by Julie Lawson
I know Papa spoils me a little but I never thought my brothers noticed, much less cared. When Papa comes home he always gives me a hug and says, “How is my favourite girl?” and my brothers either pay no attention or roll their eyes. But tonight Toby said something that hurt me to the bone. He said, “If the new baby’s a girl, you won’t be Papa’s favourite.”
His words hurt because I know he is right. How can a gangly, petulant, often bad-tempered 13-year-old ever compete with a baby?
Tuesday, March 13
Felt like summer all day today. Teacher said we’ll be having our Botany lessons outdoors in no time. Sketching, too. Hurray!
Sunday, March 18
Mama said she will not be helping at the Hospital any more — not because the work tires her too much but because the Hospital is moving up the line, closer to where the railway work is going on. Toby is disappointed, the heartless ghoul.
Thursday, March 22
Helped Mama make hot cross buns. Tomorrow I am going up the hill to pick trilliums to decorate the church for Easter Sunday. Anne is coming with me. I hope it does not rain.
Good Friday, March 23
Today was an exceedingly Good Friday because I got a dog! Here is how it happened.
Anne and I went into the woods and picked all sorts of trilliums and different kinds of ferns. When our baskets were full, Anne went home but I stayed to cut some balsam fir.
Now here is the good part. On the way back I decided to take a different trail — to see if I could find some Pussy Willows — and as I was walking along I saw a man pulling a dog by a rope. The dog was whimpering something terrible, trying to break away, and the man was carrying a rifle. Well, I knew in an instant what he was planning to do. I dropped everything and yelled, “Don’t shoot her!”
He stopped and said he had to shoot her because she was about to have pups and he had more than enough dogs already.
So I asked if I could have her.
“More fool you,” he said and handed me the rope.
He warned me she was an ill-tempered mutt but I did not believe it. The moment I untied the rope she was bouncing all over me, licking my face and wagging her tail and yapping with the joy of being rescued. I gave her a hug and called her Sheba. She followed me home and even carried a branch of balsam.
Mama took one look at Sheba and said I could not keep her — she was going to have pups in a matter of days, and what would we do with pups? Fortunately Papa was home. He said he would make a spot for Sheba under the house so she could have her pups and not be any trouble. Then we would see.
Sheba took to Toby and Andrew as readily as she took to me. Andrew said she looked like she had some Labrador Retriever in her, and maybe some Springer Spaniel, and she could be trained to be a good hunting dog for grouse and wild geese.
Papa said Andrew had a good point and even Mama looked at Sheba with a little more interest.
Saturday, March 24
Weather too fine for chores, but did them anyway. Then I went to Church to help with the Easter decorations. Everyone thanked me for the balsam fir because it smells so aromatic.
Went fishing with Toby in the afternoon. Andrew stayed home with his books, much to Toby’s disappointment.
The creek was boiling with trout and we each caught three. Sheba came, too. She is not the least bit ill-tempered.
Almost time for my Saturday night bath. It is an ordeal, but not as wearisome as washing, rinsing, combing, untangling, drying and brushing and braiding my hair. Mama will not allow me to cut it — it is long enough to sit on — and I can’t pin it up for another three years. Misery.
March 25, 1883
Easter Sunday
The Church looked beautiful this morning, dressed up for Easter with jars of ferns and trilliums in every window, feathery moss and evergreens all over the altar and garlands of balsam fir.
When we came home from church we had the most wonderful surprise — Sheba has four puppies!
Friday, March 30
Such a muddled month. Now March is going out like a lion instead of a lamb. Today we had wind and rain and more snow. But the snow did not last.
A carpenter working on a bridge fell and broke his back and died. It wasn’t Papa’s bridge, but another one.
I still have nightmares about Papa being hurt. Sometimes he is on the stretcher and Toby is crying that he can see his brains.
I pray very, very hard that Papa will be safe.
April 1883
Monday, April 16
Two weeks of cold, wet weather, school and chores.
I tried to knit a sweater for the Baby but kept dropping stitches, tried to embroider a bib but the threads got tangled, then tried to crochet lace around a handkerchief for Rachel. Every attempt was a failure.
Thank Goodness for Sheba’s roly-poly puppies! They love to play tug-of-war with a bit of cloth, or chase after a ball.
The littlest one curls up in my lap while I’m doing schoolwork — if I can sneak her inside without Mama knowing! I call her Callie.
Tuesday, April 17
I went to the Sentinel today and looked at Mr. Hagan’s map. When we first came to Yale, Mr. Onderdonk had the contract to build the railway from Emory to Yale and from Yale to Boston Bar. Now there are only a few miles left to go.
Mr. Onderdonk also got the contracts to build the railway through the upper part of the Canyon — from Boston Bar to Lytton, Lytton to Junction Flat, and Junction Flat to Savona’s Ferry, which is very close to Kamloops. There are gangs working on all those sections, blasting and bridging and laying track, but Great Godfrey, will they ever be done?
