family.

The Liggett Family

Joseph Liggett & Elizabeth Drummond by Bessie W. Hoar

I was born in 1881 in Madison, Indiana -- the third daughter. I must have been a great disappointment to my parents who already had two girls and no boys. My parents had come from Ireland after they were grown up. Both came to Pennsylvania.

My father, Joseph Liggett, came out to his eldest sister, Jane, who lived there. Some little time after, the pretty Elizabeth Drummond (Lizzie) came to visit her cousins, Clark's, who happened to live in the same district as Aunt Jane. What more natural than that these two young Irish people, both from County Tyrone should on meeting fall in love and marry.

I have often heard them speak of the pleasant, indeed jolly times they enjoyed there. Father's great ambition as far as a real trip was concerned, was to go to Pennsylvania, though mother always wanted to go to "The Coast." Poor dears! Neither of them ever realised those dreams. From the time that Aunt Jane died, Father ceased to speak of ever seeing Pennsylvania.

When Father and Mother married they came to live in Madison, Indiana. In that city lived Father's uncle, a brother of his father, Samuel Liggett (Uncle Sam). He had two daughters, Anna and Margaret -- teen-age girls when Mother first saw them. Great-great Uncle Sam must have been a wonderful man. Father came nearer to being a son to him than anyone else and I believe they loved each other very much.

After some years in Madison, Father and Mother decided they would be obliged to leave there as Father's health was suffering badly from the heat. As his sister, Kate Weldon was in Canada they wrote her and her husband, George Weldon, about prospects. They, thinking it would be perhaps better to come and see the country before settling said "Don't bring anything with you." Father and Mother, not feeling they had capital to travel around looking for a location, thought they meant they could buy here more economically than shipping their furniture.

So they sold their furniture in their pretty little home and it went for very little. I have heard Mother say she gave away the chair she rocked her babies in, for she could not bear to sell it, then did without one for years.

In 1882 they arrived in Grenfell, where Weldon's lived. Father and Sadie came in July, Mother with Annie and me came later in the year -- October or November I believe. I was then thirteen months old. Sadie, two years older had come out previously with Father. Mother had brought five year old Annie and the baby, Bessie, with her. [Beth questions this -- how could Grandpa have cared for a three-year old and worked on the railway? In Boyce Gaddes' letter (p.87) he mentions that his Aunt Cass played with the three little Liggett girls on their train trip to the west in 1882.]

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As I am writing this that my family may know more of their antecedents than they might otherwise know, I would like here to go further back.

Father, son of John Liggett, was born January 1, 1846, in Fintona, County Tyrone in Ireland. Father was one of a large family. His father John Liggett, was a farmer owning his own land. His mother was not spared to see her family grow up, being taken from them when Maggie was a mere baby. The years slid by and Jane married John McCoy. The young couple decided to make their home in far off America. They settled near Mercer, Pennsylvania. Later, John Liggett, my grandfather, died. Not long after this my father, Joseph Liggett decided to go out to Mercer, Pennsylvania, where his sister Jane McCoy lived. He was twenty-one when he emigrated from Ireland.

I am not clear about when other members of father's family came out to the U.S.A. I believe George Weldon emigrated leaving his fiancée, my father's sister Kate, to come later. He was a telegraph operator. Later Uncle Andy came to the States. When Aunt Kate came, I believe she lived with Uncle Andy, also a telegraph operator. Aunt Kate learned the operating, also the youngest sister Margaret (Aunt Maggie), who came out, became an expert telegrapher. Uncle George and Aunt Kate spent several of their early years of married life at Humboldt, where their little girl "Birdie" died. She was buried in Prince Albert Cemetery - the first white child to be buried there. Uncle George was Government telegraph operator at Humboldt. When he left for Grenfell, Alfred Lindeburgh took over the Government duties there. Later he transferred to Kutawa where he took Aunt Maggie as a bride.

My mother, Elizabeth Drummond, was one of a family of five -- two boys and three girls. Mother came to Pennsylvania in 1873, I think. Before she was married she made a trip back to Ireland. Her father was William Drummond. Of the boys, John died at 16 years, William was lost at sea. Mary died at about 21 years. Annie married John Christie. They had two girls and a boy. Aunt Annie was still a young woman when she died.

My parents, then, reached Indian Head in the autumn of 1882. We moved into the section house, the only house I believe, except Crawford's store. There were several tents. That first winter must have been dreadful. No one understood anything about keeping comfortable in such bitter weather. The house had been plastered so late in the fall that it was not properly dry. No one had any idea, of course, of storm windows. As for banking the house, they understood so little that when the snow drifted against the house, the men promptly shovelled it away, thinking it would make the house cold. Talk about pioneers! They were surely genuine pioneers.

Later Father built a "shanty", (they were never called shacks or cabins then) by Crawford's store. Some years after Dr. Kemp built his house on that site. Hattie was born there in March, 1884.

