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 R 722.32 . D68 A3 1898 
 Dowkontt , George D., 
 3-1909 . 
 
 "Tell them"; or. The 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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 https://archive.org/details/tellthemorlifest00dowk_0 
 
“TELL THEM” 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A MEDICAL 
 MISSIONARY. 
 
 By GEORGE D. DOWKONTT, M. D., 
 
 Author of “ Murdered Millions v. Medical Missions,” 
 *■ The Need of the Nations,” “ Forty Facts for Thought- 
 ful Christians,” “A Summer’s Fishing on the 
 Bowery,” etc.; Editor of The Medical 
 Missionary Record. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 “ Tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee,” 
 Mark v: 19. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 Office of the Medical Missionary Record, 
 21 East Forty-fifth Street. 
 
 1898. 
 
List of Illustrations. 
 
 PA«E 
 
 1. Portrait of the Author, Frontispiece. 
 
 2. The Victor and the Vanquished 12 
 
 3. Earning a Shilling, 20 
 
 4. Saved by the “ Skin of His Teeth,” 30 
 
 5. A “ Three-Decker,” 38 
 
 6. We Three, . 50 
 
 7- Miss Weston, the Sailor’s Friend, 64 
 
 8. A Great Gathering on Board a Man-o’ -War, ... 68 
 
 9. Rev. Theodore L. Cuvier, D. D. 76 
 
 10. A Noble English Admiral, 82 
 
 11. Old Uncle Tom, of “ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” ... 86 
 
 12. Dr. W. Burns-Thomson, 92 
 
 13. A Letter from Miss Weston, 102 
 
 14. A Liverpool Christian Merchant, 105 
 
 15 - A Trio of Old Friends in New York, 116 
 
 16. Roosevelt Street Medical Mission, 133 
 
 17. Mr. Heli Chatelain, the Africanist, 148 
 
 18. Dr. Summers, our First Student, 156 
 
 19. Students of the I. M. M. S. , 166 
 
 20. A Group of Six, 174 
 
 21. A Mother to the Motherless, 194 
 
 22. Two Little Ones, 196 
 
 23. The Great Physician, 212 
 
 24. Students of the I. M. M. S. (1S92), 227 
 
 25. A Letter from Dr. A. J. Gordon, 241 
 
 Copyrighted in the United States, 1898, by 
 
 George D. Dowkontt. 
 
 Printed in the United States. 
 
 4 
 
Titles of Chapters. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 “ Ye Are My Witnesses,” (Introductory), .... 7 
 
 1. The Polish Lancer, • • 9 
 
 2. A Hairbreadth Escape, 13 
 
 3. Ups and Downs, 16 
 
 4. A Boy's First Prayer, 19 
 
 5. A Start in Business, 22 
 
 6. A Great Loss 26 
 
 7. On Board a Man-of-War; 29 
 
 8. The threat Change, 34 
 
 9. Darkness and Dawn, 39 
 
 10. First-Fruits, -43 
 
 11. First Friends, 4 ^ 
 
 12. A Marvellous Answer 5 1 
 
 13. Hindrances, -55 
 
 14. The Victim Victorious, 60 
 
 15. Miss Weston, the “One I.ady for the Navy,” . . 63 
 
 16. New Fields of Labor, 69 
 
 17. Flow the R. N. T. S. Was Started, 73 
 
 18. Two Memorable Gatherings, 77 
 
 19. The Arctic Expedition of 1875, 80 
 
 20. The R. N. T. S. Anniversary in 1897 83 
 
 21. Meeting with Uncle Tom; 87 
 
 22. Great Changes, 93 
 
 23. Providential Dealings, 98 
 
 24. Across the Atlantic, 101 
 
 25. In a Strange Land, 106 
 
 26. Just in Time 112 
 
 27. First Experiences in New York, 1 1 5 
 
 28. Discouragements and Deliverances, 121 
 
 29. A Silver D, 126 
 
 5 
 
TITLES OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 30. Unexpected Visitors 13 1 
 
 31. Progress and Providence, . . ; 137 
 
 32. How the Rent Was Paid, ■ 14 1 
 
 33. Entertaining Angels, 146 
 
 34. Our First Student, 151 
 
 35. The Call of God 157 
 
 36. In Dark Africa, 162 
 
 37. Training Medical Missionaries, 167 
 
 38. A Terrible Trial, 173 
 
 39. A Chapter of Stirring Events, 178 
 
 40. A Wonderful Experience, 184 
 
 41. The Widow and the Fatherless, 188 
 
 42. Retribution, 192 
 
 43. A Trio of Cases, 1 97 
 
 44. Dead, but Alive Again, * . . 202 
 
 45. Trophies, 213 
 
 46. Life Lessons Learned, 219 
 
 47. The Great Conflict . . 224 
 
 48. What Satan Hates, 228 
 
 49. The Retrospect— Thanksgiving, 233 
 
 50. “ What Wilt Thou ?” 242 
 
 6 
 
“ye are MY WITNESSES.” 
 
 Introductory. 
 
 “Ye Are My Witnesses.” 
 
 After the “Legion” had been cast out of 
 the demoniac at Gadara, Jesus said to him, 
 “Go home to thy friends, and tell them how 
 great things the Lord hath done for thee.” 
 The people of Gadara had bade Christ depart 
 from their coast, but He left them a preacher 
 whose changed life and anointed lips should 
 proclaim the fame of his Deliverer, and lead 
 others to come to Him, and trust in Him, 
 even as he himself had done. 
 
 Testimony for God, begets faith in God. 
 The invitation and testimony of the woman at 
 the well of Samaria, “Come, see a man, who 
 told me all things that ever I did,” led her 
 neighbors to Christ. When returning from 
 the well, they said to the woman, “Now we 
 believe, not because of thy saying, for we have 
 heard Him for ourselves, and know that this 
 is indeed the Saviour of the world.” 
 
 The first spark of their faith was kindled by 
 her testimony, and that spark was fanned into 
 a flame by their own experience. 
 
 During the past few years several friends 
 have urged the writer to publish some account 
 of his experiences and deliverances by Divine 
 interposition and aid. 
 
 7 
 
"tell them.” 
 
 Two things have caused some hesitancy in 
 complying therewith; the one a natural shrink- 
 ing from “telling all,” or much, of one’s own 
 private life struggles; the other, a fear lest one 
 should boast, or seem to, of self rather than 
 of the Lord. 
 
 With regard to the first objection, only 
 pride or cowardice would suppress the truth; 
 and with respect to the latter, well, if the poor 
 beggar, who, in rags and penury, sought help 
 from the King can boast, then can we. David 
 wrote, “My soul shall make her boast in the 
 Lord. The humble shall hear thereof and 
 be glad.” Only the truly humble can and do 
 rejoice in the success of others. Soon after 
 the writer’s conversion in 1864, two books 
 were read by him with very deep interest. 
 r l he one was entitled “The Power of Prayer,” 
 giving an account of the Fulton Street Noon 
 Prayer Meeting, in New York, for the first 
 five years,— 1857 to 1862. The other book 
 was the life of George Muller, of Bristol, Eng- 
 land. These books proved of the greatest 
 value to the then young Christian, who read 
 them, and who in turn now, after more than 
 thirty years of experience, desires to tell how, 
 “He helped” him, with the prayer that others 
 may get hope and encouragement to “Seek 
 and find,” to “Ask and receive.” 
 
 George D. Dowkontt. 
 
 New York, January 1st, I 8 g 8 . 
 
 8 
 
THE POLISH LANCER. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 The Polish Lancer. 
 
 As the bells in many cities chimed the hour 
 of seven, on the evening of November 30, 
 1830, the people of Poland made the deter- 
 mined attempt to free themselves from the 
 thraldom of Russia, which history has record- 
 ed and applauded with her iron pen. 
 
 The Grand Duke Constantine, the Russian 
 Governor of Poland, narrowly escaped with 
 his life by jumping from a window in his 
 palace, as his pursuers ascended the stairs; 
 and many of his Imperial Guard were killed 
 in the first blow of the revolution, which was 
 so sudden and severe. 
 
 The Poles had selected an hour when the 
 cavalry would be off guard. and attending to 
 their horses for the night, and the military 
 stables were among the first places to be at- 
 tacked. 
 
 As the alarm assembly was sounded the 
 soldiers endeavored to obey, but were shot 
 dotvn as they sought to leave the stables; 
 some few, however, managed to escape, and 
 among them a young Pole of twenty years, 
 who soon decided not to fiedrt against his kith 
 and kin, but to join them. He did so, and was 
 appointed to a regiment of Polish lancers, or- 
 ganized by the patriot insurgents to fight for 
 the deliverance of their country from Russian 
 tyranny. This young soldier, who was made 
 sergeant in the regiment, was my father, 
 
 9 
 
‘‘tell them.” 
 
 The Poles, as the world knows, had to con- 
 tend with great odds, and were largely out- 
 numbered by their foes, in addition to their 
 being poorly equipped generally; but history 
 has told us how brave and heroic was the 
 struggle which they made, while England and 
 America vied with other countries in afford- 
 ing the refugees an hospitable welcome to 
 their shores. 
 
 On one occasion, after a severe battle, in 
 which the Poles were greatly outnumbered, a 
 retreat was made by the revolutionists into 
 and through a wood, the Russians encamping 
 on the near side of it and the Poles on the 
 other. Scouts were sent out by the latter to 
 reconnoitre, and, if possible, pick up any 
 wounded Poles who had “fallen by the way.” 
 
 A sergeant, who was on this duty with two 
 troopers, found himself unexpectedly at the 
 edge of the wood on the Russian side, and 
 close to a party of cossacks. fifteen in number, 
 who were in the act of carrying off some 
 wounded Poles, one of whom was an officer. 
 Realizing that to attempt escape would mean 
 death, he drew his sword, and, dashing for- 
 ward, roared the word of command as if a 
 regiment was behind him. This had the de- 
 sired effect, for the cossacks dropped their 
 prisoners and galloped off, only looking back 
 in time to see three horses enter the wood 
 with two men on each. 
 
 Arriving in camp, the commander offered 
 the sergeant (my father) his choice between 
 a captaincy and a “Legion of Honor.” The 
 latter was accepted in preference, with the re- 
 mark that, “PromcTcm i more easily obtain- 
 ed than honor." 
 
 IO 
 
THE POLISH LANCER. 
 
 Not long after this, however, he was taken 
 prisoner and was being- driven to trial and 
 death as a deserter in a covered military 
 wagon, in charge of a Russian escort. Hav- 
 ing to travel several miles, the latter had pro- 
 vided themselves with some liquor, of which 
 thev partook freely on the iourney, and be- 
 came drunk. Watching his opportunity, 
 their prisoner mingled some snuff with the 
 liquor, which soon put the escort into a sound 
 stupor. 
 
 Providing himself with all that he needed, 
 or thought he could carrv, he struck the 
 driver a blow with the butt end of a rifle, and, 
 as he fell, reined the horses quickly, sprang 
 out and unhitching one horse, galloped away 
 on it into a neighboring forest. Here he re- 
 mained for some weeks, until the opportunity 
 was afforded him to rejoin his comrades in 
 arms, who warmly welcomed his return to 
 their ranks. 
 
dashed away to die right.’ 
 
A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 A Hairbreadth Escape. 
 
 Soon after this occurred his regiment was 
 engaged in a hand-to-hand combat with some 
 Russian cavalry when a large body of the 
 enemy was observed hastening to strengthen 
 their comrades. The Polish commander 
 caused the retreat to be sounded, but those 
 engaged “in the thick of the fight” failed to 
 hear it, and presently discovered that a mere 
 handful of them remained in the midst of 
 the Russian forces. 
 
 With a desperate effort my father succeed- 
 ed in freeing himself and made a dash for 
 liberty, but alas! a bullet struck his horse to 
 the ground. At the same instant a Russian 
 officer, dashing along, sabre in hand, aimed 
 a blow at him as he stood expecting only to 
 be trampled to death by the oncoming troops. 
 
 As the sabre of the officer came whizzing 
 through the air and struck the lancer beneath 
 the chin he parried the blow with his lance, 
 and dexterously thrust his assailant through. 
 At the same instant he grasped the bridle of 
 his assailant’s horse, and, leaping thereon, 
 dashed away to the right and into the forest. 
 Once more liberty was gained, but only with 
 the prospect of a repetition of life in the forest 
 and alone, with the painful accompaniment of 
 two sword wounds. 
 
 What the young lancer passed through 
 during the following weeks and months can- 
 J 3 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 not be written. His horse finally died, and, 
 more dead than alive, his master came to the 
 edge of the wood to watch for a kindly face 
 which he might trust the owner of to deliver 
 him from loneliness and death. 
 
 At last a man, whose countenance seemed 
 to indicate a possible friend, came along, and 
 to him he confided his case. As the stranger 
 assured the soldier of his sympathy with him, 
 and of his willingness to take him to a great 
 friend of the Poles, his heart beat with a pe- 
 culiar joy. Arriving at a large house, the 
 door was opened, and one glance served to 
 show the work of a traitor, and revealed to 
 my father the fact that he was “caught.” As 
 he saw the uniforms of Russian soldiery with- 
 in, his feelings may be better imagined than 
 described. 
 
 Being summoned before the officer in com- 
 mand, he was briefly auestioned as to his 
 name and place of birth. Doubtless other 
 questions would have followed, but, to the 
 astonishment of both the prisoner and his 
 escort, the general bade the soldiers leave the 
 prisoner with him. 
 
 The soldiers having departed, the general 
 asked one or two more auestions, and, falling 
 upon the prisoner’s neck, with tears in his 
 eyes, embraced him, exclaiming, “Can it really 
 be that you are the son of my old playmate? I 
 can never betray the son of my dear old 
 friend.” 
 
 The prisoner was soon after sent away, 
 passport in hand, money in his pocket, and 
 well clothed, to make his way to France, 
 which country he reached, and, taking up his 
 14 
 
A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE. 
 
 abode in Paris, remained there nearly two 
 years. At the end of this time he made his 
 way to London, and soon learned to make 
 boots and shoes, in which calling he subse- 
 quently excelled. 
 
 In 1837 he married my mother, Miss Mary 
 Oldfield, granddaughter of a former Ludgate 
 Hill lapidary and goldsmith. The young 
 couple went to work with a will, and soon es- 
 tablished themselves in a comfortable home 
 and business, and at the time the writer was 
 born (April. 1843) they resided in what is now 
 known as Queen’s Road, Bavswater, London.* 
 
 * My father died in England, in September, 1893, in his 
 eighty-fourth year. 
 
 IS 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 Ups and Downs. 
 
 How many a bold and brave man, who has 
 readily conquered his country’s foe on the 
 field of battle, has been overcome by the in- 
 sidious moral enemies which have assailed 
 him. It was so with mv father. 
 
 For the first few years of his married life 
 he worked early and late to build up, as he 
 succeeded in doing’, a prosperous business, 
 and had among his regular customers several 
 of the nobility of England. But, as sometimes 
 happens, success was only the prelude to fail- 
 ure. 
 
 Being in a prosperous condition his com- 
 pany was sought by some gamblers, to whom 
 he became a ready, unsuspecting victim, until 
 finally he lost all that he possessed, and saw 
 himself, wife and four children turned into the 
 street, with nothing in the world belonging to 
 them but the clothing they wore. 
 
 To see the various articles which husband 
 and wife had labored so hard to obtain to fur- 
 nish a “home” (most of which had either been 
 the subject of mutual interest or of individual 
 surprise and loving thoughtfulness of the 
 other) ruthlessly torn away from their posses- 
 sors is an experience none need desire to pass 
 through, although it may not be fully under- 
 stood without their doing so. 
 
 There was but one door open in such a case, 
 the so-called almshouse, and here the family 
 16 
 
UPS AND DOWNS. 
 
 of six had to take refuge for some weeks ere it 
 was possible for its head to make a fresh start 
 in life, a by no means easy task under such 
 circumstances. 
 
 To roll down a hill does not call for much 
 effort or anything else; but to climb one, es- 
 pecially after a fall, requires push, pluck and 
 perseverance; and, even when possessing and 
 exercising all of these, the task is not easily, 
 if ever, fully performed; for, very seldom in- 
 deed does a man reach as high a point again 
 as that from which he fell. 
 
 It was decided, after some weeks’ residence 
 in the poorhouse, to leave that much-to-be 
 dreaded and avoided institution, and to make 
 a fresh start in life in earnest. 
 
 The writer was about eleven years of age 
 at this time and can still remember how he 
 planned to do some wonderful things of which 
 he ventured to tell his beloved mother, to 
 cheer her up in the midst of her grief. 
 
 In a single room, with very few articles of 
 furniture, our family took up its abode. One 
 day the writer’s heart was made glad by his 
 being called by the proprietor of a chemist’s 
 shop, or drug store, to go upon some messages 
 or errands. This was increased considerably 
 by his being asked, “Iiow would you like to 
 come to work for me? I’ll give you four 
 shillings ($i) a week to begin with.’’ 
 
 Visions of what such a large amount, as it 
 then seemed, would accomplish, and the 
 thought of earning it all one’s self, rose up in 
 the boyish mind and soon evoked the reply, 
 “I’ll be pleased to co^". sir: but I’d like to 
 ask mother first.” 
 
 17 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Permission was readily obtained, and the 
 young druggist soon became sufficiently pro- 
 ficient to be able to serve Epsom salts in 
 package, castor oil, etc. 
 
 What a big four shilling's the first week’s 
 wages seemed to the bov who had worked for 
 them, and who soon ran home with some de- 
 gree of pride as well as pleasure to give them 
 to “mother.” 
 
 About this time one of mv father’s former 
 lady customers, who had not seen or known 
 of him for some years, accidentally met him, 
 and at once gave him an order for two dozen 
 pairs of boots and shoes for herself, for, she 
 said, “No one can make shoes to fit me but 
 you.” 
 
 After some months of struggle we removed 
 to another part of London, and the first em- 
 ployer was parted with, not without consider- 
 able regret. The struggle up hill went on for 
 some time; now things would brighten, and 
 again the clouds would gather. 
 
 One day, breakfast being finished, with it 
 ended all supplies actual and probable, giving 
 rise to the oft-repeated question, “Where is 
 the next to come from?” A mother’s prayer 
 again ascended for help to Him who never 
 turned a deaf ear to anv earnest seeker for 
 aid, and again the cry “Lord help me” was 
 answered. Tr-ue, the answer seemed long in 
 coming, but it came at last. 
 
 *8 
 
A boy’s first prayer. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 A Boy’s First Prayer. 
 
 The boy of twelve years left home that 
 morning fully determined to bring' back some- 
 thing before night. All that day he wandered 
 up and down the streets of that great city, his 
 clothes being too shabby, as he felt, to make 
 it worth his while to apply for a “place” in 
 some of the large and stylish shops. 
 
 It was nearly dark, when, hungry and foot- 
 sore, and ready to despair of securing any- 
 thing, his ears caught the sound of a horse’s 
 hoofs close to him, causing him to turn 
 around, as the voice of the rider accosted him: 
 “Here, boy, will you hold my horse?” “Yes, 
 sir,” was the ready response, as the bridle 
 was grasped. 
 
 As the writer stood there on Regent street, 
 holding that horse, he believes the first real 
 prayer for help arose to God from his heart, 
 and it was answered. 
 
 Among the many things projected in his 
 boyish mind w r as that of starting in the news 
 business; not in any large way, of course, at 
 first. He had often noticed the boys at Char- 
 ing Cross, and elsewhere, selling the daily 
 papers, and after thinking the matter over had 
 concluded that, although it would be very 
 hard for him to become a “newsboy,” and 
 humbling as it might be to run the risk of 
 meeting some of the friends of “better days,” 
 still it was better to do that than nothing, and 
 
 19 
 

 “ The first real prayer for help arose to God.” 
 
A boy’s first prayer. 
 
 so earn an honest living; and his prayer took 
 shape accordingly. If he could but get six- 
 pence, he would “start business” next dav, 
 and this was what he needed and sought. 
 
 An hour passed before the owner of the 
 horse came out again. As he sprang into the 
 saddle, he dropped something into the hand 
 of the boy hostler, saying, “Here you are, my 
 boy; sorry to have kept you so long,” and 
 galloped off. 
 
 It had become too dark to see what kind of 
 coin lie had given, but it seemed too large tor 
 a sixpence and too small for a halfpenny. 
 Taking it to a shop window the light revealed 
 
 A SILVER SHILLING. 
 
 How much larger a coin appears when set 
 in the frame of poverty and need! 
 
 The question as to how to dispose of this 
 important sum was quickly settled and acted 
 upon. Entering a shop near by, the shilling 
 was exchanged for two sixpences, one of 
 which was invested in a loaf of bread, a small 
 amount of tea and sugar, and a candle; and 
 the other was carefully “pocketed” to “com- 
 mence business” with next day. What joy 
 that shilling caused! A supper for six with 
 light to eat it by, and enough left to start in 
 business. Truly if necessity is the mother of 
 invention, poverty must be the father. 
 
 Nothing was said about the plans for the 
 next day, except an intimation, or assurance, 
 that as God had provided for that day, Pie 
 would for the next. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 A Start in Business. 
 
 On the following’ morning the young news 
 agent crept out of his bed on the floor, from 
 the side of the other children, and stole out of 
 the house unobserved, just after the church 
 clock struck four. 
 
 He had spent a considerable portion cf the 
 night practising, at least mentally, and at 
 times half aloud, the various titles of the pa- 
 pers he hoped to sell. Arriving near Temple 
 Bar, in the Strand, the sixpence was quickly 
 exchanged for eight penny papers, which were 
 soon sold and others bought. At this time 
 ihere was a great demand for news, as the 
 Crimean war was raging. 
 
 By ten o’clock home was reached, and the 
 consternation, anxiety and hunger of the fam- 
 ily relieved by the production of two shillings, 
 into which sum the sixpence had grown in 
 six hours. General rejoicing followed the an- 
 nouncement, made by the “business man” of 
 twelve summers, that “Want shall be no 
 more.” 
 
 The following morning the writer was 
 standing near Charing Cross trying to sell 
 his papers, when a gentleman asked him how 
 long he had been in that business, and ac- 
 companied his question by a statement which 
 seemed to be a reflection upon his manner of 
 conducting it, viz.: “I don’t think you’ve been 
 at it long.” 
 
 22 
 
A START IN BUSINESS. 
 
 After further inquiry regarding my home 
 and parents he handed me his card, on which 
 was inscribed, “Captain J. A. Sykes, H. M.’s 
 94th Regt.” Having written his address on 
 the card, he said, “Call there at nine o’clock 
 to-morrow morning, my boy, and I think I 
 can give you some clothing which your moth- 
 er may aiter for you.” 
 
 When the recipient of the card called there 
 the following morning he was astounded at 
 the heap of things the captain gave him. Ic 
 was almost impossible for him to carry them 
 away. He succeeded, however, and, after sev- 
 eral rests by the way, finally reached home, 
 very tired, and had to obtain the help of his 
 father to carry the huge bundle up stairs. 
 
