WE HAD BEEN IN CAMP a little more than nine months, carrying on as I have tried to describe in the last chapter. Christmas had come and gone, and had been celebrated by a dinner of stewed duck. It had taken a lot of talking to persuade the authorities to indulge in such luxurious living, even for one meal; but rather grudgingly they consented, though they greatly reduced the number we felt to be required. And the guards further reduced this number by appropriating a goodly share, as they passed through the Camp gates. There was great excitement as to whether the ducks should be fried, or made into stew. Some of us felt it would be such an unspeakable relief to have one day in the year with a change from stew, that there was no question about it. Others, apparently, felt they just could not live if they did not have stew: so it was finally put to a general vote of the whole Camp, and I am sorry to tell you the "Stews" won out. However, it was Duck Stew, not S.O.S., and we all felt it to be a tremendous treat.
It was, I think, a day or so before the New Year, when the Headmaster of the Boys' School came over to our room, to ask me to teach Mathematics and Science in the Boys' School. I had never taught in my life, and it was nearly forty years since I had learned what now I would have to teach. My little class in the Girls' School, it is true, had rubbed me up a bit in Geometry; but with a few good girls, all keen to learn, one could hardly call it experience in teaching. I confess the request half frightened me to death, but for months I had so longed for the dear lads in our Camp, and it seemed so impossible to reach them, that it appeared as though this was the Lord's hand; and I could only accept. It was hoped to prepare for an Examination the following June, that would be a little above the standard of the Senior Cambridge Matriculation; and I believe the Education Committee felt that a teacher holding a B.Sc. Degree was essential for this work, if the Cambridge authorities were to sanction it. Apparently there was no other man in Camp with such a degree, and so the work fell on my shoulders.
I warned the Headmaster of my utter inexperience, and that years since I had forgotten all I was supposed to teach. However, he waved aside such objections as quite immaterial, and remarked that the only really hard thing about it was to make one's self heard. The Camp office and stenographers were just behind the boys: the Latin class was within three feet of the back of the Fourth Form, who were supposed to be learning either Math’s or Science. At the far side, the Fifth was having a very interesting story read aloud to them in their English lesson, and just at the master's back, in front of the boys, were the billets, little cubicles divided off by curtains or straw mats, where the ladies would often be holding an exciting conversation. "Yes," he said, "the hardest part is to make yourself heard. If you can do that, you can manage all right." I could only reply, "If that is the hardest part, it will not be hard for me: with over twenty-five years' experience with a deaf wife, I can easily outdo all the other noises, and keep it up all day.”
And so, almost without warning, without time to prepare, and almost without any text books, I found myself one morning facing the Fifth Form. Although I had been in Camp more than nine months, some of the boys I did not even know, or their names. I had not the vaguest idea how to begin, but they were a nice bunch of boys, and nobly came to my assistance. These boys, who were supposed to be preparing for the Exams, were terribly behind with their work, indeed there seemed to be a full year's work to be done in half the year. This rather solemnized them, and we had very little trouble. But the Fourth Form! I had heard of it of old. No words were adequate to describe the iniquities of the Fourth. They had no terror of an Exam; indeed, no terror of anything, as far as I could learn. It was a form of twenty or more boys, crowded together, with every imaginable distraction all around, and not the smallest desire to learn anything. There was supposed to be one outstanding boy, older and worse than any of the others. His name (I think he would not mind me telling you), was Raymond. He had been turned out of the School the year before. I am not very clear for what reason, whether it was age, or ignorance, or badness, I do not know. But he had pleaded to be given another trial, and so he arrived, and with him a note to say that at the first bit of trouble, he was to be instantly expelled. I suppose a boy such as that would at least arouse the interest of any schoolmaster. He was seventeen, a Jew, and carried with him a charming smile to disarm any sinister ideas one might form regarding him.
Having such a blackguard in the class, I put him right in the front, directly under my eye, yet to one side, where he could not do too much damage to the others. In the center of the second row was a sweet looking child. He appeared to be younger and more gentle than the other boys, with lovely wavy hair, a beautiful complexion, and dark blue eyes. He looked the sort of boy one felt should have been a girl; and in that uproarious crowd, I felt very sorry for him, and determined to do all I could to protect him. Little did I know that he was one of the moving spirits in all the mischief that went on. Next to him sat two brothers, P. i and P. ii.