During the summer of 1883 the Chipperfield family arrived from England -- Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Chipperfield, Sidney, two years, Eva, three months. They pitched their tent quite near our shanty. Mr. C. who liked to joke, used to say that Mother refused to give him the first thing he asked for, which was some hot water. It seems he came to ask Mother to put hot water in the teapot as he wanted to get Mrs. C. a cup of tea. Mother, however, invited them to come in and prepared a good meal for them. After eating out of a lunch basket for so long, how good that meal must have tasted! Mr. C. gathered an outfit together to go homesteading. This took a little while and the families became fast friends. The friendship is now in the fourth generation.

When they had purchased a team of oxen and a wagon and supplies, they left for the north. Mr. C. located his homestead 25 miles north and east of Indian Head. In a few years they had a post office. Mrs. C. was post mistress and they called it Chickney after their post office in England.

I have heard my mother say that before she came to Canada she had a real fear of the Indians. After she came and saw them she was never the least bit afraid of them. Her heart could hold nothing but pity for them. During the first winter there were hundreds of Indians camped around Indian Head with its handful of white people. Though the Indians were starving they were orderly. Mother used to say that many white people would have raided the place for whatever there was to eat in it.

May 1956

In January, 1883, Father filed on a homestead, some nine miles south-west of Indian Head. The fee of ten dollars entitled the applicant to file on a quarter section. Father's homestead was S.E. quarter of Section 20, Township 17, Range 13, West of the 2nd meridian. Some years later a ruling was passed allowing earlier settlers a right to a second homestead. My father, then, (as many others did) took his pre-emption, S.W. quarter of Section 20, for his second homestead.

Certain homestead duties must be performed before obtaining right to the patent of the land. these included so many acres put under cultivation each year (10, I think), the building of a house, and residence in it for at least six months a year. This last regulation was somewhat of a hardship for many, since there was no way in which a man could support his family while "proving up" on his homestead. (My mother said in our earliest ventures on the farm "there is nothing to eat but grass, and we have nothing to eat.") Many wives spent the summer months on the homestead with the children, while the husband and father worked elsewhere to supply the necessities of life.

Our first home on the farm was frame, 20' by 14', a 9' wall on the side and a gable roof. There was a small earth cellar underneath, to which we had access through a trap-door in the floor. The roof was shingled. This was built by an Indian Head carpenter, Tom Bunting. I have heard my parents remark on what a good job he had made of the roof. Even many years after the new house had been built and the old one relegated to the status of a pig house, the roof was absolutely leak proof. This was some recommendation for the man who built it, since to this day the old house is innocent of any paint.

In March, 1884, Harriet Jane was born. She was named for Mrs. Chipperfield mentioned earlier. Of course the "Jane" would be after Father's eldest sister, and I believe his favourite sister. However, Mrs. Chip's name was Harriet Jane and the new baby was called "Hattie." She was born at Indian Head in the "shanty."

School was a problem in those early days. Twice, young men undertook a private school, but I believe the situation was quite unsatisfactory. By the time I was four years old, my two older sisters, Annie and Sadie were of a age where they required school education. There were several other children of school age. I do not know how many children the Department of Education required before a school district could be formed. I do know, however, that in order to get the Government grant without which they could not run a school, of course, it was necessary to have one more child to attend. I was a child of four at the time -- big for my age and of course anxious to go to school (later, a very little later, it was a different story). At any rate school was opened.

I do not remember about our life in the shanty. It was a single room. My mother curtained off part for a bedroom. The building was enclosed by a single ply of boards and I think covered (of course on the outside) with tar paper. It was next door to Crawford's store. Later Dr. Kemp built a brick house (office and residence) on the site.

[Dr. Kemp's house is the brick home just north of the old Nicol's garage on Main St. -- Beth holograph in margin]

While we lived in the shanty, Annie had her seventh birthday and Mother gave her birthday party. That would be July 1, 1884. I have heard my mother say that she had every child in Indian Head there. It wouldn't be a very big party at that. Someone gave Annie a large, quite ornate mug. It was always one of the family's prized possessions, and I hope some member of her family treasures it today.

In those early days in the West, 1 cent pieces were not used. The lowest denomination was 5 cents. It is told of me that I got hold of a cent somewhere. Being next door to Crawford's store, I decided to buy some candy with it. The clerk gave me a little bag with a few candies in it and gave me back the copper. So next day the operation was repeated. It did not last long though. My mother discovered her child's shortcoming and presto -- the end of that episode.

This incident I seem to remember, though it may be I have heard it told. This one refers to Mother's birthday. Evidently we each had a few cents (5 cents each likely). Annie and Sadie decided to pool their resources and buy Mother a very lovely card. Evidently I had my own ideas. I spent my 5 cents for chocolates for Mother. The disgust of my two older sisters! Naturally, I was accused of buying candies so I would have some myself. Well, no doubt I had, and they had too. In those days 5 cents would buy a nice little bag of thimble shaped chocolates. Quite possibly there was an ulterior motive in my choice of a gift, but I know dear Mother appreciated both those gifts.

In those days there were, of course, many Indians camped around Indian Head. Every Saturday evening they staged an Indian dance, we called it a pow-wow. Of course, everyone in the village was out to see it. Perhaps we enjoyed that better than our children and grandchildren have enjoyed and are enjoying the movies, the radio and TV.

