266 -M646m
Keep Your Card in This Pocket
Books will be issued only on presentation of proper
library cards.
Unless labeled otherwise, books may be retained
for two weeks. Borrowers finding books marked, de-
faced or mutilated are expected to report same at
library desk; otherwise the last borrower will be held
responsible for all imperfections discovered.
The card holder is responsible, for all books drawn
on this card.
Penalty for over-due books 2c a day plus cost of
notices.
Lost cards and change of residence must be re-
ported promptly.
Public Library
Kansas City, Mo.
TENSION ENVELOPE CORP.
KANSAS CITY, MO PUBLICj-IBRARY
DDD1 0301710 1 :
Missionary pso
HERO STORIES
TRUE STORIES OF MISSIONARIES
AND NATIONAL CHRISTIAN LEADERS
FROM ALL PARTS OF THE WORLD
Edited, by
x'"
NINA MILLEN
FRIENDSHIP PRESS
New York
COPYRIGHT, 1948, BY FRIENDSHIP PRESS, ING.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
P. indicates a story suitable for primary children; J. one
for juniors; J.H. one that is usable with junior highs.
AFRICA
ANGOLA
HELPER TO DR. MARY (P., j.) 1
by Gertrude Jenness Rinden
Mary Cushman (1870- ) Congregational Christian
MEDICINE
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC (j., J.H.) 8
by Alice Geer Kelsey
Henry McDowell (1894- ) Congregational Christian
AGRICULTURF
EGYPT
DR. HENRY OF ASSIUT (j., J.H.) 16
by Anna A. Milligan
Vellore Meek (L. M.) Henry (1854-1942)
MEDICINE U ted Vre&yterian
NIGERIA
AT THE FOOT OF GARKIDA MOUNTAIN (j., J.H.) 22
by Pattie L. Bittinger
H. Stover Kulp (1894- ) Church of the Brethren
EVANGELISM
ASIA
ARABIA
DOCTOR IN THE DESERT (j., J.H.) 28
by Florence M. Gordon
Paul Harrison (1883- ) Reformed Church
MEDICINE
HE WAS AFRAID BUT HE KEPT ON (j,, J.H.) S3
by Frank T. Cartwright
James Hoover (1872-1935) Methodist
EVANGELISM
BURMA
THE FARMER MISSIONARY (j., J.H.) 39
by Florence Stansbury
Brayton Case (1887-1944) Northern Baptist
AGBictri/ruRE
CHINA
AN UNWANTED GIRL (j., J.H.) 47
by Edith Fredericks
Ida Kahn (1871-1931) Methodist
MEDICINE
RED-HEADED WHIRLWIND (j., J.H.) 54
by Muriel Beaton Patterson
Robert McClure (1900- ) United Church of Canada
MEDICINE
THE STORY SMALL BROTHER LOVED (p., j.) 61
by Mary Brewster Hollister
Newton Chiang (1900- ) Episcopal
EDUCATION
YING TEACHER OF HONAN (j., J.H.) 69
by Viola Fischer
Ingeborg NystuI (1880- ) Evangelical Lutheran
EVANGELISM
INDIA
NEVER OFF DUTY (J.H.) 75
by Jane Gilbert
Christian Frederick Schwartz (1726-1798) Lutheran
EVANGELISM AND EDUCATION
[iv]
CONTENTS
THREE KNOCKS IN THE NIGHT (j., J.H.) 81
by Florence M. Gordon
Ida Scudder (1870- ) Reformed Church
MEDICINE
THE WAH-WAH MAN (j., J.H.) 8T
by Alice Hudson Lewis
Sam Higginbottom (1874- ) Presbyterian U. S. A.
AGRICULTURE
JAPAN
LET THE WORK GO ON (j., J.H.) 93
by Helen F* Nicholson
Rudolph Teusler (1876-1934) Episcopal
MEDICINE
MICHI KAWAI, THE TEACHER (j.) 100
by Margaret L. Decker
Michi Kawai (1877- ) Church of Christ in Japan
EDUCATION
KOREA
A FAMOUS WOMAN OF KOREA (j., J.H.) 106
by Virginia Fairfax and Hallie Buie
Helen Kim (1899- ) Methodist
EDUCATION
PHILIPPINES
A FILIPINO KEEPER OF THE FAITH (j., J.H.) 112
by Marjorie Roberts
Juan Leones (1889-1935) United Brethren in Christ
EVANGELISM
SIGNAL HILL (j., J.H.) 119
by Alice Geer Kelsey
Frank Laubach (1884- ) Congregational Christian
EDUCATION AND EVANGELISM
[vj
CONTENTS
SUMATRA
SOLDIER OF PEACE (j., J.H.) 127
by Alice Hudson Lewis
Ludwig Nommensen (1834-1918) Rhenish
EVANGELISM
TIBET
PIONEER IN TIBET (j., J.H.) 134
by Mabel Niedermeyer
Albert Shelton (1875-1922) Disciples of Christ
MEDICINE
TURKEY
DOCTOR ON HORSEBACK (j.) 141
by Alice Geer Kelsey
Frederick Shepard (1855-1915) Congregational Christian
MEDICINE
NORTH AMERICA
CANADA
THE MAN WHO NEVER WASTED TIME (j., J.H.) 148
by Violet Clark
William Walton (1869- ) Church of England in Canada
EVANGELISM
UNITED STATES
THE PREACHER WHO CARRIED THE BALL TO
CONGRESS (j.) 155
by Elizabeth S. Whitehouse
Dirk Lay (1886-1944) Presbyterian 17. S. A.
EVANGELISM
[vi]
CONTENTS
LATIN AMERICA
BRAZIL
THE LITTLE OLD LADY WHO WALKS SO FAST
(j., J.H.) 162
by Myrtle Stosberg Sydenstricker
Charlotte Kemper (1837-1927) Presbyterian U. S.
EVANGELISM
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON 167
by Una Roberts Lawrence (j., J.H.)
Eric Nelson (1862-1939) Southern Baptist
EVANGELISM
CUBA
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN OF THE CANE
FIELDS (j., J.H.) 176
by Una Roberts Lawrence
Primo Navarro (1873-1927) Southern Baptist
EVANGELISM
[vfi]
HELPER TO DR. MARY
Mary Cushman (1870- )
by GERTRUDE JENNESS RINDEN
NOT so very long ago, in the great land of Africa, there
lived two friends. One was little, and the other was
big. One had black, fuzzy pigtails, and the other had gray
hair that she combed up plain and neat into a knot on the
top of her head. One wore a square cloth tied around her
little black body. The other wore the white coat of a doctor.
One was Vikomo, a little African girl, and the other was
Dr. Mary Cushman, an American woman and they were
the best of friends.
When Vikomo was only a baby she had begun to help
Dr. Mary in the hospital on the hilltop in Ocileso, West
Africa. Vikomo's mother, Nafalaku, was a nurse in that
hospital. Every day she came from her village to work in
the hospital While she went about her nursing, the baby
Vikomo slept in a box with a pillow in it and a mosquito
net over it. That was the way she helped.
"See that baby/* said the mothers who came to the hos-
pital to get help for their children. "See how she lies there
sleeping, all peaceful and happy." Then they would wonder
if they should not do the same with their babies instead of
EH
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
carrying them, tied on their backs, in the hot sunshine as
they hoed in the corn fields every day.
"See how Vikomo helps us/' chuckled Dr. Mary. "One
look at her is better than a lecture on how to take care of
babies."
When Vikomo grew to be a little girl, she loved to stand
on the grassy slope outside of Dr. Mary's hospital and watch
the people who came to be cured.
Babies were brought, with their big eyes peeping out
over the cloths that tied them to their mothers' backs. Men
with sores on their legs came limping on stout sticks. Once
a chief arrived with a badly infected leg. And he had to
stay in the hospital a long time and have Dr. Mary ampu-
tate that bad leg. Vikomo watched him the day he went
away, smiling. Even the witch doctor, who hadn't liked Dr.
Mary's coming at all, brought his son to the hospital, and
the boy was cured.
Many sick people came in hammocks slung between the
shoulders of strong men. Sometimes they had traveled for
days and days over the grasslands and through the forests
and jungles and across rivers. Sometimes they were very,
very sick. And the strong men carried them right into the
hospital and lifted them onto a bed or the operating table.
Then Vikomo would hear Dr. Mary say, "Oh! If we only
had doctors in those distant villages to care for people
when they first take sick!"
Sometimes Vikomo edged her way into the clinic where
Dr. Mary and Nafalaku and Sapunga and the others were
busy taking care of the sick people who had come. With
her back in the corner, she stood there and watched.
[2]
HELPER TO DR. MARY
"Better run outside," one of the nurses was sure to say
sooner or later, and Vikomo had to go. But one day she
decided differently, and when the nurse said, "Better run
outside," she braced her back against the wall and said,
"I want to help!"
How the nurses laughed! They were about to shoo her
out when Dr. Mary spoke up and said, "Of course you can
help. See here I need papers to wrap the medicine for
people to take home."
In Dr. Mary's hospital there weren't any fancy boxes for
pills or any pretty pink capsules for powdered medicines.
Instead of capsules, little squares of paper were used to
hold the powder. Even paper was scarce, and every scrap
had to be saved for wrapping medicines. So Dr. Mary
took a pencil and ruler and lined off squares on paper.
Then Vikomo took scissors and sat in a corner of the clinic
to cut out the squares.
When Vikomo was a little bigger she learned to fold the
squares neatly after Dr. Mary had weighed the powdered
medicine onto them.
"I need a cap and apron," said Vikomo one day. And
again the nurses laughed. But Vikomo's big eyes were
looking at her friend, Dr. Mary.
"Why, of course, you do," said Dr. Mary in her deep,
kindly voice. "A good helper needs a white cap and apron.
The sewing woman will make you one."
So Vikomo put a white cap on her black, fuzzy hair and
tied a white apron over her little African dress. "Now I am
a real nurse, and I want a big job," she said.
"Here is a big job for you," said Dr. Mary. She placed
[3]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
a high stool for Vikomo near the corner of a clinic table.
"Many of our patients need this medicine," she said. "You
pour out the doses/' She set a bottle of tonic on the table.
After that, whenever Dr. Mary found a person needing
medicine from that bottle, she sent him to Vikonio.
"A-sa-rna. Open your mouth/' Vikomo would say. And
when he did, she would pour a spoonful of medicine down
his throat!
Many of the babies who came to Dr. Mary's clinic had
sore eyes. They were the babies that had been jostled and
joggled on their mothers* backs in the hot corn fields. Flies
had carried the infection from one to another. Sometimes
the babies were afraid of Dr. Mary. They were afraid of
Nafalaku and Sapunga and all the big people in the hos-
pital. The clinic was strange to them, and they cried loudly.
It was no use trying to put drops into the eyes of crying
babies, for crying eyes shut up tight. And crying made the
sore eyes worse. One day Dr. Mary noticed how the babies
watched Vikomo sitting there in her white cap and apron,
and how they smiled at her.
"Let Vikomo put drops into the babies' eyes," said Dr.
Mary. The nurses were shocked. But when a mother took
her baby to Vikomo, Vikomo smiled, and the baby smiled.
Then Vikomo put her finger on the baby's lower eyelid and
drew it down, just as she had seen the nurses do. With the
other hand she took her medicine dropper and splash, a
drop of medicine went into the eye. The baby winked and
that was all Before long it was Vikomo who put drops into
the babies' eyes.
When Vikomo was six years old she wanted to go to
[4]
HELPER TO DR. MARY
school There was a school near the hospital, but there was
none In Vikomo's own village, which was an hour's walk
away. "You cannot walk so far/' her mother, Naf alaku, kept
telling her. Again her friend Dr. Mary spoke up, "Let her
live with me/*
So Vikomo went to stay with Dr. Mary in her little grass-
roofed house near the hospital. Can't you just see those two
as they ate their meals together the little black girl, with
her big, wondering eyes, on one side of the table, and the
staunch, gray-haired American woman on the other side?
First they bowed their heads to thank God for their food.
Vikomo called him Suku, for that is the name her people
had given to God the Creator. Sometimes when the door
was open, Dr. Mary would look out over the hills of Angola
to the beautiful mountains beyond and say, "Those hills
make me think of Maine where I lived when I was a little
girl." And again she would say in Vikomo's African lan-
guage, of course "I will lift up mine eyes unto the moun-
tains: From whence shall my help come? My help cometh
from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth/' Then Viko-
mo's eyes would blink the way all little girls' eyes do when
they are thinking hard about great big thoughts that swell
inside of them. "It is Suku," thought Vikomo, "who helps
Dr. Mary do everything."
Sometimes their talking was questions and answers, for
like all African children Vikomo was full of questions.
"'Tell me about the ship that brought you here," she would
say. Then Dr. Mary, with her deep, kindly voice, would tell
how she left New York in a ship and went to Portugal, how
another ship carried her to Lobito on the coast of West
[5]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Africa, how she got on a train that took her up, up, up, into
the highlands of Angola. "And here I am," she would say,
smiling at little Vikomo.
One noon when they were talking they heard great
shouts. "Leopard! Doctor!" Looking out, they saw two men
running toward the hospital, carrying someone in a blanket
slung between their shoulders. When Vikomo looked
around, Dr. Mary was not there. She had rushed to the
hospital.
Vikomo ran to the front of the hospital to hear what the
carriers were saying. "Wisi was wounded by a leopard.
His arm is almost off. His whole body is torn. Can the
white doctor cure so injured a man?" Everyone began to
shake his head all except Vikomo, who spoke up loudly to
say, "Dr, Mary can/'
For days and days it was not certain whether Wisi would
live. Dr. Mary did her best. She cleaned the wounds and
sewed the torn muscles, but leopard wounds are always
dirty, and infection set in. Wisi was very, very sick. Oh,
how Dr. Mary worked over that man, hoping, hoping to save
him! Vikomo understood. And she prayed to Suku to help
Dr. Mary. In those hard days Vikomo's thoughts about
Suku grew bigger and bigger. "Suku eye ocisola, God is
love/' she had heard Dr. Mary say many times. Now she
began to understand what it meant. "If Suku's love for us
is like Dr. Mary's, then it is very great," thought Vikomo.
"Wisi is better/' said Dr. Mary at last, one day when she
carne home to eat her noon meal with Vikomo.
"Good good!" said Vikomo, and then she said something
else. "Dr. Mary, I want to be a doctor."
[6.]
HELPER TO DR. MARY
"Of course you do," said Dr. Mary in her deep, hearty
voice. "There is no better way to tell of God's love."
After Dr. Mary had worked among Vikomo's people for
twenty years, she returned to America for a time. The
people of Ocileso were sad, but there was one brightness
shining in their sadness. Vikomo, who was now seventeen,
was going to Portugal to learn to be a doctor. In a few
years she would come back to Ocileso to be the doctor in
that hospital where she had helped her friend, Dr. Mary.
[7]
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC
Henry McDowell (1894- )
by ALICE GEER KELSEY
IT is the black magic!" A dozen pairs of terrified black
eyes looked down at the body of the boy Hosi, which
lay stiff and still on a hard reed mat.
"Do you mean that the boy was poisoned?" asked Henry
McDowell, who was still new to the ways of West Africa.
"Why would anyone poison Hosi?"
"Hosfs elders told him not to come here to work for you/'
explained the boys. "They never trust men who are not of
our own tribe/*
"But his own relatives would not have harmed Hosi!"
protested Mr. McDowell. The boys rolled their frightened
eyes to look in surprise at a grown man, not a white man
at that, who could be so ignorant.
"His family would be just the ones to punish him if he
disobeyed them," said Salapula. "Our elders have told all
of us that we would be sorry if we came here to work for
you."
"Do you wish to stop helping me now, after what has
happened to Hosi?" asked the young Negro missionary
wearily. It had been hard persuading these young boys to
[8]
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC
help him clear land and build the simple houses needed to
start the mission station at Galangue. For a month the boys
had been coming in from their villages to work at his side-
felling trees, digging irrigation ditches, leveling the land,
building the huts for homes, church, and school.
The dozen pairs of African eyes turned from the face of
the dead boy on the ground to the kind face of the man
they had learned to love in one short month. One after an-
other the boys gave their reasons for keeping on with the
work.
"You pay us well and are kind to us all the time."
"We are learning new ways of working."
"We like the school in the evenings when you and Mrs.
McDowell teach us to write in the sand. Our elders think
the writing is some new kind of magic, but we know better /*
"Mrs. McDowell and your baby are our friends, too."
"We want to hear more of your stories about the good
man you call Jesus. The storytellers in our villages have
nothing like that to tell us."
With one more glance at the body of Hosi, the boys
picked up their stubby African axes and went back to their
work of clearing land for the building that would some day
be their new school. Mr. McDowell's axe rang out steadily
with theirs. As he worked, he remembered the warnings
that had come to him about how hard it would be to start
a new mission station at Galangue, in Angola, a country
whose people were Negroes but which was ruled by Por-
tugal.
"Galangue is the center of witchcraft," Mr. McDowell
had been warned by Africans and white people alike. "Its
[9]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
sorcerers are so many and so strong that people corne from
far away to get their charms. Galangue is known for its
black magic."
"Foreigners who go into the Galangue area disappear/'
people had told Mr. McDowell, when he talked of starting
the new mission station there, "Many a trader or govern-
ment official has gone on business and has never returned.
Your being a Negro will not keep the people from thinking
of you as a foreigner/'
But Mr. and Mrs. McDowell had not been frightened by
these warnings. They had been chosen as the first Ameri-
can Negroes to open a mission station where all the mis-
sionaries were to be Negroes. Others would be coming
soon from America to help them. It seemed to them that
Galangue was the place to work, in spite of all its dangers.
It was a place that needed help, with its 15,000 people
within a radius of eight miles. The high plateau around
Galangue with its fine water supply and good clay soil
would make ideal land for a mission. It was too bad that
the friendly head chief of the area had died just before the
McDowells arrived. The new chief, Chingalule, and his
adviser were not friendly, but the McDowells were sure
that they would find ways of showing their good will. The
strange death of Hosi made them remember the warnings
but did not frighten them.
It was only a few days later that the boys came rushing
to Mr. McDowell again, their eyes bulging in terror.
"Salapula of the village of Sindi is dying!" cried the boys.
"Let's see what I can do for him." Mr. McDowell hurried
to the sick boy as the others trailed behind.
[10]
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC
"Do not touch him/' warned the boys. "The curse of the
black magic will come on you, too, if you put your hands
on him."
"I am not afraid." Mr. McDowell carried Salapula to his
own home. With his wife, he worked to save the boy.
"He has been poisoned," said Mrs. McDowell, trying to
find some help for the writhing boy. "How could anyone
have given Salapula poison?"
"What I want to know is the sort of poison he was given
and its antidote." Mr. McDowell walked toward his bi-
cycle. "Someone from Salapula's village has poisoned him
to punish him for working here. I am going to Sindi village
and find what will cure the boy."
Mrs. McDowell remembered the stories of the foreigners
who had disappeared when they went among the people of
Galangue. But unless she had had the courage needed to
let her husband go among unfriendly people, she would
never have ventured into this wild part of Africa. "Yes, you
must go," she said.
The boys could not understand why their new friend
must risk his life for Salapula. "Where are you going on
your bicycle?" they asked, though they knew what answer
to expect.
"To Sindi," he told them. "I know the poison came from
Salapula's village. I must go there to learn what will stop
its working."
"Do not go," begged the boys. "Salapula will die anyway.
If you go, you, too, may be killed by the black magic."
Mr. McDowell hopped on his bicycle and started down
the rough and narrow mile-and-a-half trail that led to Sindi.
[113
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
It was three o'clock of a very hot afternoon when he started.
Forgetting that he had eaten no lunch, he pedaled on and
on under the scorching African sun. When he reached
Sindi, he was greeted by the stern-faced Chief Chingahile
and his family.
"Salapula of your village is sick in my house,** said Mr.
McDowell when the necessary greetings were over. *!
think someone in your village knows what poisoned him.
That same person must know what will stop the poison's
working and let the boy live/'
Men came silently from many a grass hut and gathered
in the place of palaver. For two long hours they talked
with Mr. McDowell.
"It is bad for our boys to work for you/' the men repeated
over and over in different ways. 'We told them they would
be sorry/*
"But we cannot let the boy die/' pleaded the young mis-
sionary. "You must give me the antidote for the poison that
is killing him/*
"It was not good for Salapula to go to you,** repeated the
men. "He deserves this punishment.'*
'Toil cannot let a boy of your own village die/* begged
Mr. McDowell earnestly. "I could report this happening to
the Portuguese authorities. They would come to your vil-
lage and arrest the ones who gave poison/*
Chief Chingalule and the elders looked nervously at one
another. They knew that the Portuguese officials would in-
deed punish the poisoners.
"But I do not plan to do that/* continued the soft-spoken
young Negro. "I have a wife and child in my own hut. I
[123
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC
know that you could keep me from ever seeing them again.
I want to be your friend. That is why we came to Galangue.
I want you now to help me cure our Salapula/'
Chief Chingalule and the others exchanged uncertain
glances. Here was a man who seemed to care about one of
their own boys. Perhaps he truly meant that he came be-
cause he wanted to be their friend. It might be that the
school and the church he was planning for them would be
good instead of being full of a new kind of magic. If he
did not report this poisoning to the authorities, it would be
a sign that he really meant to be their friend.
"Go back to your home/* said the chief. "Put Salapula
on a hammock stretched between two palm poles. Find
two boys to carry him on this fepoia to Sindi. We will stop
the poison/*
Mr. McDowell had hurried under the hot sun as he
pedaled to Sindi, but he worked even harder on the way
home.
"Our palaver took too long/' he worried. "I wonder if the
boy still lives. Can I get him to his own village in time?*'
The sun was still hot. The path was rough and led uphill.
It seemed much longer than a mile and a half. His empty
stomach reminded Mr. McDowell he had not eaten since
early morning. He managed to hold up until he had started
the sick Salapula on his tepoia ride to Sindi.
Back in his home, Mr. McDowell began to eat the wel-
come food but the heat, hunger, and exhaustion were too
much for the missionary. He became violently sick.
"He has been poisoned, too/' wailed the boys. The
sorcerers of Sindi have thrown black magic into the air.
[13]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
The wind has carried it to him. We said it was not safe for
him to go to that village."
The news was quickly taken to Chief Chingalule that the
missionary had been poisoned. The chief was very angry.
"It must be the relatives of Salapula who have done
this," he ranted. "They did not believe the friendly words
of the foreigner. They feared that he would tell the officials
what they had done. They must be punished every one of
themlest the Portuguese authorities hear of this sickness
and bring trouble to our village."
Word of Chingalule's anger was carried to Mr. McDowell,
who was waking up after having been unconscious for most
of two hours. "It will go badly with Salapula's relatives/'
said the boys. "The chief intends to punish them. No one
will have anything to do with them. Their children will be
sold into slavery as a punishment. Even Salapula, if he
should get well, may be sold as a slave. Chief Chin-
galule is angry because he thinks you will report this to the
government."
"But nobody poisoned me/' argued the sick man. "I was
ill because I ate when I was so hot and hungry and tired."
The boys shook their heads. They thought they knew
more about poison than this newcomer from a far land.
Wearily Mr. McDowell climbed onto his bicycle for the
third time that day and started back toward the village of
Sindi.
"Do not go again/' begged the boys.
"I must show that I have not been poisoned/' the mis-
sionary explained. "I must plead with Chief Chingalule
not to punish the relatives of Salapula."
[14]
STRONGER THAN BLACK MAGIC
So back to Sindi pedaled the tired young man. The chief
was very much surprised to see him.
Mr. McDowell asked about Salapula and learned that he
was getting better. "You can see that I have not been pois-
oned," said the missionary. "Let us talk again." The second
long palaver convinced the people of the village that the
newcomer to Galangue was their friend. From then on,
Mr. McDowell had no trouble getting boys to work for him.
From Sindi the word spread to the other villages of the
Galangue area that the man from America cared about
them and was not afraid of their black magic and talked
things over with them instead of reporting their wrong-
doings to the authorities. From that day, more and more
of his African neighbors looked upon Mr. McDowell as a
brother. The other Negro missionaries who followed the
McDowells to Galangue found the people quick to be
friendly.
[15]
DR. HENRY OF ASSIUT
Vellore Meek (L. M.) Henry (1854-1942)
by ANNA A. MILLIGAN
IT WAS almost time for the express train from the north to
arrive at Assitit^ Egypt, and the station platform was
crowded with people. Everybody seemed to be there
young and old, rich and poor. City officials had closed their
offices to come. Businessmen had closed their shops and
were on the platform. The brass band was there, all tuned
up to play rousing music. If you had asked, "What's the
excitement?" anyone would have told you, "Our Dr. Henry
is coming back! He is returning from his year's stay in
America."
Every eye looked north. They saw the smoke, and then
the train came into sight. They saw Dr. Henry standing at
the side door of a compartment, with one foot on the step
so that he could be off quickly. The train stopped.
As the watchers cheered and the band began to play, a
man darted forward, rushed to the doctor saying, "Hakim,
do you know me?"
Dr. Henry gave him one searching glance with his keen
eyes and said, "Yes, you were in the hospital when I left."
The man announced with pride, "Hakim, I do know Jesus,
[16]
DR. HENRY OF ASSIUT
and I love him, too/' Then he rushed back and was lost in
the crowd.
Only a few of the onlookers understood the happening,,
but to Dr. Henry there could have been no better welcome.
Before he had started for his furlough in America, a Moslem
man had been brought into the hospital, very ill. Doctors
and nurses had known it would take their best efforts to
save his life. All had worked faithfully, and finally the man
had begun to improve. When Dr. Henry knew that the
man was getting better, he said to him one morning after
his usual call, "Do you know Jesus Christ?"
Quickly the man had replied, "No, I don't/* He had
seemed surprised that the doctor should ask such a question
of a Moslem, who followed the teachings of Mohammed.
Dr. Henry made no comment but had gone on to give help
and cheer to other suffering ones. Next morning the doctor
had made his usual professional visit and when leaving had
asked again, "Do you know Jesus Christ?" The man had
replied, "No, I don't, and I don't want to, either/'
A few days later the Henrys had left for America to visit
their three boys, whom they had not seen for seven years.
The Moslem man had soon become well enough to be dis-
charged from the hospital. He had gone home, but he could
not forget the doctor's question. He could not forget that
the doctor had never shown anger at his replies. "What
caused the doctor to be so kind?" he asked himself. "Why
did he leave his home and children to wear out his life help-
ing sick Egyptians?"
The man had determined to get the Book about Jesus
from the hospital people to see if he could find the answer
[17]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
in it. He had bought a Testament and had read it again
and again. The story had gripped him, and he had given
his heart to Christ. He had wanted to be the first to tell the
returning Dr. Henry of the change in his life.
There were many in that station crowd who had learned
to love Jesus through Dr. Henry's influence. The doctor
was always talking about Jesus in hospitals, in homes, on
the street, and on trains. It was for that he had come to
Egypt. As a young man he had not thought much about
Jesus. He had been too interested in the ways of the world.
His parents had been good Christians. His mother had
prayed for him to her dying day, but he had not given
serious thought to Christ. He had gone to college and med-
ical school, started practice at Idana, Kansas, married a fine
Christian woman, built a beautiful home, had two promis-
ing sons, had been known as a very popular doctor and
well-to-do businessman at the same time.
One day Dr. Henry had become illvery ill. He had
known that most people die when stricken with the disease
that had attacked him. He had watched the clock and had
counted the hours until normally he would pass into a coma
and never awaken. He had begun to think of his past life,
full of work and pleasure as it had been, but without the
light of Jesus' love. He himself had begun to pray. He had
confessed his sins, had asked Christ to forgive him, and had
promised he would serve him all his days if his life were
spared.
Dr. Henry had not died. He had become better, and he
had kept his promise. He had joined the church, attended
prayer meeting, offered to pay the salary of a missionary in
[18]
DR. HENRY OF ASSIUT
India, But all that had not been enough to satisfy him. So
he had offered his services as a medical missionary. At the
age of thirty-seven, he had set out for Egypt.
The language of Egypt is very difficult. Most people
cannot learn it after they are thirty years of age. But Dr.
Henry had learned it well enough to do his work, even
though he would often say when examining a patient, "Put
out my tongue," or "Do you feel a pain in my stomach?"
for he never could seem to get his Arabic pronouns straight.
