A Child of the Sea; and Life Among the Mormons

by Elizabeth Whitney Williams

STRANG HAVING DINNER WITH US.

Strang walked in, seating himself in a chair, saying: "Good morning, Mrs. Whitney." Mother greeted him very coolly, as she had not seen him since Bennett's death. How my heart did beat when he asked where my father was. Then I was sure he wanted to take me away to the harbor to school. Mother told him father would soon be in to dinner, which she was then preparing. Strang said: "I guess I will stay to dinner, Mrs. Whitney, and have some of your nice baked whitefish, which I see you have." He saw her putting it into the oven. He talked about many things and after a little while he said, "Where is your little girl?" Then I was sure he would take me away. I wanted to scream, but kept quiet. Mother told him, "The child is afraid of you since you had Bennett killed." He came over to the bed, getting down on his knees, saying, "Come out, child; I will not hurt you. Come and sit on my lap." I drew back. He pulled me out by the hand, taking me in his arms and sitting in the chair he stroked my hair, saying: "I will not hurt you, child. Do not be afraid of me." His voice was low and his face looked sad. I looked at him a long time, then said: "I see blood on your head. I am afraid of you." He put his hand to his head, passing it over his forehead, and looking at his hand, he said: "I see no blood." He was very pale and his face was serious. Mother explained to him that I had heard the people say that the blood of Bennett was resting on Strang's head. I got down from his lap and took my little chair as far as I could from him, and holding my doll. I watched the king, fearing him so much. He told mother he was absent when Bennett was killed. She asked him why he was always absent when his people did the most disagreeable things. He said: "Do not judge me too harshly. I am not responsible for the killing of Bennett." Father and our boys soon came in with our friend, John Goeing. Strang staid to dinner and praised our boys for being so brave in going on the lake. He said: "My people will never learn to be good sailors; they are too timid." Then he asked about the schooling. Father told him John Goeing, our boarder, was teaching us.

THE MORMON FEAST GROUND AT FONT LAKE, BEAVER ISLAND.

Father told me in after years he had a very serious talk with Strang that day, and the king admitted it was not right that Bennett was killed, but said where there were people that were opposite in their beliefs there was always trouble. Mother told him some sorrows would come to him if he persisted to live as he was living. He smiled, saying: "Oh, we aren't such a bad people, after all, Mrs. Whitney, and when you become one of us you will think just as we do." He shook hands and was gone. Mother said to father: "I do believe we shall have to leave here soon or we shall be forced to become Mormons." Father assured her that would never be.

JOHN GOEING AND HIS DEAR OLD IRISH HOME.

John Goeing came to the island and had been with us two years. He was an educated and refined gentleman from Ireland. His father was a rich Irish lord. John had been disappointed in love and left his "dear old Irish home" to come to America. From a visit to friends in Canada he had wandered to Beaver Island, and had been with us ever since. He was a great reader, having a box full of books. He did not work, and being very fond of us children he took it upon himself to teach us. He received money from home often, with the finest of broadcloth suits of clothes with silk underwear. Every evening after the lessons were heard John would read to us or tell us about his "old home in Erin." What brother Charley and I loved most was to have John tell about the chase with hounds. I liked it all except where the fox was killed by the dogs, then I would say, "John, can't you tell some stories where the fox gets away from the hounds?" Then he smiled, saying, "I won't have the foxes killed any more. It makes Elizabeth feel too sorry." Then he would get his books, saying, "Now, children, where shall we go tonight? England, Ireland or Scotland?" Sometimes we all wanted different stories. Then he would say, "I will take you to Ireland, my own native home." To me it was fairyland to listen to John telling of the home he had left, with its lovely green parks, graveled walks, shady bowers where his father and mother often strolled about with their children. We could almost see it all as he told it to us, and so often when he finished the tears would be falling through his fingers as his head rested on his hands. And the books, how wonderful were the places he took us to in them! He had traveled almost everywhere and we loved best to hear about his travels. We could understand it all better. John was like a brother to us younger ones, and like a kind son to father and mother.

MY BROTHER CHARLEY GOING TO OHIO.

Summer was fast slipping away. Our summer boarders were talking of home. One of our boarders, Mr. William Hill, was anxious to take my brother Charley home with him, put him to school and teach him the engineer's trade. It was all talked over and settled that Charley was to go. We children could not realize much about what it meant. My eldest brother had been one winter with the same man. Charley was to remain with Mr. Hill until he was twenty-one, he being past ten now. Papers were made out and signed. Mother prepared all the clothes for her boy that was going away to another home. I remember so well seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sewed and stitched far into the night, making the little jackets that Charley was to wear in his far away new home. She sacrificed her own feeling that her boy might have an education, and a good trade when he became a man. The time had now come for Charley to go. Father and mother had grown thin and pale. The packing began. Mother could not finish and neighbors had to come in and finish it for her.