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Boston Universiiy 
School of Theology Library 


IN the Spring of 1894 the duty was assigned 
me of making the customary visitation of our 
missions in Eastern Asia. The first episcopal 
visit to this part of the mission world under the 
care of the Methodist Episcopal Church was 
made by Bishop Kingsley in 1869. As this was 
some years before the planting of our mission in 
Japan, and Korea was at the time inaccessible, 
his supervision was restricted to our compara- 
tively new but promising mission in China. 

Since then the field occupied by our Church 
has greatly expanded, embracing now large por- 
tions of both the continental and insular em- 
pires, with a considerable part of the Korean 

After my V wife h^d concluded to make the 
journey with me, it was thought by us both 
that if ''Cousin Mary" could be induced to ac- 
company us, our equipment for usefulness would 
be largely increased. We were greatly delighted 



when, after much thought and prayer over the 
unexpected proposal, she consented to do so. 
While we coveted her companionship in our 
prospective journeyings, we were still more 
eager that she should visit these fields in the 
interest of the work itself. 

The work maintained by the Woman's For- 
eign Missionary Society in Eastern Asia has 
reached a magnitude which few are aware of. 
The occasional visit of some one especially fitted 
by long experience in the Managing Board in 
the home-land, joined to a profound and lively 
interest in the work itself, is warmly welcomed 
by the missionaries in the field, and can not fail 
to prove an incalculable benefit. 

This volume gives abundant proof of the 
untiring diligence and unstinted devotion with 
which this unofficial representative of the Ex- 
ecutive Committee sought out every possible 
avenue of usefulness in her wide journeyings 
through these pagan lands. Nor does it fail to 
express the gr-ateful appreciation of her labors 
felt by all the missionaries in the fields she vis- 
ited. Her genuine interest in the work, as well 
as her godly example and singularly wise coun- 


sels, made an abiding impression both on the 
missionaries and the native Christians. 

I gratefully acknowledge my personal obliga- 
tions to Mrs. Nind for valuable aid in many 
ways, and especially for important information 
and suggestions relating to the work of the 
Woman's Society. 

We were glad that she found it practicable 
to tarry in the home of her son-in-law, the Rev. 
W. H. Lacy, of the Foochow Mission, and return 
at length by way of Malaysia and India. 

This brief memorial of our sister's life, and 
especially of her visit to the Orient, is from the 
pen of one admirably fitted in every way for the 
task. I trust it will be welcomed by a wide 
circle of readers, stimulating them to a stronger 
faith and a more self-sacrificing zeal in the 
cause of the world's evangelization. 

W. X. NiNDK. 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2010 with funding from 

Boston Library Consortium IVIember Libraries 




Chii^dhood and Marriage, 19 

Conversion — Childish Ambition to Preach — Re- 
markable Memory — First Sermon to her School- 
mates — Her Mother's Training — Missionary Zeal — 
Out at Work — Suitors — Correspondence Leading to 
Marriage — Departure for America — How she Cured 
her Husband of Smoking — Business Failure — Go- 
ing to War — Faith Honored — Temperance Work — 
Sabbath-school Teaching — Unrest of Soul — Becom- 
ing a Methodist — Evangelistic Work — First Office 
in the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society — Her 
"Missionary Baptism" — Husband's Death. 


Journey to Japan, 37 

Ejected from the General Conference of the Meth- 
odist Church — Delegate to the General Conference 
of Missions — Ovation at the General Executive 
Committee of the Woman's Foreign Missionary So- 
ciety — Hard Work as an Organizer — Success in 
Raising Money — Refusal to Join the Woman Suf- 
fragists — " Missionary Children " — Desire to Visit 
them — Objections, and How they were Overruled — 
Preparations for the Journey — Farewells — The 
Lunch-basket — Illness in San Francisco — The De- 
layed Voyage — Storm and Fog — Entering Tokyo 
Bay — Excitement of Landing — Disappointed Mis- 





Trip to Nagoya, 51 

Missionary Grandeur — The Postponed Reception — 
Children's-day in Japan — Unique Decorations — In- 
vitations to Commencement Exercises — From Yo- 
kohama to Nagoya — Sights and Sounds En Route — • 
T.he Earthquake City — Seiryu Jo Gakko — Cramped 
Quarters— Study of English — Sewing Classes — Com- 
mencement Exhibit — Commencement Exercises- 
Refreshments — Value of a Sobeisukzvai — Return to 
Yokohama — Reflections — Fire — Saved from an 
Earthquake — A Woman's Meeting and Second Re- 


JouRNEYiNGS Northward, 63 

Temples of Japan Disappointing — Visit to Asakusa 
Temple— The Central Tabernacle— A Methodist 
Conference — Effects of the Earthquake — The Har- 
rison Industrial Home — A Sick Pupil — The "Sleep 
Account" — To Nikko b}' Rail — Nikko not always 
Kekko — Hastening Northward — Passport Difficul- 
ties in Sendai — Hakodate : the City, the Seashore, 
the Mountain — Rumors of War — The Daily (?) News- 
paper — War Formally Declared — A Curious Procla- 
mation — Uncertain News — Christian Patriotism — 
The Friends' Mission Unpopular — War Problems — 
Daily Program at the Home — Climbing the Moun- 
tain — The View from the Top. 


From Hakodate to Hirosaki, 81 

The Hot Springs— Basha Riding— At the Hotel— A 
Christian Soldier — A Japanese Parsonage — Native 
Missionary to the Kurile Islands and his Bride — 



Table Conversation — Going to Hirosaki — Delay in 
Aomori — A Jinrikisha Ride — "Made a Gazing- 
stock" — Glimpses of a Railroad — Welcome to Hi- 
rosaki— The "House with an Up-stairs" — The O 
Shiro — Iwaki San. 


From Hirosaki to Nagasaki, 105 

Invitations to Work — Reception at the Jo Gakko— 
The Ivittle Missionary's Mistake— A Woman's Meet- 
ing — Impression Made by Aunt Mary — Invited to 
Speak in the To-o-gijiku— A Rainy Day— The 
"Teachers' Room" — Promptness — A Carriage Drive 
— Another Woman's Meeting — The Pilgrims — Leav- 
ing Hirosaki — Free from Anxiety — Missionary Bat- 
tles—An Adopted Child— A Flooded Railroad- 
Work in Sendai — Fermented Wine at a Communion 
Service — An Imperial Procession — "Fraud Coils of 
Hair"— The "Waterfall House "—Through the In- 
land Sea — Kwassui Jo Gakko. 


Travewng in China, 125 

From Nagasaki to Shanghai — Sights at the Land- 
ing — A Missionar}^ Boarding-house — A Fine Mis- 
sionary Residence — A Self-supporting Hospital — 
Many Kinds of Bondage — Within a Native Walled 
City — Meeting " Emma " — A Trip up the Yangtse — 
A Stop at Chinkiang — Conference at Kiukiang — 
Pledges against Foot-binding — English Missionary 
Work at Hankow — Preparing Tea for the Russian 
Market — Excitement Over the War — A Trip to the 
Ming Tombs near Nanking — Chinese Temples — 
The "Stone cut out of the Mountain "—The China 
Inland Mission — Voyage to Foochow — Another Con- 



ference — The " Matchless Interpreter " — Celebrating 
an Anniversary — Thanksgiving at the Consulate — A 
Chinese Feast — Chinese Liberality — A Chinese 
Bride — An After-Conference Meeting — In a House- 
boat — Beautiful Scenery — A Strike — Discomforts of 
a Chinese Inn — Greetings at Kucheng — A Sunday 
Congregation — Farewell Ceremonies. 


In and About Foochow, 144 

Puzzling Details of Missionary Living — Dail}^ Work 
of One Missionary — A Successful Sunday-school — 
Christmas Exercises — A Chinese Wedding — New- 
Year's Festivities — A Trip with Dr. Sites — An Idol 
Procession — Death of Dr. Sites — How she became 
" Mother Nind ' ' — Chinese Graves — Government 
Examinations — Buildings New and Old — Veteran 
Missionaries — Home of a Native Preacher— Re- 
markable Converts — Fleeing from the Heat — The 
Kucheng Massacre — A Child's Heroism — Mother 
Nind's Seventieth Birthday. 


From Foochow to Singapore, 167 

Desire to See India — Waiting for a Companion — 
"Farewell to China" — Other Good-byes — Mission- 
aries in Native Dress — Arguments on the "For- 
mosa" — The Stewart Children — In Hong Kong — 
" Happy Valley" — A Steep Railway — Saving Money 
— On the "Peak" — In Search of Soda-water — Learn- 
ing New Words — In a Storm — Nearing Singapore — 
The Opening of Work in Singapore — First Sights — 
A Gari Ride — The Mary C. Nind Deaconess Home — 
A Weary Step — Paying for the Baggage — ^A Trying 
Atmosphere — Drops of Malaria — An "Ancient" 




From Singapore to Rangoon, 191 

How Beds are Made in Singapore — A Talk on Cli- 
mate — A Eurasian School — A Chinese School— In 
Chinese Homes — Sin Neo — A Reception — An Ex- 
amination in the Middle Road School — The Malay 
a Musical Language — Sunday-school Work in Singa- 
pore—A Twilight Service— Children of the Home — 
A Unique Boarding-school — How the Day Pupils 
get their Breakfast — A Company Meal — The Public 
Gardens^" Become a Nice Wife " — Rescue Work 
among Japanese Women — Ants and Lizards — The 
Shower Bath — Good-byes again — A Day in Penang — 
Much Work in Many Languages — Beautiful, but for 
Sharks — The Work First — A Cocoanut Grove — A 
Mysterious Waterfall — A Signal of Distress — The 
- Rescued and the Rescuer — Passengers of the Lin- 
dula — Four Houses, but no Home — The Nice Ones 
and the Nasty Ones — A Hero, if there ever was One. 

In Burma 215 

A New Table of Money — Difficulties in the Way of 
Finding an Address — Novelty of Driving under a 
House — A Tuin-tuin — ''The Prettiest Drive in the 
World" — The "Sway Dagon" Pagoda — Renewing 
the Gold Leaf — A Beautiful Carving — Story of a 
Bell — Buddhas Many and Varied — Mourners makitig 
Music — An Accident in the Tufn-tum — Airy Houses 
— Laura Gunatilaka — Learning Kindergarten — Per- 
tinent Questions — Souvenir from a Burmese School 
— In the English Church — A Railway Journey — A 
Particular Guard — A Fellow-traveler Embarrassed — 
A Religious Feast — A Pretty Picture — A Late Break- 
fast—Giving the Tenth — A Burmese Village — Win- 
ning the Favor of the Gods — A Favorite Song — 



"Lovely" Children— Simple Dressing— The Tamil 
School — Novel Calisthenics — Evening Prayers — A 
Missionary Pioneer — Early Experiences — Translat- 
ing the Bible — Elephants at Work — Burmese Gen- 


First Days in India, 236 

Sunday Services on the Lindula — Entering the 
Hoogly — A Dangerous Stream — An Open-air Enter- 
tainment — The Bareness of an Indian Cupboard — 
Taking Advice — Prayer-meeting in Bishop Tho- 
burn's Church — Smoke from the Evening Fires — 
Strange Fuel — An Informal Tea — The Woman- 
preacher Criticised — A Literary Contest and Prize 
Exhibition — Winter Vacations — A New Ideal of 
Poverty — An Aristocratic Charity Student — Extreme 
Self-denial — The Bengali Girls' School— Novelties in 
Dress — The Zenana Women's Estimate of the Little 
Missionary — Missionary Beginnings as Represented 
in a Hindustani School — A Missionary Conference — 
"Imitation of Krishna" — Too Busy for Sightsee- 
ing—A Drive to the " Gardens "—The Great Banyan- 
tree— "Kali Ghat"— The Fakirs and Lepers— The 
"Sacred Well"— A Hideous Idol— Why they could 
not See the Sacrifice— Watching the Bathers— The 
Inconvenience of Drawing Money in Silver — Trav- 
eling in India— Overweight Baggage — A Chilly 
Night— Arriving in Allahabad— Tents for Guest- 
rooms — Novel Introductions — A Successful Meeting. 


From JubbuIvPur to Lucknow, 254 

The Bombay Conference — Deaconesses in the Wo- 
man's Conference — A Dark Cloud — Conference En- 
tertainment—Churning the Butter— Always in a 



Hurry — " Carrying their Beds with them " — The 
Dreaded "Touch of the Sun"— "Hot" Food— 
Highly-esteemed Missionaries in Luckuow — Prep- 
arations for Christmas — Prayer-meeting before 
Dawn — Other Meetings — A Christmas-tree in a Hos- 
pital for Native Women— A Feast in a Tomb— With 
the " Mother of the Woman's Foreign Missionary 
Society" — Three Attractions of Lucknow — Going 
to Cawnpore — "For Kuropeans Only" — Industrial 
Exhibition of the Indian Christian Association — A 
Farewell Reception— Angry Passions in the Girls' 
High School — A Visit to the Cemetery — A Conver- 
sation at Memorial Well — Memorial Church— Mas- 
sacre Ghat — A Parade Service — Watch-night Serv- 
ices in Lucknow — A Sunday-school Christmas Fete 
— ^A Zenana Party — Shivering in India — Trying to 
Drape the Sari. 


Visiting Two Conferences, 277 

Elephant Riding — In the Deaconess Home — Unex- 
pected Help on Letters — Many Texts, but Only One 
Sermon — The Publishing-House — The Woman's 
College — Heavy Burdens — Journey to Sitapur — 
Bread Cast on the Waters — An Interesting Mission- 
ary Meeting — A Capable Teacher — A New Namesake 
— Parting Salaam from School Children — The North 
India Conference — The Hospital at Bareilly — The 
Orphanage — Contrasts Suggested — The " Grinding 
Room " — A Discussion on Christmas Boxes —Isolated 
Workers — School for Preachers' Wives^A Financial 
Exigency — A Novel Journey — Wellesley School at 
Naini Tal— "The Most Lovely Spot on Earth"— 
Trip to Budaon — The " Sweepers' Padre " — In Mo- 
radabad — A Weavers' Mohulla — Self-support Anni- 
versary of the Northwest Conference, 




From Meerut to Muttra, 300 

Phebe Rowe— Village Work— A Sham Battle— At- 
tacked by Hornets — A New Way of Cleaning — Bp- 
worth League Work — In a Railway Compartment — 
The Fair at Aligarh — A Memorial Bell — A Moham- 
medan College — A Mosque and a Temple — The 
"Mark of the Beast"— First View of Muttra— Con- 
secrated Wealth — Zenana Visiting — Passion for Jew- 
elry — A Sacred City — A Beautiful Temple — A Story 
of Krishna — A Christian Rest-House — A Pitiful 
Tale— "Flora Hall"— On the School Compound. 


Last Days in Two Lands, 318 

Tired of Sight-seeing— "Doing" the Taj— A Trip to 
the Fort — A Late Christmas Fete — Becoming Inde- 
pendent Travelers — New Companions — A Native 
"Zoo" — Museum at Jeypore — School of Arts — In 
the Palace of the Maharaja — An Absorbing Novel — 
A College for Princes — Traveling Third Class — Un- 
der the Doctor's Care — Going to Central Conference 
at Poona — The Bishop's Sermon — Ramabai's School 
— Unique Weddings — Interesting Zenanas — Sailing 
from Bombay — A Crowded State-room — Longing 
for England — Returning Health — The Scenes of 
her Childhood. 


Mary Ci<arkb Nind, Frontispiece. 


Street in Hirosaki, 93 

Aunt Mary, the Litti^e Missionary, and her 

Workers, 97 

The **0 Shiro" at Hirosaki, loi 

IWAKi San, 105 

Hair Ornaments oe a Chinese Lady, 137 

A Bridae Sedan Chair, 149 

Mother Nind in her Sedan Chair, 157 

Mary C. Nind Deaconess Home, Singapore, .... 183 

The Bueeock Cart, c , . . 187 

Chiedren oe the Home, Singapore, ....<,... 197 
Breakfasting on the Schooe-ground, ....... 201 

A Tamie Group, 229 

A Home in a Tomb, 259 

"Each Crumbeing Tower," 263 

Church at Meerut, 291 


2 17 

It was sundown in a country-house near lyon- 
don. The little five-year-old of the family had said 
her evening prayer as usual, and been put to bed. 
She was not yet asleep, however, but lay for a long 
time pondering her first new, wonderful thoughts 
of God. At last, obeying a sudden impulse, she 
jumped out of bed, and knelt once more to thank him 
for her good home and many kind friends. Then, 
after a little pause, she reverently added, " Please 
give me a new heart, and make me your good 
little girl." At this, a sweet feeling of peace and 
joy stole over her, and, lying down again, she was 
soon fast asleep. 

In the morning a new life began for this little 
girl, so early led to know and love God; and 
while she played and romped Hke other children 
by the lake and in the garden, and dearly loved, 
like them, to exchange her pennies for sweets at 
the nearest shop, there was always a warm feeling 
in her heart toward God, and a desire to please 
him, even in her play. On Sundays she dehghted 



in going to Church, and at those times, seated in 
a high pew by her mother's side, listened intently 
to all the minister said about the God she loved. 
She wished, O so much, that she were a boy, and 
then she, too, might become a preacher. Often, to 
please the child, her mother turned her pinafore into 
a gown, and a box into a pulpit, and told her to 
repeat what the minister had said. Her memory 
alway served her well, and ''first," "secondly,'' 
even to " lastly," the sermon was heard again from 
her childish lips. It came to be the family custom 
to appeal to Mary, if any part of the sermon was 
to be recalled. One day a chance visitor wished 
to refer to a certain head in the sermon of the pre- 
vious Sabbath. Poor Mary was sound asleep, and 
her sister had to shake her well to make her know 
what was wanted of her. Rubbing her eyes, she 
began reciting the heads in order until the right 
one was reached; then was down on her pillow 
again, fast asleep. 

It was not until she was twelve years old that 
she preached her first original sermon. She had 
been tending day-school, but was soon to enter a 
boarding-school ; and as she thought of leaving 
her little mates, her heart was full of concern for 
their eternal welfare. Obtaining permission to 
speak to them during the rest-hour, she began from 
the text, " Repent ye." Her sermon had three 
heads : First, " The meaning of repentance ;" 
secondly, "Why we should repent;" thirdly, 
" When we should repent." By the time she came 


to the last head, she had grown so earnest and 
convincing that her little hearers, already overbur- 
dened at the sense of parting, could bear no more, 
but burst into tears, and, one and all, continued 
weeping through the rest of the sermon. With 
such effective preaching in her childhood days, 
it was not strange that even so great a man as 
Edward Eggleston should say of Mary in later 
years, "There is a woman who should be licensed 
to preach." 

But long before Edward Eggleston's days, 
Mary's mother must have realized the gift that 
had been bestowed upon her child ; for, often when 
she gave her tracts to distribute, she would add, 
"And, if you like, you can say a word of exhorta- 
tion, too." Sometimes the mother put an empty 
basket in her hand, and she and her sister went 
out to collect penny offerings for missions. They 
were taught to save even bones and rags, to pick 
up pins, and to practice every possible economy for 
the lyord's work. Once they had a pastor who was, 
also, a returned missionary from Madagascar. He 
had left his work only because of extreme persecu- 
tion instigated by the queen toward Christians, and 
was biding his time, no doubt, to return. His zeal 
inflamed Mary's, and she resolved to become a mis- 
sionary. No sooner was this resolution made than 
she confided it to her mother -her mother, who 
was such a lover of missions, who had taught Mary 
to love them, to save her pennies, and to collect 
money from others for them. Surely, her mother 


was the one of all others to tell, the one to be most 
interested, most glad. Without hesitation, her heart 
bounding with joy in her new-made consecration, 
she unfolded her desires. To her dismay, this lover 
of missions was not pleased to make a missionary 
of her own daughter. "■ I can not spare you," she 
said. " You are too useful, too much needed at 
home." Neither tears nor remonstrances were oi 
any avail, but only obedience. As Mary yielded, 
however, with all the strength of her disappoint- 
ment, she made another resolve. The new resolu- 
tion was a solemn covenant with the lyord that, if 
he should ever give her children and all of them 
should want to become missionaries, she would 
freely give her consent. In after years she was 
obliged to keep this covenant in bidding good-bye 
to a son bound for South America, and a daughter 
for China. 

But it was' true, as Mary's mother had said, that 
the family needed her help. A place was found for 
her as saleswoman in a shop at some distance from 
home. She was obliged to board with her employer 
in rooms over the shop, and became so homesick 
that she feared she could not keep her trial engage- 
ment of one month. But a Sunday-school class, 
which she began to teach, absorbed her leisure hours, 
and she soon had no time for homesickness. Doing 
with her might what her hands found to do, she 
became so valuable a saleswoman that her employer, 
fearful of losing her, often advanced her wages; 
and as a Sunday-school worker she frequently re- 


joiced over new souls brought to Christ. During 
this period she was laid low with cholera, and pre- 
pared for immediate translation to her heavenly 
home. Her preparations included the selection of 
a funeral text, one that has been characteristic of 
her whole busy life. 

'' I must work the works of Him that sent me, 
while it is day ; the night cometh, when no man 
can work." 

But night had not yet come to Mary. There 
were many works still waiting for her to do. 

She was now growing up into attractive young 
womanhood, and suitors began to flock about her. 
There was one David, who found great favor in 
her eyes; and as she told her mother of all her 
lovers, she told her, also, how this David had won 
her heart. But he did not win the mother's heart, 
for he was frail, had inherited a weak constitution ; 
and she would not consent to Mary's union with 
him. Then Mary was filled with grief, and spent 
many a night in weeping for the lover she could 
not have. About this time another of her lovers 
sailed to America, to seek his fortune in that new 
country. Before leaving, he asked if he might write 
to Mary. She consented to the correspondence 
as with a friend, not lover, faithfully showing every 
letter to her mother for her approval. Finally, a letter 
came which required very special attention. The 
mother approved, the father likewise. But the final 
decision must rest with Mary. What should she 
do ? She could not assume the responsibility alone ; 


but, for a whole month, by day and night, she 
prayed for guidance. At last, James Nind, at work 
in far-away America, received the news that the 
bride of his choice should be his. But her parents 
would not permit her to go all the way to America 
alone,- as he had proposed. He must take the long 
journey to England for her. This would be a great 
drain on his slender purse ; but what will not a man 
do for the woman he loves ? He engaged steerage 
passage that he might have the more money for the 
return trip, and joyfully crossed the sea to obtain 
his bride. 

And what will a woman not do for the man who 
loves her ? She left her lucrative position, her loved 
Sunday-school class, her home, her country, to be- 
come the wife of a poor man in a new land. 

Soon after their marriage, a grievous disappoint- 
ment came to her. James came in one day, and, 
as was his wont, offered to kiss his wife. She drew 
back in evident dismay. 

" What is the matter ?" said he. 

** I have broken my vow." 

''What vow?" 

" I solemnly vowed that I would never marry a 
man who smoked." 

" But do I smoke? It is only once in a great 
while that I take a little whiff." 

"That 's smoking ; and I said I would not marry 
a man that smoked. I can not undo that ; but I 
certainly shall never kiss a man that smokes." 

The reply was too firm to admit of protest, and 


James was not like the seaman who remarked : 
" My wife does not like tobacco. She '11 not kiss 
me when I smoke ; so, when I am in port, I have 
to give it up." 

James was always in port. There were no long 
voyages to give him opportunity to indulge his 
tastes. His self-denial must be absolute. Still he 
did not for a moment think it too great to make 
for the kisses of her whom he loved best ; but 
wished, no doubt, as he made it, that he could as 
easily dissipate all the trials which marriage had 
in store for her. Try as he might, however, his 
love must impose some hardships which he could 
only help to bear. He was poor, and his first busi- 
ness ventures ended in such utter failure as to 
lay a heavy burden of debt on the newly-married 
couple. • They were too honorable to avail them- 
selves of the bankrupt law ; but struggled along as 
best they could under their heavy load. Working 
hard and saving carefully, it yet required ten or 
twelve years of constant effort and sacrifice to make 
them free. 

Then it was that the Nation itself began to 
tremble under a far more terrible load. The most 
diligent effort and the wisest planning did not suf- 
fice to free her. But, in the midst, she was sud- 
denly plunged into all the horrors and atrocities 
of a great internal w^ar. 

Mr. Nind was not drafted ; but the cry of free- 
dom so stirred his heart that he felt impelled to 
enlist as a volunteer. 


''What do you think," said he to his wife, "of 
my going to the war?" What did she think? 
What would any woman think, with a family of 
little children about her and no way of providing 
them with bread? It was with a sinking heart and 
flagging courage that she replied: "If it be the 
Lord's will for you, you must go. But let us talk 
with your mother first, and leave the decision with 
her." The mother lived not many miles away, 
but anxiety made the short drive long. All the 
way they said little, but occupied themselves with 
prayer and earnest thought. Both felt, rather than 
knew, what was coming. As they anticipated, the 
elder Mrs. Nind did not hesitate to reply: "You 
have a duty to 3^our home and you have a duty 
to your country. But this is the hour of your 
country's need." 

Mr. Nind's pay, as a private soldier, was thir- 
teen dollars a month, which he used scarcely at all 
for himself, but rigidly economized, that he might 
send the most of it to his family. But, at the 
best, how little it was to feed and clothe a wife 
and five children! No wonder Mrs. Nind's faith 
wavered at thought of deducting, as had been 
their habit, one-tenth regularly for the Lord's work ! 
But she had learned to take counsel, first of her 
mother, then of her husband's mother; and now, 
in this difficulty, she appealed to her pastor for 

"It does seem hard," he said; "but don't you 
think you 'd better trust the Lord a little? Do n't 


break your covenant with him, unless it proves 
positively necessary." 

Her ** little faith" was soon honored by news 
of her husband's promotion and increase in pay to 
twenty dollars. From this he was steadily pro- 
moted until, at the close of the war, he was receiv- 
ing one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month 
and bore the rank of adjutant. Engaging in many 
battles, he had not once been wounded; and his 
only illness was an attack of camp-fever. Better 
than this, he had passed through the various temp- 
tations of army life without yielding, and could 
say to his wife upon his return : "I am just the 
same as when I left you, Mary." 

In harmony with her child-interest in preaching 
and missions, Mary Clark Nind had always been 
an earnest temperance advocate, serving at the age 
of fourteen as president of a juvenile temperance 
organization. The adding of Nind to her name 
but added fresh incentive to her zeal ; and, amidst 
all her busy life as a housewife, the care of her 
home never caused her to forget the necessity of 
guarding it. 

At first she belonged to secret temperance so- 
cieties, then so much in vogue. But in her integ- 
rity of soul and independence of judgment, she 
saw that the paraphernalia and numerous attend- 
ant forms and ceremonies of these societies were 
but blocking the wheels of progress ; so she with- 
drew that she might give the more vigor and en- 
ergy to the work itself The Crusade naturally 


attracted her, and she was one of the first to enter 
the ranks of the Woman's Christian Temperance 

But her interest and zeal in the cause of tem- 
perance were never allowed to run away with her 
. devotion to other forms of Christian work. For 
thirty-five consecutive years she was a Sabbath- 
school teacher. She had many pupils in that time — 
pupils, no doubt, who came to her class in the 
same listless, purposeless fashion which is the 
habit of a great body of Sabbath-school pupils who 
have a Sunday on their hands and do n't know 
what to do with it. But her pupils never came to 
a listless, purposelCvSS teacher. She had an aim, if 
they did not ; and they were drawn, as by a mag- 
net, straight to the Master himself. 

With all her directness of purpose, however, 
and her success in achieving it, she was wholly dis- 
satisfied with herself. There seemed to be heights 
that she could not compass, joys that forever 
mocked her. For every " up " in her Christian 
experience there was a corresponding " down." 
Faith ever lacked restfulness ; joy, sweetness ; and 
energy, the quietness and confidence which make 
the truest strength. 

She wondered if it must always be so ; if she 
must continue to serve Christ in her weak way; 
if she must go on struggling, sometimes conquer- 
ing, but often overcome. She talked with other 
Christians about it ; but the light that was in them 
was no brighter than h,er own, and her distress 


deepened. In the depth of her gloom, she sought 
out a little, much-despised company of Methodists. 
There first the light began to break about her, as 
she listened to living testimonies to Christ's power 
in saving from every sin and guiding in the way 
of holiness. 

Often she would slip away from the cold for- 
malism of her own Church to enjoy the sunshine 
of the little Methodist meeting. She felt this to 
be her true Church-home ; and, after counseling 
with a wise old lady who was aunt to every one 
in the neighborhood, she asked for a letter from the 
Church of which she and her husband had long 
been members. 

" Mrs. Mary C. Nind, who has not walked in 
harmony with our Church for a year, requests a 
letter to the Methodist Episcopal Churchy and is 
hereby dismissed to you." 

The Methodist pastor smiled as he read it, but 
said that he could receive her upon profession of 

At last the rest and peace for which she had 
longed came into her heart, and with it a greater 
change in her life than when, in the long ago, she 
had knelt by her crib to ask God to make her a 
good little girl. Her children noticed it, and one 
day she overheard a conversation that startled her : 

" Take care ! Mother will scold if you do 

" No, she won't. The scold has all gone out 
of her." 


Small wonder that the grace and sweetness of 
daily living speedily won them all to the mother's 
Master, when, no matter how many Sunday-school 
pupils had been saved, they might have been lost 
without it? 

In her adopted Church she found more of that 
freedom of speech for which she had always yearned. 
The class-meeting was a weekly delight to her ; and 
so clear and forcible was her speech, that she was 
often called upon to address Sunday-school and 
other conventions. Once, upon such an occasion, 
her earnest, telling words had no less keen and ob- 
servant a listener than Mr. D. ly. Moody. Ever on 
the lookout for the workers whom the I^ord him- 
self had sent into the vineyard, he sought an intro- 
duction to Mrs. Nind, and invited her to address 
one of his own meetings. Quite overwhelmed, she 
could only reply that she must consult her husband 
before giving a definite answer. 

The consultation brought to her husband's view 
much the same kind of a cross as she had to shoul- 
der in 1862. It was his turn now to bide by the 
stuff, and permit her to go forth to contend with 
the hosts of evil. What a heavy cross it was ! He 
fully understood its weight now ; and all he could 
say was to repeat the words that she had uttered 
then : " If it be the Lord's will, you must go." 

The work of an evangelist compelled her to 
give up her Sunday-school class, as well as the quiet 
comfort of a home Sabbath, and brought her into 
such prominence that she was named, in an editorial 


in the Independe7it, as one of two women who should 
be licensed to preach. 

Two other women saw this bravely-expressed 
editorial sentiment, and carefully noted it for future 
use. They were workers in the Woman's Foreign 
Missionary Society of the Methodist Church; and 
when they came to Winona, Minn., w^here Mrs. Nind 
was then living, to organize an auxiliary, they called 
upon her at once to ask her to become president of 
the new organization. 

The call, like that to many another, seemed 
inopportune. Family cares were pressing very 
heavily upon her. There was so much washing 
and ironing, baking and stewing, sewing and mend- 
ing, that, ready as she had ever been for every good 
work, she felt that this must be refused. They did 
not accept her refusal, but presented the claims of 
the v/ork again. A second time she refused. A 
third time they made a glowing appeal. Refusals 
were growing difficult, but acceptance was more so. 
There was but one thing left for her to do, and she 
did that. She burst into tears. The ladies were- 
distressed to see her weep, but were no less per- 
sistent. "Tell us all about it," they said; "just 
everything that hinders you." Then she gave them 
a full account of all the hard work and various 
cares that made this new responsibility impossible. 
They listened with a sympathetic but not in the 
least defeated manner. Their looks but pre-said 
what soon fell from their lips : " We can manage 
that. We shall hire a servant for you, and then 


you will have time for this extra work." Thus was 
Mary C. Nind installed in her first office in the 
Woman's Foreign Missionary Society. 

With her hands freer than their wont, she ap- 
plied herself so zealously to the new undertaking 
that the Winona auxiliary was soon known as the 
banner auxiliary of the district, and its president 
was often in demand to organize auxiliaries on 
other charges. 

Finally, there came a year when the Program 
Committee for the Branch meeting had a serious 
discussion. ''Who shall give the annual address?" 
was the subject under consideration. Some one 
suggested the name of the lady who had given the 
address at the previous meeting. Another auda- 
cious member proposed the name of Mrs. Mary C. 

"Who is she?" was the first response. 

" Did she ever do such a thing?" 

" Won't she make an utter failure of it?" 

"We know that Mrs. W. can do it, and do it 
well. I think we 'd better have her." 

But, strange to sa}^, the audacious member won 
the day, and it was decided to give the new un- 
known an opportunit}^ to make a failure. As the 
time of the meeting was drawing near, the decision 
was sent to her by telegram. 

In the not very olden days a telegram entered a 
household with much the same explosive effect as 
that produced by the bursting of a bomb-shell. 
This bomb-shell did not fully burst until the tele- 


gram was opened and read. She was wanted to 
deliver the annual address at the coming Branch 
meeting in St. Louis. She read the words slowly, 
and handed the telegram to her husband. "I have 
nothing to wear," were her first words. But there 
was neither time nor money for a new dress, nor 
even for a new bonnet. The short, brown dress, 
which had been her best so long that it was hardly in 
accord with the prevailing style ; the plain, old-fash- 
ioned bonnet, which had served her through many 
a summer, — these had to be taken from the press, 
where the}^ were as carefully hung and bandboxed 
as though in the latest fashion and made for this 
particular occasion ; and very hastily she made the 
only preparations possible for her journey. 

She was to be entertained at the home of the 
grandest lady in the Church. This appalled her 
quite as much as the responsibility of making the 
address; for she knew that, in her old-fashioned 
dress and with her plain domestic ways, she would 
feel quite out of place in the grand lady's home. 
So, at her urgent request, she was given a less pre- 
tentious place of entertainment. 

There was only one day remaining between her 
and the time of giving her address ; and a burden, 
greater than that of old clothes and fine places of 
entertainment, settled upon her. Early in the 
morning she said to her hostess : " If any one calls 
on me this morning, even if it should be the Presi- 
dent of the United States, tell him I am busy and 
can not see him ; and if I am not down to dinner, 



do not call me, for I must get ready for this even- 
ing's meeting." 

Shutting herself in her room, she tried to think ; 
but her thoughts were like obstinate children, refus- 
ing to come when most wanted. She knelt in 
prayer ; but the heavens were like brass above her 
head. ' No thoughts from within, no help from 
without, and the meeting coming in the evening ! 
What should she do? What could she do but 
wrestle with the angel, crying in her agony, " I will 
not let thee go, except thou bless me?" Suddenly 
the blessing came, rushing like a flood into her 
soul ; and there was her missionary address, hang- 
ing like a vivid picture before her mind ; begin- 
ning, middle, and end, she could see it all. Taking 
pencil and paper, she began to write; but her 
thoughts flew too fast to be caught and harnessed. 
At dinner, which she did not miss, she animatedly 
informed her hostess, " I 've got it, and only wish it 
were time to begin." That evening, as she rose to 
speak, in her short dress and plain poke-bonnet, 
there were those in the audience who wondered 
among themselves, and even whispered to each 
other, " What possessed the Program Committee to 
ask her to speak ?" The members of the commit- 
tee who had wanted Mrs. W. said, " I wish we had 
insisted upon having her." Even the " audacious 
member" must have hung her head in confusion, 
and thought, '' How could I have made such a 
mistake !" 

But the baptism of the morning — her " mission- 


ary baptism," she loves to call it — was upon her 
still. In clear, forcible language, she presented the 
picture she had seen, until her hearers saw it too, 
and were thrilled with as deep a sense as she of the 
great need of the heathen world and their own 
responsibility in supplying it. Some of them told 
her this at the close of the meeting, and one man 
made quite a speech about the surprise he had felt 
at hearing such eloquence from the lips of a plain 
little woman. 

From this time there was no hesitation mani- 
fested by Program Committees in putting Mary C. 
Nind's name down for an address ; and when the 
St. Louis or Western Branch of the Woman's For- 
eign Missionary Society was divided, she was made 
corresponding secretary of the part to be known 
as the Minneapolis Branch. In this capacity she 
began to travel almost constantly; going to one 
place to stimulate an old auxiliary, to another to 
form a new one, to another to address a missionary 
mass-meeting. To most places the request for her 
coming was worded to include the Sabbath, and she 
would be invited into the pulpit to conduct an 
evangelistic service. Thus were her early ambi- 
tions gratified, for she had become both preacher 
and missionary. 

In the midst of these active labors and frequent 
journeyings a shadow fell athwart her household. 
Over him whose heart had ever been in her keep- 
ing, who had faithfully taken his turn in watching 
and waiting by the fireside, who never called it self- 


denial when it was for her, — over him the shadow 
had fallen. " Softening of the brain," the doctor 
pronounced it. " He will probably live in this con- 
dition for years, though he may die quickly. Noth- 
ing else is possible." 

Then, through a glass darkly, she looked at the 
coming years — her busy life cut off with a snap, many 
an opening avenue of usefulness forever closed to 
her — and she became the lonely watcher by the side 
of one bound, mind and bod}^ by a disease worse 
than death. She shuddered, and begged the Lord 
to be merciful. He was ! The doctor's possible 
prediction was verified, and the bound body was 
laid to rest; while every one spoke in love and ad- 
miration of the freed soul. " He never did a mean 
thing in his life," was the testimony of his eldest 
son; and the preacher used for his text, "Walk 
about Zion, go round about her, tell the towers 



Whkn the General Conference of tlie Methodist 
Church met in New York in May, 1888, for its 
quadrennial session, everybody was expecting a 
sensation, and nobody was disappointed. Five 
women had been elected as lay delegates, but neither 
the women nor the electors knew that they were 
eligible to election. The Conference itself had to 
confess to like ignorance; and after directing all 
of its brilliant lights to an exciting but fruitless 
search for the needful knowledge, the women were 

One of the ejected women was Mary C. Nind; 
another was Frances Willard, of the Woman's 
Christian Temperance Union. Mrs. Nind was on 
her way to another General Conference, to which 
she was a dona fide delegate. This was the Gen- 
eral Conference of Missions, convening that year 
in London. Before sailing. Miss Willard put a set 
of resolutions in her hands, requesting their pres- 
entation before the Temperance Committee of the 
Conference. They were presented, but the com- 



mittee absolutely refused to consider them. Then 
Mrs. Nind, with happy determination, improved 
her first opportunity of addressing the Conference 
by producing and reading the rejected resolutions. 
Consequently, when the Minutes appeared, they 
were found, as desired, printed in full. 

On her return to the States, she went at once 
to the meeting of the General Executive Committee 
of her own Missionary Society, convening at Cin- 
cinnati, and commenced her sparkling report in the 
following way : 

"At the Conference in New York, they said I 
was not a minister, which, of course, was true ; then 
they said I was not a la3mian, and so gave me no 
seat. In London, the}^ called me a laj^ delegate and 
gave me a seat. Now, what do you say that I am?" 

At this, the secretary of the Baltimore Branch 
arose and said, " You are the noblest Roman of 
them all." Then there was great applause, and 
Mrs. Nind stood blushing so violently that an on- 
looker must have thought it had fallen on her 

But the journeyings were not all to great Con- 
ventions. There were still the short ones here and 
there to stimulate w^ork in her own Branch ; then 
there were longer ones, stretching even to the Pa- 
cific States, that the network of this great organi- 
zation might be spread over the mountains and 
across the plains, through the cities and in the 
hamlets, by riverside and seashore, wherever one 
woman lives who loves the Lord and his appearing. 


There were hard night-rides ; there were da3^s 
when food was not convenient; there were peopl . 
who opposed the work, and opposed it bitterl}-. 
Still there was a never-failing source of comfort to 
make the nights easy and the days glad, to remove, 
also, opposition from the way. Mrs. Nind knew 
just how to pray away her trials and difficulties. 
One time, as she had so often done, she started to 
organize work in an entirely new locality. The 
most influential and wealthy woman in the Church 
did "not believe in missions," and fought the new 
undertaking, not with sword nor with pen, but 
something far mightier than either — her tongue. 
It became impossible to organize, not alone in this 
woman's Church, but anywhere in the surrounding 
country. Still Mrs. Nind did not give it up. Her 
prayers grew in definiteness, and were now directed 
toward the chief cause of all the difficult}^': "O 
lyord, if it be thy will, cause her opposition to be 
overcome ; or, failing that, remove her from the 

The woman was present at the next meeting, 
seemed touched, and at the close, made an offering 
of twenty-five dollars to the work. But this was 
only to ease her conscience. The opposition still 
continued, until a sudden illness, resulting in death, 
did, literally, as Mrs. Nind had prayed, "remove 
her from the way." 

After this remarkable answer to prayer, some 
of Mrs. Nind's friends laughingly professed great 
uneasiness in her presence; for, they said, '* If we 


do anything to displease you, you may pray us out 
of the way too." 

She was not alone an organizer. As a Branch 
secretary, she became responsible, at each annual 
meeting, for a large sum of money which she 
must manage to raise during the year. Her early 
training with a basket, collecting penny gifts for 
the Lord, came to her aid in this work. There were 
still many penny offerings to collect ; but the basket 
was so much larger now, that many a time she was 
obliged to ask for great things. But asking first 
of the lyord, she became so successful in this branch 
of the work that it was said of her, as of a famous 
collector of Church debts : " Her funeral text should 
be, 'And it came to pass that the beggar died also.' " 

Her success in all branches of the work led to 
an earnest request from the woman suffragists to 
join their ranks; but her only reply was in the 
words of Nehemiah : "I am doing a great work, 
so that I can not come down.''' 

Going about here and there, and always speak- 
ing for missions, her earnest words not seldom fell 
on the ears of Christian young women whose 
consecration took on new hues in their light, and 
led them to make the "reasonable sacrifice " which 
she desired. Sometimes they were needed in In- 
dia, sometimes in China or Japan ; but wherever 
they were sent, their minds never failed to turn to 
her as their "missionary mother." 

Her own son had already gone to South Amer- 
ica, and a daughter was stationed with her husband 


in Foochow, China. Many a time, when engaged 
in work on the Pacific Coast, her mother-heart 
yearned to cross the great waters, and it seemed 
as though she must " run over and see Emma." 

Loving, appreciative friends thought she ought 
to " run over and see Emma," and once a purse 
was all but raised to send her. But " times were 
hard," and money was sorely needed in the work; 
so, with her usual firmness, their desires and hers 
were set aside. 

■' Only a year later the subject was broached 
again. She was now resting in her own little 
home in Detroit, Mich. ; but was under engage- 
ment for a number of thank-offering services, which, 
with birthday and other anniversary offerings, she 
had been among the first to utilize. 

She was no longer a Branch secretary. She was 
growing old, and for some years had kept a friend 
under promise to inform her just as soon as she 
saw that power was waning and strength growing 
weak. If the promise were kept, she would know 
when to resign. But growing fearful at the long 
delay, she had already established in her place the 
friend who had made the promise. 

It was a relative, and one holding high position 
in the Church, who came to her, and made the sec- 
ond suggestion that she " run over and see Emma." 
He was soon to start, with his wife and two sons, 
on an episcopal tour to Japan and China. Would 
she not go with him to help him in the Confer- 
ences, and to be company for his family on the 


journey? "How can I?" she replied. "I have 
not money enough for such a trip; I am not 3^oung 
and strong any more ; I have many engagements 
to fulfill; and I can not leave my home so long." 

But there was tugging at her heart the old de- 
sire to see, not only her daughter Emma, but all 
of her missionary daughters, and to behold in the 
flesh the mission work which she had loved, and 
for which she had toiled her life long. She arrayed 
her objections in order: 

First: "I have not money enough for such a 
trip." But children and other friends declared they 
would, each and all, be her bankers, before they 
would see her lose the trip for this cause. 

Second: "I am not young and strong any 
more." Calling in her family physician, she re- 
ceived his counsel. "If you are careful of your 
general health, and do not drink water without 
first boiling it, I see no reason why you should not 
take the trip." 

Objection No. 3: She could answer this without 
consultation; for she knew that, with this journey 
in view, all of her engagements could easily be 

For No. 4, she had to call in the members of 
her household, and have a long serious talk with 
them, which resulted in the decision that home 
cares need not keep her. 

The removal of these objections helped not a 
little in deciding the, to her, most important 
point of all: Was it the Lord's will for her to 


go? If SO, she knew she could trust Him to sup- 
ply every need; and in that faith began her prep- 
arations for the journey. She had only three weeks 
in which to make ready ; but long apprenticeship 
at traveling had made her feel that she is usually 
wisest who takes least. 

Only one trunk, and that the size known as 
*'half" or "hat" trunk; a small hand-bag, and a 
shawl-strap! She was not tempted to carry any 
fine dresses, for she had none; only plain, sensible 
ones, that fold easily ; some thick, some thin. Her 
shoes were stout, and she carried an extra pair; 
her best bonnet, which had already served her 
well for ten years, was made modern only by the 
addition of a fresh ribbon. All these were put in 
her trunk, with her Bible and writing materials. 
Her shawl-strap inclosed her shawl, her home-made 
steamer rug, and a pair of rubbers; a well-made 
English mackintosh was to serve as a traveling 
cloak. A strap was fastened to her hand-bag, so 
that she could support it from her shoulders; and 
in its inside pocket was placed a most important 
paper, her doctor's certificate of vaccination. 

The last Sabbath before starting came. She 
had told few people of her plans; for she dreaded 
the influx of callers, which was sure to follow, and 
for which she had no time. But feeling too much, 
like a mother running away unawares from her 
children, on the last Sunday she asked permission 
to say a few words to the Sunday-school. 

The " cloud had arisen," she told them, and 


now she was to follow it across the Pacific Ocean, 
into the dear mission-lands of Japan and China. 

