THE BLIND KNIGHT OF NOVA SCOTIA
A Sketch of the Life of the Blind Knight of Nova Scotia
Charles Frederick Fraser was born in the township of Windsor, Nova Scotia, on June 4, 1850. Notwithstanding a great handicap, he was destined to be a leader of men.
Windsor was settled by the loyalists and even in those days stood high in educational advantages and culture. There was founded a college which was called King’s College, after “Old King’s”, now Columbia. The loyalists were anxious to educate their boys at home. Windsor was built at the junction of the two rivers, the Avon and the St. Croix. Great dikes were built to keep back the salt water of the ocean and wheat was raised and exported to Boston. Across the river to the north and south stretched this dike-land famous for its fertility. Behind the town lay the chalk hills, fertile farms, low woodland and mountain slopes.
Windsor is still noted for its phenomenal harbor which at flood tide can accommodate ocean steamers and at low tide contains practically no water. Twice a day the turbulent tide swirls in to the height of forty feet, and on retreating leaves the red mud flats lone and desolate, reminding one of the lines of the Irish poet Tom Moore (who visited Windsor on his tour of America):
“I came to the beach when the morning was shining
A bark o’er the waters rode gloriously on
I came to the beach when the day was declining
The bark was still there but the waters were gone.”
In this picturesque place was spent the boyhood of Charles Frederick Fraser. His father, Dr. Benjamin Fraser was a medical doctor who had graduated at King’s College and also studied at Heidelberg University, and his mother, Elizabeth Allison, daughter of the Hon. Joseph Allison of Halifax, N.S., was a highly cultured lady. Their home was open to very distinguished visitors. High officials in the army and navy graced their board. The Prince of Wales, afterward King Edward VII of England, and the Marquis of Lorn, were among the guests. Doctor Fraser gave much attention to civic affairs but his profession always came first. The poor of the countryside always considered him as their best friend and helper.
Charles Frederick was one of fifteen children. All were brought up under strict English rule. Charles Frederick was a fine specimen of babyhood with the milk-white skin and blue eyes that go with red hair.
The Fraser children lived the schoolroom life of story-books. For them it was a red-letter day when their father was able to be with them for their mid-day meal. His after-dinner habit was to slip back to the schoolroom with tidbits from the dining room. He dearly loved his children, but Freddy or Sheddy, as he called him, seemed to be his favorite, and he always came in for the lion’s share.
Charles Frederick seems to have commenced his education early. At the age of four he would go to school with his older brothers and sisters. He was soon able to read, as he was very bright, and his first purchase was a copy of the New Testament, which he bought with his own pocket-money for four pence. The boy was about seven years of age when he injured one of his eyes. He was whittling a stick with his new penknife when a chip of the blade grazed his eye. At once the eye became inflamed and was brought to the attention of his father. Simple remedies were used, but with poor results.
His father took the boy to Boston to consult Doctor Williams, a noted specialist. This eminent man considered the boy too young for an operation; his father thought the removal of the infected eye might save the sight of the other. However, father and son returned home without anything further being done and the boy continued to go to school. His teacher was Doctor Curran. Notwithstanding his failing sight the young Charles Frederick was making great progress in his studies, becoming proficient in Caesar and Virgil.
Then followed a period which Doctor Fraser termed as one long twilight, when the devoted father was very tender to his afflicted boy. Wherever one saw the Doctor on his rounds over hill and dale, Freddy was by his side, his faithful companion.
Freddy’s love and reverence for his father was very beautiful. The dear old Doctor was loving and kind to a degree, always, living the strenuous life of a country doctor, and with many social engagements to claim his time; yet he found time to be ever a loving and sympathetic father to his large family of boys and girls. The boy Freddy realized all this and responded to his father’s tenderness with a great devotion.
During these twilight years Freddy had a friend tried and true, his faithful dog, Di (Diogenes). He kept close by his master’s side and enabled him to play games, especially baseball, as he would follow the dog to find the ball when his vision was too impaired to see in which direction it went.
Di was poisoned and the story of how the doctor father worked over the dog to save him for the boy’s sake is one of the most pathetic incidents in his early life.
Freddy’s poor eyesight all through his childhood days saved him from many a punishment he richly deserved. His father never allowed any punishment that would make him cry, for fear of further injury to his already injured eyes.
In Dr. Curran’s school this gave him a great advantage, as the rod was used very freely; the motto, “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” was literally upheld. If Freddy’s lessons were unprepared, he would fill his pockets with plums for Doctor Curran, and he related in after years, that it always worked well. He learned at an early age the psychology of life.
