Part 3

Did it pay? Yes, a hundred-fold! Early Monday morning there was a tap at the door, and there stood “Mag,” neatly dressed, with a smiling face, and a basket of vegetables for me. It flashed instantly over my mind what I had heard concerning her. She had once been a Christian, was still a member of our little church, but for a long time past had seemed possessed with every evil spirit of sin and mischief that could possibly find lodgment in her heart. Nothing could induce her to set her foot inside the church door. She invariably vanished whenever the minister tried to see her, and she had long ago been given up as an utterly hopeless case.

With a swift thought of prayer to Heaven for wisdom, I greeted her most cordially, made her feel quite at ease, then led her on carefully step by step, until, before she knew it, she was actually confessing her sins to me, and I was talking kindly but most faithfully to her. Still she stayed on, with a wistful look in her eyes, and the thought came: “God surely sent her to me! I’ll do all I can for her!”

Rising suddenly I closed the door, went directly to her and said, “Mag, I want to pray with you.” I put my arm around her, drew her to her knees beside me, and poured out my whole soul in prayer for that poor child of sin.

When we rose from our knees her eyes were tender and full of tears. She clasped my hand tightly for a moment and was gone.

I sought out other homes that very day, where God permitted me to carry little gleams of comfort and strength to sad hearts.

Yesterday was the Sabbath. At four o’clock a white flag was fluttering at our gate. Five minutes after, fifty young people and children suddenly appeared, as if by magic, from the lovely grove near by, and came pouring into my largest room, filling every chair and bench, finally taking seats on the floor in the small space left about my chair. They were such a bright, eager looking company—at least a third of them young men and young ladies, ranging down to half a dozen little fellows at my feet.

How I blessed the Master for the gift of story-telling when I saw the eager faces, the almost breathless interest with which every one, from the oldest down to the least of all, listened to me as I carefully blended story and lesson with all the grace and power I possessed, until I had the joy of seeing the bright eyes grow tender and moist, and knew the dear Saviour was with us, laying big hands in blessing upon us all. Then all stood with bowed heads while I commended them to God’s mercy and loving care in an earnest petition in which all could join. After this, I sat down to the organ—a poor, wheezy little thing—which is, nevertheless, a great comfort and help. They gathered close about me while we sang together a beautiful new song, then went quietly away to their homes.

To-day the little white flag again fluttered at the gate, and one by one, or in little groups, the mothers came. I knew how tired they would be, what effort it must cost them to leave their work on Monday, to come to a meeting like this; so all day I had been asking the Lord for some specially helpful, comforting message for them. It would be simply impossible to describe the tender spirit that brooded over us. The Saviour was so manifestly with us that the room seemed the very gate of Heaven.

The Scripture lesson I had chosen grew so, unfolded itself with such hidden strength and sweetness, it was like a new revelation. The prayers that followed were wonderful to hear, coming as some of them did from lips untutored, ignorant in book lore, but wise in the hidden wisdom taught them by God himself. _Beautiful_ prayers, full of deep feeling, of humble confession, of earnest pleading.

There were two strangers with us for the first time, who knelt with us in prayer, and manifested the deepest interest in all that was said. After the meeting there were hearty handshakings, kindly greetings to the new comers, who promised to come again; then they went away with shining faces, with hearts uplifted and strengthened for their hard, toilsome life.

Alone in the twilight, I returned thanks from a full heart to the dear Lord, who had honored our little gathering with His presence and blessing.

Does it pay? Yes, a thousand-fold!

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AFRICA.

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EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL OF REV. H. M. LADD.

Thursday, October 20.—Land! Egypt land! The lighthouse was the first object in sight this morning, then the low coast and the domes and minarets of the City of Alexandria, and last, but not least, Pompey’s Pillar. After taking our pilot on board we slowly rounded the long breakwater on which the lighthouse stands, and steamed into harbor. Before we had fairly drawn up alongside the quay a crowd of boatmen were on board.

We selected the Hotel Abbatmen, and were soon off with them in a small boat. We passed the Customs without the slightest difficulty and were driven to our hotel. Here we had our lunch, and then, as we intended to go right on to Cairo by the early morning train, we improved what little time we had during the afternoon by visiting Pompey’s Pillar, the gardens of the Khedive, the Rosetta gate, the Bazaars, etc.

Friday, October 21.—At 8 A.M. we took the cars for Cairo. Arriving at the station, we found a large omnibus waiting for us, and we were driven to Shepard’s Hotel, where we have been assigned very pleasant rooms. This is a very fine hotel for this part of the world. In front and around it is a garden filled with tropical trees and shrubs. Two fountains dash their cooling spray high into the air, and there is a small menagerie, from which the table is often supplied.

