Meanderings - Esther Alden

Dear Ones All,

Don't begin by thinking - oh, dear, what a somber set-out this is going to be. I hope you will not feel inclined to say so when it is finished. I daresay, most of you know a good deal of what I may tell you, but will not mind if it is not all news, at any rate, I hope it will interest you.

Good parents are one of the first and greatest blessings in life, therefore I think I ought in starting to tell you a little about mine (1).

My dear father [James Philip Hewlett II] was born at Headington, in a house which is still standing, near our old chapel there, on February 26, 1810. His father was a very hardworking man, the Curate of St. Aldates and Chaplain of Magdalen and New Colleges. He died at the early age of 39 and father used to tell us how well he remembered attending his funeral when he was 10 years old, attired in a long black cloak, the fashion of those days. He was buried in St. Aldates Church.

Dear mother [Elizabeth Shakleford] was born in what was then a private house at the top of George Street, where the boot store of Messrs. Freeman & Hardy Willis now stands. They attended their parish church in those days, St. Mary Magdalene, where all the family were duly christened. Her father was a coachbuilder, first stage coaches and gentlemens' carriages of all sorts, and afterwards the 1st and 2nd class carriages for the Great Western Railway, all the lining and padding of which was done by the hands of women, hired for the purpose. The workshops were in George Street, some portion of which is now occupied by Lisemore's Stores, commonly called 'Cheap Jack'; some of the ceilings still show where the carriages used to be lowered when finished on to the ground floor. He got on well afterwards starting a branch at Chelenham, and moved there to live. That was some years after starting in Oxford.

When the Rev. James Hinton settled at New Road Church, a good minister and famous preacher there for 37 years Grandpa and he became firm friends ansd so they left the church for New Road Church, and all of both the families were baptised there.

A little brother and sister of my mothers are buried in the graveyard of St. Mary Magdalene, also my father's grandparents. His mother, whose maiden name was Esther Beuzeville was a strict Dissenter herself, though she married a clergyman, and report has it that they were a very happy and loving couple.

As she was left to bring up the family herself she chose to send my father to Horton College, in Yorkshire, Dissenting to be trained for the ministry. She was a very clever woman and a gifted writer for many years, and did a good deal of work for the Religious Tract Society. She lived for many years until her death in the house of her son-in-law, Mr. George Sargent, another author and worker for the Religious Tract Society. They lived at Eythorne, a village near Dover.

When father was ordained he settled at Kingsbridge, Devon, and was married on 13 May, 1836. Your grandmother, who was then Miss Elizabeth Cox, a pretty girl of 19 acting as bridesmaid, and afterwards paying them a visit at their new home at Kingsbridge.

Here comes in a very remarkable wedding cake incident, which you will all know, I believe, and which I need not repeat, especially as our dear gifted little Lucy has put it into print.

In June 1837 a little baby daughter was given to them, a child of great promise, who left them for a better home in December of the next year leaving some desolate hearts. The poor mother refused to be comforted. They buried the little one in a small cemetery on the hillside close to the sea, putting a table on the wall, with the inscription 'We know that our Redeemer liveth'.

About a month after, another daughter came to fill her place. The nurse was to pleased to make the announcement, saying "And such a pretty one, too. Now you must cheer up". But the mother said she could never love another like the one who was gond, but I think she altered her mind about that as the years went on.

Some time previously my dear father had been invited to go to Dover, to be the minister of a chapel which had just been built there. The move came when the aforesaid baby was about four months old. The journey was somewhat tediously performed by stage coach, about a three days journed with a stop at Oxford. Think of that, you present day people, who can go at the rate of 60 miles an hour, in beautiful carriages, to say nothing of a luxurious dining saloon, with a good hot dinner served up when you are so disposed.

"Travelling was travelling then" said Mrs. Blackett, and she went on to say "How little one things in youth of what we shall come to see in age, and having half an hour to wait for the up train, I looked round the walls of the station platform, and they seemed quite a study, and what our Vicar used to call 'food for meditation'. You mayn't see much, having been brought up to it, and what brought those feelings to my mind, but as I studied 'Coleman's Mustard' and 'Stephenson's Teas' and 'Mappin Cutlery' with the price given and very reasonable too, and 'Heal's Bedstead' sent free by post and 'Thorley's Food for Cattle' and 'Borwick's Baking Powder' finishing up with 'Sydenham Trousers' at 16/6, it almost brought the tears into my eyes to compare things with what they was when I was a girl, and to think of the railway train running as they tell me it does right up the Penriffe Valley". She was doubtless a very worthy old soul, but I fail to see why she should cry over it!!!!!

Before getting to Oxford I must not forget a word in memory of our good and faithful old service, one year younger than her mistress who came to them when they started married life and stayed about 17 years, friend as well as servant. She was a second mother to all of us, more even than our own mother. She made all our interests her own. Would that the race of such devoted ones had not died out, but they were amongst the good things of the past and almost as extinct as the dodo.

To resume our journey - when we arrived in Oxford we went to see Grandma Alden, who was proudly rejoicing in the fact that her baby boy could almost walk. She held his petticoats, and made him walk round the table while your other Grandma sat and looked on admiringly with her baby in long clothes on her lap. That was the first introduction of your father and mother. My mother used to say she didn't know whether we fell in love then, but as I wish to keep to the truth in these pages I feel I can only say "No! Such was not the case."

