l/'m 
 
 
 ; 

 
 FIFTY 
 
 MISSIONARY STORIES 
 
 COMPILED BY 
 
 BELLE M. BRAIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TRANSFORMATION OF HAWAII," 
 
 'MISSIONARY READINGS FOR MISSIONARY PROGRAMS,* 
 
 ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO 
 
 Fleming H. Re veil Company 
 
 LONDON EDINBURGH
 
 Copyright by 
 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 1903 
 
 CHICAGO: 125 NO. WABASH AVEKUB 
 NEW YORK: 158 FIFTH AVENUE 
 TORONTO: 25 RICHMOND STREET, w. 
 LONDON: 21 PATERNOSTER SQUARB 
 EDINBURGH: 100 PRINCES STREET
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 THE kindly reception accorded to "Mis- 
 sionary Readings for Missionary Programs" 
 and its twenty-five selections from famous 
 missionary books, together with requests 
 received for a second series along similar 
 lines, has led to the preparation of the pres- 
 ent volume. 
 
 The fifty stories herewith given are of 
 varied length and cover a wide range of 
 topics. Many of them have necessarily 
 been greatly condensed, but care has been 
 taken to do this without marring the work 
 of the original author. 
 
 It is hoped that the little book may not 
 only prove useful in preparing missionary 
 programs, but may also help to solve the 
 problem of providing suitable reading for 
 young folks in the home circle on Sunday 
 afternoons. 
 
 Grateful acknowledgment is herewith 
 made of the courtesy and kindness of the 
 following editors and publishers for per- 
 mission to use copyrighted material: Rev. 
 F. E. Gark, D. D., editor of the Christian 
 Endeavor World; Mr. D. L. Pierson, edi- 
 
 5 
 
 2134323
 
 6 Foreword 
 
 tor of the Missionary Review of the World; 
 The Century Company, publishers of The 
 Century Magazine; the Congregational Sun- 
 day-school and Publishing Society, pub- 
 lishers of "Faith Working Through Love" ; 
 The Friends' Bible Institute Press, pub- 
 lishers of "Sketches from the Dark Conti- 
 nent"; The American Baptist Missionary 
 Union, publishers of "Pagoda Shadows" ; 
 and The Baker and Taylor Company, pub- 
 lishers of "The New Acts of the Apostles." 
 
 BELLE M. BRAIN. 
 Springfield, Ohio, February 18, 1903.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea 
 Islands. 
 
 1. A TALKING CHIP n 
 
 2. SUNDAY IN RARATONGA 14 
 
 The Story of John G. Paton. 
 
 3. THE FIRST BOOK AND THE NEW EYES. ... 17 
 
 4. THE ORPHANS AND THEIR BISCUITS 22 
 
 Letters and Sketches from the New 
 Hebrides. 
 
 5. LITSI'S VISIT TO Misses LAND 27 
 
 6. THE "LAW AND THE GOSPEL" ON ANIWA. 31 
 
 James Chalmers; His Autobiography and 
 Letters. 
 
 7. WHY WE LEFT GREAT BRITAIN 37 
 
 8. ENFORCING THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT. 39 
 
 A Retrospect 
 
 9. A BREEZE FROM GOD 42 
 
 The Missionary Review of the World. 
 
 10. DIGGING THROUGH TO ENGLAND 46 
 
 11. A LIVING WITNESS 53 
 
 Peril and Adventure in Central Africa. 
 
 12. AFRICAN CURIOSITY 56 
 
 Sketches from the Dark Continent. 
 
 13. A SEARCH FOR A WORD 59 
 
 The Lines of Robert and Mary Moffat. 
 
 14. PREACHING TO THE "Docs" 66 
 
 15. A CAUTIOUS SCOTCHMAN 69 
 
 7
 
 8 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Story of Mackay of Uganda. 
 n6. A WONDERFUL CART 72 
 
 17. MACKAY AS UNDERTAKER 76 
 
 Children's Work for Children. 
 
 18. A MUSICAL GHOST 87 
 
 New Acts of the Apostles. 
 
 19. A NOVEL FUNERAL 90 
 
 Topsy-Turvy Land. 
 
 20. THE LITTLE MISSIONARIES A GUESS 
 
 STORY 93 
 
 My Life and Times. 
 
 21. "HAMLIN, THE BAKER!" 98 
 
 22. BUILDING A CHURCH OUT OF AN ENGLISH 
 
 BEER BARREL 103 
 
 23. ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S QUESTION no 
 
 Woman and Her Saviour in Persia. 
 
 24. Six BLACK PINS 119 
 
 Faith Working By Love. 
 
 25. "!F You LOVE ME, LEAN HARD." 122 
 
 With the Tibetans in Tent and Temple. 
 
 26. THE KANPO OF KUMBUM 124 
 
 Among the Mongols. 
 
 27. AMONG THE MONGOLS 130 
 
 Life of John Kenneth Mackenzie. 
 
 28. A CRUEL CHINESE CUSTOM 134 
 
 Pagoda Shadows. 
 
 29. A VISIT TO A CHINESE DRUG STORE 137
 
 Contents 9 
 
 PAGE 
 A Chinese Quaker. 
 
 30. TEMPERANCE CHARLE.Y 141 
 
 The Children's Record. 
 
 31. RUNAWAY BOB 145 
 
 Modern Heroes of the Mission Field. 
 
 32. A SAFE TEST 147 
 
 33. "ONLY A COBBLER!" 149 
 
 Mosaics from India. 
 
 34. ONE LITTLE WIDOW 151 
 
 Between Life and Death. 
 
 35. DIFFICULTIES OF DOCTORING IN INDIA.... 158 
 Village Work in India. 
 
 36. How WE DUG THE WELL 161 
 
 Soo Thah; A Tale of the Making of the 
 Karen Nation. 
 
 37. THE WINNING OF THE BRECS 171 
 
 Korean Sketches. 
 
 38. KIM OF KOREA 179 
 
 39. THE MISTAKES OF MISSIONARIES 183 
 
 The Century Magazine. 
 
 40. NOVEL SIGNS IN JAPANESE CITIES 186 
 
 The Gist of Japan. 
 
 41. JAPANESE ETIQUETTE 192 
 
 The Life of Joseph Hardy Neesima. 
 
 42. MAKING MONEY FOR GOD 193 
 
 From Far Formosa. 
 
 43. PULLING TEETH IN THE LAND OF THE 
 
 TOOTHACHE 197 
 
 44. THE TESTING OF A HOA 201
 
 io Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Apostle of the North James Evans. 
 
 45. JOHN SUNDAY'S APPEAL TO MR GOLD 204 
 
 46. FOUR INDIANS AND A KEG OF WHISKEY. . 207 
 
 On the Indian Trail. 
 
 47. THE STARVATION CURE 210 
 
 My Days in the Northland. 
 
 48. JACK, THE FAMOUS MISSIONARY DOG.... 214 
 The Story of Metlakahtla. 
 
 49. THE TAMER OF THE TSIMSHEANS 218 
 
 A Short History of the Moravian Church. 
 
 50. COUNT ZlNZENDORF AND RABBI ABRA- 
 
 HAM 223
 
 FIFTY MISSIONARY 
 STORIES 
 
 A TALKING CHIP 
 
 From "Missionary Enterprises in the South 
 Sea Islands," by John Williams. 
 
 In the erection of a chapel on Raratonga* 
 a circumstance occurred which gives a strik- 
 ing idea of the feelings of an untaught peo- 
 ple when observing for the first time the 
 efffects of written communications. 
 
 As I had come to work one morning with- 
 out my square, I took up a chip and with 
 a piece of charcoal wrote upon it a request 
 that Mrs. Williams would send me that 
 article. Calling a chief who was superin- 
 tending one portion of the work, I said to 
 him: 
 
 "Friend, take this, go to our house and 
 give it to Mrs. Williams." 
 
 He was a singular-looking man, remark- 
 ably quick in his movements and had been 
 a great warrior, but in one of the numerous 
 tattles he had fought had lost an eye. Giv- 
 
 J An island of the Cook or Hervey group. 
 11
 
 12 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 ing me an inexpressible look with the other, 
 he said: 
 
 "Take that? She will call me a fool and 
 scold me if I carry a chip to her." 
 
 "No," I replied, "she will not. Take it 
 and go immediately ; I am in haste." 
 
 Perceiving me to be in earnest, he took it 
 and asked : 
 
 "What must I say?" 
 
 "You have nothing to say," I replied; 
 "the chip will say all that I wish." 
 
 With a look of astonishment and con- 
 tempt he held up the piece of wood and 
 said: "How can this speak? Has it a 
 mouth ?" 
 
 "Take it immediately," I replied, ''and 
 do not spend so much time in talking about 
 it." 
 
 On arriving at the house he gave the chip 
 to Mrs. Williams, who read it, threw it 
 away and went to the tool-chest, whither 
 the chief, resolved to see the result of this 
 mysterious proceeding, followed her closely. 
 On receiving the square from her he said: 
 
 "Stay, daughter; how do you know that 
 this is what Mr. Williams wants?" 
 
 "Why," she replied, "did you not bring me 
 a chip just now?"
 
 A Talking Chip i 
 
 "Yes," said the astonished warrior, "but 
 I did not hear it say anything." 
 
 "If you did not, I did," was the reply, 
 "for it made known to me what he wanted, 
 and all you have to do is to return with it 
 as quickly as possible." 
 
 With this the chief leaped out of the house 
 and catching up the mysterious piece of 
 wood, he ran through the settlement with 
 the chip in one hand and the square in the 
 other, holding them as high as his arms 
 would reach and shouting as he went : 
 
 "See the wisdom of these English peo- 
 ple! They can make chips talk! They 
 can make chips talk!" 
 
 On giving me the square he wished to 
 know how it was possible thus to converse 
 with persons at a distance. I gave him all 
 the explanation in my power, but it was a 
 circumstance involved in so much mystery 
 that he actually tied a string to the chip, 
 hung it around his neck and wore it for 
 some time. 
 
 During several following days we fre- 
 quently saw him surrounded by a crowd, 
 who were listening with intense interest 
 while he narrated the wonders this chip 
 had performed.
 
 SUNDAY IN RARATONGA 
 
 From "Missionary Enterprises in the South 
 Sea Islands," by John Williams. 
 
 The manner in which the people of Rara- 
 tonga 1 spent their Sabbaths was deeply in- 
 teresting. At sunrise they held a prayer- 
 meeting to implore the divine blessing on 
 the engagements of the day ; this they con- 
 ducted entirely themselves. 
 
 At nine o'clock the congregation assem- 
 bled again, when the missionary performed 
 divine service just as it is conducted in Eng- 
 land, prayer being offered, the sacred Scrip- 
 tures read, and hymns sung in their own 
 beautiful language, after which a sermon is 
 preached to them. Prior to the commence- 
 ment of the service, however, they met in 
 classes of ten or twelve families each, and 
 distributed among themselves the respective 
 portions of the sermon which each individ- 
 ual should bring away. 
 
 "Mine shall be the text and all that is 
 
 island of the Cook or Hervey group. 
 14
 
 Sunday in Raratonga 15 
 
 said in immediate connection with it," said 
 one. 
 
 "I will take care of the first division," said 
 another. 
 
 "I will bring home the particulars under 
 that head," declared a third. 
 
 Thus was the sermon apportioned out be- 
 fore it was delivered. 
 
 At a convenient time after the service the 
 respective classes met, and after commenc- 
 ing their social service with singing and 
 prayer, one of the most intelligent of their 
 number began by inquiring: 
 
 "With whom is the text?" and then pro- 
 posed a variety of questions upon it. 
 
 After this he asked for the divisions of 
 the discourse, and when one had been given 
 he would say: 
 
 "To what portion of Scripture were we 
 referred?" 
 
 This was found a most excellent and effi- 
 cient method of proceeding, as it induced 
 the people not only to pay great attention to 
 the sermon, but to search the Scriptures 
 with interest, and also to exercise their 
 minds upon the meaning and application 
 of what they read. 
 
 This social exercise was a preparation for 
 the more public examination conducted by
 
 16 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 the missionary, which took place in the 
 chapel between the hours of one and two, 
 when all the classes assembled ; and seldom 
 was there a sentiment or a sentence of im- 
 portance in the discourse which was not 
 then repeated by one or another of the con- 
 gregation. 
 
 At the conclusion of the evening service, 
 both on the Sabbath and other days, a great 
 number followed us home, took their seats 
 tinder the banana and plantain trees, by 
 which our house was encircled, and spent an 
 hour or more in making inquiries about the 
 subjects of our address.
 
 THE FIRST BOOK AND THE NEW 
 EYES 
 
 From "The Story of John G. Paton." 
 
 The printing of the first book on Aniwa 1 
 was a great event, not so much for the toil 
 and worry which it cost me, though that 
 was enough to have broken the heart of 
 many a compositor, as rather for the joy 
 it gave to the old Chief Namakei. 
 
 He had eagerly helped me in translating 
 and preparing it, and had a great desire "to 
 hear it speak," as he graphically expressed 
 it. It was made up chiefly of short pas- 
 sages from the Scriptures that might help 
 me to introduce them to the treasures of 
 Divine truth and love. Namakei came to 
 me morning after morning, saying: 
 "Missi, is it done? Can it speak?" 
 At last I was able to answer, "Yes !" 
 "Does it speak my words?" the old chief 
 eagerly responded. 
 "It does," I replied. 
 
 *An island of the New Hebrides group. 
 17
 
 1 8 Fifty Missionary Stones 
 
 "Make it speak to me, Missi 1" Namakei 
 exclaimed, with rising interest. "Let me 
 hear it speak." 
 
 I read to him a portion of the book, and 
 the old man fairly shouted in an ecstasy of 
 
 joy. 
 
 "It does speak! It speaks my own lan- 
 guage, too ! Oh, give it to me !" 
 
 He grasped it hurriedly, turned it all 
 round every way, pressed it to his bosom, 
 and then, closing it with a great look of 
 disappointment, handed it back to me, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "Missi, I cannot make it speak! It will 
 never speak to me." 
 
 "No," said I; "you don't know how to 
 read it yet, how to make it speak to you ; but 
 I will teach you to read, and then it will 
 speak to you as it does to me." 
 
 "O Missi, dear Missi, show me how to 
 make it speak," persisted the bewildered 
 chief. 
 
 He was straining his eyes so, that I sus- 
 pected they were dim with age and could 
 not see the letters. I looked out for him 
 a pair of spectacles and managed to fit him 
 well. He was very much afraid of putting 
 them on at first, manifestly in dread of some 
 sort of sorcery. At last when they were
 
 The First Book 19 
 
 properly placed, he saw the letters and 
 everything so clearly that he exclaimed in 
 great excitement and joy: 
 
 "I see it all now ! This is what you told 
 us about Jesus. He opened the eyes of a 
 blind man. The word of Jesus has just 
 come to Aniwa. He has sent me these 
 glass eyes. I have gotten back again the 
 sight I had when a boy. O Missi, make the 
 book speak to me now !" 
 
 I walked out with him to the public Vil- 
 lage Ground. There I drew A B C in large 
 characters upon the dust, showed him the 
 same letters in the book, and left him to 
 compare them and find out how many oc- 
 curred on the first page. Fixing these in 
 his mind, he came running to me and said r 
 
 "I have lifted up A B C. They are here 
 in my head and I will hold them fast. Give 
 me other three.'* 
 
 This was repeated time after time. He 
 mastered the whole alphabet and soon began 
 to spell out the smaller words. Indeed, he 
 came so often, getting me to read it over 
 and over, that before he could read it freely 
 he had it word for word committed to mem- 
 ory. When strangers passed him, or young 
 people came around, he would get out the 
 little book and say :
 
 2O Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "Come, and I will let you hear how the 
 book speaks our own Aniwan words. You 
 say it is hard to learn to read and make 
 it speak. But be strong to try! If an old 
 man like me has done it, it ought to be much 
 easier for you." 
 
 One day I heard him read to a company 
 with wonderful fluency. Taking the book 
 I asked him to show me how he had learned 
 to read so quickly. Immediately I per- 
 ceived that he could recite the whole from 
 memory ! 
 
 He became our right-hand helper in the 
 conversion of Aniwa, and was particularly 
 anxious that his wife, Yauwaki, should be 
 taught to read. But her sight was far gone. 
 So one day he brought her to me saying : 
 
 "Missi, can you give my wife also a 
 new pair of glass eyes like mine ? She tries 
 to learn, but she cannot see the letters. She 
 tries to sew, but she pricks her fingers and 
 throws away the needle, saying, 'The ways 
 of the white people are not good !' If she 
 could get a pair of glass eyes she would 
 be in a new world like Namakei." 
 
 In my bundle I found a pair that suited 
 her. She was in positive terror about put-
 
 The First Book 21 
 
 ting them on her face, but at last she cried 
 with delight: 
 
 "Oh, my new eyes ! my new eyes ! I have 
 the sight of a little girl. Oh, my new eyes !"
 
 THE ORPHANS AND THEIR BIS- 
 CUITS 
 
 From "The Story of John G. Paton." 
 
 When the people of Aniwa 1 became Chris- 
 tians, the habits of morning and evening 
 Family Prayer and of Grace at meat took a 
 very wonderful hold upon them, and became 
 a distinctive badge of Christian versus 
 Heathen. 
 
 This was strikingly manifest during a 
 time of bitter scarcity that befell us. I 
 heard a father, for instance, at his hut door, 
 with his family around him, reverently bless- 
 ing God for the food provided for them, 
 and for all his mercies in Christ Jesus. 
 Drawing near and conversing with them, I 
 found that their meals consisted of fig leaves 
 which they had gathered and cooked a 
 poor enough dish, but hunger makes a 
 healthy appetite, and contentment is a grate- 
 ful relish. 
 
 'One of the New Hebrides Islands.
 
 The Orphans 23 
 
 During the same period of privation my 
 Orphans suffered badly also. Once they 
 came to me, saying : 
 
 "Missi, 1 we are very hungry." 
 
 "So am I, dear children," I replied, "and 
 we have no more white food till the Day- 
 spring 2 comes." 
 
 "Missi," they continued, "you have two 
 beautiful fig trees. Will you let us take 
 one feast of the young and tender leaves? 
 We will not injure branch or fruit." 
 
 "Gladly, my children," I answered ; "take 
 your fill!" 
 
 In a twinkling each child was perched 
 upon a branch, and they feasted there as 
 happy as squirrels. 
 
 Every night we prayed for the vessel, and 
 in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to 
 the coral rocks and eagerly scanned the sea 
 for an answer. Day after day they returned 
 with sad faces, saying: 
 
 "Missi, Tavaka fimra!" (No vessel yet.) 
 
 But at gray dawn of a certain day we 
 were awakened by the boys shouting from 
 the shore, and running for the Mission 
 House with the cry: 
 
 Missionary. 'The mission vessel which carried 
 letters and supplies to the various stations.
 
 24 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "Tavakaoa! Tavakaoa!" (The vessel, 
 hurrah!) 
 
 We arose at once, and looking through 
 my glass, I saw that they were discharging 
 goods into the vessel's boats ; and the chil- 
 dren, when I told them that boxes and bags 
 and casks were being sent on shore, shouted 
 and danced with delight. As the first boat- 
 load was discharged the Orphans surround- 
 ed me, saying: 
 
 "Missi, here is a cask that rattles like 
 biscuits. May we take it to the Mission 
 House?" 
 
 I told them to do so if they could ; and in 
 a moment it was turned into the patK and 
 the boys had it flying before them, some 
 tumbling and hurting their knees, but up 
 and at it again, and never pausing until it 
 rolled up at the door of our storehouse. On 
 returning I found them all around it, and 
 they said : 
 
 "Missi, have you forgotten what you 
 promised us?" 
 
 "What did I promise you ?" I asked. 
 
 "Missi has forgot," they whispered to 
 each other, looking much disappointed. 
 
 "Forgot what?" I inquired. 
 
 "Missi," they replied, "you promised that
 
 The Orphans 25 
 
 when the vessel came you would give each 
 of us a biscuit." 
 
 "Oh," I said, "I did not forget; I only 
 wanted to see if you remembered it." 
 
 "No fear of that, Missi !" they said, laugh- 
 ing. "Will you soon open the cask? We 
 are dying for biscuits !" 
 
 At once I got hammer and tools, knocked 
 off the hoops, took off one end, and then 
 gave girls and boys a biscuit each. To my 
 surprise they all stood around, biscuit in 
 hand, but not one beginning to eat. 
 
 "What," I exclaimed, "you are dying for 
 biscuits! Why don't you eat? Are you 
 expecting another?" 
 
 "We will first thank God for sending us 
 food," one of the eldest said, "and ask Him 
 to bless it to us all." 
 
 And this was done in their own simple 
 and beautiful childlike way; and then they 
 did eat, and enjoyed their food as a gift 
 from the Heavenly Father's hand. (Is there 
 any one reading this who never thanks God 
 or asks him to bless daily bread ? Then is 
 not that one a white Heathen?) 
 
 We ourselves at the Mission House could 
 very heartily rejoice with the dear Orphans. 
 For some weeks past our European food 
 had all been exhausted, except a little tea;
 
 26 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 and the cocoanut had been our chief sup- 
 port. It was beginning to tell against us. 
 Our souls rose in gratitude to the Lord, who 
 had sent us these fresh provisions that we 
 might love Him better and serve Him more.
 
 LITSI'S VISIT TO MISSI'S LAND 
 
 From "Letters and Sketches from the New 
 Hebrides," by Maggie Whitecross Paton (Mrs. 
 John G. Paton, of Aniwa). 
 
 *I had often while on the island pictured 
 what my sensations would be if I ever agahi 
 trod the streets of Civilization; but I had 
 none at all! 
 
 It all came so natural that I quite forgot 
 I had ever been away. It was great fun get- 
 ting Litsi 2 into shoes for the first time be- 
 fore we all went on shore to stay. She was 
 so unsteady on her unaccustomed leather 
 feet that I had to carry the Baby, for she 
 needed her outstretched arms to balance her- 
 self, as she went clamping along and squeal- 
 ing: 
 
 "Missi* Missi, I'll fall! I'll fall!" 
 
 She had exalted and very exaggerated 
 expectations in going to the White Man's 
 
 1 Mrs. Paton made this brief visit to Australia 
 to seek medical advice for her baby. 
 'The baby's native nurse. 
 'The natives' name for missionary. 
 27
 
 28 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Land, the land of the Missionary, where she 
 would see only what was pure and good and 
 holy. To the credit of those whom she met, 
 and her not being able to read the daily 
 newspapers, she was not disillusionized. 
 
 When we arrived at Adelaide and she 
 saw the royal welcome I got from my own 
 mother and sister and all the dear ones 
 there, it struck her in a peculiar way which 
 she could not get over. I was, of course, 
 wild with delight, and flew from room to 
 room, all talking merrily as we were shown 
 over the pretty new house. When at last 
 I went upstairs to my room, there I found 
 Litsi sitting on the floor and sobbing like 
 to break her heart ! As I anxiously inquired 
 the cause, she burst out: 
 
 "Missi, I never knew what you had given 
 up to come to our dark land ! I never knew 
 you had given up a mother like that, or such 
 a sister and brother-in-law. We did not 
 know you lived in such beautiful homes. 
 I fear, I fear you will never go back to our 
 dark land again!" 
 
 Litsi's remarks about civilization showed 
 more wide-awake intelligence than did, as a 
 rule, the white folks' remarks about heathen- 
 dom. She once asked me if all the people 
 of Adelaide had quarreled, as hardly any of
 
 Litsi's Visit 29 
 
 them greeted each other in passing. When 
 told that they had to wait for "introduc- 
 tions" before speaking, she said: "Was it 
 not enough that they knew each other as 
 Christians?" At one minister's house she 
 came to me in great consternation and said : 
 
 "Didn't you say that Mr. Blank was a 
 Missi?" 
 
 "Yes; why?" 
 
 "Oh, you must be mistaken. Look, he 
 has a pipe in his mouth!" 
 
 There, sure enough was the worthy divine 
 enjoying a quiet whiff in his garden. I 
 knew that tobacco was tabooed, and for 
 strong reasons, as an evil, by the Mission- 
 aries ; but not being ready, at the moment, 
 to explain how it was wicked for a black 
 man and not wicked for a white man to 
 smoke, I mumbled something about people 
 having sometimes to smoke for "toothache !" 
 And what an amount of needless sympathy 
 poor Litsi, from day to day, lavished upon 
 that sorely-afflicted man ! 
 
 When we returned what a lot Litsi had 
 to tell of the wonders of Missi's land ! And 
 all so different from the savages who had 
 gone there with the slavers and seen only the 
 evils. 
 
 Our home-coming was just delicious.
 
 30 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Everything that John 1 and the darkies could 
 think of was done to welcome us. The 
 word WELCOME shone in great letters over 
 the front gate. The lawn and all the 
 grounds were in perfect order and several 
 alterations, which I had long desired, beau- 
 tifully carried through. 
 
 And withal there was on everything the 
 flavor of originality which only the natives 
 can bestow. For instance, sheets spread out 
 for tablecloths and vice versa, toilet covers 
 for towels, etc., etc.! 
 
 !Dr. Paton.
 
 THE "LAW AND THE GOSPEL" ON 
 ANIWA 
 
 From "Letters and Sketches from the New 
 Hebrides," by Maggie Whitecross Paton (Mrs. 
 John G. Paton, of Aniwa). 
 
 Our work jogs along pleasantly here; 
 none the less so that, we I, rather have 
 made a very few stern rules that must be 
 kept. 
 
 The natives have about got into our ways. 
 I have not to chase round, as I used to do, 
 to prevent them plucking the fowls for table 
 before they are killed. This they were very 
 fond of doing for the mere pleasure of 
 hearing them scream! 
 
 From almost the first day I made rules 
 about not allowing the natives to come into 
 the house during our meals; or ever to go 
 into the cook house under any pretense 
 whatever, as I don't care to have sugges- 
 tions of their personality in our food. If 
 
 Part of a letter written to the family circle at 
 home and dated "Aniwa, New Hebrides, 1872." 
 
 31
 
 32 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 they want to see the cook he goes out to 
 them. By the way, he is quite a character, 
 that cook of ours; knows a few words of 
 English, which he is fond of airing, and 
 says, "Yes, sir," and "No, sir," to me. 
 I can't feel it in my heart to bring him 
 down from his pedestal of politeness by cor- 
 recting his mistake and John 1 won't, plead- 
 ing that the fellow shows great penetration 
 and knows exactly who rules the roost. 
 
