It is often surprising how great things seem to spring to life out of seemingly trifling circumstances, and men who forget that in God's hands every event is a prophecy lose the hopefulness out of life which otherwise they might enjoy. It was during my last winter on the mission field of which I have been writing, and when I had practically given up "expecting great things" that a message came to me from the Chairman of a neighbouring District asking that I would oblige him by taking "supply" work for a Sunday in a town between Ottawa and Montreal, as the minister there was to come to him for an important anniversary. I hesitated, for various reasons, but finally consented. I was apprised that a prominent member of the congregation was a "crank" who gave most ministers trouble; otherwise I knew nothing about anyone. I was provided for, in a lordly manner, in a very excellent home directly related to one of my college bosom friends. The home was quiet, and so was I -- I had always been afraid of strangers. I was politely accompanied to church, but allowed to walk home alone; but as soon as we were in the house, the gentleman, who was a prominent official of the Canadian Pacific Railway, simply exploded. "I never! I do not see what you are on that Mission field for. I thought that you were a very studious man, but I did not think that you would be much of a speaker. But you have amazed us all this morning, and especially our newspaper man, who does not take much to preachers -- why he said 'Say! He's a crackerjack'. He is coming to church tonight, and that is against his practice".
My sermon that evening was one I had used for twelve years -- it was old, but it was not rusty, frequent use kept the sword shining; it had as its text the Golden Rule of Jesus, and some thoughts from Dr Joseph Parker were injected. I had a quiet and attentive congregation. The newspaper man was introduced to me and shook hands kindly, but that was all. I walked to my lodging feeling thankful that I had fulfilled my day's duty.
The next morning I returned to my ordinary work, and forgot the incident. Two weeks, and there was a muttering around my Arden; but some one suppressed it. It was several months before I discovered what had happened and I was then moved from my old moorings. This was it -- the printer was so elated by what he had heard on that Sunday that he published lengthy outlines of the sermons, especially of the evening one, and then he added "We fail to understand why such talent should be buried in an Arden napkin". That was reproduced in a paper published in a larger city, and that had a considerable circulation among my people.
But that was not the end of a live wire. It reached into the oldest Methodist ground of Ontario, and the people here were on the lookout for a new minister. An active official called together his associates, and it was decided, after due consideration and consultation, to send to me an invitation. It was accompanied by a copy of the official resolution, and signed by all members of the Official Board. That action met with strong clerical opposition. And why should it not? Under the system of the Methodist Itinerancy, if one man is promoted another man is demoted. There is but one, perhaps two remedies -- either a new circuit has been created by prosperity in a field which turns the assistant young man's position into that for a married man, or some one has died, or superannuated, which is tantamount to a relation to the work. In my case I had only a poor mission to offer the Stationing Committee as the opening for a man who had a self-sustaining field with three fine brick churches, good choirs, good roads, short drives, and a people who were in the foremost rank socially in the County. Who was I that I should step in and endanger a man's standing for the future? I wonder what John Wesley would have done had he been adjudicator? But these were modern days and democracy had been educated by Methodism. My part was to let Democracy have its say with the higher powers. I am glad to say that that wonderful machine -- the Stationing Committee -- did not send the Brother to the mission field; it can make three, five, seven, moves and you wonder where you come up after that ducking.
Adolphustown, which was my new appointment, and continued so for a year, was a peninsula, bounded on the north by Hay Bay, and on the west and south by the far-stretching Bay of Quinte. It was an agricultural community with comfortable homes, often amounting to the luxurious, whose owners were the descendants of a hardy race of pioneers, and proud of their name and connection as United Empire Loyalists -- a people who in 1776, in loyalty to British connection, surrendered their estates, and took up arms in the American Colonies in opposition to those who declared Independence. In 1785 when Britain signed a Treaty acknowledging such independence, the Loyalists left the colony in flat bottomed boats, and with few belongings, travelling by way of Lake Champlain and the Richelieu River, reaching the St Lawrence at Sorel, and thence proceeding westward along the north shore of the St Lawrence, entering the Bay of Quinte near what is now the city of Kingston, and after rowing some twenty miles farther, turned into a little creek of water in Adolphustown, which they named and planted the British flag. At this point the little company marked out a cemetery and had its first funeral. On the north shore of the peninsula, a Methodist pioneer preacher named Losee came with his evangel, sought out the colonists, and in 1791 built the first Methodist Church in Ontario. Now it became my proud prerogative to be a ministerial overseer of this ancient fabric, no longer used as a church, but preserved as a shrine.
