Part 3

At a little before six A.M. our Chinese friends began to come to wish us a Happy New Year. At nine A.M. a delightful union prayer-meeting was held by the five different denominations. At 11 A.M. we again assembled at our Association rooms, when Rev. W. C. Pond addressed us, and gave us a motto for the new year, with good advice, which I hope we shall all follow. The meeting of the General Association was held at seven P.M., and was the best yearly meeting we ever had. The business meeting followed with reports of the secretary and treasurer. Thus the days come and go:

“Only the eternal day Shall come but never go”

HOLIDAY AT HAMPTON, SATURDAY, FEB. 18, 1882.

_By Miss Isabel B. Eustis._

There are to-day at Hampton 85 Indian students, 57 boys and 38 girls, representing 15 different tribes.

Saturday is a holiday for most of the Indians, but the rising bell sounds loud as usual, to call the scholars to their early breakfast, and the meal well over, the work call is given at quarter to seven. Most of the Indian boys who have had their five half days of school and five half days at their trades feel that they have earned a good holiday, and are not disturbed by it. Eleven who are in the advanced classes hurry off to the shops. Wild-Cat and Murie go to the printing office to set up type for the _Southern Workman_; five are carpenters, and work on the new desks and benches for the school. Chisholm fits uppers on shoe-lasts to help fill a Government contract. Robbie Conalez goes to the big barn to put it in order and feed the cattle. Peters works in the blacksmith shop, and Maquimetus fits the spokes in a new set of cart-wheels, and earns an extra afternoon hour for himself by his good work.

Meanwhile the girls have gone to their rooms and begun the week’s cleaning. The floors are scrubbed, and the wardrobes and bureau drawers put in order. Some of them have cedar boughs, the boys have cut for them, and they fasten them upon the walls in pretty and fantastic designs, tieing them with ribbons and hanging Christmas cards and bright papers from them. A few make pretty bowers for their dollies, and perch them in a cunning way among the branches, where they get loving and admiring glances from the little girls below.

Then the clothes which have been washed and ironed during the week are laid out, and the room is ready for the teacher’s visit.

Nobody knows when the Indian girls would think it worth while to change their garments, or how they would be laundried, if it were not for the week’s inspection. As it is, the piles are most of them full and white and neatly folded, and the rather stolid faces grow eager as they look over the teacher’s shoulder to see whether a zero or a five on the record is to reward the work.

Soon the matron’s room is a busy place. Girls in all the chairs and girls on the floor, all manner of rents and rips and holes to be repaired, and the motherly lady who has done the work many times for her own children and grandchildren, goes among them busy and patient, finds patches and pieces, gives a hint here and a lesson there, till the garments are whole again.

When the morning’s work is done, the lawn in front of Virginia Hall becomes a gay play-ground. See-saws and jump-ropes, balls and croquet mallets are kept busy all the afternoon. A few fortunate girls borrow a boat from one of the teachers and row in the pretty creek. The boys come now and then to the edge of the ground and look rather longingly over the boundaries, but turn back and find a vent for their spirits in foot-ball and leap-frog and the parallel bars, remembering that Washington’s Birthday comes next week and it will all be common ground. The games last till the sun sends its last slanting beams over the creek and the lawn and the six o’clock bell announces that the day of work and pleasure is over.

Before the shadows of night fall heavily, the school assembles in the chapel. The hush of worship comes upon the crowded room. The song of praise and voice of petition rise, and then while all heads bow in silent prayer the burden and pain and desire of 500 hearts are told to Him who understands. So another week ends; its record is made of success and failure, of work and sacrifice.

* * * * *

REVIVAL IN CENTRAL CHURCH AND STRAIGHT UNIVERSITY, NEW ORLEANS.

W. S. ALEXANDER, D.D.

We have occasion to bless the “Evangelical Alliance,” which, under the Divine direction, introduced the observance of the “Week of Prayer.” It has been with us every year a period of religious awakening. Its coming is anxiously and prayerfully anticipated. Through the month of December our prayer meetings were tender and earnest. The thoughts of the people seemed centered upon the longed-for presence of the Holy Spirit and the “Week of Prayer,” as the gate-way to a glorious experience of spiritual refreshment.