Here, as on the Galata Bridge, in Constantinople, the past and the present, the east and the west, flow together. The latest fashions from Paris, and the garb of the time of Abraham, the luxuriance of Oriental wealth and splendor, and the miserable poverty and nakedness of the oppressed “fellahin,” all pass before one like the shifting figures of a kaleidoscope. It is a most interesting and absorbing scene, to be found nowhere else in the world.

Saturday, October 22.—Called at the American Consulate the first thing this morning, but found it closed. We were bothered with a host of dragomans and donkey-boys, but they are finding out that people who speak Turkish and Greek and French as well as English, and a few words of other languages, are “one too many” for them! We took a little walk alone about the European portion of the city, to get the hang of the place. Some of the residences and public buildings are very fine. In some places you quite forget that you are not in Paris. To-day, our Consul-General, Hon. Simon Wolf, has been formally presented to the Khedive in great pomp. The Khedive always makes a great display on these occasions, and presents the new Consul with a fine Arabian horse. We called again at the Consulate, and were glad to receive our letters from home. We talked up our contemplated trip with some of the officials, and gained valuable information.

Sunday, Oct. 23.—Judge Farman, from the United States, called early this morning. He is very kind, and is doing all in his power to pave the way for us to the favor of the officials here. As he was to leave on Monday for Alexandria, he asked us to go with him to the Consulate, where he told them what he wanted done for us. A number of Arabic interpreters have been recommended to us for our trip, but we take our time in the choice of a proper man. We find that it will be necessary to take an Arabic interpreter and a cook from here.

We attended the Mission Church, under the care of the United Presbyterians this morning, and greatly enjoyed being among our own people again. I presented my letter of introduction to Drs. Lansing and Watson, and found them to be very agreeable gentlemen, and at once greatly interested in our work.

Monday, October 24.—Called at the Consulate again this morning, and had an interview with our Consul-General, Mr. Wolf. We found him to be a very pleasant man, bright and energetic, and anxious to promote our interests in every way possible. He proposed to present us to the Khedive and to introduce us to Sir Edward Malet, the English Consul, to whom we have letters from the British Foreign Office, and to General Stone, who is in a position where he can help us greatly.

October 25.—I’m trying to pick up Arabic, but I find a donkey-boy better help than a book. We tried this method this morning, and started for the bazaars. I rode “Yankee Doodle,” a very smart little donkey, and Doctor rode “Champagne Charley.” We went through the gold and silver bazaars and the Turkish bazaars and the shoe bazaars, and various other departments. Here I aired my Turkish and my Greek. Everywhere we went there was a gentle murmur in our ears, “Bakhshish,” “Bakhshish.” We have got accustomed to it now, and rather like it; in fact, we feel quite lost without it.

Wednesday, October 26.—We went this morning to call upon Sir Edward Malet, K. C. B., with our Consul. I presented our letter from the Foreign Office, and we were very cordially received. He gave us some good advice and considerable information, and promised to get us the necessary letters. He also requested us to report to him the state of the slave trade on our return. We find that we have to move very cautiously. The slave trade is a touchy question in some quarters, and proselytism is another. In order to obtain any favor, we are obliged to emphasize the educational part of the work proposed.

Thursday, October 27.—Dr. Lansing called again this evening. He has a man he wants to send with us as far as Khartoum selling the Scriptures. He also thinks that there are some from among the tribes we hope to reach in their schools now who will work in with us in time.

Friday, October 28.—In the P.M. we went with Dr. Lansing and a party of friends to see, or rather hear, the Howling Dervishes. It was something unearthly, devilish, and never to be forgotten. Doctor and I began to calculate our chances if their religious enthusiasm and fanaticism should lead them to turn upon us. There has been a great revival of Mohammedanism lately and fanaticism. After this we went to the old synagogue, where there is a manuscript of the law written by Ezra. This is actually the case Dr. Lansing affirms. He intends to examine it more thoroughly some day, but it is very carefully guarded. Then we visited the old Roman gates of New Babylon and also attempted another church, but found it closed; we finished up with a drive on the fine Shubra avenue. There we saw the Khedive and a vast turnout of handsome carriages and handsomer occupants.

Sunday, October 30.—Attended the mission church and heard Mr. Helditch on Psalm cxxxix. 18. Met some Americans there who expressed great interest in our work. Remained quietly in our rooms the rest of the day.

Monday, October 31.—Wrote nearly all day. Received our circular letters from the Government to the authorities in Soudan and the Equatorial Provinces. Had a very friendly call from Sir Edward Malet, K. C. B., who offered himself for any further services he could render.