That afternoon, as she was enjoying one more 
Sabbath's quiet with the dear ones at home, the 
door-bell rang, and a letter was handed in. Open- 
ing it, she found inclosed a check for fifty dollars, 
signed by one of the members of the Church. 

On the first day of May, 1894, as many a little girl 
in Detroit, and out of it, was busy filling dainty 
little baskets with flowers, a different kind of May- 
basket was being prepared in the Nind home. 
This was large and strong, and was filled with 
sandwiches, and cakes, and fruit enough to last 
through the five days' journey across the continent. 

Long before train time, friends began to gather 
at the depot. Upon the arrival of Mrs. Nind with 
her cousin-bishop and his family, they were all 
permitted to pass the gates, and the great company 
stood by the train singing "Blest be the tie that 
binds" to those who were going forth, not to sever 
any ties, but to make stronger and more blessed 
the tie that binds the world together. 

At Chicago they were joined by two outgoing 
missionaries; and, though their train left at mid- 
night, another company was in waiting to say 
good-bye. This time the great depot echoed with 
the sound of prayer, which must have fallen 
strangely, in the hush of the night, on the ears 
of other travelers. 

Not all of our travelers had provided themselves 
with lunch-baskets; but had rather thought it wise 


to take advantage of the hot meals served in din- 
ing and buffet cars. They were Uke a family 
party; and not alone by her nephews, but by 
others as well, was Mrs. Nind often addressed as 
Aunt Mary. These younger members of the party 
were greatly distressed because Aunt Mary per- 
sisted in remaining by her lunch-basket, and tried 
again and again to take her into the dining-car 
with them. Once only they were successful in 
their efforts, and this time under pretext of its be- 
ing a birthday party, and so incomplete without her. 

Upon their arrival in San Francisco they were 
snapped up, as if they themselves were new and 
specially toothsome morsels, by a waiting host of 
committees; and they were assigned to sermons, 
addresses, and a big farewell reception, before the 
dust even of travel had been removed. The fa- 
tigue of the journey had less chance still ; conse- 
quently, when the day came for sailing, one of the 
party was too ill to go. 

It was an unpleasant situation. They were ex- 
pected in Japan by that steamer, and there was no 
way of sending word ahead except by expensive 

The party divided; the missionaries going on, 
while the bishop and his family remained behind 
with poor, sick "Aunt Mary." Did it look then 
as though she had made a mistake; that the doctor 
had given hasty, unreliable counsel; that she had 
substituted her eagerness to go for the lyord's will 
in sending her? She thought it all over carefully, 


even anxiously; and concluded she had made a 
mistake, not in believing it to be the lyord's will 
to send her to Japan and China, but in essaying to 
do so much work at the end of a long, fatiguing 
journey. "This is a lesson to me," she said. "I 
must heed it, and endeavor to stop this side dan- 
ger-line. " 

The hours of pain and suffering were bright- 
ened by the kind attentions of many friends. 
With their flowers on her table, and earnest words 
of prayer in her heart, the days sped until she was 
quite well, and another steamer was ready to sail. 

A voyage across the Pacific is memorable, if in 
no other way, for its length. To those accustomed 
to cross the Atlantic in seven days, seventeen 
days, without sight, even, of other sails, and with 
a short list of passengers, mostly sea-sick, are not 
soon to be forgotten; for they form the most "out 
of the world," thoroughly blank portion of many 
people's entire existence : like a dreary sickness, 
which separates one, for days and weeks, from all 
that concerns other people, and confines thought 
and feeling to the smallest possible compass — that 
which concerns one's self. 

The Rio de Janeiro was known by the unmis- 
takable depreciative appellation of " a slow boat." 
Add to this, unusually rough weather, and it is 
no wonder that one member of the Nind party 
should exclaim with youthful zeal and determina- 
tion, " If I ever get ofi' from this ocean, I shall 
•never get on another." 


Two of the seventeen days were pleasant; and 
once the apparent boundlessness above and below 
was limited by the outline of another ship against 
the horizon. But, mostly, the fog-horn blew, rob- 
bing them of happy thoughts during the day and 
comfortable dreams at night ; and all the time the 
old ocean "heaved and dashed and roared" with 
such fury that *' Ailnt Mary" found it impossible 
to make daily entries in her journal. Still, though 
on the defensive continually, she did not once 
succumb to sea-sickness. Her Detroit friends were 
praying for her, she knew; and their prayers 
seemed like a wonderful life-preserver, warranted 
to protect her from dangers within the ship as well 
as from those without. 

On the last day of the voyage, as the Rio 
entered the still waters of Tokyo Bay, she grew 
quite steady, and a corresponding change came 
over her passengers. Some now made their first 
appearance on deck, and, lying pallid and thin in 
long steamer-chairs, had few ideas to interchange 
other than " I never suffered so in my life," " I 
thought I should die," "O, the sea is dreadful!" 
"I wish I didn't have to go back." Others were 
on the alert, straining eyes and opera-glasses in 
their efforts to get first glimpses of the fairy-land 
of their dreams. The steerage-passengers, too, 
w^ere swarming out; and, mostly Chinese, with a 
few women and children among them, all dressed 
in their brightest, gayest colors, they made a pic- 
ture which vied with the land in attractiveness. 


But that land! Did ever trees and grass and 
shrubbery look so green as when after a loUg voy- 
age over a stormy sea ? It was not enough to say, 
" It is green." One wanted to shout, *' How green, 
green, green it is ! " 

Then, when the clouds dispersed, and Fuji's 
shapely head appeared above a ruff of glorious 
white, one was satisfied, as with a great feast after 
a weary fast. 

Even the water now held plenty to interest: 
steamers, men-of-war, and merchant-ships of all 
nations ; Japanese schooners, junks, and sampans 
without number! One could easily be patient 
while the health officer went his round of inspec- 
tion, though the plague in Hong Kong had made 
him more tedious and thorough than usual ; and 
when the great steamer came to anchor, it was dif- 
ficult to feel the hurr}^, manifested by some, to get 
to shore just as soon as possible. 

The steamer was surrounded by a crowd of 
sampans, whose occupants, with little covering 
other than their dark skins, were making a frantic 
effort each to get his own boat nearest; and, fail- 
ing this, were jumping into one another's boats 
and clambering over one another's shoulders, 
bound to get on deck any way. In their naked- 
ness and dextrous movements, they looked more 
like monkeys than men; and one poor missionary, 
filled with sudden fear, whispered to another, 
*' How are we ever going to teach such people as 


As the sampans began to disperse a little, each 
laden with its own part of the plunder, a larger 
boat, under the direction of Americans, could be 
seen approaching. They looked anxiously toward 
the upper deck and scanned the faces of all who 
stood there, in their eagerness to know if their 
friends had come. lycss than a fortnight before, 
they had been out on a similar errand. Without 
one thought of disappointment, that time, invita- 
tions had been issued for a large reception to be 
given their distinguished guests, and announce- 
ments had been made in all the churches of a ser- 
mon and baptismal service by the bishop the com- 
ing Sabbath. When they went to the ship and 
found only missionaries, the latter, naturally, missed 
something from the welcome for which they were 
waiting. " Mrs. Mary C. Nind was taken sick in 
San FrancivSco, and the bishop and his family 
waited over with her till the next steamer," they 
hastily explained. The receiving missionaries were 
very sorry, and told of all the invitations that must 
be recalled, and the baptismal service to be post- 
poned. ''But we are glad to see fresh workers. 
Welcome to Japan !" they added. 

They had recovered themselves, and were now 
so cordial and kind that the one new worker, who 
had found it very hard to leave her traveling com- 
panions in San Francisco and come on ahead to be 
a herald of disappointment, soon found it quite as 
hard to disengage herself from their hospitable en- 
treaties and continue her journey to her appointed 



station in the North. But no one is ever more 
strongly upheld by a sense of duty than a mis- 
sionary under her first appointment; so the first 
steamer out from Yokohama northward bore, per- 
haps, the loneliest, most homesick passenger that 
ever traversed Japanese coasts. The ship was 
manned by a Japanese crew, even to the captain; 
not one person on board to whom she could say a 
word of Knglish, and their jargon, of course, it was 
impossible for her to understand. Once, when the 
ship came to anchor in a port e7i route, the shouts 
and general noise attendant upon the lading and 
unlading of freight so terrified her that she shut 
herself in her cabin, not daring to venture outside 
until all was quiet again. 

"Aunt Mary" was not the only one who had 
acquired wisdom through her illness in San Fran- 
cisco. The missionaries in Tokyo and Yokohama 
had not made the mistake this time of planning for 
their friends before their arrival. Still there was 
no lack of hospitality in their reception. Jinrik- 
ishas in plenty were at hand, and, tucked in with 
much hand-baggage stowed about them, they were 
rapidly and, like every newcomer, laughingly 
drawn along the Bund and through several busi- 
ness streets, to be pushed at last up a steep hill ; for 
they were to be domiciled in mission homes on the 



"This looks pretty grand," she thought, as she 
glanced at the high walls and noted the spacious 
rooms in the home where she was entertained. 
"How much larger and finer it is than my little 
home in Detroit!" But "Aunt Mary" wisely said 
nothing. She had often heard missionaries criti- 
cised for the luxury and expensiveness of their 
living, and now she was to see for herself! 

Invitations were soon issued for the postponed 
reception, and, at No. 13, Tsukiji, Tokyo, the Nind 
travelers met and addressed a large company of 
missionaries and Japanese Christians. Upon hear- 
ing "Aunt Mary," the latter wondered greatly, ex- 
pressing their surprise in the words, " S/ie is so 

Children's-day was just at hand; and, in almost 
every church in Japan, committees were on the 
alert to make it a success. Classes had been 
taught to recite long passages of Scripture in con- 



cert, and now must be trained to go on the platform 
in order, and bow all together, if such a thing were 
possible, at beginning and close of the recitation. 

There were class songs, too, where much the 
same drilling was required. Speeches, written by 
teachers, had been memorized by small boj^s, who 
were sure to deliver them with great fervency and 
gusto. lyarger boys wrote compositions, which 
they were taught slowly to unfold before the audi- 
ence, and, after reading, as slowly refold before 
taking their seats. All the children had been re- 
quested to bring something for a collection; but 
lest they should think it much giving and nothing 
receiving, the benevolent teachers had selected 
their prettiest cards for distribution that day. 

But the best part of the preparations there, as 
everywhere for Children's day, consisted in the 
decorations. What quaint mottoes they made of 
beans, cakes, fruits, even of black, ugly charcoal! 
How tasteful their arrangement of flowers ! Their 
beauty was not destroyed by pressing them into 
stiff, unnatural forms ; but each one, set on its own 
native branch, drew moisture from a simple bamboo 
vase, which was fastened, now by a window, then by 
a door, until a plain, bare church became trans- 
formed into a bower of beauty, an apparently liv- 
ing, growing garden. If " Aunt Mary " could have 
attended every church in Japan that kept Chil- 
dren's-day, she would have seen in all much the 
same things to enjoy, and would have heard about 
the same things that she could not understand. 


Not being able to compare, she pronounced the one 
she did attend in Yokohama, most excellent of all, 
because, forsooth, a woman presided. This woman 
was the gifted wife of Mr. Ninomiya, who had 
served his church as lay delegate to General Con- 

June not only brings Children's-day, but, 
throughout America, it is known as Commence- 
ment-month. The Japanese wisely give their an- 
nual examinations and confer diplomas in the 
spring. But missionaries are slow to adopt in their 
schools the ways of schools about them, even 
though they may be better; so it happened that a 
great many invitations to Commencement exercises 
came flooding in upon the new arrivals. The 
Girls' School at Nagoya closed early, giving them 
ample time to return to the later ones in Tokyo and 
Yokohama; so the ladies ventured to accept that 
invitation first. 

It is a 1 all-day's journey from Yokohama to 
Nagoya; but one of which even an old resident does 
not tire, and how much less a stranger! To the lat- 
ter everything is interesting : the narrow coach, with 
long cushioned seats at either side and a short 
one across one end ; the funny little three-cornered 
toilet-room at the other end (for this is an English 
compartment car and opens at the sides) ; the pas- 
sengers with their blankets, kori, and smaller bun- 
dles tied infuroshiki. The Japanese, though very 
fond of their railroads, do not as yet seem to belong 
to them. Dressed in English uniform, they make 


most courteous, faithful officials ; but as passengers, 
bareheaded, with towels twisted about their necks, 
skirts dangling at their ankles, and clogs on their 
feet, they look out of place rushing along a sta- 
tion platform or boarding a train. Inside the car, 
they can make themselves comfortable only by 
spreading a blanket on the seat and sitting on it, 
with feet drawn under them, as if it were their own 
tatami at home. At all the larger stations, the shrill, 
but not loud, cries of "Cha!" " Bento ! " can be 
heard ; and passengers exchange a few coppers for 
a nice pot of hot tea, and a few more for a box 
of freshly-cooked rice, with chopsticks attached. 
Sometimes another box goes with this, filled with 
fish and other condiments ; and if the bento con- 
sists of only one box, an end is partitioned off" for 
the condiments. At one place on this road, one 
can buy very nice sushi, in which the rice is pre- 
pared with lobster and many other good things. 

The Japanese do not have regular hours for eat- 
ing, but buy their bento when they can, and eat 
when the}^ get hungry. The cha (tea) they drink 
all along the way, getting a fresh pot as soon as one 
is empty. 

The seyojin (foreigner) may tire of these things : 
but there is one sight on the road of which he 
never grows weary. If it be a clear day, Fujiyama 
comes quite near, so near that she seems no longer 
a cold, ethereal visitant, but a warm, close, real 
friend. There is her standing-place, down among 
sunny rice-fields, and looking at her gradual, even 


slope upward, high aspirations grow, and perfect 
union between the earthly and the heavenly seems 
less difficult than before. Sympathy grows, too, 
with the national love of mountains, and one tries 
to imagine one's self " only a heathen," with no 
better god to worship, and many worse. 

Nagoya was known to our travelers as the scene 
of the great earthquake of 1891, which had been 
described to them so vividly that they had almost 
felt the shocks and endured the consequent sus- 
pense and anxiety experienced, not only here, but 
throughout the surrounding country. As they 
alighted at the station, and their jinrikishas were 
rolling along the smooth, beautiful roads of the 
city, they unconsciously looked for traces of that 
disaster. There might be fissures in the ground, 
or debris of overthrown houses, or, at least, bare, 
desolate spaces not yet rebuilt. But, to their sur- 
prise, only row upon row of neat, well-tiled Japa- 
nese buildings passed before them, all bearing an 
unmistakable air of thrift and prosperity. Many 
of the homes, with their gardens, were protected 
from the street by walls, which were often roofed, 
like the houses, with tiling. High, forbidding 
gates or doors were the only means of entrance. 
Before one of these, their jinrikishas stopped. The 
Seiryu Jo Gakko ! A high-sounding name, and an 
imposing entrance ! But what did they find in- 
side? A few low, rambling buildings, which, put 
together, formed the school and home for the mis- 
sionaries ! As they entered the tiny genka, utilized 


as a reception-room, passed across one corner of the 
tiny next room, used for both study and dining- 
room, into a tinier room made somehow to inclose 
a bedroom set, it is safe to say that no one thought, 
" How grand it is!" Even a short person, without 
much tiptoeing, could reach the ceiling, and a large 
person would, too easily, fill the space between wall 
and bed, and bed and bureau. The little parlor 
opened on a garden, which never allowed itself to 
be kissed by the sun, but held the rains in such 
long embrace that the house was permeated with 
the moisture. 

The school-rooms were small, dark, inconven- 
ient in every way. It had taken two or three to- 
gether to make a chapel, and the unevenness in the 
floor was harrowing to a visitor who came upon it 

Within these cramped quarters a girls' school 
was flourishing ; and aside from thinking it a trifle 
semai (narrow, or small), no lack whatever was felt 
by any of the pupils. They had never seen a finely- 
lighted, well-ventilated, perfectly-heated school- 
building. They knew nothing of the apparatus, 
the specimens, the books considered essential to a 
well-equipped school in America. Each girl had 
her own books, the teacher having recourse to a 
few others, probably from his own little library. 
There were a few large maps; but geography, like 
other branches of study, was imprisoned in the 
ever difficult, incomprehensible Chinese ideograph, 
and must be freed by most laborious effort, on the 


part of both teacher and pupil, before one grain of 
knowledge could be appropriated. Their study, 
necessarily, was largely a study of signs and char- 
acters. When, therefore, they came to their Eng- 
lish recitation, and found only twenty-six letters to 
acquire, it seemed to them like the merest child's 
play. With astonishing quickness they learned to 
read. In conversation they were shy, but soon 
learned to understand. In penmanship and com- 
position they excelled, and took intense delight in 
penning long, beautiful epistles to their teachers, 
American friends, and even to their schoolmates. 

No matter how semai it may be, every girls' 
school in Japan must have what, alas ! is not often 
found in an otherwise good American school — a 

This room has no desks or benches, but is car- 
peted with soft, thick tatami (padded matting), like 
the rooms of any Japanese home. For long pe- 
riods, three or four times a week, each class is sent 
to the sewing-room. There, on their knees, in a 
semicircle about their teacher, the girls make a 
low, ceremonial bow. Then they take out their 
work from the various boxes and bags which they 
have brought with them. For thimbles they wear, 
midway on the finger, an indented ring of metal, 
or sometimes only a band of leather; their skeins 
of double thread are wound on squares of thin, 
pretty wood; their needles are short and thick. 
For their first lessons thej^ practice making even, 
rapid stitches down the edges of long strips of 


cloth. Often, to encourage rapidity, they are 
started off together, and the child who reaches the 
end first shouts, "Ichi!" (one); the next, "Ni!" 
(two) ; and so on, — the teacher keeping a record 
as though it were the first heat of a veritable race. 
As .they increase in skill they are allowed to bring 
their jiban (shirts), and then their kimono, until 
they learn to make all of their own clothes, and 
are able to do a large part of the family sewing in 
the school-room, under the teacher's eye. 

Often instruction in knitting, crocheting, and 
various kinds of fancy work, is interspersed with 
the sewing lessons. In the Seiryu Jo Gakko many 
of the older pupils have become skilled in the art 
of flower-making. On Commencement-day, with 
their examination papers and fine specimens of 
character painting (Japanese writing, but properly 
called painting because done with a brush) and 
drawing, there were exhibited to visitors delicate 
flowers, fancy caps, stockings, mittens, and neatly- 
folded clothing, made in the sewing-room. This 
exhibition interested our travelers quite as much 
as the exercises, which, though novel in arrange- 
ment, were formal and tedious. The guests were 
seated opposite the pupils. When one was called 
upon, she arose, and wnth slow, measured step 
moved forward until, upon reaching the proper 
crack in the floor, she halted, bowed, with her 
hands in front of her until they reached her knees, 
and her body formed a perfect right-angle; bring- 
ing herself into position, she drew her bwi Qap- 


anese composition) from the folds of her capa- 
cious sleeve, unfolded it, and proceeded to read in 
high-pitched, monotonous tones, which did not 
cease till she had read her name and the date of 
the performance; still, with the same leisurely air, 

. the bun was refolded, replaced in the sleeve, and 
the pupil retired. English compositions, recita- 
tions, and songs proved fairly intelligible ; but there 
were the speeches — speeches to graduates, speeches 
to undergraduates, welcome speeches to guests, re- 
plies from the guests, including more speeches to 
students. By the time the speeches were finished, 
even the seyojin could appreciate what followed. 
The lady teachers and some of the older pupils 
withdrew, to return forthwith, bearing great trays 
filled with paper packages of cakes, and other trays 
containing tiny, saucerless cups of tea, to refresh 
tired speakers and weary listeners. There was 
much art observed in the serving, the most hon- 
ored guests being approached first, and with the 
finest cakes ; then the other guests and the teach- 
ers. Of the students, the graduating class were 
first waited upon, and with a finer variety than the 

The Sotsugyoshiki (Commencement exercises) 
were succeeded by a Sobetsukwai (farewell re- 

One of the missionaries was to return to 
America, and no possible stretch of Japanese eti- 

._£Uette would admit of her leaving without a proper 
farewell reception. Parting presents, too, came in 


such numbers, and even bulk, that it was difficult 
to find places for them either in the little home to 
be left or in the boxes to be sent. Some of them 
were family heirlooms of great value and antiquity, 
each bearing so distinct a character that duplicates 
were impossible. Little wonder that a missionary, 
fresh from her Sobetsukwai, should say to a tourist, 
"If you want really fine souvenirs of Japan, just 
stay and teach long enough to have a Sobetsukwai T 
Not alone was the returning missionary thus 
generously treated — her guests also were made re- 
cipients of many favors, among which were well- 
executed specimens of the school-girls' own handi- 
work. Enriched by these, and more by glimpses 
given with them of great possibilities of love and 
loyalty and sacrifice, beneath an apparently unruf- 
fled, formal exterior, they returned to Yokohama. 
In the long life that had gone before, the books on 
missions, the correspondence with missionaries, 
their addresses, — nothing had brought Aunt Mary 
so near the heart of the Orient, in such close touch 
with the real life and work of the missionary, as 
the few days in Nagoya. She felt as though she 
had been trying to climb a mountain; but slowly 
plodding at its base, suddenly she had come upon 
a tramway, and been carried swiftly to the top. 
How changed everything was! Slopes that had 
seemed gentle and easy from below, were now 
found to be jagged and rough; and in places that 
had looked steep, level swards, making delightful 
resting-places, were discovered. How could she 


make others see what had now become clear to 
her ! How could they from below understand the 
things above! 

That night in Yokohama the rapid ringing of 
bells, suggesting a fire, brought her quickly to the 
window. Looking down, she saw rows of swing- 
ing, swaying lanterns, all converging in a cloud of 
thick, black smoke. Soon a bright blaze burst forth, 
and she could see that they were carried by men, 
who were running to the fire from all directions. 
The firemen were out, too, with engine and hose- 
cart ; but what could they do with the pretty bon- 
fire of paper and straw ! The best work was done 
with hooks and ladders, tearing down surrounding 
buildings. In this way the fire was checked, but not 
until five thousand people had been compelled to tie 
their belongings in blankets and go forth to seek 
shelter in the home of some relative or friend. The 
next morning in the smoldering ashes of their 
homes, little was to be found, other than broken 
tiles and a few charred godown (fire-proof store- 
houses) ; but with ready spirits, like a boy whose 
play-house has fallen, they hastened to clear the 
ground and erect anew their tiny homes of wood 
and paper and straw. 

After the fire, an earthquake ! It was only a few 
days later. Aunt Mary was in Tokyo, at No. 13 Tsu- 
kiji, where the reception had been given. Busy in her 
room, preparing for a women's meeting, all at once 
she heard a heavy sound like a peal of thunder. 
The floor began to upheave and roll as if at sea. 


She arose and started to leave her room, hitting her 
knee against a falling chair and table as she went. 
Reaching the hall, she met the others in the house 
coming from their rooms. She was the first to 
speak : " What is to be done ? Shall we stay here, or 
go down stairs?" Her hostess falteringly replied: 
"I hardly know. Suppose we go below?" As 
they started, the chimney in the room just vacated 
by Aunt Mary, fell with a crash through the floor 
into the dining-room beneath. They proceeded 
down the swaying stairs to meet another shock at 
the foot, and some policemen coming into the hall 
to inquire if any one had been killed, and if they 
could be of service. 

This was the end of the earthquake! Just a 
few throes of old Mother Earth, and the blocks 
of brick and slabs of wood, which her chil- 
dren had set up, were toppled over. Thousands 
of dollars' worth of propert}^ destroyed in a mo- 
ment ! I/ives endangered, more shocks a proba- 
bility ! A terrible catastrophe, yet it did not break 
up that women's meeting ! Twenty -five women, 
fully one-half the number expected, came to hear 
Aunt Mary ; and in spite of the earthquake, 
though, perhaps, more because of it, the meeting 
was pronounced a great success. 

Neither did the earthquake break up a second 
reception, which had been planned for the follow- 
ing day. This time the guests were all missiona- 
ries, about sixty in number, representing many 
different boards. 





Most of the temples of Japan are disappoint- 
ing. They are found, it is true, on every high hill 
and under every green tree ; but the high hills and 
the green trees are in lonely, isolated spots; some 
of the temples are memorial shrines, closed except 
on great anniversary occasions ; while others that 
may be open always are only occasionally visited 
by worshipers'. 

The real worship of Japan is largely before the 
ancestral shrine in the home and the Imperial pic- 
ture in the school. So it has come to pass that 
temples are often used for tea-houses, and that 
any foreigner who pleases can have his photograph 
taken, sitting on the thumb of Dai-Biitsii himself. 

Incongruous as it seems, a temple convenient 
to the people, and located in a pretty spot, is 
often rented for a Christian social ; and the songs 
of praise and words of prayer, which always rise 
to Jehovah on these occasions, bring not so much 
as one frown to the faces of ever-smiling Buddhas. 



But there is one temple in Japan which satisfies 
the preconceived notion of what a temple should 
be — the Asakusa Temple in Tokyo. Situated in 
the heart of the great city, it is easy of access to all 
classes of people ; and, as it contains a great variety 
of gods, each worshiper is pretty sure to find the ob- 
ject of his prayers. The long road leading to the 
temple is lined with shops and booths, presenting 
a gala appearance, more like a great fair than the 
entrance to a house of worship. Within the tem- 
ple inclosure, and even in the temple itself, pigeons 
are flying about, to be fed by these worshipers, as 
other pigeons are fed by Mohammedans in the Pig- 
eon Mosque at Constantinople, and by Christians in 
St. Mark's Square at Venice. The most interesting 
idols are the travelers' god in the gate, who receives 
offerings of sandals from those about to start on a 
journey, and, in the temple, the god of matrimony 
and the famous pain-god. This latter is always 
surrounded, and pitiful indeed it is to see the real 
faith with which its smooth, shining surface is 
rubbed and re-rubbed to relieve the pain of diseased 
members. But, after all, it is no more superstitious 
than carrjdng a horse-chestnut in one's pocket to 
relieve rheumatism ; for they can tell of people who 
rubbed the pain-god and got well, and what other 
reason can be given for wearing the horse-chestnut ? 
Of the steady stream of worshipers flowing so 
constantly in and out of the temple, there are more 
women than men ; and they seem more earnest in 
their devotions, often weeping in the intensity of 


desire, and continuing at length the " vain repeti- 
tion," for which they think they will be heard; 
while the" men seem satisfied oftentimes with a 
hasty obeisance only. Before each idol is a money- 
chest, for no one would think of proffering a request 
without first making an offering. As with men, so 
with gods is the thought ; each must be bribed to 
do a favor. 

Aunt Mary's jinrikisha runners could not take 
her too quickly from this, the first heathen temple 
she had ever visited. How glad she was when they 
drew her to the building known as the Central Tab- 
ernacle, and she could see the place where a Chris- 
tian worker had tried to cast his net on the right 
side of the ship, and was earnestly endeavoring to 
draw in the masses ! 

After a busy week of Commencement exercises 
in boarding-schools at Tokyo and Yokahama, there 
came a quiet Sabbath, closing with the postponed 
baptismal service by the bishop; and then Con- 
ference. This was the Annual Conference of the 
Methodist Church in Japan, including an auxiliary 
organization known as the Woman's Conference. 

The days had become warm and sultry. The 
high ceilings and large rooms, that had seemed so 
grand and spacious, were none too high and large 
now. Mosquito curtains were carefully drawn 
about the bed at night ; but there was no screen for 
the day, and neither curtain nor screen could pro- 
tect from the ubiquitous and attentive flea. 

^Tiie Mission Compound at Aoyama, where the 



Conference was to assemble, was a scene of confu- 
sion. Buildings racked by the earthquake had been 
condemned and were awaiting repairs ; chimneys 
had fallen, rendering other buildings ineffective; 
men were at work erecting a temporary tabernacle 
to serve as an assembly hall. 

Resident missionaries were going about attend- 
ing to the entire readjustment of their plans with 
the calm, quiet manner which is the rightful, though 
often unclaimed, inheritance of those who " count 
not their lives dear unto themselves." In the gen- 
eral change, it came about that the Woman's Con- 
ference was held in the Harrison Industrial Home, 
which was new and so well built that it had been 
comparatively uninjured by the earthquake. This 
was one of the many buildings that Aunt Mary had 
seen by faith from afar. How well she remembered 
the earnest appeals, sent home by a dear, loved 
missionary, for money to found that institution ! 
Even when that missionary lay ill, and some 
thought dying, she wrote : " I am willing to die ; 
but it seems to me that a shadow will follow me 
into the better land if I do not live to see an indus- 
trial school in Tokyo." But there was no shadow 
to follow her now ! A bequest of five thousand 
dollars had made this building possible. A mis- 
sionary had been inspired to undertake the work, 
and already applicants for admissipn had to be 
turned away. 

It was vacation time, though a number belong- 
ing to the school had been detained by the illness 


of one of the pupils, Chicka Hasegawa. One very 
warm night, O Chika San had become heated and 
thrown off her heavy fiUon (wadded quilt). Falling 
asleep, she did not notice that a draft was creep- 
ing over the tatami and about the fiiton on which 
she was lying. She awoke with a cold, and was 
now gasping away her life in a severe attack of 

Just below, the Woman's Conference was assem- 
bling. Aunt Mary was made president, and per- 
formed the duties of her office with promptness 
and dispatch. At best, it was a wearing, wearying 
session. The dying lay near ; one of the members 
had been injured at an open-air meeting, and was 
in the hospital undergoing an operation on her 
right eye ; the earthquake had done so much dam- 
age that thousands of dollars would be needed for 
repairs. But through it all, for an hour every after- 
noon there hung on one door in the school a card 
marked " Resting." Aunt Mary was taking her 
afternoon nap. Once overwork compelled her to 
enter a sanitarium ; and ever since her gradua- 
tion she had faithfully maintained a post-graduate 
course. This course consisted of a morning bath, 
followed by calisthenics ; no tea or coffee, but only 
hot water ; a long walk and an hour's rest during 
the day ; and eight hours of sleep at night in a 
room well aired and ventilated. Methodical and 
exact in all these particulars, the " sleep account " 
was kept with special precision ; and those who 
inquired at the breakfast-table how she slept the 


night before were pretty sure to get a reply like 
this : " First-rate ! I 'm half an hour ahead now ;" 
or "I 'm just even ;" though sometimes a very poor 
night or some exigency of travel would compel 
her to answer, " I 'm an hour behind," or *' I 've 
two hours to make up." 

After Conference, through the intense heat of 
July and August, every seyojin who can, slips away 
to the mountains or the seashore for a little rest. 
This year, many of the missionaries were detained, 
hoping to put their buildings in repair before the 
opening of school in September. Some took the 
risk of remaining in houses pronounced unsafe, 
until plans for rebuilding could be properly pre- 
pared by the overworked foreign architect. One 
missionary, however, was sufficiently disengaged 
to accompany Aunt Mary to Nikko. 

It is quite as unromantic to go to Nikko by rail 
as to stand in Athens and see a railway train whiz- 
zing past the Arch of Hadrian. One can, of course, 
leave the train at Utsunomiya and take the old 
jinrikisha road into Nikko. But expedition, not 
enjoyment, is the watchword of the American trav- 
eler ; and so she foregoes the quiet, solitary coach, 
with its quaint gentle steed, in favor of the crowded 
car and the shrieking engine; denies herself an 
afternoon alone with the trees and their dancing 
sunbeams and shadows, to be hurried, as over the 
plains of a desert, almost to the Imperial shrines 
themselves. Once in a while she catches a glimpse 
of the stately avenue she might have traversed, 


and wonders if, after all, the longest way round 
were not the best way there. But it is too late 
now, and she has to content herself with the short 
ride from the station to her hotel. 

The artistic Japanese, whose fondness for Fuji- 
yama leads him to paint her graceful cone on his 
fusuma (sliding doors), give it the chief place in 
the ornamentation of his teacup and even of his 
teakettle, dearly loves Nikko. For Nikko is, as 
travelers often observe, the embodiment of two 
glories; one glory of the mountains, the trees, the 
waterfalls, and another glory of the temples, the 
shrines, the gateways, the bridges. But as it is 
only the painted image of Fuji whose beauty is 
never clouded, it is the Nikko of the imagination 
alone that is always kekkd^ (beautiful). Often the 
mountains are concealed by mists, the roads are 
too muddy to travel, and the temple courts seem 
decorated only with mold and decay. 

Aunt Mary remained too short a time to subject 
Nikko to many tests, visiting only the most access- 
ible places. She failed to count the long row of 
stone gods which, it is said, no two people have 
ever counted alike; did not double herself into a 
kago (basket suspended from a pole) to be carried 
on the shoulders of two or three men over the 
mountains to lyake Chusenji ; did not even stop 
long before the marvelous Red Bridge, used only 

■'•Referring to the proverb, that no one can see " kekko" 
until he has first seen Nikko. 


by the Tenshisaina (Son of Heaven, the emperor's 
title), but after a week hastened on to Sendai. 

Hakodate was her objective point; but the 
passport, which she carried, permitted her to break 
her journey at several places en route. It was six 
o'clock Saturday evening, when she and her mis- 
sionary friend alighted from the train at Sendai. 
Before they could pass the gates, or receive the 
greetings of the lady who had come through to 
meet them, a trim little policeman had stepped up, 
put forth his hand, and called out, '^ Me7ijor He 
was dressed in his summer uniform of white, with 
a white scarf hanging from his cap to protect him 
from the sun, and looked cool and comfortable. 
But they had just got off from the train after a hot 
summer day's journey, and were warm, dusty, and 
tired. They had not expected to show their pass- 
ports here, so had stowed them away in their hand- 
bags. Aunt Mary, with her usual method, could 
put her hand upon hers at once. It was produced, 
examined, and she went on with Mrs. S. to her 
jinrikisha. But Miss R. did not come. Mrs. S. 
went back for her and neither of them came. A 
great crowd gathered around the jinrikisha. They 
gazed at Aunt Mary's face, at her bonnet, at her 
gloves, at her hand-bag. They talked about her, 
gesticulating with their hands. How uncomfort- 
able she was ! What could be the cause of the de- 
lay? At last the delinquents appeared, with the 
policeman and a Japanese youth in ordinary dress. 
The latter was a friend, who had promised to go 


to the keisatsiijo (police station) in Miss R.'s behalf. 
Her passport was wrong. It allowed her to go to 
Hakodate all right, but not to stop at Sendai ; so 
she must go on the next train, leaving at two 
o'clock in the morning. 

But the Japanese friend interceded so well that 
at eleven an official appeared at Mrs. S.'s home, to 
state that Miss R. could remain. 

This caused the tired travelers to send up a 
note of thanksgiving and hasten to bed. Scarcely 
was the house quiet when another messenger came 
to say that, after all, unless Miss R. was sick, they 
would be obliged to send her on; but if she could 
produce a medical certificate, stating that she was 
not able to travel, then they could let her stay. 
By this time Miss R. did feel really ill; so a doctor 
was called, and two certificates were made out, one 
for the chief of police, and another for some one 
else, perhaps the mayor of the city or the gov- 
ernor of the ken. When this was done, still Miss 
R. could not rest; for letters of thanks must be 
sent to these magnates for their honorable conde- 
scension in permitting her to break her journey 
contrary to the provisions of her passport. 

It was now four o'clock in the morning. The 
mosquitoes were inside the nets; and as soon as 
the morning sun had put them to shame it was too 
hot to sleep. And so it happened that, to the for- 
malities of Japanese passport regulations, must be 
charged an enormous debit on Aunt Mary's "sleep- 


Hakodate combines the triple attractions of the 
city, the mountain, and the sea. To be sure, the 
city has no marble mansions, no hotels with guests 
in the fourteenth story, no great stores with de- 
partments for every variety of goods, from hats to 
boots." There is never a railway-train whizzing in 
and out; never a cable-car, to take one swiftly up 
and down the steep hills ; never a restaurant, where 
one may indulge in a dish of ice-cream; never a 
soda-fountain. The night is not made like the day, 
by luminous rows of electric lights. There are no 
vSteam-launches and beautiful yachts plying up and 
down the harbor; there are no fine pavilions and 
bathing-houses on the beach; no rest-houses or 
pretty summer hotels on the mountain; none of 
the common appointments of the city or of the 
summer resort. 

Yet it is a city — a busy, prosperous city — where 
thousands of most enterprising Japanese, emigrants 
from the main island, live and work, plan and exe- 
cute, until it is said of them, as of their forefathers, 
"Shinde shimaimashita " (dying, finished). 

In their enterprise they have taken advantage 
of convenient mountain springs to plant public 
waterworks on the hillside, and they have pro- 
tected their houses from the cold, to some extent, 
by making the windows and doors in foreign style. 
They have Koyenchi (public gardens), containing 
a museum; several monumental slabs of unhewn, 
unpolished stone; and a "Point Lookout," com- 
manding a fine view of the harbor. 


At a proper distance from the city is a solitary 
brick chimney for the dead, a crematory, fairly-well 
patronized. So much for modern improvements. 

As a seaside resort it affords a great variety of 
bathing; for at one side of the narrow neck of land 
which makes Hakodate Head a part of Yezo there 
is almost always a high surf, and the other side, 
across the harbor, is a broad, gently-sloping beach, 
covered by water as still as any lake; then, around 
by the rocks where the mountain droops to meet 
the sea, are natural swimming-pools of any desired 

The mountain is well wooded, containing many 
ferns and a variety of wild flowers; is only eleven 
hundred feet above the level of the sea at its high- 
est point — so presents few difficulties of climbing — 
and is located in such a way as to give charming 
views of land and sea and sky. 

A home on this mountain, in this city by the 
sea, had been chosen as the best place for Aunt 
Mary to avoid the heat and recuperate for the hard 
trip to Korea, which was to come next on the 
bishop's itinerary. 

Rumors of war were in the air. Serious com- 
plications in Korean affairs had already led, it was 
reported, to hostilities between Japanese and Chi- 
nese soldiers. 

One of the missionaries, resting with Aunt 
Mary in Hakodate, was the recipient of a Tokyo 
daily, published in English. It had to come the 
long railway journey from Tokyo to Aomori, con- 


suming the better part of two days and a night; 
then another night across the straits, reaching 
Hakodate in the morning, usually within three 
days of publication. 

After breakfast and prayers, it grew to be the 
custom for every one to tarry in the sitting-room 
for the reading of the paper, especially the part 
giving the latest war developments. At last they 
read that which they had feared — a formal declara- 
tion of war on the part of the Japanese emperor. 
It was manly and forceful, not once stooping to 
undignified accusation, but apparently actuated 
only by a sense of justice and earnest desire to 
vindicate the truth. While they trembled at the 
temerity of this call to arms with China — great, 
old, hoary-headed China — they admired the spirit, 
and thought it hardly worthy of defeat. 

A few days later another proclamation appeared. 

"This can't be the real one. Somebody is 
making fun, and imagining what the Chinese em- 
peror will say. Just hear: 'As Japan has violated 
the treaties and not observed international laws, 
and is now running rampant with her false and 
treacherous actions, commencing hostilities herself, 
and laying herself open to condemnation by the 
various Powers at large, we therefore desire to make 
it known to the world that we have always followed 
the paths of philanthropy and perfect justice 
throughout the whole complications; while the 
WoJe?i (an ancient name for Japanese, expressive 
of contempt), on the other hand, have broken all 


the laws of nations and treaties, which it passes 
our patience to bear with. Hence we command 
lyi Hung-Chang to give strict orders to our various 
armies to hasten with all speed to root the Wojen 
out of their lairs. He is to send successive armies 
of valiant men to Korea, in order to save the Ko- 
reans from the dust of bondage. We also com- 
mand the Manchu generals, viceroys, and governors 
of the Maritime Provinces, as well as the command- 
ers-in-chief of the various armies, to prepare for 
war, and to make every effort to fire on the Wojen 
ships, if they come into our ports, and utterly de- 
stroy them. We exhort our generals to refrain 
from the least laxity in obeying our commands, in 
order to avoid severe punishment at our hands. 
Let all know this edict as if addressed to them- 
selves individually. Respect this !' That is only 
the last of it, but the first is just about as bad," 
continued the unappreciative reader. 

All agreed with her that there must be some 
mistake — that such a puerile, undignified docu- 
ment could not have emanated from the throne of 
a mighty empire, representing a great though an- 
cient civilization. 

But it proved to be a genuine translation of the 
original proclamation, and was enough, per se, to 
fill its readers with intense sympathy for the 

Day by day they waited, with increasing eager- 
ness, for the little three-days-old newspaper. But 
sometimes, though they waited long hours in the 


sitting-room, no neatly-uniformed postman ap- 
peared at the door, and sometimes he bore other 
mail — no paper. Then, again, there would be two 
or three papers, from which they gathered a mea- 
ger account of a battle on land — hundreds of Chi- 
nese "killed, only a few Japanese wounded — or of a 
naval encounter, which left several of the enemy's 
ships foundered, the Japanese fleet unimpaired. 
They wondered whether to accept much, little, or 
none at all of these accounts, and longed to read, 
with friends across the sea, the telegraphic news in 
the New York Tribune or the London Times, and 
know surely what was transpiring in the little 
peninsula so near them. 

"Is it safe for Aunt Mary to go on to Korea 
during these troublous times?" w^as a question 
often debated, but as often left unanswered. 

The Japanese everywhere were bracing them- 
selves as for a long, hard struggle. Even the 
Yaso-Shinja (Christian believers), who had been 
regarded with disapproval for supposed lack of 
patriotism, were not a whit behind Buddhists and 
Shintoists in offering large contributions to the 
War Fund. Church-doors flew open, and people 
were invited to concerts for the benefit of the Red 
Cross Society. 

Preachers belonging to the reserve corps of the 
arm}^ did not go to interior appointments, but, ac- 
cording to military orders, remained in port, ready 
to respond to a probable call for more soldiers. 

The only Christians who did not rise on the 


High tide of popular favor at this time were the 
Quakers. Conscientiously opposed to war, their 
ranks suffered terrible depletion; for how could a 
Japanese remain a Quaker when his country's 
honor was at stake! Kvery where he went, even 
to the small hours of the morning, he heard ikusa 
710 hanashi (talk about the war). His intensely 
patriotic mind was inflamed with excitement, and 
he felt — with every other Japanese man, woman, 
and child — that the greatest glory of living lay in 
the possible privilege of dying for his country. 

The national and religious festivities in which 
all were accustomed to engage with such pleasure, 
were suspended ; for how could one rejoice at such 
a time as this? Besides, they needed the money 
for the war. 

With the exception, however, of a few surface 
ripples, the intensity of patriotic feeling was con- 
cealed from the seyojin by the usual decorum and 
quiet humility prescribed by every rule of Japa- 
nese etiquette. The Japanese, even more than the 
seyojin, were without reliable news of the war; 
but, ever confident of the continued and ultimate 
success of their country's arms, they felt it to be 
quite unnecessary and wholly beneath their dignity 
to indulge in boastful prediction. One, however, 
in a burst of confidence, exclaimed, " We would 
every one of us die before we would give up our 
country to China." 

In the Mission Home, with the old question, 
'* Ought Aunt Mary to go to Korea?" other ques- 


tions arose: "How is the war going to affect our 
work?" " Shall we be able to open our schools at 
the usual time?" "Will the girls come?" 

But all had to be "laid on the table" as prob- 
lems that could not yet be solved, and every one 
devoted her time and thought to rest and recrea- 
tion. Directly after the noonday meal each day, 
there was a Bible-reading, conducted by Aunt 
Mary; then a nap, followed by a walk. In the 
evening there was music, and very often exercises 
with bean-bags, " to develop the muscular," as 
Aunt Mary called it. She proved herself a cham- 
pion at these exercises, and soon became the pop- 
ular captain, for her side always won. 

One afternoon the w^alk was made to include a 
mountain-climb, with supper on the peak. The 
sun had sunk low enough behind the mountain to 
throw most of the paths in shadow. There w^ere 
little climbs, then restful walks on a level ; dainty 
ferns and beautiful flowers were continually at- 
tracting some of the party from the path, and they 
found it difficult to heed the injunction, " Better 
take those on the way back!" In the deep, deep 
shade of tall, lonely trees, disturbed only by the 
hoarse cawing of carasu (crows, which are very 
numerous in Hakodate, and, in fact, all over Japan), 
as many as could, found a resting-place on a box 
which covered one of the feeders of the water- 
works below. On, after a little, up the mountain 
side, until the ridge was reached, and the sea ap- 
peared in little pieces here and there! "From one 


point on the ridge you can see the water in seven 
different places," was the information volunteered 
by an old resident. 

But, however charming the bits of views on the 
way up the mountain, one feels sure that it is more 
charming at the top, and hastens on. The steepest 
part came just before they reached the summit, and 
here one of the party gave out. It was not Aunt 
Mary, however. Her sixty-eight years seemed to 
be a spur, not a drag, to her feet; and she was 
among the first to shout down to the exhausted 
missionary what a beautiful view vShe was missing. 
Beautiful, indeed ! Below — it seemed directly under 
them — was the school and the home they had just 
left. These buildings were partly hidden by trees ; 
but the French school in front came out in bold 
relief A little to the south were the Greek church 
and the French cathedral; near them, the costly 
new temple, not yet finished ; and, in the 7nachi 
(town) below, the largest temple of the city. They 
could look into the clear water of the public reser- 
voirs, which seemed almost near enough to reflect 
their faces ; and down upon the lyookout tower in 
the public gardens. The roofs of the houses pre- 
sented a curious appearance ; not tiled, nor thatched, 
but shingled, with even rows of stones laid on to 
keep the shingles down. There was so little room 
at the base of the mountain that they were crowded 
close together, and even stretched across the low 
isthmus, where they appeared in imminent danger 
of ingulfment in a tidal wave. 