The first week in January was marked by growing earnestness on the part of God’s people, but no real case of inquiry among the unconverted. The second week brought some to the “mourners’ seats,” but no important break in the ranks of sinners. We all felt that the Lord was drawing near. The congregations greatly increased until the audience room was entirely filled. The third week of our continuous services was exceedingly precious. The Holy Spirit came in power. The truth preached in great simplicity was owned of God in the awakening of nearly one hundred souls. On many occasions thirty were on the anxious seats, weeping and calling upon God for mercy. From these seats on two successive evenings nine persons arose and said they felt the assurance of forgiveness and a change of heart. During the five weeks of continuous services 66 professed hope in the Saviour, of which number 25 were students of our University. From our family of boarding students at Stone Hall eleven were brought under conviction, who have joyfully consecrated themselves to the service of the Saviour.

It was a very tender and impressive scene where among the “inquirers after God” were so many of our bright, mature students. We hope most earnestly that they all may be strong for God and everything that is good.

On the first Sabbath in February, 81 were received to Central Church on profession of their faith, and on the two succeeding Sabbaths four more, 35 in all. I mention, as a fact showing the prevalence of infant baptism, that of the 35 admitted on profession only nine received baptism, the remaining 26 having been christened. Our friends in the North will be glad to know that of the nearly 100 awakened and the 66 converted only six manifested any undue excitement, and but one of the number had been an attendant upon our church services. The church is stronger in every respect. The average attendance upon our Sabbath services is larger by nearly 100, and there is every indication of a steady and healthful growth.

* * * * *

HOW THE FREEDMEN CHILDREN DO IT.

Mr. E. C. Silsby, of Selma, Ala., writes:

Our Sunday-school have been interested in the proposed missionary steamboat “John Brown,” for the Mendi Mission. Several Sundays ago we voted to take the contributions of subsequent sessions until they should amount to $10, to be sent on for the boat. A picture of the boat was drawn on the board and the contribution of classes recorded as given. The result is shown by the enclosed order for $10.20. A class of little girls who have a “mite box,” not only voted its contents, but held a fair for the sale of articles which had been prepared by their own deft fingers, under the direction of their teacher, applying the proceeds to the fund. May the boat do much toward carrying the “glad tidings.”

Rev. Evarts Kent, of Atlanta, Ga., writes:

I send you draft for the amount of our annual collection for the A. M. A. You will be interested to know that the contributions were mainly in small sums, from five cents to one dollar, and that there were eighty-five different contributions. I enclose you specimens of the envelopes I had printed for the purpose. I think they added somewhat to the amount. One little boy of ten years of age brought his envelope with five cents in it‒the most generous contribution of all. He is the eldest of three brothers, all in the Storrs school, kept there by a mother who is not a Christian, and extremely poor‒so poor that when visited in sickness the other day by Miss Stevenson and Mrs. Kent the only dishes in the house were a tin plate, a tin spoon, one cup and a broken knife; we are helping them just now; but it was most touching when they called at the house last Saturday evening and found this lad getting his missionary envelope, received the Sunday before, “ready for to-morrow.” I doubt if Our Saviour has seen anything like it since that day when in Judea He was looking into the treasury.

* * * * *

CHURCH AT LITTLE ROCK, ARK.

BY REV. B. F. FOSTER.

A number of the friends of the A. M. A. would no doubt be glad to hear from our church-work here. Since our dedicatory exercises, which proved to be such an inspiration to our little band of believers, we have been marching onward and upward.

