The American Missionary

THE

AMERICAN MISSIONARY.

American Missionary Association.

The Advance will please accept our thanks. In a recent issue it quotes almost the entire financial article published in the May American Missionary, and then editorially comments as follows:

“The Advance seconds the motion for a movement all along the line to save the American Missionary Association from the calamity of a threatened debt. May and June are magnificent months for doing good things. The whole world opens out in beauty. Blossoms, songs, abounding life, are everywhere. What a hint to close-clasped pocket-books to come out from their hiding places and join with the lilacs and apple trees and the birds and the forests and the fields in making everybody happy with their generous outflow. The New West is out of debt; the Home Missionary Society is out of debt. Let ministers and churches and sympathetic friends see to it that when the financial year ends the American Missionary Association can join in the same glad refrain—out of debt!”

The prime object we have in view in urging our appeal for increased contributions at the present time is that, if possible, we may obtain relief from threatening financial embarrassment before the summer months are upon us. When the ministers are in their own pulpits, and when the people are in their own pews, then is the time to make an effort. Unfortunately for some years past, we have been obliged to make special appeals during the summer months. We had no option. It was appeal or suffer. We have always felt the disadvantage. We were obliged to call, and yet we were conscious that those who ought to hear did not hear, and that many who heard felt constrained to do more than they really could afford. Many a time we would have gladly returned donations to friends who made altogether too great sacrifice in giving what they did. Cannot this evil be remedied? That is the question we wish to press during the few weeks that are now passing. Brethren and friends, before the vacation days come, can you not so roll up on your gifts to the treasury of the A. M. A. that when the summer is fairly here and you are gone to the[158] mountains, to the seaside, across the ocean, or elsewhere, our anxieties shall be allayed and the danger of our being obliged to make special appeals shall be averted? “’Tis a consummation most devoutly to be wished.”

Our Treasurer frequently receives gifts in the form of cherished keepsakes. These keepsakes are associated with the memory of loved ones now dead, and they represent much more than any money value can measure. A widow, to whom a watch was the chief material reminder of her husband, heard the appeal of the American Missionary Association, and having no money to give, sends that watch that it may be sold in the market and the money go into our work. A friend of hers, who sent the watch to us, writes: “Favored with but few of this world’s goods, yet not daring to plead this as an excuse for not giving, she felt heavenly drawings to give to the Lord this cherished memento of the dear departed one. Having known her for many years as a Dorcas in the church, I cheerfully write these few words, not because of the intrinsic value of the gift, but because it is indeed the widow’s mite, and in God’s sight the widow’s mite may be more than the costly offerings of the wealthy.” Such gifts greatly encourage us, because they tell of affection and devotion and sacrifice.

We wish to guard our work and friends from imposition. Not necessarily imposition in the bad sense. It is to shield them from making donations to objects that in themselves may be worthy, under the impression that they are giving to the work of the A. M. A., when they are doing no such thing. There are a great many schools, of one kind and another, that have been started at the South among the colored people by private parties, on a purely independent basis. Complaint comes to us frequently that circulars and letters begging for funds with which to carry on these independent enterprises are being continually received, and that funds are diverted from our treasury on that account. Many contribute in response to these appeals under the impression that they are giving to the A. M. A. These independent ventures differ from our work in one very important respect. All our institutions are under supervision and are held to a strict responsibility and scrutiny. These others to which we refer are irresponsible and not supervised. Many of them are carried on with what we should consider a great lack of economy, and some of them are in the field because those that control them were uncomfortable under supervision. They knew too much to be counseled with and would not be advised. We ask our friends to be careful in the confidence they give to every applicant, who, taking the files of the American Missionary, uses the United States post-office as a means of gaining entrance to their homes and[159] charity. We have no right to dictate to our friends where they shall spend their money. That is their own business. But we feel that it is our duty to advise them of the complaints that come to us, and to put them on their guard against imposition from every quarter.

The Color Line in Art.—The Art Students’ League of New York recently admitted to its membership Mr. Geo. Alex. Bickles, a colored youth of nineteen years. He is the first colored student ever admitted to the League. A few of the students were inclined to be angry because he was admitted. They wanted to draw the color line. They tried to work up a feeling of antagonism against the management. They called a meeting of the students, introduced a series of resolutions against the admission of colored students, but they were ingloriously defeated. To add to their chagrin, they were informed that even had their resolutions passed, the management would have taken no notice of them. Mr. Bickles is a bright young man, who until recently was a stable boy at Islip, L.I. He has a remarkable talent for drawing and painting, and his sketches are to be found in many a home in that Long Island village. Several prominent Brooklyn gentlemen having summer residences at Islip, recognized the young man’s ability and urged him to quit the stable and study art. This is the reason why he is now a student of the Art League, and there is this to his credit, that he has been admitted to its membership upon the merit of his work. In addition to being a good painter, he is also a fine musician.

A German, who owned a large plantation and many slaves near Savannah, Ga., at his death manumitted his slaves. Some of them were his own children. Two of his boys he sent to Germany and had them thoroughly educated. It was the design of the planter to have his property go to his freed children, as they were the only children he had. The war came and the State confiscated the property. One of the boys has been for many years a missionary of the A. M. A. He spends half an hour daily teaching German to the daughter of a prominent white citizen. Our missionary writes: “Yesterday, while busy teaching this little one, a visitor looked in and asked the mother in German, ‘What are you doing?’ She replied, ‘My little daughter is taking lessons.’ Visitor said something about ‘nigger.’ The lady held up her hand, as the stranger drew back in the next room, and said to him, ‘That is the German translator.’ The visitor answered, ‘Is that the one?’ The conversation was now carried on in an undertone. Whenever I go to discharge my duty at the above mentioned house, I am kindly treated. Whenever I call on the German Lutheran minister, Dr. Bowman, of Savannah, he treats me with kindness and respect. The language of the visitor made little impression on me, for in Germany I have [160]been taught to respect an honest man, not his color. The United States is a strange place.”

A Child’s Faith.—A little colored boy was in the room where his old grandmother was lying, suffering intense pain from rheumatism. It was in the evening. As he was leaving and said good-night to the old woman, she said: “Lewis, won’t you ask God in your prayers to-night to make grandma better?” “Oh, yes, I will, and God will make you better.” He went right away, and offered up his child’s prayer that God might take away his grandma’s pains and make her well. His mother, not knowing what had happened, incidentally asked him if he had prayed for his grandma. The little fellow, thinking that his mother knew all about it, replied: “Oh, yes, I did; but God hasn’t done so yet. I guess he is seeing about it, but he’ll do it.” Next morning he hastened to ask his grandma how she was. “I am better, thank God, this morning,” came the answer. At once he jumped about the room, clapping his hands, and cried out: “Didn’t I tell you God was seeing about it, and I am so glad that he did it! I knew he would!”

