Black History Month: The Town of Buxton, Ontario

In the fall of 2015 my family and I were required to make a long 5-hour journey south-west to Windsor, Ontario to retrieve something we needed for our farm.  It seemed a long way to go to just pick up something yet that was exactly the situation we were in. Usually when faced with this sort of 'business' travel I try to think of what else we can do in the area to make it more worth while. We were spending the gas and time any way, why not enjoy something else in that neck of the woods.

As it happens, there are a number of historical sites and museums in that part of Ontario which I am never able to visit. While my kids were growing up I made it a point to take them to every pioneer village and museum within three hours driving distance. How I longed to be able to take them further afield to see all those places just out of reach. The Buxton Museum was always on my list.

Buxton, or the Elgin Settlement, was one of four organized settlements in Ontario reserved specifically for former slaves who had escaped to freedom in Canada.

This is a plaque at the modern day site that shows the original division of plots in the Elgin Settlement. The settlement was comprised of 9,000 acres, which was subdivided into farms of 50 acres each. It's main purpose was to provide the black population with the same education and prospects as white society. 

The idea, which was first proposed by Rev. William King in 1848, did not sit well with neighbouring communities but George Brown, who would later become a Father of Confederation, championed the proposal and became a great ally in the cause.

Settlers were able to purchase the land at $2.50/acre and were given ten years to pay off their loan at a rate of 6% interest. By 1850 the Buxton Mission School was built which also offered night classes for adults instructed by Rev. King.

A 550-pound bell was erected at the school, a donation from the African American community in Pittsburgh, PA. Whenever a fugitive slave found their way across the border and into Buxton they rung the Buxton Liberty Bell as a symbol and celebration of their newly won freedom.

Our trip to this museum was inspirational to say the least. Not only do the exhibits showcase the horrific capture, transport and treatment of early British slaves, but it progresses to a message of hope and prosperity. I found myself staring at one black and white photo in particular of one of the early classes displayed in the school house. I couldn't take my eyes from the little faces looking back at me. Were they haunted by memories of slavery? How were they treated once their families made it to Canada? Was there anyone they lost and were still waiting to join them? Were they able to achieve the dreams their parents imagined for them; the dreams of education, fair treatment and freedom? I would love to go back in time to ask them these questions and to find out what more can we do to remember them and their race to freedom.

Sacrifice & Remembrance

Today is Remembrance Day in Canada. It’s a day where we pause to remember and reflect on the lives lost during international conflict. It’s a day to give thanks for the sacrifices made by the men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice, their lives, in pursuit of justice and freedom for their loved ones back home.

It is also a day to recognize those hurt by war, not simply those maimed through physical injury, but mental injury as well. Novemeber 11^th is for all soldiers, those who fought in battle and those that continue to fight a battle after they return home. It is in remembrance of all the soldiers who have taken their lives since returning from war, and those who fight the hard fight to this day.

As the wife of a military veteran, I have seen the sacrifice first hand. I have seen families destroyed. I’ve known children who have lost. The pledge soldiers make in service of their country is a pledge made by each spouse and offspring standing behind them. Without the full support of their loved ones, the men and women who serve our nation would not be able to do what they do, see what they see and live how they live.

My husband and I were newly married and our daughter was only one years old when he turned to me one day and said “What would you think if I joined the military?” It was a question I hadn’t been expecting but perhaps I should have. We were both patriots, with a deep love for the Canadian flag and all it stood for: our free health care, our welcoming nature, our neighbourly outlook. 

He was sworn in a week before 9/11, and left on a plane for Basic Training September 18. During that week of uncertainty, with the news replaying the collapse of the Twin Towers and the politicians vowing to kill the terrorists responsible we knew our time of peace was coming to an end.  We knew Canada, an ally to the United States, would be called to action. Our resolve never wavered.

We told our families and friends “We are not fair-weather patriots.”

I was scared and so was he, but in the end we couldn’t stop thinking “What if that was a Toronto skyscraper and mostly Canadian lives lost?” How could we back down at such a time?

