Читать книгу: «The American Missionary. Volume 43, No. 09, September, 1889», страница 4

EXTRACT FROM A VALEDICTORY ADDRESS

An account of the closing exercises of Avery Institute in South Carolina, was given in the MISSIONARY last month. A copy of the valedictory address of one of the pupils has been sent to us, from which we excerpt one or two passages to give the flavor of the occasion. We think it would be creditable to any school of like grade in the country.

To-day we are to go forth. Is it strange that emotions deep and solemn should pervade our hearts? Amid these emotions, gratitude stands prominent—gratitude to the honored Association which has placed within our reach these opportunities for the development of intellect and of character that fit us to take our places in life as intelligent men and women. In behalf of the class of '89 and of all our schoolmates, we return to THE AMERICAN MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION our heartfelt thanks, and invoke for it the richest blessings of Him who maketh rich.... In bidding adieu to school life, the thought which presses most forcibly is that we are supposed now to be ready for our duties in life. Let us rather remember that we have but caught a glimpse of the knowledge which lies beyond and which beckons to us. May our thirst for it be insatiable. Let us take care of each day and each hour, and show to our Heavenly Father that we love his precepts, and are seeking to live true and holy lives. Our places here will soon be filled, but nothing will take away from our hearts the memories of dear old Avery.

MISSIONARY VISITS

BY MRS. A.W. CURTIS

We were going out for a ride, a pleasure ride, a mission of mercy to the sick and afflicted, to carry them spiritual and physical comforts.

We have no missionary horse and buggy, and it was not an elegant equipage standing before our door. Our steed was a very lank, bony, long-eared mule, and the vehicle a rather disreputable looking old delivery wagon, kindly loaned to us by our grocer; but we were thankful for anything that would take us safely. We soon came to a deep, ugly-looking ravine, that must be crossed. I walked over the log that spanned it, while Dominie "rattled his bones over the stones," down the steep descent, and up the farther side in safety, thanks to the sure-footed mule. Just beyond was a small rude cabin. The old chimney had tumbled down, leaving nearly the whole of one side entirely open to the weather. Inside, upon a bed that nearly filled the small room, lay a woman who was paralyzed. A little child was her only attendant. Some kind neighbor, however, had made her clean and comfortable for the day. The poor woman could not move, but her dark eyes beamed with delight at the sight of us, and the poor drawn face expressed the joy she could not speak. We talked of the dear friend Jesus, whom she loved and trusted, sang together a song of faith, and commended her to heaven's mercy and kindness, in prayer.

On we went again, over the hills, the sun climbing higher and growing hotter every moment. Then we turned off into some dim cool woods, picking our way through rough ravines and blind tracks until we reached another little cabin home. We had to bend low to enter the door of the rough, rude house, yet the one low room, with loft above, sheltered a family of nine persons.

Upon a bed, the dear old grandmother was dying, but the dark cabin seemed illuminated by the shining face of the happy saint.

"You are almost home, Auntie?"

"Yes chile, almost home!"

"And you find Jesus dear and precious, now?"

"Yes! yes! dear and precious."

I held her cold, almost pulseless hands in mine, while her minister read comforting words of hope from the blessed Word. Then we sang for her, closing with—

 
"Oh come, angel bands, come and around me stand,
Oh bear me away on your snowy wings
To my eternal home."
 

Her dark face was fairly radiant. She lifted her hands toward heaven, and though our eyes were holden that we could not see, we felt that the Lord and his angels were glorifying that humble abode, making it the gateway of heaven. Holding fast to our hands as we knelt beside her bed, she murmured responses to our prayers.

With uplifted hearts, we said our last good-bye, and went away rejoicing in her triumph over the terrors of death and at the thought of the glory that awaited her. As we passed out of sight, she entered within the gates, with that radiant look upon her face; and the next day at sunset we laid her away to rest.

From this "Beulah-land," we hastened on to visit a man who was in the last stages of consumption. We had been for some time doing what we could that he might be prepared for the great change that was drawing near. In the low doorway, sat an old hag-like woman, who stared at us with a look of rage, as we passed by her into the room where the sick man was. Sultry as was the day, there was a hot blaze in the cavernous fireplace. Over it hung an iron kettle, from which most sickening odors emanated. The sick man was in a heavy stupor. We tried in vain to arouse him, even for a moment. His wife looked unusually cheerful, as she assured us that he "was a great deal better; that he did not cough at all, and rested mighty easy."

