"My friend, ever a true helper as secretary, remembered that a small boy named Smith, who had left a mother sorely fretting after him, lived near, and proposed to go and get a report of him at once. The Doctor's conveyance soon was at the door, and in less than an hour my friend returned with a bright account of the comfortable home and the happiness of its young inmate.
"The short hours after tea swiftly passed in conversing over the basket of books and tracts, many of these the gathered-up stores of my friends, which when read had been sent to the Refuge, and were now being spread freely in Canadian homes. We also talked over the principle which we were endeavouring to work out with these friendless children, namely, that as the Lord Jesus had given Himself to save us, so we ought to reach out the hand of love, and endeavour to snatch others from lives of misery and want. If we cannot open our own doors to the lost and wayward; ought we not to help in finding out those who can, that the lost and wandering lambs outside in the wilderness might be gathered beneath a sheltering wing inside some happy fold?
"Dr. H—- and his intelligent wife and sister held a long conversation with us on the method best suited for those whom we are seeking to benefit—whether to educate them for a series of years in our institutions in the old country, or to afford them only a temporary residence with us, where their character, temper, and talents could be studied for a few months with a view to determine what family they would suit best. Our experience with the three hundred children now placed out and watched over by our co-labourers in Canada brought us to the latter conclusion, and the testimony of others in Germany was to the same effect.
"Pastor Zeller, who himself founded an orphan asylum at Beuggen, had long before strongly advocated the placing of bereaved children in Christian families as the very best method of training them. Commenting on this, M. de Liefde observes—'An establishment which contains from fifty to seventy children (and this surely is only a small one), however well managed, cannot help being unnatural in many respects. Nature seldom puts more than twelve children together in one house; quite enough for a man and his wife to control, if due attention be given to the formation of the different characters and the development of the various talents. The training of a band of children beyond that number cannot help assuming the character of wholesale education. The larger the number, the greater the resemblance of the establishment to a barrack; it becomes a depot of ready-made young citizens, got up for social life at a fixed price, and within a fixed period of time. No wonder that they often turn out unfit for practical realities, and uncured of inveterate defects.' The noble Immanuel Wichern felt this objection so forcibly, that his famous 'Rauhe Haus' institution is like a village of families, each homestead with its house-father and house-mother, and its twelve boys or girls, as the case may be. He considered that he could not otherwise do justice to those whom God had committed to his care than by bringing the principles of family life to bear upon each individual.
"In the course of conversation we asked, how it was that so far from the city they had heard of our having boys to dispose of, and it was pleasant to hear that the weekly 'Christian' was the link that led them to depute a relative to watch for our passing through Montreal. Family worship closed this day of sweet service.
"The next morning our kind host studied the various Concessions in which our children had been located, and soon the 'democrat' (a peculiar carriage suited for this country) was brought to the door, and the doctor, and his sister accompanied us for the day's drive.
"The day was balmy, like one of our bright June days, and beeches and maples, firs and cedars, were beautiful to behold in their autumn loveliness.
"Our first call was at Mr. V—-'s. He was a widower, and, finding his home lonely, had sought at Marchmont for a little one to love and cheer him. He had taken the twin-like brothers, Freddy and Tommy, whose sweet little faces bore some resemblance to his own. We found the children at school, looking hearty and happy in the playground as we passed the schoolhouse. Mr. V—- was from home, but his mother, a pious woman, received us most kindly, and spoke affectionately of the children. She took us to see her lovely flowerbeds of annuals, all laid out with taste in front of the wooden house, and tended by her own hands when house-work was over. My heart longed for the joy of telling the happiness of these children to the aged pious grandmother pining away in want and sickness, and forsaken by her own son, the father of these boys.
"Passing onwards, we drove past a rosy-cheeked little fellow climbing a bank. A month in the fresh air had so changed him from the delicate, pale, thin boy, that we looked again ere we recognised Alfred Bonkin. His widowed mother will sing for joy to hear of his being thus educated, clothed, and fed, and growing up to an honest life.
"Alfred was 'fixed up' (to use a Canadian term) with two others of our children in a family settlement. One was a grown-up lad, employed in farm work, and the other a little matchbox-maker. The venerable couple who had adopted them had won our hearts when calling upon us at the Home. They were both over eighty years of age, had thirty grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, and yet room to love our little ones, and not miss the 'bite and the sup.' It was washing-day; but the old lady left her tub 'right away,' and hoped we would not be 'scared,', by her being in a bustle, but just 'take off,' and she would soon spread the table? We spoke of our long round of calls, and with difficulty we got away, not before we had been laden with a basket of the finest apples we had ever seen, and had promised to come and pay a long visit next time. From all we witnessed, we could not but rejoice in the way God had opened homes and Christ-loving hearts to receive our perishing little ones."