September 2011
I N TH E DAYS O F TH E G O LDEN RO D
by L.M. Montgomery
ACROSS
in brooding shadow
I walk to drink of the autumn’s wine —
The charm of story, the artist's glory,
To-day on these silvering hills is mine;
On height, in hollow, where’er I follow,
By mellow hillside and searing sod,
Its plumes uplifting, in light winds drifting,
I see the glimmer of golden-rod.
THE MEADOW
In this latest comer the vanished summer
Has left its sunshine the world to cheer,
And bids us remember in late September
What beauty mates with the passing year.
The days that are fleetest are still the sweetest,
And life is near to the heart of God,
And the peace of heaven to earth is given
In this wonderful time of the golden-rod.
A PIONEER WOOING:
The story of Betsy and Nancy Penman
by Carolyn Strom Collins
“A
Pioneer Wooing” was one of L. M. Montgomery’s
earliest stories, the ninety-ninth as recorded by
Rea Wilmshurst in her bibliography of Montgomery’s short stories. It was first published in Farm and Fireside on Sept. 15, 1903 and republished in Canadian Courier on
May 20, 1911). Montgomery revised it for a chapter in The Story
Girl which she began in June 1909, and saw published in 1911.
She also recounted the tale in her journals, letters and in the first
chapter of her autobiography The Alpine Path, first published in
1917 in Everywoman’s World.
The story was an unusual and romantic one and was told in
the Montgomery family for generations, for it is a true story and
involved two sets of L. M. Montgomery’s great-grandmothers
and great-grandfathers.
In the fictional accounts, Montgomery named the characters
Betty and Nancy Sherman, Donald Fraser and Neil Campbell.
In reality, the names were Betsy and Nancy Penman, Donald
Montgomery and David Murray.
New Moon
Port Hill
The Penman sisters lived at Penman’s Point (now known as
Port Hill Farm) and were the daughters of George and Mary
Penman who had fled to Canada from “New England” during
or just after the Revolutionary War. They wound up on the
north shore of Prince Edward Island about 1786, probably as a
result of being recruited by George Hardy, who had been living
here for some years and had been persuaded to bring settlers
from his native Kingston, New York, area to settle in Lot 16.
George Penman was considered a “Loyalist” and after the
“colonies” won their independence from King George III, those
loyal to him were compelled to leave, forfeiting any property
and possessions they had accumulated up until then. Family
tradition says that Penman was a paymaster in the British army,
perhaps serving Lord Rollo in the Battle of Louisbourg in 1758
or at the garrison in PEI just after it was taken over from France.
However, these details have not been proven in the record. It has
recently been discovered (through record of a sale of land by
George Penman to Jonathan Eddy) that the Penmans must have
lived for a time in the Fort Lawrence/Amherst area of Nova
Scotia (c.1769), before settling in PEI. (continued on next page)
Nancy Penman was George Penman’s
eldest daughter, born in “New England”
(according to her headstone and other
brief biographical notes of record) in
1768, thus making her a “Loyalist” as well.
Her sister Elizabeth was born in 1769.
There were three more sisters: Margaret
(c.1771), Christy (c.1773-1811), and Jane
(c.1776-1852)*.
The family story says that David Murray, a Loyalist who had settled in North
Bedeque, was vying with other suitors for
Nancy Penman’s hand. He had even gone to Charlottetown
to obtain a license on March 5, 1788. He was on his way to
Penman’s Point when he stopped in at the Montgomery home
at Fox Point, across Malpeque Bay (marked Richmond Bay on
archival maps), to rest his horse and visit with his friend Donald
Montgomery. Once Donald figured out what David had in
mind, he offered him whiskey (and plenty of it) until David
finally dozed off. Donald seized the opportunity (and
The Montgomery farm at Fox Point in Malpeque, in earlier
days. The house was known as New Moon, and L.M. Montgomery borrowed it for the setting of Emily of New Moon.
David’s horse and wagon) and raced across the ice to the Penman home. There he found Nancy and proposed, as in the story.
When David finally roused himself
and got across the frozen bay, Donald
and Nancy had left. Nancy’s sister Elizabeth (“Betsy”) proposed to David and
he accepted.