My husband spent 18 months living apart from us, first in Basic Training, then in his technician’s course in Kingston, a six hour drive away. We were not allowed to join him. In 2001 spouses and children were akin to furniture and affects.  Weekend visits were sometimes impossible given his workload and small income.  So, as the months passed, my daughter and I got used to not having him around. He’s not fighting a war, I told myself. Canadian women have endured far worse than this.

Our time in the military was a short 8 years, brought to an end by medical needs sustained after a car accident. Even now, my husband works alongside those in uniform and sometimes laments not being in one himself.  The time he spent in service and the time we spent living on a military base, meeting families, making friends, seeing the effects of military life has given me new perspective on what it means to be Canadian, what it means to sacrifice.

Sacrifice isn’t just about losing your life but losing moments, connections, and friends. It’s about having little power and say in the great military machine but still seeing the necessity of it. It’s about learning to roll with the punches, getting up and marching on another day. This is the sacrifice of military families. This is what we should remember.  We remember those enduring long separations, late night doubts, and crippling pain brought on by the unique manner of military life.

For me, Remembrance Day will never be the same as it was before my husband joined. It’s not about men who died in distant wars a hundred years ago. It’s about those in uniform who serve and sacrifice for our freedoms today.

Remember to take a moment today, a moment of silence, to think of those we lost and those we still need. May we never forget the savageness of war, and the courage required to face it.

Reading Maud: LM Montgomery Heritage Society Book Club - The Blue Castle

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending a new book club hosted by the LM Montgomery Heritage Society in Norval, Ontario. The book club is a new venture by the group to help the community celebrate their most famous resident, LM Montgomery, and bring more attention to her vast legacy of literary works.  From 1926-1935, Montgomery lived at the Manse, a Victorian red-brick charmer that still still stands next to the Norval Presbyterian Church. The LM Montgomery Heritage Society has recently launched a fundraising campaign to buy the Manse with the intention of transforming it into a museum about the author.

Even though I live a fair distance away from Norval (a good 1.5 hours driving), I knew as soon as I heard about the book club that I had to join. Not only is LM Montgomery one of my favourite authors, but the first book to be studied was THE BLUE CASTLE, which is my absolute favourite book written by her. The book is the only book solely set in Ontario and features an area known as Muskoka, Ontario’s cottage country north of Toronto, and actually only a very short drive from where I currently live.

The book is about twenty-nine year old Valancy Stirling, a self-described homey woman  who has never had any marriage prospects in her entire life and as a result is forced to endure a dull, suppressed existance with an overbearing mother and ruthlessly disapproving aunt. In fact, the entire Stirling clan seems determined to cut down Valancy at every turn, comparing her to her cousin Olive, who has beauty and beaus aplenty. Things take an interesting turn though when Valancy’s doctor tells her that she has a severe heart condition and can only expect to live for another year. Facing her own death, Valancy begins her own kind of rebellion, defying her family’s firmly held beliefs and forging her own path into the future that eventually leads her to love and a freedom she never knew before.

What’s great about the book club is that many of the attendees not only know the story of THE BLUE CASTLE, but they also know the story of Lucy Maud Montgomery as well. Many parallels were drawn between the life of Valancy and Maud.  Firstly, Montgomery did not marry Rev. Ewan Macdonald until she was well into womanhood. Instead she remained in Cavendish caring for her grandmother, who had raised her, while keeping her engagement secret. For this, Montgomery most likely endured the same demeaning comments directed at Valancy for being an old maid or "spinster". During this period in history, women were often believed to have little value without a man which forced unmarried women to rely on their families to support them. Valancy was one such woman, afraid to say or do anything to contradict her family whom she depended upon for her livelihood.

