Convicted And Banished From Ireland

 For many years some Australians were not necessarily all that keen on seeking out their genealogical roots. Too often the search would reveal ancestors who were prisoners transported to Australia from England for various crimes, both serious and minor.  Considering that transportation to Australia existed as a form of punishment from 1787 to 1851, grandparents and great grandparents in Australia could, until recent decades, have had a convict past that they preferred to remain hidden.  Although once considered a shameful family secret, claims to convict ancestry for some now seem to add a certain cachet to one’s family line.

Our family, although in Canada, is also able to remotely claim convict ancestry in Australia.  I have previously written about Sam Gray (1782-1848) of Ballybay, Ireland, a notorious religiously intolerant bully and local enforcer who ended up in constant scrapes with the law.  Relationship to him is through James Hutchison (1901-1988), maternal grandfather to my sons.  James’ maternal grandmother Florinda Gray (1840-1920) was, according to family lore she passed on, a niece of the loathsome Sam.

The previously written Sam Gray article makes makes a made brief reference to Sam’s son James Gray who was transported to Australia.  Online archival sources have since been of significant assistance in fleshing out more of his story.   

James Gray was one of the Duke of Richmond’s 111 all male convict passengers when it sailed from Dublin September 21, 1843, all of whom landed safely in Hobart 103 days later on January 2, 1844.  At first blush, James Gray, born in 1820 in Ballybay, County Monaghan would seem to have been an unlikely candidate to bear the stigma of being a transported convict.  He had been a twenty-two year old law student at the time of his July 15, 1843 trial for subornation of perjury.  Loyalty to his father had, however, in the end outweighed any regard for ethical conduct or respect for the law that one would expect of an aspiring lawyer. 

James’ father Sam Gray was an intolerant Orangeman, loan collector, cheat, and ruffian who in many ways “ran” the town of Ballybay.  In 1843, once again in conflict with the law, Sam was arrested and in custody for allegedly having discharged a firearm at another.   In an effort to secure bail for his father, James, with misguided loyalty, arranged for an acquaintance to personate  doctor and falsely swear an affidavit that his father’s supposed poor health could not withstand the rigours of incarceration pending trial.  The hope had been that this would tip the balance in favour of his father being admitted to bail pending trial "to enjoy the care of family and servants".  After James’ role in the affair was discovered by authorities, he was tried in Dublin, found guilty, and sentenced to one month in prison followed by transportation abroad for seven years for his role in procuring the perjured affidavit.

Meticulously kept convict registers of the time describe James as a five feet, seven and one half inches tall brown whiskered twenty-two year old first offender.  Apparently somewhat of a model prisoner, James rather surprisingly at some stage during in his early years as a prisoner even supported the Governor in opposing the then growing movement favouring abolition of the policy of transportation — the very practice responsible for his presence in Tasmania.  A local newspaper had unflatteringly described such abolition protests events as involving "mobs of convicts organised in support of the Governor." The newspaper went on to say that supporters included "a miscreant called Gray, son of the Monaghan murderer of that name and himself transported for forgery … the mob leader".  

With James's conduct as a prisoner noted as exemplary, he nanaged to receive his ticket-of-leave in 1847, just some three years after his arrival.  The next year, as was then required when wanting to marry, he sought and received permission to marry Mary Newton, a “free woman”.  After their April 29, 1848 marriage, he subsequently then received his own certificate of freedom in 1853. 

James Gray In Later Life 

James, just as he had been a model prisoner, went on to be a model citizen, becoming first a successful civil servant as Director of Roads and eventually a member of the Tasmanian parliament.  He served West Hobart from 1872 to 1877 and Sorell from 1882 to 1889.  An ardent Irishman who named his Davey street home Ulster Lodge, it was written at the time of his death that James was noted for his eloquence, habitual anti-government stance, and devotion to causes of the underprivileged.  James died in office on January 21, 1889 and is buried in Hobart’s Cornelian Bay Cemetery.  Despite his shameful behaviour as a young man which led to his banishment to Tasmania, James’ story in the end is one of redemption.

One of James Gray’s first cousins, the previously mentioned Florinda Gray, great grandmother to my sons, immigrated to Canada about 1880.   Despite the tenuous family relationship my children have with James (first cousin four times removed), a snippet of Australian convict heritage is still theirs to claim should they wish to do so.   

David Arntfield

Beginnings In Canada

My earliest known ancestor to arrive in Canada was James Dixon, my maternal fourth great grandfather, who arrived over two hundred years ago in 1818.  Born in 1771 in Hawes, Yorkshire, England, this interesting ancestor would marry four times and father fifteen children, ten of them surviving to adulthood.         

James, first married to Barbara Tomlinson at age 22, found himself a widower by age 34.  Next married at age 36 to Mary Parker, he was again a widower by age 42.  Married four months later to Isabella Swinbank, he set out four years later with this wife to Canada in the spring of 1818 along with seven of his children of whom four were ten years of age or under, including a child who was a mere baby of one.  Children travelling with him were George, Thomas, Betsy, John, Richard, Isabella, and Jane.  There would later be three more children born in Canada, two of whom, Rebecca and Anthony would survive until adulthood. Two adult sons remained in England, one of whom, William, would join James in Canada some years later.         

(The primary source of information regarding James comes from 1930s records of his granddaughter, Rebecca (Potter) Dixon, the daughter of James’ youngest daughter, also named Rebecca.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon was an inveterate documenter of family lore and much of her material can be independently confirmed by archival records.)         

Prior to his immigration to Canada James worked as a blacksmith and additionally kept a hardware store and hotel as adjuncts to his blacksmithing business.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon writes: 

"My grandfather was a blacksmith but kept a hardware store and hotel too and worked at his trade.  Being badly in debt he left for Canada leaving all his possessions in the hands of a cousin, Jackson by name.  He, this cousin, as soon as grandfather started to his far off western home, sold all grandfather's effects and pocketed the money never paying any of the debts.  The sale lasted three weeks selling goods each day.  Grandfather had more than enough to pay his debts, but some of his creditors were anxious for their money and he had not enough to pay them until his goods were sold.  He started with what he had and they, the creditors followed him and he gave them all of the money he had with him." 

So according to family lore, it was a very impecunious James who set out for Canada.  One has to question, however, the accuracy of the account about giving all his money to his creditors. He obviously had sufficient funds for his passage to Canada with his wife and seven of his surviving children, including two young adult children.  (Adult sons William and James at the time remained in England.  William, however, would later choose to also join James in Canada, leaving eldest son James, a career soldier, as the only Dixon child who did not emigrate.)   