 When it was opened there appeared all sorts 
 of clothing, the value of which was not less 
 than fifty dollars. A mother’s fears led to 
 close but kindly questioning, mingled with 
 expressions of astonishment as to what could 
 make an entire stranger so act towards a poor 
 boy. The only explanation was found in one 
 word — GOD. 
 
 There was one member of the family whose 
 joy Knew no bounds, as she saw the pile of 
 garments heaped on the floor, and nodded her 
 head by way of assent to the explanation 
 given; it was my only sister Mary. 
 
 She was four years my senior, but never 
 once in her whole life, which lasted twenty- 
 four years, did she know what it was to stand 
 upon her feet and walk; never once was she 
 able to raise her hand to give herself a mouth- 
 ful of food; never once able to speak her own 
 name, or that of “mother.” When yet an in- 
 23 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 fant a careless nurse allowed her to fall in 
 such a manner as to induce complete paraly- 
 sis. Blessed, however, with clear intelligence 
 and a most patient and lovable disposition, 
 she was a blessing, while yet a great burden, 
 to her devoted mother and to us all. 
 
 As a strong boy full of life and spirits, how 
 she almost envied me and wished she could 
 go out and work too, and help mother. But 
 "God could help," and He had done so, and in 
 this she rejoiced. Although unable to speak 
 a single word distinctly, she was able to make 
 certain peculiar sounds which were to her 
 mother a language she alone understood. 
 
 How much more bitter was the cup of af- 
 fliction and trial we had passed through, and 
 were still experiencing, with this dear sufferer 
 among us, the reader may imagine, and yet, 
 possibly she was the greatest helper of the 
 family after all, and not her strong boy 
 brother. Often when passing in front of the 
 house in which we lived, in company with 
 other boys, would I look up to the window to 
 which she had been wheeled in her chair, 
 when, turning to her mother, she would look 
 upward and sav in language mother and the 
 God of love understood, “I, too, will be able to 
 run about up there.” 
 
 Many years since have both Marys, mother 
 and daughter, walked together the streets of 
 Paradise. 
 
 How gieat a blessing such an afflicted one 
 often is to a family. What sympathy and lov- 
 ing tenderness is thus called forth in presence 
 of the patience of the suffering one. Such an 
 experience often gives moral and spiritual tone 
 24 
 
A START IN BUSINESS. 
 
 to a whole family and makes all its members 
 better men and women in the world, and pro- 
 duces practical sympathy towards others as 
 perhaps nothing - else can. 
 
 If it must needs be that the Saviour of men 
 be made “acquainted with grief,” and be called 
 “a man of sorrows,” how much more do or- 
 dinary men and women need the softening in- 
 fluence of suffering in themselves, or in those 
 dear to them, to fit them to sympathize with 
 and be “ready to help” those in need? 
 
 In this, too, I feel I am much a debtor to 
 the dear one referred to. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 A Great Loss. 
 
 About a year after the occurrences nar- 
 rated in the previous chapter Captain Sykes 
 called at the home of the boy he had befrien fl- 
 ed; he did not see him, but talked to his 
 mother in a very friendly manner. 
 
 Scarce six weeks passed away, however, 
 after the Captain’s visit when the writer left 
 his home one morning (October 15, 1856) 
 and said “good-bye” as he kissed the dearest 
 and best of mothers, and went to work where 
 he was then employed. Upon his return 
 home at five o’clock he found to his great sor- 
 row that his best friend on earth had been 
 “called home.” Her last breath was spent in 
 commending her children to her heavenly Fa- 
 ther's care, and she died with the name of her 
 eldest boy upon her lips. Was it in vain? No, 
 indeed. 
 
 Every boy ought to be ablt to feci and say 
 that his mother is, or was, the best of mothers, 
 but, sad to say, not all can do so. The writer, 
 however, cannot but speak forth the praises of 
 her who gave him birth, and who first taught 
 him to lift his young heart to God in prayer 
 so beautifully expressed by Cowper: 
 
 “ Prayer is the simplest form of speech 
 That infant lips can try.” 
 
 Who can fully estimate the great blessing of a 
 loving mother; and who describe the loss 
 26 
 
A GREAT LOSS. 
 
 when such a one is taken away from her 
 child or children? Truly the loss is irreparably 
 great. 
 
 The circumstances which have surrounded 
 the relationships of mother and child may add 
 largely to the keen pang of parting. It was 
 so in the writer’s experience. The severe 
 trials through which his family had been called 
 to pass, the chief burden of which fell upon 
 his mother, had led him, although but a boy, 
 to mark with increasing anxiety the failing 
 health of her whom he loved, till at last the 
 crisis was reached and the tired and weary 
 spirit went to its rest. 
 
 Looking back over the forty years that 
 have since passed, the writer is constrained to 
 feel and say that, humanly speaking, whatever 
 of good he has known or done, he owes to 
 his loving mother, who ever sought to lead 
 him into that truth which is calculated to 
 produce a righteous life here, and to lead to 
 eternal life beyond. 
 
 The funeral was conducted by the parish 
 authorities. . No provision was made for the 
 mourners to be taken to the “last resting 
 place” in Potter’s field, five miles away. But 
 the driver of the parish hearse (which con- 
 tained more than one poor, tired body) was a 
 kind-hearted man, and allowed the writer and 
 his father to share his seat “up in front.” 
 
 The story of poor Lazarus, and especially 
 the Saviour’s words that “the angels carried 
 him,” afforded consolation to the mourners. 
 It does seem to be quite impossible for one to 
 be placed in any position in the struggle of 
 life without discovering that Jesus has been 
 , 2 7 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 so situated Himself, for, did not even He oc- 
 cupy a borrowed sepulchre? He had nowhere 
 to lay His head, and nowhere did He have 
 where His beloved disciples could lay His 
 dead body. 
 
 The great temperance orator, John B. 
 Gough, saw his dear mother die in a garret 
 in New York, and her body was taken to the 
 Potter’s field. Ah, it matters little as to the 
 poor body; it will turn, sooner or later, to its 
 native dust; but the soul, the ego, the actual 
 being, where has that gone? That is the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 On the same day on which the remains 
 of my dear mother were placed to rest a 
 friendly hand and heart were extended to- 
 wards a motherless and really homeless boy, 
 for, what indeed is home without a mother? 
 
 A fellow countryman of my father’s, a prac- 
 tising physician, residing in Islington, Lon- 
 don, opened the door of his home and bade 
 me welcome and treated me as his own son 
 for nearly a year. Foolishly, like many an- 
 other boy, I did not appreciate my advantages 
 and thought I could do better, and wanted a 
 change — “to see the world,” etc. Hence I left 
 my friend’s hospitable roof in 1857, and the 
 subsequent forty years have indeed been full 
 of struggle. 
 
 28 
 
ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 On Board a Man-of-War. 
 
 On the 5th of May, 1859, the writer, after 
 varied experiences, entered the Royal Navy 
 as an ordinary seaman, and was soon sent on 
 board H. M. Ship “Crocodile,” then lying in 
 the Thames. She was an old frigate, long 
 since broken up and disappeared. I had never 
 even seen, much less been on board of a man- 
 o’-war before, and knew about as much of a 
 ship as a ship knew of me. Being a big boy 
 for my age, and not, I regret to say, having 
 a strict regard for speaking the truth at this 
 time, I said that I was twenty years old, when 
 only in my seventeenth year. This I did to es- 
 cape being classed as a boy, and to secure a 
 man’s wages and position. 
 
 From the “Crocodile” I was sent to Sheer- 
 ness and joined the “Queen Charlotte,” a large 
 “three-decker.” The sights and sounds of a 
 man-o’-war were all new to the young “lands- 
 man,” and soon caused him to wish himself 
 away again; but that was impossible, so he 
 had to settle down to “make the best of it.” 
 A few weeks later I was drafted to H. M. S. 
 “Emerald,” a fifty-gun frigate with six hun- 
 dred officers and men. 
 
 During the following two years and a half 
 many and varied experiences were met with, 
 and several very narrow escapes from death 
 passed through. Some of these deliverances 
 
 29 
 
‘Coming down from the rigging, my teet slipped, my hands gave way, and I was ‘gone.’ ” 
 
ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. 
 
 are in keeping with the following lines of John 
 Newton, the profligate sailor lad who became 
 a great poet and preacher: 
 
 1 ‘ Determined to save, 
 
 He watched o'er my path, 
 
 When, Satan’s blind slave, 
 
 I sported with death.” 
 
 On one occasion I was aloft on the “look- 
 out,” the weather being so intensely cold that 
 the men were on duty only half time on ex- 
 posed positions. The man was fifteen minutes 
 late in “relieving” me, and by the time he ar- 
 rived I was quite benumbed with the cold. The 
 ship was rolling very heavily, and as I was 
 coming down the rigging my feet slipped and 
 my hands gave way, and I was “gone,” when, 
 as by miracle, a heavy sea striking the vessel 
 on the opposite side, caused her to lurch back 
 again, and enabled me to clutch the rigging 
 and “hang on” for life. Saved, as Job says, 
 “by the skin of my teeth.” Had I gone over- 
 board there was not the slightest chance of 
 my being saved physically, and I fear not spir- 
 itually. It would have been a “lost body” and 
 a “lost soul.” 
 
 On another occasion one of the guns “took 
 charge,” as the ship was rolling heavily, and, 
 whizzing by me, struck the side of the ship, 
 making a terrible indent, into which I after- 
 wards laid my hand. Had the gun caugiit 
 me it would simply have cut me in halves. 
 
 On October 5, 1861, the “Emerald” set sail 
 from Spithead with a number of “Armstrong” 
 guns on board, bound for Halifax, Nova Sco- 
 tia, but she never reached her destination. On 
 the 5th of November she arrived in the bar- 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 bor of Plymouth — a wreck. What we passed 
 through during that month cannot well be 
 told. For sixteen days and nights we fought 
 with gales and hurricanes, scarcely removing 
 any clothing, or having either proper rest or 
 food. Sails were blown to atoms, boats wash- 
 ed away like bits of stick, masts and yards 
 “carried away,” pumps choked, engines dis- 
 abled, and rudder “sprung.” In this condi- 
 tion, at daylight one morning, we sighted a 
 large vessel coming toward us. 
 
 Nearer and nearer we came to each other, 
 as either vessel rose to the top of a sea moun- 
 tain, until at last but a single one of these 
 mountains separated us. At the supreme mo- 
 ment of suspense no man on board could 
 move his tongue. We stood silently awaiting 
 death. Another instant and the two vessels 
 met on the top of the huge sea, and, just glid- 
 ing by each other, escaped. If anything was 
 calculated to produce fear of death, and the 
 necessary seeking to prepare for it, such an 
 experience was; but it did not do so; and 
 those who had passed through such trying 
 times soon forgot them after getting into port. 
 “Oh, that men would praise the Lord for His 
 goodness.” 
 
 Doubtless many did cry unto the Lord in 
 their distress, and among them the writer; 
 but, shame to say it, they forgot the Deliveier 
 after they had been delivered from a watery 
 grave, which seemed inevitable. 
 
 How truly has Satan blinded the eyes or 
 minds of men, so that they choose evil rather 
 than good; darkness rather than light; Satan 
 than God; hell than heaven; and this after 
 
 32 
 
ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. 
 
 “God so loved the world that He gave His 
 only begotten Son.” Truly it is not sufficient 
 that a Saviour is provided and man told of his 
 need; something more is required to open his 
 eyes to his danger, and lead him to escape, 
 even the Holy Spirit of God. 
 
 One day in March, i860, I was thrown vio- 
 lently on the deck by the ship making an un- 
 expected and unusual plunge. Being forcibly 
 thrown against one of the ship's guns, the 
 recoil dashed me to the deck in such a man- 
 ner that some of my shipmates ran forward 
 expecting to find me dead. They picked me 
 up and helped me down to the ship’s hospital; 
 but fourteen weeks passed before I could re- 
 sume my duties. One day during this time 
 the three surgeons on board held a consulta- 
 tion as to amputation above or below the 
 knee joint. I was given twenty-four hours’ 
 respite, and my limb so improved that I did 
 not suffer that loss. 
 
 During my convalescence one of the hos- 
 pital attendants left and I was asked to render 
 what aid I could. It was soon discovered that 
 I knew “a little about medicine.” And though 
 little it was that I knew, I was placed in the 
 vacant position permanently, and three months 
 later, upon the sick berth steward (so called) 
 leaving, I was given that position, when really 
 not eighteen years of age. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 The Great Change. 
 
 St. Paul states that “God chooses weak 
 things to confound the mighty;” and how 
 truly is this the case. The reason for it is not 
 far to seek, even that the hand of God may 
 be evidenced the more. 
 
 Gideon’s army of thousands were “too 
 many” for God to use to deliver Israel, so He 
 chose out three hundred only, and did the 
 work with that small number, giving the rea- 
 son therefor. 
 
 Soon after arriving home again in Novem- 
 ber, 1861, I was transferred to H. M. Ship 
 “Cumberland” at Shcerness, to serve under 
 my old head surgeon, who promoted me, and 
 who had been appointed to the “Cumberland.” 
 
 One beautiful Sunday afternoon in June, 
 1864, with some companions, I visited a small 
 town called Queenboro, and while walking 
 along the main street heard the voices of chil- 
 dren singing in the Sunday school. Attracted 
 thereby, we stood in the middle of the road and 
 conversed much as follows: 
 
 “Say, George, bothered if that don’t sound 
 good.” 
 
 “Yes, it does, Jack, and it reminds me of 
 when I was a boy and went to Sunday school, 
 for we used to sing that very same hymn 
 
 there.” 
 
 “Did you? Why, so used we,” joined in 
 Jem. “Ah, that was when we were good little 
 
 34 
 
THE GREAT CHANGE. 
 
 boys,” and Jem gave emphasis to the word 
 good, as he spoke. 
 
 The children went on singing the well- 
 known hymn : 
 
 “ I think, when I read that sweet story of old, 
 
 When Jesus was here among men, 
 
 How He called little children as lambs to His fold, 
 
 1 should like to have been with Him then.” 
 
 We three young men stopped until the hymn 
 was finished, and then resumed our ramble; 
 but although the sound of the children’s voices 
 soon died on our ears, they still lingered in 
 the heart of at least one of our number. 
 
 “Say George, old fellow,” said Jack pres- 
 ently, “what’s the matter with you? Why, you 
 were all alive just now, jumping over those 
 tombstones in that graveyard, and now you 
 haven’t anything to say.” 
 
 “Well, Jack, I don’t know that there is any- 
 thing particular the matter with me in one 
 way, but those children singing that old hymn 
 have made me think of old times and of those 
 who are gone, and it makes me feel bad to 
 think bow I’ve been ‘carrying on’ these past 
 few years, and what the end is going to be.” 
 
 “Why, Jem,” cried Jack, “Here’s George, 
 going to turn parson. I think we’d better call 
 him ‘Holy Joe’ (a nickname for a ship’s chap- 
 lain) right off.” 
 
 “Well, I’m blowed if I wouldn’t like to see 
 him with a white choker on. Say, I suppose 
 you’ll cut us poor fellows now?” queried Jem. 
 
 “No, mates, I don’t mean anything of that 
 sort; but I’ll tell you what I’m sure of; it 
 would be better for all of us if we’d kept to the 
 good old book.” 
 
 35 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 “There you are, Jem. Didn’t I tell you so? 
 Don’t you think he’d make a good parson?” 
 
 “Well, Jack, perhaps it would have been 
 better foi us all to stick to the old book for 
 that matter,” said Jem. “I know I’d have 
 been a good deal better off now if I had, for 
 I should have my position still, which I lost 
 through the drink. But what’s the good of 
 crying over spilt milk? Let’s go in and get 
 a good glass of ‘old Jamaica,’ and bury the 
 past.” 
 
 “So say I, Jem,” responded Jack. “Come 
 on, George. Oh! I forgot, though. I sup- 
 pose you’re too good for us fellows to associate 
 with now?” 
 
 “No, Jack, old fellow, you ought to know 
 me better than that. I’ll go in wdth you, bul 
 I’m not going to take anything stronger than 
 lemonade.” 
 
 “Lemonade?” queried Jack. “Why, you’ll 
 get as lantern-jawed as a parson; besides, now, 
 I’ll show you a trick on that.” 
 
 “Here, missus, give me a pint of ale, will 
 you, and a bottle of lemonade for this fellow, 
 and let’s see, you'll have old Jamaica, Jem?” 
 
 “Yes, indeed, don’t give me any of your 
 watery stuff,” responded Jem. 
 
 “Now, here you are, George. I’ll show you 
 where you come out on the lemonade busi- 
 ness.” " So saying. Jack proceeded to pom- 
 out the bottle of lemonade, which only filled 
 one glass, and cost fourpence (eight cents), 
 while Jack’s pint of ale only cost three pence 
 and filled two glasses. The landlady joined 
 Jack and Jem in the hearty laugh which fol- 
 lowed the conclusive demonstration. 
 
 3 6 
 
THE GREAT CHANGE. 
 
 “Well,” said she, “to think of a man-o’-war 
 man turning teetotal! Why, who ever heard 
 of such a thing? I should "think you’d better 
 take the young man home to his mother.” 
 
 A reply was ready, but it failed expression 
 at the mention of the last word, “mother,” and 
 I finished my lemonade and left the house in 
 silence. It was a sore trial, and my first, but 
 God helped me to bear it. 
 
 The conversation that followed was not very 
 interesting as the three of us resumed our 
 walk. “Well,” said Jack, “I shall give him a 
 week to keep up this business, Jem.” 
 
 “All right, Tack, I'll try it for a week, any- 
 how, and see how I get on,” I replied; “but, 
 bows, I know I shan’t be any the worse off for 
 making the attempt.” 
 
 Several years after the foregoing event 
 took place I met the man who was superin- 
 tendent of that Sunday school at that time. 
 We were three hundred miles from Queenboro 
 when we met; but he said, “Next Sunday is 
 our anniversary, and I shall have something 
 to tell them all,” for they wouldn’t hear of my 
 not being there at the anniversary. Some day 
 I hope to visit the old school, though I fear 
 it may long ago have disappeared. 
 
 37 
 
‘Three-Decker,” lying in Portsmouth Harbor, England. 
 
DARKNESS AND DAWN. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 Darkness and Dawn. 
 
 That night the writer did not, could not, 
 sleep. The twenty-one years he had lived 
 crowded upon his mind and kept him awake. 
 
 What would he have given to have heard 
 the voice, or seen the face, of his beloved 
 mother just once — she who died when he was 
 but a boy of thirteen. He had passed through 
 the terrible experiences narrated previously, 
 and his heart had remained unaffected, but 
 now it seemed as if it would break. As on his 
 knees, with many tears, he sought and ob- 
 tained mercy, the thought came into his mind: 
 “Oh! that mother could know of this change; 
 what would I not give or do?” Then he re- 
 membered (yes, did not Jesus say, “He, the 
 Spirit, shall bring to your remembrance what- 
 soever I have said unto you”) the words of 
 Him who had sought and saved him. “I say 
 unto you there is joy in the presence of the an- 
 gels .of God over one sinner that repenteth,” 
 and a feeling of satisfaction stole over him as 
 he reasoned: “Well, if that’s true, and it must 
 be, then there’s joy over me; and if mother is 
 in heaven, and I believe she is, she knows of 
 the change. Could not the Lord tell her of it,” 
 he thought, “for He knows how she has 
 prayed, and He has answered her prayers,” 
 and it seemed a very natural conclusion to 
 come to, and on this he rested, and still rests, 
 39 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 looking forward to the day when mother and 
 child shall meet again. 
 
 What a change was now experienced! 
 
 It was as when a tempestuous hurricane has 
 swept all before it, and there follows in its 
 wake “a great calm.” Such was the inward 
 experience of the writer, but he soon found 
 that peace with God means war with sin and 
 Satan, and while calm and quiet reign within, 
 storms may, and often do, rage without. 
 
 He knew, or guessed pretty well, what he 
 would have to face from his companions on 
 board ship, and he was not wrong in his con- 
 clusions. 
 
 The news of my having turned “psalm 
 singer” had preceded my arrival on board on 
 Monday morning, and all my shipmates were 
 on the lookout and anxious to see how I 
 looked, little knowing how I felt. Arriving 
 on board, the jeering began. “Hello, George, 
 old fellow; say, they tell us you’ve been and 
 got converted. Let’s look at you. Hold up, 
 old fellow, and give us a bit of a sermon, may- 
 be you’d convert some of us. Try your hand! 
 Only I'm thinking you'd have a tough job on 
 me,” said one. 
 
 The dame of persecution rose higher and 
 higher as “the great change” became the talk 
 of the one thousand men on board the ship. 
 Often did the writer have to go down to his 
 storeroom, in the hold of the vessel, to get 
 wisdom and strength, and thus "obtain help 
 from God” to stand it all. 
 
 For three months I had not a single fellow 
 Christian to go to, or to write to, on board 
 the vessel or on shore. My poor father count- 
 40 
 
DARKNESS AND DAWN. 
 
 ed me as one gone mad, when in truth, as I 
 felt, I had only just recovered my senses. All 
 sorts of means were used to draw or to drive 
 the new convert back again into the service of 
 his old master, but, thank God, it was in vain. 
 
 One day one of my shipmates loaned me a 
 number of infidel tracts and copies of Brad- 
 laugh’s paper. The next day, during dinner 
 hour, he asked me if I had done with them. I 
 replied that I had. “Well, did you read them 
 through?” “No,” I replied. “1 read all I 
 wanted to.” “Oh,” he said, laughing, and 
 thus drew the attention of others, who gath- 
 ered around in a crowd. “Just as I thought; 
 you were afraid if you read those bad books 
 the devil would run away with you.” 
 
 “Do you think so?” was the response. “Then 
 I’ll read every word in them before I give them 
 back to you, if you'll let me.” 
 
 “Oh, yes, but you’ll soon find they’ll knock 
 all this religion out of you.” 
 
 “Well, we’ll see,” was the rejoinder. 
 
 A large number of the crew having gath- 
 ered around my assailant, who was a much 
 older man than myself, he deemed it too good 
 an opportunity to lose, and so “opened fire” 
 on' the vcung convert. 
 
 It was my first experience of the kind, but 
 I was able to grapple with my assailant to the 
 astonishment no less of myself than of our 
 shipmates. Before “the change” I had for 
 my “chum” a pronounced infidel, who tried 
 hard to win me over, but after a long walk 
 and talk one day on board the ship we ended 
 up thus: 
 
 “Now, look here, Steve, I’ve heard all that 
 
 41 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 you’ve got to say on your side, and the whole 
 thing lies here: If you are right and I am 
 
 wrong, I know this, I shall have had the best 
 time in this world, and if there’s nothing more, 
 as you say, why I shan’t have any time to re- 
 pent my choice, shall I?” 
 
 “Well, I suppose not,” was his reply. “But, 
 Steve, suppose I am right and you are wrong, 
 where will you be?” 
 
 There was no reply to this and we parted. 
 
 Strangely enough, Steve had to sneak out of 
 that ship in the darkness of early morning, 
 when his time of service had expired, because 
 of the people who were after him for money 
 due them; not, however, before he had turned 
 upon his former chum and companion and 
 had tried hard, but in vain, to get him “re- 
 duced” from the position he held. 
 
