ejected and closed the door upon them, and broke the bottles of spirits—not a difficult feat for a woman of her physique, when her moral indignation was aroused.
She was in the fulness of life and vigor when, at the age of thirty-two, she found herself left with three small children utterly dependent upon her for support, the eldest being but seven years old, and the youngest a babe in arms; while Lloyd
, who was to become in later years her main comfort and hope, was less than three—too young, as already stated, to retain any personal recollection of his father.
Up to that time she had enjoyed such exuberant health that she was wont to say that ‘only a cannon-ball could kill Fanny Garrison
’; but though she resolutely set about the task of maintaining herself and her little ones, the blow of this desertion was one from which she never recovered, and it shadowed the remaining years of her life.
The struggle for existence became a severe and bitter one.
The day of Newburyport
's prosperity had passed.
and the years of the Embargo and of the war of 1812-15 brought disaster and ruin to its business and commerce.
It was no easy matter, therefore, to find the remunerative employment which would feed so many months.
The little house in School Street still afforded them shelter, thanks to the sisterly devotion of Martha Farnham
, who assured them that while she had a roof to cover her they should share it. When circumstances permitted, Mrs. Garrison
took up the calling of a monthly nurse, and during her necessary occasional absences from home the children were under the motherly care of their ‘Aunt
was older, his mother used to send him out on election and training days to sell the nice sticks of molasses candy which she was an adept in making, and he thus earned a few pennies towards the common support.1