We lost a block from the foundation of of our Community with the passing of Allan McLellan. Any of you who have attended Beckwith events as well as Ottawa Valley festivals and fairs would have met Allan and Judy with their steam engines and other antique machinery and equipment. Our Family grew up beside the McLellans. Allan will be missed.
Passed peacefully on December 29, 2022, at home in Franktown at the age of 92. Predeceased by his parents Earl McLellan and Jane Clarke (nee Moulton), as well as by his grandson Brock Dowdall in 2012. Allan leaves behind his beloved wife Judy McLellan (nee Ferguson) of 71 years; his children John McLellan (Irene), Catherine Dowdall (Donald), Roy McLellan (Deborah), James McLellan, and Charles McLellan (Sandi); as well as his grandchildren Angela McLellan (Derek), Billy McLellan (Mary Ellen), Shannon McLellan, Brad Dowdall (Chelsea), Robbie McLellan, Kimberly Cockins (Jeff), Edward McLellan (Samantha), and Daryl McLellan (Kelsey); and his great-grandchildren Emma and Leslie McLellan, Tatum and Blair Derbyshire, Alexander and Avery Dowdall, and Clara and Luke Cockins. He will be also be fondly remembered and missed by his siblings George McLellan (Kriss) and Gordon McLellan (Diane). Allan was the kind of man who could look at something and tell you exactly what needed to be done to fix it; he could put his hands to any piece of machinery and make it better than it had been. His passion was steam engines, and he was known for making machines from scratch, whether it was a mini-bailer or a rope maker. People would come from all over to tour the sheds and look at his collection of steam engines and other machines he’d built; he was even featured on a CTV program called Regional Contact where his work was showcased. Allan was an incredibly talented and intelligent man whose expertise and warm heart will be greatly missed more than words can ever express. If desired, donations may be made to either the Heart & Stroke Foundation or to the Carleton Place Hospital Foundation in Allan’s memory.
The Franktown Grocery Gas on Highway 15 in Franktown has new owners. They are looking for history, so if you have any memories or comments, please email them to me at sav_77@yahoo.com or leave the comment in the comment section and I will add them to this blog. Thank you!!
Update- I have started adding comments below under the comment section. Keep them coming.
The photo above came up in my feed from 2017… Kids during the war… 1945 at the Franktown General Storw..
My dad John Kidd thinks the second bottom from the front might be Fred Ford and the 3rd boy in the striped shirt? Allan Currie?
Did You Know?
In 1807, or so the story goes, a woman boarded a boat in Scotland and sailed across the sea to a new life in a land barely known as Upper Canada. When she arrived in an Ottawa Valley settlement now called Franktown, she was carrying a special secret in her purse and what she did with it created a natural wonder and the only thing Frank-town is known for almost 200 years later. No one knows her name, but she is part of the town’s most beloved legend: that she pulled a lilac twig from her purse and planted it behind what is now Franktown’s one and only general store. That one lilac bush is responsible for more than 12 hectares of wild lilacs that grow in Franktown today. Perhaps she was just trying to remind herself of the home she left behind, but she unknowingly created a namesake for her new one. Read-The Legend of the Lilacs of Franktown
Did You Know?
In the middle 1850s the village boasted two general stores kept by James Burrows and John G. Campbell. Mr. Burrows, besides running a large store, was proprietor of the Franktown Hotel, a hostelry which had graced the main street of the village from some time in the thirties. Ewen McEwen was postmaster and town clerk. Many Blacksmiths. The village had no fewer than four blacksmiths: Tom Allen, Martin Anderson, Tom , Griffin and John Morris. There were also two doctors, three shoemakers, two tailors, three coopers and two cabinet makers.
William Moore conducted a tannery on the outskirts of the village. James Bowels, who came to Franktown district from the Old Country in the early 1830s, was the leading carpenter and had a hand in the erection of many of the pioneer dwellings and commercial buildings. read-Franktown Once Enlivened By Shouts of Lumberjacks–The word of Mrs. Frances Atkinson
We are the new owners of the legendary Franktown Gas! We feel so privileged to be trusted to carry on the legacy that Tony, Bonnie + family have built serving the wonderful community of Franktown for over 40 years.
