone off with Mister Bradley, so Jean-Louis carried several loads of wood right into the house for us. Cook was so grateful she gave him a package of leftover turkey to take home to his family. By the look on his face I knew that it was much appreciated. I fear his Christmas was not as sumptuous as ours.

  Then Briney turned up with the water and that was welcome too, as most of the water we had on hand was frozen. He had the barrels covered in blankets. Cook also gave him a package of turkey, and I am sure he was just as grateful.

  It is fearful cold in my room and I am bundled up in my quilt. Sophie is on my lap, purring, and we are both warming each other. My fingers are half frozen, but I must write all about our festivities.

  On Christmas Day, Cook and I had everything ready when Mister and Missus Forrester arrived after church. While they were shown into the dining room, Bessie came into the kitchen and we set to work.

  James served at the table, Fanny kept the babe quiet upstairs. The meal was grand. A feast it was. The pudding was just as delicious as I had hoped, and I got a generous piece of it.

  When all was done they moved into the parlour where we had a roaring fire burning. James served them the elderberry wine in there. Cook finally sat down to rest — her ankle that she turned last month was bothering her — and allowed herself a glass of the elderberry wine as well. Bessie and I did the washing up. A fair job that was, but we were so happy to have the time together that we didn’t mind one bit. When we finished, Cook gave us each a cup of eggnog. That was delicious. I savoured every sip, and it made me quite dizzy.

  All went well, although we did nearly have one crisis. James had brushed Brutus till his fur shone for the occasion and Missus Bradley had tied a red bow to his collar. He behaved very well for once and was lying quietly at the dining room door when Sophie decided that she should make an appearance too. She walked into the room, tail waving, and passed right by Brutus’s nose, fully aware that she was taunting him. He rose to the challenge and scrambled to his feet, fur bristling. Thanks be, at a sharp word from Mister Bradley, he settled back down, although he was scowling as only a dog can scowl, and I rushed to pick Sophie up and shut her back up in my room, but it could have been a disaster.

  I wonder how Mam and Da and the little ones celebrated Christmas. I have not been able to stop thinking about them. Our Christmasses were never so grand as this one, but oh, how we enjoyed them. We would go to Mass on Christmas Eve and then come home to a cup of hot cider. No turkey for us, but Da would usually manage to buy us a good chicken and no one can roast chicken as well as Mam. I miss them all so much!

  Monday, December 31st, 1866

  The last day of the year. What will 1867 bring? I wish I could believe that it would bring a chance for me to visit home, but that is not likely.

  January 1867

  Tuesday, January 1st, 1867

  Yet another scouring out of the house to greet the New Year spick and span.

  Thursday, January 3rd, 1867

  What the New Year has brought me is a horrible cold. I am so miserable I can do nothing, not even write in this journal.

  Thursday, January 17th, 1867

  A full fortnight I’ve been ill and confined to my bed. Today I was able to get up for a bit, but I’m so weak I have to sit down every minute or so. I have not ever been so ill, not even when I had mumps. Cook was so good to me, although I thought her remedies would be the end of me. The cold went into my chest and I coughed so much I thought I was turning inside out. She made mustard plasters and kept them on my chest, and right nasty things they are. Cloth bags filled with a paste made of mustard and heated up as hot as I could stand it and then some. Near burned my skin off, they did, and I near died with the smell and the heat of them, but I guess they did the trick, as I did get better.

  Monday, January 21st, 1867

  This New Year is becoming worse and worse. No sooner had I recovered from my illness than I came down with a toothache. Missus Bradley took me to the dentist and he pulled the tooth. I will not even try to describe the pain of that. He gave me brandy to ease the pain, but all that did was make me sick. I was abed again for a day recovering. Back to work today, but still feeling weak and wobbly and my mouth hurts so that I cannot eat.

  It is snowing again and I am feeling so miserable I wish I could just curl up in my bed, draw the quilt over my head, and do nothing but cuddle Sophie and Meggy until spring. What a dream that would be!

  Wednesday, January 23rd, 1867

  This evening Mister Bradley brought home news from London. The British North America Act is coming along and no one is opposing it, so it does seem as if everything will work out, but there was also unsettling news. Mister Macdonald was seriously burned in his hotel room when a candle set fire to a chair he was asleep in. He is said to be attending the sessions of the conference nonetheless, but in great pain.

  Monday, January 28th, 1867

  I was well enough to go to Mass yesterday. It snowed again on Saturday, so the walking was difficult, but I was so sick of being in the house I was determined to go and I’m glad I did. Today is sunny and bright. The city looks almost pretty with all the mud covered in a layer of white and the snow sparkling in the sunlight.