Then we proceeded to Dover where 11 years, the years of childhood, were passed and truly happy ones they were. The first house at Castle Hill, where Uncle Howe was born and father wrote to his Kingsbridge friends the news that a "fine boy" had arrived. That letter came to light a short time ago among some old letters of a friend there. The last 5 or 6 years we lived at Crabble House, a large old-fashioned mansion, with all kinds of fruit, flowers and vegetables, three fine cherry trees (Kebt is the county for cherries), apple, plum, mulberry, crab apple medlar, and a plantation of raspberry, currant and gooseberry. The whole garden was on a slope with grass paths and at the top a row of fine old oak trees from the boughs of which we had a splendid swing. The dear old garden is cut in two now by a railway running through it and as bad as the old lady with the Penriffe valley.

There were a lot of outbuildings, stables, coach-house, etc. where we used to keep a lot of rabbits and splendid fowls. It was altogether an ideal place for young folks. I often used to think how lovely it would have been for my children! It was nearly miles from Salem Chapel so we used to have plenty of walking, the first part through fields by the riverside, the last part houses in the suburbs. Dear father used to take us for long country walks when he could spare the time, over the Dover downs yellow with the golden furze, was a favourite walk. He used to look after us specially when mother was away as she was sometimes when she went to Cheltenham to visit her parents. After one of the aforesaid walks he sat down and wrote her a letter in rhyme in which these lines occurred:

                           The wood anemones are faded
                           As soon as gathered. Father's jaded,
                           So home we come, the cloth is laid,
                           And we the cold roast pork invade.

We thought it a great treat to go sometimes in the week to the chapel, and examine the inside: organ loft, pulpit, etc. and try the pews which were best to sit in and so on. The pulpit had the words 'Thou God seest me' painted insider under the bookrest and I remember a sort of feeling that perhaps God could see us better there than he could anywhere else.

Aunt Sarah was born at Crabble, and I remember how proud I was to have a sister.

If any of you think these details small you must remember they belong to the small and happy days of childhood.

Before leaving Dover, I must go back a little, as I got to Crabbe House rather too quickly. I meant to have referred to our house in Charlton Terrace, a nice house with a pretty view of Charlton Church opposite, with meadows and river, where two brothers were born: James Philip and Russell Beuzeville. In that house we had some interesting visitors, two or three of them I can remember. Rev. William Knibb, who went as a missionary to Jamaica where he was mainly instrumental in freeing the slaves. The Rev. Thomas Binney, the author of several books and hymns, among them being the well-known 'Eternal Light'. I recollect being perched on his shoulder, rather frightened at my great height, for he was a tall man. Then there is one more I must mention, the Rev. Francis Tucker, who came to stay with his wife for a day or two and had in prospect a visit to the Holy Land. This he carried out in his young days. A few years ago, getting on in life, he came to speak at a missionary meeting at New Road Church with Dr. Edward Underhill. His speech was a treat, during which he brought in a most interesting account of his visit to the Holy Land, years before. While at Nazareth he went into a school and the teacher told the children to sing a hymn and they stood up and sang 'Lo He comes with clouds descending' and he said he would never forget the thrilling effect it had upon him to hear those words sung by children's voices about the returning Saviour so near to the spot where he was once "for favoured sinners slain". It was very beautiful and you can guess how pleased I was to listen to it all. I tried to shake hands with him, but was not successful, as he was hurried off to catch a train. He was then minister of Camden Road Chapel where he had been for many years.

We left that house for our five years at Crabble. During some part of the time we had a governess to teach us, take us walks, and generally train us in the way we should go. I don't know whether she failed with me, anyhow mother was not satisfied because she thought I had too much romping with the boys, so I was sent as a weekly boarder to Miss Haddon's school, where I felt very small at 10 years old, amongst a lot of big girls. The two ladies whose school it was were the eldest daughters of John Haddon, printer of Finsbury, the founder of the present firm of John Haddon & Sons. There were twelve sons and daughters and three younger sisters were in the school. I did not like it much, but it did not last long as the call came to Watford when I was about eleven.

The move was carried out in the middle of an old-fashioned bitter winter and as it took quite a week to pack, mover and unpack we had no home to go to so one of the ladies in the congregation lent us her beautifully furnished house and servants, going on a visit herself, very kind wasn't it.

The first evening we were there a young son of our very best and kindest deacon (who was also clerk giving out hymns and notices) came in with a large dish of beautiful mince pies with his mother's best wishes. He was fearfully shy, poor Teddy, but I stood and stared at him while he was making the presentation in a most unmerciful way and directly he was gone game vent to my feelings by saying "Oh Mamma, what a pretty boy." She said "Nonsense, we don't call boys pretty." She as he was, a mild flirtation followed and for some time it went on until at last I was threatened with a very severe punishment. I won't divulge of what kind, it was rather a degrading sort of thing and I was made to have it "as sure as your name is Esther." However, before long a separation came in the shape of a boarding school and I started at Miss Dawson's day school where I went until between 15 and 16.

On leaving Watford I went to the father's to tea the last evening with Uncle Howe and when we were seated at table he all at once said to me "Now you began with Edward and you must finish with Edward". Of course it made us feel hot and uncomfortable at the mature age of 19 or thereabouts but "There's many a true word spoken in jest".

