V

PROSPECTING

Notwithstanding the late retirement, I was up early next morning. I wanted to see my surroundings, and find out what Canada was like.

My first observation was the "Home", and of this I shall always have reverent and grateful remembrances. By some who had preceded us, I was told that this was named "Marchmont Home", and of that name more hereafter. Across the yard, a spacious one, was an extensive garden, and in this I speedily became interested, for I had had three years of training in gardening before leaving Bristol; I have however forgotten everything that I may have seen in that garden that morning, except one article. The gardener told me that the name of it was "tomato". I think that the perfume of it quite decided me to leave it alone. I think I had heard something of its reputation in England, and there was some suggestion of poison in connection with it. I was fearful of getting it into my hands; I certainly would not allow it into my mouth. At the present period in my life, I am disposed to think that the gardener, who doubtless knew something of boyish inquisitiveness and activity might have been "kidding", for he said that while the article was green it was said to be poisonous, but when ripe it was perfectly safe to eat; there were no ripe ones to be seen -- they had all been gathered in before the new party appeared on the scene. Certain it is that the impression made on my mind was durable and that five full years passed by before I ventured to taste a tomato. I have no trouble now with this "fruit of the vine".

I have now come to the period of open-mindedness, when I felt that whatever other boys might think or do, I was out to observe, and as an independent, forge ahead. The spirit of reverence remained with me, and this first morning in the land of spaciousness and liberty, I enjoyed the morning prayers. I had a conviction that the same God was here as in the Homeland, and that I was specially under His care. After prayers I was quite happy. I did not even look for any particular person's attention; although I was glad to see that it was Miss Bilbrough who led us with the organ, and who gave us our Bible talk. After prayers, some one proposed that a company of us should have a little walk, and this person would take us in charge. I was included in the company selected. Thus I was given a bird's eye view of the city which in after days would mean so much to me, although I had as yet no intimation of that; and thus as our walk wound down Murney Hill we caught a glorious and exhilarating view of the city which was yet to be, of the Bay of Quinte landlocked between two large farming counties, and of the mouth of the Moira river emptying into the Bay. Streets and names in the town were all on such an unusual scale for us, and so new, and were very interesting. Our morning was spent in seeing that I had not come to a land of wolves and bears as some dissuaders in England tried to assure me that I would. This town was a very cultured and beautiful place. I felt disposed to remain here. It was soon apparent that that was not my destination. Not many days had passed when I with others was summoned for an evening meeting with Miss Bilbrough. A party would go with her next day to Ottawa. Who would like to go. At the moment a slight headache caused me to place my hand on my forehead, and our leader's quick eye detected the movement, and led to enquiry. That saved me from Ottawa for many a year.

Three days later another party, in which I was included was taken by the same indefatigable guide to a village, thirty miles west on the Grand Trunk. It was Saturday and the twenty second day of September, and became for me a more memorable day than my birthday. There were twelve in our party, and at the station we were welcomed by the most prominent citizen of the village, the Registrar of the County, who had become interested in philanthropy. We were dined at his home and treated to apples. There was a meeting in the Town Hall in the afternoon, with a Bazaar for the sale of handicrafts produced largely by benevolent ladies of the village, who were devoting the proceeds to Marchmont Home and its good work; and to this bazaar, and the possibility of securing boys to help on the farm the husbands and their wives of the county farming community had been invited by the local newspaper -- "The Express". We twelve boys were placed in line, and ladies and gentlemen -- principally ladies passed along on a survey of our possibilities. I was the only one selected! The eleven were taken back to Marchmont. Those inspectresses doubtless thought themselves good phrenologists, or at least good readers of character; but were they? Was the one taken of more value than any of the eleven that were left? I have often wondered at that problem. At times I have thought that a good deal better material was rejected, and that it was simply my uplifted face and the smile that I consciously put on that captivated that tall, intelligent looking farmer's wife, whose appearance attracted my good will, that won out over the others. Possibly they were feeling lonely and shy and thus failed to appear attractive. Or was it the work of that God and Father who all my life had been caring for me? Possibly it was a combination of both the human and the Divine. I think it was. I think we can help in executing the Divine purpose; and there are times when our lack of disposition seriously hinders God and delays His gracious intention.