 Three years after (July, 1867), when I joined 
 H. M. Ship Crocodile, a new vessel employed 
 on the Indian troop service, one of the first 
 men I met on board was my old chum, Steve. 
 But he was still the servant of Satan, and a few 
 months later was tried by court-martial for 
 robbery and sentenced to eighteen months’ 
 imprisonment, and was dismissed from the 
 navy with disgrace after sixteen years of ser- 
 vice. 
 
 He left a wife and young babe, and it was 
 given to his old companion to aid them and 
 really save them from starvation by getting 
 up a subscription from his shipmates on their 
 behalf. 
 
 42 
 
FIRST FRUITS. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 First Fruits. 
 
 Having somewhat realized the advantages 
 of living a Christian life for myself, I very nat- 
 urally desired that others, my friends and ship- 
 mates, might see what I had seen and know 
 what I was then enjoying. 
 
 This led to the putting forth of effort on 
 their behalf, in the doing of which I had no 
 one to advise with, except Him whom I now 
 knew as my Friend. Perhaps it was all the 
 better that I had no earthly friends with whom 
 to confer, as it caused me to go more fre- 
 quently to the One who has promised to give 
 wisdom to all who seek it at His hands. 
 
 Among other ways of doing good, I re- 
 solved to obtain and distribute some reading 
 matter among my shipmates. Writing to Mr. 
 T. B. Smithies, the editor of the “British 
 Workman,” and to the Religious Tract So- 
 ciety, I obtained, at some reduction, a month- 
 ly supply of papers for this purpose. 
 
 One day a large package came to the ship, 
 and upon my being called to receive it, the 
 officer asked: “What have you got there?” 
 
 “Books and papers, sir,” I replied. 
 
 “What are you going to do with them?” 
 “Give them away to the fellows on board.” 
 “Well, but what for — to try and make them 
 religious?” 
 
 “I hope so, sir.” 
 
 43 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 “Well, now, who sends them?” 
 
 “Friends in London, sir.” 
 
 “Yes, I know; but who pays for them?” 
 “Well, sir, I do, if I must tell you.” 
 
 “And how much do they cost?” 
 
 “A pint of ale and half an ounce of tobacco 
 a day, sir.” 
 
 “Why, that’s — let me see — five pence a 
 day.” 
 
 “Yes, sir, about that.” 
 
 “Well, go ahead; I don't suppose you'll do 
 any harm.” 
 
 “I hope not, sir,” and the conversation 
 ended. 
 
 The vessel I was serving in was Guard Ship 
 of the Reserve, having the care of some seven- 
 ty large and small vessels lying up the river, 
 the crews of which belonged to the “Cum- 
 berland.” When sick they came under my 
 care, and on the first day of each month they 
 all came down the river in boats to “the big 
 ship” to get their pay. 
 
 On these days might be seen a “hand” from 
 each vessel calling at the door of the Sick 
 Bay, or ship’s hospital, for the usual package 
 of papers, the plan being to wrap up several of 
 different kinds into a “British Workman,” 
 which was addressed “All Hands, H. M. S. 
 Undaunted,” etc. 
 
 When the men had read the papers, they 
 pasted the pictures up in their cabins and were 
 thus reminded of the stories they had read. 
 “Buy Your Own Cherries” and “Jack and His 
 Hard Lump” were conspicuous among the 
 pictures adorning these art galleries. 
 
 About this time the late Admiral Sir W. 
 
 44 
 
FIRST FRUITS. 
 
 King Hall joined as captain, and, being him- 
 self a total abstainer, gave countenance to the 
 work I was doing, and having himself signed 
 a pledge book, I entered my name and suc- 
 ceeded in getting many others to do so. 
 
 The poor fellows were often getting into 
 trouble through drink, and when brought to 
 the Sick Bay for treatment I was enabled to 
 advise with them opportunely. So many were 
 thus led to change their ways of living that it 
 became a saying among the men: “Well, if 
 you’re going into the Sick Bay, you’ll get con- 
 verted before you come out,” and so God 
 helped me to help others. Later on, a few 
 were gathered together in a spare cabin, and 
 there we sang and prayed and read the Scrip- 
 tures, “which are able to make us wise unto 
 salvation.” Many happy hours were thus 
 spent with the half dozen or more who met 
 together in this manner. 
 
 45 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XI. 
 
 First Friends. 
 
 If there was one thing more than another 
 that I longed for, it was Christian friendship. 
 As already stated, I had not a single friend 
 likeminded on board or on shore; and to my 
 poor father it all seemed foolishness, even as 
 it had been to his son, and he said, “He’s gone 
 mad.” 
 
 One day I heard that a Scripture reader had 
 been stationed at the port, and that he had 
 been doing on shore what I had been trying to 
 do on board, viz., giving away tracts and 
 little books to the men, so that they said, 
 “Now we’re between two fires. If we stay on 
 board, we ‘get it,’ and if we go on shore we 
 ‘get it.’ ” Yes, thank God, many did “get it,” 
 i. e., the gift of God. 
 
 When I first heard of this friend, it was in- 
 deed joyful news, and I could not but feel that 
 God had answered my prayei , and I longed to 
 meet him, who had been sent to my help. 
 
 One evening I went on shore, hoping, if 
 possible, to meet this friend. I had expected 
 to see him on the pier when I landed, as some 
 of the men had told me he was often there, but 
 he was not to be found. 
 
 That evening I entered a church, and, sin- 
 
 46 
 
FIRST FRIENDS. 
 
 gularly enough, was shown into a pew where 
 s^t the very man I was looking for. Each of 
 us looked at the other, and by some strange 
 intuition each seemed to recognize in the other 
 tiie one for whom he was looking. Some of 
 the men had told the Scripture reader that the 
 sick berth steward had “turned religious,” and 
 was trying to turn all the other fellows. 
 
 After the service this new-found friend took 
 me to his house, and gave me some books, and 
 it was with difficulty that we parted at a late 
 hour of the night. There weie many things 
 to tell and to ask, and plans to be talked over 
 as to further work for God, and each delighted 
 so in the other’s company that we were as old 
 friends. Moreover, the reader had once been 
 in the navy himself, and could therefore the 
 better sympathize with me. 
 
 Shortly after this occurrence, I was led to 
 gather together a few of the poor children and 
 people down one of the back slums of Sheer- 
 ness, at which port my ship lay. 
 
 Hiring a large room from one of the resi- 
 dents, to overcome the excuses for non-attend- 
 ance at church for want of good clothes, and 
 inability to leave home or to take the children, 
 I “gathered them in,” and, armed with a Bible 
 and a concertina, started to work. On the 
 second Sunday evening it was found that the 
 room could not hold all the people and chil- 
 dren, too, so the latter came from six to seven 
 o’clock, and adults from seven to eight. 
 
 It was very hard work alone, and prayer 
 47 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 went up for help, and it came. The Scripture 
 reader told some of his friends about me, and 
 they desired me to call and “take tea” with 
 them, which I did, and was given a cordial 
 welcome. 
 
 As we were gathered around the tea table, I 
 told them of my efforts among the poor down 
 town, and was gladly surprised by their offers 
 to help me. 
 
 On the following Sunday, Mr. Lawes and 
 two other members of his family were by my 
 side at the work. 
 
 Not only did I find help for the Sunday 
 school, which soon grew to have one hundred 
 and fifty scholars, and subsequently develcped 
 two branches, but in this home I first met the 
 one who became my devoted wife and loving 
 companion and helper for more than twenty- 
 one years. In this fact there seemed to be a 
 fulfillment of the promise, “Seek first the king- 
 dom of God, and all other things shall be 
 added.” 
 
 “ Make you His service your delight, 
 
 He’ll make your wants His care.” 
 
 One of the branch schools referred to was 
 established by R. G. Hobbes, Esq., the cashier 
 of Her Majesty’s dockyard at Sheerness. He 
 was a most devoted worker, and, as Superin- 
 tendent of the school he formed, made it a 
 great success. He is now residing in London, 
 long since retired from the government service. 
 
 On July 17th, 1866, I was married to Miss 
 48 
 
FIRST FRIENDS. 
 
 Anetta Marion Tringham; and, as I look back 
 over the more than thirty years that have since 
 passed, my heart is filled with gratitude to 
 Him who gave her to me in answer to prayer. 
 For two young people to each give themselves 
 to the other in fullest surrender, confidence 
 and love, is a joy that cannot be written; but 
 this can be, and is intensified greatly, when 
 each also realizes that the other is “a gift from 
 God.” 
 
 Oh ! how much some people miss in this re- 
 gard, because they will rather choose for 
 themselves than say and pray, “Choose Thou 
 for me.” Can it be that God is lacking in 
 either wisdom, love or power? 
 
 If He has the wisdom to choose the best, 
 and the love that seeks the best for His loved 
 ones, and further, has the power to accomplish 
 and bring about whatsoever His love and wis- 
 dom dictates, why not let Him, why not urge 
 Him, to constantly “order our steps?” Cor- 
 rect stepping will make, must make, a success- 
 ful journey. 
 
 49 
 
Our son Harry, and his parents — May, 1869. 
 
A MARVELLOUS ANSWER. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 
 A Marvellous Answer. 
 
 In August, 1867, I joined H. M. ship, 
 Crocodile. She was one of five new vessels 
 constructed for the Indian troop service. 
 The Suez Canal was not opened until 1870, 
 and during the three years previous the Croco- 
 dile and Serapis ran between Great Britain 
 and Egypt, while the Jumna , Malabar and 
 Euphrates, having gone around the Cape of 
 Good Hope, took the troops from Suez to 
 India and vice versa. 
 
 In January, 1868, one of the most marvel- 
 lous answers to prayer was experienced. My 
 wife was lying very ill with pneumonia when 
 the Crocodile sailed for Queenstown to take in 
 troops. I was permitted to stay with her un- 
 til two hours of the time of sailing from Ports- 
 mouth. As we said “Good bye,” it was with 
 a peculiar feeling of dread that we were taking 
 a final farewell of each other, as the physician 
 in attendance gave but faint hope of her re- 
 covery. 
 
 Our dear friend, Mrs. Ferrins, whose home 
 we then shared, devotedly cared for the sick 
 one. Upon leaving, I said to her, “We sail 
 in two hours for Queenstown, and stay but 
 an hour or two there, so there will be little 
 
 51 
 
“teli. them.” 
 
 Use writing me there; please write me at 
 Malta, our next port of call.” 
 
 That night we encountered a fearful gale, 
 and the vessel at one time very nearly cap- 
 sized, being empty of troops and baggage. 
 
 The captain ran the ship into Torbay, 
 through stress of weather, and anchored there 
 about midnight. An hour later, off came the 
 coast guard boat on inspection. As the boat 
 came alongside, the only one that did so that 
 night, I snatched up an envelope and penciled 
 a few words on a sheet of paper, “ Have 
 put into Torbay through stress of weather. 
 Write me to Queenstown as soon as you get 
 this.” Giving one of the crew sixpence to 
 mail it soon, I hoped it might reach in time. 
 
 We left Portsmouth on Tuesday, but did 
 not reach Queenstown until Friday, and the 
 ship was delayed “waiting for troops,” so that 
 she did not sail until Sunday afternoon, three 
 days late. 
 
 On Saturday I received a letter from my 
 friend, Mrs. Ferrins, stating that in all prob- 
 ability my dear one would be “gone” before 
 that could reach me, and asking directions as 
 to funeral, etc. That night it need not be 
 wondered at that I could not sleep, wonder 
 rather if I could. How I pleaded for life to 
 be spared, and how terrible it all seemed, how 
 dark and hopeless, and yet — Yes, “All 
 things are possible to Him,” “I know that 
 Thou canst do anything,” said Job, and I said 
 5 2 
 
A MARVELLOUS ANSWER. 
 
 it over until I believed and claimed it too. 
 One of the seamen, a poor Irishman, who was 
 under my care, expressed his sympathy, and 
 in his blunt way suggested that I ask for leave 
 to go home. 
 
 “Why, man,” I said, “what are you think- 
 ing about? Who ever heard of such a thing? 
 Why, even the captain could not get such a 
 privilege.” 
 
 But his words “stuck” to me, and prayer 
 took shape accordingly. Could not God do 
 even that, the unheard-of, the seemingly im- 
 possible? Yes, of course He could, butwould 
 He? “Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst.” And 
 Thou wilt if Thou seest it best to do so. At 
 last morning came, and with it the usual hos- 
 pital duties. When the Staff Surgeon came 
 on his “rounds” to the sick bay, he noticed 
 that something was the matter. Like the 
 king who read the countenance of Nehemiah, 
 he read mine. And like Nehemiah I, too, 
 lifted my heart to God, and spoke, not to the 
 king, but to the doctor. 
 
 I felt unable to bring my mind to ask per- 
 mission to go back home, but I had prayed 
 that if it was to be, God would make the doc- 
 tor speak of it first, and to my great relief, but 
 intense astonishment, he did so, and said, 
 “You could not do any good if you were there, 
 and in all probability she has already gone.” 
 I caught at his words as a dying man at a 
 straw, and followed them up by strong plead- 
 53 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 ings now, until he seemed to wish he had not 
 so spoken. The doctor conferred with the 
 captain, and as the big ship sailed off, I 
 landed on the shore, homeward bound, with 
 mingled feelings of peculiar joy and gratitude. 
 How long time and distance seemed in that 
 anxious journey. Never did steamer cross 
 the channel so slowly, or train travel so tardily 
 as then. I sent a telegram as soon as I 
 landed, “Expect to be home Tuesday morn- 
 ing.” 
 
 That word was as life to the dead. It was 
 at first withheld for fear of shock and collapse, 
 but tenderly and cautiously was the news im- 
 parted, and hope was rekindled. 
 
 Arriving in Gosport, I walked down the 
 main street on which the house was situate, 
 and from the opposite side sought the earliest 
 glimpse of the windows for the signal of life 
 or death. Thank God, the window blinds 
 were not drawn down — it was still life. 
 
 Six weeks passed ere the Crocodile returned, 
 and I again went on board to receive the warm 
 congratulations of my shipmates, and to hear 
 their expressions of wonderment as to how it 
 all happened. I could only say, “I prayed, 
 and God answered.” 
 
 54 
 
HINDRANCES. 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 Hindrances. 
 
 It is one of the strange experiences in life 
 that whereas a man may continue in evil with- 
 out incurring much, if any, opposition from 
 his fellows, no sooner does he try to serve God 
 and do right than he has to bear persecution. 
 And yet it is nothing new, for He, the very 
 Son of God, who lived, and spake, and died, as 
 never man did, was persecuted even to the 
 death; and He it was who said, “The servant 
 is not greater than his Lord; if they have pec- 
 secuted Me, they will persecute you also;” and 
 further, it is written, “All they who will live 
 godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.” 
 
 In May, 1868, the Crocodile was lying in the 
 harbor of Alexandria, waiting for troops to 
 come on board from Suez, on their way home 
 from the Abyssinian War. 
 
 After many days of waiting, the troops ar- 
 rived, and the ship sailed on a Monday after- 
 noon. Most of the soldiers had already served 
 several years in India before going to Abys- 
 sinia, and the appearance of their clothing and 
 accoutrements, as well as their weather-beaten, 
 bronzed faces, told of the hardships they had 
 encountered. 
 
 As I watched their arrival on board, I deter- 
 55 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 mined to try and do something for their good ; 
 accordingly, the same evening, having first 
 sought and obtained “help of God,” I came on 
 deck, Bible in hand, and asked some of those 
 standing by if they would like to hear some- 
 thing out of the “good Book.” The question 
 was met by an inquiring, incredulous look, 
 which seemed to say, as far as I could read it, 
 “Well, yes; but what does this mean? We 
 always thought sailors were such drinking, 
 swearing fellows that we can't understand 
 this.” Thus interpreting their looks, I began 
 to read about soldiers and sailors as spoken of 
 in the Gospels. The healing of the centurion’s 
 servant, and the calling of Peter, James and 
 John, afforded good proof of the possibility of 
 soldiers and sailors being Christians. 
 
 Half an hour passed in this manner, and the 
 group of twenty had grown to ten times the 
 size. When I had finished, there was a gen- 
 eral expression of approval, which took shape 
 as follows: “Bravo, sir; come up again.” 
 
 The following evenings were spent in a 
 similar manner, except that on Saturday I 
 read to them, “Buy your own cherries,” which 
 evoked rounds of applause and laughter. The 
 very mention of “cherries” seemed to make 
 their mouths water, and long to once more 
 taste some. Many of the men had been from 
 home fifteen years and longer, having been 
 engaged in the Indian Mutiny of 1857. 
 
 There were about twelve hundred troops on 
 board, and as each day diew to a close they 
 56 
 
HINDRANCES. 
 
 would gather on the upper deck, lean over the 
 rail, and watch the vessel’s progress; or talk 
 in groups over their past adventures and the 
 battles they had fought; of their comrades 
 who came out with them, but who would 
 never return; and of the welcome that awaited 
 themselves at home. 
 
 Some, indeed, spoke of relatives and friends 
 who had gone, whose resting places only re- 
 mained, but even these they longed to see; so 
 that their joys were — as all earthly joys are — 
 mingled with sorrow. 
 
 Cn Sunday evening, as I passed along the 
 deck, in the performance of some duty, some 
 of the soldiers asked me if I was not coming 
 up, as they were “all waiting.” As soon as 
 needful duties were attended to connected with 
 the care of the sick, I went up, taking with me 
 some small hymn books and my concertina. 
 The books were shared among the three or 
 four hundred standing around, and some of 
 the old hymns were called for as the men were 
 encouraged to name their favorites. “This 
 reminds me of the old home,” said one, as he 
 brushed away a tear. “I remember,” said 
 another, when they had sung, 
 
 “ Here we suffer grief and pain; 
 
 Here we meet to part again; 
 
 In heaven we part no more,” 
 
 “how we used to sing that old hymn when I 
 was a boy.” When they were told that that 
 hymn was written by a British soldier then 
 living in London, they could not but cheer. 
 
 57 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 The chapter read was that containing the 
 account of Paul’s defense before Agrippa. I 
 had read down to the words, “Almost thou 
 persuadest me to be a Christian,” and was 
 commenting upon them, when the Master-at- 
 Arms (corresponding to Sergeant Major in 
 the army) came to the edge of the crowd, and, 
 beckoning me to him, told me that the captain 
 had sent him to stop the meeting at once. 
 
 A few minutes before this, the regimental 
 brass band had come on deck, and stationing 
 themselves near the group who were listening 
 to me, they struck up some secular airs, a 
 most unusual thing to do on a Sunday even- 
 ing. As they did so, the men crowded in 
 closer, and, as I hesitated somewhat, they said 
 with one voice, “Go on, sir, we can hear you; 
 never mind the band.” When the captain’s 
 message was delivered, I returned back to the 
 centre of my astonished congregation and 
 said, “Men, I have received orders from the 
 captain to desist at once; as we are in the ser- 
 vice, of course we must obey; I can only, 
 therefore, wish you ‘Good night,’ thanking 
 yon for your kind attention.” 
 
 There was a very distinct murmur of disap- 
 proval among the men, many of whom were 
 Irishmen, the regiment (33d) being a Catholic 
 regiment. One said, “Well, that’s a strange 
 business, a fellow might swear and curse and 
 tell lies all he liked, and they wouldn’t stop 
 him, and shure the steward was only giving us 
 ‘the Word of God,’ and they stops him.” 
 
 58 
 
HINDRANCES. 
 
 As a proof of the truth of this assertion, the 
 following is narrated: One night, on the voy- 
 age out to Egypt, a number of the soldiers on 
 their way to India engaged in a “swearing 
 match.” Some were lying in their hammocks, 
 others on their beds spread upon the deck. 
 One after another swore the most fearful oaths 
 possible. Presently one man lying in his 
 hammock, so exceeded all the others that he 
 was readily proclaimed the champion, and so 
 badly did he curse that even his competitors 
 bade him stop. 
 
 The following morning, as he turned out of 
 his hammock, he fell helpless to the deck. 
 Some of his comrades came to his assistance, 
 and on asking him what was the matter, he 
 replied, “This is for last night’s work.” After 
 uttering these words, his speech left him, one 
 side of his body being completely paralyzed! 
 His comrades carried him to the ship’s hospi- 
 tal, and he was returned home and sent to 
 Netley Hospital for treatment. On the voy- 
 age home, I rejoice to say, the man gave evi- 
 dence of conversion. 
 
 59 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 The Victim Victorious. 
 
 On the Sunday night referred to I had 
 scarcely reached the hospital quarters when 
 the master-at-arms made his appearance and 
 stated that the captain desired to see me on 
 the quarter-deck at once. I had not yet re- 
 covered from the shock of indignation caused 
 by the order to desist, but was, so to speak, 
 “boiling over,” yet struggling to “keep down” 
 my feelings. 
 
 As I walked along the deck I lifted my 
 heart to the God I was trying to serve and 
 prayed, “O Lord, keep the door of my lips 
 that I offend not with my tongue.” • For fully 
 fifteen minutes did the captain try to get me 
 to do so, but failed. I explained that I had 
 only sought to do good, and that I was not 
 aware of having broken any rule of the service, 
 and if I had done so I was sorry for it. The 
 captain finally concluded with the threat that 
 he would dismiss me from the service when 
 the ship arrived home. 
 
 It was hard to bear, but as I reached the 
 sick cabin again and sat down, with my Bible 
 in hand, it opened at the fifty-first chapter of 
 Isaiah, and I read as follows: “Hearken unto 
 Me, ye that know righteousness, the people in 
 60 
 
THE VICTIM VICTORIOUS. 
 
 whose heart is My law; fear ye not the re- 
 proach of men, neither be afraid of their re- 
 vilings, for the moth shall eat them up like a 
 garment. I, even I, am He that comfort eth 
 you. Who art thou that thou shouldst be 
 afraid of a man that shall diet” 
 
 It was as if the Lord stood by His poor ser- 
 vant on the “Crocodile,” even as He stood by 
 His great servant, Paul, on board ship, and 
 I was, indeed, comforted. 
 
 During the remaining days of the voyage 
 the soldiers often expressed their disapproba- 
 tion of the captain’s conduct, and after the 
 ship arrived in Portsmouth, where the regi- 
 ment was for some time stationed, the men, 
 upon meeting me in the street, would ask, 
 “Did the captain do anything to you, sir? 
 ’Shure, it was a shame the way he treated you, 
 and, although I’m not of your persuasion, I 
 never heard you say anything but what was 
 good.” 
 
 After the vessel had been home some days 
 a candidate for another position came on 
 board, and the captain, noting that this man 
 had held a similar office to that occupied by 
 myself, saw in it, as he thought, a good oppor- 
 tunity to get rid of me. I was accordingly 
 sent for and told that I had his permission to 
 leave the ship for another vessel, but when 
 asked, in accordance with the rules of the ser- 
 vice, to state my reasons for wanting to ex- 
 change, I simply said that “I did not want to 
 exchange, and therefore had no reason to give 
 61 
 
"tell them.” 
 
 for desiring to do so.” This settled the mat- 
 ter so far. Many of my friends advised my 
 leaving, but I did not do so, deciding that I 
 would not go at man’s bidding, nor for fear 
 of man, but simply when God wanted me to 
 do so. 
 
