Part 4

But if the night-schools were amusing, the afternoon schools for the women were not less so. Old women and young women, many of them in fantastic attire, with hats, caps and dresses that would have been considered prizes by an antiquary; the dark faces peering from under the white or speckled turban; old women wiping their spectacles, vainly endeavoring to get “more light” on the subject, while picking away at the letters in some old Primer, as if they were to be transferred bodily to the head. Aunt Chloe Fisher must have been seventy-five or eighty years old, but still she was bright and original. She came into school one afternoon very anxious to learn to read “de way, de troof, and de life.” Seeing some women in another part of the room reading, she exclaimed, “Jes hear dem niggers read! If dis nig can’t read, too, won’t she fight ’em?” and then she vigorously applied her finger to the pages of the Gospel of John which she had with her, finding the words Lord and God, which were about all she knew. She believed in both faith and works, for she used to pray most earnestly that God would help her know the words, and then get up in the middle of the night and light a pine knot to see if she had a word right. Old Aunt Chloe was always happy. I never saw her otherwise but once, and then she was greatly troubled for fear she should lose her place in the grave-yard. One special place she had chosen, and young people were dying so fast she was afraid she should not die soon enough to lie there. She would get happy over her wash-tub or anywhere else, and her hands and her feet would keep time with some negro hymn in a most amusing manner.

One old Aunty was reading the fifth chapter of Matthew, when she came to a passage, which she read thus; “Neither—do—men—light—a—half-bushel—and—put—it—under—a—candle-stick.” On being stopped and told to look again, pointing with her finger all along the lines of the page, with a look of half despair she said, “Bress you, honey, I can’t find either candle or half-bushel now.” Those simple words were quite a sermon for me, and I’ve thought of them many a time since. Are not we, as Christians, in danger of losing our candles? Our good Aunty’s candle was soon found for her; but will ours, once lost, be as easily recovered?

In those days, even in the day-schools, there were many difficulties that could hardly be encountered now. I remember hearing one teacher say that it was almost impossible to get the ages of her scholars. They would say, “My age is up country;” or “Ole missis has my age in the Bible, and she’s gone away.” The trick of giving one name to one teacher and another to the next was practiced. On giving a second name once, one little fellow was brought up with, “Why, I thought your name was George Johnson?” “I done got tired of that name,” was his cool reply.

Perhaps the most interesting prayer-meeting that I ever attended among the Freedmen was in Alabama, where the Ku Klux outrages lasted so much longer than in other places, and where the missionaries looked to their guns and their rifles before retiring. I reached there just the evening of the weekly prayer-meeting at the school-house. ’Twas a stormy night, but with waterproofs and umbrellas we ventured. Wholly unused to bullets, I must confess there was a little trembling under one waterproof, as we wended our way along the little path through the woods, and across the one plank bridge over the Branch; but once within the building all fear vanished. The room was filled with the finest looking colored people I had ever seen. They had, many of them, been house servants in the best families in this aristocratic place. The pastor opened the meeting, and they carried it on with a liveliness that was truly refreshing. Two or three usually rose at once, with words right on their lips. This church had only been organized a little over a year, and then numbered about eighty. There had been much to dishearten all along. They had no church building, and had been striving hard to build; but no sooner would they begin to see little light through the clouds than the white people, fearing that the men with dark skins might acquire too great a hold on this world’s goods, would remove work from the most prosperous, and thus the clouds would gather again. Referring to this method of _keeping down_, one of the members once said, “No ’count niggers can rub along here well enough, but smart niggers had better look out for other quarters.” Even at that time the danger of their being obliged to disband from outside violence was hardly over, and as they told of their love for their church, one could hardly help thinking of the stories of the early Christians, when persecutions only increased their zeal. There was an undertone of sadness through the remarks of several, for they felt peculiarly uncertain as to what a day might bring forth. But one suddenly rose and changed the key. “I was sad,” he said, “when I first came in here, but your words of sadness have made me glad, for they have shown me how much we all love our church, and such love, with the love of God for us, which is even much greater, will carry us through fiery trials. I never felt as strong as I feel to-night. ’Tis true, I don’t know what may come upon us, but I do feel that the Lord will help us through.” Then he told what he hoped for the future, in such cheerful words, that as he sat down, they burst forth almost with one voice in a song of praise, and then one after another kneeled down, and in the most simple words of faith asked their Father to help His children in this their day of trouble, and I do not think there was one present who had the slightest doubt of His doing so.

Even before the Kansas fever, there were States in the North that were synonyms for all good things to the colored people. I remember a Thanksgiving Day, when a minister was addressing one of the schools, and telling the children what they had to be thankful for, that he burst forth with the question, “Is there any other country so blessed as this?” “Yes, sir,” said a little urchin before him. “Why, what one?” “Massachusetts,” was the reply.

