On a stormy night in November 1912 I said goodbye to my husband at Weymouth and with my baby daughter crossed over to Guernsey. It was a terrible night and the passage was the stormiest I have known, but the love and longing which possessed me was like a fire in my bones and would not let me rest. The doctor and my sister had told my Father that it was most unlikely that I would venture the crossing on such a night but he refused to believe that I would fail him and the look in his eyes and his quiet "I knew you would come" told me that his last earthly wish had been granted when both his children were with him.

I had come to relieve my sister and her husband from the heavy strain which had rested on them for so long. He was now fast losing strength and any day might be his last. Fortunately there was simply a gradual decline in all his physical powers, no great pain being experienced, and as we shared the nursing between us the task was not an irksome one but rather a high privilege. In fact we look bade to this time as to a period which was sacred and of which little can be said as is the case with all the supreme things of life.

His mind remained quite clear until the day before his death when he became unconscious and on Sunday February 23rd 1913 at 10-30 in the evening "God's finger touched him and he slept."

During these three months he made little mention of death, practically ignoring it and by his attitude of mind proving how little it need be feared by those for whom Christ vanquished the terrors of the grave. In a letter to Mr. C. Gerrard he said "My regards to all, not forgetting your Grandmother who, like myself, is aging fast. Well, tell her "our salvation is nearer than when we first believed.""

After his death we found a note made in his pocket book which also reveals his mind. "September 6th,1911. Ten years ago to-day, I had a stroke of palsy. God has been gracious. For some time my life was despaired of, but I am still in fair health and submissive to the Divine Will: willing to stay or go. May God give me His Grace."

I have failed and failed utterly if I have not shown the reader a man who was very like unto his Master. At thought of him the words of St. Paul in describing love inevitably spring up in the mind and picture him as he was in his daily life. "Love suffereth long and is kind, love envieth not, love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil, rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."

Many old friends gathered together in the Great Western Street Church, Manchester to pay him the last tribute of respect but it was meet that he who had been so long the friend of youth should be honoured chiefly by the young. Dr. Peake, still in the hey-day of life, gave voice to the affection with which all regard him; Mr. Clement Gerrard, his young friend, played the beautiful musical selections, and six students from Hartley College carried him to his last resting place.

One of the many beautiful things Dr Peake said in his address was this, "There was a singular beauty and charm in his character. I saw him daily for years and noticed how he acted in varying situations, yet I cannot recall one word or deed to be regretted. He never sank below his level in conduct or speech."

Later in the Aldersgate Magazine he wrote:-

"He was humble in his estimate of himself, generous in his valuation of others. He was very gentle in his bearing so that those who knew him only superficially might imagine him to be deficient in force. He always gave one a sense of rest. One had the feeling in his presence that here was a man who was torn by no inward strife, but had attained harmony. Serene and patient, tolerant and forbearing, he influenced those who were brought into close relations with him even more by what he was than by anything he said or did. He was, it is true, a preacher and teacher who, by his sermons and wise counsel set a deep mark upon many lives. But even more profound was the impression made by the personality itself, by the strength and sweetness of his character, by the reverence, the richness and the freedom of his religious life."

The General Committee through its secretary, the Rev. John Day Thompson, sent this resolution:-

"That we place on record with sincere regret the death of the Rev. John Watson D.D. (Sup), who passed away on Sunday February 23rd, at Guernsey, in the 80th year of his age. He retired from active work in 1902, after a most valuable and varied ministry of 40 years. The product of a hardy Methodist stock in one of our northern valleys, Dr. Watson, though he entered the ministry somewhat late in life, made his name a household word in our midst, by the vigour and sweetness of his character, his high talent for teaching and preaching, and the strenuous spirit of his intellectual life, continued almost to the end of his days. He served our Church in the home land, in South Africa and in Australia, and everywhere with distinction. His term as Principal of the Hartley College was associated with a large extension of it, and his influence there was of a high-toned and persuasive nature. No man was more widely read in theology or philosophy and he had no mean equipment in languages. He filled the chair of the Conference at Edinburgh in 1895 with much grace. Altogether he would have been a man of note in any Church, and was not unhonoured outside our own Connexion. He held up a high standard of character and culture and was deeply loyal to the evangelical faith, in its essential aspects. To those who survive him we offer the expression of our most affectionate sympathy. He had the happiness to live out the rounded life and to depart full of years and honours."

Out of the very many messages of sympathy which came to us I should like to give the one from Mrs Parkinson, who elsewhere in this book pays him a tribute of affection.

P.O.Box, Vancouver. British Columbia. March 28th 1912. Dear Nance, Kitty's letter at Christmas time had prepared me somewhat for the letter that came yesterday. I thought I should like to write you - not to condole with you, though I know how much you will miss your father after all these years of such close companionship, but to add my tribute to the many you will have received in memory of the beautiful life that your father lived even to the end. As I wrote to Kate, more than any other Dr. Watson was my ideal of a Christian gentleman, and from my early girlhood he has been a very real influence in my life. You must feel glad that he lived to see your little girlie and that he could spend his last years amongst you all in such an ideal spot as Guernsey. It is a great thing to have lived such a long life, so full of good works and gentle influence; there must be very many in many parts of the world who owe much to the mental and spiritual stimulus he gave them. Walter feels just the same about your father. In their home he was always held up as their model to follow, and Mrs Parkinson always spoke of him as her "favourite minister." But, Nancy, the real and deepest appreciations are those that cannot be spoken, only felt, and that is how I feel about your father. Ever since the news came, I have felt my eyes dim and a lump will rise in my throat when I think that no more on earth shall we meet. All we can do now, is to live better because we have known him. Kindest regards to your husband and a kiss for Kathleen and many affectionate wishes for yourself. Stella.

After all "the real and deepest appreciations are those that cannot be spoken, only felt", so I may have failed in my labour of love, but still "we can live better because we have known him" and strive to follow, as he would have wished, the Great Example.