We hope to continue to honour the signature pizza and baking that Franktown Gas is known for… and who knows, maybe even give penny candy it’s well deserved come back!
We hope to meet you all in and about the store!
Thank you in advance for being gracious as we learn the ropes of this new venture.
Warm regards,
Steve, Sarah + the Wilkins family
Big things are happening!
Thanks to our loyal patrons for your patience as we embark on renovation.Our kitchen is temporarily closed for the holidays as it undergoes a little facelift! Check it out in January!!!
Baked goods, convenience store + gas bar OPEN as usual!
Keep your eye out for some trial tasty treats as we experiment with our menu!
Don’t worry – all your Franktown favourites such as butter tarts, cheesecakes + infamous pizza will be back in the New Year!
Thank-you for your continued patience, kindness + excitement as we navigate our renovation phase!
Today seems like the perfect day to say Thank you to all that have supported me and my family for the past 40 years. I have been very privileged to have grown up in this store!! and feel very privileged that my kids grew up here, in this great place we call Franktown. A lot of you have known me since I was a curly haired kid, climbing into Orville Nolans transport truck as it filled with diesel and serving you ice cream and penny candy(remember when things cost a penny lol). Thank you to all the local businesses that have helped and supported over the years.
As many of you know we have sold after 40 years. This for me is bitter sweet.
The new owners( Steve and family) are excited to serve you all. They are going to keep things running as is, with some plans for the future. They are a local family so please keep supporting. And I will be keeping an eye on them.
My biggest shout out and thank you is to the man that has been by my side for the last 36 years. Some of you call him grumpy and a few probably worse!! I call him my husband. Thank you for being the hardest working man I know. Happy 60th Birthday!! Together for more then half your life!! The place wouldnt exist without you!!! Here we go, onto the next adventure. The countdown is on 10 days to go!!
This is Bonnie, Tony, Alex, Ben and Cassie saying thank you all and have great Thanksgiving!!!
The Moshers owned and operated the Franktown store since her son was a year old. 1999.
9645 On-15, Ontario K7A 4S7, Canada Village of Franktown
+1 6132837110
We were raised just West of Franktown on County Road 1o near the OVRT Trail. Dad used to buy his cattle grain and chicken grain at the Store. They used to have a livestock feed store with the regular store. We used to walk to the Store during the Summer to buy comic books at 10 cents per book and 6 cent soft drinks in real bottles. Brian Dowdall
Charlene Loxterkamp
My Aunt and Uncle Fred and Zelda Irvine owned this building for many years.The store and gas station is on the right side of the building, and the left side was the home that my parents George and Lillian Morris (nee Irvine) lived in, and my brother and I Bob and Charlene Morris grew up in.We lived there until I believe 1972 when we had a dry thunder storm and lightning hit the back porch. The inside of the home was not liveable due to smoke and water damage.If my memory serves me the building had been sold just before the fire to Claude and Cora Nolan.I will always have fond memories of growing up in this beautiful building.
Cindy Angell
Charlene Loxterkamp and we loved your family. Always welcoming to all of us Franktown kids and our friends. Lots of fun euchre nights!!!
Bonnie Dowdall
Jack and I lived I the downstairs apartment for at least two years ,I worked in store ,pumping gas,slicing meat, selling nails etc. Claude and Cora owned store. Many fond memories of Franktown. Moved out on Dec31st 1976. Cried all way to Merrickville
Jon Vachon
My grandparents lived in Franktown I used to get in shit for crossing 15 to go there lol loved that store
Franktown Store- Irvine hands over to Claude Nolan-1973
The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Mon, Apr 23, 1973Page 3
Mr James Nolan 1943
The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Sat, May 15, 1943Page 21
Stolen from the General Store 1914
The Ottawa Journal
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Thu, Sept 3, 1914Page 1
Fred Irvine
The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Tue, Apr 7, 1959Page 16
The Ottawa Journal
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Thu, Feb 24, 1949Page 32
The Kingston Whig-Standard
Kingston, Ontario, Canada • Sat, May 15, 1926Page 16
Franktown store for sale in 1979
The Ottawa Citizen
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada • Thu, Jan 18, 1979Page 56
The community of Franktown, which developed beside Beckwith’s historically notable Anglican Church, was one of the central points of the transportation of a part of the county’s winter shipments of goods to and from Ottawa and Brockville by bush road “trains.” Soon it was outdistanced in growth by neighbouring villages having advantages of water power and of transportation by water and later by railway. Numbering about a hundred persons by 1850, and 200 in 1870, Franktown’s residents, like those of other county villages of the time, included such trades and business people as innkeepers, tailors and merchants, blacksmiths, carpenters and sawmill workers, plasterers, masons and cabinetmakers, potash, soap and candle makers, broom makers, milliners and dressmakers, tanners, shoemakers and saddlers and regularly two doctors and one or two clergymen.