To go back to 13 and school days. The Misses Dawson were sisters of the Rev. George Dawson of Birmingham, a very clever lecturer in his time and good old-fashioned teaching was their rule. The elder one was favourite with us all. She taught music and took the writing department mending all the pens for 30 girls on her thumb nail and she was so clever at it that she would come round behind us with her leather quiver of quill pens and look to see which hand, out of four, we were going write and give us a suitable one directly. There wasn't a steel pen allowed in the place and there were no fountains. Miss Dawson lectured me once and said there wasn't a girl in the school with better abilities than I and that if I didn't make progress it would be a shame to me. I told her I meant to and I did make progress very fast. We all had our lessons given us except poetry which we were allowed to choose for ourselves so I thought I would charm her one day by reciting a piece of Cowper's Fable on the birds nesting time, ending with a moral:

                               Misses, this tale that I relate,
                                   This lesson seems to carry,
                               Choose not alone a proper mate
                                   But proper time to marry.

She looked at me with a stern smile and said "Mind you always remember that advice" and again I told her I meant to, and kept my word.

There are several things relating to the life at Watford which I must tell you. after that time I began to realise more than before that life has trials to be borne at one time or another and difficulties to face and be brave over. It is my earnest hope and prayer that trials may be tardy in coming to any of you and that much of the happiness and joy of life may be yours.

well, I promised, or rather I wanted to say a little more about Watford and the 'dear dead days beyond recall'. we lived in the last five years in a very nice semi-detached villa, close to the station. There was a beautiful garden with only a hedge and steep bank between us and the railroad. the house belonged to Mother's uncle, a Mr. Henry Wright of Birmingham. It was just one mile from chapel and two and three times every Sunday I went down and back making six miles: Sunday School and morning and evening services. I didn't know what it meant to be tired in those days. Father always preached three times on Sundays. the afternoon services used to be well-attended, 250 average, mostly people who could not attend the others. There were no PSAs or PWEs or YPSCEs in those days. We had not progressed so far. we had splendid congregations morning and evening. The chapel seated 1000 and many an evening the long forms used to be brought in and placed down the aisles and filled. My dear father was in his prime then and we did have some sermons. Uncle Howe began to play the organ when he was 14 and he did it well too until we left. I have never heard 'All hail the power of Jesu's name' sung like it since. It thrills me now to think of it. Happy times!

I want to tell you a little about my dear brother James [James Philip Hewlett III] who died three months before we left Watford at 15 years old. He was a sweet little fellow loved by everyone who knew him, never very strong. There was a Vicar then at the Paris Church, who was not all a vicar should be. His favourite amusements was dogs of which he kept a lot and used to go about with three or four at his heels, the terror of the place. One day when dear Jimmy was about 10 years old, one of the huge dogs pounced on him, rolled him over on his back and treated him very roughly. He was quite ill with fright and we thought it injured his back. The spine was affected and he suffered much pain and one morning, quite suddenly, he lost the use of his legs and did not put a foot to the ground for three months. at the end of that time the feeling as suddenly came back and he ran about as actively as ever for 5 years. One day in May he went for one of his favourite coach drives to St. Albans and back. The wind was East and he took cold and he was never well again. all the old symptoms returned and after three months of terrible suffering, borne with perfect patience and sweet resignation, he went to join the weary ones at rest from all pain and suffering. He was my pet brother and I felt as if I could never love the others as much. This was my first real trouble. I found amongst Mother's letters a tiny note written in faded pencil as he lay on his back very ill while she was unavoidably away for two days. I will copy it because it is very touching and I would like you to see it.

Written June, 1858.
Dearest Mama, or should I say darling comforter of the sameness of my present life,
I should have sent a message in Esther's this morning but was asleep. I was afraid you would think I didn't think about you but I have thought of very little else since I tried to catch a sight of your dear face as the train went by. All are very kind but you are what they can't supply. I prayed for you most earnestly in the deep quiet of last night and shall continue to do, God helping me.
Mrs. Hutton sent me 6 strawberries as big as I have seen.
That God will bless you with his best of blessings and watch over all your steps and bring you back home safely is the prayer of your darling little invalid.
After to-morrow I shall look out. You know I am lying down coughing.

I have a very nice account of it written by his devoted mother at the time. I think some of you would like to see it. If so, you shall. Fifty years have passed away since it was written.

I was baptised a year before we left Watford at the age of 18 by my dear father. My text was Hebrews 6:12.

One very favourite place at Watford was a place some distance called 'Hamper Mills' situated on the banks of the river Colne and approached by road, river or fields. It consisted of large paper mills and a beautiful dwelling house occupied by Mr. James Smith and family, brother of Lepard & Smith, of London fame. There was a lot of money made there. They used to drive in their carriage to chapel twice a day on Sundays. We used to go often by water to spend a few hours there. I could row well and was a good steerer, and always got put into that office. The old gentleman was an enthusiastic chess player and I had a game with him once that lasted two hours and I beat him. I could play well the as father had taught me very thoroughly. well farewell, to dear old Watford!!

