CHAPTER 55 WE MOVE TO "HILLCREST" - 1895
Shortly after this another young man came to make his home with us, the son of Mr. Pennington of Halifax, whom we had visited when in that part of the country. He was also named Will4, but he was not at all like our nephew. He was tall and good looking, but delicate, and never seemed to have strength or energy. He came out of a house full of little children5 and made a good big brother to our little flock. He was also very fond of animals and took a real pleasure in our menagerie. But his coming and the prospect of an addition to our own family before very long made us feel the necessity of a larger house. We looked here and there and saw over various houses, but none seemed to be suitable. I was too poorly to take much interest in it and felt a move was almost beyond me. At last a startling proposition was made to us. There was a large, handsome house on the base line6. It stood in its own grounds and looked over the lake. The view was wonderful. Four acres of garden surrounded it. It stood on the top of the hill and 10 acres of pasture land covered with trees were put at our disposal. The house contained a large dining room 30 by 18 feet, a drawing room in proportion, a library and an immense kitchen, pantry, butter pantry, laundry, etc. Upstairs were four very large bedrooms, and in the back hall a bath room and two more bedrooms. There were also two dressing rooms. The owner had been forced to sell it and the purchaser could not rent it7. Would we take it at $20 a month? It was a tempting offer. Not that we desired such a large house, but the ground and pasture land would make such a wonderful playground for the children. My husband at once announced his intention of keeping a horse and I begged for a cow, which Will Pennington undertook to milk and care for.
I cannot say I was keen upon moving. I saw what a care the garden would be and felt so unwell that to face a move seemed beyond me. However, all the family urged it upon me and declared that the moving should be done without my having anything to do with it. Of course I knew that was impossible, but I appreciated the help offered and also thought that the large drawing room, which we did not intend to furnish, would make an admirable room for the children's meetings. Alas, this never came to pass, for when we began very few children came, and shortly after events which I will shortly relate quite put an end to them. But I should like to remark here that my experience has been almost always that work for the Lord done in a humble manner and often at cost to oneself is more effectual than that which is prepared for on a large and more comfortable scale.
It was suggested that we should spend June at Mrs. Meadows' and after the "rest" there I might feel better. Perhaps some people would have hardly called it a rest, with the entire charge of four small children, but I always enjoyed being there and was only too pleased to be released from cooking and housekeeping. At the end of the month we returned. Jack had bought his horse, a beautiful but very spirited creature, and we soon procured a cow. We did not indulge in much new furniture but spent a little of my grandmother's legacy on carpets.
My mother had rented her house to our dear old friend Lady Robinson for the summer and she came over to spend the time with us. She occupied what Mr. Irwin used to call the "ten acre lot", a very big room at one side of the upper hail. Dorothy and Sommie had a room back of hers. We bad a beautiful room, far ahead of anything I have enjoyed before or since. It had a large bow window looking over a wonderful expanse of woodland and lake. One never wearied of looking at it. A small dressing room connected this room with the nursery, which had the same lovely view. Christopher slept in a very narrow little bed in this dressing room. Afterwards he made himself a bed, much to his pride and mine. It was a little ricketty and painted yellow, but what could you expect from seven years of age!
It certainly was an ideal house for children, if not for their mother. How they loved that pasture and what happy hours they spent there with Edie. It was "interesting" they felt; trees, grass, hills and wild flowers, and only occupied by the one cow. The horse was a great interest to my husband, but I must confess a source of nervous terror to me; he had a fashion of bolting past anything that frightened him, which was not reassuring to anybody in poor health.
I remember so well, driving in from Mrs. Meadows', when we returned from the farm. We were passing the cemetery and Jack said: "Thank God we have no loved one there". "Oh, don't say that," I said. I do not know why it grated on me. Now that four of our best beloved lie there I often think of that peaceful spot and wonder if I too shall share their rest, or will it be in a foreign land, or better, far better, will the Lord come and take us altogether? (She lies in "a foreign land"8, her bones scattered by the Communists. G. Christopher Willis.)
In front of our new house was a large, beautiful verandah, and there I spent most of my time during July. There I used to read, or try to read to the children every day after dinner. I say try, for Helen made it almost impossible; not that she was naughty but so keen to join in everything that was done. She was only two years old, and her attempts at saying hymns and verses so irresistibly funny that the older ones did nothing but go into fits of laughter. "When little Amel Oke, and heard his Maker's voice9," was one favourite of hers. Dear little Helen, how sweet she was. She had a dark blue frock and white pinafore, and with her dark curly head and rosy cheeks was fascinating.