 One nice old man, eager to imitate the 
 Missi 2 in everything, began by addressing 
 me as "Maggie, dear!" but his Reverence 
 promptly interfered and put a stop to that. 
 
 Our natives are very amusing in many of 
 their ways, and though often provoking and 
 disappointing we do not lose heart, as we 
 might do with white people, remembering 
 that in these respects they are only children 
 after all. 
 
 We manage to keep our bairns, in a large 
 measure, separate from the native children, 
 for weighty reasons, but it requires a little 
 engineering to prevent them from feeling it. 
 The front of our house is quite fenced off, 
 and the side gates are locked, so that they 
 play by themselves or with their nurses; 
 
 *Dr. Paton. "Missionary.
 
 The Law and the Gospel 33 
 
 and on Sundays we are entirely free from 
 visitors. On this latter subject I had more 
 bother with the Missi than with the natives. 
 He maintained, of course, that we are here 
 for their benefit, .with which I heartily 
 agree, and for six days in the week I am 
 their devoted servant in Christ, at their beck 
 and call ; but, in His name, I claim this one 
 day, so far as domestic life is coaicerned, to 
 be unreservedly given up to our little ones. 
 
 We can thus preserve our family life 
 even in the midst of heathendom. After 
 church services and Sunday Schools are 
 over and the natives who prefer to remain 
 are supplied with piles of picture books, 
 which they enjoy immensely sprawling at 
 full length on the grass, the Paton family 
 have a sweet and blessed time under our 
 shady front veranda, which rests and re- 
 freshes them for the duties of the approach- 
 ing week. 
 
 I fear I am regarded rather as a Law 
 unto these poor people around us ; but then 
 you see John is the embodiment of a glo- 
 rious Gospel; so their theological surround- 
 ings are tolerably complete ! 
 
 Another rule I fought for was that no 
 one should enter the church without what 
 appeared to me a decent covering. John
 
 34 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 was thankful to get them there to hear the 
 Gospel in almost any condition, but I main- 
 tained that we had a right to church privi- 
 leges, as well as the natives, and that I 
 could not worship the Lord in His sanct- 
 uary with practically naked people stuck 
 right in front of us, nor was it good for our 
 children. 
 
 So the Missi was at last induced to fire 
 off another of my bullets amongst his "be- 
 loved flock." He solemnly announced in 
 the church assembly, that the few who still 
 came unclothed would, in future, have to 
 put on something, were it only a fathom of 
 calico, which they all had, or could easily 
 secure by doing a little work; that, a 
 month's warning being given, thereafter no 
 naked or painted person would be allowed 
 to enter the church. There were only three 
 or four natives who were in the habit of 
 coming unclothed, and it wasn't fair to the 
 others to let them ride off in that way and 
 defy our Christian custom. 
 
 When the month was up and we were as- 
 sembling in the church, there slipped in a 
 heathen, clothed in nothing but the most 
 startling war-paint ! 
 
 I spotted our friend and vowed he should 
 not escape the Missionary's notice, either,
 
 so when John had finished reading the hymn 
 and looked across for me to begin playing, 
 he found me leaning calmly back with fold- 
 ed arms. His amazed face said as plainly 
 as possible, "What's the row?" I gave a 
 slight inclination of the head in the direc- 
 tion of the painted individual, and John at 
 once took action by requesting him to leave 
 the church. 
 
 The gentleman, however, had no more in- 
 tention of leaving the church than I had of 
 beginning the hymn. It was a question of 
 which would win, and soon began to be 
 exciting. Had I been given to betting, I 
 would have backed "our side" to any 
 amount. 
 
 John repeated his request firmly, but 
 kindly, setting forth the reasonableness of 
 such a rule. This was enforced by earnest 
 whisperings all around, while our young 
 hero sat complacently grinning, with his 
 chin resting on his knees. The Missi then 
 began gently to collect his books, saying 
 that he never made a rule that he did not 
 mean to be obeyed, and would therefore 
 now leave the church and worship with his 
 family at home. 
 
 That, however, ' would not be tolerated, 
 as the young man gathered from the fero-
 
 36 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 cious looks directed against him. On the 
 chief of his district being seen to move 
 with serious intention of ejectment, the big 
 fellow swung out of the building like light- 
 ning, carrying his dirty nakedness with him, 
 and the service went on with something of 
 Christian seemliness. 
 
 That same afternoon at a preaching serv- 
 ice in this man's village, the poor savage 
 had got one side of his face washed and 
 turned that to the Missionary. But John 
 told him to sit round and make himself com- 
 fortable, as there were no rules to exclude 
 any one from open-air service. To do him 
 justice, he joined heartily in the laughter 
 that greeted this sally, and he has become 
 one of the very best fellows we have since 
 coming off second best in this little tussle.
 
 WHY WE LEFT GREAT BRITAIN 
 
 From "James Chalmers: His Autobiography 
 and Letters," by Richard Lovett, M. A. 
 
 'When first we went to New Guinea the 
 natives thought we had been compelled to 
 leave our own land because of hunger. The 
 following conversation took place shortly 
 after my arrival, between myself and the 
 people : 
 
 "What is the name of your country ?" 
 
 "Beritani." 
 
 "Is it a large land?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What is your chief?" 
 
 "A woman named Victoria." 
 
 "What, a woman?" 
 
 "Yes, and she has great power." 
 
 "Why did you leave your country ?" 
 
 "To teach you and to tell you of the great 
 loving Spirit who loves us all." 
 
 "Have you cocoanuts in your country?" 
 
 "No." " 
 
 J Extract from a letter written by Chalmers in 
 1882. 
 
 37
 
 38 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "Have you yams?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Have you taro?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Have you sweet potatoes ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Have you bread fruit?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Have you plenty of hoop-iron and toma- 
 hawks?" 
 
 "Yes, in great abundance." 
 
 "We understand, now, why you have 
 come. You have nothing to eat in Beritani, 
 but having plenty of tomahawks and hoop- 
 iron with which you can buy food." 
 
 It was useless to tell them we had plenty 
 of food different from theirs, and that want 
 of food did not send us away from Beritani. 
 We had no cocoanuts, yams, taro or sago, 
 and who could live without these? Seeing 
 us opening tinned meat, they came to the 
 sage conclusion that we, too, were cannibals 
 and had man cooked in our country and 
 sent out to us,
 
 ENFORCING THE FOURTH COM- 
 MANDMENT 
 
 From "James Chalmers: His Autobiography 
 and Letters," by Richard Lovett, M. A, 
 
 Ruatokai was a true Sabbatarian, and it 
 often vexed his soul to see the abuse of that 
 sacred day. No Sabbath passed that he did 
 not refer to it in the services of the day. 
 
 In 1878 a large party of gold prospectors 
 came to New Guinea, and as it was hoped 
 gold would be found in large quantities, a 
 German thought the best paying concern 
 would be a store. So he built one a little 
 way from the back of the mission ground. 
 When it was finished he wanted a cook 
 house and hired a Scotchman to put it up. 
 
 On the Sabbath when Rua was holding 
 his forenoon service, there was loud noise 
 of hammering iron. For a short time he 
 stood it, but at last, telling his audience to 
 go home, he went to his house to get an 
 
 1 A native teacher from Raratonga, who helped 
 to plant the Gospel in New Guinea. 
 39
 
 40 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 English Bible, in which he found the chap- 
 ter and verses containing the fourth com- 
 mandment. He then marched to where 
 the cook house was being put up. 
 
 When the German and a friend, who were 
 sitting on the doorstep of the store, saw 
 the teacher coming they wondered what 
 was the matter, he looked so very solemn. 
 The Scotchman was working on the top of 
 the cook house. Rua came just beneath him 
 and knowing only a little pidgin English, he 
 said, pointing to the man on the house: 
 
 "Say, come down." 
 
 The white man was somewhat astonished 
 to have such a peremptory order from a 
 colored man, and did not answer. 
 
 "Say, you know savee. I speak come 
 down." 
 
 The white man found his tongue, and 
 I believe his wrath exploded in fearful curs- 
 ing. Again Rua said: 
 
 "What do you talk? You white fellow 
 send missionary along my country and my 
 Country he get good and he like Sabati 
 much. Before my countrymen he eat you, 
 but no now. I come along New Guinea. I 
 speak man Sabati he tapu, no work, no fish, 
 no hunt, no build house on Sabati ; now New 
 Guinea man, he say, Ruatoka, you make lie,
 
 The Fourth Commandment 41 
 
 white man he work Sabati. What for you 
 make him? Come down." 
 
 Once again very forceful adjectives, and 
 the teacher's wrath rises. He was a tall, 
 powerful man and at last made as though 
 he would ascend the ladder. But the Ger- 
 man, knowing well what would take place, 
 shouted out, "Rua, my friend, stop!" and 
 to the white man : 
 
 "You fool, come down at once ; can't you 
 see that it is our friend the teacher, and we 
 are wrong?" 
 
 Rua was aroused, so when the white man 
 came down he handed him the Bible, and 
 ordered him to read the verses he pointed 
 out, and at once. The white man did it 
 and then the teacher said : 
 
 "God, He speak, you no work now. Put 
 down hammer belong you." 
 
 There was a quiet Sabbath for the re- 
 mainder of the day.
 
 A BREEZE FROM GOD 
 
 From "A Retrospect," by J. Hudson Taylor, 
 Founder of the China Inland Mission. 
 
 My first voyage to China was a very 
 tedious one. We lost a good deal of time 
 on the equator from calms; and when we 
 finally reached the Eastern Archipelago 
 were again detained from the same cause. 
 
 Usually a breeze would spring up soon 
 after sunset and last until about dawn. The 
 utmost use was made of it, but during the 
 day we would lie still with flapping sails, 
 often drifting back and losing a good deal 
 of the advantage we had gained during the 
 night. 
 
 This happened notably on one occasion 
 when we were in dangerous proximity to 
 the north of New Guinea. Saturday night 
 had brought us to a point some thirty miles 
 off land, but during the Sunday morning 
 service, which was held on deck, I could not 
 fail to notice that the captain looked trou* 
 bled, and frequently went over to the side 
 of the ship. When the service was over I 
 a
 
 A Breeze from God 43 
 
 learned the cause a four-knot current was 
 carrying us rapidly towards some sunken 
 reefs, and we were already so near that it 
 seemed improbable that we should get 
 through the afternoon in safety. 
 
 After dinner the long boat was put out 
 and all hands endeavored, but without suc- 
 cess, to turn the ship's head from the shore. 
 As we drifted nearer we could plainly see 
 the natives rushing about the sands, light- 
 ing fires every here and there. The cap- 
 tain's horn-book informed him that these 
 people were cannibals, so that our position 
 was not a little alarming. After standing 
 together on the deck for some time in 
 silence, the captain said to me : 
 
 "Well, we have done everything that can 
 be done ; we can only await the result." 
 
 A thought occurred to me, and I replied : 
 "No, there is one thing we have not done 
 yet." 
 
 "What is it?" He queried. 
 
 "Four of us on board are Christians," I 
 answered (the Swedish carpenter and our 
 colored cook, with the captain and myself) ; 
 "let us each' retire to our own cabin and in 
 agreed prayer ask the LORD to give us im- 
 mediately a breeze. He can as easily send 
 it now as at sunset."
 
 44 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 The captain agreed to this proposal. I 
 went and spoke to the two other men, and 
 after prayer with the carpenter, we all four 
 retired to wait upon GOD. I had a good 
 but very brief season in prayer, and then felt 
 so satisfied that I could not continue asking 
 and very soon went up again on deck. 
 
 The first officer, a godless man, was in 
 charge. I went over and asked him to let 
 down the clews, or corners of the mainsail, 
 which had been drawn up in order to lessen 
 the useless flapping of the sail against the 
 rigging. 
 
 "What would be the good of that?" he 
 asked. 
 
 I told him we had been asking a wind 
 from GOD, that it was coming immediately 
 and we were so near the reef by this time 
 that there was not a minute to lose. With 
 a look of incredulity and contempt, he said 
 with an oath that he would rather see a 
 wind than hear of it! But while he was 
 speaking I watched his eye and followed it 
 up to the royal (the topmast sail), and 
 there, sure enough, the corner of the sail 
 was beginning to tremble in the coming 
 breeze. 
 
 "Don't you see the wind is coming? 
 Look at the roval !" I exclaimed.
 
 A Breeze from God 45 
 
 "No, it is only a cat's paw," he rejoined 
 (a mere puff of wind). 
 
 "Cat's paw or not," I cried, "pray let 
 down the mainsail and let us have the bene- 
 fit." 
 
 This he was not slow to do. In another 
 minute the heavy tread of the men on the 
 deck brought up the captain from his cabin 
 to see what was the matter, and sure enough 
 the breeze had come. 
 
 In a few minutes we were ploughing our 
 way at six or seven knots an hour through 
 the water, and the multitude of naked jav- 
 ages whom we had seen on the beach had 
 no wreckage that night. We were soon out 
 of danger and though the wind was some- 
 times unsteady, we did not altogether lose 
 it until after passing the Pelew Islands. 
 
 Thus GOD encouraged me, ere landing on 
 China's shores, to bring every variety of 
 need to Him in prayer and to expect that He 
 would honor the name of the LORD JESUS 
 and give the help which each emergency re- 
 quired.
 
 DIGGING THROUGH TO ENGLAND 
 
 From "The Story of Gucheng," told by the 
 Rev. Samuel McFarlane, LL. D., in The Mission- 
 ary Review of tlie World. 
 
 During the first six months after settling 
 at Lifu 1 I was surprised to find that the 
 water in some large caverns near the middle 
 of the island, though perfectly fresh, rose 
 and fell with the tide. 
 
 It appeared from this that the sea-water 
 percolates through the rocks of a coral 
 island, and the rain that falls on it percolates 
 downward till it reaches the salt water, and 
 being lighter, does not readily mix with it, 
 but is raised and lowered by it as the tide 
 flows and ebbs. I felt that if this were true 
 we might dig wells and find good water 
 about the sea-level. This would be a great 
 blessing, as the only means of storing rain 
 water was by scooping holes in the trunks 
 of living cocoanut trees, which were filled 
 
 island of the Loyalty group. 
 46
 
 Digging to England 47 
 
 by the rain running down the stem. Of 
 course such water was scarce and impure. 
 
 Without explaining my theory to the na- 
 tives, I determined to test it by digging a 
 well. Having made a windlass, we com- 
 menced operations on the mission premises 
 about three yards from our house, that I 
 might the more easily superintend the work. 
 
 At first I had no difficulty in getting na- 
 tive labor, for although the natives declared 
 most positively that there was no chance 
 of finding water there, there being no cav- 
 erns near, they were willing to dig some dis- 
 tance to prove their contention and dissi- 
 pate this papali (foreign) idea from the 
 missionary's mind. 
 
 The mission house was about forty feet 
 above the sea-level, so that I knew we must 
 dig the well that depth before there was 
 any reasonable hope of finding water. When, 
 however, they had reached a depth of about 
 twenty feet, they threw down their tools 
 and positively refused to descend the well 
 again. I tried to engage others to continue 
 the work, but could not succeed. It seems 
 the matter had been publicly discussed, and 
 the whole population had pronounced 
 against well-digging. 
 
 The young people in our school were
 
 48 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 about this time becoming acquainted with 
 the mysteries of geography. They told 
 their parents and relatives that the world 
 was round, and that Peretania (Britain) 
 was on the other side immediately under- 
 neath Lifu. This astounding statement 
 would have been scouted had it not been for 
 the digging of this well. They had as yet 
 very hazy ideas about distances, but it was 
 enough for them to know the position of my 
 icountry. They thought they saw clearly 
 my object in digging the well. To look for 
 water at such a place was an evidence of 
 folly that could not be squared with their 
 exalted ideas of the missionary ; but to make 
 a hole through the earth, and be let down 
 and hauled up by a windlass was an idea 
 worthy of the white man! 
 
 They knew something of the dangers of 
 short voyages, but what must a voyage to 
 Peretania be ! They all saw clearly that the 
 well was to be a "short cut" to visit my 
 home. 
 
 Then the effects of this route were se- 
 riously discussed. The making of the hole 
 through the earth would mean for them an 
 enormous amount of labor, and judging 
 from themselves, they felt that if I had such 
 an easy way of visiting my home, I should
 
 Digging to England 49 
 
 be going very often ; and then there was the 
 labor of lowering me down and winding 
 me up; then some day they might find the 
 bucket empty, I having decided to remain 
 at home. Altogether the labor and risk was 
 too great, so they resolved that the well 
 should not be dug. 
 
 I had to fall back upon my faithful 
 henchman, Gucheng, who got three friends 
 to help him, on my promising not to go 
 below the sea-level. This promise secured 
 the continuance of the work and proved a 
 great relief to public anxiety. 
 
 "If the missionary is really digging for 
 water," said the natives, "and has promised 
 not to go below the sea-level, then the work 
 will soon be done and he will have got his 
 experience, and we shall hear no more of 
 digging holes in dry places to find water." 
 
 Week after week the work went on mer- 
 rily, very merrily indeed, sometimes I 
 thought, as I heard the laughing and jokes 
 when their friends, and also strangers from 
 a distance, paid a visit of inspection. 
 
 I had measured carefully the distance we 
 were above sea-level, and kept a daily rec- 
 ord of the exact depth of the well, so that 
 I knew when to expect water if we were 
 to get any. I watched my chance when the
 
 50 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 bottom of the well was near the sea-level, 
 and when half a dozen natives were standing 
 at the top I walked across from my study 
 and asked if they had not found water yet. 
 The idea was evidently amusing to them, 
 and they seemed particularly anxious to im- 
 press upon my mind that they were not 
 seeking water at such a place. 
 
 "The eakune ko, ngo nyipeti pe" (not 
 we, but you), they said. 
 
 "Well," said I, "I had better go down 
 myself and see if I can find water." 
 
 One wag hinted that this might have been 
 done from the first with very good results. 
 However, none of them supposed that I 
 really intended descending the well, but I 
 insisted on the two men coming up. I did 
 not trust them to lower me down standing 
 in the bucket as they generally did, but 
 slipped down the rope, and at once set to 
 work with the crowbar digging out a small 
 hole in the middle of the well, looking every 
 now and then at the point to see if it was 
 wet. 
 
 While thus engaged the natives at the top 
 were having a good time at my expense. 
 Questions were shouted down the well, fol- 
 lowed by roars of laughter : 
 
 "Haven't you found water yet?"
 
 Digging to England 51 
 
 "We are dying of thirst!" 
 
 "Take care you don't get drowned !" etc. 
 
 After a time I began to get quite excited 
 myself, as I thought the point of the bar 
 seemed wet. Soon there was no mistake; 
 it was wet! There was water!! 
 
 I shouted to the natives at the top to get 
 a pannikin from my wife and send it down 
 in the bucket and I would send them up 
 some water from the well. They, suppos- 
 ing that I was responding to their jokes, 
 asked what would be the use of a small pan- 
 nikin of water among half a dozen thirsty 
 people, and begged me to send up a bucket- 
 ful. However, the pannikin was lowered 
 down. By this time the water had perco- 
 lated into the small hole I dug in the middle 
 of the well, enabling me to get half a pan- 
 nikin full, which I sent to the top. 
 
 The effect was instantaneous and comi- 
 cal. Each tasted the dirty water and pro- 
 nounced it the sweetest and best on the 
 island. As a matter of fact it was brackish, 
 as we were too near the sea to get good 
 fresh water. The news spread through the 
 village like wild fire, and was passed from 
 village to village with astonishing rapidity. 
 The report was, that while their countrymen 
 had been digging for months and could not
 
 52 Fifty Missionary Stones 
 
 find water, the Missionary had gone down 
 the well and found it in less than half an 
 hour! 
 
 After digging down as far as we could at 
 the lowest tide we had always an abundant 
 supply, which being only slightly brackish, 
 was used by the natives and for general 
 purposes on the mission premises. 
 
 The Roman Catholic priest at Lifu, living 
 at an inland village about a hundred feet 
 above the sea-level, also determined to dig 
 a well. The work extended over a year, 
 owing to the hardness of the rock and the 
 necessity for blasting operations. 
 
 During these proceedings the priest re- 
 ceived a deputation of natives which much 
 amused him. Their object was to induce 
 him to try and secure my services for the 
 well. They did not suggest that he might 
 find water if he went down, but said : 
 
 " Ask the Missionary to go down ; he will 
 soon find water!" 
 
 I may say that they found excellent water 
 at the sea-level, which proved a great bless- 
 fng to the people of the village.
 
 A LIVING WITNESS 
 From The Missionary Review of the World. 
 
 When Bishop Weeks, of Africa at that 
 time not having been promoted to wear the 
 mitre was traveling in England, a gentle- 
 man who was in the same railway carriage 
 with him began to attack him as a friend of 
 missions. 
 
 "What," said he, "are the missionaries 
 doing abroad ? We do not hear much about 
 their movements. We pay them pretty well, 
 but hear nothing from them. I suppose 
 they are sitting down quietly and making 
 themselves comfortable." 
 
 Beside Mr. Weeks sat another traveler, 
 as black as any of the natives of the Dark 
 Continent, and himself an unmistakable 
 negro. He quietly waited until the stranger 
 had exhausted his tirade against missions, 
 and then, making a sign of silence to Mr. 
 Weeks, begged to be permitted to reply to 
 the critic. 
 
 "Sir," he said, "allow me to present my- 
 self to you as a result of the labor of the 
 V
 
 54 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 missionaries whose work you have been de- 
 preciating." Pointing to Mr. Weeks he 
 continued, "I am an African, and this man 
 is the means of my having become a Chris- 
 tian, and of my coming to this country in 
 the capacity of a Christian minister." 
 
 The man who had assaulted Christian 
 missions looked upon the black man beside 
 him with a look of mingled embarrassment 
 and amazement. He could not be mistaken ; 
 there was a genuine, typical African, flat- 
 nosed, thick-lipped, with retreating fore- 
 head, and short, curly hair; yet that negro 
 addressed him in the elegant language of an 
 educated and accomplished Englishman. 
 He had felt all the refining power of the 
 gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, and there 
 were in the very tones of his voice and his 
 whole manner the unmistakable signs of a 
 Christian gentleman. 
 
 The accuser of missions sank into a rev- 
 erie. He had no more to say as an objector. 
 That one man was both a compensation for, 
 and a vindication of, Christian missions. 
 And soon he resumed the conversation, but 
 in a different tone; he began to talk with 
 Mr. Weeks upon missionary topics as an 
 interested and engrossed listener.
 
 A Living Witness 55 
 
 That black man was none other than 
 Samuel Adjai Crowther, afterwards conse- 
 crated as the first native bishop of the 
 Niger I
 
 AFRICAN CURIOSITY 
 
 From "Peril arid Adventure in Central Africa, 
 being illustrated by letters to his nieces and 
 nephews at home," by Bishop Hannington. 
 
 In some of the places I passed through 
 in Central Africa, they had never seen a 
 white man before. They would gather 
 round me in dozens, and gaze upon me with 
 the utmost astonishment. 
 
 One would suggest that I was not beau- 
 tiful in plainer language that I was amaz- 
 ingly ugly. Fancy a set of hideous sav- 
 ages regarding a white man, regarding 
 your uncle, as a strange, outlandish crea- 
 ture, frightful to behold. 
 
 As with other travelers, my boots hardly 
 ever failed to attract attention. 
 
 "Are those your feet, white man ?" 
 
 "No, gentlemen, they are not. They are 
 my sandals." 
 
 "But do they grow to your feet?" 
 
 "No, gentlemen, they do not. I will show 
 you." 
 
 So forthwith I proceed to unlace a boot. 
 
 56
 
 African Curiosity 57 
 
 A roar of astonishment followed when they 
 beheld my blue sock, as they generally sur- 
 mised that my feet were blue and toeless. 
 Greater astonishment still followed the 
 withdrawal of the sock and the revelation 
 of a white, five-toed foot. I frequently 
 found that they considered that only the 
 visible parts of me were white, namely my 
 hands and face, and that the rest of me 
 was as black as they were. 
 
 An almost endless source of amusement 
 was the immense amount of clothing, ac- 
 cording to their calculation, that I pos- 
 sessed. That I should have waistcoat and 
 shirt and jersey underneath a coat, seemed 
 almost incredible, and the more so when 
 I told them it was chiefly on account of 
 the sun I wore so much. My watch, too, 
 was an unfailing attraction. 
 
 "There's a man in it !" 
 
 "It is Lubari; it is witchcraft!" they 
 would cry. 
 
 "He talks ; he says Teek, teek, teek.' " 
 
 My nose they compared to a spear; it 
 struck them as so sharp and thin compared 
 with the African production. Oftentimes one 
 bolder than the rest would give my hair and 
 beard a sharp pull, thinking them wigs worn 
 for ornament-
 
 58 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Many of them had a potent horror of 
 this white ghost, and a snap of the fingers 
 or the stamp of a foot was enough to send 
 them flying helter-skelter from my tent, 
 around which they generally crowded in 
 ranks five deep. 
 
 For once in the day this was amusing 
 enough; but when it came to be repeated 
 every day and all day, one had really a 
 little too much of a good thing.
 
 A SEARCH FOR A WORD 
 
 From "Sketches from the Dark Continent," by 
 Willis R. Hotchkiss, Missionary of the Society of 
 Friends in West Central Africa. 
 
 The caravan is slowly and painfully wind- 
 ing its way among the rocks up the steep 
 mountain sides into Ukamba land. Women 
 and children working in the fields run in 
 terror before the white man's approach, but 
 a few young warriors, bolder than the rest, 
 come closer, and when we stop to rest, 
 spring up like magic all around us. 
 
 Stork-like, they stand on one foot, the 
 other being drawn up and resting on the 
 knee. Stolidly they gaze for a little while, 
 but curiosity finally gets the better of them, 
 and they begin pointing, and is that lan- 
 guage? Are they really talking? What a 
 meaningless jargon! And we must learn 
 that! without grammar or vocabulary we 
 must bring order out of this chaos of 
 sounds. 
 
 An inquisitive young fellow, pointing to 
 something, utters a single word, "Nichau?" 
 
