Mr. De Forest’s racy letter of his experiences in the theatres of
Tottori, Japan. A quartet then besought us in song to “Tell it out,”
this story of Christ, to the heathen, a sermon indeed in song. One of
our young teachers read of the two _mice_ the little Sunday-school
scholar brought as her two _mites_, for so she understood it. Another
gave a crumb for the boys, found in the MISSIONARY; and when a sweet
soprano and alto pled for Burmah, and Burmah herself seemed to speak
in the plaintive strains, that were borne to our ears through an open
window, the effect was impressive, and the surprise and pleasure of the
audience was manifest. The “Little Zulu Band” sang a sweet song of the
needs of Zululand.
And now I have come to the crowning exercise of the evening; for surely
that patient little group on the front seat, conscious of a secret
hidden behind the white cards they wore, was not there for nothing.
They knew that the reason they were bidden to wait till the last was
just because theirs was to be the best of all, and so it proved.
Quietly they filed up the opposite aisles, making a semicircle in the
alcove back of the pulpit (which, by the way, had been removed). Above
their heads, on the white walls of the alcove, was the reminder of
our Conference, two years ago, the motto, “Praise ye the Lord.” Then
those pretty evergreen letters, that did duty at Burlington, Wis.,
were employed again to spell out the sweet motto, “All for Jesus.” The
recitations, concert exercises, questions and answers that followed,
were well given, and were a little sermon in themselves. How we prayed
that God would bless them to each one present! But the climax was
reached when one of our young men came forward, and taking up a large
globe that had been standing upon the table, said: “To-night we will
unite and extend the motto to ‘All the world for Jesus.’” His manner
was dignified and his words impressive, as he went on to tell of the
needs of the whole world. Then came from each of the eleven, in answer
to his question, “From what countries they should come who before Jesus
in white should stand?” the names of country after country, the wide
world over.
Turning to the audience the speaker told us not to say that time was
too far off, and surprised most of us by saying that if each one now
living, who had taken “All for Jesus” for his life motto, should bring
one soul to Jesus each year, the whole world would soon be converted.
The same young girls who had sung “Zulu Band,” came forward and sang
sweetly, “All for Jesus,” the others joining in the chorus. The groups
remained in their places while the audience arose and joined in the
doxology, and with reverent heads received the benediction.
Our W. M. A. gathered for its second “Missionary Tea Party” on Friday
of the same week. The reading of letters from our absent sisters and
from “The Morning Star,” together with the singing of missionary
songs, occupied an hour, and while we discussed our tea, we chatted of
what we could do for our Selma boys at Tougaloo, and decided to call
our September meeting a “Missionary Quilting,” and put on and off two
quilts. The ladies say it can be done.
* * * * *
GEORGIA.
Extract from a fraternal letter of Rev. T. L. Day, in behalf of the
National Council to the General Conference of the Congregational
Methodists, in session at Fredonia, Ga.:
“We feel that you agree with us when we express the hope that the time
will come when there will be no distinction of North and South, but
when our whole people will understand and trust and love each other.
Political parties pass away and new ones take their places; but, God
helping us, the Congregational method of church government shall never
pass away, but it shall be (as long as grass grows and streamlets
flow) a firm _bond_ of _union_ and brotherly love between us and you
and all other Christians who accept it in its purity. The spirit of
the Congregationalism we honor laments both the bigotry of sect and
the bitterness of sectional politics. It teaches us, both as citizens
and Christians, to love each other. In this spirit of love some of the
ablest and most devoted ministers and educators of our denomination
have been giving their best strength to our missionary institutions of
education in the South. This work is supported by the self-sacrificing
contributions of our churches. They believe (what your leading men have
told us) that the race for which they do this missionary work must
have a training and education in morality and in religious principle,
or they will be the greatest source of danger and evil to the South.
We know that these brethren are striving to work wholly in the spirit
of Christ; and that every noble-minded Southerner, if he could only
see their hearts and their devotion to the future of your fair land,
would wish them God-speed. And if any of you, who are our brethren in
the faith, should ever come to see good results from their efforts,
and should be moved to speak the word of sympathy to those engaged in
this lonely and difficult work, it will surely be reckoned to you by
our Lord and Master as the ‘cup of cold water,’ given in the name of a
disciple.”