 God has said, ‘‘Them that honor Me, I will 
 honor,” and it seemed as if He had arranged, 
 so to speak, to honor His unworthy servant 
 in the following manner. 
 
 62 
 
MISS WESTON. 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 
 Miss Weston — The “One Lady for the Navy." 
 
 On the next voyage out from England I 
 went, as usual, among the troops with papers' 
 and tracts, giving several to a group of men 
 and bidding each in turn read his paper for 
 the good of all. In this way I was soon able 
 to find out who were Christian men, as they 
 would generally thank me and tell of their de- 
 sires to serve God. In the evenings I would 
 gather these men together in my store-room 
 for reading, conversation and prayer. 
 
 When the troops were leaving the vessel at 
 Alexandria after this voyage a young Chris- 
 tian soldier told me of his intention to send an 
 account of the voyage to a lady friend in Eng- 
 land, who had made him promise to do so. 
 “And,” said he, “I shall tell her of the pleas- 
 ant times we have had.” 
 
 “Well,” I said, “I am not at all jealous of 
 the army, but while I know of several ladies 
 who write to and work for soldiers, I do not 
 know of one who so works for the navy, and 
 I think we ought to have at least one.” We 
 parted, never since having met, but when the 
 ship arrived home a letter was waiting me 
 from the lady in question, Miss Agnes E. 
 Weston, of Bath. 
 
 63 
 
Miss Agnes E. Weston — the “One Lady for the Navy.” 
 
MISS WESTON. 
 
 In this letter she told of her soldier friend 
 having related the foregoing conversation, and 
 generously expressed her willingness to be- 
 come the “one lady for the navy,” if she only 
 could be told what to do and how to do it. 
 She further explained that she was totally ig- 
 norant of shipping, and especially of “men-of- 
 war,” as she had nearly always resided in 
 Bath; nevertheless she was willing to do 
 “what she could.” 
 
 After thinking and praying over the matter 
 I made out a list of all the Christian officers 
 and men I knew in the navy, giving the names 
 of their ships and where they were stationed. 
 Enclosing this in a letter full of rejoicing, I 
 advised Miss Weston to write to all of these, 
 telling them of her offer and bidding each to 
 send a similar list to the one I had forwarded. 
 By using a book alphabetically arranged she 
 could enter the names and avoid duplication. 
 In less than six months Miss Weston “held 
 the reins of the navy.” She has h«ld them 
 ever since with regard to Christian and tem- 
 perance work in the British navy. 
 
 A great event was the meeting of Miss 
 Weston for the first time, in 1871. Her work 
 had grown rapidly for three years, and yet 
 she had never seen one of her “blue-jacket 
 friends,” as she called them; no, not even the 
 writer. A tea meeting was convened in the 
 town hall, Portsmouth, attended by hundreds 
 of sailors and marines, and the privilege was 
 given to “her first sailer friend” to introduce 
 65 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Miss Weston to the company. It was a 
 never-to-be-forgotten occasion. Men from 
 India, China, Africa and elsewhere were pres- 
 ent to see the face and grasp the hand of the 
 friend they had written to and heard from, but 
 never seen. I could not help, when address- 
 ing the company, comparing the occasion to 
 the one when “we shall see Him,” “whom not 
 having seen, we love.” In 1870 Miss Weston 
 had to resort to printing “monthly letters,” as 
 it was quite impossible to write to all she 
 then knew. These letters were called “Blue 
 Backs,” because of the color of the cover, and 
 are still sent each month all over the world. 
 Anyone desiring to know more of Miss Wes- 
 ton’s work should write to her at Devonport 
 or Portsmouth, England. 
 
 To-day there are four or five large buildings 
 in English seaports where thousands of Brit- 
 ish, and other men-o’-war’s men, are wel- 
 comed and housed. Hundreds, if not thou- 
 sands, have been converted as the result of 
 this noble woman’s efforts and those working 
 with her, and her name and fame are now 
 world wide. The Queen of England and 
 others of the royal family aid her. A few 
 years since this work was extended to the 
 United States navy and is becoming success- 
 fully developed, as the following extract from 
 an article published in 1897 will show. 
 
 “Bluejackets generally will be pleased to 
 learn that Miss Agnes Weston’s temperance 
 magazine, Ashore and Afloat, has met with 
 66 
 
MISS WESTON. 
 
 such a flattering reception among seamen in 
 the United States Navy that the authorities 
 have especially requested her to regularly post 
 the magazine to American warships. So 
 gratifying a reception as this, coming from 
 such a vast country as America, must be 
 greatly cheering to Miss Weston, as it affords 
 her an ever-widening field for her brave, self- 
 denying labors on behalf of the bluejackets. 
 Miss Weston has done 
 
 MORE THAN ANY OTHER WOMAN 
 to brighten the lives of our sailors, to remind 
 them of home when they are far from it, to 
 keep them from the temptations which every- 
 where beset their path, and to make them in 
 many senses nobler and better men. For 
 thirty years her good work has been going for- 
 ward, and the hope of all must be that Miss 
 Weston may be long spared to guide it.” — 
 Western Mercury, October , iSpy. 
 
 There were some other ways in which the 
 Lord “helped me” to do something. One was 
 the starting of an evangelistic society, com- 
 posed of members of all evangelical denomi- 
 nations, and undertaking tent work and the 
 rescue of the “fallen.” In 1876 I had my 
 head, heart and hands so full of work of vari- 
 ous kinds that I had scarcely time to eat or 
 sleep, when, most unexpectedly, I was taken 
 away from it all to another and very different 
 sphere of labor. 
 
 67 
 
The crew of a British man-of-war assembled to hear Miss Weston. 
 
NEW FIELDS OF LABOR. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 Neiv Fields of Labor. 
 
 I remained in the “Crocodile” for two years 
 longer, until August, 1870, when I was most 
 unexpectedly recommended for appointment 
 to H. M. Dockyard, Portsmouth, by the chief 
 surgeon of the ship, with whom I had served 
 for three years. The doctor was a Roman 
 Catholic, and yet expressed his sense of the 
 captain’s action in June, ’68, by saying to me 
 the next day, “I consider his treatment of 
 you a piece of gross injustice.” 
 
 Meantime the captain and two other of- 
 ficers, who had made up their minds to “get 
 that religious fellow out of the ship,” left the 
 vessel, while- 1 remained on board. I also had 
 the satisfaction of seeing three other officers 
 take their places, who all became my fast 
 friends and encouraged me to do all the Chris- 
 tian work I pleased. One of the poor fellows 
 who opposed and persecuted me killed him- 
 self with drink, and another committed suicide 
 at sea, after leaving the “Crocodile.” 
 
 * In June, 1889, just twenty-one years after the occurrence 
 previously narrated, I stood on the deck of my old ship, 
 looked at the old and memorable places, “looked back” to 
 June, 1868, and “looked up” to thank God for all His 
 goodness and care then and since. The captain and surgeon 
 both died in 1896. 
 
 69 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 If, as the result of such experiences, one 
 lesson more than another has been learned, it 
 is comprehended in the one little word, 
 “Wait.” “My soul, wait thou only upon 
 God, for I shall yet praise Him.” So wrote 
 David, and so he spoke to his own soul. To 
 others he said, “Rest in the Lord, and ‘wait’ 
 patiently for Him.” But how did he act? 
 Even as he said, for when he might have cut 
 off the head of his great enemy, Saul, he cut 
 off the corner of his garment. 
 
 And “God gave him” the victory later on 
 and he sat on the throne. 
 
 For a full week after the offer was made 
 me of the position at the surgery of the dock- 
 yard, I was undecided as to taking it. The 
 question with me was, “Does God want me to 
 take it and leave the vessel and the good I 
 might do there, or is it a bait from the enemy 
 to get me to desert my post?” For days I 
 prayed for guidance, until at last I found it 
 and accepted the position. 
 
 Perhaps nothing is more trying at times to 
 those desiring to do right than to decide be- 
 tween one or more courses of action open 
 to them. They may be kept waiting, even as 
 I was in this case. It will put their fidelity 
 and submission to the test; but, when they 
 have obtained the guidance sought, so that 
 they feel and know they are divinely guided, 
 it will afford them a strength otherwise un- 
 known. Various means may be used by God 
 to impart this knowledge, but that it is to be 
 70 
 
NEW FIELDS OF LABOR. 
 
 obtained and will be granted to the sincere 
 seeker, I have no doubt. 
 
 The following experience is narrated, not as 
 laying down a rule for others — it was the only 
 time direction came to the writer in this way 
 — but simply to tell how “He helped me” at 
 this time. 
 
 While in prayer, with my wife, on the last 
 day allowed by the authorities for my decis- 
 ion, it came into my mind to go to a devoted 
 Christian woman, and I was led to ask that 
 God would speak to me through her, deciding 
 to act just as she advised. We had not seen 
 our friend for months, and, without explain- 
 ing the real object of our call, I told her of the 
 offer I had and said: “What would you advise 
 me to do?” 
 
 “Why, take it, of course,” was the quick re- 
 ply. 
 
 “Then I shall do so,” I said, and nar- 
 rated the circumstances which led us 
 to call upon her. She was a woman 
 slow of speech, and her quick reply 
 had surprised us. “I should not have 
 answered so quickly if I had known that,” 
 she said. “Never mind, it is just right, we 
 have no doubt.” 
 
 That was in August, 1870, more than 
 twenty-seven years since, and to-day I fully be- 
 lieve that I was rightly guided. At first, how- 
 ever, after commencing my duties at the dock- 
 yard, I often questioned whether I had not 
 acted the coward and deserted my post after 
 
 71 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 all. But, as the poor fellows — some six thou- 
 sand were employed there — came to the sur- 
 gery to have their injuries attended to, and 
 the opportunities while treating their bodies 
 to speak a word about their souls were em- 
 braced, I began to feel that I had not made a 
 mistake and was in the right place. 
 
 Strangely enough, three of my predecessors 
 had killed themselves with strong drink, and 
 when the men who came to be attended to 
 were received and treated kindly, and saw the 
 Scripture texts upon the walls and religious 
 illustrated papers for their reading while wait- 
 ing, they often remarked upon “the great 
 change” in the place. 
 
 But my heart was still with the poor fel- 
 lows “who go down to the sea in ships,” and 
 I longed to do more and see more done for 
 them. This led to my making an appeal for 
 books and magazines, to be placed on board 
 the ships going abroad. After this, when 
 vessels left the dockyard, they had on board 
 a dozen or more large parcels of papers for 
 the war ships they were likely to meet with. 
 
 72 
 
HOW THE R. N. T. S. WAS STARTED. 
 
 Chapter XVII. 
 
 How the R. N. T. S. Was Started. 
 
 T n February, 1871, H. M. Ship Reindeer 
 came home from the Pacific, and I was re- 
 joiced to find some old shipmates and friends 
 who were Christian and temperance men. 
 t hey asked me to arrange a "tareweil supper” 
 for them ere they separated. 
 
 The thought of so much effort being lost 
 m this and other vessels’ by these little soci- 
 eties being broken up, led me to think and 
 calk of forming a Royal Naval Temperance 
 Society, which should embrace all these small 
 societies as branches. 
 
 When, however, I spoke of it to the officers 
 and men of the “Reindeer,” they shrank from 
 the idea, and thought it could never be. 
 
 Having charge of the arrangements for the 
 “farewell supper,” I invited a few friends to 
 the gathering, and at the meeting announced 
 the project and plans, and they were adopted 
 there and then. Among those present were 
 the Rev. William Rose, Rev. William Griggs, 
 W. B. Robinson, Esq., Chief Constructor at 
 Portsmouth Dockyard, Mr. John Dyer, Boats 
 swain R. N., Sergeant Haskett, R. M. A., and 
 Mr. Downs, Writer R. N. ; while Lieut. A. J. 
 O’Rourke, R. N., Sub. Lieut. C. W. Last, 
 R. N., Mr. Rawkins, Master-at-Arms, and 
 73 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 fourteen others, belonging to the “Reindeer 
 Temperance Society,” were also present. 
 
 It was indeed a memorable occasion, and by 
 strange coincidence was held in a building in 
 the Commercial Road, Landport, Portsmouth, 
 only about a dozen doors from where Miss 
 Weston’s Sailor’s Rest now stands. 
 
 To commemorate this event, and the four 
 years the men had been together “on the 
 Pacific,” some silver medals were struck, 
 representing H. M. Ship Reindeer, encircled 
 by the words “H. M. S. Reindeer Temperance 
 Society.” There were nineteen members of 
 the Society at this time, although at one time 
 there were over fifty. 
 
 Twenty medals were made, and the writer 
 was honored by being decorated with the 
 twentieth one at the “farewell” gathering. 
 The cash box of the Reindeer Society was also 
 given me as a memento of the occasion, and 
 I still possess it. 
 
 The Royal Naval Temperance Society was 
 formed of representatives of each branch of 
 the service, navy, marines and dockyard. Mr. 
 Robinson as acting President. Commodore 
 Goodenough, afterwards killed in battle in 
 New Zealand, was the first President, one of 
 the bravest of officers, yet most gentle of men, 
 a Christian hero. 
 
 I accepted the position of Secretary, and 
 held the office for two years and a half, until 
 the membership of the R. N. T. S. had grown 
 to five thousand, including officers and men 
 74 
 
HOW THE R. N. T. S. WAS STARTED. 
 
 of all ranks. During this time frequent meet- 
 ings were held on board the various “men-of- 
 war” in the harbor and at Spithead. Miss 
 Sarah Robinson, the Soldier’s Friend, the 
 Rev. Gelson Gregson, of India, Mr. A. 
 Blackat, Seaman's Missionary, and others, 
 took part. 
 
 In the summer of 1873, Miss Weston and 
 Mr. Robert Rae, Secretary of the National 
 Temperance League, came down to Ports- 
 mouth and I officially handed over the Society 
 to their care, it having grown to such an ex- 
 tent that it was impossible for me longer to 
 conduct its affairs and attend to my official 
 duties at the dockyard. 
 
 75 
 
Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler, D. D. 
 
 _______ 
 
TWO MEMORABLE GATHERINGS. 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 
 Two Memorable Gatherings. 
 
 A memorable gathering was the annual 
 meeting of the National Temperance League, 
 held in Exeter Hall, London, in 1873. A 
 large number of foreign delegates were pre- 
 sent on this occasion, including the veteran 
 preacher, the Rev. Dr. Cuyler, of Brooklyn, 
 N. Y. 
 
 The vast platform, extending around and 
 in the rear of the speakers’ platform, looked 
 like a huge bouquet; for here were gathered 
 hundreds of men in the different colored uni- 
 forms representing various regiments of 
 cavalry, infantry and artillery, Royal Marines, 
 Royal Navy and Coastguard. 
 
 The enthusiasm which greeted the great 
 preacher, Dr. Cuyler, was intense. It was 
 feared that he might not arrive from New 
 York in time to address the great gathering, 
 but he reached the hall about half an hour 
 after the exercises had begun. When the 
 Doctor stepped to the front, and, Paul-like, 
 “stretched forth his hand” to speak, the cheer- 
 ing was tremendous, especially from the army 
 and navy men. 
 
 It was nearly five minutes before he was al- 
 lowed to begin, and when he did so, he turned 
 77 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 around to the soldiers and sailors and said, 
 “I bring a friendly message to you from 
 America, a message of peace. Our boys 
 across the water have no desire to cross swords 
 with you brave boys here. Let us have peace, 
 let us keep peace, and may it never be war 
 between Great Britain and America.” 
 
 Such a grand sentiment thus expressed, 
 especially at a time when the relationships be- 
 tween the two nations were at least “a little 
 strained,” “brought down the house,” as it is 
 sometimes expressed. 
 
 Thank God for men like Dr. Guyler, Mr. 
 D. L. Moody, Dr. A. T. Pierson, and others, 
 in America, and such men in Great Britain 
 who endeavor, by preaching the Gospel of 
 peace on “both sides of the water,” to keep 
 the peace between two of the greatest nations 
 of the earth, who speak the one language, and 
 who sing the one national tune, albeit the 
 words of the anthem differ. 
 
 The morning after the great meeting in 
 Exeter Hall, a special Breakfast Conference 
 was arranged, to which the foreign delegates 
 were particularly invited. It was a grand 
 gathering of noble men. 
 
 The writer had brought up the Naval Con- 
 tingent from Portsmouth, and was greatly 
 astonished when he was invited to this select 
 gathering of the good and great. But judge 
 of his more than astonishment, and almost 
 collapse, when he was asked to speak for ten 
 78 
 
TWO MEMORABLE GATHERINGS. 
 
 minutes to such a gathering. Ten of the 
 thirty years of his life had been spent at sea, 
 and never before, or perhaps since, did he so 
 realize his own weakness ; but, in a marvellous 
 way, as with Paul, the Lord stood by him. 
 The first five minutes were occupied with a 
 brief statement regarding temperance work 
 in the Navy, the last five were used to tell of 
 God’s goodness to a poor boy, who. eighteen 
 years before, had invested his sixpence in 
 newspapers in an office adjoining the building 
 where he then stood in such an assembly. 
 It seemed strange, in one sense, that no more 
 speeches followed, but, at the suggestion of 
 dear Mr. Smithies, the time was spent in 
 prayer and praise. Perhaps the story of one 
 poor boy awoke memories in the breasts of 
 some present, but so it was. Explain it how 
 we may, one thing was evident to all, viz., that 
 God was there. He surely always stands by 
 His witnesses when they speak of and for 
 Him. 
 
 To-day nearly every British “man-o’-war” 
 has its R. N. T. S. branch, and the member- 
 ship numbers thousands, among them being 
 more than one admiral. Miss Weston has 
 thus two oars to her boat, religion and tem- 
 perance, both of which she pulls vigorously. 
 
 79 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 
 The Arctic Expedition of 1875. 
 
 When the “Alert” and “Discovery” were 
 “fitting out for the Arctic expedition” in May, 
 1875, the officers and men had all to be medi- 
 cally examined at the surgery of the dockyard. 
 
 A very striking incident occurred during 
 the examination of the officers and men for 
 this expedition. A board of surgeons exam- 
 ined each man very thoroughly indeed, and 
 only those who were perfect physically were 
 “passed.” One officer had come to England 
 from a foreign station, anxious to go with the 
 expedition. The doctors rejected him on ac- 
 count of a single small scar of half an inch. 
 In vain did the poor fellow plead that it had 
 been healed for sixteen years, and he had 
 been well and lived right since. The doc- 
 tors were decided, and he was not allowed to 
 go. As I looked at the poor man and heard 
 him plead I remembered the words, “Lord, if 
 Thou wert strict to mark iniquities, O Lord, 
 who could stand?”. Who, indeed. Not one. 
 
 As I talked with the men and thought of 
 the many dark and cheerless months during 
 which they would be, so to speak, “out of 
 the world,” I decided to try and secure a large 
 supply of books for them. 
 
 80 
 
THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION OF 1875. 
 
 Appealing in The Christian, of London, and 
 some other papers, I succeeded in getting over 
 a quarter of a ton of splendidly-bound, illus- 
 trated books and magazines. When the ships 
 were about to sail I applied to the captain to 
 place them in the ship's library, but he de- 
 clared it “impossible to take anything more 
 on board.” This was a great disappointment, 
 butlhe difficulty was overcome by each man 
 calling at the surgery for a single book as he 
 passed by to his ship, so they all got not “to 
 land,” but to sea, and were read and ex- 
 changed among the men throughout the many 
 dark and dreary months. 
 
 The poor fellows would also be unable to re- 
 ceive any mail for the greater part of the time, 
 and to in some measure meet this emergency 
 Miss Weston hit upon the happy idea of pre- 
 paring and printing off a “monthly letter” for 
 each month of the three years they were likely 
 to be absent from home. 
 
 Each monthly packet was kept sealed until 
 the first of the month, when the “mail came 
 aboard,” and was “served out” to the officers 
 and men, and served to cheer many a weary 
 hour at least once a month. A “Farewell 
 Tea” was also arranged, and Miss Weston 
 and other friends bade the expedition “God 
 speed” in the Arctic seas. 
 
 81 
 
Admiral Arthur Alington, R. N. , 
 President of the Royal Naval Temperance Society, 
 
The r. n. t. s. anniversary in 1897. 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 
 The R. N. T. S. Anniversary in i 8 gj. 
 
 While revising the proofs of these pages, a 
 copy of Miss Weston’s paper-, Ashore and 
 Afloat, came to hand, containing an account 
 of the annual meeting of the Royal Naval 
 Temperance Society, held in Devonport on 
 November 3d, 1897. It will doubtless prove 
 interesting to the reader, even as it certainly 
 does to the writer, to know something of this 
 most recent gathering. 
 
 From the account given, it appears that, in 
 addition to Admiral Arthur Alington, the 
 newly elected President (whose portrait ap- 
 pears on another page), Admiral and Lady 
 Freemantle, Commander W. Ingram, R. N., 
 Captain G. F. King-Hall, R. N., Miss Weston 
 and Miss Wintz, her co-laborer, and many 
 prominent citizens, were present, the hall be- 
 ing “crowded to excess.” 
 
 Admiral Alington, as Chairman, said, 
 among other things, “It was only in 1881 that 
 he first realized there was any common sense 
 in the fad, as he then thought it, of teetotal- 
 ism; so that he had seen both sides of the 
 question. What he had learnt since 1881 had 
 led him to feel sure there was something in 
 total abstinence, and that there was a power 
 
 83 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 and a grand principle underlying it. Many 
 bluejackets thought admirals had no feelings, 
 but they had; and he put it to them whether 
 bluejackets who were teetotalers had not more 
 influence with their comrades on the lower 
 deck. It was not a manly act to get drunk, 
 but a poor, foolish thing, and a recollection 
 of something that had come down to the navy 
 of to-day from the time when the service was 
 very different.” 
 
 Miss Weston, who was enthusiastically re- 
 ceived, referred to the late Admiral Sir W. 
 King-Hall, formerly President of the Society.* 
 
 Miss Weston said Admiral Sir W. King- 
 Hall helped the work on in its infancy, and set 
 the example of temperance himself; and it was 
 a joy to feel that they had with them on the 
 platform Captain King-Hall, a son of the Ad- 
 miral. Since that day the work had gone for- 
 ward, and she was asked to take the honorary 
 superintendence of it, and gladly did so. The 
 Society was conducted on broad naval lines; 
 it was quite unsectarian, and was carried on 
 with the approbation of commanding officers. 
 Tts object was to lessen drink in the navy, and 
 consequently to reduce crime. There was not 
 a ship in Her Majesty's service but what car- 
 ried a branch of the Society, and it was repre- 
 
 * The reader may call to mind the fact that this officer was 
 captain of H. M. S. Cumberland , in 1864, in which vessel 
 he encouraged me in my efforts by himself signing the pledge 
 in December of that year. The son referred to was a boy 
 at that time, well remembered by the writer. 
 