Once a week the Camp Committee met in solemn conclave, and discussed the affairs of the Camp, and enacted such rules and regulations as they saw fit. They felt it to be of the most urgent necessity, that the Fourth Form should be perfectly quiet for the duration of their meeting. I wish some of them had had to teach that form, and they might not have indulged in such a fanciful desire. I think it was the first Committee meeting of the year, and it was my first lesson in Science for the form. We had no text books that were any use, and we had no apparatus; so I had to make up my own Science lessons. I began by asking them, "What is Science?" and of course they did not know. I pointed out to them that it came from a Latin word "Scio" which means "I know". (Here ensued as long an interruption as possible on the way "Scio" should be pronounced). I had looked up the meaning of "Science" in a Collins Dictionary, and all this I dictated to them, making them write it out in their "Science Note Books", with the hope this might keep them quiet. As far as I can remember, the definition of Science went something like this (I have no book to check up on it). "Science is a collection of observed facts..." (I forget the rest). I had got so far in dictating, and my form was really excelling itself for order, when suddenly, from my darling in the center of the second row, burst peal after peal of laughter. I asked him what was the matter, but he was speechless with amusement. The Headmaster was teaching a small Latin class next to me, and he turned with a terrible scowl. The Camp Committee all glared, and the English of the Fifth Form faded into oblivion. By this time, of course, all the twenty-odd boys of the class were in one great heap, keen to share in such a choice morsel as they felt sure there must be. I looked thunder at them, and finally got my boys quieted down; and my sweet boy, the tears running down his cheeks for laughter, said to me, "Oh, Sir, you know you told us to write, 'Science is a collection of observed facts'. P. ii has written, `Science is a collection of absurd facts'." I have to confess that I had an immense deal of sympathy for the culprit. And I also had to point out to the class P. ii was not nearly so far from the truth, as they thought he was. Very much of what people call "Science" today, is nothing more than a collection of absurd guesses. They are not facts, for a fact comes from another Latin word meaning something that is done, not guessed at.
That Fourth Form became very dear to me, and I earnestly hope and trust that some of those dear lads may have learned in those Science lessons what was I believe the most useful thing I learned at the University: that is, the difference between a fact and a theory. One of our old professors used to say: "Gentlemen, a Fact is like a stone wall. You may not like it, you may knock your head against it, but you will only break your head; you will never damage the stone wall." Such teaching does not seem very popular in many of our Universities today, or we would not hear men who ought to know better, trying to pass off "Theories" as "Facts". Dr. R. P. Hadden, one of our missionary doctors in China (now in Heaven), wrote an excellent little book some years ago, "Christian Evidences and Teaching". In the preface the author says: "The writer hopes that he has been able to apply faithfully the principle, early impressed upon him as a medical student, to distinguish clearly between Facts and Deductions from Facts. It is his strong conviction that the Bible has nothing to fear from Facts: and he also earnestly believes that it has nothing to fear from reasonable Deductions from Facts, provided only that all relevant Facts are taken into account." Might I commend a very earnest and serious consideration of these words of Dr. Hadden to my young friends especially, who may read this book.
We hear men say that Science contradicts the Bible. Never fear, when men talk like this. Remember, Science, True Science, has to do with Facts. In true Science men may, and can, say, "I know". There is no man living today who knows enough to be able to say, "I know" when he contradicts the Bible. It is his opinion. He thinks. He supposes. He tells us that all great scientists are agreed, and so forth. Remember, none of these things, nor all these things taken together, can take the place of that one little sentence, "I know". At a certain University a professor of Biology was continually talking about "The Fact of Evolution." A friend of the students sent a circular letter to every professor and student, pointing out that Evolution was not a Fact, and anybody who taught otherwise, must be either ignorant or dishonest. The following lecture in Biology began this way: "Gentlemen, I would of course like you to understand that Evolution is not a Fact, but a Theory.”
My lessons on Science, starting from the most fundamental principles, could hardly avoid references to the Creation: and it was a joy to be able to point out the perfect agreement between the account of Creation in Genesis, and what we believe to be the ascertained Facts of true Science. Many refuse to accept the Word of God because they have never examined with care what the Word of God says.
The first verse of Genesis reads: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." How He created them, or when, we are not told. In their simple majesty these few words describe the creation. But in the Book of Isaiah the Lord tells us a little more. In Chapter 45:18 (using the New Translation), we read: "Thus saith Jehovah who created the heavens, God himself who formed the earth and made it, he who established it, not as waste did he create it: he formed it to be inhabited.”