There had been universal gloom in Idana when people
had heard that he was going to leave them. One neighbor-
ing doctor had said to his wife, "I heard sad news today,
Dr. Henry has gone crazy and is going to pack up and go
to Egypt." The neighbor spoke more truly than he thought,
for in a way Dr. Henry was crazy about Egypt for the rest
of his life.
Dr. Henry had found plenty to do in Egypt. His work
increased and had kept on increasing until he had realized
he must have a hospital. His mission board did not have
money to build, so he had undertaken to raise the necessary
cash himself. He had put all he could save into the fund.
Some friends had helped. When he had been in America
on furlough, one friend had taken him to the noon luncheon
of businessmen in a big Pittsburgh hotel. Dr. Henry had
told those men of the desperate need in Egypt with all the
earnestness of his loving heart. One man had asked if the
Egyptians paid him for his medical service. Dr. Henry re-
plied, "They pay what they can/'
The man had continued, "Well, Doctor, what was the
largest fee you ever received?"
[19]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
After a moment's hesitation the doctor had said, "One day
there appeared at our clinic a young man, his wife, and her
mother. They had come a long distance. We took the wife
into the operating room and for hours worked to save her
life. Her mother crouched outside the door, covered from
head to foot with a garment that prevented anyone from
seeing her face. That was Moslem law. Perhaps she had
never in all her life spoken to any man outside her family.
That was Moslem law, too. As nurses and assistants passed
in and out, she peeped through her garment with one eye,
hoping to see what was going on. At last the operation was
over. I came out and, seeing her, said cheerily, 'Mother, it's
all right. You are the grandmother of a fine healthy boy,
and your daughter will come through safely.' The woman
rose, looked into my eyes to see if I were telling the truth,
then threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. That
bashful Moslem woman broke all the customs in her grati-
tude. She simply said, 'God be praised!' Gentlemen, that
was my highest fee/*
Dr. Henry had taken some time to tell the story, and
when he had finished, the company had been deeply moved.
That story had unlocked the hearts of the men. They had
known then why he was giving his life in such tireless serv-
ice for the people of Egypt. The story had unlocked their
purses, too, and they had given a goodly sum of money to
help build the hospital.
There it stands today in the crowded city The American
Mission Hospital. Some patients are able to pay in full for
their care, but no one is ever turned away because he is too
poor to pay. The hospital is modern in every respect. And
[20]
DR. HENRY OF ASSIUT
It has what is never seen in most hospitals a leper clinic.
Everyone who enters the hospital hears the story of Jesus.
Doctors pray for every patient. Dr. Henry spent a certain
hour every day alone in prayer, and he often prayed aloud*
One of his nurses overheard him one time arguing with the
Lord. "Lord, you must help rne. You know how ignorant
I am. I cannot discover what is the matter with Mrs. X!"
When Dr. Henry became too frail for heavy duties, he
turned over the management of the hospital to younger men
but remained as consultant. At the age of eighty-five he
journeyed to the United States alone to visit his children.
He fully expected to return to Egypt, so that when his Me
ended he could be buried beside his beloved wife, whose
body lies near Assiut. The war prevented his return to
Egypt When he died he was laid away among his fore-
fathers in the peaceful burial ground of Spring Hill, Indi-
ana. But his monument is in Assiut, in the building that
the people still call "Henry's Hospital" and in the lives that
have been changed and lightened because of his work.
[21]
AT THE FOOT OF GARKIDA MOUNTAIN
H. Stover Kulp (1894- )
by PATTIE L. BITT1NGER
EAULY one morning two missionaries rode out into the
bright African sunshine, across the edge of a plateau.
They looked down upon the Hawal River, running through
one of the most beautiful valleys in Nigeria. There were
many villages lying in the valley, and above one village,
looking like an ice-cream cone turned upside down, stood
Garkida Mountain, whose name meant Bamboo Mountain.
As the two men took in the beauty of the valley, they
forgot the long, hard journey they had made from their
homeland America. They thought only of the search on
which they had come and how close they were to its ful-
fillment
Their search had started one day in late 1922 when their
church had sent them to West Africa to look for a field in
which mission work could be carried on.
"Go to the province of Bornu in the colony of Nigeria,"
the young men had been told. "It is an ancient and wealthy
province. We hear that its people are strong and sturdy
and clever. No missionaries have ever worked among them.
The religion of the chiefs is mainly Mohammedanism."
[22]
AT THE FOOT OF GARKIDA MOUNTAIN
So the two young men had started from America. One
was Stover Kulp and the other was Albert Helser.
They had gone by way of England, where they had left
their wives until they could have homes ready for them.
From England they had sailed to the port of Lagos, in
Nigeria. Then they had traveled a thousand miles inland
to the end of the railway at Jos. From there on, they had
journeyed on horseback, over African hills through the
edges of the great Sahara Desert, to the province of Bornu.
All had not run smoothly for the missionaries. The
British government officials had thought that the Moham-
medan chiefs would not want Christian workers in their
province. There were many visits to be made to talk with
the chiefs of Bornu before government permission was won
for starting a mission. The chiefs had proved eager to have
doctors and teachers, hospitals and schools, and so permis-
sion was given.
Thus it came that the two missionaries rode out to look
at the beautiful valley at the foot of Garkida Mountain.
They were pleased with what they saw. "This is the spot
we've been seeking/' said Stover Kulp.
"Then let's hurry into the village below the mountain
and see the chief/' said Albert Helser, and they started on
their way.
The missionaries greeted the chief politely with the
words they had learned, Salaam Aleikum, "Peace be upon
you." The chief was just as polite. He invited them into
his house. The missionaries knew that helping sick people
was one of the best ways to be friendly. They weren't
doctors, but they had learned how to give simple treat-
[23]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
ments. So when the greetings were over, they asked, "Do
yon have any sick people here?"
"We always have sick people/* replied the chief. From
the crowd that stood near the front of the house the chief
called those who were suffering with sores and sickness.
The missionaries were soon busily at work treating them
and bandaging their sores.
When the Africans saw the kindly way in which the
missionaries bound their sores and cared for their sickness,
they asked, "Why do you do this?"
"We do this," said Mr. Kulp, "because we have a God
who is our Father and your Father, too. He wants us to
be land and helpful to one another. We have come to
teach you about him."
<< You must move into our village guest house and live
with us, so that you can teach us/* said the chief.
**We shall do that/* the missionaries replied, "for we are
your brothers, and you are ours. We would like to build
houses and schools and a hospital in your village, and live
with you as neighbors."
Later that day the missionaries looked for a place to
build the mission settlement. Above the village stood Gar-
kida in majestic solemnity. In front of the mountain were
low hills that merged into a pleasant plain.
"These hilltops would be good places for our houses/*
Stover Kulp said, "and this plain between the villages and
your homes would be fine for the hospital and the school."
"And here by the edge of the village we shall build our
first church," said Albert Helser.
Though the valley was beautiful, it was dangerous, too.
[24]
AT THE FOOT OF GARKIDA MOUNTAIN
Many diseases raged among its people. Before long, Albert
Helser became very sick with a tropical fever.
Stover Kulp took care of him and at the same time started
making plans for the mission buildings. One September
morning the ground-breaking service was held. Work
began on the mission houses while Stover nursed his friend.
The village people were interested in all that was going
on. The herdboys, who spent their days watching their
fathers' goats and sheep on the hills, were never tired of
talking about the missionaries. They had never seen white
men before. Some of them thought that such pale-colored
men must have come from a house up in the clouds where
the sun could never reach them.
When the boys did not see Mr. Helser for several days,
they began to wonder if Stover Kulp had eaten him. But
a few days later, Albert Helser appeared outside, looking
whiter than ever and very thin. Stover Kulp felt that his
friend needed special treatment. So the sick missionary
was carried by hammock to the larger river a hundred
miles away, and from there he and Kulp traveled by boat to
Lokoja, five hundred miles south. Albert Helser soon re-
covered under the care of the nearest doctor. The work of
building had now progressed far enough for the mission-
aries to feel safe in bringing their wives. They met them
at the seacoast town and brought them to Jos by train. At
Jos they purchased bicycles on which to travel the four
hundred miles to Garkida.
Mr. and Mrs. Kulp arrived at Garkida first. They were
very eager to see the house the Africans were to have com-
pleted in their absence.
2 [25]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
At the edge of the plateau overlooking the Hawal Valley,
Mr. Kulp called to his wife to stop and look upon their
future home.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "it is beautiful, more beautiful than
I ever could have imagined! There stands Garkida across
the river, just as you told me in your letters, and on the low
twin hills in front of it are what look to be two houses. Are
they ours?"
"Yes," exclaimed Stover with as much eagerness in his
voice as there was in hers. "See the new grass thatch
shining in the morning sunlight? Let's cross the river and
get to the houses as quickly as we can. The Africans in
these parts build only circular houses of one room. I'm not
sure how they will finish the square house that I planned."
After they had been helped across the river by the
friendly Africans, the couple hurried up to the top of the
low hill and entered their home. Each room was filled with
posts to support the roof. In a few moments they were
laughing heartily.
"Let's count them/* laughed Stover. Presently he said,
"There are twenty-seven posts here!"
But when they went outside they thanked the Africans
for doing their best to build a square house with several
rooms.
Within the year a great sadness came to Stover Kulp.
The dreaded sickness of the valley reached into the house
on this hilltop. Mrs. Kulp and their infant son died.
"Why do you stay here and serve us?" the Africans asked
him with questioning looks.
"Because I love to teach you about God the Father and
[26]
AT THE FOOT OF GARKIDA MOUNTAIN
his love for you. So I will stay and serve you as long as lie
gives me strength," answered Stover Kulp.
Stover Kulp knew that the African people must be taught
to read and must be given books. He wrote primers, read-
ers, and grammars in the language of the two tribes who
lived in the region. He translated the Books of Mark and
The Acts and prepared a book of Old Testament stories.
He even helped to bring out a little book that dealt with
the problems of the farmers of the valley.
Whenever there was a hard job to be done, Stover Kulp
was ready to do it. One of the things he liked to do best
was to go through the villages, visiting and preaching.
Then the African homes were thrown open to him, and the
greeting Salaam Aleikum, "Peace be upon you/' was given
with great cheer.
[27]
DOCTOR IN THE DESERT
Paul Harrison (1883- )
by FLORENCE M. QORDON
PATH, HARRISON has always liked tough jobs. He throws
his whole self into whatever he does. As a boy he went
on long hikes to strengthen his thin, wiry frame. He used
to set himself goals in work. "I am going to get this much
finished today/* he would say, always trying to better his
own record.
He would rise at four o'clock in the morning, in the Ne-
braska farm country where he lived, and would race the
farmhands, trying to see which one of them could do the
most in the fields or the strawberry patch in a given time.
By the time Paul had entered high school, he knew that
he wanted to be a medical missionary. He meant to be a
good one, so he entered Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, one
of the best medical schools in the country. Each time he
performed an operation during his training, he tried to do
it better than before.
He was always on the watch for better ways of doing
things. Once he was watching a friend crochet. "How do
you make that stitch?" he asked. "It might be handy for
me to know for sewing up a wound/*
[28]
DOCTOR IN THE DESERT
He used to try out minor operations on himself in order
to learn how to avoid causing pain and scars. He even
tested the stomach pump on himself.
"Where are you going to locate?" Paul Harrison was al-
ways being asked during his last year at Johns Hopkins. But
Paul had not yet decided. Then Samuel Zwerner came to
talk to some of the young doctors and nurses at the hos-
pital. Dr. Zwemer was a missionary in Arabia, on the Per-
sian Gulf.
"Three things make Arabia one of the hardest places in
the world to be a missionary," said Dr. Zwemer, "the lan-
guage, the climate, and the people."
Paul Harrison was challenged by the idea of working in
one of the hardest places in the world. He talked the matter
over with Dr. Zwemer. "If you can show me that Arabia is
the hardest place in the world in which to work, that's
where I'm going," he said.
Within a few days Paul Harrison offered himself to the
Reformed Church in America as a medical missionary to
Arabia. "I chose Arabia," he told his friends, "because I
wanted to go where there was the most trouble and the
hardest job for medicine."
When Dr. Paul Harrison got to Arabia, he found that Dr.
Zwemer had spoken truly about the country's being a hard
place in which to work. Arabic is one of the most difficult
languages to learn, and it was two years before Dr. Harri-
son could speak simple sentences. The climate proved hard,
too. Muscat, where he began his work, is said to be one of
the hottest places in the world. It lies on a narrow strip of
sand along the coast, hemmed in by bare rocky cliffs two
[29]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
or three thousand feet high, which cut off any breezes. The
temperature in the summer hovers around 110 degrees, and
the sand and rocks hold the heat of the sun. At Muscat little
rain falls. There may not be a single shower all year, and
drought follows. Then the date gardens along the coast dry
up, and the town Arabs who depend upon the date palms
for a slender living have a very hard time. The date palm
furnishes food and fuel and building material for the town
Arabs. Mats are made from its leaves, and beds and fur-
niture from its wood. So it is a serious thing when the date
gardens fail. The wandering Bedouins in the interior also
have a hard time getting along in a drought, for their living
depends upon their goats. They live on goat's milk and on
the dates they get in exchange for it. They make and sell
cottage cheese and clarified butter. They sell goats and
goat's hair and sometimes hides. It is a 'serious matter for
them when there is little vegetation for the goats to graze
on. In a drought, thousands of Arabs do not have enough
to eat. People who are near the starvation point easily fall
prey to disease. A drought means more work for the doctor.
Paul Harrison proved equal to his hard task. He was
friendly, adaptable, and inventive. He established a hos-
pital, and patients began to come to it from miles around.
The hospital would not seem much like the ones you
know. The rooms are bare, concrete cubicles. There are
some beds, but the Arabs do not like them, since they are
not used to them. Even a sheik prefers to sleep on a mat
on the floor. A friend or relative usually comes with the
patient to care for him. He brings food and a charcoal
stove on which to cook. He sleeps on a mat on the floor.
[30]
DOCTOR IN THE DESERT
Until recently Dr. Harrison did not even have an X-ray
machine. The lights over the operating table were rigged
up by a local carpenter for a few dollars. If there is no
stretcher, Dr. Harrison or one of his Arab helpers carries
the patient to and from the operating room in his arms.
A pressure cooker, such as your mother may have in her
kitchen, serves as a sterilizer.
A visitor was surprised to find Dr. Harrison with a blow-
torch like those that painters use. "What is that for?" he
asked, aghast.
The doctor grinned. "I heat a soldering iron with it," he
answered. "That's what we use for an electric cauterizing
machine."
From the first, Dr. Harrison has gone on visits to his
patients. On his very first tour, he became acquainted with
the donkey and the camel. "Nothing is harder than the
back of a camel/' he says. All his early tours were made by
camel caravan. Sometimes there were as many as twenty
camels carrying the doctor and his helpers and the medical
supplies, the dressings, kerosene, and food for the party.
Nowadays trips may be made to the towns along the
coast in a sailboat or into the desert in a Ford built es-
pecially to stand the heat. But often the last stage of the
desert tour has to be made on camel back. When Dr. Harri-
son first began to use an automobile, the Bedouins suspected
and feared this strange object. Once they "arrested" it and
put it into jail. A friendly sheik whom Dr. Harrison had
treated got it released.
Sometimes the planes of Imperial Airways have carried
the doctor to distant places on either side of the Persian
[313
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Gulf. Dr. Harrison has had many amusing experiences
while making his visits.
"Can you pull teeth?" a sheik once asked the doctor.
"I think I can."
"Very well. Pull one from the mouth of this slave, and if
your work looks good, I shall have you pull mine."
Fortunately the slave had a tooth that needed pulling,
and when it was out, the sheik opened his mouth, too.
Operations occasionally have to be done along the road-
side under a date palm, with the tall doctor kneeling over
the patient as he lies on the ground. There are dust and
flies to contend with, and the Bedouins crowd in close to
watch it all. "Why do you wash your hands so much?"
they ask.
Mrs, Harrison goes along to help, especially with tibe
women whose families often refuse to let a man doctor
treat them because it is against the customs of their religion.
Dr. Harrison has lately been serving at the mission hos-
pital at Bahrain, called "The Pearl Island" because pearl
fishing was the principal industry till oil was discovered
there. The war brought American and British soldiers to
the mission hospital, and our government gave it an APO
number. Few hospitals serve such a medley of people-
pearl divers and camel drivers, fisherfolk, merchants from
the Pirate Coast, Persians and East Indians, members of the
royal family from the interior, and Bedouins of the desert
tribes.
"He is a very fine sahib," the Arabs say of the doctor,
while he says, "I am in the world's greatest business work-
ing for the kingdom of God. 39
[32]
HE WAS AFRAID BUT HE KEPT ON
James Hoover (1872^1935)
by FRANK T. CARTWRIQHT
WHEN James Hoover was young, Borneo to him was
just a spot on the map, representing an island, as it
probably is to you. If he had ever heard of the people who
lived there, it was likely in the ditty about the "Wild Man
of Borneo." He did not dream that some day those "wild
men" were to give him one of the most frightening experi-
ences of his life.
James Hoover was twenty-seven years old when he set
out to be a missionary in Malaya, that long peninsula
stretching southward from the coast of Asia. He went to
teach in a boys' school in Penang. There he began to hear
stories about the near-by island of Borneo stories that in-
terested and excited him. He started to read all that he
could find about Borneo.
He learned that the "wild men of Borneo" were Dyaks.
They were fierce fighters and head-hunters who were con-
tinually at war with one another. Work did not appeal to
them, and they farmed in a very crude way.
Hoover learned also of the "white Rajah," Charles Brooke,
who ruled in the part of Borneo called Sarawak. The story
[33]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
of how a white man came to devote his life to ruling Sara-
wak and trying to bring peace and order there was one
that fascinated him.
But the story that Hoover liked best of all was of the
founding of a colony of Chinese Christians in Sarawak. The
"white Rajah" had wanted for hjs country, men who would
farm the land. He had struck upon the idea of asking Chi-
nese to come from their crowded country and settle in
Sarawak. He had offered steamer fare, free land, and food
until the first crop was harvested.
The people who had answered his invitation were Chris-
tians from Foochow, China, where there was a flourishing
church. They set out like the Pilgrims of old, and after
many trials they reached Sarawak. There they settled in
the fertile valley of- Rejang to do agricultural work.
The first years in the new land were difficult for the set-
tlers. They were homesick; the land and its ways were
strange to them. The Dyaks were unfriendly and some-
times attacked them. Strange diseases affected them. Their
numbers were growing less all the time. In their misery
they asked that a missionary be sent to them. In Malaya,
Hoover heard their call. He not only heard, he answered
and went to them to be their missionary.
With his boundless energy and his undefeatable Chris-
tian faith, Hoover brought new spirit to the Chinese. They
began to succeed where before they had steadily failed. He
persuaded them to try crops new to them but suited to the
climate and soil of Sarawak rubber, pepper, coffee. The
people of each scattered settlement were encouraged to
establish at the center a building that would serve as both
[34]
HE WAS AFRAID BUT HE KEPT ON
church and school and to endow it with a plot of land on
which by united labor they would plant rubber trees that
would help to support the pastor-teacher. He trained the
more promising boys until they were able to serve as lay
preachers, and the best of these were sent away for theo-
logical training.
All the time he was befriending the Dyaks, even though
he never had the time nor the resources to establish schools
and churches for them. They knew that he was friendly to
them and did not hesitate to come to him. It was shortly
after James Hoover had married Mary, the daughter of a
missionary, that the most frightening experience of his life
occurred.
This is how Hoover described the happening to a friend
of his:
"Mary and I had been married only a short time, and the
life in Borneo was strange for her. In many ways it was
terrifying. She knew and liked the Chinese, but they them-
selves were afraid of the nearly naked Dyaks, who would
come to town in groups, heavily tattooed and carrying head-
knives, shields, and spears. We had scarcely organized our
school and congregation when an intertribal war broke out
in the upriver regions, and some Dyaks friendly to the 'white
Rajah* came up the creek in their war canoes and anchored
at the bridge near our liome/ After they had eaten a
supper of rice, sweet potatoes, and a snake they had broiled,
the headman came to demand that they be allowed to sleep
in the large room of our house. What could we say? Not a
thing except a word of welcome. There were no policemen
for protection. We were hundreds of miles from any effec-
[35]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
tive force of white men. The Chinese of the village a little
way downstream were as afraid as we were.
"They moved in, and we went into our inner rooms,
which had only flimsy doors with no locks on them. We
talked and, yes, we prayed an extra prayer because we
were nervous. And the next chapter was even worse, be-
cause they decided to rehearse for the battle they expected
the next day. First one and then another warrior would
rush out into the center of the room, brandishing his spear,
leaping and howling his defiance. As if an enemy were in
front of him, he would swing his shield before his body
and wield his heavy knife as though his enemy's body were
being carved into bits. Each dancer grew more wild, until
we actually feared that a frenzy would drive them to attack
us. We could hear even the little sounds, the panting breath
as well as the shrieked defiance. And we could see every-
thing because the cracks were almost as wide as our eyes!
I think that long night of fear was our most terrifying ex-
perience.
"But Mary lulled 'em! She suggested that we open our
little folding organ, and that really got them. Not one had
ever seen a 'singing box* before, so they crowded around to
watch and listen as she played. Soon they sat on the floor
and fell asleep. It was truly a laughable ending to what we
feared would be a tragedy.*'
Hoover reported that their guests stayed a week and were
put to sleep with singing every night.
With his wife as almost his only missionary aide, he
spread churches and schools throughout the entire valley.
In later years, he brought from the United States, as gifts
[36]
HE WAS AFRAID BUT HE KEPT ON
of Christian friends, a small electric light plant and a power-
driven sawmill An ice plant was established for the city,
which soon grew where the first settlement was made. All
of these projects were started by the missionary but imme-
diately turned over to groups of Christian Chinese, so that
the economic life of the whole region was steadily bettered.
A radio station was set up, and Hoover was the "expert."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Hoover started a primary school for the
girls and later a secondary one where numbers of girls
were trained for higher education or for the malting of good
homes. Mary Hoover from the very beginning insisted that
homemaking was one of the "musts" in the curriculum in
Sarawak, and it was not a matter for wonder that she found
herself almost besieged by the educated Chinese young
men who wanted her to help arrange betrothals with her
schoolgirls.
With no children of their own, Tuan Hoover (as the
Malays called the missionary) and his wife stretched their
affection to cover literally hundreds, even thousands, of
Chinese in that region. Each six or seven years they would
spend a brief furlough in the United States, sometimes
studying, more often going up and down the land, telling
of their work and shrewdly seeking constructive gifts to
build a better community life on Borneo.
Years piled up. Honors came to them both. Charles
Vyner Brooke, the third rajah of Sarawak, esteemed the
elderly missionary, whom his father, Rajah Charles Brooke,
had appointed in 1904 as 'protector of the Sarawak Foo-
chows/* The Hoovers were frequent guests in the astana,
or palace, of the rajah in Kuching, the capital.
[37]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
In February of 1935, Hoover took seriously ill while on
a boat from Kuching to Sibu, his home city. In Sibu, the
doctor advised that Hoover be taken back to Kuching,
where there was a hospital and adequate nursing. No boat
was due to go back to Kuching for a week. When the
rajah's representative in Sibu learned of the grave condition
of his friend, he ordered steam in the boilers of the govern-
ment launch and insisted that it make a special trip to take
the sick man back to Kuching. Burning with fever, pitiably
weak, Hoover was carried to the little cabin of the launch,
protesting against leaving his work.
Two days later, Hoover was dead, malignant malaria
having taken him off. The rajah ordered all schools and
government offices closed in honor of one of Sarawak's great
men. The bright-colored flag was half-masted throughout
the little protectorate. Chinese men and women wept
openly and unashamed because their great friend had died.
But a series of clean and modern communities existed up
and down the Rejang River because he had lived. And
there were scores of schools and self-supporting churches
with several thousand Christian church members as a living
monument to one who, often in danger and sometimes
afraid, never even faltered in his following of the way that
he believed to be the way of Christ.
[38]
THE FARMER MISSIONARY
Brayton Case (1887-1944)
by FLORENCE STANSBURY
IT "WAS the magic time of early morning in Burma. Two
boys dashed along the street of their little village. Po
Min and Ba Thaw were on their way to get their friend
Lu Gyi.
"Wake up! Wake up!" they called to him. In a few mo-
ments Lu Gyi stood before them, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"This is the day the white man comes! Don't you re-
member?" said Ba Thaw impatiently.
Lu Gyi shook himself awake. Of course he remembered!
No white man had ever been to this little Burmese village
before, and for days the boys had been talking of him. Be-
sides, was not the white man the teacher of their teacher?
It was proper that the schoolboys should make ready the
meeting place.
The three boys went to a large cleared space close to the
village. They cleaned from it all sticks and stones and rub-
bish. As they worked, they talked of the white man and of
how he would look.
Secretly all three were more than a little frightened at
the thought of seeing a white man.
[39]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
"He will probably bring a pig and a chicken with him/'
said Ba Thaw, who had talked a lot with his teacher.
At this idea the other boys had to laugh. "A white man
with a pig and a chicken! Just like any village farmer!"
snorted Lu Gyi.
Bong! Bong! The sound rang out over the village. It
was the gong calling the boys to school. They hurried along
the narrow, winding path to the small school made of
bamboo.
Inside the school the teacher reminded the pupils to
come to the village meeting that night. The missionary,
Brayton Case, whom the Burmese people called Sayah
Case, would be there. The three boys did not need any
reminding. They were as curious to see a white man as
anyone in the village.
Toward the close of the afternoon, the village people
gathered on the path along which the white man would
come. They waited and watched. Before long their pa-
tience was rewarded by a shout. "Here he comes! Here
comes Sayah Case!"
The elders stepped forward, all ready to welcome the
visitor in the name of the village. As for Po Min and Ba
Thaw and Lu Gyi, their fears got the better of them. They
ducked into the bushes near, the path. Their bright eyes
peered out from behind the leaves, watching for their first
sight of the white man.
Then he came along the path, carrying a pig and a
chicken. His tanned skin did not look so white after all.
But he seemed as tall as a giant, with his long arms and
legs. The three boys leaned out from their hiding place as
[40]
THE FARMER MISSIONARY
they watched their teacher go forward to greet the visitor.
"Welcome to our village! All we have is yours!"
"Thank you," replied Sayah Case, walking along the path
with the teacher.
Sayah Case glanced around him. He saw the faces of
the three boys peering at him from the bushes, and he gave
a hearty laugh. At once the boys felt that he was their
friend. They came out from the bushes and followed closely
after him.
That was a wonderful night for the boys. They followed
their teacher and Sayah Case into the village. First of all,
Sayah Case asked to see their chickens and pigs. He
showed the ones he had brought. "You can grow chickens
and pigs like mine," he said.
It was still light when the villagers gathered at the meet-
ing place. Sayah Case talked about his school, Pyinmana
Agricultural School, where boys could learn not only to
read and write but to be good farmers as well. Lu Gyi
thought, "Oh, if I could only go to that school!"
Before Sayah Case finished,, he was telling the people
about the God whom he loved and who loved them all.
This was not the first time that the villagers had heard the
story of Jesus Christ, because the village teacher had taught
them from the Bible. Already, few had dared to say that
they wanted to be Christians. Tonight more made that de-
cision, among them Maw Kaw, who was Lu Gyf s father.
Sayah Case stayed with the teacher that night. As Lu
Gyi and his father walked home, the boy asked the big
question: "May I go to the white man's school?"
Here was a way that Maw Kaw could show his new-
[41]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
found belief. "Yes, you may go if Sayah Case will take you
with him/' he said.
Lu Gyi slept little that night. Early the next morning he
and his father knocked at the teacher's door. The teacher
and Sayah Case had already had breakfast and were ready
to start the day's work. As it was not a school day, they
were going to call all the village men together to talk about
how they could grow bigger hens and fatter pigs and better
crops.
Maw Kaw told the teacher and Sayah Case of Lu Gyfs
desire to go to the Agricultural School.
"Good! Good!" said the teacher. "Lu Gyi is a bright,
dependable boy."
"He may go with me when I leave," said Sayah Case.
How the other boys envied Lu Gyi! Both Ba Thaw and
Po Min wanted to go with him. They begged their fathers
until each of them said "Yes." So the three boys packed
their clothes and food for the journey to the school.
The trip was long, but the time passed quickly. Sayah
Case seemed to know everyone. Whenever they came to a
village, he talked to the headman. Always he told about
how to have better hens, more crops, new vegetables, better
fruit, and fatter pigs.
