I have left thee, home and homeland, I have bade thy joys adieu But, my heart, my heart is with thee, For I know thy heart is true.

Now I know how great thy soul is, Know its depths, so deep, so mild.

Dear and tender home and homeland, Pray, pray for your wandering child.

So I smile--the Father's calling To a land beyond the sea, To the weary heavy-laden, Who are groaning to be free.

Yield I? Yes, I once was weary, Heavy-hearted and oppressed; Yield because Christ died to save me, Yield because he gave me rest.

With such glorious love to lead me Can my heart its thrilling tell?

Home and homeland, I have left you; Dear and tender, fare you well!"

Thus after her varied experiences, we find the young bride's poetic fancy slipping past the grandeur of the ocean life, its terrible storm and its terrible calm; she remembers not now the beautiful castle with its orchid gate, nor thinks of the family of ten who are to return to their peasantry in the stately rural life of Old England; nor of the wonders of the British Isles; it is Kentucky that claims her deepest love and sincerest tribute--And if her ears ring to the melody of "Old Kentucky Home," a voice seems to speak, breaking its way through the music with--"Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature."

At last, the Oriental casts anchor in Hobson's Bay. The voyage is ended, the experiences in a foreign land are to begin. The Carrs are urged by many of the second-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers to report the conduct of Captain Myles, but they let his insolence to them pa.s.s with the pa.s.sing of unfavorable winds that have so long delayed the ship. At this entrance into a new life, they are saddened to discover that the Captain has persuaded the rich young man to go back with him--to refuse even to land. He has not yet been completely stripped at the gambling table, and he is so valuable and tractable a victim, that all arts are employed to feed his vanity and alienate him from his guardian. It is a fearful disappointment to the st.u.r.dy Scot, Duncan, to be deprived of his travels in Australia, but he will not leave his weak-minded charge; so he turns his back on the land to see which, he has endured contumely and abuse, and sails away to do all he can to save his ward from the Captain's rapacity--thus furnishing the Carrs with an example of fidelity to his promise made to the sisters of the unfortunate man, which they treasure in their hearts.

A hundred members of the church have come from Melbourne to Hobson's Bay, to welcome the missionaries. Among them, the happiest is Oliver's fellow-student at Harrodsburg, G. L. Surber.

"For many months we have been waiting to hear if some sacrificing ones would leave the United States for this country--" as he and Gore had left, a few years before. "Then at last," he writes, "we were rejoiced to hear that Brother O. A. Carr and wife had left Liverpool for Melbourne. Our anxiety was to see them in health. For a fortnight we read the daily papers eagerly, hoping to hear from them. At last our suspense was relieved by a telegram--the Oriental had entered the Head, which const.i.tutes the entrance to the port of Melbourne, about 45 miles from the city. When I heard the news, I felt as I never felt before.

Now, I thought, my long loneliness is to end, and the cause of Christ can be more fully met! I could not help weeping, but it was the weeping of a rejoicing soul. My brethren in America do not appreciate their blessings. What wonder that I, cast, as it were, upon a distant island, almost alone, should rejoice at the coming of a co-laborer!"

He continues: "After receiving the telegram, September 2nd, a number of brethren with myself went to the port, and took a skiff and went out to meet them. After rowing about till nearly sunset, we learned that the Oriental wouldn't cast anchor till the next day. So early the next morning we again made our way to the landing; by this time the brethren had begun to gather from all parts of the city and suburbs. At eight o'clock that spring morning, we went aboard--" It must be borne in mind that the Australian spring begins in September.

"Brother Carr didn't know I was there until I laid my hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to him. Picture that meeting, if you can! Here in this foreign land I grasped the hand of the dear companion of my school-days! What thrilling joy! Sister Carr was soon rejoicing with us.

Blessed be our Heavenly Father, for bringing them safely across the seas!