Standing apart from the village’s several remaining most venerable buildings which have survived their busiest days, the old stone church continues to preserve its little-known high rank of age among Ontario’s few church buildings which have remained in use with few structural changes since the eighteen twenties. A lamentable loss of a landmark of pioneer Presbyterianism of the Ottawa Valley occurred in the destruction of the honoured stone walls of the Beckwith Seventh Line Gaelic Kirk of 1834. This loss perhaps should lead to directing a wider deserved recognition to the historical standing of old St. James Church of Franktown, a remaining original monument to the founding fathers of this region of Ontario and to their religious faiths.
Sad, sad, sad was the plight of Norman McDougall, the Laird of Glen Isle over the New Year’s holiday. Literally cut off by Friday’s storm, he was prevented from getting his usual supply of provisions. While all his friends were holding parties, his only companion was his dog. But worse than all else, was the fact that the food situation was acute.
He was low on bread, he was short of biscuit mix, he was short of muffin mix. In fact we might just say he had no mix at all. Sadly, he took down Senator Andrew Haydon’s book ( read-The Original Thomas Alfred Code and Andrew Haydon Letters – —Part 1) from the mantel, “Pioneer Sketches of Bathurst.” But, this made him sadder still as he read of the early settlers holding high wassail at New Year’s. As he read on he found that there were traces of civilization as close as Morphy’s Fills (sometimes called Carleton Place).
Greatly encouraged at this, he was still more pleased when he heard the voice of Mr. Douglas Findlay on the telephone wishing him the compliments of the season. When Mr. Findlay heard of the wolf at the door of his friend, he called Mayor Bill Prime and asked assistance for the Laird as his first official act for 1949. (Bill Prime was the youngest Mayor of Carleton Place at 32– and he also worked as assistant manager of the Brewer’s Retail store)
Accordingly, friends assembled a quantity of provisions and on Monday the Mayor, accompanied by Donald Lyon and Mervin Stanzel, boy scouts and cubs, Wayne Hall and Bob Lyon, drove to Young’s turn and from there made the remainder of the journey on skiis. As Mr. McDougall resides in Beckwith Township, it is to be hoped that Reeve Adam W. Jones of that municipality is not too much affronted at not. being called on first
Norman McDougall
BIRTH1887DEATH1963 (aged 75–76)BURIAL
United CemeteriesCarleton Place, Lanark County, Ontario, Canada Show MapGPS-Latitude: 45.1402983, Longitude: -76.0818483PLOTPine Grove West
“The Laird of Glen Isle, Mr. McDougall, and seven of his children were frequently seen at the rink on Mr. Doherty’s place in Ramsay.”–1895-Daniel McDougall and later his son Norman were farmers on Glen Isle.
