Since coming to mainland I have visited my old Traverse City home. There
I met many friends of my childhood days, my teacher among the rest, with
her sister Agnes. For a couple of weeks I was entertained by my old
friends, Mr. and Mrs. H. D. Campbell and family. While there I visited
all the old haunts and located the spot where the little log school
house had stood, and the crooked tree which we school children loved so
much to climb into and sit while our companions played about among the
green pines and oaks. I strolled around to Bryant's where the road turns
off to Old Mission. The old Bryant home looked just the same, nestling
among the green trees, as in the years of long ago. Close beside it was
the beautiful home of my school days' friend, Mrs. Frank Brush, where I
was very cordially entertained by herself and family. I visited with my
old friends in their handsome country home, Mr. and Mrs. J. K. Gunton,
then around the bay to Greilick's. It seemed but yesterday since I had
left it, and yet I missed so many of the old familiar faces. There was
much sadness mixed in with the pleasure of meeting with old friends.
The city had changed, no traces were left of my old home. The mill pond
was filled in and streets and buildings were in its place. Strangers
were in the places where once we children had run our races down the car
track to the dock. The house where I had last visited my father, had
been removed and another built in its place, but the little gurgling
brook was still singing its cheerful songs and the flowers were blooming
on its mossy banks. The beautiful forest trees had been cut down and a
city was made where once the wild strawberries and June roses grew, even
the Company's garden where we school children used to go and ride the
horses around the field, was all changed into a city. While there I
found where my three school friends were, the Rice girls. I had thought
them dead, but happy was the meeting after thirty-six years of
separation, and every summer since they never fail to make a little
visit to the light-house, where we again live over the old days.
Although there are silvery threads among the gold of our hair, we feel
our hearts are young when speaking of the old school days.
Since I left my island home I have never returned but once. The short
time I was there were precious hours to me, and though I cannot go I so
often see it in memory as it was when nature had put on her most lovely
garments of green; when June roses were in bloom filling the air with
fragrance with the friends of my younger days. Such pictures can never
fade from memory.
I always feel a deep interest in the prosperity and welfare of the
island people. My present surroundings are all that could be wished for,
and the light-house on Harbor Point is the place that is dearest to me.
A few of the old pioneers of the island are Capt. Manus Bonnar, who owns
and runs the Hotel Beaver; Mr. and Mrs. James Dunlevey have a fine,
large dry goods store; Mr. James McCann has another with general
merchandise; Mr. William Gallagher is the pioneer pound-net fisherman of
the island; Mr. William Boyle and several others are in business.
Several outside people have invested in land and in the near future
expect to have a resort with daily boats running to main land in the
summer months. No more healthful place can be found for rest and
recreation than the fair and beautiful Beaver Island.