My year's work included six weeks in pastoral visiting for six days a week, catching up on arrearages to gratify a people who considered that they had been neglected for seven years. After this, six more weeks of soliciting for funds to build a parsonage, which the officials thought that their minister much needed; the funds were gathered beyond expectation. Then followed the work of securing land, to which I was now becoming somewhat used, planning a parsonage that might gratify a people and satisfy a minister. This work again was followed by twelve weeks of revival meetings.
And thus a busy year came to an end, the powers above us moving us out of our beautiful house, and away from the apple orchard we had planted, and commissioning us to take duties eight miles eastward, still on the shore of the Bay of Quinte. Here we found our home in the village of Bath, and seeing that I was from the West of England, I felt that I must be drawing homeward, and became somewhat reconciled.
From this point I found many calls to assist other ministers, for I was now the "village preacher", and situated only twelve miles from the county town. I had many of the advantages of town association without some of its onerous obligations. Especially was I brought into the work of putting Sunday Schools on a better teaching basis. I was called out year after year by one ministerial brother to assist him in evangelistic services, and his letters always enjoined "Preach holiness, Brother; preach holiness". Perhaps this was because I had promoted a District Campmeeting for "the promotion of Scriptural holiness", of my motives for which the District Chairman had been somewhat dubious, and consented to the proposal only on condition that Dr Albert Carman, General Superintendent of the Methodist Church, should be invited. And so he was; and the Campmeeting was without extravagance, and was the means of great blessing to the whole District; indeed it saved the churches of the District from a threatening "wildfire" from without.
I have always found it best to give to people who are stirred to make enquiry, the whole truth, frankly and fully. We gain nothing for the Master by leaving people with an impression that either we do not know the things that we ought to know, or that we are deliberately withholding from them the truth. It may be at times that we are dealing with angular people, whose intentions are good, but we are afraid that their narrowness will make them run into extravagances. It was even so in the times of St John, but it led him to write his wonderful First Epistle, which is the strongest New Testament document on holiness. I remember that in an evangelistic meeting which I was conducting, we were one evening invaded by a "Free Methodist" preacher and his congregation. The company came with the avowed object of setting us right, and they monopolised our time for prayer and testimony, and they were very noisy and emotional. The meeting was in my hands when I came to give the address, and I gave them such an exposition of New Testament teaching that there was nothing left for them to say; they went out, and never came back, and my people were saved from any possible poison.
It was in connection with an outcall, that I met with an amusing case of "mistaken identity". The occasion was a Convention of Christian Endeavour Societies, held in a nearby town, and I was invited as the speaker. A hearer represented a church which was just then looking out for a new minister, and he was delighted enough with the address to report to his church that he had found the man. A medical man who was a member of the inviting Board, had a few years previously been practising on a backwoods mission, and had had for his minister one of the same name and initials as myself; this doctor at once jumped to the conclusion that the name brought in by the Christian Endeavourer was the name of his former minister. He therefore announced that he would heartily support the recommendation, and he furnished good reasons. The recommendation accordingly went to Conference and was agreed to, so that the other man, who was six years my junior, received his uplift on my shoulders. And to add to what seemed strange, we were billeted in bed together at Conference, and I learned nothing of the strange twist until all was over. I had no regrets, for I believed God had "some better thing" stored up for me, when I might be ready for it.
After fifteen years of close study, yearly examinations, and circuit constructive work, considerations of health began to force themselves on my attention; in fact I was a sick man, and an ocean voyage appeared to be the only remedy. So in l895, twenty-four years after landing in Canada, I decided on visiting the land of my birth. How often I had questioned whether such a visit would ever be a possibility! What a love I had for the land from which I had been an exile could have been understood by an onlooker at the Liverpool landing stage, had he been close enough to observe and listen, for my first act was to put my right heel into some ground, spin around on it and say "This is England". Bishop Berkley's Idealism had somewhat affected me and I had to test Realism, not by the sight of shore lines which might be only in the eye, but my heels told me that really I stood on Dear Old England.
A telegram received at The Shaftesbury was from my friend in Croydon, and said "Welcome to our Little Island". The gracious proprietor at the Shaftesbury made the visit to Liverpool interesting by giving much information and also taking walks.