"Your oranges are too small and seedy," he said to some.
"Next time you come by the school, stop in. Let me sell
you some trees that will grow large, juicy, sweet oranges."
To others he said, "Your beans are good for animals to
eat but not for people. Next time you are near the school
get some of my beans. They are good for people to eat."
In one village the people rushed out to meet Sayah Case,
[42]
THE FARMER MISSIONARY
"Come see our hens that came from your eggs!" they said,
and also, "Look at these' cabbages! They are from seed you
gave us."
Always when Sayah Case stopped in a village he talked
to the people about his God. He carried a little black book
and often read from it. The people liked to hear him talk
about more and better animals and crops, but they seemed
happiest when he read from the Bible and told of Jesus*
love for everyone.
As they traveled through the villages, a question had
been growing in Lu Gyi's mind. One evening he put it to
Sayah Case. "Why did you leave America and come to
work in Burma? These villagers are not your people."
*T love the Burmese people. They are indeed my people,
for I was born here in Burma. I went to America for study.
I planned to be a minister like my father. But all the time
I kept remembering how poor the Burmese people were,
how small and scrawny were their animals. I remembered
that they had only rice to eat and that many were sick all
the time. I recalled that many babies and little children died
because they did not have enough good food. I believed
that God wanted people to be well and strong and happy.
So I knew what my work must be. I must show the Bur-
mese people how to grow new crops and better pigs and
chickens so that they can be well and strong and happy.
That is why I am a farmer missionary.
"I teach the farmers how to grow better crops and ani-
mals. And all the time I preach the gospel of Christ to
them because I think it is the best thing I have to give
them."
[43]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Lu Gyi and the others had much to think about before
they fell asleep that night.
The three boys were tired but happy when they reached
the school. Brayton Case and his wife made a place for
them in the school. Mrs. Case soon became their good
friend. Part of each day the boys spent learning to read
and write. The rest of the day they worked on the farm.
Each one was taught to feed and care for the pigs and
chickens. Quickly they learned what feed made animals
fat and what to do if one of them got sick. It was fun to
take care of the plump, clucking hens and fat, sleek pigs.
Hots of ground were cleared and new kinds of seed
tried out. The boys found that some would grow and some
would not, Sayah Case was constantly encouraging them
to try new seeds.
Lu Gyi took a special liking to Sayah Case. He often
asked to do extra things for the teacher. Sayah Case, whose
own son was in faraway America, found a good companion
in Lu Gyi. After walking and talking with Sayah Case one
night, Lu Gyi could not sleep. So he crept softly down the
stairs to Sayah Case's study. There sat the teacher at his
desk, clearing up the day's work.
Softly Lu Gyi knocked and quickly and kindly he was
invited into the study.
*I couldn't sleep! Tell me again the story of Jesus."
Sayah Case took his Bible and told again the story of Jesus'
love and his command that all should love and follow him.
*I believe," said Lu Gyi. "It is very simple. One should
give something in return for Jesus* love. I am ready to
give myself/*
[44]
THE FARMER MISSIONARY
So Lu Gyi became a Christian. He went with Bray ton
Case to near-by villages to teach the farmers the value of
better seeds and larger gardens. Sometimes he went on
longer trips also.
One day Sayah Case spoke to Lu Gyi and his friends as
they were working in their gardens. "Want to go on a trip
with me? I must visit a village not far from here."
Of course they wanted to go. Their shining eyes, their
smiles, and their nods showed it.
"What can you do when you get there?" asked Sayah
Case practically.
"Teach the boys a game," said Po Min.
"Clear a place for the meeting," said Ba Thaw.
"Help plant a garden," said Lu Gyi.
"That sounds good to me! I'll get three older boys to go,
too. Be ready after lunch."
What fun it was packing! What joy to think of riding in
a car! The boys took along food and clothes for the three
days they would be away. They packed their bed rolls in
the car. Then in went pigs and chickens in crates and
plenty of seeds in' bags.
Just before they were ready to leave, Sayah Case called
the six boys to his study. "We are going to a village that
knows nothing about us or our work," he said. "The people
are poor and many are ill. They have only rice to eat and
not enough of that. They have never heard of Jesus nor of
his love for men. Let us ask God to bless us in our work
for this village."
Quietly and reverently the boys stood with bowed heads
as Sayah Case prayed with them.
xMISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Soon six happy boys were packing themselves into the
car. At first they laughed and talked, then grew quiet and
sleepy as the car chugged along over the rough dirt roads.
Finally they stopped not far from the village.
"We sleep here tonight. In the morning well go into the
village/* said Brayton Case.
Before many minutes had passed all were in their bed
rolls fast asleep. They awakened with the first rays of the
sun. Soon they were at breakfast, ready for the day's ad-
venture.
"Take it easy," warned Sayah Case. "Remember we are
strangers. Don't urge people to do anything. Let them
watch you work. They will want to help soon enough."
The day in the village was fun. Two of the boys taught
the village children new games. Two others spaded up a
plot for a garden and planted seeds. Sayah Case talked to
the men about how to grow better vegetables, fruits, and
meat for their children. He gave them eggs from which
fine chickens would hatch. He showed them a fat, sleek pig.
Meanwhile two of the boys had cleared a small place at
the edge of the village for the evening meeting. Just be-
fore supper Sayah Case came to the clearing and sat down
with the boys.
"All ready?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. We have the pictures for the children and the
big picture to show the people."
"Good/* said Brayton Case, "you've been real helpers
today. This afternoon you ve helped me spread the gospel
of good farming. Tonight you 11 help me tell the gospel of
God's love"
[46]
AN UNWANTED GIRL
IdaKahn (1871-1931)
by EDITH FREDERICKS
A BABY girl was born into a poor Chinese home over
seventy-five years ago. The family were disappointed,
for they had hoped for a boy. It was good that the baby
was too young to understand the talk that went, on around
her.
"Another girl!" sighed the Chinese mother. "We have so
many girls already."
"Well, give her away," said the neighbors.
"Who would want a girl?" sighed the mother. She and
the neighbors knew that girls were an expense to a family.
They had to be married young, and weddings cost money.
According to the Chinese custom of the day, the parents
called in the blind fortuneteller to give them advice about
the baby.
"Give her away or drown her," said the blind fortune-
teller.
The parents were not willing to do that. Already they
loved the bright-eyed baby girl. They began to make other
plans. They decided to betroth her to a little boy in a
neighboring family. They consulted the fortuneteller again,
[47]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
but he declared that the marriage would not succeed. He
said that the little girl had been born under the dog star
and the little boy under the cat star, and they would never
get along together. The parents were at a loss to know
what to do.
The baby did not seem to mind. She grew chubby and
healthy. Unknown to her family, a great change in her for-
tune was on its way.
One day, to their surprise, a Mr. Chan called upon them.
He was a city man and a teacher, so they were impressed.
He said that he knew someone who wanted their baby girl
and who would take good care of her. The mother was
pleased, but when she heard who wanted the baby her dark
eyes were full of surprise. It was a woman missionary
teacher from America.
Mr. Chan said the teacher was about to start a school for
girls in the large city of Kiukiang on the Yangtze River.
He did not explain to the mother that the city people
would not send their girls to the school. They were sus-
picious of the foreign woman, Gertrude Howe.
"Whoever heard of girls learning to read anyway!" the
people had said.
Mr. Chan was doubtful about it himself. He was Miss
Howe's teacher of Chinese. She had often talked to him
about the school she hoped to have. He knew that she
wanted to prove to the people that girls could learn to read
and write as well as boys.
One day Miss Howe had said to Mr. Chan, "I shall adopt
some little girls and teach them myself. They will be my
first pupils/*
[48]
AN UNWANTED GIRL
So that is how Mr. Chan came to be asking for the tin-
wanted baby girl He said that the baby would be given
learning. The mother was pleased at that, though she her-
self knew nothing about schools. Within a few days, ar-
rangements were made for the baby to be adopted by Miss
Howe.
Soon after, the baby was taken to her new home. The
mother had dressed her in a little, bright-red coat and em-
broidered tiger cap. The baby stared with large, black eyes
and then smiled as Miss Howe took her into her arms. The
missionary named her Ida after her own beloved sister and
gave her the last name of Kahn, because it was similar to
her rightful family name.
Ida became a loved and devoted daughter to Miss Howe.
Later the missionary adopted three more girls. When the
Chinese saw how well she cared for the little ones they
lost their suspicion of her.
Girls began to enter the school. They learned quickly
and easily. The people of the city began to see that girls
could learn as well as boys, but they still thought , that
school was a waste of time. Yet year by year the school
grew.
Ida was a brilliant student and spent much time outside
of her studies helping her beloved missionary mother. She
learned to speak English well.
"Mother, I want to be a doctor," said Ida one day.
^There are so many sick people all about us with no one to
care for them." Her mother agreed, and plans were made.
The school years moved swiftly for this happy, smiling
girl. While she took her share of responsibility in the
[49]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
school, she was being specially prepared for college and for
medical school in America.
Ida loved her years of study in America. She made
friends easily. She was graduated from medical school with
honors and returned to China in 1896 as a medical mission-
ary. With her went her Chinese Christian friend who had
gone all through school with her and who was now Dr.
Mary Stone*
The strings of exploding firecrackers brought large
crowds of people out into the narrow streets of the inland
city to which Dr. Ida and Dr. Mary were welcomed as they
returned together to found a Christian hospital in Kiukiang,
the place where they had been brought up and which was
home to them. Medical work was new and women doctors
still newer, particularly ones who had been educated in a
foreign country. Never before had the people seen Chinese
foreign-educated women doctors. Even before the two
doctors had a house in which to work, sick people began
coming to them in large numbers. Later a new building
was put up, and the two young doctors were happy in help-
ing the many people who came to them. A year went by,
and day after day their fame had spread abroad, and sick
people came from farther and farther distances.
One day a rich-looking sedan chair appeared at the gate
of the hospital. Out of it stepped an official in his silken
robes. He asked to see the doctor immediately. "This is
very important," said he.
He was ushered into the reception room where he met
Dr. Kahn, who served him a cup of hot tea, as was the
custom. He explained that the wife of a high official was
[50]
AN UNWANTED GIRL
very ill and that he had come to take a doctor back.
"We have tried everything," said he. "A small boat is
waiting to take you to Nanchang."
Now Nanchang, the provincial capital, was one hundred
miles south, and there was no railroad to it. Going there
would mean a long journey on a small boat and a stay of at
least two weeks away from the hospital. But Dr. Kahn
made the trip and brought the wife of the high official back
with her to the hospital in Kiukiang.
The woman was healed of her sickness. During her stay
in the hospital, she had come to love its peace and quiet
and the joyous spirit of the two Chinese doctors and the
Chinese nurses they had trained. When she went back to
her home in Nanchang, she gave glowing reports of her
stay in the hospital.
As a result, wives of other officials made the long journey
to the hospital to be treated. "Open a hospital for us in
Nanchang," they begged. "There is not a single educated
doctor in our large, crowded city."
"But it will be difficult. There are no missionaries there.
Hardly anyone knows about Christianity," argued Dr. Kahn.
"There will be no money to start a hospital."
"We will help you build the hospital, if you will only
come/' said her friends from Nanchang. "We will raise the
money."
"Very well. I shall go," promised Dr. Kahn. She was
young and full of faith and courage. She could see that the
healing of one sick woman might open a new way. And in-
deed it did!
A church was started in Nanchang. When Dr. Kahn ar-
[51]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
rived in the city in 1902, one thousand dollars had already
been raised for the hospital. With it she rented a house
and opened a clinic. Money kept coming to her to help the
poor and the sick. The news of her service spread quickly.
Early every morning crowds of sick and suffering people
were at the gates to see the young doctor. Soon the clinic
house was not big enough to hold them all. Before long the
rich people of the city gave Dr. Kahn a large piece of land
near the center of the town on which to build a hospital.
"I have the land for the hospital but not enough money
to build it/' said Dr. Kahn.
"We will help/* said her friends in China and in America.
Money was collected, dollar by dollar, and over a period
of years, beginning in 1911, the hospital was built. Dr. Ida
planted trees and shrubs and flowers around it to make the
grounds beautiful. To the gardener she said, <e We must
have plenty of fresh vegetables for the hospital, but we also
want beautiful roses and lilies and chrysanthemums to cut
for the rooms and for the wards. Beauty helps make people
well." Being a great lover of beauty herself, she believed
in it for others. Both sick and well people enjoyed her
flowers and shrubs and spacious lawns.
Dr. Kahn was also a lover of people. She had friends in
the elegant homes of the rich and in the little mud huts of
the poor. She served all her sick people faithfully. Patients
came from long distances to consult her. The grown-up
sick were carried in sedan chairs or on bamboo stretchers.
Babies and small children were brought in the arms or on
the backs of relatives or friends. None of the hospital beds
was empty. Many people were turned away because there
[52]
AN UNWANTED GIRL
was no room, and so the hospital had to be made larger.
There were many who were too sick to be brought to the
hospital. Dr. Kahn went out to visit them. She tells of one
trip on a midwinter day. "We crossed the Fu River several
times in our sedan chairs and were nearly frozen, but we
saved the life of a mother and her little boy, so everyone
was happy. In one home the people said the evil spirits left
as soon as we entered the house and everything was peace-
ful and quiet, whereas before we came the spirits had made
a great noise and everyone was afraid. Here we were able
to help sick children, and the parents gave us two hundred
dollars to help the poor patients in the city."
For many years Dr. Ida Kahn, beloved physician and
friend of the people, served in this hospital in Nanchang.
She not only healed sick bodies, but she shared the Chris-
tian message with all who came to her. She was a radiant
Christian, and the people loved her.
Often there were uprisings among the people. Bandits
were a constant menace. Revolutions broke out and raged.
But through all these dangers Dr. Kahn carried on her work
calmly and steadily. Not only did she work herself, she
prepared others to do the same kind of service. Chinese
girls were trained as nurses and as clinic helpers to serve
their people and the community. With other Chinese doc-
tors of that day, Dr. Ida Kahn had opened the way for
modern medicine in China.
"When I think of what my life might have been/' said
this noble doctor one day, "and what through God's grace
it is, I think there is nothing that God has given me that I
would not gladly use in his service."
[53]
RED-HEADED WHIRLWIND
Robert McClure (190O- )
by MURIEL BEATON PATTERSON
THE sun was shining, the lake was cool, the Canadian
woods were a-song with birds. Two young lads sat
moodily on the dock, kicking their heels against the boards.
"Gee, this camp is dull," sighed one.
"Nothing ever happens," complained the other.
"You just wait,"" a voice floated up from the water. "Bob
McClure arrives tomorrow. Then watch things hum."
The next day Bob arrived blue-eyed, tall, broad-shoul-
dered, and carrot-topped. True enough, the camp began to
hum. The days were full of exciting happenings for the
boys. A dynamo of energy had been released. Not many
years later the Chinese were to say of this same Canadian,
"He never walks if he can run; he never runs if he can
gallop."
Bob McClure galloped through his early school years in
China, where his father was a medical missionary, through
two years of high school, and seven years of medicine in
Canada. He never decided to become a doctor; he just
took it for granted that some day he would be a surgeon
in China like his father.
[54]
RED-HEADED WHIRLWIND
College chums remember Bob McClure as the red-head
who ran a barber shop in his room during the term, han-
dled a baggage truck for the express office during the
Christmas holidays, operated, dismantled, and put together
again Sir William Gage's motorboat one summer vacation,
drove an ice wagon to get extra money, and still managed
to have time for church, church school, and college groups.
He was graduated from college and became Dr. McClure.
While still a student, Bob went one evening to a corn
roast. There he met a young businesswoman named Amy
Hislop. The two were attracted to each other. Later they
became engaged. Amy Hislop took nurse's training so that
she would be able to help Bob. The young doctor went to
China alone, but he kept writing letters and planning. In
1926, Amy and her father started off on the long voyage to
China. They expected Bob to meet them somewhere in
Japan and travel back to China with them. They went to
Yokohama, to Kobe, to Nagasaki, but no Bob. They arrived
in Shanghai in China and still no Bob. Finally they secured
passage on a small coastal steamer that would take them
on their way. By accident they moored at Cheefoo, where
a Chinese port doctor came aboard. On hearing Miss His-
lop's name he lost his usual Chinese calm and left the boat
hurriedly. In a short time he reappeared with an excited
young Canadian in tow. Bob had become so interested in
his work that he had lost count of the days and had been
at Cheefoo, on his way to Shanghai, when the port doctor
had burst into the room with the news that his bride-to-be
had already arrived. Shortly afterward the marriage took
place.
[55]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
The young couple had lived only six months in Honan
when rebellion flared around them. The McClures were
forced to leave China for safety. They went to Formosa,
where the doctor worked for three years and learned a
great deal about tuberculosis. There two children, Nora
and Douglas, were born.
A measure of peace had settled over China, so the Mc-
Clures returned to Honan. Two other children, Patricia
and Josephine, were added to the family circle. The Mc-
Clures are a truly international family, for Bob himself was
bom in Portland, Oregon, after his mother had fled from
China at the time of the Boxer Rebellion.
Then followed busy years at the hospital in Hwaiking.
Bob had hospital and clinic work to do, teaching to carry
on, patients to visit, field trips to make, and a number of
odd jobs to attend to as well. One of his odd jobs was to
be the doctor for the workers in a British-controlled coal
mine. The coal began to give him ideas. .In the hospital
he had to operate by the light of candles and oil lamps.
Why not have electricity, he dreamed. With Dr. McClure,
to dream is to act. He started experiments with the coal
from the mine. Six months later a Diesel engine was on
order from England. One exciting day a panting coolie
brought news that many crates were waiting at the distant
railroad station! Dozens of coolies were hired, and the
precious boxes were carried across two rivers and over
miles of road to the mission. The other missionaries looked
on in bewilderment as the crates of machinery were
opened. Not so the doctor! With a smile of pure enjoy-
ment, he took off his coat, and with the help of one man
[56]
RED-HEADED WHIRLWIND
who knew a little about machinery, he began putting the
equipment together. The heavy work of the hospital could
not be interrupted for even a day, so the project of assem-
bling the machinery took weeks. When the first electric
lights blinked on. Bob McClure led the cheering.
It wasn't enough just to have an electric plant. Someone
had to be able to run it as well. At first, no one but Dr.
McClure could do it. Every time he returned from a field
trip he would be greeted by an anxious staff, saying, "The
lights are off again, Dr. Bob."
Dr. McClure knew what to do. He would teach the Chi-
nese to help him. In addition to carrying on his surgery,
teaching, and visiting, he taught a group of Chinese me-
chanics to run the electric plant. They learned their job
well, and the hospital had its electric lights.
Bob McClure's big interest is surgery and medicine.
When he first practised, the hospital was so crowded with
patients that often the serious cases could not be given the
good care they needed.
"If only we had some doctors who could look after the
light cases!" Dr. McClure often said to himself.
From early boyhood, Bob McClure had roamed the Chi-
nese countryside. Just outside of Hwaiking were several
large towns. The doctor was visiting in one of these when
he met a young man who had once worked as a helper in
the hospital. This man had set up a practice in his own
town and was doing a good business, although he had had
no real medical training. "He's a 'quack doctor/ but he's
helping people by using the knowledge he learned at the
hospital," said the doctor to himself.
8 [57]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
The "great idea" came to Dr. McClure at that moment.
He saw a way of caring for the easy cases. When he got
back to the hospital he chose the brightest of the hospital
men nurses and gave them special training. After several
years, these "quacks," as Bob called them, were sent out to
the surrounding towns. Every two weeks the doctor visited
their clinics, saw their patients, and sold them supplies.
The light cases they were able to treat themselves. But the
cases they could not help were turned over to the doctor
when he made his rounds. Gradually the hospital filled
with the seriously sick, while many .hundreds of light cases
were treated by the doctor's "quacks/*
When the war broke out, the Red Cross in China asked
Dr. McClure if he would became the director of their ac-
tivities. For two years he inspected hospitals, kept supplies
rolling, dealt with Japanese and guerillas. His family lived
in Hwaiking for a time. Finally they were separated by the
lines of battle, the father on one side and the family on the
otifcter. After some time, Mrs. McClure and the children
managed to cross the Pacific and return to Canada.
As the war surged southward, the Chinese Army retreated
slowly, south and west. Dr. McClure found himself in
charge of hospitals and depots on the Burma Road. Sup-
plies were desperately needed. Trucks arrived, and there
were no drivers and no mechanics. The doctor appealed
to the West China Union University for senior high school
boys who were conscientious objectors to come and help.
Forty young lads were on the spot in two weeks.
It was dangerous business training them, for their prac-
tice ground was the rough and tricky curves of the Burma
[58]
RED-HEADED WHIRLWIND
Road, where enemy planes often flew low overhead. Dr.
McClure taught the boys and drove with them, sharing
their food and their adventures, driving under rice stacks
when a plane attacked, treating the wounded in the valley
and villages, exhorting, pleading, commanding, "Keep 'em
rolling!" One evening at dusk Dr. McClure was standing
by a truck when a driver swung a big truck into the yard.
The doctor was caught between the two trucks and badly
injured. Even in the hospital, with his chest crushed, verte-
brae injured, twenty-two ribs broken, he tried to carry on
his work. Because of the accident, he had to return to
Canada for a rest.
Once he felt well again, he tried to join the Canadian
Army but was turned down on account of his injuries. He
was getting ready to go back to China when he received a
telegram from the British Friends Society. It invited him
to lead a unit of fifty men with full ambulance equipment
on the Burma Road. The Friends Ambulance Unit was to
be financed by the American Society. Over half of its mem-
bers would be Americans and the rest British. A Canadian
director with American ties was the ideal leader.
Back to work on the Burma Road went Dr. McClure,
fighting typhus fever, relapsing fever, smallpox, malaria;
healing wounds; operating; dispensing medicines; living
in danger on the front lines of battle. Some members of the
unit were killed and wounded. Dr. McClure was stricken
with typhus and again sent home for a rest. He spent his
furlough in making speeches, pleading with Canadians and
Americans to see the big job there was to be done.
When the war ended, the Friends Ambulance Unit,
[59]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
which was still on the Burma Road, asked their director to
lead the way back into North China, Dr. Robert McClure
returned joyously to China. There was plenty of work to be
done, and he was a man who enjoyed work.
Whatever the future holds for Dr. McClure, whether the
red-headed whirlwind will be traveling the Honan country-
side by bicycle, baby Austin car, motorcycle, or perhaps
American jeep, the Chinese will shake their heads saying
with pride and wonder, "He never walks if he can run; he
never runs, if he can gallop."
[60]
THE STORY SMALL BROTHER LOVED
Newton Chiang (1900- )
by MARY BEEWSTER HOLL1STER
TITTLE Hsien-chwang trudged wearily in the wake of
J_^Brindle Cow, along a path beside a canal in West
China. His chapped hands held tightly to her long straw
rope so she would not run away again. He had been watch-
ing her and the other cows as they grazed on the grassy
slope, while Third Elder Brother climbed to the hilltop to
sketch the lovely Chengtu plain below. It seemed to
Hsien-chwang that he had barely nodded his head. But
when he had opened his eyes Brindle Cow was gone. And
now his short legs were aching from the long chase she had
given him before he had found her again.
The plain was already in purple shadow. The sun was
setting, and its fiery lights were reflected in the water of
the canal. The winter wind blew needle sharp from the dis-
tant mountains. Hsien-chwang shivered inside his patched
cotton coat. He looked toward the grassy knoll where the
rest of the herd had been, but there was not a single cow
in sight.
"AiT he sighed. "Third Elder Brother has taken the cows
home. What will mother think when I'm not with him?
[61]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Why did you choose so cold a day to wander?" he scolded
at Brindle Cow.
The cow flicked her tail in his face, stinging his eyes. He
stumbled, and just then she gave a sudden spurt of speed.
Hsien-chwang lurched forward, lost his footing, and tum-
bled into the icy waters of the canal close to the path. But
his hands were still holding tightly to Brindle Cow's rope.
"If I can just hold on, Brindle Cow can pull me out," he
sputtered. But she did not pull him out She merely pulled
him along, giving him no time to scramble up the steep,
slippery bank. He was afraid to let go of the rope, though
his hands felt stiff and numb with cold. By and by he felt
aching hands let go.
"There's Brindle Cow!" he heard his brothers shouting.
"But where is Small One?" He knew they were looking for
him.
"There he is!" Through his daze Hsien-chwang knew it
was Eldest Brother's deep voice. "In the canal!"
"Quick! Quick!" the familiar voices of his brothers called
together. Strong hands drew him up the bank.
"Did you want to take your bath before you got home,
little shrimp?" joked Eldest Brother. He picked Hsien-
chwang up in his strong arms, dripping clothes and all.
The small boy relaxed against his brother's shoulder, too
tired to protest being carried. This brother was grown up,
a sophomore at the university. So it was almost like having
Father Chiang carry him, as he used to do before he left
for his important work in America. Then Hsien-chwang
had been only four years old and really young enough to
be carried.
[62]
THE STORY SMALL BROTHER LOVED
Safe at home, Hsien-chwang was given a steaming bath.
Soon after, Mother Chiang, her thin, bright face smiling,
brought him a bowl of hot milk. "Lucky it is we have our
good cows to give us and our neighbors milk." She tucked
the faded, patched comforter around the small boy's shoul-
ders. "See that you don't get cold after that hot bath Eldest
Brother gave you."
The rest of the family had their supper around the rough
homemade table, just beyond the thin partition, with the
door open so Small One could see and hear them alL It
was crowded but cozy, this tiny Szechwan farmhouse, with
Mother Chiang, eight sons, and Father's youngest sister.
Third Elder Brother came in to get Hsien-chwang's
empty rice bowl. "Did you finish your drawing?" his
youngest brother asked eagerly.
"Don't laugh at me, Small One," Third Elder Brother said
dreamily. "I caught a glimpse of our own farmhouse be-
neath the old pine trees. So I drew a picture of that in-
stead." He took the picture from his pocket and held it to
the flickering candlelight.
"I like it," murmured Hsien-chwang happily. "Our Gin-
ling dairy farm is beautiful."
His elder brothers crowded into the room to get their
schoolbooks from the cupboard beside Hsien-chwang's bed.
"Small One, yo,u look like a refugee wrapped in that
ragged old comforter." Second Elder Brother grinned at his
little brother.
"I am not a refugee," Hsien-chwang said sturdily. "I was
born in the Province of Szechwan. I'm a native."
"You are indeed," Eldest Brother nodded. "We are the
[63]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
refugees. You were born in Chengtu, after our long jour-
ney afoot from Nanking."
Hsien-cliwang was reminded of the ache in his legs. "I
made a long journey afoot myself today. I walked as far
chasing Brindle Cow as you all walked in a day."
"Hail Listen to the infant!" jeered Fourth Brother. "On
our journey we began walking sky-scarcely-light, and we
walked until darkness fell/'
"I walked until darkness fell today/' Small One said stub-
bornly.
"Until you fell into the canal/' his brothers Hsien-hwa
and Hsien-lin shouted in chorus. They always did every-
thing together. Being nine and ten, nearly the same age
and size, they looked and acted like twins.
"You don't remember the journey yourselves," Hsieri-
chwang said to them. "You were only two and three years
old/'
"They were brave babies/' Mother sat beside Small One
on the bed and made room for Hsien-hwa and Hsien-lin
beside her. "When Father and I were so weary that we
couldn't carry them another step, they'd trudge along on
their small legs/'
In the outer room, the five elder brothers and Auntie
were crowded around the table and the one peanut-oil
lamp, their heads bent over their schoolbooks. In the inner
room Mother and the three youngest huddled close together
beneath the comforter for company and warmth. This was
the hour of the day Hsien-chwang loved best, when
Mother, weary from her day's toil, sat thus on their bed,
and they snuggled close around her. They sang songs
[64]
THE STORY SMALL BROTHER LOVED
they'd learned at school and told one another stories softly
so as not to disturb the studious ones in the ring of lamp-
light.
"Tell us, Mother, about the journey," Small One wistfully
begged again and again. Although he knew well the story
of how his family had left their home in Nanking when the
enemy armies came and had traveled to the safety of West
China, he wanted to hear it over and over. He wished that
he had been there to march with them. "Tell about what
happened at the bridge/*
"Father and Eldest Brother had gone ahead to West
China, leaving the rest of us in safety, they thought. But
the enemy armies came quickly and we had to flee," Mother
began. "One day we had just crossed a long bridge over a
wide, deep river. Several bombers passed swiftly over our
heads. A few seconds later we looked back and there was
no bridge. Bombs had destroyed it."
