[The author was a student at Hartley Training College during John Watson's tenure as President 1893--97.]

I have been honoured by an invitation to set down a few recollections and impressions of the late Principal Dr. Watson. It was my privilege to spend three years in the College, the last three of his Principalship. I vividly recall the day of arrival there. "Going to College" means widely different experiences for different students. Some have the good fortune to enter College from Public Schools, and other scholastic advantages. They are conversant with the general discipline and methods of College life. Others are severely handicapped at the start. They come from the rough and tumble of physical toil. Poverty of circumstance and hardness of lot offered nothing but a grim struggle to live. Perhaps providence had hidden somewhere "a spark o' nature's fire", but it required much tending and enticing to become a glow. Reminiscence has a tendency to read into experience what was not consciously there. I never have been able to understand how I got to College at all. I am very sure it puzzled the Principal, and more beside.

"Going to College" for me was a thumping oscillation between hope and dread. Will these scholarly teachers and favoured students tolerate the callow yokel from the country! I shall never forget leaving the wayside station of the little village in E. Yorks. Nor the arrival in Manchester. I had to take a cab from Victoria Station. I had never been inside such a vehicle before. Was it not a mobile death trap, boxed in, with horse and driver out of sight! All the whirl of traffic in Market Street, threatened collision and a fatal accident? What a relief when Alexandra Park was reached. Then the College, and in the entrance hall a dignified stately gentleman, with snow white hair and beard. It was Dr. Watson, the Principal. One felt, in a flash, you were safe in his keeping for everything worth while, but sure about nothing, except fair play.

Others are writing of Principal Watson as a Preacher and Teacher. I am concerned with the human side of the man. From my experiences in the North I should say he was a typical dalesman. Now that is a peculiar and valuable type. Rather dangerous also for the unwary. It has a double and apparently contradictory expression. Outwardly it is affable, accommodating and wears a bewitching air of simplicity. It does not wear its heart upon its sleeve, but you can hang yours there if you like. It is quite capable of taking care of you, and, unless you rebel, you remain unaware of your custody. The other side is clean, healthy, strong and determined. It is the iron framework of conviction clothed in the warm flesh of sympathy. Its methods of operation are a delicate caution informed by a shrewd insight. I never saw Dr.Watson rash or explosive in temper, the nearest he ever came to it was when the Rhubarb bed was crushed and devastated. He could be angry with dignity and would always give the accused the benefit of the doubt.

Sometimes the accusation was serious and the only hope of discharge was the insinuation of a doubt. None who were present will ever forget the Rhubarb Trial. Fortunately for the culprits Dr Watson had been away at the District Synod, and was very tired on the Tuesday morning. Had he been his usually alert self we could not have "wangled" him so easily. I was told that his one desire, after his term as Principal, was to know who did roll the Rhubarb. When names were given he expressed his great surprise. Well he might. The awkward thing at the trial was the fact that the Dr. was on the wrong scent. He was charging, in a very severe way, men who were innocent. He, therefore, paid undue respect to suggestions made by the real culprits. What a tangle! What a tragedy! He had gone away on the Friday night, and the ornament of the garden was an extensive and succulent bed of Rhubarb. That night, at the witching hour, four students visited this "thing of beauty". Two of the party did the scouting and two put their hands to the garden roller. Under its weight this stringy weed crunched and squirted a tart fluid. Next morning the garden was "No Rhubarb land". I never saw the Dr just so deeply stirred. What vexed him? The market value of the Rhubarb? The silly escapade of students? No. It had been done whilst he was away. Taking advantage of his absence was not playing the game, and this he rightly resented. Also the wanton deed implied a reflection on the Matron, Mrs. Watson, and the Menu she provided. His chivalry was touched, though the Matron was quite capable of self-defence. The crushing of the Rhubarb has been a blessing in disguise. Ever since we pressed into the ground the lank forest of ancient stalks, the roots have brought forth, year by year, tender, juicy, succulent fruit for the nourishment of the students. But the "change-over" revealed the Dr in some important aspects.

In the best sense of the word Dr.Watson was a real sport. His handling of the various human material under his charge was both tactful and impartial. There was nothing cynical or superior in his treatment. Some of us must have seemed hopelessly crude and crudely confident. The distance between our ambitions and abilities was immeasurable. The trouble was we were unconscious of it - but the Dr. knew. The adjustment of abilities and ambitions required a friendly touch and a generous patience. The Dr. did it firmly and disarmed suspicion with a smile which gathered round the lips and seemed to insinuate itself into his correcting speech. I shall never forget my first preaching appointment. It was a case of necessity. All the students had been given their appointments. I was the only one left. Mine usually came "catch-as-catch can". On Saturday afternoon a wire came from a Church in Bury asking for a Student to preach on the Sunday. What could the Principal do? He could not say he had none left. He would not insult me by exchanging appointments. Play the game he would - and did - even to the "Stickit" student. I shall never forget his kind advice. "Mind your grammar. Beware of the use of the aspirate. Preach as if you were master of your message." Did he know that he was adopting just the right line to get the best out of me? I think he did. Nothing wakes me up like attempting something I cannot do. Difficulties are my inspiration - not devoid of danger. Guess my delight the following Tuesday when a letter arrived from the church asking that I be sent again. The Dr. called me into his Sanctum. He talked to me about his surprise and his gratification. How generous he was in his judgment of men! How proud of any credit they brought to the college! He lived for the Students and they trusted him.

One of the obvious, and in some ways dangerous, traits in Dr. Watson was an unsuspecting innocence. It was the outward mark of the dalesman. Back of it was a straight clean grain of nature. There was nothing diffuse or double about him. He was widely read, had a variety of interest, but the result was a unity and compactness of character. He probably saw most with what appeared to be a "blind eye". This was his authority over the Students. He was always trusting them and putting them on their honour. He won their admiration and confidence. If one trespassed on this apparent innocence he usually had a rude awakening. It could be done, but not by trespass. Dr. Watson was very sensitive about the comfort of the Students, sensitive to the point of credulity. Any suggestion of neglect nettled him. Once you did that, anything was possible. The men of my third year will remember the heating fiasco. We had entered the new wing of the College. A new apparatus and two large boilers had been installed. The old patriarch who was gardener was afraid of the machine. We shivered through cold November days. The Dr. kept up a good coal supply and thought that was enough. He was annoyed by our appeals for more warmth. One morning, cold and sleety, whilst he was teaching Systematic Theology, the radiator in his study was turned off. That did it. He came shivering in to dinner, which we were delighted to witness. It might have ended in tragedy. I volunteered to warm the College. The Dr. readily gave his consent. The boilers I set to "blow off" at 220 lbs pressure. At 180 steam was flying out of the escape like a restless locomotive. Study windows were open to cool the rooms. The machinery stood the test, the college was warm, and I got a vote of thanks. It was a foolish rash experiment. Had there been a defect in the machinery, College, students and Principal would have gone the way of Guy Fawkes. Providence, however, takes care of her own. But we had caught the Dr. on his blind side.

The natural bearing of his nature was one of fine example and reverence. Example and reverence are effective when they are unconscious. Example is so often mistaken for pose, and reverence for finesse. They are the atmosphere of the good man, the flower of goodness. They challenge and purify through a certain hidden gentleness of strength. A great amount of Dr Watson's theology we have forgotten - but we shall ever remember him with gratitude. He lives again in lives made better by his presence. It was a privilege to know him, and it is an inspiration to think of him - though he has passed on before.