Mr. Hagan showed me the Rocky Mountains and the Selkirk Mountains and told me the railway gangs in those sections are working just as hard as the gangs in the Pacific Section, and before long the tracks will meet. But no one knows exactly where.
Wednesday, April 18
A grisly day!
I woke to a caterwauling so terrible it set my teeth on edge and my nerves shivering up a storm. Got up and went downstairs — Mama, Toby and Andrew were already there — and Toby said there was a panther under the house! Andrew got his rifle and said he would shoot it but Mama would not let him go outside. The rest of the night we had to listen to the unearthly screaming, not knowing what was happening but fearing the worst — and unable to sleep.
In the morning everything was quiet. There was no screaming and no sign of the panther, but we found a hole going a little ways under the house and blood all over. We think that the panther was trying to get at the puppies but he could only squeeze in so far before Sheba attacked and forced him to back away. He kept trying and she kept attacking and that is why the panther was screaming all night long.
Mama got hold of two hunters and they came with their hounds and the hounds took the scent. Toby and Andrew went along on the hunt, but I stayed home with Sheba. Poor, brave Sheba! She made it through the ordeal with only a scratch but what a time she had. At least her puppies are all safe.
The hunters came back in a couple of hours with the dead panther. He was a good size — almost ten feet long from tip to tail, and chewed up something fierce, thanks to Sheba. It is actually a good thing he was so big. If he had been any smaller, he could have got all the way under the house and reached the puppies’ hiding place.
Saturday, April 21
Today I went for a stroll with Anne along the Wagon Road toward Emory. We hoped we might have an Adventure but we did not — even though the Road goes right through the Powder Works with “Beware of Fire” signs at every turn. Not that I wanted a fire Adventure.
We had a cautious look around although we did not understand what all the buildings were about. There is the Chemical Works building — a big one with two storeys — and some buildings where they make nitro-glycerine and a Powder Magazine. I told Anne that was where I thought we had to live when we first came to Yale and she laughed.
We stopped in at the Foxes’ and put on a puppet show for Melissa
and her little brothers. This time we stuck pine cones on twigs and used leaves for the dresses. They were much lighter than railway spikes but they did not last long, especially in our vigorous fighting scenes. Mrs. Fox said we were more laughs than the Minstrel Show and should start selling tickets!
We tried dressing up Molly the cat, but all we got was scratches.
After we left the Foxes’, we went to Clara’s and helped milk the cows. We got more milk on our faces and clothing than in the bucket because Rusty was there and kept squirting us, the beast. Of course we squirted back. It was great fun.
Got home late and milky — but with a jar of thick, fresh cream. So Mama wasn’t too cross.
Monday, April 23
Great Godfrey! Is there ever an end to Spring Cleaning? Mama says, “Heave-ho, Kate! A job worth doing is a job worth doing well.”
But is this job worth doing? I do not mind a little dust or oil soot or mud, but Mama thinks otherwise.
Here are the chores for the coming week: wash all windows, mirrors and floors, pack winter clothes, polish furniture, scour walls, clean the pantry, clean the carpets, take down the winter drapes and put up the summer ones.
I would rather hammer spikes along the railway. At least I would be out of doors.
Thank Goodness it is time for bed. I hope Saturday never comes. That is the day we hang out the carpets and beat them black and blue — unless it rains. A hopeful thought.
Wednesday, April 25
Today the puppies started a new game — trying to chase Sheba! Round and round the chicken shed they stumbled, trying to catch her, but she was determined to have a rest. Then the rooster started chasing them! He looked so fierce and the puppies looked so funny, tripping over their big feet in their haste to scamper away.
I watched while I was washing the kitchen windows and it made the chore much more enjoyable.
Friday, April 27
Oh, those puppies! The draperies and blankets were blowing on the wash line — a little too close to the ground — and the puppies must have thought, Another New Game! They chased the draperies one way and the draperies chased them back! Then one of the blankets came loose in the wind, and before I could fix it the biggest pup grabbed hold with his teeth and the whole blanket came down on top of him! Off he went — a pink woollen blanket on chubby black legs — with the other pups in pursuit. Mama and I laughed so hard, even though the blanket needed another washing.
Monday, April 30
Hurray! Spring Cleaning is over and Mama has time for more important things — like making Ginger Beer. Now the whole house smells of ginger and lemons and brewer’s yeast — a sure sign that summer is on its way — and picnics!
May 1883
Tuesday, May 1
After school Toby and Andrew and I bottled the Ginger Beer and corked it. Four dozen bottles!
Wednesday, May 2
Heard Sheba growling in the night but paid her no mind, and after a while she stopped. But this morning when I went to collect the eggs I discovered that two of our hens are missing.
Papa came home for a funeral — another railway man was killed by falling rock.
Thursday, May 3
Tonight we shared a bottle of Ginger Beer. Mama declared it fit for use — with just the right amount of sugar — and we heartily agreed. No more tasting, though — we have to wait for the 24th of May. It will be even better by then.