The first day of this year and the first Sabbath in the month was our communion season. A delightful season it was, too. We had intended beginning a series of meetings to last four or five weeks, but the cold and inclement weather prevented us from putting on the plastering, and we could not, therefore, commence with any hope of success. We decided to defer till warmer weather. Notwithstanding this impediment, the word found lodging in the hearts of twelve of our young people, all of whom connected themselves with the Congregational Church. We also received one by recommendation. All of these seem to be hopeful conversions. Our Sabbath meetings are well attended. As soon as we make the last payment on our church-lot‒which will be the 18th of February‒we hope to complete our building. The insurance on it is $1,000. When completed, its cost will be $2,000. We are waiting very anxiously for the erection of the “Edward Smith College” here.

* * * * *

DEDICATION OF CHURCH AT LULING, TEXAS.

On the 26th of February the new Congregational Church edifice was dedicated, Supt. Roy assisting Pastor Hillson. The house is 24 × 46 feet‒is tastefully built. The lot was given by Mr. T. W. Pierce, of Boston, the president of the Galveston & San Antonio Railroad, “The Sun Set Route;” and this association assisted in the building.

Miss M. E. Green, our teacher at Flatonia, thirty miles away, came up with her baby organ to play it and lead the music of the occasion, adding much to the enjoyment of the same. She found here some young men, now in business, whom she had taught as boys elsewhere, and whom she had trained in singing, now to join her in this service.

* * * * *

AFRICA.

* * * * *

REV. MR. LADD AT KHARTOUM.

KHARTOUM, Jan. 9, 1882.

We are in Khartoum at last, and glad to get here after the long Desert journey and the slow sail from Berber. We arrived on Saturday, the 7th, a little after noon. The American Consul came on board to welcome us. He is said to be the richest man in Khartoum, and we found that he had spared himself no trouble and expense in fitting up rooms for our use while here. We are indeed very comfortably situated.

Our arrival seemed to be a great event in the city, and all the prominent people were anxious to be among the first to welcome us. One party of six gentlemen called. They said they had heard that we had come to found schools and churches, that they were delighted at the idea, and hoped that we would commence at once at Khartoum, as their children were suffering for the want of education, there not being a school of any kind in Khartoum. One of them had formerly given a large tract of land for this purpose, but it had not been used; if we would accept it, it was ours now, and we might build upon it as soon as we pleased. There is a report current, which seems to have some foundation in fact, that there have been serious troubles during the last two or three weeks in the vicinity of Fashoda, near the Sobat.

January 11.‒Giegler Pasha has just returned from Fashoda, and this is his statement of the present difficulty in the Soudan:

“A fanatical Arab by the name of Mohammad Achmet, who lived upon an island in the Nile, south of here, by his much fasting and praying, finally got his head turned, and believed that he was a prophet, sent to be a Saviour of the people. He wrote letters all around the country, and soon had a large following. Many flocked around his standard, especially from among those disaffected ones who wished to escape the payment of their taxes. They finally became obnoxious to the government, and a detachment of 120 men was sent against them on the island. These were not properly handled and were slain at once, as fast as they landed. The leader now feared to remain longer on the river, and crossing over with all the men, women and children, who had gathered around him, he retired to a mountain, some distance back, called Jebel Geder. It was the policy of the government now to let them alone, but a new Governor of Fashoda having been appointed, he must needs show his zeal by getting after the rebels. He frequently asked permission to attack them, and finally, contrary to orders, he collected the garrisons from the Sobat Station, from Kaka, and from Fashoda, about 400 regular soldiers, and taking with him 200 Shillooks, and other irregulars, under the king or chief of the Shillooks, he marched against the rebels.

“This chief of the Shillooks was a fine young man‒loyal and energetic‒who administered affairs among his people in the interests of the Government. The advance was made by forced marches. They were six days on the way, and when the ‘fool’ reached the mountain, instead of resting his men, he commenced the attack after a two hours march on the seventh day, when the men were worn out and utterly unfit for it. They were all cut to pieces and slain. About 60 were taken prisoners, and only 70 out of about 600 escaped. The Governor of Fashoda was killed, and also the Chief of the Shillooks, which we greatly regret, as we intended to make him a Pasha. He will be a great loss to us. We wanted to send him to Cairo, as he was anxious to see the Khedive.