I must begin this paper, dear ones, by sending you one and all many very loving thanks for all your kind, good and loving wishes for my birthday just past. I have received so much kindness and love that I feel quite overwhelmed with thankfulness and the wish that I could be much more truly deserving of it all seems to be uppermost in my mind. The more I think on the subject the more I feel sure, that although I have known many women in my time, and do know many now, yet I cannot fix on one so rich and blest in the possession of such good, sweet and loving children. Well I had better say that I firmly believe, and so have done trying to express what there are no words for - there were never such! I can never put into words all the joy and gratitude with which my heart is full: 'Our Father knows'. and then the dear adopted sons and daughters, always so good and kind to me: bless their hearts! What can I say more? Words fail me, so you must take the will for the deed and try to think how you would feel in my place! I could well fillj up this paper in talking about the present, but I suppose I must try and carry on the reminiscences a little further.

During the year 1858 arrangements were made by degrees for going into the Church, and as a go-between, Father took up work for the Bible Society and stayed in it for many years. At first he took up deputation work for the seven western counties of England and afterwards at meetings in London. as it did not matter where we pitched our ten, Oxford was decided upon partly on account of Father's great love for it and also to make it easy for the boys to go to college.

Uncle Howe entered at Magdalen Hall and afterwards called Hertford College under Dr. McBride directly we were settled and Uncle Arnold was at Queens some time later. Both got on well and took their MA degree. They settled to go to St. Aldate's Church on account of love for the old place, I suppose. It certainly was not very attractive in those days! Never shall I forget filing down there on a Sunday morning, sitting in a high backed pew with Father. after always seeing him in the pulpit this was decidedly queer, but the contrast in the whole thing cannot be described. a very poor congregation, only a few of their heads visible and the cold formality of it all! I did not know how to bear it. They had hoped so much that I would be willing to fall in with all the novelty of it, as the others were, and it was a real trouble to dear father when he found that I could not bring my mind to it. They did not like me to go to New Road Church [Baptist] at all because they thought that in time I should get used to the other.

After a little time I had a liong talk with my dear father in his study and told him plainly that I could not see my way to alter and could not like Church however I tried. He said he was very grieved for there to be a division in the family for the first time, and I assured him there need not be the least difference in our love and affection for each other, so we made up our minds to it and were as good friends as ever. I never had a falling out with my dear father and was only very sorry that I could not do as he wishes.

I made an omission about the moving. My Grandma Shackleford had lived with us for about 3 years at Watford and I had to bring her to Oxford before the move and establish her in lodgings at Grubbs (next door to 35) the very house where her daughter Sarah, Grandpa Alden's first wife had lived and died.

Then I had to superintend the operations of a man and his wife who undertook to prepare the house in Holywell for our reception. I can remember the degree of comfort I lived in for some days very well! It was a rather big affair for a girl of 19 to manage. I have reason to think there was a christening service somewhere in London, which all attended, during these few days but I was never informed. (This is somewhat of a digression and should have been put in before.

I am obliged to say that home was never the same home again and after a fair trial of it for many reasons, some specially my own, I made up my mind to write to my cousin Eliza and tell her all my troubles and how much I should like to be near her for a time if she could find me somethin in the way of teaching to do. she at once wrote back and said she would be delighted to have me near her and she knew of just the right thing: a widow lady with a little boy and girl who wanted teaching and she wanted a companion for herself. I let Eliza make all the arrangements and went to Kiumbolton in Huntingdonshire and stayed a year and was very happy indeed. I ought to say that dear Eliza (double cousin) was a great favourite of mine and had been like an older sister to me for years. she was the eldest daughter of Isaac Alden 9your father's uncle) and his wife Mary Shackleford, one of the sweetest women I ever knew. Eliza was for a long time in a school in Birmingham as a teacher and was also for some time engaged to Delf Elliston (nephew of Elliston in Magdalen Street) who was preparing for the ministry. The parents went out to Australia but she stayed where she was till her marriage and used to come to us at Watford for her holidays. Her mother died very soon after they reached Australia at 47 years of age.

They had a nice chapel at Kimbolton and Eliza made a good minister's wife. I played the organ very often on Sundays and used to meet the choir one night in the week to play for their practice. after I had been there some months I came home for a holiday and of course there were several meetings with old friends and I went to tea at 35 sometimes and joined in their musical evening for which they were very famous. Grandma was very careful to send Fred to take me home, but as his elder brother ran after us half way down Broad Street and sent him back home, he had to go. New Road Church was still forbidden ground but the cat was still in the bag until one unlucky evening when Cousin William Shackleford came to stay a night with us and Uncle Howe said "Of course Ted must come to supper as it was his cousin too. So he went and invited him and William, mking a guess at the probable state of things opened his eyes when I chose my place to sit at the table and made a pleasant little remark like "Oh, I see, I see" which opened their eyes and let the cat out. The next day was not the most pleasant one of my life by any means but we survived it and I soon went back to Kimbolton. a letter of friendship once a month was what was allowed us. we kept to this, but I cannot honestly say there were no little notes inbetween the big letters, to fill up the spaces, so to speak, and I think that was quite allowable.

William was the son of my mother's only brother, William shackleford and Rebecca Alden his wife, your Grandpa Alden's sister, so you see he was a double cousin as well as Eliza.

Well, as speakers often say when they have tired you out, it is time I brought these rambling remarks to a close. More than five years passed away, both working hard and meeting very seldom, just two or three days at a time. Some of it was very trying and we verified the truth of the old proverb 'The course of true love never runs smooth'. I will give you some account of those five years in my next, and perhaps get as far as the memorable day, but can't promise this. 'All's well that ends well'.