I was restless to reach Bristol, where no one knew of my coming; I wanted to inspect the city for myself. Brandon Hill, down which I rolled as a boy, the "Drawbridge", College Green, Clifton Bridge, the "Zigzag" path up which I so often climbed to the bridge - alas! what changes time had wrought! I did not think that I had been away so long. Where fields and walls once stood, I now found habitations and churches. A few hours sufficed to fill my heart with a sadness at the realisation that scenes of childhood had departed -- no doubt for the better, but the sanctity was not the same. I went out to find the human element and find if the springs of life still flowed the same, and I found it when taken to the home of my stepmother, and given a seat in the sitting room she was brought in to see a "visitor", and after looking steadfastly at me for a moment she exclaimed:- "O God, it is my boy".
My name got into the papers, and the Board of Guardians sent me a letter containing a congratulatory message.
English people are great walkers; so my friend took me out for many walks, one of them extending from Lawrence Hill to Long Ashton, and around the walks of Ashton Court estate and return.
On Sunday I found my way to St Marys Redcliffe for morning service; in the afternoon I went to Old Market Street where I met that unique man and Christian worker Chas. R Parsons, who gave to me an introduction and an opportunity to address the Brotherhood -- a privilege enjoyed many times.
But the richest treat of all was a visit to the old-time schoolmaster, R T Hughes. He remembered the boy "who was quite musical". He entertained me at dinner, and in that hour, what delights of equality! Standing before his excellent library he went into raptures as he passed over Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, Pearson on the Creed, Butler's Analogy, and other famous works and discovered that his former pupil knew them all. I felt then that diligence in business was worthwhile.
From Bristol, I passed on to London, and here my Croydon friend took me in hand. We first had a whole half-day riding around London on the top of busses. It was a novel experience. The vehicles looked exceedingly top-heavy, but it seems that the manufacturers have somehow put a balance into them that keeps them right side up. I had my misgivings, but seeing the faith of other people I was persuaded to put doubts aside, and from the top of a London bus enjoy the sights of London in the best way in which they can be seen. A two weeks programme was outlined on paper and after four days of piloting I was trusted to use my own "location bump", and find my way alone from river front to Hyde Park, and from St Stephens and Westminster Abbey to the National Art Gallery and the British Museum, and from St Pauls and Paternoster Row along Fleet street to Trafalgar Square to the Mall and Buckingham Palace. What an education I received in those two weeks! My headquarters in London were arranged at the Annie Macpherson Home with Mr and Mrs James Merry in Bethnall Green Road, and from this vantage point I gathered other insights into human life, for in one direction was Shoreditch and in another was Commercial Road, and right in front was the "Railway Arch" where on Sunday morning I assisted in conducting open air service, and where I saw the most mysterious crowd of human beings engaged in auction sales of bicycles, birds and dogs. It was an amazing mass of humanity, and I wondered that the government permitted it.
My visit in London ended, I went on to Glasgow and the Orphan Homes of Scotland at Bridge of Weir, to renew my fellowship with Mr and Mrs Quarrier and their family, and to enter into a study of what to me has been the most wonderful work of faith. At that time Mr Quarrier was laying the foundation for his Consumptive Sanitorium. The village homes for boys and girls were already built, as were the church, the school, the store and other establishments. I was much impressed by the religious character and idealism of this Christian town as expressed in such names of streets as "Faith", "Hope" and "Love" avenues. To see the children assembled in church to the number of one thousand, and to hear their voices in hymns and the recitation of Scripture was very moving.
To listen to Mr Quarrier in his home, leading in family worship, and in a simple and direct way laying matters before God, was even more impressive. After Sunday he detained me for a few days and sent me out with a guide to enjoy a trip among the Lochs of Scotland. I did stand in awe at the majesty of the scenery, but I shivered under the cold, drizzly rain -- I had had no need of a waterproof coat in Canada and therefore was not prepared for such a Scottish greeting. When coming away from the "Homes", Mr Quarrier rode part-way towards the station and then, bidding me goodbye, he placed a gold sovereign in my hand, and giving me an envelope he said:- "When you get into Glasgow I want you to go to that address, give them the envelope and pick out the best mackintosh that they have, and tell them to charge it to my account". How much I had to be thankful for!