Anthony Dixon (1819 - 1878), the Canadian born son of James and another early family historian writes:

"James Dixon ... emigrated with his family in the spring of the year 1818 and settled in the Township of Aldborough, Upper Canada when he removed in the Autumn of 1826 to his residence, Lot 21, 2nd Concession of the Township of Etobicoke."

Apart from James and his wife Isabella, the family arriving in Canada consisted of five six children under age 18 plus older son George, about age 22, and Thomas, about age 18.  It is not known if had in mind a clear destination in Canada when he set out on what in those days would have been an ocean crossing of several weeks.  Although he may originally have had the Toronto area in mind, he initially ended up some one hundred and twenty miles to the southwest.  Family historian Rebecca (Dixon) Potter further writes: 

 "My grandfather came over from England  ... and as Toronto was no place at that time was induced to go on further to this Talbot possession as he had a division of the British army quartered there." 

The "Talbot possession" was a settlement begun in 1803 and run by Colonel Thomas Talbot, a well connected member of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy.  Talbot had been given 5000 acres in Elgin County to be administered by him and given to settlers wishing to farm and willing to clear the lands.  It seems reasonable to conclude that the attraction of free land had been the major inducement for James to settle in Elgin County’s Aldborough Township.  The arrival of James and family was clearly at a time when the War of 1812 between the United States and Canada was fresh in the minds of many.  Rebecca (Dixon) Potter goes on to write: 

"The old settlers told them how cruelly the lawless Yankees had used them, cutting down their orchards, taking even their feather beds out of their houses and emptying the feathers and carrying the ticks away ... and devastating everything around ... and would have killed Colonel Talbot, but he, seeing them coming, disguised himself and he and another gentleman passed the lawless brutes as they were going to his house." 

In 1818 when James arrived, Aldborough Township was still sparsely populated.  Until 1812 in fact there had in fact been only one family there, a family that chose to leave after its home was destroyed by Indians.  Six years later in the spring of 1818, James would be one of only seventeen other families, many of them Highland Scots, by then residing in the Township.  Numbers would further grow with the arrival from Scotland of thirty-six additional families that same fall. 

One can only imagine the challenges faced by James and family.  He was 46 years of age and had no farming experience.  Only two of his accompanying children were old enough to assist in land clearing.  The privations in such an untamed part of the province were many.  James and his two sons, George and Thomas, were each allotted 50 acres of land in the Settlement, all parcels fronting on Concession Road Thirteen.  James was given the northwest corner of Lot 23, George, about age 22, the northeast corner of Lot 23 and Thomas, about age 18, the northeast corner of adjoining Lot 22.  By 1820, according to an early assessment roll, George and Thomas owned no animals and had cleared no land.  James on the other hand had managed by that time to clear one acre of land and to acquire one cow.  Although these gains over two years may not seem impressive, there were in 1820 only eighteen of eighty-six men entered as landowners who had cleared any land at all.  Of the Township's 4450 acres, only 105 acres had been cleared in total with the rest described as wild land.  James' single cow was one of only forty-four in the Township together with twenty oxen and one horse. 

The Dixon lands were just east of the present village of Eagle.  Concession Road Thirteen with its sandy lands is quite close to the northern shores of Lake Erie, the irregularly shaped lots of the Broken Front Concession being all that separated the Dixon lands from the water itself.  James Dixon’s lands would be the birthplace of his last three children, Anthony born in 1819, Roger who died in infancy, and Rebecca born in 1822.  A visit to these lands in 1979 determined that the original 50 acre farm was still intact, there having been no additions of adjacent land to add to the original holding.  Almost two hundred years after James’ arrival, the land of course had by then been mostly cleared (save for a small bushy area at the back of the farm through which ran a gully).  Although the sandy land so close to Lake Erie was being used by this time to grow corn, the then owner advised me that, within the past twenty years,  it had also been used at one time for growing tobacco and prior to that for mixed farming. 

Pioneer life on these lands was difficult for James and family.  Settlers were constantly faced with inadequate accommodation, wild animals, and often a poor supply of food.  In a book entitled "Pioneer Days in Aldborough it is related that typical Aldborough pioneers would first sleep in the open or on the ground of very basic shelters until a small portion of land could be cleared for construction of a log cabin.  In the fall of 1818 (James had arrived in the spring) families, after exhausting a meagre supply of corn and potatoes, subsisted on turnips and chestnuts until flour could be purchased some distance away.  Wolves, bears, and wild turkeys were a constant threat to livestock and grain. 

Illness was also a problem, in no small part due to the undrained and swampy conditions of many of the lands which provided ideal breeding grounds for disease carrying mosquitoes.   High fevers and what has been described "the shaking ague" were common complaints.  Medical assistance was non-existent.  In September of 1819 alone (the same month James' son Anthony was born) there were fourteen adult funerals among the fifty-four Aldborough families.    

Against this backdrop James and his family persevered for eight years.  In the end, it appears that it was not the living conditions but the personality of the Settlement's founder Colonel Thomas Talbot that beat James.  Talbot was well known for being autocratic and eccentric.  Rebecca (Dixon) Potter further writes: 

"Grandfather got in touch with Col. Talbot and he settled in Aldborough Township but quarrelled with him  ... He gave it up and came down to Etobicoke where the three older boys had settled ..." 

The older boys would include George and Thomas and likely older son William who came to Canada with his first cousin wife Margaret (our lineal ancestors) sometime after James.  Although it is not known when George and Thomas left Aldborough Township for Etobicoke Township, it is assumed that they did not remain in the Talbot Settlement for very long since they never received title to their lands, an indication that settlement obligations requiring minimal land clearing had never been completed.  On the other hand, James remained long enough to receive title to his lands.  The paperwork was registered in 1825, the year before his reputed 1826 move to Etobicoke Township.  Because James had essentially paid for the land by improving it with his labour, the purchase price from Talbot is set out nominally as one farthing.  James would subsequently sell the land for 50 pounds or one pound per acre, its apparent fair market value at the time. 

