Robert Grey
Robbie Grey was brought to Canada on August 7 1871 by Annie MacPherson. He was taken to the first Marchmont Home in Bellville. Marchmont would be the name given to three of her homes, two which were destroyed by fire. Robbie would perish in the fire in January 1872 which took the first home. Following the fire the second Marchmont home was established on another street in Bellville. This home would also burn. A third would be built on it site.
"BELLEVILLE, January 29, 1872.
"DEAREST ANNIE,—It is indeed difficult to begin a letter to you, when I know you always open our letters feeling sure of good news. And yet this one brings you the best you ever had. Lives spared, I trust, to work more than ever for Him who hath done such great things for us. Our song is one of continual thankfulness and praise, and I know you will join us in giving thanks. Our beautiful Home lies in ruins, only the walls standing, and there is one little grave dug by Benjamin Stanley's, containing the ashes of little Robbie Gray.
"I hardly know how to begin, it still seems so terrible and real.
"We had had a happy Sabbath. We were to have an early breakfast next morning, and I awoke in the night thinking it was daylight. Miss Baylis came to my door, which was shut, saying, 'Miss Bilbrough, there's smoke!'
"I jumped up, and oh, the feeling, when I saw the house full of dense white smoke! I knew well what it must be. I rushed to Mr. Thorn's room, he was sleeping heavily, but I roused him, saying the house was on fire; then I went down to the boys, Philips and Keen, who were in the schoolroom, called them up and told them to save the children, and rushed upstairs, nearly choked, calling 'Fire!'
"Mrs. Wade, Miss Baylis, Miss Moore, all came out. Downstairs I ran again and unfastened the front door, and went to the corner of the verandah. Philips was getting out the children, and the flames were coming on with frightful rapidity; it was blowing a perfect hurricane, and the whole building was enveloped in smoke and ashes; I ran back half-way upstairs to see if I could get a dress, or my cash-box, or watch, but I was too much suffocated, and had to get back to the front door. Mrs. Wade, Miss Baylis, and the children, were making for the fence. I saw Mr. Thorn, and called to him to search again with Philips for the children.
"The intense cold in the snow seemed almost worse to bear than fire. We all climbed the fence and ran to the nearest house. Poor Mrs. Wade had got her hands frozen, even in that short time, as the thermometer was about twelve or fifteen degrees below zero.
"Here we called over the names of the children; some were here, some in another house, sitting over the stove with bare legs and only their little shirts on. Soon little Robbie was found missing, but Philips had lifted him out, and he had been seen running with the others; we suppose that the poor child, blinded with smoke, ran to the front door, and then went through into the schoolroom, the place he knew best, where he must soon have been suffocated. It was all over in a few minutes, all around was fearfully bright and lurid. The engine came, but was of course too late, the fire spread with such terrible rapidity.
"We sat almost stunned with fright and cold. Soon the Shearings and Elliotts came, bringing clothes, &c., and we went to dear Mrs. Elliott's house in a sleigh. It was not four A.M., and the fire was almost out, burning round the verandah and the window-sills.
"Oh, how our hearts went up in thankfulness to God for sparing mercies! A few moments more, and we dread to think of what might have been. Miss Baylis' door being ajar, the smoke got in; mine was shut, my room was free, but I saw the light on the window. Miss Moore was in Miss Lowe's bedroom; she could not realise it, and, after being first roused, was going to bed again.
"As soon as it was daylight I went with Mr. Thorn to see the ruins. All around the melted snow had frozen like iron; the thermometer, which was hung on the verandah, was found uninjured; nothing was found but a table and one stove; all gone. Books, papers, clothes, everything; but there in the blackened ruin lay distinctly the charred frame of little Robbie. Mr. Thorn went for Dr. Holden and a coffin, and the remains were brought to Mr. Elliott. Dear little fellow, he was the most prepared of any of the little ones to go. This is such a comfort to me now.
"I had gathered the little ones round me in the evening before the fire, when the others were at church, and we had sung some sweet hymns. I made Robbie especially stand beside me, and made him sing alone. 'I will sing for Jesus,' was the hymn he chose. He sang it sweetly. How little did I think in a few hours he would be singing the 'new song' before the throne! His history in our book is very touching. 'Robert Gray, aged six; a happy little man, who can say little or nothing about himself.' The rest of the page is blank, as he had never been away from Marchmont. An inquest was held over the body. We wished it especially, so that we might have an investigation as to the cause of the fire.