 84' 
 
THE R. N. T. S. ANNIVERSARY IN 1 897. 
 
 : H 
 
 sented in some degree cn every vessel that 
 took part in the Jubilee Naval Review at Spit- 
 head. The movement was going forward by 
 leaps and bounds, and had become a power for 
 good. 
 
 Rev. W. Mantle congratulated the navy on 
 having such a lady as Miss Weston devoting 
 her energies to such a grand work as that in 
 which she had been engaged for so many 
 years. England had not so much to fear from 
 foreign foes as the foe on her own shores, viz., 
 the vices of her people. In England the great 
 foe they had to face was the sin of intemper- 
 ance, which was being waged against by such 
 societies as that under whose auspices that 
 meeting was held. 
 
 Rev. F. Flynn, R. N., said the temperance 
 society was a living power in the navy, and 
 was also an addition to the fighting strength 
 of the great temperance army which was wag- 
 ing a righteous war throughout the land. 
 Whilst the Society was absolutely unsectarian, 
 it recognized the necessity of Gospel temper- 
 ance work. 
 
 Miss Weston then distributed several silver 
 medals and “Fidelity” stars to abstainers, the 
 recipients being enthusiastically cheered as 
 they received their “decorations.” Miss Wes- 
 ton mentioned that *two thousand of these 
 honors were distributed to naval men last year. 
 
 *A “Victory” silver medal is given after five years’ total 
 abstinence. ' A “ Fidelity ” star after one year. 
 
 85 
 
he Rev. Josiah Henson, the “Uncle Tom” of “Uncle 
 Tom’s Cabin.” Taken in 1S76, when in his 88th year. 
 
OLD UNCLE TOM. 
 
 Chapter XXI. 
 
 Old Uncle Tom, 
 
 It is instructive to notice how, in the life of 
 an individual, very small events lead to greater 
 ones, and to such as one never anticipated. 
 
 In September, 1876, two things led me to 
 take a trip to London. One was to offer my 
 services to the “Red Cross Society,” which 
 was sending medical aid to the wounded in 
 Servia; the other to meet “Old Uncle Tom,” 
 of Mrs. Beecher Stowe’s famous book, and 
 arrange for his coming to Portsmouth. 
 
 Colonel F. W. Sandwith kindly introduced 
 me to the “Red Cross Society,” and it was 
 arranged that I should go with the next party, 
 but it never went. 
 
 While taking lunch with the Colonel near 
 Charing Cross, he said, “You ought to go 
 into medical mission work.” Further conver- 
 sation took place on the subject, and I bore 
 a message from the Colonel to Rev. C. J. 
 Whitmore, asking him to write Dr. Burns 
 Thomson, of Edinburgh, concerning the 
 matter. 
 
 A brief note was written to Dr. Thomson, 
 who, in reply, regretted that he did not need 
 an assistant just then in his medical mission 
 but that he understood one was needed in 
 
 ,87 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Liverpool, and he had forwarded my letter 
 there. 
 
 Dr. Thomson was one of my warmest 
 friends and counsellors up to the time of his 
 death, some two years since. He was well 
 called the “Father of Home Medical Mis- 
 sions.” Many a noble young man did he aid 
 and train as Superintendent of the Edinburgh 
 Medical Missionary Society, and later in con- 
 nection with the London M. M. Association. 
 While a student of theology, he visited the 
 poor in Edinburgh, and was led to study 
 medicine in order to better reach and influ- 
 ence them; and many of them did he lead to 
 the great Physician. 
 
 Concerning “Uncle Tom” 1 had read an 
 account in The Christian, telling how the poor 
 old colored man, then eighty-eight years of 
 age, had come to England to get aid to re- 
 deem his farm, which he had mortgaged in 
 order to continue legal proceedings against a 
 man who had defrauded the colored people 
 out of the “Dawn Institute” in Canada. After 
 nine years’ battling, Tom got the victory; but 
 his own money, and all he could get from 
 friends, was gone, and his little farm would 
 be foreclosed in a few weeks. 
 
 Tom arranged to come down to Ports- 
 mouth, and took back £40 (two hundred dol- 
 lars), as the result of his visit. While in Ports- 
 mouth, I took him on board the old “Victory,” 
 and he saw the spot “where Nelson fell.” 
 The crew of the ship was assembled and lis- 
 88 
 
OLD UNCLE TOM. 
 
 tened to “Old Tom” while he talked to them 
 of the slavery of sin, and of the kingdom of 
 heaven. He then gave all a copy of The 
 Christian Age, containing his portrait and a 
 sketch. The editor, Dr. Lobb, accompanied 
 him, and looked after his affairs generally. 
 
 Tom’s real name was Josiah Henson, as ex- 
 plained in Mrs. Stowe’s “Key to Uncle Tom's 
 Cabin.” Some of my friends thought that I 
 was being deceived in him, and determined 
 that they would not be. 
 
 I knew, however, that the man was en- 
 dorsed by such men as the Earl of Shaftes- 
 bury and Samuel Morley, M. P., two of Eng- 
 land’s noblest Christian philanthropists, and 
 I was willing and glad to join hands with them 
 in helping the poor old Negro slave, and 
 “take all risks,” and I did so. 
 
 Not long after his visit to Portsmouth, the 
 Queen of England sent for “Old Tom,” and 
 had him spend an hour with her recounting 
 some of the thrilling scenes in his eventful 
 life. Before he left, the Queen — grand, noble 
 woman that she is— exchanged autographs 
 and photographs with the poor old fugitive 
 slave, who rejoiced in Him who “taketh the 
 beggar and setteth him among princes.” The 
 Queen still lives — and long may she live — but 
 “Uncle Tom,” and the two great and grand 
 men named, have passed on to their home and 
 reward. 
 
 The portrait of “Uncle Tom” here given, 
 89 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 is reproduced from an original photograph 
 given to the author by the old hero in 1876. 
 He was a truly remarkable old man, a most 
 joyous and earnest Christian, full of good 
 humor and hearty sympathy; and like his Di- 
 vine Master, he delighted in children, and 
 especially “little ones.” At the time of his 
 visit a “little one” of four months — Lily — now 
 married — was his peculiar care; and despite 
 his inability to fully use his arms, owing to 
 the fracture of both “shoulder blades,” or 
 scapulae, by Legree, he nursed her by the 
 hour. 
 
 One night during his visit to Portsmouth 
 the old man had a dream which he narrated 
 at the breakfast table. He dreamed that he 
 was awakened by the noise of people rushing 
 along the streets, many in dismay, others filled 
 with joy. Calling from the window, he asked 
 what it all meant, and received the reply that, 
 “Jesus has come to take His people home.” 
 “Bless the Lord, I ’se all ready,” he responded, 
 clapping his hands with joy. 
 
 Perhaps no truer test of Christian character 
 and standing could be made than to pass 
 through such an experience. 
 
 After the Queen had “shaken hands” with 
 Tom, everybody wanted to do so, and I could 
 not help saying to some of my skeptical 
 friends, “You can shake hands with the old 
 man now, after the Queen, but you might 
 have done so before her, as some of us did." 
 
 90 
 
OLD UNCLE TOM. 
 
 After spending some months in Great 
 Britain, where he was most generously treated, 
 he went home, with fully ten thousand dollars 
 above all he needed to redeem his farm and 
 home. 
 
 We had removed to Liverpool meanwhile, 
 as told in the next chapter, and one day I 
 saw it stated in a newspaper that “Tom” was 
 to sail from Liverpool the next day. Accom- 
 panied by my wife, I saw the old man off. 
 How glad he was to see us and tell of all his 
 success since we met before. The writer was 
 the last man to shake hands with “Uncle 
 Tom” with one exception. The captain of 
 the steam tug was the last one to do so. We 
 shall meet again, but not on earth. 
 
 91 
 

 * 
 
 ) 
 
 Dr. William Burns-Thomson. 
 
GREAT CHANGES. 
 
 Chapter XXII. 
 
 Great Changes. 
 
 A day or two after my arrival home from 
 London, a letter was received from Liverpool, 
 asking me to go there on a visit. After 
 spending a week in that city, I was offered 
 the position of assistant to the Liverpool 
 Medical Mission, and accepted it. 
 
 It caused a great breaking up of old ties, 
 and a very hurried one, too, as all had to be 
 effecteckin a few days, but my friends managed 
 to arrange “a farewell meeting,” which was 
 attended bv representatives from the army, 
 navy, dockyard, etc., and the various denomi- 
 nations. 
 
 A purse of sovereigns was presented to me, 
 to meet expenses. Friends spoke of their not 
 knowing how they would get on now, but thev 
 were reminded that the best way they could 
 show the esteem they had expressed for any- 
 thing I had tried to do, would be by their 
 seeing to it that those efforts were not allowed 
 to fall through, and I am thankful to say that 
 they “continue to this day.” 
 
 It was indeed a great change of scene and 
 labor, but I was soon “in love with it.” There 
 was nothing very inviting in itself, in attend- 
 ing to a crowd of poor, dirty and diseased 
 93 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 people; but when each was looked upon as 
 “a human soul for whom Christ died,” and 
 for whom He had prepared a place, and pro- 
 vided by His own blood the means to make 
 it possible for them to enter heaven and be 
 fitted for the place, there was a grandeur in 
 such service which was fascinating. 
 
 There were two large dispensaries in con- 
 nection with the Liverpool Medical Mission, in 
 which about four hundred patients w'ere at- 
 tended daily during five days of the week. 
 To stand before two or three hundred of these 
 poor creatures, many being shoeless and hat- 
 less, and “less” of nearly everything worth 
 having, to tell them of the love of God, of the 
 bright heaven above, where “they shall hunger 
 no more, neither thirst any more,” and where 
 “God shall wipe away all tears from their 
 eyes,” was now the privilege I enjoyed. Fur- 
 ther, to minister to and help these poor suffer- 
 ing ones, and, while doing so, to preach the 
 Gospel to them individually, was grand work. 
 And what grander can there be on earth, than 
 to “minister to bodies and souls diseased,” and 
 have the joy of seeing both healed? 
 
 During three years of service there, I had 
 the joy of seeing many led to the Saviour, 
 chiefly through individual conversation with 
 them. I found that, while it was a good thing 
 to speak to a crowd, yet success was chiefly 
 met with in dealing with individuals — spirit- 
 ually as well as medically — by means of simple 
 language and illustration. 
 
 9 + 
 
GREAT CHANGES. 
 
 For instance, after writing a patient’s name 
 in my book, I would often converse as follows: 
 “Now you have got your name entered in my 
 book, but do you know that Jesus keeps a 
 book in heaven called the Lamb’s Book of 
 Life? Have you got your name down in His 
 book?” If the answer was negative, I would 
 ask, “Would you like to have it down there?” 
 To which the reply would generally be “Yes, 
 indeed.” “Do you know how to get it there?” 
 “No, not exactly,” or “by being good.” 
 “Well, now, how did you get it down in 
 my book?” and then I would explain: 
 
 “First, you felt sick?” 
 
 “Yes, doctor.” 
 
 “Second, you wanted to be cured? ' 
 
 “Yes, indeed; I did, sir.” 
 
 “Third, you tried to cure yourself?” 
 
 “Yes, that’s so; for I went to the druggist 
 and got ” 
 
 “Exactly; and then you found that you 
 could not cure yourself?” 
 
 “Yes, indeed.” 
 
 “And you thought, Who is there that I can 
 trust to cure me? And you decided to come 
 and trust me to do it. Now you have come, 
 you find me waiting and willing to take your 
 case in hand.” 
 
 “Indeed, I do; and thank you, doctor.” 
 “Then you see that the very first thing I 
 do is to put your name down in my book, 
 showing that you came to trust me to cure 
 you, and that I was willing to accept you as 
 95 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 my patient. In this book there are thousands 
 of names of those who have come here just 
 as you have clone.” 
 
 In this way the Gospel would be presented 
 simply, and the patients urged to trust the 
 great Physician to save their souls, as they 
 had trusted the earthly one to heal their bodies. 
 
 Many very interesting cases might be nar- 
 rated to show the value of this two-fold effort 
 to heal body and soul; but one must suffice. 
 
 The wife of a working man was attending 
 the mission as a patient, and I had often talked 
 with her about her spiritual welfare. One day 
 I urged her to decision, asking her to take the 
 words, “I will trust and not be afraid,” and 
 make them her own. She did so, and patient 
 and physician shook hands and rejoiced. 
 Opening my table drawer, in which I kept 
 various little books, cards, etc., I said, “Now, 
 I must give you something in memory of this 
 occasion.” The first thing I took out of the 
 drawer was a card, upon which was the very 
 text I had just used. Both felt that God’s 
 hand was in the coincidence, and it served to 
 increase the confidence and joy of each. The 
 card was taken home, framed, and hung over 
 the mantelpiece. 
 
 Mrs. Summers had a son away from home, 
 who was a most expert conjurer and pro- 
 nounced atheist. And she requested prayer 
 in the mission meetings for her boy “Will.” 
 Prayer was earnestly offered for him, and most 
 wonderfully answered. One night, when he 
 96 
 
GREAT CHANGES. 
 
 was hundreds of miles from home, he, to use 
 his own words, “found himself upon his knees” 
 when retiring to rest. Being there, he began 
 to talk to himself thus: “Why, Will, what are 
 you doing here? You don’t believe in this 
 kind of thing.” “Well, no; but now I am 
 here, I suppose I must do something.” Re- 
 membering a little verse his grandmother had 
 taught him at her knee, “Now I lay me down 
 to sleep,” he repeated it and lay down; but 
 not to sleep, for thoughts troubled him. 
 
 A few days later he returned home, and 
 soon after joined the church his mother at- 
 tended. 
 
 One night, after attending a meeting, he 
 packed up all his conjuring materials, which 
 had cost him about five hundred dollars, and 
 carrying them to a “rag shop,” sold them for 
 old metal and got two and a half dollars (ten 
 shillings). He first broke them up, to prevent 
 their being used by any one else. Upon his 
 making this known to me, I referred him to 
 Acts xix: 19, for an account of a similar event. 
 
 He will be referred to again further on, 
 
 97 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXIII. 
 
 Providential Dealings. 
 
 The Saviour always sought by word and act 
 to impress upon His hearers that God, His 
 Father, and their Father, who had given Him 
 to save their souls, also cared for their bodies, 
 even to the numbering of the hairs of their 
 heads. This was a truth which was continu- 
 ally placed before the poor people at the medi- 
 cal mission, most of whom had to struggle 
 very hard at times to make “both ends meet.” 
 
 It must not be supposed that all those 
 reached and helped by the mission belonged to 
 the vicious classes. Often the privilege of 
 ministering to God’s own poor was gladly em- 
 braced and enjoyed, and the weekly evening 
 meetings afforded good opportunities for the 
 demonstration of God’s care for their temporal 
 needs and welfare. A book was kept for re- 
 cording requests for prayer; one page contain- 
 ing the requests, and the opposite one the 
 answers received, and many of the latter were 
 registered. This gave a practical turn to the 
 meetings, encouraging the people to “ask,” 
 and raising the spirit of expectancy in regard 
 to their receiving answers, and thus stimulated 
 faith in prayer and the Hearer of prayer. 
 
 One night a poor, ignorant working man, 
 who attended the mission, told the following 
 98 
 
PROVIDENTIAL DEALINGS. 
 
 story: That morning his wife, five little ones 
 and himself, had eaten all the food they had; 
 the meal being finished, no work, no money, 
 and no food, led the man to gather his family 
 around him, while in prayer he asked his 
 heavenly Father to help them thus: “O Lord, 
 you knows how it is with us; I ain’t got any 
 work, and we’ve got nothing left to eat; you 
 cares for the birds and flowers, won’t you care* 
 for us?” Tom arose from his knees, kissed 
 his wife and children, and went out to look for 
 a job. He had only just turned the corner 
 of the street in which he lived when an old 
 companion met him. “Hallo Tom, my boy, 
 how are yer? Why, I haven’t seen yer for 
 months; and they tell me as you’ve turned 
 religious and teetotal.” 
 
 “Yes, Jim, I think I was on the wrong road 
 long enough.” 
 
 “Well, Tom, I wish I was like yer, and hope 
 to be some day.” 
 
 “That’s right, Jim, I’m glad to hear you say 
 so, for I know there's nothing like serving 
 God, and now I’m out of work I goes to Him, 
 and axes Him to help me, and He does it.” 
 
 “Why, Tom, you talks like a parson, old fel- 
 lar; and it just comes to my mind to pay yer 
 back what I borrowed of yer last time we had 
 a spree together.” 
 
 “What you borrowed of me?” asked Tom 
 in astonishment; “I didn’t know you owed me 
 aught.” 
 
 “No, I s’pose not, you were too drunk then, 
 99 
 
“tell them/’ 
 
 but here it is,” and Jim placed a gold sover- 
 eign in Tom’s hand. 
 
 As Tom said at the meeting, it made him 
 tremble all over, for it seemed to be “red hot 
 from heaven.” 
 
 One evening, the thirty-seventh Psalm was 
 being read, and an elderly man who was not 
 in the habit of attending the mission was pre- 
 sent and remarked that the people of God got 
 their bread although they had to beg it, while 
 the Psalmist says, “I have never seen the 
 righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging 
 bread.” 
 
 This remark led me to narrate the following 
 personal experience: At the time referred to 
 I was in need of ten pounds, and thought to 
 get the loan of that sum from some friend, but 
 could not make up my mind to ask anyone 
 to help me, for one reason or another. Just 
 at the very time it was actually needed, I was 
 astonished by receiving a letter from a lady 
 hundreds of miles away, who knew nothing 
 of my need, and had never helped me before, 
 but was impressed to send a check for ten 
 pounds, and that, not as a loan, but a gift. 
 
 As I narrated this incident, and watched the 
 effect upon my hearers, I realized how needful 
 it was to have been placed in similar circum- 
 stances oneself, in order to be able to sym- 
 pathize with and aid others; and that might 
 explain why I had been allowed to pass 
 through that experience. 
 
 ioo 
 
ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 
 Across the Atlantic. 
 
 In the summer of 1879, some friends con- 
 nected with the medical mission in Liverpool 
 visited America and learned of the proposal to 
 open a medical mission in Philadelphia. They 
 were pleased to advise with the friends having 
 this project in hand, and upon returning home 
 they informed me of the circumstances, and 
 made some suggestions about my going over 
 to aid in the work. After prayerfully consid- 
 ering the matter, my wife and I decided that 
 we would go if the Lord seemed so to direct. 
 
 An offer of rooms at the mission, free of 
 rent, was made by the friends in Philadelphia, 
 but this was all they were able to provide for 
 us in any way. Further consideration was 
 given to the subject, and certain events trans- 
 piring seemed to indicate that it was the right 
 thing to go. It was still open to question, 
 however, until the morning of August 13th, 
 when our going had to be finally decided 
 upon, as we would need to sail one week later. 
 
 That morning I knelt in prayer with my 
 wife and four children earnestly praying for 
 guidance, and, rising from my knees, sat down 
 Bible in hand. As I did so, it “fell open,” and 
 my eye went “as an arrow to the mark,” and 
 I seemed to see only one verse, Isaiah xlii: 
 16, “And I will bring the blind by a way they 
 
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ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 know not: I will lead them in paths that they 
 have not known; I will make darkness light 
 before them; and crooked things straight. 
 These things will I do unto them, and not 
 forsake them, saith the Lord.” It was 
 enough; I turned to my wife and we decided, 
 ‘‘We will go, for this is evidently the Lord’s 
 message to us.” 
 
 It was not a small thing to take this step. 
 To give up home and friends was something, 
 but to give up a certainty in the shape of a 
 position with definite salary, for a seeming 
 uncertainty, and with six in family, was a 
 matter that needed very careful and prayerful 
 consideration, and clear assurance that God 
 was leading, even as He led Abraham to leave 
 his home and country. He had led me to 
 Portsmouth dockyard in 1870, and to Liver- 
 pool in 1876, and if now, in 1879, He was 
 leading from Liverpool to America, we were 
 ready to go. The same God leads to-day 
 those who are willing to follow, although the 
 doing so does not always mean a path of 
 roses, but very often one of thorns. 
 
 In less than two hours after the experience 
 just related, we had tangible evidence of the 
 care of our Heavenly Father by a friend giving 
 twenty pounds, and another five pounds, 
 towards meeting the expense of voyage, etc., 
 and without their being spoken to by me.* 
 
 * Miss Weston’s letter, reproduced on the preceding page, 
 was also written on August 13th, the day referred to, and 
 contained five pounds. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 The work of breaking up home soon began. 
 Selling some things, and packing others, and 
 bidding good-bye to friends, were things gone 
 through not without a pang. 
 
 My dear friend, Mr. B. F. Babcock, Trea- 
 surer of the Liverpool Medical Mission, also 
 contributed to our “Transit Fund,” and re- 
 ceived gifts from friends in our behalf, so that 
 by the time of our departure one hundred 
 guineas (over five hundred dollars) had been 
 contributed, including ten pounds received at 
 the farewell meeting, chiefly given by the poor 
 people attending the mission. 
 
 Among those who helped us to cross the 
 Atlantic were Miss Weston, Lady Bell, Alex- 
 ander Balfour, Esq., Samuel Smith, Esq., 
 M. P., John Houghton, Esq., Mr. Douglas 
 Hebson, Rev. Conrad S. Green and friends, 
 Rev. William Lockett, Mr. C. R. Hurditch 
 Mr. John Groom, also Drs. G. B. Denton, 
 Tames Hakes, J. A. Owles, Gordon Smith, 
 and J. A Howard 
 
 To all of these friends, and others not men- 
 tioned, I wish to record my sincere thanks for 
 kindly aid thus rendered. Th'ey made it pos- 
 sible for us to cross the Atlantic, and their 
 pravers and sympathy helped us much then 
 and since. 
 
 The dav of our sailing was a memorable 
 one. Several of the friends named above came 
 to see us off, and to say “Good bye,” in the 
 truest meaning of the words. A large num- 
 
 104 
 
B. F. Babcock, Esq., 
 
 Treasurer of t the Liverpool Medical Mission, England, 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 ber of the poor who had been patients at the 
 missions were also present, and as we noted 
 some expressions of sadness at our leaving 
 them, we were reminded somewhat of Paul’s 
 farewell, narrated in Acts xx, closing with the 
 words, “And they accompanied him unto the 
 ship.” 
 
 It was a trying ordeal for all when the S. S. 
 Indiana bore us out into mid-stream, and home 
 and friends gradually faded from our view, on 
 August 20th, 1879. 
 
 U. S. Minister Welch sailed in the vessel on 
 the same trip on his return from England, 
 where he had been for some years the U. S. 
 Minister. 
 
 It was in this vessel that General U. S. 
 Grant made his memorable trip around the 
 world some years before. 
 
 106 
 
IN A STRANGE LAND. 
 
 Chapter XXV. 
 
 In a Strange Land. 
 