* * * * *
TEXAS.
DEATH OF S. B. WHITE.
REV. J. W. ROBERTS, PARIS.
Our faithful missionary, S. B. White, died about three o’clock
yesterday, of congestive chills and fever.
He closed a very successful school session here the first of July. He
went out north of Paris, on Red River, to teach. The water and climate
did not agree with him. He made out to teach one month and a few days
by hard struggle, and came up Friday before last, looking like the very
shadow of death, conducted Sunday-school on Sunday, and was here to
preaching that night. Two o’clock Sunday night he started back to his
school, notwithstanding he was warned not to return. He reached there
through hard struggle, and was there from Tuesday to Friday, trying to
get some conveyance to bring him home. On Friday, August 19, he heard
of a wagon that was coming in, so he walked two miles from the place
where he was boarding, to take passage, which walk was too exhausting
for his already diseased frame. Thus he had to come in a rough wagon
in all of Friday’s scorching sun, a distance of some twenty-one or
twenty-two miles, with frequent fainting spells. He reached here Friday
afternoon at 6 o’clock, where he had the best attention shown him both
by his friends and physician. He was not confined to the bed until
Monday night.
He had not the least fear of dying. He said: “Don’t fret for me; but I
want you all to meet me in Heaven. I am going to that beautiful land of
rest to live with Jesus. ‘There is a fountain filled with blood, drawn
from Immanuel’s veins,’” etc. He described the kind of coffin he wished
to be buried in. He was the most faithful Christian I ever saw. We have
lost a noble Christian worker.
* * * * *
AFRICA.
* * * * *
We have the following information relating to the death of Mr. Kemp at
the Mendi Mission, from Rev. J. M. Williams, missionary at Kaw Mendi.
Mr. Williams’ long experience in Africa has qualified his heart and
mind to sympathize most fully with the afflicted. He is a colored man,
born in British Guiana, South America, and has rendered much good
service to the cause of missions during the past sixteen years.
Mr. Williams writes:—Of the dangerous illness of Mrs. Kemp and of
the death of Mr. Kemp, I had not heard a word till I arrived at Good
Hope on Saturday. I knocked at the door of the mission house with the
fullest expectation of enjoying the company of Mr. and Mrs. Kemp. The
closed doors and windows might have awakened apprehension that all was
not well, but they did not. The death-like silence that was within,
after my repeated knocking at the door, created not the slightest
suspicion or foreboding that sickness and death had preceded me, and
forever removed my beloved and esteemed friend. After the third rapping
at the door, the watchman came to the foot of the stairs and said: “No
pusson there, sir;” and in reply to my questions, he further said:
“Missis done gone to town. The new massa that came t’other day, he done
died.” I could not, and did not, believe the man till after he replied
three times to my half-frantic interrogations, “Massa Kemp done died.”
Words are inadequate to express my feelings then and now. During my
sixteen years’ residence in Africa no event has so sadly affected me as
the death of Mr. Kemp, except the death of my two children. I feel it
keenly. I deeply sympathize with Mrs. Kemp and with the Association. It
is a severe blow to us all, and especially to this station and mission.
Although the residence of the Kemps here was short, yet they were much
respected and beloved by the inhabitants of Bonthe. By the Europeans,
from the Commandant downward, and by the colored people, I have heard
them spoken of in the most flattering terms.
While still suffering from the intensity of grief produced by such
sudden and unexpected intelligence, Mr. Jowett came and confirmed
what I had heard from the watchman. I was informed by Mr. Jowett that
Brother Kemp left Good Hope Station for Avery to see Mr. Jackson on the
11th of May, and returned on the 13th. On the way home he was exposed
to several heavy showers of rain. About two days after his return he
was attacked with intermittent fever. Mrs. Kemp was also dangerously
ill and not expected to recover. This kept him up when he ought to have
been in bed. Under the combined weight of a disordered mind and body,
he sank rapidly until life departed. He had a strong presentiment, two
days before his death, that his end was near and his work on earth
done, and informed Mrs. Kemp of his convictions. He said: “The doctor
has done all he can do. I am ready to die. I commend you to God.”
