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No more fitting tribute could be recorded than the eulogy by the Reverend David Allan of Bloor Street United Church, for Dr. Ethel Chapman at the funeral service on August 31, 1976. Dr. Chapman was _a true friend to Women’s Institute members. Her guidance, thoughtfulness and charm will long be remembered by the membership. Dr. Ethel Chapman was of pioneer stock. And the . sturdiness, the common sense, the respect of nature and the land, the qualities of vigorous and honest character, clear as the pioneer streams that flowed swift silver through the Campbellville hills-the thirst for learning, and trust in an underlying prov1derice, all mark like ancient gravestones the procession of that ' descendency through her life. We know of her work in . the Women’s Institute, in journalism, in the United :‘rChurch, in Bloor Street church, in helping to create 4 the community that lives in Chester Village, her 611- . thusiasm for so many things, her generosity and un- failing courtesy. We remember her determination and her humility; her many abilities and her patience in achieving goals; her love ofthe land and the people of the land; her great scholarship and her great sim- ,:-plicity; her love of words spoken and written and her i mastery of both; her host of friends and their respect ? and affection for her; her clear picture of life and her serene faith. I asked Dr. Chapman three weeks ago what in her rich and accomplished life had she prized the most. And she said, without hesitation, the many friends she had made. You are those friends. You were her life’s treasure. It has been our privilege. That same day she told me that she wanted to die; I she was worn out from the constant efforts to keep her alive. She spoke to her doctor shortly after I left. She 'was calm and reasonable. This decision was typical of . her dignity and lucid thinking. Last week when l L spoke to her again, her mind was still keen and ' thoughtful, but I Could no longer understand her words; so we sat in quietness and silence together for the last time. Let me read to you from her own writings. a pas- sage from her novel, “God’s Green Country”. It is a scene within the thoughts of a young boy culled Billy. (p. 26-27) “. i . He had been at old Mr. Hopkins’ funeral 1 when he was quite small and had enjoyed it immensely. It had seemed just like a story to watch the people all moving around so still as if they expected something; to see the black box with its silver handles and the flowers all ; piled on topihe had wanted his mother to lift him up to see in, but she didn’t. Mr. Hop- kins’ family were all there, fine, rich-looking' men and women with their hair beginning to turn grey and children of their own almost grown up, And the people had sung “The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want.” It wasjust fine. You could almost see old Mr. Hopkins ‘ going down the green pastures with his long stafi‘, just like he came out to salt the sheep, only not so bent over, and maybe with a long gown on like the charts showed at Sunday school. He would likely have found Mrs. Hop- kins, who had died two years before, and they would sit under the trees and both be happier than they had been in all their lives. One of the daughters had said, “He never was the same since Ma died,” and Bill’s faith never questioned the goodness of the angels in tak- ing him to her. Altogether there was nothing ‘ sad about it, except that everyone would miss old Mr. Hopkins for a while. But this funeral to-day would be different. There were children at Brown’sâ€"some of them just babies. Mrs. Brown couldn’t be much older than his mother. People said she had consumption, and when Billy had called to ask hands to the threshing last fall he had seen her at the pump, and she looked so white and thin she had almost frightened him. ’ When he asked if he could carry the water for her she couldn’t answerfijust leaned on the pump and coughed and coughed. He had seen her helping her husband plant potatoes once too. She hadn’t looked so bad then, but that was a year ago. Well, she would be through now. He had heard his grandmother say once that there were “a thousand things worse than . death.” Maybe it was true . . .” Florence Eadie9 i, "I‘ By Alan Barnes'Toronto St‘ar , Florence Eadie, who helped the growth of 4-H, i Homemaking Clubs for girls in rural Ontario: , has died at age 88. ,, _ - . She spent 36 years with the provincial Minis- try of Agriculture and .was assistant director of the home economics service . when she retired in 196.2.-~ , - _ - At that time she said 'She‘had been “highly privileged” to 'worklt with? so many young.‘ people» ‘3, . _ ‘ “It has given me great satisfaction to watch the young girls ' grow up to become ‘ thinking citizens fulfill-' i Florence 53d"? , 4 , in g their responsibil‘r. ; ities in their homes and in theiiiJObS3'3“ ' . . i In her first‘years with the Women’s Institute ‘ branch: of the ministry, she was‘ in charge of girls’ work. In 1935, soon after ‘ she became supervisor of the junior extensronibranch, theflj‘ H clubs were founded and became her spemat . ' concern. . , ,i The first year, there were' 1,000 members in i 100 clubs. In'l962, there were 1,840 clubs With a ‘ 3; total membership of 17,000. . . l, i- She loved rural life and péople and her exten-. ‘ sive travelling around the pI‘OVmCE made her ,1 good friends in every area. 7 - [i A farm girl herself; she Was born and grew. ‘ up in the town of Scotland in Brant County, She - i taught in rural schoolsbefore attending Victo-. ria College at the University of Toronto. . She was a member of the Canadian Assocxa- : tipn for the United Nations. . After retirin , she made several trips to the‘ . Northwest Terrgitories on behalf of the Federatw‘ti ed Women’s Institutes of Canada to set up branches of the'institute among Indlan8,'a'l‘ld‘." “ Eskimos. ' C ‘ -’ l {fight 1 She died Friday‘iri unnybr09k Méctic’ai‘ » Centre. A funeral was held Tuesday in Scotland, 'Ont. ‘ 06 T. /' ?XZJ,7 r , . l i