 After a rather stormy passage of twelve 
 days, we sighted Columbia’s fair shore and 
 landed in Philadelphia. Mr. E. F. Baldwin, 
 who, with his cousin, Dr. Kirkpatrick, had re- 
 cently opened a medical mission in that city, 
 was the first American to welcome us. He 
 did so very heartily, as did many other friends, 
 so that we scarcely realized that we were 
 “strangers in a strange land.” 
 
 One of the first things Mr. Baldwin had to 
 tel! us was that our trunks were not to go to 
 the mission, but to another address. In ex- 
 planation of this, he narrated the following 
 incident, which afforded a further proof of 
 “our Father’s care” in anteceding our wants, 
 even as He placed the coal in the earth to 
 meet the needs of generations to come. Only 
 two days before our arrival Mr. Baldwin re- 
 ceived the news of our decision to come. 
 Meantime the occupants of the rooms which 
 he had offered for our use had decided to re- 
 main. The thought of our arriving without 
 being able to take up our abode at the mission 
 caused our friend considerable anxiety. How- 
 ever, he remembered that the usual monthly 
 prayer meeting of half a dozen business men, 
 107 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 which he attended, met that afternoon, and he 
 resolved to ask prayer for us there. Having 
 told the circumstances to those present, a 
 good brother, Mr. William Edis, said, “Don’t 
 trouble about that, Brother Baldwin, they can 
 go into that house of mine; it's empty, except 
 some articles of furniture, which they can use. 
 and they can stay there as long as they need 
 free of rent, as they are coming here to do 
 the Lord’s work.” 
 
 Mr. Baldwin was greatly astonished and re- 
 joiced. And yet we were not allowed to know 
 of this difficulty until delivered from it. It 
 was indeed strange, in one sense, that this 
 good friend should have so readily offered 
 such a welcome to strangers, but he believed 
 that he acted in accordance with the prompt- 
 ings of Providence, and so believes to this day, 
 and so do we. 
 
 There was one thing which it was desirable 
 I should now accomplish, if possible, viz., ob- 
 tain a medical degree, which for various rea- 
 sons I had been unable to gain hitherto. The 
 possession of this would materially increase 
 my usefulness in future work. 
 
 The Faculty of Jefferson Medical College, 
 recognizing my previous experience in the 
 practice of medicine, granted my degree after 
 attending two sessions of lectures. 
 
 The hundred guineas kindly given by friends 
 was about half gone by the time of landing in 
 Philadelphia, and getting housed; and of the 
 
 jo8 
 
IN A STRANGE LAND. 
 
 .remaining two hundred and fifty dollars, one 
 hundred and fifty — at half rates — had to be 
 paid for college fees for two years, leaving 
 only one hundred dollars towards providing 
 for all our needs for a year and a half. 
 
 Of course, there was nothing to do but to 
 practice the strictest economy, and this was 
 so done that at the end of eighteen months it 
 was found that the total expenditure for six, 
 and the greater part of the time seven, in fam- 
 ily, was about $360; or five dollars a week for 
 everything except rent, which was free of cost. 
 
 During part of this time things came to a 
 “pretty severe pass” at times, but at each 
 juncture the crooked was made straight and 
 deliverance came. Having only one hundred 
 dollars to begin with, the remaining two hun- 
 dred and sixty dollars were obtained in va- 
 rious ways. Our oldest boy, Harry, for the 
 last ten months of the time, worked for Mr. 
 Edis and received two dollars a week by run- 
 ning messages, earning, in all, nearly one hun- 
 dred dollars. 
 
 The remainder of the two hundred and sixty 
 dollars needed was received at different times, 
 in various ways, and in such manner as to in- 
 dicate Providential care. Part came as gifts, 
 and some was earned by work of various 
 kinds. 
 
 Towards the last, the pinch became terribly 
 severe, and at times a meal was eaten without 
 any apparent certainty of the next; and yet 
 109 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 a meal time never came but food was there, 
 though humble the fare. 
 
 On one occasion a friend sent us a large 
 basket filled with provisions of all kinds, the 
 donor being unknown to this day. At another 
 time, a friend, Mr. E. A. Jones, brought ten 
 silver dollars from Mr. G. W. Childs, whom 
 I had never then seen. Thus in some way or 
 other the Lord did provide. 
 
 It may not be out of place here to mention 
 an incident which gave striking evidence of 
 God’s watchful care over us in other ways. 
 One very hot day in May, 1880, I left home 
 for college, not intending to return until night. 
 About three o’clock in the afternoon a strange 
 impression that “something was wrong” led 
 me to leave college and go home. Arriving 
 there, to my dismay, I found my dear wife in 
 delirium from “heat stroke,” and our five 
 children gathered together in a group in fear 
 and trembling. The oldest, Harry, was then 
 scarcely eleven years, the youngest but two 
 months old, and there was no one else 
 in the house at the time. For six hours 
 the strongest measures were needed to over- 
 come the violence of the attack, and her life 
 and those of the children were only saved as 
 by a miracle. 
 
 Seven years later, shortly before her death, 
 that dear wife and mother told me that a terri- 
 ble thought had seized her mind shortly be- 
 fore my arrival home that day, i. e., that she 
 
 no 
 
IN A STRANGE LAND. 
 
 should kill the children and then herself; and 
 had I not arrived when I did, she in all prob- 
 ability would have carried out this awful 
 tragedy. Is it necessary to ask, Who or what 
 led me to leave college and go home that day? 
 Surely not. 
 
 Truly, there is ‘‘an eye that never sleeps.” 
 Tis God’s. 
 
 I may explain here concerning our son 
 Harrv up to the present writing. He was ad- 
 mitted to Mr. D. L. Moody’s Bovs’ School at 
 Mount Hermon in the fall of 1881, and re- 
 mained there a year. Mr. Moody began his 
 school in that year with twenty little fellows, 
 from ten to twelve years of age. He had two 
 farm cottages for them; a “mother” in each 
 house had ten in charge. 
 
 After working in Broadway stores for two 
 years, Harry spent a second year at Mr. 
 Moody’s, and while there, in 1886, the first 
 Students’ Conference was held at Mt. Her- 
 mon, out of which grew the Student Volun- 
 teer Movement for Foreign Missions. My 
 son was one of the first hundred who joined 
 the movement at that time. He afterwards 
 attended Pennington Seminary, N. J., and was 
 for two years at Princeton College. Here he 
 “fought his own way” financially almost en- 
 tirely. In 1896, he obtained his M. D., and 
 is now “awaiting orders” from the Lord, to 
 whom he was given by his parents as a babe, 
 and to whom he gave himself in 1880. 
 
 m 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXVI. 
 
 Just in Time. 
 
 It would be specially pleasant to be able to 
 tell of all the kindness shown by friends, and 
 of the good hand of our God upon us during 
 these months; but although this cannot be 
 done, some instances are given in this chapter. 
 
 Not long after landing in America, my dear 
 wife remarked one day how much she wished 
 she had her old easy chair to rest in, as she 
 often felt tired, and was not then in good 
 health. The next day some friend, to the pre- 
 sent unknown, sent her an easy rocking chair. 
 “Doth God care for oxen?” was once asked. 
 Yes, and for sparrows, too. How much mere 
 then for His children? 
 
 As the time for graduation approached, the 
 usual fee of thirty dollars was needed, but no 
 money was in hand to meet it. A dear lady 
 friend, Mrs. A. P. Solomon, was led to give 
 the amount just when required, and add this 
 to many previous kind acts. The even ng be- 
 fore graduation had to be spent by one of the 
 graduates in mending his shoes, so as to ap- 
 pear decently. It had been a hard struggle, 
 but the end came, and with it victory, in the 
 possession of the desired degree of M. D., and 
 with the commendation of the faculty, on 
 
 1 1 2 
 
JUST IN TIME. 
 
 March 12th, 1881. The graduating exercises 
 were held in the Academy of Music, the plat- 
 form covered with bouquets of flowers for the 
 graduates, making a floral frame around the 
 faculty, trustees and graduates. A little 
 group of a mother and five children were 
 specially interested in one of the graduates, 
 and waved and clapped as he ascended the 
 platform. They had been sharers in the 
 struggles of various kinds which had preceded 
 that event, and could not be blamed for ex- 
 pressing their interest and joy in the success 
 attained. 
 
 The following days were very trying; meals 
 were provided, but with less and less prospect 
 of the next. On March 22d, our family sat 
 down to the last morsel of food: breakfast 
 consisting of dry bread, coffee and sugar. 
 Everything, it seemed, had come to an end. 
 The clouds gathered thick and dark, so that 
 we could scarcely “look up,” where we had 
 been looking, for guidance as to our future 
 sphere of labor, now that the mission was in 
 full operation, and yet unable to contribute 
 towards my support. We were silent — dumb 
 and helpless. Was it all a great blunder, our 
 leaving home? No, it surely could not be: 
 and we still tried to “hold on.” As John 
 Newton wrote: 
 
 “ His love in times past forbids me to think 
 He’D leave me at last in trouble to sink; 
 
 Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review 
 
 Confirms His good pleasure to help me cjuite through.” 
 
 H3 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 About nine o’clock that morning the mis- 
 sion door bell rang, and a 'letter was received 
 from our good friend, Mr. B. F. Babcock, of 
 Liverpool. It had been twelve days on its way, 
 but it came just in time for the next meal, and 
 had more than enough for that in it, for it 
 contained a check for ten pounds (fifty dol- 
 lars). Shall I attempt to tell the reader of 
 the mingled feelings with which it was eagerly 
 received, read and rejoiced over? I cannot. 
 
 The letter suggested that I should go to 
 New York and see two gentlemen who were 
 named, and who had expressed a desire to see 
 such a work in New York when they were 
 visiting Liverpool. 
 
 Calling upon my friend, Mr. Edis, that 
 morning, and telling him the “good news,” 
 and of my intention to go on to New York 
 the following day, we rejoiced together. His 
 partner, Mr. Mockridge, overhearing our con- 
 versation, said: “I’m glad to hear it, doctor,” 
 and, taking out his pocket book, he added, 
 “I’ve got something here which I’ve been car- 
 rying for three months, and I think it must 
 be meant for you.” So saying, he handed me 
 a ticket from Philadelphia to New York. 
 
 Mr. Edward A. Jones, one of my first and 
 fast friends in Philadelphia, had left that city 
 for New York some months previously, and 
 the following morning found me at his office 
 in New York, the only man I then knew in 
 that city. 
 
 114 
 
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK. 
 
 Chapter XXVII. 
 
 First Experiences in New York. 
 
 It was indeed a great pleasure to meet my 
 old friend, Mr. Jones, and to tell him of all the 
 Lord’s leadings. His office was at Fulton 
 Street and Broadway, and remembering that 
 the old noon-day prayer meeting was held on 
 Fulton Street, I asked that we might go there 
 and see the man and the place about which 
 I had read in 1864 — seventeen years before — 
 in “The Power of Prayer.” 
 
 It was a great privilege to be there, and 
 one enjoyed many times since, as my friend- 
 ship with the founder, Mr. Lanphier, has 
 ripened and deepened. It was well to spend 
 the first hour in the city in such a place, and 
 to ask prayer for guidance in the new under- 
 taking. (As each year has been completed, 
 the noon hour has been spent in the Fulton 
 Street meeting, in memory of March 23d, 
 1881.) 
 
 One of the next things to do was to wa.t 
 upon the two gentlemen named in the letter 
 from Liverpool. But, upon our calling at 
 their offices, the one declined ro join in the 
 project, as he was already busily engaged in 
 other Christian work; the other, strangely 
 enough, declined even to see us, and although 
 
 115 
 
THREE NEW YORK FRIENDS. 
 
 Mr. Edward A. Jones, Mr. John C. Lanphier, 
 
 Treasurer Dr. Gustavus A. Sabine. Founder of the 
 
 I. M. M. Society. Fulton St. Prayer Meeting. 
 
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK. 
 
 we called again two days later, he treated us 
 in the same peculiar manner. 
 
 This was indeed a great surprise, and one 
 that at first quite staggered us. The fact was, 
 I had come to the city feeling assured of a 
 warm welcome from these men, who, as I was 
 informed, desired to see a medical mission in 
 New York. My expectation was like that of 
 the disciples, when they followed the man 
 carrying the pitcher of water and found all 
 things “prepared,” as their Master had said, 
 but my experience was certainly not in accord 
 therewith.* 
 
 As we two men stood upon Broadway, 
 staggered by the action of these men, wonder- 
 ing what it could mean, and whether I had 
 made a mistake, there was brought to my re- 
 membrance, in a very vivid manner, the Expe- 
 rience of the disciples upon the stormy lake. 
 
 They received the audible command of the 
 Master to get into the boat and go over to 
 “the other side,” but when they essayed to do 
 
 * The strangest thing is, perhaps, that although seven or 
 eight of the nearest relatives of the first man referred to, in- 
 cluding both his parents, have given and give to this work, 
 he has never giveti a cent. The wife of the other is a regular 
 contributor, too, but he has never yet given a cent to the 
 work. And both are millionaires. Explain it? I cannot 
 do so. I can only call to mind the experience of the Sa- 
 viour Himself with the rich young man. He could more 
 readily get poor, struggling fishermen to follow Him, and 
 “forsake all” in doing so. “Even His brethren did not 
 believe in Him.'" Neither did these men believe in me, evi- 
 dently, or they would gladly have embraced and not lost 
 their opportunity of doing good. 
 
 *17 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 so, they had to “down sails” and “out oars” 
 and toil all night until “He came walking on 
 the sea,” and delivered them. There was no 
 question as to their being in the path of duty, 
 but it became one of opposition and danger. 
 
 Feeling assured that we were in the right 
 path, we decided to “go ahead” as God should 
 lead. 
 
 One of the friends whom Mr. Jones and I 
 called upon on the day of my arrival in the 
 city was Mr. R. R. McBurney, the veteran 
 Y. M. C. A. Secretary, who gave us the bene- 
 fit of his wise counsel, and has ever evinced 
 an interest in the cause. 
 
 A letter of introduction was given to a 
 Christian physician, Dr. G. A. Sabine, by his 
 son, the Rev. W. T. Sabine, D. D., and the 
 doctor gave us a warm welcome. After se- 
 curing promises of co-operation from a few 
 other physicians, ministers and other friends, 
 the New York Medical Mission was founded 
 in Dr. Sabine’s house, 46 West Twenty-third 
 Street, and he remained a warm friend and 
 contributor to the cause until his death in No- 
 vember, 1896, at nearly eighty-four years of 
 age. 
 
 It was hard work, in view of the following 
 facts, to obtain all the needed personal and 
 pecuniary aid; but He who sent us to build 
 aided us in the building. 
 
 First. I was a stranger. 
 
 Second. There were so many existing 
 1x8 
 
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK. 
 
 claims upon the time and resources of really 
 generous people. 
 
 Third. The future welfare of the work made 
 it desirable that it should not be placed upon 
 a sectarian basis, and thus it was likely to lie, 
 at least for a time, the servant of all but the 
 child of none. 
 
 Fourth. Most persons seemed to be quite 
 ignorant as to the character and value of medi- 
 cal missions. 
 
 But in spite of these drawbacks, success was 
 given, as will be further narrated. 
 
 Having secured the promise of co-operation 
 of fifteen men, physicians and others, premises 
 were rented at No. 5 East Broadway (Chatham 
 Square) and a large store fitted up and opened 
 as a free dispensary and mission, in what is 
 known as the Fourth Ward, said to be the 
 wickedest part of the city. 
 
 This was opened in June, 1881; and notice 
 of its opening being given in various papers, 
 the ‘‘sick poor” soon began to come. The 
 first day there were seventeen, but the num- 
 bers soon ranged to between fifty and sixty 
 a day for six days in the week. 
 
 At first, in visiting those too sick to leave 
 their homes in the slums of the city, it was 
 difficult to find them. A certain name and 
 address would be given— say, Mrs. Murphy, 
 30 Cherry Street. Upon arriving at the house 
 bearing the number given, the group of men 
 and women around the doorway would seem 
 
 119 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 almost purposely to block the entrance; when 
 I would ask if Mrs. Murphy did not live there 
 — “No, sir; no such person lives here.” Upon 
 being- informed that I was “the Doctor,” and 
 that I had come to see her, understanding that 
 she was sick, the group would exchange 
 glances, and, as I was about to leave, one 
 would burst out with, “What name did you 
 say. sir, Mrs. Murphy?” “Yes, Mrs. Mur- 
 phy.” “Oh! Mrs. Murphy, Mrs. Murphy; 
 why, yes, Doctor; there’s a woman by that 
 name on the top floor back,” and the crowd 
 would divide and entrance be gained when it 
 could not otherwise have been obtained. 
 
 In the evenings the Mission was opened for 
 Gospel meetings, and poor drunkards and 
 outcasts would come in, many being saved, 
 “body and soul.” One night an Irishman 
 stood up in the meeting and said, “I’ve been 
 listening to all you’ve been saying, and it was 
 good, but for the life of me I can’t tell what 
 persuasion ye are, and I’d like to know.” 
 
 I said that I would be pleased to reply, and 
 answered him as follows: “First, we’ve been 
 persuaded that we are all lost sinners ; second, 
 we’ve been persuaded that God gave His Son 
 to save us; third, we’ve been persuaded t^ 
 trust Hi.n to save us; and fourth, we’re trying 
 to persuade others to do the same. This is 
 our persuasion.” 
 
 The man was fully satisfied and resumed 
 his seat. 
 
 120 
 
DISCOURAGEMENTS AND DELIVERANCES. 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. 
 
 Discouragements and Deliverances. 
 
 One of the things which at first was very 
 discouraging was to notice how readily the 
 devil seemed to have all the money he needed 
 to carry on his work, in the liquor saloons and 
 such places around the mission, while we were 
 often unable to get money to carry on this 
 work for God. To see these palaces well 
 lighted and fitted up with all that money could 
 furnish; to see the mission without money to 
 replace broken windows, smashed by the 
 roughs; or to pay for other needed things; to 
 go home tired late at night not possessing the 
 five cents needed to ride on a car; were things 
 trying to flesh and blood of ordinary kind, 
 such as we happened to be made of, and it 
 took all the grit and grace we possessed to 
 “stick to it” under these circumstances. 
 
 I am thankful, however, to say that I was 
 enabled to do so by God’s help. 
 
 In November, 1881, the constant strain of 
 work and care, with exposure to severe 
 weather, induced a bad attack of sickness. 
 
 On a certain day I was barely able to attend 
 to the fifty or more patients who clamored for 
 help, and yet was less able to say “no” to them 
 and send them away. 
 
 121 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 The last patient had been attended to and 
 had passed out, and I was about to lock the 
 door of the dispensary and wend my way 
 home; a long, weary journey, having no 
 money for car fare, when another patient 
 came. He begged that I would give him some 
 more of the medicine he had been taking. I 
 confess that it cost me an effort to turn the 
 key and attend to him, but it was well for me 
 that I did not refuse. 
 
 “Make you His service your delight; He’ll 
 make your wants His care.” As we returned 
 to the door on the way out, I noticed that a 
 letter had been placed in the box. Thrusting 
 it into my pocket, feeling too weary to see 
 what it was, or from whom it came, I pro- 
 ceeded towards home. 
 
 I had, however, gone but a few paces when 
 it occurred to me that possibly it might be a 
 “call” from a patient too sick to come to the 
 dispensary. Opening it by the light of a 
 street lamp, I found in it a half sheet of note 
 paper, on which was written, “Your heavenly 
 Father knoweth that ye have need of these 
 things,” and a one dollar bill. Thus was the 
 need met and car fare and other necessaries 
 provided. The sender is to this day unknown 
 to me, but that half sheet of note paper has 
 been kept. 
 
 The next day I was unable to leave my bed 
 till late in the afternoon, and was seated by the 
 kitchen fire (the only fire in the house), when 
 
 122 
 
DISCOURAGEMENTS AND DELIVERANCES. 
 
 a gentleman — an entire stranger — called. He 
 chatted pleasantly for a few minutes without 
 giving his name and without my telling him 
 of our need. 
 
 As he left the house he shook hands with 
 my wife, and at the same time placed a five 
 dollar gold piece in her hand, “to get some- 
 thing for the doctor,” he said. 
 
 When he had gone, we wondered who he 
 was, and what had led him to call upon us and 
 act so strangely; but a few days later our at- 
 tention was called to an article in the New 
 York Witness, which told us all about the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 In the article referred to, the writer ex- 
 plained that while engaged at his desk in his 
 office, he was startled by, as it seemed, some 
 one speaking the name, “Dowkontt,” in his 
 ear. He turned around, but no one was there. 
 He resumed his writing, but again the name 
 sounded in his ear, or heart. 
 
 “Why,” said he to himself, “that is the name 
 of the doctor who recently opened that medi- 
 cal mission in the city. Strange that his name 
 should come to my mind like that. Perhaps 
 there is something the matter with him; I’ll 
 go and see.” 
 
 So saying, he put on his hat and came to 
 the dispensary, which was about five or six 
 minutes’ walk from his office. When he 
 reached the mission, he found a notice on the 
 door saying that the doctor had been taken 
 sick and could not be there that day. 
 
 123 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 As he turned away, he remarked to himself, 
 “If I knew where he lived, I’d go and see him, 
 but as I don’t know, I can’t go.” 
 
 He resumed his work once more, but had 
 not proceeded far when the same peculiar ex- 
 perience was met with. Calling one of his 
 clerks, he said, “Bring me the New York 
 Directory. I must find him if I can.” 
 
 The directory for New York was searched 
 in vain, and oncemore he proceeded, but again 
 came the call or name. 
 
 Calling now for the Brooklyn Directory, 
 he discovered our address, and as it was now 
 nearly time for him to close his office and go 
 home, he decided to leave his business and 
 find us as soon as possible. 
 
 This was not an easy task, however, but 
 about an hour after leaving his office he found 
 the house in which we resided, with the result 
 as previously stated. 
 
 A remarkable experience, indeed, was it 
 not? The striking thing being that I did not 
 know who he was or what had led him to call ; 
 I had only seen him, I afterwards discovered, 
 at the opening of our mission in Chatham 
 Square in the previous June, and then only as 
 one of many who were present. 
 
 When we read the account in the Witness , 
 it was with mingled feelings indeed. 
 
 It was hard to see ourselves “in print” after 
 that fashion, as we naturally shrank from let- 
 ting our poverty be known, but we felt, “It is 
 124 
 
DISCOURAGEMENTS AND DELIVERANCES. 
 
 the Lord's doing, and marvellous in our eyes,” 
 and so acquiesced. 
 
 Some of the readers of the Witness , touched 
 by the story, sent to the writer various sums, 
 in all nearly one hundred dollars, within the 
 next few days. And upon the story being re- 
 printed some weeks later in the Christian 
 Herald of England, it was read by some of the 
 poor patients in Liverpool, who gathered to- 
 gether, talked it over, cried it over, prayed it 
 over, and planned to send some help to us in 
 New York. 
 
 And so it is eAudently possible, in a great 
 city of wealth, to struggle on in a good work, 
 and often lack the means to do the work; or 
 to support life at times. But God sends His 
 “wingless angels” on His errands of mercy at 
 such times. Oh! for those who listen for His 
 voice, and hasten to obey, as this good man 
 did. If all obeyed as he did, want would soon 
 be done away. 
 
