Loe raamatut: «Heroines of Mormondom», lehekülg 5

CHAPTER V

Between three or four years had passed since they left Camden (over eight years since the last missionary left Australia), and the Chittendens were much poorer than they were when they left.

For many years Mary had been in the habit of going about to her neighbors, nursing them during confinement. This was a necessity of the country, one woman going to another, as there were no regular nurses to be had. She became acquainted in her labors with a Doctor Haley, the best physician in Goulburn. He always, after the first time when she nursed under him, sent for her. This practice put many an odd pound into her pocket. Her husband was far from idle, however. With his disposition he could never be so. He took charge of the estate of a gentleman named Massy, who was absent in Ireland for eighteen months on business.

As soon as he was released from this situation, where he had earned some money and a good portion of grain, he rented a farm. With anxious hope and honest labor he seeded down twenty acres with the grain he had on hand.

He who sendeth the rains, withholdeth them at His pleasure! For two years there was a complete drouth visited the country. William walked over his field and could not, at the end of the season, pluck one single armful of grain.

While living in this place the promised son was born to Mary, and once again her prophetic dream was realized. He was born May 28, 1865, and William named him Hyrum. When the baby was two years old, little Alice came home from school, and said she felt very sick. As long as there was a second penny in the house, no matter where they were, or what their circumstances, these good parents had kept their children at school. Without education themselves, no effort was spared to give their children the great blessing they had so missed.

Alice came home, quite sick at her stomach, and her mother felt alarmed at once, for her children were regularly and simply fed, and when anything of the kind happened to them she knew it was of an uncommon and serious nature.

Jane had returned to her mother's house, while her husband was up the country on a mining expedition. She had a young baby eleven months old.

When the doctor came next day he pronounced Alice's case one of the most violent scarlet fever. Next day Jane and Rachel came down, and the next day Louisa and Caroline fell ill with the dreadful disease. Jane had the fever so violently that Mary was obliged to wean the baby. Everyone in the family was now ill but herself, and she with a baby two weeks old. For eleven long weeks the anxious mother never had her clothes off, but to change them. The disease was of such a violent type that not one human being had courage or had humanity enough to enter the door. Alone and utterly unaided she went from one bedside to another administering food and medicine. The physician was the only one who ever visited her, and at the times when he came (twice a day) to attend to them, she would sit down long enough to take up her infant and give it the breast.

Three months of sickness, toil and suffering, then the fever spent itself, and Mary could begin to realize their condition financially. Something must be done, for funds were very, very low.

There was a sudden excitement about this time at a place called Mack's Reef, which was three miles from Gunderoo. Gold was found in quartz, and was very rich indeed, at this new camp. William decided to go. So investing their last cent to purchase a simple crushing-mill, and to take themselves out, the Chittendens went to Mack's Reef.

Misfortune was too well acquainted with them now to be driven away, so she curled herself up in the crushing-mill, and behold it failed to do its work. It lost both the gold and the quicksilver.

Matters were now getting desperate. Food was wanted. Strain and economize as she might, Mary could not make things hold out much longer. The pennies followed the shillings, until when the last half-penny had to be taken for flour, William looked at Mary and said, "Mary, what are we coming to? Must our children starve?"

"No, William, please God! But do you remember my dream? You may not believe it, but I know it was a true dream. Oh, William, why did we not go to Zion when we were told? Surely our sufferings could not be more than they are here. Here, take these clothes, they are things that I can spare; you will have to sell them for bread."

And so it went. Garment followed garment, and yet there seemed no chance of earning a penny. Finally, there were no more clothes; everything was sold.

Then William took his gun, and went to the woods. But after a very short time that, too, failed and they were starving.

That night, when the little children were put hungry to bed, William walked the floor in the agony of his mind. "My God!" groaned the wretched man, "must my children starve before my very eyes? In my pride I fancied my family would be better in my hands than in the hands of their Almighty Father! Oh, that I had listened to counsel! Now my family are fast leaving my roof, and we that are left are starving. Starving in a land of plenty!"

God listened to the prayers of His humbled son, and he was enabled to get a little something to eat. But the lesson was not over yet.

Mary had obtained a situation as nurse and this helped them. William thought he would go up to Goulburn, a large inland town, where he felt sure he would find some employment. Accordingly he left the family with Mary, but of course in very wretched circumstances. It was the best that he could do, so Mary was satisfied to be left.

