Nyâgândi is a little girl whose home is a mere hut on the shores of the
Ogawe River, in West Africa. A lady who has gone as a missionary to her
people has told a very pretty story about her, which we are sure our
girls will like to read.
Nyâgândi has never worn any clothing in her life, except a cloth tied
around her waist. It has been only lately that she has thought of
wearing anything else.
Since she has been attending school in the mission-house, and learning
to read, she is anxious to wear a dress like her kind friends, and so
with slow but patient fingers she is learning to make one out of some
bright calico.
She owns a canoe, in which she darts here and there over the creeks and
rivers like a graceful dusky bird.
One Saturday she paddled to the mission-house, and sold some bunches of
plantains to the ladies.
"Now, Nyâ," said one of them, "to-morrow will be Sunday, and you must
come to service."
"I surely will," she answered, "if I am alive."
Saturday night somebody stole Nyâ's canoe, and on Sunday nobody would
lend her another, yet she was in her place in church, and in time. Her
home was on the opposite shore of the river, at that place a third of a
mile wide, with a current flowing deep and strong. How had she crossed?
In the simplest way in the world--by swimming. Some of the boys had seen
the dark head bobbing up and down in the waves, or it is doubtful
whether she would have said a word about her performance.
But, little women, who sometimes pout at wearing an old bonnet or dress
to church, please think of the African girl, so anxious to keep her
promise that she swam the Ogawe on Sunday morning rather than be absent
when the good missionaries expected to see her at the Christian worship.