Turning again to the first Chapter of Genesis, we see that there is a break between verse one and verse two. In verse two (New Translation) we read: "And the earth was waste and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." Some terrible catastrophe had come between these two verses that had left the earth waste, empty and dark. We know from Isaiah that the Lord had not created it waste. The words in Hebrew are the same.
If we turn over now to the Book of Hebrews, Chapter 11:3, we read: "By faith we apprehend that the worlds were framed by the word of God." This word translated "framed" is the same Greek word translated "mending" in Matt. 4:2121And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their father, mending their nets; and he called them. (Matthew 4:21), where the disciples James and John were mending their nets. The word means to make a thing fit, or complete, or perfect. So in the remaining verses of the first of Genesis we find the account of how the Lord made fit (or, "mended") the world once more, by His Word.
I did not try to go into the details of the Scripture with my boys as I have done to you, but gave them the general outline of it: pointing out that true Science never contradicts the Scriptures.
Not more than two or three weeks went by, when a circular note was sent around the school advising the teachers that nobody except those teachers teaching English Literature would be allowed to refer to the Bible in the School.
I wrote the Educational Committee advising them that as I was a Christian, which meant a follower of Christ, I sought never to go where He was refused admittance; and under these circumstances I would find it impossible to continue to teach in the Boys' School.
It made rather an awkward position, as they could find nobody else with the qualifications for the work; so they graciously decided that I could continue when necessary to refer to the Bible. I found certain verses in the Proverbs most useful, and I think all my boys will remember all their lives that "Even a fool if he hold his peace is accounted wise." Quite a few of them have written these words out fifty times, to their sorrow. No, the Bible is not the Book to bar out of our schools.
Of all the boys in that Fourth Form I suppose the one who gave the least trouble was my Jewish friend, Raymond. To my joy, it was not long before he came to a knowledge of the Savior, our Lord Jesus, his Messiah. He bore a bright testimony to his Lord and G. S. (see page 104) was a great help to him. True, later on he did have a fall, but like another Jew, he could later say of the Good Shepherd, "He restoreth my soul.”
I could struggle along in Mathematics, and keep a little ahead of the boys: and even in Science we did scrape through, but quite without warning I was told I must also teach Geography to the Fourth. This floored me entirely, for I realized my knowledge of Geography was almost nothing. However, the Headmaster told me to keep them quiet, and try and teach them something, just what did not matter very much. So, with such latitude in my instructions, I took the only course open to me, and started on the Geography of Canada. I described its beauty, the mighty forests such as they had no conception of, forests where they might travel for months without meeting anyone. I told them of my surveying days, and of canoe trips, and portages and camping. A friend lent me a most delightful book of colored prints covering all Canada. My boys listened breathlessly, and often the difficulty was to get the class dismissed when the time was up. I think the Headmaster was a good deal perplexed as to just why the Fourth Form found Geography so entrancing. But I am not at all sure he would have approved of my "Geography", or would have passed it as orthodox; but it was a lesson above all others that I think we all enjoyed.
Life in camp had become increasingly busy. I gave up the work in the dining room and laundry when the school work came along, but was asked to keep up work on the bread and morning hot-water. Every spare moment was required for preparation or correcting exercises. The teaching periods were rather full, and as time went on more and more work was added. We were short of chalk, and some of our blackboards were very makeshift at best. We were short of paper for exercise books, many of the boys would go to the garbage pails each day to get the labels from empty tin cans that had been thrown away, and would do their homework on these. Nothing was done in pen and ink, and with the dim light, it was almost impossible to read exercises at night. There were very few suitable text books, and problems had to be prepared. All this helped to make the time pass quickly, and in many ways made life in camp more easy.
My sister found her teaching in the Girls' School congenial, for the most part; and the Head Mistress became a real "friend of the family." We had hoped and expected to carry on our work with the Greek Testament; for we had been told of the delightful times of leisure for study and private interests one found in camp; and for that reason had brought with us a large assortment of Greek Lexicons and such like books. I had arranged with an old Jewish friend to give me lessons in Hebrew, but, alas, the leisure never materialized. My sister spent all the time she could on the Greek Testament, and finished Alford's four large volumes while we were in camp. She also read Chinese regularly, with Mrs. S., who was a good Chinese scholar. A dear old German woman, who was very friendless, but I hope a real Christian, also was shepherded by reading with her. These things, with preparation and correction for the school, kept her days, like my own, very full.