"teli. them.” 
 
 Chapter XXIX. 
 
 A Silver D. 
 
 During the first few years of our American 
 life, many difficulties were met with and over- 
 come, deliverance being sent in such a man- 
 ner as to leave no doubt as to the actual De- 
 liverer. Although unseen by the natural 
 vision, God’s watchfulness, love and power 
 were so manifest that at times it seemed as if 
 we really did see the hand of the Deliverer. 
 But, if not, why doubt the fact of His exist- 
 ence and love? 
 
 The friend who sent the dollar, as told in 
 the last chapter, has never yet been seen or 
 known to the writer; but can there be any 
 doubt of his or her existence and sympathy, 
 because as yet unseen? The envelope was 
 addressed to the right person, and contained 
 tangible evidence of sympathy and power to 
 aid in a practical manner one in need. So 
 with our Father in heaven, whose power, wis- 
 dom and love are manifest in all His works, 
 though He Himself as yet be invisible to mor- 
 tal eye. • 
 
 To know of a surety in one’s inner con- 
 sciousness that God is, and that He watches 
 over His creatures, even the sparrows; to 
 know that He is my Father, who thinketh 
 126 
 
A SILVER D. 
 
 upon me, and has manifested this by actually 
 hearing and answering my prayer, “uttered 
 or unexpressed,” is to know the sublimest 
 truth possible to man on earth. But how we 
 shrink from obtaining such knowledge when 
 it can only come to us as the result of being 
 brought low into the depths of trouble. 
 
 Many times during these early years, and 
 some of the succeeding ones, has the five or 
 ten cent thank offering of the patients been 
 all the money taken home at the close of the 
 day. How little did these pojr people think 
 or know of these things! 
 
 The day that President Garfield was buried 
 was a general holiday and the weather was 
 very hot. The whole of the way to the ferry 
 had to be walked in the burning rays of the 
 sun. As the perspiration poured off my face, 
 I began to inwardly complain, when, as a flash, 
 there was brought to my remembrance these 
 words: “Rejoice, in that ye are made partakers 
 of Christ’s sufferings.” The effect was magi- 
 cal! and of such a character that I actually 
 laughed outright at the thought of such a 
 comparison. It had, however, the desired ef- 
 fect, for all the murmuring spirit fled, and I 
 went on my way in a different mood. I had 
 debated as to my going to the mission at all 
 on that day, it being a holiday; but inasmuch 
 as people do not all at once get well because 
 of a holiday, I decided to go. Strangely 
 enough, on that day the patients gave more 
 
 127 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 than twice as much as the largest amount 
 contributed on any previous occasion. Often- 
 times a day would pass without a cent being 
 given, while on others only a few cents would 
 be received. 
 
 In December, 1882, funds were very low 
 indeed, and during Christmas week scarcely 
 anything was obtained beyond bare subsis- 
 tence. Each day of the week my children 
 were anxiously waiting to be taken to see the 
 stores or shops all filled with Christmas goods, 
 but to take them only to see that which they 
 could not possess, would be very trying to all. 
 Day after day they were made to hope for bet- 
 ter things, until Saturday arrived, and I 
 wended my way home having only enough to 
 pay the ferry over the river, and then walk. 
 
 A dear friend brought a toy sleigh for the 
 children, which I carried home and we “made 
 the most of it.” Then, gathering all together, 
 we had a good time of singing before retiring 
 for the night. Next day, the one before 
 Christmas, although we had something to eat, 
 I had not even two cents to pay the ferry to 
 get to New York to conduct the Sunday 
 school and evening meeting. However, 
 shortly before the time for leaving, a friend 
 called and furnished the needed means. 
 
 Arriving home about eleven o’clock that 
 night, my wife, Mr. Summers, my first stu- 
 dent, and myself sat together talking over the 
 condition of affairs. 
 
 128 
 
A SILVER I>. 
 
 Suddenly, a few minutes before midnight, 
 we were startled by a sharp ring at the door 
 bell, which at the same time awoke four of the 
 five children out of their sleep. They had 
 gone to bed with visions of Santa Claus and 
 his descent with wonderful things. Hearing 
 our exclamations of surprise, they rushed 
 down stairs. 
 
 Going to the door as quickly as possible, 
 supposing some one was sick and needed aid, 
 I was astonished not to see any one there. 
 In vain I looked around, no one could be seen 
 upon the street, although the moon was shin- 
 ing very brightly. My wife and Mr. Sum- 
 mers, not hearing me address any one, came 
 to the door, and I said, “How peculiar it is.” 
 There was no mistake as to the bell being 
 rung, but how anyone could ring it and get 
 away so quickly seemed a mystery. 
 
 “Why, George, what is this?” said my wife, 
 as she directed my attention to the doorstep, 
 on which lay something glittering in the 
 moonlight, forming the initial letter of our 
 name, “D.” Closer inspection revealed ten 
 bright, new, silver dollars, all bearing the date 
 of the year, 1882. After another fruitless 
 search for the messenger, there was nothing 
 to do but close the door and thank the Sender, 
 though unable to thank the bringer.* 
 
 *Not until 1896 — fourteen years later — did I know who 
 brought those silver dollars. It was the friend referred to in 
 the previous chapter, who left his desk to find me when 
 sick, and gave me five dollars in gold. 
 
 129 
 
“tell them/’ 
 
 Gathering our four children together, we 
 seven knelt down and thanked our Father in 
 heaven. Upon rising from our knees, our 
 eldest boy, Harry, asked, “Mother, is it all 
 real, or are we dreaming?” No, indeed, it 
 was no dream. 
 
 All those dollars were readily cashed when 
 presented. After assuring our children that 
 it was all real, my wife remarked, “George, 
 dear, I think we ought to keep one of those 
 dollars in remembrance of this occurrence.” 
 
 We did, and have it to this day. Often, 
 since then, we should have been glad of a dol- 
 lar, or part of one, but we could not spend 
 that one, as it had not only been consecrated 
 but redeemed. 
 
 For a lady, Mrs. A. L. Corwin, hearing of 
 this deliverance, sent two dollars to my wife, 
 so that she should not be at any loss for sav- 
 ing that one as a memorial. 
 
 Later on, thinking over this event, I could 
 not but feel thankful that our children had re- 
 ceived such a life long lesson. Do they not 
 forget it? No, not to this day, and they never 
 will. Better to them by far than the Christ- 
 mas presents they might have had, had we 
 possessed the means earlier, was this practical 
 illustration of “our Father’s care.” Yet we 
 had to be “brought low” to obtain the help. 
 How often our hardest trials are made to be- 
 come our greatest blessings, and thus, by 
 going down, we ascend. 
 
UNEXPECTED VISITORS. 
 
 Chapter XXX. 
 
 Unexpected Visitors. 
 
 About two o’clock one Saturday afternoon 
 in September, 1883, having seen all the pa- 
 tients at the dispensary, I prepared to go 
 home, but remembered that there were but a 
 few cents in the house when I left that morn- 
 ing. It, however, occurred to me that the 
 monthly rent (three dollars) paid for the cellar 
 under the mission, was due on that day. I 
 directed my janitor to go to the man, who 
 lived only a few doors away, and get the 
 amount, intending to share it with him. He 
 reported, “The man is out, doctor, but they 
 expect him every minute.” 
 
 “All right,” I replied, “I suppose we will 
 have to wait.” 
 
 At the end of ten minutes he went again, 
 but the man had not returned, and so he con- 
 tinued going every ten or fifteen minutes, un- 
 til in this way over two hours had passed. 
 My janitor was a godly man, son of an old 
 physician, who had met with reverses. He 
 entered very heartily into all the work of the 
 mission, and I treated him, as, indeed, he was, 
 a brother in the Lord. It was just half past 
 four and the man had not yet returned. The 
 waiting was very tiresome, especially as I 
 knew that I was expected home, and had 
 promised to return as soon as possible and 
 “bring something with me.” 
 
 131 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 At 4.30, a fine young man — Mr. William 
 Hendrickson — walked into the dispensary. 
 At first I did not recognize him, and we had 
 not met for many months. After the usual 
 salutations, he remarked, “ Doctor, I’ve 
 brought you something for your work from 
 my brother George.” 
 
 “Indeed, I shall be very glad to receive it.” 
 I replied. 
 
 He then proceeded to count five dollar bills 
 until he had piled up one hundred dollars, and 
 as my janitor and I looked on in wonder and 
 astonishment, he placed another five dollars 
 on the top of the pile, saying, “There, doctor, 
 I want to give a little myself for the privilege 
 of bringing this from my brother.” 
 
 It would be impossible to say just how we 
 felt or looked, but I remember what we did 
 I just told our friend of the exact condition 
 we were in, and it would be difficult to say 
 whether the giver or the receivers rejoiced 
 most; but. we three knelt down together and 
 thanked our Father in heaven. Now, I had 
 not seen this young man or his brother for 
 months; they knew nothing of our circum- 
 stances, yet they were led to act. Who, or 
 what, led them to do so? Chance? Surely 
 there can be but one answer — God.* 
 
 *One Sunday evening, in November, 1897, I was privi- 
 leged to speak in the Presbyterian Church, Newtown, Long 
 Island, of which Mr. W. Hendrickson is now the pastor. It 
 was a great privilege to stand beside my friend and plead the 
 cause of Medical Missions in his church. 
 
ROOSEVELT STREET MEDICAL MISSION. 
 
 From 1882 to 1892, this Mission was in operation. Dr. Summers painted the texts on the wall. For 
 thirty years previously the place was a notorious liquor saloon. The building a id adjacent 
 alleys were pulled dcwn in 1897. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 About a year after this I had the following 
 singular experience: I was present one day at 
 the Fulton Street Prayer Meeting,' and at its 
 close was int; oduced to a young man who was 
 out of employment and had a wife and two or 
 three children to support. I had in my pocket 
 all the money which I then possessed, a silver 
 dollar and a few cents. The next day was 
 rent day, and this was all I had towards it. 
 While talking to him, I was strongly im- 
 pressed to give him the dollar; it seemed as if 
 the Lord even spoke, telling me to do so, as 
 there came to my mind with peculiar force the 
 words, “Give, and it shall be given you.” I 
 “answered back,” like Ananias, when directed 
 to go to Saul, and said in my heart, “Lord, 
 this is all the money I’ve got, and to-morrow 
 is rent day, but if you say so, of course I’ll 
 give it him.” Feeling assured that it was 
 what the Lord wanted me to do, I did what 
 under other circumstances would have ap- 
 peared verv foolish, and gave my only dollar 
 to the young man. 
 
 That afternoon, while attending to the 
 crowd of patients at the dispensary, the young 
 man who had brought the one hundred and 
 five dollars a year before, came in and placed 
 on my table forty dollars. I had not seen 
 him for three months, and he was in perfect 
 ignorance of my needs. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon tells of a member in his con- 
 gregation who, in his early ministry, handed 
 
 134 
 
UNEXPECTED VISITORS. 
 
 him seven shillings and sixpence (nearly two 
 dollars), at the close of a meeting, saying: 
 “Pastor, I think you need a new hat, take this 
 and get one.’’ At the next meeting this man 
 asked Mr. Spurgeon to pray that he might 
 be delivered from “covetousness.” 
 
 “Why,” said his pastor, “what do you mean, 
 brother? I thought you were very generous 
 in giving me that seven and sixpence last 
 week.” 
 
 “Ah, but the Lord told me to give you ten 
 shillings, and I only gave you the three-fourths 
 of it; but here’s the other two shillings and 
 sixpence. Now won’t you pray for me?” 
 
 “Why, certainly,” said Mr. Spurgeon, and 
 of course he did. 
 
 Very probably some day it is to be feared 
 it will be seen that this is not the only case of 
 the kind, by thousands, but that, on the con- 
 trary, many were as surely called to give to 
 the cause of Christ as were others called to 
 go to work in the field; but they did not obey. 
 What follows is a case of the opposite kind. 
 
 A dear friend knew of my need of fifty dol- 
 lars on a certain day in 1881. On my going 
 to his office, he handed me a check for that 
 amount, saying, “Doctor, Pm going to give 
 you this, although I can hardly do it, but I 
 feel impressed to do so, and I’ll trust the Lord 
 for the result.” 
 
 About one hour after this a gentleman vis- 
 ited his office, to which I had returned mean- 
 135 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 while, and so witnessed what followed. 
 Speaking to him privately for a few moments, 
 he placed one hundred dollars before him, and 
 left. 
 
 When he had gone, my friend said, “There, 
 now, what do you think of that? That man 
 owes me thousands, has done so for years, 
 and not paid me a penny; in fact, the debt is 
 outlawed, and yet he is forced to bring me 
 one hundred dollars to-day.” 
 
 May not the foregoing incidents serve as a 
 commentary upon the words of the apostle: 
 “It is God who worketh in you to zvill and to 
 do of His good pleasure.” 
 
 136 
 
PROGRESS AND PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Chapter XXXI. 
 
 Progress and Providence. 
 
 The goodness and greatness of God is not 
 only to be seen in “the heavens,” which “de- 
 clare His glory,” but in the tiniest creature 
 which, like “the firmament, showeth His 
 handiwork.” The telescope does not more 
 fully reveal the wisdom of God and the per- 
 fection of His works, as it brings to our view 
 the vast celestial bodies, than does the micro- 
 scope, when it reveals the same completeness 
 and harmony in the minutest parts of those 
 things which are invisible to the naked eye. 
 
 This is no less true of men than of the rest 
 of creation; for God does not more surely rule 
 in the affairs of nations than of individuals, 
 and this is especially true of those who desire 
 Him to “order their steps,” even as David did. 
 It was this truth which the Saviour made 
 known when He referred to the falling of a 
 sparrow and the clothing of the lilies; and 
 yet how few seem to believe this most glorious 
 fact a'nd take advantage of it as they might. 
 
 Men naturally prefer to trust to their own 
 wisdom than that of the One who created 
 them, and gave to them the faculties they pos- 
 sess, and thus all the wisdom they have. How 
 could He rule the whole if ignorant of and 
 D7 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 failing to regulate the workings of each part 
 of the whole? 
 
 The Medical Missionary Society grew 
 somewhat quickly in New York, in spite of 
 many obstacles and drawbacks, and another 
 dispensary was added during each of the first 
 four years. 
 
 In 1884 it became evident that a house 
 would soon be needed as a residence for stu- 
 dents, but the Committee could not see their 
 way to taking one. Mr. Summers, our first 
 student, acted as janitor at the mission in the 
 Fourth Ward, and took up his abode there 
 while attending medical college, except from 
 Saturday night till Monday morning, when 
 he stayed with us in Brooklyn. The vitiated 
 atmosphere, the noise of drunken brawls, and 
 the raids of great water rats, made it anything 
 but a desirable place for him to live, study or 
 sleep in, but he nobly did these things. 
 
 One morning in March I awoke with a 
 strong impression that we should remove to 
 New York on the 1st of May, the usual time 
 for annual removal. It was further impressed 
 upon my mind that we should reside on East 
 Broadway. Acting upon these impressions, 
 I came across to New York that morning, 
 and beginning at the end of East Broadway, 
 where the medical mission was first opened, 
 I walked along, looking for houses to let. 
 None seemed suitable, but one at the other 
 end of the street, and this seemed to be “just 
 the thing.” 
 
 138 
 
PROGRESS AND PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Upon seeing the agent, he demanded one 
 hundred dollars down as a deposit, i. e., one 
 month’s rent. This I was unable to provide, 
 but offered him twenty-five dollars, which he 
 declined. So the matter ended, at any rate 
 for a time. It seemed very strange. Was it 
 all a fancy? It did not seem so, and yet suc- 
 cess was not realized then. 
 
 Three or four days passed, when a messen- 
 ger came, asking me to call upon the owner, 
 who desired to see me. When I did so, she 
 told me that she would let it to me without 
 any deposit. 
 
 On the first of May, 1884, I took possession 
 and we moved in. The house was a large one 
 of five stories, and having let about one half 
 of it, I devoted one floor to students, and used 
 the remainder for our family. I expected to 
 clear one half of the rent by letting, and to 
 make up the cost for the floor devoted to stu- 
 dents by securing, if possible, some private 
 practice. It was peculiarly encouraging to 
 the writer, and will prove at least interesting 
 to the reader, to know of the way in which 
 the rent was met upon several occasions. 
 
 Before, however, proceeding to the narra- 
 tion of these things, and to prevent any mis- 
 understanding, it may be well to explain my 
 exact financial position in relation to the 
 Society. 
 
 Upon the formation of the Society in April, 
 1881, the question arose as to my own sup- 
 
 r 39 
 
"teli. them.” 
 
 port. I expressed my willingness to adopt 
 either one of two plans, as the Committee 
 might deem best. I would either trust to 
 God alone to supply my needs in any way He 
 saw fit; or I would receive a regular salary 
 from the funds of the Society. The latter 
 course was advised and adopted, and upon my 
 being asked to name a sum that I deemed 
 sufficient for myself and family, I stated that 
 $1200 a year would be all that I would accept. 
 It w r as urged by those present that this wa.-> 
 not enough, and that I should take $2000, 
 but I did not do so. The following year, 
 however, my salary was increased to $1500 
 a year, at which sum it remained, with the 
 addition of residence free of rent, in 1891. 
 
 The Society has always had a treasurer who 
 reo : ved and disbursed all funds, a printed 
 statement of the same being annually issued. 
 
 My salary was not, however, at all insured 
 to me with any regularity by the Committee: 
 as funds came in they were disbursed; if none 
 were in hand, no payments could be made. 
 Thus, while it was arranged that I should re- 
 ceive a stipulated sum, it only insured that I 
 should not draw more than that amount, but 
 did not assure at all when or how my salarv 
 would be paid. So that actually I was thrown 
 back upon God to supply my needs as much 
 as if I was not under any regular salary. 
 
 It is necessary to make these things very 
 clear to enable the reader to fully understand 
 
 140 
 
PROGRESS AND PROVIDENCE. 
 
 my exact position in money matters. At 
 times I regretted that I had not adopted the 
 course of entire dependence upon God apart 
 from any arrangement with men, especially 
 as my position was made apparently ambigu- 
 ous. Some friends, knowing that I was un- 
 der a regular salary, and that the Society had 
 a Board of Managers, could not understand 
 my being in need of special deliverance, and 
 often, when such persons might and would 
 have helped me, they left it to the Society to 
 do. But all this has been over-ruled by God, 
 so that as the needs have arisen they have 
 been met in some way or other, as narrated 
 herein. In January, 1895, for various rea- 
 sons, especially lack of funds, I gave up my 
 salary. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXXII. 
 
 How the Rent Was Paid. 
 
 It was a great surprise and relief to have 
 the way thus cleared for my obtaining the 
 house in question, but how to get the first 
 month’s rent by May 1st did not appear. 
 
 My diary for the last Saturday in April has 
 this entry: “Went to Roosevelt Street Dis- 
 pensary this morning as usual, found check 
 for one hundred dollars from Mr. W. Hen- 
 drickson. Just the need! Another evidence 
 that ‘He careth for you.’ ” So the first month 
 was provided for. 
 
 The month wore on and the inevitable rent 
 day again drew near. With the need came 
 the supply in the following manner; quoting 
 again from diary: 
 
 “Monday, June 2d, 1884. — Went to West 
 Side Noon Prayer Meeting; asked prayer for 
 help, not stating particulars. At close of 
 meeting Brother Watson desired to know 
 what the trouble was; told him. We had 
 prayer together, and he offered, if the Lord 
 did not deliver by any other way, to loan me 
 seventy dollars next day. Paid landlady 
 thirty dollars, promised balance next day.” 
 
 “Tuesday, June 3d. — We have been trying 
 to let the second floor of the house for some 
 
 142 
 
HOW THE RENT WAS PAID. 
 
 weeks. Feared that, as the third of the month 
 had come, we should not let it for June, but 
 at nine A. M., to-day, a young man, about to 
 be married, called, and took the floor, and 
 instead of paying the usual one month’s rent 
 (twenty-five dollars), he astonished me by 
 paying the rent for three months, seventy-five 
 dollars. Thus the seventy dollars was pro- 
 vided and five dollars for general use. Praise 
 the Lord. ‘I will deliver thee, and thou shalt 
 glorify Me.’ Went to West Side Meeting 
 same day, and told of it to ‘glorify Him.’ ” 
 
 During the month of June, sickness visited 
 our home and my dear wife narrowly escaped 
 death. My second boy, Ernest, was very ill, 
 and with the constant strain I broke down 
 also, so that towards the end of the month we 
 all felt the need of a change from the heated 
 city, especially as we had not had one week’s 
 vacation since coming to America, five years 
 before. 
 
 This led to our making enquiries, and dis- 
 covering a very suitable place where we could 
 spend two weeks in the country not far from 
 New York at very moderate cost. It seemed 
 to be just what we wanted, but the means to 
 go were not forthcoming, and yet we went on 
 preparing to go on July 1st. 
 
 A lady friend, Mrs. Anderson, called to see 
 my wife and gave her five dollars to get 
 “something” to strengthen her. The same 
 evening, while packing ready to go on the 
 
 14 5 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 morrow, my wife suddenly stopped and said, 
 “I was thinking that some people would say 
 we were simply mad,, preparing to go away, 
 and not only having nothing to go with, but 
 one hundred dollars rent to pay to-morrow, and 
 but that twenty-five dollars in prospect toward 
 it.” 
 
 “Well, dear, never mind; go on with your 
 packing. We know in whom we are trust- 
 ing, and will see what He will do.” 
 
 The following morning wife and I both 
 awoke with a feeling of assurance that help 
 would come somehow and through a certain 
 friend. The morning mail arrived, but no 
 money came. It was, to say the least, disap- 
 pointing, but was nevertheless of His appoint- 
 ing, and the thought of the landlady calling 
 for her rent at noon troubled us. Here faith 
 began to waver, and I decided to go down 
 town and ask this friend to loan me one hun- 
 dred dollars, although he had never loaned me 
 money before. On my way to his office I 
 called at the Roosevelt Street Dispensary, 
 thinking that perhaps a letter might be wait- 
 ing for me there. No, there was nothing. 
 As I was about to leave, I encountered a poor 
 blind man whom I knew, trying to find the 
 dispensary door. He begged me to “call at 
 once” and see his wife, who was very sick. 
 At first I confess to a halting between two 
 opinions. If I did not get to my friend’s 
 office before ten o’clock, and it then wanted 
 
 144 
 
HOW THE RENT WAS PAID. 
 
 only ten or fifteen minutes to that time, I 
 should miss him, as he would be “on change.” 
 However, I went with the blind man, saw his 
 wife and hurried on down town to my friend. 
 As I feared, I found him gone “on change.” 
 His brother was in the office, however, and 
 upon seeing me asked, “Did you receive a 
 note from my brother just now, doctor?” 
 
 I replied that I had not, and was asked to 
 await the messenger’s return. He soon came 
 back and handed me the letter. 
 
