The Complete Works of L M Montgomery

by L. M. Montgomery

  This was considerable of a venture. A number of her friends advised against it. They thought that a woman who had had no previous business experience would have difficulty in making it pay.

  Mrs. Courtice considered the matter carefully and finally decided to go ahead. She had always wished to run a school along certain lines which she had studied and believed practicable. Now she had a chance to put her theories into practise. Besides, she had to do something to bring in money and she was firmly convinced the school could be made a paying concern.

  And so it proved to be. The six-roomed house she had purchased soon had to be discarded for larger quarters. She bought another property which had once been a summer hotel and remodelled it into a suitable building for her purpose, calling it, “Balmy Beach College: A School of Music and Art.” This, owing to the increased accommodation the larger building afforded, she used as a boarding school for girls, taking day pupils in addition.

  During the years Mrs. Courtice maintained this school she introduced a number of innovations along the lines of music, French, and other cultural branches. She gave adequate time to physical culture and outdoor sports, believing that young people should have suitable recreation.

  As she worked with the children under her care she became more and more imbued with the idea that parents and teachers should co-operate for the good of the children. She encouraged the mothers to come to the school and held meetings where they could mingle together.

  In 1912 when Mrs. Courtice was visiting in Boston she heard about the Parent Teachers’ Association and went to their headquarters to learn what she could of the movement. When she returned to Toronto she resolved to start a somewhat similar organization.

  There were already some local clubs in a few of the schools but these were not united in any way. Mrs. Courtice’s aim was to have a club of this sort in every school and to have these separate units combined into one whole. In 1916 the Home and School Council of Toronto was formed and she was made president. It was not until three years later that the provincial clubs were organized under the name of the Ontario Federation of Home and School Clubs.

  These clubs have been of great value in school life. They endeavour “to bring into closer relationship the home and the school so that parents may co-operate intelligently in the training of the child, and to develop between educators and the general public such united efforts as will secure for every child the highest advantages in physical, mental, moral and spiritual education.”

  In a letter to her brother Mrs. Courtice states:

  “The Home and School Club movement has the greatest possibilities of the age for recreating the right principles and habits of living. Our greatest trouble is going to be to find men and women who are big enough to take hold of the work and hang on to the vision long enough to create public opinion for the highest ideals of thinking and living and working....

  “I am still travelling and talking and organizing until I think in terms of the province and the Dominion....

  “I find it a great advantage to have been a country girl for I can meet the rural men and women on terms of comradeship and they are not slow to recognize the fact that I am at heart a country woman. I love the work.”

  When Mrs. Courtice was sent by the National Council of Women as a delegate to the International Council of Women held at The Hague in 1914 she came back with this idea that only by education could the evils of our present civilization be remedied. At once she threw the entire force of her dynamic personality into improving the system of education.

  In every way she could she furthered this cause. She was asked to run for office on the Board of Education and for four years she served faithfully in this capacity. Sometimes the other members of the board (she and Dr. Caroline Brown were the only women trustees) did not see eye to eye with her on certain matters which she was convinced would better the condition of both scholar and teacher. Without unnecessary antagonism, Mrs. Courtice quietly but perseveringly pressed her point until the rest finally admitted she was right and the needful measure was passed.

  One of her mottoes was embodied in Tennyson’s words:

  Because right is right, to follow right

  Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.

  She believed that people should do their duty no matter what unpleasantness was occasioned thereby.

  Mrs. Courtice was a direct descendant of the sturdy Pilgrim Fathers who came over in the Mayflower. From them she inherited the traits of character that had made the Quaker people respected wherever they went.

  CHAPTER X. THE GOLDEN CHRYSANTHEMUM: CAROLINE MACDONALD

  The long shady street lay silent in the warm afternoon haze. The Doctor’s spacious brick house, with its bright flower-garden and wide green lawns, shared the unusual quiet. The Doctor was away seeing patients, the other grown-ups of the household were drinking tea in a cool corner of the veranda. The children were playing under a tree in the back garden. It was too sultry for strenuous games.

  If it wasn’t so awfully hot, declared brother, rolling over on the grass, he’d drag the ladder from the barn and climb up and get those grapes from the side of the house.

  “We could get them from the veranda roof if mother would only let us,” suggested one of his sisters.

  “Oh, let’s get the ladder, anyway,” pleaded the next-door-neighbour boy. “It can’t be any hotter up there than here.”

  Eight-year-old Carrie laid down her doll and slipped away, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. She darted behind the hedge, ran noiselessly to the house and gained the front hall unseen. She was breathless with laughter, but she stole up the carpeted stair without a sound. Over the centre of the front veranda was a railed balcony, she tip-toed out upon it, mindful of the tea-drinkers below. With a swirl of white embroidery and blue gingham and shining slippers she was over the railing and out on the forbidden roof. She had just reached for the biggest cluster of grapes when there was an indignant roar from beneath. She ducked her curly head, but too late, the boys had seen her! The next moment the whole crowd was storming up the stairs bent on vengeance.

