JNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGC 3 1822 00194 8256 FRS dLJJLVvJ UNIVERSITY OF CAL FORNIA SAN D 3 1822 00194 8256 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS oX x ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS A Sketch of the Missions of the United Free Church of Scotland BY J. H. MORRISON, M.A. MINISTER OF THE UNITED FREE CHURCH, FALKLAND HODDER AND STOUGHTON LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO PREFACE THE history of missions throbs with romance on every page, a fact which seems hardly yet to have dawned upon the general reader, and least of all upon that large section of readers who love romance. Missionary reports are, of necessity, dull and, to a great degree, unintelligible to all but the initiated. They plunge in medias res, and bear down the hapless reader with a cavalry charge of unfamiliar names ; while, as they deal only with the work itself apart from its environment, they leave the " native " a vague and misty figure, devoid of nationality and human interest. Only when each mission stands out clear, against its own background of place and people, does it become living and begin to take on the colours of romance. The following pages are intended as a sketch of the missions of the United Free Church of Scotland for the uninitiated, and especially for the youth of the Church. One would even hope that the fastidious ear of the " young barbarian " might be caught, and he be led to the discovery and enjoyment of the great missionary classics. The chapters were first delivered as a series of ad- dresses to the young, under the form of a voyage round the world to the various mission fields of the Church. vi PREFACE This form has been retained as a convenient frame- work, although at one or two stages of the journey the actual traveller might find some difficulty in booking a passage ! May the story, even in a brief and imperfect telling, be to the reader, what it has been to the writer, a tonic to faith and a spring to compassion. I desire to express my obligation to Professor Clow, D.D., Glasgow, for generous encouragement and many helpful criticisms. CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE FOREIGN MISSION NIGHT . . . . . *~ i CHAPTER II THE SISTER ON THE HILL ...... 7 CHAPTER III FROM THE DANUBE TO THE GOLDEN HORN . . .12 CHAPTER IV THROUGH THE ISLES OF GREECE TO GALILEE . . 17 CHAPTER V WHERE JESUS TAUGHT AND HEALED . . .22 CHAPTER VI HEBRON IN THE HOLY LAND . . , . - . -27 CHAPTER VII DOWN THE RED SEA . . . . 33 CHAPTER VIII THE BARREN ROCK OF ADEN ..... 37 viii CONTENTS PART II INDIA CHAPTER IX PAGE A TRIANGLE AND Two RIVERS . . . 4 1 CHAPTER X IN THE BAZAAR .'45 CHAPTER XI CASTE AND OUTCAST 49 CHAPTER XII THE PRIDE OF THE PESHWAS 54 CHAPTER XIII As THE SAND OF THE SEA * 59 CHAPTER XIV BEHIND THE PURDAH 6 4 CHAPTER XV THE KEY TO A PRINCE'S HEART 7 CHAPTER XVI THE CITY OF HOPE 75 CHAPTER XVII THE TAJ MAHAL AND THE WHITE ANGEL . . . 80 CHAPTER XVIII ASHES AND TRAMPLED FLOWERS . . . .84 CONTENTS ix CHAPTER XIX PACK UNDER THE SHADOW OF PARASNATH .... 88 CHAPTER XX ON THE BANKS OF THE HUGLI 93 CHAPTER XXI BUILDERS OF EMPIRE . . . . . . . . . 98 PART III EAST OF THE BARRIER CHAPTER XXII BEYOND THE STRAITS OF MALACCA ... . 103 CHAPTER XXIII ABOUT THE BOXERS ....... 108 CHAPTER XXIV A LAND OF FAMOUS BATTLEFIELDS . . . .113 PART IV THE ISLANDS OF THE SEA CHAPTER XXV THE ROMANCE OF THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDS . . .118 CHAPTER XXVI THE SORROWS OF THE SOUTH SEAS . . . .124 CHAPTER XXVII THE OLD SLAVE DAYS IN JAMAICA .... 128 x CONTENTS CHAPTER XXVIII PAGE THE STORM- VEXED QUEEN OF THE ANTILLES . .134 PART V THE DARK CONTINENT CHAPTER XXIX IN THE HOMELAND OF THE NEGRO . . . . 139 CHAPTER XXX THE GATEWAY OF THE EN YON CREEK . , . . 144 CHAPTER XXXI BESIDE THE GREAT KEI RIVER . . . . ,148 CHAPTER XXXII SOMGXADA, THE SWIFT STRIDER . . . '> . 155 CHAPTER XXXIII REDS AND WHITES 160 CHAPTER XXXIV UP THE ZAMBESI TO LAKE NYASA .... 165 CHAPTER XXXV SPEARS AND PRUNING-HOOKS . . . 170 CHAPTER XXXVI AT THE GRAVE OF LIVINGSTONE . . . . 174 CHAPTER XXXVII HOMEWARD BOUND 178 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Ju-ju PILLAR, WEST AFRICA . . Frontispiece MOUNT OF OLIVES FROM THE BEAUTIFUL GATE . p afe 30 RELIEF MAP OF INDIA . . . . 42 A VILLAGE AUDIENCE . . * . 62 UDAIPUR AND THE LAKE . . 71 TUG-OF-WAR, SANTALIA . . . . 91 MADRAS CHRISTIAN COLLEGE . . . . 100 PRESENTATION TO DR. WESTWATER . . in MISSION HOUSE AND CHURCH, DILLON'S BAY . . ,,121 CREEK TOWN CHURCH . . 143 NATIVE CONVENTION AT DR. STEWART'S GRAVE . ,,159 STOCKADED VILLAGE IN THE LOANGWA VALLEY . ,,174 PART I THE NEAR EAST CHAPTER I FOREIGN MISSION NIGHT THE great Assembly Hall on the Mound is packed from floor to ceiling. An unbroken sea of faces looks down from the four surrounding galleries. Outside in the corridors anxious groups hurry from door to door and rush upstairs, only to meet others, equally anxious, rushing down. Every entrance is blocked, and down every gangway a long wedge of standing people has been driven deep into the heart of the house. On the low platform in front of the Moderator's chair, forming a half-circle round the clerks' table, sits a dozen or there- by of young men and girls, some of the latter in nurse's garb, some in simple white. It is the crowning night of the religious year in Scot- land. The Church's pioneers have come back from distant lands to tell of the progress of the Kingdom, and those who sent them out have met in thousands to hear their thrilling story. It is a festival of the romance of missions. A resounding Psalm strikes the note of triumph. " His name for ever shall endure, Last like the sun it shall. Men shall be bless'd in Him, and bless'd All nations shall Him call." Then we settle to hear the story of how the prophetic words have been fulfilled. 2 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS Speaker after speaker mounts the platform. Each is worthy of a whole evening to tell his tale. Now, under a rigid time-table, every word is weighty, compressed, intense. First, a professor from one of our Indian colleges conjures up before us a picture of India's un- rest. He welcomes it, sees in it the promise of new life. India's long sleep is broken, her young men are awake. Now is our golden opportunity. It is ours to lead them to the light of life. A voice is next heard from West Africa. The speaker has come straight from a region where a few years ago no white man dared set his foot. He is oppressed by the vastness of the surrounding heathenism. Deep in the forest, villages, tribes, whole nations are in darkness and stretch out wistful hands to the light. The Mohammedan peril becomes daily more acute. " Shall the Crescent or the Cross prevail ? " he cries. Again we are gripped with a sharp sense of crisis. If the work is to be done it must be now or never. A moment later we are spirited away to the South Pacific, and