At home, instead of whipping which would make him cry, his punishment was to be locked in the storeroom. He was equal to that occasion, also, as he would fill his pockets with nuts, raisins and figs. This was not so good, as his brothers would be waiting for him in the garden. When his term of punishment was over and he emerged, they would pounce on him and shake out his pockets and make him share up.
At thirteen years of age his father took him again to Doctor Williams. This time he operated for and artificial pupil but without success. The other eye became radically worse.
One day somewhat later, to prove to himself his fears of the tragedy, Doctor Fraser dropped a quarter on the floor and told Freddy to pick it up. The boy groped in vain with his head upturned. The father then realized that his boy would soon be blind.
When it seemed necessary, Doctor Fraser made arrangements to send Freddy to Boston, to the Perkins Institute for the Blind under the tuition of Doctor Samuel Howe (whose wife was Julia Ward Howe), and Sir Francis Campbell of Royal Normal College, Norwood, England. Here, under such great educators, Freddy learned the Psychology of the Blind. Indeed, many a difficult problem he met and overcame. Intuitively, he imbibed self-reliance, patience, tenacity of purpose to overcome his disability, and not permit it to handicap his life work.
When he entered the Institute Fred had sight enough to light his way in traveling around the city – but little by little, it failed him and left him in total darkness.
Fred was a great favorite at school. Large of frame, he was fearless, courageous, honest, and kind. He was quite an athlete and entered with great zest into all healthy sport. He had a vigorous constitution and was a fine, healthy, rollicksome youth. It is related of him that he was a grand one to entertain the boys, giving them weird and graphic accounts of the pyramids of Egypt and other subjects.
At the same time, this independent youth would deeply resent any interference with what he considered his rights. Without the slightest scruple he would break the rules when he thought they did injustice to his own inherent rights. For instance, smoking was forbidden, but Fraser would not be cheated out of one of his few material comforts; so, smoke he did, even when he lost sleep in so doing. At night, he would steal down to the boiler-room, and there enjoy his pipe!
He was often sleepy during class, due, no doubt, to his being in the boiler-room at night, smoking, instead of in bed, sleeping. “I recall,” writes one of his fellow students, “one morning when we had a class before breakfast (by lamplight in winter) the teacher found Fred asleep, roused him, and ordered him to stand up with his back to the wall. This he did but the teacher found he had again relapsed into slumber, and fearing he might topple over, she ordered him to sit down. This was greatly to the amusement of the class.”
Once, Fred undertook to sit up with his roommate, who was ill with scarlet fever (not much quarantine in those days). To keep awake, Fred practiced writing Braille, which prevented his sick companion from sleeping. When he learned of this the next morning he expressed regret and remarked, “Why did you not tell me? I would have stopped—”
On the whole, however, no doubt because of an active mind, the authorities found Fred troublesome. He formed a club among the older boys. This did not find favor with the authorities, and in consequence he was asked to leave school abruptly in the middle of the term. However, he returned the following year, and in due time, graduated.
Fred was twenty-two years of age when he graduated from Perkins Institute. He had decided on a business career – financial matters had for him a great charm. He was a born optimist and only considered the lack of sight an obstacle to be overcome. He had great talent for mathematics, and was a wizard at arithmetic. As for capital, that did not worry him. His father was only too willing to help his son financially.
It was then that he was offered the position in a different type of work, that of principal of a school for the blind at Halifax. It was at that time a struggling institution.
Two years passed. Still he hesitated, meanwhile pursuing his studies. Doubtless the call to opportunity and sacrifice had come to him as it knocks at every man’s door. Again he was urged by letter to accept the position. He answered in writing, accepting the position of superintendent and refused any salary until such time as they would be financially able to give him a living wage. This generous offer was accepted and he became superintendent in 1873.
The Asylum, as it was called, consisted of one wooden building, two teachers and six pupils. One short year proved that Frederick Fraser was the man of the hour. For fifty years afterwards he bravely toiled and worked incessantly to make it one of the best schools for the blind in America. The work was colossal but the man himself was great, and equal to the task. He was confronted with a great problem – free education for the blind – and his first and last thought was how to put is over. Unceasingly he hammered at the doors of the Legislature until he obtained a grant of twelve hundred dollars a year.
The situation of the blind people at this time was deplorable. some, the more fortunate, were living with relatives. Others, God’s most pitiful children, were begging on the streets or living hopelessly in poor-houses.