  Unfortunately the noise disturbed the party on the veranda. Mother appeared, as she had a habit of doing at inconvenient moments, and, of course, she banished the rabble to the back garden and the grape hunt was over.

  It was very seldom that Carrie’s enterprises ended in defeat. She nearly always managed to come out on top when there was any scheme for fun on hand. And the next time she had a roof-climbing escapade it was a complete success.

  It is a long way from grape-ripening time in Canada to cherry blossom time in Japan. All the little gardens about Tokyo, the dainty bridges and picturesque tea-houses are gay with pink bloom. Flowery kimonos by day and colored lanterns by night flit like butterflies and fire-flies among the shrubberies. But not all Japan is in holiday mood.

  Out in one of the factory suburbs, instead of floral processions, grim want stalks through the narrow streets. The whole labor population of two-thousand people is out on strike, and the situation is desperate.

  Then one of the national labor leaders, who has been sent down to do something with the dangerous crowds, is suddenly struck with his first hopeful idea. The little Canadian lady of Tokyo, who does so much for factory girls, if she were only here! She would bring a message of sympathy and cheer to these desperate people. Hadn’t she quieted worse disturbances?

  The next moment a swift messenger is off to the Tokyo Young Women’s Christian Association. Will the little Canadian Secretary please come over and quiet the strikers? In a short time she is on her way, as she always is at the call of distress. When she steps off the train, the men sent to receive her confess to themselves that she does not look in the least like a person who could deal with a strike. She is such a little girl; a small dainty creature, tastefully and smartly dressed. But the labor leader well knows that under the youthful exterior dwells a strong soul, wise and steady and ready to face any danger so long as she can bring help to t
he needy.

  She is led to the square where the crowds are milling about in sullen mood. The only place that can be found for the speaker to stand is a board set high on the roof of an adjacent house. The labor leader sets a flimsy ladder against the wall and with many apologies and much Japanese politeness motions the lady to mount. Carrie looks up and her always-ready laugh bursts out. There comes a swift memory of a childish prank when she climbed out on the roof of the old Ontario home, just to show the boys she could beat them. She surely couldn’t do less now.

  “So I shinned up the ladder,” she wrote gaily to her sister, at home, “and with the help of a man above, staggered up the slant of the roof and onto my platform: a shaky board a foot wide and everything sloping away from me and nothing but the sky to grasp in case I lost my balance!”

  And up there from this unsteady position she looked down upon a thousand desperate, hungry, striking men; and though she was young and unused to such scenes, she spoke words of deep wisdom. She did not say anything about the rights or the wrongs of the strike, but she told gently and kindly of the power of Divine Love to overcome hate and greed and selfishness, and of the hopelessness of any cause that did not have its roots in justice. And when she came down from the roof the crowds melted quietly away.

  And that was a typical day in Caroline Macdonald’s life. Ever since the day she scrambled out on the home roof for the grapes the high places had always beckoned her. And she was always venturing up on them even when there was “Nothing but the sky to grasp.” Even in those early peaceful days in the happy home in Wingham she had longed to do great and glorious deeds. While she ran and played with her brother and sisters, while she went to school and later attended Toronto University, a burning desire to attack difficulties for the sake of helping someone in trouble possessed her. In school and University she was loved and admired by teachers and fellow pupils alike. Carrie Macdonald was at the head of everything. Her gaiety, her never-failing sense of humor, and her equally never-failing kindness all made for popularity. But there was no time wasted in her college life. There dwelt a strong, masculine-like intellect behind those mischievous blue eyes, a brilliant mind that took delight in mastering all problems set before it.

  And then came graduation, a short time in Young Women’s Christian Association work, and then her big chance: A Y.W. secretary was wanted in Tokyo, and who could better fill the place than this gifted girl? She found Japan bristling with problems for her busy heart and brain, but the one that appealed to her the strongest was the sad case of the little Japanese factory girl. Sixteen or even eighteen hours a day of heavy work in a dreary ill-ventilated room with starvation wages was her lot. No wonder it ended so often in broken health or an early death.

  Here was a challenge; the little Canadian girl attacked the height gallantly. It took her years to reach it, but there came a day when she induced even the Japanese Government to realize that they could get better results from workers that were healthy and happy. But it took a long time, and while she was toiling for the betterment of the little factory girl, a new road opened for Carrie into still another upward climb.

  One day a Japanese friend called at the “Y.W.” and asked the Secretary if she would go to the prison and visit a man who was condemned to death. It was a terrible task for the girl, but Carrie was never known to flinch before a difficulty. The prisoner had a very evil record, and in prison he had been violent and unmanageable. At first he refused to listen to his visitor, but she patiently waited and at last sat down beside him and told him gently the story of Jesus Christ and of God’s love and forgiving mercy through Him. She told of another life beyond this world, where one might have a new start, free from sin and the handicaps of this life. A great light broke over the man’s darkened soul, and she left him tranquil and repentant and full of hope for the future. It was not long before she was asked to visit a similar case, and then another and another, and the result of her visit was almost always a glad turning of the prodigal to his Father. The fame of her work spread, until governors of prisons were sending her official invitations to come to their inmates with her message.

