It is the year 1904 and I have arrived at my French Canadian home to make the best of my surroundings, but resolved that this shall be the last of "domination", and that it shall be for only one year.
The street is pleasantly suggestive, for it carries the name of the Baron de Longueuil, former Seigneur. The house is good and has associated with it the memory of many notable ministers, going back as far as 1800. One needs to be good to do no harm to such memories. The church -- ah, I suspect that it was to set this in order that I am sent here. Poor old church! It was a good creation of sixty years ago, but the creations of man do not renew themselves, and if there are none to pity or do them reverence, they show a great tendency to decomposition and downgrade; and this building has been on the slide for some years. The wooden roof is green with a growth of moss. There are so many holes in it that a rain on Sunday evening came dripping through the ceiling on the heads of the congregation, and on investigation it was found that a departed brother, who has gone to his worthy reward, had placed three washbowls at different points on the upper side of the ceiling to catch the falling showers, which might not have been regarded as "showers of blessing". The windows are covered by brown duck blinds, and I understand that the very large windows of thirty-six panes of glass have not been washed for ten years. The heating arrangement is by means of a boxed-in stove which one of the elders informs me has been doing duty as long as he can remember, and that "is at least forty-five years", and from the complaints made it would seem that its principal duty has been to fill the church with smoke and keep the people cold.
This is a military town, a permanent force being here constantly, and as there are but two Protestant churches, we share in the attendance of soldiers at our services, according to their liking, and I find myself delightfully suited in having the major part of my Sunday morning congregation in military uniform. I do not want war, but I do admire good deportment and the equipoise of character which military training begets.
We have a newspaper in town, with a very wide circulation among English readers outside of the town, and as the columns are open to the ministers, that increases one's constituency. Many of the French residents of the town are also among its readers.
The town is a manufacturing centre, having good train facilities, as well as boating connecting it with Montreal and New York. Potteries, especially, have headquarters here, and here is the largest Canadian manufacturing plant of the Singer Sewing Machine Company. There ought to be something for a minister to do here.
My officials have held their first business meeting, and have thought it necessary to increase their appropriation for minister's salary by two hundred dollars in order to put salve on my wounded feelings; I did not ask it, and I doubted their ability to pay it, seeing that our membership consisted of twenty-three persons only, of whom but six were males, and my first morning congregation numbered forty-three, and in the evening forty-six -- apparently a small vineyard from which to draw vintage.
What is my calling in this town? My bicycle takes me to the factories every day. Preaching is my essential work, and preaching that does not allow people to sleep with an easy conscience; but there are adjuncts to the pulpit ministry. Thus one day a young chap from Whitby, England, who had tramped eight hundred miles from Halifax, Nova Scotia, fell in on two of his Old Country chums -- they were cabinet makers, and he was a polisher -- but oh what a contrast between the thrifty workmen, and the 'knight of the road'. I took him into my house and introduced him to the bathroom; then I used my pocket book and outfitted him from head to foot. When he was transformed outwardly we began the internal process, and placed him in our choir, to which with his splendid baritone voice he made an excellent addition. And thus clothed and in his right mind, our recommendations got him into employment in one of Montreal's outstanding furniture dealing firms. This has been but one of many such transactions in our ministry in this town.
On a Sunday morning before the hour of service, a Syrian called at my door with his Syriac version of Scripture, where my lessons for the morning might be -- this marks the beginning of my work of teaching foreigners. One evening a Hungarian young man met me with the question as to where he might find some one to teach him English. "Come to my class" said I. "Would you condescend to teach a poor foreigner like me?" he asked. He came for many months on Monday evening, and he always placed a half dollar in my hand when leaving -- the only one of my students who thought it necessary to make reparation. I had other students on that same evening -- one for the ministry, one for school teaching, one for musical matriculation, others for pure self-improvement. All of these young people were the more attached to the church because of the service thus rendered them. Said the Hungarian "I have been brought up in the Catholic Church, but I do want to come to your church -- I love to hear you speak."
One night every week, we had "open house", this especially for the benefit of the soldiers, when they were free to examine my library and discuss authors. I learned as much as they did. It was they who thus introduced me to the works of Marie Correlli. These meetings always ended with "cocoa and cake". I got at the hearts of these boys, won some of their confidences, and learned to love them. I have often thought of how my wounded heart found its healing by touching the sore spots in the lives of such as these young men.
In the winter season we carried on a "Literary and Musical Society" once a week, and this was especially attractive to the young soldiers, who had much talent among them. Altogether, I was far from being idle.
"I promise you that you cannot raise a dollar of subscription in this town to improve a Methodist church". It was in a meeting of the Trustee Board that this speech was made. The Board consisted of the only male members of the church, and the speaker just quoted was, strangely enough, the Mayor of this French Catholic town -- the only Protestant who had ever been so placed. The Board had had several meetings, and evidently the collective mind was set on this one matter of church improvement. But wise though he might be in town lore, he did not seem so wise in church affairs, for he was the advocate of mortgaging the church for the amount necessary to make repairs.
"And if you mortgage the property what money have you available with which to pay interest?" I had asked. "We have nothing, and that is worrying me" said the treasurer. "And if you find difficulty in paying interest, how do you propose to pay the principal?" again I asked. There was silence. Then a member asked:- "How would you suggest that we proceed?" "I certainly would not incur a debt that we might not be able to meet. Instead I think you might easily find a thousand people that would give you at least one dollar apiece". This suggested procedure drew forth the speech of Mr Mayor, who evidently was a man of little faith.
The Board decided to proceed as it found money, and it appointed three of a committee, of whom the minister was one, and with power to act. Two of the committee said to the minister -"We want you to do nothing but give us ideas; we will collect the money, and get the work done". Of course Mr Mayor did not like to be discredited in that way, but it could not be helped. One man put on a new roof costing Three Hundred Dollars; another outfitted the church with electric lights; a third added a new porch to the front; a woman member gave decorations for nine large windows making them look like stained glass, by general contributions a furnace with hot and cold air pipes was installed; new rubber walks were placed in the aisles, all pews were varnished, as was the pulpit, and new carpets were placed on the rostrum. The church was, in short, made to look like a city church, and while the time taken was two months, everything was paid for as we proceeded, and the completion found that Fifteen Hundred Dollars had been expended and there was no debt. That was a triumph of good sense and grace, and I especially looked upon the achievement as God's answer to the prayer of faith.
For three years my ministry in this church has lasted, and now some one else desires the excellency. He has made three annual visits, and on the third occasion has called upon me. Would I show him the inside of the church? How much is the salary? How is it paid -- by week or by month? Is there a water system in the parsonage? Why all these questions he does not say. But the next Conference finds me removed, and this brother who had been an aspirant for the appointment previous to my incumbency, is duly appointed. It has become a "last appointment", comfortable, for those who are nearing retirement. I am moved on to "chore up" elsewhere.
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