An educated Christian Chinaman, thoroughly acquainted with the teachings of Confucius, made the following comparison between Confucius and Jesus:

“They are like two bridges; they are both noble structures. You admire the strength of the timbers and the way in which they are framed together, forming the solid foundation and the graceful arch rising about it. You walk on the bridge of Confucius; it is all right till you come to the River of Death—there you see the black waters rolling before you, and there is no plank on which you may cross to the shore beyond. Jesus Christ is a completed bridge, over which you may safely pass to the Heavenly Home and to the mansion he has prepared for your eternal habitation.”

STANLEY AS A MISSIONARY.

In a recent interview between Mr. Stanley and a newspaper correspondent, the distinguished explorer said: “I have been in Africa for seventeen years, and I have never met a man who would kill me if I folded my hands. What I wanted, and what I have been endeavoring to ask for the poor Africans, has been the good offices of Christians, ever since Livingstone taught me during those four months that I was with him. In 1871 I went to him as prejudiced as the biggest atheist in London. I was out there, away from a worldly world. I saw this solitary old man there, and asked myself, ‘Why on earth does he stop here?’ For months after[161] we met I found myself listening to him and wondering at the old man’s carrying out all that was said in the Bible. Little by little his sympathy for others became contagious; mine was awakened; seeing his pity, his gentleness, his zeal, his earnestness, and how he went quietly about his business, I was converted by him, although he had not tried to do it. How sad that the good old man died so soon! How joyful he would have been if he could have seen what has since happened there!”

And thus have these great explorers demonstrated the power of sympathy and kindness even upon the most degraded of people.

LOOK ON THIS SIDE AND ON THAT.

There is a very ancient chestnut tree which has been shaken by many a traveler on his way. One of its nutshells has a word of wisdom in the story of two knights who contended about a certain shield. “It was gold.” “It was silver.” Both were sure, for did they not see it for themselves? Both were wrong, of course; people usually are who see one side. There were two sides to that shield.

The point of view has to do with what one sees. For example, when Rev. Doctor Field went South, the shield which he looked at on the way was burnished gold. He saw it. He wrote a book about it, which was honorable to his heart and to his eyesight. Everything was lovely and of good report down South. It was faith, hope and charity, but the greatest of all was charity. Then Editor Grady came to New York and told us in eloquence and imagination of the New South. The shield which he held up to us was gold studded with diamonds. “Very well, let it be gold, that is what we want,” was the hopeful response of tens of thousands until it has come to be the mode to say, “Surely it is gold. The era of good will and justice has come, and nothing either great or small remains for us to do.”

Those of us who have been praying and working for “the acceptable year of the Lord” could wish that this were so, but it remains true that an intelligent view is not a one-sided view. People may run through the South and get the view that leans to inclination. They may have delightfully warm receptions, but it takes a good many warm days to make a summer.

There is no doubt that there is a New South, that the beginning of the dawn of a glorious morning is lifting itself up. Thoughtful people in the South are realizing the trend of things. They are attent to the problems which present themselves. They are re-adjusting their opinions. A few leaders are coming into the realm of convictions which are quite other than those they once entertained. They are nobly meeting questions once ignored. This is the prophecy of the golden year for which the American[162] Missionary Association has been expending itself. From the time when the American Missionary Association planted its first Institution at Hampton, Va., until its last one was destroyed so lately by incendiaries at Quitman, Ga., it has waited patiently for Southern recognition of its work. This has been coming gradually, and we need not say that we appreciate it. Many have been convinced, some are urgently exhorting us to increased activities and service. Thoughtful Southern people do not look upon a population of another race, now numbering about seven millions, which averages upwards of seventy per cent of absolute illiteracy, with unconcern.

They begin to see what we are doing; they begin, in some respects, to feel with us. They even, in some slight measure, are co-operating with us.

This is the golden side. It is full of promise. But now if one should see this, and see this only, he would make a great mistake. That which centuries have cherished will not change in a life-time. It is true that it does not require the heroism of the past years for our teachers to go South now, but none of them, so far as we have learned, have been spoiled as yet by being too greatly honored. To illustrate the point of view, we quote from a recent issue of the Banner-Watchman of Athens, Ga. It reads: “About 8 o’clock in the morning of any school day a passer through the streets of Athens is met by great swarms of negro children on their way to be educated. * * * * The question naturally presents itself, who feeds and clothes and buys books for these pupils? We do not suppose that one negro in twenty has $10 worth of property, and they are paid, too, the smallest wages imaginable, barely sufficient to buy them coarse raiment and the plainest food, and yet they all seem not only able to keep their children in idleness (sic) but these children are nicely clad and have expensive books. The question then arises, who pays for all this? And the conundrum naturally arises, what are we educating these young negroes for? What can we do with them? The field for educated whites is narrow enough, and there is no opening for a learned negro, except the pulpit and the school bench, and these two avocations are now crowded to suffocation. Experience has taught that when you educate a negro you incapacitate him for manual labor; and to be a hewer of wood and drawer of water for the superior race is all the sphere that the African ever has or ever will creditably fill. (We forgive this unpremeditated murder of the Queen’s English.) Visit the chain gangs of Georgia, or any old slave State, and you will see that a little education, assisted by a linen duster, a cotton umbrella and a hymn book, is the best recruiting sergeant that the penitentiary has.”

“And yet the white people of our State, through the medium of politicians and office-seekers, are taking an enormous load of taxation on their shoulders (sic) to make convicts and vagabonds of the only class of labor they now have. To substantiate this statement we have only to refer to[163] Athens before and since public schools were established, and the history of our city is the history of every place in the South where the whites have consented to bear the burthen of educating the negro. There is (sic) ten times as much stealing in our midst now as before free schools were established, and the number of idlers has increased as many fold. So it is unkindness to the negro to lift him above his position.” In the same paper, a second article declares that the colored schools are rapidly “becoming nuisances.”

Now, it would not be just to say that the sentiments quoted above are those of the New South. They are not. It would be equally erroneous to deny that these views would be accepted by the great body of people living in the South. The New South to many means simply a new South for white people. Those who have had the misfortune to be the children of slavery are to most as yet not in the newness.

