CHAPTER XI
A YEAR OF SUNSHINE
The year 1878 was to me a memorable one.
The improvement in business the previous year had been sufficient to enable me to pay my indebtedness to Allis, meet all my current expenses, and enter the new year with a good balance in bank.
My health had become entirely restored, and with mind free from worry life was indeed well worth the living. The home life, happy under adverse circumstances, was of course made more enjoyable by my improved financial condition.
The little rivulet of prosperity of 1877 broadened in 1878 to a stream, small at first, but ever widening and leading on to the sea.
On the second of July there was born to us our first daughter.
My wife and myself were delighted with this latest arrival from love-land. We had looked forward with fond anticipation to the event, and our hearts' desire was that a daughter should be added to the family circle. The blessing had come to us and we were grateful.
What shall I say of the mother of that little daughter?
What can I say that would do justice to her love and devotion?
It is said "there is no love like a mother's love." True, but with all reverence to my own sainted mother, there is another love that has come to me, the love of a wife for her husband, that I cannot but maintain is the greatest of all.
How completely that little baby girl ruled the household was soon in evidence. For the time being she was queen and we her loyal subjects, anxious to do her honor. The little brothers were more than pleased to have a sister and rivaled each other in their efforts to entertain her.
The mother was proud of her girl and I—well, to tell the truth,
I was deeply in love with the entire family.
Our lease of the place had expired in April but I arranged to keep it until the first of October.
We felt warranted, in our improved circumstances, in seeking a better home, amidst refined surroundings, and had concluded to make a change in the fall. We did not want to give up country life. My wife and I enjoyed it and we knew it was best for the children. Our desire was for a house with modern conveniences, neighbors, pleasant, cultured people whose society we could enjoy.
On my trips to and from the city I had observed from the car window a section of country not far from where we were then residing, and as the few houses I could see were modern, the elevation high and beautifully wooded, we thought it worth while to investigate.
With my wife I drove there one afternoon and we were both surprised and delighted at what we saw.
A gentleman of wealth had purchased many hundreds of acres of land, and after building for himself a handsome home had commenced development of the property for residences of the better class.
There was nothing of the cheap real estate scheme about the place. The owner would sell or rent only to such people as he deemed desirable.
Although the water supply and sewerage system had been established, miles of roads built, a handsome railroad station erected, and a large Casino in course of erection, there were at that time but six houses completed.
Knollwood was to be a park, and as a unique feature no two houses were to be alike. How successful it has been is shown by the fact that to-day there is no more beautiful or flourishing residence park in the vicinity of New York.
As a result of our visit to the property, an arrangement was made for a house to be built for us on a lease of three years, and we were permitted to select the plans of the house, its site, and the interior decorations. Work was to commence at once and possession given us in April, 1879.
Not wishing to spend another winter where we were, we returned to Brooklyn and remained with my parents until the new house was completed.
When we commenced our packing preparatory to leaving the little farm, as we called it, there was a feeling akin to homesickness.
We had been very happy and great blessings had come to us while there. The dear little baby girl, my health, prosperity in worldly affairs—all this and the thought of how the place had been a sort of lovers' retreat, where I had my wife all to myself most of the time, made the homely old farm-house seem something sacred.
We could not but feel a little sentimental over it all.
The garden, the arbor-vitae hedge, planted with my own hands, and now tall and almost impenetrable, the play-house which I built in the orchard for the children, all had to be visited with a feeling of saying good-by to old friends.
There was hardly a summer for years after that we did not at least once drive down the old lane and look over the place where our country life had commenced, and I shall have for it always a tender spot in my memory.
When, at the end of the year, the books were closed at the office, I was pleased to find that I had made a little over twelve thousand dollars.
It had taken me eight years to catch up to the point where Mr.
Derham left off, but I had finally succeeded.
As I was but twenty-eight years of age, I congratulated myself with a little self-conceit that was perhaps pardonable.
It had certainly been a hard up-hill fight.