Chapter 54.
It was in the autumn of 1894 that it was arranged for Will Davidson to come and live with us and enter the bank. I felt very glad for my dear husband to have a member of his family with him at last. I seemed to have so many friendly relatives that I always regretted his having none. Over thirty years have passed since then, and now we have few left belonging to us and the ones who are left are far away. Yes, even our children are all beyond call, but we have one another still, thank God, and better, far better, we have the Lord, “the same yesterday, today and forever”. But I was speaking of Will Davidson.
His coming was not altogether a success. He cared for neither children nor animals and our house, but small, seemed crowded with both. He was kind in his way, a tall lad well over six feet and, I believe, a Christian, but when at the end of three months he was sent by the bank to another office, neither he nor we were altogether sorry.
There was one point on which Will and I heartily agreed and that was Sunday school work. He had great sympathy with our work amongst the children. We had scarcely been at home from the country 24 hours when the children were begging for their classes again. I was only too glad to begin, but not prepared for the crowds of children who came. That autumn and winter our number was never under 100, often much more. We fortunately had two rooms with folding doors which, with careful packing, could hold them. The dining room table used, with much difficulty, to be put in the hall and then when everything else that could be moved had been moved we began to bring in seats. We had three or four low benches and some chairs. The rest sat on boards supported on boxes. What a business it was setting up the boxes; I do not think if Edie had not been there to help I could ever have done it.
Jack had been pressed into the work, and with the folding doors open, he began the meeting. We were not much use at singing, and when alone generally dispensed with it, but the children sometimes sang their school songs. One I remember had a refrain: “Bring them in, bring them in from the fields of sin”. After prayer the doors were shut. There were generally over 40 boys and 60 or 70 girls. Some would sit on the sideboard. There was always one on my knee. There were children from all kinds of dominations, even Roman Catholics, and yet I never invited any. Sometimes I would pray that a certain child might come and it generally did.
And what did I teach them? The Old Testament stories, generally bringing in the Gospel as well as I knew how. That the teaching might have been better I do not doubt, but I had not sought the work and I did my best, and I am sure I had the Lord’s help and I hope His approval. At Christmas time we had a tea and Mr. Irwin came down and spoke to them. Later they presented me with a white and gold teaset. It is all broken now and I have forgotten even the children’s names, but is it too much to hope that some learned in those simple meetings lessons they never forgot? A year ago in Canada, when staying once more in Port Hope, many a one spoke of the meetings and how they attended hem as children. One young man, now a kind of home missionary, told me it was at those meetings he began “first to think of good things”. (A young man in a bookshop in Hamilton one day addressed me by name. I did not know him. but he told me he was Willie Jewell and had found the Lord at my mother’s meetings. G. Christopher Willis.) I have taught many children—hundreds I suppose—and I can heartily echo Samuel Rutherford’s hymn, “Oh if one soul from Anworth meet me at God’s right hand, my heaven will be thrice heaven, in Immanuel’s land”.
Besides Gospel meetings we had sewing meetings on Saturday afternoons and about 40 little girls used to come. My sister used to help me with this and the children certainly learned to sew and knit, and it was a great pleasure and interest to my own children. Meeting an old man driving a baker’s wagon last year in Port Hope, he saluted me by name. “How do you know my wife?” asked Jack. “Why, she taught my children to sew,” he replied. One dear young woman took us out in her car and performed other kindnesses, and on being thanked said: “Do you think I have forgotten the meetings and the tea and all the trouble you took for us children?” And I believe it meant much, very much to our children, who entered into it with all their hearts. I believe it began to prepare them for what they have later on sought to do.
Dorothy was decidedly a Christian at this time and Christopher was already exercised. I remember one incident. There were some performing dogs came to Port Hope, and looking out of the window the children saw them being driven in a cart to the place where they were to perform. “Oh Dorothy,” said Christopher, “do you think Daddy would let us go?” “Why no,” said she. “Why not?” asked Christopher. “Well, it’s like this,” she explained, -we are like the children of Israel; Daddy and Mother have left Egypt and of course we are going with them.” It seemed sound reasoning for eight years of age.
I think it was in the end of March that we had a visit from Mabel and Ethel Sydney. They often spent a week or two with us, but I remember this visit particularly because of what followed. We had been for a long walk by the lake and it was suggested that we should go down on the sandy beach by the water. It was a windy day and very cold down there. I did not feel much up to walking and stood round while the others visited the pier. The next day I was down with grippe and that was the commencement of my long illness. I did not realize it then, but looking back I can see that was where my youth ended.