I think it may have been in the spring of 1886 that we moved to the Bell Farm cottage. Though I do not remember the Rebellion of '85, my father, like practically every man in the country was busy in connection with it. There being no railways in the North, where the trouble was, supplies had to be transported by team. Father, like many others, took his ox team and wagon (or sleigh) on "the transport."

"The Bell Farm" was started by an English man, Major Bell. He bought quantities of land. His idea, evidently, was to transplant a land holding idea from England and carry it out as estates were managed in England. He built a big house -- for those days it was quite a mansion. This was his residence and was always spoken of as "The Big House." The property was dotted with cottages for the farm help. Two cottages and a large barn were in a group -- possibly to look after one section. The one in which we lived was situated to the southeast of the barn, the other northeast of the barn and directly north of ours. These cottages were just off the townsite, to the northwest, very near to where the present hospital stands.

I have no idea how many of these groups of cottages Major Bell had but no doubt they were very numerous. He had a foreman, Mr. Sherwood, who supervised on horseback. Mrs. Bell had her carriage and pair with her coachman to drive her around. It seems to me it was a double seated (sort of phaeton) vehicle. At any rate she rode in state in the back seat and was popularly (though sarcastically) known as "Lady Bell." Had she been a different type how well beloved she might have been. Perhaps she was just one of those persons who simply do not know how to adjust to a new environment.

I imagine that a first after we went to the Bell farm everything was quite satisfactory. The cottages consisted of a large kitchen, a living room and two bedrooms. After living in one room, Mother must have appreciated having more space for her family. The farm furnished horses and machinery and paid wages to the men. At first, my parents were able to get along nicely on Father's wages. However it was not long until Major Bell got into financial difficulties and wages were not forthcoming. This would have been bad enough under ordinary circumstances, but the winter of 1886-87 Hattie (3 yrs. Mar '87) was very ill. I have heard Mother say the lamp was never out for ten weeks that winter. The trouble was a gathering in the left side -- so near the heart that that organ was pushed over to the right side of the chest. The nearest doctor was in Qu'Appelle. He finally lanced it and the quantity of pus that drained from it was almost unbelievable. To the doctor's surprise (he had been afraid she would die during the lancing) Hattie recovered. Of course she had not walked for weeks and it was weeks more before she began to learn to walk all over again. Then we all took bronchitis and of course Hattie took it too. She did not have any strength to resist the disease and on May 12, 1887, she passed away. What a dreadful hard time for our parents! On Father's wages it would have been difficult to get any dainties for her. But the wages were not forthcoming for the barest necessities of life. I remember the little spray Mother made. To this day wild maiden hair fern and lily-of-the-valley remind me of the spray Mother arranged that day.

In a house with five children, one a small baby, and another a very ill little two year old, there was certainly an opportunity to show kindness. However, likely Mrs. Bell never thought of it. Under the circumstances she must have known about Hattie's long, long illness. The day after Hattie died Mrs. Bell called and offered to do anything she could. My mother replied, "Thank you, Mrs. Bell, but she doesn't need anything now."

I do not remember as much of what took place during my early childhood as many others do regarding their earlier years. However, here and there incidents seem to be tucked away in my memory. One of those was in connection with the morning when my brother was born. The night before, Annie had been sent to spend the night with a friend. (Reason quite obvious now.) Grandma Boyd (everyone spoke of her so) had been called, and in the morning we were introduced to our new baby brother. Of course, Annie would go direct to school from where she had spent the night. I remember the excitement when Sadie and I left for school. Somehow we had no way of contacting Annie before school. (Perhaps we were late, as naturally things would be a bit disorganized at home that morning.) [The Bell Cottage that Dad was born in was the one the people lived in who ran the creamery years ago. -- Beth holograph in margin.] At any rate, I remember how slow time went, and I was fairly bursting to tell Annie the wonderful news, which had to wait for recess.

The new baby was named William Andrew (Willie). Father and Mother (Papa and Mama we called them then) each had a brother William and Father's youngest brother was Andrew. What a good baby he was! I do not remember much about him as a baby, of course, but I know we all adored him. I have heard Mother say that with Hattie's long illness, she did not know how she would have ever managed only that Willie was such a good baby.

By this time a Presbyterian church had been built. It was a stupendous financial venture for so small a congregation. It was a nice brick building capable of seating 200 or more. The Church debt hung over the heads of members year after year. In fact by the time the property was clear of debt, it was bursting at the seams and a new church was necessary. The new Presbyterian Church was opened in 1906. It is still doing yeoman duty for the United Church of Canada.

Robert Crawford, owner of the first general store in Indian Head, was also for many years superintendent of the Sunday School (and a much loved superintendent). As a young man he had been in the employ of the Hudson Bay Co. He had married a girl who was part Indian -- likely daughter of a H.B. factor. I always remember him coming into church with Mrs. Crawford on his arm. They had no family of their own but had adopted a niece and nephew of Mrs. Crawford's, Maggie and Billie. They were grown up when they came to Indian Head. Miss Crawford played the organ. [The stained glass window in the United Church at Indian Head is in memory of this man. Beth holograph in margin.]

