Between three or four years had passed since they left Camden (over
eight years since the last missionary left Australia), and the
Chittendens were much poorer than they were when they left.
For many years Mary had been in the habit of going about to her
neighbors, nursing them during confinement. This was a necessity of the
country, one woman going to another, as there were no regular nurses to
be had. She became acquainted in her labors with a Doctor Haley, the
best physician in Goulburn. He always, after the first time when she
nursed under him, sent for her. This practice put many an odd pound
into her pocket. Her husband was far from idle, however. With his
disposition he could never be so. He took charge of the estate of a
gentleman named Massy, who was absent in Ireland for eighteen months on
business.
As soon as he was released from this situation, where he had earned
some money and a good portion of grain, he rented a farm. With anxious
hope and honest labor he seeded down twenty acres with the grain he had
on hand.
He who sendeth the rains, withholdeth them at His pleasure! For two
years there was a complete drouth visited the country. William walked
over his field and could not, at the end of the season, pluck one
single armful of grain.
While living in this place the promised son was born to Mary, and once
again her prophetic dream was realized. He was born May 28, 1865,
and William named him Hyrum. When the baby was two years old, little
Alice came home from school, and said she felt very sick. As long as
there was a second penny in the house, no matter where they were, or
what their circumstances, these good parents had kept their children
at school. Without education themselves, no effort was spared to give
their children the great blessing they had so missed.
Alice came home, quite sick at her stomach, and her mother felt alarmed
at once, for her children were regularly and simply fed, and when
anything of the kind happened to them she knew it was of an uncommon
and serious nature.
Jane had returned to her mother's house, while her husband was up the
country on a mining expedition. She had a young baby eleven months old.
When the doctor came next day he pronounced Alice's case one of the
most violent scarlet fever. Next day Jane and Rachel came down, and
the next day Louisa and Caroline fell ill with the dreadful disease.
Jane had the fever so violently that Mary was obliged to wean the baby.
Everyone in the family was now ill but herself, and she with a baby
two weeks old. For eleven long weeks the anxious mother never had her
clothes off, but to change them. The disease was of such a violent
type that not one human being had courage or had humanity enough to
enter the door. Alone and utterly unaided she went from one bedside to
another administering food and medicine. The physician was the only one
who ever visited her, and at the times when he came (twice a day) to
attend to them, she would sit down long enough to take up her infant
and give it the breast.
Three months of sickness, toil and suffering, then the fever spent
itself, and Mary could begin to realize their condition financially.
Something must be done, for funds were very, very low.
There was a sudden excitement about this time at a place called Mack's
Reef, which was three miles from Gunderoo. Gold was found in quartz,
and was very rich indeed, at this new camp. William decided to go. So
investing their last cent to purchase a simple crushing-mill, and to
take themselves out, the Chittendens went to Mack's Reef.
Misfortune was too well acquainted with them now to be driven away, so
she curled herself up in the crushing-mill, and behold it failed to do
its work. It lost both the gold and the quicksilver.
Matters were now getting desperate. Food was wanted. Strain and
economize as she might, Mary could not make things hold out much
longer. The pennies followed the shillings, until when the last
half-penny had to be taken for flour, William looked at Mary and said,
"Mary, what are we coming to? Must our children starve?"
"No, William, please God! But do you remember my dream? You may not
believe it, but I know it was a true dream. Oh, William, why did we not
go to Zion when we were told? Surely our sufferings could not be more
than they are here. Here, take these clothes, they are things that I
can spare; you will have to sell them for bread."
And so it went. Garment followed garment, and yet there seemed no
chance of earning a penny. Finally, there were no more clothes;
everything was sold.
Then William took his gun, and went to the woods. But after a very
short time that, too, failed and they were starving.
That night, when the little children were put hungry to bed, William
walked the floor in the agony of his mind. "My God!" groaned the
wretched man, "must my children starve before my very eyes? In my pride
I fancied my family would be better in my hands than in the hands of
their Almighty Father! Oh, that I had listened to counsel! Now my
family are fast leaving my roof, and we that are left are starving.
Starving in a land of plenty!"
God listened to the prayers of His humbled son, and he was enabled to
get a little something to eat. But the lesson was not over yet.
Mary had obtained a situation as nurse and this helped them. William
thought he would go up to Goulburn, a large inland town, where he felt
sure he would find some employment. Accordingly he left the family with
Mary, but of course in very wretched circumstances. It was the best
that he could do, so Mary was satisfied to be left.
The trip to Goulburn was made in the old spring cart, which had been
left of the wreck of their comfortable traveling outfit. The horse,
which William had just found previous to starting, was one of the four
he had lost on the Yass river. The poor thing had been so abused that
it was almost worthless. In fact, it had no money value, for in that
country where good stock was comparatively cheap he had tried again
and again before leaving Mack's Reef to sell the horse and the cart,
or either alone, in order to get flour for his starving family, but no
purchaser could be found.