Darkness was gathering in on that Saturday night as the farmer's wife (let me call her Mrs S.) had me climb into the carriage with her for a five mile ride to her home. She was the driver and not very talkative; mainly she asked questions that I was not very ready to answer, or at least to enlarge upon; I thought that she was too inquisitive. I was however interested in her horse and carriage -- in the horse, because the Mistress frequently spoke to her and called her by name, which I thought very novel; in the carriage particularly because of the name given to it, when the lady invited me to "climb up into the buggy". What a queer name to call it, I thought. It had four wheels, which were held together by axles, and on which was built a box set on two steel springs; upon the box was built a seat, which before we completed our ride carried three persons. Such a name, and such an article! How such a name originated I have never learned, nor where, but I think it must have sprung up in the United States of America, where its manufacture seems to have come to an end by the advent of the automobile. This mode of conveyance, I soon learned, was the farmer's best, what we might call his "classy" carriage. He had a heavier one to which he attached two horses which he called a "team", and which were named "Bill" and "Bright", and this was called a "democrat", (another name that surely must have come in from the States), and it was capable of carrying a party of four or six persons besides their somewhat extensive baggage. But the heavy transportation of the farm was done on a "lumber wagon", which was so heavy and lumbersome that the horses usually drew it at a walk. On this Saturday night I had revelation and experience of the buggy only; I do not know that I have yet quite gotten over the sensation of the dreadful name.

We had nearly travelled our five miles over lonely country roads, narrow and cut between banks of earth, rising and descending over great hills a quarter of a mile in length, when the driver suddenly bade the horse to stop. Then her shrill call-- "Oh-ho-o", caused a door in a nearby house to open. We were soon joined by a sturdy gentleman to whom I was introduced as my future Master, and to whom I was "our little boy". The farmer took the driving "lines", and under his urge "Bess" stepped out more briskly, and the last quarter mile was soon covered. A good supper was the most interesting thing that first evening in a Canadian farm house; and after supper, I was soon glad to be shown my little bed under the roof upstairs. My prayers were precious to me that night, because I had much to hold in remembrance, and God was the only One Who knew all and understood all, and He was the One Whom I felt was very near to me as I laid my head to rest. Already I felt that I had launched out upon a world which I could not quite take into my confidence, from which I would have to withhold many things.

Sunday morning began early, and it was bright, as it seldom would be in such a month in England. Of course I was up early to see my surroundings, and Farmer S. expected it, so he was ready to take in hand his new apprentice. Come right along with me, he said, as he led the way to the barn where he helped himself to a large pan which he filled with salt, and then passing through the barn he led the way into the large cattle yard. Here I was surprised at the number of horses, cows and sheep; but more so at the way in which they crowded about their owner -- I was really afraid that they would knock him down, while I was glad that they paid no attention to me. Evidently they knew what he carried in his arm, and seemed determined to get the good thing away from him. He left me for a time to myself as he hurried from place to place and dropped the salt into receptacles which he told me were "troughs". These animals were like a lot of children after candies. They expressed their gratitude in their best way, that is by taking a lick at the wooden trough and then holding their noses high in the air lapping their long tongues around the sides of their big mouths and standing a moment as if in meditative satisfaction. The horses took first place at the troughs; the cows came next; and the gentle, modest sheep had to wait their turn at the last. For this purpose the farmer opened a gate into an adjoining field, and admitted the flock of sheep for whom he hastened from place to place and put the salt in little quantities on the grassy ground where the sheep had comfort without the interference of the larger gentry of the yard. And now as we returned from the field he gave me my first verbal lesson in farming:- "I want you" he said "always to close every gate and door as you pass through". He was a magistrate, but evidently he was not dealing with the diplomacy of nations; his was the diplomacy of the farm and required no "open door". I learned that the cows had been milked before I appeared on the scene, and now the last exercise of the morning was to pump the water trough full of water. This done we adjourned to the house. It was breakfast time, and the full assembly of the family took place, being added to the farmer and his wife a niece and her husband and baby boy. All were seated quietly about the dining room while the farmer began morning exercises by reading the Nineteenth Psalm, after which he led in prayer. Of course I who had never seen such a service in a private family concluded that this must be specially because it was Sunday morning -- pretty much as the farmer told me out in the yard that he did not give salt to the stock every morning but only on Sundays; however I did find as days and weeks went by that this household service was an affair of every day, and once I received a very emphatic and unforgettable lesson. It was at least two years after this first Sunday, and it was a morning when the men who had stayed all night in the farm house were on hand to do the threshing; I had gone to a distant part of the farm with the cows and did not arrive home in time for prayers, but only as the service was nearing its end; I hesitated therefore to interrupt. I was called but delayed too long and when I entered the dining room all were taking seats at the table. Nothing was said about my delinquency but after breakfast as I was assisting in the kitchen, the farmer came in from the barn where his men were now all busy, and approaching me asked in thunderous tones:- "Why did you not come in when I called you this morning?" and before I could answer, a blow on the side of my head sent me sprawling on the floor. Was I astonished? "I am not going to have my neighbours over the country talking about me" he said. I think they would have talked, and with cause, if they could have seen his kitchen act -- so different from the parlour -- like so many people in the courses of life. Certainly I do not recommend this sort of Christianity to any one's adoption.

