But for this
one fault of my companion's, and a fault it certainly was, I believe had
I had a brother, I could have loved him no better than I loved Charley
Gray. Previous to my mother's marriage her home had been in Western
Canada; her father died while she was quite a young girl, but her
mother, now far advanced in years, still lived in the old home, some
fifty miles from the city of Hamilton. The affairs of the farm and
household were managed by a son and daughter who had never married, and
still resided in their paternal home. My mother was the youngest in the
family, and had been the pet of the household during her childhood and
early youth; she was many years younger than either her brother or
sister, and they had exercised a watchful and loving care over their pet
sister till the period of her marriage and removal to Eastern Canada.
Her brother and sister seldom left their own home, owing to their care
of their aged mother, and for some years past my mother's circumstances
had not allowed her to visit her early home; and, amid the cares of
life, letters passed less and less frequently between them, till they
came to be like "Angels' visits," few and far between.
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