 59
 
 60 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 What does he mean? We conclude that 
 he is asking "What is it?" In order to 
 prove it, I point to the nearest object, which 
 happens to be his bow, and to his surprise, 
 I say, "Nichau?" He hesitates and then 
 answers "Uta." 
 
 The two words are hastily jotted down 
 phonetically and we have the beginning 
 of the Kikamba vocabulary. 
 
 Day after day, through the months and 
 years that follow, we fling that word, 
 "Nichau?" in their teeth, and pester them 
 with it on every occasion, until we have 
 mastered several thousand words. 
 
 How we long to preach the Gospel to 
 the multitudes who are perishing all about 
 us ! Yet it was long after we were able to 
 converse on ordinary topics, before we 
 could intelligently set before them spiritual 
 things. 
 
 For two years and a half I searched in 
 vain to obtain one word. But it was the 
 word that has belted the world in praise; 
 the word that brings order out of the chaos 
 of man's vain search after God; the word 
 that is yet destined to make dark Africa 
 light in the Lord. That word was "Savior." 
 Never had it seemed so sweet, so incom- 
 parably beautiful ! What a big thing it be-
 
 Search for a Word 61 
 
 came to me in those days ! It loomed up 
 before me in my thoughts by day and in 
 my dreams by night. 
 
 You who have never known its lack can- 
 not realize how vast a place it occupies in 
 the scheme of redemption. All the many 
 months in which I had endeavored to give 
 out the glad message, I had been com- 
 pelled to circle all about the idea of salva- 
 tion, with labored sentences telling what 
 should have taken a single word. 
 
 Hour after hour I sat with Kikuvi and 
 others, trying in every conceivable way to 
 draw out the magic word. The very day 
 on which my search was ended, I had no 
 less than five persons in my room, ques- 
 tioning, explaining, but all to no avail. 
 
 Darkness had thrown its mantle over the 
 sad, sickening scenes of the day, and was 
 covering sadder sights of revelry and sin 
 by night. Even the brilliant vault of the 
 equatorial sky is hidden behind thick masses 
 of clouds, and only the mournful howl of 
 the hyena is heard in the land. 
 
 With the master passion tugging at my 
 heart, I went to the men's quarters and 
 seated myself with them around the blaz- 
 ing campfire. Minutely they recounted the 
 incidents of the day, and Kikuvi the
 
 62 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 most intelligent and trustworthy native I 
 ever saw launched into a story that made 
 me hopeful of getting the long-sought-for 
 word. 
 
 Brother Kreiger, laboring in another 
 tribe, had been badly torn by a lion, and 
 Kikuvi had been the means of his rescue. 
 Surely the word must come now ! Two 
 years and a half of disappointment were 
 put into the eagerness with which I lis- 
 tened. He went through the whole scene 
 most eloquently, but concluded, even to 
 having frightened the lioness away, with- 
 out using the word for which I was seek- 
 ing. Finally, however, just as I was about 
 to give up again in despair, in a modest 
 sort of way, he remarked: 
 
 "Bwana nukuthaniwa na Kikuvi" (the 
 master was saved by Kikuvi). 
 
 Never shall I forget the thrill of pleasure 
 that swept over me. I could have leaped 
 for my exuberance of joy ! Being afraid of 
 losing my precious possession, I immedi- 
 ately changed the verb from the passive to 
 the active form, and said: 
 
 "Ukuthania Bwana?" (you saved the 
 master?) This proving correct, I said: 
 
 "Why Kikuvi, this is the word I have 
 been trying to get you to tell me these many
 
 Search for a Word 63 
 
 days, because I wanted to tefl you that 
 Jesus, the Son of God, came" 
 
 "O yes," he interrupted, and his black 
 face lighted up as he turned to me in the 
 lurid light of the campfire, "I see it now, 
 I understand! Jesus came to 'Kuthania' 
 (save) us from our sins, and to deliver us 
 from the hands of 'Muimu' (Satan)." 
 
 Never did sweeter words fall from mor- 
 tal lips. At last the treasure was discov- 
 ered, and no weary prospector, lighting 
 suddenly upon rich gold reef, ever felt 
 keener emotions that did the lonely mis- 
 sionary, when for the first time he was able 
 to frame that matchless word, "SAVIOR/' in 
 the unknown tongue. It was, too, the first 
 real evidence I had had in all those months 
 that the message spoken had been grasped 
 at all. 
 
 Completely overcome, I rushed into the 
 house and fell on my face in thanksgiving 
 before God. 
 
 Next day was the Sabbath. In the early 
 morning I was sitting in my house singing 
 a rough translation of a hymn I had just 
 made, and accompanying it on my guitar, 
 when Kikuvi came in and said there was 
 a crowd outside who wanted to hear me. I 
 went out with joy-bells ringing in my soul,
 
 64 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 and sang for them. But I wanted to preach 
 to set before them my great discovery. 
 
 "Muthania ! Savior !" it rang through 
 my being like music. 
 
 I began to speak to them, but before long 
 I was interrupted by Kikuvi with a query 
 relative to the resurrection, which is al- 
 ways an amazing thing to them. This was 
 encouraging, for questions betoken interest 
 and aid greatly in the work. His question 
 answered, he surprised me still more by 
 saying : 
 
 "Master, let me talk a little." 
 
 Wondering what he would say, I gave 
 him permission, and in a truly marvelous 
 way, he began to tell the "old, old story." 
 
 I listened in amazement. I could scarce- 
 ly believe that he had grasped the thought 
 so intelligently from the fragmentary way 
 I had been compelled to preach to them. 
 jBut the flash of intelligence by the camp- 
 fire the night before explained it all. The 
 moment the word "Savior" dawned upon 
 his darkened vision, all the scattered frag- 
 ments of truth that had been floating about 
 in his darkened mind fell into line, and be- 
 came one glorious revelation. 
 
 Yes, and it brought a revelation to me as 
 well. In the light of that experience, it
 
 Search for a Word 65 
 
 seemed as though I had never before known 
 the meaning of the word "Savior." 
 
 I had spoken it from childhood; had 
 preached it for years; but somehow, it be- 
 came luminous with meaning that night. 
 Over against the frightful need that set- 
 tled down around me, there flashed a light 
 unutterable, and a scarred hand traced in 
 letters of glory, 
 
 "M-U-T-H-A-N-I-A."
 
 PREACHING TO THE "DOGS " 
 
 From "The Lives of Robert and Mary Moffat," 
 by their son, John S. Moffat. 
 
 One evening, while journeying from 
 Cape Town to Namaqualand, Robert Mof- 
 fat 1 halted at a farm which showed signs of 
 belonging to a man of wealth and import- 
 tance, who had many slaves. 
 
 The old patriarch, hearing that he was a 
 missionary, gave him a hearty welcome, 
 and proposed that in the evening he should 
 give them a service. No proposal could 
 have been more acceptable, and he sat down 
 to the plain but plentiful meal with a light 
 heart. The sons and daughters came in. 
 Supper ended, a clearance was made, the 
 big Bible and the psalm-books were brought 
 out, and the family was seated. 
 
 "But where are the servants ?" asked Mof- 
 fat. 
 
 "Servants! What do you mean?" 
 
 J This was in 1817, shortly after Moffat reached 
 Africa. He was not quite twenty-two years old 
 at the time. 
 
 66
 
 Preaching to Dogs 67 
 
 "I mean the Hottentots of whom I see 
 so many on your farm." 
 
 "Hottentots! Do you mean that, then I 
 Let me go to the mountains and call the 
 baboons, if you want a congregation of that 
 sort. Or stop, I have it; my son, call the 
 dogs that lie in front of the door they will 
 do." 
 
 The missionary quietly dropped an at- 
 tempt which threatened a wrathful ending 
 and commenced the service. The psalm 
 was sung, prayer was offered, and the 
 preacher read the story of the Syrophceni- 
 cian woman, selecting more especially the 
 words, "Truth, Lord, but even the dogs 
 eat of the crumbs that fall from the mas- 
 ter's table." He had not spoken many min- 
 utes when the voice of the old man was 
 heard again: 
 
 "Will Mynheer sit down and wait a lit- 
 tle; he shall have the Hottentots." 
 
 The summons was given, the motley 
 crowd trooped in many who probably had 
 never been within the door of their master's 
 house before, and many more who never be- 
 fore had heard the voice of a preacher. 
 
 When the service was over and the as- 
 tonished Hottentots had dispersed, the old 
 farmer turned to his guest and said :
 
 68 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "My friend, you took a hard hammer, 
 and you have broken a hard head." 
 
 This instance must not be taken as rep- 
 resenting the universal feeling of a class. 
 Even in those days there were God-fearing 
 Boers who did their best for their slaves, 
 and now, 1 thanks to the labors of many 
 devoted ministers, there is a true and grow- 
 ing missionary spirit in the Dutch popula- 
 tion of South Africa. 
 
 was written in 1885.
 
 A CAUTIOUS SCOTCHMAN 
 
 From "The Lives of Robert and Mary Moffat," 
 by their son, John S. Moffat. 
 
 In 1872, when Robert Moffat visited his 
 boyhood home at Carronshore, 1 which he 
 had not seen for more than sixty years, a 
 quaint, old-fashioned little Scotch woman 
 ran up to him, seized him by both hands, 
 and then quite speechless with excitement, 
 stood gazing up into his face, while he 
 looked down on her with a benign, but puz- 
 zled smile. 
 
 "Are you really the great Moffat ?" 
 she at last gasped out. 
 
 "Well, I believe I must be the person 
 you refer to, whether great or not. Why 
 do you ask?" 
 
 "Why! Because I was at the skule wi' 
 ye my name is Mary Kay, and you'll 
 surely come to mind me. I sat in the class 
 next ye, and ye often helped me wi' my 
 
 ^hs Moffats lived at Carronshore, in Scot- 
 land, from 1806 to 1809. 
 69
 
 yo Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 lessons. I have aye keepit my e'e on you 
 since you left Carronshore. I was aye sure 
 you would come back to this place some 
 day; and though I didna expect ye, the 
 noo, I'm fair daft wi' joy at seeing ye." 
 
 Dr. Moffat was anxious to know if any 
 more of his schoolmates were still alive and 
 resident in the locality. Mary Kay could 
 tell of only one, and she was away on a 
 visit. But there was a master tailor in the 
 village who might perhaps remember him; 
 it was worth calling to see. The old man 
 was found, cross-legged on his board, busy 
 at work. 
 
 "Andrew, man," said Mary Kay, by way 
 of introduction, "here's Moffat come to see 
 you, the great missionary from Africa." 
 "Aye, aye, maybe he be," replied the cau- 
 tious Andrew, "but there are plenty of folks 
 ganging about the country noo-o-days pass- 
 in' themsel's off as great men, and they are 
 just a wheen impostors." 
 
 This was rather a staggering response, 
 but it was met with : 
 
 "O man, Andrew, are you no believin' 
 me, and I've kenned him mysel' a' my days." 
 
 On this Andrew stopped his needle for 
 the first time, looked around at Dr. Moffat, 
 and in an oracular tone, said :
 
 A Cautious Scotchman 71 
 
 "Are you aware, sir! that if you were 
 really the person you represent yourself to 
 be, you would be the father-in-law of Liv- 
 ingstone, the African explorer?" 
 
 "And so I be." 
 
 This quie| reply from the doctor was 
 rousing; the! crossed legs at once, became 
 straight and perpendicular. Andrew raised 
 his spectacles to get a fuller view of his 
 visitor, and exclaimed: \ 
 
 "Is it possible that the father-in-lay of 
 ^Livingstone stands before me, and undeAmy 
 hurable roof?" >\ 
 
 His doubts dispelled, h^ tried by effect- 
 ive expressions of regret to rnake amei 
 for the somewhat rude, incredulity that h; 
 marked the reception of the great missic
 
 A WONDERFUL CART 
 
 From "The Story of the Life of Mackay of 
 Uganda," told for boys by his sister. 
 
 After the mission was reinforced, Mac- 
 kay began to build a house for their accom- 
 modation. As it was the first of its kind 
 in Uganda, the people never tired of watch- 
 ing it. 
 
 Early in 1882 the wonderful building was 
 finished and the fame of it spread far and 
 wide, so that high and low, rich and poor, 
 went to see it. Windows! and hinged 
 doors with a lock! A double story and a 
 stair with a balustrade! Such things had 
 never been dreamed of. 
 
 Then, stranger still, "the white man had 
 made an oven in which he baked bread." 
 He also made a brick-kiln, and having at 
 last succeeded in getting his machinery 
 from Kagei, he erected a steam sawmill. 
 
 But the wonder of wonders was the cart, 
 which he painted brightly in red and blue. 
 
 Having broken in a couple of bullocks 
 to pull it, Mackay set off one day to the 
 
 78
 
 A Wonderful Cart 73 
 
 market, three miles distant, to buy a load 
 of plantains. When he got there it was 
 raining heavily and no one about, so he 
 unyoked, and went to see a young elephant 
 which had just been caught. Meanwhile, 
 the king, to whom everything was reported, 
 heard that Mackay had come to market and 
 had left disappointed because no one was 
 there. So he ordered his wives to go at 
 once and sell plantains, and to take a good 
 look at the cart, so as to be able to tell him 
 all about it! 
 
 The native curiosity as to how he fastened 
 the oxen in was amusing indeed. Most of 
 the people believed that he tied them on by 
 the tail. 
 
 "Off we went," he says, "and the crowd 
 after us, down the steep hill. I clapped 
 on the brake, and then kept the cart from 
 overpowering the oxen. At the foot I 
 jumped in amid the delighted yells of all. 
 
 "At every step the crowd grew, and 
 tyelled and screamed with delight, and at 
 every yell the oxen increased their pace; 
 but all ran along, before, beside and behind, 
 until I had a roaring retinue a thousand 
 strong, a procession quite as great as if the 
 Kabaka himself had headed it. Panting
 
 74 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 and breathless they followed to the swamp, 
 or more than a mile. 
 
 "Here we had to outspan and cross with 
 care, but with no mishap. Yoked again, 
 and drove home, but a new crowd collected, 
 and it was difficult with their noise to pre- 
 vent the oxen from being injured by going 
 so fast." 
 
 A few days after this adventure, Man- 
 oga, a chief, the king's tailor and factotum, 
 called on Mackay and remained to dinner. 
 
 He said that they had been talking in 
 court about the journey in the cart, and 
 that the king had been told that it was a 
 most formidable affair, and that it was un- 
 controllable and killed people. 
 
 Mackay thereupon put the chief in the 
 cart and drove him along the walk in front 
 of the Mission-house, with his own hands. 
 He was delighted, and expressed his won- 
 der that people should say such things 
 about the cart, seeing that it could be made 
 to go fast or slow, at pleasure. 
 
 One wonders at such childishness, but 
 Mackay had ever such idle suspicions to 
 contend with. 
 
 Whether he drew water from the depths 
 of the earth, and made it flow through a 
 pump, or whether he showed them how to
 
 A Wonderful Cart 75 
 
 catch the sun's rays in a lens, until they 
 danced and screamed with delight, sooner 
 or later the majority were sure to attribute 
 the marvelous powers of the white man to 
 witchcraft. 
 
 Still, as such work awoke the interest in 
 the native, and helped to educate them, he 
 did not allow himself to be discouraged, 
 but continued to prosecute all kinds of work 
 for the public weal. He made them bridges 
 and viaducts that excited the greatest as- 
 tonishment and spared no pains to prove to 
 them that he had their interests at heart. 
 
 Time at last removed suspicion and en- 
 abled them to see that he who did so much 
 for their temporal needs must be in earnest 
 when he pressed home Divine truths also.
 
 MACKAY AS UNDERTAKER 
 
 From "The Story of the Life of Mackay of 
 Uganda," told for boys by his sister. 
 
 The morning after Namasole 1 died, Mr. 
 O'Flaherty and I went to court to pay our 
 respects to the king. All the chiefs were 
 clad in rags, and crying, or rather roaring, 
 with their hands clasped above their heads. 
 
 Mtesa determined to make a funeral to 
 surpass in splendor any that had ever taken 
 place in the country. Such is the desire of 
 every king to outstrip his predecessors. 
 Fifty thousand bark cloths were ordered to 
 be levied in the land, besides some thou- 
 sands of yards of English calico. 
 
 "How do you bury royalty in Europe?" 
 Mtesa asked me. 
 
 "We make three coffins," I replied, "the 
 inner of wood, the next of lead, and the 
 outer of wood covered with cloth." 
 
 The custom of the Baganda in burying 
 their kings was to wrap the body after 
 
 J Namasole was the Queen Dowager of Ugan- 
 da, mother of Mtesa, the reigning king. 
 76
 
 Mackay as Undertaker 77 
 
 mummifying it in several thousand bark 
 cloths, and bury the great pile in a huge 
 grave, building a house over all and ap- 
 pointing certain witches to guard it for gen- 
 erations. 
 
 "Would you be able to make the three 
 coffins?" Mtesa asked. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "if you find the ma- 
 terial." 
 
 He said he had no lead, but he had a lot 
 of copper trays and drums if I could make 
 a coffin out of them. We had been fre- 
 quently twitted by the king for failing to 
 work for him ; so I agreed to be undertaker, 
 thinking it a small thing. 
 
 But the dimensions! Everything was to 
 be made as large as possible! Immediately 
 all the copper in the king's stores was 
 turned out, and sent down to our Mission. 
 Fine large bronze trays of Egyptian work- 
 manship (presents probably from General 
 Gordon), copper drums, cans, pots and 
 plates all were produced, and out of them 
 I was to make a coffin for the queen. All 
 the artificers were ordered to my assist- 
 ance. 
 
 Next morning I went off to Rusaka, 
 where the queen died, to measure the body. 
 Much objection was made by the royal la-
 
 78 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 dies to my doing this, but my friend Kyam- 
 balango was there as master of ceremonies, 
 and he explained that I was commissioned 
 by the king. 
 
 I was somewhat taken aback on being 
 told by some of the chiefs that I should not 
 have measured the corpse, but the grave, 
 making the coffins to fit the latter! I told 
 them that there was not copper enough in 
 the kingdom to make a box of that size; 
 that if there was, I would willingly make a 
 coffin as large as a mountain ; but as it was, 
 I would make the inner coffins to suit the 
 body, and the outer one as large as a house, 
 if they liked. 
 
 I got all the native smiths together, and 
 all hands set to work beating out the cop- 
 per into flat plates. Tools of course we 
 had to supply, for punching, shearing and 
 riveting, and before a couple of days were 
 over, the native smiths thought good to steal 
 a drill. How many copper nails they stole 
 no one knows, but they certainly disap- 
 peared faster than the work required. 
 
 Meanwhile, Gabunda, the "Grand Ad- 
 miral" and lord of the lake, had gone to 
 the forest for wood. He just brought broad 
 planks, adzed by canoe-builders, but so ir- 
 regular and crooked that they were fit for
 
 Mackay as Undertaker 79 
 
 little or nothing. A huge tree had been 
 chopped down to make two boards! I 
 asked him to fetch some solid logs, but he 
 declared it impossible to transport them. 
 However, he tried, and next evening re- 
 turned with some two hundred men drag- 
 ging a large slice of a tree by the natural 
 creepers they had tied around it. 
 
 I laughed at the shapeless thing and de- 
 clared I could carry it alone! At once I 
 took the body of the cart 1 off its wheels, 
 and lashed the log under the axle with 
 heavy ropes. Then with one hand, I pulled 
 along the road a log which it had taken a 
 regiment to drag, to the consternation and 
 joy of all. They yelled and clapped their 
 hands and jumped about with delight at 
 such a wonder, each one rushing up to me 
 and taking me by the hand in ecstasy at 
 such a prodigy. 
 
 "Mackay is truly the lubare" ( the 
 devil, but their god), they cried. 
 
 In ten days' time we had finished the two 
 inner coffins, the first being of wood, cush- 
 ioned all inside with cotton wool, and cov- 
 ered all over, inside and out, with snow- 
 white calico, secured by a thousand cop- 
 
 *See p. 72.
 
 80 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 per tacks. Ornamental work I made by 
 cutting patterns out of black and white 
 pocket-handkerchiefs, and tacking them on. 
 
 The copper box was seven feet long, 
 three feet wide and three feet high, and 
 shaped like a coffin. The king's copper was 
 little more than enough for the lid and ends, 
 so we had to supply for the sides four sheets 
 of copper plate, which the king paid for at 
 once in ivory, for we did not think it well 
 to give these out of Mission stores gratis. 
 We freely gave our workmanship and skill, 
 and time, besides the tools and all the iron 
 nails (no small quantity). But we received 
 copper wire as an equivalent for copper 
 tacks. 
 
 It is needless to describe the worry and 
 trouble we had, working late and early, and 
 sometimes all night. At every hour of the 
 day pages were sent down to inspect the 
 progress and ask when we would be done. 
 The native workmen, especially the head 
 men, would do almost nothing, and gener- 
 ally spoiled what they did. They preferred 
 sitting down all day smoking, and watching 
 what I did. 
 
 When we had the two boxes carried up 
 to the court and shown to the king, he ex- 
 pressed unbounded satisfaction, and asked
 
 Mackay as Undertaker 81 
 
 us what we wanted for our work. We told 
 him nothing at all. But he gave us ten 
 head of cattle on the spot, in addition to 
 several cows and a hundred bunches of 
 plantains. 
 
 But even in the execution of a small work 
 like this, which all allowed to be far be- 
 yond their own powers to accomplish, there 
 must needs be an exhibition of jealousy and 
 ill-feeling on the part of some chiefs and 
 Arabs. 
 
 They told the king that we made the cof- 
 fins small, much too small for Namasole, 
 because we wanted the timber to finish our 
 own house with; that we had already se- 
 creted a lot of boards; and though we 
 might show good workmanship, we could 
 not work fast. The Arabs declared that it 
 would take us three months to make the 
 large outer box. 
 
 Mtsea alone stood our friend. He re- 
 fused to believe that we had appropriated 
 any boards, and said to our accusers that 
 what was well done could not be done in a 
 day. 
 
 "Can a woman cook plantains well if you 
 hurry her?" he asked. 
 
 When we commenced to cut wood for the 
 outer box, which was to measure twelve
 
 82 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 feet long, seven wide and eight high, an 
 order came for all the native artisans to go 
 and make a box after their own fashion 
 at Rusaka. We knew that this order did 
 not come from the king, but from the chiefs. 
 Of course the smiths and carpenters left at 
 once. Mr. O'Flaherty went to court and 
 Mtesa told him that we were to make the 
 box. Still they did not return and a gang 
 of men came and carried off all the planks 
 they could, leaving only the huge logs Mr. 
 O'Flaherty had himself cut in the forest. 
 
 I marked off each log into boards and put 
 our own Wangwana to the saws. But who 
 could use them ? Such work at first ! Zig- 
 zags of every style; each board varying in 
 thickness at every inch. But by and by 
 they got more into the way of it, and in a 
 week's time we had a hundred boards cut, 
 squared to fit, and nailed together with 
 strong ribs like the sides of a schooner. 
 When together it looked like a small house 
 rather than a coffin ! 
 
 We covered the whole inside with na- 
 tive bark cloth, and lined the inside with 
 pure snow-white calico. 
 
 Each side was a piece by itself, made so 
 for transport. A thousand men arrived to 
 carry the segments, and most fortunately it
 
 Mackay as Undertaker 83 
 
 did not rain. We put them together be- 
 fore the king, who challenged all to say if 
 such workmanship could be done in the 
 country by Baganda, or if anything of the 
 kind had ever been seen in the land? 
 
 Next day we had the king's order to go 
 to the burial. He wanted us to go the same 
 day, but we were too tired, having for a 
 full month been constantly at saw and ham- 
 mer from dawn to midnight, and often 
 later. 
 
 The grave was a huge pit, 20 x 15 feet 
 at the mouth, and about thirty deep. 
 It was dug in the center of the late queen's 
 sleeping-house a monstrous hut, some one 
 hundred and fifty feet in diameter. As us- 
 ual, it was all roof and no walls, with a 
 great forest of poles inside, the center ones 
 being good enough for frigate masts. 
 
 This monster pit was neatly lined with 
 bark cloth, and into it several thousand new 
 bark cloths were thrown and carefully 
 spread on the bottom, filling it up a long 
 way. There the segments of the huge box 
 were lowered in with much trouble, and I 
 descended and nailed the corners together. 
 
 After that I was summoned to the cere- 
 mony of putting the corpse into the first 
 coffin. Thousands of women were there,
 
 84 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 yelling with all their might, and a few with 
 tears in their eyes. Only the ladies of the 
 royal family and the highest chiefs were 
 near the corpse, which by this time had been 
 reduced to a mummy. It was wrapped with 
 a new mbugu and laid on the ground. 
 
 The nicely padded coffin was half filled 
 with bufta (bleached calico) and several 
 bundles of petty charms belonging to the 
 queen were laid in. After that the corpse, 
 and then more bufta. 
 
 The chiefs in charge carried the coffin to 
 the court where the grave-house was, where 
 much more yelling took place. I screwed 
 the lid down, but such was the attachment 
 of some of the royal ladies to the deceased 
 that I had to get them peremptorily ordered 
 away, with their crying and tears and hug- 
 ging of the coffin, before I could get near 
 to perform my duties as undertaker. 
 
 Then came the copper coffin, into which 
 the other was lowered by means of a huge 
 sheet. The lid of that had to be riveted 
 down, and that process was new to the 
 chiefs standing by. 
 
 "He cuts iron like thread," they said, as 
 the pincers snapped the nails. 
 
 "Mackay is a proper smith!" they all 
 shouted.
 
 Mackay as Undertaker 85 
 
 With" no mechanical contrivances it was 
 astonishing how they got the copper coffin, 
 with its ponderous contents, lowered into the 
 deep grave without letting it fall end fore- 
 most into the great box below. The task 
 was effected, however, by means of the 
 great multitudes of men. 
 
 Thousands of yards of unbleached calico 
 (shirting) were then filled in around and 
 over the copper until the big box was half 
 full. The remainder was filled up with 
 bark cloth, as also the space around the 
 outside of the box. The lid was lowered, 
 and I descended once more to nail it down. 
 Several thousand more mbugus were then 
 laid on till within three feet of the surface, 
 when the earth was thrown in to the level 
 of the floor. 
 