"Ai, the heavenly Father takes good care of the Chiang
family." Small One breathed his relief. He had lived
through many air raids over the Chengtu plain when one
never knew where the bombs would fall. Six months ago
peace had come, but the memory of those terrible war
years could still make his heart choke in his mouth*
"Tell about what happened to Second Elder Brother
when the Japanese planes came," Hsien-hwa urged Mother
Chiang.
"The planes swooped down, dropping bombs and ma-
chine-gunning in every direction. Everybody rushed to
hide. But Second Brother had no time to run. He threw
himself flat under a motorcar someone had left standing
[65]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
in the road/' Mother's voice always trembled when she
told this. "There was a blasting roar, and the car was
wrapped in smoke and fire. I rushed over. The engine of
the car was destroyed, the wheels smashed"
"But underneath, there was Second Elder Brother all
safe," Small One finished for her excitedly. "It was a
miracle."
"You talk as if you were there, Little Last One/' Hsien-
hwa said with gentle scorn. "You weren't even born till we
arrived in Chengtu/'
"He came, but not quite in time for Christmas/' Mother
stroked Small One's black head, which was drooping with
shame that he should have missed that courageous journey.
"Our very nicest Christmas present at the end of our long
journey across China/'
"I can recite Father's poem 'On Foot to Freedom/ even if
I wasn't there/' Small One's spirits always picked up easily.
"Do you wish to hear it, Mother?"
"I always love to hear Father's poems." Mother smiled at
all three of them. So Small One began to recite the poem
that they all loved so well:
"The whole family are walking, are walking step by step,
On foot to freedom, from Nanking to Chengtu, to the great
West,
Walking, walking, and walking ... six thousand miles;
Past and over are three hundred and fifty-five days and nights,
Lost and gone is everything save our own bodies . . . "
Small One stopped for breath, and Hsien-lin carried it
on:
[66]
THE STORY SMALL BROTHER LOVED
"Still our heavenly Father bestows on us his gifts:
Many friends with loving hearts,
Sun and moon, overhead the beautiful stars,
Rain and snow, wind and frost, and clouds in the skies,
Huge rocks, mighty rivers, great lakes and lofty mountain peaks,
Dense forests, tall bamboos, birds' singing, and the fragrance
of flowers ..."
Hsien-hwa joined in now:
"And more was given us joy which gold cannot buy,
And strength to struggle with wind and water, burning sun
and open air;
And then he gave us peace that passeth all understanding/'
"He gave me strength to walk all that distance after
Brindle Cow when she ran away/' Small One nodded
solemnly.
"He has given us strength and courage to carry on our
little dairy business. Such hard work everyone does so
cheerfully and so well/' Mother's face shone with pride.
'That's as difficult a job as our journey to freedom ever was,
Small One. You are a real partner with your elder brothers
in that. Don't grieve any more that you didn't arrive until
after the other long, hard march. Some day soon you'll be
taking the journey with us back to our Nanking home, help-
ing us to build a new life again."
"Ai! At! In three months now, as soon as spring comes."
The boys clapped their hands. "Good! Good!" they all said
at once.
"Will we have to walk, walk, walk like in Father's poem?"
Small One sat up excitedly.
[67]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
"No, silly. There'll be trains when we go back down the
River Yangtze," said Hsien-lin.
Hsien-chwang lay back on the bed ready to sleep. He
knew that he would go back to Nanking with his family,
and he intended to enjoy every foot of the way on that long
journey.
[68]
YING TEACHER OF HONAN
Ingeborg Nystul (1880- )
by VIOLA FISCHER
A i A little girl, Ingeborg Nystul spent her happiest hours
on the hills of Norway, watching her father's flocks.
When she was a grown woman, her happiest days were
passed in China, where she has served as a missionary for
more than fifty years.
Deaconess Ingeborg Nystul went as a pioneer missionary
to the inland province of Honan in China in 1906. She had
come to America in 1902 to get her training. In China she
was called Ying Teacher and was soon beloved by the
people whom she was teaching about Jesus. In those days
life was not always pleasant or safe for a missionary in
China.
But one thing it always was exciting.
The Chinese people of Honan had seen few white people.
They disliked the newcomers for their strange looks.
"Devils! Foreign devils!'' they called them. Children and
grownups often shouted the names at the missionaries in
the streets.
Mishaps and misfortunes that came upon the people
were likely to be blamed on the foreigners. Once the mis-
[69]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
sionaries were almost mobbed because of a drought that
they were believed to have caused.
Dread of being called names, dread of the anger of the
people did not stop Ying Teacher and her companion from
carrying on their work of taking the gospel to the country
women.
Wherever they visited, they sang hymns, taught the
Bible, and even showed a few women how to read. To the
Chinese people this teaching of women to read was sur-
prising and ridiculous. They all believed that women and
girls did not have as good brains as men and boys.
Traveling was slow and difficult. In springless carts
pulled by oxen over the rutted roads, it took all day to go
fifteen or twenty miles. Nights were often spent in tiny
country inns with just the mud floor as a bed. Hordes of
bugs shared the bed with the missionaries.
Getting good food was a problem. Once when thirsty
from a day of much walking, Ying Teacher and her young
co-worker stopped at an inn for the night. The innkeeper
had just one pot, and in that he had cooked the millet cereal
that was the only food served. Afterward he poured water
into the unwashed pot to be boiled for tea.
"It's awful," said the younger girl when the tea was
served. "I can't bear the taste!" She started to pour out the
murky liquid.
"But it's precious! Don't waste a drop! We can't drink
unboiled water. This must do!" cried Ying Teacher, and she
proceeded to drink a big bowlful.
Another day when her young companion protested that
the dirty bowls made it impossible for her to eat, the older
[TO]
YING TEACHER OF HONAN
worker laughed and said, "Close your eyes and eat. The
food is well cooked; it won't kill you/' Then she herself
took up the chopsticks and began to eat the big dish of
noodles served in a bowl that had just been wiped on a
dirty towel.
At times there was real danger. Twice in one day's jour-
ney their mulecart upset, but luckily the missionaries had
been sitting near the front and jumped to safety. As dark-
ness came on, they were passing through an area unfriendly
to foreigners. The missionaries had to sit far back in the
cart, hidden by the baggage and the long strings of heavy
copper coins they used for money. Then the cart turned
over for the third time! When the driver had finally gotten
the mules on their feet again, he called out, "Speak. Are
you dead or alive?"
"Alive, thank God/' came the cheery voice of Ying
Teacher. "Scratched a bit, but well. Press on to the next
village."
How good it was to reach the home of the friendly Wang
family in the next village! How delicious the clear, hot tea
tasted! Best of all, how precious to thank God for a safe
journey!
Twenty years passed, bringing with them many changes.
Now there were more Chinese friendly to the missionaries
who told them about the Friend above all, the Lord Jesus
who loved men of all races. But in 1925-26 a wave of ban-
ditry swept through the province of Honan.
Ying Teacher now had a girls' school in the old walled
city of Juchow. The courtyard of the mission station rang
with shouts of little girls having fun yes, and learning to
[71]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
read and write and count, proving that they had brains just
as well as their brothers. Some fond papas had even per-
mitted the missionary to unbind their little girls' feet!
"But no man will ever want to marry a girl with a big
foot/' wailed old Grandmother Hsu, when she visited the
school of her granddaughter and saw Orchid's natural-
sized foot.
"Then 111 provide for her myself, Honored Mother/' said
young Mr. Hsu. "My little girl shall have feet as the Lord
intended."
"Thank you, Honored Father." Bright-eyed Orchid smiled
and bowed low. "Perhaps some day I can be a teacher like
Ying Teacher."
One day the big compound gates remained tightly bolted
against visitors. The gatekeeper scarcely stirred from his
stool near the entrance. The sound of marching feet in the
streets sent the Chinese evangelist, Mr. Hsu, hurrying to
the residence of the two missionary women.
"Ying Teacher, it has come! The bandits have taken the
city!"
"We are still in the Lord's hands/* came the calm reply.
Even as Ying Teacher spoke there was a terrific knocking
on the thick compound gates.
"Open! Open quickly! Open the gates!"
Ying Teacher walked swiftly to the entrance. "This is a
mission station," she said. "We are friendly people and
Lave no soldiers here. We teach and preach the God who
loves all mankind."
"Open at once!" came the reply. Heavy swords clanked
against the big metal bolts and locks. For fifteen minutes
[72]
YING TEACHER OF HONAN
the lone missionary stood her ground and refused to unlock
the compound gate.
"Then we'll come in another way!" cried a loud voice,
and the first wild-eyed bandit soldier scrambled over the
rooftop and dropped to the ground at her side. "Now lead
us into your school!" The bandit shouted the words, and
he turned to enter the courtyard.
Ying Teacher was too quick for him. Quickly she ran to
the big school building and knelt in the very door.
"Lord God," she cried, "we are in your hands. Keep my
girls from harm!" Turning to the leading bandit she said,
"Only over my dead body do you reach my girls ?
The man stopped. An unwilling awe came into his eyes
as he looked at the kneeling missionary. Then turning to
his followers, he said, "Go. Leave this place."
A few minutes later the gateman shouted in joy,
"Teacher, they've gone!"
"Thank God! We must together praise him for deliver-
ance/' said Ying Teacher.
Years of peace followed. Ying Teacher went back to her
first and best-loved work teaching the country women.
For months each spring and fall she and her fine Chinese
helper moved from village to village, teaching short
courses. Not often now were young girls in the classes, for
there were public schools in many towns where girls as well
as boys were welcome. But most of the older women could
read very little or not at all. Sometimes girls from her old
school in Juchow, now wives and mothers, came eagerly to
help in the classes, and often they persuaded their neigh-
bors to come with them. Simple hygiene, baby care, the
[73]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Christian way of livingall these had been added to the
daily Bible study, singing, and reading lessons. After each
course the women were better fitted to carry on their part
in establishing Christian homes.
One day in 1937 the Japanese brought war to China.
Millions of people left their homes and moved westward to
escape from the invading armies. Ying Teacher left with
them. The year 1944 found her living in a simple Chinese
house in the faraway town of Paochi, in the province of
Shensi. She was a refugee among refugees from her be-
loved Honan. But still she could teach and help her
friends. Old and young, rich and poor came frequently to
talk with the snowy-haired missionary. A warm bed if
needed, friendly counsel, some minutes of prayer together
brought comfort to every visitor.
"It nearly breaks my heart to see some of them/* she
wrote once. "But what a privilege to be able to help them
in the name of Jesus!"
So with love and with prayer for wisdom, she distributed
the relief funds sent by Christians in America to help their
needy brothers and sisters in China. And with the gifts of
money she told of the Lord's faithfulness, too.
[74]
NEVER OFF DUTY
Christian Frederick Schwartz (1726-1798)
by JANE QILBERT
A YOUNG man was leaning against the rail of a sailing
vessel in July of 1750, straining his eyes for the sight
of land. The delightful, spicy scent of cinnamon was car-
ried to him on the breeze. He knew that he was close to
the shores of India. His four-month journey on shipboard
would soon be ended, and he would begin to carry out his
heart's desires. He, Christian Frederick Schwartz, was
going to work as a missionary among the people of India,
that faraway land where he had long dreamed of going.
The plan to be a missionary to India had come into his
mind some years before, when he had been studying at the
University of Halle. He had been helping a former mis-
sionary to India in the work of preparing a translation of
the Bible in the language of the people of South India. As
he had heard the missionary talk of the people of India,
their poverty, and their need of teaching, he had been fired
with a desire to help. Particularly when he heard of the
children of India, his heart had been touched.
"There is work for me to do there," he had thought. And
so he had begun to make plans to travel halfway around the
[75]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
world to India. He was twenty-four years old when the
journey he planned became a reality.
As he stood leaning against the rail, Christian Frederick
Schwartz thought of friends in different countries who had
helped him to get to India. There was his kindly father,
who lived in Prussia and whose hope was centered in his
son. There were the friends in Copenhagen, where he had
been ordained as one of the missionaries sent out by the
king of Denmark. There were his friends in London, who
were helping support the Danish mission in India, Most of
all there was Dr. Francke, who worked among orphaned
children of Halle. Schwartz was planning to use in India
some of the things he had learned about children from Dr.
Francke.
Closer and closer to the land the ship sailed. The anchor
was dropped at Tranquebar, a port in South India. Little
boats were bobbing out from shore carrying wares to be
sold to the travelers on shipboard. Mr. Schwartz hung over
the rail, watching. The sounds and odors of this strange
land excited him. He saw the thin limbs and arms of the
boatmen.
"How poor they lookP he thought. "They need someone
to help them. But how can I help when I do not speak
their language? My first work must be learning to talk to
them. And I shall begin with the children/'
It was not long before Schwartz was working with a class
of children. He was teacher and learner as well. He
learned from the children the language spoken in South
India. The learning did not take him long. In four months
he was able to preach his first sermon in the new language.
[76]
NEVER OFF DUTY
Schwartz knew that it was more important to live friendli-
ness than to talk about it. He ate rice and vegetables, as
did his Indian neighbors. He lived in a simple way, as if he
were as poor as they were. He was ever watching for ways
to help people to see the joy of a true Christian life. He
taught the simple village people and told them stories. He
talked with passers-by at the roadside. Sometimes he
argued about religion with the high-caste Hindus. He
preached the gospel to all who came to hear. He gathered
his converts into little congregations.
"Schwartz," said one of his friends, "is a man who is never
off duty."
Always Schwartz had the needs of children in his mind.
Every day he saw them on all sides, poor and sick and
hungry. "I must do something for them," he kept telling
himself.
So he opened schools and invited the children to come
to them. He gathered the orphans into homes where they
could receive food and clothes and care.
Schwartz had a gift for learning languages. He put his
gift to use in order to get in touch with those who needed
to hear the gospel. He learned Portuguese so that he might
preach to the Europeans in India who spoke only that lan-
guage. He studied Hindustani so that he might talk with
Indian nabobs and officials. He perfected his knowledge of
English, and his influence among English people grew.
The need of the people in other areas weighed on him.
After ten years in Tranquebar, he planned to leave to start
mission work in another place.
"Why do you go away?" asked the new Christians of
[77]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Tranquebar. "You are our father. We need you here."
"I am going where they need me more/' the missionary
explained. "I have been with you for many years, and now
some of you are good teachers yourselves and can lead
others. There are many who have never even heard the
good news of God's love. I must go to them."
Schwartz founded a new mission at Trichinopoly, about
fifty miles away, where there were not only Indian people
who needed him but a large garrison of English soldiers
whom he had found to be without a chaplain. He soon
became a friend to the soldiers in an old Hindu building.
"Our chaplain is a good preacher/* said the soldiers, "as
well as a good friend. More and more of our men want to
hear him. We will build a church for ourselves." And they
did.
It was while he was in Trichinopoly that Schwartz went
on a mission of peace for the English government to Hyder
Ali, who had overcome the king of Mysore by forcing him-
self upon the people as their ruler. Even this tyrant could
tell an honest man when he saw one.
"Send me the Christian/* he had asked the English of-
ficials. "He will not deceive me/' And Schwartz went, over
dangerous mountain roads where tigers hid. He felt that this
journey would not only give him a chance to make peace
but would also provide him with the opportunity to tell his
good news to any who would hear him. When the task was
over and Schwartz left Mysore, Hyder Ali made him a gift
of a large sum of money. Oriental courtesy demanded that
the missionary accept it, but he later used it to build a
home for his orphans.
[78]
NEVER OFF DUTY
Always seeking for a wider scope for his labors and for
more people who had not heard the gospel, Schwartz went,
among other places, to Tanjore. There he became the
trusted friend and adviser of King Tuljajee, who persuaded
him to make Tanjore the next field of his work. Tuljajee
was growing old and had adopted Serfogee, a ten-year-old
cousin, to succeed him on the throne. He sent for Schwartz
to bless the child.
"This is not my son," he said, **but yours. Into your hands
I deliver him."
Here was an orphan who needed Christian love and
teaching. Schwartz felt keenly the responsibility of guiding
this future ruler, but he accepted the care of the boy in a
spiritual sense and never failed in loyalty to the young
rajah. Tuljajee died, and Serfogee was in danger of being
killed through treachery of the regent. The old missionary
stayed with the youth until twelve stalwart Sepoy guards
could be brought in to protect him.
Christian Frederick Schwartz spent almost half a century
in India, until his death in 1798. He never went back to his
homeland and in all the years never ceased to teach and
preach and live his faith. At his death he had many loyal
friends among the English officials and the officers and men
of the army.
Two stone monuments stand to his memory. One was
erected by Serfogee in the church at Tanjore, near the
pulpit in which the missionary had preached. On it were
carved some lines of verse composed by the rajah himself
to express his devotion to his spiritual father.
The other monument was placed in the Church of St.
[79]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Mary In Fort St. George at Madras, by the English of-
ficials.
More memorable than these monuments of stone were
the schools, the churches, and the homes for orphans, which
remained as living evidence of his career. All the mission-
ary work done in South India in the years to come was built
upon the solid rock foundation laid by Christian Frederick
Schwartz and for which he himself would have claimed no
credit for that rock was Jesus Christ.
[80]
THREE KNOCKS IN THE NIGHT
Ida Scudder (1870- )
by FLORENCE M. QORDON
THE girls at Northfield Scliool in Massachusetts were
talking over what they meant to do when they grew up.
"I know one thing I am not going to be a missionary!"
Ida Scudder, leader in school sports and pranks, was very
sure what she was not going to do.
"My grandfather was the first doctor to go to India from
America as a missionary. Every one of his seven sons be-
came a missionary doctor, too. Father and Mother are out
in India at this moment. I think that the Scudders have
done enough for missions. I am going to stay in America
and go to college and have a good time. I wish I had been
born a millionaire!**
Ida, blond and blue-eyed, was the baby of her family.
She and her five brothers were all born in India. When
Ida was eight, the family came back to America for some
years because the father's health was poor. They lived on
a farm in Nebraska, and the children went to a rural school.
The boys taught Ida how to swim and skate; they never let
her off easy in their games because she was "just a girl."
"We are making a good sport of her!" they would say.
[81]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
When tiie parents went back to their work in India, the
children were left in schools in America. Ida went to board-
ing school at Northfield.
Just as Ida was finishing boarding school, her mother be-
came sick and sent for her to come to India. Even then Ida
did not plan to spend her life in India. "When Mother's
better I am coming back. My family has done its bit for
missions/* she insisted.
One evening after her arrival in India, Ida was reading
in the thatch-roofed mission bungalow. She heard a step
on the veranda and then a knock at the door. A tall, fine-
looking Brahman stood there.
"Please come home with me/* he begged. "My young
wife is very sick."
"But I don't know anything about medicine!" protested
Ida. "Ill send my fatherhe's a doctor. He's seeing a pa-
tient in the village, but just as soon as he comes back"
The Brahman interrupted her. "The customs of my re-
ligion do not allow a woman to be treated by a man. I'd
rather see my wife dead!"
Ida knew that what he said was true. Many a wife in the
village could have no visitors except women, even when
sick. They were never allowed to stir out of their homes
unless heavily veiled.
Twice more that night the same thing happened. A Mo-
hammedan husband and a high-caste Hindu gentleman
came to Ida begging for medical aid for their young wives.
They, too, refused her father's help because he was a man.
"No strange man has ever seen my wife's face! Only a
woman can help," they declared.
[82]
THREE KNOCKS IN THE NIGHT
That night Ida could not sleep. She kept thinking of
those young wives, girls hardly older than she herself.
Early in the morning she heard tom-toms beating to an-
nounce death. Had one died? Had two? Had all three?
She sent a servant to ask. She learned that the three young
girls had died that night.
Then and there Ida made up her mind. She went to her
parents and told them, "If Indian women cannot be treated
by men doctors, there must be women doctors. IVe got to
learn to be a doctor, like you, Dad, and like my uncles and
Grandfather. I'm going back to America to study medi-
cine."
At that time few women were studying medicine, even
in the United States. When the mission board of the Re-
formed Church heard of Ida's ambition, the women said,
"What! Send an unmarried woman to India as a missionary
doctor! Impossible!"
But one woman got up in the meeting and said, "If Miss
Scudder feels that God wants her to do this work, we should
see that she gets the education for it. Here is the first ten
dollars toward her expenses."
So Ida went to college in America a medical college
and was graduated. Just before she was to sail back to
India in 1899, a man overheard her tell how much a hos-
pital was needed in Vellore in South India, near Madras.
"I meant to give a library in memory of my wife, Mary
Taber Schell," he told the young doctor, "but instead I shall
give $10,000 for a hospital. Come downtown with me, and
I shall help you select the instruments for it. You can take
them back with you."
[83]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Back in India in early 1900, the new doctor used a room
in her home as her clinic, although it was only eight feet
by ten. It had one bed and a window out of which she
handed the medicines. Soon she asked her mother to let
her use the guest room, too, which had two beds. Then she
asked for a house with six beds on the mission grounds.
Before the new hospital was even finished, she had treated
five thousand patients. It was a great day in 1902, when a
hospital with forty beds was opened for women in and near
Vellore.
But there were many sick women and children in villages
near Vellore who could never come to the hospital. They
did not know about it, for one thing, and for another, they
were very poor and would have had no way of getting
there.
"Ill take the hospital to them!" Ida announced. "One
day a week 111 go out into the country and look for pa-
tients."
A friend gave her an automobile for her trips. At first
the village people who had never seen an automobile would
run away from it screaming, "It is the devil's wagon! The
devil is coming!** But soon they learned to look for the
visits of the doctor who brought comfort and relief to so
many. They would walk miles across the rice fields to be
on hand to meet her.
As they waited under a big banyan tree by the wayside,
they would talk about her visits.
"She helped my little girl's sore eyes. Now Tm bringing
my other child to her/*
"I cut myself she will know how to fix it/*
[84]
THREE KNOCKS IN THE NIGHT
"Ask her if she will pull that aching tooth, of yours/*
"Next week bring your old mother the doctor has medi-
cine for everything."
There were always so many sick people in the hospital
and along the roadside that Dr. Scudder soon saw that the
few missionary doctors and nurses could never take care of
all of them. She decided to teach Indian women to become
doctors. There was then only one medical college for
women in all India, and that one was way up in the north-
ern part of that great land.
"You can start a college if you get six students/' an of-
ficial told Dr. Scudder. "But you will be lucky if even three
girls want to come."
He was wrong! One hundred and fifty girls wanted to
come. There was room for just seventeen of them in the
first class. They had only an old rented house for their
school with a few books and hardly any equipment. But
Dr. Ida was a good teacher as well as a good doctor.
"Don't be discouraged if your girls fail the government
examinations/* she had been told. But the girls did not
fail; instead they carried off most of the prizes.
At first only the Reformed Church, which had sent her
out to India, was interested in Dr. Ida's work. But when
she started the school that became known as the Missionary
Medical College for Women, four other boards joined to
support it. Today there are over thirty mission boards in
America and Great Britain that are raising money for it.
Since the work ties together several countries and many
churches, Dr. Ida calls herself "a union miss."
The college buildings were given by American women.
[85]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
There is a beautiful chapel where the girls sit, Indian fash-
ion, on the floor. They gather around the lily pool in the
sunken garden to sing many of the same songs we sing at
camp. They play tennis and volleyball, not in blouses and
shorts but in graceful, flowing Indian saris. The graduates
come back on Dr. Scudder's birthday, which they call
^Founder's Day." On Dedication Sunday all who are con-
nected with the school and hospital offer their lives to God
in the service of the sick.
Instead of one hospital there are now many hospital
buildings. The children's hospital is so full that often some
of the child patients have to lie on the floor under the beds.
Three hundred Indian women who learned to be doctors
at Vellore are now helping sick people all over India,
Burma, and Ceylon.
An American woman visited a hospital where a young
Indian woman was in charge. She noticed how helpful the
doctor was, what tender care she gave all the patients. "Did
you go to the college at Vellore?" she asked.
The doctor's face lighted up. "I had that privilege.
Greet Dr. Ida for me when you see her. Tell her I try to
have the Vellore college spirit. At Vellore they teach us
not to be ministered unto but to minister."
[S6J
THE WAH-WAH MAN
Sam Higginbottom (1874- )
by ALICE HUDSON LEWIS
SAM HIGGINBOTTOM has always been "a man of action."
With him, to believe that a thing should be done, was
to do it, with no fooling around." This began very early in
his career; when he was only twelve years old he decided
that school was too dull to bother with any longer. So, to
use his own phrase, he "kicked up his heels" and left school
to go to work on his father's farm in Wales, England. He
loved it the wide outdoors, the fields of growing things, the
calves and ponies.
When he was sixteen, two women gave him a Bible. Now
Sam already had a Bible. Every member of his family had a
Bible for that matter, because they were that kind of people.
But Sam hadn't bothered to read his. When this gift was
put into his hands, there was nothing for him to do but be
polite about it, so he began to read it. He read that Bible
for eighteen months. And long before the end of that time
he realized that if he called himself a Christian, and he did,
he had to do something about it. He could not get out of
his mind the thought that to do something about it meant
that he had to become a minister or a missionary. Although
[87]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
he fought the idea for a long time, he finally gave in to it.
But what was he to do about education? There were no
schools in Wales for boys his age. There was one in Amer-
icaMount Hermon. Sam knew about Mount Hermon be-
cause his own half-brother had gone there. He pleaded
with his father to let him go to America to Mount Hermon.
His father pooh-poohed the idea. "What does the boy
need with more education than he has? Why he reads now
until he has no sense left."
The half-brother, a preacher, came to Wales on a visit
and preached at a near-by church. Of course, the Higgin-
bottoni family all went to hear him. Young Sam's heart was
full. His mother knew well how the boy was feeling and on
the way home talked earnestly with his father about the
matter. That evening his father called him and said, "Well,
Sam, if you really want to go, I guess well have to let you."
Nine days later Sam was on a boat bound for America.
Sam was eager to go and happy to be on his way, but he
loved his Welsh home and all that it stood for. He was just
as homesick as any boy would be as he watched the ocean
roll between him and home. On the first Sunday at sea, he
came up from his place below deck to hear a man give a
lecture. The man was Robert E. Speer, and he spoke on the
subject., "J^us, a Friend." The boy s heart was quieted and
inspired. After the meeting he plucked up his courage and
spoke to Dr. Speer.
In September, Sam was enrolled at Mount Hermon. He
spent five years there, two years at Amherst College, then
went to Princeton for another two years. It was while he
was at Princeton that a friend took him to a Y.M.C.A.
[88]
THE WAH-WAH MAN
meeting in Trenton, New Jersey, and there he heard Henry
Forman of India speak.
The next morning when he got on his train, there was
Henry Forman., and Sam took the seat beside him. They
shared a twenty-minute ride. Not much time, is it? But in
that twenty minutes the course of Sam Higginbottom's life
was set.
He knew now what he wanted to do he would go to
India and preach the gospel of love and brotherhood to the
outcastes that vast army of men and women who were in
their Indian brothers' eyes "untouchables." He wouldn't
wait to go through theological seminary; he would be a lay
preacher.
So, early in 1903, Sam Higginbottom received his com-
mission from the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions.
And who handed it to him? The man who nine years before
had eased the heart and inspired the spirit of the homesick
Welsh immigrant boy on a ship bound for America Dr.
Robert E. Speer.
When young Sam got to India he found that the mission
had made its own plans for using his time. Two unexpected
assignments were given to him. A teacher of economics was
needed at Ewing Christian College at Allahabad, and he
was assigned the job. His preaching to the untouchables
would have to wait or be fitted into the odd corners of time
left over from this job.
Then there was a sort of understanding among the mis-
sionaries that the new man could take over the manage-
ment of the Naini Leper Colony. Sam didn't want to do it.
He was so horrified by his first sight of a leper that he ran
4 [89]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
away. Later, with the Allahabad missionary doctor for com-
pany, he went to visit the asylum. When he saw the awful
broken-down mud huts filled with lepers in all stages of
their loathsome disease, his nerve failed him, and he made
up his mind not to have a thing to do with those hopeless
creatures. But coming away from the village he saw a leper
lying alone under a tree. It was not a pretty sight, because
the poor man was far gone in his disease. Sam stopped and
made himself look at the man.