We understood the situation at once. The poor woman was densely ignorant, and believed her husband had been "conjured." The old hag in the doorway was "a witch doctor," who had promised to cure him for ten dollars! How the poor wife with her five little children to support managed to raise it, God only knows; but she had done it, and was pouring down that unconscious man's throat, hourly doses of a villainous compound of most loathsome things, over which the old hag muttered her incantations, and worked her Satanic spells. She watched us with her evil eye as we looked pityingly upon the poor sufferer, and glared menacingly when we told the poor wife that he was no better; that the end was near.

That very night the death-like stupor was broken by agonies of torture which racked the wasted frame for many hours. There was no respite for a prayer, or for a thought of the eternity into which his poor soul was hastening. The witch doctor fled in haste, unable to endure the sight of the tortures she herself had invoked. It was an unutterable relief when those shrieks of agony were hushed by the awful silence of death.

To us, there came an added burden of care as we realized how many of this people are still in bondage to these heathenish customs and superstitions. Nothing but the light of a pure gospel and the elevating influences of education, will lift them out of their degradation. It will take years of time, and patient labor, and will cost something; but these souls are precious to God. They are "the heathen at our door." There are millions of them! They will soon be a mighty power for good or evil in our nation. Which shall it be?

A CALL FROM AUNT MARY

Aunt Mary is a member of one of our colored churches—a genuine daughter of Africa—possessing characteristics belonging rather to the rougher than the softer sex—a peddler by occupation; peddling cast-off clothing (which she gets from white folks) among her colored sisters.

This business, together with her masculine performances and her qualification in plantation melodies, makes her exceedingly popular with the colored people of the town.

"Hello! Hello!" rang out from the highest key-note one morning just after breakfast. Going to the door to see who it was, aunt Mary was standing at the gate; she had come to make us a social and business call.

"Dog bite?" she asked. "Yes," was the reply, "but he won't bite you, open the gate." Aunt Mary opened it and entered the yard. "Mornin'" (again at a high key). "Good morning, walk in." "I come roun ter see you all dis mornin'; I dun know if I am 'ceptable." "Certainly, aunt Mary, you are, walk in and take a seat by the fire."

Aunt Mary walked in, took a seat before the fire, placed her bag and an old hat-box on the floor by her side and for a moment looked around the room, noticing everything. Then she took up the poker, commenced poking the fire, as if she wanted more heat to enable her to explain the chief object of her visit. The heat is now up to the degree required, the poker is laid aside, the old hat-box is in her lap, and aunt Mary is ready to talk business. Opening the box, she said to Mrs. R., "Sister, I have something har I want ter show you; dun know if you want ter see it." "What is it?" Mrs. R. enquired. Here she pulled out a second-hand bonnet trimmed in high colors. "A lady," she said, "give me dis last night to sell. I aint show it to no body yet; she say to take it to some of de preachers' wives be case it's too stylish for these yer common niggers." The hat was examined and returned with, "I don't think I need a hat just now, aunt Mary."

"Do you sell a great deal?" "Yes 'urn, but sometimes 'tis mighty hard to get money out ter our people. Dat ar – (naming the man) tuck a dress from me for his wife; can't get a nickel from him, and every time he see me he dodge inter some corner." "How do they pay? Cash?" "No, one dollar a week till dey finish payin." "As a general thing I suppose they try to meet you pretty promptly, don't they?" "Lors, no, honey! dey alus put me off; but I keep a runin' and runin' every week jis ter make dem tell lie."

The subject of the hat, etc., rested here, and aunt Mary took up some of her experience at church. "Broder – (she said, calling the preacher by name) get so now-a-days he don't preach out ter de Bible no more. He alus (always) on de path, he aint got time ter look in de book. I aint got nara larnin, but I kin tell if anybody is preachin out ter de Bible. We had a meetin ter vote him out de other day and I was a sittin' near de stove; I hear dat ar – (calling the person's name) say, 'Broder A., I don't want you to go 'way, I want you to stay,' and she was a sittin' right up under de preacher's coat tail; and who tell you she didn't wisper somethin ter him, then look at me and laugh?" "Is that so?" "Tis so, honey! and I jis tuck up de shovel and went for her." Aunt Mary was now on her feet, poker grasped in her hand, and arm lifted above her head. "Laugh agin, says I, laugh agin, Miss Nigger, and I will stave you down, who dar you to laugh at me, you unfogotten, hen-pecken, know-nothin, off-scorn of the eart."

With this, aunt Mary slung her bag across her shoulder, took up her hat box, bade good morning, and as she got through the gate, struck out at the very top of her voice one of her favorite melodies.

This bit of history was imparted in an examination in answer to the question, "What were the Alien and Sedition Laws?" "Alien and Sedition were members of Congress."

Definition of education: Education is the cultivation of the moral, brain, intellectual and voice.