Mother was proud of our dairy. The milk bucket and pans shone like the sun. Old cow was a great red and white spotted beast that gave quantity, but the little Jersey gave quality. The cream was leather thick. Bong(1) brought in the great shining bucket brimming with the warm foamy milk and set it on the kitchen table. A piece of cloth was placed over the wire strainer and the milk was poured…
Laying her hand on me, Mother said to her old friend the Bishop, seated by her bedside, “All my children but this one and the little brother have been received into the Church. I shall not be here when they are old enough for Confirmation. You will see that it is attended to when the right time comes, Bishop?” “Ah, indeed my friend, it is a sacred trust.” Read more…
The Old Quadra Street Cemetery was a lovesome place, but now it was as full as the law would allow. So they put a change and a padlock round the pickets of the gate to keep the dead in and the living out, and dedicated a new portion of cleared raw land at Ross Bay for Victoria’s burying. It was a treeless, wind-swept place of gravely soil and blaring sunshine. One side of the…