see a vision of its fairy isles. But there are sombre colours in the picture. The man before us has been face to face with cannibals. He has seen the grave dug in which the sick were buried alive. He speaks sadly of the blight of the Kanaka traffic, of disease and outrage, of a dwindling population in the islands. But the note of triumph rings out at the end. He has been privileged to lead cannibals to the feet of Jesus, and he challenges our unbelief in face of this great apologetic of the Gospel. We have now reached the supreme moment of the even- ing, when the little circle of youthful volunteers are solemnly dedicated to the work to which they have given their hearts. They rise and are presented to the Modera- tor, one by one, while the name and destination of each is announced. '' To Kaffraria, to Rajputana, to Living- stonia, to the zenana mission in Poona, to the orphanage at Bhandara, to the Medical College in Mukden, a teacher to Lovedale, a nurse to Aden, a carpenter to the Institu- FOREIGN MISSION NIGHT 3 tion at Duke Town." With every announcement there is a round of sympathetic applause, which deepens in emphasis as some field of special difficulty is mentioned or some young volunteer steps forward bearing a name known and beloved in the Church. A moment later the applause is hushed and three thousand heads are bowed while in the tense silence the voice of some father of the Church is lifted up, imploring Heaven's blessing upon those who, in their fresh devotion, have responded to the Church's call, and are faring forth upon her errand. A missionary hymn is sung and helps to relieve the tension of feeling, which has become almost unbearable. The heat is overpowering, many have been standing for hours, but the vast audience remains unbroken. Most would find it impossible to get out even if they would, for the crowd is still straining round every door, and pressing the wedges deeper in. But nobody wants to stir. Three of the greatest of the Church's pioneers have yet to be heard. We are back again in India, this time in the jungle. The whole assembly has sprung to its feet to welcome a massive figure, stepping heavily on to the platform. He looks round on the vast; cheering crowd, turning his head in a slow, bewildered way, much as an old lion might have done, which had been dragged from its lair to make an imperial show in the arena. He has, in fact, been dragged from his lair. Year after year he has absolutely ignored furloughs, and at last has reluctantly obeyed the Church's imperative command to come home and show his face. His speech is deliberate and halting, as if his English were half forgotten. But we know the man. He is the uncrowned king of the Santals. He has followed the hardy huntsmen of the Parganas, has captured and tamed them, has trained them in useful arts, has fed them in famine, has broken to them the bread of life. A medical missionary from the Far East follows, keen-eyed and alert, with hair that has turned to silver. " Why does he not wear his medals ? " somebody whis- 4 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS pers, and begins to explain that he has been decorated by three Emperors. We knew that, but we like him none the worse for his plain black coat. " Old things are passing away in the Far East," he says. " All things are becoming new." With rapid touches he conveys to us an impression of swift, kaleidoscopic change. Every Chinese institution is in the melting-pot. Presently it will be poured out to take shape and harden in the mould. What mould ? Let the Church of Christ an- swer. Again we seem to hear the sharp ring of the ' Now or Never.' Another great ovation greets the last speaker. To all appearance he might be a burly Aberdeenshire farmer, bearded and broad-shouldered, with eyes brimful of good humour, and wearing an expression of modesty amount- ing almost to bashfulness. That man was the first to put a steamer on any of the great African lakes. He has fought the Arab slave-driver and beaten him. He has done more than any living man to heal the running sore of Africa. He has seen every change from savagery to civilisation, from bloody raids to settled peace, the development of trade and commerce, the springing up of churches, schools, colleges. And we, who sit at home, ive him a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes by a tretch, to tell us all about it ! The great night is over. The concluding strains ring out like a trumpet call to the wide world. " Let every creature rise and bring Peculiar honours to our King. Angels descend with songs again, And earth repeat the loud 'Amen.' " The vast audience pours out of the Assembly Hall. Half dazed, with mind and heart burdened and over- charged, we stand for a moment, looking down on the lights of the city and up at the shining stars, drinking in the breath of the soft spring night with its subtle fragrance of unseen flowers and budding trees in the gardens at our feet. Then, homeward in "thoughtful silence. FOREIGN MISSION NIGHT 5 What a mighty work is this that has fallen to our Church to do ! We cherish the pride of an Empire on which the sun never sets. We glory in the high destiny of our British race. We honour the pioneers who hold the frontiers of the Empire, who break up the prairie and fell the lumber, who carry the rail-heads deeper into the forest and extend the bounds of peaceful human habitation. But there is a nobler pride in belonging to a Church on which the sun never sets. Our missions girdle the globe, and every hour of the twenty-four sees our pioneers at work somewhere. The mind wanders in- voluntarily to the far-off places where they live and work. We see them in the bazaars and temples of India, and in the sprinkled islands of the sea. We picture them cutting pathways through the malarial swamps of Africa, or crossing the frozen plains of Man- churia, rumbling along in great ox-waggons or mounted on sure-footed mules, travelling by steamer and canoe on the bosom of mighty rivers, camping in the wilds where, at night, the howl of the hyena and the lion's roar is heard. We watch them at their work, with coats off, taming the passionate savage, disputing with the subtle Hindu and the proud Mohammedan preaching, teaching, healing the sick, building houses, making roads, printing, weaving, tilling the soil, and labouring by every means to make the desert blossom as the rose. Heroic pioneers ! more than five hundred of them, devoted men and women who have followed the arduous path of foreign service at the call of Christ. Empire builders are they all, forerunners of the King, who " prepare the way of the Lord, and make straight in the desert a highway for our God." Travel and adventure, valour and virtue, are all to be found in plenty on the trail of the pioneers. Follow the trail as it winds around the world. Up the Rhine and down the Danube, through the isles of Greece and the Holy Land, down the