Miss Margaret MacLaurin Taught Deaf Students in Sign Language and Lived at the MacKay Institute for Deaf

Thank you Alexis for the OK to put the photo of "The Macay Institute" in this Blog and I will as you said not include on a Web Page like Ancestry, But thank you again and I will only use on the blog http://pascaldiflorio.blogspot.com/ .

Permission received on November 25th, 2009, via email to use image of Mackay Institute for Blog. please contact Imtl.org if you wish to copy not to be used without permission.

Picture by W. H. Care; contact us Imtl.org has no relation with owners of this building
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This link brings you to the Mackay School's author http://archive.org/stream/gu_deafdumbblind00widd/gu_deafdumbblind00widd_djvu.txt



A Compilation by

THOMAS WIDD,

Principal of the Mackay Institution for Protestant Deaf-mutes, Montreal.


He opens with this quote.

TO THE READER

"Having suffered from the most intense deafness for
more than thirty-five years, and labored as a teacher
and missionary to the deaf and dumb for twenty years,
the Compiler of this little work is, in consequence,
thoroughly acquainted with the requirements of this
afflicted class. He would urge all who possess any
influence, however small, with our Legislators, to use
that influence to obtain for the deaf-mute, , in the
name of humanity and justice, the same facilities for
education and spiritual instruction, as are enjoyed by persons
who can hear and speak. He wants justice, not charity."

Miss Margaret MacLaurin...

This came about as a result of attending a party of a number of students and young ladies invited by Miss Adair, the sister of my very good friend, Cyril Adair. Miss MacLaurin was invited to the party because she was one of Miss Adair’s music pupils. During the evening Margaret was Frank Underhill's partner and he escorted her home. After a few days I decided to invite her to go out with me.

I did not know the young ladies address, nor did I remember her name. I turned to my friend Cyril, He furnished me with all the information I needed. I phoned the young lady and having described who I was, I then asked her to go out with me. She consented to go out. She lived in the Mackay Institute, where she taught deaf mute pupils. That year we saw each other about once a week. About the end of April we parted for the summer.

I went to Saskatchewan, Kingsland. This part of Canada with its vast prairie land was all new to me.

The Year was 1915...

Family and friends expected Pascal to be in the new land 4 or 5 years…and come back to Italy and become a Priest of the Catholic Church, by 1915 he was 5 years overdue with what seemed a complete conversion a believer in Christ…NOT A Priest of the Catholic Church.

The year was 1915 and I took an examination for university entrance. I was successful; hence, was admitted to the Wesleyan College and McGill University in the fall of the year.

Life was quite different after I had enrolled for the degreed programs, a Bachelor of Arts, and Bachelor of Divinity. I roomed in the Wesleyan College and bought my meals at the college dining room.

The years I spent there were rewarding. I met many students from other parts of the world. Many students and some professors joined the army because of the nations at war.

The First World War (WWI) broke in 1914, and I entered college in 1915. My address was 750 University St. Montreal, Que. Canada. The summer came and I worked in Montreal so I was able to keep my room on University Street.

Two of the summers while in school I lived in Notre Dame the Grace, with a Grieco family. In exchange for my room and board I taught family members English. The family had a garden that I was able to help take care of, for this I had free access to the vegetables. This I did for two or three years, after which I applied for a church in the Western part of Canada.

I applied to the Methodist Board of Missions. The reply was negative. The reason given was that I did not have “good English.” The man in charge, Dr. Manning, had never seen me; and, Dr Manning had never heard me speak.

Interesting missionary story of the many Methodist that worked in the Western part of Canada during the turn of the century- click …Smoky Lake History a nice web site that is worth a look…copy and paste www.smokylake.com/history/

So I applied to the Presbyterian Board of Missions, in Toronto. A few days later I received a letter that said, “You are appointed to Kingsland, Saskatchewan, Alberta." "Further information will follow." Sever days later I was informed that The Board would pay my traveling expenses plus 10 dollars per week.

This new position was offered at the same time I had met a young lady, Miss Margaret MacLaurin.


