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Excerpt for Journey To A New Home by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


Journey To A New Home

Lacey Greenwood





Author's Note:

This is a mostly fact-based recollection of my grandmother's journey as a young

child from Hampshire,Essex,England;to Canada.

My grandmother was rescued from a children's orphanage in England,in the early 1900's.

The journey of little Ada to Canada,there to live with

a family who adopted her. She would be spared from a life of loneliness and hardship.

Some of the names have been changed,and there are embellishments to this autobiography

needed to fill voids in the story. But the main theme is factual.

My grandmother made the journey by ship. I will never forget how she told me there were pieces of the ill -fated “Titanic”.She saw these floating in the deep water.

I hope you,too,will be as inspired by this tale of hope and courage,and alongside me;lose yourself in

a time period long,long ago.







It had been two whole days until the nice lady had come. The lady who always smelled so pretty,and took extra care to make sure I was clean and comfortable.

I didn't have the heart to tell her how I hated it here,with its sterile,dull colors,the mechanical words of the cooks that served us in the over-crowded common room. We were children of different ages and temperaments;some healthy,some unable to eat for fits of coughing.


The large room was always cold in the harsh winters of England in 1906,and I was dressed in layers of clothing,all that I owned,in fact. I was just six,and felt the non-too gentle hands of one of the matrons of the orphanage give me a push.


Ada,stop lolly-gagging,and find a seat,right,”I knew it was Mrs. Emma from her voice,deep and filled with impatience,the way it always was. I stumbled forward,struggling to steady myself in my too large boots. Frantically,my eyes sought out my friend,Hanna,who always made a place for me alongside her.

Breakie will be over,and your own fault it you go hungry,honestly,don't know what they expect of us,too many of yous...”the plaintive voice rattled on,but I was not listening.


Where was Emma?Panic filled me then,and my eyes clouded over,for I knew she had been sick with what they called”the cough”.That very cough killed,and some mornings there were places conspicuously empty. Yet never anyone close to me,and shaking,I stood my ground;pointedly gazing at the place she usually sat;willing my friend to appear.


Just then a girl who I had seen before took charge,and although she was no more than a little older than me,her manner was of a capable adult. Living here had robbed her of childhood,yet in it's place emerged a kind and sensible soul;one quite able to handle the younger children.


Come on,Ada,is it then?”gently grabbing my hand,she lead me away from the empty space,and silently I followed her,my whole body trembling at this time. Weaving expertly among the narrow rows of tables,kicking one boy's outstretched foot along the way,we were soon seated.


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