"As I looked/' he said, "I suddenly remembered that this
man was my brother that inside that repulsive body was a
soul for whom my Master died. Who was I to refuse to
help him? I agreed to accept the oversight of the leper
colony."
So there was the new missionary who had come to preach
to the untouchables, turned into a teacher of economics and
a keeper of a leper asylum two Jobs he never in the world
would have dreamed of planning for himself. How did he
do them?
Well, with the help of his wife, Ethel Cody (a cousin
of Buffalo Bill), who was Just as eager and venturesome as
he was, that leper colony gradually grew into a beauty spot
Now, in place of broken-down huts, there are neat houses
and fine buildings, children's homes, and a lovely chapel,
schools and gardens and fruit trees. But best of all, there
is happiness, hope, and laughter where there was only
misery. That is because Naini has become a Christian
place. There were five Christians there when the Higgin-
bottoms took over, but now many more than half of the pa-
tients are Christians.
[90]
THE WAH-WAH MAN
And how did the economics course turn out? Sam Hig-
ginbottom was not a textbook teacher. He took his young
students right out into the city and countryside to see for
themselves what conditions were and to try for themselves
to find a working plan to better those conditions. One day
he visited the prison at Nairn, and there he saw the mag-
nificent garden maintained by the British prison head. It
gave him the idea of what his own plan would be. It in-
volved convincing doubting missionaries that a school of
agriculture was a venture in evangelism. It involved a trip
to America and two years* study at Ohio State Agricultural
College. It involved a hard campaign for funds. After all
this was done, it meant beginning from scratch in India.
There he bought 275 acres of the roughest, toughest land
he could find, in order to prove there wasn't any soil that
couldn't be reclaimed. When he had bought land, seed,
cattle, and had built fences and shelters, there was no
money left for classrooms. But there were two trees in the
backyard. The first six students used one tree for a dormi-
tory and the other for a classroom. When it rained, they
took shelter in the cattleshed. And Mrs. Higginbottom
turned over the back veranda for a laboratory and milk
house.
From this tiny beginning the great Allahabad Agricul-
tural Institute has grown. Students came to it from all parts
of India, some of them sons of rich landowners, others un-
touchables sent by missionaries. But whether prince or un-
touchable, the student had to go into the fields and work
with his hands. One of Sam Higginbottom's best stories
concerns a young prince who came to the school bringing
[91]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
a servant with him to do the work. That prince became a
farmer before he left.
Today there are more than 200 students at Allahabad
Agricultural Institute and a teaching staff of twenty-seven,
eighteen of whom are Indians. The Institute has its own
radio station which broadcasts instruction in agriculture,
dairying* and health, along with music and entertainment.
There are 600 acres now instead of 275, and these acres
have been turned into beautiful grain fields, gardens, and
orchards, with paved roadways cut through them.
All India is vitally interested in what goes on at Alla-
habad, and all India is served by the Institute.
Loved by lepers and outcastes, honored by princes and
kings, the Welsh immigrant boy gave forty years of his life
to Christian service in India- and will never stop living for
India, wherever he may be. He has done great things and
won great honors. But perhaps no other single thing done
under his direction has brought him greater thanks than
the "Wah-Wah" plow. One of his engineers worked out a
simple, inexpensive plow that cut deep into the soil. With
it the poor Indian farmer could really plow instead of
scratching the top of the earth as he was used to doing with
his old type of plow. And with it and the same oxen he had
used with the old plow, he could do five times the work.
It was named "Wah-Wah" "surprise." Sam Higginbottom
is the "Wah-Wah* missionary.
[923
LET THE WORK GO ON
Rudolph Teusler (1876-1934)
by HELEN F. NICHOLSON
WHEN you look at a large and beautiful oak tree it is
hard to realize that it once was just a tiny acorn.
It is hard to believe that it had its beginning inside a little
shell not more than an inch long. And so, if you were to
visit St. Luke's International Center in Tokyo today, you
would find it hard to believe that it was once just a tiny,
poorly equipped shanty. For St. Luke's International Cen-
ter is one of the largest and finest equipped hospitals in the
world. It stands six stories high, and there is wing after
wing of wards, operating rooms, clinics, private rooms, and
all other things necessary for a modern hospital. You would
find that the equipment is the best and most modem that
can be provided.
But a dirty, broken-down shanty that was called St.
Luke's Hospital was what Dr. Rudolph Teusler found when
he arrived in Japan in 1900.
The doctor was young and enthusiastic and filled with
the Christian spirit. He had been practising medicine in
Richmond, Virginia, but he hadn't been quite happy about
his work. Any good doctor could do what he had been
[93]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
doing, he felt. He wanted to work where he was badly
needed as a doctor and as a Christian. Then Dr. Teusler
heard of a Christian hospital in Tokyo that had had to be
closed because there seemed to be no doctor who could
make a success of it. The idea challenged the doctor, and
he talked it over with his wife.
"There's a job that others can't do/' he said. "It would
be hard to work in such a hospital, but it would be fun, too.
It's always fun to tackle a hard job and do it well" His
wife agreed.
Dr. Teusler went to the Board of Missions of his church.
"I want to go as a medical missionary to Tokyo/' he said.
His offer was quickly accepted.
Dr. and Mrs. Teusler set sail for Tokyo without knowing
a word of Japanese. The boat arrived a day earlier than it
was expected, and there was no friendly face on the dock
to welcome them. You can imagine how they must have
felt, trying to understand the language and customs of a
land that was strange to them. But somehow they managed
to make their wants known, and they went to stay in a
small and comfortable hotel for the night
The next day they were found by the bishop, and with
him they set out to view their hospital. The bishop carried
a big key, but the building that he showed them didn't
seem to go with a big key at all. It was a sad-looking
shanty, a story and a half high, badly in need of repair.
Inside were a few broken-down beds, some blankets, and
a set of very old surgical instruments.
"Is this all I have?" Dr. Teusler asked in amazement.
The bishop nodded.
[94]
LET THE WORK GO ON
"Well, I certainly picked a hard job for myself," said the
doctor, trying to hide his disappointment.
As a beginning, Dr. Teusler set about learning the lan-
guage and the customs of the country. He soon came to
understand and like the Japanese people. And they in turn
liked him. He wore a beard when he arrived in Japan, and
this gave him a special place of honor among the Japanese
people.
The doctor knew that he must get people to trust him
before he reopened the hospital. So he started a private
practice. Patients came slowly at first. Those who came
and were helped told others, and the number of patients
grew. All the money Dr. Teusler received he put toward a
fund for rebuilding the hospital. He opened two small
clinics at opposite ends of the city, and slowly, very slowly,
the Japanese people began to see that he really wanted to
help them.
In 1902 the new St. Luke's Hospital was opened. It had
two wards and five private rooms. It was almost as if a
fairy had waved her wand over the shack and changed it
into an attractive building. The walls were painted in
pretty, soft colors, the windows were widened, and every-
thing was clean and spotless. From that time on St. Luke's
Hospital began to grow.
Never did the doctor let anyone forget that St. Luke's
was a Christian hospital. The best that was known in medi-
cine was practised. In the waiting room where crowds
gathered each day there were prayers and Bible reading
and Bible teaching. Those who came for the healing of
their bodies were told about the Great Healer, Jesus.
F951
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
The doctor and nurses met together in the quiet little
chapel for daily prayers and worship, and always there was
someone ready to tell the story of Jesus to those who asked
for it.
Throughout all of Japan, people began to take notice of
Dr. Teusler and his hospital. Many made gifts to St. Luke's,
some large, some small. One day there appeared at the
door of the hospital a smiling, shiny-faced coolie. A year
before, his wife had been treated for a serious illness at very
little cost. He came to offer a blood transfusion to a very
poor and very ill person whom he had never seen.
Another day the doctor was surprised by the visit of a
very rich Japanese who had always been very much against
Christianity. The visitor offered the doctor a large piece
of land for a new hospital and said he would equip and
pay for it. His small nephew, who was his only heir, had
become sick and had been taken to St. Luke's Hospital
much against his uncle's will. He had been operated on
successfully, and the uncle was so impressed by the care
and love shown the little boy that he wanted to do some-
thing to help spread such treatment. Although the doctor
felt unable to accept the offer, he was deeply touched by it
A school to train nurses was established at St. Luke's.
"Only the best of Japanese young women will be accepted
as students," Dr. Tuesler insisted. Eleven hundred girls
wanted to come, but only twenty-five were chosen. The
girls who took the training were all high school graduates,
a most unusual standard for nurses in Japan. They had to
study for three years to become nurses, while six months'
study was all that was needed in other hospitals*
[96]
LET THE WORK GO ON
Dr. Tender was not satisfied to have St. Luke's serve the
city of Tokyo alone. He wanted to help all the people of
Asia. He wanted the hospital to become a great interna-
tional medical center.
New buildings were started. Everything was going along
fine. So Dr. Teusler left to take a much needed vacation in
America. And then came disaster! In September, 1923, the
greatest earthquake the country had ever known shook
Japan. Dr. Teusler was in New York when he heard of it.
The bishop wired him, "All gone but faith in God."
The hospital that Dr. Teusler had worked so hard to
build lay in ruins. The earthquake had been terrific, but
not one of the eighty patients was injured. The doctors
and nurses had taken diem all out safely in spite of the
fact that the stairways were dangerous. The patients were
carried to the foundations of the new building. Then came
fire. It swept by in great sheets of flames, destroying com-
pletely the already-damaged hospital building.
When the fire had burned itself out, the patients were
moved to the dormitory of a Methodist girls* school, and
there the work of the hospital continued. The doctors and
nurses put their money together to buy food and equip-
ment. Not much was available because of the destruction,
but the smiling Japanese chef drew out from his kimono
two hundred yen, or about one hundred dollars, and of-
fered it
Help came from an unexpected source. The Empress,
who rarely went outside the palace grounds, came to see
how St. Luke^s was carrying on. She was happy to observe
the fine spirit among the doctors and nurses, and from her
[97]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
own purse she gave a generous gift so that the work could
go on.
Dr. Teusler in America was at work, too. He arranged
with the United States Army to have an army field hos-
pital sent to Japan and established close to the old hospital
site. It was run by the doctors and nurses of St. Luke's.
For several months St. Luke's Hospital carried on in army
tents.
As new buildings began to go up, Dr. Teusler was happy
once more. But he thought more and more of the poor
children of Japan. There were no hospitals to help such
children. He told boys and girls in America about the
need. The children of his own church gave their birthday
thank offerings for three years to build a ward for the chil-
dren of Japan in St. Luke's International Center.
Soon the new buildings were almost complete. The
gleaming cross on the outside proclaimed them Christian.
The lovely little chapel inside told the same story. But the
love and devotion of the doctors and nurses told even more
that these people were following in the steps of their
Master and were going about doing good.
In 1934, just when the hospital was about to be dedi-
cated, Dr. Teusler was taken ill. He died several days
later. His last thoughts were for the hospital. "Let the
work go on/* he said.
Today his spirit still lives within those walls. The work
that was started way back in 1900 must go on.
Much of the church's work in Japan was destroyed dur-
ing the war, but St. Luke's remained unharmed. During
the war the Japanese used it to care for their civilian sick
[98]
LET THE WORK GO ON
and injured. Since the American occupation it has become
an American army hospital. When the need for this is over,
St. Luke's will again be in the hands of the church and will
be ready to help those of any color or creed to grow well
and strong.
[99]
MICHI KAWAI, THE TEACHER
Michi Kawai (1877- )
by MARQARET L DECKER
IT WAS the day after Christmas and the opening day of
Michi Kawafs new school. Until now, her pupils had
been crowded into a dwelling house in the busiest part
of Tokyo.
Each year since it had been started, more and more
girls had asked to come to the school. Miss Kawai, loving
them all, had not been able to refuse their pleas. The little
house in busy Tokyo had been crowded to bursting. It
hummed with noise and activity from morning to night.
"If only we had more room!" the teacher and girls had
sighed a thousand times. At last everyone got to work
friends in Japan and friends in America and gathered
enough money to provide the new school.
Now on the opening day of the new school, the girls
themselves were the first to push through the gates and
stand within its garden.
**We love it!** they cried, as they saw the low, brown
building with its many windows under a red tile roof.
Like a whirlwind, they entered its doors, raced from
room to room, called and shouted their joy at each new
[100]
MICHI KAWAI, THE TEACHER
surprise. They visited their bedrooms at the top of the
house, then peeked into the dining room with its black-
lacquered tables and blue-flowered dishes. They exclaimed
over the kitchen, so shiny and clean.
"What fun it will be to do cooking in a place like this!"
they exclaimed.
They tried the new desks in the classrooms, drew pic-
tures on the clean blackboards, and played that they were
teachers for just a few minutes. Finally, reaching the gym-
nasium, they danced and sang and ended with cheer on
cheer for Keisen, their lovely new school.
But no one was prouder or happier than Michi Kawai,
their teacher, for this was her dream come true, a Japanese
school for girls that was also a Christian school. Her pupils
would be taught not just the subjects usual in Japan, but
also the Bible and the Christian way of life. And they
would become acquainted with the countries of the world.
"For,*' said Michi, "until we know about other peoples and
appreciate them, how can we come to love them?"
The last of Michf s dreams was that her girls should be
farmerettes. Flower arrangement might be a lovely Japa-
nese art, but growing a patch of vegetables from seed to
fruit was to share with God in the wonder of creation. On
Arbor Day, with song and ceremony, the girls planted trees
and shrubs to beautify the garden, and even a tiny orchard
in the farthest corner of the grounds.
When spring came, the girls put on their coveralls and
commenced their digging, their raking, and planting.
Michi cheered them on until she saw their efforts lagging,
then wisely urged a rest in story and song.
[101]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
How dearly they loved her stories! At once their shy,
little teacher seemed one of them. They found it difficult
to think of her as the world-famous person she really was!
Yet they knew how often she had been invited to different
parts of the world to speak to great audiences and how
many friends she had made for their little island country.
She had helped, too, to give the women of Japan a
Y.W.C.A. and a summer camp where in the great out-of-
doors the girls came close to God and to one another.
Today Michi started her story: "When I was a small
child-"
"Goody, goody!" exclaimed the girls, for this was the
story they loved the most
Michi, smiling at their enthusiasm, thought how wonder-
ful it was to see American-born Kiyoko and Hawaiian-born
Tsukiko and little Kin Mei from Korea and lovely Lotus
of Formosa seated there with her other students all Japa-
nese girls, but each bringing something good from her own
faraway home to teach the others.
cc When I was a small child," began Michi again, "I lived
by the Shinto shrine where my father was priest Often in
the evenings I walked with him down the long avenue of
trees to the temple. The dark stillness was broken only by
the sound of our wooden clogs clicking on the stone path.
While father worshiped, I listened to the birds singing in
the grove near by and thought about the wonder and
beauty of the night
"My next home was in Hokkaido. I remember it as a
gray little town covered with snow. I met my first mission-
ary teacher there. Her name was Miss Smith, and when
[102]
MICHI KAWAI, THE TEACHER
she started a school for girls in Sapporo, I was one of her
first nine pupils. What a shy, homesick, little girl I was!
It took many attempts before I could read above a whisper
and so win Miss Smith's praise.
"Once a week we girls were her guests at dinner. We
struggled hard to use the strange knives and forks and to
answer her polite questions in English.
"Our first Christmas was a very merry one, with a sur-
prise party at which each girl received a beautiful wax
doll. The dolls seemed even more wonderful because they
came from America. Mine had a red velvet dress, and I
loved her at once.
"The Christians of Sapporo were building a new church.
We schoolgirls earned money to give to it by cooking Miss
Smith's breakfast each morning, by doing fancy work, and
by shoveling snow from the paths and roof. Since I was
the smallest of the girls, I was especially good on the snowy
roof. The others tied a rope around my waist and held it
fast as I climbed out of a window and knocked off the deep
snow that threatened to break our roof in.
"On Sunday evenings we sang hymns in Miss Smith's
room, looked at picture books, and popped corn over her
open fire. In many ways she was more like a mother to us
than a teacher. Her example of living and loving are what
I remember best/'
"Oh, tell us, Kawai Sensei/* chorused the girls, "tell us
now about your first going to Bryn Mawr College in Amer-
ica."
Michi laughed and wagged her finger at them. "You just
want to laugh at your teacher's mistakes."
[103]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
"Well, tell us the apple story, anyway," teased the girls.
"Yes, that is a good one/' agreed Michi, "for it shows
how dear to one another two girls of different lands can be-
come. My roommate was named Bertha. Often we forgot
that she was an American and I a Japanese, This time it
was late at night, and I was trying to write my English
composition. I wasn't doing it very well either because I
was so sleepy.
"'Come to bed, Michi/ called Bertha pleadingly, but I
only answered sleepily, 'Be quiet, Bertha, and go to bed
yourself/ She did so very meekly, but not until she had
put a dish of sliced apples on the desk beside me. I ate
the slices one by one, still having no success with my writ-
ing. Finally I came to the last piece of apple and under it
found a tiny note. What do you think it said?*
* *Michi, come to bed/ ** laughed the girls, who had heard
the story many times.
Their teacher laughed with them, then said more gently,
"Girls, in whatever country I have been, I have found
friends. People trusted and believed in me because I was
a Christian. It is a wonderful thing to be a member of the
Christian family, for then race and color are soon forgot-
ten"
The girls sat quietly thinking of her words until the clang
of the supper gong brought them back to their everyday
world. There was not time for the story to be finished now,
and everyone looked disappointed. Only shy little Miyoko
murmured, "I am glad, for now there will be a next time."
"Good night, Kawai Sensei." Each little black head
bowed. *And thank you/* they added, smiling.
[104]
MICHI KAWAI, THE TEACHER
And Michi Kawai, watching them go, thought, "What
greater lesson can I teach them than to love the Lord their
God with all their hearts, and with all their minds, and
with all their strength, and their neighbors as themselves?"
She made her way across the garden, painted now with
the colors of sunset. Under her study window, she stopped
to bend apart the branches of the hedge. The gardener
had said it was dead. But no he was wrong. There were
tiny green leaves coming again from its roots.
Softly closing her study door, Michi Kawai glanced hap-
pily about. How dearly she loved her pictures and treas-
ured gifts from many lands! On her desk lay a new maga-
zine from America. The title of its first story caught her
eye JAPAN DEFIES THE WOULD. With shaking hands, she
turned its pages and read of the happenings of the past
few weeks.
"God forgive us," whispered Michi through her tears.
"His children killing one another! What will happen in
this country to the Christians, followers of the foreign re-
ligion, and to their churches and their schools?"
And then suddenly it was Keisen, her own school, of
which she was thinking.
"It shall not die!" she cried. "My school can never die.
What I have planted in love and service to God must surely
live, in spite of war!"
Her thoughts went back to the garden hedge, so bare
and brown, yet hiding life within its roots.
"My school shall be like that," she declared, "until the
time when love and peace are ours again. For this I pray,
and for this I will wait!"
[105]
A FAMOUS WOMAN OF KOREA
Helen Kim (1899- )
by VIRGINIA FAIRFAX and HALLIE BUIE
IN THE seaport town o Chemulpo in Korea, some fifty
years ago, the neighbor women were talking over a bit
of news.
"The Kims have a baby girl. -They are calling her Helen/*
said one,
"Too bad the baby is not a boy/' said another, who be-
lieved with most Koreans of the day that boys were better
than girls. "But the Kims do not seem to mind."
"The mother says they are going to send the child to
school/* said still another.
At this all the neighbors laughed, for whoever heard of
girls going to school! Korean people thought that girls
were not able to read and write, and that there was no use
in sending them to school. Girls had to stay at home and
learn to sew and cook and to help take care of the smaller
children.
**Ah 3 well, I suppose it's because the Kims are Christians
that they have these strange ideas/' agreed the neighbors,
as they separated to go back to their tasks.
In the Kim home all was happiness over the coming of
[106]
A FAMOUS WOMAN OF KOREA
the baby girl and the plans for her future. The parents
were both Christians at a time when there were few Kore-
ans who were Christians. The mother was a Bible woman
who visited near-by homes to teach her neighbors about
Jesus. The Kims knew that the missionaries had started
the first schools for girls in Korea's four-thousand-year-old
history. They were determined that their little girl should
go to such a school.
Luckily for Helen Kim, there was a mission school in her
own town. She went to it, as her parents had planned.
When she had finished that school, she went to Ewha Col-
lege, in Seoul, the capital city of Korea. Helen was bright
and active and full of fun. She liked working hard and
she liked having a good time, and she did both easily and
with joy. She taught a church school class and belonged
to the college chorus as well. She not only sang beautifully
but played the piano with skill. At the end of her course
she was graduated from college with honors.
Rather to Helen's surprise, she was selected as the most
outstanding student of the college and, as such, was given
an opportunity to go to the United States for further
study.
The missionaries were almost as excited about it as
Helen. Since she could not buy American clothes in Korea,
a few of the women missionaries made over some of their
best dresses so that she would have suitable outfits for any
occasion while traveling. On the boat crossing the Pacific
Ocean, Helen sometimes put on American clothes in the
daytime. But every night at dinner she wore a beautiful
silk Korean dress, with a short waist and a long, full skirt
[107]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
of bright, contrasting color. Those on board thought that
she looked more charming in her native dresses than in the
American costumes.
From the first day, Helen adapted herself easily to the
Me of the ship. She was always thoughtful of other peo-
ple's comfort and pleasure. When she entered the state-
room that she was to share with two missionaries, she no-
ticed that there were only two regular-sized berths and a
small sofa.
She walked over to the sofa, saying, "This will be my
bed/* She insisted upon sleeping on the sofa every night
so that the missionaries could have the more comfortable
berths.
One afternoon Helen was sitting in a steamer chair on
the deck with two Korean boys, who were also going to the
United States to study. They were talking over the sad
conditions in their country. The Japanese had lately occu-
pied all Korea. One of the first big changes they had made
was in the schools. They had made all the students use
textbooks written in the Japanese language and had forced
them to speak only in Japanese.
One of the boys said, "I'm going to get all the education
I can while I am in America so I can be a leader and stand
up against the Japanese. They ought not to rule our coun-
try."
Helen replied, "When I left home, I promised my father
I would never forget Korea, and that I would study how
to help teach the women of our country. I believe that
Korea needs women who are well trained to do many dif-
ferent things."
[108]
A FAMOUS WOMAN OF KOREA
Throughout the three-week voyage Helen was bubbling
over with curiosity about everything on the ship. Some-
times she asked the missionaries such difficult questions that
they had to get one of the ship's officers to give her the cor-
rect information. She especially enjoyed ordering meals
from menus. Each time she would choose different foods,
not knowing what they were and then would be as amused
as the missionaries at the queer dishes that the waiters
brought her.
The party landed at Seattle, and Helen was eager to get
used to American ways and to practise using English. At
her request she was the one of the group who went to buy
the train tickets at the station, check the baggage, and talk
to the redcaps. She managed surprisingly well and thor-
oughly enjoyed doing it.
She spent several years studying in the United States and
took her PH.D. degree at Columbia University. Then she
returned to Korea and became a professor at Ewha College.
She entered into her work there with great enthusiasm and
energy and was so sincere and kind that everybody loved
her. She was always ready to do anything that would help
the school or the church.
On one occasion when a visiting American bishop was
to preach at the church, Helen had been asked to sing a
solo at the close of his sermon. She had selected a beautiful
song and practised it carefully. But as she listened to the
bishop's sermon about the necessity of following Jesus, she
laid aside her sheet music and opened a hymnbook, then
handed it to the organist
When the bishop had finished speaking, Helen rose and
[109]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
sang the simple but deeply moving hymn, "Where He
Leads Me, I Will Follow."
After the last note, the bishop said, "I've preached in mis-
sion fields all over the world, but I've never had any music
anywhere that completed my message in such a fitting
way/'
After the United States entered the war against Japan,
all the American teachers had to leave Korea. Helen then
became president of Ewha College, and all the teachers
were Koreans. Her greatest problem was to keep the col-
lege a Christian one and yet not to offend the Japanese so
much that they would close it.
It was such a difficult and dangerous undertaking that
her friends advised her to give up the struggle, but she re-
fused. She was determined to stay at her post. And she
did. She never left the college for a day or a night. It re-
mained open throughout the war and carried on a Christian
program.
The Japanese ordered all Koreans to use Japanese names
instead of their own. Helen chose the word Amagi, which
means "Heavenly City." On being asked why she had
selected that name, she replied, "Because it will be a daily
challenge to me to live as a citizen of the Heavenly City.
Here on Ewha campus we have a chance to be a little part
of that Heavenly City. If we can maintain that spirit
through all these difficult situations, we can represent our
Master wisely/*
When at last the Japanese were forced to leave and
Korea was free, no one was happier than Helen. Several
months later, when speaking about her experiences at a
[110]
A FAMOUS WOMAN OF KOREA
Y.W.C.A. convention at Atlantic City, she said, "After liber-
ation, I heard some of my students speaking in Korean out-
side my window. So strong was my habit that I leaned out
to caution them to speak in Japanese. And then I realized
it was all right. They could speak Korean freely for the rest
of their lives. It was one of the greatest moments that came
to me after liberation."
[Ill]
A FILIPINO KEEPER OF THE FAITH
Juan Leones (18894935)
by MARJORIE ROBERTS
THE little Christian mission in Bawang was dimly lit. In-
side, the Filipino worshipers were singing a hymn. The
open window spaces of the house made of nipa palms al-
lowed the sound of the song to flow forth into the night.
Hidden in the shadows of a bamboo tree outside stood a
young man. Juan Leones listened to the singing and to the
soft-spoken words of the minister,
It was not the first time Juan had listened outside in the
darkness. Several evenings had found him walking slowly
past the little house, drawn by the songs of Christian hope
and love that seemed to satisfy a hunger and unrest within
him.
The neighbors of Juan would have been amazed if they
liad guessed at his unrest. They thought of him as a for-
tunate member of the Leones family, who were leaders in
the community and wealthy. He had a good job with the
government, and he was engaged to a beautiful, wealthy
girl. What more could a man want? But Juan did want
more. The religion of his family did not wholly satisfy him.
Neither did their way of life. As he listened to the singing,
[112]
A FILIPINO KEEPER OF THE FAITH
he realized that there was something better, and that he
could have it Suddenly he moved from the shadows and
walked quickly into the mission house. The worshipers
made room for him. The voice of Juan Abellera, the Fili-
pino minister, went steadily on as he gave the Christian
message. For the first time, Juan Leones heard the story of
Jesus told simply and sweetly.
Juan listened and understood. He left the room uplifted.
His old way of life, with its drinking, gambling, and swear-
ing no longer appealed to him. He felt strong and happy,
ready to take up a new way of life.
Pastor Abellera welcomed him into the church and gave
him a little book to read. It was called What Is Christi-
anity?, and in the weeks that followed it opened a new
world to the young man. Juan read the Bible, too, and
came to know its stories and message.
One day he watched the American missionary, Howard
Widdoes, crossing the Bawang River on a big black horse.
The river was high, and there was a long struggle before
man and horse safely reached the shore.
Juan stepped up to Mr. Widdoes and said, "Pastor Wid-
does, I want you to baptize me now beside the river /*
The startled missionary said, "Can't you wait till tomor-
row? I haven't my book of forms with me and there is none
of the congregation here/*
"But didn't Philip baptize the Ethiopian without any of
those things? I am ready, so what more is needed?" aslced
Juan.
Pastor Widdoes saw that Juan was truly ready. So he
baptized him in the rushing river. With that baptizing,
[113]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Juan Leones became a mighty worker for the Christian
faith.
Juan turned first to his family, wishing to share his new
joy with them. He was eager to tell them of his change of
heart and his plans for his new life. Quickly he called his
father and brothers to him.
"We are going to live differently in this house. We are
going to stop this drinking and gambling and swearing and
live different lives. Let me read to you the story of Jesus
from this Bible."
"Bible!" Father Leones hated the word and the Book.
He grabbed the Bible, tore the pages, and shouted to his
son, "Get out of my house!"
Juan spoke no word lest he anger his father more. "Never
come into this house again. You are no longer my son!"
shouted the old man. Juan left, knowing that no longer did
he belong to a family of wealth and influence. He began
to think of the girl he loved.
"Chrispina? What of her? How will she feel?" he won-
dered. He tried to see her but was told she was away. One
morning he received a note from her. He opened it with
trembling fingers. Maybe she would see him and let him
tell of his new faith. She might even be willing to go to the
mission with him. He read the note eagerly: "Juan, I have
heard of your strange doings. Our engagement is broken.