Tuesday, November 1.—Called at the Consulate. Our baggage, which we sent overland by express, has not come yet, but we are told to give it time—everything needs plenty of time. In the afternoon we called by appointment at the Consul’s residence. Here we met several gentlemen who knew all about the Soudan; one had been there, and another was an intimate friend of the Pasha, the Governor-General. The Consul then took us around and introduced us to Gen. Stone. In his position of Commander-in-Chief he can do more for us than any one else, and he knows more than any one else about Soudan and the Nile. He received us very cordially and seemed eager to do what he could for us. With maps before us he gave us much valuable information in regard to positions and healthfulness. He also put us in the way of transportation across the desert at the least expense of time and money. He strongly advises us to have headquarters at Berber, and in establishing our stations not to stop at the Sobat, but to go on to Fatiko. He is also going to furnish us letters to the Governors. We dined this afternoon at the American Mission House with Mr. and Mrs. Harvey, and spent a very pleasant evening with the teachers. I conducted prayers in the girls’ department, and saw there several children who had been brought down as slaves from the very tribes to which we are going. They seemed to be very bright and intelligent. If we find as good material as that we shall have no cause to complain.

Wednesday, November 2.—Called at Consulate and received letters. We had the clerk translate the telegram which General Stone wrote for us to send to Souakim, with reference to transportation, into Arabic, and then we were advised to get General Stone’s seal to it.

Thursday, November 3.—We have found and engaged a good interpreter at a moderate price. We called on General Stone and obtained his seal to the telegram.

Friday, November 4.—Called at the Consulate. Sent telegram of General Stone to Marquette, at Souakim. It will take some days to get an answer from it. We are told to-day that the English steamer we intended to take down the Red Sea has been delayed for about ten days. It is better to pass our Quarantine here than at Souakim. This is our only consolation, for we are very anxious to be off now, although they all tell us that we are early yet.

Saturday, November 6.—We hope this week to see at least the beginning of the end of our waiting here. Much will depend on the answer to our telegram; some will depend on the letters from General Stone: much more will depend on the movements of that English steamer on the Red Sea.

It is not always possible to make circumstances.

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THE CHINESE.

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CALIFORNIA AND CHINA.

BY REV. W. C. POND.

The new fiscal year opens most hopefully. It began September 1, and the statistics for September which I have just compiled show a larger enrolment and a larger average attendance than was ever before reported in the whole history of our work. The figures are these: 15 schools; 661 pupils enrolled; average attendance, 332. Among these pupils are 200 who are reported as having ceased from idol-worship, and 137 who give evidence of conversion. There are other hopeful features—a good band of teachers and helpers, numbering 27, not one among them now whom I would like to have resign, and a spreading and deepening interest in this work among our churches, and peace in all our borders. The hoodlum element is measurably quiet, and we work without molestation, except as now and then the heathen cousins or uncles of some of our young converts try what virtue there is in stripes to exorcise from them the Christian devil. The boldness and the constancy which some who are still children—scarcely in their teens—have shown, declaring to their persecutors when dragged before an idol, “I will not worship it, though you kill me,” remind one of the legends of primitive Christianity.

But I turn from all points of interest in our work here to press once more on the members and friends of the Association the opportunity there is and the need there is for its commencing a

WORK IN CHINA.

I will venture to assume that much of what I myself have written before about this, and what Jee Gam wrote nearly a year ago, is still remembered. I am glad to say that in the populous districts from which our Chinese come there is now one American missionary—Rev. D.D. Jones—American, though born in Wales. Bro. Jones as a layman at Cheyenne, Wy. Ter., had his heart stirred for the Chinese in that place. Commencing a mission among them, he afterwards went to Chicago to do like work there, and then to Boston on a similar errand. At length he sought ordination, and went forth, appointed by no society, to become a self-sustaining missionary in China. It is a comfort to me to give to each of our returning Chinese a letter to him, though probably in many instances the probability of their seeing him is very small.

Is it asked: “What would we do by our mission, if we had it established?” We would, first of all, give a cordial Christian greeting at Hong Kong to every Christian Chinese returning from California: we would bring them off ship into an atmosphere warm with Christian love; we would bring them into meetings for prayer; and would then let them go out to their old heathen homes, baptized with the Holy Ghost. In the same spirit we would meet them as they come back on their return to California, calling for reports of their experiences, the temptations they have met, the testimony they have borne, and the results which have followed their words. Then, we would make our mission house at Hong Kong a rendezvous and training school for such of our Chinese as may be fitted or could become fitted for evangelistic work among their countrymen. We ought to raise up many such through our work in California. The wise word, “Africans for Africa,” has double wisdom when you read it “Chinese for the conquest of China for Christ!” They have the hard language already; they know from childhood the ways of the people; they know from personal experience the darkness, the fear, the soul-hunger and the woe of heathenism. It would not be wise to send them forth with no American supervision; but evidently here is a great force at present little used, that, properly directed, might be wielded for the salvation of multitudes, and the Christianization of the greatest empire of darkness the world now knows; perhaps has ever known.