Each family was said to have been
exceptionally happy. Nancy and Donald Montgomery married March 14,
1788 in Princetown and lived at Fox
Point at the Montgomery home; they
proceeded to have a family of 17 children. Betsy and David Murray married in 1789 (see license record March
25, 1789) and lived in North Bedeque;
they also had 17 children.
(continued on next page)
K INDRED SPIRITS
SE P T E M B E R 2 0 1 1
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Nancy and Donald’s son Donald (who would later become
Senator Montgomery) married Betsy and David’s daughter Ann
Murray (they were first cousins). The younger Donald had
moved from Fox Point to Park Corner to live with his widowed
Aunt Jane Penman Townsend, and that is where he and Ann
settled.
Donald and Ann’s son Hugh John Montgomery, was Lucy
Maud Montgomery’s father. Therefore, Betsy and Nancy Penman were L. M. Montgomery’s great-grandmothers and David
Murray and Donald Montgomery were her great-grandfathers,
all on her paternal side.
Today there is no trace of the Penman home on the western
shore of Malpeque Bay nor is there any evidence of David and
Betsy Murray’s home on the shore of the Dunk River in North
Bedeque. Only early maps of Prince Edward Island show the
existence of these homes and farms. However, the Montgomery
home at Fox Point is still in use as a summer residence and, even
though a few additions have been made (kitchen, electricity,
plumbing) it remains much as it was when it was constructed
over 200 years ago. L. M. Montgomery visited this home often
— her aunt Emily Macneill of Cavendish married John Montgomery, a grandson of Donald and Nancy Montgomery, and
they lived there for many years.
This millstone still remains from a grist mill that George
Penman helped build in 1792. WAYNE TROWSDALE PHOTO
*Margaret Penman married John Ramsey of Hamilton, her
sister Christy married Donald Montgomery’s brother Hugh Montgomery (they lived in the Penman home), and sister Jane married
James Townsend, of Park Corner.
Around our
Kitchen Table
Apple Pudding
6 cups apples, peeled and sliced
1 cup flour
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup butter (room temperature)
Place apples in a baking dish or casserole. Mix flour, brown
sugar and cinnamon. Cut in butter until mixture is crumbly
and scatter over the apples. Bake in 3500 oven for approximately 1 hour, or until the apples are done. Delicious
served warm, with cream.
“Pat could see the orchard, . . . a most extraordinary
orchard with spruce trees and apples trees delightfully
mixed up together . . . ”
- PAT O F S I LV E R B U S H
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KINDRED SPIRITS / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 1 1
“My neighbour the late Mary Ella Montgomery told me there
was an apple that used to grow at Silver Bush many years ago.
I thought she said they called it Campbell Sweets. When I went
to find out more information about this apple I discovered that
it was really called Talmon Sweets. It was a big green apple that
looked very sour, but it was really sweet. These apples were so
precious that my Aunt Georgie (MacLeod) would raise and lower
a basket up and down the tree by rope, so the apples wouldn’t
fall to the ground.” - George Campbell
The
Trysting
Place
by Audrey Walker Moore, 1991
I
glanced at the horizon and noted the position of the sun.
Good, I still had time to get to the trysting place for the
appointed time.
I wheeled out my bike and began to head down the road
with the red dust trailing behind me. It had been dry the last
few days. I veered a little to miss a lazy caterpillar as he made
his pilgrimage over the rough road to the other side.
I slowed down steadily in order to negotiate a right-handed
turn. My eyes noted the wild roses growing in the ditches along
the roadside. Their perfumed scent seemed to be even stronger
towards evening. I would stop and gather some on the return
and set them in the cut-glass vase of my grandmother’s. From
there I could enjoy their fragrance even longer.
My gaze went back to the horizon where the outline of a
house stood. Deserted now, I could only imagine in my mind its
owners of long ago. I envied them, the beautiful view, which lay
behind the house. I drove past the lane, which was now barred
by a gate, which seemed to imply — NO TRESPASSING. That
really didn’t matter because I did not need to trespass there in
order to arrive at my destination.