James’ move to Etobicoke Township saw him settling there on Lot 21 of Concession 2, property he would remain on until his 1862 death.  His decision to settle in that area was no doubt the result of his wish to join sons George, Thomas, and possibly William who had already settled there.  In due course, sons John and Richard would also own land there and daughters Betsy, Jane, and Rebecca, once married, would also for a time settle in the area.  Given all the Dixon holdings now to be found on Concessions 1, 2, 3, and A, a cross concession road to the north of these lands would subsequently come to be known as Dixon Road on account of all the Dixon lands it passed.  Dixon Road is a name which survives to this day near Toronto's Pearson Airport.  Although Dixon Road and the former Dixon farmlands are now highly developed, they remained as farmlands until well into the 1950s. 

Little is known of James' close to forty years in Etobicoke Township.  What is known is that his third wife, Isabella, would die within four years of their arrival.  It is also known that there was an ill-fated fourth marriage to one Hannah Reynolds in 1831.  This marriage is briefly referenced my Adelaide (Potter) Stober, the younger sister of Rebecca (Potter) Dixon, in the following brief 1949 note: 

"Grandfather Dixon was married four times ... his fourth wife was a widow with one daughter but she lived with him only a short time.” 

(This marriage occurred April 18, 1831 at Toronto’s St. James Cathedral.)                                                                                                                                       

The only real additional glimpse of James’ life during his early Etobicoke years comes again from Rebecca (Potter) Dixon: 

"They first moved into a little log house as the house they were to live in was filled with hay.  After the hay was taken out they moved into the other house mother (probably grandmother is meant) died in and kept hay in the other house they first moved into." 

Apart from farming his lands, James also used his early blacksmithing experience to act as a sort of pioneer lay doctor and dentist since Rebecca further writes: 

"Grandfather here too started a blacksmith shop and was kind of a doctor too.  Would set bones and bled both people and horses.  Made some tooth drawers himself and had drawn many teeth." 

We also know that James' property also apparently once had several oak trees of some value since Rebecca also writes: 

"John and Richard cut all the oak trees down on grandfather's place and had them sawed at the mills into staves which were shipped to England and other places." 

Rebecca (Dixon) Potter, also describing her grandfather as a “strong Episcopalian”, adds that he had helped in the building of St. Philip’s Church in Weston.  

It is additionally known that James made one trip back to England in 1841 to visit family with his son Anthony.  This is not only referred to in the Rebecca (Potter) Dixon material but also confirmed by the 1841 census for Kettlewell, the enumeration having occurred during their visit there.  James and Anthony are shown on census night residing with his widowed brother-in-law William Tennant.  Also in the same household is James’ then widowed mother who was 90.  So unlike most pioneers who never again saw relatives left behind, James had the opportunity to see his mother one more time before her death. 

Following his trip to England Rebecca (Potter) Dixon tells us that James brought back to Canada with him his 10 year old grandson John.  This John was a late born child of his eldest son, also James, the only one of the family to remain in England.  It is hard to fathom the thinking behind letting so young a child being turned over to his grandfather to be taken out of the country away from his immediate family.  (This grandchild would in fact eventually choose to return to England many years later as an adult.) 

James made his last will and testament in 1860 before dying two years later.  The will in which he unusually appointed four executors left the bulk of his estate to his second youngest son Richard.  This included the 100 acre home farm on Lot 21, Concession 2 and all personal estate, subject only to a few bequests to others.  These included a relatively stingy five pounds to sons John and Anthony, ten pounds annually for life to daughters Jane and Rebecca, and two lots of fifty pounds, one lot each to be divided equally among each daughter's children.  Rebecca (Potter) Dixon writes that many of the family considered the will unjust. 

James Dixon seems to in many ways personify the quintessential pioneer.  He was 46 years of age when he decided to pull up roots in England.  He set out on the long passage for Canada with a large family, three of whom were ten years of age or under including a baby of one year.  Although he had no known farming experience, he managed not only to acquire those skills and flourish but also to successfully overcome the many adversities that awaited all pioneers.    Eventually prospering along with his family, he lived to the full age of 91 as had his mother. For this descendant, he remains to-day over two hundred years later an enduring symbol of 19^th century pioneer determination and endurance.

 

David Arntfield

 

A Flogged Bread Thief

Genealogy is often about names and dates associated with distant ancestors who, having led very ordinary lives left no mark.  David Stratton who also led a very ordinary life in Luton, Bedfordshire, England during the nineteenth century could be said to be one of those ancestors but for one interesting youthful event.  

David Stratton (1825-1910) was a paternal great great grandfather of mine who went on to father three daughters, one of whom was my great grandmother.  Before taking up the responsibilities of parenthood, however, one youthful escapade intruded on his otherwise very ordinary life.  He is the only known ancestor to have been judicially flogged.

Bedfordshire County trial records for March 11, 1843 record his conviction for the felony of larceny at the stated age of sixteen (He was in fact 17 at the time.)  The Stratton family was not well off.  David’s crime, according to the Luton gaol registry, had been to steal some bread.  Bread thievery, at least in the mind of the presiding judge, was something to be dealt with severely.  David was sentenced to two weeks imprisonment and whipping.  The number of lashes is not specified.

Whipping had been a common punishment for various crimes until the early nineteenth century.  David Stratton’s sentence of jail plus whipping seems to have been imposed at a time when it was a common sentencing tool for a myriad of crimes.  It also appears to have been a favourite sentencing tool of the presiding judge.  All those on the docket convicted of larceny on March 11, 1843 met a similar fate. 

It was not long after that whipping was reserved for only the most serious sexual offences until being completely outlawed in England in 1948 and Canada in 1972.  To a present day observer, the practice sounds barbaric and inconsistent with any notion of what is judicially appropriate.

It may be, however, that David was grateful only to be jailed and whipped.  Transportation and banishment to Australia remained in the British arsenal of sentencing tools until 1851.  It is difficult to feel all that much shame for this ancestor convicted of minor theft. The shame more rightfully belongs to the draconian system of justice in nineteenth century England that considered corporal punishment appropriate for such a trivial crime. 

The Short Tragic Life Of Betsy Dixon

For many years domestic violence for the most part hidden and little talked about.  Only the most egregious examples seemed to capture attention.  Betsy (Dixon) Stewardson (1804 – Abt 1850) stands out as an ancestor who was a nineteenth century victim of appalling domestic abuse.

My relationship to Betsy is remote.  As the daughter of my 4^th great grandfather James Dixon (1771 – 1862), she remains a very distant aunt from long ago.  She stands out, however, as an ancestor with a compelling story.