Frederick Fraser wanted to help them all to be free by training them to earn their own livelihood. As a beginning, he started a campaign to visit every one of the fourteen counties in Nova Scotia. Nothing daunted, he procured a horse and wagon and started out on his long tour of eleven hundred miles. He took with him several teachers and the orchestra of the school and gave concerts. For forty-five consecutive nights he addressed audiences on the claim of the blind. On his return to Halifax, he went again to the Legislature, armed with all the resolutions. The glorious result of the campaign was an Act of Parliament giving Free Education for the Blind of Nova Scotia – 1882! In this he led America. Think of the bad roads of those days, the poor accommodations, the uncertain weather, the terrible distance, and he totally blind! Such valor in so unselfish a cause could not fail! The beginning was made and Frederick Fraser had gained the support necessary for his work.
When Sir Frederick came to the school there was one piano which was used for indifferent music lessons. He left an equipped and organized musical department which ranks well with many of the conservatories of the country.
Nor was Sir Frederick’s work confined to the school. A free library for the blind was now an urgent need, not only for the pupils in the classrooms but for the ever increasing number of graduates. The money was raised and the library established.
The next obstacle was the cost of postage which made it practically impossible for sightless readers to take advantage of the books now available. Sir Frederick went straight to the heart of the situation and urged that raised print books should be transmitted free through the mails. It was through his efforts and influence that the Canadian postal authorities in 1898 adopted the principle that embossed books for the blind should be transmitted free of postage.
In the superintendent’s report, 1882, we read: “To the President and Board of Managers: Gentlemen: The year now drawing to a close is one that will long be remembered as being that in which the right of the blind to free education was publicly recognized and liberally provided for by the legislature of the County. For this just recognition and ample provision we, the friends of the blind, feel deeply grateful not only to the Legislature (which by the enactment of the Law making education free to this class have given practical expression to the views and opinions held by all truly liberal minded men) but also to our Heavenly Father, the Author and Giver of all good things, Who has in special manner blessed the efforts made to provide the welfare of the blind in this Province, and has in this particular instance crowned their efforts with complete success.”
Further on in the same report we find: “In the month of March 1882 the government introduced a bill entitled “An Act in Relation to the Education of the Blind.” This act provides that all persons who are blind between the ages of ten and twenty-one years residing in Nova Scotia are admitted free of all expenses saving those of clothing and travelling to and from their homes.”
No doubt he was delighted that his greatest problem “Free Education for the Blind” had been solved, but in concluding his report he touches on another campaign when he says: “The Institution which has for the past ten years been known as Halifax Asylum for the Blind will during the coming session of Legislature have the name under which it was incorporated changed for one that will be more in keeping with its educational character. The reasons for such a change are obvious and need not here be recapitulated at any great length. Suffice it to say that the opprobrious name Asylum for the Blind, in dictating as it does that it is an establishment designed for aged and decrepit persons is evidently a misnomer and should therefore be abolished and a new and more fitting name substituted for it, such for example as “The School for the Blind.”
In 1890 Frederick Fraser married a charming young lady, Miss Ellen J. Hunter of St. John, New Brunswick, who wrote several books for children. For several years she was an invalid and was given every comfort until her death.
In 1892 the School for the Blind had been operated under Charles Frederick Fraser’s care for nearly twenty years and the results were most favorable. Nearly eight per cent of the graduates were engaged in teaching music; twelve per cent conducting or taking part in concert companies; eight per cent in piano tuning; eight per cent in manufacturing; twelve per cent working at trades or giving instruction; two per cent as agents; two per cent in farm work; two per cent in literary or college work; twenty-two per cent assisting at home. Three had taken advantage of courses of music in Germany and one had taken a B.A. course at Acadia College.
In 1902, ten years later, we read in the superintendent’s report that: thirty-nine per cent were teaching music, piano, organ, or violin; eleven per cent teaching piano; fifteen per cent manufacturing willow baskets, bench and chair seats; fifteen per cent engaged in shopkeeping, or as traders, agents, lecturers, caterers, and manufacturers; twenty per cent at home partially self-supporting.
It is worthy of note that twenty per cent of our graduates are married and settled in homes of their own. Of these sixteen per cent are men and four per cent women. The marriages have in all cases been with people of sight. So many and so varied have been the occupations followed by individual blind persons that it would seem almost as if blindness was in no sense a bar to success in every calling.