Red Sea to the barren rock of 6 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS Aden, across our Indian Empire, through the Straits of Malacca and up the China Sea to Manchuria. Then a long southward run to the New Hebrides, round the back of the world to Jamaica, across the Atlantic to the West Coast of Africa, round the Cape to Kaffraria, up the Zambesi to the great lakes, and then home. Thirty thousand miles over land and sea, but you will not regret an inch of the road. You will come back missionary hero-worshippers. You will come back with eyes opened, having learnt that all these foreign lands have their own romance, and these foreign peoples, whom we in ignorant contempt call heathen, however diverse they be in appearance, in speech, in customs, are all of them just as human as we are ourselves, and just as dear to Jesus. CHAPTER II THE SISTER ON THE HILL HER real name was Princess Marie Dorothea, and she was the wife of the Archduke Joseph, whose lordly palace looks down on the Danube at Budapesth. She had come from Wiirtemberg in Germany and was a Protestant. At first she cared little for her religion, else, as she said afterwards, she could never have married a Roman Catholic prince. God had a strange work for her to do and she was prepared for it by weary years and sharp sorrows. Though she loved her husband and children dearly she often felt lonely in a land where the Bible was a closed and forbidden book, and gradually she learned to love it and turn to it more and more. Then her eldest son, a bright, handsome boy of seventeen, was taken from her, and in her sorrow she was driven for refuge to the Word of God and prayer. Her private apartments in the palace looked down across the Danube to the crowded city and the vast Hungarian plains beyond, and, as she gazed on the scene with softened heart, she sighed for the spiritual destitution of the land. Day after day she knelt at the window and, sometimes stretching out her hands to heaven in passionate desire, she prayed God to send some messenger of the Cross to Hungary. Thus she continued for about seven years. One night in the summer of 1839 she started out of sleep with an eerie feeling that something was about to happen to her. Every night for a fortnight the strange dream was repeated. Then she chanced to hear that, in one of the hotels of the city, a Protestant minister 7 8 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS was lying at the point of death. Instantly she said to herself, " This is what was to happen." But what was it ? To explain that, we must go back to Scotland. Foreign missions were then in their in- fancy. Many saw no need of them, maintaining that the heathen were better left alone. Some even de- nounced missionary societies as dangerous and treason- able. But a more enlightened and Christian spirit had begun to prevail. The Church of Scotland, remembering that the Gospel belonged ' to the Jew first,' resolved to send out four ministers to travel as far as Palestine, and discover the most suitable place in which to establish a Jewish mission. These deputies were Murray McCheyne and his friend Andrew Bonar, with Dr. Keith and Pro- fessor Black of Aberdeen. They set out, and, by and by, reached Egypt, intending next to visit Palestine. On one point they were all agreed, that of all the countries where Jews dwelt it was most hopeless to visit Austria, for no Protestant mission would be tolerated there. But an overruling Providence brought the unex- pected to pass. Dr. Black was hurt through a fall from his camel. The accident made it necessary that he and Dr. Keith, instead of going on to Palestine, should travel straight home by the Danube, passing thus through the heart of the Austrian Empire. On reaching Buda- pesth they could not but see that here was the very metropolis of the Jewish race in Europe. There ap- peared, however, not the remotest possibility of a mis- sion. As they looked up at the Archduke's palace, frowning down upon them, little did they dream of that lonely kneeling figure at the window, and the strange quarter from which their help would come. Before they could proceed on their journey Dr. Keith was struck down with fever, and, while he lay at the point of death, news of him reached the palace. Princess Marie at once came to, visit him and, thanks to her unwearied care, he slowly recovered, During the days of his convalescence the Princess poured into his THE SISTER ON THE HILL 9 ear the whole story of her sorrows and of her prayers. Dr. Keith, on his part, told her of the reason that had brought him to the city. Both were impressed by the strangeness of their meeting, and the Princess eagerly undertook to use all her influence towards the establish- ment of a mission in the city. Thus it came about, by means so singular and romantic, that our first mission to the Jews was planted in Budapesth. In the summer of 1841 a little band of missionaries under the leadership of Dr. John Duncan, a famous Hebrew scholar, sailed up the Rhine to Mayence, and, travelling from Frankfurt by Niirnberg to Ratisbon, steamed thence to Linz and Vienna. Another 120 miles on the broad bosom of the Danube brought them to Budapesth. They received a warm welcome from the Princess Marie. She and Dr. Duncan discovered a curious connecting link in the fact that both owned the same spiritual father. Twenty years before, the Princess had heard Cesar Malan preach in Geneva words never to be forgotten, and in far-away Aberdeen, by the same voice, ' Rabbi ' Duncan had been led into the light. So strangely interwoven are the threads of human life. At first the mission had to encounter the most deter- mined opposition, and but for the powerful protection of Princess Marie it could not have held its ground in the city. She was ever ready to interpose in time of danger and foiled many a plot. On one occasion in her absence, one of the missionaries was arrested and sen- tenced to be expelled from the city. The Princess, re- turning at the critical moment, appointed him her private chaplain, to preach every Sabbath in the palace and bring his congregation with him. It was amid these alarms, when priests and spies were continually on the watch, that the mission company, for reasons of secrecy, learned to speak of the Princess as ' the sister on the hill.' In these early days some bright jewels were won for the Redeemer's crown. No Israelite in the city was more 10 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS respected than Mr. Saphir. He was a devout worshipper of Jehovah, and, coming into contact with the mission, he became an earnest seeker after light. At length he declared his faith in Jesus as the Messiah and, with adoring reverence, would join in the hymn, "To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The God whom we adore, Be glory as it was and is And shall be ever more." In D. O. Hill's great picture of the Disruption a bright boy