There is a New South that is becoming awake to the possibilities, the opportunities, and the duties, especially of the dominant race, but he shuts his eyes to serious facts, and to many sad ones, who is led to think that the movements which we herald with gladness are the thought and feeling of any large significance, or that they can do the work to which the American Missionary Association is consecrated. It will, we fear, be a long time yet before the South will become so new that it will spell negro with one g. And it will be as long perhaps before the poor and despised shall be so elevated and Christianized that people shall be ashamed to use two g’s where one is superfluous.

The appreciation which our work gains from noble and thoughtful people in the South is the bright side. We love to look upon this. But the fact that there are seven millions of colored people in the South, and probably not more than five hundred well educated colored preachers for them, is a fact not so bright. Our schools and theological seminaries are bright spots in the darkness. While we are grateful to note the fact that the thoughts of men are widening, we know that there is need of faith and patience, because there remains much land to be possessed. One need not go far from what is hopeful to find enough to excite concern for the future, and to urge him to relax no zeal to hasten the day when Christ shall make all things new.

When Southern newspapers can still print the opinion that education for the Negro is a recruiting agency for the penitentiary, and that colored schools are nuisances, we may be sure that the anxiety of thoughtful people, who are urging us to do a work which they cannot do and know not how to do, is very real.

As to the truth of such opinions, which are very common in the South, we have only to quote a sentiment of a modern philosopher, viz., “It is better not to know so many things, than to know so many things that ain’t so.”

THINGS TO BE REMEMBERED—NO. 1.

It seems to be a condition of every successful benevolent undertaking that there should be a constant recurrence to fundamental principles. The danger, in all mission enterprises, is that they will become perfunctory,—about so much to the society—rather than a contribution measured by the forces and the interests involved in its work.

It is only when we see the reason of things, and apportion our gifts according to the significance and value of our work on the Kingdom of Christ, that we give intelligently, wisely, steadily for its promotion.

The friends of the American Missionary Association, we believe, will thank us if we recall to their minds certain fundamental things, of which the Association’s work is only an expression.

The Work: Three historic heathen races are represented on these shores and engage the labors of the Association. These races number fully one-half of the human family, and, at least, three-fourths of the un-evangelized portions of the world. For eighteen centuries Christ has claimed them for his own, and long ere this would have received them for his inheritance had his people been obedient to his last command. But as we failed to go into all the world, he has sent the world to us, until the vast empire of heathendom pushes itself up to our very doors. Every day and every hour of the day we touch thousands and millions of China and Africa, and might, if we would, prepare them to be, respectively, the saviours of their country. It is not only possible, but it ought to be an easy thing to raise up out of the seven million blacks, out of the one hundred thousand Chinese, and out of the two hundred and seventy thousand Indians, teachers and preachers enough to give the gospel, with all its accompanying light and power, to the unnumbered myriads they represent still sitting in the shadow of death. The Chinese are returning homeward at the rate of thousands a year, and will all return, if they live, at their own charges. Who dare say it is not in our power to send them back with enough of the knowledge of Christ in their heads, and of his love in their hearts, to guide themselves and their countrymen to Heaven? Who dare say that we have not Christian power enough to bring every Indian in the land under the subduing influence of the Gospel: that we have not resources of every kind adequate to preparing thousands and tens of thousands of the sons and daughters of Africa to be the regenerators of their country?

And yet we have been in contact with the Negro and the Indian since the landing of the Pilgrims; and with the Chinese since the discovery of gold on the Pacific coast, without perceiving that our hand was on the unsaved millions of the globe, and that we had the opportunity to move and master them for Christ.

Has blindness happened to our churches that they do not see the meaning[165] of the presence of these races here, and that they look with such apparent indifference, not only upon questions of the gravest political import in connection with them, but questions involving the regeneration of continents? These populations are in our hands, and will be what we make them. We may train them to be the World’s teachers and leaders, or we may leave them and their races to the old night of heathenism. It is such an opportunity to do a magnificent Christian work for the human race as was never before offered to man. To take advantage of this opportunity is the special work of the American Missionary Association. And to no society in this or in any land is there entrusted a work broader in the possibilities of its influence, or mightier in the sources of its power.

C. L. WOODWORTH.

PLYMOUTH CHURCH, MINNEAPOLIS, ONCE A BENEFICIARY OF THE A. M. A.

Dist. Sec. Roy, in his address before the General Association of Minnesota, at Minneapolis, reported from official documents the early beneficiary relation between the Plymouth Church of that city and this Association. It appears that the Church, having been organized in 1857, had Rev. Norman McLeod commissioned as acting pastor in 1858, with $200 a year pledged. Under him the first church edifice was erected. It was a frame structure, 32×62, that cost $2,300, of which $300 was furnished by the “Building Fund.” The Church had then fifty members. In 1860 Rev. H. M. Nichols was commissioned at the same rate for the same Church. During his first year of service that new meeting-house was burned by the incendiarism of the saloon interest. A young man from New England in three years had run down to delirium tremens. Mr. Nichols was with him at his death, and on the Sabbath, referring to this affair in a temperance sermon, charged the murder upon the liquor traffic of the town. The liquor sellers were present, and “were infuriated like mad hounds.” Fifty ladies of the town waited upon the rum-sellers, begging them to abandon their traffic. They were answered by a flow of free rum that fired the crowd to do their desperate work of burning the church by using kerosene and burning fluid for kindling. An indignation mass meeting was held and a vigilance committee of fifty was appointed to act. “The town,” says Mr. Nichols, “will be cleared of liquor.” A revival was also reported for that same year. But just as Mr. Nichols was about to start east to solicit aid in rebuilding, he and his two children and a brother-in-law, with his two children, were drowned in Lake Calhoun.

In 1861 Rev. W. B. Dada was commissioned. The A. M. A. report speaks of the place as an “important field,” and mentions another revival as enjoyed there. The first man labored eight months; the second, seven months; the third, nine. This has proven a good investment, as the[166] contribution of this Church the last year to the A. M. A. was $508, and this is about the annual offering, and its total of church benefaction the last year was $35,263. In these years it has been a very mother of churches. It was this Church that, in 1873, entertained the meeting of the American Board, which had come to hold its anniversary upon the field of its first mission among the Sioux Indians.

At that time, 1860, there were also two other churches in Minnesota under the A. M. A., those of Traverse de Sioux and Brooklyn; and in the West there were seventy white churches under the commission of this Association. Among them, those of Charlotte, Mich., Sandwich, Ill., and Waterloo, Iowa.