Please stay away."
For hours Juan walked along the seashore, watching the
rippling waves glisten in the sun. At times he threw him-
self upon the sand as he struggled with grief. To be cast
out of his home, to lose his promised wifethis was a hard
[114]
A FILIPINO KEEPER OF THE FAITH
test of his new faith. After losing so much, could he build
a new life that would be worth living?
In the evening he went to his new friend, the minister
Juan Abellera. The young man's face told of his struggle
better than his words. "For the sake of Christ," he said
steadily and slowly, "I have lost my inheritance, my par-
ents, and the girl I love. Since I have paid so much for my
faith, I want it to be worth all it cost. I have decided to
resign from the government service and to enter the min-
istry right away."
Juan began his studies. After a time he wanted to start
the work upon which he had set his heart. He went to the
missionary committee with a request that amazed them.
"Send me to teach among the Igorots in the mountains," he
begged.
"The Igorots! They believe in spirits and especially those
of their dead enemies. Because of their fear, they fight and
kill. Surely you must know this!"
"I know it," said Juan. "Their need is great. That is why
I am going to them."
Up the mountain trail that led to the region of these little
known Igorots, Juan Leones trudged, accompanied by two
American missionaries, Mr. Pace and Mr. Mumma. The
beauty of the mountains, the clear, rushing streams, the
wonder of the manmade rice terraces made the trip very
interesting to the three travelers. Upon their arrival at the
little mountain village of Sigay, they found all the huts de-
serted.
"Where are the Igorots?" asked Mr. Pace, as the three
men looked around.
[115]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
*1 think they saw us coming and fled/* answered Juaiou
"I thought perhaps they would try to kill us/* laughed
Mr. Murnma. "I didn't think they would be afraid of us."
"They are afraid of your white skin/' said Juan. They
have probably never seen white men before/*
"What shall we dor asked Mr. Pace.
Juan hesitated a moment. Then he said firmly, **You go
back and leave me here. Perhaps if they see me, a Filipino,
alone and unarmed, they will return. I thank you for
coming with me, but perhaps it is better for me to meet
them alone and try to make friends with them. Tell the
missionary society to pray for the work here.**
The two Americans started down the long trail, Juan
waited alone, looking at the little huts and praying that God
would use him to bring Christ to this village. Just before
dark he saw three old Igorot men approaching the village
warily, with upraised spears. Juan went to meet them
smiling and saying the few Igorot words that he had been
able to learn, "Friends, I like you. You look nice."
One of the old men said something that Juan did not
understand. "Friends, I like you. You look nice/* said Juan
again. The old men began to laugh. They shouted aloud
to the others of their tribe. Soon many villagers were
crowding around to see this crazy lowlander who dared, to
come among them alone and unarmed and who said he
liked them.
In the months that followed, Juan worked hard to gain
the friendship of the Igorots of the village of Sigay. He
helped the men to build huts, he worked to gather their
sweet potatoes and corn, he learned more Igorot words, he
[lie]
A FILIPINO KEEPER OF THE FAITH
gave sick people medicine and taught them rules of health,
he told the people of Christ.
For two years Juan remained at Sigay. Once Mr. Pace
and Mr. Murnnia visited the village and were amazed at the
influence a single Christian man had made upon the tribes-
men. A whole village had been changed.
At the end of two years, Juan returned to continue his
studies at the seminary that had opened in Manila. To
the missionary society he reported: "There is a church in
Sigay, and nearly all the village people belong to it. Send
me now to the Kalingas."
The men gasped. The Kalingas were head-hunters and
no one went near them but the soldiers.
Juan asked, "Don't you expect to carry the Christian mes-
sage to them sometime?"
"Yes/' they said slowly, "sometime."
*T want to do it now," Juan said.
At the meeting was a little deaconess from the Bible
training school. She was fired by Juan's enthusiasm and
said, "I wish I could go to the Kalingas, too." The men
laughedL
Juan did not laugh. That evening he called upon the
deaconess, Lucia Estoista, and when he left for Kalinga,
Lucia went with him as his wife.
Again the friendly approach of Juan, aided by the help-
fulness of his little wife, won the friendship of a hostile
tribe. Two of the chiefs who at first had threatened the
lives of the young missionaries later became Christians and
served as officers in the little Kalinga church. Hundreds of
the tribe were baptized in the years that followed.
[117]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Head-hunting and fighting became things of the past.
Juan Leones stood one evening looking into the sunset.
Before him stretched the Kalinga village with the new
church in the center, the tidy homes of the people clustered
about, the children playing and singing, the older people
doing their work neatly and efficiently. Juan and his wife
had labored hard, but he felt it had all been worth while.
Like Paul of old, he had fought the good fight, he had kept
the faith, and a deep joy filled his heart.
[118]
SIGNAL HILL
Frank Laubach (1884- )
by ALICE GEER KELSEY
black dog bounded up the trail, gaily waving the
JL white tail that gave him his name, Tip. He had time
for side trips into green bamboo thickets to chase chirping
birds or little scurrying animals. Tip, of course, had four
nimble legs to his master's two. Tip knew the way well.
During the month he had been at Lanao with his master,
Mr. Frank Laubach, they had seldom skipped the five
o'clock climb up Signal Hill behind their cottage to watch
the sun set. Tip missed his young master, Bob, who had
stayed with his mother in a safer place when Mr. Laubach
had come to Lanao on the island of Mindanao in the Philip-
pines to start missionary work among the warlike Moros.
The Moros were a Moslem tribe known for their fierce
hatred of Christians. They were ever ready to fight their
neighbors.
If Tip had been a person instead of a friendly black dog,
he would have noticed how slowly his master walked this
afternoon, as though something were bothering him. If Tip
had been a person, Mr. Laubach might have talked to him
something like this:
[119]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
"Was it worth while coming to Mindanao, Tip? I worked
for fifteen years with the Filipinos in other parts of the
islands, and that work amounted to something. Was it right
to leave my Filipino friends so that I could start new work
among the Moros, who do not seem to want me? These
Moros need so much that I could do for them, but I cannot
find a way to start making friends with them."
But Tip was not a person, so Mr. Laubach talked instead
to the Friend who is always ready to listen and to answer.
Sitting on the top of Signal Hill, watching the sun set over
blue Lake Lanao and die distant volcanoes, Mr, Laubach
talked with God about his discouraging first weeks among
the Moslem Moros. Tip snuggled his cool black nose under
his master's arm and licked his master's hand. The dog
knew that comfort was needed.
The clouds in the west changed from pale pink to fiery
red, then turned a golden orange. The same bright colors
danced over the blue lake. The man and the dog sat
silently on the green summit of Signal Hill* -Suddenly Mr.
Laubach's lips began to move. It seemed to him that the
God who scattered the colors of the sunset was speaking.
Words seemed to come straight from God to the mission-
ary's lips.
"My child/" Mr. Laubach felt God saying, "you do not
really love these Moros. You want to help them, but you
feel you are better than they are. You must forget that you
are an American. You must think of how you can love
them. Then they will be friendly to you."
To these words, which seemed to come straight from
God, Mr. Laubach answered, "God, I don't know whether
[120]
SIGNAL HILL
you are speaking to me through my Kps, but if you are,
what you say is the truth. My plans have not worked be-
cause I do not love the Moros enough. Come into my own
life and think your thoughts through my mind. Love these
Moros through my heart."
In answer to that prayer, one of God's thoughts flashed
into the mind of Mr. Laubach. His own lips spoke the
words that surely must come from God.
"My child," Mr. Laubach felt God saying, "if you want
the Moros to be fair to your Christian religion, be fair to
their Moslem faith. You want them to study your Bible
with you. You must first study their sacred book, the Koran,
with them."
The golden orange of the sky faded to gray; the blue of
the lake deepened to black. The dog bounded down the
trail ahead of his master, who walked now with sure, glad
strides. Mr. Laubach was letting God think through his
mind and love through his heart. He knew what to do now.
He went straight to the house of some Moro priests.
"I wish to study your Koran/' he told them. "Will you
come to my cottage tomorrow and teach me?"
"We will come," promised the surprised priests.
And they did come, each with a fat copy of the Koran,
which was written in Arabic. Of course, the priests ex-
pected they would quickly turn the Christian missionary
to the Moslem faith. What happened instead was that Mr.
Laubach kept finding ways in which the two religions were
alike. Because he never belittled the Koran nor the serv-
ices in the mosque, the priests were glad to share their
thoughts with this new friend. When he showed that some
5 [121]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
of the Moslem ideas and stories could be found in the
Christian Bible, they were ready to listen to him. Both Mos-
lems and Christians, they found, had many of the same
heroes Abraham, Moses, Joseph, David, and even Jesus.
Because Jesus was mentioned in their holy book, the Moros
were ready to hear new and beautiful stories about him
from Mr. Laubach.
Still asking God to think thoughts into his mind and love
through his heart, Mr. Laubach took one step after another
to build a bridge between these Moslem people and Christ.
First, he learned their language, which was as yet unwrit-
ten. When he could speak it, he and a Filipino teacher
named Donato Galia figured out a way to write it That
was hard because the Moros themselves could not divide
their sentences into separate words. For instance, they
would say Andakasoong, meaning "Where are you going?"
but they could not tell which part of Andakasoong meant
"where" or "you" or "are going/' At last, Mr. Laubach and
his helper worked out a way to write the language in our
Roman letters. Then someone gave them a printing press;
someone else gave them a building in which they could use
their printing press. Mr. Laubach and Donato Galia were
all ready to print books for the Moros to read, but there
was still one thing wrong with their plans.
"Who is going to read what we print on our new press?"
they asked each other. "The Moros cannot read their own
language. Very few of them can read the ancient and diffi-
cult Arabic writing. Not a single person among them knows
the Roman letters in which we are planning to print books
for them."
[122]
SIGNAL HILL
If Mr. Laubach had been thinking only his own thoughts,
he probably would have gone about teaching reading in the
old-fashioned, slow way by use of the Roman letters. Only
the boldest Moros would have tried to learn. Only the
brightest would have succeeded in reading a book, after
hard months of study. But Mr. Laubach, as you remember,
was letting God think in his mind. God, loving the Moros,
helped Mr. Laubach find a shortcut in teaching reading.
"We must find a few key words that contain all the con-
sonants of the Maranaw language," said Mr. Laubach.
After several tries, he found three well known words that
were just right Malabanga, the name of a Lanao town,
karatasa, the word for paper, and paganada, the word for
study or learn. These words he divided into syllables and
printed on a big chart:
ma la ba nga
ka ra ta sa
pa ga na da
When a Moro, thrilled and surprised at himself, learned
to read these words, he was shown that the different parts
could be put together to make other words. Ma la meant
"big," nga nga meant "open mouth/' ba ba meant "short,"
a la meant "God/* When the excited reader had learned
to make words of all the syllables, he was shown what hap-
pened when an a was replaced by an o y e, i, or u. Before
he knew what was happening, he found that he could read
lo bi meaning "coconut," bo la meaning "ball," mi mi mean-
ing "girl," o lo meaning "head," bi bi meaning "duck," or
a mo meaning "monkey." A bright pupil could actually
[123]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
learn to read within an hour. That sounds like a miracle,
but miracles still can happen when people are willing to
let God think with their minds and love with their hearts.
Mr. Laubach made another discovery when he asked
each new pupil to teach another person to read. Not only
was the number of readers increased but the new pupils
learned their lessons better when they had to teach them.
"Each one teach one" became part of his plan for showing
people how to read. It, too, seemed part of the miracle.
News of a miracle travels fast.
"Teach our people to read, too/' was the request that
came from every corner of the Philippines. Mr. Laubach
was only too glad to help. He saw that the same system
could be used to make reading easy in other languages. A
list of the languages for which Mr. Laubach found key
words and started making reading charts sounds like a
counting-out game. It could begin:
Maranaw, Ilongo, Tagalog,
Manobo, Isinay, Ibanag,
Ilocano, Joloana,
Cebuan, and Visayan.
And the list could go on and on, through twenty-one lan-
guages spoken on the Philippine Islands.
News of a miracle travels far.
"Please come and teach our people to read/' The requests
poured in from all over Asia. Mr. Laubach was about to
start for a vacation in America, so he agreed to stop at sev-
eral places in Asia on his way home.
In Singapore he had two days to work with two mission-
[124]
SIGNAL HILL
aries and some Moslem boys, showing them how to find key
words and build reading charts in the Malay language. He
made many stops in India, showing people how to write
lessons in languages he himself could not speak Hindi,
Marathi, Telugu, Tamil, and Urdu. In Cairo forty mission-
aries and some Egyptians worked with him to make five
charts in two days. In Palestine and in Syria, Mr. Laubach
had the thrill of working on charts that would help people
read of the great Jesus who once moved through the very
land where they now lived. In Turkey, where new ways
were being welcomed, more reading charts were prepared.
It seemed impossible that one man could accomplish so
much in so short a time. People began to call Mr. Laubach
the "miracle man/' but he himself knew these miracles all
began when he decided to let God think through him and
love through him.
News of the Laubach miracles spread to far corners of
the world.
"Please come and teach our people to read," was the call
that came again from Asia. It came, too, from Africa and
from South America. As war conditions were making it
impossible for Mr. Laubach to carry on his regular work
in the Philippines, he had time for trips to East Africa, to
India again, and to South America. Though he did not
know the languages there, he could show teachers how to
find key words and build reading lessons. He showed them,
also, that patience and love were needed in teaching the
first steps of reading. Wherever he went, he proved that it
was not necessary to have many trained teachers. If the
rule of "Each one teach one'" were used, the wonderful
[125]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
knowledge of the printed page would spread and spread
and spread.
How can Frank Laubach crowd so much of love and suc-
cessful work Into days that are no longer than yours and
mine? Let's climb Signal Hill again with him and his good
dog, Tip, and learn his secret He once stood on the sum-
mit of Signal Hill looking down at the rice fields growing
tall and green in the sunshine.
"Child," he felt God saying to him, "the rice needs sun-
shine every day. It could not grow if it had sun only once
a week or one hour a day. You are like the rice. You need
God all day of every day. So do people all over the world.
They are withering because they are open toward God only
once in a while. Every waking minute is not too much/*
[126]
SOLDIER OF PEACE
Ludwig Nommensen (1834-1918)
by ALICE HUDSON LEWIS
A LMOST everyone likes stories about heroes. There are
j\ many good stories about war heroes. There are good
stories about peace heroes, too. One of the greatest of these
is the story of Ludwig Nommensen.
Like many other heroes, Ludwig Nommensen was born
in a very humble home. His father was a lockkeeper over
a hundred years ago on a little North German island. There
was almost no money in that kind of work. Little Ludy, as
the boy was called, was sent out to work when he was only
seven years old to earn a bit of extra money for the family
by tending a neighbor's flock of geese. When he was eight
he knew exactly what he wanted to be a shepherd. When
he was nine, however, his father apprenticed him to a slater.
When Ludy was ten he was working for a farmer, and
during that year he suffered a severe accident. A horse and
cart knocked him down in the cobbled street. He was so
badly injured that no one believed he would ever walk
again. Long, lonely days came for the crippled boy, who
could no longer run about at work or play.
Ludy had a friend who never failed him the village
[127]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
schoolmaster, who came almost daily to see Mm and help
him with his reading. Ludy was told stories of faraway
places where people lived who had never heard of Jesus.
There was only one book in Ludy's house the old family
Bible. When the schoolmaster read to him from that Book
all the wonderful old adventure stories came alive to the
boy.
There was one sentence in the Bible that stayed in his
mind it was a promise. "If you ask anything in my name,
I will do it." Now there was one thing that Ludy wanted
very much, and that was to walk again. Night after night,
alone in the dark, he prayed, "Make my legs well. Let me
walk again, and I will go to carry the gospel to the faraway
people the schoolmaster tells me about."
One day a new doctor came to the village, and the school-
master brought him to see Ludy. The doctor looked the
boy over carefully. He said, "Hm! Well, well! I think we
can do something about this/' Under his treatment the boy
grew stronger rapidly, and in less than a month he was
walking again.
Hard times came to the Nommensen household. The
father died, and for six long years Ludwig found himself
the sole support of his mother and two sisters. But he never
forgot the promise he had made to God to take the gospel
to the people who did not know it.
Many friends helped him, and he worked hard to help
himself. He milked cows, cleaned stables, taught school,
swept the schoolhouse, took care of the church, and taught
a Sunday school class. He did anything that would help
him earn money enough to attend the school where mis-
[128]
SOLDIER OF PEACE
sionaries were prepared for service in foreign lands. At last
he was able to take the training. But he was twenty-seven
years old before he was ready to leave for foreign lands.
He was sent to the island of Sumatra in the East Indies.
He planned to work among the Batak people, who were
known as cannibals.
Now Ludwig Nommensen knew about Sumatra and how
very difficult his task there would be. He knew that thirty
years before two American missionaries had been killed
and eaten by the people among whom he meant to live.
But he knew, too, that these Batak people did not kill and
eat human beings without a reason that seemed good to
them. They felt that white men had a strength and a power
that they did not possess, and they wanted that power.
They believed that if they ate the flesh of those strangers,
they would gain the same strength for themselves.
Nommensen believed that if he learned the customs of
the Bataks and took care to break none of their laws, he
could go into their country with safety. Once there, he
thought that he could make friends with the people and
finally show them that what they needed was not physical
power to fight their enemies but spiritual strength to live
clean, abundant lives the kind of lif e Jesus promised to all
who would follow him. During his first months in Sumatra
he studied the ways of the Batak people. Then he began
visiting their villages. With a couple of Batak guides, he
would go to call on a village chieftain. Inside the village
he would find an earthen wall topped with sharp-pointed
sticks to keep out the evil spirits which everyone feared.
The chief and his people lived in houses built on stilts so
[129]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
that there was room for the dogs, pigs, chickens, and other
animals to live under the floor. Through a trap door in the
floor Nommensen would be led up to the room where every-
body lived together.
Nommensen found the Bataks to be a hospitable people
when they had nothing to fear, and soon he was sharing
their meals as a friend. He always led the talk to fear of
evil spirits. He never failed to tell them how Jesus had
come to make men free from fear yes, free of the evil
spirits that so beset their lives.
Gradually Nommensen won friends, and late in 1863,
with the permission of the Dutch government, he went to
Silindung Valley to live among the Toba Bataks. Many of
the chiefs in that region did not want him to live near
them. When he tried to build his house, they and their
people tore it down and tried to burn it Failing to drive
him away, they tried to discourage him by throwing all
kinds of filth into his yard. They threatened him.
"We will cut off your legs and throw you into the river,"
they said. "We will kill you and call the people to come
and eat you. We will burn you and your house together."
But with his two Batak helpers, day by day, Nommensen
went among the people, talking with them, telling them
about Christ, and learning more and more about them.
They were cannibals of the worst order, but that did not
make him hate them. He tried to understand them and
help them.
Nommensen seemed to have magic in his fingers where
the sick were concerned. He was not trained in medicine,
but his skill at helping the sick surprised even himself. And
[130]
SOLDIER OF PEACE
those who were healed were grateful. The men were so
often at war with one another that constantly he was called
upon to dress spear and bullet wounds. To him that meant
an opportunity to teach the gospel as well as heal. He
started a school and was immensely successful at it. Soon
he had a fine band of new Christians.
One day Nomrnensen heard an exciting bit of news. The
old chief who had killed the two American missionaries
more than thirty years before was still alive. Now you
might think that chief was one man Nommensen would
avoid. But no, straight to that chiefs village he went and
sat down with him.
"I know that you killed the two white men and, with your
followers, ate them/' he said. "But I have come to tell you
that God forgives those who are truly sorry for the evil they
have done. And God will forgive you." The chief listened
to the story of Jesus* coming to earth and to his plan for
salvation. Oh yes, he freely admitted killing the mission-
aries, but he refused to repent.
Nommensen did much more for the Bataks than just
preaching and healing. He took up their problems with the
government and helped to make sure that their lands would
not be taken away from them to make big plantations for
Dutch landlords. They were grateful for this, too.
One of the most exciting experiences Nommensen had
came when a group of unfriendly chiefs stirred up a move-
ment against him and sent out invitations to a feast of sacri-
fice to the spirits. They intended to destroy Nommensen
utterly.
The Christians were frightened and begged their friend
[131]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
to leave the country. When he refused to run from his ene-
mies, the Christians formed a bodyguard and would not
leave him day or night.
When the day of the feast arrived, more than a thousand
cannibals with spears, guns, and Icnives came to the village
where Nommensen lived. Their witch-doctor chief was
with them. They prepared to slaughter an ox for a burnt
offering to the spirits. Nommensen, leaving his Christian
guard, walked right into the center of the noisy crowd,
alone and unarmed.
"I ask you all to lay aside your weapons of war," he
cried in a loud voice. The armed men could hardly believe
their eyes and ears. For a long moment they were stricken
dumb by his bravery. Then a sullen murmur arose. Nom-
mensen disregarded it and walked from one to another of
the warriors, taking their knives from their hands.
"Hm," they sneered, "that won't do you any good! We
can kill you with our two hands/' But they did not move
against him.
The witch doctor's voice rang out in a challenge to the
Christians. "I shall not accept the ox as an offering unless
you sacrifice a human from your midst."
Up from that crowd of cannibals rose a cry for the sacri-
fice of Nommensen. His Christian friends were certain that
this was the end for him. But not Nommensen. With hand
upraised he walked calmly around the circle. "Quiet!" he
called. "Be calm and peaceful!" Straight toward the witch
doctor he walked.
That evil man knew that his power was broken. Without
a word he fell on the ground and lay still. The men who
[132]
SOLDIER OF PEACE
had come with him to destroy Nommensen gathered in
little groups, bewildered and fearful. Nommensen preached
the gospel to them as to a great congregation.
Suddenly rain began to fall. When the rain comes down
in the tropics, it falls in sheets and torrents, '"Why, even the
heavens are on his side!" the people shouted to one another
as they ran to get out of the rain.
From then on, more and more were willing to listen to
Nommensen's teaching. In less than a month's time a mes-
sage was on its way to Germany: "Send more missionaries.
All Silindung is ready to hear the gospel."
And so it was. In three short years Nommensen, the fear-
less missionary, had conquered the power of the evil spirits
with his gospel of love.
It would take a very large book to tell all the exciting
adventures of this great soldier of peace. In between the
exciting experiences he found time to translate the Bible
into the Batak language and give it to the people he loved.
He saw the Christian church in Batakland grow from a
fearful few to a great working body, independent and
strong, with a fine missionary program of its own. He saw
the descendants of the chief who refused to repent become
Christians. A fine, strong church was built in the place
where the two first missionaries were killed.
He died in 1918, an old man of eighty-four years. He
died in the land where he had spent so much of his life,
and more than forty thousand people came to his funeral.
They came to honor the friend who had fearlessly brought
them "the words of life" Ludwig Nommensen, soldier of
peace.
[133]
PIONEER IN TIBET
Albert Shelton (1875-1922)
by MABEL NIEDEKMEYER
A BERT SHELTON knew danger and hardship while he
was still a boy. His family were among the pioneers
who went to the plains of Kansas as settlers. Young Albert
learned early to get his own food by hunting and to kill a
dangerous rattlesnake with the long ox whip. Pioneer ways
appealed to him. Perhaps that was why as a man he chose
to go to a pioneer mission field when he finished his train-
ing as a doctor. He had expected to serve at Nanking in
China. Instead he answered the urgent call for a mission-
ary doctor in faraway Tibet.
To get to Tibet, Dr. Shelton and his young wife crossed
the Atlantic, late in 1903, traveled up the great Yangtze
River for a thousand miles to Ichang, then went farther up
the river for almost two months. Finally they got in sedan
chairs and for many days they were carried across wide
plains -and finally up, up, into the mountains that bordered
Tibet to the city of Tachienlu, over 8,000 feet above sea
level, standing at the head of a valley crowded between
mountains.
By the end of his first year, Dr. Shelton was preaching,
[134]
PIONEER IN TIBET
taking charge of a day school, doing medical work in the
city, and going on occasional journeys to help the country
people. His work was lightened when another missionary
couple, the Ogdens, arrived to help. Dr. Shelton was then
free to concentrate on medical work. His home had been
made happy by the birth of two daughters, Doris and
Dorothy.
In many ways Tachienlu was not a good place for a
mission station. Because it was on the border of China, the
Tibetan people did not come to it freely. So Dr. Shelton
and Mr. Ogden sought a place farther inland. They selected
Batang as the best spot for the new station, and -the mission
board agreed to the change. In 1908 the move was made.
While the Sheltons were in the midst of moving, a man
arrived who needed an operation. He had come a month's
journey in search of the doctor's help.
The surgical instruments had already been sent on to-
ward Batang. What could be done? The sick man decided
that he would follow the doctor to Batang.
A few days after the doctor arrived in Batang, the sick
man came to him. The doctor unpacked his instruments
and decided to operate at once. He had his patient placed
on a door, which he often used as an operating table. In
the courtyard, in full view of many people, the operation
was successfully performed.
The operation in the open caused great talk in Batang.
No one could say that magic power or devil's medicine had
been used to cure the man. The doctor's reputation was
established.
It was happenings like this that helped to give the people
[135]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
of Batang a friendly feeling toward the doctor and the
other missionaries. At first they had feared the newcomers.
"Do not go near them or they will cut out your livers to
make medicine," they had warned their children.
Before long the children who were sick were being
brought to the doctor for treatment.
A hospital, homes for the missionaries, and a church
were built in Batang, and a sturdy Christian fellowship was
built up.
Dr. Shelton was ever the pioneer. He wanted to push
mission work farther into Tibet.
fe We should build a hospital in Lhasa/' the doctor often
said. "We could not only heal the sick who live there but
also those who make pilgrimages to the city. We could
train young Tibetans to become doctors and medical work-
ers among their own people."
The mission board had agreed to a trial visit to Lhasa
and had sent the necessary supplies, which were waiting at
the coast
"Dorothy, Doris, and I shall go home to America while
you go to Lhasa to try out your plan/' Mrs. Shelton said.
"It is time that the girls had some schooling in America."
So early one morning in 1919, the Shelton family started
on their journey to the seacoast, with the farewells of the
school children of the Batang mission in their ears.
Because of the mountain passes that had to be crossed,
the journey to the railroad station at Yunnanfu had to be
made by horse or on foot. Mrs. Shelton was carried in a
sedan chair, the girls rode horses, and the doctor was on
his favorite mule. When the party passed the border into
[136]
PIONEER IN TIBET
China, escorts were sent along from station to station to
protect the travelers from any possible robber bands they
might meet along the way.
After twenty-four days of travel, the party reached
Lichang, China. Here they visited for a day or two with
friends, to rest and to wash their clothes. The villagers
came hurrying out to be treated for their various illnesses.
Among them was a poor old woman who came with a bas-
ket of oranges and two ducks, "These are a gift for saving
my husband's life/' she said.
'Tour husband?" asked Dr. Shelton in a puzzled way.
"Yes. He is the man who followed you to Batang when
first you went there/' she replied.
Rested again for their journey, the Sheltons started off
once more and traveled twelve days with no trouble. By
this time only four men were with them as escorts.
Dr. Shelton was riding along behind his family one Satur-
day about noon, when one of the escorts shouted, "Robbers!
Robbers!" He fired his gun into the air and then ran back
along the track they had come. With him went the other
escorts. Shots began to come from in front. Dr. Shelton
ran forward with his Tibetan servant.
By this time many bandits had swooped down on the
party. The bandits quickly took what they wanted from the
pockets, chairs, and saddlebags. One of the leaders asked
Dr. Shelton to go back up the road a way to see their
general.
In spite of Mrs. Shelton's pleading, the doctor was forced
to leave his family and go with tie bandits. He soon
learned that he was a prisoner and was being held for ran-
[137]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
som. In the following miserable days, he was forced to hide
out with the robber band and to watch them steal and even
kill. Often they rode all night to escape pursuit
One day Dr. Shelton had a chance to talk with the leader,
Yang Tien Fu. "What is the ransom you are asking for me?"
he asked.
"You will be freed when the governor releases my wife
and mother and son who are being held captive in Yun-
nanfu, and when $50,000 worth of arms and ammunition
are given for your release/' was the reply.
Dr. Shelton knew that if the ransom money were paid
for hini, other missionaries would be captured and held for
similar sums,, so he refused to consent to the demand for
payment.
Yang Tien Fu reconsidered and finally said, "Then you
shall be free only when my family is free and the governor
grants a pardon to every member of our group."