This is another web page worth a look life as a circuit riders this web site is interesting…this is a quote from http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~methodists/circuit.htm

Even with the establishment of churches, the circuit rider continued to be an important person. He covered a wide territory on horseback and made many pastoral visits. Methodist circuit riders met with people on the edge of a forest, in a shanty or in a local home. The early missionaries, or circuit riders, were heroes. Carrying their few possessions in their saddlebags, they rode hundreds of miles, braved extreme hardships, even risked their lives, to reach the Indians and those settlers from Europe and the British Isles who had made their homes in tiny, isolated communities in the wilderness. These saddlebag preachers had no fixed homes, were dependant on their co-religionists for food and shelter, and received a salary of $100 to $200 a year.

Saskatchewan teacher recounts story of a blizzard in 1919 … the harsh environment
MY NARROWEST ESCAPE
Alameda, Sask (1919)

"In spite of the terrifying experience I am going to tell about, one of my pleasantest memories is of the winter I spent in Saskatchewan, teaching in a small rural school with eleven pupils."

Click Saskatchewan for story

or paste address http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~cansk/school/My-Narrow-Escape.html

My experience during the Summer of 1914 proved to be a Valuable one...

The little book of the Gospel according to St. John the Apostle was connected by the people to Saint Joan of Arc; when I talked about St. John the people gave credit to Saint Joan of Arc.

The people knew little about the Gospel and the teachings of Jesus. They had their prayer book. Very few people knew the English language; and called it, “La Mauvaise Langue,” meaning- The Bad Language. They almost venerated their priests.

(I had to look up the word… Venerated...good thing I did as I do not know Latin!)
Definition of Venerate: to honor in recognition of qualities of holiness, excellence, wisdom.


After five months, from the first of May to the end of September I returned to Montreal and reported to the secretary of the Bible Society. On the basis of the reported activities, scriptures sold, scriptures donated and conversations carried on with the people of that territory I had visited it was thought I had carried on a good experiment.


Upon my return to Montreal I began again to look for work and many times it seemed that the efforts were in vain. Yet in the end I managed to earn more or less enough to meet my obligations.

Soon after my return I was accepted a probationer for the ministry by our Italian Methodist Church and by the District Conferences. I was appointed by the District to do some missionary work among the Italians in and around the city of Montreal.

My missionary work was to preach on Sundays, visit homes showing religious and educational pictures and teach night school classes in English. I also accompanied people, who did not know how to speak English to help them secure work. The result of this work was... some of the people came to church. This type of service seemed to be appreciated.

Examples of life on the road...

By sunset I arrived at another camp. There I had supper and slept. In the morning I had my breakfast and left. At one place I had to walk along the rivers edge. The tide was coming and the ground was soft, I was frightened because my feet sank. Fortunately there was a small branch, I took it an used it to extricate myself from the sinking sand. The first chance I had I returned to a more populated land.

As I went along I learned of Professor Bielair and his wife who were spending the summer in their summer home. I knew the professor in Montreal. He was a French Professor at McGill University. The professor and his wife invited me to dinner and to stay over-night. Professor Bielair’s wife was the daughter of Father Chinique, a converted Roman Catholic Priest. Before I left he told me that there were very few Protestants in that part of the country. The nearest Protestant was ten miles away.

There was a French Protestant Mission Church under the direction of a student pastor for the summer. As I traveled a gravel train overtook me. The man in charge stopped the train and invited me to ride. He asked me where I was going and who I was. As it turned out he himself was a Protestant. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a dollar and gave it to me.

At Lake Long, the train dropped me off; and, there was the mission church and the young Pastor. We were delighted to see each other. Absolute strangers but behaved like “old friends.”

During my stay at the mission church we talked about many things; of the many things, one stands out in my mind. What the young pastor related to me was a narrow escape he had visiting a church. The young pastor said he was asked by several Roman Catholic French Canadians to preach on Saint Peter. Was Saint Peter the Prince of the Apostles?

Was Saint Peter the first Bishop of the Roman Catholic Church? My missionary friend agreed to preach on the subject.


The missionary set aside the Sunday to preach on the subject of Saint Peter. He preached. As usual there was a division of opinion; some folks were even enraged. One day after the missionary spoke he went out to make some “pastoral calls”, and as came out of a home a man came out of another home screaming and carrying an axe! That axe carrying person was determined to kill the young preacher. My new missionary friend said he rushed to his buggy and horse and ran for his life.

It is incredible really, what some people are willing to do “in the name of church or in the name of religion.”