Thursday, Oct., 7th, 1948 Miss L. E. Cram Dies Suddenly at Ottawa
The sad news of the passing of Laura Elizabeth Cram, eldest daughter of the late Daniel and Mrs. Cram of Glen Isle , came as a great shock to her relatives and many friends here. On completing her education at Taber’s Business College and later graduating from Scranton Art School, of Chicago, she was employed in the Civil Service in Ottawa. From there she went to Cleveland where she continued her studies in the Jno. Huntington School of Art, while she did stenographic work. At the time of her passing she was employed by the War Assets Dept., Ottawa, where last Thursday she suffered a severe heart attack and passed away in the Civic Hospital in the late afternoon. Miss Cram was of an aesthetic nature and had a keen appreciation for all that was beautiful in life, material things were entirely secondary to her. She loved people in all walks of life. Her lilting laughter and bright cheerfulness will be sadly missed by all her loved ones. The funeral from the home of her brother John Watt, Glen Isle, was conducted by Rev. Anthony, of Carleton Place, Baptist church, of which she was a member. She leaves to mourn her loss 3 sisters, Jessie ( Mrs. W. M. Wilkinson, Oakville; Mrs. Ben Gube, Cleveland, Ohio; Florence, Mrs. Harwood McCreary of Carleton Place; and four brothers, R. Glen, of Three Hills, Alta., Wm. H. of Brockville; John W. and D. Boyd, at home. The pallbearers were : Norman McDougall, Wellington; Hawkins, Peter Moffat, Haldane Cram, and two brothers-in-law, Harwood McCreary and Dr. W. M. Wilkinson, of Oakville, Ont
Glen Isle, on the Mississippi near Carleton Place and about a square mile in area, is named for Captain Thomas Glendenning who in 1821 located on a grant of land including most of the part of the island lying in Beckwith Township.
A lieutenant retired on half pay from the 60th Regiment, he became a captain in the first local militia and is credited with an unenviable part in promoting the Ballygiblin fights of 1824. He also featured in a dispute with Daniel Shipman of Shipman’s Mills, now Almonte, regarding methods of raising a levy of the local militia in 1838 for possible service against the border raids which already had culminated near Prescott in the Battle of the Windmill. Captain Glendenning moved some time later to Chatham, where he continued to live in the 1850’s. The island has borne its present name for over 125 years.
Clippings from Des and Jean Moore from the Moore Gals.
Ray Paquette ––One summer I was spending the evening at the Old Cheese Factory in Tennyson that the late Len Coleman had turned into a place for teenagers from the cottages and others to hang out and dance to a juke box. Len called me over (he knew me through my mother) and introduced me to Murray McNaughton who was looking for some help during thrashing that was about to begin. We came to an agreement and I went home with him to spend the night. The next morning I began by stooking sheaves in the field that can be seen at the left of the house. It was a fascinating experience for me particularly when Mr. McNaughton showed me the remains of my mother’s family homestead which was cross the 7th Line road. The McNaughton farm was probably close to being the last farm that harvested their grain crops using a reaper and a thrashing machine. I have often looked back on those few days with fondness because of the traditional methods that were used which have long since been replaced by self-propelled combines
Photo- Janice Tennant Campbell Campbell–7th Line of Beckwith near Tennyson. McNaughton family
Tennyson Lanark Co 1911
Janice Tennant Campbell That is my Uncle LLoyd McNaughton! I think it was taken at Tennyson store and the lady was the owner. I have this clipping somewhere. I’ll see if I can find it.
The caption says : Owner Elaine Taylor chats with local resident Lloyd McNaughton outside her store, formerly a cheese factory.
In 1807, or so the story goes, a woman boarded a boat in Scotland and sailed across the sea to a new life in a land barely known as Upper Canada. When she arrived in an Ottawa Valley settlement now called Franktown, she was carrying a special secret in her purse and what she did with it created a natural wonder and one of the things Franktown is known for almost 200 years later. No one knows her name, but she is part of the town’s most beloved legend: that she pulled a lilac twig from her purse and planted it behind what is now Franktown’s one and only general store. That one lilac bush is responsible for more than 12 hectares of wild lilacs that grow in Franktown today. Perhaps she was just trying to remind herself of the home she left behind, but she unknowingly created a namesake for her new one.
Franktown is otherwise known as the Lilac Capital of Ontario and, if you’ve ever driven south on Highway 15 toward Smiths Falls, you’ve driven through it. If you blinked, you probably missed it. The general store, two churches, a hall, a recently built private school and a few houses are basically all that make up the hamlet of about 280 people. Its current ghost town feel makes it hard to believe that Franktown was once a bustling hub of activity. Settled mostly by Irish and Scottish immigrants, Franktown was named for Col. Francis Cockburn, who planned the site in 1821.