The road now narrowed and took a slight decline. I left my
bike by some bushes and started on foot. I hurried so as not to
miss any of the precious moments left. I found the well-worn
Audrey Walker Moore (1953-1997) grew up in Kensington, PEI
and spent her summers in Malpeque, where her family operated a
cottage rental business.
driftwood and sat entranced at the splendour around me. It was
not a person I had come to meet but rather a scene — a
panoramic scene which my mere words can scarcely describe.
The waters of Malpeque Bay gently lapped rhythmically with
the tide against the shoreline. A gull flying overhead pierced the
silence with its strident cries. Silence yes, in a way it was silence
and yet as one listened with what seemed a different ear the
scene was alive, vibrant with noise. I could hear in the distance
what seemed like the calls of thousands of birds. It was coming
from an island which was very small and to the left of me. I had
originally called it Bird Island.
But then, there was the sun setting in the western sky. At
times its rays seemed to make a path which invited me to cross
over to it. Its magnificent colors seemed to re-echo on the
clouds above and behind me. Silly as it may seem, this display
was like a Symphony being played. Yet each evening the tune
was different. That’s what made this time so special. No two
sunsets were ever the same.
Dusk started to settle as the sun’s last rays faded. I gave an
inward sigh and then began my homeward journey. As I looked
upward, past the storm-battered cliff I knew I would have
another friend to guide me home. The shimmering rays of a
new moon looked down upon me.
5
Miss Juliana’s
Wedding Dress
by L.M. Montgomery
J
ean was making her wedding
dress, a thing of fine sheer white
organdy and cobweb lace, just
such a dress as she had dreamed of
having ever since the day that
Martin Reed had put the little ring,
with its three blue turquoises, on
her slender brown finger.
The dress stood for a good deal
of extra economy and a bit of selfsacrifice on the part of her father
and mother. Jean knew this and
knew that the love so woven into
fabric and seam was in itself the
finest and most precious of bridal
adornments. Her heart sang with
joy as she hemmed the froth-like
ruffles, and no hint of the gloom of
the autumn day crept in to shadow
it. To Jean, the world was all springtime.
First published September 1905, in
New Idea Woman’s Magazine
“Mother, help me get these out of
sight. Miss Juliana mustn’t see the dress.
She is such an old gossip and pry. It
would be talked over in every house in
Brightwood in a week and I should feel
that like a desecration. And she’d poke it
about with her little claws and peer into
the stitches.”
The white dress was safely out of the
way before Miss Juliana came in. Perhaps she suspected something, for her
sharp black eyes did not fail to notice a
snip of organdy on the carpet and a
white thread clinging to Jean’s dress. But
she said nothing about it, although she
prolonged her call unreasonably and
talked gossip until Jean almost lost her
patience. To be sure, poor Miss Juliana’s
gossip was always harmless enough; but
Jean detested all gossip.
So Miss Juliana had to go home
without having been taken into Jean’s
confidence.
Sandy Wagner’s maternal grandparents were
Mrs. Milman, passing by, stopped
“It wouldn’t have hurt her to have
married on September 24, 1907. Her wedding
and touched the dress gently.
showed
me her things,” whispered Miss
dress gives us an idea of the fashion of that day.
Juliana resentfully, as she fumbled about
“Deary me, isn’t it pretty?” she
to unlock her door, blinder by reason of a few stinging ters in
said wistfully. “Seems to me such stuff couldn’t be meant for
her eyes than by the falling dusk. “I’ve been fond of Jean since
wearing any more than moonshine. I’m real glad we made out
she was a baby and I’ve been in and out over there almost every
to manage it. Your father thought at first that it was kind of
day of my life. They needn’t treat me like a stranger. I do hate
foolish to spend money on a white dress when money was so
for folks to be so close.”
scarce and you needed so many other things. But I stood firm. I
remember when I was married I wanted a white dress, too; but
But neither Miss Juliana or anyone else in Brightwood was
they all said it was such foolishness that I gave it up and was
destined to see that white dress of Jean’s. On the day that it was
married in my brown silk. But do you know, Jean, I’ve had a
finished Jean laid it carefully on the “spare-room” bed; and that
hankering for that white dress ever since. So I was determined
night 15-year-old Mattie went into the spare room to curl her
you should have yours. It seemed to me that it would satisfy my
hair for prayer-meeting.
