Testament, translated into the Amharic language, he offered it to
Adellan; but he shrunk back with horror, and refused to open it.
"I do not wish for your books," said he; "keep them. We are satisfied
with our own. Look at our churches. They stand on every hill, far as
your eye can reach. See that stream that winds near your dwelling.
There we wash away the pollution of our souls. I fast by day, I watch
by night. The saints hear my prayers, and the stars bear witness to my
penances. I am going to the holy city, where I shall obtain remission
for all my sins, and those of generations yet unborn. I shall return
holy and happy."
Mr. M---- sighed, while the youth rapidly repeated his claims to
holiness and heaven.
"You believe that God is a spirit," said he; "and the worship that is
acceptable in his eyes must be spiritual also. In vain is the nightly
vigil and the daily fast, unless the soul is humbled in his eyes. We
may kneel till the rock is worn by our prostrations, and torture the
flesh till every nerve is wakened to agony, but we can no more work
out our own salvation by such means, than our feeble hands can create
a new heaven and a new earth, or our mortal breath animate the dust
beneath our feet, with the spirit of the living God."
The missionary spoke with warmth. His wife laid her gentle hand on his
arm. There was something in the glance of the young Abyssinian that
alarmed her. But the spirit of the martyr was kindled within him, and
would not be quenched.
"See," said he, directing the eye of the youth towards the
neighbouring hills, now clothed in the purple drapery of sunset; "as
sure as those hills now stand, the banner of the cross shall float
from their summits, and tell to the winds of heaven the triumphs of
the Redeemer's kingdom. Ethiopia shall stretch out her sable hands
unto God, and the farthest isles of the ocean behold the glory of his
salvation."
Adellan looked into the glowing face of the missionary, remembered the
cold and gloomy countenance of his religious teacher, and wondered at
the contrast. But his prejudices were unshaken, and his pride rose up
in rebellion against the man who esteemed him an idolater.
"Come to us again," said the missionary, in a subdued tone, as Adellan
turned to depart; "let us compare our different creeds, by the light
of reason and revelation, and see what will be the result."
"Come to us again," said the lady, in Adellan's native tongue; and her
soft, low voice sounded sweet in his ears, as the fancied accents of
the virgin mother. That night, as he sat in his lonely chamber, at the
convent, conning his task in the stillness of the midnight hour, the
solemn words of the missionary, his inspired countenance, the ethereal
form of his wife, and the cherub face of that fair child, kept
floating in his memory. He was angry with himself at the influence
they exercised. He resolved to avoid his path, and to hasten his
departure to Jerusalem, where he could be not only secure from his
arts, but from the legions of the powers of darkness.
* * * * *
Months passed away. The humble cabin of the missionary was gradually
thronged with those who came from curiosity, or better motives, to
hear the words of one who came from such a far country. His pious
heart rejoiced in the hope, that the shadows of idolatry which
darkened their religion would melt away before the healing beams of
the Sun of Righteousness. But he looked in vain for the stately figure
of the young Adellan. His spirit yearned after the youth, and whenever
he bent his knees at the altar of his God, he prayed for his
conversion, with a kind of holy confidence that his prayer would be
answered. At length he once more presented himself before them, but so
changed they could scarcely recognise his former lineaments. His face
was haggard and emaciated, his hair had lost its raven brightness, and
his garments were worn and soiled with dust. He scarcely answered the
anxious inquiries of Mr. M----, but sinking into a seat, and covering
his face with his hands, large tears, gathering faster and faster,
glided through his fingers, and rained upon his knees. Mary, the
sympathizing wife of the missionary, wept in unison; but she did not
limit her sympathy to tears, she gave him water to wash, and food to
eat, and it was not until he rested his weary limbs, that they sought
to learn the history of his sufferings. It would be tedious to detail
them at length, though he had indeed experienced "a sad variety of
woe." He had commenced his journey under the guidance and protection
of a man in whose honour he placed unlimited confidence, had been
deceived and betrayed, sold as a slave, and, though he had escaped
this degradation, he had been exposed to famine and nakedness, and the
sword.