"After a few moments their luggage was in our boat and we were rowing to the pier where we found a throng of brothers and sisters waving handkerchiefs, and praising G.o.d for his goodness. With what rejoicing the Christians grasped the hands of the missionaries, as they stepped on sh.o.r.e! There was no time for introductions, none waited for that; but such a shaking of hands, and welcoming of Brother and Sister Carr, was enough to move the angels to rejoice. In a few minutes they had taken the train for the city; then in a cab I took them to my residence, where they are now resting from their hardships, soothed by the climate, and delighting, after months upon the deep, in the bloom of peach and plum, and the blossoming of our spring gardens."

Thus G. L. Surber writes home that Benj. Franklin of the Christian Church may publish the letter; thus he writes, until he corrects and polishes up the sentences, changing his "We made our way to the landing"

to--"we turned our faces," etc. and scratching out "waving handkerchiefs" for something about "open hearts." But we make nothing of his careful remoulding of ideas, nor give a snap for his "open heart."

The handkerchiefs shall wave in this history--let them stream to the breeze, each a white fluttering banner of peace and love, raised above the heads of this vanguard of Christian soldiers, this beautiful spring morning of September 3rd, 1868.

[7] Just then, it seemed that every one on the ship "cared": That drunken, card-playing priest proposed to say "ma.s.s for the poor boy's soul"; but Captain Myles said: "None of your foolishness here". I could not escape the thought that he would have "read ma.s.s", if it had been in the Prayer-book, whether foolishness or not; for the ship's Captain is ordained to read the church service, or to appoint some one to read it.

That desire to do something, springing from a feeling of helplessness and grief seems natural to mortals and cries out most pitilessly when faith is absent. I doubt not it was as sincere as any prayer ever uttered when Luther wanted to "say ma.s.s for the soul" of his mother. I had seen the poor boy cuffed about deck, driven to his hard task, beaten with a broom, and had remonstrated in vain. Between the priest with his rollicking ditties, gambling and drunkenness and the boy there was a great gulf fixed on that ship. "No a.s.sociation with second-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers" was the edict; and was not the priest first-cla.s.s? and the boy, what was he? He had hidden himself among the boxes in the ship's hold at Liverpool to be taken any where, perhaps, out of the world, and so it was. That boy, that scene, what led to it and what followed, Mrs.

Carr never forgot--"A neglected one, a prodigal, it may have been, but still a human; he needed something other than sacerdotal robes to show him that you are the servants of the Most High." Yes, she "cared" and so do I, even to this day. O. A. C.

CHAPTER X.

LIFE IN MELBOURNE.

The Carrs were formally welcomed to Melbourne, the evening of the day on which they landed, by a church tea meeting. We shall speak of it in detail, that a general notion may be gleaned of this popular Australian church social.

"Tea on the Tables at Half-past Six," is the way the invitation-cards read. We a.s.semble in the bas.e.m.e.nt. There are four tables, running the entire length of the Chapel (we are not to say "church" when speaking of a house.) Not alone is tea "on the tables." Here we find a bountiful repast, garnished forth with beautiful flowers fresh from our gardens.

After tea, we present the flowers to our guests of honor. By eight o'clock we have eaten, shaken hands, talked informally with every one, and are ready to adjourn to the auditorium. Here we listen to the Chairman's address, and the addresses of five others, including O. A.

Carr and G. L. Surber. The congregation sings three hymns, the Singing Cla.s.s renders another; we have, also, two anthems, and, after the benediction, feel that we have been to a Tea Meeting, indeed.

A few years ago, the Cause in Australia was very weak. Now the pressing need is laborers. The Melbourne Church is strong enough to divide; Surber will preach at the Chapel; a hall will be rented for $400 in gold, in which O. A. Carr will preach; thus forming a nucleus in two remote points in the great city. The speakers at the tea meeting are strong in their faith, and with good reason. Last year the church gave for home and foreign missions, and local expenses, $4000 in gold.

