Part 3

My cottage Sunday-school is a very interesting undertaking. Compassion for the pitiful little street waifs, too small to find their way to the remote city Sunday-schools, led me to try to make a bright spot in their day. It was a simple thing to gain permission of a woman, with four tiny girls, to hold Sunday-school in her cottage, and the simplest matter to fill the small room with children. To walk through the alley and say “Come” to any ragged, deformed or dirty little child was all that was necessary. How well our Lord understood the willingness of the people of the “highways and hedges!”

Each Sunday the little ones come with ludicrously solemn faces and decorous manners; and sitting on the beds, or a board between two chairs, and on the hearth before the fire-place, are as happy as can be.

Not one can read; not one knew the name of Jesus, except one boy whose father’s oaths made him know it; yet all know and love the story now. The teaching is necessarily by dictation, and my great wonder is that the little minds remember so much.

Their singing they do with faces all smiles, and when the moment comes for distributing the text-cards and child papers full of beautiful pictures, their joy knows no bounds. These may be loaves and fishes for which the children come, and yet, like the multitude of old, they perhaps carry away with them something better.

* * * * *

ALABAMA.

MRS. M. V. CURTIS, SELMA.

Have I ever written for the MISSIONARY? Well, no; but then why not? since I have something very particular to say to my friends in the North; and I have neither head nor hand for all the letters I want to write; for there is the concert for August 30, (proceeds to be put into the winter’s supply of coal, this being the month when prices are down); and the “Harvest Home” (a literary entertainment to be given by our “Young People’s Guild” some time in October), to be arranged for; also some appropriate music to be prepared for the evening when our two “political refugees” are to lecture on Arkansas, where they have been teaching and traveling during the past two years.

Why won’t it be a stroke of policy to let that press away off in New York do the work for me, for manifolding letters is not easy, and the inspiration is lost after the first recital? I wonder if my correspondents will not count this as an individual letter and send me letters in return.

How I do wish that you all could have been of the number that gathered in our pretty church a week ago Sabbath night—our pretty church, with its white walls, its wood-work of rich yellow pine, exquisite with God’s own graining, and the crimson carpet for the two platforms, the walnut table, vase and bracket, all the gift of the ladies of the church.

The night was matchless, and at an early hour a good audience had gathered (A. M. A. pastors have not always the encouragement of numbers). We had reached out into the homes through the Sunday-school children, and the result showed the wisdom of our course.

After the opening exercises, Mr. C. read to an attentive audience, Mr. De Forest’s racy letter of his experiences in the theatres of Tottori, Japan. A quartet then besought us in song to “Tell it out,” this story of Christ, to the heathen, a sermon indeed in song. One of our young teachers read of the two _mice_ the little Sunday-school scholar brought as her two _mites_, for so she understood it. Another gave a crumb for the boys, found in the MISSIONARY; and when a sweet soprano and alto pled for Burmah, and Burmah herself seemed to speak in the plaintive strains, that were borne to our ears through an open window, the effect was impressive, and the surprise and pleasure of the audience was manifest. The “Little Zulu Band” sang a sweet song of the needs of Zululand.

And now I have come to the crowning exercise of the evening; for surely that patient little group on the front seat, conscious of a secret hidden behind the white cards they wore, was not there for nothing. They knew that the reason they were bidden to wait till the last was just because theirs was to be the best of all, and so it proved.

Quietly they filed up the opposite aisles, making a semicircle in the alcove back of the pulpit (which, by the way, had been removed). Above their heads, on the white walls of the alcove, was the reminder of our Conference, two years ago, the motto, “Praise ye the Lord.” Then those pretty evergreen letters, that did duty at Burlington, Wis., were employed again to spell out the sweet motto, “All for Jesus.” The recitations, concert exercises, questions and answers that followed, were well given, and were a little sermon in themselves. How we prayed that God would bless them to each one present! But the climax was reached when one of our young men came forward, and taking up a large globe that had been standing upon the table, said: “To-night we will unite and extend the motto to ‘All the world for Jesus.’” His manner was dignified and his words impressive, as he went on to tell of the needs of the whole world. Then came from each of the eleven, in answer to his question, “From what countries they should come who before Jesus in white should stand?” the names of country after country, the wide world over.

Turning to the audience the speaker told us not to say that time was too far off, and surprised most of us by saying that if each one now living, who had taken “All for Jesus” for his life motto, should bring one soul to Jesus each year, the whole world would soon be converted.

The same young girls who had sung “Zulu Band,” came forward and sang sweetly, “All for Jesus,” the others joining in the chorus. The groups remained in their places while the audience arose and joined in the doxology, and with reverent heads received the benediction.