"I have been deserted by man," said Adellan; "the saints have turned a
deaf ear to my prayers; I have come to you to learn if there is a
power in _your_ Christianity to heal a wounded spirit, and to bind up
a broken heart."
The missionary raised his eyes in gratitude to Heaven.
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me," cried he, repeating the
language of the sublimest of the prophets: "because the Lord hath
anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to
bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captive, and
the opening of the prison to them that are bound."
"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted," repeated
Mary, softly; and never were promises of mercy pronounced in a sweeter
voice. Afflictions had humbled the proud spirit of Adellan. But his
was not the humility of the Christian. It was rather a gloomy
misanthropy, that made him turn in loathing from all he had once
valued, and to doubt the efficacy of those forms and penances, in
which he had wasted the bloom of his youth, and the morning strength
of his manhood. But he no longer rejected the proffered kindness of
his new friends. He made his home beneath their roof. The Testament he
had formerly refused, he now gratefully received, and studied it with
all the characteristic ardour of his mind. Persevering as he was
zealous, as patient in investigation as he was quick of apprehension,
he compared text with text, and evidence with evidence, till the
prejudices of education yielded to the irresistible force of
conviction. When once his understanding had received a doctrine, he
cherished it as a sacred and eternal truth, immutable as the word of
God, and immortal as his own soul.
He now went down into the hitherto untravelled chambers of his own
heart, and, throwing into their darkest recesses the full blaze of
revelation, he shuddered to find them infested by inmates more deadly
than the serpent of the Nile. Passions, of whose existence he had been
unconscious, rose up from their hiding places, and endeavoured to wrap
him in their giant folds. Long and fearful was the struggle, but
Adellan opposed to their power the shield of Faith and the sword of
the Spirit, and at last came off conqueror, and laid down his spoils
at the foot of the cross. The missionary wept over him, "tears such as
angels shed." "Now," exclaimed he, "I am rewarded for all my
privations, and my hitherto unavailing toils. Oh! Adellan, now the
friend and brother of my soul, I feel something like the power of
prophecy come over me, when I look forward to your future destiny. The
time will shortly come, when you will stand in the high places of the
land, and shake down the strong holds of ancient idolatry and sin. The
temples, so long desecrated by adoration of senseless images, shall be
dedicated to the worship of the living God. Sinners, who so long have
sought salvation in the purifying waters of the stream, shall turn to
the precious fountain of the Redeemer's blood. Oh! glorious,
life-giving prospect! They who refuse to listen to the pale-faced
stranger, will hearken to the accents of their native hills. Rejoice,
my beloved Mary! though I may be forced to bear back that fading frame
of yours to a more congenial clime, our Saviour will not be left
without a witness, to attest his glory, and confirm his power."
To fulfil this prophecy became the ruling desire of Adellan's life. He
longed to liberate his deluded countrymen from the thraldom of that
superstition to which he himself had served such a long and gloomy
apprenticeship. He longed, too, for some opportunity of showing his
gratitude to his new friends. But there is no need of signal occasions
to show what is passing in the heart. His was of a transparent
texture, and its emotions were visible as the pebbles that gleam
through the clear waters of the Tacazze. The beautiful child of the
missionary was the object of his tenderest love. He would carry it in
his arms for hours, through the wild groves that surrounded their
dwelling, and, gathering for it the choicest productions of nature,
delight in its smiles and infantine caresses. Sometimes, as he gazed
on the soft azure of its eyes, and felt its golden ringlets playing on
his cheek, he would clasp it to his bosom and exclaim, "Of such is the
kingdom of heaven."
Mary idolized her child, and Adellan's great tenderness for it,
inexpressibly endeared him to her heart. She loved to see the fair
face of her infant leaning against the dark cheek of Adellan, and its
flaxen locks mingling with his jetty hair. One evening, as it fell
asleep in his arms, he was alarmed at the scarlet brightness of its
complexion, and the burning heat of its skin. He carried it to its
mother. It was the last time the cherub ever slumbered on his bosom.
It never again lifted up its head, but faded away like a flower
scorched by a noonday sun.