When I was five years old, the community put on a concert. I remember going to practise my song "Come, put me in my little bed." Miss Crawford taught it to me. I do not remember the night of the concert but I remember quite distinctly going with Father to the Church for what I fancy was the final rehearsal -- Mother kept the program through all the years and it is in my possession now.

In the spring of 1888 my parents decided to move to the farm and really live there. Up to that time they had gone several times and spent a few months in the summer. Father got a team of oxen. His equipment was the oxen, a plough and a harrow, and a wagon. Iremember seeing him sow the grain by hand, scattering it broadcast. His harvesting equipment at first consisted of a scythe and a flail. What back-breaking work! And poor Father's long back wasn't built for heavy work, though he did a lot of it.

That fall Margaret was born. I was seven on October 15, and I remember it all too well. Father had worked on the section for a while that summer and he had contracted a very severe attack of sciatica. He was terribly crippled with it and of course suffered intensely. Grandma Beach came when Father went for her and Margaret was born during the day on October 20. She and I have the rather doubtful honor of being the two children born on a Saturday. ("Saturday's child must work hard for her living.") Life was very hard for young mothers in those days -- no doctor available and certainly no anesthetic. Neighbors helped each other as best they could.

We of course were all very proud of Willie, now over two years old. But Annie's love for him and pride in him knew no bounds. He was quite slow beginning to talk. A neighbor woman told Annie that she thought it likely Willie would never talk. Let us hope she was prompted by ignorance rather than sheer cruelty. At any rate poor Annie suffered torments over it. She would not mention it to Mother because Mother would worry about it. Of course if she had spoken of it, Mother would certainly have told her that many children did not begin to talk until they were two years old. Willie talked perfectly well in his own good time.

The way Annie could coax Mother. I have always had too little of that ingredient in my make-up. If I asked for something and it was refused, the matter was settled right there. But I do not think that as a child I was at all unhappy about it. I think Willie was three years old when one day we girls were to go over and spend the day with the Donnelly children -- Charlie, Sarah and Randle. Annie got the idea she wanted to take Willie. Mother explained that he was too small to go so far -- Donnellys lived two miles away. Annie coaxed and coaxed and finally Mother gave in. We had a lovely day and then after an early tea we started home. But poor Willie! He completely fagged out and had to be carried -- Annie of course, doing the bulk of it, and perfectly happy to do it.

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What a strange thing is memory! Here I sit at 2270 McIntyre, Regina, a woman of 74 years (though I can't believe it.) My suite of two rooms and kitchenette are on the second floor. My living room is at the back of the house. From my window I see nearby (very near, so that later it throws a shade -- much needed, over my window) a maple just coming into leaf. At the back of the lot is a crabapple tree. Soon it will be a vision of beauty, when in full flower. Across the lane and across a vacant lot, the traffic rushes back and forth on Albert, one of our busiest streets. Across Albert I can see the front of a Safeway store and its many customers coming out laden with their bags of groceries. Yet, in a moment, it all fades away and I see Section 20 as it used to be and all the district. It is slightly rolling land. In those days there were sloughs and bluffs around the sloughs. Then half a mile west of the house rose the Squirrel Hills -- a range of real hills rising from the surrounding country. Just at the foot of the hills ran the west edge of the farm. When neighbor children came to play with us, we sometimes went over to "The Hills" and had a marvellous time. One great attraction was "the big rock." Even in later years it was rather a wonder. We children certainly enjoyed it.

To the south of our house was a three-rutted trail, called "The Old Wives' Trail." The Indians in their Red River carts had travelled it and it was a good smooth trail. What quantities of buffalo bones we used to gather up. There were wild flowers growing in such abundance. Berries were not as plentiful as in the North. But over in "The Hills" were saskatoons, wild currants, pin-cherries (which make beautiful jelly), choke-cherries, and high bush cranberries. Practically all the youngsters loved the choke-cherries which were usually in abundance. Strange to relate, I have never liked the acrid taste of them. I say, strange, because all my life I have been free of food fads. I don't consider it a virtue, but I do think one is fortunate to be able to enjoy all good food.

When we moved to the farm in the spring of 1888, there was no school there. Shortly after, in 1889, a school district was formed. The use of Jim Donnelly's house was obtained. He was unmarried, so lived at home. The house was built as part of his homestead duties. A long wooden table, sloped at either side afforded seating accommodation, with a small blackboard, and a box of chalk, the school equipment was complete. At first the school was open in the summer months only. In 1891 a stone building was put up for a school -- the old style of three windows on each side. This school was equipped with proper desks (double desks) blackboard across the full width at front. It was very wonderful to us. We were two miles from school, tho' in those days with no fences and few and small cultivated fields we were able to make a "bee-line" for the school and thus shorten the distance considerably. I think most of the children came about the same distance. Fortunately for the teacher, she boarded at Tom Donelly's, only a quarter of a mile north of the school.

