"Take a Look at Diana and the Stag"
Favorite Walk Toward Barclay Terrace
"Last Friday morning we started to the Spur, an offshoot of the Dandenon. The scenery along its sides and summit, is the most beautiful in Victoria. The gorges filled with enormous pines, stately grottos, and gums, and peppermints, are a rich feast to the aesthetic nature—but I saw nothing that so stirred the depths of my soul, as the dreamy hills in autumn along the magnificent Ohio. About 40 miles below the Spur we found good accommodations at Heyfield, which we enjoyed after the long jolting ride.
"We rose at five the next morning to visit the Falls on the Thompson. Their beauty fully paid us for our mile's walk—it seemed three to me. The Falls are magnificent, the lower plunging from 50 to 100 feet, the highest from 200 feet. We made our way with considerable difficulty along the whole face of the Falls. We had to cling to the saplings to keep from rolling headlong into the river. I had a severe headache that morning, and kept my hair hanging, and the bush was so very thick, I wonder I did not share the fate of Absalom. I hope you will get us a house as soon as possible; I am anxious to have a home of our own—if that is possible in a foreign land. I hear that Mr. Surber is going to New Zealand. May God bless you, my dear husband, that you may bring many into the Kingdom."
Shortly after Mrs. Carr's return to her husband, they received another letter from their fellow-countryman, T. J. Gore, who is still afraid they may succumb to homesickness. The manner in which he argues against such a feeling, is very philosophical: "Our home beyond the bright blue sea is lovely; there a father and mother are longing to lay their arms about our necks and say, 'Welcome home!' What a happy meeting that would be!—but not to be compared to the welcome into everlasting arms. Brother Carr, we are going home—we have already embarked—we are on the ship, the good old ship, and swiftly we are speeding over the waves of life. We have met a few storms, but the Captain said, 'Peace be still.' The barometer has been low, but He said, 'There's no danger in this ark of safety!' God only lent us our little homes among the hills of Kentucky; it is true they are dear to us; but in a few years He will lend them to others of whom we know nothing."
A sentence farther on explains, perhaps, how the writer can be so calmly philosophical: "You have, of course, heard that I am married. Mrs. Gore begs to be remembered to you; we cannot be as strangers: You and Sister Carr must come over (to Adelaide) to see us soon."
Letters from home may have accented the stress of home-longing, but others came that gave heart for the long separation, such as the following from Mrs. Drusie Ellis of Ghent, Ky.; "Last night, I heard of your safe arrival in Australia. I loaned the paper containing your letters to a friend. She brought it back with the remark that she could scarcely keep from tears while reading it,—and, as I told Doctor, 'Scarcely keep from crying, indeed!'—when I could not even mention the subject in a steady voice! The thought of your wife so nobly giving up home and country for the great work touches my heart deeply. I read of her welcome with streaming tears, and determined to write this word of Christian sympathy, hoping to add one little thrill of joy to hearts so truly consecrated."
Mr. and Mrs. Carr decided to rent the house already mentioned, in Barclay Terrace. It commanded an extensive view of Fitzroy Gardens, through which they walked every day. The way into the heart of the city led among its statues and greeneries. One might sink down to rest on the benches beside the fountains, or loiter on the rustic bridges,—only, alas! there was little time for loitering!—inhale the fragrance of the perennial flowers, and take a look at Diana and the Stag before setting forth for Chapel. From the bandstand ascended, "God save the Queen," to the Southern Cross. Who shall say what element of charm did not steal unconsciously from such beautiful surroundings into the hearts of the missionaries?
We have said there was little time for loitering; the reader shall be the judge. Two nights in the week were devoted to the prayer meetings of the two churches; one night was devoted to those who came to Barclay Terrace to inquire after the truth, or to learn Christian duty; a fourth night every week was the lecture-night at the Collinwood Church—the Church established by Mr. Carr; on Friday night there was a short sermon and then the baptizing of those who had already inquired after the truth and made the good confession, and who had been instructed as to the purpose of baptism, and what would be expected of the subject as to attendance at church, contributing, and the governing of one's household.