Day and night Adellan knelt by the couch of the dying infant, and
prayed in agony for its life; yet even in the intensity of his
anguish, he felt how sublime was the resignation of its parents. They
wept, but no murmur escaped their lips. They prayed, but every prayer
ended with the submissive ejaculation of their Saviour, "Not our will,
O Father! but thine be done." And when the sweet, wistful eyes were at
last closed in death, and the waxen limbs grew stiff and cold, when
Adellan could not restrain the bitterness of his grief, still the
mourners bowed their heads and cried, "The Lord gave, the Lord taketh
away--blessed be the name of the Lord."
Adellan had witnessed the stormy sorrow of his country-women, whose
custom it is to rend their hair, and lacerate their faces with their
nails, and grovel, shrieking, in the dust; but never had his heart
been so touched as by the resignation of this Christian mother. But,
though she murmured not, she was stricken by the blow, and her fragile
frame trembled beneath the shock. Her husband felt that she leaned
more heavily on his arm, and though she smiled upon him as wont, the
smile was so sad, it often brought tears into his eyes. At length she
fell sick, and the missionary saw her laid upon the same bed on which
his infant had died. Now, indeed, it might be said that the hand of
God was on him. She, the bride of his youth, the wife of his fondest
affections, who had given up all the luxuries of wealth, and the
tender indulgences of her father's home, for the love of him and her
God; who had followed him not only with meekness, but joy, to those
benighted regions, that she might share and sweeten his labours, and
join to his, her prayers and her efforts for the extension of the
Redeemer's kingdom; she, whose presence had been able to transform
their present lowly and lonely dwelling into a place lovely as the
Garden of Eden--could he see _her_ taken from him, and repeat, from
his heart, as he had done over the grave of his only child, "Father,
thy will be done?"
Bitter was the conflict, but the watchful ear of Adellan again heard
the same low, submissive accents, which were so lately breathed over
his lost darling. Here, too, Adellan acted a brother's part; but
female care was requisite, and this his watchful tenderness supplied.
He left them for a while, and returned with a young maiden, whose
olive complexion, graceful figure, and long braided locks, declared
her of Abyssinian birth. Her voice was gentle, and her step light,
when she approached the bed of the sufferer. Ozora, for such was the
name of the maiden, was a treasure in the house of sickness. Mary's
languid eye followed her movements, and often brightened with
pleasure, while receiving her sympathizing attentions. In her hours of
delirious agony, she would hold her hand, and call her sister in the
most endearing tone, and ask her how she had found her in that land of
strangers. Sometimes she would talk of the home of her childhood, and
imagine she heard the green leaves of her native bowers rustling in
the gale. Then she thought she was wandering through the groves of
Paradise, and heard the angel voice of her child singing amid the
flowers.
Ozora was familiar with all the medicinal arts and cooling drinks of
her country. She possessed not only native gentleness, but skill and
experience as a nurse. She was an orphan, and the death-bed of her
mother had witnessed her filial tenderness and care. She was an
idolater, but she loved Adellan, and for his sake would gladly embrace
the faith of the European. Adellan was actuated by a twofold motive in
bringing her to the sick-bed of Mary; one was, that she might exercise
a healing influence on the invalid, and another, that she might
witness the triumphs of Christian faith over disease, sorrow, and
death. But Mary was not doomed to make her grave in the stranger's
land. The fever left her burning veins, and her mind recovered its
wonted clearness. She was able to rise from her couch, and sit in the
door of the cabin, and feel the balmy air flowing over her pallid
brow.
She sat thus one evening, supported by the arm of her husband, in the
soft light of the sinking sunbeams. Adellan and her gentle nurse were
seated near. The eyes of all were simultaneously turned to a small
green mound, beneath the shade of a spreading cedar, and they thought
of the fairy form that had so often sported around them in the
twilight hour.
"Oh! not there," cried Mary, raising her glistening eyes from that
lonely grave to heaven--"Not there must we seek our child. Even now
doth her glorified spirit behold the face of our Father in heaven. She
is folded in the arms of Him, who, when on earth, took little children
to his bosom and blessed them. And I, my beloved husband--a little
while and ye shall see my face no more. Though the Almighty has
raised me from that couch of pain, there is something tells me,"
continued she, laying her hand on her heart, "that my days are
numbered; and when my ashes sleep beside that grassy bed, mourn not
for me, but think that I have gone to my Father and your Father, to my
God and your God." Then, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder,
she added, in a low trembling voice--"to my child and your child."