I shall never forget the moonlight from that verandah, shining over the broad expanse of the lake. I hated it; it seemed so cold and unfeeling, and I was so needing sympathy and love. I do not know how I got through those weary days and sleepless nights, but the end came at last. On a Sunday morning early our little Elizabeth came, but just to pay us a little visit10. On Monday at noon the Good Shepherd took her home to a better land. I was terribly ill, but my life was spared to my husband and little ones. I remember my dear Dorothy throwing herself into my arms sobbing and saying: "It was such a beautiful secret and now it has come to nothing," but I will let her speak for herself.
"It was August, and a tiny new baby came to our house, but there was not the joy that we generally had over a new baby, for Mother told me through her tears that the doctor said that the little one could not live. How grieved and disappointed I felt, for Mother had told me beforehand that it was coming and had let me see her make the dear little frocks and nightgowns for it. And this dear little tiny thing must die. And so the next day she went back to God. She was laid in a tiny coffin and Granny and Daddy and Christie and I went with the coffin in a cab to the cemetery11."
That little funeral service was held in my room. Dear Mr. McMahon12 came and he gave out that hymn, "Blest Father Infinite in Grace". I could not bear to look at or sing that hymn for years. I wanted comfort and saw none in it; it seemed so cold to me. In the middle of the service kind Dr. Clemesha13 came in and leant over me as I lay there crying quietly. "You must not fret," he said, "for the sake of your other children. I know what you are feeling, and the loss is one you can never get over, but you must be brave." I cannot tell you what good those kind words did me. If only people would leave off explaining to you why it is unnecessary to fret, and give a little sympathy instead, how much more good they would do.
That was a very sad time to me. People would say: "You must remember the four dear little children you have," and "you did not have her long enough to learn to love her". A mother does not learn to love nor, I think, a father either. However, I well remember how the comfort came at last. It was a verse in Jeremiah, I think: "Can a mother forget her sucking child14". That was what the Lord thought about it. He did not expect her to forget for a moment. His was true sympathy; there was One Who knew and cared. How it soothed and healed my wounded, troubled spirit. I felt. very much for little Helen, who when she heard she had a little sister, was overjoyed and got a lapful of toys and said: "Now get down on the floor and play with me". Alas, she never had that little companion, who would have meant so much to her.
I was a long time getting better. Kind Lady Robinson15 used to come and sit with me often, and before she went home she said: "Now as soon as you are able for the journey, you must come and pay me a visit and bring Dorothy with you, to play with Gwen and Julia16". This was a great cheer to me.
4 Will Pennington (b. 1876 d. December 31, 1896). 1881 Canada Census - www.mirror.org/groujps/genealogy/census.html) & The Days of My Pilgrimage ch. 60, p. 324
5 By 1895 Will had 7 siblings. (1901 Census-Canada-http://automatedgenealogy.com/census).
6 175 Dorset Street West, Port Hope, Ontario.
7 Mr. Gould bought Hillcrest from William Gooderham for $5000 in 1866. (Krista Taylor, Archivist, Ganaraska Region Archives).
8 Anna Frances (Boulton) Willis was buried in Yeung Kong, China.
9 "When little Samuel woke, And heard his maker's voice..." (http://docsouth.unc.edu/imls/sabbath/sabbath.html).
10 Elizabeth Willis (b. 18 August 1895, d. 19 August 1895).
11 Elizabeth Willis is buried in the Port Hope Union Cemetery - Row 50 Plot 80N.
12 Thomas H. McMahon (b. about 1862). (1891 Canada Census - http://www.ogs.on.ca/ogspi).
13 Dr. Hohn W. Clemeshaw (b. about 1843). (1891 Canada Census - http://www.ogs.on.ca/ogspi).
14 Isaiah 49:15.
15 Lady Elizabeth (Arnold) Robinson
16 Lady Robinson's granddaughters, Clara Gwendolin Cayley (b. about 1884) & Julia Isabel Cayley (b. about 1885), daughters of Francis Osmund Cayley (1856-1921) & Marion "Mim" Louisa (Robinson) Cayley (1858-1943).
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