In 1903 the school was a veritable hive of industry, with its seventy-one boys and forty-seven girls. The primary work included kindergarten training. Then followed four years grammar school, six years high school and two years for ungraded pupils who could not follow to advantage the course of study.
Instead of one piano there were thirty available for the pupils. The building designed for thirty students was added to and a new building, designed throughout by the blind superintendent, was erected. A model of this building in clay stands on a table in the reception hall.
The home life of the institution was made as much as possible that of a genial and cheerful family. The atmosphere of the place was one of cheerfulness and love.
Every day found the devoted superintendent at his post, teaching. His salary was two hundred dollars per year for many years – a mere pittance. One marvels to learn that he taught English, mathematics, history, geography, music and the art, so well adapted to the blind, of chair-caning. In addition to all this, he was also editing a magazine – “The Critic”.
In his later years his daily routine was most interesting. He was accustomed to rise at seven-fifteen, attend the school gathering, called Prayers, and later, roll-call at eight-o’clock. Breakfast was at eight-fifteen and after the morning paper was read to him, he made it a practice to begin the day in his office by nine o’clock p.m. and after a short nap, he returned to the office again until five-fifteen. From that time, until six o’clock he always walked. If the weather were stormy he would walk in the long corridors of the building, otherwise, in the open air, through the park. It is not surprising, considering this man, that he knew every walk in the park, and could take strangers around without the least hesitation. He could accomplish more in every respect, without sight, than many of our fellow-beings can attain with all their faculties.
The evening meal was taken at six, after which the evening paper was read. Other reading followed, or friends came in. So the time passed and much more was accomplished because of this systematic routine. Most of the truly great people, who have accomplished wonderful things in life, have followed this practice. The life of such men must be methodical to be efficient.
It was in 1910 that Frederick Fraser married Miss Jane E.R. Stevens, the daughter of William Stevens, of Burn Brad, Brooklyn, Nova Scotia. Jane Stevens was a lady of great charm, genial personality and affectionate disposition. She took a keen interest in the work of the blind and was a wonderful help-mate in every way to Doctor Fraser. In private life, it may be imagined, the doctor was the most interesting of men. He never impressed people that he was blind. Instead he was a powerful, vital man, always.
In 1911 a great joy came to his life with the birth of his son, Charles Frederick Jr. On this occasion, only, did the father make mention of his infirmity, when he said, “I regret I shall never see the little chap.”
In regard to his beloved life-work, nothing was too good for the school and there were no limits to the superintendent’s enterprise in securing the best. Whenever he wanted anything for the school he asked for it. In the matter of the necessary playground equipment, he went to the Local Council of Women. The result as always was successful. From the proceeds of a fair, donations of kind friends, and several entertainments, a steel playground outfit was purchased. Also a playroom was fitted up for the younger pupils.
A circulating library was started containing books with embossed lettering making it possible for the blind to read. From a few volumes it increased to the number of eleven hundred and twenty-one. Public-spirited men and women made this possible.
Next an up-to-date pipe organ was thought of. A fund was started to realize five thousand dollars. In a short time four thousand was subscribed. When the organ was installed a debt of one thousand dollars remained. The superintendent remarked, “I trust the good friends of the school will speedily help us to remove the debt.”
And thus, the years sped on for Frederick Fraser. To gather from a local paper, this remarkable man “was never in a hurry, never stopping, never complaining, always at it, working inch by inch to his ideal, and all around was ignorance and indifference in the matter of educating the blind.”
Then came the Great War. In December 1917 Halifax, Nova Scotia was the site of one of the greatest disasters of the War period. It was a clear, crisp winter morning. The school children were hurrying off to school, business men were getting to their different occupations. All was well until a report was circulated that two ships heavily loaded with explosives were in the harbor and had collided. One was on fire. People stopped for a moment to see the flames reaching the sky. When lo, came a tremendous explosion. It is reported that the sea left the harbor-bottom and soared to the height of forty feet, spreading a short but destructive distance over the land, drenching and drowning all within its wake. The roar of explosives, and rushing water and terrific commotion caused everyone in the houses to rush to the windows. In another second, another crash and every pane of glass in the entire city was in splinters. In the extreme north end of the city, every house within the wake of the blast was demolished and many of them took fire. Over eighteen thousand were homeless. Falling glass deprived hundreds of their eyesight; two hundred remained blind. Many eyes were removed. One nurse remarked, “I carried their eyes away in buckets!”
Public buildings were turned into temporary hospitals; every citizen uninjured turned into a nurse. The horrors of that day will never be fully known; it is written in the Eternal Book of Life and Death and Tragedy.