We take the following from the Atlanta Constitution. We publish the whole of the article, from beginning to end, in order that there may be no opportunity for drawing wrong inferences. The Constitution is edited by Mr. Grady. We consulted the editorial columns to see if any editorial remarks had been made upon the incident. We did not find any. Surely the man who made that famous speech at the New England Dinner recently in New York could not have been in his office. If he were, and allowed such an incident as this to go unnoticed, very ugly inferences indeed must be drawn in reference to that New England Dinner speech. Just what is the New South, anyway?

“Something of a sensation was created at Tillman’s tent service, corner Hunter and Lloyd streets, yesterday afternoon. Early in the afternoon two white teachers in the Clark University entered the tent with eight or ten negro girls, who are students at the school, and seated themselves. Soon after the party entered the tent, ladies and gentlemen began arriving and in a short time the tent was crowded. Every seat except those reserved for the colored people was taken and many persons were standing up. One of the ushers, with a view to supplying seats for some who were standing, went to the negro girls and asked them to move to the seats set apart for their race. The girl to whom the usher spoke referred him to one of the teachers. Up to that time the usher did not know that the negroes and the two white women were together, but turning to one of them he asked her to have the negro women move to the seats provided for their race.

‘Why should they move?’ asked the teacher.

‘Because they are in seats reserved for the white ladies and gentlemen, and there are plenty of them standing. Those seats over there are for colored people and those women can take them.’

‘Well, I don’t know that there is any distinction as to color in a church and they won’t move,’ answered the teacher.

The usher seeing that a scene was probable if he insisted upon the negro women moving, sought Patrolman Whitley, who was near the tent,[167] and telling him that the tent belonged to the Rev. Mr. Tillman, asked him to remove the women. The patrolman entered the tent and approaching the party, repeated the request.

‘Well, we are satisfied with these seats,’ said the teacher.

‘I can’t help that,’ said the patrolman, ‘this tent belongs to Mr. Tillman and he wants these seats. Over there are seats for those negro girls. You ladies can remain here, but they must move.’

‘What difference does color make?’ asked the teacher.

‘I don’t know, only I know they must move. Now if they don’t go I will have to take you all out, and if I take you out I’ll make cases in police court against you. I am sorry to disturb you, but it is my duty.’

The two teachers and the negro girls held a consultation in a low tone a few minutes, and then arising from their seats swept out. When outside the tent one of the teachers called Patrolman Whitley to her and said:

‘I was never treated so shamefully before. I never knew before that one’s color made any difference in a church before the Lord.’

‘I don’t know what it does before the Lord,’ answered the patrolman, ‘but down South here it makes a difference. In this section we have nothing like social equality, and never will, in church or out of church.’”

THE SOUTH.

NOTES IN THE SADDLE.

BY FIELD-SUPERINTENDENT C. J RYDER.

In the “Notes” of last month I spoke of the floods that threatened the destruction of plantations and villages in Western Mississippi. From Mississippi I passed over into Texas, and this was passing from flood to drought. In some sections of the latter State there have been only two showers in as many years. Cattle are dying by thousands on prairie ranches. Water is held at fabulous prices, and in some sections it is impossible to get it, even for gold. The reports of suffering which come from the Western part of the State are painful in the extreme. All Christian hearts are turning in agonizing prayer to Him “who holds the waters in His hand.” Special prayer services are held in many places, and every Sabbath petitions are offered in the pulpits for rain. It is a fearful experience through which Texas is passing just now, and unless relief comes speedily the loss of property will be enormous, and the lives of the settlers will be endangered.

I wonder if there be any occult logical connection between the want of water and the prohibition agitation? However that may be, Texas is stirred to its centre by this temperance movement.

Next August a prohibitory amendment to the State constitution is to[168] be voted upon by the citizens. Churches, public halls and school houses are filled almost nightly with interested and excited audiences listening to the discussion of their political duties concerning this great moral question. The leading temperance advocates have confident hopes that this coming election will wheel the Lone Star State into line with the goodly number of prohibitory States. In the hotels, on the streets, in railway carriages, everywhere, prohibition is the absorbing question.

In the cars, as I journeyed from Paris to Dallas, two gentlemen sat just behind me. They were, of course, discussing this perplexing question of prohibition, although from their arguments I learned that they were both opposed to temperance legislation. One was a Georgian, the other a Texan. They both freely admitted that they “liked their bitters,” and neither believed in prohibition, “because, you see, it wouldn’t prohibit!” Said the Texan: “There always have been, and there always will be, certain besetting sins, and you cannot abolish them by law. People have kept getting drunk ever since Eve got drunk in the Garden of Eden, and I reckon they always will, and you can’t prohibit it by law.”

Poor old mother Eve! The apple must have had hard cider in it. This was the argument of a lawyer, and fairly averages the arguments urged throughout the State against prohibition. Agitation and fair discussion are all that are needed to convince every man that the thing to do with crime is to prohibit it. Every A. M. A. preacher and teacher was pronounced and energetic in his advocacy of this sound temperance principle. The influence of these Christian workers will be felt in the coming election. The colored vote is an important factor in the settlement of this question, and our A. M. A. workers will do their utmost to make it solid for prohibition.

The Sunday laws in Texas are strict and well enforced. Even at the news counter at the hotels, cigars and tobacco are not sold. Congregational leaven, or some other moral force, has agitated society most healthfully. Texas is a worthy example to many of our older States in respect to Sunday observance. There is now before the Legislature a law prohibiting hunting on Sunday, and there is every reason to believe that it will pass.

Tillotson Institute, the A. M. A. institution at the capital of the State, is demanding better facilities and larger accommodations. The school has outgrown its buildings. Its very prosperity makes additional expense necessary in order to do the work that is now pressing upon us. And there is every reason to expect still larger success for the school in the future under the management of its new president. It is the only institution which the A. M. A. has in the State, and it holds a commanding position. If it is largely and generously supported, its influence will be felt throughout the entire State.

[169]

A ride of forty miles across the lonely prairie, starting at midnight, was full of possible romances and imaginary dangers. The boy who drove got out of the buggy repeatedly “to feel for the road, sah.” As the track was so dim where other wagons had passed, and as there were no fences to mark the road, the only way to find it by night was to get down on one’s hands and knees and feel for it. Houses stood ten, twelve, and even eighteen miles apart. Wolves were all around us on the prairie. It would have been easy to have fancied that one was in danger, but there was no real danger, and when the light of the early morning came the ride was most delightful. The prairie was starred with flowers; thorny cactuses stood guard over more timid blossoms. Away back here on the prairie is Goliad, and in it an A. M. A. church and school. An old Mexican town, now in ruins, stands across a ravine a short distance from the present village. Here, in 1835, the terrible massacre of the American troops crimsoned the prairie grass. But it was the bloody baptism of freedom! The fetters of Mexican tyranny were broken. To-day this village is the centre of a large and exceedingly fertile farming region. The A. M. A. church is feeble, but full of hope and confidence. They own their meeting-house, and are thrifty and prosperous. They are pushing towards self-support. One of the church members teaches a day school. So in this out-of-the-way village on the prairies of Texas the A. M. A. is sowing the seed of a better Christian progress.