Those terms seemed more hopeful. Later, through a
French Catholic priest, a letter was sent to the governor,
making those demands. The family of the robber leader
were freed and a meeting arranged between a government
representative and Yang Tien Fu. At that meeting, Yang
Tien Fu asked in addition to his other demands that he and
his band be given charge of the road for a distance of
twelve miles. This the governor refused to grant, and Dr.
Shelton's hope for freedom was abruptly brought to an end.
The days of captivity stretched on and on. Occasional
word caine from Mrs. Shelton and the girls, so the doctor
knew they were safe and waiting for him. But the life he
was forced to live began to break down his health. Coupled
[138]
PIONEER IN TIBET
with that, a small tumor began forming on his neck. It
grew in size and began to pain him a great deal. Finally,
he was almost exhausted. So on the sixty-fifth day of his
captivity, the robbers left him behind in a bed of new rice
straw in the loft of an old barn. Four men of the village
took care of him for six days.
Late one afternoon, Dr. Shelton was told that a govern-
ment official and his servant were in the village. The doctor
managed to go out to meet them. He learned that the gov-
ernment had been trying for two months to rescue him from
his captors.
In a few days more Dr. Shelton was reunited with his
family. How happy his wife and girls were to see him
again! The doctor returned to America with his family for
treatment and rest before he could hope to go to his new
field in Lhasa.
The days of getting well seemed long to this missionary
man of action. He was eager to get back to Tibet. Finally
he could be held in America no longer. In the fall of 1921,
Dr. and Mrs. Shelton and two new missionary couples sailed
for the Orient. The Shelton girls stayed with their grand-
parents in California. The plan this time was for Mrs. Shel-
ton to go as far as China, while Dr. Shelton would take the
new workers on to Batang and then make plans for begin-
ning his work in Lhasa.
The doctor said good-by to his wife at Shanghai, and
with the other members of the party went on to Batang,
arriving just before Christmas.
On February 15, Dr. Shelton set out from Batang to see
the governor of eastern Tibet. He had not gone far when
[139]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
he received word that he had better return because of
danger.
Dr. Shelton and his party started back the next day.
When they were about six miles from Batang, suddenly,
as he rounded a curve in the mountain path, a shot rang
out, and Dr. Shelton fell from his mule. When his com-
panions, riding in back of him, rounded that curve, they
found him lying, wounded, in the middle of the road. He
had been shot by a bandit Dr. Shelton treated himself
until a doctor came. Then he was carried back to Batang
on a stretcher. As the party neared the city, between fifty
and a hundred villagers who had heard the news came out
to light the way with pine torches.
The doctor's condition was so serious that no more could
be done for him. About midnight he began to grow stead-
ily weaker, and he died within the next hour.
After his death one of his best friends wrote of him: "He
was scared to death most of the time, but one of the bravest
of men. He traveled over the main roads of a hundred thou-
sand square miles in Eastern Tibet and worked among the
most savage tribes, making friends and opening the way.
In his ministry of love he went about doing good, preach-
ing, teaching, and healing after his ideal, the Christ."
[140]
DOCTOR ON HORSEBACK
Frederick Shepard (18554915)
by ALICE GEER KELSEY
I'M so glad Astrig is sick!" Garabed wriggled himself to
a higher limb of the big mulberry tree, the better to see
over the mud-brick wall that guarded the orphanage yard.
"Why, Garabed! What a thing to say!" Siranoush climbed
awkwardly into a low branch. Like Garabed, she watched
the road that wound from the Turkish city of Aintab up the
brown hill where the mission orphanage for Armenian chil-
dren stood.
"Well, of course, I don't want Astrig to be very sick/*
admitted Garabed. He peered down the brown road that
seemed to grow smaller and smaller till it disappeared in
the city from which forty minarets pointed skyward. The
slim towers were silent now, but soon, Garabed knew,
muezzins would climb the winding stairway of many of
them and let the Moslem call to prayer trill out over the
city of mud-brick houses.
"I know what you mean." Siranoush laughed but did not
take her eyes from the hard, brown road. "You mean you
are glad she is sick enough so that Shippet has to come to
see her. I think we are all glad about that." 1
[141]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
There was a joyous whoop behind them. The orphanage
door flung open, and two small boys ran down the cobble-
stone path to the front gate.
"Miss Frearon says we can open the door for Shippet,"
shouted Arsham. Like many others in the Aintab area, the
boy shortened the name of Dr. Shepard to "Shippet." Like
the others^ he spoke the name lovingly.
"You can watch from the mulberry tree and tell us when
it is time to open the gate/' called Haritun.
"We will watch/' promised Garabed and Siranoush to-
gether.
Thin Zadouhi, a newcomer at the orphanage, joined the
watchers by the gate. "I asked Miss Frearon why everyone
was so excited about this Shippet's coming. She told me to
come out here and ask you."
The four children started to talk at once. All Zadouhi
could hear was a mixture of words: "kind fun laughing
strong helping -horses children -"
"One at a time, please/' she begged.
"There's no one in Aintab who can ride a horse the way
Snippet can!" began Garabed. "He trains his horses him-
self usually, and he rides as far and as fast as an Arab. But
he doesn't ride just for the fun of it. He rides to get to sick
people just as quickly as he can. And he goes by the short-
est roads, no matter how rough they are. Once he swam
beside his horse across a cold river in the winter because
going around by the bridge might have made him too late
to save the life of a sick girl. Oh, there isn't anything Ship-
pet doesn't dare to do with a horse!"
"And wait till you hear Shippet laugh!" beamed Arsham.
[142]
DOCTOR ON HORSEBACK
"Once I was in the hospital with a broken leg. Every day
he came to my bed and talked to me. He always had some-
thing funny to say. People used to say that his jokes and
his laughing helped them get better alpost as much as his
medicines and his operations/'
"You ought to see the sick people who want him to cure
them!" said Haritun. "They call him to their homes here in
Aintab and way off in faraway villages. There are crowds
of them on clinic days. They come hobbling on foot or
riding on donkeys or bouncing along in oxcarts. If he can-
not cure them in the clinic, he takes them into the hospital.
When people are so sick that he cannot really cure them,
he talks to them about Jesus and makes them feel better.
People call his hospital the Jesus hospital/'
"Snippet doesn't have to talk to people to remind them
of Jesus/* added Siranoush. They can just look at Shippet
and see what Jesus must have been like."
Just then there was a whoop from Garabed, high in the
mulberry tree. "There's someone coming on horseback! It's
a good rider on a fast black horse. It might be Shippet!"
"Is he short with broad shoulders?" asked Arsham.
"Does he sit very straight in the saddle?" asked Haritun.
"Does he ride as though he were part of the horse?"
"Does he wear a hat instead of a fez?" asked Siranoush.
"Yes!" shouted Garabed. "It is Shippet!"
Ashram and Haritun opened the "needle's eye/' the
creaking, small door that was cut in the great gate of the
orphanage wall. Siranoush slipped awkwardly from the low
limb of the mulberry tree and ran into the orphanage to
spread the good news to the children who were working
[143]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
busily inside the building. Miss Frearon had promised
them all that they could run to the gate as soon as the
doctor was reported to be in sight
"Snippet is coming!" called Siranoush,
Hammers clattered to the bench as the little boys left
their simple carpentry. Needles were thrust hastily into
homespun squares as the little girls laid aside their colorful
embroidery. Stools scraped on the bare floor as the big
girls jumped up from their places at the great wooden loom
where they were patiently tying knot after Icnot to make a
thick, soft rug. Only Koharig stayed behind to tie a few
more knots and to think about the wonderful idea that had
just popped into her head.
"Shall I tell the other girls?" she asked herself. "I wonder
what Miss Frearon would say. I wonder if Shippet would
like it."
Koharig tied three knots of soft red wool, then four knots
of soft blue wool. She wanted to be alone to think. She
followed the pattern carefully, knot after knot yellow wool,
green wool, red wool, blue wool. She heard the sharp clip
of horses* hoofs outside the gate. Then she left the loom
and joined the group of happy children in the yard. Small
boys and girls of all ages lined up on either side of the or-
phanage path.
"Hash geldinizT The children called their welcome as
the short, stocky doctor jumped easily from his horse and
stepped through the "needle's eye" in the big gate.
"Hosh bouldottk!" he answered their greeting. The doctor
walked between the two rows of smiling orphans with a
word for one and a smile for another.
[144]
DOCTOR ON HORSEBACK
"How is the leg, Arsham?" he asked, recognizing the boy
whose broken leg he had set.
"I was in your home village last week, Yevkine," he said
to a shy girl with huge brown eyes. "There were baby
lambs leaping on the hillsides."
"How big you are growing!" he said to Haritun.
A few more he greeted by name as he walked between
the rows. Then he went inside.
"Lucky Astrig!" sighed Mariam. "He'll talk with her a
long time. Hell tell her funny stories, perhaps about his
own children."
Dr. Shepard went upstairs to see the sick girl. The work-
room filled again with busy orphans. But Koharig did not
return at once to the loom. She went first to see Miss
Frearon. She wanted to talk with the orphanage mother be-
fore she spoke with the other big girls about her plan.
"It sounds like a good idea to me," Miss Frearon said
when she had heard the plan. "Let me know what the girls
say about it."
Koharig danced into the workroom a few minutes later.
The other girls about the loom stopped their work at the
sight of the happy shine in her brown eyes.
"What is it, Koharig?" they asked. "What has happened?"
"IVe had an idea! Listen!"
Their dark heads huddled close together as Koharig told
them her plan.
"Who is the best man in Aintab?" began Koharig.
"Shipper., of course! He is the best man in all Turkey.
I think he is the kindest and most wonderful man in the
whole world."
[145]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
you like to give him a present to show how much
we love him?" asked Koharig.
"Of course we would. But we haven't a thing to give
him. You know we have no money/'
"But we have something better than money." Koharig
held out her own slim hands. "We have our fingers that
know how to make beautiful things.'*
"But what could we make for him? He wouldn't want
embroidery or lace."
Koharig pointed at the big rug, almost finished on its
wooden loom. "Our hands did every bit of work except the
shearing of the sheep."
Slowly, as the idea caught on, the girls realized how very
much of themselves would go with a gift of the rug.
"Remember how warm it was in the spring sunshine the
day we took the new wool to the brook to wash at shearing
time?'* said Mariam.
"Remember how we pricked our fingers on the sharp
spikes when we were learning to card the clean wool?"
added Yevkine.
"And how we all went around twisting our spindles while
we were spinning the wool into yarn? Do you remember
how Siranoush used to stand in an upstairs window and let
her spindle whirl until it almost touched the ground?" said
Koharig.
"Dyeing the wool was the most fun. I loved dropping
the white yarn into the steaming dye pots and pulling it
out in its lovely new colors." Arshaluis stroked the glossy
brightness of the rug.
"And remember how like a summer flower garden the
[146]
DOCTOR ON HORSEBACK
yarn looked, drying in the sunshine in its great, looping
skeins?'' said Anitza.
"Didn't we have fun deciding on the pattern?" said Sira-
noush. "I hope Shippet will like our pattern."
"It isn't too late to change the pattern a little bit/'
Mariam was looking thoughtfully at the bright rug stretched
so proudly on the wooden loom.
"Why change the pattern?" snapped Siranoush. "It's a
good pattern."
"But we could put in something especially for Shippet/*
explained Mariam. "We could weave a greeting at the bot-
tom of the rug something that would' tell him how much
we love him. We could decide while we are working/*
"So you do like my idea?" beamed Koharig.
"Of course we do," chorused the girls.
There were quick footsteps on the stairs. The girls picked
up their bright scraps of wool. When Dr. Shepard looked
in at the door of the orphanage workroom a few minutes
later, he saw dark heads bobbing busily as the girls worked
at the loom.
"That's a beautiful rug you are making/' came the doc-
tor's hearty voice. "Lovely design! Glorious colors! That's
a rug any home would be proud to own/'
He wondered why the girls beamed so very happily at
his praise. He wondered what brought into their faces that
shining look that comes only to those who are working hard
for someone they love.
[14T]
THE MAN WHO NEVER WASTED TIME
William Walton (1869- )
by VIOLET CLARK
IF ANYONE had told young William Walton that lie would
spend most of his life on the bleak shores of James Bay,
the boy would not have believed it. Tve got my art and
my music/* young Walton would have said. "My future lies
with them/'
It was true that William Walton was gifted in art and in
music. Throughout his school days in Birmingham, Eng-
land, he had shown his talent, and his plans for the future
were bright.
But one night when he was eighteen years old his plans
were changed. Walton went to a missionary meeting at
which Samuel Crowther, the first Bishop of the African
Church, spoke. The youth was deeply touched by the mes-
sage he heard.
"My Me work lies not in art or music, as I have planned,
but in the service of God. And I shall give that service on
the frontiers of the world, in places where the people have
not yet heard of God's love for them," he told himself.
During the next five years young Walton worked and
studied in Birmingham. Those were happy, crowded days
[148]
THE MAN WHO NEVER WASTED TIME
for him. He had taken a Sunday school class, and the boys
and girls came in such numbers that he had to hold two
sessions on Sunday. Even then the class had to be divided
every six months. His Tuesday night club for them grew
to seventy-five members and then to one hundred seventy-
five.
Walton made use of his artistic talent. Each day he
worked at a glass factory, painting stained glass windows.
Some of the workers at the glass factory were deaf and
dumb. Before long, young Walton had made friends with
them and was talking to them on his fingers. He became
known as the boy who never wasted time, for in his pocket
there was always a book to be studied in spare moments.
At night he went to drawing school, because his father
insisted that he get a certificate before he could prepare
as a missionary. In his final examinations he took three
prizes.
At last the day came for his entry into Islington College
to begin his training for missionary service. Many subjects
had to be studied before the young man was trained.
Among the things he learned was the care of the sick and
injured. He helped take care of sick people at clinics. He
spent his holidays in hospitals to see how injuries and dis-
eases were treated. He wanted to be ready for any kind of
work anywhere.
"Will you go as a missionary to the Indians and Eskimos
of James Bay in Canada?" William Walton was asked, when
his training was ended.
"Gladly!" he answered.
In 1892, at the age of twenty-three, William Walton
[149]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
sailed for Canada by way of Hudson Bay. Slowly the
stately sailing vessel crunched its way through the ice of
the huge bay, down through James Bay to the mouth of
the Fort George River. On an island in the river stood Fort
George, a post of the Hudson's Bay Company. William
Walton stood on the ship's deck and eagerly looked at the
barren shores that were to be his home through the coming
years.
The Hudson's Bay post, where the Indians and Eskimos
came to trade, was protected by a high stockade with two
great gates that were locked at night Never were the In-
dians and Eskimos allowed to come into the fort at the
same time because fierce feuds existed between them.
When the Indians came to trade, the Eskimos had to wait
down the coast until they had gone, and then one family
at a time, they were allowed to enter the store.
As soon as the young missionary could speak the lan-
guage of the Indians, who were Crees, he began to preach
to them. "God is the Father of all men," he taught. "In-
dians, Eskimos, and white men are all brothers/*
Walton always treated the people of each race with the
same kindness and consideration, and his sense of humor
often helped to overcome their jealousies. He so impressed
on them the idea of God's Fatherhood that one day two
Eskimo hunters felt they must ask his permission before
they set about getting rid of an Indian family who, they
said, had caused the death of one of their relatives. Walton
and the two men talked the matter over, and later the hunt-
ers went away, content to allow the Indian family to. live.
The young missionary rejoiced that these Eskimo hunters,
[150]
THE MAN WHO NEVER WASTED TIME
at least, had learned that God was their Father and the
Indian their brother. But this one victory did not solve the
big problem of blood feuds, though it gave him an idea of
how it could be done.
Shortly before this happening, William Walton had mar-
ried Daisy Spencer, the daughter of the Hudson's Bay post
manager. One of their wedding gifts was a microscope.
Here Walton's knowledge of doctoring helped him. He
took a drop of his own blood and that of an Indian and of
an Eskimo. By using his microscope, he made lantern slides
showing the three drops of blood, enlarged. All three
looked exactly the same. When the Indians and Eskimos
saw the slide pictures on the screen, they were convinced
that their teacher was right; they were brothers. Slowly
but surely the deadly blood feuds came to an end.
The young missionary still had the habit of never wasting
time. Wherever he went he told the Good News of God's
love for men. When he traveled he took with him a prom-
ising Indian or Eskimo youth who showed that he might
become a leader of his people. As the two walked behind
the sled or glided along in the canoe, the missionary taught
his companion from the Bible and answered his questions.
Books were needed by the Indians. Walton did not have
any books printed in the Cree language. He knew that the
young leaders he was training should have books. So he
and his wife began to translate the Gospels, using the sim-
ple Cree alphabet that had been invented by another mis-
sionary, James Evans, in 1846. Often the early hours of the
morning found them hard at work, for in the trading season
the people began coming to the mission house at eight
[151]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
o'clock in the morning and continued all through the day.
But the problem was how to make these translations into
books and how to make enough copies to go around.
Carefully Walton traced on waxed sheets of paper the
words of the Gospels in Cree characters. These were laid
on a gelatin surface, which took the inky impression, and
from it copies were run off. Then the pages were cut and
sorted into their proper order. Some of the Indian women
who sewed well were invited to come in and help. They
sat around a table in the center of which was a bowl of
candy as a treat They stitched the pages together into
books, making them neat and strong. Each year more
books had to be made, but later a special typewriter with
Cree characters instead of letters made the work much
quicker and easier.
For about six months out of every year Walton was away
visiting the Indians of the southern forests or traveling by
dog team in the winter to the Eskimo settlements. Thirty-
five services a week was not an unusual number for him. It
seemed as though the people couldn't get enough teaching.
Besides this, he doctored the sick and trained the native
leaders. During his long absences from home, Mrs. Walton
taught the day school, took charge of the services, and cared
for the people generally. Often she would play the har-
monium with her baby on her knees. When she got up to
preach she would hand the baby to one of the Indian
women to hold.
Through Walton's medical skill, so many sick and injured
were made well that his people began to think he could do
anything. One day an Eskimo woman brought her fourteen-
[152]
THE MAN WHO NEVER WASTED TIME
year-old niece to him with the request, "Teacher, will you
make this girl better?" The girl was deaf and dumb, and
the sight of one eye was gone. The missionary knew that
nothing could be done to cure her, and he also knew how
miserable her life would be if she were left with her own
people.
"All I can do is to take her and care for her/' said the
young man.
"You can have her/' came the quick reply. "We don't
want her." So the Eskimo girl was adopted into the Walton
family and was baptized Lucy. How glad Mr. Walton was
that he had learned to talk on his fingers! Now he was able
to teach Lucy to talk.
Lucy was delighted with her new home and was quick
to learn. When she saw Mrs. Walton's Indian maid sweep-
ing the floor, she would take a broom and sweep the floor,
too. When the Indian girl knelt by her bed to say her
prayers, Lucy knelt down, too. She learned to sew and to
make her own clothes in fact, she did so well and was so
happy that her adopted father hoped other Eskimo girls
would see her and try to be like her.
One of the meeting places for the missionary and his
people was the trading post at Great Whale River. Once
as the Eskimos were coming into the post, word came to
Walton that a man was lying ill with pneumonia some eight
miles away. Tired out with traveling though he was, Wal-
ton got ready four dogs and a sled and set out to find the
sick man. He realized "that he was the only man in the dis-
trict who knew anything about doctoring. The day was
clear, and he could see dog teams coming from all directions.
6 [15S]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Joyous greetings rang out as lie met his friends. Shaking
hands with them, he told them to go on to the post and he
would be back in time for evening service. One Eskimo
who was partly paralyzed and half blind had come four
hundred miles in order to meet the teacher. On recogniz-
ing the friendly voice of the missionary, the poor man al-
most fell over the drift ice in his eagerness to clasp his
hand.
Walton went on till he found the sick man. After giving
him some medicine, he tucked him warmly into his sled
and took him to the post, where he was put to bed. That
evening in the little church an eager, happy group of Eski-
mos heard his teaching.
The sick man recovered, and another life had been saved
by the skill and devotion of this missionary.
No wonder the Indians and Eskimos loved Walton. For
over thirty-two years he was their minister, teacher, doctor,
and friend. No sacrifice was too great for him to make for
them. Their warm response to the glad news of God's love
more than repaid him and his brave wife for the long,
strenuous years they had spent among them. Today prac-
tically all the Indians and Eskimos in the James Bay area
are Christian, and many of the church leaders are the ones
whom William Walton trained.
[154]
THE PREACHER WHO CARRIED THE BALL
TO CONGRESS
Dirk Lay (1886^1944)
by ELIZABETH S. WHITEHOUSE
WE WANT a touchdown! We want a touchdown! We
want a touchdown now-w-w!"
The football game was at its most critical point, and the
bleachers were packed with cheering students. Those from
Dubuque University were shouting for a touchdown. Their
tall preacher-captain, Dirk Lay, had the ball and was
making a dive for the goal. He landed behind the goal line,
scoring a touchdown for Dubuque and getting a lack in his
left eye that caused a beautiful "shiner/*
It was not long after this sports event that a letter to Dr.
Steffins, president of Dubuque University, came from a
mission board. "We are looking for a man just out of col-
lege, one who isn't afraid. We want him to become our
missionary to the Pima Indians in Arizona. It is a tough job,
and it calls for a real man. Have you anyone to suggest?"
Dr. Steffins thought over his students one by one. Then
he sent for Dirk Lay and handed him the letter. "Well, I
never planned spending my life among the Indians," said
Dirk Lay.
[155]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
"It's a big job and a tough one. Won't you think about it
and pray about it, too, before you make up your mind?"
said Dr. Steffins quietly. Tve picked you as a man who
could do it. Ill not hide the difficulties from you/' he con-
tinued. "The summers are very hot where the Pimas live.
The government records show that the temperature often
reaches 126 in the shade during July, August, and Septem-
ber. If you decide to take the job, better wait until winter
before you go. I've heard that the Indians are not very ap-
preciative. They find fault no matter how much you try to
do for them. I've been told, also, that they are terribly lazy.
You might feel that the job would be too much for you."
At first Dirk Lay was inclined to agree that the job would
be too much for him. He had a new bride, and the Arizona
desert didn't seem like a suitable place for a honeymoon
and a permanent home. But the more he thought about the
job, the more he felt that he ought to take it on. One night
he promised God that he would try it for one year. "I'm not
waiting for winter before I tackle it, either/' he thought.
It was a fiercely hot September day when Dirk Lay and
his bride got off the train at the Casa Grande station in Ari-
zona. AH about them they could see nothing but sand,
cacti, and gray-green sagebrush. The temperature seemed
to be trying to make a high record for itself. The only living
creatures to be seen were an Indian sitting in a spring
wagon and his team of pinto ponies. The Indian came to
meet them shyly. "I am Edward Jackson/' he introduced
himself to Dirk Lay. "You must be the new preacher. I
am a member of your church,"
These simple words won the hearts of the Lays, but their
[156]
CARRYING THE BALL TO CONGRESS
spirits sank as they drove over the fifteen miles of dusty
yellow road that wound its way through the desert to a
little mud-walled village. They looked at each other in dis-
may as their guide drew up before a gray adobe house with
its brush-thatched roof. This was to be their home for a
whole year. During the next few days the Lays began to
make discoveries about the Pima Indians. One of their big-
gest surprises was the finding of a mighty canal, seventeen
miles long and in places fifteen feet deep, which the Pima
Indians of long ago had dug with no tools other than sticks
and their own bare hands. For generations the canal had
brought water from the Gila River to the fields and gardens
in the valley, but now it lay empty with no life-giving water
within it. Almost nothing would grow on the mud-baked
flats around it.
The Pima Indians were not lazy. Dirk Lay soon saw that.
From boyhood, youths were trained in habits of endurance
and accomplishment. Young men had trained themselves
as runners until any one of them could run down the swift-
est horse on the reservation. A Pima boy could lie out on
a giant anthill and let the great black ants bite his naked
body without betraying the least sign of pain or discomfort.
Of such stuff were the members of the three churches that
Dirk Lay had come to serve.
Why then were people as stouthearted and enduring as
these gradually starving to death, Dirk Lay wondered.
Why did not the men try to get more food for their fami-
lies? Why did they shrug their shoulders in despair when
babies died and when the aged turned away in distaste
from the never-varying diet of dried beans and flour cakes?
[157]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Mr. Lay determined to find out. He called the old men of
the tribe together.
"Once," he said, "the Pimas were a mighty people. With
crude sticks and their own strong hands they dug canals to
bring water. They made their land bear food for them.
Why do not your young men find out what is holding back
the water of the Gila River and parching the land? Why
are you now content to sit here waiting for death?"
"Once," said an old man of the tribe, TPima land was rich
and fertile, and the Gila River was our mother and our
father. It watered our crops, sending out little streams
everywhere to comfort and to enrich our land. Then came
the white men. They settled along the Gila River above
our reservation. They diverted the water of the river to
their own farms and pastures. They do not care that we
starve and die here without water on reservations that we
may not leave. We have sent our chief men to talk with
them, but they will riot listen. Long ago the government
promised us the rights to the waters of the Gila as long as
the river flowed, but the white men who steal our water do
not care. We have no one to speak for us to the great father
in Washington, nor to plead our case before the white man's
Congress. So/' he finished stoically, "we wait here to die.'*
Mr. Lay forgot that he had come to the Pima reservation
for only a year. He looked about him at the Pima people.
Their trouble became his trouble; their sorrow and despair
lay heavy on his heart. He felt that fighting in their cause
was worth a lifetime of effort. He watched the women at
their basket-weaving. Their fingers were often cut and
bleeding as they worked from dawn to dark making baskets
[158]
CARRYING THE BALL TO CONGRESS
to exchange for the dried beans that were almost all families
had to eat. He saw hungry men and boys desperately cut-
ting great loads of mesquite wood and carrying them into
town over the rough desert road in order to get a little
money with which to buy the seed for planting. He
watched tiny plants spring from the seed, dry up, and
wither. "This thing should not be," he told his wife.
"Brothers," he cried to the members of his church, "we
will fight for your right to the river water! Ask God to help
us to worlc and to endure with courage until our fight is
won/' So the Indian Christians knelt with their tall
preacher, asking God to guide him and to strengthen his
hands for the hard task ahead and to give them the patience
and endurance they so sorely needed.
Just as Dirk Lay had once carried the ball safely over the
goal line in spite of obstacles, so he now set himself to win
for the Pima Indians their right to life and happiness. Time
is too short to tell of all that he did. But he and his wife
went to Washington, there to begin the battle for the Pimas*
right to live. He interviewed over five hundred reluctant
congressmen and senators, laying before them the plight of
their fellow Americans, the Pima Indians. He told them
facts about his people that these men had never heard
before.
"The Pima Indians have always been the white man's
friend," declared Dirk Lay. "They protected the white set-
tlers from the Apaches who sought to drive them out of the
territory. The first Arizona man to be killed in World War I
was a Pima Indian who had volunteered to fight under the
Stars and Stripes. The Pimas are a hard-working and
[139]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
industrious people. They are entitled to the respect and to
the justice that we claim we offer to all who live in this
country. Give them water! Build them a dam across the
Gila River, so that their land will be again as well watered
and prosperous as it once was before we allowed a few
selfish white men to rob them of their chance to live/*
Back and forth across the country went Dirk Lay, plead-
ing the cause of the Pima Indians he had come to love and
respect. He and his wife together wrote more than forty-
four thousand letters to people all over the United States,
stating the cause of the Pimas and pleading with them to
demand of their congressmen justice and help for the
friendly Indians he had come so quickly to love and to re-
spect. Soon thousands of telegrams and letters were pour-
ing in upon Congress. They came from every part of the
nation. They demanded justice and a square deal for the
Pima Indians. A bill was introduced into Congress outlin-
ing a plan for building a dam on the Gila River to supply
the Pima reservation with water. It was passed by the
Senate and was put on the calendar of the House of Repre-
sentatives, But there it stuck. Appeals to the Rules Com-
mittee and to the House speaker brought no results.
Then the churches in Washington, at Mr. Lay s request,
were asked to pray that the Speaker would recognize the
bill. In the last week of Congress a special appeal was
made to the President, and he sent a direct message to the
Speaker of the House about the bill. The Speaker finally
called for the bill. It was passed in thirty minutes. The
moment the bill was safely passed, Dirk Lay sprang to his
feet from his place in the gallery and with all Ms old foot-
[160]
CARRYING THE BALL TO CONGRESS
ball form rushed out to send a wire to the Pimas. That
night the church bell on the reservation rang and rang. All
through the next day it rang, and the hearts of the Pimas
sang as joyously as the bell.