The School for the Blind became a veritable asylum, treating tenderly the injured, the doctors removing many eyes, leaving the sightless to the tender mercies of Sir Frederick.
As for Sir Frederick Fraser – what a situation to find oneself in after forty-four years of uphill work. His temple shattered from its foundation, and every perishable thing lying around in ruins – pianos, school furniture, dishes, glasses, pictures – all the visible work of a lifetime destroyed in about six seconds of time. Every window pane was shattered and every window frame crushed in, every door unhinged and lying low, every ceiling down. Then the dead and dying were carried in and the dreadful storm came on. The snow piled high, covering the burning ruins in the city and the dead and living bodies buried beneath. That was a fearful day for Halifax.
The women worked like men, driving ambulances and automobiles to the hospitals which were soon filled to their capacity. Then churches and schools were turned into hospitals, cots were put up everywhere. The Red Cross car from Boston was quick to respond to the “S.O.S.” but the snow-storm delayed the train. In the houses the uninjured were busy getting tarpaper, canvasses, anything tacked up to their windows to keep out the driving storm.
In God’s merciful providence, not one of Sir Frederick’s household was injured. In his next report we find no word of complaint or discouragement. The only encouraging message he could give the president of the board was that, “the buildings withstood the terrible shock without great structural damage, saving to window glass, plastered ceilings, and walls, doors, window frames, and much of the internal woodwork.” It was a sad sight after forty-four years of uphill work.
Owing to the urgent demand for hospital accommodations in the city on the day of the explosion, temporary hospital wards for injured children and adults were opened in the school building. Upwards of fifty patients were tenderly cared for, for more than a week by the members of the staff, with the aid of volunteer nurses. Miss Lockwood, the trained nurse of the school, was in special charge.
The parents outside the city, anxious for the safety of their children, telegraphed to have them sent home. A few of these re-entered in September but a number failed to return. Miss Jean Allison, for many years teacher of vocal music, was seriously injured at her home, and though she made a brave fight for life, she died two months later.
The buildings of the School for the Blind were damaged to the extent of $25,000.00 and it took two years to have repairs completed. In his report for that year he writes: “Owing to the poor attendance of pupils due to the explosion and the high cost of maintenance the school was obliged to secure a heavy overdraft at the bank.”
“This has been partially offset during the present year by special grants of $25,000.00 from the Province of Nova Scotia and $1,500.00 from the Dominion of Newfoundland with an increase in the annual grant per pupil from $300.00 to $400.00. Halifax Relief Commission paid cost of repairs to the extent of $25,000.00.”
The editor of Vancouver Daily writes: “I make the confident prediction that if Sir Charles Frederick Fraser is entrusted with half a million dollars to repair as far as possible the damage of blindness caused by the Halifax explosion he will give better results than the custodian of any other half million that may be appropriated to repair other losses.” Although part of the devastated area has been rebuilt, Halifax still bears the sears of that terrible day. Honorable sears, proudly worn, as befits a Molding Place of Empire.
The only little boy in the school who could see was Frederick Jr. In the midst of the general confusion the fond father found time to take the boy on his knee and console the little fellow and no doubt at the same time offer thanks to his Heavenly Father that they had escaped the terrible holocaust.
In far-off Belgium another great man stood by the ruins of his life-work, his Cathedral. That man was Cardinal Mercier. His slogan was identical with that of Sir Frederick – “Let us Rebuild.”
To show the great development of the school under Dr. Fraser we read in his report for 1916:
“In previous reports I have advocated the establishment of scholarships in connection with the School for the Blind. Many of our pupils possess a distinctive literary or musical ability and several of these might after graduation prosecute their studies to advantage either by taking a college course of by supplementing their musical training in a recognized conservatory of music. Five of our former pupils have taken full college courses.
“Four of these graduated from Dalhousie University, Halifax, and one from Acadia University, Wolfville. One of these, Mr. Lem Duffy, is now pastor in charge of the Baptist Church of Great Falls, N.B.. Another, Mr. Grover Lomjohn, is an ordained Presbyterian minister and is doing good work in Shediac, N.B.. Still another, Mr. Charles McInnes, who graduated with distinction from Dalhousie University with a view of fitting himself for a professorship of history.
“One of our graduates, Dr. J.A. McDonald of Halifax, took a full course in Massachusetts College of Osteopathy, Cambridge, Mass., where he graduated with high distinction. Subsequently Dr. McDonald successfully passed the Massachusetts medical examinations.