The little fishing villages of Shirasawabe and 
Yamasetamari brought to mention the senior Circle 
of King's Daughters that had grown up in the 
school. For years they had divided, and gone 
faithfully once a week, though often through deep 
mud and fierce storms, to these villages to teach 
what they knew of Jesus ; never once hindered, in 
their loving service, by the insulting words, showers 
of stones, and barking dogs, which sometimes were 
their only reward. 

But the beauty of the view did not lie in a per- 
fect chart of the city and its outlying villages. 
There was the calm, quiet, deep-blue harbor, so still 
that every boat and every sail seemed fixed and 
motionless ; beyond, the sharp, jutting peak of a vol- 
cano rose in clear, well-defined outline against the 
summer sky ; across the isthmus, the bright blue sea 
was shining and dancing in the beautiful, curved 
beach it had made for itself between the mountains. 
The view down the opposite decline of the peak 
was almost as lovely ; in every direction, charming 
blue sea and glorious green mountain ; here a bit 
of sea, there a dash of mountain ; now drawing near 
in loving embrace, then retiring in blushing timid- 
ity. But the sun was sinking rapidly, and the 
mists were rising, enveloping both mountain and 
sea in billows of purest white and softest down ; so 
they hastened to descend, filled with blessed 
thoughts of Him who " setteth fast the mountains 
by his strength," and " measureth the waters in 
the hollow of his hand." 



Thk favorite summer re- 
sort of the Japanese is not 
the seaside nor the moun- 
tain, but the hot springs. 
The volcanic, oft-quaking 
islands of Japan abound in 
springs of hot water, which 
make natural baths for the 
people, and have so accustomed them to the use of 
hot water that they would not only shiver at 
thought of an Indian shower-bath or an English 
cold-water plunge — they would consider them 
wholly lacking in proper, cleansing qualities. Even 
the lukewarm bath of an American sanitarium 
would not satisfy, but the water must be heated 
seven times hotter than it is wont to be heated 
in any other country. At the almost boiling 
temperature to which nature delights in heating 
many of her baths in Japan, her people are satis- 
fied, and feel sufficiently cleansed, heated, lux- 
uriated; for in the winter-time they frequent the 
public baths of the city quite as much to get warm 
as to become clean; and in the summer they go to 
the hot springs of the country to luxuriate. Tea- 
houses and hotels in these favored spots are often 
crowded with guests, who leave off lounging in the 
bath, only to lounge in their rooms awhile, and then 
return to the bath. The baths often have high 

6 8i 


medicinal qualities, holding sulphur and other min- 
erals in solution. Such are the baths at Yuno- 
kawa, only five miles distant from Hakodate. One 
or two of the hotels at Yunokawa have conformed 
to the requirements of modern civilization by the 
erection of a private bath-room for the convenience 
of seyojin, who so strongly object to entering the 
public bath, used in common by both sexes. 

One afternoon, in place of the customary walk, 
Aunt Mary and her missionary friends took a drive 
to Yunokawa. Jinrikishas were slow and rather 
expensive ; so they engaged a basha. A basha is 
a short omnibus, whose top and side curtains of 
canvas make it look not unlike an emigrant wagon. 
It is supposed to be planned for six people ; but 
eight, or even ten, persons are often seen sitting, 
crow^ded and uncomfortable enough, on its narrow 
seats, with their stiff, hard cushions. It is drawn 
by horses, who are groomed as poorly as they are 
fed, and whose harness, once of leather, has been 
mended with pieces of rope so many times that the 
original has almost disappeared. The roads are 
as poor as the bashas. Torn up by the snows of 
the winter and the rains of the spring, they are 
full of ugly holes, into which the basha descends 
with a thud, coming up again with a jerk, which 
gives the unwary passenger smart raps on head, 
hands, and feet, and causes the inexperienced basha 
traveler to go through all possible vStages of nervous 
apprehension and fright ; for sometimes the basha 
goes down, and does not come up again until every 


passenger is lifted out of the end, and the poor 
horses are whipped, and pushed, and whipped again, 
in the endeavor to get them to pull even the 
empty wagon out of the hole. Then, again, the 
basha enters a great sea of mud, and its move- 
ments become uncertain, like those of a ship in a 
storm. It tips, it sways, it goes over! No one 
is drowned ; but — 

The unevenness of the road is very hard on the 
basha; and sometimes the pole, or a whiffletree, 
snaps in two, making another break in the journey. 
Then Japanese ingenuity is brought into play to 
rearrange the rope-harness, so that the horses may 
be driven tandem. 

None of these accidents happened on the way to 
Yunokawa, though one missionary, for fear, walked 
a part of the way. There was much jolting ; but 
Aunt Mary endured this patiently, making up, in 
the spring and activity of her own vigorous na- 
ture, for the springless condition of the carriage. 

The hotel with the private bath-room had been 
chosen for a resting-place. Pretty housemaids came 
to the door with an "Irrashai!" (word of greet- 
ing), andji row of heelless slippers for the seyojhi to 
put on after their shoes were removed. Camp- 
chairs were brought to their cool, airy room, which 
had one whole side open to the breeze; and they 
were asked if they would have coffee. This meant 
a drmk prepared from a curious compound called 
coffee-sugar, which is loaf-sugar mixed with what 
is supposed to be coffee, and prepared by simply 


pouring on hot water. Served in a large cup and 
saucer, with a pewter spoon, it is considered a special 
mark of respect to the foreign guest. But all seemed 
to prefer the well-prepared native drink of clear, 
straw-colored tea. While some were refreshing 
themselves with the tea and small cakes resem- 
bling English biscuits, others were enjoying a 
plunge in a hot sulphur bath. As they did so, 
they thought with pity of the poor little paralytic 
lady, who had come to Japan as an independent 
missionary, and had spent whole seasons in this 
hotel in Yunokawa, finding in the daily bath her 
one respite from pain. 

But far better to Aunt Mary than mountain or 
sea or hot springs, were the calls from Japanese 
Christians, the opportunities to preach the new 
testimonies that she so often heard of the ever- 
prevailing power of Christ in the salvation of souls. 
How glad she was to meet a Christian soldier at 
the little Japanese parsonage the day when the out- 
going pastor asked her to tell him the best way to 
make a prayer-meeting profitable ! What a brave 
young fellow he was ! Disinherited for his religion, 
he did not flinch ; and was loyal to Christian princi- 
ples, even through his three years of military 
service ! Her motherly interest led him to tell her 
how severely he was tested in the army. There 
were only a few staunch young Christians in his 
company, eleven all together, and the stronger 
were in the habit of watching the weak, and try- 
ing in every way to guard them from temptation. 


One day he found a weaker brother surrounded by 
twenty young soldiers, all the worse for wine ; and 
sought to draw him away. At that they were an- 
gered, and surrounded him, determined to make 
him drink with them. When the young soldier 
came to this part of his story, he threw back his 
head and shoulders, and said, " I told them, ' There 
are twenty of you and you can kill me if you like ; 
but you can not make me drink wine.' " 

When the new pastor came in, she went to the 
little parsonage again to attend his reception. 
What a funny little parsonage it was ! Built behind 
the church, up against a great rock, where a few 
vines only had to answer for a garden, it gave little 
space for the preacher's thoughts to wander when 
engaged in writing his sermon. A chair was pro- 
duced for Aunt Mary ; but the rest sat with their 
feet under them, on the tatanii. The two rooms 
where the reception was held were such simple 
rooms ! No drapery, no bric-a-brac, no furniture 
even ! A few books and a graceful bouquet of 
flowers occupied the tokonoma (alcove usually found 
in a Japanese room) ; other than that, only the 
neatly made tatami, the thin, paper shoji (sliding 
doors for the admission of light), and the painted 
fusuma. Among the guests at this reception was 
a bright young preacher, distinguished as the first 
missionary to the Kurile Islands. He had volun- 
tarily resigned his charge, and gone out alone to 
these cold islands of the North, where he received 
such a mere pittance from the Japanese Home Mis- 


sionary Society that he was obliged to support 
himself largely by his own efforts. He was now 
going back rich in the unusual possession of a bride 
of his own choice. No scheming parents or fussy 
nakadachi (go between) had come between them 
and lifelong happiness. She was a Bible woman, 
well fitted, by four years of training and two of 
practice, for the new and trying life before her. It 
was a great pleasure to Aunt Mary to see this 
young couple started off from the mission-house, 
well laden with pictures and books to help them in 
their work. One of those with her, more accus- 
tomed to Japanese ways of thinking and doing, 
proposed to send the packages by a servant to the 
preacher's lodging-place ; but Aunt Mary, with 
American spirit, responded, "Why, that isn't nec- 
essary! He can carry them himself." And the 
missionaries were pleased to see him, without hes- 
itation, shoulder and bear away the packages, evi- 
dently esteeming manliness more than manners. 

Aunt Mary was ever the busiest and happiest 
member of the household. Her ready humor, 
though directed quite unexpectedly at times in re- 
proof of the tardy member or the willful one, caused 
the table conversation to sparkle with laughter, and 
every meal became a " feast of reason and a flow of 
soul." It was pleasing to note the effect on each 
jaded, worn missionary, who, in journeying north or 
south, called between steamers, and was persuaded 
to stop in the dining-room of this hospitable home. 
At first a light would come to his eyes at her moth- 


erly greeting; then a smile at some bright saying ; 
at last, a hearty laugh, and he would go away 
cheered by the brightness and rested by the smiles 
and laughter, thanking God for sending this mis- 
sionary to the missionaries. 

Her conversation did not always provoke 
laughter ; but tears came to every one's eyes, most 
of all to her own, as she told of an early struggle 
in discipline with one of her boys. He refused to 
obey ; she insisted that he should. He continued 
to rebel; she remained firm. At last, unable to en- 
dure the pressure, he ran away from home. The 
father was inclined to yield, and begged her to for- 
give the erring boy and call him back. The mother, 
equally anxious, wept and prayed, and watched and 
waited for him to return, but refused to pardon 
him in his disobedience. When, in the course' of 
the narrative, the wanderer did return, repenting 
of his obstinacy and willing to obey, smiles broke 
through the tears of all at the table, and a little of 
heaven's joy over "one sinner that repenteth " 
came into their hearts. *' On his wedding-day," 
she added, " he came to me and said, ' I am so glad 
you made me mind;' and to-day he disciplines his 
boy just as I did mine." 

The war-cloud continued to hang dark and 
heavy over the Korean horizon ; and one of the 
questions, so long " laid on the table," was taken 
up and settled. Aunt Mary ought not to accom- 
pany the bishop to Korea, but, while waiting for 
an opportunity to go to China, could improve her 

^>8 JN /Of/UNhy/NrJS 0/'7\ 

lime by mora ymrncyuVf^s in Japan, An invitation 
to IJirosaki, presscrd niK>n licr attention since her 
first landing in Yokohama, was now accepted. It 
was not an easy matter to be the first to break the 
pleasant circle in Ifakorlixte; and Aunt Mary hesi- 
tated to name the day when she would be ready to 
start off with one little missionary, in place of the 
six with whom she had shared her walks, her letters, 
her studies, and her calls, for one lon^, busy, happy 

The night first set proved to be stormy, and, of 
course, it was not wise to cross the Straits in a 
storm. Thf: n^-xl night, after their tickets were 
ordered, the wind seemed to rise agaifi, and the 
order was recalled. The following day the mis- 
sionary unexpectedly succeederl in purchasing a 
horse, which she had been coveting, and they must 
wait anoth'-r day 1o Ij-iv. Ili;il proj^erly shipped, 
liut at last there came a night when they had no 
excuse for d^liy. Tli'-re was no moon, but the 
sky was clear and the stars were shining; the sea 
was calm ; the horse was safely swinging in its 
wooden hammock on board the steamer; their 
trunks had been rop^d on \]\<- backs of coolies and 
carried down to a hotel on llie hatoha Twliarf; ; the 
house " boy " (\\\ reality an old manj was strapping 
their hand bags over his shoulders, and now, with 
a lighted lantern in his hand, was ready to lead the 
way. Oood-byes were said to some, while others 
accompanied them down tlie steep hills, They<li(i 
not talk niuf h, for two angels of quietness were 

J'h'OAl J/.lhODAI /C '/<) IIIROSAKF. 89 

broodiiij^ over tliciii I he- aii^cl of farewell, and 
the aii>(el of tlu- ni^lit. At lliis tinic-, usually, 
llicy were exaiiiinin^ the ni()S(|uiU) curtains arcMind 
their l)eds, and ])rci)arin)^^ for a safe, restful ni^lit 
in the home. Hut to nij^ht they were to eonnnit 
themselves to a new and unsteady bed on the 
great deep, and in the moiuin^^ would awake on 
the other shore. 

They entered what was literally the ground- 
jloor q{ W\Ki hotel; identified their ha^j^a^e, which 
they found marked with paper tags indicatinj^ the 
hotel to which they were recommended in Aomori; 
paid for lluir tickets, and for the sampan which 
was to carry them lo the steamer; the hotel j)eo- 
ple had courteously placed two chairs in the sam- 
pan for their use; the ** boy " stepped in with 
them ; their IViends waved their good-byes from 
the shore, and they were off — off in their ([Ueer 
boat, whose oars seemed so strangely dislocated, 
one of tlieiii |)ropelling the boat from the stern. It 
was very still ; and, with the calm, such a soft, gen- 
tle darkness hovered over everything ! The lights, 
gleaming here and there from the shipping, seemed 
to say : " We know it is time to be dark and quiet. 
We are only shining for a little while to kee]) the 
stars company." The lights of the city were more 
nunuTous, and looked brighter against the black- 
ness of the mountain looming a])ove them ; but 
they, too, prophesied speedy extinction. It was 
oniy the ChishiniiDtmru that bore a day-time a]> 
pearaiice of brightness and activity. With freight 


all loaded, she had but to take on her passengers, 
and steam away at midnight. 

The next morning early, she came to anchor in 
Aomori Bay, and was speedily surrounded by sam- 
pans, big and little. Shioiya's clerk, desiring to 
show" special respect to the foreign guests, had en- 
gaged two boats — one for them, and the other for 
their baggage. They were not to be entertained at 
the hotel, they told him, but at " Suthon San no 
Uchi." He knew this well, as did every one in 
Aomori ; for it was the home, church, and school of 
a missionary heroine, the one lone seyojin cheer- 
fully braving a residence, winter and summer, in 
what all there knew must be uncongenial surround- 
ings. They arrived before the telegram, which 
they had sent from the hotel in Hakodate the night 
before ; so she was not expecting them. This de- 
layed the breakfast, and made another delay in 
ordering jinrikishas ; for Aunt Mary must escape, 
if possible, the usual hard basha ride of thirty miles 
over a road which, for two years, had been in the 
trying state of being macadamized. There was the 
horse to be intrusted to some one's leading, their 
baggage to be looked after, and a graduate of the 
mission-school in Hakodate, sent in their care to 
the Hirosaki school, must be started in the basha. 
After all these things were done, and another tele- 
gram ventured upon for Hirosaki, the jinrikishas 
were still nowhere in sight. Then the little mis- 
sionary rushed madly about from one jinrikisha 
stand to another, until her calm hostess, who had 


engaged them at the depot, where most of the jin- 
rikishas had gone at that hour, found her on a cor- 
ner, breathless and excited over her fruitless search. 
This same hostess, with true Japanese courtesy, 
had engaged a jinrikisha for herself, and accom- 
panied them a good bit of the way over the smooth, 
level stretch of road out from Aomori. Reluctantly 
they received her sayonaras (good-byes), and pro- 
ceeded on their quiet, solitary journey. Up to this 
time the jinrikisha runners had endeavored to keep 
abreast, but now they dropped back in line. There 
were two men to each kuruma (jinrikisha). Over 
good parts of the road, one was ahead to help, by 
means of a rope, in pulling ; but often he had to 
go behind to push the wheels up a steep place, or 
lift them over a ditch. 

The tea-houses and little villages they passed 
looked very different from anything Aunt Mary had 
seen before. The roofs were thatched with rice- 
straw, and the walls were made of a kind of thick- 
ened mud or plaster. About noon the jinrikishas 
halted before one of these mud-walled, thatched- 
roofed tea-houses. At once a crowd of dirty, naked 
children and a few men and women, as curious and 
scarcely cleaner or more clothed than the children, 
gathered around the new, white-haired seyojin. 
The tea-house had no upper story, and only one 
zashiki (parlor or guest-room). The crowd fol- 
lowed them into the yard, and stood gazing, as they 
removed their shoes and entered the zashika. It 
was very warm ; but they must screen themselves 


from this curious, gaping company. The shoji 
were torn and out of order ; so fusuma had to be 
borrowed from the rest of the house before they 
were successful in making the sheltered corner 
they desired for themselves. Tea was brought, and 
with thankful hearts they ate the good lunch that 
had been put up for them at Hakodate. Then, leav- 
ing a small chadai on the tray in payment for the 
tea and their room, the little missionary called, 
" Kurumaya San, mo yo gozaimasu !" (Mr. Jin- 
rikishamen, we are all ready.) Once more they 
faced the unkempt crowd, and started on. During 
the afternoon, growing weary of the long ride, 
Aunt Mary proposed a walk ; and several times, in 
this way, they rested both themselves and the run- 
ners. It may have been in one of these walks 
that she quoted again to the little missionary a text 
which was often upon her mind during these days 
of strange experiences in Japan : " Partly whilst ye 
were made a gazing-stock, and partly whilst ye 
became companions of them that were so used." 
And then she was reminded of Amanda Smith : 
" Poor Amanda ! She was gazed at because she 
was black ! And how hard it was for her, until a 
friend, who found her in tears, repeated that verse, 
and told her she was following in the footsteps of 
the apostle Paul!" 

They had now left the mountainous part of 
the road, and were entering the beautiful valley 
which contains the city of Hirosaki and outlying 
villages. All through the day they had caught 

Showing " house with an upstairs." 


glimpses now and then of the new railroad which 
was to connect Hirosaki with Aomori. It is sel- 
dom that the sight of iron rails gives the joy that 
these glimpses brought to the little missionary's 
heart. How many times she had been over this 
road in jolting basha, in bumping sleigh, on stum- 
bling pack-horse ! She knew all the ins and outs, 
the lips and downs, the stones, the hollows, the 
mud, the dust. Sometimes it had taken her two 
days, never less than one, to make this little dis- 
tance of thirty miles. Once, night and a heavy 
shower overtook her long before she reached Ao- 
mori. She was denied even the poor comfort of a 
basha that time, and was riding in an open cart, 
which jolted her so that she did not feel sound and 
whole again for days. At midnight the cart drew 
up in front of a closed hotel. The clerks, the por- 
ters, the messenger-boys, all were sound asleep, 
and for a long time refused to be aroused. When, 
at last, they gave her shelter they kindly brought 
to her little paper-walled room the customary shov- 
elful of bright coals for the hibachi (fire-box or bra- 
zier). Gratefully did she use these to dry her 
pillow and sheets, which, though serving in the 
cart as a cushion, were thoroughl}^ soaked at the 
edges, and lay down to a sleep which even opening 
amado (doors inclosing the verandas, and opened at 
an early hour) did not greatly disturb. 

Another time, after being thrown out in the 
mud, she rode into Aomori in face of one of the 
chilly, early snowstorms of winter, and was as- 


signed by her courteous landlord to the largest, 
most open, airy zashiki in his house. He had 
thought to do her an honor, and looked surprised 
enough when she asked to be moved to a smaller 
room. He looked surprised again when, thinking 
to get warm a la Japanese, she asked that a curtain 
be put up at the unscreened doorway of the bath- 
room, and she be allowed to have her bath first and 
alone when it was made up fresh in the morning. 

But the cold and fatigue of those journeys would 
soon be only a memory. It would not be long 
before the " iron horse " would carry her safely 
and comfortably, in an hour's time, over this 
weary way. Something else, however, was coming 
into view. Yes, they had received her telegram ; 
and there they were, a great company, standing on 
Watoku bridge just outside the city, waiting to 
welcome them within. Hastily alighting from their 
jinrikishas, the better to return the low bows with 
which they were greeted, they walked part of the 
way through the long street with these Christian 
women and girls, their pastor among them like any 
true shepherd with his flock. They were passing 
between the same two rows of dingy, black houses 
which had often cast a shadow of depression over 
the little missionary's heart, and made her wish 
that Hirosaki was a little more like Tokyo, or even 
Sendai. But the shadow was lifted now, and no 
one in all Japan could be happier or more thankful. 
" It will be heaven enough," she thought, " to be 
met as we enter the other world by just such a com- 










pany of the redeemed, who have washed and made 
their robes white in the blood of the lyamb, because 
we led them to the fountain." 

But Aunt Mary had walked quite enough during 
the day ; so she was persuaded to get in the jinrik- 
isha again ; and with more bows they sped quickly 
down Watoku, out on Tera Machi — where the little 
wood-colored church stood between a hotel and a 
newly-painted, white photograph gallery, by the 
castle grounds — and into Shiwowaki Machi, where 
they stopped. The high, black gate was open ; two 
servants with smiling faces stood waiting. " Taiso 
mate-orimashita " ("We have waited long for you"), 
the}^ said. In the genka, Aunt Mary followed the 
little missionary's example and exchanged shoes 
for slippers. They entered the box-like rooms. 
Shoji and fusuma were all pushed back, and they 
could look at once into the little garden at the rear. 
Fresh nasturtiums, grown from American seed, 
filled home and garden with their bright beauty and 
wholesome odor. " How sweet and fresh it is !" 
Aunt Mary said, and speedily forgot, in the de- 
lights of this little Japanese home, that it had been ^ 
so hard to leave Hakodate. She would have been 
quite satisfied, after a hot supper in the little *' six- 
mat " dining-room (just big enough for six of the 
mats known as tahnai), to rest quietly in her '* ten- 
mat " bedroom, opening at one end in a " four- 
mat" dressing-room, and at the other on the garden; 
but the little missionary would not have it so. "I 
want you to see my upstairs,'" she urged; and, to 


please her, Aunt Mary climbed the narrow, steep 
stairway, her low stature making it easy for her to 
escape a likely bump from the closet floor above. 
She was now in a true Japanese room (the rooms 
below had some glass sJioji and two foreign doors). 
It had been an afterthought, having been built by 
an ambitious Japanese owner on the roof-top of the 
original house, which was a simple one-story house, 
like all the others in the street. So it had come to 
be known as the iiaikai ?io uchi (house with an up- 

The amado were open, and with the shoji 
pushed back, a view could be obtained in every 
direction. In the shadowy north were the castle 
grounds of the old daimyo, whose stronghold was 
now only in the hearts of the people, who had ever 
been ready to serve him shinu fuade (unto death). 
"We must go there some day," said the little mis- 
sionary. "It is lovely, the most restful place in 

All the missionaries who came to Hirosaki, 
loved the O Shiro (castle or stronghold). Closed, 
at that time to the general public, they were never 
followed there by a host of small boys, shouting 
after them, "Ame! Ame!" (abbreviation of 
America.) As soon as they had passed the other 
side of its queer old gateway, they were in a dif- 
ferent world; away from the shouting rabble, away 
from the perplexities and trials, from the cares and 
responsibilities of their life and work in the in- 
terior. Every step in the broad, grand avenues of 









pines, every moment by the calm, still waters of 
the moat, was fraught with restfulness. They 
loved to linger on its ruined bridges, to gaze on its 
strong towers, with only rusty bolts and hinges to 
show the effects of time and disuse. The over- 
grov/n well, the neglected flower-garden, made 
them curious to know more of former glories; so 
they questioned the old people, who avoided the 
O Skiro, literally passed not by it, because it spoke 
to them too sadly of a past that would never come 
again. One, and only one, description of the 
daimyo's house was always ready. It was '^ taiso 
hiroV (very broad or large). 

While these thoughts were passing through the 
little missionary's mind, Aunt Mary had turned to 
the east. The horizon was pinked with moun- 
tains, warm and soft in the afterglow of the day's 
sunshine. To the south were more mountains 
and more trees; terraced rows of stately crypt- 
omerias, leading to the temple so often used for 
sobetsukwai (farewell receptions) and the like. But 
the crowning beauty was in the west ! There a 
second Fuji rose from the waving rice-fields, to be 
crowned, sometimes with clouds, but again with shin- 
ing stars. The little missionary had often dropped 
on her knees before the low window of her tiny 
** two-mat" room, and thanked God for this moun- 
tain, which had ever lifted her up and away from 
her surroundings. It could not possibly mean as 
much to Aunt Mary as it did to her ; and it could 
not mean as much to her as it did to the thousands 


of people who, born under its shadow, make their 
fasts, their offerings, their prayers, to the invisible 
god, dwelling, as they think, in the heart of Iwaki 
San (the usual name of the mountain, but also 
called Tsugaru Fuji). 



Aunt Mary was scarcely allowed a night's rest 
before the pastor called to ask her to preach for him 
on the Sabbath ; the Bible women called to ask her 
to address their woman's meetings; and the school- 
teachers came to invite her to a reception. Time 
had to be systematized at once; only one meeting 
a day ; the morning devoted to study and prepara- 
tion; an hour reserved in the afternoon for a nap, 
and the evening given to reading and recreation. 

Great preparations were made for the reception 
at the Jo Gakko (girls' school). This building 
was erected by native Christians; and as it had 
never been painted, it was called, a little later, 
by a new and youthful arrival in Hirosaki, the 
"Natural Wood School." Only a limited number 
of guests were invited to the reception; but they 
were prominent as officers of the Church, or spe- 
cial patrons of the school. The girls were all 
dressed in their best and brightest clothes, and, 



with gayly-colored hairpins in their glossy heads, 
looked not a little like an animated flower-bed. 
The hairpins were not all surmounted with flow- 
ers; but some took on a new character from the 
war, and represented Japanese soldiers standing 
on headless bodies of Chinese and waving aloft 
heads conspicuous for their long cues. 

Speeches and songs of welcome were followed 
by an address from Aunt Mary. She had noticed 
their stooping shoulders and listless gait, so gave 
the girls a talk on exercise, winding up with the 
presentation of a bean-bag board. Her speech 
was interpreted of course ; but the little missionary 
essayed to speak in Japanese. She got on very 
well until she attempted to refer to a little inci- 
dent fresh from the battle-field, which was just then 
filling every Japanese heart with pride in his coun- 
tryman's valor. A bugler, by the name of Shira- 
kami Genjiro, though mortally wounded, refused 
to give up his bugle ; but, with his dying breath, 
blew one last, clear, ringing "Susume!" (charge.) 
His bugle was a rappa, but she called it a kappa 
(meaning sea-monster, also rain-cloak). The Japa- 
nese audience, ever courteous and unflinching be- 
fore even the gravest errors of seyojhi, could not 
endure this amusing change of words, but in- 
dulged at once in a hearty burst of laughter. 
This quite disconcerted the little missionary, as 
she had thought to produce far different emotions; 
but she was soon set going again. A young man 
in the audience, who was fresh from student life in 


America, and so well knew the difficulties of speech 
in a foreign language, prompted her by saying, " I 

think rappa is the word you want, Miss ." 

The largest Christian home in the city was 
opened for a woman's meeting. It was the home 
of the popular representative from that district to 
the lyower House of Parliament. He was not a 
Christian, but his famil}^ were; and they, with all 
their relatives and friends on the street, were suffi- 
cient in themselves to make a fine woman's meet- 
ing. They had not as yet departed from country 
customs; but all who were married had a finer, 
more shining black polish on their teeth than ever 
boot-black put on a pair of boots. Though a well- 
to-do home, given to hospitality, it boasted the 
possession of not a single chair. The little mis- 
sionary, anxious to make Aunt Mary comfortable, 
asked for zabuton (cushions), and quite disregard- 
ing ordinary Japanese proprieties, piled them on 
top of each other in the toko?ioma (sacred alcove 
with a raised floor). There were old women, 
young women, and a few girls in the company. 
The younger ones had the advantage of birth in 
the same generation with a public-school system, 
and experiened no difficulty in finding the places 
in Bible and Hymnal. But the older ones, who, 
with a few exceptions, knew no ji (syllabic charac- 
ters in which Japanese is written) until they be- 
came Christians and wanted to sing, were slow, and 
liked to sit where quicker eyes and fingers could 
come to their aid. Sometimes the younger women 


would point with their fingers to the ji as they 
sang; and the old gray heads, bent intently over 
the page, would try to remember which was ta, and 
which was 7io, and which was shi. When they 
knew the words, they did not always get the tune ; 
but nobody cared about that, if only they were 
''making melod}^ in their hearts." There was one 
ob'dasan (old woman), however, who was very 
proud because she had once served in the damiyo's 
household, and because she could read and write. 
She always sang above and beyond every one else, 
which made the young women titter and the old 
women hang their heads in shame. 

But all gave earnest heed when Aunt Mary be- 
gan to speak. How they watched her face, noted 
her gestures, waited for the interpretation of her 
words ! Her hair was snowy white, her years more 
than theirs ; 3'et how vigorous and strong she was ! 
How fearlessly she spoke — with what truth and 
force ! Physically, mentall}^ and spiritually, in 
every way, there was the impress of strength — a 
strength for which " sitting on chairs " alone could 
not account. 

One morning the little missionary was much ex- 
cited. The 3"oung man, who had prompted her at the 
reception, had come to request Aunt Mary to speak 
at the To-o-gijiku (a large private boys' school, re- 
ceiving aid in the way of English teaching from the 
Methodist Episcopal Missionary Society, but not 
friendly to Christianity). 

"The teachers in our school have heard of your 


fame, and ask you to speak to the students," he 

Aunt Mary consented. 

" The students do not like Christianity very 
well; so please be careful," he added. 

'' But I can not make a speech without any relig- 
ion in it," was Aunt Mar3^'s quick rejoinder. 

" Yes, but please be careful how you saj^ it," he 

When he had gone, the little missionary gave 
way to a burst of enthusiasm. 

"Why, that is wonderful," she said to Aunt 
Mar}^ " Those boys are alwaj^s throwing stones at 
our school. Once a stone came crashing through 
a window, and fell on my desk, when I w^as teach- 
ing a class; and since my first coming to Hirosaki 
I have not dared to pass near their buildings, for 
fear of being insulted in some waj^ This is a great 
victory. I am so glad!"_ 

The morning of the speech dawned dark and 
rainy. " Shall we ask to have it postponed?" was 
Aunt Mary's question. 

" O no !" was the little missionary's reply. " If 
they wish to postpone it, all right; but let us ful- 
fill our part of the agreement, rain or shine !" 

No word came from the school ; so a little be- 
fore the appointed hour they were shut into jin- 
rikishas, whose rain3-day curtains were fastened so 
close to the hood that the}^ were allowed only a 
peep-hole out, and rapidly drawn to the To-o-gijiku. 
Some of the teachers met them at the door, and 


gravely led them through the hall and up the 
stairs to a room thoroughly characteristic of every 
Japanese school. The school may be lacking in 
proper class and study rooms; it may be "narrow" 
and cramped like the Seiryu Jo Gakko in Nagoya; 
still it has its "teachers' room." At the IHrosakl 
Jo Gakko one of the class-rooms was divided by a 
partial partition, to make a place w^here the teach- 
ers could spend their ofF-hours, keep books and 
papers, hold numerous consultations, receive guests, 
and the like. 

But the To-o-gijiku had a proper, entirely sepa- 
rate room for its faculty, and into this room Aunt 
Mar}^ and the little missionary were now ushered. 
In the center of the room stood a table covered 
with a white cloth, giving it the appearance of a 
dining-room. They were seated in straight-backed 
chairs near the table, while tea and cakes were 
served in the usual leisurely manner. After par- 
taking of these and " resting" for a full half-hour, 
they were invited to go to the assembly-room be- 
low. On the way, the teacher, who had been in 
America, was careful to warn the little missionary 
not to walk beside him into the room, as that 
would not look well in Japan, he said. The stu- 
dents — about three hundred — were gathered in the 
gymnasium, and had evidently been waiting for 
some time. 

It was a strange coincidence that the subject of 
promptness should have entered into Aunt Mary's 
well-prepared address; but there it was — " He who 


would be great, must be prompt. To keep thirty 
people waiting one minute each, is equivalent to 
keeping one person waiting half an hour." Was 
there a bright arithmetician among those students 
to compute that, at this ratio, to keep three hun- 
dred people waiting thirty minutes, was equal to 
keeping one person waiting six days? Probably 
not; and even if there had been, the sight of three 
hundred people kept waiting thirty minutes, or of 
one kept waiting six days, would have been alike, 
not at all startling or appalling to his mind. 
" Sukoshi mate" (wait a little) would ever come 
more easily to his lips than the crisp American 
"Be on time!" His "ima" (now or presently) 
was expansive, and might as easily mean to-morrow 
or next week. His clock — ^if he had one — would 
seldom indicate less than thirty minutes before or 
behind his neighbor's. But if the students, in the 
nature of things, were not impressed that prompt- 
ness should be considered an element of greatness, 
they gave due attention to the grand old models of 
greatness which Aunt Mary drew forth from the 
Old Testament for their consideration; and the 
young man who had asked her to come could truth- 
fully say, " You have done them good." 

"There!" said the little missionar}^ " I am 
glad I have been in that school once ; and I was n't 
stoned or hurt in an}^ way, either." 

The little missionary was anxious to give Aunt 
Mary a drive after her new horse. It was bought 
for a saddle-horse ; but a horse was a horse, and the 


possibility of its not being at home in thills did not 
once occur to her. There was only one carriage in 
the city — an old phaeton, brought there by a mis- 
sionary who had since moved to Tokyo, A betto 
(groom) was engaged to take care of the horse and 
harness him to the carriage. The first day he had 
to wait outside the door for Aunt Mary to finish 
her afternoon nap. Suddenly there was a crash and 
a shout. The little missionary dared not move, for 
she felt in her heart that the horse had run away 
and smashed the carriage to pieces. But it was not 
so bad as that. Another horse had run into him, 
the betto said, and frightened him so that he had 
started ; but the carriage was not much damaged ; 
he would soon have it mended with a piece of rope. 
He did mend it, but Aunt Mary refused to ride ; so 
the little missionary had to try it alone. She 
brought back such a good account, however, that 
Aunt Mary consented to go that way to Fujisaki, a 
village five miles distant, where they were to have 
a woman's meeting. The nap had to be taken first, 
which made one delay. The horse grew impatient, 
so the betto went off with him, and was nowhere in 
sight when Aunt Mary appeared. Then, when he 
did come, they had to go out of their way to take 
in the young lady who was to serve as interpreter. 
When at last they were fully started, it was time 
for the meeting to begin. Aunt Mary drove. The 
horse did not want to go. There was no whip, so 
the betto jumped off from his perch at the back, 
and prodded him with a stick. He went well as 


long as the betto kept prodding him and running 
by his side. As soon as the betto returned to his 
seat, he resumed his former slow, slow walk. Aunt 
Mary slapped him with the lines, and made sad 
havoc with her voice in the vain effort to urge him 
forward. Again the betto had to jump down and 
prod him diligently with the stick, himself setting 
an example in running. Again the urging did not 
last. Over and over the poor betto had to be on 
his feet; and the patience of all was well-nigh ex- 
hausted when at last they arrived, very late, at the 
church, where a few women were still waiting for 
them. The meeting was to be held in a Japanese 
room above, used by the pastor as a study. Next 
door was a large public school. The pupils had 
just been dismissed, and were filling the yard and 
street with a tremendous racket. Pilgrims, too, 
were on their way to the mountain, adding to the 
noise and confusion. 

It was difficult, indeed, for Aunt Mary to do 
more than talk to the interpreter, and let her try 
to make the women hear. They sat in a circle 
around the room, with heads bowed down in ap- 
proved Japanese form. There were only two or 
three faces that were at all responsive. The others 
wore a dull, stolid expression that made it very easy 
for Aunt Mary to tell which of the women before 
her knew Christ and which ones knew him not. 
There were no silver crosses gleaming from their 
yeri (folds of cloth worn about the neck), no white 
ribbons looking soft and pure against their dark 


kimono (dresses) ; but royalty sat upon their fore- 
heads, and purity and temperance shone from their 
faces. They were the wives of the leading men 
of Fujisaki, who, soon after becoming Christians, 
wanted a Church in their own village, had made it 
self-supporting, and filled it to overflowing with a 
flourishing Sunday-school. One of them had been 
a sake (native wine, made from rice) manufacturer, 
and habitually intoxicated with his own drinks 
until, through Christ, he learned a "way of es- 

As Aunt Mary and her company started home- 
ward, after what they were obliged to make a brief 
meeting, they found themselves in a crowd of pil- 
grims. For many days these pilgrims had been 
busy preparing for this annual pilgrimage to the 
holy mountain. Their preparations had consisted 
in numerous ablutions and fastings, with purchases 
of needed supplies for their weary march. Dressed 
in simple cotton garments, with waraji (coarse 
straw sandals) on their feet, they were bearing 
aloft bamboo poles, each adorned with numerous 
long, narrow streamers, some of paper, but many 
of beautiful, thin wood-shavings, prepared espe- 
eially for the purpose. As they marched, they 
sang, ''^ Saigiy saigi, doko saigi ii tsimii fiano kai 
nana kin inyocho rai,^'' which was interpreted to 
Aunt Mary as a song of repentance. 

"A repentance that needs to be repented of," 
she tersely remarked. 

The horse, like all of his generation, went much 


better on his way home. It was not until they 
entered the city that, fearing probably he would 
be driven the longest way round, he suddenly 
made a sharp cut at a shop corner. Aunt Mary 
barely saved him from plunging into the shop and 
scattering the carriage and its occupants on the 
pavement. It was then that the resolution was 
quietly formed to use "Darkey" thereafter only for 
a saddle-horse. 

Two or three days later they saw the pilgrims 
returning. The banners of paper and shavings — 
some for prayers, some for votive offerings — had 
all been planted on the top of Iwaki San. Their 
repentance was completed, and they were now re- 
joicing, with dancing feet and waving fans. They 
made a weird, fantastic picture, so attractive that 
all the schools of the city, even the Jo Gakko, had 
to be closed, and Aunt Mary and the little mis- 
sionary were often drawn to the roka (veranda) by 
the fascination of the strange dance. Only a few 
women ventured upon the fatiguing pilgrimage, 
and they were glad enough to be jolted along, with 
their more exhausted brothers, in open carts. 

''I am so sorry," said the good pastor of the 
Church to Aunt Mary, "that you should see our 
country's disgrace. This is my native town; but 
I have been away for years, and did not know it 
was still so bad." 

" But I am glad," interposed the little mission- 
ary; "for now she sees, much better than we could 
ever tell her, the great need of Christian work." 


No certain news oi the war could yet be ob- 
tained. As the country did not seem greatly dis- 
turbed, missionaries thought it wise to open their 
schools as usual. Those who had been resting in 
Hakodate sent word to Aunt Mary to join them in 
Aomori, and, sped on her way by the gifts and 
parting bows of a grateful company, she started 
on the return journey. She had proposed to go 
this time in the basha. 

"The road is not so very bad. I can just as 
well ride in the basha as not," she urged. 

But the little missionary w^as quite determined 
to take her the most comfortable way; so two jin- 
rikishas were ordered for them and one for the 
baggage. The man who was to take the baggage 
fastened the hat-trunk in his jinrikisha, and started 
off, refusing to carry more. This made it neces- 
sary for the multitudinous smaller pieces of bag- 
gage that had accumulated to be stowed on the 
seats with them, on their laps, about their feet, 
until Aunt Mary felt impelled to remark, "I think 
the basha would have been more comfortable than 
this." The little missionary did not like to con- 
fess that she thought so too, but tried instead to 
bear off the greater part of the packages. At 
Namioka, w^here they were to change jinrikishas, 
she hoped to make a little better arrangement. 

Aunt Mary sang hymns along the way, and 
when they reached the poor, straggling village 
where they were to make the change and have 
luncheon, she said: "I have been thinking how 


restful and free from anxiet}^ I am, because I am 
trusting everything on the journey to you! Tl 
is just the wa}^ we ought to feel toward our Heav- 
enl}' Father." 

The little missionar}- listened, but made no re- 
pl}^ Her feelings had been far from restful all the 
morning, and she was still full of anxiet}^ about the 
rest of the journej'. Crowded as they had been, 
these jinrikishas must go back from here, and she 
was not at all sure of engaging others in Namioka. 
It would be humiliating to enter a basha after all, 
and that for the worst part of the journey. Be- 
sides, the basJias were usually filled at Hirosaki. 
While the}' were eating their luncheon she talked 
with their landlord about the prospect. He was 
ver}' courteous; so she tried to be, meeting every 
polite expression of his with one to correspond, 
and working upon his S3'mpathies for the Ameri- 
can obaasan until he succeeded in making the ar- 
rangement she desired for the rest of the wa}'. 

Then she felt restful and free from anxiety, 
quite ready to appreciate Aunt Mar3''s next words: 
"I did not know, of course, what 3'ou were saying, 
my dear; but your tones were very pleasant. I 
never like to hear missionaries speak in a sharp, 
vexed way to the Japanese." 

If there had been time she might have con- 
fessed to x\unt INIar}' many weary struggles and 
sore defeats on this greatest of all missionary bat- 
tle-fields, whose victor is pronounced by the Master 
himself as "better than he that taketh a city.'' 


Like a child who tries to pump with the water 
drawn off, and grows angry with the pump itself; 
or another who can not find the beginning of a 
tangled skein, and does nothing but increase the 
tangle, — so she, not understanding the difficulties 
before her, had often grown angry with innocent 
results; not seeing the beginning of the snarl, had 
increased harmless tangles, until she felt that, if 
any one in Japan needed a missionary, it was the 
little missionary herself. 

At Aomori they met the missionaries from Ha- 
kodate, who had crossed the straits the night be- 
fore. One looked haggard from seasickness ; the 
other had been ill all summer, and was not yet 
fully recovered. She had with her a little Japa- 
nese girl, whom she had adopted when the child 
was only a baby, thrown out by heartless parents to 
make its own way in an unfriendly world. It was 
a good work, Aunt Mary owned, but not the work 
for a single missionary to undertake ; so she had 
said one day in Hakodate, " I would not let the 
child call me mamma, if I were you." 

" Would you bring her up without a mother?" 
questioned the missionary. 

That was hard, but Aunt Mary suggested : 
"Anyway, I would not give her my name." 

"What name would you give her, then? The 
name of the man who disowned her?" 

Aunt Mary was really cornered. Her judgment 
could no longer hold out against her own mother- 
liness, and she left the missionary in silence. 


There was only one foreign bed in Aomori at 
the disposal of this party, and that was the bed of 
the resident missionary. This was given to Aunt 
Mary, and the others made themselves as comforta- 
ble as possible in a large zashiki at the hotel, their 
futon spread side by side under a great mosquito- 
curtain, which filled the room. 

On the way to Sendai there was an unexpected 
stop. Floods had damaged the railroad, making 
it necessary for the passengers to walk some dis- 
tance, while their baggage was laboriously trans- 
ferred on men's shoulders. 

There was a school in Sendai waiting to be 
shown Aunt Mary — a school for the poorest of the 
poor, who must be taught some simple industry, 
if the teaching would be effective. At the en- 
trance of the school was a room containing a great 
bath-tub, for the confessed purpose of taking from 
the children the one thing they had in abundance. 

There was a missionary, too, in Sendai, waiting 
to talk with Aunt Mary about starting a paper to 
be called the " Michi no Shiori " (Guide to Holi- 

From Sendai to Yokohama, where they were 
to stay over Sunday ! It was communion Sabbath 
at the Union Church, and, for the second time in 
Japan, Aunt Mary was offered fermented wine. 
But she let it pass untasted, for how could she re- 
member the Savior's death in that which destroys 
those for whom he died ? 

A little rest again at Nagoya was made memora' 


ble by the passing of an imperial procession. The 
emperor was on his way to Hiroshima, the head- 
quarters of the army. Fully one hundred thousand 
people were in the streets; but for all there were so 
man}^ it would be difficult to imagine a quieter, more 
orderly crowd. Never a shout was raised as the 
imperial carriage passed. There was only devout 
obeisance; and after it had disappeared, a shower 
of fireworks. 

At K3^oto she saw a large new temple, which 
was to cost a million dollars when finished. She 
had heard that the stones and beams of this tem- 
ple were raised to their places by solid coils of 
hair, the precious offering of devoted women. A 
casual examination, however, revealed the truth. 
There w^as just enough hair partiall}^ to conceal the 
real rope beneath, so Aunt Mary said they ought 
to be called " fraud coils of hair." From this tem- 
ple they went to another famous one, containing 
only 33,333 gods, one thousand being not less than 
five feet in height. 

A restful Sabbath in Kobe, followed the next 
jmorning by a climb up the mountain-side to see the 
waterfalls, for which their lodging-place was named 
the "Waterfall House." They were to leave the 
railroad now, and go the rest of the way to Naga- 
saki by vSteamer. It was not a voyage to be dreaded. 
For a day and part of a night, their ship glided 
over the wondrous inland sea of Japan. Fair as a 
lake, beautiful as a river, all who traversed her 
waters were sure to be charmed into sitting long 


hours on the deck, watching the ever-changing, 
often grotesque islands that dotted her surface. 