It was also observed that the strict rules of the Stirling home were similar to the strict upbringing experienced by Maud. For instance, as a child and young woman, even after earning a tidy sum from the success of her early books, Maud was not permitted to change the décor of her bedroom.  As well, both Maud and Valancy were not permitted to do much outside the regular routine set out by the exacting standards of their caregivers.  In the book, Valancy escapes her daily drudgery by dreaming of her Blue Castle, a fantasy world where she can change and move about anything at will.  In her diaries, Maud confessed to have a fantasy world of her own in which she says she often retreated to when her days with her grandparents were particularly difficult to bare.

I noted during the book club meeting that to me the book had a very feminist message embedded in it, where Maud depicts the constricted life of a Edwardian/post-war woman and then gives her the fortitude to set her own path breaking free of the tethers of society, in this case the exacting standards of the Stirling clan. A book club member pointed out that when THE BLUE CASTLE was first published it was banned by a number of schools as being too risqué. Authorities feared it would encourage rebelliousness. It was also noted that the book was released at the same time Maud moved with her family to Norval from Leaskdale, Ontario, a change that saved her from having to face any disapproval from parishioners of her husband’s congregation. The move allowed Maud a fresh start and a clean slate with which to make an impression.

From my perspective THE BLUE CASTLE is one of the best works written by LM Montgomery. In it she explores many themes including societal expectations and breaking free from the bonds of fear, but it also explores the meaning of real friendship and Christian charity. The romance as well is very sophisticated, reminiscent of Gilbert and Anne, but with a connection to the natural world of Ontario’s Muskoka that makes it shine all on its own.

Next month we are reading JANE OF LANTERN HILL. Join in and check back for a full report on what was discussed at the meeting, until then, happy reading Kindred Spirits!

Happy Birthday Maud!

As a little girl my mother introduced me to a twelve-year-old, red headed girl named Anne. It wasn't long before I found myself immersed in the world of Avonlea, the quaint yet imaginary town on the north shore of Canada's smallest province. I would steal borrow the Anne books from my mother's precious collection and would only begrudgingly return them after countless reminders. 

Green Gables, National Historic Site, 

Cavendish, PEI (2014)

I soon started a collection of my own, which has grown to include each novel, short story collections, all L.M. Montgomery's published journals, numerous biographies and countless collectables volumes that includes recipe books, crafting books and others. (I even have a first edition Anne of Ingleside that is more precious to me than my first copy of Chorus of the Dead.)

Anne's bedroom at Green Gables complete with dress with puffed sleeves.

 Over the years I've read every book written by Anne's creator, Lucy Maud Montgomery. I've visited Prince Edward Island twice and hunted down all museums and locales related to Ms. Montgomery in my home province of Ontario. Southern Ontario especially is riddled with filming sites used by Kevin Sullivan for his mini-series and later Road to Avonlea television series. 

In short I am obsessed. 

Lover's Lane, walking trail at Green Gables

I consider it bad parenting on my part that my teenage daughter is not as enthralled with the books and stories as I am. She enjoys it, and so does my son, but they are nowhere near my obsession levels, so sometimes my giddiness is viewed as amusing instead of mutual. 

Lucy Maud Montgomery's Birthplace in Clifton (now New London), PEI. This museum houses her original wedding dress and many scrapbooks produced by the author over her lifetime. 

Today is Lucy Maud Montgomery's 141st birthday. If Maud hadn't been born on this day (November 30) in 1874 the world would not have discovered little red headed Anne, or the precocious Sara Stanley. Emily of New Moon would not have been penned and Valancy Stirling (The Blue Castle) would not have met the love of her life. Happy Birthday Maud. I hope you know how your  imaginary world has touched girls like me, and created women not afraid to daydream or see beauty in the everyday.

  Red cliffs at Cabot Beach Provincial Park on the north shore of PEI. 

Spirit of a Place: Anne's Land

Prince Edward Island is a spiritual place for me. I've felt connected to it for as long as I can remember so it's probably no wonder that when my husband and I wanted to take a road trip this summer we decided to go back to Anne's Land. Our first visit was in 2007 when our kids were 7 and 4. Back then I marvelled at how affordable the island attractions were, and how many sites existed relating to Lucy Maud Montgomery as well as historic places in general. This summer I was thankful for the quiet of the island, the rush of the waves, the feeling of the wind. It was exactly the type of vacation I need.