 We returned at dusk, but the burying 
 was not completed till nearly midnight. Next 
 morning every man, woman and child in 
 the land had their heads shaved, and put 
 off their nourning dress of tattered mbugus 
 and belts of plantain leaves. The whole 
 country had been waiting until we were 
 done with our work. 
 
 Mr. O'Flaherty and I made an estimate 
 of the value of cloth buried that day in the 
 grave of Queen Namasole, and we reckon-
 
 86 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 ed the amount to be about fifteen thousand 
 pounds sterling! 
 
 The Arabs made an independent calcula- 
 tion, counting the calico and mbugus in 
 equivalent of ivory, and their reckoning 
 agrees pretty nearly with our own. Such 
 is the barbaric splendor of the court of 
 Uganda. Who would have thought, in the 
 civilized world, of burying fifteen thousand 
 pounds' worth of cloth in the grave of 
 a queen? 
 
 What an attempt at achieving a short- 
 lived immortality! The woman died a pa- 
 gan, but her burial was fit for a Christian. 
 The text is a good one from which to 
 preach many a sermon here. Such prodi- 
 gality in trying to procure a short-lived im- 
 mortality, with no care at all for the im- 
 mortal soul.
 
 A MUSICAL GHOST 
 
 From Children's Work for Children. 
 
 In 1804 two German missionaries, the 
 brothers Christian and Abraham Albrecht, 
 asked to be sent to the fierce and lawless 
 Namaqua tribe of South Africa. Through 
 many perils and much toil, they at length 
 reached Warm Bath in bare, hot Namaqua 
 Land. 
 
 Moved by curiosity, Africaner 1 the out- 
 law chief, a terror alike to the tribes on the 
 north and the colonists on the south, came 
 to visit them. Pleased with his reception, 
 he promised to return and settle near them 
 with his tribe. 
 
 But unfortunately a misunderstanding 
 arose, and the Namaqua chief vowed to 
 curse and destroy Christian Albrecht and 
 his companions at the Mission. As he drew 
 nearer and nearer, the people of the region 
 
 Africaner was subsequently converted by Rob- 
 ert Moffat and became a true and consistent 
 Christian man. 
 
 87
 
 88 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 fled in terror before him. There were no 
 caves in which to hide; only a dry, hot, 
 sandy plain. 
 
 To escape the bullets of the hostile chief, 
 square holes, about six feet deep, were dug, 
 and into these the fugitives tremblingly 
 descended. This temporary refuge was 
 covered by a tarpaulin, and there, almost 
 suffocated from heat and lack of air, they 
 waited for a week. Then, in answer to 
 prayer, a deliverer was sent, a kindly chief 
 -who removed them to a place of safety. 
 
 But on came Africaner and his band. 
 Those whose lives he sought were gone, 
 but their possessions were found buried in 
 the sand. This afforded a most interest- 
 ing occupation, and one of the tribe, hop- 
 ing to find still other treasures, entered the 
 little burial ground. 
 
 Forth from the mound on which he 
 stood soft music floated! Was he treading 
 on a grave? The dead should rise! Chris- 
 tian Albrecht had told him this. 
 
 Once more he dared to tread upon the spot. 
 Soft, sweet music was repeated. Motion- 
 less, horror-struck, he gazed over his shoul- 
 der with dilated eyes and throbbing heart. 
 Was he to see the dead arise? The silence 
 reassured him. Once more he leaped upon
 
 A Musical Ghost 89 
 
 the mound; then, smitten with an awful 
 dread, he fled to his chief the sepulchral 
 harp had breathed anew its soft, sweet ca- 
 dence. 
 
 Fearless of dead or living, Africaner 
 sought the spot. Leaping fiercely on the 
 mound, his ear, too, was greeted by mys- 
 terious sounds. 
 
 "Dig and discover !" was his order to his 
 men. 
 
 The loose, dry sand, removed by trem- 
 bling hands, revealed to these wild sons of 
 the desert an unknown wonder Mrs. Al- 
 brecht's London piano! 
 
 It had been buried for safe-keeping, but 
 Africaner, hoping to discover the secret of 
 its charm, smote and separated until the 
 spirit of its melody was gone, and it was 
 hopelessly ruined forever.
 
 A NOVEL FUNERAL 
 
 From "The New Acts of the Apostles," by 
 the Rev. Arthur T. Pierson, D. D. 
 
 Who can read the story of Jamaica and 
 'doubt the power of the Gospel over even 
 the most degraded negro slaves? 
 
 When the island was formally ceded to 
 Great Britain by the treaty of Madrid in 
 1670, the place of the native Indians was 
 taken by African slaves, imported by Span- 
 iards. During the eighteenth century over 
 half a million were brought to suffer as the 
 heirs of Canaan's curse. 
 
 The history of these slaves, their poverty, 
 wretchedness and degradation, is among 
 the blackest annals of the race. When the 
 facts became known in Great Britain the 
 popular heart of English freemen demanded 
 their liberation. On August I, 1834, the 
 emancipation began to take effect in the 
 freedom of the children of slave families, 
 but the midnight of July 31, 1838, was to 
 usher in the complete liberation of every 
 slave. 
 
 90
 
 A Novel Funeral 91 
 
 On that most memorable night, led by 
 their missionaries, William Knibb and 
 James Philippo, fourteen thousand adults 
 and five thousand children joined in prayer 
 to God as they waited and watched for the 
 hour which was to terminate the life of 
 slavery in Jamaica. 
 
 A mahogany coffin had been made, pol- 
 ished and fitted by cabinet-makers among 
 the slaves, and a grave had been dug. 
 
 Into the coffin they crowded all the vari- 
 ous relics and remnants of their bondage 
 and sorrow. The whips, the torture-irons, 
 the branding-irons, the coarse frocks, and 
 shirts, and great hat, fragments of the tread- 
 mill, the handcuffs whatever was the sign 
 and badge of seventy-eight years of thrall- 
 dom they placed in the coffin and screwed 
 down the lid. 
 
 As the bell began to toll for midnight 
 the voice of Knibb was heard, saying: 
 
 "The monster is dying is dying is 
 dying" and as the last stroke sounded 
 from the belfry "The monster is dead! 
 Let us bury him out of sight forever!" 
 
 Then the coffin was lowered into its 
 grave and the whole of that throng of thou- 
 sands celebrated their redemption from 
 thralldom by singing the doxology !
 
 92 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 This was the way in which these black 
 slaves took vengeance on their former mas- 
 ters not by deeds of violence and murder, 
 but by burying the remnants of their long 
 bondage and the remembrance of their great 
 wrongs, in the grave of oblivion. 
 
 Where did these debased Africans learn 
 such magnanimous love, except of Him 
 whose greatest miracle was His dying 
 prayer, "Father, forgive them for they 
 know not what they do !"
 
 THE LITTLE MISSIONARIES A 
 GUESS STORY 
 
 From "Topsy-Turvy Land ; / rabia Pictured 
 for Children," by Samuel M. Zwemer and Amy 
 E. Zwemer. 
 
 Some little missionaries came to Arabia 
 a few years before any of the American 
 missionaries did, and have been coming 
 ever since. Most of them were born in a 
 country not far from Arabia, yet only one 
 of them visited Arabia before Mohammed 
 was born. 
 
 They never write reports of their work 
 for the papers, yet I have seen a few splen- 
 did accounts of their work written on tab- 
 lets of flesh with tears for ink. Because 
 their work is done so much in secret and in 
 out-of-the-way places, they are generally 
 overlooked, and often underestimated. 
 
 They receive no salary and get along 
 in the most self-denying way by fasting and 
 living all together, packed like herrings, in 
 
 93
 
 94 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 a dark, . close room, except when they go 
 out into the sunshine on their journeys. 
 
 Most of them came to Arabia in the 
 steerage -of the big ships from London, but 
 none of them were seasick at all throughout 
 the entire voyage. 
 
 They, never complain of being tired or 
 discouraged, and never get fever or cholera, 
 although I have talked and slept with them 
 when I had fever myself. Never ,yet has 
 one of them died on a sick-bed. On one 
 or two occasions I have heard of a small 
 company of them being burned at the 
 stake, but I was told that not a groan es- 
 caped from their lips, nor were their com- 
 panions frightened the least bit. With my 
 own eyes I have seen one or two of them 
 torn asunder and trampled upon by those 
 who hate Jesus Christ and His kingdom 
 and His little missionaries. Yet the only 
 sound to be heard was the blasphemies of 
 their persecutors, who could not answer 
 them in any other way. 
 
 It is very strange indeed that when once 
 one or two of them learn the language they 
 are bound to their work by so many tiny 
 cords o love that they seldom fall apart 
 from their work, or fall out one with the 
 other.
 
 The Little Missionaries 95 
 
 There are more than sixty different names 
 and ages among them, yet they all have 
 one family accent. Some of them are med-"" 
 ical missionaries and can soothe and heal 
 broken hearts and prevent broken heads. 
 There are two ladies among them, but they 
 seldom go about alone, and the men do 
 nicst of the preaching, especially in Arabia. 
 Most of them are evangelists or apostles or 
 teachers. 
 
 And their enterprise and push ! One of 
 them told me the other day that he wanted 
 "to preach the Gospel in the regions be- 
 yond" Mecca, so that even there "every 
 knee should bow to Jesus." You begin to 
 see them everywhere in the Persian Gulf 
 and around Muscat and Aden. Last year 
 a few of them went to Jiddah with the pil- 
 grims. 
 
 They dress very plainly, but often in 
 bright Oriental colors (one just came in 
 all in green) ; on one or two occasions I 
 have seen them wear gold when visiting a 
 rich man, but there was no pride about 
 them, and they put on no airs in their talk. 
 
 How many of these little missionaries are 
 there, do you ask? Over three thousand 
 eight hundred and forty visited and left 
 the three stations of the Arabian Mission
 
 96 Fifty Missionary Stones 
 
 in the Persian Gulf last year. But, as I 
 told you, they are so modest that only about 
 a score of them sent in any account of 
 their work, and that even came through a 
 third party by word of mouth. I have 
 heard it whispered that a faithful record 
 of all their journeys and speeches is kept, 
 but that these are put on file, 
 lished all at once on a certain great, cay, 
 when missionaries all get their permanent 
 discharge. 
 
 What a quiet, patient, faithful, loving 
 body of workers they are! Even \when it 
 is very, very hot they never get out of tem- 
 per as other missionaries sometimes do, 
 after a hard day's work, when in a hot 
 discussion with a bigoted Moslem. And 
 yet how plainly they tell the truth! They 
 do not even fear a Turkish Pasha ; but that 
 is because they have all obtained a Turkish 
 passport and a permit to preach anywhere 
 unmolested. 
 
 Unless you have guessed my riddle, you 
 will want to know what these missionaries 
 cost and why we do not employ more of 
 them ; and who sent them out, and to what 
 Board they belong; and who buys them 
 new clothes of leather and cloth ; and what 
 happens to them when their backs are bent
 
 The Little Missionaries 97 
 
 with age and their faces furrowed with 
 care. 
 
 But surely by this time you have guessed 
 that the Little Missionaries are the Books 
 of the Bible. The two ladies are Esther 
 and Rrth, and 'the four who go about the 
 most are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. 
 4r^d now may I ask you to pray for the 
 Little ^Missionaries ? Pray that they may 
 prepare the way of the Lord all over this 
 dark peninsula, from the palm groves of 
 Busrah / o the harbor of Aden, and from 
 the Sc^'of Oman to the unholy cities 
 Mecca and Medina.
 
 American 
 V ? 
 
 ar 
 
 When 
 
 tainty the Engl 
 Scutari. One of r 
 store of all sorts of 
 for officers and men, near 
 and the tents of the soldiers. 
 
 ecsme a cer- 
 shed a hospital at 
 opened a 
 
 ' "'qj<ables 
 n \ 
 
 - & 
 
 V> 
 
 He wanted a hundred loaves every day 
 of my hop yeast bread. 1 It was eagerly 
 sought, and he advised me to open a great 
 bread store there. I might sell an immense 
 quantity. I told him he might have his 
 hundred loaves every morning, but beyond 
 that I had no desire to enlarge my work. I 
 had already accomplished all I had intended 
 and more. But soon after an orderly came 
 and said: 
 
 iln order to furnish employment to his 
 secuted and boycotted Armenian students Dr. 
 Hamlin had established various industries, 
 among them a flour mill and a bakery.
 
 Hamlin the Baker 99 
 
 "Dr. Mapleton wants you to call on him 
 at the English Military Hospital at Scu- 
 tari." 
 
 "Who is Dr. Mapleton?" 
 
 "Lord Raglan's chief physician, sir, and 
 now organizing the hospital." 
 
 "You are under some mistake. I have 
 nothing to do with Dr. Mapleton, nor he 
 with me." 
 
 But I finally agreed to call next day, as 
 the orderly said he believed it was with 
 regard to bread. I found Dr. Mapleton in 
 a noble, spacious room, quite conscious that 
 he was worthy of his environment. He 
 looked up and said, without any salutation : 
 
 "Are you Hamlin the baker?" 
 
 "No, sir ; I am the Rev. Mr. Hamlin, an 
 American missionary." 
 
 "That is just about as correct as any- 
 thing I get in this country. I send for a 
 baker and I get a missionary. Thank God, 
 I am not a heathen that I should need a 
 missionary !" 
 
 Two loaves of my bread were on his 
 table, and I said to him : 
 
 "I presume that bread is what you want, 
 and you don't care whether it comes from 
 a heathen or a missionary." 
 
 "Exactly so," he said.
 
 ioo Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 I then told him how it was that I had 
 anything to do with bread-making. Not 
 only that, but various other industries I 
 had inaugurated to enable the persecuted 
 Armenians to sutsain themselves. I had no 
 personal interest in it at all. 
 
 "Oh, that's a very fine story, no doubt," 
 he broke in, becoming impatient. "I don't 
 care a sixpence for it. I wish to know if 
 you can furnish us the bread." 
 
 "I can if you will pay for it," as though 
 I distrusted him, for I was determined to 
 reduce his hauteur. 
 
 "Why, of course we shall pay for it! 
 But I want you to state the terms." 
 
 When I did so he said, with a tone of 
 incredulity : 
 
 "Do you mean, sir, that you can furnish 
 the bread at this price? It is just half what 
 we are paying for bread our poor invalids 
 won't eat." 
 
 So he wanted me to go at once and make 
 a contract with Commissary General Smith, 
 and lose no time. Lord Raglan had al- 
 ready examined the bread and pronounced 
 it excellent. 
 
 When I looked over the printed form of 
 the contract I was to fill out and sign, I 
 said to the general:
 
 Hamlin the Baker rol 
 
 "The sentence, 'to deliver every morning 
 between the hours of eight and ten, or at 
 such other hours as might be agreed upon,' 
 etc., must have the interpolation 'except 
 Sunday' after the word 'morning.' The 
 bread can all be delivered Saturday evening, 
 say at sunset." 
 
 "The laws of war do not regard Sunday," 
 he said. "I cannot change a syllable in that 
 form of contract." 
 
 "Very well, sir; then I will not furnish* 
 the bread. I have not sought the business." 
 
 He bit his lips in doubt, but finally said : 
 
 "The chief purveyor is a good Scotch 
 Qiristian, and he will arrange with you for 
 that." 
 
 So I signed, with a protest against that 
 article, and went to the purveyor. He made 
 no objection whatever to the Saturday de- 
 liver}', and so the furnishing began. It 
 gave such satisfaction that at the end of 
 three months, when contracts were sub- 
 jected to new competition, the bread was 
 accepted, by express order of Lord Rag- 
 lan. 
 
 If Qiristian men will stand conscien- 
 tiously firm to the Sabbath they will rarely 
 meet with any insuperable obstacles to 
 carrying out their determination.
 
 IO2 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 The Jews are faithful to their Mosaic 
 Sabbath, and no one ever expects them to 
 violate it. The Turkish government never 
 requires them to do so. But it pays little 
 regard to the Christian Sabbath, because it 
 knows that Christians will sacrifice their 
 sacred day to their worldly interests.
 
 From "My Life and Times," by Rev. Cyrus 
 Hamlin, D. D., Founder of Robert College and 
 Missionary of the American Board to Turkey. 
 
 The battle of Inkerman, in November, 
 1854, brought upon me a new industry. 
 Looking out of my study window, about 
 two weeks after the battle, I saw the Hima- 
 laya, the largest transport steamer in the 
 British service, anchored at the Kulelie hos- 
 pital, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. 
 
 Being acquainted with the chief engineer 
 of the great steamer, I went over imme- 
 diately to see what he had brought from 
 Inkerman. He told me that two hundred 
 and fifty of the wounded and sick had just 
 been carried to the hospital. 
 
 I went there to see in what condition 
 they were and found them deplorably des- 
 titute of underclothing and covering. They 
 said, in answer to my questions, that their 
 clothing was so loaded with vermin that 
 they preferred to suffer from the cold rather 
 
 103
 
 IO4 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 than use it. They said they had had no 
 washing done for six months. 
 
 "Why didn't you do your own washing?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "For two slight reasons," was the reply; 
 "we had no wood and no water. We were 
 lucky to get enough for our coffee 1" 
 
 I went immediately to Dr. O'Conner, the 
 chief physician, to ask him why no washing 
 was done for these poor men. He replied 
 that the Greek women only pounded the 
 clothes in the salt water of the Bosphorus 
 and brought them back damp, which killed 
 the men quicker than anything else. Be- 
 sides, the clothes were so filthy that they 
 could not be cleansed, and they were going 
 to burn them. I protested that there were 
 scores of women who would do the work 
 perfectly well, and the clothing might be 
 saved. 
 
 He told me, with great insolence, that 
 every man had better mind his own busi- 
 ness ! I thought in such a scene of suffer- 
 ing, with such an inhuman overseer, it was 
 "my own" business to mitigate it. Passing 
 in front of the barrack, I met a soldier. 
 
 "Can you tell me where I can find the 
 sergeant of the clothing?" 
 
 "I am the sergeant of the clothing."
 
 Building a Church 105 
 
 "Then you are the man I want. Let me 
 see all you have." 
 
 He opened a great hall, with clothing 
 piled up, I should think, for a thousand 
 men. There were beds and bedding and 
 clothes of every kind, taken from the 
 wounded and the dead, with all possible 
 abominations, and incredibly full of vermin. 
 If anything could make war 'utterly ac- 
 cursed, it would be Crimean lice! I have 
 no doubt they killed more English soldiers 
 than all the Russian bullets. 
 
 The sergeant told me that, despairing of 
 washing the clothing, they had built a place 
 for burning it. How much they consumed 
 I know not. 
 
 I went immediately to Scutari, and made 
 known the state of things, the conduct of 
 O'Conner, and the ease with which the 
 want could be supplied, there being hun- 
 dreds of women Armenian, Greek, Turk- 
 ish in the Bosphorus villages who would 
 be glad of the work. 
 
 The chief purveyor of the great hospital 
 said if I could do anything for Kulelie it 
 would be the greatest possible favor. I 
 asked for no contract and no price, but I 
 determined to undertake the work. My
 
 io6 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 doing it in spite of Dr. O'Conner may have 
 added to the zest of rescuing the sufferers. 
 
 On returning to Bebek I met the Ar- 
 menian head man and told him what I 
 wanted. 
 
 "I have just the place for you," he said, 
 "a tumble-down house, with a large gar- 
 den, a huge kitchen and an unfailing supply 
 of water." 
 
 I hired it at a reasonable price, monthly, 
 so long as I should want it. I never under- 
 took to do anything that went so glibly. In 
 a few days two large copper kettles were 
 set in masonry, so as to deliver the hot 
 water through twenty-two faucets into 
 twenty-two washing-places, and lines were 
 stretched in the garden, to the amount of 
 nearly half a mile. Twenty-two women, 
 Greek and Armenian, were engaged and 
 eager for work. 
 
 But while I was hearing a class the over- 
 seer burst into the room in great excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Oh, sir, come quickly !" he cried. "The 
 mob will tear down the establishment, and 
 the women have all run away!" 
 
 The truth was, the clothes were so filthy 
 and so loaded with vermin that the women 
 were afraid to touch them. About three
 
 Building a Church 107 
 
 thousand articles had been brought over in 
 large bundles. When opened in the court 
 the offensive odors had gone up into the 
 windows of the houses on that side. The 
 people, naturally excited, were assembling 
 in angry haste. Here was trouble all 
 around ! 
 
 I told the people their complaints were 
 reasonable, and the clothes should be im- 
 mediately removed to the magazine on the 
 other side; but if they made any trouble I 
 should immediately send for a guard of 
 English soldiers, and they would have the 
 pleasure of dealing with them. The people 
 then became quiet and departed. 
 
 What was I to do? I was certainly in a 
 fix. I could not blame the women or the 
 people. 
 
 A thought struck me. It came of itself 
 a complete idea of one of the empty oak 
 beer casks lying at the Kulelie, changed 
 into a washing machine. Next morning, 
 about nine o'clock, the machine was ready, 
 and on the ground. A few women sullenly 
 came, after much persuasion, to see it tried. 
 
 I must produce a surprising effect on the 
 first trial; and a large quantity of melted 
 soap had been put unnoticed into the barrel. 
 I took up the articles with the tongs and
 
 io8 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 put them in, let on the water and told the 
 man to work the brake twenty minutes. 
 Five or six minutes were found to be quite 
 enough. The water ran off with a filthy, 
 muddy color. Pure water was let in, until, 
 after rinsing, it came away pure. The ar- 
 ticles were taken out transformed! 
 
 The women had no objections to finish- 
 ing the work. The twenty-two returned, 
 more machines were made, and the work 
 went on merrily, without further care. As 
 soon as a complete set of all articles for 
 two hundred and fifty men could be pre- 
 pared they were sent to the hospital, and 
 produced both joy and comfort. 
 
 Dr. O'Conner was removed. I think he 
 was a brutal, unfeeling wretch, and cared 
 nothing for the sick and wounded. Dr. 
 Tice, who came in his place, was a gentle- 
 man, and ordered the men to change twice 
 a week. 
 
 In good weather for drying, with a force 
 of thirty persons and six washing ma- 
 chines, three thousand articles were some- 
 times put through in a day. Although the 
 sick and wounded finally amounted to eight 
 hundred, the laundry always kept ahead of 
 the demand. 
 
 The women earned from thirty to forty-
 
 Building a Church 109 
 
 five dollars a month, a sum never dreamed 
 of as possible by them; and the comfort it 
 diffused in their poor homes was one of 
 the richest rewards of the work. 
 
 In due time I went to the chief purveyor 
 at Scutari with the accounts. What had 
 been expended for getting up the works 
 was paid for without question or examina- 
 tion of particulars, and the washed articles 
 settled for at the rate of seventy-five cents 
 a dozen for the larger articles, fifty cents 
 for medium, and thirty-seven and a half for 
 small articles. 
 
 I am glad to testify that, with three ex- 
 ceptions all the gentlemen of the British 
 army with whom I had any relations were, 
 to use an English phrase, "the soul of 
 honor." 
 
 At the rate of payment above mentioned 
 there would evidently result a profit. What 
 should be done with it? The poor little 
 church at Bardezag was in great need of a 
 church building. I proposed to wash one 
 out for them. 
 
 It cost nearly $3,000, and yet I built it 
 entirely out of an Englisa beer barrel !
 
 ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S QUESTION 
 
 From "My Life and Times," by Rev. Cyrus 
 Hamlin, D. D., Founder of Robert College and 
 Missionary of the American Board to Turkey. 
 
 The visit of Admiral Farragut to Con- 
 stantinople excited great interest and 
 seemed to move the whole city. It was to 
 have a very peculiar connection with the 
 college question, 1 which none of us under- 
 stood at the time. 
 
 One day during his visit my young son 
 came into my study begging me to take him 
 to see the old hero. So the next morning 
 we went. 
 
 We found him alone in his room. He 
 
 'In 1861 Dr. Hamlin purchased a site for Rob- 
 ert College on the rocky heights overlooking the 
 Bosphorus. The Turkish Government gave him 
 permission to build, but the work was scarcely 
 begun when an order came compelling him to 
 stop. This order was manifestly unjust, and for 
 seven years Dr. Hamlin pushed his claim, but 
 all to no purpose. 
 
 no
 
 Farragut's Question 1 1 1 
 
 asked me at once if I was a resident of 
 Turkey and what my occupation was. 
 When I told him, very briefly, about the 
 college difficulty he was perhaps a little 
 annoyed by it 
 
 "I am sorry the Turks should treat you 
 so unjustly !" he said. "But I am not here 
 on any diplomatic mission." 
 
 Turning to the boy, he put his hand on 
 his shoulder and said : 
 
 "What are you doing to do in this world, 
 my son ? What are you going to be ?" 
 
 "I don't know," replied the lad, with boy- 
 ish simplicity: "I wouldn't mind being 
 admiral of the American fleet!" 
 
 This evidently touched the old admiral 
 in a tender place. Patting him on the head, 
 he said : 
 
 "Ah! my son my son! If you are 
 going to be admiral of the American 
 fleet " 
 
 Here his remarks were cut short by the 
 opening of the door and the inrushing of 
 Dr. Seropian. 
 
 "Good morning, Admiral Farragut!" he 
 exclaimed. "I am glad to see you with Dr. 
 Hamlin!" 
 
 He then proceeded with' an enthusiasm 
 quite surprising, and, as it seemed to me,
 
 H2 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 rather bold, to speak of the college and the 
 unjust prohibition to build. 
 
 "You have just come in the nick of 
 time to help Dr. Hamlin out of this dif- 
 ficulty !" he added. 
 
 "Why, doctor," said the admiral as soon 
 as he had a chance to speak, "I can do noth- 
 ing at all in this case ! I have no diplomatic 
 mission here!" 
 
 "Just for that reason," was the reply, 
 "you can do everything. You have only 
 to ask the great pashas, when you dine with 
 them, why this American college can't be 
 built that is all! To-night you are to 
 dine with his highness, Aali Pasha, the 
 grand vizier, and when you dine with the 
 Capudan Pasha, ask him; and with the 
 Scraskier Pasha, ask him, and so on." 
 
 "I will readily do that," said the admiral 
 with rather a jovial look. "A beggar may 
 ask a question of a king !" 
 