  I am feeling much better. It was Bessie’s free day and she came by. She has great plans to go skating on the river now that it has frozen. I do not have skates, though, so don’t fancy I will be able to do that.

  Tuesday, January 29th, 1867

  It looks like I’m going skating after all! Missus Bradley heard me telling Bessie I didn’t have skates here with me, and didn’t she offer to lend me hers. Said she wouldn’t be using them this winter. She thought they might fit and they do. Almost. They are a little big, but I have wadded some cotton up in the toes and that helps. We’re making plans to go on Saturday next, as it’s a free day for both Bessie and me. I’m so excited, I can barely wait. Bessie says she is a good skater. I am not, but I did skate a bit in Québec City, so I can at least stand up and not fall about too much.

  Wednesday, January 30th, 1867

  Briney is coming too. He’s going to borro
w his big brother’s skates.

  February 1867

  Saturday, February 2nd, 1867

  Well, we went skating, and what a tale I have to tell now.

  Just as we were getting ready to go, Jean-Louis turned up. Briney had invited him to come along with us, so we were a merry foursome that set off. It snowed this morning, but not much, and by the time we left it had stopped and the sun came out. It was not even too cold.

  We went down to the river behind the Parliament Buildings and put on our skates there, leaving our boots hidden behind some rocks. I was doubtful about doing this, as I dearly needed those boots and could not afford to replace them if they were stolen, but Briney assured me that he did this all the time.

  “There are probably boots hidden all over the place around here, if you wanted to search them out,” he said.

  We had a fine time, although those two foolish boys were right idiots. We were skating along quite happily and enjoying the sun and the breeze out on the river, and I had only fallen twice, when Briney found a stick and began batting a rock around. Well, of course there was nothing for it but Jean-Louis had to find a stick and start battling Briney for possession of the rock. That was the end of our quiet, peaceful skate. The two of them wouldn’t let up their foolish game. They tried to encourage Bessie and me to find sticks and take part in it, but we were having none of it. We skated on, but the boys got more and more excited and carried away.

  Suddenly, Bessie and I realized that they were skating perilously close to the middle of the river. We could see a patch of open water right close to them, where the current was the strongest. We yelled at them, but they were making so much noise they couldn’t hear us. I started to skate out to them, to warn them, but Bessie held me back. We shouted some more and finally they heard us.

  “Water!” I screamed and pointed. “Open water!”

  At that they looked up and realized where they were and the danger they were in. Didn’t they just race back then, but even so they never let up batting at the rock all the way.

  “The pair of you will be the death of me!” I fair screamed at them when they at last reached safety. “Are you both daft?”

  Oh, I was that riled!

  They had the grace to look shamed, but that only lasted a moment or two and then they were back at it again. Nonetheless, we had a grand day and the boots were still there when we returned.

  We all walked back to Mister and Missus Bradleys’ house and Cook made us hot cider to warm us up.

  Wednesday, February 6th, 1867

  Terrible news today. Mister Bradley read out from the newspaper that a lady from town disappeared during a skating party last evening and is feared drowned. It seems that her party skated far down the river and it began to get dark before they could get back. Somehow or other this poor woman got separated from the rest of them. Her friends searched and searched for her as long as they could, and searchers went out again as soon as it was daybreak, but they could find no trace of her. It’s said that she must have fallen through and the current carried her body under the ice.

  I shudder when I think how close those foolish boys came to the same fate.

  Monday, February 11th, 1867

  Dull, clammy weather.

  Wednesday, February 13th, 1867

  Not so cold today. Still, spring seems so far away.

  Monday, February 18th, 1867

  What a horrible month February is! The wind is enough to drive a body mad.

  Wednesday, February 20th, 1867

  I am that discouraged I can barely bring myself to write in this journal. If the sun does not shine soon I think I will break down in tears.

  Monday, February 25th, 1867

  Fanny is off home to visit her sister and I am nursemaid again. I had baby Jonathan to myself and I made the most of it. I love nuzzling my face into his neck and just breathing in the smell of him. There is nothing like the smell of a clean and freshly washed babe.

  Of course there is nothing like the smell of a babe who has soiled himself either, but I suppose we have to take the bad with the good.

  In any case, for two days I have revelled in caring for him. Missus Bradley says I am a wonderful nursemaid. And why wouldn’t I be? I had enough practice with the little ones at home when they were new born. But caring for Jonathan makes me think about baby Timothy. He will grow up without me ever knowing him!

  Now I’ve made myself homesick again. Will I ever get over missing home and my family? I’m so far away from them, and all their life is going on without me. I suppose I’m missing them even more because it was little Paddy’s birthday today and I was not there to make him his favourite treat, apple hedgehog, made out of dried apples and sugar boiled up together. After it cooled, I used to stick almond slivers all over it to look like the quills of a hedgehog, and then decorate it with gobs of whipped cream. Oh, how he loved it.