I want to finish this with two acrostics we wrote at the same time, without knowing it and exchanged them when we met, in the very early days.

Matter of fact business gentlemen would do well to stop here and leave the ladies to finish.

I am not going to say anything in these papers about something else in which I hve all these years been so happy and blest, and I need not, as you know so well 'Still waters run the deepest'.

Every my guardian spirits with angelic care
Strew thy life's path with flow'rets fresh and fair,
Thine every step attend with watchful eye,
Hover around thy head when dangers gather nigh,
Encouraging they heart with thoughts of Him whose
wondrous love
Raises all joyous hopes of deathless bliss above.

_____________________

Ever may richest blessings from above
Descend upon thee, and a Father's love
When troubles press around thee by the way
Attend thy path and cheer thee day by day.
Receiving thee above when life's short day is o'er,
Dismissed from earth to that blest world where
time shall be no more.

Nearing the end of the Kimbolton twelvemonth my father told me that if I still felt a wish to stay away from home he wished I would make a move and go to some very dear friends of hi whom he had known for some years: the Strattons of Manningford Bruse, Pewsey, Wilts. Father said if I would like to go, as he hoped, he would take me to see them when I went home, so we went together and I think all parties concerned were pleased, so the bargain was struck and I went soon after in the spring for nearly three happy years.

I had turned 21 in that January. Mr. Stratton, one of the best men that ever lived was a gentleman farmed and lived in a beautiful old house. He was then about 40 and his wife a somewhat delicate lady about 37. Three little girls, Maria 11, Pollie 8 and Alice 6, and dear little things they were. Well, they wanted me to be an older daughter to them, a sort of right hand, and verily so I was. I may truthfully say I never knew an idle minute. Three hours teaching in the morning, music lessons in the afternoons, with reading and needlework on wet days, long walks or country drives in our dear little pony carriage when fine, or shopping at Pewsey, the nearest market town, two miles off, two or three afternoons a week visiting the poor folks in their cottages and reporting all needy cases to Mr. S. which were always helped or relieved. There were often one or two hot dinners cut off at the table for special cases, and soups and puddings ad.lib were always being made in the kitchen. Then twice Sunday School teaching on Sundays and playing the harmonium at our evening service in our village schoolroom. It was across a field from the house and the Scripture reading and Mr. S. took it in turns to take the service. then I had a weeknight class of village girls in the same room to teach them in various ways. There used to be about 20 on an average, and in the course of the week I used to get them two copies apiece in our own dear little schoolroom at home, the room over the porch. Sometimes when something special had to be done I wen to Devizes, ten miles, by myself, put up the pony at the Inn and ordered my dinner there and then went to see to all the business. Once I had to go and fetch my dear father from the station as he was coming to Manningford to speak at the Bible Meeting and I remember he was a bit nervous when he found me without a man or boy in attendance. when I got back Mrs. S.said I ought not to have gone with that frisky pony without taking someone with me. I told her they thought the grey one was not good enough for such a long distance. However, I hadn't the least atom of fear and no harm came of it.

We used to hold the Bible Meeting annually, in a very large barn that was decorated until it looked like a green bower. And, the roses! I have never seen such since, a very large garden at the back of the house was nothing but roses of all sorts and conditions, and the house was covered with them for many months of the year. Mr. S. was a splendid rose grower and always took first prize at the annual Horticultural Show at Devizes.

Wiltshire being one of the counties in Father's district, he always attended the Bible Meeting. One of these days was a redletter day. Mr. S. got a carpenter to make a board about 4 yards long and 3/4 wide and had it taken up in a long passage in the house. then I covered it with pale blue, cut out letters in white and arranged and fastened them on the board 'The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of the Lord endureth for ever'. It looked very pretty high up amongst the evergreens. For some time before we had worked, and negged and brought a lot of small articles to make a stall for the children, and back by the evergreens it looked very pretty and sold well for we had a lot of visitors there that day. Each of the children had a collecting box of their own, one for the Missionary, one for the Jews and one for the British & Foreign Bible Society. It was to help these boxes and when they were turned out to be one pound apiece, they were very charmed.

The, after the evening meeting there was a lovely supper in the long dining room, to which many friends for miles round came and went home in their carriages. That supper was a sight! All the best silver and glass, the loads of lovely roses, etc. and viands in rich abundance all over the long table. Of course my dear father was the hero of the evening. It was all very lovely.

There were heaps of stuffed birds of all sorts in every room, in some cases from floor to ceiling, which looked very pretty.

One summer Mr. S. went to Bath with the phaeton and brought back in place a beautiful little wagonette for which he said he had been extravagant enough to pay 100 guineas. It was lined and padded in navy blue cloth and a top to put on in winter, or when required. Two sweet little ponies used to draw it and we always went to church in it on Sunday mornings to a small village church, two miles away at Upavon. then our own service in the evening. Mr. Stratton was always friendly with our own vicar but never went near his services as he was very 'high, and not much else, not an extra good man.

Mr. S. brought me home at the same time a lovely sugar basin with red glass lining, as a contribution towards housekeeping. Some little folks I might mention broke the glass in after years, but I use the basin always now.

