SILVER CHIMES IN SYRIA
[Illustration: HENRY A. NELSON MEMORIAL
_Tripoli Boys' School_]
SILVER CHIMES IN SYRIA
GLIMPSES OF A MISSIONARY'S EXPERIENCES
BY
W. S. NELSON, D.D.,
AUTHOR OF "HABEEB THE BELOVED"
[Illustration: Logo]
PHILADELPHIA
THE WESTMINSTER PRESS
1914
COPYRIGHT, 1914
BY F. M. BRASELMANN
DEDICATION
JULY 17, 1888. CINCINNATI, OHIO.
_This book is affectionately inscribed to her who has been the
companion of my life for twenty-five years; my helper in all my
work; my cheer and comfort in all circumstances; the maker of my
home; the source of all that is silvery in the chimes that ring
to-day._
HOMS, SYRIA, JULY 17, 1913.
PREFACE
When a tourist is seated on the deck of a steamer, waiting to leave the
country in which he has enjoyed an outing, his eyes do not seek the
low-lying shore of the sea, for the memories he would retain hereafter.
He lifts his eyes to the overhanging mountains. Nor is it the whole
massive range that holds his vision. He looks instinctively to the
scattered, lofty summits which stand aloof as it were from the monotony
of the lower range. Especially as the sun sinks below the western
horizon do his eyes dwell lovingly on those highest peaks which are
colored with the light of the setting sun.
My purpose in sending out this collection of sketches is somewhat the
same. I have not attempted a continuous narrative, with all the monotony
of repeated acts, but have sought to make vivid to the reader some of
the more conspicuous features of missionary life, in the hope of
deepening sympathy with the workers and increasing zeal in the work.
That is my excuse for the free use of the personal pronoun, not to make
prominent the person, but to emphasize the reality. May the volume be
enjoyed by our fellow workers in America, and blessed by Him whom we all
serve.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ARRIVAL IN SYRIA 3
II. LANGUAGE STUDY 14
III. TRAVEL AND COMMUNICATION 19
IV. EVANGELISTIC TRIPS 34
V. ALEPPO 53
VI. NEW STATIONS AND BUILDINGS 65
VII. CAMPING LIFE 75
VIII. PERSECUTION 87
IX. EMIGRATION 94
X. SYRIAN ENTERPRISES 104
XI. INTERRUPTIONS 111
XII. OUR SUPPORTERS 127
XIII. PERSONAL FRIENDS 136
XIV. TRIPOLI BOYS' SCHOOL 150
XV. MOVING 164
XVI. THE MUEZZIN OR THE BELL 169
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Henry A. Nelson Memorial--_Tripoli Boys' School_ _Frontispiece_
Latakia Boys' School _Facing Page_ 34
Tartoose--_Crusaders' Church_ 34
Aleppo Minaret 53
Hadeth Summer Home 75
Abu Maroon, the Hadeth Carpenter 75
Homs--_Boys' School_ 104
Tripoli Boys' School--_First Home_ 150
Tripoli Boys' School--_Second Home_ 150
Homs 164
Heathen Temple and Mount Hermon 164
Hamidiyeh Mosque--_Tripoli_ 169
Old City Gate--_Tripoli_ 169
SILVER CHIMES IN SYRIA
CHAPTER I
ARRIVAL IN SYRIA
Every individual makes a new personal discovery, as with the passage of
years, he realizes the difference between the long look forward over a
given period, and the look backward over the same period, when it is
completed. To the new arrival on the field the veteran of twenty-five
years' experience appears to have spent a very long time in the service;
but as he looks back over his own life, at the end of a similar period,
he wonders that he ever entertained such an opinion. Looking back to the
year 1888, the events of that time do not seem at all remote, and it is
hard to realize that to anyone that year can appear a very long way in
the past.
On the last day of October, in the early morning, a steamer of the
Austrian-Lloyd Line cast anchor in front of Beirut. That was long before
the building of the harbor, and all vessels tossed in the open
roadstead, at the mercy of wind and wave, only slightly sheltered by the
long headland of Ras Beirut, where the tall lighthouse rears its slender
shaft, and where the Syrian Protestant College stands, as a more
important symbol of light-giving.
The anchor was scarcely dropped before the little boats from the shore
crowded about the ladders and the boatmen came swarming over the sides
of the vessel, to take possession of the passengers and carry them
ashore. It is always a perplexing but interesting scene to the newcomer.
The curious costumes of many colors give an appearance of gayety to the
crowd; the shouting of the guttural Arabic makes one think of Babel; the
wild gesticulating of the excited people suggests the possibility of a
riot; the seizing of baggage and pulling of passengers by eager boatmen
make one think that the day of personal liberty and private property is
passed. As a rule, however, it is all good-natured, and the noise is
more bantering than quarreling. In fact, one soon becomes accustomed to
the turmoil as an indication of lack of orderly proceeding in the
Orient.
Among the first figures to appear on deck that October morning was one
quieter but no less eager than the Arab boatmen. He quickly made his way
to the room of the new missionaries, just arriving from America,
prepared to take them ashore, and even to escort them at once to his own
home in Sidon. It was a most welcome, homelike experience to the tired
travelers, and the cheery voice and cordial welcome of Mr. W. K. Eddy
will never be forgotten.
There were many things in the journey, thus ended, that had made it
trying. The young couple had crossed the Atlantic entirely among
strangers and the ocean had not been kind to them. Seasickness is never
a happy experience, and when it becomes a continuous performance, in
connection with a wedding journey, it seems most inappropriate. Pleasant
visits with family friends and relatives in Scotland effaced the
memories of the Atlantic. Visiting new scenes and beautiful places in
Switzerland gave much pleasure by the way, but in an unfortunate day the
germs of malaria had been absorbed and southern Italy was reached with
fever and weakness that made sightseeing a burden.