The local papers of Alabama have changed the spelling of the name of that State, and write it now “Alaboomer.” It is an appropriate change, for the whole State is in a fever of excitement over the “booms” in real estate. This rise in the value of property means increased work for the A. M. A. Children of small farmers can be spared from cotton and corn field as their parents become more prosperous, and thus our schools will be more crowded, if this is possible.

SENATOR SHERMAN AT FISK UNIVERSITY.

By invitation of the Republican members of the Tennessee Legislature, Senator John Sherman visited Nashville on his return to Ohio from Cuba, and on the night of the 24th of March delivered in the hall of the House of Representatives a public address on the issues of the day.

Dr. Theo. L. Cuyler said, a few mornings since, in addressing our students, that he had chosen to return home from New Orleans via Nashville in order to visit Fisk University, though he could spend only a few hours in the city; and that for a Northern man to come to Nashville and not see Fisk, would be like going to Washington and not seeing the Capitol.

The Mayor of Nashville followed the custom observed in the case of[170] other distinguished visitors, in providing in the programme of the day for Senator Sherman and his party a visit to Fisk University. Under the escort of distinguished citizens of Nashville, during the present year we have had the honor of visits from Judge Kelly, of Philadelphia, “the Father of the House of Representatives,” and his traveling companions; Charles Dudley Warner and the Harper party, and others. These occasions are always full of interest, and the University becomes an object-lesson to teach and illustrate the possibilities of Negro education; but Senator Sherman’s visit was in every way so pleasant and significant that it will long be a fragrant memory and quickening inspiration to both faculty and students. The Senator’s party, largely increased in number by the addition of distinguished citizens of Nashville and of the State, and even of adjoining States, and under the escort of the Mayor of Nashville, arrived in carriages at Livingstone Hall at half-past eleven A. M. After a few moments had been spent in greetings and introductions in the President’s room, all repaired to the chapel, where the students had been assembled in the order observed at our usual chapel worship. The Senator, on his appearance with the president of the University at the head of the procession as the guests filed into the chapel and took seats upon the platform, was greeted with most hearty applause. The students then sang, accompanied by the piano, organ and orchestra, “The Red, White and Blue,” which called forth hearty applause from the platform.

President Cravath, in a few well-chosen words, then introduced Senator Sherman. The students rose to their feet and stood in silence with eager, upturned faces, until the Senator began his address. His words were reported by one of the students, and were full of the kindest sentiment and the soundest practical wisdom. At the close of the address the Jubilee song, “Good News! The Chariot’s Coming,” was sung.

At the request of Senator Sherman, Gen. Grosvenor, formerly Lieutenant Governor of Ohio and now member of Congress, was introduced. He began by referring to the gallantry and bravery of the colored soldiers under his command, who made the desperate charge on the Confederate works on Overton Hill during the second day of the battle of Nashville, and to the conviction expressed then that the descendants of such brave, heroic men would under freedom prove themselves worthy citizens of the country their fathers fought to save from disruption. The General made an excellent point in favor of higher education by an illustration drawn from the war. He said: “When we called upon the colored men to become soldiers, we put the best Springfield rifles into their hands, for being under greater disadvantages than white soldiers, they needed the best possible weapons. So for your success as leaders and guides of your people under freedom, you need the best weapons, and so the advantages of a higher education are provided for you, and you should arm yourselves[171] with the best discipline, for you must fight your battles under unusual difficulties.”

Gen. Wheeler, a prominent citizen of Nashville, who fought on the Confederate side, was next introduced, and spoke a few words of most cordial greeting and congratulation.

The Mayor then tendered thanks in behalf of the party for the cordial reception that had been extended by the University, and announced that the limit of their time had been reached, so that they must ask leave to retire. The whole party then visited Jubilee Hall, and thus completed the inspection of the University. A quotation from the report of an interview with Senator Sherman, as published in the New York Herald and quoted in the Nashville Daily American of the 3d of April, will best convey the impression produced upon the Senator by his visit:

“Are the Southern Negroes devoting much attention to the matter of education? I never saw anything like it. Their thirst for knowledge has been greatly increased by the obstacles previously thrown in their way. There are several excellent colored universities in the South. Fisk University at Nashville is especially good. The young men and women attending it are bright and very intelligent. The young white people of the South must look well to their laurels or their black neighbors will soon lead them in the race for mental improvement.”

BY A TEACHER.

REMARKS OF SENATOR SHERMAN.

STENOGRAPHIC REPORT BY A FISK STUDENT.

This seems to me a very impressive scene. Most of you have grown up, indeed most of you have been born, since the event that secured your citizenship took place.

I am familiar with the object of “Fisk,” and Howard University in Washington; both are engaged upon the same work and are a tower of knowledge to a race of people that were denied all those privileges now so dearly cherished and so valuable to everyone. It seems almost an act of the genii or the golden lamp, like the story of The Arabian Nights. The rapid changes that have occurred and now are occurring, and the attainment of citizenship to a race that was a short time ago denied these privileges, seem only to have been made possible by the magical power of the wonderful lamp.

You are all now entitled by the Constitution and laws of the United States to the privilege of citizenship. Thirty years ago this could not be said of you in any State in the Union. Now, so far as law is recognized, you have the same rights as the proudest man or woman in the country. You must fit yourselves to enjoy these privileges. I am now getting to be an old man. Let me give you a word of advice. You must be patient in the progress you are making. You must meet the prejudice of centuries.[172] While you should assert your rights with dignity, you must be patient, endeavor to command the respect of those you meet, and you will see in the time near at hand that you will be given all your privileges. You must be guided and directed by the forces that govern all humanity, and, therefore, while you have the rights of American citizenship, you should do all that will materially help your race and those that are to come after you. You must be patient if sometimes you meet with difficulties and prejudice.

The Alumni of Fisk University will some day stand side by side with the graduates of Yale and Harvard. To help on this passage are the laws of education, the study of the sciences, the study of arts, and the study of the practical development and various resources you have at your command. It is this, young men and young women, that is to help you.