There were a few hours of the open sea; then, 
past the rocks from which Christians were said 
to have been dashed to death in the years of fierce 
political persecution, they slowly steamed into the 
land-locked harbor of Nagasaki. Almost at once 
Aunt Mary's attention was directed above the tiled 
roofs of the long, irregular streets of the city, to a 
building set on a hill, where it could not be hid. 
She had heard of this building before. Its curious 
name, Kwassui Jo Gakko, had been interpreted to 
her as the "Fountain of Living Waters School for 
Girls;" and now she was to have the privilege of 
spending two weeks within its walls, helping to 
dispense the "living waters" in sermons, in evan- 
gelistic services, in personal conversations. How 
she rejoiced in the prospect, and more when she 
found some of the graduates of the school actively 
engaged in similar work ! One, known as the tem- 
perance evangelist of Kwassui, had just persuaded 
a noted drunkard and gambler to forsake the foul 
and poisonus stream of intoxicating liquors for the 
living waters of health and temperance. About 
that time, news came to to the school of a young 
girl who, for the poverty of her parents, was to be 
sold to a life of shame, and made to drink of that 
vast river of immorality which is ever overflowing 
its banks in Japan, flooding and destroying all that 
is purest, best, and noblest. Never did a subscrip- 
tion-paper circulate more quickly than the one for 


this girl's redemption, and soon her name was 
added to the already long roll of the school. 

In the midst of all the teaching and preaching, 
rose the busy sound of the hammer, for the founda- 
tions had been laid for a chapel and new dormito- 
ries. A hospital, also, was just opening, that the 
healing waters might be applied to the body as 
well as to the soul. 

The family circle of Kwassui was enriched by 
the presence of several Korean missionaries, who 
had sought refuge, for a little time, from the dangers 
that threatened them in their war-invaded homes. 
With them was no less royal a personage than the 
younger brother of the king of Korea. He was 
consumed with ambition to follow in the footsteps 
of ambitious Japanese students, and cross to the 
American continent. With this in view, no one in 
the house escaped serving him now and then as 
teacher of the English language. 



A FINE steamer, the 
i^joocHow ^^P^^ss of India, 
brought the most wel- 
come of all additions 
to the home at Nagasaki — a new missionary. But 
it also bore away Aunt Mary, who had spent five 
months in the East without yet " seeing Emma." 
She went in the care of other missionaries, who 
were on their way to China, and in their company 
the thirty-six hours' voyage to Woosung passed 
quickly and pleasantly. 

At Woosung there should have been a railway 
train waiting to take them to Shanghai. The road 
was built — Aunt Mary remembered reading about 
it — but torn up as soon as angry Chinamen saw the 
great "iron horse" speeding over the graves of their 
ancestors. So, instead of rapid travel by rail, the 
passengers and all their luggage had to be trans- 
ferred to tenders, which bore them slowly up the 
river to their destination. When they stopped, 
there was a busy scene. Most of the passengers 



seemed to be making up for lost time by trying to 
sort and land their luggage a little sooner than any 
one else. These were old residents. The new- 
comers were content to wait ; for there were many 
novel sights to claim and hold their attention. It 
seemed strange to those who had stopped long in 
Japan, to see carriages again, drawn by real horses. 
Even the familiar jinrikisha had a queer look ; for 
it was pulled, not by a trim little Japanese dressed in 
blue cotton tights, his head almost concealed in a 
great mushroom-shaped hat covered with faded 
black cloth, but by a tall, lank Chinaman in loose 
trousers, his long cue coiled about his head under 
a diminutive straw hat. But a quainter carriage 
than either of these was rolling by. They had 
never before realized the possibilities contained in 
the single-wheeled vehicle which they had known 
from childhood as the wheelbarrow. But there it 
was, with a partition in the middle making two 
seats, just right for a man and his wife ; or, if the 
man was away at his work, the mother could still 
take one side and have all the children on the 
other; if a single passenger from the steamer 
wanted to ride, his luggage made excellent ballast to 
keep him from falling off. It seemed very funny ; 
but of course it was not ; for the people who rode 
never laughed, and the man who pushed them 
seemed not at all inclined to amusement. 

It was Sunday, and Aunt Mary was glad to be 
carried, not in wheelbarrow or carriage, but in the 
accustomed jinrikisha, to a good, quiet Sabbath 


home. It was a boarding-house, designed espe- 
cially for missionaries. The proprietor was a man 
who had come to China to be a missionary himself; 
but had concluded, after a while, that he had a mis- 
sion to other missionaries, which he could best ful- 
fill by providing for them this place of refuge. 
And a refuge indeed it proved for those who w^ere 
compelled, over and over again, to flee from their 
looted and ruined homes in the interior to the pro- 
tection of their consulates in the Foreign Concession 
of Shanghai, It was Aunt Mary's resting-place 
while she waited for a delayed steamer to bring her 
daughter to her from Foochow. It was not idle 
resting, however. " She was preaching and talk- 
ing and writing and working all the time," said a 
lady in the Home, amazed at the industry of this 
white-haired lady who had come to China to visit 
her daughter. 

Her work was interrupted one day by an invita- 
tion to dine at the Home connected with the hospital 
and school of the Union Missionary Society. It 
was the finest missionary residence Aunt Mary had 
yet seen — built of brick, with spacious rooms, beau- 
tifully-polished floors, and surrounded by extensive 
grounds. It was gratifying to learn that this grand- 
eur was not the result of missionary extravagance, 
but that a wealthy lady had opportunely purchased 
the house and grounds, as they were selling for 
much less than their real value, and presented them 
to the Society. 

The hospital was an unusual illustration of self- 


support, netting one thousand dollars over the year's 
expenses. The reception-room was crowded with 
waiting patients, to whom a Bible-reader was dis- 
pensing the gospel. In the wards were women 
and children who, in addition to the pains of ordi- 
nary diseases, were suffering in their feet those 
other pains which a strange and cruel custom had 
fastened upon them forever. In the school near 
by were busy girls, with natural, unbound feet, en- 
gaged in spinning, weaving, and various industrial 

The same evening she was taken to see the va- 
rious stages of a binding worse than that inflicted 
upon the feet. It was done by a little drug that, 
strange to say, had been pronounced harmless by a 
commission appointed in England to go to India to 
investigate its properties and effects. 

Some of the binding-places were so large and 
beautiful that they were called "palaces;" others, 
so small, so filthy, and ever so filled with the smoke 
of the drug, that they were appropriately termed 
" dens." Into both " palaces " and " dens," young 
women, and even girls, were enticed, and made to 
share in a still more fearful bondage. 

If Aunt Mary had been accustomed to restless 
slumber, she must have had very bad dreams that 
night. With all the evils she had seen and known 
in Japan, the women's feet had not been bound into 
tiny shoes, too small for a bab}^ to wear, and there 
had been no opium-smoking; but as soon as its 
ports were opened to the world, the Japanese Gov- 


ernment had prohibited entirely the importation 
of opium. 

The next day there was still another trying ex- 
cursion, which, helped her to understand, as never 
before, how the Chinese world lives. Only a few 
blocks from the beautifully clean, broad streets of 
the Foreign Concession, with its rapidly-moving 
carriages, and busy, bustling, modern life, is the old, 
native walled city of Shanghai. Jinrikishas could 
carry Aunt Mary and her company only to the 
gates. Dismounting, they entered streets so narrow 
that, while examining the wares exposed for sale 
on one side, they might easily have fingered those 
on the other. They had to walk astride a stream 
of filth which coursed through the center of the 
street, and avoid as they could the piles of decaying 
garbage which stood everywhere. In an open 
space was a stagnant pond, covered by so thick and 
green a scum that some one facetiously called it a 
tea-garden. They were continually surrounded by 
crowds of filthy beggars, breathing out intolerable 
odors. It was not safe to give them money, for they 
would immediately clamor for more, and indulge 
in such pushing and pulling that it was difi&cult to 
escape without being torn to pieces. 

At some seasons, other risks are involved in a 
visit to this native city; for it is in such places that 
cholera counts its victims by thousands, literally 
decimating the entire population. 

At last came the day when word went through 
the Home, *' The steamer from Foochow is in." 



The mother's heart beat high with joy. It was 
seven years since she had given her daughter to 
China; and now on China's soil the precious gift 
was restored for a little time ! 

The daughter, accompanied by her husband and 
eldest son, had planned to join her mother in visit- 
ing the Central China Mission and attend its annual 
meeting, now convening at Kiukiang. All to- 
gether they journeyed up the river. There was 
nothing to attract in the scenery; but as they 
neared Chinkiang, their first stopping-place, they 
noticed two gunboats peacefully moored in the 
vicinity of a fort. Upon inquir}^, they learned that 
the boats had been ordered to Peking; but their 
commander, fearing to obey orders at such great 
risk, had decided to stay in a safe place. 

The Mission Compound at Chinkiang, like many 
of those seen in Japan, was healthfully located on 
a hill. The air of cleanliness and good order per- 
vading the buildings and grounds, presented a 
striking contrast to the dirt and confusion so re- 
cently seen in the native city of Shanghai. The 
sweet singing of the school-girls, and their prompt, 
earnest, and concise testimonies and prayers in an 
Kpworth League meeting, were also refreshing and 

From Chinkiang they continued up the Yangtse, 
accompanied by Bishop Ninde, who had his family 
with him and a large party of missionaries. Tem- 
ples, pagodas, walled cities, now and then came in 
sight. One temple, erected on a mountain-top, 


sheltered devotees who were endeavoring to win 
the favor of gods by spending seven wear f years 
in that lonely spot. At one place in the river a 
rock shot up two hundred feet above the water, so 
completely isolated as to bear the name of "lyittle 

It was evening when they reached Kiukiang. 
Sedan chairs were in waiting, and one by one, in 
narrow file, they rode through the dark, dirty 
streets of the city, the little feeling of desolation, 
which came in the darkness alone with the coolies, 
quickly dispelled by the friendly lights and cheery 
voices which welcomed them to the Mission Home. 
Among the first to greet them was the pioneer of 
the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society to Cen- 
tral China. During her twenty years of service she 
had worked in West China also, to be driven back 
to her earlier fields by riotey similar to those which, 
in later years, have so frequently devastated mis- 
sionary domains in the interior. 

The custom of foot-binding was so general in 
Kiukiang that it seemed wise for the new Woman's 
Conference, organized by Aunt Mary, to take some 
action upon the subject. They decided to call the 
Christian women together, and endeavor to pledge 
them against the custom. At the first meeting a 
woman whose feet had been bound for forty years, 
after listening for some time to the exhortation 
given, rose and said that she would take the pledge 
to unbind her feet. Her husband, who was in the 
room, immediately rose, also, to express his ap- 


proval of his wife's action. He was glad that his 
wife was going to unbind her feet, he said. This 
was the beginning of several enthusiastic mass- 
meetings, characterized b}^ pledges on the part of 
the wives, seconded and approved b)' the husbands. 

At the close of Conference, before returning to 
Shanghai, Aunt Mary's party continued the jour- 
ney up the river as far as Hankow, the head of 
ocean-steamer navigation. Here the}^ saw the cu- 
rious man-boats, pulled along by men on the shore, 
much as canal-boats are drawn by horses or mules. 
Sedan chairs were again in waiting at the landing, 
and the}^ were carried through long, narrow streets, 
so densely crowded that thej^ must have passed 
thousands of people ; but try as she would, Aunt 
Mary could count but twent^^-two women. She 
felt relieved to pass out of the crowd at last into 
the quiet and good order of a Mission Compound. 
This time they were entertained by English mis- 
sionaries, who gave them an opportunit}^ to see 
much interesting work. Besides a bo}' s' school and 
hospitals for both men and women, there was a 
school for the blind. Here sightless eyes wxre 
bent, not always over books and papers, but often 
over baskets and mats, and the various articles in 
bamboo and straw which they were taught to 

On the return down the river the}^ had a Sab- 
bath day's rest at Kiukiang. Before going back to 
their steamer the following da}^, they visited a large 
tea establishment, where six hundred men were em- 


ployed in grinding tea and making it into tablets 
for the Russian market. 

At Wu Hu there was much excitement over the 
war. The Japanese had been again victorious, the 
emperor had fled, the viceroy was on his way to 
Peking, the empress was dead; these and many 
other reports, some true, some false, were being 
busily circulated. All along the river they found 
mission work seriously retarded by such rumors. 

At Nanking, the ancient capital of China, they 
made a trip to the Ming tombs, which are about five 
miles out of the city. On the way they had abun- 
dant evidence of the spoiling through which the 
city had passed during the Taiping rebellion, in the 
crumbling gates and falling walls that they saw. 
Their road took them through the Tartar city, whose 
inhabitants are all fed from the emperor's table; 
and as a result, perhaps of'the good food, are larger 
and finer-looking than other Chinese. Among 
them, also, there are no small-footed women. 

When they reached the tombs they found the 
way to the entrance made substantial by a solid 
stone walk, commanded by a succession of impos- 
ing gates, and guarded by rows of sentinels, also 
in stone. These represented, not only men, but 
lions, tigers, dogs, elephants, horses, and were with- 
out important members, one of them having lost 
its head. The first gate was the most interesting. 
It consisted of a slab of granite resting on the 
back of an immense turtle, the whole carved out 
of a single stone. It had stood there, some one 


said, for five hundred 3^ears. They passed all the 
gates, walking to the spot where the emperors were 
buried. Here officials are required to come twice 
a year to worship and pay their respects to a dead 

Near by they found the temple of Confucius, 
as bare, dirty, and neglected as any other. Besides 
the memorial tablets of Confucius, it contained 
some in memory of his father and mother. 

There was another temple, filled with images 
which were intended to illustrate the pleasures of 
heaven and the tortures of hades. The gross, sen- 
sual character of the one set, and the cruel inge- 
nuity displayed in the other, were a fresh demon- 
stration to Aunt Mary of the ignorance and the 
horrors of heathenism. 

What a pleasure to go from such scenes through 
a mission hospital and dispensary, then into a Chris- 
tian school and home! The " stone cut out of the 
mountain without hands" was very small, but it 
was sure to destroy the gold and silver and iron and 
clay which man's ignorance and superstition had 
led him to worship ; and though the great images, 
as they fell, might bury a few missionaries beneath 
them, their death would be like Samson's — a song 
of triumph. 

At Shanghai, while waiting for a steamer to 
Foochow, Aunt Mary accepted an invitation to 
preach at the headquarters of the China Inland 
Mission. Here lives and works the founder of that 
unique mission, which has its forces concentrated 


Upon "only, and all of, China." An immense map 
of China hangs on the wall of the chapel, and 
man stands near with a long pointer, ready to 
dicate the places to which reference may be made 
in the meetings. Touching reports come in from 
distant stations. One mission family is shut up in 
a besieged city ; another is about to flee on account 
of riots ; still another has been invaded by cholera, 
and the death-angel has already borne away one of 
its members. For all of these cases prayer, earnest 
and loving, is offered; and messages, by telegram 
when possible, are constant and S3^mpathetic. Here, 
also, new missionary arrivals are welcomed, and 
given a " God-speed" as they go into the country to 
the Home for preliminary training in methods and 
language-study. The mission has a head; and so 
plans for work, if not always the best, are uniform 
and systematic. 

It was late in November when finally Aunt 
Mary and her friends embarked in a small coast- 
steamer for Foochow. The steerage, which also 
served as a baggage- room, was full of Chinese en- 
gaged in what was to them the most delightful of 
all pastimes — smoking opium. With their huge 
pipes, about the size and shape of a flute, in their 
mouths, they were reclining in such a way as to 
hold a tiny ball of opium at the point of a long 
needle over the lighted lamp, which was a neces- 
sary adjunct of each man's opium outfit. The 
ship was filled with this and many other disagree- 
able odors. It rocked and pitched against a heavy 


swell, until the whole party gave a sigh of relief 
when, on the second day, Sharp Peak was sighted, 
and they knew the voyage was nearly ended. Re- 
embarking in a steam launch, they puffed their way 
smoothly and easily up a charming river to the 
landing-place at Foochow. Here, to their disap- 
pointment, there was no long row of sedan chairs 
waiting to carry them through the narrow streets 
and up the hill. They had arrived sooner than 
they were expected; so there was no sign of the 
grand reception that had been planned for them. 
There was nothing to do but to keep the rest of 
the party waiting while a resident missionary hur- 
ried on to order chairs sent back to them. 

In a day or two, Conference opened with a com- 
munion service ; and Aunt Mary had the privilege 
of kneeling at the same altar with her daughter 
and her daughter's husband and children, as well 
as a large company of native Christians and mis- 
sionaries. On Sunday she was happy again to be 
one of a true Conference congregation. Kven the 
doors were full of standing people, and the bishop's 
sermon went out to all with great power, in no 
wise hindered by the effective interpretation ren- 
dered by the veteran missionary of the Conference. 

At the opening of the Woman's Conference the 
following day, an address of welcome w^as pre- 
sented by a bright, intelligent Chinese member. 
Naturally, it fell to Aunt Mary to respond. Her in- 
terpreter was a missionary's daughter, who had been 
born and reared on Chinese soil, and was now a mis- 



sionary herself. Her interpretation was vSo ready 
and spirited, that it was not long before Aunt 
Mary began to speak of her as " my matchless in- 
terpreter." The native women bore an active part 
in the discussions, which were all of a helpful, 
practical nature, on such subjects as foot-binding, 
intemperance, and Sabbath-breaking. 

Wednesday, November 28th, was a memorable 
day. It was the anniversary of the opening of the 
Foochow Girl's Boarding-school thirty-five years 
before. In the evening Aunt Mary addressed a 
crowded house in Heavenly Rest Church, and 
started a subscription fund for a new church-build- 
ing in Foochow. The native Christians, with 
their preachers and missionaries, proved to be 
cheerful and even hilarious givers. Not a few 
women drew great silver hoops from their ears, 
and various ornaments from hair, neck, and wrists, 
that they might have a share in the offerings. The 
subscription amounted to fifteen hundred dollars, 
preparing all the givers for a joyous thanksgiving. 
Consul Hixson opened the doors of the American 
consulate to the missionaries and their guests, giv- 
ing them, by the aid of Chinese cooks, a true 
American Thanksgiving dinner. The next day, 
other Chinese cooks prepared for them an equally 
elaborate feast; but, alas for the newly arrived visi- 
tors! it was to be eaten with chopsticks. The feast 
was given by Mrs. Ahok, the widow of a Chinese 
Christian of means, who began to give liberally to 
mission work before ever he allowed himself to be 


baptized in the Christian faith. The Methodist 
Anglo-Chinese College of Foochow was founded 
through his generosity in a gift of ten thousand 
dollars, and was assisted by other Chinese friends 
raised up through his influence. 

There was much that was beautiful and attract- 
ive in this home — the silken hangings, the lac- 
quered chests, the inlaid chairs, the lanterns, the 
chandeliers with their wicks floating in open 
vessels of oil — but the chief interest centered in 
the young bride, who had recently been received 
into the home. Her bound feet were incased in 
embroidered slippers, which measured the highly 
aristocratic length of two inches; her face was elab- 
orately painted; her petite figure was attired in 
handsome embroideries of silk and satin. She 
did not appear at the feast, but was introduced to 
the guests at a later hour in her own apartments. 
Her wedding gifts made a fine display, a careful 
distinction being made between the ones received 
from Christian and those from non-Christian 
friends. Among the latter were images of the 
goddesses of mercy and maternity, which she had 
already, no doubt, commenced to worship; for as 
yet she knew not the "better way." What a 
blessed thing it was for her that she had entered 
a home which had received, before her, a more 
loved and worthy member! To Him, though in- 
visible, had been given the chief place, and soon 
she, too, would delight herself with the others in 
doing him honor. 


At the close of Conference, its benefits were 
extended by erecting a large tent on the college 
grounds, and inviting the people, generally, to a 
series of gospel-meetings. They came; and in 
this Chinese tabernacle the presence of the lyord 
became manifest to others of his chosen ones, 
until there were one hundred and twent3^-five peo- 
ple seeking baptism. 

From this successful, after-conference gather- 
ing, Aunt Mary started on another journey, with 
the bishop and a few others, to Kucheng. A 
house-boat carried them up the Min River, and in 
its tiny sitting-room, which at night was converted 
into a bedroom, they passed three quiet, restful 
days. It rained during the last night, and in the 
morning, when they left the boat to continue their 
journey in chairs, it was still raining. After a 
little, however, the sun kissed away the clouds, 
bringing to view a succession of towering moun- 
tains, which, though varying in form and beauty, 
were all covered with verdure, being cultivated in 
artistically-arranged terraces. Sometimes their 
coolies bore them aloft on the heights, along the 
edges of steep precipices; but more often they 
were down in the deep valley, on a safe, level path 
by the river, which also varied, — sometimes only a 
shallow stream murmuring over its stony bed; 
then a mighty cataract, rushing and roaring over 
huge rocks and boulders. The scenery reminded 
some of the party of Switzerland. Later, a strike 
on the part of their coolies led them to talk of 


America. But every trace of similitude to other 
countries vanished from their thoughts when they 
entered the Chinese inn, which the striking of 
their coolies compelled them to occupy for the 
night. In a cold, open, dirty court, surrounded by 
a curious, ill-smelling crowd, most of whom w^ere 
smoking, they ate their supper. When they had 
finished, as one of the missionaries was improving 
his opportunity to tell the "old story" to new 
listeners, in came some Christian Chinese from 
Kucheng. They had walked the long distance of 
fifteen miles to be the first to greet their guests. 
How bright and happy they looked in contrast to 
the hopeless, altogether-miserable audience which 
they had unexpectedly joined! 

The inn was full of fleas and mosquitoes, which 
made sleep impossible; so at an early hour in the 
morning their beds were taken up, and they con- 
tinued their beautiful mountain journey. While 
still within a few miles of Kucheng they saw the 
native pastor, clad in hired official robes, advanc- 
ing to present his card and formal salutations. 
Just outside the city gates others were standing — ■ 
preachers of the district, teachers of the girls' 
schools, teachers and students of the boys' school, 
and a great host of native Christians. Of these, 
the preachers and teachers only presented cards. 
Fire-crackers w^ere fired, making a noisy reception, 
which ended in a feast of twenty courses, to be 
eaten wdth chopsticks. After this, our travelers 
felt the need of the good rest which was given 


them before the Sabbath work began. The Sun- 
day congregation was good, though Aunt Mary 
was greatly tried when she saw the women, not 
merely sitting across the aisle from the men, as they 
had done in Japan, but surrounded by screens, that 
they might be out of sight. She felt better the 
next morning, however, when she visited the 
schools for women and girls, and thought of the 
sure emancipation that would result from their 
Christian training. 

The sound of the noisy welcome to Kucheng 
had scarcely died away when the noise of farewell 
began. There were speeches, there were prayers, 
there were songs, there were presents; and again 
a great company went out to the gate of the city, 
all lingering over the parting as they had hastened 
with the greeting. , 

ING CHIANG *^^ "^ rv/wvnc^vr 


Aunt Mary was not yet fully 
satisfied as to the luxury of mis- 
sionary living. The Mission houses, 
she knew, needed to be large and 
airy on account of the summer's heat; but the 
rugs, the draperies, the bric-a-brac, the table ap- 
pointments, often seemed finer than necessary; 
and the number of servants employed was still 
a wonder. She had once said to a group of mis- 
sionaries in Japan: "Now, really, wouldn't you 
find it a little hard to go back to America and 
live again without servants?" To her surprise, 
one of the older members of the little group 
burst into tears. This missionar}^ had once gone 
into her kitchen just in time to see her cook fill- 
ing the tea-kettle with water still warm from the 
bath ; and again, to see another cook moistening 
freshly-baked loaves of bread by squirting water 
over them from his tobacco-stained mouth. One of 
the brightest servants she had ever employed, pre- 
sented frequent bills for broken chimneys, putting 
the money for them in his own pocket. The same 
"boy" made a duplicate key of the store-room, 
which enabled him to take successive relays from 


the sugar-barrel to sell for his own profit. So, at 
thought of America's clean, honest, independent 
housekeeping, the wave of homesickness in her 
heart suddenly rose beyond control. But to Aunt 
Mary and other visitors there could not fail to come 
a sense of luxury at sight of apparently neat, w^ell- 
trained servants, moving quietly about each mis- 
sion home in the performance of their respective 

In her own daughter's home, she had now her 
best opportunity to understand these puzzling de- 
tails. The house w^as quite as large and grand as 
any in which she had visited ; but the family must 
include a single missionary, for whom no other 
home was provided; and the finest decorations, she 
learned, were due to the inventive genius of the 
occupants themselves. Then the carpets and cur- 
tains and pictures and ornaments, which furnished 
the house so attractively, why, the most of them 
she recognized as w^edding-gifts ! The table linen 
and the silver, too, had a familiar look. "How well 
Kmma has kept her things, and how little new she 
has bought !" she said to herself, with motherly 

It was quite a company that gathered in the 
dining-room each morning, for many olive-plants 
had sprung up about her daughter's table. After 
they had finished eating, another company filed in — 
the cook, the house-boy, the washerman — so many 
servants, she hardly dared to count them. Then 
her daughter took up — it did not seem like the dear,. 



familiar Bible — that book, full of strange, unintelli- 
gible hieroglyphs ! But how well Emma under- 
stood them! Without the least apparent difficulty 
she read and explained a few verses to those who 
had just been ministering to her in other ways. 
Then they all knelt, while she presented their peti- 
tions, still in their own harsh, uncouth language, 
to the only Bar that can understand every tongue. 

When they were risen, other books were pro- 
duced; and though Aunt Mary could not tell the 
words, she knew the dear old tunes, and sang her 
part through in English. 

Prayers over, the servants were dismissed and 
Emma went with her children to the school-room. 
This was the brightest room in the house, and wore 
quite an educational air, with its desks and black- 
boards. Soon the mother was facing her chil- 
dren — they were now teacher and pupils — and the 
work began. The school was divided into four 
grades, and there were only the morning hours in 
which to teach them; so a carefully-planned pro- 
gram must be strictly followed; no calls could be 
allowed to interrupt; all other work, all other 
pleasure, must be absolutely laid aside. In the 
four best hours of the day, from eight to twelve, 
she must endeavor to do for her children all that 
finely-equipped schools, with their large classes 
and well-trained teachers, might have done for them 
under other circumstances. 

The dinner-hour brought a little relaxation to 
all. Then the mother put on her hat and went to 


look after her other family. Thirty little orphaned 
waifs, some of them found starving to death in the 
streets, had at last a mother and a home at the or- 
phanage. They came tripping through the halls to 
meet her, and soon she was in another school- 
room, teaching kindergarten plays and songs. 
When she came out, they followed, shouting after 
her the English "good-bye" she had taught them, 
until she was no longer in sight. From the or- 
phanage she went to the Anglo-Chinese College to 
meet her classes there. 

In the evening she went to her husband's office. 
He was treasurer and business agent of the Mis- 
sion ; also superintendent of the publishing-house, 
with forty Chinese workmen to superintend. She 
found him poring over the proof-sheets of the " Re- 
vised Chinese Dictionary;" and taking some of 
them in her hand, she sat down and began the 
fourth difficult task of her day. Her day ! A teacher 
in the morning; a kindergarten and college teacher 
in the afternoon ; and in the evening a student, 
correcting that most difficult of all proof, which re- 
quired, to do it properly, an exact knowledge of the 
ins and outs, the twists and turns, of eight or ten 
thousand different ideographs. It was not the day 
of an ordinary wife and mother; it was not even 
the day of her own busy mother in her younger 
years. Such a w^onderful succession of duties ! — 
never lessening, even on the Sabbath, only chang- 
ing; for it it would not do to give her children a 
day-school and no Sunday-school. Then, there was 


a vast number of children outside to be gathered 
in and taught of Jesus. Emma's Sunda3^-school 
numbered four hundred, drawn together by the 
magic of a simple picture-card, but putting to 
shame, by their attention, good order, and prompt 
answers, many another school in Christian lands, 
where the attendance is supposed to be the result 
of worthier motives. Aunt Mar}^ was amazed ; 
and instead of sighing because there were so many 
servants in her daughter's household, she would 
have been glad to see another, more competent than 
all the rest, to do the many little things the others 
never thought to do. Failing this, she knew no 
better way than to perform these duties herself, 
and went about the house picking up the wash- 
ing, sorting papers and magazines, trjdng to relieve, 
if only by a little, the daily heavy pressure on her 
daughter's hands and heart and brain. 

Christmas w^as drawing near, and invitations to 
various festivities were flying as fast as snowflakes 
in a colder clime. The first one Aunt Mary at- 
tended w^as at the hospital the day before Christ- 
mas. The same evening she went to the church 
to a Sunday-school entertainment. An elaborate 
program had been prepared, its participants rang- 
ing from orphanage babies to college seniors. The 
decorations were extremely showy — not only lan- 
terns and flags and banners of all shapes and sizes, 
but lamps burning behind colored transparencies, 
and huge pink candles aglow with light and color. 

On Christmas-day, the missionaries had a tree 




for their own families; and in the evening "peace 
and good- will" were manifested to the women and 
girls of the training-school. 

The following day a special Christmas program 
was rendered by the older students of the girls' board- 
ing-school. It contained one exercise, thoroughly 
amusing to both the pupils and their guests. This 
was the clever representation by one of the girls, 
in dress and voice and manners, of an American 
lady, another girl serving as her interpreter. 

These entertainments were succeeded by Com- 
mencement exercises, until a welcome diversion 
was afforded by an invitation to a Chinese wedding. 
The bride was the granddaughter of the first bap- 
tized Christian woman in Foochow, and the groom 
was the son of the oldest preacher in the Confer- 
ence. Two feasts were given ; one by the bride be- 
fore the wedding, to women only ; and the other, at 
w^hich the bride was not present, by the husband, 
after the wedding. She was carried to her new 
home in a closed sedan chair, used only for wed- 
dings. The top was adorned with a brass dragon ; 
the glass windows were decorated with figures of 
men, women, and children ; and the curtains of red, 
the bridal color, were covered with embroidery. 

She was accompanied by a long procession of 
friends, carrying torches, lanterns, and the wedding 
umbrella of red silk. A band of music was aided, 
in its endeavor to make noise, by the useful fire- 
cracker; and if sound is its symbol, this part of 
the rejoicing was complete. 


When the procession reached the bridegroom's 
home, the bridal chair, with the bride still in it, 
was carried into the court and rested on the pave- 
ment. Here it was surrounded, not only by the in- 
vided guests, but also by many uninvited ones who 
had followed it from the street. After a while the 
curtains were lifted, and the bride was borne away 
to meet the groom. Their first conference must 
have been short ; for soon they appeared together, 
her face veiled with strings of beads, his with down- 
cast looks and solemn mien. The ceremony was 
much like any other Christian wedding ceremony, 
only that the prayers and vows were in Chinese, 
and, to make it a more truly religious service, hymns 
had been selected for the beginning and close. 
" Guide me, O thou great Jehovah," was the open- 
ing hymn, and the service ended with "There is a 
fountain filled with blood." 

Like most brides, soon after the ceremony she 
was compelled to retire to change her dress; for 
hers was a hired costume and must be returned, and 
her hair must at once be re-dressed in the style 
prescribed for a married woman. 

January 26th ushered in the Chinese New- Year. 
Busy preparations had been made for this, the 
great day of all the year. The women had been 
doing their annual house-cleaning; the men had 
been settling the old year's accounts, borrowing 
anew, if necessary, to pay the old debts ; and now 
they were ready for their one day of rest. It was 
kept as many another would keep a rest-day, the 


noise of firecrackers taking the place of the usual 
bustle of trade, and the making of feasts and giv- 
ing of gifts filling every home with scenes of social 

When this New- Year's was over, Aunt Mary ac- 
cepted an urgent invitation from Dr. Sites to accom- 
pany him and his daughter, who was the " matchless 
interpreter," on a trip over the Ming Chiang Dis- 
trict. The whole journey was a triumphal march, 
native Christians coming miles from their homes to 
meet them, waving branches of banana-trees (with 
strips of cloth attached to them for bananas), and 
shooting firecrackers for their hosannas. 

Their best welcome, however, lay in the atten- 
tion and loyal response given to their words of 
exhortation. At Lek Du, the meetings were held 
in the ancestral hall of a man who had been the 
Christians' most bitter persecutor. In those days 
they were not allowed to enter his home, and, if they 
dared to approach, were at once driven away with 
oaths and curses. Like another, he had boldly said, 
" What have I to do with thee?" but now, like that 
other, he was at home, telling all his friends what 
great things the Lord had done for him. 

From place to place, from meeting to meeting! 
Sometimes their audience was a large and noisy 
one, composed mostly of non-Christians. It may 
have been respect for Aunt Mary's white hair, or it 
may have been some other gentle, sweet influence 
that subdued them ; but after a little the^^ were 
sure to give earnest attention to the new, strange 


"Jesus doctrine," which many of them were hear- 
ing for the first time. 

The meetings for Christians were even more 
inspiring. It was a coveted privilege to talk to 
some of China's hardly-redeemed millions — re- 
deemed, many of them, from the depths of sin — 
gamblers, drunkards, opium-smokers, revilers, idol- 
aters! How she would have shrunk from close 
association with them before their redemption ! 

Some of the meetings were for workers, and 
there was one mothers' meeting, attended by fully 
one hundred women. In a Chinese home where 
she was entertained, her hostess, who was still an 
idolater, promised Aunt Mary that she would now 
give up her idols and become a Christian. Soon 
after receiving this promise, an idol procession 
passed by. The idols were carried in sedan chairs. 
''^They must needs be borne ^ because they ca7i not go.^' 
In the procession were bands of musicians, and 
men carrying banners, and, of course, the usual 
street crowd following. 

The next Sunday Dr. Sites baptized many of 
the old-time followers in these processions; others 
he received into full membership in the Church. 
As he heard their testimonies, clear and satisfying, 
to the saving power of Christ, he could not forbear 
shouting with true Methodist fervor : " Hallelujah ! 
This is very near heaven !" 

It was nearer heaven for him than he thought. 
Taken severely ill that Sabbath night, he was re- 
moved to Foochow a few days later, and on the 


following Sunday the gates of the Eternal City 
opened, and he was shouting his hallelujahs with 
*' the great multitude which no man can number," 
unto Him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the 
Lamb for ever and ever. With the exception of the 
daughter, who had been with him on this last trip, 
his family were all in America — too far away to 
come to his funeral, unable even to weep at his 
grave. Their absence made a double grief for the 
daughter, who, with yearning love and longing, 
turned for comfort to Aunt Mary, whom many of the 
missionaries in Foochow called " Mother Nind." 
" We, too, feel that our mother has come to see us," 
they had early said to the true daughter, who freely 
and lovingly shared her with them all. 

The visits to the Anglo-Chinese College, where 
over two hundred students are in attendance, were 
always enjoyable. The college, largely self-support- 
ing, is exerting a widespread and powerful influence 
in the Fukien Province. Out from its halls young 
men have gone, not only educated, but redeemed, 
to fill positions of usefulness in the Government, 
in mercantile life, and in the Church of God. It 
was the joy of "Mother Nind" to have a Bible- 
class with some of these young men, who at the 
suggestion of their teacher, "the single missionary," 
were gathered once a week in her daughter's par- 
lor, and blessed seasons they were. 

Politeness, cleanliness, and earnestness charac- 
terized them all, and made them very attractive to 
" Mother Nind," and she loved to talk of them as 


her " dear bo3'S." The}^ in turn, appreciated her 
motherly interest in them, and on her birthday 
presented her with two beautiful scrolls, which 
adorn the parlor in her Detroit home, and often 
inspire prayer for the donors and the college. 

The consulates and Mission Compounds of Foo- 
chow are located outside the native walled city, on 
sloping hills, that would be beautiful were it not 
for the graves that make them like one vast cem- 
etery. They are not the graves of missionaries 
and other foreigners — for these are by themselves 
in inclosed grounds, one English, one American — 
but the graves of generation upon generation of 
Chinese. "It is not true," a long-resident mis- 
sionary said, " that they bury their dead above the 
ground, simply covering them with a little earth. 
They dig beneath the surface to a decent depth, 
before they undertake to bury the body." This 
explanation made them look a little better — those 
numberless, nameless, grass-covered mounds, strewn 
about in seemingly careless irregularity. 

" When we buy a bit of land," it was another 
who volunteered this information, "we must hunt 
up all the men who own graves on that particular 
plot, and make a separate bargain with each one. 
If we can do this, the land with its graves is ours." 
These ways, that seemed so strange and uncanny to 
" Mother Nind" at first, soon became familiar; and 
as she rode back and forth in her open chair, borne 
by two coolies dressed in the neat blue and white 
uniform which she had provided for them, her 












thoughts were always of the living, seldom (s( the 
dead. It was a trial to her to be dependent upon 
any kind of a carriage ; but Chinese customs did 
not allow a woman to walk, subjecting her, in nar- 
row, crowded streets, to rough, rude treatment, if 
she ventured to assert her freedom. Safely carried 
in her chair and accompanied by missionaries, some- 
times of her own board, often of others, " Mother 
Nind" visited many interesting places in and 
about Foochow. Within the walled city, she en- 
tered one day a large court-yard, containing row 
upon row of tiny cells, each about six feet high by 
four feet wide. These cells are for voluntary pris- 
oners, some of them offering large bribes for the 
privilege of imprisonment. At times ten thousand 
people are shut up here, making, with officials 
and servants, a total population of fifteen thousand. 
These prisoners are students who come to compete 
for Government degrees. During the days of ex- 
amination, each student is locked in his tiny cell, 
obliged to eat and sleep, as well as work, in those 
narrow confines until the examination is ended. 
The successful competitors, who number scarcely 
one out of a hundred, are conducted to a hall, as 
plain and unpretentious as the cells they have been 
occupying, to receive their degrees. The unsuc- 
cessful try again ; and, if then they dp not succeed, 
still they try again. 

Not far away was the " Bridge of Ten Thou- 
sand Ages," resting upon such solid blocks of 
granite that it looked good for ages yet to come; 


and the old palace, which had endured long after 
the royal heads that it once sheltered had perished 
with the Government that they represented. 

Here, also, was another temple to Confucius, a 
comparatively new building, as the old one had 
been destroyed by fire. It contained tablets to 
Confucius, his twelve disciples, and many others, 
the first bearing this inscription, " Equal of 
Heaven and Earth." Onl}^ officials worship in 
this temple twice a year, with great display. 

One day in early spring, the missionaries in 
Foochow w^ere gathered together to celebrate a 
signal event. It was the birthday anniversary 
and farewell reception combined of a veteran 
American Board missionary. He was now seventy- 
five 3^ears old. Early in his nearly half a century 
of active service he and his wife together prepared 
the original Chinese dictionary, then undergoing 
revision at the Methodist Publishing-house. At 
such an age, after so long a period of service, their 
return to their native land seemed as fitting as the 
dropping of ripe fruit to the soil that nourished it. 

Almost as interesting to "Mother Nind" was 
an invitation to supper at the home of a native 
preacher, the first convert won to Christianity by 
some of these earlier missionaries of the American 
Board. The respect shown to the wife and mother- 
in-law, the prompt obedience of the children, 
and the air of cleanliness and good order which 
pervaded the house, led her mentally to inscribe 
on its walls such titles as "A Model Family," "A 


Christian Home," "A Work of Grace," "Fruits of 
Righteousness," and thoroughly to rejoice in the 
possibiHties of even a Chinese household, when 
Christ comes in as a constant guest. 

At lyU-loi, a village about seven miles from 
Foochow, she saw other wonders of grace. An 
old woman, who had from her girlhood been pos- 
sessed of a spirit of divination, had been converted, 
and was preaching Christ to those whom she had 
before seduced. Like the " certain damsel" whom 
Paul met, she had brought her relatives much gain 
by her soothsaying; and they, greatly vexed, were 
persecuting her severely for turning from it. 

Another, whose dissatisfied husband had taken 
unto himself two other wives, had found a true 
husband in the Lord, and was joyfully proclaiming 
his merits to others. 

June 2oth, the anniversary of the earthquake 
in Tokyo, found Mother Nind fleeing from an 
equally imminent danger. The sun had risen with 
scorching heat in the plains, warning the inhabit- 
ants not to remain lest they be consumed. For- 
tunately a mount of retreat was near. Only ten 
miles distant the beautiful mountain pass of Ku 
lyiang rises to a height of twenty-five hundred feet 
above the sea. Here the members of the foreign 
community at Foochow have erected their summer 
cottages, or sanitariums. Many denominations are 
represented, but all have united in the erection of 
a little chapel, where they may refresh their weary 
spirits by religious services in their own tongue, 



for which they have so Httle time during the year. 
In this quiet haven of rest, on the first day of 
August, suddenly a bombshell burst, which filled 
the air with anxious forebodings, and darkened it 
with the smoke of a terrible sorrow. Two of the 
English missionaries stationed at Kucheng had 
been murdered in their summer home at Whasang. 
The next morning the number reported to have 
been killed was increased to five ; and some hours 
later the whole startling account was theirs. Mr. 
and Mrs. Stewart and six other missionaries had 
been attacked early in the morning, some of them 
in their beds, by a company of masked men, 
and brutally massacred. The five children of Mr. 
and Mrs. Stewart, the youngest only an infant, 
were in the yard with their nurse at the time. 
When the rufi&ans had finished the work of mur- 
dering the parents, they came out and attacked the 
nurse. Mildred, the oldest child, rushed forward 
and bravely pleaded for her life. "You have killed 
our papa and mamma," she cried; ''and if you kill 
her, too, there will be no one left to take care of 
us." But, unheeding her cries or those of her 
brothers and sisters, they did not leave until the 
nurse was dead, two of the little ones mortally 
wounded, and the brave Mildred herself lamed 
for life. In quiet Ku Liang, it was difficult to real- 
ize the full import of the tragedy. The English 
consul himself, thinking the reports exaggerated, 
prepared to spend the Sabbath following in his 
quiet mountain retreat as usual. But he and others 


in authority were fully aroused at last. Officials 
were sent to Kucheng to make investigations and, 
if possible, secure the murderers, British gun- 
boats came to guard the harbor. A squad of Chi- 
nese soldiers was ordered up the mountain to pro- 
tect the missionaries. Anxious days and sleepless 
nights slowly passed in their mournful procession. 
Why had God permitted it? was the thought in many 
a heart, and faith itself seemed stricken for a time. 
But these Christian missionaries were not left 
long to grope in the dark. I^ight dawned about 
the promise, "There shall not a hair of your head 
perish;" and they began to realize how "the blood 
of martyrs" can be "the seed of the Church." 
Scarcely had the news of the massacre reached 
England when a call went out from the Church 
Missionary Society for ten new missionaries to 
take the place of each martyred one. This same 
spirit of supply arose, even in the hearts of the 
little children who had been so suddenly and cru- 
elly orphaned by the massacre. Mildred was so 
badly injured that for weeks she lay at death's door 
in the hospital. When the nurse was bandaging 
the poor wounded knee one day, she said, by way 
of conversation, "Perhaps you will be doing just 
such work as this, here some day, dear." Quickly 
the child looked up, and wnth great earnestness 
replied: "O no! not here! I must go to Kucheng 
to take papa's and mamma's place." Some time, 
perhaps, we shall learn that the burial of the good 
is never a burial to decay, but to more enduring 


life and growth in both this world and the next. 
The missionaries will ever hold in grateful re- 
membrance the faithful services of United States 
Consul Hixson in the time of their danger and sor- 
row. ^ Forgetful of himself and his comfort in that 
heated term, though the martyrs were British sub- 
jects (the only American being our rescued Miss 
Hartford), he at once planned for the safety and 
comfort of those that were spared, and through his 
tireless energy and undaunted courage, amid diffi- 
culties that can not be comprehended in home lands, 
demanded investigation and retribution of the Chi- 
nese Government, and secured both. No wonder 
that, on retiring from the office he had so nobly 
filled, the Americans of the port of Foochow pre- 
sented him with a picture of the Angel Monument, 
erected in memory of the martyrs in the cemetery 
of the English Church, framed in silver bamboo, 
bearing the inscription: 


(ZOix. J. c:ou5T^EY yi:^so]^, 




In token of their appreciation of his official 
services, and especially of his promptness in 
sending aid to the survivors of the Whasang 
Massacre, and his efficient endeavors to secure 
the punishment of the perpetrators of that 


The gratitude and prayers of the missionaries 
will follow him to his Southern home. 

By the first of October it was safe for Mother 
Nind to return to the city, where cholera had been 
doing its deadly work all summer, laying low 
twenty thousand victims. 

The wheel of life for her had nearly completed 
its seventieth revolution, and though it had recently 
whirled her through the excitement of earthquake, 
plague, and massacre, health and strength were w^ell 
preserved. All her friends in Foochow prepared 
to rejoice with her as the w^heel swung round to its 
starting-point. October 9th was the birthda}^ anni- 
versary; but the celebration, not confined to that 
day, began the evening of the 7th, with a beautiful 
gift from the employees of the publishing-house. 
It was a scroll of red silk, decorated with embroi- 
dered figures, representing Luck, Prosperity, Old 
Age, Longevity, and Cheerfulness. The next 
morning the givers came in to present their congrat- 
ulations in person. Then the servants presented 
their scrolls. On one was inscribed these senti- 
ments: "A woman can maintain her widowhood;" 
and, "The brilliant old star and the blossoming 
plant exhibit superexcellent felicity." Among 
other gifts was a spectacle-case, with the inscription 
on one side, " Let all the dust be brushed off, that 
everything may be clear;" and on the other, "You 
may obtain bright views of things by using these 
spectacles all round the world." 

This day, beginning with callers and their gifts, 


closed with a Chinese feast, given b}^ the daughter 
in her mother's honor. On the birthday itself, mis- 
sionaries, and members of the foreign community 
generalh', presented congratulations and gifts, and 
an afternoon tea was served for them. The mails 
brought other greetings from over the seas, until 
the whole globe seemed belted with loving mes- 
sages. Best of all was a liberal offering, presented 
in the name of the China and Japan representatives 
of the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society, in 
whose ser^^ce so man}- of her birthda3-s had been 
spent, to assist Mother Xind in visiting their sisters 
in India. A similar gift was received from the 
Church Missionary Societ}^ missionaries in appre- 
ciation of what Mother Nind's abundant labors 
had been to them during the summer. 