During his illness he was attended by Brother Jowett, Mrs. During, and
other kind friends.
He died on Sunday morning, May 29th, at 10 o’clock, without a struggle
or groan. He fell asleep in Jesus, and his disembodied spirit took its
happy flight to join the great congregation in Heaven. His remains
were moved to the chapel at 4 P. M., and from thence to the mission
cemetery, followed by a large concourse of every color, rank and
station in the community. According to his request, his body now lies
at the entrance of the grave-yard under the shade of a large mango
tree. I shall do my best to get a few iron-tree posts, and to have
the grave enclosed as soon as possible after I return to Kaw Mendi,
and I cherish the hope that the friends of the mission will procure a
desirable tombstone to be erected over the grave, and send from the
States a marble inscription to be put into the chapel.
Mr. Jowett is now taking charge of the Station, and Mr. Goodman is
teaching the school at Debia. I sincerely wish you could find a
dozen such men as Mr. Kemp to send to Africa; only be sure that they
come with sound livers, and be entirely free from heart disease. The
climate, I think, is more favorable to lung disease than America. I
believe men of any color will live as long in health in Africa as
elsewhere, provided they visit America or Europe, for a change, once in
every two or three years.
* * * * *
THE INDIANS.
* * * * *
WORK ON A SHORT TOUR.
REV. MYRON EELLS, SKOKOMISH, WASH. TER.
We have been made sad by the death of one of our most prominent church
members, John F. Palmer. He was at the time of his death working at a
saw-mill, when he was accidentally knocked off from a platform, about
ten feet below.
He was the first Indian to join this church. He lived, however, to
see his wife and her two sisters, whom he brought up, members of the
church; the oldest one married, and her daughter the first Indian
child who received the rite of infant baptism. He was far ahead in
many respects of any other of the Indians, especially in regard to old
religious superstitions. While many of the Indians seem willing to give
up their old ideas as a religion, they find it very difficult to get
rid of a superstitious fear. He, however, seemed to have overcome this
entirely. This was partly due to his early life. When he was about ten
years old he went to live with a white family in this Territory. He
afterwards spent several years on board a sailing vessel, and about
twelve years ago he came to this reservation, where he served as
interpreter ten years. He understood the Twana, Nisqually, Clallam,
Russian and English languages, and could read and write the latter,
though he never went to school more than about three weeks. Kind
persons in the family in which he lived and on the ship taught him, and
he had a library at the time of his death worth fifty or sixty dollars,
and took several papers and magazines, both eastern and western, and
even wrote a few articles for the papers.
“Jack at all trades and good at some,” was the pleasant way in which
Dr. Schaff put it, when some of the students in the Theological
Seminary at Hartford had done up some furniture for him to send to New
Haven. I have often been reminded of this expression, and especially
during a short tour I lately made to Dunginess. We missionaries have to
be the first part of the sentence, and we console ourselves with the
hope that the latter part may sometimes be true. When three miles from
home, the first duty was to stop and attend the funeral of a white man
who had recently died. Forty-five miles on, the evening of the next
day until late at night was spent in assisting one of the Government
employees in holding court over four Indians who had been drunk; a
fifth had escaped to the British side, and was free from the trial.
This kind of business occasionally comes in as an aid to the agent. I
seldom have anything to do with it on the reservation, as the agent can
attend to it; but when among Indians, off from the reservation, where
neither of us can be more than once in six months or thereabouts, it
sometimes saves him much trouble and expense, and seems to do as much
good as a sermon. It is of but little use to preach to drunken Indians,
and a little law sometimes helps the Gospel. The agent reciprocates by
talking Gospel to them on the Sabbath on his trips.