"Dearest Annie, when I think what it might have been, and the grief of all at home, and the intense sorrow, oh, it makes one so thankful! I felt Jesus very precious through it all, recognising His hand in so many ways. I had had much blessed communion with Him that Sunday, and several seasons of sweet prayer. I can fully realise that for me it would have been all right, if the Lord had ordered it otherwise; but for the sake of those at home I bless God for life spared, and trust earnestly the Lord may give us all increased power and spiritual life. Having passed through 'the fire,' may we also receive the baptism of the Holy Ghost. And oh, may our lives be more and more devoted to His service! Not our own, but bought with a price, may we live more and more unto Him who hath loved us!
"Miss Moore was out at nine o'clock in the woodshed; all was safe then. Mrs. Wade locked the doors at ten with stable lantern in the wood-shed (the boys' summer dining-room), and then all was safe; the fire in the kitchen stove was out. She came shivering in to-prayers a little after ten. The parlour fire was nearly out, and Miss Baylis and I were quite cold. The fire upstairs was not lit, nor had any ashes been taken up on Sunday morning. If any had been removed on Saturday, they were placed in iron vessels in the first kitchen. The fire broke out in the further corner of the wood-shed. The cause is so far quite unknown, and will, I suppose, ever remain so.
"I send you the account of the inquest, and other papers, as I know well it is better to see and know all particulars. I cannot, however, tell of all the kindness and sympathy we have met with—a telegram from Mr. Claxton, offering money, &c., Hon. George Alien wishing to take the children; Mr. Eason: 'I am praying for you, can I help by coming?' numbers of friends coming with clothes of every kind; subscriptions got up to start a new Home immediately; sewing societies at work and ladies canvassing the town in every direction for help to furnish another Home at once. I could not even begin to particularise our friends. Mr. Flint came up at eight, begging me to come to his house.
"This afternoon we have buried little Robin. The service was held in Mr. Elliott's church.
"How often we have thought of home friends during the last few days, and longed that you might not hear the news in any way till this reaches you, which will be nearly three weeks! and now you must fancy us happy at our work again, and as much under the loving care and protection of our God as ever, trusting only to Him for everything, that whether absent from the body, or still in the flesh, we may be more and more filled with faith and love for the Lord's work.
"Wednesday. We seem each day to realise only more fully our marvellous escape. The firemen say they never remember such a night, nor saw a house burn so rapidly. Now every one is so kind; things keep pouring in for the new Home;—it is to be Canadian this time, not English. Mr. Flint says he has written to you, telling you all, but he could not tell you one quarter of the kindness we have met with on every hand.
"Oh, that verse in Isaiah 64.II, is so expressive:
"'Our beautiful house where we praised Thee is burnt up with fire, and all our pleasant things are laid waste.' What a ruin Marchmont is now! the blackened ashes all around—nothing but the walls standing. I feel such mingled feelings as I look at it—all the happy days we have spent there—the holy associations never to return again.
"'We have no continuing city here,' was the text which filled Mr. Thorn's mind, and it is one we hope more than ever to keep before us. This trial seems to have given the four of us deeper sympathy and interest together. So nearly entering eternity together, and yet saved, we trust, to render more devoted service to the Master, for having passed through this fiery trial.
"I can hardly bear to think of all the sorrow you are feeling for us; but oh! let thanksgiving and praise be uppermost. It is the one thought that fills our minds. We are wonderful in health, no cold, and are as occupied as possible, looking after the children, and preparing for the new Home. Happily, Charlie the horse, the sleigh, and the buffalo robes are safe, and most useful we find them now.
"I am so thankful that it will be nearly three weeks ere you know, and you must think of it as past and gone, and, if possible, just at first see the beginning of great good in making the work more known, and rousing the sympathies of others."
What, Marchmont gone!
That pleasant Home nought but a memory now;
And yet, in humble thankfulness we bow,--
Father, Thy will be done.
It was but lent:
Thou wilt not that Thy children fix their heart
On aught below: theirs is a better part--
A treasury unspent.
Still are its memories dear!
The maple shadows that around it lay,
Stirred by the breezes from the silvery bay,
Or bathed in moonlight clear--
How fair were they!
Lovely when decked with earliest buds of spring,
Loveliest when radiant autumn came to fling
A glory on each spray.
Oh home of praise and prayer!
Where glad sweet voices raised the morning hymn,
Pleaded for blessing in the twilight dim,
Or thrilled the midnight air.
Can we forget
The meetings and the partings we have known?
The welcome glad, the farewell's sadder tone--
Ah, we remember yet.
We were not there
When thro' its halls the fierce destroyer swept;
But God was watching, while our dear ones slept--
Safe were they in His care.
All safe with Him;
Yes, for our Robbie "sings for Jesus" now
In sweeter tones, with far more sunny brow,
And eyes no tear's can dim.