The one for whom Camp was the hardest was my wife. Her deafness cut her off terribly from the general life of the Camp. In all the two years and a half that we shared a room, there was hardly an occasion when we had that room to ourselves, for even a few minutes. There was practically no chance when we could talk together without being overheard; and when we talked together on the most ordinary affairs of life, it meant that not only all the people in the court below would hear everything, but many in the adjoining rooms. There was nearly always a certain amount of grim humor going about the Camp, that took the edge off the tragedy of everything around, and almost all this was lost to my wife. Mrs. S. was a good friend indeed to her, and we can never sufficiently thank the Lord for sending her to our camp. Mrs. P. was another good friend, and Mrs. H., whose little family shared a room with the P.'s, was almost like a daughter. They lived just above us, so we often ran into each other's rooms. Birthdays or anniversaries came along, and each would try and make some little treat for the occasion; and now and then we would have a party and invite our special friends. Every Sunday after the Gospel Choruses, Mr. and Mrs. P. and C. would come in for a cup of coffee. This was made by putting some coffee grounds in a thermos bottle, and having hot water poured over them. These same coffee grounds kept having water poured over them, till no more color or taste appeared. That was the only time in the week we indulged in coffee, but I think all the time we were in Camp, we were provided with enough for this weekly treat. Mending, mending, mending, to try and keep our clothes from falling to pieces took a lot of my wife's time; and in her leisure she knitted or crocheted. But it was a long, terrible ordeal for her.
Some of the expedients to which we were driven would have amused you. You may recall a missionary who became mentally impaired, and who was at our house. His wife stayed with us for quite a few weeks, and when finally they got away to the United States, they left behind their mosquito net. It was one of the cheaper kinds, that did not have quite as many holes per square inch as the better varieties. Our own nets were none too strong, so we took this net to Camp with us. When I became almost desperate for shirts, my wife very ingeniously made me some excellent ones from this net, as well as underclothes. Footwear was perhaps the most serious problem, and some people were almost barefoot. My sister made herself a pair of sandals, with soles made by sewing together the straw rope that came around large packages sent into the Camp. It was generally thrown away or used to light the fires; but her sandals lasted quite well. The uppers she made by knitting the string that had tied other parcels.
I really do not know what we would have done without Major B. of the Salvation Army. He had most wisely brought up with him a good supply of shoe-mending supplies. He found a little corner in the Camp where he started a shoe-repair shop. Nearly everything in it was provided at the Major's own expense; but everything was free to those who needed help. Through cold and heat, early and late, Major B. sat in his little corner with a shoemaker's apron on, mending the shoes of the Camp. One and another gave him help from time to time, especially an English baronet, who did beautiful work. My wife still has a pair of shoes on which he put a most excellent pair of soles, made from the soles of worn-out rubber boots that had been thrown away.
I remember taking Major B. a pair of shoes that really were a hopeless case. He sadly shook his head, but the next day quietly handed me a much better pair than my own, that had been thrown away by a wealthy Jewish gentleman in Camp. Shoes were so terribly expensive when we left for Camp that I had not ventured to get a new pair, and all I had were rather old. I had one old pair of fur-lined boots (only cat's fur), that the shoemaker had by mistake made to button instead of lace. I had decided to have a very cheap sole put on them and send them to the Russians, who were in need, but my shoemaker would not hear of this. "No, No, Master; these plenty good boots. No can give Russian man. I put good sole on this time. Next time can give Russian man." So I obediently let my shoemaker fix them up as he wished; and how thankful I was in Camp for his good advice. One kind friend made me a present of a pair of good English running shoes, and these lasted a long time. When the uppers were completely gone, the soles went on the fur-lined boots, and prolonged their life: but many precious hours of our own time went into shoe-repairing, for the whole Camp grew more and more desperate, and the official menders could not begin to cope with the situation. One time when my sister was in great need, she was able to trade off something for a pair of very good slippers with our next door neighbor. Another time when I was almost desperate, a pair of shoes that just fitted me, arrived in a parcel from Shanghai. This was the work of our dear brother, Mr. F. And so, in one way or another, our every need was filled.