inister showed a
certain indulgence, and so long as his wife lived he never employed the
paraphrases in the solemn worship of the sanctuary. She was a woman of
provident mind. Shortly after they were married he made the discovery
that she had prepared the grave clothes for him as well as for herself.
Too soon, after only eight years, it was her fate to be shrouded in
them. After her death--probably because of her death--John Eckford
emigrated to Canada.

To one who knows the early days in Canada there is nothing new in
the story of this family. They landed in Montreal July 11th, 1851,
forty-four days out from Glasgow. They proceeded by steamer to Hamilton,
the fare being about a dollar for each passenger. The next stage was
to Guelph; then on to Durham, and finally they came to the end of their
journeying near Walkerton in Bruce County in the primeval forest, from
which they cut out a home for themselves and for their children.

It was "the winter of the deep snow". One transcription from the record
will disclose the scene:

At length a grave was dug on a knoll in the bush
at the foot of a great maple with a young snow-laden hemlock at the side.
The father and the eldest brother carried the box
along the shovelled path. The mother close behind was followed
by the two families. The snow was falling heavily. At the grave
John Eckford read a psalm, and prayed, "that they might be enabled
to believe, the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting
unto them that fear Him."

John McCrae himself was an indefatigable church-goer. There is a note in
childish characters written from Edinburgh in his thirteenth year, "On
Sabbath went to service four times." There the statement stands in all
its austerity. A letter from a chaplain is extant in which a certain
mild wonder is expressed at the regularity in attendance of an officer
of field rank. To his sure taste in poetry the hymns were a sore trial.
"Only forty minutes are allowed for the service," he said, "and it is
sad to see them 'snappit up' by these poor bald four-line things."

On Easter Sunday, 1915, he wrote: "We had a church parade this morning,
the first since we arrived in France. Truly, if the dead rise not, we
are of all men the most miserable." On the funeral service of a friend
he remarks: "'Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God,'--what a
summary of the whole thing that is!" On many occasions he officiated in