My holiday time was soon gone, and I returned to work with renewed strength, zeal and intelligence, to give to my people the benefit of my observations in the Old Land, and more than ever to uphold British connection.
During my three years pastorate in this charge, revival meetings were held each year in each of the three churches, for three weeks in each case, conducted by myself with the assistance of members and officials in the churches, and resulted in the addition of fifty new members each year to the total of the charge. At such meetings I made it a practice to do much teaching, thus feeding the "new born babes" to the end that they might stand "fast in the Lord". I remember only one case of defection. This was a very grievous one. It was during an evening meeting in my first round of such meetings on the circuit, that a man so under the influence of drink that he did not know what he was doing, was brought by a neighbour to the altar with other seekers, and helped to kneel. The next night he came alone, considerably more sober, but not entirely clear. However he persisted night after night, and ultimately we had the joy of hearing his testimony and hearing his voice in prayer. A change took place in his social and financial condition. For twelve years he had been unemployed, having been discharged from an important situation in railroad service, and during those years he and his family had lived on the charity of his father on the farm. Some time after his conversion his wife said:- "It is like heaven on earth. We have set up our own home after all these years, and we have family prayer every day". Because he was beyond the average intelligence, he was appointed to be Sunday School Superintendent and Financial Secretary for the church. What a victory we all felt the grace of God had achieved!
This redeemed character kept on the high road of Righteousness for two years and a half, happy as man could be, and then something happened. On a Sunday morning he was missing from Sunday School and church. What had entered the Lord's vineyard? Monday found me early on the road to this friend's home, where I found a very sorry family, and where I listened to a tale of what drink can do. In going to the city market to dispose of his farm produce, he met a railroad chum not seen for years. "Come in and sit down and have a chat" suggested the friend. When the chat was well along, he proposed further that they have a drink in memory of old times. So they did, and having begun they scarcely knew when to stop. My friend was seen by a neighbour that Saturday night wending his way home, more by the sagacity of his horses than by his own power of thought. With much urging I persuaded him to come in the spirit of repentance and renew his Godly pledges. And I had the satisfaction of winning him into the good way, but there was no permanency. Little excuses took him to the village public houses. Shortly after I removed from this scene in my labours, I learned that he had become such a violent drinker that he died from alcoholism. His son, who was then twenty years of age, followed his father's example, and likewise came to an early grave. Nor was this all of this sad story. Said a friend:- "My father helped to dig his grandfather out of a snow bank, frozen to death with a whiskey bottle by his side, and his father died through an overuse of tobacco. I have enlarged upon this incident, because through all my ministry there has been no hindrance to my efforts like that which has come from strong drink.
I was nearing the end of my term. Whither next? My work had taken me to the boundary of the Montreal Conference, eighteen miles from my headquarters. Often I had been warned -- "Pray that you may never enter the Montreal Conference". Salvation Army friends had reported how their workers dreaded the formalism that had over-spread Protestantism in the Province of Quebec as the result of contact with the predominating Roman Church. So I had settled it that my movements must be westward rather than eastward, and I had steadfastly wrought on this principle. There was nothing whatever to persuade me to look upon the future otherwise. Does God move upon our mind? Is there knowledge with the Most High? 0r is there a telepathy of the Holy Spirit by means of which He can unite two far distant minds, far distant according to the measurements of men?
I was alone in my manse, one early spring day, my family having all gone over to the county town. The mail carrier usually arrived in our village at four o'clock. At that hour I left my study and walked down to the post office. I am perfectly sure that I had been engaged in serious and heavy study, and had had no intrusion of any thoughts relating to moving. On my way to the office I suddenly found myself saying:- "I believe I would like to be in the Montreal Conference. I think I would like to battle with problems down there for twenty years". I discovered that my attitude was changed. Arriving at the post office, the mail matter was being distributed and a letter in a strange handwriting was given to me. I immediately opened it and read:- "Dear Brother -- You will think it strange to hear from me. I am a Methodist minister in the Montreal Conference, and have been thinking that you might like to exchange circuit with me. I want to go west. If you do not care to consider the proposition, perhaps you may pass on my request to some one who will". The post was going out in a few minutes, and without consulting anyone I lost no time in writing my acceptance. I was sure that the Good Spirit of God had prepared me for the reception of that letter, and whatever might lie behind it, I could trust Him for it all.
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