So he went up to Goulburn and took odd jobs as he could get them. When
he had been gone some few months, a company of prospecters brought in
a new machine to crush the quartz. This fanned the dead embers of hope
in every one's breast, and even Mary thought if she could get William
to come down and try his quartz in this new mill, they would succeed at
last.
But how to get word to him? He was at Goulburn, eighteen miles away.
There was no mail, and she had not a vestige of anything to pay for
sending word to him. She was very weak too from lack of food. But every
one around her was so confident of the grand success about to be made,
that she resolved to try to walk up to Goulburn. Accordingly, she set
out leaving the baby at home with the girls, and walked feebly towards
Goulburn. She was about half-way there when she came to a river. This
was forded by teams, but across it had been thrown a plank, and a
poor one it was, too. Mary looked at the foaming water, and then at
the rotten plank, and felt it would be an impossibility almost to go
across. Still, she must get over, so she started; but she had only got
a little way out before her head began to reel, she was weak and faint,
and about to fall, when she had sense remaining to lay flat down on the
plank, and wait for strength. As she prayed for strength and help she
heard a horse's hoofs behind her, and a gentleman on horseback dashed
into the stream. He rode up to her and said,
"Madam, permit me to help you. Let me take your hand and I will ride
close by the board, and thus get you across all right."
"Oh sir, you are very kind," answered Mary as she arose thanking God
that He had heard her prayer.
"Where are you going, madam? Pardon me, I do not ask from idle
curiosity."
"To Goulburn, sir to my husband."
"I was wondering as I came along, to see a woman on this lonely road.
You surely do not expect to reach Goulburn to-night?"
"I thought sir, I would go as far as I could, then lie down and rest
until I could go further."
"Well my poor woman, good-by! and success attend you on your journey."
"Many thanks, kind sir, may God reward your kind act." And so he rode
on.
Mary went on some distance, and began to feel that she could go no
farther. Suddenly she saw a woman approaching her. Wondering, the two
women at last met, and the stranger said to Mary,
"Are you the woman a gentleman on horseback assisted across the river?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Then you are to come with me. He has paid us for your supper and
lodging to-night. Also, he paid me to come out and meet you and show
you the way."
"Thank God! I am almost worn out. What was the gentleman's name,
please?"
"That I can't tell. But here's our house. Come, get your supper, it is
waiting."
And thus was her humble prayer answered, and a friend raised up to her
in her sore need.
The next day Mary reached Goulburn, and she and her husband returned
the following day in the cart, to Mack's Reef. But after reaching
the Reef, William found it would require quite a sum of money to do
anything with his quartz, so at last abandoning everything, he left the
Reef in disgust. The poor old horse died shortly after that, and thus
they only had the cart remaining. The harvest time was approaching,
and William had the rent to pay on the farm he had taken, and which
had failed so dismally. So he went to the owner and offered to harvest
out the amount. The offer was accepted, and he went harvesting the
remainder of the season.
Meantime, Mary had been sent for, to nurse a lady who lived a few miles
out from Gunderoo. So, not liking to lose so good an opportunity of
making a bit of money, she weaned her ten month's old baby, and left
him at home with the girls. She was engaged for a month, receiving a
pound a week, about twenty dollars a month, for her services.
When she returned, she found her husband at home. "You know, William,
I told you my dream would surely be fulfilled. Are you not willing to
admit that so far it has come true every word?"
"Well yes, Mary, but what then?"
"Then, in my dream we were to lose everything before the turn would
come, and we should commence to prosper. We've nothing left now but the
spring cart. Give that, as it is too poor to sell, to Isaac Norris.
Then let us go to Goulburn, and once more try farming. You know we must
break land there."
"Thou art like a woman. If we part with the cart, how, pray, shall we
get to Goulburn." "Why, William, have I not brought home four pounds?
That will move us to Goulburn. Come husband, let us get away from
here." At length William consented; the spring cart was given to their
son-in-law, Isaac Norris, and the whole family moved up to Goulburn.
Their daughter Alice was soon after married to a Mr. Larkum, and had
one child named Lavinia by him. The girl was treated very badly, and at
last gave the child to her mother to raise. Mary has never since been
separated from this child, but has reared her as her own. Four or five
years passed away, William farming and Mary nursing at times. William
did the farming for a widow lady named Day, who kept a lodging-house
about four miles out from Goulburn. She was a very fine, active,
kind-hearted woman, and for the next ten years, was a true friend to
the Chittendens. In fact, the best friend they ever had in Australia.