may be seen in front beside a venerable man who is showing him something on a map of Palestine. The old man is Dr. Duncan, and the boy is Adolph Saphir, Mr. Saphir 's famous son, who became a distinguished preacher in London and wrote in defence of the Scrip- tures books that will long be read. Another interesting case was that of Alfred Edersheim. He was a student at the university when Dr. Duncan came to Budapesth. After being led to Christ he took his degree at Oxford, and curiously enough became a minister in Dr. Duncan's native city of Aberdeen. He is best known, however, as the author of a valuable life of Christ, in which he brings all his vast Jewish learning to explain and illustrate the Gospel story. Had the Budapesth mission done nothing else but bring these two young Jews, Saphir and Edersheim, to the feet of Christ it would have been a great work. There is an impression in many minds that Jews cannot be converted and that missions among them are vain and fruitless. An amusing story is told of Dr. Kidd of Aberdeen, a quaint but worthy old divine. He was present at a meeting called to form a Jewish missionary society, and, being asked to take the opening prayer, he proceeded, "O Lord, convert the Jews. But they will not be converted till the appointed time. Some are now trying to convert them, but let them not be too confident, for Israel, poor Israel, is fit for nothing as yet but going through the streets crying ' Old clo' ' ! " Many people seem to share Dr. Kidd's opinion of ' poor THE SISTER ON THE HILL 11 Israel,' and in particular have no hope of the Jew re- sponding to the Gospel. It should be known that already one in every forty-five Jews is a baptised Christian, whereas, of heathen and Mohammedans, only one in sixty-six is a convert. Six hundred Jewish con- verts are ministers of the Gospel in Europe to-day. " The time to favour Zion, yea, the set time," may be nearer than many think. CHAPTER III FROM THE DANUBE TO THE GOLDEN HORN BUDAPESTH is a double city with the Danube flowing through the heart of it. As we sail down the river, following the route taken by the pioneers of the mission, Buda lies on the right and Pesth on the left, linked by several bridges thrown across the river. Pesth stands on the plain, but Buda is built on rising ground that mounts up steeply from the river-bank. Conspicuous on the heights towers the palace of the Archduke, and up there, in the southmost wing of the building, is the window at which the Princess Marie knelt to pray. We pass under a magnificent suspension bridge which, like the palace, has a link of connection with the early days of the mission. It was being built at the time Dr. Duncan arrived, and a hundred British workmen with their families were resident in the city. Dr. Duncan at once commenced services among them, and this proved an excellent plea for toleration. In spite of the powerful influence of the Princess, it is doubtful if Dr. Duncan would have been permitted to settle in the city unless he had had his fellow-countrymen to minister to. Two-thirds of the whole Jewish population of the world are within easy reach of Budapesth as a centre. In the city itself there are 180,000, and the management of municipal affairs is largely in their hands. It is said that Roosevelt, driving through the streets and looking over the crowds that had come out to welcome him, turned to his host with the question. " Biirgermeister, have you any Christians in your city ? " Solitary, in this metropolis of Judaism, stands our mission. Fine new buildings have been erected near the 12 THE DANUBE TO THE GOLDEN HORN 13 centre of Pesth. They are arranged round the four sides of a quadrangle, and consist of a hall seated for four hundred people, a school with accommodation for as many pupils, a boarding-house for over fifty girls, with apartments for missionaries and teachers. High up on the front is carved the familiar emblem of the Burning Bush. Here the mission has entered on a new era of life and usefulness. The suspicion and hostility of the Govern- ment have passed away and the mission is a recognised institution in the city. In proof of this it may be mentioned that the Educational Council voted 2000 towards the erection of the new buildings. Almost every form of mission work is carried on. More than 24,000 pupils have been educated in the school. Meetings and classes are held in which the claims of Jesus as their Messiah are pressed on the Jews, and steadily, if slowly, the outcasts of Israel are gathered in. At the same time the mission serves a wider field. It has quickened into new life the Reformed Church of Hungary, one of the largest Protestant churches in the world. Copies of the Scriptures and of Christian books, in eighteen languages, are distributed and sold in the city and surrounding districts. Thus through many channels the influence of the Gospel flows throughout the land. And far beyond it. The man who translated the Old Testament into Chinese was a convert of the Budapesth mission. The Jewish race in the whole world is one, and from this central and strategic point circles of influence go widening out till they break on the most distant shores. From the Danube the next stage of our journey brings us to the Golden Horn. We pass through lands that have been for centuries the battleground of Turk and Christian. In the age of the Reformation the Turks, at the height of their glory, were the terror of Europe. The ensign of the Crescent waved over Budapesth, Hungary was a Turkish province, and Suleiman the Magnificent led his troops to the walls of Vienna. There the tide 14 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS turned, and ever since has slowly ebbed away, till now Europe has all but shaken off the horrible nightmare of Turkish oppression. In Constantinople we have our second Jewish mis- sion. How tragic the reverse of fortune that has be- fallen the city ! Founded by the first Christian Emperor and called by his name, she was for long the seat of empire and one of the shining lights of Christendom. In solemn procession Constantine marked out the boundaries of his new capital. Bearing a lance in his hand, he continued to advance till his astonished followers ventured to observe that he had already exceeded the most ample dimensions of a great city. " I shall still advance," he replied, " till He, the in- visible guide who marches before me, sees fit to stop." A thousand years of Christian history followed. Then came the fatal day when the ruthless Turks stormed the city and all Europe trembled at her fall. From a distance the city wears an enchanted look. The seven low hills on which she stands are covered with buildings of every shape and colour. Above is the soft, blue Eastern sky. Beneath are the waters of the Sea of Marmora, reflecting like a mirror the numerous domes and minarets. The Bosporus sweeps along the city front, carrying the waters of the