"But we were now at Marchmont; and lovely as it was in the fresh green of spring, (the maples, not yet in full leaf permitting a glimpse of the bay,) yet all other feelings were lost in the joy of being welcomed by dear Miss Bilbrough, who had been watching for us all through the night. Miss Macpherson was allowed but few hours to rest before the throng of visitors came to welcome her, and to take away the newly arrived little ones. Among the first was a lady, the mother of eight girls, who had lost her only son, and who carried away, with tears of joy, a boy brought from Southampton workhouse. There were farmers from many miles round, bringing their recommendations from ministers or other well-known friends; there were children who had been brought out the previous year, some earning good wages, and bringing their savings to Miss Macpherson, too full of joy to say much, but clinging round the one whom the Lord had blessed in rescuing so many from want and misery. Among these were three former little matchbox-makers, who had known more sorrow and care during their early years than is sometimes crowded into a lifetime. Tears on both sides were sometimes the only greeting given. Pages might be filled with records of one day at Marchmont, records of the Lord's goodness to the fatherless and motherless, and those rescued from a worse fate still; whose parents would have dragged them down into the haunts of drunkenness and sin, from which, in later years, it would have been so much harder to reclaim them. Oh, that many more in our own land could witness with their own eyes the boundless openings for work, and provision made for our poor children in the broad lands the Lord has so mercifully spread before us!
"The first experience I had of the home of a Canadian farmer was in the neighbourhood of Stirling. Our drive was partly along the banks of the river Moira, which, perhaps, from being the first with which I was made acquainted, has always appeared to me one of the loveliest in 'this land of broad rivers and streams.' After leaving the river, our road passed through woods, in which we saw wild flowers of larger size and brighter colours than our own, though fewer in number; and from a rising ground we saw Stirling beneath us, and a few miles beyond reached the dwelling of one who had come out with no other riches than the strength of his own hands. His house was humble in outward appearance, but contained every comfort, and was surrounded by orchard and garden, and many acres of cultivated land. Huge barns to hold the abundant produce are always the most conspicuous feature in every Canadian farm. Cattle, sheep, and poultry were all around, and all his own, and in his own power to leave to the sons growing up around him. In this family the sons were all following the father's occupation.
"In most families that I have seen, as a good education is within the reach of all, some of the sons have preferred following the study of law or medicine; the farmers have therefore the more need of helpers, and welcome the more eagerly the young hands brought out. Though we were quite unexpected, all but one of our party being perfect strangers, we were pressed with the usual Canadian hospitality to remain the night; and while our horse rested, our kind host took out his own team and drove Mr. Thom to visit children settled in the neighbouring farms.
"My next experience was that of a farm beyond Trenton, where one of the boys was engaged. Our drive was along the bay, and the opposite shores of Prince Edward's county often reminded me of the Isle of Wight as seen from the Hampshire coast. Our road first passed the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, a grand and spacious building, a mile out of Belleville, and then was bordered by orchards and rich cornfields, scattered cottages and farmhouses, with lilac bushes clustering round the doors and verandahs. Outside every farmhouse may be seen by the roadside a wooden stand, on which are placed the ample cans of milk waiting for the waggon to carry them to the cheese factories. No fear, it appears, is here entertained either of milk being stolen or of fruit being missed from the abundant spoils on either side the road.
"At Trenton, beautifully situated near the head of the bay, a boy rushed out at the welcome sight of his friend, and farther on more greetings of love and gratitude awaited her. The farm we this day visited was one of more importance than the last. Four hundred acres of ground surrounded a well-built house, two stories high, and covering much ground. In such a dwelling a handsome piano is seldom missing, and here stood one in the inner drawing-room. Luxuries that could be purchased for money were not wanting, but labourers were not so easily procured, and the contrast between the interior of the house and the rough approach to it was most remarkable.
"So much must necessarily be done with so few hands, that time for a flower-garden, or even the making of a neat footpath, cannot be found. The mistress of the house looked sadly worn and wearied from want of help in her indoor labours.
"Within easy reach of this house stood a much smaller one, built by the owner of the farm for himself and his wife to retire to whenever their eldest son should choose a bride and undertake the farm. This I have seen elsewhere in Canada and have also known the heir of the property to go out for the day helping at another farm, where no labourer could be found in the neighbourhood. No contrast could be greater to one coming from the sight of the constant distress in the crowded East of London,—distress arising from want of work, food, light, air, and room to live and breathe in, and the comfort here beheld and experienced through the abundance of all; the pure fresh air, the sight of 'God's blessings growing out of our mother earth,' the ground ready to bestow so rich a return for all the labour bestowed on it, and the only want that of the human hands—the hands that, in our own land, are to be had so easily, that human beings are expected to work like machines, and human frames are used as though made of brass or iron."
Miss Macpherson was not permitted to remain many days quietly at
Belleville. The call came for her to go farther into Western Canada,
and this eventually resulted in the establishing of the Home at Galt.
The journey is thus described in her own words:—
"Believing that our gift was to pioneer, we left our dear friends embosomed at Marchmont among the bursting maple trees in loveliest spring-time. At early dawn on May 23rd we started, with a party of twenty of our boys of different ages, for Woodstock and Embro, a district of country where thousands of Scotch families have settled, and where there has been a wave of blessing from the Lord, through the faithful preaching of evangelists in the past year. Therefore we longed to 'spy' the land, not so much to gain an increase of dollars or more cultivated land for our boys, but our object was to find hearts that had been awakened to newness of life; and we trusted that with such our children would be nourished by the sincere milk of the Word, and grow thereby into godly men and faithful witnesses of the Lord Jesus."
"At the close of a long and hot day's travel, we reached Woodstock; and though a single telegram had been the only announcement of our expected arrival, warm hearts greeted us. Next day the boys were gazed at, admired, wished for, questioned, and feted, until we began to fear lest they should be spoiled by seeing the great demand for them, and the eagerness with which they were sought after, being considered, as they term them, 'smart boys.' With ourselves it was a day of much prayer for the needed wisdom. And in the afternoon, (being the Queen's birthday, and kept by loyal Canadians as a complete holiday), the dear boys went off with us through shady groves for a walk. We went into a cemetery, and read together from our penny Gospels the 9th of St. John. But here we were found out, and invited to one of the loveliest country-seats we had ever seen. It had been an old Indian settlement, and from its groves we had a view of the distant woodlands clothed in richest foliage. On a beautiful lawn, the old Scotchman, with tearful tenderness, fed our dear boys with unaccustomed dainties, and jugs full of new milk."