What good times we had when Mrs. Tom Donnelly used to invite the boys and girls of the district to parties at her home! She and Tom were a young married couple, as yet without any family. She organized such good games for us. I remember her teaching us a couple of sort of half dancing games that we all enjoyed immensely. Having been brought up a Methodist she was no dancer.

As we had no school during the first winters we were on the farm, Annie went into Indian Head during the winters to attend school. In exchange for her board and lodging she made herself useful in certain ways. Although the term "baby-sitting" had not then been invented, her principal duty was along that line. She was a few years older than the eldest Conn child [Jim Conn's older sister. Beth holograph in margin.], so Mrs. Conn felt she could sometimes go out evenings, leaving Annie in charge. In those days there were no fruit stores. I think the general stores handled apples in the winter. These came from Ontario in barrels. The only time they stocked oranges would be at Christmas time.

Now, Mr. Conn was the lumber dealer in Indian Head. That means he owned and operated his own lumber yard. So he was one of the most prosperous of the citizens. He had occasion to go to Winnipeg on a business trip and was away several days. Wanting to bring back a real treat to the family he purchased a big bag of oranges. This was really out of the ordinary, and as long as they lasted each child was given an orange each day -- Annie, of course, receiving hers the same as the others. I am telling this incident to show how very unselfish Annie was. She was, at the time about thirteen I think. Transportation was not easy, especially in the winter so I do not think she got home except at Christmas. However, Father got into town every week or so. How good that orange looked to Annie, and how much she must have wanted to eat it. Just the same she did not do so. She decided she would keep it and when "Papa" came in she would send it out to "Mama." The oranges lasted till they went around the family three times. So Annie had three oranges to send out to Mother. Weather was bad and Father was longer getting in town than usual. Every day the oranges were looked at but put back again for "Mama." Finally Father came into town and Annie gave him the three precious oranges to take home to Mother, and they reached their destination safely. But now the sequel. A neighbor was ill, had been for some time, and I suppose was at the stage where she had no appetite, etc. Anyway Mrs. Jim Pollock was a rather peculiar woman and we youngsters were not at all fond of her, nor was Mother. In fact they lived at some distance from us on the farm. However in those days of sparse settlement you considered people a good few miles away as neighbors. Mother's reaction was, "How Mrs. Jim Pollock would enjoy these!" and promptly the oranges were sent to the sick woman. In looking back I realize that Mother was showing unselfishness in her way, as Annie had in hers. Nevertheless, I fully sympathized with Annie's chagrin when she was told of the fate of her gift to Mother. Her remark was, "Well! I certainly wouldn't have kept those oranges to send to Mrs. Jim Pollock."

Thinking of Mrs. Jim Pollock brings to mind a rather amusing incident. At the time of the orange incident her family consisted of several small children. As the years rolled around they brought the wedding day of the eldest girl, Mary. They were having quite a big wedding (house) which required several table settings to accommodate the guests. Mrs. Pollock came to Mother and asked if she could borrow some table napkins. In those days paper serviettes were unheard of. Mother parcelled up a dozen linen table napkins and let her have them. A few days after the wedding she returned the most "much used" looking napkins ever seen. As she handed them to Mother she remarked, "I was going to wash them, but really they're hardly a bit the worse." We contained our merriment until our visitor left, but for some time in the Liggett household a favorite remark was, "O it's hardly a bit the worse."

For a family of girls we older ones played little with dolls. I think I could have enjoyed playing with dolls had I been alone or with someone who enjoyed that form of play. However Annie had no use for dolls and never had. Now, Sadie, as a little girl always followed Annie's lead. In fact everything Annie did was right in Sadie's eyes. No wonder; for Annie was a wonderful person. Sadie's deficient sight possibly made her more dependent. She may have been short on initiative as a small child, but she developed a wonderful independence. Poor Sadie! her handicap made life hard for her and I don't think she was ever really reconciled to it. How clever she was! Such lovely knitting and such quantities of it. And in the house there was nothing she could not do -- cleaning, cooking, baking, canning both fruit and meat, and so on. Mother used to say that when they were little girls, one sure way of correcting them was to say to Annie, " That isn't a nice thing to do," and to Sadie, "It isn't right to do that." From her earliest years Annie's ambition was to be a teacher. It seems when we were quite young (I do not remember this) Annie remarked that when she grew up she would be a teacher. Sadie immediately said that she would be a preacher. Mother then asked me and I replied, "I'm going to get married." This was kept up as a family joke, especially as Annie always insisted that she would never marry (which of course she did at 21 years).