I ought to have said before that when I had been there a few months there were great rejoicings over the birth of a son, after an interval of more than six years. All went on well for a time til when the child was about 10 months old. Mrs. S. was, or fancied she was, in need of Malvern and its vaiety of baths so got Mr. S. to take her to make a long stay so I was left in charge of the whole householf. There was the nurse and night nurse in baby's room; two servants in the kitchen; three little girls to take the greatest care of; conduct family prayers; and interview the farm bailiff every evening and report at his dictation and in his own dialect all farm news to Mr. S.

Unfortunately, almost as soon as they were gone the child was taken ill with bronchitis. The doctor came and said it was a bad case and a great responsibility for Miss Hewlett. He said they ought to be sent for home and after four or five days, each of which seemed as long as a week, Mr. S came home alone as she thought she was not well enough to come.Early the second morning after his return the child died. I was thankful he was there. Then she came home and I had to take her to see the little one laid in his crib. She was perfectly calm and composed to my great astonishment, for I expected something very dreadful I think and had a horror of witnessing a scene. She lay on the sofa in the evening and gave me directions for Devises the next day, to go and order mourning, visit the dressmaker, etc. which I accordingly did. They buried the child in the parish churchyard and put on the little stone, after name and date, 'The firstfruits to God and the Lamb'.

When it was all over I was very done up and they thought I had better have a few days change. My parents had left Oxford then, and Father was taking the preaching at St. Mary church, Torquay, Devon for 12 months. So I got an invitation to 35 and arrived there one day in May at tea-time, tired out. The Christmas before I had to go to Devonshire for a fortnight and when I got back to Manningford they very kindly invited your Daddie there for a few days. They sent me with the trap to meet him along the Devises road, and it came on heavy rain. About half-way I found him taking shelter under a hayrick, carrying his portmanteau, and he was not sorry to be helped along. Then we did not meet again until the visit to oxford I am speaking of in May.

Grandma A gave me some tea on arrival and then told me she did not wish me to stay there as it would be a hindrance to business. I was to go to Horspath over Shotover Hill, 4 miles from 35 escorted by Edith, about 6 years old.

Nellie was staying up there in a cottage with the children. I got there somehow, perfectly dead beat and cried the best part of the evening with vexation and fatigue, lying on an old sofa. about 9.30 we were thinking of sampling the huge four poster when a thundering knock came at the street door, which much alarmed Nellie but didn't seem to worry me at all. I need not say whose voice we heard. She was very vexed but I escaped downstairs and we poor persecuted things had two hours together in the parlour, while the old man, master of the house, wishing there were no such thing as sweethearts to keep him out of his bed. They made Daddie a bed on the sofa and he stayed to breakfast and two or three short snatches like that were all we got through the week. It did seem cruel, the first meeting for nearly five months. I wasn't sorry to go back to Manningford. About then the time at MaryChurch had come to an end, and they (her parents) moved to Treadington near Tewkesbury for father to supply the church there on Sundays, still in the Bible Society.

In the summer I went there too, to see them, and I was decided I should leave Mrs. S. before Christmas and that we should be married in the spring so as to have 3 or 4 months in preparation.

To my everlasting regret I did leave the dear old place and then everything was knocked over. G.H. (Grandma Hewlett) came to oxford to look for a house for us and she, and G.A. (Grandma Alden) had a good old crone and G.A. so impressed G.H. with the idea that it was folly for us to think of getting married. We had two good homes, why couldn't we be satisfied to stop in them etc. etc. ad lib. The result was that we had to go on to the summer of 1864 instead of the spring of 1863.

You shall have an account of those months in due course. Before leaving the Strattons I must tell you that we had a few days visit there with May, three months old. we had plenty of nice drives etc. and one evening, just as were starting, some of the villagers gathered round and asked to see Miss Hewlett's baby at which Mr. S. appeared to be very shocked and told them they must remember it was Mrs. Alden now. Maria was then about 16 and such a sweet girl. Some time after Ernest Sutton, old Martin Sutton's son, Suttons Seeds, went to stay at Manningford to learn the farming, and in due time they made a match of it, and lived for many years at Basildon, near Pangbourne, a very sweet place. They had sever children, four of whom are farmers in Canada and doing well. I went there on a visit about 5 years ago and I was glad I did for she died a year or two after. The other two still live in the old home, which I should think is rather large and lonely for them by themselves. Mrs. S., died some years ago at 67, and Mr. S. after years of patient suffering, died a year or two before Maria. a few months before his death we went there from Bournmouth for a few days and I was very pleased to re-visit some of the old haunts. One of the village women whom I used to visit in the old days said, when we went to see her, that she could not believe it was Miss Hewlett and they said "no, it is Mrs. Alden now" and she said "Yes, but it is the same person. She used to be so slender and have such beautiful long curls". I think she remained doubtful til we came away. well, I think I have told you enough of this 'tale that is told'. I only hope not enough to tire you but I always love to think of these dear people. I had a nice letter from the two this last christmas.

I will now give you an account of what happened between leaving dear Manningford, December 22, 1862 and the memorable day, July 20, 1864 and finish up with an account of that next time, as you all know pretty much what has happened since. That December 22 was a sad day for me and I was only sorry once that I did it. One the 24th I walked over to Tewkesbury with my dear Father, and on by train to Cheltenham, to Cousin Williams where I spent a nice evening of anticipation with them.

