Mary and Andrew Ambler had eight sons.  This is the story of David, their fifth son, and a large room in the old Ambler Homestead. It's also about his favorite horse, but more about David and this unusual occurrence later. 

The "special" room saw activity several times over the period of half a century.  It was first used as a class room when the children of Mary and Andrew reached the age where education was in order. At that time formal education was almost non-existent, being furnished by a member of the family, or perhaps a neighbor or friend.  In the case of the Ambler family who were Quakers, part of this learning was received at the Meeting House they attended in Gwynedd. 

With the room set aside for classes, Mary taught not only her eight sons, but also the children of some of her neighbors. In this way she handled their early education until they were ready for more formal schooling, when public schools began to appear. 

The room was next put to use as a hospital following the "Great Train Wreck" of July 17th, 1856.  It occurred on the North Pennsylvania Railroad below Fort Washington, near the Camp Hill station. Known as the world's worse train wreck at the time, more than sixty persons were killed, most of them children.  Involved in the head-on collision were a north-bound excursion train carrying Sunday School members to a picnic grove in Fort Washington, and the south-bound commuter train which had originated at Gwynedd Station.  It was a single-track, established only the year before, that went no farther than Gwynedd because of large rock formations encountered. 

History tells us that the frail Quaker lady, Mary Johnson Ambler, on hearing of the disaster, walked from her home in the Village of Wissahickon to the scene of the wreck. Fifty-one years old at the time, she worked alongside many other volunteers, including more than thirty doctors. Most of that day was spent caring for the victims, with the temperature reaching 102 degrees in the shade.  

After administering to the injured, she had many of them brought to her home where the former class room was set up as a hospital.  Here she cared for the  victims, until they were well enough to return to their Kensington homes.  

In 1869, the year after her death, Mary was honored by the Railroad, which changed the station name from Wissahickon to Ambler.  This was in recognition of work done by her at the scene of the wreck, and in the hospital set up in her home. 

Some years later, this same room once again was used, but in a most unusual fashion.  After Mary's death, her  son David purchased the homestead, where he was born in 1837, and moved in.   David, on  completing his education, had worked as a clerk at the general store in Fitzwatertown for two years. Afterwards, he moved to Quakertown, establishing a coal and lumber business.  This he operated for ten years, returning to Wissahickon in 1869, the year the Village was re-named Ambler. 

While living here at the old homestead, David owned a very fine driving horse, of which he was quite proud.  About the year 1872, there was a horse sickness which was epidemic in this part of Montgomery County.   David's animal was among the hundreds stricken.  While large numbers were dying, David was determined to do everything in his power to save his favorite horse.  He at once fitted up this same large room, used first as a classroom and then as the temporary hospital.   Once again the room became a hospital, but this time for treating his sick horse. His efforts were not in vain, for in a relatively short time, the animal responded to his tender attention and regained its strength. 

But there's more to the story of David's horse than has been recorded.  We've heard nothing about David's wife Caroline, or her reaction to his bringing the horse into their home.  Did she say, in true Quaker fashion,  "Art thou out of thy mind, David, to think that I might share my home with a horse ?"  Or perhaps she said, "David, if thou bringest thine horse into the house, I shall be forced to leave thee."  This part of the story will never be known.