own old wish, to se you married in a white dress. Deary me,
Mattie was inclined to be absent-minded. She was pondering
there’s Miss Juliana coming across the field. Mattie, run to the
deeply whether to dress her hair in the Cadogan braid, as Millie
front door and bring her in that way. I wouldn’t have her see the
Jones wore it, or turn it up over her head like the stylish Patterback porch, all littered up as it is with excelsior, for the world.”
son girls at the Center; and when she lighted her lamps she gave
Mattie flew to the front door while Jean hurriedly gathered
(continued on next page)
up her ruffles.
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KINDRED SPIRITS / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 1 1
a little “pouf” at the match and tossed it carelessly away —
another habit of hers. The next moment Mattie saw what she
had done. The still blazing match had fallen on the chiffon frill
of Jean’s wedding dress. A draught was blowing across it from
the open window and, before horrified Mattie could open her
lips to utter a piercing shriek, the frail dainty thing was a mass
of twisting flames.
Mrs. Milman reached the spare-room first, to see Mattie
striving to smother the fire with a towel.
She snatched the down comforter from the foot of the bed
and in a twinkling the fire was out and the danger over, just as
Jean came running in. She saw Mattie crying and nursing her
blistered hands, she saw her mother standing pale and trembling in the middle of the room, and she saw on the bed a heap
of charred rags that had once been her wedding dress.
“Mother!” she cried.
“Jean, this is dreadful,” said Mrs. Milman helplessly. “This is
what that child’s vanity and carelessness have come to. To be
sure, I suppose we ought to be thankful it wasn’t the house instead of only a dress.”
But just then Jean did not feel that she could be thankful for
anything. She broke into tears and fled to her room without
even touching the pitiful fragments of the gown she had made
with such pride and delight. She would have to married in black
silk, and it wouldn’t seem like a marriage at all!
Jean cried all night and moped all the next day. The Milman
household was a rather gloomy one at that time. Mattie, between burned hands and remorse, was almost heart-broken;
and poor Mrs. Milman was, as she expressed it to Miss Juliana,
“quite upset and worried to death.” She had run over after tea to
pour out the dismal story to Miss Juliana.
Miss Juliana listened intently and for once was not forward
with comment When Mrs. Milman had gone on to the Reeds’,
Miss Juliana threw a shawl over her head and hurried across the
sere meadow to the Milman homestead. She found Jean curled
up on the sofa, with her face in a pillow. Miss Juliana sat down
beside her and put her arm over the girl’s shoulders.
“I’ve heard about it, Jean,” she whispered, “and I’m so sorry.
But don’t cry any more. Please come over to my house for a
minute. I have something to show you.”
Jean wiped away her tears and went. Somehow, she did not
resent Miss Juliana’s meddling in the matter. When they reached
the latter’s tiny house Miss Juliana took Jean upstairs. Before the
door of the gable room she paused.
“I’ve never taken anyone in here before, Jean,” she said
tremulously. “You won’t tell anybody about it, will you? I couldn’t bear to have it talked over.”
She unlocked the door and led Jean by the hand like a child.
It was a young girl’s room – quaint, neat, very old-fashioned,
with frilled, white muslin curtains at the window, a whitecanopied bed, and a high, shining chest of drawers topped by a
(continued on next page)
Montgomery remembered at
Cavendish church anniversary
Sarah Simpson (below)
welcomed worshippers.
At left is the window
honoring LMM.
It was a beautiful, soft summer morning on September
11 of this year as bagpiper Sarah Simpson of Stanley
Bridge piped in the worshippers to Cavendish United
Church to celebrate their church’s 110th anniversary.
Rev. Claudia Kitson led the special service, and the choir
sang beautiful renditions of “To Those Who Came
Before Me”, and “In This Holy Place.” Jennie Macneill
shared the church’s history, noting that one of the
congregation’s most famous worshippers was L.M.
Montgomery, who served as its organist from 1903-1911.