Writings of her niece Rebecca (Potter) Dixon (1856 - 1938) have preserved recollections of Betsy’s difficult marriage.  These memories would have been passed on by Rebecca’s own mother (also Rebecca), Betsy’s half-sister, who was a witness to many of the events described.

Betsy and other siblings had in 1818 accompanied their father James and his third wife (he had by then been widowed twice) to Canada from their Yorkshire home.  The family, including later Canadian born children, eventually settled in Etobicoke Township where James farmed.  As her siblings married, it appeared that Betsy, much to her regret, was destined to remain a spinster.  During her late thirties, however, Betsy’s fortunes changed when on July 19, 1842 she married widower William Stewardson in Toronto’s St. James Cathedral.  Betsy would have been thirty-eight and her husband about thirty-five years old at the time.  

The story of their courtship, if it may be called that, is described by Rebecca (Potter) Dixon as follows:

“Betsy Dixon married old Billy Stewardson.  He was a widower and abused his first wife shamefully.  He lived at Grandfather Dixon’s one summer.  Betsy got to think a great deal of him.  He drank fearfully and Mother begged her to think before she took such a step (marriage) and to mind how he used his first wife … “  

Betsy chose to ignore her half-sister’s advice.  The recollections continue:

“All this my mother told her and many more things.  (Betsy replied) with a wail ‘O Becca I like him and I can’t help it.  I must marry him.’  And they were married.”

Although the writing seemed to be clearly on the wall, Betsy, earnestly wanting to marry and shed the label of spinster, refused to see it.  Family misgivings were borne out:

“Oh poor thing, she suffered a thousand deaths.  He beat her and would do terrible things.  One night he threw a shovel of red coals into bed on her.  He would make her get up in the middle of the night and get him something to eat.  If what she got did not suit, he would make her get something else.  And at other times, if the knife belonging to the cheese was not put on the plate, he threw everything off the table.  And all the while she would be saying ‘what is it Stewardson (she apparently addressed him by his last name), what can I do for you?’  He would curse her.”

Not surprisingly, Stewardson’s behaviour did not improve over the years.  One night when he failed to return home, Betsy became concerned.  Rebecca’s reminiscences continue:

“Well, it ran along this way until one night he had been away all night and she was nearly wild with fright.  She came over to my mother’s house and crept into bed with Jim and M.J. (older siblings of Rebecca).  And after my father and mother and Bessie the baby were up (Rebecca’s sister Isabella, the baby referred to, was born in 1850 thus fixing events around that time), she got into their bed.  While mother was doing up the breakfast work, she heard Aunt Betsy saying ‘oh, what a poor creature I am and does not know where he is’.  She fell over in a fit.  She was sick for some time (from what is unclear) but when she was a convalescent  … she determined to go up and see him (Stewardson) with mother.” (The exact nature of Betsy’s illness and of the fit she suffered is at this time unknown.  From snippets of information provided by Rebecca, it appears that Betsy was a highly strung individual of perhaps limited mental capacity)

It appears that Stewardson, having now returned home and advised that Betsy had spent the night with her family, somehow made it known that he expected her home by nightfall.  The horse and wagon (apparently to be used for Betsy for her trip home) was first required by her brother John to run an errand some distance away. (Although the Stewardson home was within walking distance, albeit perhaps not within convenient walking distance, Betsy, not yet fully recovered, may have opted to use the horse and wagon.)  Betsy’s fear about being late and incurring her husband’s wrath is evident from the following passage:

“She reluctantly let it go and followed him (her brother) to the lane and begged him to be home before dark as Stewardson told her to be home by that time.”

Stewardson then apparently changed his mind and indicated he wanted his wife home by noon.  Fortunately Betsy’s sister stood up for her.

“It seems as they were starting out, it being near eleven, he (Stewardson) came and told her to mind and be home by noon to get him dinner.  My mother yelled to him that they would do no such thing and he need not expect them until night.”

As the day wore on, she became increasingly desperate for her brother to return:

“Well, Uncle John did not return and many times did she go to the lane to look for him.  At last she couldn’t stand it and told mother she would go home (presumably on foot).  Mother said no, that she wasn’t able, but Betsy said she must go.”

It appears that her sister may have followed some time later to check on Betsy’s safety:

“When mother got down Aunt Betsy was dead.  His (Stewardson’s) tale was that when she came home, he met her at the gate and she said she was very sick. Well, he told her to go and light a fire and get him some supper and then go to bed.  She was in the act of lighting the fire when she took a fit.  He left the house and ran for help and when he got back she was dead.”

There was no doubt in the family’s mind that the physically abusive Stewardson had caused Betsy’s death shortly after she returned home.  Given, however, the reference to an earlier fit of undetermined cause, this, in fairness, is not conclusive. 

“My mother felt so badly she could not bear to go in and see her until just before the funeral.  She claims if ever murder was committed, it was in this case.  She thinks that he met her at the gate, as he said, and frightened her in some way.  Now no one will ever know.”

The reminiscences of Rebecca (Potter) Dixon mention that an inquiry was held into the cause of death and that the verdict was that Betsy died from “water on the brain”, a finding the family never accepted.  Whatever the case, Betsy clearly suffered through eight years of marriage to a sadistic husband with a long history of physical abuse.  As an intimidated battered woman trapped in an abusive marriage, Betsy today would garner considerable sympathy.  Her family was less kind.  Rebecca’s (Potter) Dixon’s recollections conclude with the following harsh judgement:

“Well, so ended the life of the hardest working and most foolish woman that ever lived.”

 

                                                                                                                                  David Arntfield 

The Watch And The War

It was a rather attractive lady’s pocket watch that had been a gift to my grandmother from an admirer.  Improbably then finding its way into the trenches of World War I, the watch would be returned to her almost half a century later.

The hinged back of the case bears the inscription of “To Beat From Joe Xmas 1911”.  Joe had been an ultimately unsuccessful was a now long forgotten suitor of my paternal grandmother Beatrice Maude (Clarke)
Arntfield (1896 – 1987).  She would have not yet been sixteen at the time when she received what would not have been an inexpensive gift.  Joe, it appears, may have been somewhat smitten.

My grandmother had immigrated to Canada in 1906 from Luton, England with her parents.  Initially settling London, Ontario, by 1907, the family had moved to Stephenfield, near Carman, Manitoba to join her three brothers who had been settled there a few years before as farm labourers.  By 1911 
Beatrice was there on her own keeping house for her brothers, her father and sister having died and her mother having remarried and returned to London.

