Dearest Family,
Here I am in the Chateau Laurier, and just leaving it. I didn’t actually stay in the hotel, but was boarded out with some people who met the Group last time they were here – name of White. We arrived on Friday morning and had some general meetings just to pick up the threads and it being now Saturday evening we’re going to Lucerne in Quebec for Christmas Day.
I’m afraid I haven’t written for ages, and I’ve heard nothing from any of you yet, although I’ve had a selection of letters from England, but perhaps they’ll come to Lucerne. We’ve had such a week as never was. Last Sunday I preached in two different Churches, Presbyterian in the morning and Methodist in the evening. I was supported at the morning service by Eleanor Gairdner, but in the evening Brian Sturdy who was supposed to be my accomplice got held up somewhere and I was given a very new recruit, a youth called Murdoch Kirby who was terrified at having to get on his feet in front of a huge congregation, and broke down completely when I turned him on to speak. I had to lead an after meeting at the end of the service, which rather gave me the staggers at first, but the congregation were terribly nice and the parson came to my rescue half way through and spoke for about 10 minutes while I collected a fresh lot of thoughts and then held forth for nearly half an hour.
I got back to the hotel about eleven and found everyone else just coming in, bubbling over with the fun they’d had at their services or meetings. Nearly all had had an appreciative reception, but some people were heckled by fundamentalists and spiritualists, which had rather disturbed the even tenor of the atmosphere. However, we were all feeling in pretty good form, many of us having never preached before were overcome with relief at having spilt our stuff as we say in our transatlantic way, without mishap.
After Sunday we started going in detachments to a small neighbouring town called Hamilton. I stayed till Tuesday morning, as I’d gone to a reception on Monday evening with some of the others, from which we didn’t get back till two am. At which point Frank had guidance that I should go to Hamilton at 8.15 on Tuesday. So off I went and packed and got to Hamilton at 9.15 and I went straight to bed and slept till 3 pm which I couldn’t possibly have done in Toronto where my telephone bell would have been ringing all the morning; whereas at Hamilton no one knows me. When I emerged from my couch I felt a lot better, and was sent up to the University of McMaster to join Kirstie and two other girls. That evening they (the students) were having what is called a Co-ed dinner, and most of the team who were already there were invited to it – some of our men were in the men’s college – but it somehow got about that there wasn’t going to be room for anyone who wasn’t actually staying the University, so the surplus ones went home and came back after supper. It was very hard because it turned out later that we really had been expected and I should have loved to have attended a Co-ed dinner. However we got back in the middle of the subsequent party which took the form of acting charades – very badly – after which Francis Elliston, one of our men, did some sort of Ruth Draper turns – an art in which he excels – and I really thought the Principal of the women’s college was going to have to be carried out, she laughed so much. From then, having captured the attention of the audience, he said he’d tell some stories of real life, and started off on the Group stories, and we all said a few words, and then the party broke up into smaller groups and we talked and the men went back to their own college.
The next day I spent there again, that was Wednesday and on Thursday we had a holiday to go to Niagara. Between 40 and 50 of us were taken in cars by accommodating converts, and we all went under the Falls, free of charge, instead of paying a dollar a head, and were given a free tea. This gave us such a feeling of all being well with the world that we burst into song in our car on the way home. One of my fellow passengers, incidentally, was a boy called Malcolm Ross, who spent most of his life in Hutton Rudly, so we thought we would sing On Ilkley Moor Baht’at, as a duet on Christmas Day at the party.
Malcolm and Reggie are the pressmen’s joy, and are described respectively as ‘Reggie Holme, slim, fair and youthful’ and Malcolm Ross, slim, dark and very youthful’.
Well, we got back from Niagara, had dinner and took the night train from Hamilton here. It got in at 7.45 and I was collected by my hostess and taken out to breakfast at her house. She then brought me back and we spent the rest of yesterday having various kinds of meetings, and this morning some of us formed a Christmas Committee to get up a surprise for the rest of the team. Eleanor Forde, who is a delightful Canadian girl, bought a Woolworth present for everyone, and we spent this morning wrapping them up, and writing poems about everyone in the team. The youth called George Wood had converted the manager of an enormous grocery business by the name of Loblaw and the rhyme was
Loblaw
Saw
That he was not as good
As Georgie Wood
which I consider is a masterpiece. The poets on the Committee are Alan Thornhill, LW and me, and I think we shall probably rope in Francis Elliston and finish the rest in the train.
I’ve just sent you a cable and hope it’ll arrive and that you’ll all have as much fun as I’m having at Christmas.
Very much love from
Mary
English