The organ she played is still in the church, and a
beautiful stained glass window honors her memory.
The anniversary sermon was “Building temples, still
undone,” prepared by Rev. David Hamilton and delivered by Rev. Kitson. Four sketches by Island artist
Sterling Stratton were dedicated and now hang on the
church’s walls. Food and fellowship followed the service.
K IN D ED SPIRITS / SEPTEMBER 2 0 1 1
7
gilt-framed mirror. Scattered about were girlish knickknacks
and belongings, all neatly kept and speckles of dust, but evidently long unused by any human hand.
“This was my room long ago, when I was a young girl,” said
Miss Juliana. “I’ve never used it since — since I put girlhood
behind me forever one bitter day. But I’ve always kept it just as
it used to be. And nobody but myself has even been in it since.”
Miss Juliana went to the chintz-covered chest under the
window and opened it. A sweet, faint spiciness floated up into
the room as she lifted out a dress — a dress of white embroidered muslin, ivory-tinted from its long seclusion.
I am just indulging a whim of mine. I’ve always wanted to see
this dress worn by a bride — that is what it was made for. Do
take the dress, Jean. It seems to me that it is full of dreams and
hopes, and that they will all blossom for you if you wear it.”
“Thank you,” said Jean tremulously. “Oh, dear Miss Juliana,
thank you.”
“Wasn’t it sweet and lovely of her, mother?” said Jean that
night, as she showed the dainty, old-fashioned gown to Mrs.
Milman. “I’m ashamed to think how I have misunderstood her.
I said that she didn’t know anything about the sacredness of a
wedding dress! But I shall never think of her as a prying gossip
again.”
“This,” said Miss Juliana softly, “this was to have been my
wedding dress, Jean. Long ago I was engaged to a young sea
captain, Malcolm Lennox. When he went away on his last voy“It’s the loveliest thing in the line of material that I ever put
age I promised to marry him
my eyes on,” said Mrs. Milman pracwhen he came back. I got all
tically. “And the sewing on it is beaumy things ready and then I
tiful. It does seem a positive shame
made my wedding dress from
to think of cutting it up to make
a roll of muslin my uncle had
over.”
given me. He was a sea cap“Mother, I have an inspiration,”
tain, too, and he had brought
cried Jean. “There’s nobody coming
it home from India. Look at
to see me married except Martin’s
it, Jean: it was fit for a queen
family and Miss Juliana — so I’ll do
— so fine you might almost
it.”
have drawn the whole web
“If you wouldn’t mind telling a
through a ring. Well, Jean, the
Lucy Maud Montgomery at Home in Leaskdale:
body what you mean to do?” smiled
very moment I finished it I
A Centennial Celebration 13-15 October 2011
the mother, and Jean did.
heard voices in the kitchen
Miss Juliana wondered a little
The Lucy Maud Montgomery Society of Ontario is hosting a
below. I ran out to the landthree-day celebration to mark the centenary of Montgomery's
when Jean meant to make over weding and recognized old Joe
arrival
in
Leaskdale,
Ontario
from
Prince
Edward
Island:
ding dress. Once she offered to help
Marks’ voice. He was telling
her. But Jean thanked her kindly and
mother that the Annie Ray
Day 1: Historical Celebration, Day 2: A Scholastic Celebration,
said it wasn’t necessary. Miss Juliana
Day 3: A Community Celebration.
had been lost with all hands
felt a little hurt; but on the wedding
onboard. The Annie Ray was
SEE SCHEDULE OF EVENTS
day, when Jean came down into the
Malcolm’s ship. Jean, my
parlor and stood simply beside her
youth and happiness died
young
bridegroom,
Miss
Juliana
understood. For the wedding
then. I crept back here broken-hearted and I put away the weddress which Jean wore under her snowy bridal veil was the very
ding dress that was never to be worn —”
wedding dress she had taken from the chintz-covered chest
Miss Juliana’s voice broke in a sob. Jean bent forward and
unaltered in any respect. It had been beautifully bleached and
laid her young arms about the little woman.