“It is difficult to estimate the number of those who have assembled around this fanatical leader, but probably it is in the vicinity of 1,500. We feared that they might take Fashoda, and so I went down to see about it. I have left troops at Fashoda, but the Sobat is abandoned, as there is really nothing there worth saving, except a few straw huts, and they are welcome to them if they want them. The station of Kaka is also left without a garrison. The people have become uneasy, and these events, taken with the news of the troubles at Cairo, have frightened them. We are expecting troops from Cairo, but not to put down this muss, which we hope will all be over before they arrive. We are short of troops at all points, and need more to protect the country. I would not advise you to go by boat. Wait and go by government steamer, if you go at all. I have just returned from Fashoda, and these are about the facts in the case.”

The above statement does not differ materially from the current reports, except in the number of the insurgents, and that has probably been greatly exaggerated in the minds of the people. It must also be remembered that this is the best phase which the government, wishing to smooth the matter over and hush it up, can put upon it. The probable number of the insurgents is about five or six thousand. They are now armed with some 600 Remington rifles, besides their own native weapons, and are complete masters of the country west of Kaka, and towards Kardofan. They are said to have secret agents in Khartoum, who send them word of the movements of the government. Their numbers are also said to be increasing every day. Now, taking into consideration all that has been stated, we seem to be shut up to one of three courses, viz.:

1. To follow the advice of the more timid, and considering our journey necessarily brought to an end, to look about here, learn all that we can, and then to return. This has been suggested as perhaps our only course by some who wish to display “the better part of valor.” I may say that I have all along felt that while things are not as we could wish, that yet a way would be opened for us to go forward. I cannot bring myself to turn around now and go back, without at least seeing the Sobat. We both feel that nothing short of actual danger to life ought to turn us back from our purpose after coming so far, if we can find the means to go on.

2. To wait here till a government steamer is sent up to Gondokoro, take passage in it and see the country as best we can. The most we can learn about this plan is that no steamer is likely to leave here in less than a month; that it will take fifty days to reach Gondokoro, on account of the _sud_ and other obstructions, and that it will not be possible to get away from there before the rainy season sets in. The _sud_ is the great trouble. Sometimes whole weeks have to be spent in the marshes in one spot, cutting a channel through.

3. To get the use of a little steamer in some way and do what we started out to do‒explore the region of the Sobat. The least that we can get a steamer for is said to be £12 a day. We cannot expect to be gone less than a month and do the work well. That would be £360.

You can understand, I think, what our perplexity is. Our hope now is to arrange it in some way through Giegler Pasha to get a steamer at a more reasonable sum. As soon as we can do this, I think we shall go on, and if we do, the French Consul, an able French gentleman, and our Consul with others, advise us to ask for a body-guard of soldiers from the government. We need your prayers, and I wish we might have your wisdom in this emergency.

* * * * *

CHILDREN’S PAGE.

* * * * *

CHING LING’S PASSPORT.

BY MRS. HARRIET A. CHEEVER.

“And you say there is no hope!”

“None whatever, that we can see.”

“But I am barely five-and-thirty, Doctor. Only think! still in my early prime,” urged the pleading voice.

“I know it, Fairfax; I know it, my poor fellow; and would thankfully have it otherwise, but God wills it so. I cannot deceive you, and your special request was to know the truth.”

“But Heaven knows I was unprepared for it!” was the passionate rejoinder.

“Try and calm yourself, my friend,” continued the doctor in low, deliberate tones. “I’ve still another unwelcome piece of intelligence: Mrs. Carter says she can remain no longer, feeling as she does, completely worn out with her duties; and just now, with so many critical cases on my hands, I hardly know where to look for another nurse. You say there is no friend or relative you could summon?”

“No; and it makes no sort of difference _who_ comes in Mrs. Carter’s place; I might as well die alone like a dog, if I’ve got to hand in my checks at the outset of the game‒confound this heat!” and the voice even more than the words was full of bitterness and rebellion.