The island maybe small but it's quite diverse with lots to take in and enjoy.

 Plaque along Lover's Lane trail at Green Gables

Despite a fair amount of rain during our week there, we enjoyed visiting many of our favourite haunts. Naturally we wanted to revisit Green Gables, and L M. Montgomery's childhood home. These two sites are connected via the Haunted Wood trail, and with a slight detour you can visit Maud's eternal resting place as well.

We tend to ignore the numerous 'side show attractions' along the Cavendish strip (think Las Vegas on Valium, not as many lights and buildings but certainly out of place for the location). To me there's no reason to have so many mini-golf and carnival-like venues, even if there are thousands of tourists who visit each summer. It doesn't matter that they all have catchy Anne related names like "Lake of Shining Waters waterpark" or Avonlea Village (yes I consider this pumped up pioneer village a sideshow attraction because other than the name, it has NOTHING to do with Montgomery's books or even Kevin Sullivan's films.) It's a cash grab, and nothing else.

Footbridge on Lovers' Lane trail

View of Green Gables looking north-east

The real places any Anne fan should see are these:

Green Gables (Cavendish)
- owned by Montgomery's cousins, she did base Green Gables off of this site though she admitted not exactly.

"Anne's Room" at Green Gables, recreated to match the books, not the films. You can see her puffed-sleeves dress is brown, as described in the books. The film had her wearing a blue dress. 

Lucy Maud Montgomery's Cavendish Home (Cavendish)
- When her mother died 21-month-old Maud was sent to live with her grandparents in Cavendish. This is where she wrote Anne of Green Gables and a few other books before she married and moved to Ontario. All that is left is the stone foundation but the site is owned and operated by her family who keep up the property and are on hand to give insight into how the property looked while Maud lived there with her grandparents.

Everything Anne... It seemed everywhere we went each store had these to sell, Raspberry Cordial. It's actually quite good. I told the kids next trip we will have a pact, each time we enter a store with these for sale we will have to buy some, if only to see how much cordial we end up drinking by the end of our trip. They are all for the idea! 

L. M. Montgomery's Birthplace (New London)
This site has her wedding dress and many scrapbooks kept by the author as well as a plethora of mementos.

Anne of Green Gables Museum at Silver Bush (Park Corner)
This site was owned by her cousins, the Campbell's (mentioned in her diaries). This is where she was married and is also the actual site were the Lake of Shining Waters is located. They have many items belonging to the author and also offers carriage rides in "Matthew's Carriage".

There are other venues claiming connection to the world famous  author but not so direct as the ones I listed above.

Red Cliffs and Farm on the North Shore. 

View of Green Gables from Haunted Wood trail. This would have been the way Maud saw her cousin's farm when walking from her grandparents house to the east. 

Here's a list of places to visit while on the island:

Cabot Beach is a provincial park that offers camping and day-use beach access. The sand is red, red, red and offers stunning views of the famous PEI  cliffs and dunes. The price is FREE and dog-friendly. Not far from Cavendish this beach was our family's favourite. Where else can you swim with jelly fish and not be afraid of getting stung?

The Acadian Museum (Miscouche, outside Summerside) This is a great museum that relays the story of a community of people who first came to Canada from France in search of a better, agricultural life. Displaced by numerous conflicts between the French and English, the Acadians were forced to re-establish communities all over the Maritimes and Quebec, even as far away as New Orleans before being allowed to return to the island.

Founder's Hall (Charlottetown) relays the story of confederation, how Canada changed from a handful of English and French colonies to the nation we are today. An audio tour guides you through the museum taking you step by step through the process of idea to reality.

Sir John A. Macdonald, father of Confederation and our first Prime Minister

Anne of Green Gables- The Musical is a delight! With 50 seasons under their belts it's no wonder they have perfected the stage portrayal of Canada's beloved red-head, Anne with an 'e'. My family finally had the opportunity to see the show this past summer and I fell in love with the tale all over again. It is simply excellent.