done up, and fitted Jean’s slender figure perfectly. No bride
“I didn’t bring you here to cry to you,” said Miss Juliana wipcould have looked sweeter and fairer, and Miss Juliana wept
ing away her tears. “Now, you see this dress. The material is as
tears of happiness in her corner.
good as ever and it will bleach white. You see the skirt is long
“How lovely of you,” she whispered to Jean later on. “I did
and full and the sleeves are like balloons — that was the fashion
feel
a little bit sorry to think of the dress being cut up and made
then — so that there will be plenty to make over. You must take
over, but I didn’t see any other way if you were to wear it, as I
this dress, Jean, to be married in,”
was bound you should. Oh, Jean dear, I’m so pleased and proud
“Oh, dear, Miss Juliana,” cried Jean tenderly, “I couldn’t. Why,
and happy!”
it would seem —”
“So am I,” whispered Jean, with a blush and a shy glance at
“Wait, dear,” interrupted Miss Juliana. “I don’t want you to
Martin.
think that I am making any sacrifice in giving you this dress.
THE END
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KINDRED SPIRITS / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 1 1
Cavendish School Days
by Jennie Macneill
R
ecords of a school in Cavendish date back
to 1834-35, so by the year 1880 the school
was well-established and had 45 pupils enrolled. One of these pupils was six-year-old Lucy
Maud Montgomery.
The very first morning of the 1880 school term,
her Aunt Emily walked to school with her. Down
the old homestead lane they went, through the
gate, and directly across the road where they came
to “the little low-eaved schoolhouse set in a spruce grove with a
sprinkling of maple trees.” Her Aunt Emily left her there, to sit
in a seat with some older girls.
The second day young Maud went all by herself, but she was
a little bit late. She walked into the classroom and sat again with
the older girls, but she had forgotten to take her hat off!
Everyone laughed!
Cavendish School, c.1900, photo by L.M. Montgomery.
Courtesy of Special Collections, University of Guelph Library.
schoolhouse. However, she must have learned these lessons well,
because when she wrote the Grade X Entrance Examinations to
Prince of Wales College in 1893, she came fifth on the Island.
Lucy Maud enjoyed school life immensely, and loved
playing with other children. She wrote of playing
ball in the springtime at recess and she was considered to be a very good ball-player. She also
enjoyed getting ready for the concerts held in
the school at Christmas time and end-of-term
in June — she loved the excitement of these,
and of taking part in them.
In The Alpine Path she writes that she felt she was
a target for the ridicule of the universe, and she felt
completely crushed and humiliated. Another
thing that was a “humiliating difference” was the
fact that her grandparents would never allow her
to go barefoot to school, like the other children.
She had to wear buttoned boots.
She describes the lovely brook further down in
the spruce grove below the school which had a big
deep spring where the pupils put their milk bottles to
keep cool. She rarely ever had the delight of
doing this as she lived so nearby that she
went home to dinner.
LMM at age 8
The setting for the schoolhouse in
that spruce grove was “a fairy
realm of beauty and romance
to her childish imagination.”
She states that the grove of
trees with winding paths
and treasure-grove of
ferns and mosses and
wildflowers was a
stronger and better
educational influence in her life
than the lessons
learned at the
desk in the
She attended this school from age six to fifteen, but in 1890 she left Cavendish for Prince
Albert to spend a year with her father and so attended high school there. Her year was interrupted
due to household duties in the Montgomery home.
She came back to Cavendish in September of 1891, but
had missed the beginning seven weeks of the school
year, so stayed out of school that 1891-1892 term.
In February, she went to Park Corner where she busied herself giving music lessons to her Campbell cousins. Returning to
Cavendish in June she was all set for the 1892-1893 school year,
as it was settled that she would study for Entrance to Prince of
Wales College and a teacher’s license.
School began in August and in her Journals she writes: “it
was delicious to sit in my old seat and look through the window
away down into the old spruce woods, with their shadows, and
sunlight, and whispering.”
And so, from the basic education of this one-roomed country schoolhouse came one who brought joy, and hope, and
happiness to millions of people all around the world, through
her writings.
K IN D ED SPIRITS / SEPTEMBER 2 0 1 1
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