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"And tell of time, what gifts for thee he bears."
("The Bacchae" of Euripides, quoted by Laura Krey,
in title of book.)
I do not know the order in which other missionaries and Church workers came to the Camp seasons, in the years between
1901 and 1908. Mr. Hans Anderson came, (of Scandinavia, I think, and of the World Student Christian Federation,
whom I heard at Nashville in 1906). Mr. Dixon E. Hoste, known and loved and revered by us all, the successor to
Mr. Hudson Taylor as General Director of the China Inland Mission, came early; he was one of "the Cambridge
Seven", formerly an officer in the "Queen's Own" Regiment,--"with his fine military bearing",
as Dr. Taylor used to say,--and his saintly statesman's soul. My impression is that Mrs. Hoste was away in China
or England during all or part of this visit, but that the sons came with their father, called at that time "Willie"
and "Dixie"; it was one of these little English boys from China who asked Mr. Coleman, with a very broad
"a", "Are you the owner of this vast estate?" --a Chinese query of courtesy, repeated in a
later year in American form by young Sheldon Luce, also from China, "Say, Mr. Coleman, are you the boss of
all these woods?" Mr. and Mrs. Sobey from Central America I never met, and am not sure what mission they represented;
they are described as a dear gentle old couple,--and saints of course. One particular saint of the English C. I.
M. variety is said to have worn out the original Chalet rugs,--(or was it his own knees? Or just possibly my husband's
American patience?)--by kneeling so long at prayer in the Chalet guest-room in its bachelor days. This I think
was Sir Montague Beauchamps, but I am not quite sure.
The Speers brought early a gentle Quaker friend, Mrs. Shearman of Germantown, and her daughter, the ardent State
Socialist and Anglican, a class-mate of Mrs. Speer's at Bryn Mawr, Miss Margaret Shearman, these ladies later to
be known by all of us in affection as "Grandmother Susie" and "Aunt Daisy." They shared the
Glen with Dr. and Mrs. Taylor, who were writing "Pastor Hsi". The Speers lived first I think in Hillcrest,
afterwards in Balsam Lodge; at least they sat on the steps there and had their pictures taken, but so did everyone
else. The Speers furthermore brought Miss Clara Reed of Springfield, Massachusetts, who teaches the Dante classes
in New York; and Miss Louise Holmquist, of the National Y. W. C. A., loved by the young women of America and by
my husband and by myself and by us all; and I think also her sister, Miss Karlene Holmquist, founder of the Holmquist
School for Girls at New Hope, pennsylvania, where Louise is now "Chaplain". Mrs. Speer brought also her
cousin, Miss Anna Bailey, as the first housekeeper, (the same who presided at "Pine Forge" near Pottstown
where we spent the month of June when Catherine was three years old, and first met Mr. and Mrs. James Bailey);
also, I believe, her sister, Miss Reba Bailey of the Sunday School Times. Also Christine Hammer, of Pottstown,
and her mother and sister Helen (now Mrs. Stewart Link), and their cousin from Denmark, beautiful Ragnhild Maegard,
whose father was an Admiral in the Danish Navy. (Christine later went to Bryn Mawr, taught at the Thorne School
there and at the True Light Seminary in Canton, China, now teaches at the Brearly School in New York, and has been
a dear friend of mine since the summer of 1917 at Camp, when we all lived, together with the Speers, at the farm
in September, --"the Infantile Paralysis Summer"). They brought also Mr. William Henry Grant, who was
in himself the Home Board of Canton Christian College, a great man with an axe, and for a walk, and defender of
variant trails to Knapp's Hill; (later called "Uncle Harry" or "Uncle Harry's pink shirt" in
the poem about Greenough Pond). It was Mr. Grant's mother who came to Camp later, in my day,--and skipped along
our boardwalks at the age of eigthy-three. The Speers also brought the Stones, Dr. Stone being our minister at
Brown Memorial Church, Baltimore, as narrated in Chapter I, (after 1909 at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago,
and later President of the Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Chicago, now living, writing and speaking in Florida).
These of course were not all missionaries, but they were all friends, and the old friends continued to mingle with
the new. There may have been an occasional comment, and once upon a time in those halcyon "good old days",
there was a strike among the maids; and lovely Alice Jackson, whose Life Mr. Speer later wrote, organized some
of the guests to wait on the tables.
When I found the Camp group in 1908, they seemed to be living in a community of complete contentment and faith
and mutual helpfulness, such as I had never seen, and strongly resembling in some respects a little group of early
Christians in the first centuries.