Our W. M. A. gathered for its second “Missionary Tea Party” on Friday of the same week. The reading of letters from our absent sisters and from “The Morning Star,” together with the singing of missionary songs, occupied an hour, and while we discussed our tea, we chatted of what we could do for our Selma boys at Tougaloo, and decided to call our September meeting a “Missionary Quilting,” and put on and off two quilts. The ladies say it can be done.

* * * * *

GEORGIA.

Extract from a fraternal letter of Rev. T. L. Day, in behalf of the National Council to the General Conference of the Congregational Methodists, in session at Fredonia, Ga.:

“We feel that you agree with us when we express the hope that the time will come when there will be no distinction of North and South, but when our whole people will understand and trust and love each other. Political parties pass away and new ones take their places; but, God helping us, the Congregational method of church government shall never pass away, but it shall be (as long as grass grows and streamlets flow) a firm _bond_ of _union_ and brotherly love between us and you and all other Christians who accept it in its purity. The spirit of the Congregationalism we honor laments both the bigotry of sect and the bitterness of sectional politics. It teaches us, both as citizens and Christians, to love each other. In this spirit of love some of the ablest and most devoted ministers and educators of our denomination have been giving their best strength to our missionary institutions of education in the South. This work is supported by the self-sacrificing contributions of our churches. They believe (what your leading men have told us) that the race for which they do this missionary work must have a training and education in morality and in religious principle, or they will be the greatest source of danger and evil to the South. We know that these brethren are striving to work wholly in the spirit of Christ; and that every noble-minded Southerner, if he could only see their hearts and their devotion to the future of your fair land, would wish them God-speed. And if any of you, who are our brethren in the faith, should ever come to see good results from their efforts, and should be moved to speak the word of sympathy to those engaged in this lonely and difficult work, it will surely be reckoned to you by our Lord and Master as the ‘cup of cold water,’ given in the name of a disciple.”

* * * * *

TEXAS.

DEATH OF S. B. WHITE.

REV. J. W. ROBERTS, PARIS.

Our faithful missionary, S. B. White, died about three o’clock yesterday, of congestive chills and fever.

He closed a very successful school session here the first of July. He went out north of Paris, on Red River, to teach. The water and climate did not agree with him. He made out to teach one month and a few days by hard struggle, and came up Friday before last, looking like the very shadow of death, conducted Sunday-school on Sunday, and was here to preaching that night. Two o’clock Sunday night he started back to his school, notwithstanding he was warned not to return. He reached there through hard struggle, and was there from Tuesday to Friday, trying to get some conveyance to bring him home. On Friday, August 19, he heard of a wagon that was coming in, so he walked two miles from the place where he was boarding, to take passage, which walk was too exhausting for his already diseased frame. Thus he had to come in a rough wagon in all of Friday’s scorching sun, a distance of some twenty-one or twenty-two miles, with frequent fainting spells. He reached here Friday afternoon at 6 o’clock, where he had the best attention shown him both by his friends and physician. He was not confined to the bed until Monday night.

He had not the least fear of dying. He said: “Don’t fret for me; but I want you all to meet me in Heaven. I am going to that beautiful land of rest to live with Jesus. ‘There is a fountain filled with blood, drawn from Immanuel’s veins,’” etc. He described the kind of coffin he wished to be buried in. He was the most faithful Christian I ever saw. We have lost a noble Christian worker.

* * * * *

AFRICA.

* * * * *

We have the following information relating to the death of Mr. Kemp at the Mendi Mission, from Rev. J. M. Williams, missionary at Kaw Mendi. Mr. Williams’ long experience in Africa has qualified his heart and mind to sympathize most fully with the afflicted. He is a colored man, born in British Guiana, South America, and has rendered much good service to the cause of missions during the past sixteen years.

Mr. Williams writes:—Of the dangerous illness of Mrs. Kemp and of the death of Mr. Kemp, I had not heard a word till I arrived at Good Hope on Saturday. I knocked at the door of the mission house with the fullest expectation of enjoying the company of Mr. and Mrs. Kemp. The closed doors and windows might have awakened apprehension that all was not well, but they did not. The death-like silence that was within, after my repeated knocking at the door, created not the slightest suspicion or foreboding that sickness and death had preceded me, and forever removed my beloved and esteemed friend. After the third rapping at the door, the watchman came to the foot of the stairs and said: “No pusson there, sir;” and in reply to my questions, he further said: “Missis done gone to town. The new massa that came t’other day, he done died.” I could not, and did not, believe the man till after he replied three times to my half-frantic interrogations, “Massa Kemp done died.” Words are inadequate to express my feelings then and now. During my sixteen years’ residence in Africa no event has so sadly affected me as the death of Mr. Kemp, except the death of my two children. I feel it keenly. I deeply sympathize with Mrs. Kemp and with the Association. It is a severe blow to us all, and especially to this station and mission. Although the residence of the Kemps here was short, yet they were much respected and beloved by the inhabitants of Bonthe. By the Europeans, from the Commandant downward, and by the colored people, I have heard them spoken of in the most flattering terms.