Cavendish Beach, part of Prince Edward Island National Park is nice but a bit hyped-up. We brought our bikes this summer and cycled the 9 km paved trail (one way) that runs along the north coast. The boardwalk is nice but we still prefer Cabot Beach. Be aware your pass into Green Gables also provides admittance to the National Park since they are both national sites. Otherwise the price is $17 per vehicle.

The Bottle Houses in Cap-Egmont are incredible. Admission is very inexpensive and the coastal drive to get there is one of a kind. We didn't make it there this past summer but in 2007 we ranked it as one of our favourite sites on the island.

Hidden Remains

Hiking is one of my favourite things to do but I also love visiting historical sites. Having either of these activities as part of my day uplifts my soul but having both happen at the same time is just fantastic!

A few weeks ago my family and I completed an 8 kilometre hike at Hardy Lake Provincial Park outside of Gravenhurst, Ontario. It's a gorgeous spot. Quintesenisally Canadian. Though we've hiked numerous provincial park trails we hadn't traversed this one. It's like a hidden gem, a beauty of a lake hidden behind a pretty unimpressive parking lot. Had I not already driven over an hour to get there I doubt I would have stopped to hike it.

I am so glad the internet pointed me there.

Halfway through our hike we stumbled upon a rickety shed and then the remains of a stone foundation complete with stairs to a cellar and central chimney. Previous explorers had compiled a collection of found objects, pieces of china, old glass and other bits of history. They displayed them along one ledge.

My kids wanted to add a discovered Pepsi can to the collection but I drew the line even though it looked to be a logo from the 1970s, I doubted it would fit with the other treasures.

I tried to determine if it was the remains of a cottage or residence. It seemed an odd spot to build a homestead with no roads. The lake as well was small, doesn't connect to other larger lakes in the area and wouldn't make going to town or coming home very easy. My guess was it was a cottage, a mighty fine one at that considering the considerable work that went into the foundation and property.

Am I the only one who imagines what it would have been like fully constructed, wood smoke rising from the chimney while sitting out on the porch listening to the loons on the lake. What a lovely pioneer image!

BOOK: Jane Austen's Guide to Thrift

This book, JANE AUSTEN'S GUIDE TO THRIFT, is on my night stand right now. I am a huge fan of the well crafted, entertaining non-fiction read and I have been delighted by this unique look into Jane Austen's famous novels.

Anyone who has read most of Austen's books (and really who hasn't) will know money plays an important role in the characters lives. Either the revenue abounds or there is a complete lack thereof. An independent female at a time in history when females were not valued or protected by law, Austen had her own small nest egg to handle and handle it she did. She did well to stay within her means and left a tidy sums for her family upon her passing.

Austen's opinions regarding prudent spending and careful penny pinching abound in her books. Men who gambled their money away were painted as rogues, the types of men who could not be trusted. The men and women who were careful with their expenses came across as wise and organized.

This book has a different take on thrift than others I have read (and believe me I have read many, many books on the subject) and that makes it entertaining, fascinating and fun. Halfway through the pages I have yet to stumble upon any nugget of information that I had not come across before but that is not where this book gets it's value. The value is in the comparison between what Austen's characters would do, how they would perceive a situation and how Austen imparted her own opinions on the subject through the deeds and misdeeds of her characters. Call it a wake up call from two centuries prior. Debt was still debt in the Regency era with the only major difference between then and now being society's willingness (dare I say eagerness) to take it out.

All in all, it's an interesting book for fans of Austen and anyone looking for a recharge to their financial health. But I would charge you not to buy it, rather check your local library first and Jane Austen would approve.

Guest Blogging: Victorian Children

I'm guest blogging for New York Times Best Selling author Deanna Raybourn today. I'm writing about Victorian Children and the struggles they faced.