Like most towns, Franktown relied mostly on lumber for its industry and was thriving by 1850. But once the railway was built and bypassed Franktown, its growth began to slow. And so it remains a speck on maps, but one imbued with history and a fragrant landscape. Once that mysterious woman planted the first lilac, and Mother Nature did her thing, the shrubs blossomed easily around Franktown because of the moist and fertile land near the mouth of the Jock River. When the lilacs are in bloom for a few short weeks, usually in May, the scent overwhelms the community, enveloping it with the strong, sweet fragrance.
Air fresheners are in short supply in Franktown. “We don’t need them, we just have to open our windows,” says Pierre Pilote, former president of the Greater Franktown Community Association. “You can smell them from miles away.” Franktown started an annual lilac festival in 1995 to celebrate its unique trait. It featured music, games and the dedication of a lilac shrub in honour of an area person, family or group. George Kidd, for example, was honoured in 1996. Read-The Man who Disappeared– Stories of Dr. G. E. Kidd
His enthusiasm for the plants earned him the nickname Mr. Lilac…
The hamlet’s legendary watering hole, The Fox and The Duke, recently closed too. Housed in a two-storey stone building just a few metres off the highway, the pub was known for more than just a good time. Legend has it that years ago, a musician dropped dead while performing a jig. Since then, there have been reports of locked doors slamming and of mysterious goings-on in the pub’s kitchen.. Read-He Died Stepdancing in Franktown
Photo Ted Rundle
A few of Franktown’s notable old buildings remain. The village’s old one-room schoolhouse on Church Street, now used as a hall, is where Franktown’s children were educated until 1967. It was built in 1818, with an addition in i860. Just down the street from it is one of the Valley’s oldest churches. The cornerstone of St. James Anglican Church was laid in 1822 and the building houses an organ dating back to the 1820s. On top of the organ is a locked case with a priceless communion set inside. The pieces are so valuable the church can’t find an insurance company willing to cover them. The set is believed to be a gift sent over from England in 1826.. Read-Like a Prayer I left My Mark in Franktown — Part 2
Annie Elexey Duff was born in Carleton Place in 1871. Her early life was spent at “Oreno Villa”, the family homestead at Duff’s Bay on the 11th Concession of Beckwith. The Duff family was the last family to have logging rights on the Mississippi. She studied painting and fashion design in New York City in the late 1890’s and spent time working there for Vogue Magazine.
Temptation, Sin and it’s Antidote, 1893, oil on canvas. 7’ x 11’, National Gallery of Canada
In 1893 Duff painted Temptation, Sin and it’s Antidote which she had hoped to showcase at the World’s Columbian Exhibition. However, the work did not arrive in time. The painting was re-named Adam and Eve by the National Gallery of Canada upon its purchase in 1976 CLICK
Woman by the Sea, 1895, oil on canvas. 132.2 x 163.9 cm, National Gallery of Canada
In 1895, Duff painted Woman by the Sea, which was the first painting of maternity in Canada painted by a Canadian female artist, during a time in which female artists in Canada were not yet acknowledged for their contributions. The National Gallery of Canada purchased the work in 1976 in order to showcase Duff’s contribution to the art of Canada CLICK
Lover’s Walk around Parliament Hill (about half way up the cliff from the River). Sketched by Annie Duff from Beckwith Township, who studied art at Ottawa’s Coligny College beginning in 1890.
The CP&BM says that: “After graduation Annie worked at Topley’s Photography Studio on Sparks Street, and later went to New York City where she worked as an illustrator for Vogue Magazine.
William James Topley (1845-1930) produced many of the historic images seen in these pages. For a time he operated the most successful photographic studio in Ottawa, documenting the architecture and social life of the city as it grew from a raw outpost into a suave little capital. In 1875 W.J. Topley broke away from Notman and opened his own establishment – in an extravagant combined studio and residence designed by King Arnoldi at the southeast corner of Metcalfe and Queen Streets. Read more here CLICK
A question to you and your followers is anybody know the names and possible location of this picture.