The trip to Goulburn was made in the old spring cart, which had been left of the wreck of their comfortable traveling outfit. The horse, which William had just found previous to starting, was one of the four he had lost on the Yass river. The poor thing had been so abused that it was almost worthless. In fact, it had no money value, for in that country where good stock was comparatively cheap he had tried again and again before leaving Mack's Reef to sell the horse and the cart, or either alone, in order to get flour for his starving family, but no purchaser could be found.

So he went up to Goulburn and took odd jobs as he could get them. When he had been gone some few months, a company of prospecters brought in a new machine to crush the quartz. This fanned the dead embers of hope in every one's breast, and even Mary thought if she could get William to come down and try his quartz in this new mill, they would succeed at last.

But how to get word to him? He was at Goulburn, eighteen miles away. There was no mail, and she had not a vestige of anything to pay for sending word to him. She was very weak too from lack of food. But every one around her was so confident of the grand success about to be made, that she resolved to try to walk up to Goulburn. Accordingly, she set out leaving the baby at home with the girls, and walked feebly towards Goulburn. She was about half-way there when she came to a river. This was forded by teams, but across it had been thrown a plank, and a poor one it was, too. Mary looked at the foaming water, and then at the rotten plank, and felt it would be an impossibility almost to go across. Still, she must get over, so she started; but she had only got a little way out before her head began to reel, she was weak and faint, and about to fall, when she had sense remaining to lay flat down on the plank, and wait for strength. As she prayed for strength and help she heard a horse's hoofs behind her, and a gentleman on horseback dashed into the stream. He rode up to her and said,

"Madam, permit me to help you. Let me take your hand and I will ride close by the board, and thus get you across all right."

"Oh sir, you are very kind," answered Mary as she arose thanking God that He had heard her prayer.

"Where are you going, madam? Pardon me, I do not ask from idle curiosity."

"To Goulburn, sir to my husband."

"I was wondering as I came along, to see a woman on this lonely road. You surely do not expect to reach Goulburn to-night?"

"I thought sir, I would go as far as I could, then lie down and rest until I could go further."

"Well my poor woman, good-by! and success attend you on your journey."

"Many thanks, kind sir, may God reward your kind act." And so he rode on.

Mary went on some distance, and began to feel that she could go no farther. Suddenly she saw a woman approaching her. Wondering, the two women at last met, and the stranger said to Mary,

"Are you the woman a gentleman on horseback assisted across the river?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then you are to come with me. He has paid us for your supper and lodging to-night. Also, he paid me to come out and meet you and show you the way."

"Thank God! I am almost worn out. What was the gentleman's name, please?"

"That I can't tell. But here's our house. Come, get your supper, it is waiting."

And thus was her humble prayer answered, and a friend raised up to her in her sore need.

The next day Mary reached Goulburn, and she and her husband returned the following day in the cart, to Mack's Reef. But after reaching the Reef, William found it would require quite a sum of money to do anything with his quartz, so at last abandoning everything, he left the Reef in disgust. The poor old horse died shortly after that, and thus they only had the cart remaining. The harvest time was approaching, and William had the rent to pay on the farm he had taken, and which had failed so dismally. So he went to the owner and offered to harvest out the amount. The offer was accepted, and he went harvesting the remainder of the season.

Meantime, Mary had been sent for, to nurse a lady who lived a few miles out from Gunderoo. So, not liking to lose so good an opportunity of making a bit of money, she weaned her ten month's old baby, and left him at home with the girls. She was engaged for a month, receiving a pound a week, about twenty dollars a month, for her services.

When she returned, she found her husband at home. "You know, William, I told you my dream would surely be fulfilled. Are you not willing to admit that so far it has come true every word?"

"Well yes, Mary, but what then?"

"Then, in my dream we were to lose everything before the turn would come, and we should commence to prosper. We've nothing left now but the spring cart. Give that, as it is too poor to sell, to Isaac Norris. Then let us go to Goulburn, and once more try farming. You know we must break land there."

"Thou art like a woman. If we part with the cart, how, pray, shall we get to Goulburn." "Why, William, have I not brought home four pounds? That will move us to Goulburn. Come husband, let us get away from here." At length William consented; the spring cart was given to their son-in-law, Isaac Norris, and the whole family moved up to Goulburn. Their daughter Alice was soon after married to a Mr. Larkum, and had one child named Lavinia by him. The girl was treated very badly, and at last gave the child to her mother to raise. Mary has never since been separated from this child, but has reared her as her own. Four or five years passed away, William farming and Mary nursing at times. William did the farming for a widow lady named Day, who kept a lodging-house about four miles out from Goulburn. She was a very fine, active, kind-hearted woman, and for the next ten years, was a true friend to the Chittendens. In fact, the best friend they ever had in Australia. Mary used often to go up to her house, when not out nursing, for a week at a time to assist the widow with her work. Goulburn is a very large, handsome, inland town in Australia, situated in the midst of a rich farming district. On one side of the town, away to the left, was a large hill, covered with fine timber. The Chittendens had rented a small house about four miles out from Goulburn.

