Sunday, September 3, 1721

Reverend Jacobs gave thanks for a good season and for the successful discovery of this new fishing place. I tried to be filled up with thankfulness but it is hard. After the service Papa kept rubbing his hands together. He went around exclaiming about how soon this would be "his kingdom, his domain."

Monday, September 4, 1721

I have been to Papa and asked him to relent.

"But this is only the beginning," he told me.

For a moment I thought of somehow taking away his papers and his quills and ink and destroying them. But then I could not think of how to do it. And anyway I did not think that it would work.

Instead I went to Captain Jones's tilt and put some purple daisy flowers upon the table. Mama says she will "visit the place" tomorrow. I cannot imagine what she will say when she does so. I cannot imagine how we will all of us live together there. Or perhaps I can and that is worse.


From Dear Canada: Winter of Peril, copyright © 2005 by Jan Andrews.

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