Annie and I both became teachers and I think we were both good teachers. With Annie it was a life-long ambition fulfilled, whereas in my case it was a matter of convenience. Girls did not have the choice of occupation they have today. In fact many girls stayed at home and helped their mothers until they married, and went to their own homes. Mrs. Donnelly, Sr. used to say in her Ottawa River Irish way, "Och, sure and what's the use educating them, they just get married anyway." Fortunately for us our parents were anxious that we should have as good an education as they could give us. Frequently some neighbor would come and want a little girl to help in the house. This was during the five years we were on the farm (1888-1893). Times were very hard with Father and Mother but they were determined that our education was of first importance and as Mother said "What the child would earn would be a drop in the bucket." Nevertheless I know that some children in like circumstances would have been "hired out" and become mere little slaves. But to return after this digression. Girls for the most part, had choice of two occupations other than domestic work -- nursing and teaching. There were very few girls in offices. In fact, as a girl in my teens, I can recall only two or three, and a few clerks in stores. O, I almost forgot dressmaking. In earlier days girls went from house to house sewing for different families, staying anywhere from a few days to a few weeks according to the amount of sewing to be done. From the time we went to town in '93 hats were being trimmed. I remember the sweet bonnets, lace and satin, with wide satin ties -- black, of course, and trimmed with violets! We were quite unhappy when Mother abandoned the bonnet for a hat. Since, during late years, women's hats sit back exposing the hairline, I can understand why the bonnets were so becoming -- they formed a frame for the face, while at that time hats sat down covering a good deal of the forehead.

During these years I was my father's boy. I suppose when Hattie was born -- fourth girl -- they almost despaired of ever having a boy. As a little girl my hair was curly -- not tight curls over my head, but big soft ringlets that Mother formed over her finger. When I was about four, a good many of the little girls had their hair shingled. Mine, too, was shingled, much to my delight. Though Mother was loath to cut off the curls she was quite pleased with the effect. Having a natural part on the left side, my hair lay over like a boy's. Keeping busy outside appealed to me much more attractive than performing inside duties -- dish washing for instance. I was very happy running along beside my father as he held the handles of the walking plough. On these occasions I carried a long stick with a point on the end -- I think it was called a goad. Oxen are not noted for speed at any time. I don't know how adept I was in the use of the goad, but at any rate by means of it, I was able to persuade the oxen to keep moving.

Nobody needed to bribe me in the "plough-assistant" tasks. I loved to be outside with Father. There were outside tasks, though, not very congenial to anyone. Gophers were a dreadful menace. Fields of wheat and oats were not large and the gophers made dreadful inroads on the yield. Trapping gophers (the art of poisoning them came later) was everyone's business. Each of us, Annie, Sadie, and I, had our traps to look after. It finally ended with me killing their gophers, in exchange for certain household tasks. Then the kittens had to be disposed of. Not a very agreeable task to drown them in the slough, but someone had to do it. The problem was solved by Annie and Sadie doing the dishes for a week. All three participating partners were quite satisfied.

What happens to people's nerve? By the time I was grown I had contracted a real "mouse" complex. A school room is a place where a mouse is apt to be. How often have I been doing work in the classroom after the pupils had gone home, when I'd hear a rattle of paper somewhere! A mouse! In two minutes flat he would have the place to himself. As to killing a mouse in a trap, or even taking a mouse out of a trap -- don't mention it! My boys have always respected my shortcomings along that line, following in their Dad's footsteps, I suppose. Really, the patience and consideration Ed always showed me along this line was wonderful.

The trouble with me is that I do not like any of these little animals. I realize I am the loser but there seems nothing to be done about it. I often think of Coleridge's verse: "He prayeth best who loveth best, all creatures great and small; for the dear Lord that loveth us, He made and loveth all."

On May 31, 1891, May Edna was born. I think in the first place she was supposed to be called May. Later Father suggested that altho' May was a good name for a little girl, he thought Edna was a much better name for a woman. So she was never called May, but Edna. A rather interesting incident occurred in connection with naming "the baby". Willie, not quite five years wanted her called Ruth. No one really paid much attention to him and the name was registered. When Willie realised that the baby was really called Edna, he was inconsolable. To comfort him Mother said, "O, never mind, Willie, you can name the next baby." Three years later, when our baby sister was born Willie (now 8 years old) stated that no matter what anyone named the baby he would call her "Ruth." So Ruth it was.

But before Ruth appeared on the scene real changes had taken place for the family. Times had been very hard, and I know it must have been a pretty hopeless situation. Father had to get out and work for wages to supplement the very small income from the farm. We lived eight miles southwest of town and one fall he worked at a place some five miles north east of Indian Head. Every Saturday night he walked home, stopping in Indian Head to get groceries and bring them with him. Sunday afternoon he would leave for the long walk back. Father now had the patent for his land. He and Mother decided it would be wise to make a move. Hence the move into Indian Head in May, 1893. That school facilities would be better no doubt figured in the decision.

This move meant a real change in our family life. At eleven years one is not worried about financial affairs. One is quite content as long as one is comfortably housed, clothed and fed, and treated kindly. We had all those advantages. But no longer after moving to town were there the long, quiet evenings when Father read aloud while Mother sewed or knit. One winter he read several of Dickens' books. Perhaps that was the beginning of my love for Dickens which I have never lost. I re-re-re-read "David Copperfield" not long ago. Always it is a joy. No more the rides on top of a load of hay while Father recited to us -- all the 45(?) verses of "John Gilpen," and many other poems.