Clearly my grandmother had made an impression on Joe.  During her lifetime she only referred to him as an admirer without sharing more.  The watch dial is imprinted with the maker’s name, Regina, below which is the name of the shop where it was purchased, J.B. Cochran, Carman, Man. imprinted below.  The watch movement was made by the Omega Watch Company of Switzerland which at the time marketed its products in Canada under the Regina name. 

The watch movement has been placed, as was the custom, in its own separate case, a gold filled case made by the American Watch Case Company of Canada.  A jeweller who examined the watch’s concealed serial number has confirmed its vintage to proximate the year of 1911 when it was gifted. It would be customary for young ladies to wear such watches as a sort of pendant with a gold chain.

One of my grandmother’s brothers was Harry Clark(e) (1886 -1980).  On February 1, 1916, still living in Manitoba, he enlisted to serve in World War I.  Prior to being shipped overseas, he visited Beatrice who by then had returned to London.  Conversation turned to the fact that Harry, for some reason, did not have a watch with him.  My grandmother offered to lend him the watch Joe had given her those several years before.

Harry then shipped out, watch in hand, to begin his overseas service.  The watch accompanied him throughout the war, first in England and then in the trenches of Mons and Ypres where Harry served and was wounded.  The watch then accompanied him back to England and ultimately British Columbia where he finally settled.

During the late fifties or early sixties Harry paid a visit to London to see his sister.  Conversation, as it does with families, turned to times past.  Casually my grandmother, never having really given the matter a second thought in the intervening years, asked Harry if he still had her watch.  He indicated that only did he still have the watch but that it still kept perfect time.  He arranged shortly after to have it shipped back to her.  Joe’s Christmas gift of 1911 was at last back in its owner’s hands about half a century after that first Christmas in Manitoba.

In subsequent years my grandmother gifted the watch to my own mother who frequently wore it as intended as a neck pendant with a gold chain.  She has since given it to me.  It eventually stopped keeping time but a trip to the jewellers in 2010, some ninety-nine years after its last such visit, has restored it to working condition.  Joe’s thoughtful gift of 1911 is now an heirloom with a unique family history.

                                                                                                                          David Arntfield                                                                                                                                      

One Of The Old Eighteen

 Usually known as Frank, Francis Joseph Dixon had the distinction of being in the first graduating class of Canada’s historic Royal Military College in Kingston.  Born in Cobourg on February 9, 1857, the son of previously documented Anthony Dixon, there was great hope for his future.  As is so often the case, the reality was something else. 

Frank was one of eighteen cadets who had been accepted for military training when the College first opened in 1876.  In his book on the history of the College, author Richard Preston writes: 

“The cadets quickly became a living legend and its members were, quite naturally, regarded as the heroic founders of a great tradition.” 

In College history they have forever been referred to as the “Old Eighteen”. 

Until the founding of the Royal Military College, the British had provided military instruction in Canada at various regimental sites.  The establishment of the College, according to author Preston, stemmed from the feeling that self-governing colonies ought to be able to provide for their own defence and do so in a way that would produce officers possessed of an excellence at that time missing in most.  The founding of the College, a significant step forward for a young nation, at the time generated a great deal of public interest and enthusiasm.  Within a few weeks of its opening, Prime Minister Alexander Mackenzie is known to have visited the College and met with its cadets. 

Because Archives Canada maintains many records associated with the College, information about Frank’s historic connection and particulars of his training and career have been preserved.  Frank, we learn, had applied for a position in the first class in 1876 while still living with his family in Belleville.  In light of his previous association with Belleville’s Ontario College and the successful completion of entrance examinations, he was accepted at the age of seventeen to join seventeen other classmates. 

First year fees at the College were the then rather handsome sum of two hundred dollars to be followed with fees of one hundred and fifty dollars for each of the three remaining years.  The first day of College life on June 1, 1876 is described in Preston’s book as follows: 

“The recruit was then shown to his room on the second or third floor of the Stone Frigate.  Each cadet in this first year had a room to himself.  He found it plainly furnished with an iron military cot, a writing table, two chairs, a chest of drawers, and bookshelf. … There may also have been an arms-stand for his Sniderfield rifle.” 

On arrival each cadet was assigned a number based on the standing achieved in the obligatory subjects in the entrance examinations.  Although Frank would eventually graduate from the College (four of the eighteen did not), his assigned regimental number of fifteen would not indicate great academic strength.  In Fact, records of the College Registrar indicate that, despite his assigned number, he may have scored as low as seventeen. 

Frank’s hometown Belleville press was proud of him and carried various articles dealing with his initial acceptance and later undergraduate activities.  One article wrote that Frank was: 

“A very worthy young man and is only past his eighteenth birthday [it was in fact his nineteenth] though he stands six feet two inches in his stockings.” 

The article went on, wrongly as it turned out, to predict a successful career “to his own infinite credit and the advantage of the Dominion”.  Another article from a British military journal, after some paragraphs about the College described Frank as follows: 

“ … a fine specimen of a Canadian gentleman, six feet one inch in his stockings, who without hurrying himself, did the distance [the distance involved is unknown] in four minutes, fifteen seconds.” 

It would have been a proud day for Anthony, had he lived, to be present for his son’s graduation on July 2, 1880.  Gala closing ceremonies gave the public an opportunity to see cadets engage in a myriad of activities.  These displays included sword and bayonet fighting, boxing, horse vaulting, rapid charging and firing exercises as well as dismounting, dismembering and reassembly of carriages, and mine explosions.  

Archives Canada records indicate Frank graduated that day with a standing of thirteen in a class of now fourteen, again not distinguishing himself academically.  A copy of his graduation certificate lists both his physical characteristics and subjects studied. Physically he is described as six feet one and one-half inches with grey eyes and brown hair.  Subjects studied included fortification and military engineering, theory and construction of artillery, strategy tactics and military law, surveying and reconnaissance, drawing and painting, and civil engineering.  Although not academically strong, Frank, the Belleville press proudly reported, had stood first in strategy tactics and military law. 

Despite the heady success of graduation, the sad reality was that there were few positions available in Canada at that time for the graduates.  Canada had no standing army at the time and there was no ready market to absorb the class.  