While still suffering from the intensity of grief produced by such sudden and unexpected intelligence, Mr. Jowett came and confirmed what I had heard from the watchman. I was informed by Mr. Jowett that Brother Kemp left Good Hope Station for Avery to see Mr. Jackson on the 11th of May, and returned on the 13th. On the way home he was exposed to several heavy showers of rain. About two days after his return he was attacked with intermittent fever. Mrs. Kemp was also dangerously ill and not expected to recover. This kept him up when he ought to have been in bed. Under the combined weight of a disordered mind and body, he sank rapidly until life departed. He had a strong presentiment, two days before his death, that his end was near and his work on earth done, and informed Mrs. Kemp of his convictions. He said: “The doctor has done all he can do. I am ready to die. I commend you to God.” During his illness he was attended by Brother Jowett, Mrs. During, and other kind friends.

He died on Sunday morning, May 29th, at 10 o’clock, without a struggle or groan. He fell asleep in Jesus, and his disembodied spirit took its happy flight to join the great congregation in Heaven. His remains were moved to the chapel at 4 P. M., and from thence to the mission cemetery, followed by a large concourse of every color, rank and station in the community. According to his request, his body now lies at the entrance of the grave-yard under the shade of a large mango tree. I shall do my best to get a few iron-tree posts, and to have the grave enclosed as soon as possible after I return to Kaw Mendi, and I cherish the hope that the friends of the mission will procure a desirable tombstone to be erected over the grave, and send from the States a marble inscription to be put into the chapel.

Mr. Jowett is now taking charge of the Station, and Mr. Goodman is teaching the school at Debia. I sincerely wish you could find a dozen such men as Mr. Kemp to send to Africa; only be sure that they come with sound livers, and be entirely free from heart disease. The climate, I think, is more favorable to lung disease than America. I believe men of any color will live as long in health in Africa as elsewhere, provided they visit America or Europe, for a change, once in every two or three years.

* * * * *

THE INDIANS.

* * * * *

WORK ON A SHORT TOUR.

REV. MYRON EELLS, SKOKOMISH, WASH. TER.

We have been made sad by the death of one of our most prominent church members, John F. Palmer. He was at the time of his death working at a saw-mill, when he was accidentally knocked off from a platform, about ten feet below.

He was the first Indian to join this church. He lived, however, to see his wife and her two sisters, whom he brought up, members of the church; the oldest one married, and her daughter the first Indian child who received the rite of infant baptism. He was far ahead in many respects of any other of the Indians, especially in regard to old religious superstitions. While many of the Indians seem willing to give up their old ideas as a religion, they find it very difficult to get rid of a superstitious fear. He, however, seemed to have overcome this entirely. This was partly due to his early life. When he was about ten years old he went to live with a white family in this Territory. He afterwards spent several years on board a sailing vessel, and about twelve years ago he came to this reservation, where he served as interpreter ten years. He understood the Twana, Nisqually, Clallam, Russian and English languages, and could read and write the latter, though he never went to school more than about three weeks. Kind persons in the family in which he lived and on the ship taught him, and he had a library at the time of his death worth fifty or sixty dollars, and took several papers and magazines, both eastern and western, and even wrote a few articles for the papers.

“Jack at all trades and good at some,” was the pleasant way in which Dr. Schaff put it, when some of the students in the Theological Seminary at Hartford had done up some furniture for him to send to New Haven. I have often been reminded of this expression, and especially during a short tour I lately made to Dunginess. We missionaries have to be the first part of the sentence, and we console ourselves with the hope that the latter part may sometimes be true. When three miles from home, the first duty was to stop and attend the funeral of a white man who had recently died. Forty-five miles on, the evening of the next day until late at night was spent in assisting one of the Government employees in holding court over four Indians who had been drunk; a fifth had escaped to the British side, and was free from the trial. This kind of business occasionally comes in as an aid to the agent. I seldom have anything to do with it on the reservation, as the agent can attend to it; but when among Indians, off from the reservation, where neither of us can be more than once in six months or thereabouts, it sometimes saves him much trouble and expense, and seems to do as much good as a sermon. It is of but little use to preach to drunken Indians, and a little law sometimes helps the Gospel. The agent reciprocates by talking Gospel to them on the Sabbath on his trips.

