Sir Wilfrid in Richmond Wolfe 1891

Sir Wilfrid and wife at the 1908 Quebec Tercentenary. Margaret Nicholson attended the celebrations.

As I write Diary of a Confirmed Spinster, the follow up to the ebook Threshold Girl I am finding out new information.

I’ve got the story plotted out, and I’ve written key scenes longhand, and I only need for my cervical disks to heal so I can type away. The story is based on the letters of Tighsolas, the letters of middle class Canadian family in Richmond Quebec in 1908-1913.

Now, in Threshold Girl I wrote a line for Flora, the heroine (a college student in 1911/12). She is being teased by a local shopkeeper about her father.  The shopkeeper asks, “Has Monsieur Laurier given your father his job back.” (Her father, Norman, worked on  Laurier’s Transcontinental Railway from 1907-1912, but was fired in 1910 for reasons explained in my ebooks.)

Flora thinks, “As if my father knows Prime Minister Laurier personally.”

But then yesterday I find out this: That Wilfrid Laurier ran as the Liberal Candidate in Richmond Wolfe in 1891! Yikes. He lost by a few votes. He also ran in Quebec East, where he won and became leader of the Opposition, lent his name to a pivotal era in History, and created a vision for Canada that lasted for a century (and my just be dying right now.)

From wikipedia.

Norman was active in Politics at the local level from 1900 to 1910, but did he vote for Laurier in 1891? I doubt it. He probably voted for Local Man Cleveland.

As you can see, J.N. Greenshields ran for the Liberals in the election before and lost. In 1911, he supports the Tories, not liking Reciprocity, which is Free Trade. He is President of a Textile company by then.

A voting list for the 1904 Canadian Federal Election. Norman kept it so he likely was the invigilator.

A little voting promo. The story of this election is told in Threshold Girl

BLUE UMBRELLA YELLOW MACKINTOSH 10th installment

That baby again. I assume it is Mrs. Montgomery’s. This is the only Tighsolas photo with images of local workers. 1910 era.

I have a list of trees and shrubs planted on Tighsolas grounds in 1897. “Purchased from H.W.Beebe, Plain, Quebec, Grower, Dealer and Importer of Hardy Varieties of Fruit and Nursery Stock. One current tree, one McIntosh Red Apple, one Bismarck Apple, one Bradshaw plum, 6 Floyd currant, 6 white grape currant, one Norway Maple, one Weeping Birch, one Paul’s new double thorn, one hydrangea, one purple Clematis, one Malbara raspberry and a partridge in a pear tree.”

Next day, in the evening mail, a letter finally did come from brother Herb in Montreal. Flora handed it to her mother in the vestibule first thing. As Flora removed her raincoat, Margaret ripped it open, read it, turned white, and told Flora, “I am going to the Hills. I am not sure when I will be back.”

And then she whipped her own frayed yellow Mackintosh from the stand inside, wrapped it tightly around her, and stomped out the front door, grabbing Flora’s wet umbrella, open in full bluish bloom on the porch, by its upturned handle as she blew by. Flora closed the front door.

No homework help tonight, either. That was clear. Flora had hoped her mother would have the time to ask her her Latin verbs.

But no. Margaret didn’t even have the time to ask about the other envelope in Flora’s hand.

What has Herb done now? Poor Mother. She seemed to bounce from one family crisis to another.

Flora casually hung her slicker on the newly naked hook of the rickety coat tree and looked again at the envelope in her hand. It was addressed to her and postmarked Newton Center, Massachusetts. Cousin Henry! But she already knew that.

She decided to brew herself a cup of tea to warm her blood before taking the letter opener to it.