When at last the San Carlos Dam was an accomplished
fact, the Pimas gathered in hushed expectancy along the
banks of the dust-filled canals. Soon there was the sound
of a mighty roaring. The life-giving water came rushing
through the dry land with its promise of hope and life. A
shout of joy came from the assembled people and echoed
against the very sky, and a mighty chorus arose from the
assembled people:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him, all creatures here below.
[161]
THE LITTLE OLD LADY WHO WALKS
SO FAST
Charlotte Kemper (1837-1927)
by MYRTLE STOSBERG SYDENSTRICKER
Little Old Lady Who Walks So Fast." That was
X what they called her, the people of Lavras, Brazil,
when they saw her hurrying along their streets. They were
used to the leisurely ways of Brazil, where few ever hurry.
To be sure. Miss Charlotte Kemper did do a great deal of
hurrying. Perhaps it was because she had been fifty-five
years old when she came to Lavras in 1893 to open a school.
Perhaps she felt that she had to make up for lost time. Or
perhaps it was because she saw such a very great deal that
needed to be done. Or perhaps it was that she liked to walk
and felt that she should make such outings count for good.
At any rate, she spent much time visiting the homes of the
people, particularly in the poor parts of town. She carried
baskets of food and bundles of clothing to the needy. She
especially helped those who were poor but too proud to
beg. She gave more than food and clothes. She comforted
the sad and encouraged those who had lost heart. "Dona
Car lota" she was called by those who loved her.
Not everyone in Lavras loved her, however. There were
[162]
THE OLD LADY WHO WALKS SO FAST
many who were suspicious of her and her motives. Why
had she left her own country and come to start a school in
their town? She was a Protestant. Why had she come to
their Catholic town? The priest of Lavras was a lazy man
and had been poorly trained. He feared that Dona Carlota
would take his congregation away from him. So he was
one of those who busily spread evil rumors about her. She
was called a Protestant devil who had come to spread evil.
It was said that instead of feet she had hoofs like a cow
and that the money she used was given her by the devil in
a dark room every Saturday night.
There were long arguments among the boys of the town
over these rumors. Jorge was suspicious of the missionary.
Jose stood up for her and so did Samuel.
"The priest says that the missionary's money is no good
and will turn to charcoal in your hand/' said Jorge.
Jose scoffed. "The priest says that because he doesn't
like Dona Carlota. He doesn't want people to be friendly
with her."
Here Samuel entered the argument. "The missionaries
rented their chacara (small farm) from my grandfather
when they first came, and now they have bought it. They
kept their word about paying, and their money is good."
"But they have hoofs like cattle," insisted Jorge.
"That's not true," insisted Samuel. "The cousin of our
cook works for Dona Carlota. On purpose she watched her
bathe her feet one day, and she saw that they are just like
ours. Dona Carlota is a good teacher. I know because I
go to her school. And my father says that she is doing a
lot of good for our town."
[163]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
So the argument ended for the time, with the boys two
to one for Dona Carlota.
All over the town such arguments went on. None was
more violent than the one about the way Dona Garlota
handled money.
Miss Kemper was the treasurer of the mission, and she
paid for the things that were bought She kept the account
books neat and tidy. To the people of the town it was a
strange sight to see a woman handling money and carrying
on business. In Brazil, women were not supposed to be
able to do such things. Dona Carlota had a talent for fig-
ures, and she was a constant surprise to the people.
The school was growing fast, and more pupils had come
every year. Dona Carlota ruled the school with a steady
hand, and even the helpers came to know what she con-
sidered right.
Early one Sunday morning Manuel, the cook, came to the
housemother of the boys' dormitory in a state of woe.
There was not enough rice for breakfast. A bag that had
been ordered for the day before had not arrived. Manuel
had a plan, however. "1*11 slip out quietly and buy some
rice in the market, and Dona Carlota will never know/*
The housemother was indignant. She said, "But 111 know,
Manuel, and the Lord Jesus will know. We can't buy on
the Sabbath, Well have to find another way."
Jorge got over his dislike of Dona Carlota, and he joined
her school. "She is a wonderful woman," he said. "She is
not only very wise herself, but she makes everyone feel
that he, too, has something that is worth while. I am thank-
ful that she let me study in her school. My father could not
[164]
THE OLD LADY WHO WALKS SO FAST
pay for the schooling of all us children, so she made up the
rest. People think she is rich because she gives away so
much. She is not rich, but she is generous in giving. My
sister saw her take a sweater off her own back and give it
to a beggar who claimed to have none."
In the school was a boy named Paschoal, who had a vio-
lent temper. One day Dona Carlota took him to task about
it. "It makes me sad to see you conquered by your worst
enemy," she said.
"Enemies will never conquer me," Paschoal interrupted
boastfully. "I'm not afraid of anybody, not even of the
devil; if he'd put in his appearance, I'd break his face."
"But you are constantly being defeated, and it's too bad
for a courageous, intelligent boy like you," Dona Carlota
insisted.
"I defeated?" said Paschoal in a hurt tone. "Who is this
enemy you're talking about? I've already said I'm not even
afraid of Satan himself. And if he had the nerve to come
near me, I'd smash his face."
"Very well, I'll show him to you. Wait a minute." Dona
Carlota hurried from the room. When she returned she
brought what looked like a picture, and upon getting close
to Paschoal showed him his own naughty face in a mirror.
"This is your worst enemy, my boy. Now smash his face, if
you can! You will be able to conquer the world, my son,
if first you can vanquish this, your worst enemy."
There followed a serious talk of conquering temper,
which ended in bowed heads and a prayer. It was the
turning point in Paschoal's life. Not long afterwards he de-
clared himself a follower of Christ
[165]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
Paschoal was an orphan, and Dona Carlota offered to
be a mother to him. Tin an old, old lady, Paschoal, but
sincere, and 111 love being a mother to you," she told him.
And how thrilled he was to have her! She was a mother to
many. Boys somehow were her favorites. (Often her girl
students accused her of partiality to the boys, and she did
not deny it ) Poor boys in the dormitory would suddenly
find on their bed a new shirt, tie, or socks with a little note
of affection attached.
It is touching to see how to this day some twenty years
since her death hundreds and hundreds of men and women
in Brazil consider themselves her children.
"Mother of Souls" we might call her, this little old lady
who walked so fast and so wisely, straight into the hearts
of boys and girls who needed her.
[166]
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON
Eric Nelson (18624939)
by UNA ROBERTS LAWRENCE
HE DID not come, my father/* said Joao to the thin, sick
man lying in the hammock. Through the open win-
dow a breeze blew in from the wide Amazon River flowing
just below the house, cooling the hot Brazilian afternoon.
"The boat from Manaos came, but Pastor Eurico was not
on it, nor the chapel, nor the medicine/' Joao went on.
"Never mind, my son/' said his father, Don Crispiano.
"He will come. I do not know how, but I am sure. Did he
not say in his letter for us to be ready to build? That he
would bring the boards for the chapel with him, and the
medicine? He has not written of any change in his plans.
Let us leave it with the Lord and Pastor Eurico. Get me
fresh water, my son/'
Taking the water bottle from beside the hammock, Joao
ran out of the house. His mother spoke quietly from the
doorway where she sat on a stool, grinding the boiled root
of the manioc for their supper. "The Pastor said he would
be here before the people left to gather nuts in the forest/*
she said. "Senhor Francisco says they must go within two
weeks. The river is rising, and his boats can wait no longer.
[167]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
How can Pastor Eurico come now before the people leave?"
"Yes, yes, I know that/' said Don Crispiano soberly. "But
there may be another boat from Manaos that we do not
know about."
Joao, coining in with the water, heard this. "I asked
about that, Father. There will be no other boat, not for a
whole month, By then the men will all be in the forest,
and there will be no one to build the chapel."
Joao knew well that nearly all the people of this Amazon
River town depended upon the brazil nuts for most of their
living. The nuts must be gathered during the wet months,
when the streams are full of water and the men can paddle
their canoes up them into the groves of towering nut trees.
"My son, this morning I found in my Bible a verse for
a time like this," said his father. " 'And it shall come to pass
that, before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet
speaking, I will hear/'' 1 We have asked God for the
chapel We have bought the lot on which to build it. Let
us not doubt that we will get it. Pastor Eurico has said he
will be here. He will come, my son/'
The boy looked up at his mother, and she turned away.
Father had been very ill. When his fever ran high he often
said strange things. Was it the fever now that made him
insist that their beloved friend, Senhor Nelson, the Ameri-
can missionary, would come? Even though he was not on
this last boat from Manaos?
Joao sat down to help his mother. "He needs medicine/'
she said in a low voice.
1 Isaiah 65: 24.
[168]
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON
"The chapel means so much to him," Joao whispered
back.
No one knew better than Joao and his mother how much
the chapel and the missionary meant to Don Crispiano.
Ever since Father had come home with a Bible and some
other books, bought from the missionary, Don Eurico, this
new knowledge of God and his Word had been the most
important thing in all their lives. Father had left his school
teaching for a time to study for several months with the
missionaries in Manoas.
Since his return, Father had been preaching in his own
home to a little congregation of believers and their friends,
as well as teaching school. Attendance had grown far too
large for their small house. During the past year they had
prayed and worked very hard for the chapel. Don Eurico
had promised to bring the materials for it
Joao heard his mother sigh. His eyes stung with tears of
disappointment.
Just then someone called from the street, "Don Crispiano,
Don Crispiano! A boat has landed! The Americano sends
word for you to come!'*
A boat and the American! Surely that was Pastor Eurico!
It could be no one else.
"Go, my son, run!" urged Don Crispiano. "Tell him that
the fever has almost conquered me. But have him come
quickly, and I shall tell him the men who will help build
the chapel."
Joao ran down the street to the riverside. There by the
side of the big river steamer was the most beautiful small
boat he had ever seen. Its upper part was gleaming white,
[169]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
trim, and clean, and the water was gently lapping its gray
sides. On the boat was painted a strange word Buffalo.
A slender man in white clothes was tying a huge rope
from a post on the dock to its bow. Joao called out, "Pastor
Eurico I"
Eric Nelson looked up. "Hello, there! Why, ifs Joao!
Come help me with this rope!"
As the boy scrambled down from the dock, he gasped,
"You did come! Just as Father said!"
The man smiled and said, "You looked for me on the
steamer, didn't you? Well, this time I have my own boat.
See! Isn't she a beauty?"
"Oh, yes, wonderful!" said the boy as he looked around.
"My father said you would come. But he did not know
how. And this is it! On a boat! Is it all your own?"
"It is the Lord's. There are the boards for the chapel!"
said Eric Nelson, as he pointed to a great stack of smooth
planks of red cedar and brown mahogany, tied securely on
the deck "But where is your father?"
Joao told the story of his father's fever, when the medi-
cine left by the missionary the year before had given out.
"There has been much fever this year. My father gave so
much medicine away that when the fever came upon him,
there was none left for his own need."
"Come with me/' said the missionary. Down a tiny little
ladder they went, into the inside of the boat. Wonderingly,
the boy looked around at two little rooms, one with bunks
for sleeping, the other with stove, dishes, and a table for
eating.
There were two other smaller rooms, for storage and for
[170]
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON
the Diesel engine. From a cabinet Eric Nelson took several
small packages. "Now let us go to your father. This medi-
cine will soon make him well."
After the precious quinine had been taken by the sick
man, Joao and his father and mother listened to the story
Eric Nelson told about the new boat.
"You know that I have traveled the Amazon River for
many years, on steamers, riverboats, canoes any way I
could. I have had the yellow fever, malaria, and all the
many other fevers of this Amazon Valley. I suffered much
from the poor food and disease. I was wearing out fast
with this kind of life.
"One day about a year ago I came to the place where I
felt I could not go on much longer in this way. So I knelt
down and prayed, 'Lord, if you want me to live and preach
on this River, send me a boat of my own.*
"A few days later I had a letter from a Baptist church in
Murray, Kentucky. It said that the church people had been
praying for something definite they could do to help spread
the gospel in the Amazon Valley. They had heard about me
and my work from a man who had worked with me a while.
The letter said, If you need a boat, we have the money
for one/
"The money came," Eric Nelson said. "A boat builder
took my plans and built the boat just as I wanted it, like
a little home. It is big enough for Mrs. Nelson to travel
with me, as she will often do. I can now carry a hundred
Bibles where I could carry only one before."
"But the name?" asked Joao. "It is a strange word."
The missionary smiled. "When my wife, Dona Ida, and
[171]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
I went for our first trip in it, the people at Manaos all came
out to see us start off. The engine goes with a great roar,
as you will hear. So we called it the Buffalo, for the huge
animals that used to roam the western plains of the United
States where I lived as a boy. It snorts and roars just as
they did!" He laughed, and added, "Everybody knows now
when I come to town."
Don Crispiano said, 'We must find some way of getting
word to our friends along the River to come to service to-
night and to be ready to help build the chapel tomorrow.
There is no time to lose."
"My boat will do it. Let's go, Joao/' said the missionary.
*Tou can show me the houses where we should stop/"
Joao's eyes danced with excitement as he helped his
friend untie the boat. He clapped his hands over his ears
as the motor started.
"Oh," he yelled above the noise, "she really roars!"
'Yes/' said Eric Nelson, "but when we turn into the main
current it will not be so bad/*
Joao perched on a bench by the wheel where he could
see everything. "Tell me about the buffalo/' he asked, "and
when you were a boy/' .
The missionary smiled. He never tired o telling how
God had called him to work in the Amazon Valley.
"My father lived on the great plains of the United States
where there were large cattle ranches/* he began. "When
I was just a boy, no bigger than you, I made up my mind
that when I was grown I would come to the Amazon Valley
to become a rich cattleman. I grew up to be a cowboy.
But then something happened to me. Early one morning
[172]
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON
God spoke to me as he did long ago to Abraham. 'Get thee
out from thy country and thy kindred unto a land that I
will show thee.' I knew then that I was to go to the Ama-
zon as a missionary.
"I told my father, and he was very happy. He had prayed
that one of his sons would preach the gospel. My mother
said, 'Son, do you have to go so far?* I told her, 'Yes, for
God has spoken to me.* So I came to the Amazon, not to
own a rich cattle ranch, but to ride this great River and tell
its people about Jesus and his love, and to teach God's
Word to those who do not know it.'*
Joao could hardly wait to ask a breathless question. "If
I learn about the Bible and what it teaches, could I go with
you, to help you with the Bibles and the boat?"
Eric Nelson eased the boat up to the bank where some
canoes were tied to a little landing and a path led to a clus-
ter of houses. "Well see," he said. "Run now and tell the
brethren here about the meeting tonight and the building
of the chapel tomorrow."
Joao's heart was almost bursting with joy as he ran to
give the message.
At candlelight the believers crowded into Don Crispiano's
small house to hear about the chapel and to listen to a Bible
lesson from Pastor Eurico, their beloved preacher. After
the service they planned the Building of the chapel.
The next day willing hands unloaded the cedar and ma-
hogany boards, and work began on the chapel. Joao helped,
along with several of his friends, for there was much that
boys could do. They brought the palm leaves from the
forest to make thatch for the roof. High posts were driven
[173]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
into the earth to lift the floor six feet above the ground, for
every year the town was flooded by the mighty river. Built
of wood that neither heat would warp nor ants eat, it would
stand for many years. During floodtime the people could
come in boats and tie them to the posts while the service
went on inside. During the dry months they would use the
space underneath the chapel for classrooms for the Sunday
school.
By the third day Father was well enough to come and
watch the work "You can take charge," said Eric Nelson.
"Joao can be your hands and feet, and you can tell the men
what to do. I must go on to Cruziero do Sul to deliver a
box of Bibles. I shall get back here by one week from
today. I think you can have the chapel finished by then.
We shall have the dedication before I return to Manaos."
So the next morning Joao helped untie the Buffalo from
her dock and stood with the little company of Christians
cheering and waving, as Eric Nelson swung the bow of the
boat upstream and with a great throbbing of the engine
headed toward the upper Amazon.
With a will, the workers turned to the task of completing
the chapel, putting up its sweet-smelling cedar walls, trim-
ming the door and windows with mahogany, laying its dark
mahogany floor, and thatching the roof thickly with palm
leaves. It was finished when the Buffalo roared into town
a week later.
That night the first service was held in the lovely new
chapel. The men, women, and young people gathered
early, bringing oil lamps with them, for as yet there were
no lights for the chapel.
[174]
COWBOY OF THE AMAZON
The leading men of the town were there to do honor to
the new house of worship. Even Senhor Francisco, the rich
brazil-nut merchant, was there and asked for prayer for the
safety of the men of the town who would leave the next
morning in his boats for the nut forests.
Never had the songs of the gospel sounded sweeter, nor
prayers been more earnest. Eric Nelson preached. In the
quiet moments at the close of the service he asked if there
were not some of the young men or women who would give
their lives to the service of God.
Three came to stand beside the missionary. Joao was
first, then his best friend, Manoel, and a young girl, Julia,
whose voice led the others in the singing.
"I felt," said Joao to his father, as they slowly walked
home after seeing the missionary on board the Buffalo,
"that if Pastor Eurico could leave his country and come to
ride the Amazon for the Lord, I could surely give myself
to the Lord to help him."
Cruziero do Sul Crooz-ee-AYR-roh doh Sool
Don Crispiano Dohn, Chris-pee-AH-noh
Joao Jawn (with an ng sound)
Julia-HOOJee-ah
Manaos-Mah-NOWS
Manoel-Mah-NOH-ayl
Pastor Eurico-Pahs-TOHR Ay-oo-REE-koh
Senhor Francisco-Sayn-YOHR Frahn-SEES-koh
[175]
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN OF THE
CANE FIELDS
Prime Navarro (18734927)
by UNA ROBERTS LAWRENCE
DOWN the narrow lane between waving fields of sugar
cane jogged the tall, thin man on the little gray horse,
up and down, up and down, his long legs barely swinging
clear of the ground at every jog. The Cuban sun was hot.
There were no highways in this part of Cuba forty years
ago, just rough trails through the sugar cane. The shade
from the tall cane was most welcome. Across the back of
the saddle, brown leather saddlebags creaked, slapping the
sides of the little gray horse with a gentle flop, flop, at each
J&
Primo Navarro and his good gray horse were both very
tired. They had come a long way, and the afternoon sun
was low. They had stopped once for food and water, once
to visit a sick boy, and several times to leave Gospels and
New Testaments promised on their last trip.
To ease his weariness, Primo Navarro began to sing:
Beautiful words, wonderful words!
Wonderful words of life.
[176]
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN
This song meant much to him. He had first heard its
words and music in Key West, ten years before, when he
was homeless, lonely, and friendless, like thousands of his
countrymen who had fled from the terrible war that. Cuba
fought for freedom from Spain. One day as he passed a
small building on a Key West street, he heard these words,
and they made him stop, look, listen, and then go in. It
was a meeting like none he had ever seen before. The
people sang about God and his love, and a man read from
God's Word, which Primo Navarro had never heard before.
When the minister came to visit him, he listened, accepted
a Bible for himself, read and believed its message.
"After the war was over, he had sung this same song and
read the Bible aloud in the park near his home in the city
of Cienfuegos. People stopped, listened, and came back to
hear more. He joined a little band of Evangelical Chris-
tians, led by an ardent young Cuban pastor who taught
him more about the Bible and encouraged him to preach
as well as sing and read the gospel.
So he had started out. With a pouch of Gospels and New
Testaments slung over his shoulder, he walked from town
to town and house to house in the sugar cane country, read-
ing the Bible to all who would listen and selling the books
to earn his living. Often he slept under the tall palm trees
or took shelter under the wide-spreading branches of the
ceibas. Often he washed out his shirt in the clear little
streams in order to keep a good appearance for the gospel's
sake. He ate the fruit of the wayside or shared the rice
and beans of the country homes where he was welcomed.
But he did not mind, for there was so much to be done.
[177]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
At first, no one had welcomed Primo Navarro or his mes-
sage. They thought that it was wrong for him to read the
Bible. He understood why this was so because he had once
felt that way himself. He knew the people had been taught
that only those especially educated could understand the
Bible, that it was not for the common people. So when
doors were shut in his face and he was called names like
"heretic," "infidel," "hater of God/' he understood and pa-
tiently went back again and again, hoping that in time both
doors and hearts would be open to him, as indeed they
often had been. Now all over the sugar cane country he
and his songs and Bibles were welcomed.
"Wonderful words of life!"
Primo Navarro hummed the words as his little gray horse
quickened his pace. At a turn in the road was a small palm-
thatched house, surrounded by banana trees. This was
Paradise Farm, the home of a good friend, Vicente, his
wife, and his son Juan. Here the evangelist expected to
spend the night and* go on early the next morning to
Vicente's father's place, Delight Farm, for a very important
meeting.
A boy came running from the house, calling, as he ran,
to the man working in a small field near by. "Pastor Na-
varro has come, Father! He has come!"
Holding lightly to the stirrup, Juan swung along with the
little gray horse, up to the veranda, where his father met
them, and his mother, wiping her hands on her apron,
smiled from the doorway.
"Welcome!" said Father. "Take the horse, Juan, and give
him food and water. Pastor, I know you and the horse are
[178]
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN
both tired, but a message lias come from my father/' he
went on.
"The visitor from the States and your friend Dr. McCall
are already at his house. They want you to spend the night
there. Supper is ready, so you can go on quickly/'
As they ate the beans and rice, the palm hearts, and
fried bananas, Primo Navarro told of this visitor he was to
meet at Delight Farm.
"He is a friend of Dr. McCall, the editor of a missionay
magazine in the States. Dr. McCall is taking him to visit
the men and women who are preaching the gospel, even out
in the country like this. We hope and pray he will see
much that needs to be done."
Juan's eyes danced with eagerness to ask a question. He
looked at his mother. When she smiled and nodded her
head, he blurted out, "Will you ask him for the baby
organ?"
"That is all he talks about," laughed his mother, "ever
since your last visit when you told him you are learning to
play an organ and hoping to get one."
*I can now play three hymns," said Primo Navarro
proudly. "But I am afraid the baby organ will not come
soon. If I ask for anything for the work, I must ask first
for another horse. I can ride all day, but my little gray
horse needs to rest. I must have another horse if I keep
going all the time."
Juan sighed with disappointment, though he knew the
Pastor was right "We shall all be over tomorrow," said
Father. "I shall be glad to see Dr. McCall again. Didn't
he get this horse for you?"
[179]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
s/' answered the evangelist. "That was the first time
I met him, when I was walking and carrying my Bibles on
my back. He asked me how many I sold and how much
they brought in for a living for my family. He said to me,
'You cannot carry enough Bibles on your back to make your
living, when you stop to preach so much of your time and
give so many Bibles away/
"Soon after that a check began to come every month from
the mission board in the States, and one day there was an
extra check and a letter that said, 'Buy all the horse you can
for this money/ And that is my little gray horse. I have
always thought Dr. McCall sent that money himself/'
Supper ended, Primo Navarro got up. "I'm glad the moon
is shining tonight. Three more miles to ride by myself!"
"Oh, Father, let me go with Pastor Navarro," begged
Juan.
"Would he be any trouble?" Father asked the evangelist.
"Trouble! He would be just the company I need/' said
the evangelist.
'Then saddle the pony," smiled Father, "and be quick
about it!"
"Ill fly!" cried Juan, as he rushed out the back door.
The moon was high in the sky and very bright as Pastor
Navarro and Juan rode up to Grandfather's house, but the
whole family and the visitors were waiting for Item. A
stranger, handsome and gray-haired, came out with Dr.
McCall. "So this is the gospel cavalryman of the cane
fields!" he said, as he shook hands. "Well, I think he needs
a bigger horse/*
Juan led the horses to the shed. There in the dark he
[180]
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN
bowed his head and prayed as Primo Navarro had taught
him. "Dear Lord, help the Pastor get another horse and the
baby organ, if it be thy will, for Jesus' sake. Amen."
The next morning things began to happen early. People
who had first heard the gospel from Primo Navarro came
from every direction. They crowded the patio and over-
flowed the rooms, using all the chairs, boxes, and benches
Grandmother could find.
For several years they had been an organized church.
It was plain to be seen that they could no longer meet in
a home, even so large a one as Grandfather's at Delight
Farm. So this meeting had been called when the superin-
tendent of missions, Dr. McCall, could be with them to talk
about the church house that they must build.
It was decided that they should build in the town near
by, where more people would come. Certain men, and
women, too, were appointed to see how much the church
would cost, and find out who could give logs or time to saw
the logs into boards, who could work on the building itself,
and who could give money.
Everyone was very happy at the end of the meeting be-
cause they had started to build a church. Juan saw this
was no time to talk about a horse and a baby organ, when
such big matters had to be decided.
The tall, handsome visitor from the States had not said
much, but Juan saw that he was listening to everything.
Now and then he would ask Dr. McCall a question and
make some notes in a small book. After all the people had
gone, Grandmother had a very special dinner for the visi-
tors, with a big dish holding a whole young roast pig in the
[181]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
center. The visitor liked it very much and passed his plate
for a second helping. He liked the big family, too, sons and
daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, even one small
great-grandson,
"I'm asking the Lord to call one, at least, to preach the
gospel," Grandfather told him.
Dinner ended, the visitor turned to Primo Navarro and
asked about how this church began.
"Right here in this house," said the evangelist, "when I
stopped to spend the night. They let me read the Bible
and sing and pray. The next time I came, they sent for the
neighbors to come and listen also. That is the way they all
begin," he added.
"You have started other churches like this one?" asked
the visitor.
"This was my first church," said Primo Navarro. "But
there are four, and there could be many more. I can travel
and not need rest/' he went on, "but my little horse gets
tired and must rest from time to time. So I cannot do as
much as I would like."
Juan felt his heart pounding with excitement. "Ask for
the horse/' he said under his breath. "Go on, ask and for
the baby organ!" But he didn't say a word out loud.
"Then I am learning to make music on the organ," Primo
Navarro went on. "If only I had a baby organ to take with
me, we could sing the songs of the Lord so much better,
and more people would come."
The visitor nodded his head. "A baby organ would cer-
tainly help. But the horsethat you must have! Only this
time it must be a big horse, sixteen hands high, at least.
[182]
THE GOSPEL CAVALRYMAN
Big enough to get your feet off the ground when you ride
him." He wrote rapidly in his little notebook.
That night at bedtime, Juan and Primo Navarro went to
see about their horses. "I prayed to God for the other horse
and the baby organ/' Juan said to his friend.
"So did I" said Primo Navarro. "God will send us what
we need. Let's keep on praying."
One day about a year later, Juan saw a horseman coming
along the road to Paradise Farm. He looked like Pastor
Navarro, but there was something very strange about him.
As he came nearer, Juan saw that it was indeed Pastor
Navarro riding a big bay horse. And on the saddle was
tied a large, oblong black box. Could that be? It was
the baby organ! With shouts of joy, Juan called to his
father and mother. "He's come! And they've coine!" And
under his breath he said, "Thank you, God."
That night Primo Navarro told of the letter from Dr. Mc-
Call with the check for the horse. Their new friend had
written a story for the missionary magazine in the States,
telling about the "gospel cavalryman of the cane fields,"
his little gray horse, and how much he needed another
horse and a baby organ. A man from Texas gave the money
for the horse, and a woman from Baltimore sent the organ.
"I want to learn to play, too," said Juan. "You can,"
smiled Primo Navarro. "You can learn that and much more,
if you ask God to help you."
Juan did ask God to help him learn, and as the years
passed he became a Christian teacher, leading his church
in singing to the Lord, and playing its large organ. Grand-
father's prayer was answered, for a great-grandson became
[183]
MISSIONARY HERO STORIES
the brilliant pastor of one of Cuba's largest Evangelical
churches and editor of a Christian paper.
The story goes on and on, as missionary stories have a
way of doing, for the churches in the cane fields grew to be
ten in number before God called the gospel cavalryman to
his heavenly home, and he and his little gray horse became
a part of the everlastingness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
ceiha say-EE-bah
Cienfuegos See-ayn-fooAYE-gohs
Juan Hwan
Primo Navarro PREE-moh Nah-VAHR-roh
Vicente-Vee-SAYN-tay
[184]
K
INI
2489
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11