William went to the station to meet your dear Daddie who came late in the evening. He did not know I was there. Eliza hurried me off upstairs when we heard them coming and I had a good view of the hall, taking off coats etc. and heard William say "Now Ted, I suppose you will want to get off as early as possible in the morning". They put him in a room by himself and sent me to him. He was very surprised and not at all sorry, at least did not appear so. we had a jolly time and they sent us home to Tredington in the wagonette on Christmas morning, 7 miles, lovely scenery, frosty morning, in time for dinner. We had four days together and then separated for 8 months.

A month or two of the New Year passed by. Uncle How was then living a few miles away as tutor to the son of a widow lady. One day he came in to make a proposal to me to oblige him by going to live for six months with some very swell people, relations of Mrs. Martins, who had taken a furnished house for the summer at Ryall Hill, near Upton on Severn. He thought that, as we were going to be married that year as arranged, I might as well do it, so I consented. The family consisted of Captain Warren Hastings Woodman, a very kind true gentleman of about 55/60, his young handsome wife, perhaps 30 or so, two little girls, Eleanor aged 7 and Eva aged 5. The former was a very nice good child: father's child. The latter was the very opposite, and awful temper and red-haired: mother's child, and completely spoiled by her. There was a very nice library lined with books, Brussels carpet etc. with French windows opening on to the lawn and lovely gardens going down to the banks of the magnificent Severn. This was supposed to be my room and I always sat there, sometimes with the children, sometimes by myself for hours.

One day Eva set her mind on having a menagerie in this room consisting of a huge do and some fowls and rabbits. I told her she much not do it and she flew to the drawing room to tell Ma what she wanted and that nasty 'Shulett' would not let her. Ma gave leave directly and there was pandemonium in a very short time. The way she threw the creatures about and the dog doing his best to help was a caution, more easily to be imagined than described.

The housekeeper, who belonged to the people whose house it was, stayed on to look after things and she was very angry.

I and the children had dinner with them in the dining room at one o'clock, which meal was their lunch. I had tea in the library with the children, generally a bit of cold meat which was brought in at 5.30 and I was never asked or expected to want anything in the way of food after that until 9 a.m. the next day! After a few days trial of short commons I found I couldn't do with it, so I told the housekeeper and she always sent me in some supper after that and two or three times she came up the back stairs and brought me some hot dinner to my bedroom. One occasion was when I had driven to Worcester with them for the day and subsisted on a penny bun. They had soup and chops at a restaurant. Mrs. W. said she knew I didn't like soup and did not offer any substitute. That evening I had a dreadful headache from want of food and the housekeeper came up to my room and called them a name which is better not written.

the Captain had a German valet who waited at table and I much used to enjoy hearing their German conversation. Mrs. W. had a French ladies-maid who used to do everything for her, even to putting her feet into satin slippers while making preparations for bed and generally took her up and elaborate breakfast late in the morning.

Then there was a housemaid and gardener, generally 5 or 6 meals in the kitchen and a very jolly time they had of it too. They used to pity me and I pitied myself too sometimes. The valet used to come and tap at the door about 7.30 every evening with the same formula "Dessert is on the table" and off the children used to fly to partake and I saw no more of them for that night.

They had a beautiful carriage, coat of arms, etc. a grand turn out in which they went to church on Sunday mornings. You have all read 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' and will remember Marie St. Clare. I couldn't describe Mrs. W. better: her character exactly. A huge gold topped vinaigrette went with her to church and served for a plaything. We sat in a square pew with enormous hassocks and stared at each other - couldn't see our neighbours at all. I did used to hate it.

I went in May, and left in November, too ill to do or care much about anything having only seen your dear father once for eight hours since the Christmas before. That eight hours in September we managed by E.C.A. going by excursion to melbourne and E.B.H. going by coach from Upton to Malvern, and so we met and had that short time. He said he had never seen me look so bad and I felt at that time quite run down. I got dreadful neuralgia constantly. The train started for Oxford two hours before the coach started for Upton so you may think how I felt for those two hours, sitting up in a corner of the coach by myself. I hadn't the heart to do anything else. That was in September and on November 5 I went home to Tredington. All that time there was influence brought to bear upon me to think better of a certain engagement and give it up. I daresay the uncertain misery of it all helped to make me bad and I was so utterly run down when I got home that mother said "I shall send for Edward and he had better come". I begged her not to because I knew if he came then he would not come again at Christmas, so I went to a dentist at Cheltenham and nursed up and was better before Christmas.

About Easter, 1864 the wedding was fixed for July.

There was a curious sequel to that story about Ryall Hill, which is partly the reason for my having said so much about it. While I was there he was talking about some money which would come to them and, when they had it they would have to take the name of 'Hastings' after 'Woodman'. She said she shouldn't like that but he said it would have to be so. I never heard any more about it but a few months later I saw in the 'Oxford Times' an announcement of the death of Marion, the beloved wife of Professor Sanday, Canon of Christchurch and eldest daughter of the late Captain Woodman Hastings of the Hythe, Tewkesbury. The names of Mrs. and Miss Woodman Hastings were among the mourners. I had never even heard of the people since I left them. By the say, those of you who have read 'John Halifax, Gentleman' may like to know that the scene of it is Tewkesbury, called 'Torton Bury, Cheltenham called Coltham. The Abbey is often mentioned. We used to walk over the fields to the Abbey, three miles on a Sunday evening when Grandpa preached. One of the fields was the one in which the Battle of Tewkesbury was fought, in the reign of Edward IV, I think. It is all mounds to this day.