For five years, the only related employment Frank would be able to find was as a Lieutenant in the Militia.  Preston writes that some of the class in fact ended up accepting positions in the British Army while others found related civilian employment using engineering skills they had acquired.  Still others such as Frank spent years of letter writing in pursuit of positions.

Archival records are again useful in tracking Frank’s quest for employment.  Prior to graduation he had first unsuccessfully in 1879 attempted to secure a commission with the North West Mounted Police, the predecessor in name to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.  In 1880, when living in Montreal, Frank was informed there were no vacancies.  Back in Belleville in 1883 he applied for a commission in one of the additional military schools about to be established.  The harsh reply of the commandant of the Royal Military College, to whom Frank’s request had been sent by his prospective employer for comment, was: 

“As a graduate of RMC, this applicant is entitled to some consideration but I consider him the least likely of all who have graduated, or who will graduate in June next, to prove a desirable or efficient officer.” 

As matters turned out years later the commandant’s words would be prescient.  In the meantime, undeterred, Frank persisted.  In 1884 he unsuccessfully applied for a commission with the contingent of “voyageurs and militia officers” about to be sent to Sudan to assist the British Army in the relief of Khartoum. 

It was the North West Rebellion of 1885 led by Louis Riel in Saskatchewan that finally provided Frank with the opportunity for service he had been seeking.  He started out as a Staff Lieutenant in of a convalescent depot in Moose Jaw.  While there, applying for a commission in what was known as the Provisional Corps, he was strongly supported by his superior who cited “his willingness and zeal at work”.  

The following year saw Frank holding several different positions, which included Staff Officer and Aide-de-camp, Supply and Transport Officer, Chief Commissariat Officer, Orderly Officer, Pay Officer, and Secretary of the War Claims Commission.  One has to wonder if these were promotions or if Frank kept getting shuffled from position to position due to incompetence.  Whatever the reason, Frank received the North West Medal for his brief service. 

Frank Dixon When RMC Club President

Frank’s whereabouts and livelihood for the next several years are unknown.  He is listed as the president of the Royal Military College Club in 1895 and 1897 and again in 1897 as the editor of the Canadian Military Gazette.  It is additionally known that he was present in Ottawa in 1898 for the founding meeting of the Montreal Military Institute of which he was elected an officer.  All these activities were pursued without any significant military experience to go with them.     

The South African Boer War at last provided with the opportunity for some more experience after a hiatus of almost fourteen years following his North West Rebellion service.  Formation of a battalion for service to South Africa was approved in 1899 and Militia Order 221 noted that Captain F.J. Dixon [now 42] would accompany troops as Historical Recorder.  Frank’s role may have included a bit more since, once there, he was two years later promoted to Major “in view of his services in the field in South Africa and his military technical qualifications”. 

Archival records further disclose that Frank was involved in operations in the Orange Free State, the Transvaal, and the Cape Colony.  Most of his activities seem to have involved military administrative duties with the railways.  

At the conclusion of the war Frank elected to remain in South Africa without having completed the history he had been assigned to write as Historical Recorder.  This failure became a matter of concern and the issue was raised in the House of Commons in 1903.  Frank thus became the only known relative to have had his name raised in Parliament and officially recorded in Hansard. 

The fact of the matter is that government officials had lost track of Frank.  The official response was that Frank had not been in the pay of the Dominion Government during his time in South Africa and that the government was not aware of his whereabouts.  A military newspaper of the day raised the issue under the heading of “Where is Major Dixon” as follows: 

“Militia orders ask for the whereabouts of Major F.J. Dixon, formerly of Toronto, who went to Africa with the first contingent as Historical Officer.  The notice set out that he is still believed to be in South Africa.  Mr. Dixon is understood to have engaged in railway work near Pietermaritsburg when he last communicated with Ottawa.” 

Shortly after this article appeared, a correspondent with knowledge of Frank’s whereabouts replied that he was living in the Transvaal on the Natal in a town called Wakkerstroom.  He was employed there as a Resident Magistrate, a desirable position said to involve duties similar to a County Court Judge, Police Magistrate, Marriage Officer, and Revenue Collection.  His appointment to this position apparently had followed abolition of the Military Railway Staff in South Africa.  Frank had accepted the position without bothering with the niceties of advising Canadian military officials. 

Now that he had been at last tracked down, officials wrote to Frank regarding the progress of his war history.  Frank’s 1904 reply on the letterhead of the “Office of the Resident Magistrate, Volkrust, The Transvaal” was unapologetic and terse to the point of being rude: 

“I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your letter 54-2-3 of December 10 last inquiring whether I intended writing an official history of the S.A. campaign.  In reply I report that my absence from Canada in South Africa will prevent me from doing so.” 

Frank died in a Pretoria hospital on May 22, 1916.  His death notice gives his occupation as Assistant Resident Magistrate in Pretoria, he apparently having transferred from his previous position in the Transvaal.  His total estate was estimated at three hundred pounds.  He died unmarried, apparently alone, and far from the many siblings he had left behind.  It was left to the matron in charge of the hospital to fill out the death notice to the best of her ability.  All she could manage regarding his place of birth was to write, “I understand near Quebec”.  

Archival records in Pretoria show that Frank made his will in 1910 appointing a South African trust company as executor and providing for three beneficiaries.  These were his unmarried sister Josie, married sister Clara, and brother Charles said to be living in Omaha, Nebraska.  One assumes that all other siblings may have been dead when Frank made his will.  No other files dealing with the administration of Frank’s estate have not been found. 

In looking at Frank’s life, his military career seems clearly to have been a mediocre one more in keeping with his limited academic achievements than the high military expectations others had for him at the time of his graduation from the Royal Military College.  The comment of the College commandant that he was “the least likely of all who have graduated … to prove a desirable or efficient officer” appears to have not been far off the mark despite the unrelated judicial position he eventually attained.  His failure to complete the history of Canadian participation in the Boer War seems inexcusable. 

Frank’s most important historical contribution seems to be limited to his membership in the Royal Military College’s first class.  Richard Preston’s book perhaps sums it up best: 

“The Old Eighteen had made a contribution greater than they can possibly have realized. … Under the tactful and skilful direction of Colonel Hewett and his staff the Old Eighteen created a college with a professional military tradition … As a result of the excellence of their training and education, the Old Eighteen, although only average young men who were not all gifted by nature with noted qualities of leadership became the model of that valuable tradition.” 