 I did not wish to get him involved in a 
 controversy, so I said to him : 
 
 "Admiral Farragut, if you ask that ques- 
 tion, I would suggest that you make no 
 reply, but receive their response as though 
 it were entirely satisfactory. I don't intend 
 to intimate that there would be any truth 
 at all in it !" I added.
 
 Farragut's Question 113 
 
 "I'll do it! I'll do it!" he said with a 
 smile, as though he saw something humor- 
 ous in it. 
 
 After this I had great curiosity to know 
 whether he had put the question and what 
 replies he received. Before he sailed I 
 went on board to ask him, but the cabin 
 was full of diplomats and I could only 
 wish him "Bon voyage!" and retire. 
 
 About ten days after a kiatib of the 
 Sublime Porte came and sat down by me, 
 on board a passenger steamer going up the 
 Bosphorus, and said: 
 
 "I want to ask you a question, Mr. Ham- 
 lin." 
 
 "Very well," I responded. 
 
 Putting his face close to mine, as though 
 it was an important and secret matter, he 
 went on: 
 
 "I want to ask you if your great admiral 
 was sent here by your government to settle 
 that college question?" 
 
 At once I saw that the admiral had not 
 only asked the question, but that it had 
 caused so much excitement that it was 
 known through all the rooms of the Sublime 
 Porte. But nothing came of it. 
 
 With this Farragut episode my resources 
 seemed for a time exhausted. For full
 
 114 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 seven years I had been trying every measure 
 that seemed to promise any result. An 
 English gentleman said to me one day : 
 
 "You do wrong, Mr. Hamlin, to pursue 
 this object so perseveringly ! I happen to 
 know from the highest authority that it 
 has been decided that your college shall 
 never be built upon that spot." 
 
 "Yes, sir," I answered; "I have known 
 that for a long time ! but there is a Higher 
 than the highest, and I trust in Him!" 
 
 One day while in a deep quandary as to 
 what course to pursue next, a messenger 
 boy entered my study with a letter in his 
 hand. It was from Mr. Morris, our Amer- 
 ican minister to the Turkish court, and read 
 substantially thus : 
 
 "I congratulate you, Mr. Hamlin, on the 
 termination of your long contest with the 
 Turkish government. I have jus* received 
 a note from his highness, the grand vizier, 
 saying: 'Tell Mr. Hamlin he may begin 
 the building of his college when he pleases. 
 No one will interfere with him. And in a 
 few days an imperial irade will be given 
 him/ " etc. 
 
 It was news too great and too good to be 
 true ! It filled me with great exultation. I 
 had never dared to ask for an imperial
 
 Farragut's Question 115 
 
 trade! It is the most sacred title ever given 
 to real estate in Turkey, and emanates from 
 the Sultan himself. I had said that if ten 
 thousand dollars would secure it it would 
 be money well spent, and here it was freely 
 offered me! 
 
 I always felt and often said: "There is 
 a secret history to this affair, beyond all 
 that we as yet understand." 
 
 Not until two years later was the true 
 explanation given. A few weeks after the 
 formal opening of the college a Turkish 
 gentleman called to see it. I invited him 
 to the college tower to survey the scenery 
 spread out before it. He was charmed 
 with the view and declared that no univer- 
 sity in Europe, and he had seen many of 
 them, could match this scenery of the Bos- 
 phorus and its historic shores. 
 
 "Ah, sir!" he said, as he turned to go 
 down, "we would never have given you 
 leave to build your college here had it not 
 been for that bloody insurrection in Crete !" 
 
 " "That bloody insurrection in Crete !' " 
 I exclaimed in surprise. "What could that 
 have to do with building the college here ?" 
 
 "Oh, we understood it perfectly well," he 
 replied, with a reproving smile.
 
 n6 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "You speak in enigmas," I said; "I do 
 &ot understand it." 
 
 "Have you been so long in Turkey with- 
 out knowing about that insurrection that 
 kept us for a long time on the very edge 
 of war?" 
 
 "I knew all about that, sir ; it is the con- 
 nection between the two that I do not un- 
 derstand." 
 
 He evidently doubted my sincerity, but 
 said: 
 
 "When your great Admiral Farragut was 
 here that insurrection was taxing all our 
 skill. We would gladly have seen Crete 
 swallowed up in the sea; but to grant her 
 freedom would have involved the loss of all 
 our islands, and have disintegrated the em- 
 pire. Greek delegations surrounded the 
 admiral and reported that he had promised 
 to pass along the shores of Crete and take 
 the refugees to Greece ; and, moreover, that 
 he had assured them his government would 
 sell them one of its monitors. 
 
 "This gave us just cause of alarm, which 
 was increased not a little when the admiral 
 came to dine with the Sultan's high officers 
 of state. He asked the grand vizier, point 
 blank, why that American college could not 
 be built. The grand vizier replied in
 
 Farragut's Question 117 
 
 friendly terms, but the great admiral said 
 not a word. He continued to ask the same 
 question right and left, to the minister of 
 foreign affairs, to the minister of war, and 
 of the navy: 
 
 " 'I would like to ask your excellency a 
 question. I would like to know why that 
 American college cannot be built?' 
 
 "To all he held the same absolute silence, 
 and said not a word. We saw clearly that 
 the United States government was holding 
 that college question over against us; so 
 the admiral was assured that the college 
 would soon be built. But when he left 
 rather suddenly and went straight out by 
 Gibraltar we breathed easily, and changed 
 our intention of granting you leave. 
 
 "But a few months after those letters 
 from leading New York papers were sent, 
 translated and in the original. They were 
 very severe on the Cretan case, but were 
 written with ability and exact knowledge. 
 We said: 
 
 " 'There is the finger of the great admiral 
 in this. His government is preparing the 
 American people for intervention. If only 
 an American monitor should come into the 
 Mediterranean, it would be followed by 
 war with Greece; and (lifting up both
 
 Ii8 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 hands) war begun with Greece, Allah him- 
 self only knows where it would end!' 
 
 "We had been warned that this college 
 question would become a thorny one, and 
 that political complications would finally 
 compel us to grant even more than was 
 asked. We now felt the thorns, we saw 
 the complications, and we said : 
 
 " 'Better build a hundred colleges for the 
 Americans with our own money than have 
 one of Farragut's monitors come into the 
 Mediterranean !' 
 
 "So we gave you leave to build on this 
 matchless spot. We gave you the imperial 
 trade which we never give and we placed 
 this college under the protection of the 
 United States as the greatest compliment 
 to your government; and so (spreading 
 both hands in a horizontal motion, with a 
 smile of great satisfaction) we smoothed it 
 all off." 
 
 The letters referred to were written by 
 two Greek gentlemen in New York. 
 Whether the astute diplomats interpreted 
 everything aright I am not called upon to 
 say. 
 
 I prefer to repeat I Cor. I '.26-29.
 
 SIX BLACK PINS 
 
 From "Woman and Her Saviour in Persia," 
 by Rev. Thomas Laurie, D. D. 
 
 The pupils of the seminary 1 were at first 
 so addicted to lying and stealing that every- 
 thing had to be kept under lock and key. 
 
 Miss Fiske could not keep a pin in her 
 pin cushion; little fingers took them as 
 often as she turned away. Lest she should 
 tempt them to lie, she avoided questioning 
 them, unless her own eye had seen the 
 theft. No wonder she wrote : 
 
 "I feel very weak, and were it not that 
 Christ has loved these souls I should be 
 discouraged; but He has loved them, and 
 He loves them still." 
 
 If the pins were found on the pupils, an 
 answer was always ready. 
 
 "We found them," or, "You gave them 
 to us," they would say, and nothing could 
 be proved. 
 
 1 The famous seminary for Nestorian girls, 
 founded by Fidelia Fiske at Oroomiah, Persia, in 
 
 1843. 
 
 119
 
 I2O Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 But one summer evening, just before the 
 pupils were to pass through her room to 
 their beds on the flat roof, knowing that 
 none of that color could be obtained else- 
 where, the teacher put six black pins in 
 her cushion and stepped out till they had 
 passed. 
 
 As soon as they were gone she found 
 that the pins, too, were gone, and at once 
 called the girls back. She told them of her 
 loss; but none knew anything about it. 
 She showed them that no one else had been 
 there, and therefore they must know. Six 
 pairs of little hands were lifted up as they 
 said: 
 
 "God knows that we have not got 
 them." 
 
 "I think God knows that you have got 
 them," was the reply. 
 
 She searched each one carefully, but 
 without finding the pins. Then she pro- 
 posed to kneel down where they stood and 
 ask God to show where they were. 
 
 "He may not think best to show me now/* 
 she added, "but He will do it some time." 
 
 The matter was laid before the Lord, and 
 just as they arose from their knees a new 
 thought came to her.
 
 Six Black Pins 121 
 
 "I did not examine your caps," she said, 
 "but will do so now." 
 
 One pair of hands went right up to their 
 owner's head ! Of course she was searched 
 first, and there were the six pins, so nicely 
 concealed in the folds that nothing was 
 visible but their heads! 
 
 This incident did much good. The pupils 
 looked upon the discovery as an answer to 
 prayer, and so did their teacher. 
 
 They began to be afraid to steal when 
 God so exposed their thefts, and she was 
 thankful for so prompt an answer. The 
 child who stole the pins became a pious and 
 thoughtful woman.
 
 "IF YOU LOVE ME, LEAN HARD" 
 
 From "Faith Working by Love : As Exempli- 
 fied in the Life of Fidelia Fiske," by D. T. Fiske. 
 
 *I have learned here in Persia, as I never 
 did in America, that He who fed the five 
 thousand with the portion of five can feed 
 the soul, and richly, too, with what I once 
 thought were only the crumbs. 
 
 May I give you one of the Master's ser- 
 mons ? 
 
 One Sabbath afternoon, at Geog Tapa, I 
 was sitting on a mat near the middle of the 
 church, which has no mats and only a floor 
 of earth. I had been to two exercises be- 
 fore going to the church, one the Sabbath- 
 school and the other a prayer-meeting with 
 my girls. 
 
 I was weary and longed for rest, and 
 with no support it seemed to me that I 
 could not sit there till the close of the serv- 
 ice. Nor could I hope for rest even when 
 
 J Part of a letter written by Miss Fiske to a 
 friend in America. 
 
 122
 
 Lean Hard 123 
 
 that was over, for I must meet the women 
 readers of the village and encourage them 
 in reading their Testaments. 
 
 I thought how I would love to be in your 
 church; but God took the thought from 
 me very soon, for, finding that there was 
 some one directly behind me, I looked, and 
 there was one of the sisters, who had seated 
 herself so that I might lean upon her. I 
 objected; but she drew me back, saying: 
 
 "If you love me, you will lean hard." 
 
 Did I not then lean hard? And then 
 there came the Master's own voice: 
 
 "If you love me, you will lean hard." 
 
 And I leaned on Him, too, and felt that 
 He had sent the poor woman to give me a 
 better sermon than I might have heard even 
 with you. 
 
 I was rested long before the church serv- 
 ices were finished ; and I afterwards had a 
 long hour with the women readers, and 
 closed with prayer. A little after sunset 
 we left to ride six miles to our home. I 
 was surprised to find that I was not at all 
 weary that night, nor in the morning, and 
 I have rested ever since, remembering the 
 sweet words: 
 
 "If you love me, lean hard."
 
 THE KANPO OF KUMBUM 
 
 From "With the Tibetans in Tent and Tem- 
 ple," by Dr. Susie C. Rijnhart. 
 
 On the slopes of two hills in the province 
 of Am do, on the extreme northwestern 
 Chino-Tibetan frontier, nestles the great 
 lamasery of Kumbum, famed among the 
 devotees of Buddha as one of the holiest 
 spots on Asiatic soil. 
 
 Leaving America in the autumn of 1894, 
 my husband and I had Kumbum as our 
 point of destination. Six months later we 
 made our home and established a medical 
 station at Lusar, a village about five min- 
 utes' walk from the lamasery proper, where 
 the lamas do their trading. Scarcely had 
 we entered upon our work when the first 
 alarming tidings reached us of the terrible 
 rebellion which shortly broke out in full 
 fury among the Mohammedans of western 
 Kansu. 
 
 Though advised to leave Lusar and seek 
 a place of safety, we decided to remain with 
 our China and Tibetan friends and face 
 m
 
 The Kanpo of Kumbum 12$ 
 
 with them the dreadful possibilities of a 
 long and bloody siege. 
 
 Barely had we made this decision when, 
 to our amazement, we received from the 
 kanpo or abbot of Kumbum an invitation 
 to take up our abode in the lamasery during 
 the rebellion, an cjffer which we eagerly 
 accepted, not only because of the safety it 
 offered us, but also because of the prestige 
 it would give us in the eyes of those we 
 were seeking to help. This abbot was the 
 greatest Buddhist in northeastern Tibet, a 
 man who was looked up to as spiritual 
 guide not only to the four thousand lamas 
 under his tutelage, but by thousands of lay- 
 men outside. 
 
 This apparently sudden kindness on the 
 part of the abbot was dependent upon an 
 amusing incident during Mr. Rijnhart's 
 visit to Kumbum in 1892. 
 
 One day, having been sent for by one of 
 the lamas of Kumbum, he went imme- 
 diately, only to learn with some disappoint- 
 ment that he had not been summoned from 
 any religious motive, but to be consulted 
 about a music-box which the lama had 
 bought as a curiosity when on a visit to 
 Pekin. 
 
 The music-box was, to express literally
 
 126 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 yrhat the lama had said, "sick," and had 
 ceased to give forth music; and its owner 
 had concluded that since it had been made 
 by foreigners it could surely be cured by a 
 foreigner. Mr. Rijnhart carefully exam- 
 ined the instrument, and, finding that it 
 only needed lubricating, gave it a liberal 
 treatment of castor oil, the only kind avail- 
 able, whereupon its powers returned, and 
 the wonderful box, as the lama expressed 
 it, was "cured!" 
 
 The result of an apparently insignificant 
 act of kindness cannot be estimated. The 
 incident, though forgotten by Mr. Rijn- 
 hart, had evidently left an impression on 
 the lama, who had in the meantime risen 
 to the dignity of the abbotship, for he it 
 was who now summoned the foreign doctor 
 with his magic oil to come and treat the 
 treasurer of the lamasery, who was ill. If 
 a sick music-box could be cured with one 
 dose of medicine, how much more could be 
 done for a sick man ! 
 
 Arriving at the lamasery, we not only 
 visited the treasurer, carefully diagnosed 
 his case, and gave him treatment, but by 
 special invitation were ushered into the 
 audience chamber of the kanpo himself an 
 almost unheard-of favor. During our con-
 
 The Kanpo of Kumbum 127 
 
 versation with him he explained that a past 
 experience with a foreigner had given him 
 a desire to meet another ; and great indeed 
 was his pleasure when he found out that 
 Mr. Rijnhart was the identical foreigner 
 who had "doctored" his music-box three 
 years before. 
 
 His invitation to remain in the lamasery 
 was accepted as heartily as it was given, 
 and resulted in an intimate acquaintance 
 mutually agreeable, which soon ripened into 
 a firm friendship. 
 
 The kanpo was far superior to the aver- 
 age lama in intelligence ; yet his knowledge 
 was exceedingly limited, a fact which he 
 cheerfully admitted. He knew practically 
 nothing of the outside world, had traveled 
 but little, and had an idea that Pekin, which 
 he once visited, lay at the other end of the 
 world. He questioned Mr. Rijnhart by the 
 hour, carefully noting the answers and mar- 
 veling at the white teacher's wondierful 
 range of knowledge. He studied geography 
 with all the aptness of a schoolboy, and fre- 
 quently expressed an ardent longing to 
 accompany us to America or to Europe if 
 we should go home, in order that he might 
 see for himself and learn something of the 
 world beyond, so full of mystery.
 
 128 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Although he was woefully ignorant of 
 natural science, we found him an accom- 
 plished linguist, conversant with Tibetan, 
 both classical and colloquial, and with Chi- 
 nese and Mongolian. Chinese he had spoken 
 at Pekin, where he had also for the first 
 time seen foreigners. 
 
 Among the curios he had brought back 
 from the Chinese capital was a collection of 
 photographs, which he had taken to be rep- 
 resentations of Buddha, but which turned 
 out to be mostly photos of French and 
 American actresses, arrayed in costume! 
 When we told him this he was quite 
 ashamed and handed the same over to us, 
 begging us not to say anything about it, as 
 no lama is supposed to have pictures of 
 women in his possession. He was quite 
 conscientious in this matter, and willingly 
 sacrificed the entire collection with the sole 
 exception of a photo of Alexander of Rus- 
 sia. 
 
 Soon after we made his acquaintance Mr. 
 Rijnhart gave him copies of the Gospels in 
 the Tibetan character, among them a copy 
 of St. John, which he prized very highly. 
 He had a marvelous memory and was soon 
 almost as familiar with the text of the Gos- 
 pels as ourselves. He told us he believed
 
 The Kanpo of Kumbum 129 
 
 thoroughly in Jesus, but he did not see any 
 reason why he should renounce Buddhism 
 and become a Christian. 
 
 I believe that, all unconsciously perhaps, 
 the kanpo has been the means of spreading 
 Gospel teaching among his people to an 
 extent that has as yet been possible for no 
 Christian missionary. With all the famous 
 lamas and pilgrims from the far interior, 
 even from Lhasa, as also from Mongolia, he 
 conversed on the subject, telling them what 
 he knew about the Christian doctrines, and 
 teaching them to pronounce for the first - 
 time the name : 
 
 "Jesu Ma'shika" Jesus Chirst. 
 
 V
 
 From "Among the Mongols," by the Rev, 
 James Gilmour, M. A. 
 
 To have any prospect of success among 
 the Mongols the missionary must avoid 
 raising suspicions. And if he is to avoid 
 raising suspicions he must climb no hill, 
 pick up no pebble, never go for a walk and 
 never manifest any interest or pleasure in 
 the scenery. 
 
 If he does any of these things, stories and 
 rumors are at once circulated which effect- 
 ually close the minds of the inhabitants 
 against his teachings. 
 
 On one occasion I was living some weeks 
 in a Mongol's tent. It was late in the year. 
 Lights were put out soon after dark. The 
 nights were long, and with the discomforts 
 of a poor tent and doubtful companions 
 seemed really longer than they were. At 
 sunrise I was only too glad to escape from 
 smoke and everything else to the retirement 
 of the crest of a low ridge of hills near the 
 tent. This, perhaps the most natural thing 
 
 ISO
 
 in the world for a foreigner, was utterly 
 inexplicable to the Mongols. 
 
 The idea that any man should get out of 
 his bed at sunrise and climb a hill for noth- 
 ing! He must be up to mischief! He 
 must be secretly taking away the luck of 
 the land! 
 
 This went on for some time, the Mongols 
 all alive with suspicion, and the unsuspect- 
 ing foreigner retiring regularly morning 
 after morning, till at length a drunken man 
 blurted out the whole thing and openly 
 stated the conviction that the inhabitants 
 had arrived at, namely, that this extraordi- 
 nary morning walk of the foreigner on the 
 hill-crest boded no good to the country. 
 
 On another occasion a missionary who 
 had a turn for geology was in the habit of 
 strolling about on summer evenings after 
 sunset, and picking up a few specimens of 
 stones. Among other things he was actu- 
 ally supposed to have discovered and dug 
 out of the earth immense masses of silver 
 of untold value. 
 
 These stories afforded such a very plaus- 
 ible explanation of how men could travel 
 about healing and asking no fees, that in 
 one neighborhood to which I and my medi- 
 cines had been specially invited no one
 
 132 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 would have anything whatever to do with 
 us, simply because these prejudicial stories 
 had arrived a few hours before us. 
 
 My wife and I, while encamped at a large 
 temple, after having our tent crowded with 
 visitors and patients all the hours of the 
 long summer day, used to have our horses 
 saddled, and go for a short ride at sunset, 
 returning at dusk. This, it afterwards ap- 
 peared, produced a great ferment among 
 the lamas 1 , who, voluminous as usual with 
 lies, concocted and circulated all manner of 
 absurd reports about our searching for 
 treasure in the night ; so much so, that after 
 a few days a messenger appeared, and in 
 the name of the government authorities, and 
 ruling lamas, ordered us to leave the place. 
 
 Another thing that must be refrained 
 from is writing. The Mongols are very 
 suspicious of seeing a foreigner using a 
 pen. 
 
 "What can he be up to?" they say among 
 themselves. "Is he taking notes of the ca- 
 pabilities of the country ? Is he marking out 
 a road map so that he can return guiding 
 an army? Is he a wizard carrying off the 
 good luck of the country in his note-book ?" 
 
 'Mongol priests.
 
 Among the Mongols 133 
 
 If a missionary desires to conciliate the 
 people, and win their confidence, he must 
 abstain from walking and writing while he 
 is among them. In both these respects the 
 minute the border is crossed and China en- 
 tered, a delicious sense of freedom is ex- 
 perienced, and a man feels that his legs and 
 his pen are of some use to him again.
 
 From "John Kenneth Mackenzie, Medical Mis- 
 sionary to China," by Mrs. Bryson. 
 
 *A Chinese friend of mine had an uncle, 
 aged sixty-four, who had been ill for some 
 time past, and the other day they sent him 
 word the old man was dying and had been 
 laid out. 
 
 In China, when all hope is given up of a 
 patient's recovery, the custom is to dress 
 them at once in grave clothes, and remove 
 them to a board and trestles away from 
 the ordinary bed, so that it shall not be 
 defiled. As it is often uncertain when a 
 man is going to breathe his last, it not un- 
 frequently happens that his last hours are 
 spent in torture, and his end hastened by 
 this treatment. In the cold winter of Tien- 
 tsin, to be stripped of warm garments and 
 bedding and laid out in cold stiff clothing 
 must indeed be trying. 
 
 My friend arrived at his uncle's house, 
 
 *An extract from Dr. Mackenzie's diary, 
 
 m
 
 A Cruel Chinese Custom 135 
 
 expecting to find him dead, but instead of 
 this he was only laid out in burial clothes; 
 he was surrounded by a crowd of relatives, 
 dressed in white mourning garments, wait- 
 ing for him to breathe his last, while strips 
 of white paper, the sign of death in a 
 house, had already been posted on the outer 
 doors. 
 
 "Do you know me, uncle ?" my friend 
 asked the dying man. 
 
 "Oh yes; why did you not come before?" 
 replied the patient; "I am so thirsty, and 
 they will give me nothing to drink, and I 
 am so cold, since all my warm clothing has 
 been taken away, and my bones are sore 
 with lying on this hard board. Move me 
 back to the kang, and take these clothes 
 away. I am not dead yet!" 
 
 The nephew gave him a bowl of hot 
 water which he drank, and afterwards some 
 tea. He felt his pulse, and discovered that 
 it was stronger than when he had visited 
 him before. 
 
 "Don't wait for me, father !" said a mar- 
 ried daughter who had just arrived. "I 
 am here, so you can go." 
 
 This remark was made in allusion to the 
 idea that the souls of the dying cannot
 
 136 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 pass away if they are desiring to see some 
 absent member of the family. 
 
 The nephew, who was a Christian, in- 
 sisted upon his uncle being moved back to 
 his bed and dressed again in warm cloth- 
 ing, and gave him some arrowroot; after 
 this the old man seemed better and lived for 
 about a fortnight.
 
 A VISIT TO A CHINESE DRUG 
 STORE 
 
 From "Pagoda Shadows," by Adele M. Fielde, 
 missionary of the American Baptist Missionary 
 Union to China. 
 
 We have among our church members a 
 thriving druggist, whose shop is in the 
 city of Swatow. 
 
 Having ascertained that he had time and 
 inclination to show us his stock of medi- 
 cines, I went with a friend to see them. 
 The shop, after the manner of Chinese 
 shops, is enclosed on three sides only, and 
 has the whole front open to the street. 
 
 The counter runs the whole length of the 
 front of the shop, except in a narrow place 
 left for egress, and the purchaser is ex- 
 pected to stand in the street, and ask over 
 the counter for what he wants. The cases 
 for drugs, which cover the inner wall, can 
 be touched with one hand while the coun- 
 ter is reached with the other. 
 
 The stock on hand is valued at about a 
 thousand dollars. We had intended to 
 
 131
 
 138 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 make an accurate list of all the drugs, but 
 finally decided to take note of only those 
 which were especially curious. Among 
 them were the following: 
 
 A great variety of barks, tubers, bulbs, 
 foots, seeds, and leaves with the stamens, 
 petals and seed-vessels of the lotus in sep- 
 arate compartments. Unhusked rice and 
 vheat, sprouted and then dried. 
 
 The flower of the honeysuckle, the leaves 
 of the arbor-vitae, the pith of a large reed, 
 and fungi from decayed wood. Various 
 species of seaweed and bones of the cuttle- 
 fish. 
 
 Dried caterpillars, snails and worms, and 
 the cast-off skins of locusts. Silk worms 
 and the chrysalides of moths and butterflies. 
 
 Shavings of goat, ibex and deer horn, 
 the scales of the armadillo, and charred 
 tiger bones. 
 
 The shell of the box-turtle, and the horn 
 of a rhinoceros, valued at three dollars for 
 a piece three inches in diameter, centipedes 
 six inches long stretched and dried on 
 splints, and the gall-bladder of a bear, val- 
 ued at ten dollars and used as a tonic. 
 
 Medicated tea in small, hard cakes. 
 
 Our obliging host said there were many 
 other drugs in the shop, among them seed-
 
 A Chinese Drug Store 139 
 
 pearls, and snake skins and minerals; but 
 we had not time to see them all, and hav- 
 ing bought a box of medicated tea, and 
 five tiny bottles of crystallized peppermint 
 oil, we took our departure. 
 
 1 Some idea of the truly wonderful doses 
 compounded in a Chinese drug store may be 
 gained from the following recipe written 
 out by Dr. Cho Ping for a patient who 
 had swallowed an overdose of opium. It 
 took half a day to make it up ! 
 
 Two couples of salted lizards, two male 
 and two female. 
 
 oz. of Corea ginseng root. 
 
 Six dried grasshoppers, 3 male and 3 
 female. 
 
 oz. lotos-leaves. 
 
 1 oz. walnuts. 
 
 oz. tail of rattlesnake. 
 
 2 oz. black dates. 
 
 \ oz. elm tree bark. 
 \ oz. devilfish claw. 
 \ oz. hartshorn. 
 \ oz. birds' claws. 
 \ oz. dried ginger. 
 oz. old coffin nails. 
 