There was a legend of an old couple named Kendrigan, who lived just beyond the limit of the Camp at the left of
the Big Pond Road, where their spring of water still flows' and their golden glow still rises every August, though
the little wharf at "Kendrigan's Landing" has decayed away, as human artifacts will do. He was a skilled
repairer of watches at Tiffany's in New York; she was a notable maker of doughnuts. One day they had a local hurricane
which "cut a broad swath", sweeping away tents and larger effects, but Mrs. Kendrigan's doughnuts stood
firm. Mr. and Mrs. Kendrigan died in the winter of 1907-1908 and left no heirs. The little property reverted to
the State of New Hampshire and was bought by my husband. The house was moved across the frozen lake on sledges
in the early spring of 1908 and has been the Wildcat Cabin ever since. You can see the word "Kendrigan"
on the door.
The doughnut story was attested by their first caller after the hurricane, George Harper Coughlin (later to be
the father of David and McLean and of the baby Blake Icy, who was kidnapped); he was the son of dear "Uncle
George" and "Aunt Florrie" Coughlin, and cousin of very dear Mary and (Dr.) Bruce McCreary and their
daughter Nancy. (Mrs. McCreary was Mary Harper, sister of Professor George Harper of Princeton, President Wilson's
close friend, the one who has been famous for resarch on Wordsworth.) Nancy at the age of four was my husband's
special little girl pet; he called her his "little bride", and other cajoling titles, she in turn was
persuaded to eat her supper by watching for "Coleman" to appear, the picture of a man on the porridge
plate, revealed when all was eaten. And that is our own Nancy McCreary.
There were the clever Misses Anna and Bertha Laws, sisters of Mrs. Coates Coleman, one of them from the Congressional
Library in Washington; and a Miss Edna Morse, who must have been nice, for she made delightful pen and ink sketches
of the mountains. Then there was a niece (or cousin) of Dr. and Mrs. Beeber, Miss Louise Boynton, who for many
years was secretary to the distinguished actress, Maude Adams, and general aide and friend and interpreter of French
backgrounds for "L'Aiglon" and "Chantecleer" for her, whom I met and enjoyed later when Miss
Adams was playing in Baltimore, (during the fifteen years when we did not go to the theatre; my father and mother
and sisters used the box at the theatre that she gave us!). Another friend of the Beebers and of my husband, who
came to be a very special friend of mine also, when we visited her and her two sisters in San Francisco, --was
Miss Lottie Woods, "Aunt Lottie" to our three children,--and one of the finest. Dr. and Mrs. Beeber lived
in Woodcroft, and Mrs. Beeber told me that when they went to Camp early in the Spring, the wild flowers were so
many that "no bird could step" without stepping on a flower. Mrs.
Beeber was a great lover of flowers and of people, beloved and mourned by all when she died in 1910 when Catherine
was a baby; especially by dear Dr. Beebet, who was our Pastor in Norristown until his illness in 1918. He was very
fond of children and always referred to our three as "choice little spirits" and said that Horace Junior
had a "Websterian dome". All these friends were among the early group at Camp, previous to 1908, but
I do not know in what years they came.
There was a Mr. VanDyke of one of the Lumber Companies, and his sister, Miss VanDyke, whose bureau she left to
Mrs. Stone, and Mrs. Stone to me; it is my bureau in the Ch&let. Also Dr. and Mrs. Kimball, of Concord, New
Hampshire, and their daughter Louise, who came back again in 1914 and in 1940. Also, (I think), splendid Dr. John
Finley, who went to Jerusalem with General Allenby and wrote the well-known account of that entry; later Superintendent
of Education in New York City (or State?) Schools, who died only this last winter, 1940. He was president in early
life of Knox College at Galesburg, Illinois,--and possibly went to Camp; at least he was known to my husband through
Dr. Cushing, who taught for a while in Knox College and later had a school of his own in Connecticut, and who lived
at the Lord Jeffrey Inn at Amherst in Hig's and John's day. (Dr. Cushing certainly went to Camp, but query: where
did Mr. Coleman first know Dr. Cushing?) There was a Major McFarland, whose champion fish I think it is, still
portrayed in burnt wood over the dining-room door.