Although Frank died alone in relative obscurity in a distant land after failing to distinguish himself militarily, his legacy may be that he still lives on at the Royal Military College.  A tradition exists there that requires every new cadet to memorize the names of the Old Eighteen, one of whom for better or worse, is of course Francis Joseph Dixon.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               David Arntfield

The Mystery Of The Fraser Ring

William Fraser (1834-1906), a great grandfather on my mother’s side, left his native Scotland in 1858 for Canada.  Settling in the hamlet of West McGillivray, Ontario, he in due course raised a family there and carried on business as the local shopkeeper.  Amongst the possessions of William Fraser at the time of his death was an interesting inscribed gold ring which has since been passed down through subsequent generations. Its significance was always something of a mystery.

Recent research has, however, determined that the ring is what is known as a hair buckle ring with a recessed band of woven hair placed within an outer band of gold fashioned in the shape of a belt. Using woven hair as part of jewellery was particularly fashionable during the Victorian era when it was most typically used in mourning rings. Such rings in memory of a deceased family member
would often contain woven hair from that relative that would be set into the piece.  Apart from mourning rings, woven hair was also used in sentimental pieces commemorating a strong attachment between the parties. Based on the inscription on the interior of the band, the Fraser ring appears to have been such a sentimental piece.

The inscription on the inner band, reading “To SHF From Her Brother GF”, suggest that the ring was

been a gift to his sister while GF was still alive.  Although the letter “F” found in the two sets of initials was always assumed to refer to the family name Fraser, ascertaining the names of the Frasers in question initially proved elusive since there was nothing known about the family William Fraser left in Scotland before his emigration.

Those details have, however, to some extent now been pieced together through access to various
Scottish archival records for the family. It has been learned that William Fraser’s father, also William Fraser, was baptised in Paisley on November 23, 1794.  On May 18, 1822 he married Jane Howat, baptised in nearby Renfrew on October 26, 1794.  The significance of the inscription on the ring became clear upon examination of the birth records of the six children of this marriage, including our William Fraser.  They are:

                   Janet Fraser                 Born August 26, 1823

                   Sarah Howat Fraser  Born August 30, 1827

                   James Fraser               Born September 23, 1829

                   George Fraser           Born June 15, 1832

                   William Fraser              Born June 16, 1834

                   John Fraser                  Born November 28, 1836 

The names of William Fraser’s siblings clearly suggest that the initials on the ring refer to William’s brother George Fraser and his sister Sarah Howat Fraser.  Although the date the ring was gifted is unknown, one might speculate that it would have been no earlier than the 1850s when George would have been an adult.  It seems reasonably clear that the hair used was from a lock of George’s hair meant, as was then the fashion, as a remembrance of him and a keepsake for his sister. 

Although it has been possible to piece together the significance of the initials, the enduring mystery is why the ring eventually ended up in Canada in the possession of William Fraser.  This is all the more so since there is nothing in oral family tradition or available records to suggest that any of the Frasers, other than William, ever emigrated.  The history of the ring after it was gifted by George to his sister Sarah Howat Fraser to a large extent remain missing pieces of the puzzle. 

Although research has determined that Sarah died unmarried in Glasgow on July 13, 1890, no trace of George has been found following his appearance on the 1861 census for Paisley when, listed as a joiner, he is found on his own lodging with a local family. It is unknown when George died or if he left any descendants. One would expect in the normal course of events that the ring would have still been in Sarah’s possession at the time of her 1890 death. Assuming that was in fact the case, then the ring for some reason was then passed on to William in Canada after his sister's death, possibly as a remembrance of her. Another possibility is that William received the ring from Sarah before his 1858 emigration to as a memento from her.  

Since it is likely that the real answer to why and when the ring ended up in Canada will never be known, the ring seems destined to remain a family keepsake with no more than fanciful notions about the reason for its eventual journey to Canada. 

                                                                                                                                David Arntfield

The Origin And Meaning Of The Arntfield Name

 The about fifty or so people in Canada and the United States who share the unusual family name of Arntfield can all trace their roots to a single German ancestor who settled in Canada in 1852.  Although all Arntfields learn early on that seem fated to be constantly providing others with the correct spelling and pronunciation of their unusual name, most remain unaware of its origin.

The common ancestor who started it all in North America was Selig Ährenfeld who left the then Duchy of Mecklenberg in present day Germany at the age of twenty-one to forge a new life in Canada.  Born in the town of Bützow on March 3, 1831 to Jewish parents Abraham Ährenfeld and Jette Mendel, upon arrival in Canada he headed to Ontario’s Waterloo County where many of his countrymen had already settled.

Although Canadian census and other records from the 1800s for our ancestor contain various versions of his original German name, the variant spellings such as Eltefelt, Arntefield, Ardfield, and Arntfield likely had more to do with the often limited literacy skills of record keepers of the time than with any preferred new spelling by the family.  In due course, however, our ancestor settled on the Anglicized name of Arntfield as the preferred version that they chose to be known by. Although Selig would eventually father thirteen children, only three of his sons produced Arntfield heirs. Accordingly, it is through one of these three sons that all present day Arntfields can trace their roots.

Family names did not come into vogue in Northeast Europe until the 12^th and 13^th centuries when, following the growth of individual settlements, it was considered necessary to differentiate between people with the same given name.  The simple solution was to attach job descriptions such as Smith, Tailor, Miller, and the like to the given name, creating a family name which would then be passed on from generation to generation.  In many remote areas, however, the adoption of family names was a slow process, family names in those locations generally not appearing until the 17^th or 18^th century.  As well, most Jews did not adopt family names until required to do so by law.  Given that family names were not compulsory in Mecklenberg until 1813, it is accordingly considered that the Arntfield family name likely dates to that time.

Since Mecklenberg land was known for its grain production, it is perhaps not surprising that the etymology of the Ährenfeld name carries with it an agrarian connection that suggests family members may at one time have worked as farmers. Feld in German means field while ähren, the plural of ähre, technically means the fruiting body of a grain plant where the grain is found.  Often translated as head or ear of grain, the word, when combined with the word feld, is, depending on the context, generally considered to be an alternate way of saying either weizenfeld (wheatfield) or kornfeld (cornfield).

So there you have it — a somewhat complicated translation of a somewhat complicated name. When writing Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare had his star-crossed lover Juliet famously ask the question “What’s in a name?”.  Her dismissive response in essence was that names were meaningless since a name along should not define a person. We Arntfields or Wheatfields or Cornfields would have to disagree.