 'This closing paragraph is added from the 
 Missionary Review of the World.
 
 140 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 The whole to be mixed with two quarts 
 of water, and boiled down to one-half the 
 quantity. Then let the patient drink the 
 mixture as quickly as possible.
 
 TEMPERANCE CHARLEY 
 
 From "A Chinese Quaker," by Nellie Blessing- 
 Eyster. 
 
 One night while in the city Charley 1 
 drifted into a temperance meeting. The lec- 
 turer of the evening was a reformed drunk- 
 ard who had much descriptive ability and 
 was powerfully in earnest. The woes of the 
 drunkard's family, the insidious develop- 
 ment of the alcoholic appetite, and the sure 
 and sad end of the drunkard himself, were 
 made vivid with thrilling accuracy. 
 
 Charlie understood it all and was greatly 
 impressed. At the close of his address the 
 speaker asked those of his hearers who 
 were willing to join the Total Abstinence 
 Association which he represented, to sign 
 the pledge, and to wear continually, as a 
 reminder of that pledge, a tiny blue ribbon, 
 which he would tie in their buttonholes. 
 
 To the surprise of many in the audience, 
 
 Charley was a Chinese servant in the home 
 of Miss Proctor, a wealthy Quaker lady living 
 near San Francisco. 
 
 141
 
 142 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 a long-queued Chinese was among the first 
 to accept the invitation and to receive the 
 ribbon. It was Charley. No Knight of the 
 Garter was ever prouder of his insignia nor 
 held it in higher respect. He ran with 
 almost electric speed through the Alameda 
 to the home of his mistress to unburden his 
 mind. 
 
 Some ladies and gentlemen in the neigh- 
 borhood who had been spending a social 
 evening with her were about leaving when, 
 unannounced, Charley walked into the 
 drawing room. His demeanor was respect- 
 ful but he was evidently under strong ex- 
 citement. Making a low bow he exclaimed : 
 
 "See, Missie Proctor! See, evlybody! 
 Me now good Clistian. Me tied on here. 
 Got him fast. Me never dlink wine, no 
 blandy, no beer. The preach man him say, 
 'Bad man dlink, go down, down.' The poor 
 wives an' little child'ns no happy, too. 
 Cold water I say! Cold water is the thing, 
 ladies and genplun." 
 
 He had flung his arms out to the widest 
 extent in imitation of the speaker and his 
 voice ran down the entire gamut of grief. 
 With another bow he retired. Doubtless it 
 was his first and last temperance speech in
 
 Temperance Charley 143 
 
 public, but not his last effort to propagate 
 temperance principles. 
 
 He was able to read English far better 
 than to speak it. Taking his mistress' most 
 prized cook-book, he carefully and patiently 
 read its various recipes for compounding 
 cakes and puddings and wherever the words 
 "wine" or "brandy" occurred in directions 
 for seasoning cake or sauce in quantities 
 however minute, he erased it and substi- 
 tuted "a cup of cold water." On the final 
 page he wrote as an apology: 
 
 "Reader, please forgive brandy and all." 
 
 In due time Charley became a sincere 
 follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. He 
 proved it by controlling his naturally quick 
 temper and becoming very gentle in man- 
 ner and speech. He also became the self- 
 appointed janitor of the meeting house. His 
 watchfulness for the general comfort of the 
 audience never flagged. When offered a 
 small salary for his services he refused it, 
 saying to his mistress as he handed her a 
 Bible: 
 
 "You find him. Door-keeper, big white 
 tent, circus, lions." 
 
 She comprehended his jargon and read 
 from the sacred page: 
 
 "I had rather be a door keeper in the
 
 144 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 house of my God, than to dwell in the tents 
 of wickedness." 
 
 "That's me!" he said triumphantly. "1 
 'door keeper the Lord's house. No pay."
 
 RUNAWAY BOB 
 
 From the Church of Scotland's Children's 
 Record. 
 
 Some years ago in a manufacturing town 
 of Scotland, a young lady applied to the 
 superintendent of a Sunday school for a 
 class. 
 
 At his suggestion she gathered a class of 
 poor boys. The superintendent told them 
 to come to his house during the week and 
 he would get them each a new suit of 
 clothes. They came and were nicely fitted 
 out. 
 
 The worst and most unpromising boy in 
 the class was a lad named Bob. After two 
 or three Sundays he was missing and the 
 teacher went to hunt him up. She found 
 that his new clothes were torn and dirty, 
 but she invited him back to the school and 
 he came. 
 
 The superintendent gave him a second 
 new suit, but after attending once or twice, 
 his place was again empty. Once more 
 
 145
 
 146 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 she sought him out, only to find that the 
 second suit had gone the way of the first. 
 
 "I am utterly discouraged about Bob," 
 she said when she reported the case to the 
 superintendent, "and must give him up." 
 
 "Please don't do that," the superintendent 
 answered; "I can't but hope that there is 
 something good in Bob. Try him once 
 more. I'll give him a third suit of clothes 
 if he'll promise to attend regularly." 
 
 Bob did promise and received his third 
 new suit. He attended regularly after that 
 and got interested in the school. He be- 
 came an earnest and persevering seeker 
 after Jesus. He found Him. He joined the 
 church. He was made a teacher. He stud- 
 ied for the ministry. 
 
 And the end of the story is that that dis- 
 couraging boy that forlorn, ragged, run- 
 away Bob became the Rev. Robert Mor- 
 rison, the great missionary to China, who 
 translated the Bible into the Chinese lan- 
 guage, and by so doing opened the King- 
 dom of Heaven to the teeming millions of 
 that vast country.
 
 A SAFE TEST 
 
 From "Modern Heroes of the Mission Field," 
 by the Right Rev. W. Packenham Walsh, D. D. 
 
 In 1807 when Robert Morrison, the great 
 apostle of China, was set apart for his 
 work, he sailed for New York because it 
 was impossible to reach his destination by 
 a direct route. 
 
 The hostility of the British government 
 to all missionary effort was so decided that 
 it was hopeless to expect transit for a gospel 
 messenger in a British ship. But this was 
 overruled for good. Friends of the truth 
 in England furnished him with letters of 
 introduction to others in New York, and 
 these commended him to the American 
 consul at Canton and to other men of in- 
 fluence. 
 
 A touching incident is recorded concern- 
 ing his stay at the house of a Christian gen- 
 tleman in New York. 
 
 Morrison had been taken suddenly ill, 
 and was placed in the gentleman's own 
 
 147
 
 148 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 chamber, where, in a little crib beside the 
 bed, slept a child, whom it was thought a 
 pity to disturb. On awaking in the morn- 
 ing, she turned to talk as usual to her 
 parents; but, seeing a stranger in their 
 place, was somewhat alarmed. After a 
 moment's pause, she fixed her intelligent 
 eyes steadily upon him and said: 
 "Man, do you pray to God?" 
 "Oh, yes, my dear," said Mr. Morrison, 
 "every day. God is my best friend." 
 
 The answer seemed at once to reassure 
 the startled child; she laid her little head 
 contentedly upon her pillow, and fell asleep. 
 Morrison often referred to the circumstance, 
 and said that it taught him a lesson of con- 
 fidence and faith.
 
 "ONLY A COBBLER!" 
 
 From "Modern Heroes of the Mission Field,** 
 by the Right Rev. W. Packenham Walsh, D. D. 
 
 There is a story told about William 
 Carey that is well worth repeating. 
 
 It is said that long after he had attained 
 to fame and eminence in India, being pro- 
 fessor of Oriental languages in the College 
 of Fort William, honored with letters and 
 medals from royal hands, and able to write 
 F. L. S., F. G. S., F. A. S., and other sym- 
 bols of distinction after his name, he was 
 invited to dine with a select company at 
 the Governor-General's. 
 
 On this occasion one of the guests, with 
 more than questionable taste, asked an aide- 
 de-camp present, in a whisper loud enough 
 to be heard by the professor, whether Dr. 
 Carey had not been a shoemaker. 
 
 "No, sir," immediately answered the doc- 
 tor, "only a cobbler !" 
 
 Whether he was proud of it, we cannot 
 say ; that he had no need to be ashamed of 
 
 149
 
 150 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 it, we are sure. He had outlived the day 
 when Edinburgh reviewers tried to heap 
 contempt on "consecrated cobblers," and 
 he had established his right to be enrolled 
 among the aristocracy of learning and phil- 
 anthropy.
 
 ONE LITTLE WIDOW. 
 
 From "Mosaics from India," by Margaret B. 
 Denning. 
 
 Seven years a widow, yet only eleven 
 years old ! The shadow nay, the curse of 
 widowhood has hung over little Sita ever 
 since she remembered anything-. The little 
 brown girl often wondered why other little 
 girls living near her had such happy, merry 
 times, while she knew only drudgery and 
 ill-treatment from morning until night. 
 
 One day when six of the weary years had 
 passed, and she was ten years old, Sita 
 found out what widow meant. Then, to the 
 cruelties she already endured, was added 
 the terror of woes to come. 
 
 She had gone, as usual, in her tattered 
 garments, with three large brass waterpots 
 on her head, to the great open well from 
 which she drew the daily supply of water 
 for a family of nine. She was so tired, and 
 her frail little back ached so pitifully, that 
 she sat down on a huge stone to rest a min- 
 ute. Resting her weary head on one thin 
 
 151
 
 152 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 little hand, she was a picture of childish" 
 woe. Many sorrows had fallen on her 
 young heart, but she was still a child, yearn- 
 ing for companionship and love. 
 
 Many Brahmin servants were drawing 
 water near her, singing little bhajans or 
 songs, and looking bright and happy in 
 their gay-colored cotton saris. A woman 
 so poor that she must draw her own drink- 
 ing water, but still a Brahmin, came near, 
 and to her Sita appealed for help : 
 
 "Will you not draw a little water for 
 me? I am ill and tired and the well is 
 very deep." 
 
 The woman turned angrily and uttered 
 in a scathing tone, the one word, "Widow !" 
 Then she burst out : 
 
 "Curse you, how dare you come between 
 me and the glorious sun? Your shadow 
 has fallen upon me and I'll have to take the 
 bath of purification before I can eat food! 
 Curse you, stand aside!" 
 
 Poor Sita stood bewildered. She made 
 no answer, but tears coursed down her 
 cheeks. Something akin to pity made the 
 woman pause, and halting at a safe dis- 
 tance from the shadow of the child, she 
 talked to her in a milder tone. She was 
 thinking, perhaps, of two soft-eyed daugh-
 
 One Little Widow 153 
 
 ters, very dear to her proud heart, though 
 she mourned bitterly when they were born, 
 because the gods had denied her sons. 
 
 "Why should I help you," she said, 
 "when the gods have cursed you ? See, you 
 are a widow." 
 
 Then, in answer to the child's vacant 
 gaze, she continued. 
 
 "Don't you understand? Didn't you have 
 a husband once?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so," Sita answered; "an 
 old, bad man who used to shake me and 
 tell me to grow up quickly to work for 
 him. Perhaps he was my husband. When 
 he died they said I killed him, but I did 
 not. I was glad he was dead though," 
 added the sad little thing. 
 
 "So you call him bad?" the woman cried. 
 "Ah! no wonder the gods hate you. No 
 doubt you were very wicked ages and ages 
 ago and so now you are made a widow. 
 By and by you will be born a snake or a 
 toad," and gathering up her water pots, 
 she went away. 
 
 The slender, ill-fed child hurriedly rilled 
 the brass vessels, knowing that abuse 
 awaited her late return. Raising the huge 
 jars to her head, she hastened to her house 
 a home she never knew. The sister-in-
 
 154 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 law met the little thing with violent abuse, 
 and bade her prepare the morning meal. 
 The child was ill and nearly fell with fa- 
 tigue. 
 
 "I'll show you how to wake up," the 
 woman cried, and seizing a hot poker she 
 laid it on the arms and hands of the child. 
 Screaming with pain, the poor little creat- 
 ure worked on, trembling if the sister-in- 
 law even looked her way. 
 
 This was one day. Each of the seven 
 long years contained three hundred and 
 sixty-five such days, and now they were 
 growing worse. The last year, in token of 
 the deep disgrace of widowhood, the child's 
 soft dark tresses had been shaved off, and 
 her head left bare. When that has been 
 done, but one meal a day is permitted a 
 widow, no matter how hard she works. 
 
 Most of the little girls who saw Sita 
 would run from her, fearing pollution. But 
 there was one who shone on her like a gleam 
 of sunshine whenever she saw her. One 
 day after the woman had abused her at the 
 well, Sita found a chance to tell Tungi 
 about it. 
 
 "There is a better God than that," Tungi 
 said. "Our people do not know him, and 
 that is why I am not allowed to talk with
 
 One Little Widow 155 
 
 you. I am married and my husband lives 
 in a distant city. If I speak to you, they 
 believe that he will die. But in the school 
 I attend, many do not believe these things." 
 
 "How can you go to school?" Sita an- 
 swered. ''My sister-in-law says that only 
 bad people learn to read." 
 
 "So my mother used to think," said 
 Tungi; "but my husband is in school, and 
 he has sent word that I must go until he 
 calls for me to come to his home. Then 
 he can have a wife who can understand 
 when he talks about his books. He says the 
 English have happy families and it is this 
 which makes them so. The wives know 
 books, and how to sing and how to make 
 home pleasant. My mother says it is all 
 very bad, but he is my husband and I must 
 do as he says. I am very glad, for it is 
 very pleasant there." 
 
 Thus the bright-eyed little Brahmin wife 
 chatted away, as gay as a bird. The fount 
 of knowledge was opened to her the 
 beaming eye, the elastic figure and the in- 
 dividuality of her western sisters were be- 
 coming hers. 
 
 But none of these things seemed for Sita 
 For nine weary months after Tungi went to 
 school, the shaven-headed child, living on
 
 156 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 one poor meal a day, went about sad and 
 lonely. When she again saw her bright- 
 faced little friend, her condition had grown 
 worse. Her neck and arms were full of 
 scars where bits of flesh had been pinched 
 oulfc in vindictive rage of her husband's 
 relations, who believed her guilty of his 
 death. Brutality, growing stronger with 
 use, made them callous to the sufferings of 
 the little being in their power. No one who 
 cared knew of the pangs of hunger, the 
 violent words and the threats of future 
 punishment. 
 
 Once or twice she had looked down into 
 the cool depths of the well and wondered 
 how quickly she could die. Only the terror 
 of punishment after death kept this baby- 
 widow from suicide. 
 
 One day as she was weeping by the gate- 
 way of Tungi's house, the little child-wife 
 told the little child-widow of a safe refuge 1 
 for such as she, where neither poverty nor 
 ignorance could exclude her a home under 
 the loving care of one who knew the wid- 
 ow's curse. 
 
 After many difficulties, Sita found this 
 
 J The Sharada Sadan, a widow's home, founded 
 by Pundita Ramabai.
 
 One Little Widow 157 
 
 shelter. Here she forgot her widowhood 
 and found her childhood. Here, in the 
 beautiful garden, or at her lessons, helping 
 with cooking, or leaning lovingly on the arm 
 of Ramabai's chair, she passed many sweet 
 and useful years. By and by she found the 
 greatest joy in love higher and better than 
 human love can ever be. Later, when a 
 beautiful young womanhood had crowned 
 her, she was sought by an earnest, enlight- 
 ened young Christian as his wife. 
 
 Many of the millions of child-widows in 
 India never find release from the bonds of 
 cruel custom and false religion. In Hindu- 
 ism there is no hope for such accursed ones.
 
 DIFFTCULTIES OF DOCTORING IN 
 INDIA 
 
 From "Between Life and Death," the story of 
 the medical work of the Church of England Ze- 
 nana Missionary Society in India, China and 
 Ceylon, by Irene H. Barnes. 
 
 A medical missionary often has cause to 
 wonder how many of her medicines are ad- 
 ministered according to directions. After 
 repeating her orders again and again, a 
 dialogue something like the following fre- 
 quently ensues: 
 
 "Now how is this medicine to be taken ?" 
 the missionary asks. 
 
 "It shall be taken just as you say," the 
 patient replies. 
 
 "Well; what have I said?" 
 
 "Please say it again, and I shall know." 
 
 No neat phial is brought for the physic, 
 but a piece of cocoanut shell or a little 
 brass saucer. To prescribe a "teaspoonful" 
 or a "tablespoonful" is all one to people who 
 eat with their fingers, and have no use for 
 knives, forks or spoons. 
 
 158
 
 Doctoring in India 159 
 
 If a quarter of the medicine does them 
 good one day, they drink up all that is left 
 the next day, and make themselves ill. 
 
 A whole bottle of medicine intended for 
 three or four days is frequently taken in 
 one dose, in spite of ample warning and 
 explanation. 
 
 If the doctor should mix the medicine 
 with water from the dispensary, the patients 
 would not touch it, as it would break their 
 caste. All prescriptions must be made up 
 with water brought by them in vessels of 
 their own. 
 
 Their use of metaphor is a fertile cause 
 of difficulty to beginners in the language. 
 
 Some time ago a woman came to a dis- 
 pensary complaining of fever and a cough ; 
 but she spoke of the fever as a snake, and 
 the cough it had left behind as the trail of 
 the snake! 
 
 Amusing incidents constantly occur. Out- 
 patients of a hospital come and show their 
 own tongue and pulse when they want 
 medicine for others. 
 
 "Give me the same medicine as you gave 
 my friend just now," is a frequent request, 
 irrespective of difference in malady. Others 
 put the doctor's powers to the test by re- 
 fusing to give an account of their symptoms.
 
 160 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "If she is a clever doctor," they declare, 
 "she will find out for herself." 
 
 Their hakims 1 , they say, can find out 
 the diagnosis and treatment without any 
 inquiries. They can tell what is wrong by 
 feeling the pulse of one hand, and whether 
 the patient will recover by feeling the pulse 
 of the other. Patients hate examination, 
 and as their hakims do not trouble them 
 with this, they object to the methods of 
 the medical missionary in this respect. 
 
 l Priest doctors.
 
 HOW WE DUG THE WELL 
 
 From "Village Work in India" by Norman 
 Russell, missionary of the Canadian Presbyterian 
 Board of Missions. 
 
 One day Raghu 1 came up to Mhow with 
 that same woebegone expression and look 
 of final disappointment that he had worn 
 when the Brahmans decided to drive him 
 out. 
 
 "Ham kya karen, Sahib?" (What can we 
 do?) and tears of discouragement filled the 
 old man's eyes. "The river is dried up, 
 and the Brahmans refuse us the use of the 
 village wells." 
 
 It appeared that the excuse had been 
 given that the vessels they brought would 
 destroy the villagers' caste. 
 
 "But, Sahib Ji," said Raghu, "this is not 
 the true reason. Many a time have I drunk 
 water at the village wells, and never been 
 refused till they learned I was a Christian. 
 
 a Raghu was a native Hindoo, who had be- 
 come a Christian, and was suffering under per- 
 secution from his pagan neighbors. 
 161
 
 1 62 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Why, to-day, Sahib, they wouldn't give me 
 a drink the whole way in from Parlia; I 
 wasn't able even to wet my lips." 
 
 And I thought of the terrible road be- 
 neath the mountains and the blinding, 
 smothering heat of that mid-summer day. 
 Of all the agonies the human system is 
 called on to endure, perhaps none is so ter- 
 rible as that of thirst. Well may you who 
 have never known such suffering, have pity 
 for the dwellers on India's plains when 
 the skies are brass and the breasts of mother 
 earth are dry. 
 
 I knew Raghu's contention to be correct, 
 and that the closing of the wells was only 
 one of the special persecutions by which 
 the villagers visited their spite on those who 
 became Christians. I could have appealed 
 to the English officials but the feeling had 
 run so high that I determined, if possible, 
 to avoid their interference. 
 
 We laid the matter before God, and it 
 was decided to try for water on our own 
 little piece of ground, as, if we could have 
 a well of our own, the question of water 
 would be forever settled. 
 
 The excavation of a well in this land of 
 continual sunshine and terrible thirst is not 
 only a work of considerable expense, as,
 
 How We Dug the Well 163 
 
 being more of the nature of a cistern, it 
 must be both wide and deep, but also a 
 source of great virtue, and is usually in- 
 itiated with much ceremony. It created no 
 little talk, therefore, among the villagers, 
 when it became known what the Christians 
 were intending to do. 
 
 The piece of -land we owned was a bare 
 narrow strip at one side of the village. The 
 houses of the Christians, together with a 
 room for the missionary, had been built to- 
 wards the rear end, on the highest part of 
 the compound. 
 
 The natural place for the well, in the 
 opinion of the villagers, would have been 
 the low ground at the front of the lot. 
 But after prayer for guidance, it was de- 
 cided to dig it in the higher Snd, behind the 
 houses. 
 
 Without any ceremony beyond this sim- 
 ple prayer the tools were brought and the 
 work begun. No sooner, however, were 
 the first few clods removed than almost the 
 whole village flocked over the thorn hedge 
 into the compound to see and criticise. The 
 village people are very voluble, and there 
 was no lack of spokesmen. 
 
 "What is going on here?" several began 
 to ask*, as they crowded round the workers.
 
 164 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 "We are digging a well," the Christians 
 replied, without ceasing their work. 
 
 "But you have not consulted the pun- 
 dits," objected one old wiseacre with tooth- 
 less jaws. "Nor called in the priests/' 
 added a hanger-on at the temple. "Ye have 
 made no offerings to the gods," sneered a 
 young man, a clerk in the kachahri, in con- 
 vincing tones. "Nor feasted the Brahmans," 
 objected another. 
 
 And so the stream of criticisms, taunts, 
 and jeers rolled on, ending in the final as- 
 surance, which was evidently the judgment 
 of the crowd. "You will get no water, ab- 
 solutely none." 
 
 "But we have prayed to God who made 
 the water," answered the Christians, "and 
 He will give it to us." 
 
 "Wan!" they replied, in a tone which 
 meant a good deal more than it said. And, 
 as if to convince them that any God the 
 Christians might believe in did not know 
 much, one of the Brahmans, who had been 
 prominent in the opposition, added : "There 
 is no water here. There is the place for 
 witer," pointing to the lower end of the 
 lot. 
 
 ""Rut wo have asked God about the place, 
 and we believe this is where He wants us
 
 How We Dug the Well 165 
 
 to dig. We will surely get water," the 
 Christians answered with much earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 At which, with a loud chorus of "Wah! 
 Wah!" and much shrugging of the shoul- 
 ders, the crowd turned disgusted away. 
 
 There was no real obstruction placed in 
 the way of the work, for even the Brahmans 
 had too much reverence for the digging of a 
 well to attempt that. But day after day, 
 as the excavation went on, the people would 
 come to the side of the well, and pour out 
 the same expressions of contempt. 
 
 On the second or third day, when the 
 broad hole, some twelve or fourteen feet 
 in diameter, was beginning to get well 
 through the upper soil, a shrewd-looking 
 farmer, who with a companion was watch- 
 ing operations, remarked in no very com- 
 plimentary terms: "The fools! this is a 
 stony place; there is no water here." 
 
 And sure enough, as if to further try 
 their faith, our people soon struck rock, 
 much to the gratification of the evil proph- 
 ets. But it turned out to soft rock, 
 readily excavated with pick and shovel, and, 
 contrary to the usual nature of morum soil, 
 remained soft most of the way down. On
 
 166 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 this being pointed out, the villagers had 
 only the same assurance. 
 
 "That may be so, but still you will get 
 no water." 
 
 And it looked as though the villagers 
 were right, as day after day our men 
 wrought away at the stone, and still no 
 moisture appeared. 
 
 "What did you expect?" the onlookers 
 asked; "they are Christians." 
 
 But the men toiled on in faith, praying 
 every day that God would give them not 
 only the water they so urgently needed, but 
 grace to bear with the taunts of the vil- 
 lagers. For these simple Christians believed 
 not only that God was with them, but that 
 He had chosen the very site on which they 
 were digging, and that therefore they were 
 bound to succeed. 
 
 But it was slow work ; the soil, though it 
 might have been worse, was still rock; the 
 pick points had to be remade daily; and, 
 now that they were too deep for the coolies 
 to travel up the winding pathway with the 
 refuse on their heads, it had to be hoisted 
 up toilsomely a basketful at a time, by 
 means of the well rope. 
 
 They had now been digging for several 
 weeks without any signs of water and every;
 
 How We Dug the Well 167 
 
 day they were getting nearer and nearer 
 the great trap bed which underlies the whole 
 soil of Malwa and Nimar ; this reached with- 
 out finding water, their hopes would be at 
 an end. 
 
 As the hole grew deeper and deeper, the 
 prayers grew more earnest and frequent. It 
 was now not merely a question of getting 
 water; to them the very God of the Chris- 
 tians was assailed and His faithfulness at 
 stake. The men never seemed to tire; the 
 rest hour was shortened, even the time for 
 meals was grudged from the well. The 
 great heat, the unusual labor, the unfriend- 
 liness of the villagers, all were forgotten in 
 the excitement of expectancy. Even the 
 women gave a hand and helped with the 
 baskets. 
 
 Deeper, still deeper, yet how slowly the 
 hole crept downwards; they were stripped 
 to the waist, and the sweat was rolling down 
 their sides; the rock was growing harder 
 and the great blocks of morum more diffi- 
 cult to dislodge; and yet, as they looked 
 round upon the uneven well-bottom, torn 
 into rude crevices and ragged ridges, only 
 the hard, dry stone appeared. 
 
 But suddenly Raghu, dropping the basket 
 he was loading, rushed to the side of the
 
 i68 Fifty Missionary Stones 
 
 well, and began to examine carefully the 
 bottom of a great slab of stone. 
 
 "See !" he exclaimed, excitedly, holding 
 up his hand. "Is not this water? Strike!" 
 he shouted to the man with the pick; but 
 without waiting for him to obey, he seized 
 the implement himself, and with a mighty 
 blow and a still mightier upheaval tore 
 away the face of the slab. 
 
 "Again !" shouted the three excited men, 
 as the broken stone revealed sure signs of 
 moisture on the soft rock beneath; and 
 again the pick sank deep into the damp 
 morum. And then, as the old man tore it 
 away, the water bubbled out, trickling in a 
 discolored stream into the crevices beneath. 
 