Dr. Wharton took his hat, but paused again at the bedside.

“I am going around by the Chinese quarter this noon,” he said, “and will do my best to bring some good assistant. Some of those Chinamen make excellent nurses. Have you any objection to trying one?”

“Oh, I don’t care a‒pin who comes,” answered the poor, impatient, suffering man; and the next moment the doctor left the room as the nurse glided softly in, and the patient closed his weary eyes.

Philip Fairfax was a man of wealth and education, but his fine fortune had been sadly misused. Moreover, his naturally sound physical constitution had been unwarrantably abused by a hard round of indulgence in dissipation and vice, which had caused him in his early manhood to fall an easy prey to the dangerous malarial fever so prevalent at certain seasons, and which now had assumed a malignant form, rendering recovery almost impossible.

Just previous to the foregoing conversation, a consultation of the ablest physicians of the county had been held in Mr. Fairfax’s elegant library, with what result we have already seen.

* * * * *

“Do you give it up, Ching?”

“Yes: me givee up, but trust God still.”

“We tellee you, it impossible; college chances not for Chinese boys.”

“It not impossible with mine God. All things are possible with Him. Me only givee up for this term,” was the cheerful reply.

The scene was a Chinese cabin, scantily furnished, but extremely neat in its simple arrangements. On lines outside, handsomely made clothes were drying, while on the one large piece of kitchen furniture in the cabin‒a huge stove‒numerous irons were heating.

Ching Ling, as he was called, was a great overgrown boy of seventeen, who had picked up religion, as his companions grotesquely name it, at some of the chapel meetings connected with one of our institutions for learning. He was a quaint, original character, and could turn his hand to almost anything useful‒turn it to good purpose too. He had learned to read, nobody knew how or when, and now the absorbing, irrepressible longing of his heart was to get an education, at the college. It made no difference how much or how often others ridiculed the eager desire, there it remained, and after some laughable banter on the part of his less ambitious associates on one occasion, as to his many projects and failures in attempting an entrance to those halcyon halls, his good-natured reply was:

“Oh, me wriggly in yet, somehow. You see!”

Ching Ling was ironing briskly and skillfully when Dr. Wharton’s buggy stopped before the door, and without alighting the doctor beckoned Ching to come to him.

“Want to earn some money, Ching?” asked the Doctor.

Ching’s delicate hands were instantly held out in mock display of entreaty.

“Would you go into danger for money, Ching?”

The small hands were quickly withdrawn as he replied:

“Me do no wrong for muchee monee?”

“But would you go into a close, sick room, and nurse a gentleman who has a dangerous disease‒a man perhaps dying with fever?”

“Yes, Doctor; me no afraid of the sickness or the fever. Mine God would go with Ching; no God, all danger; with God, all safee.”

“Come on, then, I want you right away.”

* * * * *

The days grew hotter and the fever grew fiercer, and the requirements of the irritable, dying man became almost unendurable; but the ungainly Ching never flinched as with untiring, patient hands he waited upon the hard master whose young life was fast burning itself out in the relentless fires of the unyielding fever.

Mr. Fairfax had been fitfully dozing at the close of a weaker, but slightly more comfortable day, when, on suddenly opening his eyes, he saw Ching catching a peep into a little, dark book he had noticed before‒one he had evidently carried about with him.

All at once he asked in a thin, vexed voice:

“What confounded book is that you’re always reading?”

The slant eyes filled with tears as a hurt voice replied:

“This mine Bible, my Christ book; my passport in this book; this no _confound_ book, this mine dear Bible!”

“Your passport!” and the thin voice really had the semblance of a laugh it. “What kind of a passport, pray!”

“Listen: ‘There is no other name under Heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved. The blood of Jesus Christ his son cleanseth us from all sin,’”‒here Ching was interrupted:

“Does it say _all_ sin, boy? look sharp, now!”

“Yes, master; all sin.”

“Let me see.”

A faint ray of light was admitted while the poor weak eyes scanned the page; yes, it was there, sure enough.