Why should not the boys be as busy and helpful as the girls?
Why should not the boys form their “Try Bands,” “Working Circles” and
“King’s Sons’ Societies?”
There is no reason. Will not, therefore, the willing, manly boys who
read this enlist their friends to help at least one of their heathen
brothers to a Christian education? It is work that will give abundant
reward.
American boys know how much care is taken for their education. Not
only are their teachers, but their mothers, fathers, brothers sisters
and other relatives, their constant instructors. The greatest culture
and opportunity surround them; valuable libraries are ever at their
disposal. There are numberless free schools, art rooms and museums.
Beside the private academies, institutes, and colleges, there are
Young Men’s Christian Association rooms, Christian Endeavor Societies,
churches and Sunday-schools, all open and giving hearty welcome. Not so
are the privileges of the boys in India, China and Japan. For though
the Bible and our missionaries have done a great deal to help the
heathen boy, his surroundings are dark indeed, in contrast with those
of children in Christian lands. Indeed, it is rare that a heathen boy
is not a castaway by his family when he confesses Christ. Instead of
relatives being a help to his life, they are among his greatest sorrows.
Boys ought to be willing to give other boys a chance, especially when
they stand alone. If ten boys would form a band, they could easily
collect thirty dollars a year, and thirty dollars would pay all the
yearly expenses of a boy in a mission school or academy. This academy
prepares boys for the theological seminary, and the seminary fits them
for the ministry. Indeed, when in the academy, boys often go out to
talk and sing to those who do not know of Christ. They feel sure that
their heathen friends are missing so much in not knowing Jesus, that
they cannot wait until they have completed their studies; but as soon
as they know about Jesus themselves they are impatient to tell others.
They can talk to their friends with greater effect than missionaries
from this country, because they understand their customs and ways.
Besides, the terrible heat in India does not affect them as it does
people who go from this country. Very often our missionaries and their
families have to return to America on account of their health.
Some of the boys in India are very bright. I will tell you of one who
is about fifteen years of age, and is a student in the Arcot Academy,
India. His name is Joseph, son of the catechist Israel; his mother’s
name is Rachel. You will notice they are all Bible names. This family
were once heathen, but now all know and love Christ, and are happy
in working for Him. I lately had the pleasure of reading a letter
written and composed by Joseph, without any aid from his instructors.
I wish it were possible for my boy readers to see his penmanship; it
seemed nearly as perfect as copperplate. Each letter was very distinct
and prettily shaded. Every word was spelled correctly, and while his
composition had not the exact style we would use, it was very direct
and intelligible. I doubt if many American boys of Joseph’s age could
do better with a French or German letter, or in writing in any other
language than their own. Thinking you might be interested in hearing
from Joseph, particularly as he tells of what he does on the Sabbath,
and of his school life, I will quote directly from his letter:
“MADRAS PRESIDENCY, Ranipet, India.
“MOST RESPECTED AND KIND MADAM:
“My superiors, teachers and fellow-students are doing
well up to this time by the grace of our Almighty,
hoping the same for you....
“I solicit you, dear madam, pray for me that I may obey
my superiors; I don’t like to have the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ in vain. But I want to publish His name.
“Every Sunday we all go over the country and preach
about the Gospel. Many of the heathen become Christians.
“There are eight bands in the school. When we are going
to preach, each band will take three or four lyrics,
some tracts, a cymbal, and a jalar or tambourine. When
we are singing many men and women and children will
come to hear us.
“After our preaching is over we take account of the
men, women and children who come to hear our preaching.
Most of them will ask questions, and we will answer
them. Many of them will abuse the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ. Though they abused Him, we won’t leave
these men, since they don’t understand what Christ
has done for the world. We have meeting every Friday
evening, and in that meeting we will give our reports
of the men who heard the Word of Christ.”
Referring to his studies, he writes:
“Now there are four classes, viz., matriculation class,
the fifth class, the lower secondary class, and the
lower fourth class. There are five teachers, including
our manager. Each class changes its lessons after
one hour. Our manager teaches general English for the
four classes, and also takes English history for the
fifth class, and science, physics and chemistry for
the sixth class. He shows many good examples and gives
us good games. He is very kind toward us. We have many
sorts of games. Tennis and football and cricket and
gymnasium exercises. Our manager teaches us cricket
every evening.”
As this boy is writing to the one who supports him, he closes in the
following manner:
“I thank the Lord for having given me a supporter. I
render my warm and delightful obeisance to respected
and dear madam. I remain your most obedient
“PONNOR ISAAC JOSEPH.”
After reading this letter, which is not a fancy sketch, picture
in your mind Joseph, his surroundings, a young Hindoo boy, whose
dark-skinned face glows enthusiastically with his love for Christ
and with his ardent desire to tell others of his love, writing in a
strange tongue to a lady whom he has never seen. He has her photograph,
and has received letters from her, but her voice and manner are only
conjectures in his mind. He is writing to this lady, who has been the
means of his salvation, of freeing him from his yoke borne by his
countrymen. Try to picture this, and then see if in your own heart
there is not a strong desire to free more than one boy in that dark
land. In freeing one, you free others: do not forget that.
“I WISH I WERE A GENERAL.”
“If wishes were horses,
Beggars might ride.”
“Have you ever heard that, Jo?”