Euxine with rapid and incessant flow towards the Mediterranean. Up through the centre of the city the Golden Horn ploughs its way, a deep, curving lane of water six miles in length and a quarter of a mile in breadth. It parts Stamboul, the ancient city, from the northern suburbs of Galata and Pera. On entering the city the charm is rudely broken. Filth, dust, and evil smells, narrow, wretchedly paved alleys for streets, terrific din of yelling muleteers and hawkers, such is Constantinople seen at close quarters. Of the five settlements of Jews in the city the chief is in Galata, where the Polish Jews reside. There are, besides, two settlements of Spanish Jews on the Bos- porus and two on the Golden Horn. Our mission, which THE DANUBE TO THE GOLDEN HORN 15 is in Galata, was planted as long ago as 1842, and for nearly fifty years was the scene of the labours of Alex- ander Tomory, one of the early converts of Budapesth. Here, in the narrow lanes, with their terrible poverty, their reeking filth, their unhidden vice, our missionaries work. The tourist who visits the city thinks that what he sees is bad enough, but he rarely, if ever, penetrates into the depth of the cesspool. A doctor, on being shown the mission, declared that though he had lived in Constantinople for over thirty years he had no con- ception there could be such abject poverty. He sug- gested that the most necessary adjunct of the mission would be a barrel of cod-liver oil, to stand at the Dis- pensary door and be ladled out to all comers ! The scourge of cholera is never long absent, and war has brought an accumulation of miseries upon the wretched populace. Under such conditions the work is done. In the school there are over five hundred pupils. In the little church the son of a Jewish rabbi preaches, Sabbath after Sabbath, to a crowded audience of his fellow- countrymen. Above all there is the Dispensary, where eight or nine thousand suffering people annually receive the help of the Christian doctor and are brought into contact with the Gospel. We cannot leave the city without a visit to St. Sophia. Across the Golden Horn the great dome rises in the heart of Stamboul, surrounded by a cluster of half domes and shelving roofs. " Glory be to God, I have vanquished thee, O Solomon ! " cried the Emperor Justinian who built it, at the festival of dedication. Alas, that this magnificent temple, reared by Christian hands, and adorned with gold and marble of every hue, the gifts of Christian devotion, should now be a Mohammedan mosque ! See where the Crescent replaces the Cross on the summit of the great dome. Inside, a Mihrab has been cut in the wall in the south-east corner to point the direction of Mecca, and towards it the Moslem worshippers turn their faces when they pray. They squat 16 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS upon the floor, each one on his rug a congregation sitting squint and praise Allah and Mohammed, where once the praise of Christ was sung. The minister reads from the Koran, and, as he reads, he grasps a naked sword in his hand, as the Moslem custom is where they occupy Christian churches. It is a fierce reminder that the faith of Mohammed has been propagated by the sword. Now see this strange thing. Here is the Royal Gate by which the Emperor was wont to enter the church and where the Patriarch stood to receive him. Look up, and there, above the cornice that surmounts the gate you can make out a figure of Christ upon His throne, holding in His hand a book open at these words, " I am the light of the world." When the Moslems de- faced the building and removed every Christian emblem from it, they washed over the figure with lime, but it has reappeared. May we not read in it a prophecy that the true light will shine out again in these ancient Chris- tian lands ? As we travel through scenes once fair and prosperous but now desolate, once blessed by the feet of Christ and His apostles but now blighted by the unholy Turk, we shall not forget what we have seen above the Royal Gate of St. Sophia. CHAPTER IV THROUGH THE ISLES OF GREECE TO GALILEE No part of our journey is so full of romance as that upon which we now enter. Almost every island and stretch of curving shore has an immortal name, every league of sea has been ploughed by ships of heroes from the most ancient times. And of higher renown than the Isles of Greece are those hills of Galilee and that little inland sea, made sacred by the blessed feet of the Son of God. Sailing out of the Golden Horn, we cross the Sea of Marmora and enter the Dardanelles. Here in the narrow strait that parts Europe from Asia, Xerxes made the bridge of boats across which he led his countless hosts to conquer Greece. Seven days and nights with ceaseless tramp they passed along the swaying bridge. Here, a century and a half later, Alexander the Great led Greece to the conquest of Asia. The more tender memory of Leander comes to mind, how, time, after time, he swam across to visit Hero, till the dark, stormy night when the love gleam in the lady's tower went out and her lover was cast up dead upon the shore. Passing the Dardanelles, we enter the renowned ^Egean, rich in the beauty of the immortal Isles of Greece, " the sprinkled isles Lily on lily that o'erlace the sea, And laugh their pride when the light wave lisps ' Greece.' " On our left, between Mount Ida and the sea, is the plain of Troy, where Priam's city stood and where Achilles fought and fell, as Homer sings. Here we come upon the track of the Apostle Paul. It was from Troy (or Troas) that he sailed across this very sea to c 17 18 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS Europe, after he had seen in a vision the man of Mace- donia, who prayed him, saying, " Come over and help us." Yonder in the west are the hills of Macedonia, rising over Imbros and Lemnos. To Troas Paul re- turned on his last journey to Jerusalem, and from this point onward to Palestine we follow the route of his voyage as described in Acts xx-xxi. But, alas, what desolation has befallen these coasts ! Where are Troas and Assos, Miletus and Ephesus ? Nothing is left of them but harbours silted up, frag- ments of colossal masonry, and hill-sides strewn with broken columns. Once the home of enterprise and liberty, they have sunk under a slow decay, or been crushed by the heel of the ruthless Turk. The exquisite beauty of land and sea and sky remains, but the glorious works of man are fallen. The lamps of the Seven Churches have gone out. We sail past Rhodes, the Queen of the -lEgean and once the last outpost of Christendom, where the desperate valour of the Knights of St. John held the Saracens at bay. We cannot touch, as Paul did, at Patara, for the city is in ruins, the harbour is silted up, and the bay is a desert of moving sand. We cast, how- ever, a kindly glance at the spot, remembering that here was the birthplace of the good Saint Nicholas, the children's friend, more