Now, with these simple remarks, with no desire to excite you, I again express the hope that the time will come when in the North, South, East and West you will be recognized as a race and as American citizens according as you behave yourselves and not according to your color and condition.

A CHURCH AND A SCHOOL TO A COUNTY.

The “Mountain Work,” which the A. M. A. has undertaken in the South, has a tendency to make those who engage in it enthusiastic, and we in the field sometimes almost mistrust that even our well-informed officers in New York, with all their appreciation of the need and greatness of the work before us, are accustomed to make a discount of seventy-five per cent. on all we write them. On the other hand, we know we have not been, and shall not be, able to make anyone who has not spent weeks here realize one quarter of the real needs of this field. One has to go into their poor homes and see them in sickness and in death; come into contact with them day by day, and feel the general intellectual and spiritual destitution; see some of them taking on noble, Christian manhood and womanhood, before he can fully comprehend the importance of the work.

The A. M. A., burdened with debt and beset with calls from other needy fields, has been able, so far, to devote but a small sum to this work; yet the work has gone on marvelously. It has been clearly shown what can be done.

I am sure the A. M. A. is ready to hear and heed the command of the churches to go forward, and even to take as a motto: A Church and a School in every County in the Mountains. It is with the hope of contributing a little to such a result that I give the following reasons why this should be done:

1. These counties contain from three to fifteen thousand inhabitants each—some of them even more. In most of them there is no day-school worthy of the name, no Sunday-school, no prayer-meeting, no educated ministry, no churches in which pure religion is taught or systematic work[173] of any kind is done. The majority of the people are good-hearted and respond readily to kind words and acts of love. They live mostly in wretched, windowless log-cabins, and know few of the blessings of a Christian land, having no luxuries and few of those things which are generally considered necessities. Physically, mentally and spiritually they need teaching and elevating. For the sake, then, of the two and a half millions already here, there ought to be a church and a school established at once in the county seat, or chief place of every county. From these centers the leaven would work through the whole region, and other churches would spring up about them as they are doing in Whitley Co., Ky.

2. The population is increasing very rapidly. Even the high death-rate from poor food, insufficient clothing, wretched houses, lack of nursing and of competent medical attendance, cannot keep down the increase. The children can be readily gathered into Sunday and day-schools. Another generation ought not to be permitted to remain in the condition of the present and past.

3. Then there is a third reason why this work should be undertaken at once on a much larger scale than at present. The attention of the outside world is turning to the wonderful resources of these mountains. It is becoming known that here is the richest undeveloped part of the United States. The great forests of valuable timber, the thick and easily-mined deposits of coal, the fine quality of iron ore close by the coal, and other undeveloped wealth, are already drawing men here in large numbers. The railroads are pushing their way among the mountains and immigration will add more and more to the population, and vastly more to the wealth. Villages are springing up, cities will soon follow, and before many years this region will be filled with an enterprising and well-to-do people.

Now is the time for the Christian influences which are to mould the future history of this people for good, to be set in motion from strategic points. Cannot the Congregational churches, which have the lead in Christian work here, arise in faith and take possession of the land in the name of the Lord?

There is one place which gives promise of being the future center of this whole region and the largest place in the mountains. It is now absolutely destitute of all elevating, religious and educational institutions. It is nearly one hundred miles from the nearest A. M. A. work. It is a village of three or four hundred inhabitants, with a thickly populated country all around it. A railroad is on the way to it, and it has such exceptional advantages that it can scarcely fail to become a large and important place. It ought to be occupied at once, for people are beginning to come in advance of the railroad and now is by far the easiest and cheapest time to start the work.

Is there not some man of consecrated wealth who will assume the financial part of establishing at once a mission in this place? A neat, inexpensive[174] little chapel, a school building, a young minister and his wife, a teacher and his wife, would make a beginning from which great things would be sure to result. Beginning with this place, there ought to be a church and a school placed one after another in the most promising places, until there shall be a center of mental and spiritual enlightenment within the reach of every person in this backwood, but promising region.

FRANK E. JENKINS.

THE INDIANS.

SPEECH OF ELI ABRAHAM, A NATIVE INDIAN.

DELIVERED BEFORE THE DAKOTA ASSOCIATION.

My Friends: When I was fifteen years old I learned to read God’s Word; and from the time I learned to read it I have desired earnestly to know what was in it.

Although I did not know much, it has been my work now for about eighteen years to teach others, the boys and girls and young people who have come to school at Santee. When our school first began we held it in a log house covered with dirt, and with a hay floor. The boys and girls came to school wearing their blankets, and they sat on the ground to study. But now we have good buildings, and besides teaching in books, our pupils are taught various industries—such as shoemaking, blacksmithing, carpentry and farming, and our girls in all home work.

Our boys like to take exercise in playing base ball, and I have noticed that when the base ball clubs of white young men from the towns around come in to play ball with them, the white young men get beaten; or when they try their speed with our boys in foot races, they also get beaten. And it seems to me that if our young men can be rightly instructed, they are sure to make good progress.

It has been my work to teach our scholars in the Bible. They come from many different tribes. Some are Titon Sioux, some Grosventres, some Poncas, some Arapahoes, some Yanktons, some Brules, yet all learn to read the Bible in our Santee dialect, and the past year I have been much pleased because of their interest in it. Often they ask so many questions that we don’t get on very far with our reading.

It seems to me that the best way to train up a people is to begin with the children. It is like this: Once I pulled up a little seedling tree a foot high, and planted it near my house, where I watered it and cared for it. When the dogs scratched it over, or the oxen trod on it, I straightened it up again. Then I drove down a strong stake beside it, and I tied it up in whatever direction it was crooked. Now, after ten years, it is a tall, straight tree. So it seems to me that if we take the children and bring[175] them up straight, we shall have an upright nation, and that by God’s Word we shall make them truly upright.

I have been thinking also how we should train our people in benevolence. We must train the children. I have a little girl, to whom I gave a red cent and wished to teach her something. So I asked her to what she would give it—to the sick, or for the preacher, or for sending missionaries? “What do they send missionaries for?” she asked. “To teach the people God’s Word who have not heard it,” I answered. “But what will one cent do?” she replied. Said I, “If one hundred little girls should give a cent each, it would make a dollar.” My little girl had learned to sing and play a little on the organ. When the young men came in, they would ask her to sing for them; but after this she would answer, “I will if you will give me a cent.” When she had laid by five cents, I asked her if she was going to buy candy or nuts with it. “No,” says she, “I am going to give this to Mr. Singing Walker, our missionary to the wild Indians.” This, it seems to me, shows the way we are to train up our people, beginning with the children.