“Several of our graduates have taken vocal courses in New England Conservatory of Music. Two have studied in Leipsiec, Germany, and one, Mr. Hollis Lindsay, graduated with honors from Chicago Conservatory of Music. We should have an income of from $500.00 to $1,000.00 per annum from which scholarships might be awarded to valued pupils and special grants made to deserving graduates.”
It is needless to add that each pupil who succeeded was an added joy to the man who had given his life to the betterment of the blind.
Many men of great achievement are honored by their fellow-men only after their mortal course has run, and the memory of their life-work is recorded on brass tablet or marble tomb, but to Sir Frederick was give the rare privilege to be honored and appreciated while he was still at the helm of his great ship.
For nearly fifty years he had been at his post, leading and directing a nation in the education of the blind – he, himself, totally deprived of sight. In March 1913 he was called before the Legislative Council of Nova Scotia, and publicly thanked for his great work. (This honor had not been accorded to anyone for over eighty years.)
Then in June 1915 he was recommended by his life-long friend, Sir Robert Borden, to the King of England for the honor of Knighthood which he received in token of the value of his life-work. His native College, King’s, and Dalhousie University, had also conferred their honors upon him. Likewise, at home, he had been called before the Bar of the House of Assembly and publicly thanked for his services to the blind.
Then came his Golden Jubilee. Fifty years of service, half a century of consecrated effort – a glorious record! This was a red-letter day at the school, but there was a deep note of sadness to the festivities, for they marked, as well, the eve of his retirement.
A SONNET TO SIR FREDERICK FRASER
by W.T. Townsend
“For fifty years a servant of thy Kind
With brain and intellect of rarest mold
Controlled by fate and not by Fate controlled
Tho blind an yet a leader of the blind.
My country honors thee, a master mind
An honor such as few do hold
Our public thanks; but more a thousand fold
The thanks of those who light in darkness found
Not thus content to ever stand and wait
But forced proud fortune to their hand to bring
The golden key and thus unlock the gate of usefulness
For those less resolute who but for thee
Might wait for light until Eternity.”
In the fifty-first annual report we find an attendance of one hundred and seventy-three pupils receiving instruction during the past year. The president referred briefly to the success of the school during the past fifty years, stating that seven hundred and seventy-seven pupils had entered the school and many of these as graduates had become self-supporting men and women.
For several years after the explosion the attendance of children was much below the average of previous years. The financial loss sustained by the school during the years 1917-1920 when it is stated that the annual per capita grants are received only for the pupils actually in attendance while the cost of maintenance including salaries of staff, fuel, repairs, etc., remain about the same as in previous years. “This year we had one hundred and forty-seven pupils and as we have only accommodations for one hundred and fifty it will be seen that we are now approaching our capacity.”
His long and strenuous life in the devoted service of others was beginning to tell upon his strong constitution. The first winter he was ordered south by his physician. The balmy air of Palm Beach seemed to rejuvenate him. As spring came the hear grew exhausting, and he came north as far as Washington, where he remained until May, or until the weather had sufficiently moderated up north. During the summer he enjoyed his comfortable home in Halifax, surrounded by his family, his horses, his dogs and his flowers and friends.
When winter came around again, a warmer climate was suggested, this time, Bermuda. However, the boat trip was not very pleasant, as the weather was stormy. When Sir Frederick landed at the coral isle he tried in vain to regain his strength. His interest in places and things was beginning to wane. He returned home where after several months of constant care, under a skilled physician and kind nurse, with Lady Fraser and his son, Fred Jr. at his bedside, he finally succumbed on July 15, 1925, in his seventy-fifth year.
Sir Frederick’s funeral procession from his residence to Camp Hill Cemetery was rather exceptional. As a tribute to his Scottish ancestry, two pipers walked beside the hearse and the pibroch’s sorrowful note was heard. A carriage, laden with the most beautiful collection of floral tributes which has marked any funeral in Halifax in years, followed the hearse.
In Fraser Hall, the auditorium of the School for the Blind, can be seen a bronze tablet, installed, in appreciation of his life-work, one year after his retirement and one year before his death.
The qualities of humility and greatness of this kindly man are portrayed in the following prayer, often recited by Sir Frederick, which characterizes his noble purpose in life.
“HIS PRAYER”
Oh God help me to be just.
Lift me up out of the Ocean of Superstition and Imaginations and grant me the “Iron Sight” to see and realize from the surrounding existence Thy Oneness and Thy Worth.