On reaching Dunginess the afternoon was spent in introducing an Indian from British Columbia, who had taken me there in his canoe, to the Clallam Indians and the school, and in comforting two parents, Christian Indians, whose youngest child lay at the point of death. The next morning she died, and as no minister had ever been among these Indians at any previous funeral, they needed some instruction; so it was my duty to help dig the grave and make the coffin, comfort them, and attend the funeral in a snow-storm.

The Sabbath was spent in holding two services with them, one mainly a service of song; and as there was a part of the day not occupied, at the request of the whites near by, I gave them a sermon. The next day I found that “blue Monday” had to be adjourned. Years ago the Indians purchased their land, but owing to a mistake of the surveyor, it was necessary that the deeds should be made out again; so, in order to get all the Indians together who were needed, and the proper officer, I walked fourteen miles and rode six in a canoe, and then saw that nineteen deeds were properly signed, which required sixty-two signatures, besides the witnessing, acknowledging and filing of them, which required seventy-six names more. The plat of their town, Jamestown, was also filed and recorded, and all after half-past three o’clock. When this was done, I assisted the Indians to get two marriage licenses, when we went to the church, where I addressed them on two different subjects, after which the two weddings took place, and by nine o’clock we were done. The monotony of the next day was varied by a visit to the school, helping the chief to select a burying ground (for their dead had been buried in various places), a walk of ten miles, and a wedding of a white couple, who had been very kind to me in my work there, one of them being a member of our church.

On my way home, while waiting for the steamers to connect, I took a trip of about fifty miles to help in regard to the finishing of the Indian census of last year for General Walker and Major Powell, and then on my way home, by the kindness of the captain of the steamer, who waited half an hour for me, I was able to catch and take to the reservation the fifth Indian at Port Gamble who had been drunk, and had returned from the British side.

I have never had a vacation since I have been here, almost seven years, unless such things as these may be called vacations. They are recreation, work, and vacation, all at once.

While at Dunginess I learned one thing which somewhat pleased me. A few weeks before, a medicine man made a feast on Sabbath evening, and invited all the Indians to it. In connection with it there was also a large amount of their incantations. The feast was a bait, and the Indians went, the members of the church as well as the others leaving the evening service for it. Mr. Blakeslee, the school-teacher there, wrote me, as he felt very sad about it. On reaching the place, I found that on the same Sabbath evening, before the feast was over, those Christian Indians, feeling that they were doing wrong, left the place and went to one of their houses, where they confessed their sin and held a prayer meeting over it, and on the following Thursday evening, at the general prayer meeting, made a public statement of it. We could ask for nothing more, but could thank the Holy Spirit for inclining them thus to do, before any white person had spoken to them on the subject.

* * * * *

THE CHINESE.

* * * * *

“CALIFORNIA CHINESE MISSION.”

_Auxiliary to the American Missionary Association._

PRESIDENT: Rev. J. K. McLean, D. D. VICE-PRESIDENTS: Rev. A. L. Stone, D. D., Robert B. Forman, Rev. T. K. Noble, Hon F. F. Low, Rev. I. E. Dwinell, D. D., Hon. Samuel Cross, Rev. S. H. Willey, D. D., Jacob S. Taber.

DIRECTORS: Rev. George Mooar, D. D., Hon. E. D. Sawyer, Rev. E. P. Baker, James M. Haven, Esq., Rev. Joseph Rowell, Rev. John Kimball, A. L. Van Blarcon, Esq., George Harris, Esq., and the Secretary ex officio.

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

* * * * *

“STEADFAST, IMMOVABLE.”

BY REV. WM. C. POND.

It was in the last week in July that one of our Chinese brethren at Marysville, a lad of only 13 years—Ng Gan Don by name—called on one of his cousins to inquire whether money which he had deposited with this cousin to be sent to his father in China, had yet gone forward. The cousin declined to satisfy him upon this point, but wished himself to be satisfied upon another. So, taking Gan Don with yet another cousin into an inner apartment, they inquired into his religious views and practices. They had been specially commissioned, so they said, by Gan Don’s mother, to see to it that what he might hear and see in the land of the Golden Mountains should work no detriment to the religious ideas she had instilled in his mind. Gan Don acknowledged that he had exchanged those views and practices for some which he saw to be wiser and more true; that he no longer worshipped idols or ancestors, but that he believed in Jesus and was going to worship Him. They argued with him, but found him more than a match for them on that arena; and so, being two against one, and that one but a boy, they were easily emboldened to see what virtue there might be in blows. The blows fell fast and hard, and the poor lad’s head on which they fell was suffering sorely, but he maintained his integrity, and told them that he would never worship idols, even if they should undertake to kill him. At length he was released, and went, battered and bleeding, to the mission house. Our brethren, thinking that a little insight into Christian laws might do these persecutors good, entered a complaint against them, and they were fined $30 each.

* * * * *

EXCITEMENT IN SACRAMENTO.