We have never had any trouble with expenses, because each of us does something--each one! that is our secret of success. Far away in Adelaide, Gore and Earl are laboring; here in Melbourne, Carr and Surber--four evangelists for Australia. But, as we shall see, all the preaching is not done by the evangelists. And what of Mrs. Carr? At this very first tea meeting we speak of a school for Sister Carr. "We expect in a few months to see her devoting all her time to the high calling of teaching."

Thus the new work is inaugurated. Not for the writer is the labor of seeking lodgings, or a house which will serve also as a school; not for the reader the weary days of forming an establishment, of settling down to the necessary routine of daily living, of forming grooves in which one may run automatically, the better to give the mind to higher things than food and a roof.

We are in a land where all is strange and new; but when we leave it, all shall have become familiar, and much of it dear. The reader need but glance along the peaks that rise out of the level plain of daily experiences--one tea meeting for him, to fifty for the Carrs; a few characters to be learned from among the thousands who cross the paths of the young missionaries.

One might crowd a large book with the people who come and go, never to return, people important in their own orbits, no doubt, but quite futile to ours. Happy would it be for us and ours, if all the time we scatter among the moving mult.i.tudes of life, we might concentrate upon the few who are to abide in our hearts and memory. But that is not to be while life is life; however, it may be reasonably accomplished in book-land.

So, of these hundreds and hundreds of letters before me, whose signatures are but the labels of so many shadows--impersonal spirits who did nothing but write and vanish--we can select only those of a few men who seem to breathe the same air that envelops our princ.i.p.al characters.

Such a breathing reality appears in John Augustus Williams, so real in his profound faith in the dignity of teaching, that the chalk-dust seems to swing above his head as a sort of material halo.

To him we find Mrs. Carr writing: "We reached Melbourne in early September, after a long voyage of 104 days! Contrary winds kept us in the Irish Channel a fortnight; but we kept our spirits up, resolved to be content-subjects of the winds. We drifted within sight of the South American sh.o.r.es. We sailed many miles along the mango and palm-wreathed coast of Brazil. We are well and ready for work. Brother Surber was very happy to see us, and the church gave us a most cordial greeting. I will write brother Joe a description of the voyage; you can exchange letters with him. I enclose a little flower and leaf of woodruff. I plucked it at the foot of the south tower of the royal entrance to Canarvon Castle, on Menia Straits, opposite Anglesey. In that castle, the first prince of Wales was born, April 25, 1284."

T. J. Gore writes to the newcomers from Adelaide, South Australia: "I am aware of your arrival in Melbourne. You do not know how I long to see you both--you come from old Kentucky--may Heaven's richest blessings rest upon that dear state! It is hard to realize that here so near, are two live Kentuckians from my far-away home. You will find conditions and customs very different here from America; but it is the Lord's harvest; moreover, Melbourne contains a great many Americans; here in Adelaide, my eyes are hardly ever blessed by the sight of one, but I console myself with the thought that though I am far from my native land I am still in the Kingdom of the Lord. No doubt you and Surber are now talking over days of long ago, at Kentucky University.

"Brother Carr! how I should love to fold you to my heart! Tell Sister Carr she need not fear the hot winds; they are quite harmless. Brother Earl preaches to big audiences Sunday evening at White's a.s.sembly room; he has not found a church yet. Tell Sister Carr she deserves great credit for leaving her home, and coming so far, all for the sake of His Word. My thoughts go to Keith in Louisville, and Albert Myles in Cincinnati. I wish we had an evangelist in New Zealand. Write me something for the _Pioneer_" (which he is editing). "Brother Santo wishes you both much happiness and great success." (Gore has found a sweetheart,--"Brother Santo's" daughter; which gives him a firmer position from which to protest against homesickness.)

