LAST DAYS
Towards the end of November the bishop was taken suddenly ill. We have
the account of his attack in his own words, written on January 2, 1893,
by his daughter Chrissie from his dictation. ‘Three-and-fifty years ago
Christmas was spent by me in bed; my life was almost given up. I was
suffering from typhus fever, and my doctor said that, had I not had a
constitution of lead, I must have succumbed to the virulence of the
disease. God raised me up again, and eventually sent me to the land of
snow, and I am now spending my forty-second Christmas in connection
with it. And how very joyous every Christmas has been up to the present
one! How wonderfully good my health has always been, how I could always
join the frolic and fun of the youngsters! I felt as one of them; the
difference in our age was as nothing. We were all children. This year,
too, the church has been beautifully decorated; the splendid trees have
been laden with their precious fruits, faces have brightened with joy as
of yore: but I have seen nothing of them; the mingled voices of childhood
have been unheard.
‘It has been God’s will that I should spend this Christmas in a sick
room, and amid much and severe suffering. He has brought down my strength
in my journey; but amidst it all He has kept me in perfect peace. On
November 20 I was very well. I preached at both English and Indian
services, and took my class in the Indian school, spending the evening
with my dear daughter and her family. I was in bed by ten, and arose
on Monday, November 21, before it was daylight, according to custom,
for I had a great work on hand, and about a quarter after seven, when
the light had become sufficiently strong, I went on with my revision of
the New Testament in the Cree language. I commenced the twelfth chapter
of St. Luke, and worked on steadily for a quarter of an hour, when I
suddenly felt as if I had received a very heavy blow in the lower portion
of my back. I knew it was a stroke of rheumatism, but rheumatism was a
companion of many years’ standing—not a pleasant one by any means, but it
had never materially interfered with my work. So, thinking that this was
merely a twinge of a rather more severe character than usual, I continued
my labour; but soon stroke after stroke succeeded of a more and more
violent nature. I sat up until after prayers and breakfast, and then was
conducted to bed, which I reached with great difficulty; severe torturing
pains, the nature of which I had hitherto no conception of, came on with
every movement.
‘For a week I could do nothing, although my general health had not much
suffered. I then, however, resumed the revision of my last winter’s work
on the Cree Old Testament, devoting some hours to it every day, assisted
by my most valuable helper, the Rev. E. Richards. In a few days more I
trust that the whole of the Old Testament will be fit for the printer’s
hands; I shall then go on with the New Testament, and, God helping me, I
hope to see it completed in the summer. Picture me in my work. I am lying
on my back in my bed; Mr. Richards is sitting at a table by my side; I
have my English Bible, the Revised Version, in my hand; Mr. Richards
has my translation before him, which he is reading to me slowly and
distinctly. Every sentence is very carefully weighed, and all errors are
corrected. This is a glorious occupation, and I cannot feel too thankful
that I am able to follow it in these days of my weakness.
‘I am much better than I was, and I trust it will not be long before I
shall be able to be about as usual. But it was almost worth while to be
visited with this affliction, to experience the loving and anxious care
of every one by whom I am surrounded. Everyone does his and her best to
alleviate my sufferings. Our medical man has done his very utmost; a
kind and loving daughter, and her equally kind husband and children, Mr.
and Mrs. Newnham, Mr. and Mrs. Richards, and all my Indian and native
friends, have vied with each other in administering to my comfort.’
The end of February, the date at which the bishop expected his budget of
news from the outer world, brought to his friends in England the sad
tidings that he had died suddenly on January 12. The telegram had been
carried four hundred miles to Matawa, the nearest post-office. In due
course letters followed. The end had come very unexpectedly to those
about him.
The Rev. J. A. Newnham wrote: ‘Our dear bishop has entered into rest—a
more perfect rest than that which he expected to enjoy later in the year.
It seems to have been failure of the heart which caused his death....
The people of Moosonee, and of Moose Factory especially, have lost a
father, a loving friend, and are plunged in grief.... The remains, clad
in episcopal robes, and laid in the coffin, were placed in the church
awaiting the funeral, and the people, young and old, all came to take a
last farewell of the face so dear to them, and of one who had been in and
out of their houses, cottages, and wigwams for over forty years, as a
missionary, pastor, friend, and bishop.... Archdeacon Vincent arrived on
the evening of the 20th. On the 21st, Saturday, the coffin was closed in
the presence of four clergymen—the Rev. W. G. Walton having arrived with
the dogs from Fort George—and of the gentlemen of the Honourable Hudson’s
Bay Company from Fort George, Rupert’s House, and Albany, as well as
Moose Fort.
‘At three P.M. the burial service was read, and the body of the first
Bishop of Moosonee was reverently committed to the grave. It was a
beautiful afternoon, almost spring-like, and the whole adult population
was present in the church and at the grave. Thus our bishop, amid the
tears of his bereaved people, was laid to rest, as he had said he would
have wished, in the midst of his flock.’
At the time of his death Bishop Horden had just attained the age of
sixty-five. He had been forty-two years in the field. He had laboured
in the apostolic spirit with a large measure of apostolic success. He
had laid well and deeply, building upon the Rock which is Christ, the
foundation of the work in that vast district. This is being continued
by men trained under his influence, and fired by his example. Denied
the brief season of earthly rest to which he had looked forward, he has
entered the sooner into the perfect rest above. He has ceased from his
labours, and for us it is to strive and pray that the flock which he so
long and faithfully shepherded in Moosonee shall at length be brought to
join him in the heavenly fold above.
FOOTNOTES
[1] At the instance of the then editors of the _Coral Missionary
Magazine_.
[2] It was done by the Coral Fund.
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