THE
SUMMER VACATION
Hamilton has been enjoying a rare
literary feast during the present vacation season, and it would not be a bad
idea to continue it throughout the year. The churches have been doubling up their
congregations and giving their regular pastors a lengthened vacation of a
couple of months, and the members of the congregations who have been compelled
to spend the hot weeks in the bustle of business have been enjoying the rare
treat of hearing some of the best pulpit orators from other towns and cities.
Here in Hamilton, Methodists and Presbyterians have been holding joint services,
and getting an inkling of the doctrines of freewill and pedestrianism in a
modified form. It has brought old-timers
and newcomers together in pleasant acquaintanceship who never met before, and
brightened many a life that otherwise felt lonely for the want of
companionship. We old-timers who lived in Hamilton sixty or seventy years ago,
when it had but a small population of 10,000 to 12,000, and we all knew each
other by sight and by name even if we were not on the visiting lists, we at
least met together in the few churches and heard the sermons of some of the
brightest ministers of the day. Would it not be a good idea to call the
ministerial roll once in awhile so that future generations might keep in touch
with the ‘sky pilots’ of the early days?
At a venture we will act as orderly sergeant for this one time at least
and call the roll. The Church of England naturally comes at the head of the
column, for away back in 1821, the Rev. W. Macaulay is the name of the first
minister of that denomination who was in charge of the Hamilton parish. In
1825, J. Gamble Geddes was sent down here from Ancaster to organize a church,
of which he was the rector, and in time, J. T. Blackman joined him as curate.
John Butler, M.A., was pastor at St. John’s chapel, and John Hebden and C. F.
Hansel, of the Church of the Ascension. Bishop Farrell, Edward Gordon, A.
Carayon and Peter Bardon ministered to the Roman Catholics. The five
Presbyterian churches had as pastors Robert Burnet. William Maason, Robert
Irvine, David Onglis and William Ormiston. In those days, the Wesleyan
Methodists had but three pastors and six churches to minister to – Samulel D.
Rice, Charles Lavell, and Ephraim B. Harper and Samuel Belton, a superannuate.
The Methodist Episcopal had for its pastor W. S. Wright, and as occasional
helpers Thomas Webster and Gideon Shepard, who was the editor of the Canada
Christian Advocate. Edward Ebbs was pastor of the Congregational church. The
New Connexion and the Primitive Methodists had as pastors David Savage and
William McLure, and William Stephenson. The Park Street Baptist church had as
its first pastor, Alfred Booker, who peddled Nottingham lact during the week
and preached the gospel on Sunday as a blessed privilege. He was not only
founder of the first Baptist church in Hamilton, but also its builder, raising
every dollar of the original cost. We have omitted the title of reverend before
the names of the pastors to save space.
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To get back to where we started. The mingling
of the different congregations during the present summer months has given to
the people different ideas of what may
be expected when the union of churches that is now being discussed comes to
pass. While they have not had doctrinal sermons, they had the better story of
the life of Christ, and of his apostles. Two of the oldest Methodist churches,
Centenary and Wesley, held union services, and the congregation to lengthen the
vacations of their new pastors sent out to Manitoba and invited the Rev. Dr.
George Salton to come and be their teacher for a couple of months. Dr. Salton
is no stranger in Hamilton for, fifteen or twenty years ago, he was pastor of
Centenary church; and to make the tie still more binding, he married a Hamilton
girl. He has varied his methods of teaching the Bible; in the morning hour, he
takes his hearers into his confidence, as it were, and tells them the simple
story of the cross in a conversational way that makes it more interesting than
if he were to fire at them in a preaching tone. Some pastors have the rare
faculty of conversational preaching, and it catches the ear and heart of the
hearer. One is always sorry when he comes to the end of the story, for it would
be a pleasure if he were to continue it a little longer. And then for the
evening hour, he gives an illustrated talk along the lines of his morning
conversations, and the doctor being an artist as well as a preacher, he handles
his pictures as only an artist is capable. But it will be over in two weeks
more, as the regular pastors of Centenary and Wesley will be on the job.
A dozen or more Presbyterian and Methodist
congregations have united during the summer vacation, and there is general
appreciation expressed, with the hope that it may be continued hereafter.
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DR. FRANK CRANE’S DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
The writer of these musings had the pleasure
of a long time ago acquaintance with Frank Crane before he entered the
ministry, and now and then we take the privilege of giving to the Spectator
readers some of his bright, epigrammatic sayings. The father of the Crane boys
was an old-time itinerant Methodist preacher, who traveled the prairies of
Illinois in the early days. He had three sons :Charles who was the pastor of
the church in which this Muser used to bow his head on the Sabbath, and Frank
followed suit, and became one of the bright lights of the Illinois Methodist
pulpits. Then there was Jack, who the dear old father wept and prayed over
because he preferred to be a newspaper editor instead of a preacher, and joined
the editorial staff of the Chicago Inter-Ocean. When the American civil was
began in 1861, the father of the boys enlisted and entered the service as
chaplain of General Grant’s regiment, and served till the close of the war.