“_Heard_ it, what kind of a bringing up has a fellow had, do you
think? You know well enough that ever since I was in knickerbockers,
that immortal rhyme has been drilled into me. I’m sick and tired of
sermonizing, and all I have to say is, if you don’t wish for something
grand, something beyond you, you never will amount to anything.”
“That is true, Jo, but wishing without action will not accomplish much.
I’ve heard you make at least twenty wishes this morning. One, ‘I wish I
was rich!’ just as though that were anything new; all boys wish that.
Then you wished you were somebody great, somebody famous, like Cæsar
or the Czar of Russia, or the President of the United States. Then
you wished your father could only let you have a college education so
that you might be a lawyer. And then, to go on to smaller matters, you
wished it was Christmas, so that you might have vacation. And lastly,
you wished you were a fine bicycle rider, so that you might win the
prize in the coming race. I tell you, old fellow, I long ago learned
such a wholesome lesson on the wishing point, that it made me over new,
so to speak.”
“How so, John? now I am interested, for I thought you had been perfect
from your youth up.”
“Well, to begin with the beginning and make an out-and-out confession,
I’ll have to introduce you to my Uncle Charles. I wish you knew General
Journay; I know you would like him even if he is an odd-looking man;
he was once very handsome. He is too sensible to think he is handsome
now, though, for there is no denying that he’s fat. He says it is
constitutional, and maybe it is. I notice he is very uncomfortable,
short of breath, you know; gets a red face in climbing up the stairs
to the elevated road, and all that, but he’s jolly and good, and says
he wants me to be a manly man, and I am going to try my best to please
him. You know I am not as rich in relations as you are, for my parents
died when I was a baby, and I never had either brothers or sisters;
perhaps that’s one reason I think so much of you, Jo. Well, to go on
with my story, when I was about twelve years old I went to visit for a
week at my Uncle Charles’ home. He was delighted to have me with him,
and I never tired of his companionship, or of looking at his soldier’s
uniform, his sword and his medals. One day I said to him, ‘Oh, Uncle,
I wish I were a General,’ and he replied, ‘There is no reason why you
cannot be one, my boy, if the right material is only in you.’”
“‘What do you mean by right material, Uncle?’ I inquired.
“‘Why, humility, obedience, courage, honesty, truthfulness.’
“‘I did not know that soldiers were ever humble.’
“‘You must be humble enough to enter the lowest ranks, obedient enough
to follow orders, courageous enough to face any emergency, honest
enough to submit to pain rather than to steal, and truthful enough
never to soil your lips or conscience with a lie.’
“Then my uncle told me of his own boyhood, of his poverty, his
hindrances, his temptations; and I saw that the rank of General did not
come by wishing, but by the greatest endurance, study, and hard work. I
tell you what, Jo, as I listened to his story I felt so ashamed, and so
small, I thought I would like to crawl away in a hole, anywhere almost,
if I could only hide, for you know my uncle is such a noble, grand man.
Then, too, my uncle told me of our great inventors, officers, rulers,
whom the world is delighted to honor, and I saw that wishing had but
little to do with their achievements and successes. I saw I had to
buckle on my own armor and go to work.
“That night I could scarcely sleep; I kept thinking how insignificant
uncle must think me, for I knew I had often wished for this, that and
the other thing in his presence, and so when I did sleep I dreamed
that I was in the woods, and I thought that all the bushes and trees
were waving, and one big branch seemed like a long, bare arm beckoning
to me. I felt an awesome, queer, uncanny feeling, and I was sure I
was losing my way. I saw one and another path, but which one to take
I knew not, when suddenly I heard a laugh; this frightened me so much
that I jumped; then a voice said, ‘You little goosey-gander, what a
brave soldier you would make, to be sure, afraid of a little laugh;’
and then I heard ha! ha! ha! and what seemed to me to be the most
uproarious laughter, the shout of a hundred fairies. Soon a tiny old
woman approached me saying, ‘I am a fairy queen. Ask for whatever you
may wish while you are in my domain?’
“At once I exclaimed: ‘I wish to be the oldest General living.’ And
there I was, a general in very truth, but so old I could scarcely
see, so deaf I could scarcely hear; and I was dressed in a costume
similar to my uncle’s. My hands were wrinkled, a long beard hung over
my breast, but it was as white as snow. My mouth felt so queer that
I lifted my hand to discover the reason, and alas! my teeth were all
gone. I tried to walk, but I was so stiff I could scarcely place one
foot before the other. ‘Oh, what a fool I have been,’ I thought. ‘If
only I were a boy again? Oh, Uncle Charles, Uncle Charles!’ I screamed.
“‘Why, my boy, what is the matter, you were groaning and moaning so in
your sleep, I thought something must be wrong?’ were his words.
“Wasn’t I grateful, though, to find it was only a dream. It seemed too
good to be true, to learn that I was really a boy again, that life
was before, and not behind, me. I tell you, Jo, I could scarcely wait
for day to come, to get at positive work. And since that horrible
nightmare, which taught me the silliness of wishing, I have been a
changed boy, and I do not think I will ever fall into that purposeless
talk again. But you don’t like sermons, excuse me, Jo.”
“You are a good fellow, John; I should not be worthy of friendship such
as yours, if I did not benefit by what you have told me. I will try to
follow your example. What do you say to our both being manly men?”
“Those words have the right ring.” And so saying the two friends walked
off arm in arm.