The house on the farm was 20' x 14'. The house built in town was 22' x 16' and a storey and a half high. [south on Main St. in Indian Head.] That type of house was very popular for some years. It was really an economical type to build and to heat. As the front part was to be used for the store a very large window was put across the front and a lean-to kitchen added on the back.

The business was bakery, fruit, and confectionery. A store of this kind was an entirely new venture in Indian Head. Mother baked perfectly delicious bread and buns. Neither she nor Father, tho', had any business experience. What courage! Father worked on the section for the first few years, so Mother had the handling of the business. In the twelve years they had the business it really grew to large proportions.

But there were the very small beginnings. I think just at first Mother must have baked in the stove, but very soon they had a brick oven built. This was built by a stone mason and brick-layer, John Bunn. (A few nights ago, May 31, 1956, Edna and I were sitting opposite his son John Bunn, Esther Liggett's cousin, at the Old Timers Banquet.) The oven had a grate with a large ash pit under it. The wood fire was built in the oven. When it burned down the embers were raked through the grate. Then a long-handled wooden spatula was used to slide the pans of bread in to be baked, and to take the loaves out when baked. After a couple of years we had a baker, but not at first and it was cruelly hard work for a woman. Owing to her defective sight it was not possible for Sadie to continue at school past the lower grades. After the Second Reader the print was too small for her to manage. So she was Mother's helper from the time we moved into town, shortly after her fourteenth birthday.

Then there was making the ice cream. A dug-out ice house was built. In this large ice blocks were stored in the winter. These were packed in straw to preserve the ice. When the ice cream mixture was ready it was poured into a metal container, with a sort of dasher down the centre. This was set in a large wooden pail, a mechanism was clamped across the top so arranged that the handle -- crank type -- was turned the dasher was held solid and the can turned around. The ice had to be dug out of the ice house, put in a gunny sac, and pounded with a club till it was fine enough to pack around the ice cream container. Coarse salt was sprinkled on the ice as it was put in. In the outside wooden pail was a bored hole to allow water to drain from the melted ice. This hole was well up the side of the pail but low enough to prevent the salty water overflowing the ice cream container.

The ice cream was served at small tables -- in glass dishes, each set on a small plate. The ice cream business was financially a real success. But I think making it the way it was done those days was one of the hardest jobs I have ever done. However when the ice cream was made and the dasher taken out -- how good that ice cream tasted as we stood around the table each with a spoon while we "scraped the dasher."

The Lindeburghs, Aunt Maggie (Father's youngest sister) Uncle Alfred, Weldon, Marion, Elena and Fred [evidently this was before Frank was born. MEW] lived at Kutawa. As well as his duties as Government telegraph operator and line repairer --Humboldt to Fort Qu'Appelle -- he also had a large band of horses. He had, of course, homesteaded a quarter section, but as very little land was taken up, his horses had unlimited range. Some of them were really lovely animals. Getting away for a drive was a real work of art. No doubt the horses were broken in, but coming in off the range they certainly took some handling. Both Uncle Alfred and Aunt Maggie were excellent horsemen. To accommodate the family they had a double seated vehicle, the back part quite well boxed in with fairly high sides. There was a name for these special rigs. They were quite smart looking. Uncle would get the team hitched up and drive around to the front of the house where Aunt would be waiting with the children. The horses could be brought to a stand-still, but they refused to stay still. So this was the method used to get everyone in. Uncle would stop while Aunt M. got one child into the back of the rig. Away went the horses around the house. Again Uncle stopped them long enough to get another youngster in. And so on until the last stop Aunt Maggie got in herself. I do not remember how I got in when I visited in 1894 but I suppose that somewhere in the process I made a flying leap and managed to land safely. How I enjoyed those drives.

* * * * *

Here it is August 19, 1964 -- several years since I last wrote a word in this.

I somehow got disgusted and thought no one would bother reading it anyway. Now, years later, when I read it over I have come to the conclusion that some of the family might find it not uninteresting. But my situation has really changed since I last wrote in this book. It became increasingly difficult for me to look after my suite. When I got to be 80 I came to a definite conclusion and put in my application for a room in Mutchmor Lodge. It was then in the process of building. It was opened on June 1, 1963. I moved in that day. I certainly have not regretted it. I am really quite happy and comfortable here. All rooms are single, equipped with a basin (hot and cold water), a toilet between two rooms. Our matron, Miss Yanko is very kind and efficient. We have an excellent cook, Mrs. McVeety. The place is not equipped to give nursing care, but staff is always pleasant about taking a tray to any resident indisposed for a few days.

* * * * *

This might be as good a place as any to give a little sketch of Ruth's short life. She was born August 4, 1894, not long before my thirteenth birthday. She was a lovely baby, average size (I think eight pounds). During her first year there was an epidemic of whooping cough. Everyone in the family, except Annie who had it as a small child, contracted the disease. It seems it is always hard on babies under a year. It certainly was hard on Ruth. When she was twelve months old she weighed twelve pounds. From that time she was very delicate and slower than others her age. She was over three when she walked. She learned to talk, but not plainly. We could understand her without trouble. She was very good and sweet and we all adored her.