It says McNeely family, Denyson Duff- Verne Anne Elexy Duff- Bill Jim (or something like that.)
Lynda McNeely Fitzpatrick
The above picture is one of my family. My Great Grandfather , Great Grandmother, Great Aunts, Great Uncle and Grandfather. They are standing in front of their home on Moffat Street, Carleton Place. I spent many a summer with my Great Aunt Lex. I have meet all the above except for Uncle Bill and the Great Grand parents
Jennifer Fenwick Irwin said: “I have to look it up but one of Annie’s sisters married a McNeely and named her children after her sisters, so there was another generation with names like Denysa and Elexey. In fact, Denysa jr. was in here last winter donating stuff and just passed away.
On Sunday at Beckwith; the people in an old shanty that was in such a state of ruin that cats and dogs could pass between the logs; and they will neither repair nor provide firewood lest it might make the minister comfortable. And they are seeking a new one from Scotland. Six months later, he records in his diary: “I set out for Beckwith to aid Mr. Buchanan at Sacrament. The barn and all it contained had been burned. This had been used for a church and was erected by the congregation. No steps had been taken to rebuild anything. On Saturday I preached in an old shanty: and the Sunday services, which began at eleven o’clock and lasted till four o’clock in the afternoon, were held in an open field near by, the people having erected a tent for preaching in, using logs in parallel lines for seats.
One hundred umbrellas were used to protect from the sun’s rays. During these years the Buchanans endured many of the discomforts of pioneer life. Long afterward the youngest of the children published under the title “The Pioneer Pastor,” her recollections of her father’s pastorate in Beckwith. She describes the hardships borne by these men from the High lands. Harvesting was beginning when her family arrived. Cutting grain with the old-fashioned sickle and scythe on ground dotted thickly with stumps was slow, wearisome work.
Reaping machines, mowing machines, horse rakes and other labor-saving implements now in vogue to lighten the task and multiply a hundred-fold the efficiency of the farmer had not yet been evolved. A cumbrous plow, hard to pull and harder to guide, a V-shaped harrow, alike heavy and unwieldy, a clumsy sled, home-made rakes weighty as iron and sure to blister the hands of the user, forked-stick pitch-forks, and gnarled flails certain to raise bumps on the heads, of unskilled threshers, with two or three scythes and sickles, represented the average farm equipment. Not a grist-mill, saw-mill, factory, shop, school-house, post-office, chimney or stove to be found in Beckwith in those earliest days of its settlement.
Two arm-chairs, made for Dr. and Mrs. Buchanan by Donald Kennedy, were the first in the township. Sawed boards, shingles and plastered walls were luxuries. Split logs furnished the materials for benches, tables, floors and roofs. The first year men carried flour and provisions on their backs from Perth and Brockville. Families subsisted for months on scanty fare. Their homes were shanties, chinked between the logs with wood and mud, often without a window, cold in winter, stifling in summer, uncomfortable always. A hole in the roof let out such smoke as happened to travel in its direction.
And the women bore more than their share of the burden. Besides their care of house and children they worked in the fields all spring and summer, burning brush, logging, planting and reaping. Much of the cooking, washing and mending was done before dawn or after dark while the men slept peacefully. At noon they prepared dinner, ate a bite hastily and hurried back to drudge until the sun went down. Then they got supper, put the youngsters to bed, patched, darned and did a multitude of chores. For them, toiling to better the conditions of their loved ones, never striking for higher wages, sixteen hours of constant labor was a short day. No respite, no vacation, nothing but hard work.
The Sabbath was the one breathing-spell in the week. Autumn and winter only varied the style of work. The women carded wool with hand-cards and spun it on small wheels, for stocking-yarn and the weaver’s loom. Knitting was an endless task by the light of the hearth fire or the feeble flicker of a tallow-dip; and everybody wore homespun.
Threshing wheat and oats wth the flail employed the men until good sleighing came. Then the whole neighborhood would go in company to Bytown—now Ottawa— to market their produce. Starting at midnight the line of ox-sleds would reach Richmond about daylight, stop an hour to vest and feed, travel all day and be at Bytown by dark. Next day they’would sell their grain, buy a few necessary articles, travel all night to Richmond and be home the third evening.