About five years after their coming to Goulburn, Mary had another dream. A personage came to her and began talking to her of her affairs. This personage said to her among other things:

"You shall take a farm, on the opposite side of the road to where you now live. And, after, you shall prosper exceedingly. Then you shall take money, constantly, from this side of the road, and you shall be blessed, insomuch that you shall soon go to Zion thereafter." When she awoke, she told the dream to her husband. Shortly after this a rumor reached them that a certain man named Grimson was about to give up his farm, which he rented from a gentleman named Gibson. This surely must be the place of her dream, for was it not across the road from them? And so she talked to her husband about the matter. But he had no sympathy nor hope to give her on the subject.

"Mary how can you think of such a thing? What could I do with a farm? I haven't a tool nor an animal to use. It is impossible. So don't talk of it."

But Mary was far from satisfied. However, she knew her husband too well to urge the matter, when he spoke as he had done. And further, in a very short time after the farm was vacated, it was re-let to another person. Mary was thus forced to give it up. A month or so slipped by, and one night Mary dreamed the same dream, in relation to the farm across the road. She thought, however, she would not mention it to her husband. In a week or so, they again heard the farm was to let, as the family was dissatisfied. Then Mary made bold to tell her husband of the repetition of the dream, and beg him to try and take it.

"Why do you keep urging me about that farm, Mary? I have not one thing to do with. I tell you it is impossible."

And again disappointed, Mary thought she would say no more about the matter. That day she was going up to spend a week at Mrs. Day's assisting her in her housework and cleaning. After she arrived there, she prepared breakfast, and she and Mrs. Day sat down to eat. As they were talking, Mrs. Day said, "Why doesn't Mr. Chittenden take that farm of Gibson's? I hear it is again vacant. He is a good farmer, and could easily attend to that as well as look after mine."

"He would like to do so, no doubt, but he thinks he could not on account of having nothing to do with, no teams nor machines, nor in fact anything."

"Well, if that's where the trouble lies, I'll tell you what I'll do. He shall have the use of my horses and plows and all the farm machines for nothing, and I will furnish him seed grain for the first year, and he can let me have it back after he gets a start."

"Oh Mrs. Day, you are too good to us."

"Not a bit of it. I would do more than that to keep you in the country. You know that I could not possibly live without your help," replied the lady, laughingly.

Mary could hardly contain herself for joy. And when night came, she begged to be allowed to go home that night, as she could not wait a whole week before telling her husband the good news.

Accordingly she hurried home that night and told her husband what Mrs. Day had said.

"Mary," said William, "if Mrs. Day tells me the same as she tells you, I'll take Gibson's farm."

So early the next morning they started on their errand. The farm house opposite them was vacant, and as they passed Mary asked herself, tremblingly, if they should be sufficiently blessed to live there. Mrs. Day greeted them very kindly and told them they were just in time for breakfast.

"Thank you, Mrs. Day; but Mary has been telling me you spoke to her about our taking Gibson's farm."

"So I did, Chittenden; and I tell you if you'll take the farm, keeping mine too, mind, you shall have the use of my team, wagon and farm implements. Besides, I will lend you your seed grain for the first year, and you can return it afterwards."

"Well, Mrs. Day, if you are so kind as that, all I can do is to thank you and accept the offer. I will go right on to Mr. Gibson at once and make the bargain."

Mr. Gibson was quite pleased to have William take the farm. That same week the family moved across the road, and Mary felt like a new woman.

During all these fifteen years you may be sure Mary and William had often talked of the religion that was so dear to both. Their daughters, although they had, perforce, married those outside the Church, were staunch "Mormons," and are to this day.

One day William met Mr. Gibson who said, "I have been thinking, William, you can open a gate on the other side of the road, opposite your own door, and make a bit of a road to the woods, and you can take toll from the gate. You know you live on the public turnpike from Goulburn, and this toll road would be a good thing to the Goulburn people."

"How much could you allow me, sir?"

"Five shillings from every pound. Then your children could attend the gate."

"Very well, I will do so, and am very grateful to you for the privilege."

"Well, mother," said William soon after, as he entered the house, "your money is coming from the other side of the road."

And when he had laughingly told her how, she said she felt more like crying than laughing, she was so grateful to God.