'^00 CHOW 



"MoTHKR Nind" had 
lived a whole year in China. 
Months before, her traveling 
companions had said "good- 
bye" and had turned their 
faces homeward by way of 
Japan. But she was longing 
to see India. Of all mission- 
fields, that was the first she loved, the first for 
which she worked, and the one she most desired to 
see. If only she could find a traveler who wanted 
to go that way ! Her " matchless interpreter " was 
soon to have a furlough. Perhaps she would like 
to visit India! "Yes," she replied; but she ex- 
pected to take a Chinese girl with her, and could 
not stop. Knowing no one else to ask, Mother 
Nind could only commit her way to the Lord, trust- 
ing in him that he would bring it to pass. Her 
faith was rewarded through a letter, received un- 
expectedly one day from Hirosaki, Japan. "I 
hear that you are going home by waj^ of India, if 
you can find a traveling companion," the little 
missionary wrote. " Every one tells me that I 
ought to ask for a furlough at this coming Con- 
ference. If it is granted, would you object to me 

for a traveling companion?" 



An answer went back at once, to meet the little 
missionar}^ at Conference ; and it w^as soon decided 
that thej^ should start together from Foochow the 
last of October. And so it happened that the birth- 
day feasts and gifts were also a farewell. 

The morning of the little missionary's arrival 
the daughter was busy, as usual, in the school- 
room, the son-in-law in his office ; so Mother Nind 
started out alone with the chairs. She was earl}^ 
and had a long time to wait. As she w^alked up and 
down the landing, her thoughts were busy; not 
about the expected companion, or the country from 
which she came ; not about India, the countr}^ to 
which she was going ; but about China — great China, 
the country she was leaving. Her spirit, the spirit 
of eloquence that had moved her in other days, 
stirred w^ithin her as she thought ; and with a few 
odd scraps of paper and a pencil she put into being 


China, farewell! Farewell to thy mountains, 
hills, and valleys ; to th}^ rice-fields, and well-tilled 
farms ; to thy rivers, rivulets, and rushing moun- 
tain streams ; to thj^ bold and beautiful scenery ; 
to thy trees, fruits, and flowers ; to all the prospects 
that please in the realm of nature, where our 
Father has dealt with a lavish hand, farewell ! 

Farewell to thy narrow, noisy, filthy, crowded 
streets, where pestiferous odors, rising from accu- 
mulated heaps of offal and refuse, which lie undis- 


turbed by road commissioner or health officer, are 
breeding disease and death! Farewell to thy pov- 
erty-stricken, depressed and oppressed masses ; to 
thy poor, weary toilers and burden-bearers ; to thy 
half-clad, half-fed millions; to thy beggars, blind, 
lame, and leprous, loathsome and piteous to behold ! 
Farewell to thy dark, drear, and dirty homes, where 
many generations exist, crowded and cursed by 
heathenism ! Farewell to thy ancestral halls, and 
homes of wealth and plenty! Farewell to thy cor- 
rupt and weak government, for truth has fallen in 
the streets, and equity can not enter ! Farewell to 
thy temples, shrines, pagodas, with their corrupt 
priests, their multitudes of idols, their incense- 
burning, and idol-worshiping ; their pilgrims and 
their pilgrimages; their gongs and bells that, like 
the prophets of Baal, in vain call the gods to come 
to the worshipers. 

Farewell to thy myriads of graves, and the pros- 
trate weepers and wallers, rending the air with 
their hideous yells ! Farewell to thy unburied, un- 
coffined dead, waiting for time, or cash, or a lucky 
day, to give them interment ! 

Farewell to thy degraded, dejected women, be- 
trothed without their consent, servants and slaves 
of men; and to thy neglected, despised wddows ! 
To all the poor people who dwell in gross dark- 
ness, sitting in the region of the shadow of death, 
farewell I 

Farewell to all the happy homes, organized and 
perpetuated by our holy Christianity ; to their 


family altars, and blessed harmony and love ; to the 
thousands washed and redeemed, cleansed and 
purified, by the atonement; to all the native 
Churches, with their preachers, teachers, members, 
Bible-women, evangelists, and colporteurs ; to the 
noble band of missionaries; to the schools, Sun- 
day, day, boarding, training, and kindergarten; to 
the colleges and orphanages ; to the churches and 
chapels and homes, in city and country, where the 
Word of God is preached and sung; to the tent- 
meetings,''Conferences, and Conventions; to the hos- 
pitals and dispensaries; to the blessed fellowship 
with godly men and women, who have borne the 
burden and heat of the day for love of Christ and 
souls ; to the graves of the martyrs and the ceme- 
tery where rests, in glorious hope, their sleeping 
dust ! Farewell ! Farewell ! To this land, rocked 
by war, invaded by plague and cholera; on the 
eve of a mighty revolution, which shall prepare 
the way of the Lord and make his paths straight, 
when the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and 
all flesh shall see it together ! To the land where 
rich harvests are about to be gathered as the result 
of prayerful seed-sowing ; where more laborers are 
needed, and other heroes must come to take the 
place of the crowned martyrs! To the land of 
Sinim, of which the prophet Isaiah writes! To 
this land, with its industrious, patient, plodding, 
persevering, artistic, ancient, and in some respects 
ambitious people ; this cosmopolitan, yet conserva- 
tive race, with its ancient literature, its classics ' 


To this land, where the New Testament is now in 
the hands of the emperor and empress ; this land, 
for which more prayers are offered, and tow^ard 
which more eyes are turned, than ever before ! 
lyand of contrasts ; of ignorance and knowledge ; 
of povert}^ and wealth ; of darkness and li^ht ; of 
idolatry and Christianity ; land of science, and land 
of slavery ; a land of immense undeveloped re- 
sources, where milHons yet lack the necessities of 
life! I^and of Confucius, and land of Sinim, fare- 
well ! Still we love thee and laud thee, and pity 
and pray for thee, believe and expect great things 
of thee; for China shall be a redeemed people! 
China, our China ! Farewell ! farewell ! 

Her passage was engaged in the good ship 
Formosa, a cargo steamer of the P. and O. line. 
Besides the little missionary, she w^ould have the 
company, as far as Singapore, of the "matchless 
interpreter," with her Chinese proteges, the three 
surviving children of the Stewart famil}^, their 
aunt who had come from England for them, and a 
lady missionary of the Church of England, who 
was broken down in health and must return home. 

The parting with her grandchildren, though she 
expected to see them the following year in America, 
was harder even than saying farewell to China. 
After the good-bye kisses had all been given, the 
one little girl, Alice, put up her hands again, sa}'- 
mg, " I want to love you more, grandma." There 
were others who wanted to " love her more." The 


single missionary, whose room had been next to 
hers, thought how she would miss the " morning 
meeting," as she called it, when Mother Nind sang 
hymns over her bath. Many of the missionaries 
accompanied her to the steamer, and knelt about 
her in her tiny cabin to hear themselves prayed for 
again. She had entered so into the details of their 
life that she had seemed like one of them. Many 
a little reform on the Mission Compound had been 
due to her energ}^ and perseverance. Among the 
things that had grieved her was the delivery of 
mail on the Sabbath. The missionaries had not 
thought it possible to do other than receive it; but 
through her enterprise, a petition, which was 
granted, was sent to the post-office authorities re- 
questing the retention of all mission mail that 
might come on Sunday, until Monday. 

Others besides Mother Nind's friends were at 
the steamer. One, a tall English missionary, was 
so completely disguised in his shaven head, long 
cue, and Chinese dress, that the little missionary 
mistook him for a real Chinaman. 

" Do you think it is better for the missionaries 
to wear the native dress?" she asked Mother Nind. 

"I don't know" was the reply. " It certainly 
does not save them from being massacred ; for all 
who were killed at Whasang wore the Chinese 

** I wonder if they are as particular as the Jap- 
anese about the various details of their costume?" 
commented the little missionary. 


" They notice every fold and knot so closely 
that if a missionary wants to escape criticism, she 
is better off in her own dress. Just before leaving 
Japan I heard one of our preachers severely 
criticise the Salvation Army officers, w^ho have re- 
cently arrived, dressed in Japanese clothes, made 
in England. He said : ' They call themselves an 
army ; but our soldiers do not go to the battle- 
field in loose, flowing sleeves and skirts. They 
have adopted the close, military dress, approved by 
other natives. Then they are preachers ; but what 
one of our preachers has not a foreign dress to 
wear, when he enters his pulpit?' " 

As in most English steamers, the officers of the 
Formosa sat at the same table with the passengers. 
With the exception of the captain, who was op- 
posed to argument, they seemed determined to 
throw down some challenge for debate at every 
meal. At such times the missionaries were glad, 
indeed, to have a champion like Mother Nind on 
their side. One day the subject was temperance. 
An officer remarked, "The Bible is opposed to total 
abstinence." She replied only by quoting such pas- 
sages as "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is rag- 
ing," and " Eook not upon the wine when it is 
red," etc., with special emphasis on the work 
'' lookr That officer subsided, and another took up 
the strain : " But I fa7icy [pronounced f ahnc}'] 
that the wine the Savior made was the strong- 
est of intoxicating beverages." "Fancy has no 
place in an argument," quickly replied Mother 


Nind, and that debate was ended. Again, when 
Moody and other prominent evangelists were as- 
sailed, she listened for a while, then quietly re- 
marked: "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I am per- 
sonally acquainted with those workers, and am 
happy to inform you that the things you say of 
them are not true." 

Another time she heard some one flippantly re- 
mark, "All's well that ends well." And, quick as 
a flash, replied, " Yes, but I want well to begin on." 

But, debating as they so often did on the wrong 
side, they were ever kind and courteous, vying 
with each other in gentleness and tender attention 
to the wants of the lame Mildred, who had to be 
carried on deck each day. Kathleen, the next 
younger, in her rosy cheeks and active play, pre- 
sented a striking contrast to the pale, quiet sister. 
She was quite as mature, however, in her care of 
the little brother, never allowing him to make any 
moves that seemed at all dangerous. 

Evan, the youngest, was still troubled by bad 
dreams, in which he saw the dreadful Chinamen 
coming again to take him; and often he awoke in 
the night screaming with terror. But one morn- 
ing, as his aunt was preparing his breakfast, he 
looked up with a bright smiling face and said, 
" God was very good to me last night, and gave 
me no bad dreams." He was a very thoughtful 
little fellow; so when she asked him, " Evan, do 
you think I love you?" he replied with another 
question: "Why did you come so far to get me?" 


The Formosa made her first .stop at Hong Kong, 
and Mother Nind improved the opportunity to tread 
once more on safe and solid KngHsh soil. Many 
times she remarked, " How good it is to be on a 
bit of land under the protection of the English 

The captain had said, "There are two nice 
trips to make in Hong Kong, one to ' Happy Val- 
ley,' and the other to the ' Peak.' " So, after wan- 
dering about in the shops a little, she and her 
companions engaged jinrikishas to take them to 
"Happy Valley." It was only a short ride from 
the city to the beautiful dale which bore the name 
of " Happy Valley," and which they found con- 
tained a race-course and a graveyard, — pleasure for 
the living and rest for the dead. The cemetery 
was extensive, containing separate divisions for 
Jew^ and Mohammedan, Protestant and Catholic. 
The Protestant was most attractive, with its flower- 
beds and fountains, its palms and other tropical 
trees, which were growing in great luxuriance. It 
would have seemed like a park had it not been 
for numerous white stones, telling their sad tale 
of death and decay, and for many newly-made 
graves yawning to receive the dead that incoming 
ships w^ere sure to bring. 

From " Happy Valley " their jinrikisha run- 
ners (Chinese) drew them rapidly to the tram-station 
on the hill. Every one said it was perfectly safe — 
that cable-line up the mountain, which looked al- 
most as near a perpendicular as an elevator! So 


they ventured to undertake the trip. Noticing 1,2, 
and 3 in big figures, on the various compartments 
of the car, Mother Nind said, "Now I '11 save my 
money, and go third-class." Her companions fol- 
lowed her example, passing by the luxurious, in- 
closed, first-class compartment, to take as good 
places as they could find in the open seats outside. 
Pretty soon the car started. How very steep it 
was! It made them dizzy to look up or down or 
sideways. All at once the car stopped still on that 
dreadful perpendicular. Hearts bounded to mouths, 
where they staid until it went on again. After 
a little the incline became more gradual ; then an- 
other steep place, and again the car stopped. '' I be- 
lieve they stop just to show how well they can hold 
the car!" the little missionary indignantly ex- 
claimed. But the conductor was collecting fares. 

" Fifty cents, please," he said. 

" But we are riding third-class," Mother Nind 

" Pardon me, madam, but you are in a seat re- 
served for first-class smokers." 

The train did not take them to the top, but left 
them near the Peak House, where they had planned 
to have luncheon. Here another surprise awaited 
them, for the Peak House was not a mountain 
booth, where they could buy cold boiled eggs and 
sandwiches, but a fine hotel, with lovely grounds, 
and no meals less than seventy-five cents. 

" It seems impossible to make this a cheap trip. 
I 'm afraid I shall have to spend my Foochow 


souvenirs," said Mother Nind; and she took them 
out of her purse as she spoke. They were two Mex- 
ican dollars ; one clean and smooth as it had come 
from the mint ; the other showing much use, and so 
indented in the middle that it would hold water. 
" The Chinese in Foochow hammer ever}^ coin be- 
fore they accept it, to make sure that it is gen- 
uine," she explained to the little missionary. 

" That is better than the way they do in West 
China. It must be very inconvenient to have only 
strings of copper cash and silver bullion, which 
must be weighed as it is used. But those will be 
very curious at home, and you must n't spend them, 
I will settle this bill, and you can pay me when you 
get the first installment on your letter of credit," 
said the little missionary. 

The remainder of the distance to the Peak had 
to be made by actual climbing; and though the 
path led over a broad, beautiful concrete walk, 
with many delightful resting-places along the way, 
they were all tired enough when they reached the 
Peak itself. But there was plenty to rest them in 
the view from the highest point of the lovely 
mountainous island of Hong Kong. There was 
the broad, blue sea ; the quiet harbor, full of ship- 
ping, their own big steamer looking as tiny as any 
at that height; the strong, substantial buildings 
of this English town in the "far East;" the beau- 
tiful homes on the mountain ! 

"How high is this mountain?" asked Mother 
Nind of the signal-station man. 



" Bighteen hundred and twenty-five feet," he 

"Just the year in which I was born," she re- 
marked ; and the others thought that, with the aid 
of that mnemonic, they, too, might remember. 

Their fifty cents fare up the mountain had in- 
cluded a return ticket, so they went down in style 
in the luxurious first-class compartment. On the 
way, the "matchless interpreter" said: 

" I wonder if we can't get some soda-water here. 
I feel very thirsty." 

" So do 1, and especially for soda-water," chimed 
in the little missionary; "for I haven't had any 
since I went to Japan, over five years ago." 

People are never so foolish on land as when they 
have been at sea a little while ; so they dragged 
their weary limbs about the streets of Hong Kong, 
hunting for soda-water, until they were fully con- 
vinced there was none. 

" Is n't it strange that the English do n't care 
for soda-water?" said these tired, thirsty Americans, 
as they finished their day by buying bottled lem- 
onade on the steamer. 

" How did you like ' Happy Valley?' " and " Did 
you climb to the ' Peak?' " were the inquiries that 
came from the ship's officers. 

"That train is fearful, isn't it?" said the stew- 
ardess. "When I got off, I just said, ' Thank God !' 
and I never wanted to go on again." 

That evening, as the little missionary was en- 
gaged in conversation with the captain about the 


differences in the Englisli language, as spoken by 
the English and the Americans, she said : 

** I learned a new word last night." 

" What is that?" asked the captain. 

'' In America, when we wish to speak of the 
number of guests to be served at a dinner, we say, 
'There are so many plates, or so many covers ;' but 
you say ' forms.' " 

The captain looked puzzled. 

"lyast night, when I asked the stewardess if 
we could have an early breakfast, as we wanted to 
go ashore, she asked me, 'How many forms?'" 

Still the captain looked puzzled, and said that 
he had never heard that word before. 

The little missionary was disconcerted; but 
thought that she would speak to Mother Nind about 
it, as she was English born and bred. Mother Nind 
did not know the word, so she went to the stew- 
ardess herself to ask her what she said. 

" I said, ' How many for. Miss?' " the stewardess 

Soon after leaving Hong Kong, the Formosa was 
attacked by a monsoon, and for two or three days 
was rocked as violently as a cradle by a small boy 
who is in a hurry to get the baby to sleep, and be 
off to a game of ball. Early in the storm the 
little missionary was thrown on the floor. Then 
the side-pieces were all put in, and the berths 
made secure; the steamer chairs were lashed to 
the deck ; a full set of racks was placed on the 
table, and the passengers learned to be dextrous 


in balancing plates of soup and cups of coffee in 
their hands ; for the entire contents would spill, 
if allowed to rest on the table. Sometimes they 
did not feel like taking soup or coffee, but were con- 
tent .to lie in their berths, or on the cushioned seats 
of the saloon, listening to the swish-swash of the 
water as it came into the lower deck. Occasion- 
ally the monotony was relieved by a crash and 
the sound of voices : 

" How many smashed ?" 

"Only one!" came the cheery answer. 

Mother Nind was a good sailor, and continued 
her walks on deck, though she could take few 
steps without the aid of an officer's arm. To see 
her trying to walk on a floor that was constantly 
playing see-saw, now up, now down, one could 
readily believe what the captain of an Atlantic 
steamer once said of her: "There's a passenger 
who has walked half way across the ocean." 

By the 12th of November the sea was calm 
again. Writing materials were brought out once 
more, and letters prepared to mail at Singapore. 
As the little missionary was writing the date, sud- 
denly she exclaimed, "Why, this is my birth- 
day!" The "matchless interpreter" heard the 
words, and passed them on. The next evening, 
at dinner, a fine birthday cake ornamented the 
table, and the little missionary unexpectedly found 
herself the recipient of the congratulations of all 
on board.' 

As they neared Singapore, Mother Nind's heart 


overflowed with joy. "I could not sleep last 
night," she said to the little missionary; "but lay 
awake much of the time, praising the I^ord for 
bringing me to Singapore." Then she told the 
story of how the Woman's Foreign Missionary 
Society opened work in Singapore : " Bishop Har- 
ris had just returned from a trip around the world, 
and reported it to be the wickedest place he had 
ever seen, with street after street containing not 
one decent house of any kind. Our general exec- 
utive meeting, at Evanston, Illinois, appointed a 
committee to consider the advisability of opening 
work there. Their report was short and unfavor- 
able. There was too little money in the treasury 
to undertake work in such a new and difficult field, 
they said. As the report was about to be accepted, 
I felt impelled to rise and move that the commit- 
tee be requested to frame a new report favorable 
to the work; that I would take, not merely a dip, 
but a plunge of faith, and pledge the Minneapolis 
Branch for three thousand dollars. My motion 
prevailed, and I had to go to work to raise the 
money. When I had fifteen hundred dollars, I 
began to pray for a worker. Strange to say, as I 
prayed in America, God answered my prayer in 
Australia. It was when Miss I^eonard was there, 
conducting evangelistic services. Through her ef- 
forts. Miss Sophia Blackmore was led to conse- 
crate herself to foreign missionary work, and. after 
a few months in India, accepted our appointment 
to Singapore. She has been here nine years ; and, 


though I have been corresponding with her all 
that time, I shall see her for the first to-day." 

It had been raining, and the decks were quite 
wet when Mother Nind and her companion ven- 
tured out for a good look at their equatorial sur- 
roundings. " It 's always raining in Singapore," 
one of the officers said. Just ahead was a beauti- 
ful group of palms, spreading their leaves in the 
form of huge fans; and a village of huts, built on 
piles over the water ; on the roadway leading to the 
pier, open carts were approaching, drawn by fat, 
sleepy-looking, white bullocks; and nearing the 
ship by water was a boat, loaded with great red 
and white corals. 

"When you land," the captain said, "you must 
take a gari for ^^ourselves, and a bullock cart for 
your luggage;" and he kindh^ deputed one of his 
officers to help them ashore and engage the proper 
vehicles for them. Half wondering what a gari 
could be, the}^ hastily gathered their luggage to- 
gether, said good-bye to the passengers they were 
to leave behind, and hastened ashore. The gari 
proved to be neither jinrikisha nor sedan chair, but 
a closed carriage, wath two seats inside for passen- 
gers, and a driver's seat outside. One poor little 
pony had to supply the motive power; but it 
moved rapidl}^, every step causing the gari to rat- 
tle so that the occupants had to shout to make 
each other hear. Their road \3.y first over a bit of 
the country l3ang low and wet from recent rains. 
Then streets came into view, a disused street-car 










road, and trees and foliage, new and many of them 
unknown to our travelers. The driver seemed un- 
certain how to find the address which they had given 
him, so they were relieved when they discovered 
the sign, ■" Sophia Road," and knew that they were 
going in the right direction. " I have a great many 
S's to make, when I direct a letter to Miss Black- 
more," Mother Nind said. "It's Miss Sophia 
Blackmore, Sophia Road, Singapore, Straits Set- 

But, already they had entered the grounds of 
the ''Mary C. Nind Deaconess Home," and Miss 
Blackmore was coming down the steps to meet 
them. The ground-floor was occupied by the 
children of the Home, while the deaconesses 
lived above; so they were invited to ascend the 
stairs, which were on the outside, leading to the 
upper veranda. The veranda was broad, and fur- 
nished with chairs and tables like a sitting-room. 
It opened into the drawing-room, where our party 
were attracted, first of all, to a large portrait of 
Mother Nind, which seemed to be there to wel- 
come them to her own home. But after removing 
hats and wraps, they preferred to sit in the ve- 

"What is this great tree in front, covered with 
large, drooping leaves?" some one asked. 

"We call that the * umbrella-tree,' " was the 

"And what is that yonder, covered with bright, 
scarlet blossoms?" 


" That's the ' flaming forest.' " 

What wonderful trees, what palms, what ferns, 
what spreading luxuriance, and in the middle of 
November, high time for snow to be flying in 
other lands ! 

These reflections were interrupted by a step on 
the stairs. What a weary step it was ! When the 
face appeared, it was thin and pallid to correspond. 
She was another of Mother Nind's missionary, 
daughters, who had been out less than three years, 
but was already "breaking down." She confessed 
that she was overworking, and promised to try to 
give up some of her work. Then Miss Blackmore 
was called down-stairs. The bullock-cart had 
come wdth the baggage. When she returned she 
said : 

" The man wanted more money than you told 
me to pay." 

" Did you give it to him?" 

"Yes. I thought it wiser not to have any 
trouble with him." 

There he was, driving off with his cart — a 
cloth wound around his head for a turban, an- 
other about his loins; and, for the rest, a dark, 
shining skin his only covering. It was wiser not 
to have any trouble wdth hhn. 

"My head aches, and I feel badly. Will you 
give me a place to lie down?" asked the little mis- 

After awhile the "matchless interpreter" 
came in. 







'' My head aches dreadfully," she said, "and I can 
hardly breathe. I feel as if I were shut up in a 
hot-house, the air is so close and steamy." 

" That must be what 's the matter with me," said 
the little missionary. "It's the air. I wondered 
what could give me such a headache." 

After lunching on honey, bread and butter, and 
delicate, fresh plantains, they felt better, and were 
ready to go to the steamer; for the "matchless in- 
terpreter" and her companion, sweet Margaret 
Wong, must continue their journey on the For- 
mosa. The new mission gari was ordered for 
them. On the way it began to rain. The nice, 
fresh curtains were taken out, and they were shut 
in as quickly as possible. 

"This rain is full of malaria," the accompany- 
ing missionary said. " We have to be very careful 
not to get the least drop on us." 

A little later the "matchless interpreter" called 
out to the little missionary, " There 's a drop of 
malaria on you," and mischievously hastened to 
brush it off. 

They had arrived at the landing, where they 
expected to find a boat to take them to the steamer. 
How it w^as raining! Never before had the new- 
comers been in such a downfall as this. The 
floodgates of heaven seemed wide open, pouring 
forth rivers of waters. "It always rains like this 
in Singapore," they were informed. 

They could understand now, the warning about 
malaria, and were glad to wait under cover for the 


boat, that v>^as not there, to come; and for the sun, 
that was hidden, to shine again. 

When at last the outgoing travelers were taken 
on board their steamer, and the missionary was re- 
turning in the boat with her one guest, all nature 
was smiling as if she had never been in tears. 

''Just look at the English cathedral!" ex- 
claimed Miss F. "What a grand sight!" 

"But it's all covered with mold," said the little 

"Yes, that 's what makes it look so ancient and 
fine," said Miss F. 

"How long has it been built?" asked the little 

"Thirty years," was the reply. 





"I FORGOT to tell you about your bed last night. 
Did you try to get in it?" asked Miss Blackmore 
of Mother Nind in the morning. 

"Yes, I looked a long time for the upper sheet 
before I concluded there wasn't any," was the 

"We always make our beds that way, for we 
seldom need any covering; and if toward morning 
it grows damp and cool, a light blanket or shawl, 
we find better than a sheet," said Miss Blackmore. 

" I was glad you told me it was safe to leave my 
doors open," said Mother Nind, whose fondness 
for fresh air did not grow less in Singapore. 

"Yes, the doors opening into the upper veranda 
are always open, night and day. If you will no- 
tice, we have n't a bit of glass in this house. The 



Open doors let in plenty of light, and we never 
want to shut out the air," remarked Miss Black- 

"Is it always warm as this?" queried the little 

"'Yes, and warmer ; for this is our coolest time 
now, during the rainy season," she replied. 

"I don't wonder that every one looks so pale, 
then," said the little missionary. 

" Every one gets sallow here," said a new dea- 
coness, who was dreading the time when her face 
should lose its fair complexion. "You can see the 
roses fade out of one's cheeks, they go so quickly." 

After breakfast, which was served at nine 
o'clock, Mother Nind and the little missionary 
were invited to visit a Eurasian school, that had 
recently been organized by one of the missionary 
daughters. The school was conducted in a base- 
ment that seemed, with its stone pavement, not un- 
like a cellar. The children, too, looked like cellar- 
grown plants, their faces so thin and sickly, and 
their breath seeming to come in gasps. Poor 
things! They can not live in the sunshine. It 
wilts them ; and they do not flourish in the shade. 

From this school the visitors were carried in 
the gari to a Chinese school, where English is 
taught through the medium of the local Malay 
tongue. The people of this school presented a 
striking contrast to the English and Eurasians, 
looking healthy and well suited to their surround- 
ings. Their costume, modest as the Chinese dress 


is under all circumstances, was the extreme of sim- 
plicity and perfect adaptation to a tropical climate — 
pantaloons and loose jacket, fastened in front by 
corded loops and knots for the boys; and for the 
girls, a plain, straight skirt, and a long, loose sack, 
held together by ornamental pins at neck and 
waist, and sometimes a third between. Their 
clothing was all of cotton, and the embodiment 
of ease and comfort. 

Singapore, sometimes called the "Chinaman's 
paradise," is one place where he has come to 
stay. Several generations of Chinese have grown 
up on the island, forming the most stable, wealthy 
class in the community. They speak the easy 
Malay tongue, and are eager to acquire a thorough 
knowledge of English, which makes a good open- 
ing wedge for missionary work. 

From Teluk A5^er, the Chinese school, several 
Chinese homes were visited. Mother Nind was 
surprised at the richness of the interiors. She 
had seen few houses like these in Foochow, she 
said. In some of the homes little schools were 
held for the girls; for the more aristocratic Chi- 
nese parents will not allow their daughters to 
go to public schools like Teluk Ayer. The greet- 
ings were more cordial than those to which Mother 
Nind had become accustomed; for the Chinaman 
in Singapore no longer shakes his own hands, but 
has wisely adopted the English custom of shaking 
his visitor's hands. Chairs were offered them. 
Often they were of beautiful inlaid work, set 



stiffly against the wall and alternating with small 
tables, all ready for serving the indispensable cup 
of tea; and sometimes after the tea, a handful of 
jasmine petals was given to each guest, as a sweet 
odor of hospitality to bear away. In one of these 
houses lived Sin Neo, the first woman baptized in 
the Deaconess Home. She had suffered much per- 
secution for her heroism, but her face wore the 
look of a victor. After giving each of her guests 
a cordial hand-clasp, with Miss Blackmore's aid as 
an interpreter, she began to talk to Mother Nind. 
At first, both waited for the interpretation; but 
that soon grew too slow a medium of conversation 
as they found themselves understanding, the one 
the Malay, and the other the English, by gesture 
only. Sin Neo compared her height with Mother 
Nind's, to show that the latter was the taller; then 
Mother Nind pointed to her shoes and Sin Neo's 
bare feet, to convince her that she was mistaken, 
that they were really the same height. On part- 
ing, Sin Neo gave her guest a hearty kiss, humbly 
requesting her to condescend to become her mother. 
Two or three days later she was present, with 
many other Chinese women and children, at a re- 
ception given to Mother Nind at the Deaconess 
Home. Most of them came in garis\ for they be- 
longed to wealthy homes, which would have been 
forever disgraced if they had walked. They were 
dressed like the girls in Teluk A3^er, the brilliant 
jewels that gleamed from their breast-pins form- 
ing a strong contrast to the cotton garments thus 


held together. Their teeth and lips were stained 
with the juice of the betel-nut, which many of 
them continued to chew during the reception. 
But some of these stained lips moved a feeling 
response when Mother Nind said they should 
pray every day; and when she had finished her 
address, Sin Neo voiced their thoughts in a little 
speech, thanking her for coming, and expressing 
the wish that she might live to visit them again. 

It was examination time in the Middle Road 
School for Girls. The platform and altar — for the 
school had to serve as a church on Sundays — were 
banked with palms. Bouquets of roses and ferns 
were ready to be given to the examining committee 
and visitors. The pupils were dressed as for a pic- 
ture, each with a bit of her best sewing spread on 
the desk before her. At the appointed hour a car- 
riage drove up, and I^ady Mitchell, wife of the 
governor of the Straits Settlements, stepped out. 
She and a lady friend were the examining com- 
mittee, and very carefully and thoroughly did they 
inspect each little piece of work. When they had 
finished, the school was called to order, and she 
arose to express her approbation, in a few sweet, gra- 
cious words ; then the flowers were presented, and 
she was gone. The ordeal had lasted but an hour, 
and there was still time for singing and a talk by 
Mother Nind. 

" How much better they sing here than in China 
or Japan!" she said to her companion on the way 
home. "Their voices, many of them, are really 


sweet; but in China I often felt like putting my 
hands in my ears when they sang." 

" The Malay is a musical language, I think," 
said the little missionary, "and much easier than 
Chinese. In Shanghai I tried to learn a few 
Chinese expressions ; but I could not distinguish 
the tones, and came away not knowing a single 
word. But in Singapore, already I have learned 
several, and I love to say them." 

On Sunday, Mother Nind and the little mis- 
sionary separated to go different ways ; for the 
one had been asked to preach, and the other 
wanted to see the Sunday-school work. The lat- 
ter came home very enthusiastic. " Wh}^, Mother 
Nind ! I thought I was a hard worker, and I 
thought I had seen other missionaries work hard ; 
but Miss F. beats us all. Since I left you at the 
breakfast-table I have seen the beginning, middle, 
and close of eight different Sunday-schools. Three 
of them were in the homes where we saw the little, 
private day-schools; and the mothers and grand- 
mothers stood around listening to the singing and 
stories about Jesus with as much interest and atten- 
tion as they gave to us and the English recitations 
the other day. One was a regularly-conducted 
Sunday-school at Teluk Ayer, and the others were 
street schools. The teachers would station them- 
selves under the shadow of a friendly roof, call 
the children together by singing, show a picture 
of the International I^eaf Cluster, talk about it, 
give them cards, and go on. At one of these 






places the people invited us in, and said they 
would like to have the school inside next time. 
It is so different from our work in Japan!" 

Mother Nind, too, was enthusastic about her 
morning. She had a good time preaching to a 
mixed audience, with interpretation in Malay. 

In the early evening there was a service at an- 
other Methodist church for an English-speaking 
congregation. The lamps were not yet lighted, 
though twilight, calm and cool, was rapidly steal- 
ing over the island of palms. Sweet odors per^ 
vaded the atmosphere ; visions of dark, restful 
green, and soft, gentle blue filled every open door 
and window; the peace and beauty of nature had 
entered the "house made with hands." It was 
a communion service ; and as the worshipers from 
far-away lands knelt at the altar, the good and 
true seemed never so near, and the bad and false 
never so distant, as there in wicked Singapore. 

After the six o'clock dinner each evening, Sun- 
days and week-days alike, the children of the 
Home came up the stairs to the drawing-room for 
a religious service. It was a curious family ; 
dusky Tamils and fair Eurasians, Malays, Siamese, 
Portuguese — fit emblems of the heavenly home, 
which shall gather in its borders of " every kindred, 
and tongue, and people, and nation !" They sat 
on the floor with their feet crossed under them, 
and sang with great delight hymn after hymn ; 
some in English, but more in the sweet Malay. 

After they had gone one night, the little mis- 


sionary said: "I'd like to see them at their meals 
some day." 

"I don't think you would enjoy that," Miss 
Blackmore replied. 

"Why not? How do they eat?" were ques- 
tions that quickl}' followed. 

"With their fingers!" and both faces looked 
intense disgust. 

" How much cleaner and more civilized chop- 
sticks are!" thought the little missionary. 

The Methodist work in Singapore was only 
ten years old ; but in that one decade it had 
grown with tropical rapidity and in tropical va- 
riety. There was preaching in Chinese, as well 
as in Malay and in English; there were board- 
ing-schools and day-schools; there was a Soldier's 
Home, an orphanage, rescue work, an active, 
busy press. One of the most flourishing insti- 
tutions was an Anglo-Chinese school for boys, 
with an enrollment of six hundred students. Rep- 
resenting many different nationalities, the major- 
ity were Chinese. Coming from homes of wealth, 
they were able to pay for their education, and 
made the school largely self-supporting. Some 
of them were boarders, discarding chopsticks, and 
eating with knife and fork and spoon in approved 
European style. One day Mother Nind and her 
companion were invited to dinner in the boarding 
department, with the principal and his family. 
The dining-room was a large basement-room, an- 
other of the "cellars," as the little missionary 












-.. »u i M» ;i i< ^ 


called them. The missionary, with his wife and 
children, sat at a table near the center. The va- 
cant places at that table, as well as all the other 
tables, were filled with Chinese students. " This 
is wonderful!" exclaimed the little missionary. 
*' I 've never seen anything like it in Japan or 
China. The missionary eating with his pupils : 
We should starve on their food, and we could not 
afford to give them ours." 

Mother Nind was invited to address the stu- 
dents at the school. She arrived before the morn- 
ing session began, in time to witness a curious 
scene. Here and there, through the grounds, vend- 
ers of various kinds of queerly-prepared food had 
planted their little stands; and the day-pupils, 
who had been their patrons, were standing near, 
eating their breakfast. Straw hats, felt hats, close 
caps, bare heads, shaven heads and cues, a strange 
mingling of the nations ! But w^hen they were 
called to order, and sang, in clear, ringing tones, 
and in the dear English words, '' Gospel bells are 
ringing," it was clear how they were to be united: 
simply through the ties of the one true religion 
and the universal language ! 

" Will you come and take breakfast with us to- 
morrow?" was another invitation that came to 
Mother Nind and the little missionary. " How 
strange to be invited out to breakfast!" they 
thought. Karly in the morning a cup of tea and 
bit of toast were served to them in the dining- 
room or in their own rooms, as they liked ; but 


the real breakfast was not prepared until nine or 
ten o'clock, so that repast had grown to be as 
much a company meal as any other. Often the 
little missionary had looked out of her room, as 
she was getting up, to see two of the missionar}^ 
daughters seated in an opposite veranda, poring 
over their books with a teacher, trying to get as 
much hard work done as possible before the heat 
of the day began. When they came into their nine 
o'clock breakfast, they had finished their Malay 
lesson, and had done quite a bit of school-work 
as well. 

One morning the visitors were out before 
breakfast. Every one had said they must not leave 
without seeing the "Gardens;" so to the "Gar- 
dens " they went. And such gardens ! Such trees, 
such shrubs ! Such luxuriance of foliage, such pro- 
fusion of flowers ! What envy they would arouse 
in the bosom of a Northern gardener ! He has to 
labor so diligently in his greenhouse, with pipes 
and hose and glass, to produce a few pots of green, 
dwarfed, stunted specimens of the abounding mag- 
nificence of the tropics, rejoicing if he be rewarded 
now and then with sight of flower or fruit! There 
was a place called a greenhouse in these gardens ; 
but it was only an open booth, destitute of glass, of 
pipes, of hose ; for the whole atmosphere is ever 
steamy with heat and moisture, and the sun never 
withdraws its warmth and brightness. They 
would have lingered among the wondrous ferns 
and orchids of that greenhouse ; but the sun was 


getting high, and they must hasten to the Home 
and breakfast. 

One of the missionaries had a good story to re- 
port at table : " Many of the people who open their 
homes to the teaching of English are opposed to 
the Christianity we mix with it; but they think 
that while their children are little, it will not hurt 
them any. One man, lately, was much troubled 
because his wife had been listening and was in- 
clined to believe. He said to some one: "My wife 
want to be Christian. I no like that ; but she be- 
come very nice wife." 

I^uncheon was eaten in the home of the mis- 
sionary who was engaged in rescue work. " There 
are a good many Japanese women here," she said 
to the little missionary. "Wouldn't you like 
to go out with me some afternoon to talk to them 
in their own language?" An appointment was 
promptly made. When the day and hour arrived, 
they rode in jinrikishas until they neared the dwell- 
ings of darkness. Dismounting, they dismissed 
the runners and walked to the one they wished to 

It was late in the afternoon. The women had 
just risen from their mid-day naps, and were en- 
gaged, some in dressing, and others in eating their 
evening meal. But all were quite ready to talk, 
and often indulged in a coarse, loud laugh at their 
visitors' expense. Tears came to the eyes of the 
little missionary. Could it be that these bold, 
brazen creatures in foreign costume belonged to 


the same race as the gentle, modest women, Chris- 
tian and non-Christian, whom she had learned to 
love? She tried to appeal to that Japanese spirit, 
which so often outlasts the dying breath. 

" Do n't you know you are a disgrace to your 
country?" she said. 

" Kuni no koto wo sukoshi mo omoimasen (Our 
country's affairs we think of no more)," they re- 

*' Do you see how rotten this wood is?" said a 
Singapore missionary to Mother Nind one day, as 
he put his foot down into great holes in the floor of 
his house. 

"What makes it so?" she asked. 

"White ants," he replied. "The only wood 
they won't eat is teak-wood ; so that is almost price- 
less in value here." 

The food in all the homes was kept from ants 
by inserting the legs of tables, sideboards, vSafes, and 
refrigerators in small vessels filled with water ; but 
floors and ceilings could not be protected that way, 
unless, perhaps, the missionaries should adopt the 
Malay custom of building on piles over the sea. 

At night lizards came out on the walls, frighten- 
ing newcomers at first, but after a little becom- 
ing good company because of their quiet, unob- 
trusive, polite manners. 

Day succeeds day, so hot and enervating that 
there seems to be only one good, comfortable hour 
in the twent5^-four ; and that is the hour of the 
daily bath. The bath-room is there ; not a luxury 


as in many American homes, but a positive neces- 
sity. It does not contain a beautiful porcelain tub, 
with hot and cold water to turn on at will ; it has 
not even a Japanese hogshead, with a charcoal 
stove inside to heat the water so much hotter than 
the surrounding atmosphere that the latter will 
seem cool by contrast. Its appointments are the 
simplest possible — only a jar of cold water and a 
dipper; but they are quite enough to give one the 
most refreshing bath in the world — the cold shower- 
bath of India and Malaysia. 

"A week is a very short time to spend in Sin- 
gapore," all the missionaries said to Mother Nind. 

But their passage was engaged on the steamship 
Lindula of the British India Line. A heavy shower 
was threatening, as a few friends drove with them 
to the steamboat landing; so good-byes had to be 
hurried. As they saw the garis that contained their 
friends moving rapidly away, and the first drops of 
the threatened rain beginning to fall, Mother Nind 
voiced the feeling of homesickness and loneliness 
that came to them at the beginning of this new 
voyage, by saying, " We seem quite alone now." 
But in an energetic manner she shook it off at 
once by making herself at home in her new sur- 
roundings, opening her traveling-bags, and neatly 
disposing in her stateroom the various articles she 
expected to need on the voyage. 

They were out only a day or two, when the 
steamer made her first stop at Penang. It was early 
in the morning when she came to anchor ; but 


through^ the kindness of Singapore missionaries, 
some one knew of their coming, and was ready 
with a boat to take them ashore. This " some 
one" looked harassed, and was quick and nervous 
in manner. With her ready sympathy. Mother 
Nind soon learned the cause. In a climate where 
one man's work should be divided among two or 
three, he was, according to that ratio, shouldering 
the work of six. He was a physician with a consid- 
erable practice ; as presiding elder of the Penang 
District, he preached each Sabbath in three lan- 
guages — English, Chinese, and Malay — besides pre- 
paring to conduct sacramental services in Tamil, 
and was general superintendent of a number of 
schools taught in these various languages. When 
they arrived at his home, they found a school on 
the first floor, and an invalid wife and family of 
frail, delicate children above. A large room served 
for a drawing-room at one end and a dining-room 
at the other. The little missionary was captivated 
at once by the broad, beautiful sea-view from the 
windows. " How delightful !" she exclaimed. "I 'd 
like to have a picture of it!" 

A little later she remarked, ''This beach must 
make a fine bathing-place for the children." 

"They never bathe there," wearily replied 
the mother. " They can't on account of the 

The little missionary looked aghast. 

'* But can't you protect a little place for them in 
some way?" she said. 


'* Yes, but it would cost a hundred dollars to do 
so," was the reply. 

"I don't believe I ever had any real trials," 
thought the little missionary. " Those I thought I 
had grow smaller and smaller as I see other mis- 
sionaries, and will soon be gone entirely, I am sure." 

After breakfast and prayers with the servants — 
a difficult task, as they represented almost as many 
different races and languages as individuals — their 
host proposed to take them out sight-seeing. 

"There are the 'Gardens' and the schools. 
Where shall we go first?" he asked. 

" O, the work must be first," quickly answered 
Mother Nind. 

The schools, though not so numerous, pre- 
sented much the same variety as at Singapore. 
Another big Anglo-Chinese school was trying 
to grow still larger in a small, inconvenient, rented 
building. A school for girls, giving instruction 
in Malay and English, did not yet aspire to the 
dignity of a building to itself; but was the one 
first seen in the missionary's home. A little 
school, swarming with black, half-naked Tamils, 
proved most interesting. Their chief instructor 
was an old man of their own race, who had become 
an earnest Christian, bearing the significant name 
of Simon Peter. 

" Penang is larger than Singapore, and the heat 
is more trying because of the reflection from these 
white roads," was information given on their way 
to the " Gardens." But they did not mind the 



heat and the reflection, for they had entered a 
cocoanut-grove. They never knew how far they 
drove through that forest of palms, but it seemed 
to extend miles in every direction. How they 
delighted in looking up at the feathery, graceful 
fruits about them ! The fruit was fully grown, and 
they wondered how the big nuts could be gathered 
from the extreme top of those tall, slender trunks. 
But there was never any trouble about that, they 
were told. Not one, even on the tallest palm, 
was ever sacrificed, because it was hard to reach. 

As soon as they emerged from the forest, they 
were in the heat again. It was too hot to enjoy 
walking about the Gardens, and they were con- 
tent with one look at the mysterious waterfall, 
whose source yet remains unknown, but whose 
volume is sufiQcient to suppl}^ the whole city with 

When, after a full day, their host took them 
back to the steamer, they found the hold just clos- 
ing on a million cocoanuts, the cargo received since 

The following day at sea, as they were sitting 
below, all at once they heard unusual noises on 
deck, the rapid turning of the screw, then dead 
silence. The steamer had stopped in midocean ! 
After a little pause they were relieved to hear the 
sound of the propeller again, and the ship moving 
steadily as before. Going on deck, they discovered 
the cause of the disturbance. A junk containing 
seven or eight people, one of them a woman, was 


lashed to the ship, rising and falling in the con- 
stant swell caused by the large vessel. Seventeen 
days before, she had started from Penang for the lit- 
tle island of Junk Ceylon, after a load of bullocks. 
One night, soon after starting, she had drifted from 
her moorings ; and for fifteen days her unfortunate 
passengers had been wandering in the open sea, 
unable to get their bearings and determine their 
course. Once before they had seen a steamer and 
signaled their distress; but, like many other dis- 
tressed travelers, had been "passed by on the other 
side.'* Rice and water were nearly gone, just 
enough for that one day ; then they must lie down 
to die. But the Liyidida was a "good Samaritan," 
who stopped on her journey, going fifty miles out 
of her course to take the wanderers toward their 
desired haven. 

Provisions and water were given them ; and as 
the water coursed slowly through the long hose 
into their barrel, the captain's voice rang out: 
" Fill her up fully Mother Nind whispered, " How 
like our captain that is!" Before the junk was 
cut loose, her captain, a native who could speak 
fairly good English, was called on deck and inter- 
viewed. He salaamed to Captain Withers, who 
said: "You have taken me out of my course. 
You must pay me a thousand dollars." 

The poor fellow put his head on his breast and 
replied: "Me no money! Make me your servant 
forever !" 