After our first Sunday morning's breakfast, the subject of interest was church. A quarter of a mile away -- up on the hill we had descended last night was a little frame building, that is a building made of boards, which served the religious exigencies of the neighbourhood, but, oh, was so different from anything I had ever seen as a church both outside and in. As I think back now after years of experience and readings in John Wesley, I think if he could have arisen and looked in on this ecclesiastical structure he would have counted it very becoming and appropriate for his "plain people". The people were very anxious to learn my religious antecedents, and I was not ready to tell them too much. I observed that they regarded me as one who had been gathered out from among pagans; and I on my part looked at them as people who scarcely knew what correct religion was. In the interval of waiting for church time I recited parts of the catechism including "my duty towards my neighbour", and the housewife interjected "We have a catechism too". I told them how I memorised Scripture, and especially had learned the fourth and fifth chapters of Romans by way of punishment in school, and the lady said:- "We have Sunday School and the children memorise verses every Sunday, but we would not punish them that way". It soon became evident that they were trying to convince me that what they had was better than anything I had ever had -- a species of proselytism had set in -- and finally I was told that their church was Wesleyan Methodist. I had to admit that I had never heard such a name. "What," exclaimed the farmer, "and you came from the city of Bristol where the Rev John Wesley built his first church!" I admitted it might be so, but I never had heard the name there of either he or it.

Church service that morning (there was service only once a day) was conducted by the Rev Ebenezer Robson. I learned that he was a returned missionary, having laboured among the Indians (whom I thought of as savages and cannibals) in far away British Columbia; and I reverenced him for his past holy labours. But I did miss the use of my Prayer book that morning, especially as his prayer was so long that I laid my head on the seat, a plain wooden affair, and had a long sleep. Then I had never before heard a minister give such a long sermon (he must have grown used to the necessity of long talking to those Indians to convince them). And when at last he said "Amen", and I thought that all was over with, he came down from the high pulpit and began all over again by singing a hymn all by himself, after which he came around to the people sitting in their pews, and speaking to them by name asked:- "And how is it with you today?" or "How are you getting on brother?" When we arrived home I was asked- "Well, how did you like our church today? Was it like such as you have been used to?" And I answered-- "I missed the prayers of the Prayer book and the Apostle's Creed, and I never before saw a minister come down from the pulpit and go about the church and ask people how they felt". "That is our Classmeeting" they replied.

For the remainder of this first Sunday in Canada, and which was spent pretty much after the custom of all Sundays during my farming days, I had the advantage of a very good library kept in the parlour of the farm house, and a small organ; the organ helped to keep alive such music as I had already learned, and the books made my acquisitive mind a feast for many a day. In gratitude I must name some of them:- there they were, books to answer my problems -- Webster's Dictionary, Dr Adam Clark's Commentary on the Bible, William Kitto's Bible Looking Glass, Richard Baxter, Jeremy Taylor, and Collier's three books -- Great Events of History, The History of England, and Introduction to English Literature -- these among other books -- these, the ones that especially impressed and fed my mind, and to get at these many a time I hurried up the work given me to do that I might gather some crumbs of knowledge from the great world beyond me. In those days, often while waiting for meals to be put on the table I read snatches of Pilgrims Progress, and it was on an autumn evening, while a family party was assembled paring and coring bushels of apples for drying and preserving for winter use, that the elder of the house wished to know what I had been reading -- it was then that my British reserve manifested itself. I said "you surely know what is in that book?". "I should like to know" he said; and he indulged in more urging, until I thought that he was really sincere, and when he added a payment of "five cents" if I would stand up and tell them what the story was, I said:- "Oh, if you really want to know, I will tell you, but I do not want your money". So as the company pressed on their work with the apples, I began at the beginning, without the book, and followed Pilgrim through his tribulations and triumphs, and did at the end accept the five cents. I look upon that as my first pay for public speaking. I felt a measure of gratification in having accomplished what to me was a very natural piece of recital; but when the farmer turned to his wife and said:- "That was one of Dr Morley's great lectures wasn't it", I did feel a chagrin at finding that they had been only drawing me out. As time went on I got used to that -- they were always asking me what I had been reading.