Sunday, January 22, 1899

    After Mass today there was a lot of talk about how young people are being asked to think about emigrating to Canada – they say if you sign up as a worker this group in Canada will pay your passage and see that you get good employment as a servant or farm worker.  You have to work for free until your passage is paid off, then they will pay you good wages.  There are a lot of bachelors in Canada, and before long you could find yourself married to a farmer with more land than you can imagine!  One of the girls saw a poster in the shops.  She told a group of us she was going to go as soon as she could.  “You go to Canada,” she said,

“ There’s so much money in Canada you’ll be picking up money in your apron!”        

         Maybe this would be a good way to at least see one other country.  But I could never leave my Mam and Da, I can’t imagine life without them.

         Mam showed me a letter she got from her sister near Inverness.  They just placed my cousin Heather in service with a large family on an estate.  It sounds very grand – 20 rooms, including a ballroom and picture gallery, and the servants all sleep up in the attic.  They are allowed one weekend every month to go home to see their families, and one half-day every week.  I will have to write a letter to Heather myself, and get her to tell me all about it. 

Sunday, January 8, 1899

         On Friday as I was walking to work I heard a fearful noise behind me.  We had all been hearing about the new horseless carriages that were powered by some sort of steam engine, but this is the first I’d seen one.  The driver wore goggles, a big hat and a sort of big overcoat over his tweed suit, and as he drove by me he shouted, “Hello there, little lady!” in a very un-English or Scottish voice.  His machine certainly scared the horses on the road, and I heard their riders cursing it. I could hear the man laughing as he passed them.  There was a stink in the air from the smoke that came out of its backside.  Between the bicycles more and more of the lads are riding and the horseless carriages the roadways are becoming more and more busy – and dangerous for those on foot.

         That afternoon I answered the doorbell and who should be there but the gentleman of the horseless carriage.  I could see it outside the carriage house.  I took his hat, goggles and overcoat, and he said to me, “Well, we meet again!  Mr. Markam is expecting me, little lady.”  He patted me on the back and just walked into the drawing room without waiting to be announced.

“Angus, old boy, here I am, just as I promised.  And this must be your good wife.”  He shook hands with the master and then took madam’s hand and gave it a hearty shake.  “Jim Thomas at your service, ma’am.  Pleased to meet you.” 

         As I was bringing in the tea and cake, Mr. Thomas was telling them all about his voyage over, and how he brought his own automobile.  The roads in England and Scotland are terrible, he said, but he expected they would get better as more and more of the automobiles were introduced.  Driving on the hard ground of winter was certainly easier than bogging down in the mud when it was wet.

         He and Mr. Markam had met in America, and he was interested in buying wool from the mills, to use in his textile business.  Mr. Markam thought this was a fine idea, it would save him from making all those trips to sell his wool.  All he would have to do would be to have it shipped direct from the mill to Liverpool to be transported to New York.  “But right now I’d like to see some of the mills, Angus”, he said to the master.  Come on, I’ll give you your first automobile ride in my machine.  There’s some extra gear in it you can wear over your duds.”

         As the master left the room to find his suit jacket I heard Mr. Thomas ask madam if she found it difficult to find and train servants in Wick. 

         She got quite frosty with him.  “Servants are an inferior class,” she said, “ They are not difficult to find, but they must be trained carefully and constantly supervised.  They have few morals and would go off with the first apprentice who looked at them.”  That made me steaming mad, but I had to keep my face straight as I handed Mr. Wilson his things. 

         Having proved myself to Mrs. Andrew’s satisfaction I find she is treating me more pleasantly, but to madam I will always be a mindless thing with no ears to hear and no feelings.

Wednesday, January 1, 1898

         A New Year, finally!  Imagine, this year I will turn fifteen, and my brother fourteen.  He will be apprenticed before summer is over, and he can hardly keep his excitement in check.

         Last night, New Year’s Eve, we had a wonderful celebration in our little community.  All the neighbours came to call, including Father Thomas.  It seemed funny that he was the First-Foot.  He is not exactly the dark handsome man First-Footing says it should be, but he was carrying a lump of coal in one hand and a little package in the other – a piece of shortbread and a black bun.  He had a little flask of whiskey in his pocket.  My Da and him had what they call a ‘wee dram’.  He blessed the house and then went off to the two or three other Catholic families in the neighbourhood.  Even though it was after midnight Henry and I were not the least tired.  Mam and I served shortbread and rabbit pie to the neighbours who came by while Da took Henry to call on nearby houses and drink whiskey.

         When Henry and Da came home in the wee hours, Da poured each of us a little whiskey and we toasted each other, wishing for health, wealth and happiness. 

         I woke up to hear the chickens cackling to be fed.  Henry and I let Mam and Da sleep a little later than usual, while we went out and saw to the animals.

         The weather has been quite warm this winter – no snow to speak of.  It’s been making it quite easy to walk back and forth to work.  It’s been quite a luxury to have a full day away from drudgery.  Hogmanay is the best celebration of all!