On reaching Dunginess the afternoon was spent in introducing an
Indian from British Columbia, who had taken me there in his canoe, to
the Clallam Indians and the school, and in comforting two parents,
Christian Indians, whose youngest child lay at the point of death. The
next morning she died, and as no minister had ever been among these
Indians at any previous funeral, they needed some instruction; so it
was my duty to help dig the grave and make the coffin, comfort them,
and attend the funeral in a snow-storm.
The Sabbath was spent in holding two services with them, one mainly
a service of song; and as there was a part of the day not occupied,
at the request of the whites near by, I gave them a sermon. The next
day I found that “blue Monday” had to be adjourned. Years ago the
Indians purchased their land, but owing to a mistake of the surveyor,
it was necessary that the deeds should be made out again; so, in
order to get all the Indians together who were needed, and the proper
officer, I walked fourteen miles and rode six in a canoe, and then saw
that nineteen deeds were properly signed, which required sixty-two
signatures, besides the witnessing, acknowledging and filing of
them, which required seventy-six names more. The plat of their town,
Jamestown, was also filed and recorded, and all after half-past three
o’clock. When this was done, I assisted the Indians to get two marriage
licenses, when we went to the church, where I addressed them on two
different subjects, after which the two weddings took place, and by
nine o’clock we were done. The monotony of the next day was varied by a
visit to the school, helping the chief to select a burying ground (for
their dead had been buried in various places), a walk of ten miles, and
a wedding of a white couple, who had been very kind to me in my work
there, one of them being a member of our church.
On my way home, while waiting for the steamers to connect, I took a
trip of about fifty miles to help in regard to the finishing of the
Indian census of last year for General Walker and Major Powell, and
then on my way home, by the kindness of the captain of the steamer,
who waited half an hour for me, I was able to catch and take to the
reservation the fifth Indian at Port Gamble who had been drunk, and had
returned from the British side.
I have never had a vacation since I have been here, almost seven
years, unless such things as these may be called vacations. They are
recreation, work, and vacation, all at once.
While at Dunginess I learned one thing which somewhat pleased me. A
few weeks before, a medicine man made a feast on Sabbath evening, and
invited all the Indians to it. In connection with it there was also
a large amount of their incantations. The feast was a bait, and the
Indians went, the members of the church as well as the others leaving
the evening service for it. Mr. Blakeslee, the school-teacher there,
wrote me, as he felt very sad about it. On reaching the place, I found
that on the same Sabbath evening, before the feast was over, those
Christian Indians, feeling that they were doing wrong, left the place
and went to one of their houses, where they confessed their sin and
held a prayer meeting over it, and on the following Thursday evening,
at the general prayer meeting, made a public statement of it. We could
ask for nothing more, but could thank the Holy Spirit for inclining
them thus to do, before any white person had spoken to them on the
subject.
* * * * *
THE CHINESE.
* * * * *
“CALIFORNIA CHINESE MISSION.”
_Auxiliary to the American Missionary Association._
PRESIDENT: Rev. J. K. McLean, D. D. VICE-PRESIDENTS: Rev. A. L.
Stone, D. D., Robert B. Forman, Rev. T. K. Noble, Hon F. F. Low,
Rev. I. E. Dwinell, D. D., Hon. Samuel Cross, Rev. S. H. Willey, D.
D., Jacob S. Taber.
DIRECTORS: Rev. George Mooar, D. D., Hon. E. D. Sawyer, Rev. E. P.
Baker, James M. Haven, Esq., Rev. Joseph Rowell, Rev. John Kimball,
A. L. Van Blarcon, Esq., George Harris, Esq., and the Secretary ex
officio.
SECRETARY: Rev. W. C. Pond. TREASURER: E. Palache, Esq.
* * * * *
“STEADFAST, IMMOVABLE.”
BY REV. WM. C. POND.