If you want to learn more about my forth coming book THE DEAD AMONG US, stop over.

 http://deannaraybourn.com/blog/in-which-we-welcome-tracy/

Time Stamp

Yesterday I ventured to a nearby archaeology  here in southern Ontario where historians have found evidence of a native long house village. In the 1800s the Crawfords, a pioneer family settled along the shores of a small lake in the Niagara Escarpment. Though they lived on this land for a short period, during that time they found countless artefacts linking the area to a native village that once stood on the site in the 1400s. Because of their discoveries the lake was named after them and today the land is a conservation area boasting reconstructed long houses and archaeological dig sites.

The largest artefact found on the site is a stone once used to ground dried corn. You can see in the picture how the rock had been indented and when I felt the surface it was smooth. The guide, who was a member of the First Nations, explained how the tribes people received their calcium needs from small particles of rock that would end up in the food after  grinding.

The village housed over 250 inhabitants, men, women and children of the Iroquion nation lived here for a short time but left their mark on the landscape nonetheless. Corn pollen had been found at the dig sites and carbon dating assisted in tracing the time period for when the village would have thrived.

In recent years I have developed an interest in native culture and its historical context. It was not really my intent to write a book involving this time period of North America. I doubt I could ever truly capture the essence of their belief structures or their way of life. I am however working on a fur trade mystery set in the Canadian Rockies and I am glad I will get an opportunity to look into the lives of the Native tribes from that place and time. My research continues and my knowledge grows. This book will be different from my Ainsley books and it's a prospect that excites me and scares me at the same time.



I recently read a book, People of the Long House by W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O'Neal Gear. The book is really good and I devoured it quickly. It's part of a long series that I will complete because I just need to know what happens. Suspenseful, educating and fascination, this book is great for anyone looking to escape into native culture, the good, the bad and the terrifying.

History of the Valentine

Who doesn't love receiving a lovely card or personalized note in the mail? Nothing says you matter like someone taking the time to write out their thoughts and making it decorative.



Did you know the modern idea of the Valentine's card originated in the 1400s. Originally known as 'amorous addresses', the first valentine was penned in 1415 by Charles the Duke of Orleans. Imprisoned in the Tower of London after the Battle of Agincourt, the duke wrote romantic poems for his wife back in France. These hand written valentines can be seen among the royal papers in the British Museum.



Since then the Valentine card morphed to include flower exchanges in the 1700s and then in 1840s there was the introduction of Daguerreotype, a tin type photographic process that showed a picture of a person with an ornamental wreath framing them. The mirror valentine was also popular, which was basically a mirror in the middle of the card reflecting the image of the recipient back at them.



By far my most favourite Valentine's are the ones that originated in Victorian times. Thanks to advances in printing processes, Valentinie's became amazingly popular. Dubbed 'Penny Postcards', because they cost a penny to send the mail, were collected and displayed in Victorian households around Valentine's day. Family and friends who came to call would flip through albums of Valentine's card and sometimes trade Valentine's. Many examples of these Victorian cards remain today simply because of the sheer volume of cards created and because they were stored safely in treasured albums.

What a great way to perk up the dreary month of February!

Victorian Funeral Rites

If you are fascinated by the dark aspects of history like I am you'll enjoy my guest post over at fellow writer Ally Shield's Blog.


I talk about my initial interest in ghost stories and how CHORUS OF THE DEAD came to in to being.

The Bridge of Sighs

If you have read CHORUS OF THE DEAD, or even if you just read the preview, you probably noticed the verses I put at the beginning of each chapter. In the literary world it's called a literary device, when authors use quotes to introduce a chapter or book.

I spent a good deal of time looking for an appropriate literary device for my books. I perused anatomy books of the day (Gray's Anatomy was just published) but nothing seemed to fit. I tried to find information about a prominent surgeon who may have written about his scientific findings or other such useful pamphlet but I had little luck. Nothing was catching my fancy. I was almost resigned to not use anything at all until one week before my book was to go 'live' it hit me. Months earlier, in my research of Victorian England, morgues and the work of a surgeon, I found a poem titled "The Bridge of Sighs" by Thomas Hood. It is a remarkable poem but like most of my findings I had no immediate need of it and kept researching.