It was long before Mr. M---- spoke; at length he turned to Adellan,
and addressed him in the Amharic language: "My brother! it must be
that I leave you. The air of her native climes may revive this
drooping flower. I will bear her back to her own home, and, if God
wills it, I will return and finish the work he has destined me to do."
Mary clasped her hands with irrepressible rapture as he uttered these
words; then, as if reproaching herself for the momentary selfishness,
she exclaimed, "And leave the poor Abyssinians!"
"I will leave them with Adellan," he answered, "whom I firmly believe
God has chosen, to declare his unsearchable riches to this portion of
the Gentile world. The seed that has been sown has taken root, and the
sacred plant will spring up and increase, till the birds of the air
nestle in its branches, and the beasts of the forest lie down beneath
its shade. Adellan, does your faith waver?"
"Never," answered the youth, with energy, "but the arm of my brother
is weak. Let me go with him on his homeward journey, and help him to
support the being he loves. I shall gather wisdom from his lips, and
knowledge from the glimpse of a Christian land. Then shall I be more
worthy to minister to my brethren the word of life."
A sudden thought flashed into the mind of the missionary. "And would
you, Adellan," asked he, "would you indeed wish to visit our land, and
gain instruction in our institutions of learning, that you might
return to enrich your country with the best treasures of our own? You
are very young, and might be spared awhile now, that you may be fitted
for more extensive usefulness hereafter."
Adellan's ardent eye told more expressively than words could utter,
the joy which filled his soul at this proposition. "Too happy to
follow you," cried he; "how can I be sufficiently grateful for an
added blessing?"
Ozora, who had listened to the conversation, held in her own
language, with intense interest, here turned her eyes upon Adellan,
with a look of piercing reproach, and suddenly rising, left the cabin.
"Poor girl!" exclaimed Mary, as Adellan, with a saddened countenance,
followed the steps of Ozora; "how tenderly has she nursed me, and what
is the recompense she meets? We are about to deprive her of the light
that gladdens her existence. She has not yet anchored her hopes on the
Rock of Ages, and where else can the human heart find refuge, when the
wild surges of passion sweep over it!"
"Adellan is in the hands of an all-wise and all-controlling power,"
answered the missionary, thoughtfully; "the tears of Ozora may be
necessary to prove the strength of his resolution; if so, they will
not fall in vain."
A few weeks after, everything being in readiness for the departure of
the missionary and his family, he bade farewell to the Abyssinians,
who crowded round his door to hear his parting words. He took them
with him to the hillside, and, under the shadow of the odoriferous
trees, and the covering of the heavens, he addressed them with a
solemnity and fervour adapted to the august temple that surrounded
him. His deep and sweet-toned voice rolled through the leafy
colonnades and verdant aisles, like the rich notes of an organ in some
ancient cathedral. The Amharic language, soft and musical in itself,
derived new melody from the lips of Mr. M----.
"And now," added he, in conclusion, "I consign you to the guardianship
of a gracious and long-suffering God. Forget not the words I have just
delivered unto you, for remember they will rise up in judgment against
you in that day when we shall meet face to face before the bar of
eternal justice. This day has the Gospel been preached in your ears.
Every tree that waves its boughs over your heads, every flower that
embalms the atmosphere, and every stream that flows down into the
valley, will bear witness that the hallowed name of the Redeemer has
been breathed in these shades, and promises of mercy so sweet that
angels stoop down from heaven to listen to the strains that have been
offered, free, free as the very air you inhale. I go, my friends, but
should I never return, this place will be for ever precious to my
remembrance. It contains the ashes of my child. That child was yielded
up in faith to its Maker, and the spot where it sleeps is, therefore,
holy ground. Will ye not guard it from the foot of the stranger, and
the wild beast of the mountain? Let the flower of the hills bloom
ungathered upon it, and the dew of heaven rest untrodden on its turf,
till he, who is the resurrection and the life, shall appear, and the
grave give back its trust."