It was in the last week in July that one of our Chinese brethren at
Marysville, a lad of only 13 years—Ng Gan Don by name—called on one of
his cousins to inquire whether money which he had deposited with this
cousin to be sent to his father in China, had yet gone forward. The
cousin declined to satisfy him upon this point, but wished himself to
be satisfied upon another. So, taking Gan Don with yet another cousin
into an inner apartment, they inquired into his religious views and
practices. They had been specially commissioned, so they said, by Gan
Don’s mother, to see to it that what he might hear and see in the land
of the Golden Mountains should work no detriment to the religious
ideas she had instilled in his mind. Gan Don acknowledged that he had
exchanged those views and practices for some which he saw to be wiser
and more true; that he no longer worshipped idols or ancestors, but
that he believed in Jesus and was going to worship Him. They argued
with him, but found him more than a match for them on that arena; and
so, being two against one, and that one but a boy, they were easily
emboldened to see what virtue there might be in blows. The blows fell
fast and hard, and the poor lad’s head on which they fell was suffering
sorely, but he maintained his integrity, and told them that he would
never worship idols, even if they should undertake to kill him. At
length he was released, and went, battered and bleeding, to the mission
house. Our brethren, thinking that a little insight into Christian laws
might do these persecutors good, entered a complaint against them, and
they were fined $30 each.
* * * * *
EXCITEMENT IN SACRAMENTO.
The _Record-Union_, of Sacramento, tells the story under this
heading:—“CHINATOWN PREACHING. CHINESE MISSIONARIES KU-KLUXED, BUT
NOT TERRIFIED.” I wish you had space for the entire article, but it
would cover too many pages. Suffice it to say, that in connection with
other Chinese Christians, our helper, Lem Chung, maintains a regular
street-preaching service each Sabbath afternoon, in the very heart
of the Sacramento Chinatown. Last Sabbath (August 14), as he and his
companions approached the place, they found themselves confronted by
a large _white_ poster covered with Chinese characters. White is the
emblem of mourning among the Chinese, and gave to the poster much the
same significance that black, emblazoned with skull and crossbones,
would have done to the colored voters of the South some years ago. Many
of the heathen Chinese had gathered to watch the effect of this woful
paper on the advocates of the American heresy; and mingled surprise
and horror seized them when Lem Chung proceeded coolly to take it down
from the wall and read it aloud to them all. I give you his translation
of its contents;—“It is claimed by the Christian preachers that Christ
is the Lord of heaven and earth and the Creator. They only preach to
make money, and it is useless to dispute with them; but something must
be said to inform the people against this new false religion. It is
learned from Christianity that Jesus was born only 1,881 years ago,
which proves that it is false that he made the world; and telling a
falsehood about this, they cannot be believed about anything else. Or,
if Jesus was born before the world was made, then there was no world
to hold Him when He was first born, or for Him to be upon, and His
parents would have starved to death. How is it that you fellows keep so
happy when you preach such news as this to us? Notice is hereby given
that such of the Chinese people as have been converted to Christianity
must not follow that way any more. Moreover, this religion must not
be preached any more on the street, and if any shall do so they shall
be arrested by the Six Companies and punished for preaching false
doctrines and deceiving the people. They shall be given eighty lashes,
and then dragged to the grave-yard and buried alive; their bones shall
not be taken back to China, but shall remain foreign ghosts forever;
and then they can believe in Jesus all they are a mind to. Whoever
shall dare to take this white notice down shall be the son of no
father.”
The effect of the placard was simply to secure a larger audience and a
closer attention at the preaching service, to demonstrate the futility
of gods that men could make and men destroy, and to give our helper
and his friends the best possible opportunity to do two things: 1st,
to show that Confucius urges all men to study and seek for the truth
wherever they can find it, and those who propose to beat and kill and
doom men for doing this, are no followers of that great master; and,
2d, to illustrate the Christian spirit by inviting those who had “put
up the white poster to come to the mission-house, where they would be
kindly treated,” and find themselves in the midst of good friends.
* * * * *
FONG GET LOY IN CHINA.
Fong Get Loy was one of our earliest converts, and though only a
house servant, has long been a pillar in our Sacramento mission
work. Somewhat more than a year ago he returned to China and spent
several months. I have been greatly interested in his account of his
experiences there, and at my request he has written them out, as
follows, (the original in Chinese; the translation by Lem Chung):