 "Shabash!" "Bahut achchha!" the shout 
 of joy broke in varied exclamations from 
 their lips ; only, however, to be immediately 
 checked, as they saw the hole quickly widen 
 and the stream of water grow clearer and 
 increase. It seemed to them as though 
 a subterranean reservoir must have been 
 struck; and for a moment or two the in- 
 stinct of self-preservation occupied their 
 whole attention ; quickly the men were 
 drawn up in the basket, the last tying the 
 tools to a rope, ere with nervous haste he 
 scrambled out of the water, now fast ap-
 
 How We Dug the Well 169 
 
 preaching his knees; and they were barely 
 out of the well before the place where they 
 had been working was rilled with water. 
 
 Down on their knees they dropped in a 
 brief prayer of thanksgiving; and then, 
 could you blame them? a feeling of exulta- 
 tion and triumph burst up in their hearts, 
 and, rushing out into the village street, they 
 shouted : 
 
 "We've got water ! We've got water !" 
 
 The villagers would not believe it until, 
 hurrying out of shops and houses, they 
 rushed to the side of the well and saw it 
 for themselves. Then more than one ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "It's true, they've got water !" 
 
 Into all the countryside went the news 
 that the Christians had procured water in a 
 well where even the Brahmans prophesied 
 they would fail, and that without the aid of 
 priest or pundit or any service to the gods. 
 And from all the villages round about the 
 people came to see the "J esus Christ well," 
 as it was commonly called. 
 
 It was the best sermon we had ever had in 
 the district. From that day we heard no 
 more of the Christians' being turned out; 
 the well had conquered, and the followers 
 of Tesus were received into the community.
 
 170 Fifty Missionary Storiei 
 
 A few weeks later they were holding a serv- 
 ice in the house of the Kamasdar, preach- 
 ing to some of their once bitter opponents 
 of the love of Jesus.
 
 THE WINNING OF THE BRECS 
 
 From "Soo Thah: A Tale of the Making of 
 the Karen Nation," by Alonzo Bunker, D. D. 
 
 Away to the eastward, over the water- 
 shed, several days' journey beyond Wee-la- 
 kaw, Soo Thah's 1 first mission field, there 
 lived a very savage tribe about which little 
 was known save that they were notoriously 
 bad, and reckless fighters. 
 
 In tours up and down the churches and 
 villages, the teachers had often looked away 
 to that range of mountains, and wondered 
 how they might reach the wild tribes living 
 beyond them. They were called Brecs and 
 so great was the fear of them among their 
 neighbors, that their country was seldom 
 entered. They lived largely by plunder, 
 and were said to be fond of uncooked meat 
 and blood. 
 
 Only a few years before, they had at- 
 tacked a village occupied by teacher Saw 
 Ah, and carried his wife and two children 
 into captivity. 
 
 J A native Karen evangelist or teacher. 
 171
 
 172 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 At the great annual assembly of the Karen 
 churches, the question of sending teachers 
 to this tribe was brought up in the mission- 
 ary meeting. When the elders called for 
 volunteers for this work, there was silence. 
 It was not strange that the young men 
 hesitated. Saw Ah's case was ever before 
 them. Men would have sprung to their 
 feet for work in almost any other field. 
 But who would dare go to the blood-thirsty 
 Brecs? 
 
 During the appeal, Soo Thah had bowed 
 his head for a few moments, evidently in 
 prayer. Then he rose to his feet ; and few 
 will ever forget the look of noble purpose 
 that overspread his face, as he said very 
 simply, almost as if talking to himself : 
 
 "I am sorry for the poor Brecs, who 
 know nothing of Yuah, 1 or his law to men. 
 I am very unhappy because no one goes to 
 them with the great tidings. If my church 
 will give me leave, I will go." 
 
 In the midst of profound silence, the 
 chairman arose and said : 
 
 "It is enough, Soo Thah will go to the 
 Brecs. Let us pray." And the vast aud- 
 ience bowed their heads, while the leader 
 
 1 The Karen name for God.
 
 Winning of the Brecs 173 
 
 poured out his heart in prayer for their 
 first missionary to this savage tribe. 
 
 "But, Soo Thah, you do not propose to 
 go alone to the wild people, do you?" some 
 one asked him afterwards. 
 
 "Yes," he replied; "if Yuah sends me, 
 he will take care of me." 
 
 "But you do not know the road, and the 
 way is long and lonely." 
 
 "Yuah delivered me from the mouth of 
 a bear," Soo Thah replied, "and also from 
 death when, crossing a swift stream, I was 
 swept among the rocks. He also saved me 
 from the mouth of a tiger. He will be 
 with me in this work, no matter how diffi- 
 cult." 
 
 Committing his family to the care of his 
 church, and taking his Karen bag with a 
 testament and hymn-book, Soo Thah com- 
 menced his long journey. He was escorted 
 by the disciples from village to village, until 
 he reached the boundary of English terri- 
 tory; then he pushed on alone over a path 
 of which he knew nothing, except that it 
 led into the country of the Brecs. The sec- 
 ond day he reached the foot of the water- 
 shed. 
 
 This range of mountains towers six thou- 
 sand feet above sea-level, and is covered
 
 174 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 with a thick forest to its summit. When he 
 reached the top, there lay before him the un- 
 known country he was seeking. Here and 
 there in the distance, he could mark the lo- 
 calities of the villages, by the smoke of 
 their fires. Proceeding eastward he selected 
 his way as Yuah seemed to lead him. 
 
 As the way now led down the mountain- 
 side, he made rapid progress. In the course 
 of the afternoon, he drew near to a village, 
 but the number of paths was confusing; 
 yet, using his knowledge of jungle life, he 
 finally approached it aright. Had he been 
 left to his own choice, this was the last vil- 
 lage he would have selected in which to 
 begin his holy mission. It was the most 
 wicked of them all. Here lived the most 
 notorious band of cut-throats in all the land. 
 But God was with him ; he was in the path 
 of safety and success, though led among 
 lions. 
 
 Fortunately he met no one until he passed 
 a turn in the road, where suddenly he found 
 himself at the entrance of the village. Then 
 a dozen men saw him at once. The women 
 and children, screaming in alarm, ran for 
 their lives into their homes. They evidently 
 thought the stranger was the advance of an 
 attacking party. The men seized their
 
 Winning of the Brecs 175 
 
 spears and knives, and rushing forward, 
 surrounded our hero with cries and threat- 
 ening gestures. They were a band of fierce 
 savages, moved with anger, and several 
 poised their spears, and raised their long 
 knives, crying: 
 
 "Kill him ! Kill him ! He is a spy sent by 
 our enemies. Cut him down !" 
 
 And they would have done so, had not 
 Soo Thah stood there unmoved, quietly 
 looking into their angry faces. What a 
 picture of Christian heroism ! Yet he him- 
 self did not regard it so. 
 
 "Do men of war," he asked as soon as he 
 could make himself heard, "do spies, go 
 about in the daytime alone and unarmed, 
 as I am ? See !" and he pulled from his bag 
 his Testament and hymn-book. "See ! Are 
 these the weapons of bad men?" 
 
 His coolness, as a shield, had stayed the 
 hurling of the spears, or the thrust of the 
 knives. 
 
 "This is the white book," he said, "of 
 which our ancestors have told us from an- 
 cient days 1 . It speaks. Listen!" 
 
 T The Karens had a tradition of a "white book" 
 given them by a great Spirit with whom they 
 had lost fellowship.
 
 176 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 Then he read from the hymn book, trans- 
 lating as he read, for the dialect of the tribe 
 was not that of the book. Then he sang. 
 It was the first book ever seen by these 
 people, the first Christian song ever heard. 
 
 Soo Thah was a sweet singer, and any 
 one would be fascinated with his melodious 
 voice. But now he was singing for his 
 life. The Spirit of God was upon him. 
 The great love which Jesus had put into 
 his heart for this lost people rounded and 
 softened the melody of the song. It smote 
 upon the savage and angry hearts of these 
 wild men like the warm rays of the sun on 
 a block of ice. What wonder that their 
 spears sought the ground, and their swords 
 their sheaths. It was as if an angel had 
 suddenly descended from heaven and stood 
 in the midst of them. 
 
 One song finished, another was called 
 for, until he was weary. Then, having won 
 their attention, he boldly announced to them 
 the glad message Yuah had sent him to de- 
 liver. As they listened they began to say 
 one to another: 
 
 "This cannot be a bad man. We never 
 saw bad men do this way." 
 
 "He talks as. Saw Aw does," another 
 joined in, "and he is a good man."
 
 Winning of the Brecs 177 
 
 "Are you a Jesu Kree man, and a brother 
 of Saw Aw?" still another asked. 
 
 "That I am," answered Soo Thah. ' : Do 
 you know Saw Aw?" 
 
 "Know him !" exclaimed several, "he is 
 with the great chief of the Red Karens. 
 His heart is white. His lips speak true 
 words. He is kind to the poor and sick. 
 We know him, though he has never been 
 here and only a few have seen him." 
 
 "Did he not cure me of fever with bitter 
 white powder, when I went with presents 
 to the great chief?" another said. 
 
 "Yes, he was kind to us, though our 
 fathers carried off his wife and children," 
 still another said : "We never saw anything 
 Tike it." 
 
 Thus Soo Thah won a notable victory, 
 and was received to the best they had ; and 
 they listened gladly to the message he had 
 been sent to deliver. 
 
 For some time he remained teaching them 
 about the love of Yuah, and reasoning 
 with them about the folly of their lives of 
 violence and crime. 
 
 Having opened wide this door, Soo Thah 
 began to be anxious concerning his family; 
 so he reluctantly closed his visit and re-
 
 178 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 turned to his village ; and finally he made his 
 report to his white teacher in the great city. 
 After a few years a church of forty mem- 
 bers was organized, other villagers joined 
 in the movement, and schools and churches 
 grew up ; all as a result of Soo Thah's brave 
 expedition to the Brecs.
 
 KIM OF KOREA 
 
 From "Korean Sketches," by the Rev. James 
 S. Gale, B. A., of the American Presbyterian 
 Mission, Wonsan, Korea. 
 
 We had gone northeast to plant a Chris- 
 tian mission on the coast of Korea. We 
 found a home and then announced to this 
 strange people the object of our coming. 
 On the first day of meeting the room was 
 filled and in the farthest corner sat a little 
 oldish man, with face afire, listening while 
 I read. At the close he stood and made 
 an address of his own. 
 
 "This doctrine," said he, "tells a man 
 to hate his father and mother and marry 
 his brother's wife. Wrong? Of course! 
 Away with it! Everybody knows its 
 wrong." 
 
 He left indignant, but he came again, and" 
 the fiery face grew pinched with listening. 
 He drank in the words : 
 
 "Rest for the wanderer; bread for the 
 hungry; all who are troubled, come! And 
 3he man that was dead heard His voice ; and 
 
 179
 
 180 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 the poor outcast woman found that He 
 cared for her; and the thief, who deserved 
 to die, was taken home to heaven ; and He 
 Himself suffered with His hands nailed 
 through and His feet torn, and His gar- 
 ments bedraggled with blood." 
 
 The tears had come, and old Kim was on 
 his feet. With tenderness in his voice he 
 told the people that he did not know how 
 or why, but the story of Jesus was for him. 
 He trusted that his heirt was at peace with 
 God, the first time in fifty years. 
 
 There was great consternation among the 
 people. Kim's face was changed, the look 
 of woe upon it was gone, and an expression 
 of peace written upon it. He went to the 
 elders of the village and told them what had 
 been done for him. They were all upset 
 and the town was in confusion, for Kim 
 prayed so loud at night that he terrified the 
 people. They in turn offered sacrifice, and 
 cried to their gods to save the town from 
 the spirit that had entered it. 
 
 One, bolder than others, defied God, 
 threatened Kim, and blasphemed in his poor, 
 ignorant way, and left for his home under- 
 neath the hills. But a great rain came, and 
 a part of the hill slid off and buried the
 
 Kim of Korea 181 
 
 man; then Kim prayed that God would 
 save the people and stop the landslides. 
 
 Gradually, from a wicked man, Kim be- 
 came what all the townsfolk called a good 
 man, though a little crazy. They nicknamed 
 him Chom Yung Kam, (Little Old Man). 
 Little he was in the eyes of his countrymen, 
 and older than his age, for he lived not here, 
 but beyond the eternities in the life to 
 come. Only a year remained for him, and 
 it was a hard year of suffering. 
 
 "Once," he said, "I was cutting grass 
 for fuel, and the weariness was so great that 
 I knelt down among the reeds to tell Him 
 of it ; then he gave me such peace and such 
 indescribable delight. Oh! If the people 
 only knew it, they would all believe in 
 Him." 
 
 But we had no suitable meeting house in 
 which the people could gather to hear, and 
 times were very hard. I told Kim I feared 
 it was out of the question, but he rebuked 
 me, saying: 
 
 "Brother ! who runs this world ?" 
 
 With that he went to the end of the 
 veranda and prayed and shouted so loud, 
 that all the people in the town could hear 
 him. He wanted a meeting house in which
 
 1 82 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 to preach the good news, and he thanked 
 God for the promise of an answer. 
 
 The meeting house is built now, but Kim 
 never saw it, for his body was already sleep- 
 ing in the dust awaiting the resurrection. 
 To the last he was faithful, and when life 
 was nearly ended and strength gone, he 
 gave us who were left strength and en- 
 couragement. 
 
 Death and the resurrection ! The wisest 
 seek in vain by wisdom to find out what 
 they are and have to give up the search and 
 die forgotten; while a poor old heathen, 
 who has never known anything, finds the 
 secret and dies triumphantly. 
 
 On a sunny slope among the pines, near 
 his little mud cabin, there is a green mound 
 that marks his grave. We knew him less 
 than two years; and after all he* was only 
 a poor backwoods Korean, but his going 
 meant loneliness to us and his memory 
 brings the tear*.
 
 THE MISTAKES OF MISSIONARIES 1 
 
 A young missionary to China sent his 
 servant out into the street to buy something. 
 He was gone all day. Late in the evening 
 he came back with his wheelbarrow, look- 
 ing tired and discouraged. When asked 
 where he had been, he replied : 
 
 "Mr. L. sent me out to get him six wives, 
 and I could not find one!" 
 
 Shortly after her arrival in India, a young 
 lady missionary was allowed to order break- 
 fast for the household, in order to test her 
 progress in the language. She intended to 
 ask for fresh eggs, but used the wrong 
 words, saying to the astonished cook, "You 
 may bring us, this morning, an old blind 
 man, nicely boiled!" 
 
 'Missionaries to foreign lands have a good 
 many wrestling matches with the language be- 
 fore they finally master it. The mishaps with 
 strange tongues herewith presented have been 
 gathered from many sources, but all are well 
 authenticated. 
 
 188
 
 184 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 A missionary, wishing to announce a 
 public meeting at the church on a certain 
 day, announced that they would hold a "big 
 rooster" there. 
 
 Another missionary told his servant to 
 bring him the "window-sill." 
 
 A young lady, visiting her sister who was 
 a missionary in Mexico, had only a slight 
 knowledge of the language. One day she 
 ran into a gentleman on the street. Bow- 
 ing, she said, as she thought, "Beg your 
 pardon." Afterward she learned that she 
 had said, "By your permission !" 
 
 A lady missionary in China once sent her 
 servant out to buy her some "courage " 
 What she really wanted was beef-gall ! 
 
 A lady missionary in Brazil requested 
 her servant to bring her some little article 
 that she needed at once. The servant stead- 
 fastly refused to obey her orders. With 
 great indignation she went to her husband 
 to lay complaint, only to learn to her dismay 
 that she had asked the man to kiss her ! 
 
 A missionary once announced that a
 
 Mistakes of Missionaries 185 
 
 "great fish" had destroyed the crops. He 
 meant a great rain. 
 
 Mr. H. is a stalwart missionary with 
 strong muscles and broad shoulders, sur- 
 mounted by massive head and a firm under 
 jaw. One Saturday night he called in his 
 cook to see if he had been honest in his 
 accounts. "Honest," in Chinese, is "Savan 
 Jang," while "Da Jang" means to fight. 
 When the cook came in, Mr. H. told him he 
 wanted to "Da Jang" with him. The poor 
 fellow turned pale and trembled before this 
 young American giant, wondering what he 
 could have done. He was much relieved 
 to see Mr. H. get out his book and pen 
 with which to settle the accounts. 
 
 Another missionary in China gave a 
 pretty little dinner party to her friends. At 
 the proper time she ordered the servant to 
 bring in the fruit. He objected; she in- 
 sisted ; he refused ; she grew angry. Finally 
 he left the room, and soon returned with 
 an air of supreme contempt, bringing his 
 master's every-day trousers carefully ar- 
 ranged on a large platter!
 
 NOVEL SIGNS IN JAPANESE 
 CITIES 
 
 From an article contributed by the Rev. F. E. 
 Clark, D. D., to The Century Magazine. 
 
 In the larger cities of Japan many of the 
 shopkeepers are not content with one lan- 
 guage, and that their own, but evidently 
 have applied to a sign painter who has ac- 
 quired that dangerous thing, a little knowl- 
 edge of English, without drinking deep at 
 the Pierian spring, for a "shingle" that shall 
 express to the world in Western characters 
 the nature of their business. The assurance 
 of these sign painters is not matched by their 
 familiarity with English spelling, construc- 
 tion, moods, and tenses; and the result is 
 often amusing in the extreme. For in- 
 stance, one is amazed to see in Tokyo a sign 
 that boldly announces. 
 
 A TAILOR CUT TO ORDER. 
 Another one informs us 
 
 PHOTOGRAPHER EXECUTED 
 HERE. 
 
 18ft
 
 Novel Signs 187 
 
 'A hatter in Kobe announces that he sells 
 
 GENERAL SORT STRAW HAT. 
 and another informs the public that he is a 
 DEALER NEWANDSTILISHSTRAW- 
 
 HAT 
 
 WILL MAKE TO ORDOR. 
 The new and remarkable word of twenty- 
 one letters in his sign is a puzzle for the 
 uninitiated. Another, who evidently be- 
 lieves that brevity is the soul of wit, has 
 placed over his door 
 
 BISCUIT THE WINE. 
 Still more laconic is the merchant who an- 
 nounces himself as a 
 
 SHIRTAILER. 
 
 It is not strange that single letters should 
 get out of place, as in 
 
 RESTAURAND, 
 MEALS AT ALL HOUSE, 
 SHOES MANUFACTUOARY, 
 CIGARAND AND CIGARETTED, 
 and the like. But it does seem as if a wag 
 with a keen sense of humor had been at 
 work when we read, as we do in a promi- 
 nent street of Osaka, 
 
 ER-MAN-WASH. 
 Put the last syllable first, and you will
 
 1 88 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 catch the thought. A wag, too, must have 
 prepared the label for a dealer in borax, who 
 after extolling the purity and value of his 
 preparation, put in large letters at the bot- 
 tom: 
 
 BEWARE OURTRADEMARK. 
 Perhaps the same joker prepared the adver- 
 tisement for a chocolate firm, which highly 
 praised the excellence of its unrivalled 
 chocolate, and then announced that it "was 
 warranted to contain other ingredients." 
 REAL ESTATE LONE AND COR- 
 RECTING AGENCY, 
 appears in Tokyo, a place, perhaps, for bad 
 boys and girls. 
 DRAW FOR WISH. OIL PAINTING 
 
 PORTRAIT, 
 also appears in the same city. 
 
 Public signs and notices are often as 
 amusing as the shop signs. For instance, 
 this one that appears on the way up the 
 famous Bluff at Yokohama : 
 IT IS FORBIDDEN TO THROW THE 
 STONE A MAN IS BEING 
 WOUNDED. 
 
 Probably in some past year a stone 
 thrown over the bank hit a passer-by, but 
 the man is still being wounded.
 
 Novel Signs 189 
 
 At a temple door we read : 
 
 ALL VISITOR ARE NOT ALLOW 
 
 TO ENTER THIS TEMPLE PUTTING 
 
 ON THEIR SHOE. 
 
 Hence, of course, we took off our shoe. 
 
 It will take a linguist to unravel this 
 notice, which I copied from a poster on the 
 side of a house in a little fishing village on 
 the shore of the Inland Sea. 
 
 TO LET GRAUND IN BEACH 
 
 WHEN IF YOU LIKE I WILL DID 
 
 AWAY FROM STEET AND WILL 
 
 TAKEN DIRTY COTTAGE. 
 
 On mature deliberation of several savants 
 it was decided that the owner meant to say 
 that if we rented his lot on the beach he 
 would move his house from the street, and 
 also take away the "dirty cottage" that now 
 encumbered his ground. 
 
 After all, a study of signs in Japan is not 
 altogether productive of amusement. The 
 enterprise of the nation is typified, and its 
 eagerness to enter into the commercial 
 arena with the best of the traders. Its 
 self-confidence, too, that is not dazed by 
 any little difficulty like a wrong letter or 
 article, is admirably illustrated. It is also 
 a significant fact that only English is at-
 
 190 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 tempted. We see no German or French 
 signs, and even all the railway stations are 
 named in English as well as in Japanese. 
 All these straws show to which direction the 
 trade winds of Japan are blowing. 
 
 The following possible explanation of 
 the "Er-man-wash" sign was sent to Dr. 
 Clark after his article appeared in The 
 Century by Rev. M. L. Gordon, D. D., the 
 eminent missionary to Japan: 
 
 Often the signs are printed on the double 
 sliding paper doors of the shop. But these 
 doors may be pulled the wrong way, and 
 then the sign looks queer. Thus "Barber" 
 becomes : 
 
 BEB 
 
 BAE 
 
 In the same way 
 
 WASH- 
 
 ER-MAJt
 
 Novel Signs 
 
 is easily transformed into 
 
 EE-MAN 
 
 WASH- 
 
 Dr Gordon adds : 
 
 Did you see this sign: "Ladies' Jrurs 
 made from their own skins ?"
 
 JAPANESE ETIQUETTE 
 
 From "The Gist of Japan," by Rev. R. B. 
 Peery, A. M., Ph. D., of the Lutheran Mission, 
 Saga, Japan. 
 
 In many instances forms of politeness 
 are carried to a ridiculous extreme in Japan. 
 
 When you give a present, no matter how 
 nice, you must apologize by saying that it 
 is so cheap and insignificant that you are 
 ashamed to lift it up to the honorable per- 
 son, but if he will condescend to accept it 
 he will make you very happy. 
 
 If you receive a present you must elevate 
 it toward the top of the head (as that is 
 considered the most honorable part of the 
 body) and at the same time say it is the 
 most beautiful thing on earth. 
 
 When you are invited to dinner the invi- 
 tation will carefully state that no special 
 preparation will be made for the occasion. 
 At the beginning of the meal the hostess 
 will apologize for presuming to set before 
 you such mean, dirty food, and will de- 
 clare that she has nothing whatever for you 
 
 192
 
 Japanese Etiquette 193 
 
 to eat, although she will doubtless have a 
 feast fit for a king. Even if it should not 
 be good, you must say that it is and praise 
 it extravagantly. 
 
 The greetings between friends are some- 
 times very amusing. I have often over- 
 heard such conversations as the following. 
 Two men meet in the street, bow very low, 
 and begin as follows: 
 
 A. "I have not had the pleasure of hang- 
 ing myself in your honorable eyes for a 
 long time." 
 
 B. "I was exceedingly rude last time I 
 saw you." 
 
 A. "No; it was surely I who was rude. 
 Please excuse me." 
 
 B. "How is your august health ?" 
 
 A. "Very good, thanks to your kind as- 
 sistance." 
 
 B. "Is the august lady, your honorable 
 wife, well?" 
 
 A. "Yes, thank you ; the lazy old woman 
 is quite well." 
 
 B. ''And how are your princely chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 A. "A thousand thanks for your kind in- 
 terest. The noisy, dirty little brats are well, 
 too." 
 
 B. "I am now living on a little back
 
 194 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 street, and my house is awfully small and 
 dirty ; but if you can endure it, please honor 
 rne with a visit." 
 
 A. "I am overcome with thanks, and 
 will surely ascend to your honorable resi- 
 dence, and impose my uninteresting self 
 upon your hospitality." 
 
 B. "I will now be very impolite and 
 leave you." 
 
 A. "If that is so, excuse me. Sayonara,"
 
 MAKING MONEY FOR GOD 
 
 From "A Maker of New Japan, Rev. Joseph 
 Hardy Neesima, LL. D.," by Rev. J. D. Davis, 
 D. D., professor of theology in Doshisha Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 *I am not a college man, and it was the 
 bitter disappointment of my life that I 
 could not be one. I wanted to go to col- 
 lege and be a minister; went to Phillips 
 Academy to fit. My health broke down, 
 and in spite of my determined hope to be 
 able to go on, at last the truth was forced 
 on me that I could not. 
 
 To tell my disappointment is impossible. 
 It seemed as if all my hope and purpose in 
 life were defeated. "I can not be God's 
 minister," was the sentence that kept roll- 
 ing through my mind. 
 
 *The Hon. Alpheus Hardy, the princely bene- 
 factor of countless good causes, who educated the 
 great Japanese Christian, Dr. Joseph Hardy Nee- 
 sima, once told this thrilling story of his experi- 
 ences to the Psi Upsilon Society at Amherst Col- 
 lege, of which he had just been made an hon- 
 orary member.
 
 196 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 When that fact at last became certain to 
 me, one morning, alone in my room, my 
 distress was so great that I threw myself 
 flat on the floor. The voiceless cry of my 
 soul was, "O God, I can not be Thy min- 
 ister !" Then there came to me as I lay there 
 a vision, a new hope, a perception that I 
 could serve God in business with the same 
 devotion as in preaching, and that to make 
 money for God might be my sacred calling. 
 The vision of this service, and its nature 
 as a sacred ministry, were so clear and joy- 
 ous that I rose to my feet, and with new 
 hope in my heart, exclaimed aloud: "O 
 God, I can be thy minister. I will go back 
 to Boston. I will make money for God, 
 and that shall be my ministry." 
 
 From that time I have felt myself as 
 much appointed and ordained to make 
 money for God as if I had been permitted 
 to carry out my own plan and been or- 
 dained to preach the gospel. I am God's 
 man, and the ministry to which God has 
 called me is to make and administer money 
 for Him, and I consider myself responsible 
 to discharge this ministry and to give ac- 
 count of it to Him.
 