Captain Withers said: "Then I put your junk 


on board with all our passengers, and take you to 
Rangoon to have you shut up in jail." 

Quickly came the answer: "No do that! Cut 
my head off! That better!" And after a little 
pause, " But you no save me to kill me !" and all 
anxiety faded from his face, leaving it smiling and 

The sun was setting when the junk was cut 
loose, her captain vigorously waving his bandana, 
and all on board both boats bright and happy. 
Those on the big vessel watched with great interest 
as the little sail was raised and the junk began to 
move toward her port, which was then in plain 
sight ; and they continued to look, until their own 
more rapidily moving steamer caused her to fade 
from her view. 

The passenger list of the Lindula was longer 
than that of the Formosa, and included a number 
of second-class passengers. Mother Nind was 
much distressed to be the owner again of a first- 
class ticket. Two missionaries from West China 
were traveling second-class, and they tried to re- 
lieve her distress. They were in Chinese dress, 
with long cues hanging down their backs, and 
had thrilling tales to tell of the riots which had 
driven them from their work. "We are used to 
anything; second-class is good enough for us, but 
it would n't do for you," they said to her. 

The first-class travelers included a niece of the 
Vanderbilts, on her wedding journey around the 
world; another lad}^ traveling alone, except for 


her maid; and several gentlemen. Among these 
was an old man who had accumulated much 
wealth as a tea-merchant, and who was distin- 
guished as a member of the British Parliament. 
He always spent the weeks when Parliament was 
not in session in traveling; for, as he sadly re- 
marked, " Though I have four houses I have no 
home." Mother Nind and the little missionary 
looked at him pityingly, as they quickly thought 
of the many homes in India now waiting to re- 
ceive them ; of the homes where they had already 
been so lovingly welcomed ; and of the other homes 
in far-away America, where their dear ones had 
often looked and longed for them. 

What a delightful inheritance they had in 
houses and brethren, and sisters and mothers, and 
children and lands ! Had some fairy godmother 
touched them with her wand? for they had suddenly 
become rich while he was very poor. 

Captain Withers, like most sea-captains, was 
social and entertaining. lyike many another, he 
was attracted to Mother Nind, and often took a 
brisk walk up and down the deck with her. " There 
are two classes of passengers I never forget," he 
said, "the nice ones and the nasty [pronounced 
nahsty] ones. The indifferent ones, who sit off b}- 
themselves reading, I soon forget; but I always re- 
member the nice ones and the nasty ones." All 
this, with an approving look at his companion, as 
if he were already quite sure in which of his men- 
tal classes she would appear! He took a fancy, 


also, to the Chinese missionaries, and was enthu- 
siastic in his remarks about them. " That Upcraft 
is a wonderful fellow," he said. "I sat up in his 
room until after eleven o'clock last night, hearing 
him talk. Such experiences as he has had up there 
in West China ! Three times he had to escape for 
his life in any kind of rafts or boats that he could 
get to take him down the river. Sometimes the 
wretches were determined to put him ashore ; and 
he had to save himself, and those with him, by 
guiding the boat himself. Once they would all 
have been killed if he had not fired off a rifle, 
which he happened to have with him, because he 
had just brought it out from America to give to a 
Chinese friend who wanted one. I tell you he 's a 
hero, if there ever was one. The other one, too, 
is just as brave, I suppose, only he has n't been in 
it so long. And they 're both going back by way 
of Burma, not a bit afraid, though they take their 
lives in their hands as they go !" 

Mother Nind herself often had long talks with 
the brave young fellows, who were as gentle and 
winning in their ways as though they had never 
been compelled to face a Chinese mob ; and when 
she parted with them in Rangoon, it was, to her, 
like parting with sons ; and to them like saying 
" good-bye " to their mother. 


''Thkrb are the golden 
pagodas of Burma!" said Mother 
Nind. The Uttle missionary had 
just come on deck, to find their 
steamer slowly approaching Rangoon. 

"What kind of money is used in Rangoon?" 
was the business-like question of an American pas- 
senger near by. 

They knew the answer, for Captain Withers 
had already posted them ; and the little missionary 
had written in her pocket memorandum : 

I rupee = i6 annas. 
I anna = 4 pice. 

" There are two-anna pieces, four-anna pieces, 
and eight-anna pieces," he had further explained. 
" Four annas will do for the coolies who take your 
luggage ashore, and eight annas for your gari." 

Soon they were giving this address to a gari 
driver, through an officer who was going ashore 
and so kindly volunteered to interpret : 

Rev. JU1.1US Smith, 

19 Ivancaster Road. 

Yes, he knew the place ; and off he went. But 
he could not have known it ; for after a little, he 
stopped in front of a photograph gallery, called out 
some one who could speak English, asked again for 



the address, and drove on. After awhile, they en- 
tered lyan caster Road. "You look on that side of 
the street for No. 19, and I will on this," said 
Mother Nind. They drove to the end of the street, 
but had not found it. The driver turned back. 
He hailed a passer-by, and inquired again. Soon 
he stopped in front of a house, and the little mis- 
sionary got out. " Does the Rev. Julius Smith live 
here?" she asked. The servant ushered her into 
the drawing-room, where she waited for the lady 
of the house to dress and come down. " This is 
the wrong Smith," she said. " Rev. Julius Smith 
lives over there." 

At last they drove, not in front, or up to, the 
house of the Rev. Julius Smith, but M7ider his resi- 
dence. There it was above them, with plenty of 
room beneath for a driveway, a playground, and a 
carriage-house. It gave them a curious sensation 
to get out of the carriage on the ground-floor of 
the house, and at the foot of the hall stairs. But 
they had made no mistake this time ; for a cheery 
welcome was floating down the stairs, and the Rev. 
Julius Smith himself coming in sight. 

Mrs. Smith, they soon learned, was ill in bed ; 
but her warm-hearted hospitality would not allow 
them to go elsewhere for entertainment, or their 
visit to be marred in any way by her sickness. 
That evening they were taken for a drive in a tu7n- 
tum, after a little pony about the size of the Sin- 
gapore ponies. This tum-tum was an open dog- 
cart with an extra seat, whose occupants were 

IN BURMA. 217 

required to sit with their backs toward those in 
the front seat. Their companion was a missionary 
daughter, who wore the simple gray dress with 
which they had become familiar in Singapore — the 
deaconess costume adopted by the Methodist 
Church in India and Malaysia. After talking with 
Mother Nind about the work for a while, suddenly 
she turned upon the little missionary : " There are 
sixty languages spoken in Rangoon ! Which one 
of these shall we learn?" she asked. 

Evidently she did not expect an immediate an- 
swer; for she soon remarked, in a lighter strain : *'One 
of our visitors recently called this 'the prettiest 
drive in the world.' " They were going through 
an avenue bordered by shade-trees, over one of the 
smooth, good roads, which the English know so 
well how to make. The moon was up, enhancing 
them with flickering lights and shadows. Strains 
of music filled the air; for they were nearing the 
public gardens, where an English band played 
every evening. Soon the band-stand came in sight, 
and a number of people, apparently English and 
American, were strolling about the grounds. As 
they turned from them to the other side of the 
driveway, they saw the moon reflecting its bright- 
ness from the surface of a clear, beautiful lake ; and 
the little missionary remembered what some one 
in Singapore had said to her: "There are three 
sights in Rangoon — the pagoda, the elephants, and 
the lakes." 

In the morning, after the early tea and toast, 


their host got out the tu7n-tum again to take them 
to the great pagoda, called the " Sway Dagon," or 
" Glorious Golden" pagoda. 

There were four entrances ; but they naturally 
chose the most imposing, guarded by two colossal 
stone lions, and began at once the ascent of the 
two hundred and fifty-one steps leading to the ele- 
vation on which the pagoda had been erected. The 
way was bordered by booths for the sale of flowers 
and other offerings to the gods. The fingerless 
hands of lepers were extended for alms, exciting 
in the little missionary's mind, she was sorry to dis- 
cover, not the compassion which the Savior had for 
such, but a feeling of intense loathing and disgust. 

At last they had passed the long line of beggars 
and of those that bought and sold, and were among 
the worshipers on the broad stone pavement that 
surrounded the golden pagoda. How different from 
the pagodas of China and Japan, which were built 
of wood, and could be entered and even ascended ! 
This was a solid mass of brick and earth, covered 
only with gold. They differed in shape also, the 
former being square and scarcely smaller at the top 
than at the bottom; while the latter was round, 
tapering to a slender spire at the top. No pagoda 
they had seen before could equal this in size, in 
height, in imposing grandeur. The base w^as orna- 
mented throughout its entire circumference by 
smaller pagodas, grotesque images, and kneeling 
elephants in stone, forever paying their silent 
adoration to the Great Pagoda. 

IN BURMA. 219 

'' They have to keep renewing the gold-leaf," 
said Mr. Smith. " It peels off, and grows dull and 
dingy after a time. Do you see that bright band 
up there? That has been put on recently. The 
gold-leaf is sold at the entrance to worshipers, 
who present it as their offering to the pagoda ; and 
in that way it is kept in repair. I want you to no- 
tice what looks like an umbrella near the top. That 
is jeweled, and is worth thousands of dollars." 

On the same level with the Great Pagoda was a 
circular labyrinth of inferior pagodas and shrines. 
The shrines were literally storehouses for gods of 
all sizes and many different materials, but each 
bearing the placid, smiling face of Gautama, the 
founder of Buddhism. The posture, too, with one 
exception, was the old, familiar one, with legs 
crossed in front; but not sitting on a lotus-blossom, 
as in Japan. There was one reclining Buddha, 
thirty feet in length, attended by stone priests, that 
there might always be some who were never be- 
trayed into negligence in his worship. A large 
mango-tree was surrounded by shrines, which were 
ever cracking and needing to be rebuilt as the tree 
expanded. Some of the wood-carving was finely 
wrought, one piece especially arousing the admira- 
tion and wonder of the visitors. It was a door- 
way; and among the flowers and leaves, which 
formed a graceful border, several bullock carts 
were carved, so perfect and real in appearance 
that they seemed quite ready to descend and go 
about their work of drayage. The bells used in 


worship were very large, each occupying a special 
shrine, and of a full, rich tone, which, if Gautama 
could not hear, must delight the worshipers to pro- 

" I. can tell you a story about this one," said Mr. 
Smith. "When the English conquered Burma, 
they took possession of this bell, intending to trans- 
port it to England; but in shipping it, through 
some carelessness, it dropped into the sea. A noted 
engineer was sent for, and came all the way from 
England to raise the bell; but his best and most 
scientific efforts failed to get ' Humpty Dumpty ' up 
again. Then the Burmans presented themselves be- 
fore the English ofiicials, and asked if they might 
try to raise the bell, and, should they succeed, if 
it might be theirs again. Permission was readily 
given ; and with their rude native contrivances 
they accomplished what the famous engineer had 
given up as impossible. And now here it is in its 
old place by the Great Pagoda?" 

They had nearly made the circuit, and stopped 
to watch the worshipers who were kneeling on the 
stones before the pagoda, with heads bowed and 
hands clasped in prayer. Priests with shaven heads, 
and dressed in loose garments of yellow silk, were 
here and there still engaged in eating their morning 
rice. Busy workmen were employed in making 
more idols. "Gods many, and lords many," invol- 
untarily quoted Mother Nind. " Were it not for the 
promise that the idols shall all be destroyed, upon 
what could we pin our faithjn the ultimate triumph 

IN BURMA. 221 

of Christianity?" That night she wrote in her 
note-book, in her comprehensive style: "Grounds 
covered with shrines and Buddha in various sizes 
and postures, hundreds of them — brass, stone, 
gold, silver, glass, bejeweled — with beds for him 
to sleep on, couches to recline on, umbrellas to 
shield him from the sun, chairs on which to sit, 
curtains even of netting to protect him from mos- 
quitoes !" As they descended the long flight of 
steps by which they had entered, they heard mu- 
sic. Soon they saw the musicians, who were play- 
ing on cymbals and other more curious instru- 
ments, some of which were manipulated with both 
fingers and toes. They were mourning the death 
of a nun, whose body lay in a coffin near them. 

On the drive home, the little missionary, who 
sat on the back seat, found herself all at once high 
in the air. She looked around, to see Mother Nind 
and their host equally low. The little Burmese 
pony had stumbled and was rolling about on the 
ground in his harness. He succeeded in breaking 
it, compelling them to walk the rest of the way, 
and thus they had a little more of the freshness 
and sweetness of the morning air between their 
last sight of the lepers and breakfast. 

Soon after breakfast they were whirled off again 
in a closed gari, for it would not do to go out in 
the tum-tum when the sun was up so high. They 
stopped in front of a school-building. It had a 
respectable air on the outside, but proved to be old 
and decayed within. Its four walls included a large 


day-school, with boarding and kindergarten depart- 
ments, an orphanage, and homes for the workers in 
charge of these institutions. So far as the trans- 
mission of sound was concerned, all the rooms 
were made as nearly one as possible by numberless 
ventilators, transoms, and low screens serving as 
doors. One of the missionaries aptly remarked : 
"The houses here are made for air, and not for 
prayer. I have no place where I can go to pray, 
except the bath-room." 

The children in the school and orphanage were 
mostly of English and Eurasian parentage, and 
looked frail and delicate, like those in Singapore. 

In the kindergarten department they met a na- 
tive of Ceylon, who was in training for work in 
Singapore. She was the child of Christian par- 
ents, who had given her the name of lyaura, which 
sounded queerly enough with the family name, 
Gunatilaka. As she spoke modestly of her plans, 
her big black eyes and brown face shone with the 
earnest purpose which later generations of con- 
verts are sure, more and more, to conceive and 

They were invited to stay and see some of the 
kindergarten songs and plays. " How well they 
do !" remarked the little missionary. " Where did 
you learn kindergarten?" she questioned Miss W., 
who had charge of this also, as a part of her big 
day and boarding school. 

" I had a few days at Chautauqua. The rest I 
havelearned from books and magazines, "she replied. 

IN BURMA. 223 

Mother Nind's questions were pertinent as ever: 

"What is your greatest need?" 

"Teachers who can teach." 

" Do your girls get converted?" 

"The boarders do." 

They could not leave without stepping into the 
little Burmese school next door. As a souvenir 
of this visit, they each received a favorite hymn, 
penned by one of the pupils in the beautiful cir- 
cles which constitute the Burmese alphabet. 

In the evening there was a prayer-meeting in 
the English church. (The word English here, 
as in India and Malaysia, does not imply that it 
belonged to the Church of England; but is used 
to distinguish the Churches that have services in 
English, from those where the preaching is in the 

The prayer-meeting was preceded by a teachers' 
meeting, a model for fine questioning and thought- 
ful answering, but greatly disturbed at the begin- 
ning by a company of mourning musicians across 
the street. One of the teachers slipped out, and 
soon the music ceased, not to continue again until 
the people began to pour out of the church from 
prayer-meeting. It was a curious prayer-meeting 
assembly. There were men and women, such as 
one usually sees in a prayer-meeting; the school 
had come in a body, even little ones from the or- 
phanage ; and there were a number of British sol- 
diers. It was the last of November, the beginning 
of winter in other lands, and of what is called 


"the cool season" in Burma; still the night was 
warm ; doors and windows were wide open, and a 
man stood outside pulling great punkahs further to 
fan the breeze, until even Mother Nind was con- 
vinced that the members of this Church would not 
fall asleep for lack of ventilation. 

There were yet two days before their return to 
the steamer ; so their host proposed a trip by rail 
to Pegu, a town in the interior, where a mission 
had recently been opened through the benevolence 
of a single Church in the home-land. It was a 
long time since Mother Nind had been on a rail- 
way train ; so the sight of a locomotive again could 
not fail to give her a sense of satisfaction. But 
how somber and unfamiliar the coaches looked, 
with their windows protected, in Indian fashion, 
by a deep hood or awning, to keep out the sun ! 
They had their tickets, and essayed to enter, but 
were stopped by the guard : 

" This is the ladies' department, and the gentle- 
man can not go in," he said. 

"Then we '11 go with him," said Mother Nind. 

But this did not please the guard. The ladies 
should stay there, and only the gentleman go in 
the other compartment. 

" But we want to be together, so that he can 
show us the country," protested the ladies. 

After a little, quite reluctantly he allowed all 
to go in the next compartment. lyike the other, 
it was small, with room only for a few passengers 
besides themselves. One of these was a young 

IN BURMA. 225 

man, dressed in silk, in the simple Burmese style, 
but speaking English so well that they suspected 
him of some years of student-life in a mission 
school. He conversed readily and with evident 
pleasure, until reference was made to the worship 
seen the day before at the pagoda. Then he looked 
embarrassed ; said he did not want to argue ; that 
his ancestors all went twice a month to worship 
at the pagoda, and he was content to do the 
same. But he did not seem contented, and soon 
slipped away from a companionship suddenly 
grown uncongenial, into the friendly retreat of a 
neighboring compartment. 

At the station in Pegu they were met by the 
resident missionary with his tiun-tum and a hired 
gari. The visitors were put in the gari, and had 
gone but a little way when they were invited to 
"stop and see something interesting." Under a 
temporary booth, affording slight shelter from the 
sun, a great company of people were sitting, or, 
rather, squatting on the ground, each with a bowl 
in one hand and a spoon in the other, eating dain- 
ties made of rice mixed with various mysterious 
condiments. "This feast has been going on all the 
morning. It is given to celebrate the consecration 
of a young man, who is still in his teens, to the 
priesthood. I was over here earlier, and saw the 
gifts presented by his family to the priests. One 
of them was a set of English encyclopaedia, which 
I would like myself, and they were all valuable. 
And his priesthood may end in a month's time ! 



That 's the way they do in Burma — seem to think 
it 's the proper thing to consecrate every young 
man to be a priest ; and then he can stay one or 
not, as he likes." 

This explanation was given hurriedly and in 
bits, as they got out of the gari, looked around on 
the feasting assemblage, and were helped in again. 
Their next .stop was at the foot of a hill, on which 
stood a simple, new cottage, with the fairest of 
pictures framed in its plain doorway. A young 
woman, dressed in white, bore in her arms a 
pretty child, the faces of both shining with pleas- 
ure in this welcome to the one they knew and 
loved best, with their new friends whom he was 
bringing to their isolated home. All the way up 
the path in the hot sun this picture charmed them, 
and they almost feared it would vanish with the 
first greetings. It did vanish, but only to appear 
again in other graceful scenes, as the fair young 
hostess offered "Grandma" (for her big German 
husband would call Mother Nind by no other 
name) the simple comforts of her little home. All 
the journey and sight-seeing of the morning had 
been accomplished without other breakfast than 
the early tea and toast ; and it was high noon when 
they sat down to what seemed so improperly desig- 
nated the breakfast-table. In " Grandma's " pres- 
ence conversation drifted into home channels. 
" Do n't we wish our mother could come to see 
us?" their i host said to his wife; and then he 
told a story : " There are just ten children in E^lla's 

IN BURMA. 227 

family. One Sunday their minister preached a ser- 
mon on tithe-giving, which must have made a great 
impression on the youngest; for when he got 
home he said: ' Mamma, we have given just our 
tenth, have n't we ? For there are ten of us, and 
one has gone to be a missionary.'" 

Soon after breakfast Mother Nind retired for 
her afternoon nap ; but the little missionary could 
not resist the temptation, hot as it was, to ride in 
the tum-tum, and see a little more of a real Bur- 
mese village. The houses were so queer, built up 
high in the air; and were less substantial even 
than the famous "paper houses" of Japan. Just 
a few bamboo poles and strips of matting — a shel- 
ter from the sun, with plenty of air, and no at- 
tempt at privacy ! She could look freely into 
every home they passed, and see the men idly 
sleeping- away the hot hours of the day, while the 
women were busy with their sewing and weaving. 
"That is always the way here," said her compan- 
ion. " The women do all the work, and the men 
do nothing. I get thoroughly out of patience with 
them, they are such a lazy set." Just then the little 
missionary saw a man stop at ajar by the roadside, 
help himself to a drink, and pass on. She looked 
up questioningly, and he replied : " Some man here 
in Pegu keeps that jar filled with water all the time, 
as one way of winning the favor of the gods." 
" Not a bad way of winning men's favor, it 
seemed, on such a hot day, in such a hot 
country !" 


When Mother Nind came down from her nap 
she found some strange little guests waiting to see 
her. They were the pupils of the Burmese day- 
school. "Would she like to hear them sing?" 
"Yes, of course," she replied; and they sang 
for her the same sweet child-song which she had 
herself learned in Knglish, and had so often since 
heard in Japanese, in Chinese, in Malay, and even 
in Tamil. Everywhere she went they sang that 
first, as if they knew and loved it ; and surely the 
gospel could not come to them first in a better 
way than through the medium of 

"Jesus loves me, this I know, 
For the Bible tells me so." 

As the missionary's wife watched the dark, shin- 
ing faces of the little singers, her own assumed a 
beatific expression, and she remarked in a whisper, 
"Aren't they lovely?" The little missionary 
smiled. She had not thought of calling these chil- 
dren lovely ; but she knew others, with just as 
queer faces and curious dress, to whom she would 
have applied that expression. " It must be," she 
concluded, " that we missionaries have the real 
mother-love, and so each thinks our own crows the 

"Are these all boys, or all girls?" she asked, 
when they had finished. " They seem to be dressed 
just alike." 

" O no ! There's a difference," said Mr. vS. ; and 
he called one of the boys forward. His dress con- 







IN BURMA. 23t 

sisted of two pieces; a short, plain jacket, and a 
straight piece of cloth tucked around the waist for 
a skirt. 

" Dress yourself like a little girl," was the order 
given. Carefully he pulled out one corner of his 
skirt and brought it over smoothly and a little to 
one side, letting the end hang plain. 

" Now like a boy again !" 

Out came the corner of the skirt once more, to 
be tucked in its old place, which made the end fall 
in a deep flounce or ruffle directly in front. 

'' So it 's the women who do the work, and the 
men who wear the ruffles in Burma !" commented 
the visitors. 

As soon as the children was gone, the tum-tum 
and gari were brought aroundj and all went out 
to see the school that had been opened for Tamil 
boys and girls. As a means of greater entertain- 
ment the order of exercises was varied at once 
by singing. Mr. S. remarked: 

" I think Tamil must have been the first lan- 
guage God created in his fierce wrath at the Tower 
of Babel, the sounds are so harsh and difiicult to 

Next an English class was called up, and some 
of the larger boys were asked to read. These 
dusky children of the tropics seemed to appreciate 
their varied accomplishments, and read eagerly, 
one after another, parts of the famous story of 
the "boy George, who received a present of a 
small ax from his father," etc. "Why doesn't 


it give his full name?" wondered the little mis- 
sionary, until she looked at the title-page and dis- 
covered that it was an Knglish publication. 

The most interesting of all the exercises was 
a native drill in calisthenics. Bach child bran- 
dished two bamboo .sticks, striking one, then the 
other, then both together against his neighbor's, 
swinging around with a jump, and a song, and a 
dance, all rolling the whites of their eyes in en- 
thusiastic delight, and continuing their weird move- 
ments for some time after the master had ordered 
a halt. 

In the evening Mother Nind was asked to talk 
to the servants as they were gathered together for 
evening prayers. Her interpreted words were fol- 
lowed by prayers in Tamil, Burmese, and, out of 
courtesy to her, in Knglish also. 

There was one "sight" still awaiting them in 
Rangoon, which their friends would not allow them 
to miss. So good-bye to the little mission home 
and work in Pegu ; and in Rangoon once more on 
the way to McGregor & Co.'s lumber-yard. 

They stopped first at the home of one whom 
Miss P. admiringly called "the biggest elephant of 
them all," dear Father Bray ton, pioneer of the Bap- 
tist Mission to the Karens, and in his earlier years 
companion of the sainted Judson. He was then 
eighty-seven years old; and though he had given 
over half a century of his life to the work, much 
of it done in the jungles, he was still in " the 
springtime of old age," as Mother Nind called it. 

IN BURMA. 233 

She asked for his autograph, and he stepped 
briskly across the floor to his desk in the next 
room. When he returned, he inquired in a sweet, 
gentle way, "How long have you been following 
the Master?" 

"Sixty-five years," she replied. 

"And I about seventy," he said. 

For the little missionary's benefit, he gave 
some of his earlier experiences. "When my wife 
and I made our first trip up the river, crowds of 
people thronged the shores, and gathered about 
our boat whenever we stopped. This pleased us 
very much ; but we thought it best not to ' write 
it up ' until we had made one more trip. The 
next time scarcely any came. Their curiosity had 
been satisfied, and they cared nothing for our mes- 

Reference was made to his translation of the 
Bible; and he told how, as real success came to 
them in their trips up the river, he commenced 
this work; but for a long time he was unable to 
complete it, as he endeavored also to keep to his 
original plan of spending the whole of every dry 
season in the jungle, with his wife, in evangelistic 

At last a company of native Christians came to 
him, and pleaded with him to finish the Bible. " If 
you do not finish it," they said, "we shall not have 
it at all; for it will take a new missionary too long 
to get the language to do it while we live. Please 
give us the Bible before we die." 


Just then an attack of rheumatism made it un- 
wise for him to return to jungle work; so he com- 
plied with their request and gave them the Bible. 

When the call was over, he politely offered his 
arm to Mother Nind, escorting her down the stairs 
to the waiting carriage beneath. 

The afternoon was drawing to a close as they 
reached the lumber-yard; but the elephants were 
still at work. Quietly and with the real dignity 
born of labor, they were moving about the yard ; 
the strongest, wisest, and best workmen were 
there. No log was too heavy for them to drag 
with their trunks; no plank was too thick or too 
long for them to lift into the air, gently poising 
it against their tusks until they had reached the 
pile where it belonged. And when it came down 
with a crash, no pains were spared in deftly push- 
ing it this way and that, until the pile was left in 
perfect neatness and good order. 

Their movements were watched with intense 
interest and admiration, and the visitors went 
away, no longer wondering that such patient in- 
dustry should be considered one of the "sights" 
of the city. 

It was Saturday night ; and much to their re- 
gret, they had to return to their steamer, and spend 
the Sabbath at sea. Among others to see them 
oflF were the West China missionaries, who had 
good news to report. At a little meeting which 
they had addressed in a Burmese Church, the peo- 
ple were so stirred by what they heard that they 

IN BURMA. 235 

voted to give all the money in their treasury, about 
forty rupees, to the West China work. 

This was a revelation of the budding possibil 
ities of a Christianized Burma. In a land so rich 
in natural resources, and among a people so gener- 
ous, when at last the funeral dirge of heathenism 
is tolled, and the golden pagodas remain only as 
monuments to mark the burial, the light from the 
Christian spires will be shining out into all the re- 
gions beyofid. 


It was their second Sab- 
bath on the Li7idula. Mother 
Nind had a book of sermons 
with her, so she read one to 
the little missionary ; then the little missionary 
read one to her. That was their morning service. 
For their evening service they recited Scripture 
verses, each successive one beginning with the first 
letter of the last word of the preceding verse. 
The wonderful texts lost none of their significance 
in tlie little game, but seemed clothed with fresh 
grandeur, quoted under the " lesser light that rules 
the night," as it shone over the still waters of the 
Indiau Ocean. 

There were two or three days more of the " still 
waters ;" then for three months they must exchange 
this quiet, restful sea-travel for the dirt and con- 
fusion and fatigue of railway journeys ! As they 
thought of it, they felt loath to leave the sea, and 
lingered over each setting sun until its fiery splen- 
dor slowly faded from the last cloud ; then down to 


dinner, and back to watch the moonlight, as though 
these glorious friends, also, would vanish with the 

They knew their steamer would make no delay, 
for she carried mail, and Captain Withers had told 
them what large subsidy she would forfeit if she 
failed to appear at the dock in Calcutta by such an 
hour on such a day. According to schedule time, 
on the fourth day out from Rangoon, vShe entered 
the Hoogly River. Her speed slackened, for this 
was the most dangerous part of her course. Al- 
ready they could see rising above the water the 
two tall masts of the Anglia, which had been the 
last of the many unfortunate steamers to be en- 
tangled in the shifting sands of the treacherous 

" Most of her passengers were drowned just like 
rats in a hole," said the captain. ''Their cabins 
filled with water, and the ports were too small for 
them to climb out. One man swam through the 
saloon to the deck, and was saved that way ; but 
the rest were drowned." 

After this story, what fascination rested in those 
slender, motionless masts ! What warning for other 
ships ! A little carelessness would make every 
mast like these ; so who, out of port, could call him- 
self safe? 

There was delaj^ at the landing in getting their 
trunks from the hold ; and the day was fast turn- 
ing into night when at last their luggage was all 
secured on the tops of two garis, and they were in- 


side, Mother Nind in one and the little missionary 
in the other, on the way to Dharamtala.* 

They went first to the bishop's home, but no 
one was there to receive them ; then to the Dea- 
coness Home. After some searching, they found 
all of their Methodist friends together on the Com- 
pound of the Girls' School, enjoying a stereopticon 
entertainment. The views were of Scotland, and 
though it was difficult to journey to a land so re- 
mote upon their first arrival in India, they did, at 
least, enjoy the novelty of an open-air entertain- 
ment on an evening in December. Soon after the 
last picture was shown. Mother Nind said " good- 
night" to the little missionary ; for she was to be 
entertained at what she afterwards delighted to call 
"the simplest episcopal residence she had ever 
seen," while the latter was to remain in the Dea- 
coness Home. 

" Have you had dinner?" hospitably inquired 
the superintendent of the Home. 

The little missionary confessed that a cup of 
tea and an English biscuit, taken before leaving the 
steamer, were the only approach she had made to a 

" Then I must try to find something a little 
more substantial for you than the rest of us have," 
said Miss M. A number of people had been in-, 
vited to the Home for the late tea, which consisted 
of bread already buttered and a cup of tea. 

"*■ Name of a street in Calcutta. 


The search for something " substantial " resulted 
in finding one &^g and a little jam. " It 's a wonder 
I found as much as that," she said. ''Our cook 
buys each morning just enough for the one day, 
and so we never have anything left over." 

Mother Nind had scarcely given herself one 
night's sleep in Calcutta when she began to make 
plans to regulate her first few weeks in India. She 
engaged the bishop's wife and others in consulta- 
tion ; for, as she said, " I want to do what you think 
best. Wherever I go I put myself in the mission- 
aries' hands ; for they certainly know a great deal 
better than I what I ought to undertake in these 
Oriental countries." 

One week was reserved for Calcutta. It began 
with a prayer-meeting in what was known, even on 
the ships in the harbor, as " Bishop Thoburn's 
Church." The Sunday congregations averaged 
five hundred in the morning, and a thousand in the 
evening ; and the prayer-meeting had an attendance 
of about three hundred. It was an English-speak- 
ing congregation ; so Mother Nind could speak 
without an " interrupter," as some one has called 
the needful interpreter. During the singing of the 
opening hymns the church filled with smoke. The 
little missionary looked around in concern. But 
every one was singing calmly, as if nothing were 
the matter. She tried to follow their example ; 
but the smoke choked her, and she knew the fires 
must be increasing. If no one else would give the 
alarm, she must. 


''What makes all this smoke?" she whispered 
to Miss M. 

"O, it 's just the evening fires of the people. 
The moisture keeps the smoke down," was the reply. 
'The little missionar}^ had seen some of their 
fuel in a drive about the city that day. The " City 
of Palaces," she had found, contained more hovels 
than mansions. Often, under the shadow of grand, 
imposing English residences, she had seen rows of 
low mud huts, plastered over with cakes of manure, 
drying in the sun, and, down in the road, women 
and children gathering a fresh supply of the strange 
fuel with their fingers. And now, as they were 
using it to cook the evening meal, the air of the 
city was filled with the foul smoke. " What a trial 
it must be!" she thought. 

After the prayer-meeting, quite a large company 
was invited to an informal tea at the Deaconess 
Home. This tea, following meetings at the church, 
was a regular institution, the newcomers were in- 
formed. It was the social net for catching stran- 
gers, and enabled the workers to draw more closely 
the influences of the meeting about many a poor 
prodigal thus brought within their reach. Often 
the tea became another prayer-meeting, as some 
wanderer, encouraged by friendly words, asked 
the prayers of God's people to aid him in leading 
a new life. The teas were not always at the Dea- 
coness Home; but they alternated, sometimes at 
the parsonage, and often at the bishop's residence. 

Mother Nind spoke not only at the prayer- 


meeting, but also, on Sunday, at both morning and 
evening services. For the first time in her travels 
in the East the woman-preacher was severely crit- 
icised b}^ some that were outside, who expressed 
their comments through the medium of the morn- 
ing paper. After preaching many times to Jap- 
anese and Chinese audiences, it remained for her 
own countrymen to quote St. Paul at length, and 
declare that she ought not to have been admitted 
to the pulpit. Only one woman before had been 
in a position to call forth such criticisms from the 
Calcutta press, and who was that other but her old 
friend, Amanda Smith? 

Holiday vacation, which was the long one in 
the Calcutta schools, was approaching; conse- 
quently there were invitations for our travelers to 
the various annual exercises occurring before the 
close. First came the literary contest in the Girls' 
School, which was so able that every contestant 
seemed worthy of a prize. At the Prize Exhibi- 
tion, which followed a few days later, gifts were 
bestowed upon the best pupils in all the grades of 
both this school and its large, growing offshoot at 
Darjeeling. So attractive were many of the prizes, 
which included dolls and trinkets for the younger 
ones, that it seemed quite like ChrivStmas itself; 
and was, they were told, the nearest approach to a 
Christmas celebration in either of these large 
schools. The Darjeeling school had closed for a 
three months' vacation, which would cover the en- 
tire "cold season." 



' That is queer," said the little missionary. 
"Why don't you teach during the cool weather, 
and have your vacation when it gets hot?" 

"O, Darjeeling is a hill station, so it's always 
cool there; and this is the only time in the year 
when the children can really enjoy their Calcutta 
homes," was the reply. 

Both schools were boarding-schools. "We 
have a hard time getting our scholarships taken in 
America," said one of the missionaries. " It costs 
so much more to support these girls than it does 
the natives; and then every one seems to think 
t/tat the real missionary work, while this does not 
count. But I am sure it does count; for some of 
the girls who go out from our school make our 
best workers, and most of them do go out to work." 
They accompanied her in a call at the home of one of 
the very poor Eurasian girls in the school. The fam- 
ily lived up-stairs in two small rooms, with scarcely 
chairs enough to offer the three callers. The father 
was out of work, and she was doing without a serv- 
ant, which made living up-stairs very hard for her, 
were the chief facts they learned from the mother, 
who seemed to regard a servant as the great neces- 
sity of life. 

" Even the poorest of those who have a little 
English blood in their veins think they must keep 
one or two servants. It is very hard for our girls 
to be brought up in such a dependent way," said 
their companion, as they drove away with this new 
picture of poverty in their minds. 


The boys' school for English-speaking students 
presented a similar problem of aristocratic, though 
dependent feeling. In the management of the 
school this feeling had been gratified to the extent 
of classifying the boarders; those who could pay 
little or nothing for their board, receiving less and 
called second-class boarders ; while those who could 
pay more, received better fare and were placed in 
the first-class. The scholarship boys, of course, were 
all in the second-class. One who was supported 
by private subscription suddenly became the re- 
cipient from home of an allowance, amounting to 
several rupees. Saying nothing to his benefactor 
of his good fortune, he paid the difference between 
first and second-class board into the school treas- 
ury, and was enrolled as a first-class boarder. 

One of the missionaries who had gone out un- 
der the Woman's Society had somehow been at- 
tracted to the work of this school, and was en- 
gaged in the stupendous task of "mothering" all 
the boarders, investing their daily living, as far as 
possible, with sweet home and religious influences. 
She had the mother-instinct of self-denial, often 
forgetting herself so completely as to be without the 
necessary postage, even to send a letter to America. 

A companion school for native boys was under- 
going another kind of " hard times," as a favorite 
teacher was drawing many of the students away 
into a new school of his own. 

The Bengali work for girls and women was in 
charge of one who, in addition to her busy cares as 


a wife and mother, gave enthusiastic, devoted at- 
tention to a large girls' school with a new boarding 
department, a normal training-class, and her ze- 
nana visiting. This school presented fresh novel- 
ties in dress and manners to the eyes of Mother 
Nind and the little missionary. The latter once 
asked a Calcutta missionary, who was seeking 
health and strength in Japan, if she had an Indian 
costume with her. "Why, it's only a strip of 
cloth," she replied. Here was the strip of cloth, 
the long, graceful sari, wound around the waist 
first for a skirt, then thrown over the head like a 
shawl or veil. Much the same kind of jewelry was 
worn as they had seen on the Tamils, who were 
also natives of India — nose-rings, ear-ring, neck- 
laces, bracelets, anklets, etc. Just at the parting 
of the hair on the foreheads of some of the girls 
was a bright red spot. "That shows that they are 
married," said Mrs. I^. Such little maidens to be 
wives — of nine, eleven ; surely the oldest could not 
be thirteen ! "I have myself known wives to be 
widowed at eleven," said Mrs. ly. again. 

The zenana women had a very low opinion of 
the little missionary when they learned that she 
had not been married. "Poor thing!" they said 
pityingly. "She can not get a hUvSband!" Mother 
Nind satisfied them better as a visitor; for they 
could say to her, as they did to Mrs. L- : "You are 
just like us. You have a husband and children, so 
you can understand us, and we can understand you." 

One of the deaconesses had a little Hindustani 


school, which presented a fine picture of missionary 
beginnings. The building was a small hut, made 
of mud, with two or three openings left for win- 
dows. The only furniture it contained was one 
chair for the teacher; and a tin box held all the 
books and apparatus used in her work. The chil- 
dren sat on the floor, their black knees and toes 
sticking out in every direction. Their hair was un- 
combed, their bodies half clad, great hoops hung 
from their noses; and altogether they hardly 
looked like pupils of the fair-faced figure above 
them in her neat, gray dress and white apron. But 
no teacher in large, airy school-room, with slate 
blackboards, beautifully polished desks, and per- 
haps a piano, could look happier than she. With a 
hand laid tenderly on the black shoulder of a child 
just recovering from fever, and a look of love and 
pity for all, she stooped to their level, and taught 
them, patiently and simply, for Jesus' sake. 

The visitors were fortunate in having an oppor- 
tunity to attend the monthly Conference for mis- 
sionaries of all denominations at work in Calcutta. 
It was the Methodists' " turn " to entertain, which 
means that they provided a meeting-place, also 
light refreshments to serve at the close of the Con- 
ference. The address was given by a convert from 
Brahmanism, who had belonged to the famous or- 
der of the " scarlet thread." 

His subject was " The Trend of Modern Relig- 
ious Thought Among the Higher Classes of India." 
It was an able lecture, delivered in faultless Kng- 


lish; and while it dealt with philosophies which 
few of the missionaries present felt prepared to 
discuss, it encouraged them by showing the influ- 
ence of Christianit}^ upon the exponents of other 
religions. He had with him an " Imitation of 
Krishna," arranged with portions for every day's 
reading and meditation ; but the vague, dreamy 
speculations which he read as the verses for the 
day, showed that only form had been copied; that 
the spirit of the living religion could not vivify a 
dead one — it must displace it. 

One of the most helpful meetings of the week 
was a Saturday morning "believers' meeting." It 
might quite as well have been called the " doers' " 
meeting; for it was attended mostly by workers, 
some of whom were so busy with work in the vernac- 
ular that they had time for no other English service. 
Mother Nind was so busy helping in the various 
meetings that the little missionary had to go with- 
out her on an excursion to Serampore, where Carey 
first found a " cradle for Indian missions," under 
the protection of the Danish Government. The 
"Black Hole" remained unvisited by either. But 
one morning early they were ready for a drive to 
the " Gardens " across the river. After a little delay 
waiting for the gari, it came ; a basket containing 
their breakfast was placed inside, and they started. 
Through the city streets, already alive with tur- 
baned heads and bare feet; across the pontoon 
bridge, the longest in the world, some one said; 
rattling along a weary, dusty road, as the main av- 


enue was closed for repairs, — at last they came to 
the "Gardens." 

" Nothing looks well now, it is so dry," was the 
apologetic introduction of their friends. But, even 
with the memory of Singapore fresh in their minds, 
they knew nothing that could exceed the majesty 
and beauty of the wonderful avenue of royal 
African palms, which was just then opening before 
them. A little later they were out of the gari, 
walking toward the special object of their visit. 
It looked like a forest containing hundreds of trees. 
How difficult it was to believe that they all started 
from one trunk ! Still they could see it was not a 
forest ; for though it rose from level ground, it was 
pyramidal in form ; and, as they entered, they could 
trace the great branches that went out from the 
central stem to form the first circuit of trees, and 
from these to form others. At the outermost circle, 
man's art had evidently been engaged in the work 
of rooting fresh branches in the ground, thus in- 
creasing the size of what was already known as 
"the largest banyan-tree in the world." "Almost 
every one walks around the tree to see how long 
it takes. It is usually called a seven minutes' 
walk," they were told. So Mother Nind and the 
little missionary started out, with watches in hand. 
They walked briskly at Mother Nind's best pace, and 
found they could do it in three minutes. Then, in 
the shade of the great tree, which might easily have 
sheltered a whole summer school or camp-meeting, 
they breakfasted on plantains and sandwiches. 


Another morning, just after choti hazri (the httle 
breakfast), they drove to "Kali Ghat," a bathing- 
place on the Hoogly, named for Kali, the patron 
deity of Calcutta. It was one place in India where 
animal sacrifices were still offered, and they came 
hoping to see the morning sacrifice ; but were told 
upon arrival that it was not quite ready. During 
the waiting time they walked about the temple 
grounds, seeing sights that thrilled them more even 
than the shedding of blood. With feet crossed 
under them, some on the steps going up to the 
temple, others on the ground, were a few of the 
fakirs or " holy men," of whom they had so often 
heard. Their hair lay in matted, brown tangles, 
showing years of neglect ; their clothing was in 
rags ; their nails were claws ; their faces wore a 
miserable, unhappy expression, which led Mother 
Nind to exclaim, " They look anything but holy!" 
Not far away was a group of lepers. Here one of 
the party tarried to drop a little money in each 
poor mutilated palm, saying compassionately, *^ I 
never can refuse to give these something." 

Passing many other afflicted ones — the blind, the 
halt, the poor, the aged — they came to the "sacred 
well." It was surrounded by women, who were 
engaged in such unwomanly worship that the ob- 
servers soon turned aside, speaking to each other 
only in low, hushed tones of what they had seen. 
As the sacrifice was still not ready, they asked 
the priest if they might look at the image of the 


At once such a stormy altercation ensued that 
they would have ended it by leaving. But Mr. W. 
urged them to remain, saying that it was some- 
thing they ought to vSee ; so they waited. At last 
the party who wished to show the idol triumphed, 
and the doors were opened, disclosing a more hid- 
eous image than any Mother Nind and the little 
missionary had yet been horrified to behold. The 
light was too dim for them to grasp the details ; 
but it seemed to be bathed in blood, with a long, 
blood-red tongue protruding from the mouth. They 
had to trust to other observers for knowledge of 
its black face; its four arms, one of them holding 
a scimiter, the other grasping a giant's head by the 
hair ; its ornaments consisting of the figures of dead 
bodies for earrings and a chain of skulls for a neck- 
lace. But they had seen enough to make them 
anxious to get through the sacrifice, and away from 
all these vile scenes. 

"Why are you so late with your sacrifice?" in- 
quired Mr. W. Several times before he had asked 
this question, to receive always the answer that it 
would be ready soon. Now they replied that they 
could not offer the sacrifice unless Mr. W. would 
pay for the sheep. The visitors hardly cared to see 
sacrificing done to their own order; so they con- 
tented themselves with a look at the block where 
the animal was to have been offered, and went at 
once to the river side. Standing at the top of the 
long flight of steps leading to the water, they 
watched the bathers. Some, more richly dressed 


than the others, descended to the lowest step above 
the water, washed their feet, and returned; but 
others, after bathing their feet, their hands, their 
heads, immersed themselves, washed their garments, 
rinsed their mouths, and carried a vessel of the foul 
water, which they called holy, away with them. 

One woman stood out of the water, apparently 
worshiping the sun ; but all at once she turned and 
worshiped toward the south, then toward the west, 
and at last to the north. " She thinks she '11 hit it 
somewhere," said Mother Nind. 

On their return, they stopped at a bank, and the 
little missionary went in to draw some money. She 
wished eight pounds ; but when they brought the 
equivalent — one hundred and thirty-seven rupees, 
each the size of a silver half-dollar — she thought 
some one had made a mistake. Looking from the 
pile to her purse, and from her purse to the pile, 
at last she summoned courage to ask for a paper 
or a strong envelope ; but they had already brought 
her a red bag with a yellow string, and into this 
she deposited the money ; then clutching it in her 
hand she went into the street, miserably conscious 
that every one must be looking at her and her bag 
of money. 