I once heard a colored minister pray heartily for the teachers in this wise, “May God throw around this institution His _frosty_ arms, and bear the teachers from this to another vale of tears.”

The good old days have gone; the better ones, _perhaps_, have come.

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TENNESSEE.

A Remarkable Conversion and Triumphant Death.

MISS HENRIETTA MATSON, NASHVILLE.

How often have God’s dealings with His children seemed strange and sad, when those who were just ready to do valiant service for Him, here amid the need of a lost world, are called up higher—called to rest, rather than toil—to wear the crown, rather than longer bear the cross.

But God’s ways are not ours, and since we know that He ever cares for His own cause, we may believe that He calls the loved one to a higher usefulness. Such were some of the thoughts that came to our hearts when, on a beautiful June morning during the summer vacation, we read the words, “E. J. Park died yesterday afternoon,” followed by an account of the triumphant death of a student of Fisk University, who had gone to Texas to teach school.

Eugene Park came to Fisk University several years ago, a pleasant, careless boy, who had never bestowed a thought upon his eternal interests. For a long time he was but little moved; both the warnings and the entreaties of the Gospel seemed to fall unheeded upon his ear, and we often felt that he became only more careless and indifferent.

At last, however, the Spirit strove with him, and he began to ask, “What must I do to be saved?” though at first there was not in him that fixed purpose which would lead him to arise and go to his Father. And so he halted for months, wavering and undecided, until a mighty conviction seized him that he must find God, and that speedily. Sin, in all its enormity, was revealed to him, and he seemed indeed to realize that he was lost, unless the Saviour should interpose and deliver him.

He then gave himself entirely to seeking God. He could not study, and there were many long hours in which he could neither eat nor sleep, so powerfully was he wrought upon. One morning in Chapel, at devotional exercises, while in this intense state of mind, the reading of the Scriptures so affected him that he sobbed aloud. Hoping to calm him, and at the same time point him to Christ, the hymn was sung, “Oh, the blood, the precious blood!” but he was so overcome that his friends were obliged to take him away, and a few of us gathered and prayed with him. Still the light from the Sun of Righteousness did not break in; the precious blood was not applied to his soul until the next day, when Jesus Himself drew near, and the Lord of Glory revealed Himself as the One altogether lovely, and the Chief among ten thousand. His soul seemed in a rapture of joy for days. He came to the school with his Bible always in his hand, as though he could not be parted from it even for a moment.

Then followed years of ripening in the Christian life, with frequent seasons of such blessing that he could not speak of Christ without tears. He early gave himself to the ministry, feeling that to preach the everlasting Gospel would be his highest joy, and was pursuing his studies with this in view. He was not, however, without temptations to a worldly life, though we are assured that the dear Saviour kept His own, even unto the end. His death was a beautiful illustration of the triumph of the Gospel of Christ. Far from friends and home, yet he was not alone, for that Friend that sticketh closer than a brother was near.

He had been ill for several days, and one morning he told those about him that he should go home at three afternoon, and precisely at the hour named the summons came. He had sent messages to his mother and friends. “Tell them,” he said, “that Jesus is with me and saves me. Oh, how sweet it is to die in the arms of Jesus.” He then sung, “Washed in the blood of the Lamb,” “Safe in the arms of Jesus,” and “Sweeping through the gates to the new Jerusalem.”

And now we, in our sorrow, think of him as thus “safe.” We hoped he would labor long and successfully for the Master; but he has been called up higher, and is now, we believe, among the ransomed in the New Jerusalem, where he has learned the new song, even praise unto our God.

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GEORGIA.

First Impressions.

REV. P. W. YOUNG, BYRON

I feel the necessity of writing you this morning concerning my work, though my time is much occupied. I am happy to say that I found some very earnest members here, notwithstanding they were like sheep without a shepherd when I came. There is an opportunity for a great deal of Christian labor here, as in many other places.

I preach on the Sabbath at 11 o’clock and at 8 o’clock in the evening. We have a very good Temperance Society also. Its members manifest great interest in the cause. The people are beginning to see that intemperance, if continually practiced, will bring them to degradation. I delivered a lecture to the society last Sabbath in the afternoon, having about 250 persons present. I told them in the plainest words of the great harm that had been done by intemperance among the colored people. When I closed my remarks they said they wished I could speak an hour longer on the same subject, showing their hearty approval of what I had said.

The religious interest seems to be good generally. There are four converts to unite with the church.

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THE CHINESE.

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“CALIFORNIA CHINESE MISSION.”

Auxiliary to the American Missionary Association.