                                                                                                                             David Arntfield

The Autograph Album Of Miss Janet Fraser

 A shopkeeper’s daughter living in rural Victorian Ontario, Janet Fraser (1867-1921) as did many young

girls of the time, collected autographs. Collected during the 1880s, the autographs generally consisted of personal messages, scripture, or silly verse from family and friends.  Many generations later, Janet’s autograph album still survives as a family heirloom.

Janet Fraser was one of my great grandmothers, the mother of my maternal grandfather George Dixon (1903-1990).  Growing up in the village of West McGillivray north of London as the daughter of Scottish immigrants, she would go on to marry my maternal great grandfather John Thomas Dixon (1870-1952).

Although most entries in the album are not dated, those that are range from mid-1882 to mid-1888, indicating that Janet compiled her collection from about age fifteen to age twenty-one.  There are 64 separate autographs, many from family relatives and others from neighbours and school friends.  The book is rather handsomely bound in multi-coloured leather.  The first page bears Janet Fraser’s signature and the original price of the album which cost a then rather expensive eighty cents. Not surprisingly, the first entry in the album is from Janet’s father William Fraser (1834-1906).  The fatherly advice is consistent with what one might expect from a dour Scot Presbyterian trying to ensure that his daughter at all times conduct herself with propriety.  

                             

Just in case there was any doubt, Janet received even more moral instruction on the very next page from her uncle William Wright (1854 – 1892), her mother’s half-brother:

                                      “To my niece Janet

Take your Daddy’s advice my dear Janet

Be gentle, affectionate, Kind,

T’will add to your own life’s enjoyment

Leave no sad regrettings behind

                                                    Uncle Willie”

Earnest admonishments such as these were very much the norm for the times as well as concerns about omnipresent sin:

                                               “To Miss Frazer

You ask me to write in your album

I scarcely known how to begin

There is nothing original in me

Excepting original sin

                                          Yours sincerely

                                      M. Robinson

                                            West McGillivray”

To further emphasize the point, there is later found the following:

                                                          “To Janet

If sinners entice thee

Consent thou not

                                M. Paterson” 

The preceding two autographs are equally illustrative of the disparity of education present in rural Ontario at the time.  “M. Robinson”, likely a neighbour, appearing by her handwriting to have been barely literate, likely had received no more than a rudimentary education.  “M. Paterson”, believed to be Mary (Sinclair) Paterson the wife of Janet’s uncle John Paterson (1839 – 1923), wrote in a markedly different good hand. She likely had good reason to be concerned with sin and its enticements, her husband having been described by grandnephew Andrew Dixon (1907-2002) as “a rough talker, hard drinker, and fighter”.

Competing with Aunt Mary Paterson’s penmanship was that of Janet’s first cousins once removed, Andrew and William Lawrie (spelled Laurie by some family members) who had also emigrated from Scotland.  They were the sons of William Lawrie, brother of Janet’s maternal grandmother Janet Nicholson Laurie (1808 – 1885).  The fine, almost artistic, penmanship of these two brothers stands out as does Andrew’s Scottish dialect.  Equally impressive is the penmanship of one Thomas Setterington.

“Forget me not” writes William Laurie at Forest on March 22^nd, 1866 while brother Andrew, with a trace of his Scots accent, writes “Dinna Forget Your sincere Friend”, also in Forest, on February 24, 1885.  More formally, in an equally fine hand, we then see:

“My dear young friend so kind

It gives me great pleasure

In this your page of Navy Blue

To leave my autograph behind.

                                                     Thomas Setterington late of

                                      London, England”

There are many additional examples of the religious motif such as “May the pearly gates of heaven, Far far beyond the sea, Open wide dear Janet, To welcome you and me” and “If thy friends despise thee, Take it to the Lord in prayer”.  One touching sentiment, probably not original, is “In life’s golden casket, Place one gem for me’.

Apart from spiritual encouragement and a frequent requests to “forget me not”, the other preoccupation of those penning entries seems to be with the prospects of marriage.  Although marriage was light on romance and heavy on drudgery, spinsterhood was, if at all possible, considered something to be avoided in an era when women, largely having no independent livelihood, depended on men for support. 

As a result, there is much good humoured verse about Janet’s future prospects.  One friend pens “Janet Fraser is your name, Single is your stations, Happy be the little man, That makes the alteration”.  Another writes “May you always remain as you are, May you always be faithful and true, And if a man tells you he loves you, Tell him that is just what he ought to do”. 

Another author hopes that “May you never be an old maid with a temper like a pickle, May you never be a widow with a heart both gay and fickle, But may you be a wife with a heart both good and true, To cheer the path of some man’s life, Is the wish I have for you”.  Even cousin William Lawrie makes a return appearance in the book and weighs in on the subject:

                                   “To Miss Janet Fraser

Here’s Miss Fraser to be had for a wife

She’ll make a man happy all the days of his life

Jolly, good looking as neat as a pin

For further particulars “Inquire within

                                                           William Laurie

                                             Forest 22^nd March 1866”

More sage, albeit not rhyming advice comes from another who advises “Be kind to your lover, Not everyone knows, The pleasure it is, In having a beau”.

Janet eventually found her beau, marrying John Thomas Dixon, three years her junior, on September 25, 1901.  Almost 34 years of age at the time, she  must at times have considered that dreaded spinsterhood was likely to be her lot.  Although Janet had completed high school and even attended Alma College in St. Thomas, a sort of finishing school for young ladies, the shopkeeper’s daughter from West McGillivray ended up, however, as a farmer’s wife. Working herself to the bone while caring for four sons born between 1902 and 1907, she raised them in a strict religious environment consistent with the times.  After marriage and the birth of her sons she unfortunately suffered from a myriad of health problems.  Some believe she eventually had worn herself out in the marriage that all her friends had hoped for so fervently those many years before.  She died in 1921 not quite fifty-four years of age.

How different life must have seemed from those carefree days over thirty-eight years earlier when Janet, then almost sixteen, saw fit to note on the last page of her autograph album, the gathering of two friends and her at father’s home on September 17, 1883:

 “Georgianna Arcoat, Grace Perkin, Janet Fraser were together on September 17, 1885 at Wm Fraser’s”. 

One can well imagine the teenage giggles and banter went on that day.  Janet’s  life of drudgery and poor health lay ahead, a stark contrast to Janet’s future life of drudgery and poor health that lay ahead.

                                                                                                                                 David Arntfield