“But isn’t the ground already occupied? How many missionary societies are already operating in and around Canton? Why add one more?” I have no statistics at hand, and speaking thus from general knowledge alone I must keep far within the truth; but I am surely safe in saying that of competent missionaries, either Chinese or foreign, there are not in the provinces of South China one to 100,000 people; I know that I am safe in saying that, in the districts from which our Chinese come there is not more than one to 350,000. I risk nothing, I think, in affirming that Central Africa has to-day more missionaries in proportion to its population than these districts of China to which I have referred. Certainly many a helper might be added before any society now on the ground could possibly find itself jostled by neighbors.

Besides, we should have our own special methods and our own special field, growing naturally out of the relationship between the mission here and the mission there; such that while we should largely enter into the labors of brethren who have preceded us; using the books that they have prepared; availing ourselves of various conveniences that they have contrived, we should in turn supplement and extend their work and multiply their joys. We should be then, not as competitors, but as co-workers—one in spirit and mutually helpful.

“But wouldn’t it cost too much?” Too much for what? Too much for the souls that would be saved? More that these souls are worth? Not one of our readers thinks this. But _this_ is the question: Would it not cost too much for our treasury to bear, loaded as it already is with such heavy responsibilities? I reply that it would not be very costly. Two American missionaries, a little property in Hong Kong, a rented chapel here and there in the larger villages and the small stipends of the Chinese evangelists; this would be all. It would not call for a larger sum unless, in the good providence and by the dear Spirit of God, it came to be, by virtue of its own success, a _large work_; and then contributions would flow in for it, so that by means of it the treasury would be enriched rather than depleted. I seldom prophesy; but I will venture to say this, that when the American Missionary Association has once taken hold of this work, and adopted as one of its mottoes: “China for Christ,” it will take but a brief period—a very few years—to give it such a place in all our hearts that we would sooner think of cutting off our right hands than of relaxing our grasp on that land as ours to be won for Christ.

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CHILDREN’S PAGE

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HOW A STRAIN OF MUSIC CALLED A WANDERER HOME.

(Toronto Evening News, October 10.)

They were two young girls, and both were inmates of a gilded palace of sin in the city. One was hardened in her sin—the other had waded only ankle deep into the black moat which circles the walls of perdition. The other night they went to hear the Jubilee Singers, and sat unnoticed in the gallery. The sweet, tender music, so touching and true to nature, entered like a limpid stream into the soul of the younger girl, and filled her whole heart. She leaned forward and caught every word, with her eyes shining and her red lips trembling. People turned round and wondered at the fair face, and watched her soul shining through her great eyes, but they never suspected who she was or whence she had come. There she sat, still and immobile, with her small gloved hands tightly clenched, and every nerve in her little body strung to an almost painful tension. All was still in the pavilion. The very gas lights held themselves motionless, as if afraid to make a sound. The great audience was hushed. And then a note sweet and tender, but full and rich as moonlight, swelled and rose like a sea, and then, like a shower of pearls falling through the sounding waters, a woman’s voice sang:

Bright sparkles in the church-yard, Give light unto the tomb; Bright summer—spring’s over— Sweet flowers in their bloom.

The girl in the gallery gave a great, shuddering sob. The singer looked up and went on:

My mother, once— My mother, twice— In the heaven she’ll rejoice, In the heaven once, In the heaven twice, In the heaven she’ll rejoice.

Again the girl in the gallery uttered a long, shuddering sob, and hid her white stricken face in her trembling hands. But still the music fluttered about her like the rustling of an angel’s wings:

Mother, don’t you love your darling child? Oh, rock me in the cradle all the day.

She sat still and heard till the last cadence of the music had wandered out into the moonlight, where the angels, who wished to learn it off by heart, caught it up, and bore it in triumph into Heaven.

“I must go from here,” said the girl hoarsely. “Let me go, don’t follow me—I will be better soon.”

Her comrade reasoned with her, but she kept saying hoarsely. “Let me go—I will be better soon.”

She hurried out and fled like a frightened deer. She was mad! Her eyes were hot and dry—her brain was bursting, and all the while a wondrous choir was singing in her ears:

Bright sparkles in the church-yard, Give light unto the tomb; Bright summer—spring’s ever— Sweet flowers in their bloom.

She fled like a hunted thing till the lights of the city were far behind and she was alone on a country road. She stopped to rest a moment, but the chorus went onward through the sky and she could not stop, for the words were beckoning to her:

“Your mother, once, Your mother, twice, In the heaven she’ll rejoice.”

Tireless she followed on, on, on, the long, long night. The moon went down and she got blind and staggered and groped upon her way, but still she said hoarsely, “I must go on. I’ll be better soon.”

In the morning a farmer threw open his door and saw lying on the steps the soiled figure of a girl. He picked her up and laid her on his own bed, and his wife laid the wild, pleading face against her warm bosom. A stream of music reached the ears of the dying girl.

“Mother, don’t you love your darling child? Then rock me in the cradle all the day.”