He paused, overpowered by the strength of his emotions, and the sobs
of many of his auditors attested the sympathy of these untutored
children of nature. He came down from the elevated position on which
he had been standing, and taking the hand of Adellan, led him to the
place he had just occupied. The people welcomed him with shouts, for
it was the first time he had presented himself in public, to declare
the change in his religious creed, and such was the character he had
previously obtained for sanctity and devotion, they looked upon him
with reverence, notwithstanding his youth. He spoke at first with
diffidence and agitation, but gathering confidence as he proceeded, he
boldly and eloquently set forth and defended the faith he had
embraced. That young, enthusiastic preacher would have been a novel
spectacle to an European audience, as well as that wild, promiscuous
assembly. His long, white robes, girded about his waist, according to
the custom of his country, his black, floating hair, large, lustrous
eyes, and dark but now glowing complexion, formed a striking contrast
with the sable garments, pallid hue, and subdued expression of the
European minister. They interrupted him with tumultuous shouts, and
when he spoke of his intended departure and attempted to bid them
farewell, their excitement became so great, he was compelled to pause,
for his voice strove in vain to lift itself above the mingled sounds
of grief and indignation.
"I leave you, my brethren," cried he, at length, "only to return more
worthy to minister unto you. My brother will open my path to the
temples of religion and knowledge. He needs my helping arm in bearing
his sick through the lonely desert and over the deep sea--what do I
not owe him? I was a stranger and he took me in; I was naked and he
clothed me; hungry and he fed me, thirsty and he gave me drink; and
more than all, he has given me to eat the bread of heaven, and water
to drink from the wells of salvation. Oh! next to God, he is my best
friend and yours."
The shades of night began to fall, before the excited crowd were all
dispersed, and Mr. M----, and Adellan were left in tranquillity. Mary
had listened to the multitudinous sounds, with extreme agitation. She
reproached herself for allowing her husband to withdraw from the scene
of his missionary labours out of tenderness for her. She thought it
would be better for her to die and be laid by her infant's grave, than
the awakened minds of these half Pagan, half Jewish people, be allowed
to relapse into their ancient idolatries. When the clods of the valley
were once laid upon her breast, her slumbers would not be less sweet
because they were of the dust of a foreign land.
Thus she reasoned with her husband, who, feeling that her life was a
sacred trust committed to his care, and that it was his first duty to
guard it from danger, was not moved from his purpose by her tearful
entreaties. They were to depart on the following morning.
That night Adellan sat with Ozora by the side of a fountain, that
shone like a bed of liquid silver in the rising moonbeams. Nature
always looks lovely in the moonlight, but it seemed to the imagination
of Adellan he had never seen her clothed with such resplendent lustre
as at this moment, when every star shone with a farewell ray, and
every bough, as it sparkled in the radiance, whispered a melancholy
adieu.
Ozora sat with her face bent over the fountain, which lately had often
been fed by her tears. Her hair, which she had been accustomed to
braid with oriental care, hung dishevelled over her shoulders. Her
whole appearance presented the abandonment of despair. Almost every
night since his contemplated departure, had Adellan followed her to
that spot, and mingled the holiest teachings of religion with the
purest vows of love. He had long loved Ozora, but he had struggled
with the passion, as opposed to that dedication of himself to heaven,
he had contemplated in the gloom of his conventual life. Now
enlightened by the example of the missionary, and the evangelical
principles he had embraced, he believed Christianity sanctioned and
hallowed the natural affections of the heart. He no longer tried to
conquer his love, but to make it subservient to higher duties.
Mary, grieved at the sorrow of Ozora, would have gladly taken her with
her, but Adellan feared her influence. He knew he would be unable to
devote himself so entirely to the eternal truths he was one day to
teach to others, if those soft and loving eyes were always looking
into the depths of his heart, to discover their own image there. He
resisted the proposition, and Mr. M---- applauded the heroic
resolution. But now Adellan was no hero; he was a young, impassioned
lover, and the bitterness of parting pressed heavily on his soul.