THE CHINESE.

HOME-LOVE VERSUS CHRIST-LOVE.

To all persons familiar with missionary work in foreign lands the fact suggested by the title of this article is more or less familiar. It sometimes occurs, even in American families, that Christ enters “to set a man at variance against his father and even a daughter against her mother,” but this is unusual, so much so as to seem almost monstrous. When, as was the case last week, not far from my own field, the conversion of a daughter provokes the mother to disown her and to bid her leave home and look out for herself, we are set wondering what strange madness has wrecked that mother’s heart, and we ask, Is she possessed of the devil?

But this experience is usual in the turning of our Chinese to Christ. Scarcely any of them can escape it. And the questionings and struggles and sorrows are often very severe, and I have, of late, been specially impressed by them. Thus, Mrs. Shattuck, of Santa Barbara, writes: “We have three or four anxious to join the Association [thus making profession of faith in Christ—W. C. P.], but they are afraid of their own families. Tong is a good Christian boy,—as a pupil and as a singer equal to any China boy I ever had. When he talked with me he trembled like a leaf, saying, ‘I do so love your Jesus, but my family be angry. What shall I do?’”

Jee Gam has a little group of pupils in our Central school so eager to study the Bible that they often remain an extra hour (from 9:30 to 10:30 P. M.) for instruction from him. One in this group, as deeply interested and[176] as intelligent and constant as any, is a brother to two of our Chinese brethren, but has never himself confessed Christ. Jee Gam wondered at this, and began to inquire into it closely. The young man replied, “My brothers are both Christians. I am the only one left to worship my mother when she dies. It would break her heart if she thought she had not even one son left to worship her.” I confess that as I “took in the situation” I felt the tears starting. What shall we say to such a soul? This led to an item in the experience of Jee Gam himself. “When I left home the last time,” he said, “my father, knowing that I had not joined him in the worship of ancestors, and knowing why I had not, walked with me outside the village, urging me to promise to worship him when he should die.” He appealed not only to Jee Gam’s affection but to his fears. “‘If you do not worship me,’ he said, ‘my ghost shall pursue you and punish you.’ I could not so pain him as to say that I would not worship him, and I could not say that I would worship him, and so, I said over and over again, ‘I will do what is right.’ And these were the last words I ever said to my father: ‘Father, I will do what is right.’”

A few days ago Rev. D. D. Jones, formerly laboring as a missionary in South China, was speaking to me of one of the members of our Church who succumbed to the pressure brought to bear upon him at his marriage in China, and bowed to the idols. Immediately afterwards, deeply penitent, he went to the chapel in some neighboring village, where Mr. Jones was just then preaching, and confessed his fault. “I was not afraid of what they threatened to do to me, but when they began to persecute my mother I could not bear it.”

The case which has most deeply interested me and called forth my earnest prayer is that of a Chinese physician in Marysville. I made his acquaintance about two weeks ago, on my recent visit to that mission. He has attended our school for more than a year, and is one of the most faithful of the pupils. He shrinks from no service by which he can help on the work. He is well read in Chinese—perhaps beyond any of our brethren, and is regarded as specially skillful as a surgeon after the Chinese ways. He is a very substantial looking man, with a fine head, a pleasant face, and a demeanor marked at once by modesty and strength. He is greatly interested in the study of the Bible, and, but for one hindrance, would doubtless be a member of the Association, and would, perhaps, have presented himself for baptism. I sat down by his side and asked him what he thought of Jesus. “I believe in Jesus Christ,” was his emphatic reply. “But how much do you believe in him?” I asked, and then proceeded to illustrate real faith by the confidence which he would wish his patients to repose in him—a confidence which would lead them to abide implicitly by all his directions. “I believe in Jesus Christ just as I would wish my patients to believe in me,” was his reply. “What, then, is in the way of your becoming an avowed and active Christian?” He turned to our helper,[177] Loo Quong, and talked to him at length in Chinese. Loo Quong interpreted to me. “It is the woman,” he said. This woman he had pitied as she told him of the abuse she suffered at a brothel in San Francisco, and he had bought her from her mistress for $500. Quite in accordance with the dictates of Chinese morality, he had made her a sort of American wife. That is to say, he had his wife and son in China, and this woman was to be, after a sort, his wife in America. This he now understood to be inconsistent with Christian character; but what was he to do? I dare say he was divided in mind somewhat over the $500. He could scarcely afford to lose it altogether, and I blush to say that he could doubtless realize the full amount by selling her. But all questions of pecuniary loss or gain apart, what shall he do? To drop her is to let her fall into a life of prostitution—almost to doom her to it. He might send her to one of our Mission Homes for Women, but she is not disposed to go. Four or five years—as I understand it—they have lived together, and while, so far as his own comfort or pleasure is concerned, I believe he would give her up, would it be right thus to dispose of her? It is a knot not easily untied, a tangle not easily cleared. I have thought that there might come to him such an ‘unction from the Holy One,’ such an ‘abundant entrance into the Kingdom,’ such a clear and uplifting conversion as would resolve all doubts and show a straight path before him. If this might be so, it seems to me that he would become a worker in our missionary field such as we greatly need: a reaper whose abundant sheaves would be gathered into everlasting life. Pray for it with us.

BUREAU OF WOMAN’S WORK.

MISS D. E. EMERSON, SECRETARY.

EXPERIENCE OF AN A. M. A. STUDENT TEACHER.

My first time to teach came last September, when I was formally introduced to my work in the Practice School. I was allowed to go to the school one morning as a visitor, that I might get the general plan of conducting the classes, and, if I must say it, I dreaded the beginning more than ever. The second day found me at my post, determined to do my best. I was delighted with my apparent success that afternoon, but prejudice compelled me to keep still about it.

My surprise was greatest when I was told that I must prepare these lessons before teaching them, just as much as I did my own lessons. Each day the classes were more interesting and pleasing, every scholar doing his best work, not because he was obliged to, but for the simple reason that his teacher as she went along, instilled the love of study in his mind.[178] This teacher had me prepare each lesson separately, giving her opinions and suggestions and asking me how I would teach it.

Days and weeks went by rapidly; each day found me more interested, each night found me more willing to go over the lessons with the teacher. I would not have you think that I taught only one or two studies, for before my time expired I had taught every class in the school. I remembered that when I went to school as a child I was always glad to have my teacher lay aside the text-book and tell us something of interest about each city and river in geography or about some particular story in the reading lesson, so I endeavored to have a story or interesting fact for each class, that they might be the more interested and also might remember the particular points. I found out that it is the teacher’s duty to answer sharp questions as well as ask them, for, in my physiology class especially, some of the toughest questions I ever heard were put to me by those bright children.

