Mother arrived in Toronto two weeks after she left St. Louis, and
surprised my sister Nancy, in a pleasant home. She had married a
prosperous farmer, who owned the farm on which they lived, as well as
some property in the city near-by. Mother was indescribably happy in
finding her child so pleasantly situated, and took much pleasure with
her bright little grandchildren; and after a long visit, returned
home, although strongly urged to remain the rest of her life with
Nancy; but old people are like old trees, uproot them, and transplant
to other scenes, they droop and die, no matter how bright the
sunshine, or how balmy the breezes.
On her return, mother found me with Mrs. Elsie Thomas, where I had
lived during her absence, still sewing for a livelihood. Those were
the days in which sewing machines were unknown, and no stitching or
sewing of any description was allowed to pass muster, unless each
stitch looked as if it were a part of the cloth. The art of fine
sewing was lost when sewing machines were invented, and though
doubtless they have given women more leisure, they have destroyed that
extreme neatness in the craft, which obtained in the days of long ago.
Time passed happily on with us, with no event to ruffle life's
peaceful stream, until 1845, when I met Frederick Turner, and in a few
short months we were made man and wife.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42