As the years went on she grew no stronger. Indeed she grew weaker and weaker and finally slipped away from us on May 26, 1904. That was the first great sorrow in my life. What a bad time our family had that spring! I was teaching in a school south of Broadview that year. Mail came to Broadview daily, but to our district when one of the family where I boarded or one of the neighbours went to Broadview. That spring we were a long time without our mail. When it came there were numerous letters for me. The earliest ones told of my brother's illness. Willie at that time was seventeen years old.

Appendicitis was at that time a newly discovered disease. No doubt people suffered from it before under the name of inflammation of the bowels. The first we ever heard of the disease was when Edward VII had the operation. Our Indian Head doctor, Dr. Kemp, was quite famous as a surgeon. In fact his services were required far and wide in this capacity. He diagnosed my brother's trouble as appendicitis. His plan was to use medication, including diet to get over this acute attack, then later to operate. However, after ten days or so the doctor decided he must operate at once. There was no hospital available at that time. As doctors did in those days, Dr. Kemp made use of the facilities at hand. The furniture being removed from a bed room, a long kitchen table became the operating table in the newly converted operating room. With his young assistant, Dr. Harvey, and a registered nurse to assist, Dr.Kemp performed the operation that saved my brother's life. I believe this was the second such operation he had performed. [1902. Dr. Davis told Dad (after Dad gave him the history of the op) that his was the 2nd such op. in the province of Sask. Dr. Davis gave a report on this at a medical convention. Beth] [Uncle Bill's account of this surgery appears elsewhere in this book. E.A.A.]

Knowing how badly I was needed at home, I arranged with my trustees for a leave of absence, and we procured a substitute teacher. I had been away from home for about two months and was appalled at the change in Ruth. She had failed terribly during that time. As she was very weak we thought possibly port wine would help her. I dropped in at the doctor's office to ask his advice about it. I still remember his answer, "You may give her port wine if you would like to. It won't do her any harm, but it won't do any good, either." Looking at me very gravely he added, "Bessie, nothing you can do will do her any good." I knew then that I must stay and help nurse her to the end. I sent in my resignation to my school. Ruth was very fond of each of us. Sometimes I thought I was rather a favourite. I know it made her happier to have "Beshie" near her.

That was the day of the general family doctor. To see him one did not have to make an appointment anywhere from a week before to several months, as one does now. When the end came Dr. Kemp was there at 4A.M. and had been there all night. Looking back I do not see how he could have been less busy than doctors are now. Isuppose it was just a different day and age with different customs.

Mention has been made of Sadie and Margaret attending Ontario School for the Blind in Brantford and so getting their education. The rest of us, though blessed with good sight, had our own difficulties. When we came to the west Annie was five, Sadie three, Bessie one. Soon school was a real problem for Annie. When she was seven a young chap (not trained as a teacher) started a private school. The few children in Indian Head attended but learned very little if anything. Next year the Dept. of Education accepted the application from Indian Head to form a school district. There was one obstacle to opening a school -- that was getting the necessary number of pupils -- i.e. ten. I was at the time four and a half years old. However I was a big child and of course very anxious to go to school. As the district was short just one child, I went off to school with Annie and Sadie. Even now there is not sufficient time in any ungraded school to give little new beginners the attention they need. We do have blocks, letters, etc. to keep them more or less occupied. I doubt if in that year of beginnings there was available equipment for any "busy work." It is no wonder that I soon became tired of school. Under the circumstances my attendance in school was obligatory. After some months I was taken quite ill in school. Naturally the teacher sent me home. That day I learned something, viz, "If I am sick the teacher sends me home." The result was that I frequently complained of illness. Some times I put up a good enough bluff to fool the teacher and get home. At other times my deception failed to work.

Today with Indian Head's many-roomed public school and large high school, it is hard to realize there was a time when it was hard to find enough pupils to start a school. Even when we came back from the farm in 1893, we began school in a two-roomed school. It was not long till the primary room was over-flowing. A third room was opened, utilizing space in the town hall. My sister Annie was the first primary teacher. Two years before she had taught a country school south of Grenfell. There she met a fine young man W.H. (Will) Gaddes V.S. They became engaged. The February following her Indian Head teaching Annie and Will were married. It was (as all weddings were in those days) a house wedding. Sadie was bridesmaid and Will's brother Jim, best man. They began housekeeping in Sintaluta where Will had purchased a livery, feed and sales stable. He was, of course, also practising his profession. This in 1899, was years before cars were available. Where now we would hire a taxi if we wished to go a distance, then one arranged with a livery stable to take one to one's destination. The farmers coming into town put their teams into a livery barn to be looked after while they attended to their affairs. These were both profitable businesses at that time. However, I think the biggest money was made in the sale of horses. Will would go in late winter to Ontario or the States and buy horses, mostly heavy work horses. These were shipped by carload to Sintaluta. They were then sold to the farmers. To succeed in this work a man needed to be a good judge of horseflesh and besides that a good business man. As Will was both he made a real success of his business in Sintaluta which he carried on for several years.

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