When General Grant was elected president, one of his first official acts was to
appoint his old chaplain postmaster of Springfield, Illinois, when the good old
saint signed p.m. to the end of his name until he was ‘mustered out.’
Here is Frank Crane’s latest comforting
belief:
“I deny that there is any such thing as
chance or luck. I affirm that the universe is managed by an intelligent person.
I can see only a little way, but as far as I do see, all is law; that is just
ground for believing that all is law everywhere.
“I deny that God is ever, under any
circumstance, an enemy. I affirm He is always my friend.
“I deny that there is any caprice in the
moral or spiritual world. I affirm the cosmic accuracy of the laws that govern
souls.
“I deny that there is as much as one grain of
truth in premonitions.
“I deny that fear ever does any good. I
affirm that the sensation of fear is always poison to be resisted with all my
might. Whatever comes I shall meet it better unafraid.
“I deny that heredity has done anything to me
or to any person which we cannot turn to our good.
“I deny that any environment is stronger than
I. I affirm that I can make any possible environment serve my success.
“I deny that any habit, instinct or taste is
stronger than it. I affirm that I change change these, and that the changing of
them is to culture and progress.
“I deny that I am a worm of the dust. I
affirm that I am as important as the rest of the universe.
“I deny that death ends all. I affirm that my
personality shall live on after the dissolution of my body. I affirm that the
belief that the human soul ceases to exist at death is the most profoundly
immoral of all beliefs.
“I affirm that this world was made for
lovers; that those who miss love, miss life; that loyal love is tougher than
all hates, envies and malice, and will eventually overcome them.
“I deny that as ‘I have made my bed, I must
lie in it.’ I affirm that if I have made my bed wrong, please God I will make
it again.
“I deny that opportunity knocks at everyman’s
door but once. I affirm that every day is an opportunity.
“I deny any authority whatever over my mind.
“I affirm that I am absolutely bound to do
what seems right to me.
“I affirm that my personal well-being is best
promoted by striving for the well-being of others.
“I can prove none of these things. They are
axiomatic to me. There is nothing more self-evident by which to prove them.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CAN ONE LIVE ONE HUNDRED YEARS ?
A hundred years of life in full possession
of one’s mental and physical faculties, scientists tell us, is a human
possibility. This becomes an interesting thought to the writer of these
musings, for he is fast approaching that period. The knowledge of disease and
the methods of its prevention is progressing rapidly in the research
laboratories, the lasting power of the heart, the wonderful engine that sends
the blood through the body, has had a novel and convincing demonstration and
other discoveries of importance with reference to the wonderful human mechanism
are being made.
The logic of these discoveries is
leading to the conclusion that, baring accident, and a few diseases not yet
conquered, the failure of the individual to care properly for his body is the
cause of shortened lives. As long as the original natural conditions are
maintained, health continues and life projects itself joyously through the
years. Everybody is the trustee of his own body temple, and the trusteeship, we
do not need to be told, has too often been neglected or abused, often through
ignorance. And yet with all the care one gives this body, how few are they who
get beyond the three-quarter milepost? The Bible tells us that the days of our
years are three score and ten, but that there is a possible chance that we may
reach the four score figure. The cemetery records show but rare burials of
those of advanced years.
Form and symmetry the scientist tells
us must be preserved. Compressions should be avoided, as they interfere with
the vital parts. Deformity through habit should be guarded against an erect
posture should be maintained. If these things are not done, the displacement of
the bones interferes with the normal action of the muscles, nerves and blood
vessels, and the deterioration begins, which culminates in disease that the
physician too often unsuccessfully fights.
What we all need then is a better
knowledge of our bodies, and the will to follow the simple rules that are
necessary to keep them as they were made. Then we lengthen our years and put
more happiness in them. After all, what is to be gained by living a hundred
years?
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COMMENCEMENT OF THE
SEASONS
Here is an item that we find in an
ancient Canadian almanac of the year 1821. It is worth preserving in your scrap
book :
Spring sun enters March 10, at 8 hours
and 23 minutes in the evening.
Summer sun enters June 21, at 2 hours
and 56 minutes in the afternoon.
Autumn sun enters September 23, at 4
hours and 55 minutes in the morning.
Winter sun enters December 21, at 9
hours and 55 minutes in the evening.
