The next item announces the first cricket match of the season at Beacon Hill. The Victoria eleven are Charles Clark, a clever amateur actor who helped to make a success of the various entertainments our club gave for charity in these days; E. Dewdney, afterwards Governor; —. Walker, a prominent barrister of those days; Joseph Wilson, of the firm of W. & J. Wilson; Josiah Barnett, cashier of the McDonald Bank; C. Guerra, a remittance man; C. Green, of Janion, Green & Rhodes; Thomas Tye, of Mathews, Richard & Tye; John Howard, of Esquimalt; Gold Commissioner Ball, and last though not least, Judge Drake. A cricket match in those days was always able to draw a crowd, being the ball game of the day. In this match the name does not appear of a Mr. Richardson, who was a professional player and at least an extra fine player, who came here about that time with a visiting team. He is still in Victoria, as I saw him quite lately.
Among the passengers by the steamer California for San Francisco, I note Rev. Dr. Evans, of the Methodist Church, and family; C. C. Pendergast, in charge of Wells Fargo’s bank and express, an important institution then; J. H. Turner, (Hon.) William Lawson, of the Bank of British North America, and brother of James H. Lawson; R. P. Rithet & Co., Mr. and Mrs. Pidwell, whose daughter Mr. Higgins married; John Glassey, an uncle of Mr. T. P. McConnell; J. S. Drummond, father of Mrs. Magill; Richard Broderick, the coal dealer, and wife, and Mrs. Zelner, whose husband kept a drug store where the B. C. Market now is. It will be noted that a number of people assembled on the wharf to see their friends off. I might say that this was the usual thing in those days. Even some business places would be closed while the proprietor went to the wharf to say good-bye to a relative or friend.
An Incident of the Mystic Spring.
Sir,—In Thursday’s paper in the "Forty Years Ago" column I note the account given of the suicide of a young girl at Cadboro Bay. An interesting account is given in the "Mystic Spring" by my friend, Mr. Higgins. Poor girl! It was another case of unrequited affection. I knew Miss Booth well, being of my own age. We had met on many occasions at picnics and dances and at other festivities. On the memorable afternoon cited I saw her walking on the Cadboro Bay Road from town just ahead of me, and I hurried and caught up and accosted her, asking where she was off to. She was then more than three miles from home, which was on the Esquimalt Road. She replied in the most cheerful manner, with a smile: "Oh, I’m going for a walk to Cadboro Bay." I remarked on the long distance she was from home, to which she replied, and passed on. Little did I think then that she was on her way to her death, and in so cool and collected a manner. My memory has been freshened lately by my brother, as to the circumstances attending the sad affair. Miss Booth was one of three sisters who lived with their father and mother, as before stated, on Esquimalt Road. She had become acquainted with a young gentleman who afterward became an M.P. at Ottawa, and this acquaintance ripened into something stronger, so much so that she fell in love with him, and showed it so pointedly that he, as well as others, could not well help noticing it. He did not reciprocate her affection, and I believe told her so, and like an honest man avoided her. This in time was too much for her and she took the fatal course which ended in her drowning herself near the "Mystic Spring."
Being the last to see her in life, and knowing her so well, I tendered my evidence at the coroner’s inquest. I might say that the family shortly afterwards moved to Ladner’s Landing, and the two sisters married there, and part of the family still reside in that vicinity. This ends another little episode of forty years ago. This is for those who may remember the sad occurrence and the interest taken in the poor girl’s sad fate at the time.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LATE GOVERNOR JOHNSON.
To the Editor,—As I sit writing, my eyes rest on the picture of the subject of these few remarks. This picture was sent to me with an autograph letter by Governor John Johnson, of Minnesota, four years ago, under these circumstances. In a magazine I was reading, as I lay in bed with typhoid fever, I came across an article written by a life-long friend of this good and great man. Of his early boyhood to the time when he was elected Governor of Minnesota, what an example he was to the youth of that day as well as this. The short sketch ran thus: John Johnson was the eldest, I think, of four children. His father was a blacksmith and a good mechanic. Both father and mother were Swedes. Although a good mechanic, he developed into a lazy, bad man, who neglected his wife and children, and eventually landed in the poorhouse. Being left to themselves, the mother took in washing, and after school, John, the eldest, took home the clothes and took out parcels for a tradesman. John was thus able to help to keep the family. He was ambitious, wanted to learn, attended night school for that purpose, engaged with a chemist, gave it up, went into a lawyer’s office, then into politics, and after filling several important positions got elected Governor of his native state. What I admired in John Johnson was his devotion to his mother, brother and sisters; also his self-denial. What would you think of an alpaca coat to resist the rigors of a Minnesota winter? Well, John, by working at night in various ways saved up enough to buy an overcoat, he having none, and having to be out late at night delivering the clothes his mother had washed during the day. Through unforeseen demands on his mother’s earnings the poor boy was forced to give up the overcoat and hand over the hard-earned money for something he thought was wanted more, and went through the winter with nothing warmer than an alpaca jacket. I cannot but believe that these hardships laid the foundation for a delicate constitution, and every time I looked at his picture hanging in my dining-room I thought, "How delicate he looks; will he live to be an old man?" I was so taken with the story of his early life, his trials bravely endured, and his final triumph, that I wrote to him and congratulated him on his election. This election was a great victory for him, as his opponents used the fact against him that his father had been an inmate of the poorhouse and had died there a pauper, to defeat him. These disgraceful tactics were repudiated by many of his opponents, who showed they did so by voting against their own candidate and for John Johnson. This gain of votes from his opponents elected him by a good majority. Well, I told him in my letter that I was a British subject living in Victoria, Canada, and as such I congratulated him on his victory, that I was glad his old mother was alive to see his triumph, and that she should be proud, and no doubt was proud, of such a son.
In due course he replied, and also sent me his photo, which, as I said before, I had framed and hung up in my dining-room as an object-lesson for all of how a good and noble son made a good and noble man. There is room for many more such in this world.