A VISIT TO A MISSION SUNDAY-SCHOOL.
Reading edition
BY MRS. L.S. HITCHCOCK.
One Lord's day, I went out to look after a Sunday-school in which one of our missionaries had become interested, and where she labored part of the year. The day was excessively warm. The distance was two miles, and the horse cars would only take me half the way, leaving a walk across the fields for the rest of the trip. There was no road, and much of the way not even a footpath, and the fields were partly covered with water from the frequent showers. I got along quite well during the first half of my walk by picking my way, now and then elongating steps, or jumping, generally with satisfactory results. Presently a place appeared where the water seemed too wide to venture with safety. There was no possibility of jumping this time, and I was ready to give up in despair, when I discovered at some little distance a log laid across the narrow part of the stream. I commenced the tight rope walk and was just congratulating myself upon my heroic adventure which, with one step more, would have landed me safely on the other side, when the log tilted and off I went, my knees plowing into the mud making a hole as big as grandma's workbasket. I lost no time in getting up. As I arose, I saw my best parasol and big palm-leaf fan floating along leisurely in the muddy stream. These were secured later, but with much trouble, and my portmanteau was fished from the hidden deep at the peril of crabs and other biters who make such places homes of retreat.
I called at the nearest cabin, and found "Auntie" with a kind heart ready to undertake the job of "cleaning me up." She took in the situation at once, ejaculating, "Lor', honey! specs Is'e goin ter let yer go ter Sunday-school wid dem ar close all spilt? Sam, take dem ar shoes and wash em clar fru for Missus."
In a short time she said, "You's fine," and I started for the little church close by, arriving just five minutes before the Sunday-school closed. I was greeted with "Howdy" by the pastor, who is superintendent, and was requested to speak to the children, while the whole Sunday school, including twenty-six boys and girls, and seven fathers and mothers, rose to their feet, indicating their delight to see me.
I was in time to observe one little boy standing on tiptoe to reach up to the Bible which the minister held open on the table and was teaching him to read. It was his custom, as he was the only teacher, to call each one separately, and teach him to read, as well as his ignorance would allow. This is in advance of their old way of conducting Sunday-school. Formerly, all the instruction received was from Webster's "blue back," and, for the closing exercise, they counted from one to a hundred. The pastor attended school at Straight University during the past year and can read a little, but not intelligently. He looks as if he had seen sixty years or more, and I believe him to be a good man who tries to do faithful work for the Master so far as he is able. He has built a little church, mostly with his own hands and out of his own scanty earnings. It is made of rough boards, but it has a good foundation and the roof is well shingled. There are no glass windows, but boards like a barn door hung on hinges serve to let in the light or shut out the cold in winter.
The people are ignorant beyond description. Most of them live in little huts or cabins on the banks of the canal, getting a scanty living by working out as they can find places.
Their homes are filthy and uninviting. How much good a missionary could accomplish by going into their homes and teaching them the true Christian way of living! The mothers with whom I talked seemed willing, and even anxious, to know better ways. Any instruction in housekeeping would be gratefully received, and a sewing class, where cutting and making plain clothing were taught, would be eagerly accepted. A mothers' meeting once a week would be more helpful to those barren minds than words can express. The work is right there, all ready and waiting for some loving, self-denying Christian woman to take up. Who in the far-off Northland will say, "Lord, here am I, send me," and who will reach deep in their pockets and say, "I will give a tenth, yea, even more," for that which is more is the only true giving? May God open the hearts of those who have an abundance and to spare, to give liberally for the uplifting of our colored brothers and sisters.