Who can forget his first glimpse of the real Orient, at Port Said? The
noise and the dirt; the squalor and the glaring sun; the rush of the
crowd and the utter lonesomeness of the stranger, make a contrast and
mixture that are not easily matched in life's ordinary experiences. Four
days were to pass before a steamer went to Beirut. It was not a pleasant
prospect for travelers homesick and weak from fever to have to tarry
for four days in a dismal hotel, with nothing attractive in the way of
companionship or occupation. Besides this, our trunks had not been sent
forward as promised, and we were obliged to depend upon the limited hand
baggage with which we had crossed the Continent. It is easy to imagine
the sensations with which the young bride looked forward to making her
first appearance among strangers, with a face pale from fever and an
outfit so unexpectedly limited.
The hearty welcome of Mr. Eddy on the deck of that Austrian steamer in
Beirut harbor was a needed tonic, and his skill and experience readily
passed us through the intricacies of the customhouse and brought us to
the hospitable home of his father. Of the friends who conspired to make
those first days bright, many have been called away to the other shore,
though others are still our associates in the service of Syria. Dr. and
Mrs. W. W. Eddy, with whom we spent our first ten days in Syria, left
us many years ago. Dr. Samuel Jessup was always thoughtful, bringing
bright flowers from his garden to continue the impression of his bright
face and cheery words, when he called upon the strangers. He and Mrs.
Jessup, whose home was one of the brightest spots of those early years,
have also gone on before to their well-earned reward. Mr. March, coming
down from the mountains on his way to Tripoli, was especially ready in
his plans for the comfort of his new associates in Tripoli Station. But
it is not necessary to mention each one. The beauty of missionary life
is the unity of fellowship and the completeness with which every
newcomer is received into the intimacy and love of the circle, which is
only less close and intimate than that of the family itself.
After ten days spent in Beirut in trying to get rid of the malaria and
in acquiring some knowledge of the Arabic alphabet, we went on to
Tripoli, our future home. It was a cold, windy Saturday afternoon. We
were taken out to the steamer in a small boat, which tossed on the
restless waves in a way which we supposed to be normal. The steamer was
small and crowded with a miscellaneous company, most of whom were not
happy, to say the least. Fortunately it is only a four hours' ride, for
the wind increased in violence as we proceeded, and when the anchor was
dropped at sundown off Tripoli, it seemed doubtful whether any boats
could come out to meet us. In due time, however, a boat pulled
alongside, and there was Mr. March, who had come out over that rough sea
to welcome us to our new home, though he did not think we would venture
to start from Beirut in such a storm. The steamer was rolling so badly
that the ladder could not be lowered at all, and we crept out on it as
it lay horizontally along the ship's side, and then, when the tip was
lowest, simply dropped into the arms of the boatmen below. Then began
the laborious pull for the shore. We were two hours reaching land, our
clothes soaked, our spirits at zero, but most happy to reach the warm,
cozy haven of the March home in the Mina of Tripoli. It was the
beginning of a most beautiful fellowship with Mr. and Mrs. March and
their children, whose sweet introduction of themselves won our hearts at
once and who, though now grown to maturity, still call us by the old,
affectionate titles of uncle and aunt. Thus, for the second time in our
short missionary experience, we were made to feel the comfort and peace
of being taken into the warmth and love of a Christian home, no longer
as strangers, but as brethren.
We wished to take possession of our own home as soon as possible. Our
household goods were in the customhouse, and another first experience
was before us. Everything had to be examined and its purpose explained
to the satisfaction of the Turkish inspector. To him it seemed a wholly
unnecessary amount of furniture for one person, for of course he could
not recognize that the wife's existence made any difference. A box of
class photographs was examined in detail, and great surprise manifested
that one person should have so many friends. A small vase for flowers in
the shape of a kettle resting on five legs puzzled the examiner, until
he picked up the perforated piece of a soap dish, and decided that he
had found the appropriate adaptation of the two pieces. It did not seem
necessary to explain, so long as he was satisfied, and no harm was done.
We had many things to learn besides the language. Our home belonged to a
man whose name was translated to us as Mr. Victory-of-God Brass. In an
arch under the parlor windows he had hung a donkey's skull and some
beads, to keep off the evil eye of jealousy from his fine house. It was
a pleasant house, well located near the city gate which had been known
in former days as Donkey Gate, only a few minutes' walk from the girls'
school and just at the end of the tram line connecting the city with
the harbor, two miles distant. In planning for our new home we had
indulged in the luxury of two pairs of simple lace curtains for our
parlor windows. When we entered the house, our amazement can hardly be
exaggerated at the discovery that the parlor had not two but eight
windows, each calling for curtains twelve feet long. Our lace curtains
were relegated to service elsewhere. Mr. Eddy had kindly arranged to
come up from Sidon to help us in this first settling of our new home,
and his help and companionship were invaluable. He went with me to the
shops to purchase such things as were needed, and the shopkeepers
recognized at once his fluent Arabic and his companion's ignorance of
the language. More than one shopkeeper called him aside and asked him to
bring the stranger to them for his purchases, promising him a handsome
commission for his services.
The house was soon made habitable and just three weeks after our first
landing in Syria we slept under our own roof, with our own possessions
about us, and were ready to begin our own independent home life in the
land of our adoption. We had made our beginning, and a bright, happy
beginning it was, notwithstanding the difficulties and drawbacks
inevitable in such conditions.