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Anderson,
The Reverend A. H.
by
Catherine A. Scott
R. R.
1, 15th Road,
Haney,
B. C.
My
father was born May 4th, 1837 and died January 19th, 1927.
Mother
was born October 21st, 1856 and died on August 28th, 1915.
Father
was married to Mrs. Tozland, widow of the Reverend Mr. Tozland, but I
am not sure of the date. I think around 1920-21 or -22.
After Father died, she went back to her people in the U. S. I
don’t know her name, but I think it was Nan.
Father
and Mother came to Manitoba in 1881, and Father was sent to open up new
missions. His photo, with other early ministers, is hanging in
the McDougal Memorial Church at Edmonton. All his books are
there, and the minutes of the first western conference held at
Winnipeg, in 1882, I think.
My
sister, Theo Belle (Anderson) Moore, died last June 10th at Bella
Bella. There are just two of the Anderson family left, a brother
ninety-one years old last March, living in Kansas City and myself.
Rev.
A. H. Anderson
Rev.
A. H. Anderson came to Manitoba in the spring of ’80. They went
by oxcart from Winnipeg to Brandon, - a terrible trip – spring floods –
and the only places where they could stop for the night were someone’s
house or shack. You paid fifty cents or twenty-five cents,
according to what part of the floor you could get to spread a blanket
on and lie down for the night; men, women and children where they could
find space. My mother decided she and the baby would sleep
outside in the wagon. She and the baby caught a terrible cold and
were sick when they arrived at Brandon.
The
first summer was spent helping to break land and put up houses or
shacks, in the Rapid City district.
Father’s
first place of preaching was the old Nelson Mission. I don’t know
how long he preached there, but the next place was Portage la
Prairie. He must have spent three years there. Then he went
to Snow Flake to open up a mission there. He used to walk thirty
miles on a Sunday and preach three times that first year. The
second year he got a horse and buggy.
The
parsonage was a small log house made of poplar logs and built on a
hill. The house, especially built for the coming parson, was so
cold that first winter that Father had to keep a roaring fire in the
stove until midnight and get up at 5 A.M. and get the fire going again.
He had
a small log stable, which held a horse and a cow. He spent two
years there, and then was sent to Cypress Hills to open up or start a
church there. He was always sent to some settlement to open up a
church or at least to hold services, in church if there was one, or in
schools or homes. Then he was sent to Killarney where there was a
church and a half-finished parsonage. I don’t know the year for
sure, but it must have been 1893 or ’94, I think. Perhaps a year
or two earlier – I just don’t know for sure.
Father’s
photo is hanging in the old McDougal Memorial Church in Edmonton, the
photo taken in 1882 at the first Manitoba Conference held in
Winnipeg. He is with a group of early pioneer ministers that
helped open up the prairie churches. These dates are only
guesswork, as I haven’t any of Father’s papers here. A few years
ago, I sent them all to the McDougal Memorial Museum.
I think
Father was three years preaching at Killarney. Then he had to
resign on account of health and some trouble with the powers over
him. So he bought the 160 acres and we moved out on the
farm. He had only a couple of drivers, a cow, a buggy and cutter
and a family of small children. It was July when he moved out,
and he only got 10 acres broken that year. It was done by members
of his church. You can imagine what a trying time it must have
been. I know he only had $250.00 a year coming in from his
superannuation fund. He got $125.00 in January, and $125.00 in
July, and that’s all he had to start on. By hard work and grim
determination, we did pull through. One thing I think must have
looked odd and amusing to the neighbours was the fact of Father always
wearing a white collar and stiff stove pipe hat when working on the
land.
Father
only had a year off, and then he was on call to fill in for someone
sick, or lack of a minister for some church. A good half of his
time he was away preaching. I think there weren’t many schools
around that Father hadn’t preached in, even old Oak Ridge. He got
the debt on the old frame church paid off, and then Killarney Church
started, and he worked hard to get the new (present) church
underway. The old church records must have information on how it
was done.
I
wonder if there are any old members living yet that remember a cold
winter night and the minister having to close up the service on account
of a terrible smell and many folks started sneezing. I think Rev.
Doyle was the minister at the time, or perhaps Van Roman (Have I the
name correct, it was Van something). The janitor and some of the
men of the church went down to see what the trouble was but couldn’t
find anything wrong. Next day they took the furnace apart and
cleaned pipes. Father, coming home at noon, told us all about the
work they had done and couldn’t find anything wrong, lit up the furnace
again and no smell. Well, crime will out, they say. My
youngest sister had taken a box of snuff that someone, for a joke, had
sent father. Reta had it in her coat pocket, and pulling out her
handkerchief, the box of snuff came too, and fell on the hot air
register. She didn’t know what to do, so quickly brushed it all
down the register and then went to her seat. When she got home,
she told Mother what she had done and didn’t want Mother to tell
Father. Mother promised to keep the secret but on condition Reta
would walk the straight and narrow path in future. We gals had
many a good laughs over it.