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Have you read a booklet entitled Wentworth
Landmarks, published by the Spectator company, about twenty-five years ago? It
was written by some of the bright writers of that period, and illustrated by
Hamilton’s cleverest artist, J. R. Seavey. It comprises a series of articles
descriptive of the quaint and interesting localities in Wentworth County. The
names of the writers should be preserved, for such an interesting collection of
historical stories rarely are to be found in one brief booklet. The first
fifty-two pages were written by Mrs. Alma Dick-Lauder, and are devoted to
quaint old Ancaster, one of the ancient and historic towns of Wentworth county.
Very few readers of Hamilton papers but have read of R. K. Kern, better known
in literary circles as The Khan; J. Watson Stead, Mrs. Leeming Carr and J. E.
Woddell. Each of them did their part in compiling these Landmarks. Jack
Woddell, at that time, was a cub reporter on the Spectator staff, and to him
was assigned the task of gathering up the material of this interesting booklet.
The chances are 10 to 1 that not 1 in a 100 of the present day newspaper
readers in Hamilton ever read a chapter of the Landmarks, and it is our pleasant
duty to remind them that they have missed the best part of the history of the
county in which they were born and lived. At some time in the future, they will
be looking around for a copy of the booklet and there will not be one to be
had. It is doubtful if a copy of it could bew found today in the library of any
of the public schools in the county; and, worse and worse, it might take a
search warrant to find a copy of it in the city library.
Now the purpose of this bit of introductory
is entirely personal, for it is only to tell of a pleasant trip the Muser had
to the ancient village of Ancaster recently, and it was to pay a visit to Mrs.
Dick-Lauder, one of the best informed women in Ancaster. And she ought to be,
for if we are not mistaken she was born on the section of land which she has
called home for many years. The house in which she lives was built by her
father, and is one of those residences patterned after the manor houses of the
old country. It is a romantic spot, surrounded by ancient forest trees, and one
might say its location shuts out the world from the privacy of the home. The
broad acres which are cultivated as farm land are managed under the direction
of the owner, and it is said that her account at the Bank of Hamilton bears
testimony to the careful oversight of Mrs. Lauder. And, by the way, it might
not be out of place to say that she is shrewd enough in the management of her
affairs to keep her money deposited in the bank so that it will not be a
temptation to the men who think the world owes them a living. Her farm is
stocked with the finest breed of cattle and sheep; and to add to her pleasure,
she has a large cage of the finest canaries
that makes the home melodious with their sweet songs. A hundred years
ago Ancaster was noted for its milling industries. Jacob Loder was the builder
and owner of the principal mills, and the water privileges of the whole place
for many years, running grist mills, saw mills, carding and woolen mills, all
along the streams that flowed through the village and the adjacent territory.
Robert Smiley, the founder of the Spectator, at one time owned one of the
valuable woolen mills, which was doing pretty well for a poor printer who had
not money enough in his possession to pay the steamboat freight on his printing material from Toronto
Hamilton in the year 1846. Of all the mills that have come and gone in
Ancaster, only the ruins are left to tell the story of the decayed industries.
Ancaster is now the home of the well-to-do.
Mrs. Lauder has certainly made the quaint old village famous by the splendid
descriptions she has given of it in Wentworth Landmarks.
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BRIGHT-WITTED
NEWSBOYS
A minister in one of our city churches amused
his congregation by telling of a little incident that happened in connection
with his contact with a couple of newsboys during the race week. The first boy
was not successful in disposing of his stock of paper to the sports gathered in
front of the Royal Connaught, and as the hour was getting later the minister,
who was homeward bound, said to the boy, “Isn’t it pretty late to be out, my
boy?” “Well, what am I to do?” replied the boy. “I must sell my papers or lose the
money I paid for them” “I’ll tell you what I will do,” said the minister. “You
go and give your papers away, and come back here in five minutes and I will pay
for them.” “Ah, g’long,” said the boy. “How do I know that you will be here in
five minutes rom now?” And off the boy went shouting his papers for sale. A
couple of nights later, the minister came across another newsboy who seemed to
be as unlucky in making sales as the first one, and to him, the minister made a
similar proposition to give away his papers. This little fellow seemed to have
more faith in the promise, and started out to give away his papers for nothing.
One of the sports asked him how he could
afford to give away his papers, and the boy replied, “A blooming guy standing
over there told me he would pay me the cash for every one I would give away.”
The boy was soon relieved of all his papers, and returning to the minister, he
made a faithful return of his giveaways, and the minister handed out the money.
Don’t think that the minister told those two incidents to brighten up his
sermon or to make his congregation smile, for he made a practical application
of the faith of the two boys had in his promise.
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