Under the Cabbage Leaf

By Emilie W. Grant Matheson

In his youth, Donald Bliss Grant was the fastest runner, the hardest worker, the boy with the best sense of adventure. But Don didn’t have the usual childhood. Given up by his Canadian parents, Don spent the first ten years of his life at the New Brunswick Protestant Orphans’ Home. In Under the Cabbage Leaf, author Emilie W. Grant Matheson shares the story of the little orphaned boy who became a man and her father.

This biography shares Don’s story—from living at the orphanage to his adoption by a farm family to striking out on his own—growing up during the 1930s and 1940s. Under the Cabbage Leaf follows him during various life changes and the discoveries he made as he came of age.

Matheson tells about the tales and happenings of an orphan boy who was thrown into adversity, learning the importance of working like a man but having fun like a young boy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483441870

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ORPHAN BOY

When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.

—Psalms 27:10

I n its beginning, there was a vision and need for the Saint John Protestant Orphans Asylum. The bill for the orphanage was sponsored and presented in the New Brunswick legislature in 1855 by Sir Leonard Tilley, one of Canada’s Fathers of Confederation.

Eventually known as the New Brunswick Protestant Orphans’ Home, it comprised of various buildings in the city of Saint John, and each was filled with destitute children. Eventually, a larger property was needed, and the old Manchester Building on Manawagonish Avenue in Lancaster, on the west side of Saint John, was purchased.

How the young child ended up at the Orphans’ Home, Donald Bliss Grant never knew. As far back as he could remember, he lived on Brittan Street. There he remained until the age of 5. Though he didn’t remember the move to Manawagonish Road, Donnie remembered feeling at home in the larger facility; after all, the other children his age had moved right along with him.

With his jet-black hair, Donnie soon became known as Black Donnie. This was to distinguish him from another boy named Donnie, who had red hair.

All the children attended school inside the home. Donnie struggled and never seemed to be able to make any sense of letters and numbers. The teacher would usually excuse him to go play in the sandbox. Over the years, his mind would turn to farming and other activities, never to reading and writing.

On the orphanage farm, crops such as cabbage, turnips, carrots and potatoes were planted and harvested. At potato-picking time, the whole orphanage, teachers included, would head to the field to make up the potato-picking crew. Besides the garden, the farm had a piggery, a poultry barn with egg production and a herd of dairy cattle. There were 75 acres of pasture alone. It was a large operation, with the farm manager being the only paid employee on the farm.

For the day-to-day chores on the farm, there was no shortage of workers. There were always willing older boys who headed up the hill to the barn for milking and feeding twice a day. Many times, Donnie asked the farmer in charge if he could help, but the answer was always the same: When you are older. Donnie had to be content to watch from a distance as the farm chores fell to the older boys.

On one occasion, after days of rain, Donnie watched a distressing scene from the upstairs window. A cow had become mired in the swampy part of the pasture. The manager and the older boys struggled with boards, ropes and pulleys to free the distressed bovine. Donnie was sure they would have freed her and had her safely tucked into the barn much sooner had he been able to help.

Fascinated by the cattle and the smell of the barn, Donnie would go there whenever he could. Watching the steady streams of milk penetrating the layer of warm, milky froth in the pail had a hypnotic effect on the boy. With every chance that arose, he’d beg the man in charge to teach him to milk. Again, much to the boy’s disappointment, the answer was the same: "When you are