  I expect all the family was there to help him celebrate. Probably even Mary Margaret, there with the rest of them, while because of her I am so far away and so alone. It is still hard, sometimes, not to be resentful.

  Thursday, February 28th, 1867

  The last day of February, the Lord be praised. If this had been a year when there was an extra day in this wretched month, I could not have borne it.

  I am so sad and lonely. I cannot think of anything but home. This morning I was so preoccupied that I dropped a whole bowl of porridge at breakfast time. Clumsy again. Cook scolded me, as well she might, and I just dissolved into a flood of tears. I cannot believe that I will ever be happy again. Foolish thoughts, I know, but I cannot help myself.

  Cook has an earache, which doesn’t improve her temper. She is walking around with an onion poultice in the ear. I hope it helps.

  March 1867

  Monday, March 4th, 1867

  We had a dreadful accident today. Much worse than dropping a bowl of porridge. And this time I came out of it a hero rather than a ninny. I’m still not quite certain how.

  I was throwing out the slops after breakfast when I smelled smoke. I looked around and sure enough, smoke was coming out of the cowshed. At that moment Daisy began to low and I could hear her thrashing around. I ran over to the shed and threw open the door, only to be greeted with a wall of smoke that blasted me in my face. Daisy was distraught.

  I dashed in to try and lead her out, but I didn’t have a rope with me and that foolish beast was having none of it. I think she’d got it in her head that I was the cause of it all. She backed away from me as far as she could and thrashed her head from side to side. I could not get a grip on her.

  At that very moment I saw flames licking at the back wall. You would have thought that would send the cow out the front, but not a bit of it. It just increased her frenzy. Finally, in desperation, I grabbed onto her ear with one hand and threw my other arm around her neck. I pulled as hard as I could, but she still wouldn’t do my bidding. Then I remembered something I had heard about leading horses from a flaming barn — their eyes should be covered. I whisked off my shawl and bound it over her eyes, then resumed my pulling. At last she gave in and let me drag her out, quite literally by the ear.

  By the time I got her out, James had noticed the smoke and was there with a bucket of water, and Cook not far behind carrying another. They ran back for more and were so enthusiastic in putting out the blaze that they did not quite wait for the cow and me to emerge completely. We both got a soaking. Not too bad for Daisy, but I did not appreciate it.

  Be that as it may, did Mister and Missus Bradley not come down into the kitchen and praise me as a hero?

  Much better than being scolded as a dolt who spills porridge.

  Mind you, once the whole affair was over and the fire had been safely put out, Cook could not help laughing at me for dragging the beast out by the ear.

  Wednesday, March 6th, 1867

  Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. What should I give up for Lent this year? Truth be told, I do not have that much that I can
spare anything. And I have been that sad lately, I do not wish to make my lot any harder than it is.

  That is not a very Christian way of thinking, though. Surely there is something.

  Later

  I will give up tea. Tea is very comforting to me and I will miss it.

  Sunday, March 10th, 1867

  First Sunday in Lent. Our priest spoke about sacrifices for Lent and how much greater was the sacrifice of our Lord in giving us His Son to save us from our sins. It made me think my small sacrifice of tea is not so great after all.

  Still, I will miss it.

  Wednesday, March 13th, 1867

  Briney says the sap is beginning to run. He and his younger brother Kevin are going to tap some trees and make maple syrup. He will take me out to see and taste it on my next free day.

  Mister Bradley continues to give us news as to how negotiations are progressing in London for the passing of the British North America Act that will give us our constitution. It has passed the House of Lords and on March 8 passed the House of Commons.

  The most surprising news, though, is that Mister Macdonald has been wed in London! The lady who is now his wife is Agnes Bernard, the sister of Mister Macdonald’s private secretary. Everyone in Ottawa is agog over the news and waiting to see what she is like when Mister Macdonald brings her back here.

  Friday, March 15th, 1867

  We are going to Briney’s sugar bush Saturday next.

  Friday, March 22nd, 1867

  Didn’t Jean-Louis turn up with a whole barrel of maple sap today! Cook is going to boil some up and show me how to make maple-sugar pie.

  Saturday, March 23rd, 1867

  Briney came by this morning to take me out to the sugar bush he and his brother have tapped. He was furious when he saw the barrel of sap beside our kitchen door that Jean-Louis had brought. I do believe that fool of a boy was jealous.

  In any case, I placated him somewhat by going with him for the day and we had a grand time. I had never seen trees tapped before, although I love the syrup that the sap makes when it’s boiled up.