The Story of a Life

by J. Breckenridge Ellis

His beloved schoolmate, Oliver Carr, stands much in the danger of James Myles. His energies are all gone—we do not say wasted, but spent; a vacation is imperative, and the missionary turns toward South Australia, whence have come the letters from Magarey and Gore, and Gore's father-in-law, Philip Santo. Mr. Carr goes thither on a visit to these three—the rich miller, the evangelist and editor, and the rich iron monger. This holiday furnishes us with the concluding series of the present chapter. The time is the Australian spring (or American Fall) of 1871.

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I am in Brother Gore's study at Clapham, safe and sick. I was met by Santo," (M. P.) "Earl" (who failed in his attempt to bring over American gold for our Australian College) "Moysey" (who sold his calf some time ago to buy school books, not in vain) "Gore" (who has a new baby, T. J., Jr., by name, and affords the Australianized Kentuckian a fresh vantage point from which to argue against homesickness) "and many others. I never was so thoroughly seasick. I was on the bed or couch from one harbor to the other. I'm sick yet. Brother Gore and I came near talking all last night through. I've been asked many questions about Miss Ettie" (Gore's sister-in-law, who wrote to her father, "I love you," and who is still attending Mrs. Carr's boarding-school.)

He writes the next day: "I've gotten off my sea-legs, but my health is no better. We drove out to Magarey's and the family were glad to see us" (no talk of sore-headed bears, we may conclude). "Alex. is well," (who preaches while his brother "practices.") "For the first time, I pulled ripe oranges from the tree. We talked incessantly. I ate six before dinner." (The talk, then, not quite incessant!) "This country about Adelaide is a level plain for 200 miles around the seashore, girt by hills like those at Maysville on the Kentucky side. In the early morning, as I look at those hills and the lovely plains silvered with light, all is so much like home that my heart rises in my mouth, and I could almost say poetry! Adelaide seems to have been laid out for about 200,000 people, but only about 30,000 have come; so the spaces between the houses have been made into lawns and fragrant gardens. It is truly a rural place. The houses are principally one-story, with gardens, trees, etc. I only wish you were here to enjoy it. We talked about Kentucky University and the 'boys,' etc., all day long. These are just my kind of folk!"

Mr. Carr a few days later: "I am resting, oh, so good! I'm as easy as an old shoe—I wrote that while looking at Brother Santo, who had just come in to sauce me. He is a good man; I have a deal of fun with him. I get on the scales nearly every day to see if I've fattened. I wish you could breathe this clear, fresh air, and the perfume of the roses! I can hardly stop in the house long enough to write a letter. I baptized one last night. I told you how scattered the houses of Adelaide are—no danger of anybody's getting killed by being run over. This air is so clear that you can distinctly see the bodies of the trees and the cows grazing on the hills, six miles away. Tell Miss Ettie I don't blame her for being homesick for a place like this; all the family are just like Miss Ettie, so you would like them all."

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I am distressed over Dr. Campbell's diagnosis. If your right lung is weak, a few more weeks' preaching in the hall would bring on disease. Now, my dear husband, the best thing that you could do, is to act the part of a rational being by taking the doctor's advice. If you will spend the summer in Tasmania" (whither our friend Geo. Smith has gone to make tall silk hats,) "I will gladly stay here in Melbourne for your sake. If you ought to return to America before the building of the Chapel—in other words, before the Cause is firmly established in Collingwood,—I am willing to do that or anything to re-establish your health. These are only suggestions; your own judgment must decide. No consideration could induce me to oppose you in any course the doctor might pronounce. Ollie, take good care of yourself. I am glad you and Brother Gore are going to the mountains. Climb Mt. Lofty, if it is accessible. You won't be able to tease Ettie about her country, when you return, you are so enthusiastic about its beauties. My birthday party passed off happily. My girls surprised me with a beautiful toast rack, butter knife and candlestick. It was a real surprise. We had delightful music. Two complimentary tickets just came for you from the Town Hall. Ettie and I will have the tickets, and you can have the honor. May the Lord bless you, my darling, and give you the strength to accomplish your proposed work in this land. I will be as economical as I can, that your health may not suffer for want of travel. Your large donation to the Chapel Fund will make things a little hard, but the Lord will supply us in a way that we know not."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I have been with Alex. to see such sights from the top of Mt. Lofty, as I cannot describe. The Magareys have done their best to make me happy, and oh, I do enjoy it! We went to church; Brother —— gave us the fall of Jericho. We got home at 9, enjoyed our cocoa, then to rest. Brother Gore is going to give his class a two weeks' holiday; then we will go fishing, and sit on the fence! We have great audiences here, our Cause is very strong in this country; and yet there are only about 350 real members (year 1870) in Adelaide; the faithful are few!"

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I miss your wise counsel and kind encouragement in the discharge of duties. I would not wish to live without you; I feel that I could not. I hope you will write to Brother Albert Myles without delay. In his present health, he must be greatly crushed by the death of his brother. If you do not take the rest you require, you will go as perhaps Brother Albert is going. The Lord bless Brothers Santo and Gore for their goodness to you! Ollie, I wish you would write more of what you feel, and less of what you see. I want to know if you are any better, and I want to know Dr. Campbell's opinion in full. Ettie and I enjoyed the annual meeting of the deaf and dumb at the Town Hall. We had a representation of a cricket match; and the battle of Hastings. How did you happen to write 'Six shillings are too much for the book?' In my opinion you should have said 'Six shillings are too many,' or, 'is too much.' I called on the American consul's wife; both are pleasant people. I am still determined to keep you in Tasmania two or three months during the summer, even if I have to keep lodgers."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I find no fault in what you have written for the Times, why you should not have it published. I return you the MS. with my approval. Brother Gore and I went by coach to a fine old English tavern at Port Elliott where we staid till Saturday. I got you some shells. We wandered over the beautiful fields, gathering the wild flowers daily, and hourly left our little (?) footprints on the beach to be washed away. I wish you could have seen that view! Mattie, do you think I would let you stop at home and slave away, for me to have all the fun, just because of what Dr. Campbell says about one lung? I am glad your birthday party passed off so well. Many thanks for the flowers from your bouquet."

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I am sending you an article for the Times, for you to criticise. Return it to me and I will send it to Brother McGarvey, as I want to write to him. If there is anything in the article you disapprove, underline it, and perhaps I will omit. That which you cannot tolerate, doubly underline, and I will certainly strike it out. Does the little boy really cry for you, when you start for town, or isn't it for Brother Gore? Thanks for the nice flowers. I appreciate such a remembrance from my 'prosy husband.' If Ettie returns next year, I will keep you in Tasmania for your health three months. She is such a good girl, I love her more every day. I miss you more than I can tell, darling; but I have made up my mind to do what is best for you. Brother Dick remembered you at morning service, yesterday. It is after eleven now, and I must read some French before I sleep."