 PULLING TEETH IN THE LAND OF 
 THE TOOTHACHE 
 
 From "From Far Formosa," by George Leslie 
 Mackay, D. D., missionary of the Canadian Pres- 
 byterian Church in Formosa. 
 
 Dentistry is a most important depart- 
 ment of medical mission work in Formosa. 
 
 Toothache, resulting from severe ma- 
 laria, and from betel-nut chewing, cigar 
 smoking and other filthy habits, is the abid- 
 ing torment of tens of thousands of both 
 Chinese and aborigines. There are number- 
 less superstitions cherished by the people 
 regarding the growth, defects and treat- 
 ment of the teeth; and the ways by which 
 they attempt to drive out the black-headed 
 worm, believed to be gnawing inside and 
 causing toothache, are some of them amus- 
 ing, some disgusting, and some, indeed, 
 ingenious. 
 
 The methods by which the natives extract 
 teeth are both crude and cruel. Sometimes 
 the offending tooth is pulled with a strong 
 string, or pried out with the blade of a 
 
 19?
 
 198 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 pair of scissors. The traveling doctor uses 
 a pair of pincers or small tongs. It is not 
 to be wondered at that the people all dread 
 the operation, as jaw-breaking, excessive 
 hemorrhage, fainting, and even death fre- 
 jquently result from the barbarous treat- 
 ment. 
 
 My first attempt to extract a tooth was 
 in 1873. On leaving Tek-chham with the 
 students one day we were followed by a 
 dozen soldiers who had been sent to watch 
 our movements. One of their number was 
 suffering intense pain from a decayed tooth. 
 
 "There is a worm in it," he said. 
 
 I had no forceps, but after examining it 
 I got a piece of hard wood, shaped it as 
 desired, and with it removed the tooth. It 
 was primitive dentistry, to be sure, but 
 the tooth was out, and the poor soldier wept 
 for joy and was most profuse in his grati- 
 tude. Years after, when a number of sol- 
 diers were reviling the "barbarian mission- 
 ary," a tall officer stepped forward and re- 
 proved them, saying that I was the teacher 
 who had relieved him of the toothache. 
 
 My first dental instruments were very 
 rude, having been hammered out by a na- 
 tive blacksmith to my directions. I now 
 have the very best instruments made in New
 
 Pulling Teeth 199 
 
 York. The lance is rarely used, and the 
 key, hook, punch or screw, never. A chair 
 is not needed, and with a hundred sufferers 
 waiting their turn, any elaborate prepara- 
 tions would be a waste of time. The Chi- 
 nese have considerable nerve, and endure 
 the pain wonderfully well. 
 
 Our usual custom in touring through the 
 country is to take our stand in an open 
 space, often on the stone steps of a temple, 
 and after singing a hymn, proceed to ex- 
 tract teeth, and then preach the message of 
 the gospel. 
 
 The sufferer usually stands while the 
 operation is being performed, and the tooth 
 when removed, is laid in his hand. To 
 keep the tooth would awaken suspicion re- 
 garding us in the Chinese mind. 
 
 Several of the students are experts with 
 the forceps, and \ve have frequently ex- 
 tracted a hundred teeth in less than an 
 hour. 
 
 I have myself, since 1873,* extracted 
 over twenty-one thousand, and the students 
 and preachers have extracted nearly half 
 as many more. The people now know that 
 they do not need to suffer the excruciating 
 
 was written in 1895.
 
 aoo Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 pain of toothache, and that they need not 
 run any risk in obtaining relief. 
 
 The priests and other enemies of the mis- 
 sion may persuade people that fever and 
 other diseases have been cured, not by our 
 medicines, but by the intervention of their 
 gods; but the relief from toothache is un- 
 mistakable, and because of this, tooth ex- 
 tracting has been more than anything else, 
 effectual in breaking down prejudice and 
 opposition.
 
 THE TESTING OF A HOA 
 
 From "From Far Formosa," by George Leslie 
 Mackay, D. D., missionary of the Canadian Pres- 
 byterian Church to Formosa. 
 
 A Hoa, my first convert in Formosa, 
 proved a faithful helper, and an apt and 
 diligent student. He was with me every 
 evening as I preached to the people, and 
 traveled with me, too, on short trips into 
 the country. 
 
 In the autumn of 1872, a few months 
 after his conversion, we visited Kelung 1 for 
 the first time. On the way we passed 
 through Bang-kah, the largest city in the 
 north, where the citizens shewed signs of 
 bitter hostility, and many followed, reviling 
 and pelting us with stones. A Hoa was 
 now becoming familiar with the taunting 
 cries that everywhere greeted us : 
 
 "Foreign devil! Black-bearded bar- 
 barian!" At Sek-kahn, on the banks of 
 the Kelung River, broken bricks gave em- 
 
 1 A city of northern Formosa. 
 201
 
 2O2 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 phasis to the cries when our backs were 
 turned. A Hoa was early learning that the 
 path of duty in the service of Christ is 
 sometimes rough and sore, as it was for 
 Him who first went up to Calvary. 
 
 At Kelung we stood on the stone steps 
 of a large heathen temple, sang a hymn or 
 two, and immediately the crowd gathered, 
 filling the open space and the street. It was 
 a mob of angry idolaters. Some of them 
 were A Hoa's old acquaintances, and when 
 they saw him stand beside the hated "for- 
 eign devil," their contempt for the Christian 
 missionary was as nothing compared with 
 their feelings toward the Christian convert. 
 
 I turned to A Hoa and invited him to 
 address the people. It was a moment of 
 testing. He had never before spoken for 
 Christ in the public street. It was only a 
 few months since he himself had first heard 
 the Gospel. He heard the scornful and vile 
 words of his old friends and comrades, and 
 when I turned and asked him to speak, he 
 was silent and hung down his head. 
 
 Immediately I read the first verse of a 
 hymn and we sang it together. The words 
 were those of the old Scotch paraphrase 
 that has so often put iron into the blood
 
 The Testing of a Hoa 203 
 
 and courage into the hearts of trembling 
 saints. 
 
 "I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, 
 
 Or to defend His cause; 
 Maintain the glory of His cross, 
 
 And honor all his laws." 
 
 It was enough. A Hoa raised his head, 
 and never again was he "ashamed." Look- 
 ing out over that angry mob, he said in 
 calm, clear tones of a man who believes 
 and is unafraid: 
 
 "I am a Christian. I worship the true 
 God. I can not worship idols that rats can 
 destroy. I am not afraid. I love Jesus. 
 He is my Savior and Friend." 
 
 His testimony was brief, but it was brave 
 and true. It is easy now for a young man 
 to take his stand for Christ in Formosa; 
 there are other converts to cheer and en- 
 courage him. The words uttered by A Hoa 
 to that crowd of rough and bitter heathen 
 before the idol temple in Kelung, were the 
 first ever spoken for Christ to that genera- 
 tion by a native Christian in North For- 
 mosa.
 
 JOHN SUNDAY'S APPEAL TO MR. 
 GOLD 
 
 From "The Apostle of the North, James 
 Evans," by Egerton R. Young. 
 
 John Sunday, the famous Indian preach- 
 er was, perhaps, the homeliest Indian in 
 the land. Yet when his face lighted up, 
 and his eyes began to twinkle, everything 
 was forgotten but his inimitable talk. 
 
 He could charm and fascinate an au- 
 dience, playing upon their feelings like a 
 master musician on an organ. Whenever it 
 was known that John Sunday was to speak, 
 the halls and churches were crowded. In 
 his wonderful conversion, we see the power 
 of the Gospel to uplift and save, for as he 
 tells us, he was once a poor, drunken Mis- 
 susagas Indian. 
 
 At a great missionary meeting held in 
 Toronto, he gave a powerful address, ap- 
 pealing to the vast audience for his poor 
 Indian brethren in their wretched wig- 
 wams. His closing sentences of appeal for 
 
 204
 
 John Sunday's Appeal 205 
 
 financial help were characteristically quaint 
 and original. 
 
 "There is a gentleman I suppose now in 
 this house," he said. "He is a very fine 
 gentleman, but he is very, very modest. He 
 does not like to show himself. I do not 
 know how long it is now since I saw him, 
 he comes out so little. I am very much 
 afraid he sleeps a great deal of his time, 
 when he ought to be going about doing 
 good. His name is Mr. Gold. 
 
 "Mr. Gold, are you here to-night? Or 
 are you in your iron chest ? Come out, Mr. 
 Gold ! Come out and help us do this great 
 work to preach the Gospel to every crea- 
 ture. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Gold, you ought to be ashamed 
 of yourself, to sleep so much in your iron 
 chest! Look at your white brother, Mr. 
 Silver; he does a great deal of good in the 
 world, while you are sleeping. Come out, 
 Mr. Gold, from your iron chest, and fly 
 around like your active brother, Mr. Silver. 
 
 "And then, Mr. Gold, just think of your 
 active little brother, Mr. Copper. He is 
 flying about doing all the good he can. Be 
 active like him! 
 
 "Come out, Mr. Gold ! Do come and help
 
 206 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 us in this good work. But if you really 
 can not come yourself, well, do the next 
 best thing you can that is send us your 
 shirt, that is, a bank note."
 
 FOUR INDIANS AND A KEG OF 
 WHISKEY 
 
 From "The Apostle of the North, James 
 Evans," by Egerton R. Young, missionary to the 
 Cree and Salteaux Indians. 
 
 The great curse of the Indian is fire- 
 water. Their love for strong drink is their 
 greatest weakness. 
 
 When America was discovered, the In- 
 dians had no intoxicants. They were con- 
 tent to drink the water from the streams 
 and lakes. But the white man introduced 
 his spirituous liquors among them, and 
 many and grievous have been the evils that 
 have followed. 
 
 Mr. Evans and other missionaries insist- 
 ed on all Indian converts becoming total 
 abstainers from all intoxicating liquors. In 
 some places this met with fierce opposition 
 from unprincipled white men who had been 
 thriving on the trade of selling fire-water 
 to the Indians. They were furious when 
 this trade fell off and tried by various 
 schemes to get the Christian Indians drunk. 
 an
 
 208 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 On one occasion four Indians from Mun- 
 cey Town went to the white settlement to 
 trade. The trader tempted them to drink 
 some whiskey, but they refused, saying they 
 were Christians. 
 
 Finding he could not succeed, he thought 
 perhaps they were afraid lest some one 
 should see them drink and tell the mission- 
 ary, and that if they could take it on the 
 sly they would drink as heretofore. Know- 
 ing the road they would take home, he put 
 a small jug of whiskey by the side of the 
 Indian trail at the edge of a sloping bank, 
 and hid himself in the bushes beneath, 
 thinking to enjoy the sport of seeing them 
 drink when all alone. 
 
 At length they came along in Indian file. 
 Suddenly the first one stopped and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "O, mah-je-mum-e-doo sah-oomah ah- 
 ya h: Lo, the evil spirit (the devil) is 
 here." 
 
 The second, on coming up, said : "Aahe, 
 nebeje mahmahsah: Yes, we smell him." 
 
 The third shook the keg with his foot and 
 said: "Kagnit, nenoondahwahsah : Of a 
 truth me hear him." 
 
 The fourth Indian, coming up, gave the
 
 A Keg of Whiskey 209 
 
 keg a kick, and away went the fire-water, 
 tumbling down the hilL 
 
 The four then went on their way, like 
 brave Christian warriors, leaving the mor- 
 tified white heathen to take up his keg and 
 drink the devil himself.
 
 THE STARVATION CURE 
 
 From "On the Indian Trail," by Egerton R. 
 Young, missionary to the Cree and Salteaux In- 
 dians. 
 
 The food used by the missionaries was 
 the same as that on which the Indians 
 lived. 
 
 My Indian fisherman and I used to catch 
 about ten thousand whitefish in gill nets 
 every October and November. These we 
 hung up on great stages, where they froze 
 as solid as stone. A few hundred we 
 packed away in the snow for use in the fol- 
 lowing May, when those left on the stages 
 began to suffer from the effects of the warm 
 spring. 
 
 These ten thousand fish were needed by 
 the missionary's family and his dogs. The 
 faithful dogs from whom so much was re- 
 quired, lived on them all the time, while 
 the family of the missionary had them on 
 the table twenty-one times a week for six 
 long months. 
 
 So many have inquired how Mrs. Young 
 210
 
 The Starvation Cure 211 
 
 and I managed so long to live and thrive, 
 and keep our health and spirits, on an al- 
 most exclusive fish diet, that I here give 
 the plan we pursued. 
 
 We were in good health, and charmed 
 with and thankful for our work. We both 
 had so much to do that our appetites were 
 generally very good, and we were ready for 
 our meals as soon as they were ready for us. 
 
 Still, after all, the very monotony- of the 
 unchangeable fish diet sometimes proved 
 too much for us. We would, perhaps, be 
 seated at the breakfast table, neither of us 
 with any appetite for the fish before us. 
 We would sip away at our cup of tea with- 
 out apparently noticing that the fish were 
 untasted, and chat about our plans for the 
 day. 
 
 "My dear," I would say, "what are you 
 going to do to-day?" 
 
 "I am going to have Kennedy harness up 
 my dogs," 1 she would answer, "and drive 
 me up the river to see how that old sick 
 woman is getting on and take her a warm 
 blanket I promised her. I will also stop 
 to see how the sick babies and Nancy's little 
 
 1 Mr. and Mrs. Young each had a favorite dog- 
 train for traveling among the Indians.
 
 212 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 twins are progressing. In the afternoon I 
 want to drive to York village and see Oose- 
 memou's sick wife what is your day's 
 programme ?" 
 
 To my good wife's question, my answer 
 would be after this fashion: 
 
 "Well, first of all, word has come that 
 \volves have been visiting our fish-cache, so 
 I have arranged to drive over there with 
 the dogs to see the extent of the damage. 
 We may be detained some hours making 
 the place strong, so that they can not get 
 the fish if they come again. The rest of the 
 day I will spend in that vicinity, visiting 
 and praying with the neighbors." 
 
 Having taken our tea, we had prayers, 
 and soon after began carrying out the pro- 
 gramme of the day. 
 
 It was after dark ere all the work planned 
 was accomplished, and we met in our little 
 dining-room for our evening meal. It was 
 really the first meal of the day ; for we had 
 a tacit understanding that, when times ar- 
 rived that we could not really enjoy our 
 fish diet, we would resolutely put in the 
 whole day's work without tasting food. The 
 result was, that when we drew up to the 
 table after having refused the morning 
 breakfast and ignored the mid-day meal, we
 
 The Starvation Cure 213 
 
 found that our appetite, even for fish, had 
 returned, and we enjoyed it greatly. And 
 what was more, the appetite remained with 
 us for some considerable time thereafter. 
 
 Hunger is a good sauce; and we found 
 and others have made the same discovery, 
 that when the appetite fails, and there is 
 a tendency to criticise, or find fault with 
 the food, or even with the cook, a volun- 
 tary abstinence for two or three meals will 
 be most beneficial for mind and body, and 
 bring back a very decided appreciation of 
 some of God's good gifts which hitherto had 
 been little esteemed.
 
 JACK, THE FAMOUS MISSIONARY 
 DOG 
 
 From "My Dogs in the Northland," by Eger- 
 ton R. Young, missionary to the Cree and Sal- 
 teaux Indians. 
 
 In the numerous invitations which 
 were continuously received for lectures and 
 addresses, after our return from the North- 
 land, there was the constant request: "Be 
 sure and bring Jack." 1 
 
 The result was, that as I traveled up and 
 down throughout the Provinces of Ontario 
 and Quebec, Tack was as well known to 
 thousands as was his master. In the large 
 halls and lecture rooms, as well as in many 
 of the largest churches, Jack, the famous 
 missionary dog, was ever a welcome visitor. 
 When the speakers assembled on the plat- 
 form and the music and speaking began, 
 he had an honorable place among the par- 
 
 *Jack was a giant St. Bernard who had ren- 
 dered notable service in the famous dog-trains 
 used by Mr. Young in his long winter journeys 
 among the Indians of the north. 
 214
 
 The Missionary Dog 215 
 
 sons and others of that class, and none who 
 knew of him and his work ever thought of 
 disputing his right to his place among those 
 most highly honored. 
 
 On the railroads Jack became a great fa- 
 vorite with the trainmen. When I started 
 off with him on a railway journey, I always 
 took him to the baggage car and left him 
 there, with orders to remain until we 
 reached our stopping place, and then I 
 would come for him. He well knew what 
 was expected of him and cheerfully obeyed. 
 
 At the different places where the train 
 stopped, Jack would frequently jump out 
 on the platform while the baggage men 
 were busy with the trunks or other bag- 
 gage. But he never got left. In some way 
 or other, he seemed to knov; when it was 
 his duty to spring in the car again. He was 
 very obedient to my orders to wait at the 
 baggage car until I came for him. This he 
 always did, with one notable exception. 
 Then he disobeyed orders most decidedly. 
 But before you court-martial him, or even 
 censure him, listen to the story and then 
 see if you would have found Jack guilty. 
 
 Mrs. Young and I, with Jack, were com- 
 ing up from Trenton to Toronto on the 
 Grand Trunk railway. Jack, as usual, was
 
 216 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 put in the baggage car, while Mrs. Young 
 and I were in the last car in the train. 
 
 We had hardly been traveling more than 
 an hour, when some obstruction threw the 
 engine and all of the cars off the track. The 
 baggage car, which, as usual, was next to 
 the engine, turned sideways and went down 
 a small embankment. This erratic move- 
 ment caused the sliding door in the lower 
 side of the car to fly open. The instant 
 the door thus opened Jack sprang out (as 
 we were afterwards told). He struck the 
 ground before the car ceased moving and 
 rolled over in the dirt, but quickly rose up 
 unhurt, and disappeared from view of the 
 taggage men. 
 
 Such was the speed with which we were 
 going, that the car in which Mrs. Young 
 and I were sitting was broken almost com- 
 pletely off its running gear. Fortunately 
 no one in our car was hurt. 
 
 We, of course, all sprang at once to our 
 feet and rushed for the door. We were 
 thankful to find that it had not jammed, so 
 that we were able to get out very quickly. 
 As our seat had been very near the door, 
 we were about the first to rush out. We 
 were excited by the cries of those injured 
 or confined in the cars in front, and were
 
 The Missionary Dog 217 
 
 anxious to help. But before I had run 
 many yards, there was Jack, coming with 
 all the speed imaginable. 
 
 The instant he recognized me he gave a 
 howl of delight, and springing upon me, 
 he threw his great fore-paws around my 
 neck and held me with a grip like a bear, 
 while he kissed me repeatedly in dog fash- 
 ion, and howled out his joy that I had es- 
 caped injury. 
 
 When I could get him down and quiet 
 his delight a little, he saw Mrs. Young, and 
 away he rushed for her, -and again we had 
 an exhibition of his delight that we had 
 both fortunately escaped without injury. 
 
 His remarkable conduct on this occasion 
 attracted much attention from a number of 
 people, and there was much discussion and 
 speculation* afterwards about Jack's actions 
 on that day. These are the facts as they 
 occurred and they are worthy of study.
 
 THE TAMER OF THE TSIMSHEANS 
 
 f 
 
 From "The Story of Metlakahtla," by Henry 
 S. Welcome. 
 
 Remembering how the white Christian 1 
 had come among them with so much self- 
 sacrifice to lead them out of darkness, the 
 Indians of Metlakahtla felt it to be incum- 
 bent upon themselves to carry the Gospel 
 to their less privileged brethren. 
 
 Native missionaries went out at their own 
 expense, giving their message in simple, fig- 
 urative language, yet with an earnestness 
 that carried conviction. Hunters and fish- 
 ermen, mingling with the people of other 
 villages, told them of the changes wrought 
 by the new life, and parties of traders jour- 
 neying far inland or voyaging along the 
 coast, bartering for furs, each did their 
 share of the work. 
 
 Nor was it by their words alone that they 
 
 1 William Duncan, a young Englishman who 
 carried the Gospel to the Tsimshean Indians of 
 British Columbia. 
 
 218
 
 Tamer of the Tsimsheans 219 
 
 gave their evidence. Here were men, now 
 mild and peaceful, who had once been a ter- 
 ror to the whole coast. What had wrought 
 the change? 
 
 After being visited by a company of these 
 Christian Indians, a chief and several head 
 men of the Chilkats, a fierce tribe living 
 some five or six hundred miles north on 
 the Alaskan coast, ventured to pay a visit 
 to Metlakahtla, the model village of which 
 they had heard such wonderful stories. 
 
 Just before landing, as was customary on 
 visiting a settlement, they arrayed them- 
 selves in all their magnificence of barbaric 
 finery, intending to impress the people with 
 their greatness and importance. As they 
 approached in solemn state, Mr. Duncan 
 was notified of their coming, and urged to 
 put on his Sunday best, because the savages 
 were in gorgeous trappings and would 
 despise him if he were poorly dressed. He 
 had on his common working clothes and 
 was in the midst of some important work, 
 which he could not drop at the moment. 
 
 As the Chilkats' superb canoes kissed the 
 beach, they leaped out and were cordially 
 received by the Metakahtlans. They were 
 struck with utter amazement at the sight 
 of the buildings, the manner in which the
 
 22O Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 people were clothed, and the general ap- 
 pearance of thrift and civilization on every 
 hand. They were impatient to see the great 
 master who had wrought all these wonders. 
 
 Mr. Duncan had made no change in his 
 dress, for at all times he sought to discour- 
 age the love of pomp and foolish display 
 which he found so deeply rooted in these 
 naturally vainglorious people. When the 
 Chilkats were escorted to him, and he was 
 pointed out as the benefactor, they looked 
 over and beyond him, saying: 
 
 "We can not see him. Where is he ?" 
 
 And when the modest, plainly-clad little 
 man greeted them, and his personality was 
 made clear, they preserved their counte- 
 nance in stolid rigor to maintain their own 
 great dignity, and uttered no word save a 
 formal greeting. 
 
 Despite their efforts to conceal their 
 thoughts, they betrayed great astonishment ; 
 they evidently thought they were being de- 
 ceived. Mr. Duncan, evincing great cor- 
 diality, conducted them to his house, and 
 gave them the customary seats of honor 
 for distinguished guests. They continued 
 to look at him in utter silence for some 
 time; then, unable to contain themselves 
 longer, they cried out:
 
 Tamer of the Tsimsheans 221 
 
 "Surely you can not be the man! We 
 expected to see a great and powerful giant, 
 gifted in magic, with enormous eyes that 
 could look right through us and read our 
 thoughts! No, it is impossible! 
 
 "How could you tame the wild and fe- 
 rocious Tsimsheans, who were always 
 waging war, and were feared throughout 
 the whole coast? It is only a few years 
 ago that all this country was a streak of 
 blood, now we see nothing but white eagles* 
 down I 1 We can hardly believe our own 
 eyes, when we see these fine houses and 
 find the Tsimsheans have become wise like 
 white men! They tell us you have God's 
 Book, and that you have taught them to 
 read it. We want to see it." 
 
 When the Bible was placed before them, 
 and they were told that it was by following 
 its teachings that the Metlakahtlans had be- 
 come enlightened, each one touched it rev- 
 erently with the tip of his finger and said: 
 
 "Ahm, ahm" (It is good, it is good). 
 
 The visitors tarried for several days, dur- 
 ing which they marvelled at every new 
 wonder of civilization which they beheld. 
 Mr. Duncan seized every opportunity to im- 
 
 ^Their emblem of peace and amity.
 
 222 Fifty Missionary Stories 
 
 press upon them the fundamental truths 
 which had brought about this change. He 
 showed them that the prosperity and ma- 
 terial benefits which they witnessed were 
 the reward of adopting the new life. 
 
 This lesson was not lost upon them ; they 
 returned to their homes resolved to adopt 
 the Christian white man's ways.
 
 From "A Short History of the Moravian 
 Church," by J. E. Hutton, M. A. 
 
 Among the motley medley that lived 
 about the Castle 1 was an old gray-haired 
 Jew, called Rabbi Abraham. One bright 
 June evening Count Zinzendorf met him, 
 held out his hand and said: 
 
 "Gray hairs are a crown of glory. I can 
 see from your head and the expression of 
 your eyes that you have had much ex- 
 perience, both of heart and life. In the 
 name of the God of Abraham, Isaac and 
 Jacob, let us be friends." 
 
 The old man had never heard such a 
 greeting from a Christian before. "Begone, 
 Jew," had been his usual salutation. He 
 was struck dumb with wonder. His lips 
 trembled, his voice failed, and big tears 
 
 'The old castle Marienborn in which Count Zin- 
 zendorf made his home during his sojourn in 
 Wetteravia.
 
 224 Fifty Missionary Stones 
 
 rolled down his wrinkled cheeks upon his 
 flowing beard. 
 
 "Enough, father," said the Count, "we 
 understand each other." 
 
 From this moment the two were friends. 
 The Count went to see him in his dirty 
 home, and ate black bread at his table. One 
 morning before daybreak, as the two 
 walked out, the Jew said: "My old heart 
 is longing for the dawn. I am sick, yet 
 know not what is the matter with me. I 
 am longing for something, but I know not 
 what I seek. I am like one who is chased, 
 yet I see no enemy, except the one within 
 me my own old evil heart." 
 
 Then Count Zinzendorf opened his lips 
 and declared the Gospel of Christ. He 
 painted Love on the Cross; he described 
 that love coming down from holiness and 
 heaven; he painted in glowing colors how 
 Christ met corrupted manhood, that man 
 might become like God. 
 
 As the old man wept and wrung his 
 hands, the two ascended a hill, where stood 
 a lonely church. And the sun rose, and its 
 rays fell on the golden cross on the church 
 spire, and the cross glittered brightly in 
 the light of heaven. 
 
 "See, Abraham!" said Zinzendorf, "a
 
 Count Zinzendorf 225 
 
 sign from heaven for you. The God of 
 your fathers has placed the cross in your 
 sight, and now the sun rising from on high 
 has tinged it with heavenly splendor. Be- 
 lieve in Him whose blood was shed by your 
 fathers, that God's purpose of mercy might 
 be fulfilled, that you might be made free 
 from all sin, and find in Him all your sal- 
 vation." 
 
 "So be it," said the Jew as a new light 
 flashed on his soul. "Blessed be the Lord 
 who has had mercy upon me," 
 
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