They were to start that night for Jubbulpur. 
Every one travels at night in India, and yet there 
are no sleeping-cars. When the little missionary 
went to the bishop's home in the early evening to 
see if Mother Nind was^ ready for the journey, she 
found her "doing up" her shawl-strap, rolling in 


with her shawl and pillows a blanket and light 
comforter. " I forgot to tell you that you would 
need bedding," said Miss M. to the little mission- 
ary. *'You must have a resai [\ighX comforter], 
too." The little missionary was not over-fond of 
packages, and was dismayed to learn that she must 
increase her hand-luggage by adding a comforter 

At the station she discovered that nobody in In- 
dia traveled in the American way, with a neat, trim 
valise and good, stout trunk ; but every one seemed 
to have a great roll of bedding, and boxes, and bas- 
kets, and bags, ad in^nitum. All these were tossed 
into the passenger coaches, and after them light tin 
trunks, until there was so little room left for the 
passengers that they had a wedged-in appearance 
as if they, too, were parcels. Mother Nind and 
the little missionary, not knowing the ways of In- 
dian travelers, asked to have their trunks checked ; 
and though one was only a hat trunk and the other 
a steamer trunk, both were over-weight, and re- 
quired the payment of '' excess " charges. They 
were to travel in the ladies' compartment of a sec- 
ond-class carriage, the bishop's wife and her little 
boy their only companions. As soon as they had 
started, with the good-byes of their Calcutta friends 
still ringing in their ears, they drew the shades, 
spread the 7'esai on the seats for mattresses, and 
over them the blankets and shawls for coverings, 
thus preparing to spend as comfortable a night as 
possible on a train without air-brakes, which shiv- 


ered and seemed to be going down a thousand 
embankments all at once every time it stopped. 
It grew chilly toward morning; and, in hot, 
hot India, they were glad to draw blankets and 
shawls close about them to protect them from the 

In the morning, station venders furnished them 
with tea for their choti hazri; and at nine o'clock 
they breakfasted from the big lunch-basket which 
the bishop's wife had thoughtfully prepared. Early 
in the afternoon they reached Allahabad, where 
they had planned to break their journey by a rest 
over Sunday. " Coolie hai !" called out their wel- 
coming host, and soon their luggage was walked 
off on the heads of tall, well-formed coolies to a 
gari on the other side of the station. 

"Our one guest-room is occupied by Miss B., 
of the Friends' Mission, who has been with us for 
some months," he said, when they reached the 
house. " But there is one vacant bed in that room; 
and we have put up a tent in the yard, which is at 
your disposal. So just arrange yourselves as you 
please," he continued. I^ater, another guest ar- 
rived, and promptly a second tent arose for his 
accommodation, until the ground between the 
home and church seemed quite like a piece of a 
camp-meeting. The resemblance was still more 
striking the next day, when the air was filled with 
songs of praise. The church was used b}^ both 
English and Hindustani congregations, and with 
the Church and Sabbath-school services of each, 


there was as little time when no meeting was in 
progress as on any real camp -ground. 

At one of the Hindustani services the preach- 
ers, pastor-teachers, and Bible-readers present re- 
ceived an informal introduction to Mother Nind, 
which consisted in standing in their places as their 
names were called. Then some of the children in 
the boys' school were brought forward and intro- 
duced as follows : " This child was found in a vil- 
lage street the other day, almost starved to death." 
It was not a time of widespread famine ; yet what 
a thin, wan face ; what tiny, shrunken arms ! An- 
other child was pushed to the front. " This child 
was just like him a year ago, but see how fat and 
plump he is now!" Then another: "This one 
was a wild boy from the jungles. When he was 
first brought to the school he would not wear 
clothes, nor sleep on a bed." And still another: 
"This boy was a little street Arab, who amused 
himself at first by running away." "Do you want 
to run away now?" he said to the child, who 
promptly responded with a negative reply. 

Then, at a word, all sang with might and main 
the ringing bhajan, " Jai Prabhu Yishiu " (Victory 
to Jesus), and Mother Nind left to prepare for the 
evening service, where she rejoiced to see many 
of her English congregation around the altar at an 
after meeting, seeking the blessing of a " clean 


The Bombay Conference, which sat at Jubbul- 
pur that year, was one of the younger Indian Con- 
ferences. Its members were mostly missionaries ; 
and so the business could be transacted in English 
without interpretation. This made its sessions 
more intelligible to Mother Nind than others she 
had attended in the Hast. Though the Conference 
was young, it contained members who had given, 
some twenty, others thirty years to the service. 
There w^as quite a break between these and the 
younger men, who were, many of them, passing 


through their testing time, trying to prove to them- 
selves and others that they had not undertaken a 
task too great for them ; but that they could en- 
dure the climate, master the language, understand 
the people, overcome the difficulties, be tactful, 
brave, and hopeful under all circumstances. 

The Woman's Conference was quite informal, 
most of its reports being given orally. lyike many 
such, they were accompanied with alternate smiles 
and tears. The Deaconess Movement had entered 
the Conference during the year through one of its 
opposers, who had, after a long, hard struggle, 
joined this inner circle of consecrated workers, re- 
nouncing half her salary, and donning uniform of 
gray. Her sacrifice had brought another mission- 
ar}^ to the field, and the two together were about 
to engage in itinerating evangelistic work. 

There was one cloud, heavy and dark, which 
brooded over the entire Conference, marring its oth- 
erwise bright, sunny sessions. It was not the clouc? 
of failure ; it was not the cloud of coming famine. 
It was a cloud that had been gathering for some 
time in far away America, and had now seemed 
ready to burst over their heads — the cloud of finan- 
cial depression ! The bishop had been in the 
States as usual, endeavoring to gather money for 
the work; but he had no large collections, and only 
a few special gifts to report. An increased appro- 
priation for salaries of missionaries, allowed by 
the Missionary Committtee, brought not a ray of 
sunshine through the cloud ; for that meant a cor- 


responding decrease in the appropriation for native 
workers. There was only one hope, a hope that 
seemed fast approaching realization before the eyes 
of the visitors. As the rains of adversity fell, they 
would refresh the soil and make it more fruitful. 
The greater the stringency, the more consecrated, 
self-sacrificing, prayerful would the missionaries 
become, and the less of a following would they 
have for gain. 

The members of the Conference and their 
guests were entertained in three homes, one of 
which was occupied for the occasion. Five times 
each day they gathered around the table for the 
little breakfast, the big breakfast, the tifi&n, the 
dinner, and the tea. " Do n't tell any one how 
many meals we have!" said the hostess, who re- 
lembered her " bringing up," and felt ashamed of 
these adopted Anglo-Indian customs. 

" But you have only two meals a day," said the 
little missionary. " The rest are just lunches." 

''That 's so!" she said, with a relieved look. 

The room, occupied by Mother Nind and the 
little missionary, opened into the back veranda; 
and every morning, as they looked out, they could 
see a tall, heavily-turbaned man-servant engaged in 
kis daily task of churning. His churn was a small 
earthen jar, containing fresh buffalo's milk. A 
bamboo stick, split at the lower end into four sec- 
tions, served as a dasher, and was ingeniously 
worked by means of a string attached to one of the 
veranda posts. The butter was served as it came 


from the churn — a soft, white paste, with neither 
the milk worked out nor salt worked in — and some 
people liked it. 

No sooner are the appointments read at a Con- 
ference than people begin to hurry away. Mother 
Nind's party was among the first to leave, as it in- 
cluded the bishop this time ; and he was always 
in a hurry. He was hastening now to reach Cal- 
cutta before Christmas ; and was planning then to 
have one whole week at home with his family. 
They averaged not more than six weeks together 
during the course of a year, his wife had said. 

As they parted at Allahabad — for Mother Nind 
and the little missionarj^ were to spend their 
Christmas in Lucknow — they accepted the loan of 
another blanket. Not only on the trains, but 
wherever they went, they needed plenty of bed- 
ding ; for the guest-rooms of most of the mission- 
homes contained only empty charpoi (low, single 
beds made of four bars of wood connected by 
broad tapes, crossing and recrossing from side to 
side and end to end, the whole set upon four short 
legs, and making the cheapest of beds that can be 
called comfortable). The " cold season" in India 
was thus far an anomaly. In Jubbulpur the little 
missionary had been obliged to buy flannels for 
extra underclothing; and yet, at the same time, 
she had purchased a broad sun-hat of pith, and put 
a white cover on her umbrella, to keep off the sun. 

Every one said that she must, that she would 
get a " touch of the sun" if she did n't ; and ever 



since she had been in India, if a gleam fell across 
her face or shoulders, there was a sudden move- 
ment to shut it out; and if it happened to fall 
upon the back of her neck, there was great alarm ; 
for "that is the worst place," they said. Mother 
Nind had come from Foochow, already prepared 
with her hat and umbrella for these attacks of In- 
dia's great foe; yet she had been ill in Calcutta 
from exposure in the Gardens ; and the little mis- 
sionary herself remembered a severe headache that 
had kept her in bed part of one precious day in 
Rangoon. It was wise to be careful and shiver, if 
need be, in the effort to keep out the sun. But 
how she loved to dilate upon her glass-inclosed 
veranda in Hirosaki, and how the warm, bright 
sunshine, in which she could sit day after day with- 
out other thought than of comfort when asked, 
" Do you have to be careful about the sun in 

Another question usually asked her at the 
table, when there happened to be a lull in the con- 
versation, was : 

"Do you have curry in Japan?" 

Curry, made as hot as red peppers could make 
it, was a favorite dish in all the mission homes ; 
and it was considered highly necessary, too, in en- 
abling one to resist the greater heat of the atmos- 
phere. If a new missionary did not like curry, 
older heads were shaken in solemn warning, as 
some remarked, " She '11 not be long for India !" 
A still better relish, called cJmtney, was highly 



esteemed. Mother Nind usually asked for sugar 
and milk with her rice; but the little missionary 
liked the curry, if it was not too hot, and she could 
eat the chutney^ after she learned to take it in as 
infinitesimal quantities as freshly - grated horse- 

They were accompanied from Allahabad by one 
whom the little missionary soon named the 
"grand old man" of the North. His wife and 
another lady were at the station in lyucknow to 
receive them. As soon as their faces were recog- 
nized by Mother Nind, her heart overflowed in an 
aside to the little missionary: "The mother of our 
Woman's Foreign Missionary Society, and our 
first missionary." The "first missionary" bore 
them away at once to the Woman's College. Her 
home was in an old Indian building, with su ;h 
high ceilings and thick walls that, as they entered 
the great drawing-room, they seemed to be indde 
a church or cathedral; but a bright fire, burning 
in a grate at one end of the long room, soon gave 
them home comfort and cheer. 

The next day was filled with preparations for 
Christmas. To the younger teacher was given the 
task of making sweets, and preparing great plat- 
ters full of sandwiches; and the last thing at night, 
after the others had finished their work, the " first 
missionary" herself was found engaged in tacking 
up greens in the drawing-room and filling it with 

Christmas morning early, while it was yet dark, 


"Mother Nind and the little missionary were aroused 
by the sound of singing. The English congrega- 
tion had gathered in the drawing-room for their 
six o'clock Christmas pra3'er-meeting. This was 
a special lyucknow institution. There w^ere always 
two of them, one for the English Church and the 
other for the Hindustani Christians. At the close 
of the prayer-meeting, sandwiches and coffee were 
served, greetings were exchanged, and the people 

At nine o'clock, before the real breakfast, there 
was a preaching service in the Hindustani church; 
and at eleven, just after. Mother Nind was to preach 
to the English congregation. It was rapid work 
going from one meeting to another, with a little 
breakfast in between; and she was quite too tired 
in the afternoon to accept an invitation to a Christ- 
mas-tree at the hospital of the Church Missionary 
Society. The little missionary went, however, and 
saw the patients, who were mostly women brought 
up in the dwarfing atmosphere of the zenana, hud- 
dled about their brightly-lighted Christmas-tree, 
seeming like little children in their pleasure and 
eager desire for gifts. 

In the evening, the Lucknow missionaries and 
their friends, twenty-seven of them, gathered about 
one board for their Christmas feast. While they 
were partaking of a dinner which would have 
graced a festive occasion in any land, one of the 
guests said to another, " Do you realize that we are 
eating in a tomb?" "Yes," he added, "this is a 





Mohammedan's tomb, and the man who owned it 
is buried in the next room. It 's a fine building 
though, and makes the best missionary residence 
in Lucknow." 

It was a fine building, and the outer courts of 
the tomb had been so tastily converted into a din- 
ing-room, with a few other necessary living rooms, 
that no one would have suspected its original design. 

The next day the travelers were entertained at 
the home of the " Mother of the Woman's For- 
eign Missionary Society." She showed them a 
precious little album, which contained photo- 
graphs of the women who, with her, on a certain 
rainy day in Boston, started the organization, 
which they had lived to see grow beyond their 
wildest expectations. It was like looking at a 
tiny mustard-seed after beholding the great tree 
in whose branches they had so often lodged; and 
their hearts were filled with praise as they drove 
away at night, trying in vain to keep their gari 
clOvSed against the evening smoke, which a heavy 
dew had made unusually dense. 

They had other things to think of that night ; 
for during the day they had been entertained by 
a drive about the city, which gave them glimpses 
of three of its attractions — the residency, the mu- 
seum, and the public gardens. 

The gardens were beautiful in tropical glory, 
in spite of the long drought; the museum was a 
study in the life and art of Oude and the sur- 
rounding provinces; and the residency was an in- 


spiration, because of the thrilling story written 
all over its ruined walls. Each crumbling tower 
and jagged hole told of rebellion; each waving 
flag, of victory; each clambering vine, of peace! 
Each ■ sheltered grave in its lovely grounds spoke 
of wounds, of disease, of famine; each monu- 
ment, of heroism, of faithfulness, of martyrdom; 
but it was left for one underground room to tell 
the saddest tale of all — the tale of patient waiting. 
During the long, weary siege of Eucknow, this 
dungeon-like place was the only refuge for the Eng- 
lish women and children; and within its not alto- 
gether safe walls, they were kept, two hundred and 
seventy-five in all, for six months, unable to fight — 
waiting, simply waiting for release or death. 

The missionaries, who were planning Mother 
Nind's time for her, said she must see the first In- 
dustrial Exhibition of the Christian Association 
at Cawnpore. They had passed Cawnpore on the 
way to Lucknow; but it was only a short journey, 
and there were many Eucknow missionaries going 
with them to attend the Convention. They trav- 
eled in what was known as an intermediate com- 
partment. On Indian railways, caste distinctions 
are indicated, not only by first-class, second-class, 
and third-class compartments, but there are ladies' 
reserves, zenana carriages, carriages for soldiers, 
and, between the second and third-class, an inter- 
mediate compartment. Theirs was still further 
distinguished by a ticket marked, "For Europeans 


This helped them to understand an anecdote 
told by the " grand old man" at the Convention. 

"An Indian dressed in European clothes, was 
seated in a railway carriage marked * For Euro- 
peans Only.' A Scotch woman came along, took a 
good look at him ; then read aloud ' For Europeans 
Only,' and, turning to him again, called out, 'Come 
oot o' that!' Now," continued the speaker to his 
audience of young Indian Christians, who were in- 
clined to think of European dress and customs as 
a small boy thinks of the first suit that • is to dis- 
tinguish him from a girl, " do n't be ashamed of 
being an Indian ! Wear a European coat if you 
like, but do n't think of that as making you a Eu- 

Then he told the story of a young Indian who 
not only pretended to be a European, but made 
his father serve as his coolie, until one of his 
aroused hearers expressed the feeling of all in 
a cry of "Shame !" 

Several of the Indian members of the Associa- 
tion gave addresses, some of them in good English, 
with only now and then a slip in pronunciation, or 
an amusing order like " Open your ears and hear 

The industrial exhibits were disappointing in 
containing very little purely native work, but were 
good copies of European needlework, embroidery, 
carpentry, bookbinding, leather work, etc. Besides 
the medals and prizes awarded to exhibitors, two 
others were offered to winners of scholastic 


honors. The recipient of one of these was a 
teacher in the Woman's College at Lucknow, 
Miss Lilivata Singh, the first woman to take the 
M. A. degree at the Allahabad University. 

It was an exciting time for the native Chris- 
tians in Cawnpore, as some of them were also say- 
ing farewell to Dr. and Mrs. H., who had been for 
many years their special friends and care-takers. 
They made speeches to them, and sang songs for 
them ; they put their gift of an Indian coat on the 
Doctor, and clasped a showy chain of silver about 
the neck of Mrs. H., besides adorning her with 
garlands of flowers ; and at the last they brought 
out refreshments, which consisted of cups of strong 
tea and curious cakes, fried in grease ; not nearly 
so palatable as Japanese sweets, the little mission- 
ary declared. 

The girls' high school was closed for the holi- 
days; so Mother Nind and the little missionary saw 
only the few boarders whose homes were too dis- 
tant for them to visit. One of them was a little 
girl, named Isabella, who had a very hot temper. 
Quite recently she had " given her heart to Jesus," 
and had seemed much improved ; but on one of the 
idle days, when " Satan finds some mischief still," 
another girl had struck her. Instantly the old fiery 
temper was aroused, and when their teacher ap- 
peared she found them angrily at work pulling 
out each other's hair. This suggested their pun- 
ishment, which consisted in cutting off all their 
hair and sending them to bed ; and when the vis- 


itors were taken through the long dormitory, there 
were the two shamed children lying on their beds 
in broad daylight, their hair in two small heaps on 
the floor. 

" The Eurasian children are so passionate ! I 
think that good Christian schools are needed for 
them quite as much as for the natives," said the 
teacher, and her guests assented. 

"I have just an hour in which to take you to 
the cemetery, Memorial Well, Memorial Church, 
and Massacre Ghat; but I think I can manage it." 
This remark came later in the day, as they were re- 
turning from the closing session of the Convention ; 
-^nd she did manage it — the bright, wide-awake 
young missionary, who had been looking and longing 
for Mother Nind even before she was laid aside for 
many weary months with fever, not knowing 
whether it was death in India or return to Amer- 
ica that the I^ord had in store for her. There was 
just one grave, a missionary's lonely grave, which 
attracted them to the cemetery ; and standing by 
it they recounted its story once more. " She was 
taken ill at the dinner-table one night, and the 
next evening her body lay here." 

They found Memorial Well surrounded by a 
beautiful park, into which none but Europeans are 
ever allowed to enter. A silent white angel, with 
folded wings, marks the spot where Havelock and 
his soldiers found the mangled bodies of massa- 
cred English women and children, many dead, 
others still breathing; and inclosing the well is an 


imposing, handsomely-carved wall of stone. As 
they were descending the steps of the inclosure, 
Mother Nind's heart turned from sympathy for the 
dead to interest in the living ; and she said to the 
young, soldier who was serving as their guide, "Are 
you a Christian soldier?" 

He looked embarrassed, but finally stammered 
out, "That's a hard question to answer!" 

" If you 're not, you ought to be," she con- 

" That 's what my old father used to tell me !" he 

"And now this old mother tells you !" said she. 

" It 's too hard work to live a Christian life in 
the service. I try to do the best I can," he argued. 

"But it isn't easy to do the best you can, with- 
out the lyord to help you," she urged. 

There was a pause, as a good Spirit, fairer and 
holier than the one over the well, strove within ; 
then in an ordinary tone he said : 

"Would you like to see the place where the 
house stood, in which the massacre occurred? 
There it is !" 

Memorial Church was full of tablets to the 
memory of those who lost their lives in the mu- 
tiny; and lest some should come as sight-seers 
rather than worshipers, a quaint notice had been 
placed at the entrance: "Whoever thou art that 
enterest this church, leave it not without one 
prayer to God for thyself, for those who minister, 
and those who worship here," 


The last quarter of the hour found them undei 
the widespreading tree which still shelters a lit- 
tle Hindoo temple at "Massacre Ghat!" The 
river looked so quiet and peaceful that, like all 
other visitors, they found it difficult to imagine the 
firing of guns and the cries of the wounded which 
had once echoed over its surface. " It was just here 
that the English embarked under promise of safe 
conduct to Allahabad; but no sooner were their 
boats out in the middle of the river than they were 
fired upon by Sepoys from the shore, and all who 
were not killed were brought back for confinement 
and final massacre at the well," explained the his- 
torian of the party. 

The next morning, though it was Sunday, their 
thoughts were again turned to the mutiny. 

Of the many soldiers stationed at Cawnpore, 
fully three hundred were Nonconformists to the 
Church of England; so these had special parade 
service of their own. This service was in charge 
at the time of one of the Methodist missionaries, 
who gave Mother Nind and the little missionary a 
cordial invitation to be present. The soldiers be- 
longed to the Highland Light Infantry, often 
spoken of as the " crack regiment " of India, and 
presented a fine appearance as they marched into 
church in plaids and kilts. Their guns made a great 
clattering, as they were deposited in the pews, 
each at its owner's right hand, in readiness for in- 
stant service. This was a lesson learned through 
the mutiny, as the first attack made by the rebels 


was on soldiers who were attending church with- 
out their guns, at Meerut. Their own band fur- 
nished music for them; and they all sang as only a 
lifetime of Church-going could make them sing. 
In the evening those who were off duty were free 
to go to church where they pleased; so many of 
them were in the habit of following their morning 
preacher to his own church. This gave Mother 
Nind an opportunity of talking to them ; and re- 
membering her own husband's life as a soldier, she 
spoke impressively from a heart full of sympa- 
thy and love. 

New- Year's eve, they were in Lucknow, watch- 
ing the " first missionary " prepare the dining-room 
for a watch-night service. This time she had the 
Hindustani Christians, with a few missionaries, 
while the English Christians met elsewhere. 

On New-Year's day the Sunday-schools, native 
and English, had their annual Christmas fete to- 
gether. A large tent had been erected in the park, 
with benches at one end for the English school and 
a platform for the speakers. The various native 
schools came marching into the park, each headed 
by a band of music and bearing aloft a distin- 
guishing banner. They were seated on the ground 
facing the speakers, and the English school in 
groups, still marked by the banners. It was a 
great company, and not a woman or even a little 
girl among them. They ranged from small boys 
to grown men, and numbered many more Hindoos 
and Mohammedans than Christians; but all were 


faithful students of the Bible, and had come to re- 
ceive prizes for good standing in the annual exam- 
ination. Before the prizes were distributed, not 
only were speeches made to them, but each school 
contributed something to the exercises in the way 
of readings, or recitations, or songs, until the 
whole audience grew a little weary. Then the 
"grand old man " stepped to the front, and asked 
them "hit and miss" questions on the Sunday- 
school lessons of the year. At once every face 
grew bright and animated, and the answers poured 
forth as volubly and readily as the questions. The 
prizes, of which one school received fifty, were 
books and bottles of ink for the older ones, and 
toys for the younger. The last awards were a few 
pice to each one, that he might buy his own re- 
frCvShments; for, while these curious believers in 
caste could study the foreigner's Bible and receive 
gifts from his hands, they did not like to have him 
touch their food. While the English children were 
still partaking of sandwiches, cakes, and coffee, the 
Indians had satisfied their simple desires, and were 
enjoying the swing of Ferris wheels and merry-go- 
rounds, their black eyes sparkling with fun, and 
their voices mingling strange calls and shouts with 
peals of laughter. 

Two days later, another tent was erected in a se- 
cluded place on Mission grounds, and our travelers 
were invited to a tamasha (festival) for women and 
girls. It was a true zenana party, not a man or 
boy admitted. In all her travels in the East, 



Mother Nind had not seen before such a brilliant 
array of jewels and bright colors, orange, red, and 
purple predominating. How she washed her grand- 
children could see the pretty sight ! As at the 
other tamasha, a table in front was loaded with 
prizes ; for these, also, had been through examina- 

They sang and recited the various passages of 
Scripture which they had laboriously committed 
during the year, but showed in every move how 
little they knew of public gatherings and the order 
to be observed therein. As soon as the exercises 
were finished and all the prizes of bright, brass 
drinking-cups and new chuddars (veils or shawls 
required to be worn over the head or shoulders) 
bestowed, they filed slowly out of the tent, each re- 
ceiving at the entrance, from native hands, a pack- 
age of mithai (native sweets) wrapped in a leaf. 

While these January days were bright and 
sunny, making outdoor life agreeable, there was a 
decided chilliness in the air, morning and evening, 
within the thick walls of the woman's college, built 
purposely to exclude the heat. How the young 
missionary, fresh from the steam-heated houses of 
America, shivered as she came to six o'clock choti 
hazri in the great dining-room, with a thick cape 
about her shoulders ! And, immediately after, she 
chose the sunniest corner of the veranda for her 
daily lesson from her Hindustani padre (teacher). 

"You wouldn't mind the cold if 3^011 would 
take a shower-bath every morning," one of the 


older missionaries said to her. ''After my bath 
and a run in the yard, it does n't seem a bit cold 
to me." 

Early each morning the bhesti (water-carrier) 
made a tour of the bath-rooms, filling the jars with 
fresh water from his huge leather bag, which, when 
distended, made a perfect image of the animal that 
it once covered. This freshly- drawn water made a 
pleasant, invigorating shower; but O, the chill 
♦"hat came from using water that had stood in the 
jar all night ! 

Even at the "big breakfast" hour the air out 
of the sun was cold ; and the food, which had such 
long journeys to take from an outside kitchen, was 
kept warm by means of double plates, with a reser- 
voir in the lower part for hot water. 

In the evening all were glad to sit close to the 
cheery blaze in the drawing-room grate. As they 
sat there after dinner one night, apparently off 
duty, the little missionary was emboldened to ask a 
favor. " I bought a sari in Jubbulpur, thinking that 
I could use it for a sheet while I am in India, and 
when I get home have it for an Indian costume. 
Will some one please show me how to put it on?" 
One of the teachers quickly stepped forward and 
undertook to drape the long white sheet, whose 
one bit of color was an orange stripe in the bor- 
der; but came out with two or three yards left 
over. She tried again ; then some one else tried. 
"There are so many different kinds of sari,'' they 
said, in explanation of their failure. " This is 


much longer than the Bengali sari ; and the chud- 
dar, of course, is worn here." So the little mis- 
sionary put away the sari, concluding that the 
Indian dress, if "only a strip of cloth," was not, 
after all, so simple a costume as it seemed. 








"Thk elephant is here!" 
Mother Nind was resting, late 
in the afternoon, after a fatiguing 
day, and she hesitated to exchange her comfortable 
bed for an elephant's back. But one of the mission- 
aries was waiting in the veranda with her camera ; so, 
quickly dressing, she was out, entering into the fun 
with the youngest and gayest. The elephant was 
kneeling to bring the ladder, which was suspended 
from his back, within a step of the ground. All 
who were going to ride were told to "hurry up, as 
it makes him cross to kneel long." When they 
were in their places — three on one side and two on 
the other — the command was given to the great 
creature to rise. This caused some screaming on 
top, as the riders slid about the howdah, and clutched 
each other in the vain effort to keep their places. 
But as soon as he was well up, equilibrium was 
restored, and they were ready for the picture. 
Then, with slow, heavy tread, he moved down the 
road, through the college grounds and out into the 
city streets. His driver was a turbaned, half-naked 


coolie, who sat on the elephant's head, guiding him 
with his toes, and an iron prod, which seemed to 
answer for a whip. At last they entered an exten- 
sive courtyard, surrounded by buildings. " This 
was the palace of the King of Oude," said one of 
the riders. " That building near the center was 
the place where he received his wives (he had four 
hundred in all). Now it is often used for Chris- 
tian gatherings." 

On the elephant strode, each long, slow step 
taking them over the ground as rapidly as the 
swifter pace of many a smaller animal. It stopped 
in front of the Deaconess Home, and knelt again 
to let them off. The Deaconess Home was the 
house in the tomb, where Mother Nind had eaten 
her Christmas dinner. She wanted to go over the 
house and see the additions that had been built in the 
rear for native dormitories. Very simple they- were, 
each with its low charpoi, and a place in the stones 
outside where the occupants could do their own 
cooking ! Though there were few native women as 
yet who could be trained into deaconesses, there 
were many who needed a home — the tried and 
tempted ; the afflicted and distressed ; the poor and 
those who had been driven from their houses for 
Jesus' sake. As they walked down the long veranda, 
the matron paused before one of these — a poor, 
blind paralytic — and remarked: "That woman 
said such a sweet thing the other day. It was this : 
' When I open my eyes in heaven, the first thing 
I shall see will be Jesus.' " 


It was growing dark ; still Mother Nind lin- 
gered to say a few cheering words to her before 
passing on to other duties. 

Everywhere she went there was so much to see 
and say that, she remarked to the "grand old man" 
one day, she could find no time to answer her let- 

"Let me send a student from our class in type- 
writing and stenography at the boys' college to 
help you," he said. " I know one very well, as he is 
our cook's son." 

He came the next morning. It took only two 
hours to dictate answers to the bundle of letters 
that troubled her so ; and at night the big bundle 
was replaced by a pile of carefully executed, type- 
written pages. This gave her a little leisure for 
her neglected note-book. "I can not recall the 
text of the bishop's sermon at Jubbulpur. What 
do you suppose it was?" she said to his sister, as 
she mentioned some of the illustrations. 

"O, James has many texts," she replied; "but 
it 's all one sermon." 

The little missionary looked up in surprise. A 
bishop and only one sermon ! " How unjust sisters 
always are !" she thought. But she did not know, 
the "little bishop of India " did not understand, the 
secrets of his leadership. Later she learned that 
there is nothing to inspire the general himself and 
every soldier in the line, like the cry, " The com- 
mander-in-chief is with us !" and she understood 
why he should weave in and out of every sermon 


the thought of Immanuel, until his hearers knew 
full well what was coming ; yet the more they heard 
the more they were thrilled and spurred on to vic- 

In her first drive about lyucknow, nothing had 
been pointed out to Mother Nind with greater 
pride than "Our Methodist Publishing-house." It 
was a two-story building, free from debt, and she 
agreed with the missionaries that it was a great 
achievement. But she understood it better when 
she went inside, and saw its presses busily engaged 
in turning off religious literature in two strange 
languages. A Sunday-school paper was taken from 
one of them, and handed to her. It was printed in 
Hindi, each character curiously marked at the top 
by a straight, horizontal bar. '' We can not make 
the Urdu character into tj^pe at all, it contains so 
many dots and broken circles. That has to be 
lithographed," her guide explained, as he took her 
on to show her some of the work. She thought of 
the other publishing-houses she had seen; and 
chief among them that of her son-in-law in Foo- 
chow. On that last morning he had taken her over 
the establishment, and shown her every phase of 
the work ; but nothing had interested her like the 
great cases of type, made to accommodate the 
thousands of characters contained in the Chinese 
alphabet. The characters most used were placed 
near together; still the typesetter had to make 
many a journey up and down, in front of his long 
case, searching for all that were needed in a given 


page. And here in Lucknow was a character so cu- 
rious that it could not be put in type at all ! How 
easy the home printer's work seemed now, with 
only twenty -six letters to manipulate ! 

Much to her regret, she had to leave I^ucknow 
before the beginning of the new term at the 
Woman's College. She had wanted to see the 
workings of this experiment to bring an advanced 
education within reach of the women in India. It 
was fitting that it should be the inspiration of their 
"first missionary;" but how sorry she was that 
the burden of so many first things should fall upon 

A new building, containing chapel and dormi- 
tories for the collegiate department, was approach- 
ing completion. " It is costing so much more than 
I had any reason to expect," she confided to 
Mother Nind, " that I fear I shall be just where I 
have always told our younger missionaries never 
to get — in debt ! I am beginning to feel burdened 
by the prospect." 

Many such a tale of anxiety and care had been 
poured into Mother Nind's symathizing ears, and 
there were many yet for her to hear. Often at 
night the responsibilities carried by her missionary 
daughters weighed upon her until sleep became a 
servant that would not hasten at her bidding. 
Letters multiplied, appeals grew more forcible, and 
her busy brain was ever cogitating plans to relieve 
the constant pressure for more workers and more 


A Sitapur missionarj^ was in Lucknow, to bear 
her awa}' for the feAv da3^s that intervened before 
the opening of the North India Conference at 
Bareilly. " I like that," said Mother Nind, as she 
saw -her new hostess selecting tracts to give to 
people at the railway stations along the way. At 
one station, they met a native pastor who had come 
to see Mother Nind for the few moments while the 
train waited, and to send a message through her to 
the dearl^'-loved missionar}^ in America who had 
been the means of his conversion. 

There were two native schools in Sitapur, one 
for bo3^s and the other for girls. Though they 
were quite a distance apart, until a church could be 
built the girls were all marched to the boys' school 
for one Sunday service, and the boys to the girls' 
school for the other. 

The Government was building a church, which 
will soon be completed ; but as that was intended 
onl}^ for English soldiers, the missionaries were 
busy also putting up a Butler chapel for the native 
Christians. Mother Nind well remembered Dr. 
Butler's first pleas for the fund, which was now on 
interest, aiding in the erection of chapels all over 
India; and the sight of each one thrilled her like 
meeting with a friend whom she had loved in 
former years. 

The bread she had cast upon waters all seemed 
coming back. Her host reminded her one day of 
a debt of gratitude which he personally ow^ed to 
her. He was in the home-land on furlough, pre- 


paring to return to India. Mission funds were so 
low that he had secured his passage with only 
steerage accommodations. But Mother Nind hap- 
pened to hear of his plans, and at once said to 
some of her friends : " Now, it 's too bad to let this 
brother go steerage. lyCt 's take up a collection, 
and send him first-class." 

''And you did take up a collection," he added, 
" and sent me off in good shape, giving me letters of 
introduction to your friends in England, wdth whom 
I spent three most happy weeks, resting and sight- 

Though the work in Sitapur seemed yet in its 
infancy, it could boast of two auxiliaries of the 
Woman's Foreign Missionary Societ}^ The women 
of the Church were united in one, and the other 
was made up of the older members of the Girls' 
School. One morning, long before breakfast, Mother 
Nind was invited to meet both auxiliaries in a union 
meeting. The secretaries of the two societies sat 
at a table in front, each with her book open before 
her. As soon as the introductory hymn and prayer 
were finished, the older secretary arose to call the 
roll of the society. Each member responded by 
stepping forward to deposit her monthly offering, 
which seldom exceeded two or three pice, on the 
table before the secretary. 

Then the other secretary followed with her roll- 
call. This was a feature of the meeting which 
Mother Nind could not fail to applaud, and she was 
also much pleased with the singing. 


" Who taught these girls to sing so sweetly?" she 

''Our best teacher," was the reply. "She is a 
Eurasian girl, but well educated and very clever. 
She can teach a class in the main room, and keep 
all the classes in the adjoining room quiet, easier 
than a native woman can manage one little class." 

Another namesake was added, while she was in 
Sitapur, to an already long list of Mary C. Ninds. 
It was the new-born daughter of one of the pastor- 
teachers, and she was taken to call at the little, low 
mud house where it lay. Kneeling in the one dark, 
room of the hut (no way of admitting light except 
through the door), she thanked God that, poor as 
it was, this Indian babe had been born into a Chris- 
tian home. 

On her last morning in Sitapur, as she was 
busily writing, she was interrupted by the sound 
of music, and looked up to see the boys and girls 
of the two boarding-schools marching toward the 
house. They had come to make their salaams for 
her visit ; and after singing the popular, stirring 
bhajan ^''Jai Prabhu Yishiu,''^ departed. 

It was a happy coincidence that led her to 
Bareilly, the birthplace of Methodist missions in 
India, for the annual session of its largest and oldest 
Conference, the one known as the North India 
Conference. Four years before, it had been divided 
to form the Northwest Conference ; and in that 
short time it had gained all that had been lost by 
division. The gain had been entirely in native 


preachers, as the number of American missionaries 
was growing less. "They must increase, while we 
decrease," quoted the bishop, who, in humility, is 
another John the Baptist, preparing the way for 
those who shall do the greater works. 

He spoke easily to the Conference in both Eng- 
lish and Hindustani, doing away with the inter- 
preter, whom Mother Nind had become accustomed 
to see as the bishop's right-hand man in Conferences 
farther east. When the roll was called, the minis- 
ters were amused to hear one of the native preachers 
respond to the name "Seneca Falls." "He was 
supported by a Church at Seneca Falls, and so he 
was given that name," explained a missionary from 
that locality. Then she pointed out Joel Janvier, 
grown blind and old, but forever honored as Dr. 
Butler's devoted helper at the time of the mutiny, 
and the first native preacher of the Methodist 
Church in India. 

Mother Nind was in "the place of her first love." 
Nearly twenty-five years before, one of the first 
group of girls adopted in the Bareilly Orphanage 
had been given her name, and it was here where the 
first medical missionary of her Society had appealed 
to a native prince for land upon which to build a 
hospital. It made her happy to go through this 
hospital, and think of all the neglected women to 
whom it had brought healing and comfort. In the 
waiting-room she saw a low stool and a few books. 
They were printed in raised characters for the 
blind ; for the native Bible-reader, who sat there 


every day, lifted sightless eyes to the waiting pa- 
tients, and taught them only through the touch of 
her skilled fingers. 

The orphanage contained over two hiindred 
girls. Some were growing into womanhood with 
a steady, reliable air, which only years of training 
could produce ; others looked so wild and restless, 
it was easy to believe that they had just been 
brought in from wretched village homes. Many 
were yet babies, laughing and crying by turns, as 
they rolled on the ground or were carried on the 
shoulders of the older girls. Mother Nind had seen 
many quaint babies since she began her travels in 
the East, and many quaint ways of carrying them. 
First came the almond-eyed baby, strapped tightly 
on the back of an older child, its little head dan- 
gling in the sun ; then the black, naked child of the 
Equator, astride it's mother's hips ; and now these 
dimpled Indian orphans, on the shoulders of women 
renowned for their erect, graceful carriage. 

During the best hours of the day, all except 
the babies were found in the school-room ; and 
how different this was from other school-rooms ! 
In Japan and China, each child had a brush and 
an ink-stone, painting his lessons on thin sheets 
of paper; while the Indian child dipped a stick, 
sharpened like a pen, into a bottle of ink, and 
wrote on a wooden slate. In some of the schools 
where Mother Nind had been, the pupils had read 
from the top down; and in those whose books 
were printed in horizontal lines there was a differ- 


ence, some reading from left to right, others from 
right to left. 

There were differences, too, in their food and 
manner of eating. In place of the rice and chop- 
sticks, these children broke off bits from their 
chapatis (large, thin wheaten cakes) with their 
fingers, dipping them into a kind of soup or gravy. 
They needed no dining-room, for the open ground 
or broad verandas furnished them with ample space 
to sit around on their feet, each with a chapati in 
one hand and a brass plate containing the soup in 
the other. "I have heard high-class natives argue 
that there is more refinement in their way of eat- 
ing with their fingers than in ours of eating with 
a knife and fork; 'for,' they say, 'we always 
wash our hands carefully before we eat, so we 
know they are clean; but you are not so sure 
about your knife and fork.' " 

This explanation came from one who had been 
in India long enough to cease to regard every fea- 
ture of its ancient civilization as barbaric; but 
slowly and surely the truth was being revealed to 
her that other than Occidental wa3^s and customs 
may be right and proper, and that those might 
safely be left untouched in their work. 

All the wheat for the chapatis was ground at 
the orphanage. One large room was set apart for 
the "grinding-room;" and the older girls had their 
regular hours, when they sat two at a stone, grind- 
ing out their daily allowance. 

During the vacation, they had taken pains with 


the decoration of their simple dormitories. Christ- 
mas cards from America covered most of the walls; 
and in one dormitory the visitors were pleased to 
be suddenly confronted by the smiling face of Mrs. 

They had just heard an interesting discussion, 
in the Woman's Conference, on the subject of 
Christmas boxes. One missionary from the hills 
complained that she had been obliged to pay a 
large sum of money to a relay of coolies for bringing 
a Christmas box to her from the nearest railway 
station in the plains, and then found that it con- 
tained only English books and papers, which were 
of no use there, as she was engaged in native work. 

Another told of the duty she had been obliged 
to pay because of high appraisals, even old adver- 
tising cards given a commercial value, and rated at 
a cent apiece. She added that many people at 
home did not seem to know that freight at sea 
was charged according to bulk, not weight; for 
they used boxes much larger than necessary, fill- 
ing in the spaces with waste paper, or even empty 
pasteboard boxes. 

Mother Nind was astonished to find that the 
course of true love, as expressed in Christmas 
boxes, should so often, and from so many causes, 
fail to run smoothly, and made a careful note of 
these points for future use in missionary addresses. 

The North India Woman's Conference con- 
tained so many members, that the reports of the 
year's work were not read at the meetings, only 


presented for publication. Some came from dis- 
tant, lonely stations, with more of self-sacrifice 
wrapped up in their brief lines than many people 
dream of through an entire existence. One was 
from dear Mary Reed, the brave, patient mission- 
ary to the lepers of Pithoragarh, whose own taint 
of leprosy acquired in work elsewhere had led 
her to this special field and separated her entirely 
from other workers. Her pen seemed dipped in 
tears, not on her own account, but for the enemy 
who had been busy sowing tares in her little field, 
endeavoring to bring even this work to naught. 

Dr. Sheldon, w^orking on the distant borders of 
Thibet, was another member who could not be 
present, but, by absence, proved her love and 

One morning, Mother Nind went early to the 
home where the daily sessions of the Conference 
were held, to see the school that was taught on 
the back veranda. It was a school for women, 
wives of the native preachers who belonged to 
the Bareill}^ training class. A small part of the 
Compound was set off for the use of these 
preachers and their wives; and there the}^ lived 
simply, as in their own homes, while they studied 
and prepared for their future work. 

The closing da}^ of the Conference came. The 
Woman's Conference had already adjourned, and 
its members were seated with the preachers and 
other missionaries, waiting to hear the appoint- 
ments. The Finance Committee had been hard at 



work through the busy six days' session, trying to 
make the appropriations fit the work (they could not 
consent to fit the work to the appropriations); but 
had only failure to report. It was an exigency 
that required unusual and adroit management ^ 
and where could it receive this better than at the 
hands of -the little bishop ! In the same matter- 
of-fact tone in which he announced the usual ap- 
pointments, he declared six of the missionaries of 
the Conference who were on furlough, some about 
to leave, others to return, to be effective at home, 
thus depriving them of their connection with the 
Conference, and saving their salaries to apply to 
native work. 

"The people at home can not see our native 
preachers and their work," he argued. "But they 
can see the missionaries; and if they find there is 
not enough money to send them back, they may 
be aroused to give us what we need." 

The following day. Mother Nind packed her be- 
longings again, and started out on a novel journey. 
After two or three hours of railway travel, she was 
seated in a tonga (a two-wheeled vehicle, with a 
white top or hood, its two seats arranged back to 
back), and driven over a steep, winding road, so 
taxing to the horses that they had to be changed 
every four miles. A heavy iron harness, however, 
gave the driver such a sense of security that he 
drove as furiously. Mother Nind declared, as his 
famous predecessor in the days of Blisha. But 
at last they came to a place where the strongest 




























harness and the most furious driving were of no 
avail. There Mother Nind was transferred to the 
curious, boat-shaped dandi, and borne on the 
shoulders of six men the remaining three miles 
of the journey to Naini Tal. 

Years before, she had known of Naini Tal as 
Dr. Butler's place of refuge during the days of the 
rebellion. She remembered the sheep-house which 
he converted into a temporary meeting-place, and 
thus became the first Methodist Church in India. 
In later years a sanitarium was erected here for 
all the missionaries, who, exhausted by the heat of 
the plains, needed the tonic of its bracing moun- 
tain air. And gradually there had grown up, also, 
a large flourishing school for English-speaking 
girls. Though started and maintained by repre- 
sentatives of the Woman's Foreign Missionary So- 
ciety, Government grants and tuitions of the better 
class students had rendered it quite independ- 
ent. Its fine buildings, beautiful garden, various 
departments of work, with a separate hall for mu- 
sic, ten pianos, and a music-teacher fresh from 
America, made it a not unworthy namesake of the 
more famous Wellesley College for American 

And such a setting as it had ! All the build- 
ings in Naini Tal were ranged in a semicircle on 
the mountain-side, step above step, terrace above 
terrace, and, beyond all, the snowy peaks of the 
Himalayas, while beneath lay a charming little 
lake, reflecting more constant, beautiful pictures 


than the fairest lady's mirror. Mother Nind had 
seen many a snow-capped mountain, many a crystal 
lake. She had seen them together, and had often 
admired the glistening majesty of the one, and the 
transparent peace of the other. But when she had 
gazed above, and below, and around, at Naini Tal, 
other beautiful scenes faded by comparison, and 
she gave to this her highest praise. *' The most 
lovely spot on earth," she called it; and, when she 
came down from "Snow Seat," where she had gone 
for a better view of the heights, she might have 
added, " most heavenly;" for she felt like one who 
had seen a vision of angels. 

A dandi carried her all the way down the 
mountain to the railway station, and she was soon 
back in Bareilly, ready for another trip. What 
contrasts there were in mission work and surround- 
ings ! Now she was to visit a little lone mission- 
ary engaged in native work, and situated much like 
the other little missionary whom she had visited 
in Hirosaki. On the journey to Bubaon, made 
partly by rail, and partly by tuin-ium, she stopped 
at a little place called Aoula. There, early in the 
morning, she was entertained to choti hazri in a 
native pastor's house. He had been one of the for- 
tunate preachers who had found their wives in the 
Bareilly Orphanage ; and his home, though very 
poor, was spotlessly neat and clean. That evening 
in Budaon she attended a meeting in one of the 
mohullas (wards), occupied by the low-caste sweep- 
ers, which helped her to understand what one of 















the missionaries had said at a Conference prayer- 
meeting. His hair was white, and his voice trem- 
bled as he told the younger missionaries his ex- 
perience : 

" I came to India, ambitious to study Eastern 
religions, and to become famed for my ability to 
dispute their subtle philosophies ; but gradually 
I have dropped a little lower and a little nearer the 
Master, until now I am content to be called the 
* Sweepers' Padre. ^ " 

They did seem the lowest of the low. Children 
at play with mud-pies were infinitely cleaner than 
they ; and their minds were so dull and apathetic that 
they could scarcely grasp the simplest teaching. 

Sunday brought Mother Nind the pleasure of 
preaching in a Butler chapel. There were several 
of these chapels in Budaon District, she learned ; 
but as the district contained seven thousand square 
miles, she thought there could not be too many. 