familiarly known to us as Santa Claus. Now we cross the Levant to Syria, passing Cyprus on the way. We do not land at Tyre, as did Paul, for the ancient glory of Tyre is gone and the stream of commerce flows through the busy seaport of Beirut, fifty miles farther north. How enchanting is our first view of Palestine. Mount Lebanon stretches along in front of us, its majestic head crowned with virgin snow, which glitters dazzling white in the clear air. Thus it must have looked to the eyes of Abraham when he came from Ur of the Chaldees to the Promised Land. Between Lebanon and the sea is a rich and beautiful plain, adorned with orange and lemon gardens, palms and sycamores, fig trees and almonds. The city rises in lovely terraces above the harbour and looks out on the blue Mediterranean. St. George is the patron saint of Beirut. Here he killed the dragon. When or why or what dragon nobody knows, but the dragon is dead, so it must be true. And, for the proof, the bay is called the Bay of St. George, and you can see the well into which he cast the dragon and the place where he washed his hands. We travel south along the shore by Sidon, Sarepta, and Tyre. This maritime plain, stretching along be- tween Lebanon and the sea, is " the coasts of Tyre and Sidon," once at least honoured by the Saviour's presence. From here He returned to the Sea of Galilee (Mark vii. 31), and we may be following the very road He took. Now we strike inland through the hills of Galilee. All along the way we have an almost continuous view of the great white head of Hermon, which, standing far in the north, towers over the nearer hills. The Jordan rises at its base and is fed by its melting snow. At last we come to the brow of a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Deep, deep down, at the bottom of a great cup, gleams the blue lake. Steep, guardian hills stand round it and cast their changing shadows upon the water. The bright green plain beneath our feet is the plain of Gennesaret, where Capernaum once stood. Across the lake are the cliffs of Gergesa, down which the herd of swine rushed headlong to the sea. The grey limestone flushes like pink marble in the evening sun. Yonder white spot, half-way down the nearer shore, marks the town of Tiberias, whither we are bound. Every detail of hill-side and shore and lake is sacred as the earthly home of the Son of God. Many changes have passed over the scene with the passing years. Capernaum, Chorazin, Bethsaida, are all gone. Long ago the busy fishing boats vanished and the once-populous shores lay silent and deserted. Only in recent years have there come signs of reawakening life. Enterprising 20 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS Jewish colonists from abroad have established a pros- perous fishing industry, and a little steamer and motor launch ply to and fro upon the lake. In spite of changes the scene brings back to us with wonderful vividness the ministry of Jesus. Within the circle of these hills most of His mighty works were done. On these waves He walked and bade the storm be still. Down there in Capernaum He dwelt, in " His own city." In all the villages round about He preached and healed. Down every hill-road they came in streams bringing their sick with them. It is early spring, and crowds of pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem have come thronging about the lake. Jesus sails out from Capernaum in Peter's boat to find a place of retirement on the other side. But the people have seen Him, and there they go, streaming in long lines round the head of the lake. When He steps ashore they are waiting Him and He cannot send them away. On the green meadow yonder, just where the Jordan flows into the lake, He makes them sit down, and with the five loaves and the two fishes He feeds them until all are satisfied. In the summer of 1839 Andrew Bonar and McCheyne, two ardent lovers of the Jewish race, visited the lake. They had been sent out by the Church of Scotland to discover the most suitable places for planting Jewish missions. On the shore of the lake they walked together and talked of Jesus, feeling " an indescribable interest even in lifting a shell from the shore of a sea where Jesus had so often walked." What their thoughts were McCheyne has recorded in his beautiful poem " The Sea of Galilee ": " How pleasant to me is thy deep blue wave, Thou Sea of Galilee ! For the glorious One who came to save Hath often stood by thee. Fair are the lakes in the land I love, Where pine and heather grow, But thou hast loveliness far above What nature can bestow. THE ISLES OF GREECE TO GALILEE 21 Graceful around thee the mountains meet, Thou calm reposing sea, But ah, far more, the beautiful feet Of Jesus walked o'er thee. O Saviour, gone to God's right hand, Yet the same Saviour still, Graved on Thy heart is this lovely strand And every fragrant hill." It was felt that surely nothing could be more grateful to the Saviour than to preach the Gospel where He Himself had so often preached. But, in the sluggishness of the Church, nearly half a century passed away before the founding of a mission at the Sea of Galilee. CHAPTER V WHERE JESUS TAUGHT AND HEALED FOUR cities in Palestine are counted sacred by the Jews, Jerusalem and Hebron, Tiberias and Safed. In three of these our Church has planted missions. Tiberias and Safed are worked together. In summer, when the heat grows unbearable down by the shore, a move is made to Safed, which stands on a hill-top near the north-west corner of the lake. Very possibly our Lord pointed to Safed when He said to His disciples, " A city set on an hill cannot be hid." Certainly Safed answers to that description, for it is conspicuous from all over Galilee. So steeply is it perched upon the sum- mit of the hill that the flat roofs of the houses below form the street above. In the earthquake of 1837 the whole town slid down the hill, street crashing upon street, till all lay together in one immense mass of ruins at the foot of the slope. Tiberias, the white town by the lake shore, is the chief seat of the mission. It was built by Herod Antipas, " that fox," who beheaded John the Baptist, and to whom Jesus was sent by Pilate to be tried. There is no evidence that our Lord ever visited Tiberias, though He lived so near it. The devout Jews of His day had scruples about going into the town because Herod had built it partly on an ancient burying-ground. Perhaps the fact that Herod's palace was there may have kept Him away from it. Like most Eastern towns, Tiberias looks best at a distance. One would hardly choose to live there. It lies nearly seven hundred feet below sea-level, and is oppressively hot, and there are those who aver that 22 WHERE JESUS TAUGHT AND HEALED 23 it is the residence of the King of the Fleas ! The inhabitants, of whom there are five or six thousand, are by no means an attractive lot. They have been described as " the most