Building went on apace, kitchen, dining-room, icehouse, and eventually the "bath" houses, with hot water
from the kitchen, were added or revised. There were little "summer houses" at the Lake and at the south
side of Hillcrest, since defunct. There was a wharf and one boathouse. All the buildings now standing were installed
before 1908, at least in part. Up until at least 1911, water was carried daily in primitive fashion to all the
cabins except Fisherman's Lodge and the Bee Hive.
Now we are effete. And in 1941, if we live, we are to see electric light in the Chalet,--O tempora, 0 mores,-mutatis
mutandis,--mirabile dictu. This is beyond belief and bearing. It was installed about 1920 along the "Street"
and in all the buildings except the four "hillside cabins". We "in the suburbs" on the hillside,
were at least faithful to the oil lamps for some twenty years longer than the so called "city dwellers"
on or near the street. (I recall Mrs. Speer's dismay when she first saw one dim remote crude electric bulb, the
outpost of civilization, swinging from the ceiling of Arden, sans shade, sans cheer, sans anything, over the center
table which had glowed with the soft home light of the oil lamp, and around which so many books had been read aloud,
so many bars of Maillard's chocolate eaten; and the speed with which she requested the return of the old oil lamp
from the ash heap, so to speak,--for "auxiliary power", as a yachtsman would say. But now that our eyes
are growing dim we are thankful for all that civilization can do to light us on).
The climate was much colder a generation ago. For years even after I first went, we wore heavy "golf skirts",
old "golf capes", if anyone had reserved them from the days of fashion for that purpose, and heavy coats.
In the evening we piled on sweaters. High black shoes of course were universal. I seem to connect the arrival of
white shoes and summer dresses with the Histines, and with Mrs. Bridges' first visit (who returned again in 1940).
But in fact the cutting down of so much timber by the lumber companies has altered the climate in that entire region
for the warmer--(and the guests for softer?).
Much fishing was done. The picture of Mr. Snyder with a big string of fish all caught before breakfast dates from
just a few years later. Mr. Speer had a tent on the edge of the lake for writing sermons. (Cf. his poem in the
Chalet archives about watching Dr. John Douglas Adam catch "two hundred pounds of Stone", from that vantage.)
Mr. Stone built a little wooden shelter behind Stony Point for the same Purpose,-- (sermons, not fish or verse).
The influence of the Taylors continued. Through them Mr. Coleman met the Frosts and brought them from Toronto,
first to Norristown, where their youngest child Folger was a room-mate of my two sons, in the sense that he was
born there in the same room at 1326 DeKalb Street in which they later saw the light of day. At about 1904 or 1905
the Frosts began to develop the C. I. M. Center around Philadelphia and Germantown. I do not know whether they
were at Camp except for the season of 1910, but they have been dear friends and guides to us all throughout the
entire period.
This chapter might have been called "Trends". Personally, I question whether my husband's experience
at the Ecumenical Conference in 1900 was quite as cataclysmic as it seemed to him,---or as he made it seem to us.
His modesty forbade his giving his own prayer and industry and faithfulness any emphasis; but we know that he was
already an earnest Christian and in the line of duty. I think he was in process of developing and was being prepared
for new responsibility and would have entered into larger Christian interests somehow if these had not come so
suddenly through the C.I.M. The thing that impresses me, however, is the enormous reward that did come from such
a small step as the attending of that Conference in 1900; the crucial nature of every step and turning point, and
the rewards that are waiting for those who turn their faces "towards goodness and towards God". (Phrase
from Bishop Paget, of Oxford, in "The Spirit of Discipline"). He entered a new world which never failed
him. As my children know, he was one who did not go forward "until the pillar of cloud should lift".
It is a delight to think what opportunity and responsibility, what friendships, what experiences of this world's
far shores, and of the presence of God, came to a young man who prayed and simply did his duty.
Even in his business life he felt that he was kept afloat and forwarded by more favoring winds than he would ever
have asked or thought, through the agency of the prayers of these friends. Even in his domestic life, we may say
that if he had not asked the Speers to come to Camp, they would not have asked the Stones, and certainly the Stones
would not have asked the former "missionary secretary" of Brown Memorial to come,--and in that case where
would he have found his wife, his home, and their three children?
These are grave questions,--or perhaps idle ones,my little children,-- (as Saint John, the Apostle, would not have
hesitated to call the mature men and women who are my sons and daughter). Never fear, his prayers will be answered
in God's time, and those of his praying friends, --perhaps "in this life also, an hundred-fold",--but
somewhere in God's universe I make no doubt. You are all the children of prayer. (But don't rely on it! Add your
own prayers.)