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HomeMy WebLinkAbout1802"Handwritten letter, 4 pages, undated, to Charles Coates from Louise Richardson Rorke for an oral composition when Charles was a grade 8 student at Pickering Public School. Dear Charles,- I can't remember when I was born, so we will just skip that, but it was a good many years ago as you[r] audience can guess by my white hair. We lived in Thornbury, a small town on Georgian Bay, at the mouth of the Beaver River, and between two lines of hills, ""The Blue Mountains"", 1100 feet above the Bay. I had only one sister and no brother, but we had a lot of cousins all older than we were, so we had good times in plenty. We skated in a rink three times as long as Pickering rink and twice as wide and covered. It had a nice warm dressing-room where we changed our shoes, and on three nights in every week, an orchestra. We coasted on the steep hills, and drove, great sleighing parties , or just two or three in a cutter, We has snow from the middle of November until the end of March. We had long snow shoe tramps - up the river and along the beach, and in the summer we sailed and hiked and picnicked. I was eight years old when I started to go to school, and no youngster ever knew so little about how to behave. When I did go I kissed Jessie, and bid her a formal goodbye as if we might never see each other again. I enjoyed school and got on very well - in the subjects I liked. I was only whipped once and that was for writ-" "Many Canadian villages are well known for their scenery. Many as the homes of certain industries. But few are those villages known for their authors. Pickering can claim the honour of being among those few for we have here a writer known to us and to Cananda in the person of Miss Louise Rorke." "ing a note to a little boy. Lots of girls did it, but I didn't know how quiet I should be over it - and neither did he. In Grade VIII I had a teacher who did a great deal to help me, just by lending me books. He let me read his ""Idylls of the King"" and I spent many a golden recess period sitting on the wide sill of a school-room window, quiet hidden by the dark heavy blind which I drew down. That teacher, Mr. E.P Rowe, died a year ago, and not long before his death he came to visit us in Pickering. The first book I remember being thrilled by was Hiawatha. I read and re-read it. It was mother's, but after I left it out in the rain and it lost its covers, I fell heir to it, to my great joy. I don't know when I first wrote stories. It seems to me that I alway did. Jessie and I used to sit on the swing and make up stories by the hour when we were younsters. The first story I had published was called ""Gleam o' Dreams"" and was the story of a boat and a baby. It was used by Toronto Saturday Night. Jessie and I went for a hike and picnic up the river. I wrote my story, and she made a design from some sedge which grew there. We felt very daring when we decided to market them, but we were both successful. We went to the Collegiate Institute in Collingwood. That was interesting because at least three quarters of the students had taught 3,6 or even nine years. They were quite formal-even the teachers addressing the girls as ""Miss ___"", except for a few youngsters, of which I was one. I decided to teach school - there wasn't much else for a girl to do in those days, so I went to ""Normal School"" and found a school for myself - right on the top of the Mountain, thirteen miles from home. Sometimes I was homesick, but I loved the country - the woods on the farm where I boarded, the stream and the water-cress, the pure-bred horses and cattle which were raised on the McConnell farm, above all the wide view of the valley and the opposite mountain. I some" "times made up stories to read to the boys and girls when I taught, but I never kept them. Later I went to the College of Education, and taught in the home school. That was interesting because I knew the boys and girls I taught. They were my friends and neighbours. While I taught at home I contributed to Canadian Teacher and was asked to edit their Literature Department, and later I came to Toronto as Associate Editor. It was the editor Matthew Parkinson who persuaded me to show some of my short stories to Dr. Robert Haddow, editor of Westminster Magazine and the Presbyterian Record. He accepted them and encouraged me to keep on writing. I did not have much time though, because on Mr. Parkinson's death I was made editor, and my hands were full. ""Lefty"" was the first book I ever wrote (except a little Geography which wasn't very interesting for use in the English Schools). It was published in 1932. Last year I followed it with another story about the same boy and the same dog. I called it ""Lefty's Adventure"" or rather that is what the publishers called it with my willing consent. I wanted to call it ""Lefty Keeps a Tryst"" but they said that wasn't a ""selling"" title. In between I wrote a story for older readers, ""Sugar Shanty"", which I think I like best of all. They are all stories of boys and dogs - perhaps because I have been friends with so many dogs and have always owned a dog, except when I lived in the city. My first dog was coal black and was called ""Buff"", I have no idea why. You know Johnnie, the cocker spaniel puppy we have now. There a some pleasant things that I have had a chance to do, among them my trip to England and Scotland " "land, and to the Pacific Coast, and I had chances to meet very interesting people. One of the things that I liked best was that I rode over the Great Divide of the Rocky Mountians in the cab of the engine of a C.P.R. passenger train; and another that I spent a week in Matheson and vicinity, and went as far north as Hearst, writing an article on The Clay Belt in Winter for the C.P.R. While I was in Matheson I went to a Valentine Party with my host and hostess. They had games and square dances, and I was introduced to a very meek-looking, shy fair man, who scarcely talked at all while we danced. My host laughed at me when I confessed that I thought him very quiet and uninteresting, and told me that he was a prospector who always got drunk and ""painted the town red"" whenever he came home - shot out all the lights and was generally wild. I had, also, a chance to go through the C.P.R. car barns in Monteal, and to see the wrecked engines, cars etc, and discuss them with Colenel Johnson. I was his guest for luncheon in the Officer's Mess. He introduced me to the sixteen officers who were present, and when I took my place I was shocked to know that I remembered only one name. It was ""Goodfellow"", but I didn't know to whom it belonged. I have tried to tell you the things you may find interesting. If I've left out anything you'd like to know please come and ask me. This is probably much longer than you want so leave out whatever you like. I am sending you my picture. I like it myself because it doesn't look too much like me. I am very glad to do this for you, Charles, and am quite proud that you should choose to talk about me. Most sincerely yours, Louise Rorke."