unpleasant looking of all the inhabitants of the land." Mark Twain's picture of them is not flattering: " long-nosed, lanky, dyspeptic-looking ghouls, with the indescribable hats on, and a long curl dangling down in front of each ear .' ' Many lead lives of indolence, subsisting mainly on the Zalukah, money sent by pious Jews in Europe and America for the support of their poorer brethren in the Holy Land. Near the town are the hot springs, famous from ancient times, where the people love to sit for hours, immersed up to the neck in almost boiling water. Indolent, pauperised and de- graded, is not their degradation the measure of their need ? As we approach the town from the north the most conspicuous buildings are those of the mission, con- sisting of a hospital with two houses adjacent for the missionaries. They stand close to the shore, facing the lake which Jesus knew so well. In front are a few palm trees and a well-tilled garden sloping down to the water. Everything within and around the hospital is clean, wholesome, and attractive, all in vivid contrast to the filth and negligence of the town. Inside the wards the white walls are hung with Arabic and Hebrew texts, and pictures such as Jesus walking on the sea. How strangely thrilling it is to turn from the picture and look out at the window over the very sea on which He walked. From the end windows of the women's ward, which face the north, a distant view is had of the snowy head of Mount Hermon. Every morning a motley crowd of men, women, and children gathers at the hospital, black- turbaned Jews with their dangling side-curls, veiled Jewesses, Arabs of various kinds from the town, Fellaheen from the sur- rounding country, Bedouins from the desert, all sorts and conditions of men. The hospital bell rings and the doctor with his assistants enters the waiting-room. A passage 24 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS of Scripture is read, followed by a short address, prayer is offered, and then the various cases are attended to. On Sunday morning an Arabic service is held for the patients and their friends, and every afternoon the kindly Bible-reader goes through the wards from bed to bed. Strange and touching scenes have been witnessed in these wards. Look at that bright-faced old man sitting up in bed in the corner of the ward. He seems an irre- pressible comic. " How is it, Elias," the doctor asks him, " that you are always so cheery ? " " Praise the Lord, the times are good," replies this Syrian Mark Tapley. What is his story ? Some weeks ago he was j ourneying from Jerusalem. When passing near Shechem he fell among thieves, who stripped him, wounded him most brutally with their iron-spiked clubs, and left him for dead on the road. By chance some men came where he was, and taking pity on him, put him on an ass and brought him to Nazareth. From there he was sent on to Tiberias and laid down at the hospital gate. One leg had to be amputated, and his life was despaired of, but the cheery old fellow is pulling through. How he will ever get home to Aleppo neither he nor anybody else knows ; but he counts it a lucky day when he came under Christian care and skill. Good old Mark ! Give us a handshake, and may time deal gently with you. Over yonder is Derwish, the son of a Bedouin chief beyond the lake. He grasps the doctor's hand and calls down blessings on his head. He has been several weeks in the hospital recovering from a serious operation. One day his father and three brothers came to visit him, stalwart fellows with belts stuck full of huge pistols. The father looked round the spotless ward, gazed awhile at the comfortable bed on which his son lay, and then, grasping the coverlet, he said earnestly, " This shows love and the fear of God." On leaving he gave the doctor three gold coins. "Come and visit me," he said. ' You will be welcome, with a hundred of your friends." WHERE JESUS TAUGHT AND HEALED 25 The lights are low in the ward. It is long past mid- night. On one of the beds a Jew lies dying. As the nurse bends over him and whispers the name of Jesus in his ear, the dying man opens his eyes. " I am trust- ing in the Lord Jesus," he whispers. " I am a Christian at heart." He tries to gasp out his story, how he had somewhere received a New Testament and learned from it to know Jesus as the Messiah. A few moments more and his spirit has fled to seek mercy of Him whom he had followed, though but secretly " for fear of the Jews." It is no easy thing for Jew or Moslem to confess Christ openly. Those who do so are often compelled to leave the country and seek in some foreign land the freedom of conscience denied to them at home. So for nearly thirty years the work in Tiberias has gone on, till now the fame of the hospital has travelled throughout all Syria. As in the days of Jesus, they bring the sick from far and near. Dr. Paterson of Hebron relates the following incident: "Riding up the steep hills which mount westward from the Sea of Galilee, I met, one morning in spring, a poor Arab walk- ing beside a donkey which carried his sick wife. He called to me to stop, he seized my bridle. Did I know of one who healed at Tiberias ? Was he wise ? Was he kind ? Would he cure the woman ? And as I rode on towards Nazareth, having reassured the man, I fell to thinking that just such a scene might have been enacted on that very road in the days of Him in whose name the missionary doctor at Tiberias ministers to the suffering to-day. For down every road leading to the Sea of Galilee there flocked men and women bearing the sick, half in doubt, half in hope, that One who healed, whom they knew only by hearsay, might be gracious to them also." The sick, when they returiLhome, carry with them as of old, and spread abroad everywhere, the fame of Jesus. So that to-day, through the skill and love of His servants in Tiberias, He has again become known to the people round the lake as the great Physician. " I 26 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS never expected to see a sight like this on earth," ex- claimed a visitor. " Now I understand the life of Christ as I never understood it before." And indeed one might search the wide world in vain to find anything liker the Saviour's own ministry than this mission of healing to the body and salvation to the soul beside the Sea of Galilee. CHAPTER VI HEBRON IN THE HOLY LAND THE road from Tiberias to Hebron leads through the heart of the Holy Land. The distance is not great in miles, for Palestine is the least of all lands. From Ti- berias to Jerusalem is about as far as from Dundee to Aberdeen, and Hebron is some twenty miles farther south. Yet within that narrow compass was enacted all that is most significant in the world's history. Half a day's journey to the south-west brings us to Nazareth, lying in a cup-shaped hollow among the hills. The town itself has little interest for us. The peaceful village of Gospel days has