Mary used often to go up to her house, when not out nursing, for a
week at a time to assist the widow with her work. Goulburn is a very
large, handsome, inland town in Australia, situated in the midst of a
rich farming district. On one side of the town, away to the left, was
a large hill, covered with fine timber. The Chittendens had rented a
small house about four miles out from Goulburn.
About five years after their coming to Goulburn, Mary had another
dream. A personage came to her and began talking to her of her affairs.
This personage said to her among other things:
"You shall take a farm, on the opposite side of the road to where you
now live. And, after, you shall prosper exceedingly. Then you shall
take money, constantly, from this side of the road, and you shall be
blessed, insomuch that you shall soon go to Zion thereafter." When she
awoke, she told the dream to her husband. Shortly after this a rumor
reached them that a certain man named Grimson was about to give up
his farm, which he rented from a gentleman named Gibson. This surely
must be the place of her dream, for was it not across the road from
them? And so she talked to her husband about the matter. But he had no
sympathy nor hope to give her on the subject.
"Mary how can you think of such a thing? What could I do with a farm? I
haven't a tool nor an animal to use. It is impossible. So don't talk of
it."
But Mary was far from satisfied. However, she knew her husband too well
to urge the matter, when he spoke as he had done. And further, in a
very short time after the farm was vacated, it was re-let to another
person. Mary was thus forced to give it up. A month or so slipped by,
and one night Mary dreamed the same dream, in relation to the farm
across the road. She thought, however, she would not mention it to her
husband. In a week or so, they again heard the farm was to let, as the
family was dissatisfied. Then Mary made bold to tell her husband of the
repetition of the dream, and beg him to try and take it.
"Why do you keep urging me about that farm, Mary? I have not one thing
to do with. I tell you it is impossible."
And again disappointed, Mary thought she would say no more about
the matter. That day she was going up to spend a week at Mrs. Day's
assisting her in her housework and cleaning. After she arrived there,
she prepared breakfast, and she and Mrs. Day sat down to eat. As they
were talking, Mrs. Day said, "Why doesn't Mr. Chittenden take that farm
of Gibson's? I hear it is again vacant. He is a good farmer, and could
easily attend to that as well as look after mine."
"He would like to do so, no doubt, but he thinks he could not on
account of having nothing to do with, no teams nor machines, nor in
fact anything."
"Well, if that's where the trouble lies, I'll tell you what I'll do. He
shall have the use of my horses and plows and all the farm machines for
nothing, and I will furnish him seed grain for the first year, and he
can let me have it back after he gets a start."
"Oh Mrs. Day, you are too good to us."
"Not a bit of it. I would do more than that to keep you in the country.
You know that I could not possibly live without your help," replied the
lady, laughingly.
Mary could hardly contain herself for joy. And when night came, she
begged to be allowed to go home that night, as she could not wait a
whole week before telling her husband the good news.
Accordingly she hurried home that night and told her husband what Mrs.
Day had said.
"Mary," said William, "if Mrs. Day tells me the same as she tells you,
I'll take Gibson's farm."
So early the next morning they started on their errand. The farm house
opposite them was vacant, and as they passed Mary asked herself,
tremblingly, if they should be sufficiently blessed to live there. Mrs.
Day greeted them very kindly and told them they were just in time for
breakfast.
"Thank you, Mrs. Day; but Mary has been telling me you spoke to her
about our taking Gibson's farm."
"So I did, Chittenden; and I tell you if you'll take the farm, keeping
mine too, mind, you shall have the use of my team, wagon and farm
implements. Besides, I will lend you your seed grain for the first
year, and you can return it afterwards."
"Well, Mrs. Day, if you are so kind as that, all I can do is to thank
you and accept the offer. I will go right on to Mr. Gibson at once and
make the bargain."
Mr. Gibson was quite pleased to have William take the farm. That same
week the family moved across the road, and Mary felt like a new woman.
During all these fifteen years you may be sure Mary and William had
often talked of the religion that was so dear to both. Their daughters,
although they had, perforce, married those outside the Church, were
staunch "Mormons," and are to this day.
One day William met Mr. Gibson who said, "I have been thinking,
William, you can open a gate on the other side of the road, opposite
your own door, and make a bit of a road to the woods, and you can take
toll from the gate. You know you live on the public turnpike from
Goulburn, and this toll road would be a good thing to the Goulburn
people."
"How much could you allow me, sir?"
"Five shillings from every pound. Then your children could attend the
gate."
"Very well, I will do so, and am very grateful to you for the
privilege."
"Well, mother," said William soon after, as he entered the house, "your
money is coming from the other side of the road."
And when he had laughingly told her how, she said she felt more like
crying than laughing, she was so grateful to God.