At one time fifteen wolves walked past the Buchanan yard, heading for the sheep pen. R attling tin pans and blowing a horn frightened them off. On another occasion two of the girls, going to see a sick woman, were assailed by a fierce wolf on the way back. “He followed us some distance,” says the chronicler, “grew bolder, ran up and took a bite out of my dress, almost pulling me down. My loud exclamation,
‘Begone, you brute,’ and clapping our hands put the impudent fellow to flight. We skipped home in short metre, regardless of sticks, stones and mud holes.
Unhappily, the relations between the old Minister and some of his congregation became, in time, less cordial. Most of the members before coming to Canada had been in communion with the established Church of Scotland—the Auld Kirk. Dr. Buchanan was an adherent of the Secession Church, and strongly opposed to anything like union of Church and State. Besides, after ten years in this rough, new charge, old age was making him less, able to meet all the claims of his scattered congregation.
There was urgent need of a new church building. That enterprise brought to a head all the dissensions and discontent which had been brewing. At first logs were taken out to erect a better church. They lay unused. Finally in 1832 it was determined to put up a stone building. When the walls were nearing completion a meeting of the congregation was called and Dr. Buchanan was requested to join the Auld Kirk (the Established Church) if he expected to preach in the new edifice.
One of his daughters has left her account of what followed, and, whether strictly accurate or not, it is vivid and touching. She writes: “Always a seceder, opposed to the union of church and state, my father positively declined to give up his honest convictions. He asked if they found any fault with his preaching or conduct; all answered, “No, none whatever.” Father then reminded them of his long and arduous services. He said: “I have preached in the open air, in wretched cabins, and in cold school rooms. I have taught day school for years without receiving one penny for my labor. I have spent stormy nights and weary days visiting the pick and dying, walking through swamps and paths that no horse could travel, without any charge for my medical services. Now you wish me, when you propose to have a comfortable house of worship, to sell my principles. That I shall never do. The God that has brought me thus far is able to keep me to the end, and my trust, is in Him.”
These words moved not a few to tears. Others, determined to have their way, continued the discussion. ‘If you join the Kirk,” one man shouted, “you will get into the new building; if you don’t you will eat thin kale.” Father replied to this coarse assault in the language of the Psalmist—“I have been young and now I am old, yet give I never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed, begging bread.” Several of the leaders said: “We were born in the Kirk and we will die in the Kirk.” Some protested against the proceedings. But the opponents of the old minister prevailed, and by the time the stone church was completed, the new minister Rev. John Smith, arrived to occupy its pulpit.
At his own home Dr. Buchanan continued to hold services for the few who were loyal to him; but his bodily strength was, failing, and even th a t small rem nant dwindled away. Two or three years passed, and death claimed him in the 74th year of his age and the 45th of his ministry. He was buried in the old Craig Street cemetery at Perth. Rev. Mr. Bell gave up his own plot there so that the remains of the old clergyman might rest near those of his eldest daughter, Mrs. John Ferguson.
At the new stone church, under the faithful service of Rev. Mr. Smith, there was peace and progress for some years. Then came that conflict which led to the “Disruption” in the Established Church in Scotland, the history of which is familiar. There was an unselfish and heroic side to the fight against the claims of ‘Heritors’ and other secular powers to force Ministers into the charge of Churches against the wishes of the congregation. Almost four hundred ministers walked out of the General Assembly of the Church, protesting against this interference in Church matters by secular powers. They knew that in so doing they were sacrificing their comfortable manses, their glebes and their assured stipends. In cold cash this meant a yearly loss equivalent to more th an $1,000,000 today.
From that sacrifice and secession arose the Free Church of Scotland. The conflict on the principle involved spread to Canada. They took their Church politics seriously, those Presbyterians of a century ago.
I call him my husband. Thank you for being the hardest working man I know. Happy 60th Birthday!! Together for more then half your life!! The place wouldnt exist without you!!! Here we go, onto the next adventure. The countdown is on 10 days to go!!
lindaseccaspina 