  Then almost every prisoner she visited had relatives whom he begged her to hunt up. When she did she generally found dire poverty and distress and something had to be done about it. Here were rough heights for one small lone girl to scale: overwhelming need on all sides, very little funds, and only twenty-four hours in the day and one small pair of hands! If it had not been for her sublime faith and her never-failing ability to make a joke even in the most desperate situation she would never have climbed the hills.

  She soon found the prison work with all its ramifications demanding more time than she could give it so she gave up her position as Y.W. Secretary. And it was a very happy day when she saw a native Japanese girl step into her place. When all the arrangements had been made for her to take up her new position, Carrie came home to Canada for a much-needed year of rest. On the way she stopped off in New York to visit an old friend.

  “And what about your salary, in this new work, Carrie?” the friend asked, as they sat at luncheon. “Who’s paying it?”

  “Salary?” Carrie’s blue eyes danced, “I really haven’t the slightest idea. I forgot all about that part of it.”

  A wealthy woman in New York, hearing the story of the little Canadian girl’s sublime faith, offered to pay the salary and so Carrie’s faith was vindicated.

  The happy visit to the home and family, now moved to London, Ontario, passed swiftly, and she was soon back in Tokyo shouldering her new task. Shortly after her return she unwittingly did something that attracted the admiring attention not only of Japan but of lands across the home seas. Carrie had been visiting daily a man awaiting execution for murder. He had a vile record, and was guilty of a terrible list of crimes, but the loving message brought by the prison visitor, the news that God was his Father and Jesus Christ his elder brother and Saviour changed the sin-stained criminal into a humble follower of his Lord. While the man was awaiting his execution, in perfect peace and faith in God, he asked if he might not write the story of his life. Would Macdonald San get him writing materials and help him? Macdonald San very willingly arranged it all and the story was written. The simple tale of a life coming out of the darkness of sin into the morning light of God’s love was so beautiful and heart-moving that Caroline felt others must see it. So she had it published in Japanese and then translated it for English publication. The great Dr. Kelman pronounced it “One of the world’s greatest stories.” He wrote an introduction to it and named the little book A Gentleman in Prison. Needless to say the story stirred the hearts of thousands of readers and created a widespread interest in the wonderful work Caroline Macdonald was doing.

  And what a task it was! It spread and grew day by day till there seemed no end to the ministries of helpfulness it might include.

  “My work thrives on calamities,” Carrie wrote home with her usual gay cheerfulness, “and Japan is a country of calamities both natural and manufactured.”

  The letter was scarcely penned when one of Japan’s natural calamities of the worst type came upon Tokyo: the great earthquake. At the moment of the disaster it happened that Caroline was some distance from her home visiting a poor family. Fortunately she was unhurt, but all the telegraph wires came crashing down, the street car system was ruined, so there was nothing for her but to walk home through the ruined streets. It was a harrowing two-hour tramp through tragic scenes. She found her own house badly shaken, with the chimney fallen across the driveway so that she could not get out the car she needed so badly for rescue work.

  From every part of the ruined city men came running to see if Macdonald San were safe. Most of them were ex-convicts whom she had befriended, and all were ready to risk their lives for her safety.

  And now news of a new calamity was coming swiftly on the wind. Smoke came rolling over the ruins. The city had taken fire and the water system was wrecked. The police arrived ordering everyone
out of the threatened area. The flames stopped within a block of Caroline’s home and all night long and for many days and nights following, refugees came out of the welter of fire and wreckage, fleeing in their dire need straight to the only friend they knew, the little Canadian lady, who was sure to help.

  When some semblance of order was restored to the city, Caroline left her wrecked house and went to live with a Canadian friend until new quarters could be found. The friend was a young woman engaged in Y.W. work, and together the two girls made great plans. Caroline had long been building a dream house. She was very small herself, but she wanted a huge place to live in. It was to be a place where she could bring her classes of factory girls, a place that would be a refuge for the stranded families of imprisoned men, and a haven for the prisoners themselves until they could all be established once more in the world. Every night the two Canadian girls rebuilt this dream house by the fire after their day’s work.

  And then one day Carrie came home on dancing feet. She had found the very place she wanted, already built. It was a fine spacious generous looking house, with plenty of rooms for clubs and classes and stranded families and all the glorious plans surging in her busy brain. And best of all it was for sale.

  “Let’s buy it!” Caroline cried.

  “Buy it!” cried the other girl in alarm. “Why, Carrie Macdonald, you know perfectly well we don’t possess a yen between us!”

  “I know, but let’s buy it anyway,” cried the audacious one with the daring laugh that met all big difficulties.

  And so the house was bought.

  “We haven’t a cent to our names,” she wrote home afterwards, “so we’ve bought ourselves a large and expensive house.” But again her daring faith was vindicated, and the heights were scaled. Friends sent private subscriptions, missionary societies at home came forward with annual subscriptions, and in a year the “House of Friendliness” was paid for.