They wait His word--
Stanley and Robbie side by side—and we
Caught up together with them soon shall be
For ever with the Lord.
S. R. GELDARD.
"BELLEVILLE, January 29, 1872.
"DEAREST ANNIE,—It is indeed difficult to begin a letter to you, when I know you always open our letters feeling sure of good news. And yet this one brings you the best you ever had. Lives spared, I trust, to work more than ever for Him who hath done such great things for us. Our song is one of continual thankfulness and praise, and I know you will join us in giving thanks. Our beautiful Home lies in ruins, only the walls standing, and there is one little grave dug by Benjamin Stanley's, containing the ashes of little Robbie Gray.
"I hardly know how to begin, it still seems so terrible and real.
"We had had a happy Sabbath. We were to have an early breakfast next morning, and I awoke in the night thinking it was daylight. Miss Baylis came to my door, which was shut, saying, 'Miss Bilbrough, there's smoke!'
"I jumped up, and oh, the feeling, when I saw the house full of dense white smoke! I knew well what it must be. I rushed to Mr. Thorn's room, he was sleeping heavily, but I roused him, saying the house was on fire; then I went down to the boys, Philips and Keen, who were in the schoolroom, called them up and told them to save the children, and rushed upstairs, nearly choked, calling 'Fire!'
"Mrs. Wade, Miss Baylis, Miss Moore, all came out. Downstairs I ran again and unfastened the front door, and went to the corner of the verandah. Philips was getting out the children, and the flames were coming on with frightful rapidity; it was blowing a perfect hurricane, and the whole building was enveloped in smoke and ashes; I ran back half-way upstairs to see if I could get a dress, or my cash-box, or watch, but I was too much suffocated, and had to get back to the front door. Mrs. Wade, Miss Baylis, and the children, were making for the fence. I saw Mr. Thorn, and called to him to search again with Philips for the children.
"The intense cold in the snow seemed almost worse to bear than fire. We all climbed the fence and ran to the nearest house. Poor Mrs. Wade had got her hands frozen, even in that short time, as the thermometer was about twelve or fifteen degrees below zero.
"Here we called over the names of the children; some were here, some in another house, sitting over the stove with bare legs and only their little shirts on. Soon little Robbie was found missing, but Philips had lifted him out, and he had been seen running with the others; we suppose that the poor child, blinded with smoke, ran to the front door, and then went through into the schoolroom, the place he knew best, where he must soon have been suffocated. It was all over in a few minutes, all around was fearfully bright and lurid. The engine came, but was of course too late, the fire spread with such terrible rapidity.
"We sat almost stunned with fright and cold. Soon the Shearings and Elliotts came, bringing clothes, &c., and we went to dear Mrs. Elliott's house in a sleigh. It was not four A.M., and the fire was almost out, burning round the verandah and the window-sills.
"Oh, how our hearts went up in thankfulness to God for sparing mercies! A few moments more, and we dread to think of what might have been. Miss Baylis' door being ajar, the smoke got in; mine was shut, my room was free, but I saw the light on the window. Miss Moore was in Miss Lowe's bedroom; she could not realise it, and, after being first roused, was going to bed again.
"As soon as it was daylight I went with Mr. Thorn to see the ruins. All around the melted snow had frozen like iron; the thermometer, which was hung on the verandah, was found uninjured; nothing was found but a table and one stove; all gone. Books, papers, clothes, everything; but there in the blackened ruin lay distinctly the charred frame of little Robbie. Mr. Thorn went for Dr. Holden and a coffin, and the remains were brought to Mr. Elliott. Dear little fellow, he was the most prepared of any of the little ones to go. This is such a comfort to me now.
"I had gathered the little ones round me in the evening before the fire, when the others were at church, and we had sung some sweet hymns. I made Robbie especially stand beside me, and made him sing alone. 'I will sing for Jesus,' was the hymn he chose. He sang it sweetly. How little did I think in a few hours he would be singing the 'new song' before the throne! His history in our book is very touching. 'Robert Gray, aged six; a happy little man, who can say little or nothing about himself.' The rest of the page is blank, as he had never been away from Marchmont. An inquest was held over the body. We wished it especially, so that we might have an investigation as to the cause of the fire.
"Dearest Annie, when I think what it might have been, and the grief of all at home, and the intense sorrow, oh, it makes one so thankful! I felt Jesus very precious through it all, recognising His hand in so many ways. I had had much blessed communion with Him that Sunday, and several seasons of sweet prayer. I can fully realise that for me it would have been all right, if the Lord had ordered it otherwise; but for the sake of those at home I bless God for life spared, and trust earnestly the Lord may give us all increased power and spiritual life. Having passed through 'the fire,' may we also receive the baptism of the Holy Ghost. And oh, may our lives be more and more devoted to His service! Not our own, but bought with a price, may we live more and more unto Him who hath loved us!
