The Journey Continues

Channing grew worse and was very sick, some nights I feared he might not live. Millie was invaluable. She cared for all the other children so I could devote myself to my poor little baby. So sweet through it all. All things, however dreadful, have an end, and at midnight February 2 & 3 we reached Los Angeles. I was surprised when I first stepped out into California climate. It was COLD. The chill of the air seemed to penetrate ones very bones, Channing was warmly bundled up and I wrapped my heavy blanket shawl over him and a thick veil over his face and then faced the cold, but the ride to our boarding place, though long and wearisome, did not hurt him. A Mrs. Hoyt, a friend of Walter’s, met us and took us to the only place he had been able to find. We were ushered into two cold bare chamber rooms with a little fire , just lighted, feebly burning in the stove. A sad contrast to the rooms we had left. Two rooms for seven people. Walter, baby, and I occupied one bed, Millie and the three children the other. The rooms opened into each other with double doors and only thin lace curtains to separate them. Millie was equal to the emergency however, as she has been to everything that has happened. We stayed a week at that dreadful place. Getting there at 1AM and leaving the following Thursday the 10th. A more charmless and unwholesome place I never dreamed of. Channing was very sick with some trouble in his bowels. We had a Doctor who, I think, helped him. His cold was better as soon as we left the cars, but he still has it. We had one little stove as large as a coffee pot for those two rooms and before we left the water supply was cut off and we not only had no water but were close to the foul water closet. Oh we left thankfully and came up here to 116 Grand Avenue. The little house that Walter bought.

Transcriber’s notes

Maria did not capitalize words in this journal but she did underline certain words. I have capitalized her underlined words because I don’t know how to underline on the computer.

Maria consistently wrote the word doctor with a capital dee. Maria was a doctor’s daughter, descended from a long line of doctors. The first LeBaron in America washed up at Plymouth from a wrecked French privateer. He was the only member of the shipwrecked crew to be embraced by the locals as he was the ship’s doctor and a doctor was badly needed in Plymouth at that time.


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