Another
time, they, Theo and Reta, took some pepper tied up in the corner of a
handkerchief and the idea was to put it on some certain person’s
collar. She had it loose lying on the hymn book and when getting
up for the hymn the pepper blew off and not where intended to go.
I believe dear old Grampa McLean got most of it and he started to
sneeze and couldn’t stop and had to go out. We often wondered if
he suspected what had happened, for later, when talking to someone he
said, “I like those girls but they are awful devils.”
This
remark was quickly brought back and told to us, and we couldn’t
understand why Grampa McLean should say such a thing.
Father
baptized many babies while in Killarney, later he married them and
again baptized their children when they arrived.
Father
was Irish and loved a good joke and had he not been a minister, would
have been a rip roaring old politician. He dearly loved election
time. He was always chairman for whoever was
electioneering. When George Lawrence was M.P., he and Father
worked together often. When Geo. Lawrence took the holiday trip
back to Ireland, he brought Father back a black thorn walking stick
which we kids all called his “shillelagh.” Theo still has the
cane.
The
old Bible Theo speaks of, given by John Wesley to our great
grandfather, was one of Father’s prized possessions. Once he was
offered $500.00 for it and turned it down, said it must stay in the
Anderson family. It disappeared from the house at Father’s
funeral, and the sixty-four dollar question is how and where is the
Bible now. It certainly must have had help, it couldn’t walk off
by itself. Some other leather-bound books Father had, written by
John Wesley, we sent to the Toronto Methodist book-room museum.
Father
was a Conservative, and a L. A. L. man, but I can’t remember anything
else. I hope you can pick out something from our letters that you
can use.
As
Theo says, most of the company we had were elderly folks, preachers and
students, and as kids they didn’t appeal to us very much. At
family worship they used to offer up long prayers and keep us on our
knees for too long. Father’s rule when company was around was to
be seen and not heard and only speak when spoken to. A grim old
rule that I am sure had a bad effect on us. We used to keep out
of sight and calling whenever we could, often sliding down a plank from
an upstairs window if no other way of getting out was possible.
I
remember a lecture from Father yet about daring to express my opinion
on some (dear old saint?). The dear old saints never fooled me, I knew
from a very young age when they were putting on an act for Father and
resented it muchly and always.
When we
were extra naughty, Father would say, “Those children of yours are
needing attention,” to Mother. We were always her children then,
but if we were good and did something worthy of praise (once in a while
we did), we were his children. We all loved Father and were very
loyal to him, but we liked being Mother’s children best. When I
used to kick over the traces and say what I thought of things in
general, Father would look grieved and say, “I’m sure I don’t know
where you get such a rebellious spirit from. I’m sure it’s not
from me.”
Father
was a trusting mortal and many folks took advantage of it. They
would come with some hard luck story and Father of his little mite
would help them out. I remember him selling cleaned and graded
wheat for seed, and just trusting them to pay, as they promised to do,
and which they never did – always some hard luck story why they
couldn’t. We always did our shopping at T. J. Lawlor’s and in
times of great need, Father had to charge it. He hated to ask for
credit, and only did when in desperate need. If we couldn’t pay,
we did without. Don’t know what would have happened had Mr.
Lawlor refused credit.
As
we grew older, we kicked at Father filling in for other preachers and
never getting paid. When he went by train east or west, he paid
his own expenses. Once Rev. Saumby came out to get Father to take
the church services at Morden for a month while the regular preacher
was away sick. Father wasn’t in when Mr. Saumby came and said
what he wanted, so we girls put in a kick and told Mr. Saumby to please
not ask Father, we were tired of him going away and never being
paid. Mr. Saumby was very surprised and asked Mother if that was
so. Mother told him yes, and how unfair we all thought it.
Mr. Saumby did ask Father to fill in, but from then on, Father was
paid. Father was very angry at us, and lectured us for saying
anything, but I think he was glad of the pay. Every time he would
come back from a trip we always rushed out and said, “Did you get
paid?” He wouldn’t tell us, but Mother would when she found out.
This
I must tell as it was such a sorrow to us. Father used to get a
large box of clothing, some used clothing and some yardage goods from
some wealthy church back east. He was to use it for the poor and
where it was needed. Great excitement among the parson’s kids
when the box was opened and always the hope we might get something out
of it – a lost hope, we never did. It was for the poor, and there
it went.
One
bright spot, Mother’s folks back East used to send a barrel of
things. For several years when first on the farm we got this
barrel. It would have a large bag of dried apples, a big square
tin of honey and several blocks of maple sugar, also some pieces of
cloth, and a large bundle of knitting yarn, from which Mother knitted
Father’s socks, our mittens and caps. I guess it saved the day
for Mother.
Not
much of historical value, but it’s the best I can do. Father was
always sent to open up new districts or to pull a church out of debt
and get it going again. He always seemed to manage that, and he
used to be away from home a lot. He kept splendid driving horses
and they went all over southern Manitoba.
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