"Miss Moore was out at nine o'clock in the woodshed; all was safe then. Mrs. Wade locked the doors at ten with stable lantern in the wood-shed (the boys' summer dining-room), and then all was safe; the fire in the kitchen stove was out. She came shivering in to-prayers a little after ten. The parlour fire was nearly out, and Miss Baylis and I were quite cold. The fire upstairs was not lit, nor had any ashes been taken up on Sunday morning. If any had been removed on Saturday, they were placed in iron vessels in the first kitchen. The fire broke out in the further corner of the wood-shed. The cause is so far quite unknown, and will, I suppose, ever remain so.
"I send you the account of the inquest, and other papers, as I know well it is better to see and know all particulars. I cannot, however, tell of all the kindness and sympathy we have met with—a telegram from Mr. Claxton, offering money, &c., Hon. George Alien wishing to take the children; Mr. Eason: 'I am praying for you, can I help by coming?' numbers of friends coming with clothes of every kind; subscriptions got up to start a new Home immediately; sewing societies at work and ladies canvassing the town in every direction for help to furnish another Home at once. I could not even begin to particularise our friends. Mr. Flint came up at eight, begging me to come to his house.
"This afternoon we have buried little Robin. The service was held in Mr. Elliott's church.
"How often we have thought of home friends during the last few days, and longed that you might not hear the news in any way till this reaches you, which will be nearly three weeks! and now you must fancy us happy at our work again, and as much under the loving care and protection of our God as ever, trusting only to Him for everything, that whether absent from the body, or still in the flesh, we may be more and more filled with faith and love for the Lord's work.
"Wednesday. We seem each day to realise only more fully our marvellous escape. The firemen say they never remember such a night, nor saw a house burn so rapidly. Now every one is so kind; things keep pouring in for the new Home;—it is to be Canadian this time, not English. Mr. Flint says he has written to you, telling you all, but he could not tell you one quarter of the kindness we have met with on every hand.
"Oh, that verse in Isaiah 64.II, is so expressive:
"'Our beautiful house where we praised Thee is burnt up with fire, and all our pleasant things are laid waste.' What a ruin Marchmont is now! the blackened ashes all around—nothing but the walls standing. I feel such mingled feelings as I look at it—all the happy days we have spent there—the holy associations never to return again.
"'We have no continuing city here,' was the text which filled Mr. Thorn's mind, and it is one we hope more than ever to keep before us. This trial seems to have given the four of us deeper sympathy and interest together. So nearly entering eternity together, and yet saved, we trust, to render more devoted service to the Master, for having passed through this fiery trial.
"I can hardly bear to think of all the sorrow you are feeling for us; but oh! let thanksgiving and praise be uppermost. It is the one thought that fills our minds. We are wonderful in health, no cold, and are as occupied as possible, looking after the children, and preparing for the new Home. Happily, Charlie the horse, the sleigh, and the buffalo robes are safe, and most useful we find them now.
"I am so thankful that it will be nearly three weeks ere you know, and you must think of it as past and gone, and, if possible, just at first see the beginning of great good in making the work more known, and rousing the sympathies of others."
What, Marchmont gone!
That pleasant Home nought but a memory now;
And yet, in humble thankfulness we bow,--
Father, Thy will be done.
It was but lent:
Thou wilt not that Thy children fix their heart
On aught below: theirs is a better part--
A treasury unspent.
Still are its memories dear!
The maple shadows that around it lay,
Stirred by the breezes from the silvery bay,
Or bathed in moonlight clear--
How fair were they!
Lovely when decked with earliest buds of spring,
Loveliest when radiant autumn came to fling
A glory on each spray.
Oh home of praise and prayer!
Where glad sweet voices raised the morning hymn,
Pleaded for blessing in the twilight dim,
Or thrilled the midnight air.
Can we forget
The meetings and the partings we have known?
The welcome glad, the farewell's sadder tone--
Ah, we remember yet.
We were not there
When thro' its halls the fierce destroyer swept;
But God was watching, while our dear ones slept--
Safe were they in His care.
All safe with Him;
Yes, for our Robbie "sings for Jesus" now
In sweeter tones, with far more sunny brow,
And eyes no tear's can dim.
They wait His word--
Stanley and Robbie side by side—and we
Caught up together with them soon shall be
For ever with the Lord.
S. R. GELDARD.