While giving the search for a literary device on last desperate try I came across "The Bridge of Sighs" yet again and realized it was perfect. With careful selection I divided the poem up into couplets and/or versus and was amazed how well they fit with my story.

I used the segments in order in the book but here's the poem in it's entirety, unbroken and smooth.




The Bridge of Sighs


One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!


Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly
Young, and so fair!


Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.


Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.


Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonour,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.


Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family—
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily.


Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?


Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?
Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?


Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
O, it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.


Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.


Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.


The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurl'd—
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!


In she plunged boldly—
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it—think of it,
Dissolute Man!
Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!


Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!


Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,
Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!


Dreadfully staring
Thro' muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix'd on futurity.


Perishing gloomily,
Spurr'd by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.—
Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!


Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!


Thomas Hood

Peter the Wild Boy

History is filled with a countless number of real life mysteries. And nothing stirs the imagination more than gaping holes in the facts. The case of Peter the Wild Boy is one of those mysteries that can never be completely solved.


Peter was found roaming feral in the northern woods of Germany near the legendary town of Hamelin. He walked on all fours, lived off flora and fauna and never learned to speak a language. No one knows where the boy came from, how he came to be living alone in the woods and no parents or family members ever came forward.

At a young age Peter was brought to England under the order of King George I, who had taken a keen liking for the novelty that would become Peter the Wild boy. Peter lived amongst courtiers under a veil of curiosity and amusement. Used as entertainment, the court's interest in Peter wore off and after some unsuccessful attempts to school him, he eventually was placed at Broadway Farm in Axter's End. The British government provided a 35 pound annual pension to the farmer to assist with his room and board.


It was here that Peter could roam amongst the wilderness similar to his youth. Finally free of fancy dress and etiquette rules he spent a lot of time in the woods and would often sleep under the stars. He did happen to wander too far once and ended up in a nearby prison. He was claimed by the farmers charged with his care and they subsequently fastened a collar on him, on which was inscribed his name and address should he ever go missing again.


Peter died at what many believe to be the age of 70, since there is no known record of his birth. He was buried at St. Mary's Church in Northchurch where his headstone remains. Flowers are often seen at his grave site to this day.


Lucy Worsely, a well known British museum curator and television personality, has made a lovely segment dedicated to Peter and his legacy.

Honey, should I be worried?

I know a little too much about arsenic. I have conducted extensive research into early autopsy techniques and even found myself drooling over a 100 year old embalming kit the other day (I'm still thinking about it).

When I decided my protagonist was going to be a Victorian surgeon, I knew there would be many times when I would need to describe dead bodies, bloody scenes, internal organs and, of course, the myriad of ways Victorians "off'd" each other. To be honest, nothing thrills me more. The writing part is only half the fun. I find just as much enjoyment out of reading everything I can about the Victorian era, especially when it comes to medicine, crime and the seedy underbelly that was once a major part of London life.

Lately I have been living, breathing and dreaming this stuff so it surprises me when other writers I know tell me "I hope you are doing you research because there are readers out there who will rip you to shreds." I really want to be indignant towards them. Of course I am researching this crap! What heck do you think I am doing? Pulling it out of my ass while hoping no one notices?

I can't blame them though. I don't really give off a (Jack the) Ripper-ologist vibe. I'm the mild mannered former reporter pecking at my keyboard. I don't talk about my work with... well anyone really. The few times when I ventured to read my work at a writer's meeting left me with sideways glances and perhaps a few less points on the 'respectability scale*'.



Thankfully no one bothers me too much and I am pretty much left to my own imaginary world of depravity and murder. Every once in a while though I can see the look on my husband's face when he finds my notebook open to a page of scribbles outlining methods of arsenic poisoning and how someone might avoid its detection. I am waiting for the day when he places a gentle hand on my arm and asks, "Honey, should I be worried?"

* I made that up. I'm a novelist, what do you expect?