Preparations were made, goods were packed, the steamer "Grace Barker"
with Capt. Walter Chrysler as master, had come to take us to our new
home. So often before had I left the island, passing several winters in
other parts, but always returning again, and happy to get back to my
neighbors and pleasant island home, with its fresh, pure air. But now I
knew this was different. There would be no more coming back to live,
this time was to be the last. The dear old island and I must part. I had
always thought it beautiful in the many years I had called it my home;
but never before had I realized what it had been to me until now. I was
leaving, perhaps never more to return.
Recollections came of my childhood days when free from care and knowing
no sorrow, I had wandered through the pleasant paths strewn with
flowers, sending their sweet perfume upon the air, as my brothers had so
often taken me with them on their hunts; and the beautiful white beach
where the blue waters came rolling in where so often we had wandered
together, chasing the waves as they came tumbling in upon us, or as we
paddled about the shores in our canoes, and where I so often had watched
to see their white sails returning to land when I had not gone with them
upon the water. As all these thoughts came passing through my mind I
wondered if I could leave all these memories behind, or could I carry
them away to the new home, the new land as it almost seemed. Though our
family was broken and no more could we gather around the hearth at
evening time, some had passed over into the beyond, yet there was no
place on earth where we all seemed so close together as on the island
shores. We had passed through many storms, both mental and physical, but
had felt the mighty power of him who rules all things to give us peace
and strength. And the "light-house!" That had been my home so many
years, I loved the very bricks within its walls. Under its roof I had
passed many happy years as well as some sorrowful ones. It was filled
with hallowed memories. Then came the separation from the friends and
neighbors. Could their places ever be filled?
The sun shone bright, the day was fair as we stepped upon our steamer
that was to bear us away from our island home. As we steamed so fast
away, we looked back to watch its white shores with beautiful green
trees in the background and the pretty white tower and dwelling of our
light-house, which soon could be seen no more only in sad, sweet
memories.
Just a few hours passed when we steamed into Little Traverse Harbor, and
the "red light," just like the one we had left, was flashing its rays
over the waters of Little Traverse Bay for the first time. The water was
calm and still. The "red light" shone deep into the quiet waters, and
many eyes were watching the bright rays from the light-house tower, and
the wish of their hearts had been gratified in having a light house on
Harbor Point to guide steamers and vessels into the harbor. The evening
was clear and the picture was a lovely one as we rounded the point so
near the light. Some passengers said to me. "Here is your home. Don't
you know the red light is giving you a welcome?" Yes, it was all one's
heart could wish, yet I felt there was another I had left in the old
home that was now just a little more dear to my heart.