PRESIDENT: Rev. J. K. McLean, D. D. VICE-PRESIDENTS: Rev. A. L. Stone, D. D., Thomas C. Wedderspoon, Esq., Rev. T. K. Noble, Hon. F. F. Low, Rev. I. E. Dwinell, D. D., Hon. Samuel Cross, Rev. S. H. Willey, D. D., Edward P. Flint, Esq., Rev. J. W. Hough, D. D., Jacob S. Taber, Esq.

DIRECTORS: Rev. George Mooar, D. D., Hon. E. D. Sawyer, Rev. E. P. Baker, James M. Haven Esq., Rev. Joseph Rowell, Rev. John Kimball, E. P. Sanford, Esq.

SECRETARY: Rev. W. C. Pond. TREASURER: E. Palache, Esq.

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THE BEGINNING OF HARVEST—ONG LUNE.

REV. WM. C. POND, SAN FRANCISCO.

Our Lord has begun—sooner than we desired and very suddenly to us—to gather from our harvest field His wheat into His garner. The first-fruits went home on Sunday, Aug. 3d, at our Bethany church. I was in the act of baptizing and welcoming to Christian fellowship on earth _four_ of our more recently converted Chinese brethren, when our brother Ong Lune was welcomed to the fellowship above. He was a young man of 21 years, had been a Christian, as we hoped, for nearly three years, and a church member since December, 1877. His sickness was brief, and he was supposed to be recovering till about twenty-four hours before his death. He had greatly desired to become strong enough to be present at our August communion, but, instead, he ate bread in the kingdom of God.

Modest and unassuming, but intelligent, earnest and thoroughly consecrated to Christ, his absence from our mission work makes a void not easily filled. A great majority of American Christians might well have sat at the feet of this young Chinaman and learned how to be co-workers with the Saviour. Approaching his countrymen with a smile, seizing every opportunity to “speak a word in season,” he sought to bring them to our schools, and then to lead them to his Saviour. A house-servant, with little time that he could call his own, he will wear no starless crown. I know not how many times the question, “Who told you to come to school?” has been answered by the utterance of his name. The last service he was able to render was—in spite of pain and weariness from the disease which afterwards proved fatal—to act as my interpreter in the examination of three candidates for baptism, one of them, possibly, his own child in the Gospel.

His teacher—Miss Florence N. Wooley—quotes him as saying that what he wanted was “to bring more and more scholars, and watch them, and when they know about Jesus, must make them to be our brethren and try to keep them from temptation; and I wish to do the best I can, but am afraid of temptation myself.” She adds: “He succeeded in this; and the secret of his success, as told me by one of the scholars, was this: ‘He talked so nice to the boys, and never got cross nor angry; and so they all minded what he told them.’ He had entered into the spirit of the word, ‘Go out into the highways and hedges and compel them to come in.’ As soon as he came into school he was wont to speak of some one who had promised him to come that night. If this promise was not fulfilled, he went after the person again and again and brought him in. He was getting on well in his studies, especially in his study of the Bible. The last verses he recited were Acts vii. 54, 55, now happily fulfilled in his own experience.”

THE STORY OF LEE FOUN, BY LEE HAIM.

[Lee Haim, one of our helpers, had given me this account, and I requested him to write it for the MISSIONARY. I give it as he wrote it, word for word, correcting only a few expressions to make the sense clear.—W. C. P.]

“I am going to tell you something of our Christian brethren when they go back to China. Last year one of our Christian Association went by the steamship with his own brother, and when they both reached their old home, his elder brother said to his wife: ‘Well, to-morrow I will go tell my mother that my younger brother, Lee Foun, believes in Jesus, and was a member of the American Association while he staid in California. He does not want to worship our gods which sit in the temple, nor worship our ancestors; neither to keep the traditions which our fathers have handed down from generation to generation. If I go and tell these things to my mother she will give him a good whipping.’

“So his elder brother agreed to tell his mother in the morning; and when the morning came he brought the whole affair before her. She was exceedingly grieved when she heard it, and she went and told some of her son’s uncles. Then Lee Foun’s uncles said to her: ‘Never mind that now; your son now come back is like a stranger; you need not to say any thing to him now; but wait for two days, until the first day of June is come; then you may call him up and offer some tea, and burn the incense in the morning, and see if he do it or not.’ This custom was known to Lee Foun, for our Chinese generally keep it twice each month—the first day of the month and the fifteenth. It is considered a very important custom, as much so as to serve their parents in their lifetime. It is like the Jews keeping the Passover every year, or as we keep the Supper of the Lord.