My geography classes were nearly wild with excitement; sometimes we would take sea voyages, and again we would find the homes of different peoples and animals. Geography can be made a pleasant, interesting and helpful study, and that is what I tried to make it. Soon my six weeks had gone, and with reluctance I bade the dear little scholars good-by. I think that I made happy and lasting impressions on some of the children, as recent rumors have added to my stock of conceit.

About a week after my time of teaching had expired I had a new experience; the teacher falling ill I was called upon to take her place. Elated with my past success and burning with a desire to teach a whole day by myself, I armed myself with a schedule of classes, the bunch of keys and proceeded to the school house. Most of the pupils seemed glad to have me there, but I could see well enough that their teacher came first in their estimation. Devotional exercises over, I announced that their teacher was ill and that I hoped they would be good for her sake; then the lessons commenced. I found it quite different from having to do with only one particular class, to hear one class in the back part of the room and keep an eye on three dozen curly haired witches in the other part of the room. Oh! how slowly the time went, how my temper waxed warmer as I noticed the various tricks and pranks. But something kept whispering, “How often have you made faces at your teachers, thrown paper and made noises?” so I kept down the sharp words that continually came up, and tried to smile as I gently admonished the giggling offender.

As it was a rainy day I took ten minutes from the recess and let the children write a letter to their sick teacher. When the teacher read them over with me, you would have laughed could you have seen some of them. In some I was spoken of quite highly but in others I was reported as doing not so well as their own dear teacher. Some letters were composed of straight lines, as the very little folks also deemed it necessary to write to her.

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After all there is an indefinable charm for me in teaching, and I mean to go on. Every night and morn I asked God’s help, and through him I accomplished what I have. I can say that my practice teaching was a source of pleasure and help to me.

FOR THE CHILDREN.

MRS. TUCKERS’ CONVERSION.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Mrs. Tucker was very tired. Life was hard at best, only a tedious routine of wearisome duties; but on this particular afternoon, the closing of the week’s work pressed very heavily upon her.

“Oh, Mrs. Tucker, can Sallie go with us to the mission band?”

Mrs. Tucker raised her eyes, and saw, standing in the doorway, two little girls.

“Mission band! I’d like to know what’s a mission band?” she demanded sharply.

“Why,” spoke out the bolder of the two; “it’s lot of us children all together, working and sewing for poor folks. We bring our pennies to Miss May for them, and she says it’s giving to Jesus. We have just the nicest time; do let her go.”

“Oh, mother,” and Sallie’s brown eyes looked appealingly into her mother’s face; “please say I may—do let me.”

Mrs. Tucker slowly folded the garment she had ironed, and hung it in its place before she answered.

“No, she can’t. I can give her all the sewing she wants to home, and we’ve got nothing to give the Lord; he don’t give to us. So go along, and tell Miss May that Sallie Tucker’s better set to work.”

When Mrs. Tucker, the hard day’s work at last completed, toiled wearily up stairs, she found her little daughter seated upon the top stair, while about her on the floor, were scattered all her childish treasures.

“What on earth, child,” exclaimed her mother, “is all this clutter for? What are you trying to do?”

“Why, mother,” chirruped the sweet child’s voice; “I am looking to find something to give to Jesus.”

“Give to Jesus! What do you think the Lord wants of such stuff as this?”

“But, mother,” she explained, and her voice grew unsteady, and the bright eyes filled with tears, “my teacher said anything we give to him, he would like it; and if we gave what we loved best, it pleased him most. And this is what I love most—my wax doll and my birthday book. Won’t he take it, mother? Can’t I give him anything?”

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“Sallie Tucker!” and her mother’s voice was cold and stern, “you just put this notion out of your head. You don’t know what giving to the Lord means. Put this trash away. When the Lord remembers us with some of his plenty, ’twill be time enough to give to him, I reckon.”

It was the afternoon for the Woman’s Quarterly Missionary Meeting, in the Shadyville Baptist church. Mrs. Gray, the minister’s wife, came to the vestry with a sad heart. She knew too well the character of these gatherings. A few ladies came together, in a listless, apathetic way, a few lifeless prayers were offered, a little business disposed of, and the ladies went to their homes wondering why there wasn’t more interest in missions. Mrs. Tucker wasn’t in the habit of attending the missionary meeting, so when she came into one this afternoon, the ladies present looked at each other in surprise. Mrs. Gray read the psalm and offered prayer, and then came the usual dead silence.

Presently Mrs. Tucker rose to her feet, and, in a voice shaken with emotion, said:—

“I s’pose you’re all astonished to see me here, but the truth of the matter is, I’ve got something to say to you, which can’t half be told in words, neither. You all know my little Sallie has been sick; but I don’t s’pose none of you know what that sickness has been to me. You see the children wanted her to go to the mission band, but I was tough and cranky, and dead set ag’in’ anything of the kind, and told her, in the crossest way, she couldn’t go. She’d heard somethin’ about giving to Jesus, and laid out her best doll and book; an’ I laughed at it, an’ told her the Lord didn’t want her trash. Well, she took sick, an’ got sicker an’ sicker, till my heart stood still with the fear o’ losing her. She was out of her head, you know; and every time I come near the bed, she’d start right up an’ say, ‘Oh, can’t I give him anything? Don’t he want my dolly? O mother, mother can’t I go?’ till I just thought my heart would break in two. Everywhere I looked, I could see her eyes, with such a beseechin’ look in ’em, and hear her voice callin’, ‘Mother, mother, can’t I give anything?’ till at last I went down on my knees, all broke up like, and I sez:—

“‘Lord, I’m a poor, ungrateful sinner, and I’ve been a-withholding from you all these years; but if there’s anythin’ I can give you, won’t you please take it? Even my little girl, and everything I’ve got I just lay down.’

“Well, my sisters, I cried an’ cried as I hain’t for years, and it wasn’t all for sorrow, neither; there was a great deep joy in it all. An’ I come here to-day to tell you that I just give myself and all I’ve got to the Lord’s work. I’m fairly converted to missions, and if the Lord will only take the poor, miserable offerin’ I’ve got to give, and use me rough-shod in his work, I’d really be only too thankful. Why, my sisters, I’m the happiest woman on earth, and it’s all owin’ to the blessed child and that there children’s band.”—Selected.

RECEIPTS FOR APRIL, 1887.