At the conclusion of the first sermon preached by O. A. Carr in Australia, two made the good confession. During his ministry in the colonies, he found conversions the rule, while the exception became rarer and rarer, of preaching without visible results. He had not found a house to rent when a letter was received from one who was to take an interesting part in his life--Thomas Magarey, an Englishman, who had settled in Southern Australia:

"Now that you are enjoying a little relaxation from the call of visitors upon your arrival, I may venture an epistle of congratulation upon your safe arrival. May you and Sister Carr be spared to present the old and glorious Gospel. I read your article in the _Review_, and laughed at the alarm of the church at Birmingham, lest any one should 'drop a penny in their collection.' We have very little cause for alarm upon that score, here in South Australia. I have heard that you both are suffering from homesickness. I had that complaint for about twenty years.

"Unfortunately, every one in Australia has suffered from it more or less and, like seasickness, it meets with no sympathy. I never could understand why the most disheartening of complaints should receive no commiseration, but so it is. I cannot think your disease very violent, for the best authorities say, those love home best who have least reason to do so. Thus the Irishman suffers more from leaving his land of potatoes than the Englishman his beef and plum pudding. I need not tell you that the best remedy is constant employment. This is not our home--we are all pilgrims and strangers. My son, just now, was instructing his little brothers and sisters upon Astronomy. I heard him say that from Jupiter, this earth of ours could not be seen. Humiliating thought!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fern Brake, Near Melbourne]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fern Tree Gully]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Australian Home--Martin Zelius]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Prince's Bridge, Melbourne]

The man who writes thus abruptly, treading upon the tender susceptibilities of Kentucky pilgrims, calls for more than pa.s.sing mention. When hundreds flocked to the Australian gold fields, Thomas Magarey established a mill, and sold flour to the prospectors. Gold was found in abundance, and easily parted with; but while others dug it from the earth, Magarey ground his meal and watched the yellow tide as it came his way. "Twenty years of homesickness," on his part, was well rewarded. He owned a palatial home in South Australia, was immensely wealthy, and was a Member of Parliament.

His religious life was diverted into its present channel by reading articles by Alexander Campbell and Walter Scott in the _Christian Baptist_. His brother, some time before the coming of the Carrs to Australia, perished in a fire at sea. Thomas took his brother's family into his own home, where all live as one. His sheep ranch, his cattle, his horses, his milling business, his civic affairs, occupied the greater part of the day, but his evenings were spent with his wife and children.

On Sundays two carriages took them to church in the morning, to Sunday-school in the afternoon, to preaching at night. At the Governor's receptions, the jewels of the Magareys flashed with the costliest; at church, their garments were as simple as the simplest. And if there was no preacher, as indeed was usually the case in this land where preachers were so scarce, Thomas Magarey addressed the congregation, after the Australian manner.

The better to understand this manner, let us return to the Carrs, and take a brief view of their religious life. As we have seen, the preacher delivered a sermon only on Sunday nights. The primary object of the Sunday morning service was the observance of the Lord's Supper. For the Church of Christ, in its desire to do just as the Christians did in Apostolic times, met on the first day of the week to break bread, not "to keep the Sabbath day holy", which they said had been done away, with the old dispensation, but to celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

Besides the communion service on Sunday morning, there would be exhortations to religious life by laymen, who had been appointed a month in advance. These men took pride in preparing brief addresses which they hoped might prove edifying; and so general was the custom, that if the minister failed to be present, his absence was unfelt. Such a custom tended to build up a permanent and fervid religious sentiment in the very heart of the congregation--a speaking Christianity which business men carried during the week into their shops and offices.

The congregation would a.s.semble promptly in the morning, and, a minute or two before eleven o'clock, would sit with bowed heads. Exactly at eleven, all would rise to their feet, and lift up some familiar hymn such as "Safely through another week, G.o.d has brought us on our way."

Among the five hundred there were not a dozen silent mouths. Following the hymn, a chapter would be read from the Old Testament, another from the New. A third layman would announce a hymn, usually reading it; a fourth would lead in prayer. Still another would preside at the table, to be followed by those appointed for short addresses.