Friday, May 4
A rooster was stolen from Anne’s yard.
Saturday, May 5
More missing chickens. Mrs. Murray down the road lost another one. I can’t imagine how, with her snarly dogs — unless the thief somehow charmed her dogs the way he must have charmed Sheba. Mrs. Murray says the thief must be caught and given a sound thrashing.
Whoever the thief is, he must be very brave and very hungry.
I wonder why he doesn’t ask for food? If he came to our door, Mama would give him something to eat.
Monday, May 14
The puppies are going on 8 weeks old so it is time to give them away. I pleaded with Mama to let me keep little Callie, but Mama was adamant. All the puppies must go.
At least Sheba can stay. Mama says she’ll make a good watchdog and keep an eye on the Baby. That Baby. I feel very sad. Couldn’t Mama let Sheba stay for me?
Adamant: firm and unyielding.
Tuesday, May 15
Here is a sketch of Callie.
She looks sad, as if she knows she is going away. I hope her new owner will love her as much as I do.
Wednesday, May 16
The puppies have gone to good homes. One to Constable Lewis, two to friends of Papa’s, and Callie has gone to the Schroeders!
Rusty came after school to take her. I picked her up and hugged her, and when she licked my face I started to cry. Rusty made me feel a bit better — he said I could go out to their farm and play with her whenever I liked. And he is not going to change her name.
Saturday, May 19
The chicken thief has been caught. It is a Chinese man who was working for the railway but then the work on his section finished and he and the rest of his gang were told to go. Mama said the poor man is destitute, but the law is the law and his case will go to trial next time Justice Crease comes to town.
Destitute: no money, no food, no place to go. Like the man we found in the snow who lost both his feet. I wonder if he went back to California. Maybe the chicken thief will go back to China. For now he has to stay in jail but at least he is getting food. I asked Mama what they ate in jail but she did not know.
Toby said it would not be chicken because there were no chickens left in town. Mama scolded him for being “insensitive to the plight of others.”
Insensitive: lacking feeling.
Plight: bad state or condition.
Sunday, May 20
Four more days until the 24th. The town looks so festive you would think Queen Victoria was coming to Yale to celebrate her birthday instead of staying in England. There are flags everywhere, from every single one of her nations. The streets are ready for the races and for once they are free of mud.
Monday, May 21
Today I received a letter from Rachel — written 2 weeks ago — and she is coming to Yale for the 24th. She arrives in 2 days. Her aunt is bringing her up from Victoria and her family is coming down from Spuzzum and they are all staying at the Cascade Hotel. Rachel is allowed to spend one night with me!
Mama said Rachel and her family can join us for our picnic supper. That means feeding twelve people so we will be very busy over the next few days. I do not mind heave-ho-ing when it has to do with picnics.
After school Mama sent me to Mr. Suitto’s fruit store for lemons. He has a fresh shipment all the way from California, and they will not last long with the holiday coming up. I bought a whole dozen for a quarter.
Tuesday, May 22
Came home and baked tea cakes and sponge cakes for our picnic. Mama said Anne can come with us, too.
Wednesday, May 23
More delicious chores! Picked rhubarb from the garden, chopped it and stewed it along with dried apples and currants. Then I de-boned the three chickens Mama cooked yesterday. She is going to make a galantine.
Anne came over after supper and we were right in the middle of squeezing lemons when who should walk in but Rachel. We had a grand time talking and laughing and making lemonade. Mama had to tell us to mind what we were doing and not forget the sugar.
Rachel told us all about Angela College and Victoria and how much she liked it and how Yale seemed small and dull by comparison.
After Anne went home, Rachel and I got ready for bed and talked for hours. She said she would be home in July and I could come and spend 2 whole weeks at Aspen Hill Farm. We could even take the horses into the hills and go camping.
Rachel finally talked herself out and fell asleep. But I’m too excited so I’m writing in my Diary. I can’t wait until July. I can’t wait until tomorrow!
Thursday, May 2
4
Hip, hip, holiday!
The celebration began at sunrise with a gun salute to honour Queen Victoria — so everyone got off to an early start.
Rachel went to the Cascade Hotel to join her family for breakfast and I spent the morning finishing our picnic preparations. Then I went to Front Street for the Sports. The town was bursting with merry-makers. There were hundreds of railway workers and people from up and down the line, and more “Hip, hip, hurrays!” for Queen Victoria than I could imagine.
The Sports began promptly at 1 oClock with the Indian Canoe Race. One canoe had ten Indians and one had nine, and the smaller canoe won the race. Then there was Hammer Throwing, Shot Putting, Horse Races, a Fireman’s Race and Tug-of-War.
Anne and Rachel and I competed in the Sack Race and the Girls’ Race. You were supposed to be under twelve, but since there were no races for girls over twelve, we were allowed. Rachel refused to go in the Leapfrog Race or the Three-legged Race. Too unladylike, she said — this, coming from Rachel! — but I did not care, and neither did Anne. We entered the Three-legged Race and won!