I must now draw to a close for this time, but not before referring to the very touching event which has, I feel sure, drawn us all more closely together. We are very please with all you dear ones say and feel in sympathy with out dear sweet little Tousie and dear Ernest. We must and do feel very thankful that they have been so sustained and comforted under the bitter and severe trial through which they have been called to pass. We are so rejoiced that they can see the silver linking to the cloud so clearly and brightly; and trust with dear Bert that they may have a long spell of sunshine before them. almost the youngest dear little one has been the first called from the loving circle to which he belonged. May all the circle be coimplete one day in the Father's home above, not one absent. 'And a little child shall lead them'.

The months between November 1863 and July 1864 were well filled up with preparation: visiting the village, frequent days in Cheltenham shopping and visiting at Uncle Williams. I got to know all the village people and spent Sunday afternoons in their houses. One of the women said to me once "It was a beautiful sermon this morning, Miss, and so appros to the text". I remember feeling very surprised as to where she had picked up the expresson.

There was one large house besides the Parsonage where Major Surman the Squire lived with his wife in solitary grandeur. They had family ancestral paintings life size round their dining room 'Dedlock' fashion and were very much such people, very kind in their way but very stately. they asked us all to evening dinner that Christmas time. I tried to get out of it by saying I had a friend staying with us so, of course, he was invited. we sat two hours at that dinner with three flunkies waiting upon us: one, a household retainer and two others who came with the guests. Your Daddie was seated next to a young curate who was anything but brilliant, was at college at Cambridge and thought Daddie was ditto at Oxford so kept making remarks about college life, etc. And, as Daddie was a great deal more than a match for him it went off very well. after dinner we went to the Drawing Room for coffee, songs, etc. Daddie came out well, sang several songs splendidly and passed as a very clever fellow from Oxford, very musical. Things are not always what then seem! If there had been any idea of anything to do with trade, well I fancy we should have spent our evening at home. I need not say that if they had not invited him my place would have been vacant as far as I am concerned. However, they were particularily fond of Uncle Arnold, who spent much of his time there. He was then about 14 - very good people in their way.

Well our Christmas together comprised six days when we parted until Easter when the day was to be fixed. At Easter we had four days, the day was fixed for July 20, so we said farewell until July 19 when the guests arrived and some of them were entertained for sleeping at various friends' houses in the neighbourhood. Uncle Fred, Cousin Robert and Daddie went to a farm near. Grandpa and Grandma Alden stayed at Twekesbury and came over in the morning.

The bridesmaids were cousin Charlotte Hewlett (afterwards Mrs. Brookes of Folkestone) and cousins Patty Hewlett and Mirrie Shackleford and Aunt Sarah, then 15 years of age. She was very much taken with Uncle Fred, who had to walk her home, and declared she would never marry anyone else and she has kept her word. Rather singular, he should have married Sarah Hewlett after all.

Cousins William and Eliza came over in their carriage in the morning. the wedding was about 12. No carriages were needed as we had only to walk through the garden and orchard with the trees bending their load of fruit. the church porch was a carpet of flowers laid by the kind village folk. My dear father took the principal part of the service himself and a very dear friend of his, the Rev. T.P. Holdish and Uncle Howe took some part in it. Uncle Arnold played the organ.

When we got back to the house we had a few minutes service in the drawing and then proceeded to the wedding breakfast. twenty sat down and it was a very delightful affair. the wedding cake incident you all know about as being most interesting and curious. Perhaps I should say remarkable so I will not repeat it here.

Then we went into the orchard where all the village women were collected to receive a book each from me and have some wedding cake, not the cake but a more substantial one. the pretty peal of five bells was ringing joyfully all the time. When about 4 we started in a carriage and pair with postillions in blue and wife. We rode through the village in style with all the available boots and shoes thrown after us. we went to Ashchurch en route for Bath where we arrived in the evening and had rooms at the Railway Hotel with a wide verandah outside the sitting room window from which we could see the city of Bath in splendid moonlight. We went from Bath to Shanklin the next day and spent a happy week there. Is it any wonder that we are fond of Shanklin?

The day was altogether a perfect one, as perfect as anything in this world can be and I have only been glad and thankful once that that day ever came to me. The weather was splendid. I must describe it in the words out of a book I am very fond of 'The Life of the Rev'd William Marsh' written by his daughter, author of 'The Life of Captain Hedley Vicars' one of the heroes of the Crimean War. Mr. Marsh was rector of Beddington, Surrey, and was born on July 20, 1775. The book says "The 20th July 1864 was celebrated as usual by a large gathering of poor and rich, all invited to an early tea on the Rectory lawn. It was one of the sunniest days of that most brilliant summer. Friends gathered round him from far and near to wish him joy on entering his 90th year, and nothing seemed wanting to add to the interest and grace of the scene!.

So much for the best day of my life!

On May Day, 1865, the Squire walking through the village asked a man what the bells were ringing for and the reply was "For the Parson's granddaughter, Sir". So May was honoured, you see. Twenty-one new relationships were made by her birth, I wonder if any of you know how. If not, I will tell you another time.

For this time, with much love, farewell!

Meanderings in Times that are Past