disappeared, and in its place is a town of seven or eight thousand people, cursed with seventeen public-houses. We climb the hill to the south of the town and view a scene that Jesus must often have gazed on as a boy. We are on the southern edge of the hills of Galilee. At our feet a broad plain stretches across the whole country from the Mediterranean to the lip of the Jordan valley. Many a battle has been fought on that plain since the day when Deborah and Barak swooped down on the hosts of Sisera. The bold, solitary hill to the west is Carmel, where Elijah contended with the prophets of Baal. At the other end of the plain, where it begins to dip down towards the Jordan, Jehu came driving furiously to avenge the iniquities of the house of Ahab. In front, across the plain, are the rounded hills of Sam- aria. Mark that little hill standing well out into the plain, with the road to the south running like a ribbon up the face of it. On the summit is the village of Nain, 27 28 ON THE TRAIL OF THE PIONEERS and somewhere on that road Jesus met the funeral of the widow's son. We cross the plain and note, here and there, surprising signs of up-to-date cultivation. Jewish colonists are settling in increasing numbers on the plain, and bid fair, with the help of modern implements, to change it from a rough, neglected prairie to a place of waving harvests. The road, winding among the hills of Samaria, brings us to the neighbourhood of Jacob's well. It seems hardly worth while to visit it. A church has in recent years been built over it, and the well-mouth opens in the musty vault below. Moreover, as the well is really dry, the wily priests pour water down it, which they draw out again for guileless pilgrims to drink. Better leave the place un visited, and preserve the picture of our Saviour sitting by the well-side in the sunshine, with the fields around Him ripening to the harvest. By and by the road gets clear of the Samaritan hills and begins to ascend up towards Jerusalem. The land of Judah is in reality a great, broad-backed mountain, with steep sides that go plunging down by tremendous ravines to the Jordan valley on the one hand and the land of the Philistines on the other. The summit is a bare, stony upland, wind-swept and waterless, fitted to breed a race of hardy, highland shepherds. Up and up the road climbs, winding round Gilgal and past Bethel. Now Jerusalem appears in sight, the Holy City, city of David and Solomon, to which the tribes went up, city of Gethsemane and Calvary and Olivet. The north road enters by the Damascus Gate, but ere we reach the gate we turn off the road a little to the left and pass along outside the wall. Often have we sung : " There is a green hill far away, Without a city wall, AVhere our dear Lord was crucified Who died to save us all." Here is that sacred hill, with its bare and gently HEBRON IN THE HOLY LAND 29 rounded top. The side next the city wall is broken by a steep cliff, with two holes like eyes in the face of it, which may have given to the hill the name of Calvary, the place of a skull. At the base of the cliff is a little garden in which is a rocky tomb that has been used once and is now empty. It might possibly be the very tomb in which the body of our Lord was laid. The city is full of interest. Every stone in it is elo- quent of a royal and sacred past. Here stood the throne of David. Here Isaiah and Jeremiah fulfilled their ministry. Outside the walls are ancient tombs of kings and prophets. Through these streets Christ bore His cross to Calvary. The city shows a strange ming- ling of races and religions. Jew, Christian, and Mo- hammedan, each claims it as his own. Imposing processions move along its crowded ways. Pilgrims kneel on the ground and passionately kiss the sacred places. Jews stand beneath the massive ruins of the Temple and, leaning their heads against the wall, bewail the sorrows of their people. Above them Moslems pray in the Holy of Holies. Perhaps the most striking scene of all is the view of Olivet from the Beautiful Gate of the Temple. Walk along the eastern side of the city on the path that runs along at the base of the wall. The ground breaks away at our feet, falling down a steep slope to the Kidron, three hundred feet below, and mounting al- most as steeply on the other side. The opposite hill is Olivet, not clothed with olives now as it must once have been, but bare and desolate save for a few scattered trees. Right over against us three roads branch out at the foot of the hill and climb the slope at different angles. One road goes straight up. It is the road to Jericho, which, after crossing the ridge, plunges down nearly four thousand feet into the suffocating abyss of the Jordan valley. Up that road King David went, when he fled from Absalom, barefoot and with his head covered, weeping as he went. The other two roads, which slope away to the right, both 30 lead to Bethany at the back of the hill. By one of these roads the Saviour must have come when He made His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. At the point where the three roads meet in the valley there is a garden with some gnarled old olive trees in it. It is the garden of Gethsemane. On the very summit of the hill a lofty spire pierces the sky. It is the Church of the Ascension, a memorial of the fact that Christ ascended up from the Mount of Olives. This explains the immense number of graves that are strewn about the base of the hill. Multitudes have desired to be laid to rest there, in hope of a glorious resurrection when the Lord shall come again. Turn now and look at the city wall that frowns above us. Once it was part of the outer wall of the Temple, but the Temple is long gone and the Mosque of Omar stands in the holy place. You can trace in the wall the outline of a great gateway which has been built up. It was the Gate of the Temple. Here the lame man sat for Beautiful alms, till one day, as the shadows of the Temple began to lengthen over the Kidron valley, Peter and John passed in at the gate and bade him, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk. The Moslems have built up the gate because there was a tradition among the Jews that when the Messiah came to recover the city, He would enter by that gate. So there stands the Mosque of Omar in the Holy Place, and here is the Beautiful Gate built up to shut the Saviour out. But Mohammed is dead and Christ is risen. Yonder the Church of the Ascension points a triumphant finger to the sky, and the Beautiful Gate looks across the valley to the Mount of Olives as if waiting the day of the Lord's return. But we must hasten on to Hebron. The road runs along the broad, bare ridge of the mountain of Judah, which shelves down on the left into the bottomless pit of the Dead Sea, with the hills of Moab rising like a wall beyond. Towards these hills Ruth must often have turned her eyes as she gleaned in the harvest field EH < o ij 13 in H b