New Year's Eve, 1898

         Well, the fine wedding is over and the newly weds are off on their grand tour of Europe.  They will be gone for six months.  Mr. Connor wants Fiona to get “some polish” on the continent before he brings her back to Wick so she can be his society hostess in their fine grand new house. 

         I thought the preparations would never end!  All I really had to do was carry on with my own duties, for the reception was to be held in the new house, and Mr. Connor’s own staff prepared the refreshments.  I did help with the packing of the traveling trunks Miss Fiona took with her – four large ones, and several hatboxes.  She’ll come back with much more, for they are going to shop for some fine new Paris gowns.

         Once the wedding party had left the house seemed so quiet.  Mr. Markam just said, “Well, that’s that, then,” went into his study and closed the door.  Madam went upstairs for a nap, and I just continued cleaning.  Yesterday Mrs. Andrews told me I could leave when my duties were finished, and have all of New Year’s Day to spend with my family.  She said it almost kindly to me, and then gave me a parcel – “a little present to share with those at home,” she said, “You’re a good girl Jean, and a hard worker.  Never mind about Mr. Connor.  Just stay out of his way.”  So I wonder if he had been bothering her – as if he would dare!

         I took Mr. Markam his tea and when I came to take away the tray there was another half a crown on it.  “Get something nice for yourself, Jean.  It’s a little Hogmanay present.”

         I felt so thankful.  On the way home I bought my Da some pipe tobacco, a nice comb for Mam to put in her hair, and for Henry, a new penknife.  He broke his a while ago.  I still have a little left over to add to my little hoard.

         After Mass that evening we came home to a roast goose dinner, followed by the oranges and nuts that were in Mrs. Andrew’s parcel. How I love this time of the year!  Everyone seems kinder and nicer to each other.   If only it could be like that every day.

Sunday, November 20, 1898

     The wedding is fixed for just before New Year’s, and Fiona is to wear a white lace wedding gown.  Mr. Connor is insisting on it, he says ever since Queen Victoria was married in white lace, back in 1840, it became all the fashion.  And by thunder, he says, he and Fiona are going to be the leaders of fashionable society in Wick!  Just because he’s English he thinks he is grander than all the Scots put together.  I know Mr. Markam doesn’t like him, I heard him muttering “insufferable prig” the other day after they had all dined together.  Madam just ignores him.  She thinks because Mr. Connor is rich and is building a fine big house on the other side of Wick he can do no wrong.         

Sunday, October 23, 1898

       It’s taken me this long to write anything.  My face still burns when I think on it.  A while ago, I was spending my half hour dinner- time reading the newspaper while chewing on my bread and cheese and drinking the left-over tea from the family’s dinner. I saw that the editor was decrying the professional football league that has been established in America, only it’s not football as we know it!  There was a drawing showing the padded uniform and leather helmets the players wear.  The ball is a funny shape, too, and the players spend a lot of time tackling each other for possession of the ball.  Not at all like our football!

         The back door opened and in sauntered Mr. Connor, as cool as you please.  Now that he and Miss Fiona are engaged he thinks he has the run of the house.  When I scrambled to my feet he told me I should learn to curtsey to him too, whenever I see him.  I bit my tongue, wanting to tell him she should learn to ring the bell when he comes to this house.  He walked over to me and then squeezed my breast, and said something about minding my betters!  I could smell whiskey on his breath.  Mrs. Andrews came into the kitchen and seemed surprised to see him, but asked him to follow her to the drawing room where Miss Fiona was waiting for him.  She gave me a right black look, and I’m sure she thought I had been flirting with him.  “Mind your place, Jean,” she hissed at me as she left the room.  I felt so ashamed and dirty, I had to go out to the privy and throw up my dinner.  I haven’t been able to tell anyone else about this, but now I make sure the back door is locked.  I don’t dare tell them at home about this. 

Sunday, September 18, 1898

         I’ve had a pleasant six weeks, with Madam and Fiona away.  Mr. Markam is also away on a business trip to America-New York, I heard him tell his wife  that this was a good time for it.  Madam took Mrs. Andrews with them, since she “didn’t trust” anyone else to see their clothing was well taken care of.  She looked pointedly at me when she said it- all because I scorched a tiny corner of her petticoat! 

         Mrs. Andrews gave me a great long list of duties before she left – scrub this, scrub that, polish all the windows, wash and iron anything that is possible to wash and iron.  Everything must look – what was the word she used?  Pristine, the house must look pristine.

         So that leaves Cook to keep me company.  I like cook.  She is round and jolly, with red cheeks, always smiling.  She is using the time to give the kitchen a good cleaning, scrubbing out the cupboards and pantry.  She always has the time to cook up a little treat for us to share, a little pudding, or baked apples, things like that.  It makes a nice change from the bread and cheese I carry here for my noon-time dinner.  (My dinner is actually later than that – by the time the family is fed and their tea served it’s usually closer to two, when I’m given half an hour to eat.)