“So his mother said nothing to him till the first day of June; then she tried to wake him up to burn the incense and offer the tea to his great-grandfather; but Lee Foun did not get up as early that morning as usual; and when the time of offering tea and burning the incense had passed, then he got up. And when he met his mother she burst into tears. He asked her presently, ‘What is the matter, mother?’ and his mother gave no answer. Then he asked her the same thing. His mother said to him: ‘My son, you ought to have got up early this morning and offered some tea and burned the incense before your ancestor; but you got up so late, and did not do it, that makes me feel bad.’ Then Lee Foun said to his mother: ‘If we go and offer tea and burn the incense before these stones, wood, clay and paper, do you think they know it? I don’t believe that, for they, having eyes, cannot see; having ears, cannot hear; having noses, cannot smell; mouth, cannot speak; hands, cannot handle; feet they have, but cannot walk; and bodies have they, but cannot move. All these things are nothing but wood, stone, clay and paper. What good have they done for men? Moreover, those who serve images, or serve the dead instead of the living, sin against the living and true God; for every thing is made by His own hands. And He has commanded us not to worship images, neither to serve the dead; but only to worship the true and living God, and to honor father and mother while they are living. But those who take offerings of paper to be burned up, and represent money, are foolish, and deceive themselves; for the paper is nothing but paper, and cannot represent money.’ Then his mother laughed when she heard that, and Lee Foun’s brother was angry at him, because his mother was pleased with his younger brother, Lee Foun. He felt as Joseph’s brethren felt toward Joseph when they saw Jacob, their father, love him. Do you think they could injure Joseph, and that Lee Foun’s brother can injure Lee Foun? No. Why not? Because God is with them. As Paul said: ‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’ Oh, how glorious and powerful God is!

“After a while some of the Chinese missionaries heard that a certain Christian brother had come back, so they went and inquired for Lee Foun, and they entered into his village, to visit him; and when he saw the missionaries, then he wept, because of the persecution by his own brother, and because of the ignorance of his relatives about God. Lee Foun’s mother was glad to receive them, and invited them to come again to the feast of Lee Foun’s marriage. After this the marriage of Lee Foun was at hand; so the Chinese missionaries went to his village again to show him how the Christian ceremony should be performed. So Lee Foun did as Christians do. He did not bow his head before the idols, nor before his ancestors, and neither did he keep the traditions of men, but the commands of God.

“Not only he did so, but Chan Wen, Lee Sam, and also many of our brethren, act in accordance with Christianity when they go back to China. I believe you have no doubt of that; for if we are true Christians here in California, we will be true Christians in China and elsewhere. We will stand up for Jesus and suffer for Him, and take up His cross in public.

“Dear friends, we entreat that you will mention our names to the Lord when you pray, that we may have a faithful heart in our Lord Jesus; that we may be strong in Him; and ask Him to open the great door to us, that the nation of heathen Chinese soon may become a Christian nation, and they may understand the word of God and know Christ is the Creator and Saviour of the world, and all the creatures should be bowed down before Him.”

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CHILDREN’S PAGE.

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COUNTRY SCHOOL-HOUSES.

TO THE CHILDREN:

I know you have heard much about the colored people, but did you ever hear about their country school-houses? Let me tell you of two in Alabama.

Sunday-schools as well as day-schools are held in these same buildings. One Sunday, a minister who was going twelve miles out into the country to visit one of these schools, invited me to go with him. After inquiring many times where the school was, and going half a mile out of our way, we at last spied, at the right of the road, some saddled mules hitched to trees. We thought that might be the place, and sure enough there, right in the woods, was a nice new school-house.

After fastening our horse to a sweet-gum tree, we entered the little unpainted building. The superintendent gave us seats at the head of the school—not armchairs, but simply a board two feet from the floor, answering for a bench. As soon as we were seated I began to look about me to see what kind of a place I was in, while the minister addressed the school. The house was built of pine logs, placed an inch apart, consequently there were great cracks on all sides of the room, which in summer must have been pleasant, as they let in air, but in winter, think how cold they would be. The house was full of old men, women and children, sitting on rude benches.

As I looked through the crack near me, I saw outside a row of men seated on a log, who left their places when they heard a stranger’s voice inside and crowded into the house. I saw them put their hats up on a beam over their heads. Those who couldn’t find room inside looked through the cracks. There was no window, only a square hole cut over the door to let in light. Seeing the many cracks in the roof, we asked, when we came out, if it never rained in upon them. “Not much,” was the answer. You see these people don’t mind a bit of a sprinkle now and then.

After the minister had finished telling them how he had been in the very same land where Jesus had lived, the school sung, “We’re going home to-morrow.” I wish you could have heard those children. They sang at the top of their voices, their white teeth showing more than ever in contrast with their black skin. After the superintendent gave out the papers which we had brought, the exercises closed, and I was glad to be relieved of the sixty pairs of eyes which had been upon me.

Another time I went with some teachers to a Mission Sunday-school. This was in a most lovely place, right in the thick woods, far away from any houses or sounds of any kind, except the songs of the birds. We found we were early that day, for neither the teacher nor scholars had come. We went inside the school-house and waited.