From Budaon she traveled in a palli gari (ox- 
cart) to Moradabad. It was the last of January ; 
still she was in time to see Christmas presents dis- 
tributed at the girls' school. 

At a prayer-meeting, which had an attendance 
of three hundred, she was impressed most of all 
with the dignity and fine presence of her inter- 
preter. What was her surprise to learn that he, 
who was head master of the Boys' School, and an 
earnest student of Greek and Hebrew, with a wife 
at the head of the Dufferin Hospital, had belonged 
to the despised sweepers' caste ! 


At a woman's meeting, her attention was called 
to an old woman, who sat with her children and 
grandchildren about her. Three generations of 
Christians they represented. What joy to see such 
a sight in a heathen land ! 

The most interesting meeting she attended, 
however, was in a weavers' mohulla. When she ar- 
rived at the mohulla, she found a mission day- 
school in session under a widespreading tree in 
the open air. The mission inspector was present, 
and sat with his children in front, while the women, 
still engaged in spinning, gathered in the rear. 
Many of them had their babies with them, on their 
hips or at their breasts ; and occasionally a man 
would slip in to form a part of this strange gath- 

But while she lingered in Moradabad, the 
Northw^est Conference, which she had planned to 
attend, was opening at Meerut. This made her a 
late arrival, though even then she was a few hours 
earlier than the little missionary, who had been up 
in the Punjab, visiting old school-friends. 

''You have missed so much," everyone said. 
" You ought to have been here to the self-support 
anniversary. Bishop W. was here, and said it 
was the most encouraging feature he had seen in 
all his tour of Eastern missions. 

"Why, what did the people bring?" asked the 
little missionary. 

" O, everything, even to pigs' bristles," was the 


lyater, a native presiding elder, whose wife was 
a Mary C. Nind from the Bareilly Orphanage, 
showed the first Mary C. Nind his annual report, 
neatly written in English. This contained a list 
ofH:he offerings toward self-support on his district. 
Besides rupees, annas, pice, and kauris (small shells 
used for money), there were gifts of " flour, grain, 
dry bread, red pepper, fowls, eggs, pigs, ponies, 
pigeons, goats, buffalo-calves, lambs, cow-calves, 
pieces of cloth, wicker baskets, winnowing fans, 
iron sieves, brooms, coats, earthen cups, and 

He not only showed his report, but he intro- 
duced her to his children, and brought out his 
training class of pastor teachers for her inspec- 
tion. Through an interpreter she asked them 
questions about their conversion ; and how pleased 
she was to have answers promptly interpreted to 
her, that would have graced any class-meeting in 
America ! 


* AilOAHR 


'' I SHOUi^D like to hear ' Jesus knows ' once more, 
as Phebe Rowe sang it in America." This was a 
request made by Mother Nind during a pause in 
the first meeting she attended of the Woman's 
Conference at Meerut. 

Phebe Rowe belonged to another despised class, 
whose mixed blood makes it abhorred of both the 
nations from which it springs. It is related of her 
that when she was first admitted to a mission school 
she seemed so awkward and dull that one teacher 
in despair remarked to another, " Whatever can we 
make of /lerf' But the I^ord had something he 
could make of her; for he had already given to 
this tall, overgrown girl a more precious birth- 


right than that of rank or position — the gift of a 
sweet, beautiful voice. 

Through the mission school she had been led 
to a consecration as deep and pure and perfect as 
that of Frances Ridley Havergal herself; and now 
no missionary, from bishop down, was more " meet 
for the Master's use " than she. 

During the Conference she occupied her own 
little tent, living by herself in the same simple 
way as when engaged in village work. Soon after 
the close, her tent, bed, and cooking utensils were 
loaded on a bullock-cart, and started off. Another 
bullock-cart was ready to carry herself, three na- 
tive Bible-women, and a missionary from the South 
who, under recent appointment to evangelistic work, 
had come North " to see how Phebe did it." 
Mother Nind and the little missionary accompa- 
nied them to their first village. The little mission- 
ary thought the bullock-cart did not bump any 
more than Wi^basha. " O, it goes well here," they 
said, "for these o^r^ piickah (properly made) roads. 
It 's when we get off on the kutchah (rude or im- 
perfect) roads, that we have our hard time." They 
had gone only a few miles when they came to a 
large village, which contained not one Christian 
hearer or inquirer. Curiosity, however, brought 
the people running to meet them, some with hands 
covered with flour, others with manure, according 
to the occupations in which they had been en- 
gaged. Phebe and her companions went through 
the village, taking advantage of open spaces to 


stop and sing and talk to the gathering crowd. If 
there was n't space enough below, some of the 
hearers climbed to the housetops and looked down, 
like Zaccheus of old. At the close of each little 
meeting, tracts and hymnals were offered for sale. 

"Why do n't you give away your tracts?" the 
little missionary asked. 

" Because, if we did, they would soak them into 
pulp and make baskets of them," replied the mis- 
sionary from the South. 

The visitors were followed to a large pepil-tree 
outside the village, where they took their stand for 
a parting song and word of exhortation. They 
were urged to stay longer, one man inviting them 
to his house for a drink of milk. But the Mem 
Sahib (Mother Nind) was tired, they said, and 
must go home to rest. Hearing this, the villagers 
said no more about their staying ; but, on the con- 
trary, politely urged them to go. 

" We are not always treated in this way," Miss 
Rowe had told Mother Nind. "Sometimes we are 
not allowed in the village at all, but are driven 
away to our cart or tent, where those who wish 
to hear must come by night secretly to inquire the 
way of life." Then they parted. Mother Nind and 
the little missionary hearing nothing more of the 
noble evangelist, until in Muttra a letter came, tell- 
ing of her narrow escape from a tiger. She was walk- 
ing directly toward him, she wrote, and would not 
have turned in time, had not the others in the cart 
noticed her danger and screamed to her to return. 


The Mem Sahib was tired, and readily accepted 
an invitation to remain in Meerut for a week's rest. 
One morning, just as she had laid out a pile of let- 
ters to be answered, her quick ear caught the sound 
of firing. It grew so loud and constant that she 
finally put away the letters, got out her big pith 
hat and covered umbrella, and started off, saying 
to the little missionary, " I must see what is going 
on." The latter followed, and soon they were in 
the midst of an exciting scene. Soldiers were run- 
ning here and there across the fields; squads of 
cavalry now and then dashed down the road ; the 
firing was rapid, and seemed to be all about them. 
Meeting at last an officer riding slowly and alone, 
they ventured to ask, " What does all this mean?" 

*' It 's a sham battle," he replied. " We are pre- 
tending to defend the treasury against an attack of 
the enemy." 

If it had been a real battle, neither he nor any 
other officer or soldier could have seemed more in 
earnest, been more dignified or alert. 

" What an impression such displays as these 
must make upon the natives ! I do n't believe 
there '11 be another mutiny," confidently asserted 
the little missionary on the way home. 

But another morning she was herself attacked 
by a whole army of rebels on wings. Unexpectedly 
she had walked into a swarm of hornets ; and be- 
fore she could defend herself, they had left their 
stings in face, hair, neck, and hands, so man}^ of 
them, that the kind friends who gathered about 


her shook their heads in alarm at possible results. 
But the lotion of chalk and vinegar, which they 
hastened to apply, relieved the pain ; and she was 
ready to laugh when Mother Nind brought out her 
Bible and read how God used hornets to drive the 
enemies of Israel from the land of Canaan. 

The nice new building in which the Conference 
had been held, sheltered also a girls' school. There 
were so many little ones that thc}^ were grouped in 
twos, each little group in charge of an older girl. 
Saturday was their bus}^ day, when, instead of 
scrubbing the floors of their dormitories with soap 
and water, like many other school-girls, they fresh- 
ened them by applying, with their fingers, a new 
coat of mud and plaster. This greatly impressed 
the little missionary ; but Mother Nind had seen it 
before in the native school for girls in Cawnpore. 
"There they made their own walks, too," she said. 

The little missionary sighed. How did she 
happen to miss that ! O, she remembered ! That 
was the day she joined a party that were going 
down the river alligator-shooting. That was inter- 
esting, too, though the part she enjoyed most was 
seeing dhobis (washermen) in groups along the 
shore, beating their clothes on stones in the river, 
some of them grooved like real washboards. 

Sunday afternoon there were two Epworth 
Leagues in session at the same time. After the 
little missionary had seen the Juniors take up their 
collection, which consisted not only oi kaw'is, but 
of marbles, buttons, and any little thing to which 


a market value could be attached, she slipped into 
the Senior I^eague meeting. Mother Nind was in 
the altar, surrounded by twenty-nine young peo- 
ple in turbans and chuddars, each praying aloud for 
forgiveness of sin and the blessing of a new heart. 
One of them had been detected a few da5^s before 
in an apparently would-be robbery ; and the others 
were no doubt in as great need of something more 
than a mere profession of Christianity. 

*' We are not satisfied to reclaim them from 
idolatry and baptize them as Christians ; but, just 
as fast as we can, we try to lead them to a real 
heart-experience, that shows itself in a changed 
life." These words came from a missionary's wife, 
who ably seconded him in his double work among 
backsliding soldiers and native Christians, young 
and untried in the faith. 

The one week of rest soon came to an end, and 
our travelers were again whizzing over a hot, dusty 
Indian railway. 

''Will you please permit my brother to come in 
here?" It was a native gentleman, in European 
dress, who spoke. 

" Yes, if he will not smoke," was Mother Nind's 
prompt reply. 

At this, the brother timidly entered the com- 
partment, and took a seat in the corner opposite 
them. They rode together until a change of cars 
put them into a compartment partl}^ filled with na- 
tive women. One of them wore the Mohammedan 
bourka (a white garment made to conceal the en- 



tire person, with tiny bits of lace sewed in over the 
eyes). As the train started, they were pleased to 
see the bourka drop, and the woman inside, now out 
of sight of any man, allow herself a little freedom 
and fresh air. 

There was a great fair in progress at Aligarh, 
their next stopping-place. A quantity of horses 
stood in rows, with their hind feet tied to stakes in 
the ground, waiting for purchasers. Not far away, 
the white tents of " Cook's Circus " gleamed in the 
sunshine. A few booths contained the real fair, 
which was an exhibit of cloths, earrings, brass- 
work, and pottery ; and leading to these were rows 
of shops, some filled with brass drinking-cups and 
plates ; some, again, gay with bright-colored prints ; 
others presenting a tempting display of wiithai. 

In one of the shops sat a little boy whose face 
was blossomed out with small-pox and black with 
flies ; yet none of the crowd seemed to mind. 

The fair was next the Mission Compound ; so 
the missionaries and their guests could not well 
escape its sights and sounds. One of the mission- 
aries, with his native helpers, made repeated ex- 
cursions into the crowd, for the sake of distributing 
tracts and improving any opportunity that offered 
of talking to the people ; and over the Mission 
Compound, above all other sounds, there rang out 
each day the Arthur Potts memorial bell, calling 
Christian girls to their class-rooms, to their Bpworth 
lyeague pra^^er-meeting, to Sunday-school, and to 
public worship. 


As Mother Nind traveled through the East, her 
whole course had seemed strewn with memorials — 
memorial schools, memorial churches, memorial 
halls, memorial institutes ; but among them all, 
there was not one that appealed to her like this 
little bell in Aligarh, given in memory of one child, 
but representing the love of others and the grief 
of many a Rachel. 

In each mission station she visited there were 
always two tours for her to make. One was a tour 
of the schools, the churches, the hospitals, that she 
might have a glimpse of the aggressive work that 
had been undertaken; the other was a trip to the 
temples and bathing-places, the homes and haunts 
of the people, that she might understand the nature 
of the opposing forces. One of the enemy's strong- 
holds in Aligarh was a Mohammedan college, con- 
taining five or six hundred students. The work 
seemed going on much as in other colleges ; the 
rooms of the students looked quite as neat and 
orderly as those of any students; and two large 
classes in the courtyard engaged, one in calis- 
thenics, and the other in a military drill, showed 
that physical training was not neglected. But a 
mosque, in course of erection on the campus, led 
the visitors to ask some questions about the relig- 
ious element in the curriculum. 

"How many times a day do the students say 
their prayers?" 

" They ought to say them five times a day, but 
many are too busy." 


This from a student who felt a little indebted to 
the missionaries for his knowledge of English. 

A little more questioning, and he replied : 

'■ If the}- do not say them twice a da}*, they are 

From the college to a mosque in another part 
of the cits'! The steps were covered with filthy 
beggars, who go about from place to place like a 
band of gypsies, and form one of the most repulsive 
castes in India. 

**^Tiat a good advertisement for heathenism!" 
suggested Mother Xind. *' That 's just what it does 
for them!"" 

It was not the hour of prayers; so the praying 
places, marked out in the pavement in front of the 
"holy niche,'" were all unoccupied. 

The next place visited was a Hindoo temple. 
They did not want to take off their shoes ; so could 
onh' stand at the door and look in. Most of the 
worshipers seemed to be women. Seated behind a 
hdimhoo purdah (curtain or screen), they were recit- 
ing, after the priests, portions of the Shastras. The 
idol above them was black, representing Parasnath, 
the god of wealth. 

Across the road from the temple was the home 
of one of the cit}' officials. 

" Those images in the wall around his grounds 
are all idols," the}- were told. 

^Nlonke^-s were climbing over the walls and up 
the trees ; and among the passers-by were men who 
wore a strangel}^ repulsive look because of signs 


in colors that had been smeared on their foreheads 
by the priests, as an evidence of their holiness. 

" It 's the mark of the beast in their frrtht^is " 
indioTiantlv exclaimed Mother Xind. 

A railroad journey of three houi^ brought them 
with a jerk, which was the usual announcement of 
a station, in front of an unusual view. The peace- 
fttl waters of the broad Jumna lay before then 
and rising fron the err she shore hi shining 
white terraces were the square, flat-roofed houses 
of Muttra, their regularity harmoniously broken by 
the domes and towers of numerous mosques and 
temples. Close to the river, at intervals, were 
broad flights of steps, ni.trking the bathing gh^ts 
where the people not only perfom their rehgious 
ablutions, but stand to feed the ' s^tcrec" turtles 
of the river, and at evening time set out rows of 
httle tapers to light the spirits of the dead down 
the "holy" stream. 

A gariy whose every wheel and shtitter rattled 
more than those of any gari they had yet tried, 
carried them over smooth. English-made roads to 
another Deaconess Home. Its superintendent had 
recently received a large inheritance, which was 
already as fuUy consecrated to the cause of Indian 
missions .is she had ever been. Through her lib- 
erality*, one overworked missionarv- had a s:en:g:- 
: :her to assist her; another, who was conivr hi 
to do much traveling over bad roads, received :. : : : > 
fortable carriage : several missionaries were 111.1 he 
independent of the Missionary Society- for their 


support, and the work all about was eased and 
lightened. She herself, however, lived and dressed 
as simply as the poorest teacher or boarder in the 
Home, and would have been the last one to mur- 
mur over coarse bread, or a poor quality of meat, 
or the monotony of always wearing the same 

Of the many branches of work radiating from 
the Deaconess Home, Mother Nind and the little 
missionary thought that they would like to try 
zenana-visiting. In the same rattling gari that 
brought them from the station, they drove with 
one of the workers into the city, and along its 
streets, until she said, " We '11 leave the gari here, 
and walk the rest of the wa}^" Climbing a steep 
hill, they came to a home of the wealthier class, 
and asked for admittance. It was a regularly-vis- 
ited zenana, and they were expected on that par- 
ticular morning ; so the door was soon opened, and 
they were ushered up-stairs. The wife and her 
mother-in-law were waiting to receive them, the 
younger woman dressed in a brilliant, rose-colored 
costume, edged with gold embroidery. Her bare 
arms were loaded with bracelets and armlets, her 
ears weighed down with rings, and such heavy 
anklets fell about her feet that, every time she 
stepped across the floor, they clanked like a pris- 
oner's chain. She read a little, to show what she 
had learned in these visits, and brought out a piece 
of embroidery which also the zenana visitor had 
taught her to do. It was not finished, and sadly 


rumpled and soiled ; yet, like any child, she wanted 
to be taught something new. The visitors looked 
in pity upon this typical Indian woman, a prisoner 
both in mind and body, and wondered what she 
would do if she were to be set at liberty. Would 
she not, like a little bird who has always been 
caged and knows no other home, come fluttering 
back to the shelter of her prison bars again ? 

The next zenana contained more women. They 
gathered around Mother Nind, and eagerly studied 
this new face, finally exclaiming, *' How white 
and beautiful she is !" They had all decorated 
themselves as much as possible with bracelets and 
anklets, with earrings and nose-jewels, with rings 
on their fingers and literal bells on their toes. A 
monkey had coveted and plucked a bright jewel 
from the nose of one of the women ; but by the 
side of the torn, ugly space thus made, she had 
triumphantly bored a place for another jewel. 

It reminded the little missionary of the first 
badly-mutilated ear she had seen. A precious 
stone, as thick as one's finger, had been inserted, 
and weighed down the ear until it hung in a rough, 
ragged scallop. She had seen some with so many 
little holes pierced in the rims of the ears, and 
such large rings inserted, that they had to be sup- 
ported by a chain passing over the head. What a 
contrast they were to her loved Japanese women, 
whose dress reflected not one metallic gleam, but 
only the shimmer of soft silks and crapes ; and, 
with the exception of their hair ornaments, wore 


not a ring or a pin, or anything that could be 
called jewelry ! 

Two visits quite exhausted Mother Nind, and 
she came aw^ay inclined to think that this was the 
most difficult and trying work which engaged the 
hands and hearts and heads of her missionary 

Muttra was only a few miles from one of the 
"sacred" cities of India, which had for a long 
time been given a place in their itinerary as a 
substitute for Benares, the one more often visited 
by tourists. So on the first day, when they were 
free from other engagements, they were rattling in 
the gari to Brindaban. 

Notwithstanding all the temples and idols they 
had seen, there was a sense of novelty in entering 
this cit}^ whose every public building is a temple, 
whose homes are the homes of priests or devotees, 
and w^hose one excitement is that of religious fes- 
tivals and pilgrimages. 

They stopped first at a new temple, which the 
Rajah of Jeypore was building as a work of merit. 

Millions of rupees had been expended on its 
magnificent stone pillars and arches, which rested 
upon foundations so deep and strong that they 
promised to endure for untold ages. Fine, delicate 
carvings had been wrought upon their surface, and 
the interior was so grand and free as yet from im- 
ages and idols, that for a few moments no one 
spoke. At last the little missionary broke the 
silence by saying, " How pure and beautiful it all 


is!" ''Yes," said another missionary, " it will do 
nicely for a Christian church some day. Just 
knock out the few idols in front, and it will be 

As they went about through the corridors and 
verandas, grasping more and more of the design of 
the building. Mother Nind's practical mind was 
filled with admiration for the architect. 

" I would like to see him," she said. '' How 
did he ever conceive such a plan as this ? It 's 
worthy of any Christian." 

Well it would have been for their opinion of 
Brindaban, if they had gone no further ! 

They next entered the outer gate of the largest 
temple in the citj^, and found themselves in a paved 
court, surrounding another inclosure. How much 
it seemed like the temple at Jerusalem, and more 
when they learned that only Hindoos were allowed 
to enter the inner court ! But there the resem- 
blance ceased; for the towers surmounting all the 
gateways were covered with idols, hundreds carved 
on the outside, and, perhaps, hundreds more 

Walking to the riverside, they could see what 
were called the footprints of Krishna, and look up 
at the tree which he climbed one da^^, carrying 
with him the clothes of some of the women who 
were bathing in the river. As the story goes, this 
great god of the Hindoos required the nude bath- 
ers to dance for him under the tree before he 
would restore the stolen garments. 


Man}^ of the houses had a closed, desolate air, 
as though they were occupied only on mela or fes- 
tival occasions. They stepped for a moment into 
the gardens surrounding a fine temple, erected b}^ 
a Ivucknow banker. Its twisted pillars, its marble 
statuary, the foliage and flowers of the garden, were 
'so restful, that they would have liked to go be^^ond 
the posted injunction : " Prevention by religion to 
Kuropean or Mohammedan gentleman go further 

There was one thing more of special interest, 
however, which they could see. That was a large 
structure of red sandstone, built in the shape of a 
cross, and therefore supposed to have been the 
work of Jesuits. The rear only they found ten- 
anted by idol shrines and priests. 

As they were driving out of this curious city of 
Brindaban, they saw rows of little houses, sur- 
mounted along the eaves by piles of brush, put 
there to keep numerous and thievish monkeys from 
clambering down and getting inside. One of these 
houses was, after all, the unique feature of Brinda- 
ban; for in this great city, devoted exclusively to 
.Hindoo worship, that alone belonged to Christian 
Imissionaries. From one court to another the priests 
"had contested their right to hold property in a 
"holy cit}^" but only in the end, under an Eng- 
lish Government, to be compelled to yield. It was 
a tiny place ; but it made a rest-house for the work- 
ers who came from Muttra to visit the zenanas, and 
to preach in the open air whenever and wherever 


they could obtain an audience. Just at that time the 
priests had risen in a body, and vigorously caused 
all the zenanas in Brindaban to be closed against 
the visitors. 

Mother Nind and the little missionary had 
heard about this Aligarh, having listened with bated 
breath and excited interest to the story of the poor, 
high-caste lady whose husband beat her so cruelly 
and so often that she determined to run away. 
Those Christian workers who came from Muttra 
were so gentle and kind, she would cast herself 
upon their mercy, she thought. And so one day 
she presented herself at the Deaconess Home, and 
told her pitiful tale for the first time to sympa- 
thizing ears. How their hearts ached for her at 
the Home, and how they wanted to help her ! But 
the superintendent was wise and firm. " It would 
bring us into trouble, and all our work in Muttra 
and Brindaban to naught, if we should take you 
in ; we can not do it. You must return to your 
husband." The poor woman pleaded as for her life, 
and so successfully that she was allowed to remain 
in the Home that night ; but the next day she was 
sent away. Scarcely had she gone when inquirers 
appeared at the door in search of her. Meanwhile 
one of the Bible-women had slipped out, and, in her 
pity for the hunted creature, had concealed her in 
her own mother's home, which was not far from 
the Mission Compound. The superintendent un- 
aware of this, truthfully answered all the questions 
put to her, saying that the fugitive had been there, 


but had been sent away. The pursuers went from 
door to door, until the object of their search real- 
ized that she was doomed unless she also moved 
on. Then from door to door she went, fairly fly- 
ing in her desire for freedom, until she spied a 
sweeper's costume. Donning this, she grasped a 
broom and began to sweep the road, hoping in that 
disguise to evade pursuit. But her awkwardness 
betrayed her; she was apprehended and carried 
back to the waiting husband, angered by her flight 
and grown more cruel than before ; and part of the 
trouble which the superintendent had feared, came 
to pass in the temporary closing of the work in 

The missionaries in Muttra, as in most of the 
Indian cities where soldiers were quartered, had one 
church for English-speaking people, and another 
for natives. The latter was a memorial church, 
bearing the name of Flora Hall, and used through 
the week as a day-school for boys. 

In some miraculous way a site for this hall had 
been secured in the heart of the city. There, with 
only the image-covered spires of Hindoo temples 
and the proud domes and minarets of Mohammedan 
mosques to rise as high as its simple bell-tower, 
with its shop at its entrance for the manufacture 
and sale of endless duplicates in brass of the gross, 
sensual Krishna, it stood even more of a wonder 
and cause for thankfulness and praise than the little 
rest-house in Brindaban. 

The school for girls was out of the city, con- 


nected with the Deaconess Home, and surrounded by 
one of the high walls that made a zenana of every 
boarding-school in India. It was kept so neat and 
clean that when the father of one of the girls came 
to see her, she noticed for the first time that he was 
dirty ; then she began to pray most earnestly, morn- 
ing and night, " O God, please make my father 

Mother Nind went through the school-grounds, 
just as the evening chapatis were being baked over 
the coals. The cook sat on the stones by her low 
fire, dextrously turning the large cakes with her 
fingers, over and around, until they were puffed up 
light and brown. Not far away was another woman 
winnowing the grain in shallow baskets. And the 
grindstone was there, too, to turn it into flour; 
all the processes of preparing food, except raising the 
wheat, done in the school! What simple living! 
No wonder that an Indian girl could be supported 
for twenty dollars per annum ! 



ThkrB was small-pox in Delhi ; so there was 
in every Indian city; it was impossible to escape it 
anywhere. But the reports that came from Delhi 
were more startling than those from any other city; 
so that had been dropped from the itinerary. And 
Mother Nind was not sorry ! She was not fond of 
sight-seeing. She loved to talk with the mission- 
aries ; to see their growing work ; to preach and 
sing and pray ; to have little chats with the native 
preachers and Bible-women; to receive the confi- 
dences of young soldier-boys, who, after a wild, 
reckless life in and out of the army, had been led 
by a cup of tea and the promise of a pleasant, social 
hour, into some quiet mission chapel, and finally to 
the Savior himself. All these things she enjoyed. 
But she wearied of the temples and palaces, the 
museums and the gardens, the monuments and 
towers ; of the work in brass ; of the carvings and 
embroideries ; of all the sights which other travel- 


ers made their trip around the world on purpose to 
see. So, when her hostess in Agra proposed, as 
soon as she was settled in his home, to give her a 
drive to the Taj, she did not respond as he expected. 

" I must rest and prepare for the prayer-meeting 
this evening," she said; and then, as if she would 
ward off other invitations of a similar nature : "Any- 
way, we must not take your time for such things, 

But later she relented, remarking, with a twin- 
kle in her eye : " I suppose people would think me 
too much of a fool if I did not go to see the Taj." 

Then she did just what other travelers were wont 
to do —got an early start one morning; watched 
through the drive for the first appearance of its 
white domes and minarets ; climbed to the top of 
the gateway for a good view of the whole wonder- 
ful creation in its dazzling whiteness, and the ma- 
jestic avenue of cypress-trees, whose dark, solemn 
shadows are reflected from the surface of a long, 
narrow reservoir of clear water, and brightened 
and beautified by numerous flower-beds; walked 
slowly along this avenue until, as she approached 
the Taj itself, she was obliged to stop and close her 
eyes, for its glory in the morning sun was greater 
than she could bear; then around on the shady 
side to examine the carving and inlaid-work, and 
to admire the simplicity and perfection of ever3" 
detail ; inside for more carving and finer inlaid- 
work, and a few notes of song to hear the wonder- 
ful echo ; down below to see the real sarcophagi. 


of which those above were only copies ; to note 
that, notwithstanding the glory of this most mag- 
nificent tomb ever erected to the memory of a 
woman, her sarcophagus was marked with a tablet, 
and- his with a pen-box, to show that woman was a 
blank for man to write upon ; to see also that the 
hand of the vandal had been at work removing 
precious stones and destroying much of the beauty 
of the delicate tracery in leaves and flowers; to 
wonder again, as they came out, how the whole 
of the Koran could be wrought in marble on the 
inside and outside of this gem of all architecture ; 
after she had passed the gate, to stop and buy a 
few photographs of one of many eager venders who 
pushed their pictures from both sides of the car- 
riage at once into her lap ; and then, on her return 
to the house, to make more purchases of an equally 
eager crowd, who filled the veranda with samples 
of inlaid work "just like that on the Taj." 

She had really done it all so well and so much 
like any other traveler, that her host was embold- 
ened to propose a trip to the fort the next morning. 
And where, out of India, could she see a more per- 
fect reflection, in stone, of the pride and vanity, the 
power and weakness, the glory and the shame, the 
ambition and the fall of an ancient civilization? 
Within its extensive walls she found a palace and 
a prison. Above were marble audience-chambers, 
mirrored bath-rooms, and gardens filled with foun- 
tains and flowers ; beneath were dungeons. By 
the palace rose the domes of the Pearl Mosque, 


whose pillars and arches of purest white marble 
were so exquisitely shaped that at a little distance 
they looked like one great pearl ; and not far away 
from this ideal place of worship, which would seem 
to inspire only the noblest thought and feeling, the 
Great Mogul himself, who built the Taj, had been 
imprisoned by his own son. Overlooking the river 
was the piazza where, in his dying hour, as a last 
favor, he had asked to be brought for another look 
at the beautiful tomb where he was soon to find 
rest by the side of his loved wife. 

A small guard of English soldiers now formed 
the only occupants of the fort ; fountains no longer 
played over mosaic pavements, bringing out the 
brightness and beauty of their coloring ; the inlaid 
ceilings, set with gems and tiny mirrors, were not 
illuminated now, except for some distinguished vis- 
itor like the Prince of Wales ; the palace, the mosque, 
the dungeon, were all deserted. 

It was past the middle of February, and still 
there was a Sunday-school Christmas fete, to be 
made memorable by Mother Nind's presence. The 
work in Agra was comparatively new, and the 
Christians who had. been gathered together were 
almost entirely of the sweeper caste. For the first 
time, in church, she saw men winding their turbans 
around their heads; and after the mithai had been 
distributed, there was quite a squabble, some linger- 
ing for hours about the house in the hope of re- 
ceiving more. This little incident was an added 
link in the long chain of observations that showed 



Her how much faith and courage and perseverance 
were needed in the struggle to bring up a low-caste 
Christian to even a respectable plane of living. 
Some of the villages and mohullas she had visited 
contained the dirtiest Christians she had ever seen. 
They had renounced idolatry and been baptized 
into the Christian faith; but for all the rest, how 
much patient, devoted, mother-like training they 
needed ! 

The next journey brought her, after an all- 
night's ride, to Jeypore, the most prosperous, 
purely native city in all India. She and the little 
missionary had now become independent travelers. 
At first, some one had taken pains to accompany 
them from one place to the next; but the latter 
felt equal to any emergency, since she had learned 
to call out, "Coolie hai!" when they needed to 
change cars, and to ask for ^^ garhani panV^ (hot 
water), when they were ready for luncheon. Be- 
sides, there were English-speaking guards at all the 
large stations. There was only one point in which 
the two travelers disagreed. The little missionary 
wanted to see Mother Nind resting in a comforta- 
ible carriage, especiall}^ on a night journey. But 
Mother Nind was opposed to " needless self-indul- 
gence." In all her traveling in America she had 
seldom availed herself of the comfort of sleeper 
or drawing-room car ; so, now in India, she began 
to think second-class too good, and, to the little 
missionary's dismay, proposed third-class travel 


Their missionary host in Agra, however, man- 
aged the trip to Jeypore, securing seats ahead in 
a second-class ladies' reserve. There was only 
one other passenger, a Scotchwoman, who also was 
bound for Jeypore. She knew more about the city 
than they, and kindly shared her information, pro- 
posing that they go to the same hotel, and hire a 
carriage together for sight-seeing. Her son was 
in another compartment. He was a forward youth, 
and should have been in school; but ill-health had 
led his mother to take him out, and give him this 
trip to India. It seemed strange enough to Mother 
Nind and the little missionary to be going to a 
hotel. In all their journeyings, they had not once 
been entertained outside of a mission home; and 
they were glad, indeed, for the companionship of 

After breakfastig together at the hotel, they 
were driven to the zoological gardens. "I believe 
India is the easiest country in the world in which 
to have zoological gardens," declared the little 
missionary. " The whole country teems with ani- 
mal life. Every city has a jungle at its gates, full 
of wild beasts, poisonous snakes, and beautifully- 
plumaged birds." 

But it was too hot to linger in the gardens, and 
they were glad to escape to the cool halls and cor- 
ridors of the Albert Museum, not far away. This 
building was a great surprise to the visitors — a 
large, handsome, modern museum, erected by a 
native prince in honor of the Prince of Wales, 


and filled witli curios from many lands ! Mother 
Nind's English heart filled with pride as she looked 
at its beautiful colors and arches and wandered 
through its great rooms, noting how like it was to 
any English or American museum, each distinct 
article neatly labeled, and put in its proper case 
and department. 

The School of Arts was the next place to visit, 
the driver of their carriage informed them. This 
was another wonderful place, as it gave them an 
opportunity to see Indian artisans at work. The 
exhibits were similar to much that had been seen 
in the museum, and were for sale; but alas for the 
degenerate taste, which led the visitors to pavSS by 
all the beautiful work in brass, and bear triumphr 
antly away a souvenir spoon, with a half-rupee holr 
lowed out for the bowl and a monkey sporting on 
the handle ! _ ^ 

It was time for luncheon ; and after th^t; 
Mother Nind felt too tired for more sight-seeing; 
so the others w^ent off without her. - ^ - 

The palace of the Maharajah ! What an interest^ 
ing gateway, with such curious pictures alL over its 
frescoed walls ! They were admitted to a few 
rooms inside; and as they entered one, the Scotch 
lady got out her guide-book, and rjead: ''A large 
room, with ceiling decorated in red and gold, used 
as an audience-chamber." r 

Hastily glancing around, she remarked in an 
undertone, " But this isn't a: large room, and it Jias 
no such ceiling as that." ^ :. :^ l liisii 


By this time, they were ushered into anothei 
room, again and the guide-book was consulted, 
with equally unfortunate results. 

"What a hard way of seeing the world, to try 
to corrobate everything in the guide-book!" thought 
the little missionary. 

They were taken to see the Rajah's elephants, 
and camels, and horses, and carriages, and alliga- 
tors ; but the place of all places in Jeypore they 
found to be an inclosed square, filled with ancient 
astronomical instruments in stone. When they 
saw great sun-dials, such as were used in the days 
of Hezekiah, and many other curious designs, to 
which they could give no name, exclamations of 
delight came rapidly to their lips, and the Scotch 
lady hurried back to the carriage to call her son. 
He w^as comfortably seated reading a novel, and 
none of her persuasions availed to make him think 
it worth while to leave the light fiction, which he 
could read at an}^ time, for that which was real and 
historic, and only for a moment within his reach. 
Poor mother! He coughed more than usual that 
night, and when they met in the morning she had 
given up her plans for farther sight-seeing in that 
vicinity, and decided to try another place for him. 

Mother Nind and the little missionary were 
going on also to Ajmere. Here they saw a col- 
lege built by the chiefs of all the native States o: 
Rajputana for the education of their sons. Each 
of the 3^oung princes had his own home; and as 
no two of them are alike, and all models of archi- 


tectural beauty, the campus presented a very pleas- 
ing appearance. Mother Nind had missionary 
friends in Ajmere to take her on her last round 
of Indian schools and churches, and mosques and 

On the long journey to Baroda she began to 
feel ill. They had started third-class, and as long 
as they had a reserved compartment they were 
quite comfortable. But at last they were trans- 
ferred to a long car, with only two seats at one 
end reserved for them, and the remainder filled 
with natives. Night was coming on, and Mother 
Nind ill in that car, with a beautiful second-class 
carriage next them entirely empty ! The little 
missionary determined to make a change. Slip- 
ping out at one of the stations, she had a few words 
with the guard, and came back to bear Mother 
Nind and her luggage with such haste into the 
next carriage that the latter, for some time, did 
not know how it had happened. But she forgave 
the little missionary ; for soon after their arrival in 
Baroda she had to give up entirely, and call herself 
sick. Fortunately she was in a home with two 
doctors and a dispensary ; and in a few weeks' time 
she was able to be about again. But the days 
were growing very warm. Only the early morn- 
ings still retained a slight connection with the cool 
season, and Mother Nind knew she must be care- 
ful. ''If I can only get to Central Conference, I 
will ask for nothing more," she said. Her passage 
from Bombay was engaged for March 21st, and 


the Conference would be at Poona the week pre- 
ceding. It would mean ten or twelve extra hours of 
railroad travel; but the road led through mountain 
passes, giving her the finest pictures from a car 
window which she had seen in all her journeyings 
in India. It was a pleasant change from the vast 
expanse of dry, dusty plains, which had thus far 
formed the bulk of the scenery through which 
she had passed. But it was very hot, and again, 
in Poona, she was not strong enough to attend 
many meetings. All the Methodist Conferences 
in India were represented at this Central Confer- 
ence, and she saw again many of the missionaries 
whom she had visited at their work, besides others 
from Madras, whom she knew only by name. 

The most remarkable feature of the Conference 
was a sermon by the bishop, in which he seemed 
to his inspired audience like another Moses or 
Joshua, or one of the prophets, looking into the 
future with such glorified vision that, with great 
power, he exhorted his people to "have faith in 
God." Directly after this sermon his own faith 
was tested in a very practical way. One of the 
missionaries came to him and said: "I have two 
pastor-teachers in my employ, and nothing to 
pay them. Shall I retain them on faith, or dis- 
charge them?" 

Pundita Ramabai's school was located in Poona, 
and one day Mother Nind summoned strength to 
visit this best known, perhaps, and most interest- 
ing of all Indian institutions. The high-caste 


Brahmin lady who, by her enterprise and perse- 
verance, founded the school, was very gentle in 
her dealings with her widow pupils. She allowed 
them to observe caste rules in cooking their food 
and in washing their garments, and she did not re- 
quire them to attend Bible-classes. Every morn- 
ing at five o'clock she and a Christian assistant had 
prayers and studied the Bible together. Gradually 
the pupils, at their own request, had joined this 
early class, until fifteen out of the fifty-two in the 
school had become Christians. Then, strange to 
say, Ramabai was troubled, for the funds she had 
raised in America had been contributed to the sup- 
port of Hindoo widows. Would their American 
patrons be pleased to support, instead, Christian 
widows? She wrote at once to know their wishes, 
and was greatly relieved when the reply came back, 
"No objections!" 

The Christians were very anxious to remain, 
and had already besought her to allow them to 
grind, or do any other hard work by which they 
could earn their own support. 

The buildings were well furnished and scrupu- 
lously clean. One bed in each dormitory was raised 
high above all the others. This was for the teacher, 
supposedly to give her a more commanding survey 
of the room, and elevating her, even in sleep, to a 
position above her pupils. 

Mother Nind was ill again at the close of the 
Conference, and arrived in Bombay only a day or 
two before sailing. The little missionary had gone 


on ahead, and had much to tell her of all that she had 
seen. There had been two weddings — one a Ben- 
Israelite wedding, with service all in Hebrew. The 
groom wore golden-brown silk trousers, a pink silk 
vest, and a round pith hat, with a lace veil thrown 
over it during part of the ceremony. The bridal 
veil was a dream of loveliness, made of jasmines 
and roses. 

The other was a double wedding. The brides 
were sisters, who had been among the first pupils 
in the Methodist Girls' School at Bombay. They 
looked very pretty in simple white silk saris. 

There had been a visit to the silent, open 
towers outside the city, where the Parsees deposit 
their dead for vultures to feed upon, and the most 
interesting and varied zenana-visiting of all had 
come just at the close of their India journeyings. 

They went first to a Mohammedan home. 
After climbing two flights of stairs, they were ad- 
mitted to a woman's prison apartment. On the 
floor at one side was her bed, a simple mattress. 
Near by, elevated on a comfortable wire bedstead, 
was her husband's bed. She was a believer, and a 
woman of considerable intelligence, reading her 
own Bible lesson and listening attentively to the 
explanation given. 

The next zenana contained several Hindoo 
women. They sat upon the floor, giving their vis- 
itors seats upon the bed. They could not read, 
and listened only as children listen to what they 
can not understand or appreciate. Their love of 


jewelry and childish ways made them seem many 
grades below the quiet, intelligent Mohammedan 
woman just visited, and many more below the one 
next seen. She was a Parsee, daughter of a priest 
living on Malabar Hill, the most beautiful quarter 
of the city. She was studying both in English and 
Urdu, and her teacher believed her to be a real 
Christian. Her lesson for the day was in Exodus, 
and, after asking many questions that had arisen 
in her mind about it, she answered a few regarding 
the Parsee religion, showing her visitors the sacred 
coi'd around her waist, also the thin, white .skirt 
worn underneath. " It must be thin and white," 
she said, "so that the heart may be clearly seen. 
We do not worship the sun and moon," she added; 
"we only stand near, and pray to God^ 

Two large steamers sailed from Bombay, March 
2 1 St. One contained our travelers and many mis- 
sionaries, including several General Conference 
delegates; the other, the bishop, with his family, 
and other delegates. A farewell reception had been 
given to them the evening before at one of the 
Methodist churches of the city; and now they 
were sailing away, the hearts of all full of love for 
India and faith in her ultimate evangelization. 

Among these missionaries were Mr. and Mrs. 
Spencer Lewis, of our West China Mission, who, 
with their son and daughter, were on their way to 
their United States home for needed rest, but en 
route, had visited our missions in China, Burmah, 
and India. Mother Nind had known Mrs. Lewis 


from her childhood, and it was a great delight to 
meet them in Bareilly at the Conference, and travel 
with them in India, accompany them from Bomba}^ 
to Marseilles, Paris, and I^ondon, where they parted, 
to meet once more before they sailed to their field 
of labor in 1897, leaving their son and daughter 
behind for education. These faithful missionaries 
know much of Paul's experiences, " In journeyings 
often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in 
perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in 
perils in the sea, in weariness and painfulness, in 
watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings 
often," and, as superintendent of our West China 
Mission, Brother I^ewis can add, "Besides those 
things that are without, that which cometh upon 
me daily, the care of all the Churches." 

Mother Nind and the little missionary were 
greatly crowded. They were going second-class, 
in a stateroom containing six berths, all of them 
occupied. The heat was intense, and Mother Nind 
felt so weak and worn that she no longer enter- 
tained a shadow of regret of giving up the coveted 
trip to Palestine, which she had hoped to make f 
but looked forward with increasing longing to the 
healthful, invigorating climate of dear old Eng- 
land, and to the society of loved brothers and sis- 
ters once more. She had already written to them : 
"What does it matter if we are not as handsome, 
as blithesome, as toothsome, as we once were ! 
Our hearts are young and tender and joyous, over- 
flowing with God's love ; and though we are near- 


ing the end of the journey, the prospect is all 
radiant with glory. I expect Alfred, the dear, 
sweet baby of the family (sixty-four years old) , will 
still have the rosy cheeks, the dimples, the benig- 
nant smile, the hearty laugh; for he is Vay behind 
us in the race. Can he run as fast as ever? Well, 
if he can, he can not overtake us, who got ahead 
of him at the start. I^et us all run with patience 
the race set before us, looking unto Jesus, the 
author and finisher of our faith." 

As we neared the Gulf of Aden our thoughts 
turned lovingly to our dear Florence Nickerson, 
who, January 31, 1887, was called to her heavenly 
home, and whose mortal remains were buried in the 
sea where they rest until the "sea gives up the 
dead that are in it." Our Phebe Rowe, who ac- 
companied her as nurse and companion, contin- 
ued her journey to the United States, to comfort 
the bereaved family and bless homes and Churches 
by her presence and power. >^ 

Soon they were in the Red Sea, which, asi 
Mother Nind expressed it, might well be called tfe 
Red-hot Sea ; then through Suez Canal, and' out: 
into the Mediterranean, where it was cooler. ^iiMft 
steamer landed them at Marseilles, a swift railWayi 
journey bearing them on to the English Channel;! 
It was a short voyage across, and then she was)- 
speeding by rail to Loughton. How cool and re- 
freshing the air of her native land felt against her 
pale, wasted cheeks ! What rest to her eyes in the 
sight of its leaves, its green hedges, its well-tilled 


farms! What joy in her heart at meeting the 
brothers and sisters still spared to her! 

, Every day she could drive or walk with them 
over its unrivaled country roads. Every night vShe 
slept sweetly, freed for a while from all anxiety and 
xare. By the time the travelers arrived from the 
trip through the Holy lyand, she looked so much 
better that the little missionary said she should not 
have known her. 

Still she staid on ! She visited the house where 
she was born, and "born again;" saw the room in 
which she told her first lie; entered the garden 
where she played as a child; visited the schools 
which, she attended ; bought sweets again from the 
Jsaker's shop, which was still standing, and looked 
just as it did sixty-five years before. She went to 
the chapel where she had made her first profession of 
faith and became Sabbath-school superintendent ; 
to the mission where she had taught her first Sab- 
bath-school class ; to Exeter Hall in I^ondon, where 
hier childhood missionary zeal was kindled to white 
heat, as she listened to Moffatt, Morrison, Williams, 
Campbell, James, and others, and where now again 
she could listen _ to missionary speakers from many 

:_What pleasure it was to attend a deaconess 
meeting in City Road Chapel, and hear the reports of 
work accomplished in the United Kingdom ; to lis- 
ten to Frances Willard and Lady Henry Somerset, 
as they addressed an immense and appreciative au- 
dience in Queen's Hall; to enter and to be im- 


pressed once more by the grandeur of St. Paul's and 
the quiet solemnity of Westminster Abbey ! 

It was also dear to her heart, that the desire often 
arose with her to remain in England, and live a 
little longer where her parents lived, die where they 
died, and be buried with them until the resurrection. 
It seemed like such a quiet, peaceful ending to her 
long, active life. But there was another desire par- 
amount to this, the desire to '* bear fruit in old age;" 
and so, after one long, restful, happy summer amid 
the scenes of her childhood, she bade a final farewell 
to them all, and departed for the land of her ma- 
turer years. 

The voyage from Southampton to New York 
was a notable one. The steamship St. Louis, of the 
American I,ine, is one of the best, and among its 
passengers was the distinguished Viceroy lyi Hung 
Chang and his suite. He was genial and courteous 
to all. The entrance to New York Harbor was a 
memorable one. Amid the firing of crackers, the 
booming of cannon, the waving of flags and ban- 
ners from boats and ships gayly decorated, the St. 
Louis slowly and proudly steamed to the landing, 
where the corporation of New York was waiting td 
do honor to the representative of the Celestial Em- 
pire. Resting on the Sabbath according to the 
commandment, a short stay at Clifton Springs, New 
York, a missionary address, then on to Detroit to 
" home, sweet home," where loving friends were 
waiting to welcome friend and mother.