 Upon opening it, I read: 
 
 “My Dear Doctor: — Herewith I send you 
 check for $m, being $75 for the Society, and 
 the balance for yourself, to do as you please 
 with. A friend has just paid me this check, 
 from whom I did not expect it, in payment of 
 a loan of long standing, and I felt ‘impressed’ 
 to send it to you. Yours sincerely, 
 
 G. S. H.” 
 
 Can I tell you how I felt? No, I cannot. 
 Gratitude for the relief thus met with was 
 mingled with feelings of awe, as even the three 
 figures, hi, written on the check, seemed to 
 speak of the Triune God, who had thus 
 “thought upon me.” 
 
 Such experiences tend more than anything 
 else, perhaps, to humble a man. Peter was 
 not so much moved by the Saviour’s preach- 
 ing, as by the miraculous draught of fishes, 
 when he cried out, “Depart from me, for I 
 am a sinful man, O Lord.” 
 
 145 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXXIII. 
 
 Entertaining Angels Unawares. 
 
 A few days before the first of August, a 
 Swiss young man, Mr. Heli Chatelain, came 
 to see me about entering upon medical study 
 with a view to becoming a medical mission- 
 ary. I told him that neither the Society nor 
 myself had any funds in hand wherewith to 
 aid students to pay their college fees, but I 
 would give him a room free of rent, and if he 
 was not too proud to do the work I could give 
 him the position of janitor at the mission and 
 pay him a small wage — five dollars a week. 
 He gladly accepted the offer and entered upon 
 the duties at once. 
 
 Noticing next day that he only brought a 
 loaf of bread into the house, and seemed to 
 be living upon this, my wife invited him to 
 dinner on Sunday. 
 
 The next Tuesday, July 31st, after seeing 
 the patients at Roosevelt Street, I conversed 
 with him and expressed my sympathy and 
 faith that in some way or other God would 
 provide for him, as He had done for me. 
 Lest he might think that what I was saying 
 was “mere talk,” I told him of some of the 
 deliverances I had experienced, and then said, 
 “Even at the present time I am in difficulty 
 about meeting the rent for that house (one 
 146 
 
ENTERTAINING ANGELS UNAWARES. 
 
 hundred dollars) to-morrow, as I have only 
 twenty-five dollars due me for rent, and five 
 dollars owed me which I hope to get; and 
 vet, in some way, I expect that God will pro- 
 vide.” 
 
 The reader may imagine my astonishment 
 when the one I was thus counselling said, 
 “Why, doctor, if you need seventy dollars, I 
 can lend it to you.” 
 
 “You can lend me seventy dollars?” I said 
 in amazement; “how is this?” 
 
 “Well, doctor,” he went on to say, “you see 
 I saved some money from my teaching in 
 Switzerland to take me some day as a mis- 
 sionary to Madagascar.” 
 
 “Yes,” I said, “but how is it that you do not 
 use some of this for your present needs, and 
 not live on bread?” 
 
 “Well, you see, doctor, that is the Lord's 
 money, because I gave it to Him, and I can- 
 not use it for myself, but you are the Lord’s 
 servant, and I can lend it to you.” 
 
 And yet he would not use this money for 
 himself. Surely he was as truly the Lord’s 
 servant as I. 
 
 Not only was it remarkable as to the pro- 
 vision so unexpectedly made to meet my 
 needs, but here was a case indeed of true de- 
 nial of self. I discovered later on that all this 
 time Mr. Chatelain had forty dollars really his 
 own, placed away carefully, which he was 
 keeping for his sister, and to whom he had 
 
 147 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 a few weeks before sent forty dollars. She 
 had recently come to America, and had not 
 as yet found employment. Such men surely 
 are the king’s of the earth. 
 
 Hon. Heli Chatelain, the Africanist, 1897. 
 
 Strangely enough, the following day my 
 tenant left the house without paying the 
 twenty- five dollars due, and the one who 
 owed me the five dollars did not pay it, so that 
 I really had nothing towards the rent. 
 
 About ten o'clock in the morning Mr. 
 Chatelain asked me if I had the thirty dollars. 
 T hardly knew how to reply, but finding that 
 I had not he drew out of the bank the full 
 148 
 
ENTERTAINING ANGELS UNAWARES. 
 
 one hundred dollars, and loaned it to me. So 
 the rent was paid for another month. 
 
 This experience showed me how one might 
 indeed “entertain angels unawares” by enter- 
 taining strangers; and again I saw how I 
 might have missed this aid had I not sym- 
 pathized with him, or had I been too proud 
 to mention my need, as I might readily have 
 been to a stranger. Certainly I never even 
 dreamed that he was able to help me, but the 
 reverse. 
 
 It will be remembered that when the Lord 
 was upon earth, He and Peter were together 
 when the usual tax was demanded. They 
 had no money, and Peter was sent to catch a 
 fish, in whose mouth he found a piece of sil- 
 ver, and was told by the Master to give that 
 to the tax collector — the Lord allowing Peter 
 to act as paymaster — but there was no “change 
 out,” so that they were just as poor afterwards 
 as before. So with us; the rent was paid, but 
 other things were needed, and they were sup- 
 plied. My diary on the fourth of August 
 reads thus: 
 
 “Went to West Side Prayer Meeting to- 
 day. Afterwards it came on to rain and as 
 I had no umbrella, and no money for car fare, 
 I was very awkwardly placed, but just at that 
 moment an old friend met me, and learning 
 that 1 was going home, asked me to jump in 
 the car with him, as he was going my way. 
 He did not know how poor I was, though.” 
 
 149 
 
"tell them.” 
 
 Small matter? \ es, but He not only made 
 sun and moon, "He made the stars also.” 
 "Saturday, August 9th. — Had only twenty- 
 five cents left this A. M. To-day a patient 
 gave twenty-five cents and lodger paid two 
 dollars for gas; so tided over till Monday.” 
 "August 22d. — Called upon Mrs. B. B. At- 
 terbury, when she gave me sixty dollars 
 towards furnishing rooms for students.” 
 
 This lady was the first one to give me a 
 dollar in New York City. A few days after 
 my arrival, in March, 1881, she gave me three 
 dollars to meet car hire expended in going to 
 see people. 
 
 She was the first person to aid in providing 
 for students as indicated, and Dr. Summers 
 was helped by her to the extent of over one 
 hundred dollars in meeting his college ex- 
 penses. All honor to those who thus aided 
 in the beginning 
 
 * In October, 1884, Mr. Chatelain left this house, in com- 
 pany with my first student, Dr. Summers, to labor in West 
 Africa. I Ie has been out three times since then, once as the 
 representative of the United States at Loanda. lie has pub- 
 lished the finest work extant upon African Folk Lore, has 
 translated the Gospel into Kimbundu, and produced a full 
 grammar and vocabulary of that language. Recently he has 
 founded the Phil-African Liberators’ League, for the aiding 
 and Christian colonizing of the liberated slaves in Africa. So 
 highly is he esteemed for his marked ability, that he was en- 
 gaged by the Century Company to revise their Dictionary in 
 regard to all pertaining to Africa. On July 23d, 1897, Mr. 
 Chatelain left New York, accompanied by two other of our 
 students, Dr. Wintsch and Mr. Lea, also Mrs. Lea, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Bell, to found a colony for “liberated slaves,” in 
 Angola. My son, Harry, is the Home Secretary of the 
 League, and may go out in charge of a second party in 1898. 
 
 DO 
 
OUR FIRST STUDENT. 
 
 Chapter XXXIV. 
 
 Our First Student. 
 
 Rev. William Richard Summers, M. D., 
 the first student of the International Medical 
 Missionary Society, passed through a most 
 varied experience. 
 
 He was born in the Island of Guernsey, on 
 April 28th, 1855, of parents in humble circum- 
 stances. While yet a boy, his soul seemed 
 fired with a determination to get free from the 
 somewhat cramped surroundings in which he 
 found himself, and in some manner make his 
 way through, and leave his mark upon, the 
 world. 
 
 From his earliest years he evinced the strong 
 characteristics of determined perseverance, 
 courage and genius, which marked the later 
 years of his life. 
 
 When about fourteen years of age, young 
 Summers was apprenticed to a job printer in 
 his native island, and soon evinced a decided 
 adaptability to the work; but as this increased, 
 his dislike to the business became more 
 marked, until he determined to “cut loose and 
 rr 11!” 
 
 Arriving in London, there was one kind of 
 life that possessed peculiarly attractive charms 
 for him, viz., the theatre. This led him to 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 join himself to a travelling circus, until he 
 eventually became “Advance Agent” of 
 “Hengler’s Cirque.” 
 
 Later on we find him in the city of Dublin, 
 performing in the Rotunda every night for 
 four consecutive months, as an exponent of 
 Dr Slade, the great spiritualist, under the 
 title of Herr Somarr. 
 
 Not only was young Summers able to do in 
 the light all that Slade accomplished in the 
 dark, but he went far beyond him in so doing; 
 in fact, his superior ability as a conjurer and 
 gymnast was acknowledged by his compeers 
 in these arts. One almost inevitable result of 
 following this kind of life was the loss of all 
 concern for his spiritual welfare, his Sunday 
 evenings only furnishing him and his fellow- 
 actors suitable occasions for meeting for any- 
 thing but religious purposes. 
 
 But the eye of Him who never slumbers nor 
 sleeps was resting upon him, and watching 
 over him with tender interest despite these 
 things. 
 
 His maternal grandmother was a very pious 
 woman, and in the early years of her “Wil- 
 lie’s” life she had sought to instil the truths 
 of God into his young heart, and daily remem- 
 bered him to her Father in heaven. 
 
 When William was about twenty-two years 
 of age, his mother was led to come out de- 
 cidedly as a Christian, while being attended 
 as a patient by the writer, as told in the chap- 
 ter relating to work in Liverpool. 
 
 152 
 
OUR FIRST STUDENT. 
 
 No sooner had she done so than the general 
 interest evinced on behalf of her “wandering 
 boy’’ became greatly intensified, leading her 
 to ask the writer and others, “Won’t you 
 please pray for my poor Will?” 
 
 How God answered these prayers in his 
 conversion is told in a previous chapter; the 
 prodigal soon found his way, first to his heav- 
 enly Father, and then to mother and home. 
 
 After considerable trial, through not meet- 
 ing with employment readily, he at last “got 
 on” a daily paper in Liverpool as a composi- 
 tor, staying there for several months, until he 
 left England for the United States in Septem- 
 ber, 1879. 
 
 The writer, in company with his family, had 
 preceded him the previous month, and stood 
 ready to meet him on his arrival and extend to 
 him a brotherly welcome. He hardly knew 
 why he had come to America, but he realized, 
 as David did, “He leadeth me,” and it was 
 enough. 
 
 Not finding a suitable engagement at his 
 trade, he was determined not to be idle, and 
 took the first thing that came to hand, and 
 ‘ held on” until he could get something better, 
 a creed many a young man would do well to 
 follow. 
 
 Some months after his arrival in Philadel- 
 phia, the Salvation Army commenced its 
 operations in the United States in that city. 
 The earnest spirit of the Army quite capti- 
 *53 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 vated young Summers, and he enlisted under 
 its banner, and was soon made a captain with 
 an allowance of about four dollars a week to 
 live upon. 
 
 Nothing daunted, he labored alone for 
 nearly four months in Atlantic City, a sea 
 side resort. Taking his concertina, he would 
 commence singing on the beach and soon 
 have a large and attentive audience. 
 
 There were not wanting proofs of the Di- 
 vine blessing resting upon these brave first 
 efforts, and this, as well as much of his pre- 
 vious experience, was fitting him for his fu- 
 ture life work. 
 
 He who could bravely face jeering crowds 
 of his fellow-men at home, might well be 
 trusted to meet with the savages of Central 
 Africa. 
 
 While pursuing his labors in the Army, he 
 met with a young man who was a student at 
 Pennington Seminary, New Jersey, and one 
 result of their conversation was that “Captain” 
 Summers wrote to the principal, Rev. Thomas 
 Hanlon, D. D., stating that he was poor; in 
 short, had nothing, but wanted to improve 
 his general education, that he might the bet- 
 ter serve Him who had redeemed him from 
 sin and hell. 
 
 Immediately after he had mailed the letter, 
 he realized that he had done a very foolish 
 thing, and would have taken the letter out of 
 the box again if he could have done so. 
 i54 
 
OUR FIRST STUDENT. 
 
 But it was all right, and God’s hand was 
 evidently in it, for as soon as the good doctor 
 read the note of the young aspirant, his gen- 
 erous heart warmed up toward him, and to 
 his applicant’s great surprise he received word 
 to “come on at once.” 
 
 On he went, and, commencing at the bot- 
 tom of some of the classes, he went ahead, 
 working hard night and day until he led some 
 of the very classes in which he began lowest, 
 and finally obtained a place on the honor roll 
 of his school. 
 
 i5S 
 

 “ Summers of Luluabnrg.” 
 Rev. W, R. Summers, M. D, 
 
THE CALL OF GOD. 
 
 Chapter XXXV. 
 
 The Call of God. 
 
 It was during his stay in the Seminary at 
 Pennington that the heart of young Summers 
 was fully set upon his life work, as the follow- 
 ing extract from a letter will show: 
 
 Pennington Seminary, 
 Dec. 4th, 1881. 
 
 Dear Doctor Dozvkontt : — Now I’m going to 
 tell you just what I have in mind for the fu- 
 ture. It is nothing new, for I have had the 
 plan arranged ever since I first came to Pen- 
 nington, but was not sure whether I was be- 
 ing led by the Lord alone, so I have had to 
 "try the spirits,” and I believe it is the Lord’s 
 will. I believe when God gives us abilities 
 and graces, it is our duty to exercise them in 
 that place or position (not where we should 
 happen to be born), but where our talents can 
 be used to the best advantage, and where we 
 can do the most good. This reasoning has 
 induced me to analyze my talents with the 
 Lord’s help. 
 
 Now I'll tell you what I am impressed to 
 do. I find I have just those talents that con- 
 stitute the requisites for exploration, and my 
 mind has always dwelt on doing good to those 
 in lands that are but little opened to civiliza- 
 i57 
 
“tell them." 
 
 tion and Christianity. When I was about 
 three years old, I used to stand on a chair and 
 preach to the heathen around me, and if you 
 had asked what I was going to be I would 
 have said “a missionary.” That spirit has 
 never left me. Even when in the “show” 
 business I always felt that I could give my 
 life to better my fellow-men, though leading 
 a bad life myself. 
 
 Circumstances never seemed favorable to 
 this project until the way opened for me to 
 come here, and since I have been here I have 
 taken just those studies that I believe will be 
 of the greatest service to me. When I read 
 missionary reports I find that the most suc- 
 cessful missionaries and explorers were ear- 
 nest Christian doctors, and I have felt all along 
 that I ought to study medicine, but you know 
 of the difficulties in the way. Now I believe 
 that when I have had enough of this school 
 the I.ord will make the way clear for me. 
 
 The one field of labor always on my mind 
 is Central Africa, and I derive great spiritual 
 pleasure in thinking of the day when, if the 
 Lord wills, I shall be there among peoples 
 that have not as much as seen white men. In 
 studying missionary lecords, I’m struck with 
 the fact that nearly all our mission stations 
 are on the coast, and three parts of the 
 churches are filled with Europeans. Our 
 missions in India and China are much the 
 same. What is wanted is men who will go 
 into the heart of Africa and work from its 
 158 
 
THE CALL OF GOD. 
 
 centre, or those millions will never be reached 
 at the rate the coast missions are progressing. 
 I am anxious to do this, and I believe that 
 this is what the Lord wants me to do. I ex- 
 pect to have many difficulties to overcome, of 
 course. I can’t see how or where funds will 
 come from, but I feel satisfied that they will 
 come. Yours in Christ, 
 
 W. R. Summers. 
 
 How little do we know or realize that the 
 same God who first called little Samuel in the 
 midnight hour, may and often does call “little 
 children” to-day. The Saviour delighted to 
 call them unto Him when on earth, may He 
 not still call them, for “of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven?” Let the following be the reply. 
 
 Having finished his studies at Pennington, 
 Mr. Summers came to New York and made 
 his home once more with the writer, who at 
 that time was passing through great financial 
 difficulties, and was ill able to help his friend. 
 My young friend, nothing daunted, was de- 
 termined to succeed, and was ready to do any- 
 thing to further his laudable purpose. 
 
 Accepting the position of janitor to the dis- 
 pensary I had opened in New York City, he 
 sought in this way to help himself, using his 
 eyes and ears to “pick up” all the knowledge 
 he could in dispensing the drugs, etc., until 
 he soon became proficient in this branch. Al- 
 though only getting six dollars a week, he 
 managed to save nearly one half of this sum 
 
 i59 
 
“teli. them.” 
 
 toward the time when he would have to attend 
 college and give his whole attention to study. 
 There was one particular trait in his character 
 which was brought out at these times, and 
 that was his entire willingness to put up with 
 anything and do anything that came in his 
 way. 
 
 As the writer resided in Brooklyn the 
 greater part of the time Dr. Summers was 
 pursuing his studies, he had to live in the 
 room at the back of the dispensary, under the 
 disadvantages referred to in a previous chap- 
 ter. Having obtained a scholarship then 
 existing at the University Medical College, 
 he passed his final examination, and obtained 
 his long looked for, and hard fought for, de- 
 gree of M. D. in March, 1884. 
 
 An illustration of his pluck and persever- 
 ance is found in the following incident, which 
 occurred before he went to Pennington to 
 study: 
 
 In August, 1881, Mr. D.L. Moody arranged 
 for a conference of Christians at Northfield, 
 Mass., to which our friend wished very much 
 to go. 
 
 Being short of money, and neither the 
 writer nor the Society having any funds to 
 aid him, Dr. Summers invested his last dollar 
 in some photographs of the late President 
 Garfield, and went to the outskirts of New 
 York and Brooklyn to sell them. Having 
 realized rather more than a dollar, he deter- 
 mined to make his way to Northfield. “But 
 160 
 
THE CALL OF GOD. 
 
 how are you going?” we asked, as he made 
 known his resolve. Oh, I mean to get there 
 somehow; I’ll take the boat to New Haven 
 for the dollar, and tramp the rest; I can sell 
 the photos I have left. They say the Con- 
 necticut river is good, so I’ll be all right for 
 drinking and bathing.” 
 
 Wearied and footsore, he reached his 
 destination, to receive so great a spiritual 
 blessing that he felt it was worth ten times 
 the effort. Some of the brethren at the con- 
 ference saw to it that he did not walk back, 
 by more than paying his fare. “Inasmuch.” 
 Having graduated, the next question was 
 how to get to his chosen field of labor. After 
 some waiting and needed resting, the way 
 opened up in a wonderful manner, by his 
 friend, Dr. Hanlon, introducing him to Bishop 
 William Taylor, who had recently been ap- 
 pointed Bishop of Africa, and who was pray- 
 ing and looking for a man who knew that 
 country, he himself knowing little of it. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXXVI. 
 
 In Dark Africa. 
 
 Dr. Summers had devoured, so to speak, 
 every book written upon Africa, and was fully 
 conversant with all the discoveries up to date. 
 
 Having made himself a very large map of 
 Africa, he attended several of the camp meet- 
 ings held during the summer of 1884. With 
 Mr. Heli Chatelain, to whom reference has 
 been made in a previous chapter, he sailed on 
 October 226. These two young men sailed 
 from New York for Liverpool, as steerage 
 passengers, on board the Aurania. 
 
 After spending some time in Berlin, study- 
 ing the language of the people found in Cen- 
 tral Africa by Lieut. Weissman, and meeting 
 with Mr. H. M. Stanley and others, these two 
 young men sailed from England on January 
 7th, 1885, in company with Bishop Taylor. 
 
 Arriving in Liberia, the Bishop landed and 
 remained there to receive a large party of 
 nearly forty, who were to sail a month later 
 from New York. Dr. Summers and his com- 
 panion, Mr. Chatelain, proceeded, and arrived 
 at Loanda in the middle of the following 
 month. After reconnoitring in Loanda, mak- 
 ing friends and securing a house for the ex- 
 pected party of missionaries, Dr. Summers set 
 out alone for the interior, accomplishing a 
 162 
 
IN DARK AFRICA. 
 
 journey of four hundred miles to Melange, 
 and returned to the coast, having opened up 
 the way for the various stations since located 
 there. 
 
 In June, 1886, Dr. Summers left Melange 
 for Luluaburg, a journey of a thousand miles, 
 reaching the latter place in December follow- 
 ing. Here he labored on alone for nearly two 
 years. Strangely enough, his desire, as ex- 
 pressed in his letter to me from Pennington, 
 was fully realized in his meeting with millions 
 in the surrounding country who had never 
 seen a white-faced man before. 
 
 Some of them, though, had a strange im- 
 pression on their minds that one day a man 
 with a white face would come, and then won- 
 derful blessings would accrue to them; so that 
 when the doctor was seen they cried, “Here 
 he is! Here he is!” 
 
 One tribe had gone so far as to build a 
 house for the coming white man. When the 
 doctor left them to return to Luluaburg and 
 send the wonderful news home, they besought 
 him with tears to remain. Even the chiefs 
 crawled on their knees and begged him not 
 to go away. 
 
 However, he had to leave them, and it was 
 not until 1892 that another missionary, Mr. 
 Lapsley, of America, visited and remained 
 among these peoples. He located at Luebo, 
 just across the river Lulua, and after three 
 years of noble and successful service, he, too, 
 died there. A Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Shepherd, 
 163 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 colored people, sent out by the Presbyterian 
 Church South, are now living there. 
 
 Dr. Summers was “called home” to his re- 
 ward on the twenty-fourth day of May, 1888, 
 after most trying experiences and heroic ser- 
 vice. A few weeks before he died he was 
 feeling his loneliness terribly, as he had not 
 heard from any one of his friends for twenty 
 months. On one occasion he felt that he 
 really could not live any longer, and prayed 
 the Lord to take him home. Just at this su- 
 preme moment he was overcome by such a 
 realization of the presence of his Saviour as 
 he had never before known. At the same 
 time it seemed as if He again said the words, 
 and to him personally, “Lo! I am with you 
 always;” he was moved to tears, but tears of 
 relief and joy. 
 
 His faithful colored boy asked in sympathy, 
 “Massa got more pain?” Ah! no, but he had 
 obtained relief from pain. 
 
 Does any one think this the result of an 
 over-wrought brain, or mere fancy, etc.? Was 
 it not when Mary, in deep trouble, stood alone 
 at the sepulchre, that her Divine Master came 
 to her side to comfort her? And this, al- 
 though He had not yet ascended to His Father 
 and forbad her to touch Him, whereas the 
 same evening He bade the disciples handle 
 Him and see? Did not Stephen see the 
 heavens open and also the Son of God? Ah! 
 yes. If we believe these statements, we need 
 not, perhaps do not, question such an expe- 
 
 164 
 
IN DARK AFRICA. 
 
 rience as that of Dr. Summers in Africa. It 
 is written, “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, 
 to-day and forever.” The doctor was raised 
 up again and enabled to complete the building 
 of a dwelling house and a school house. Some 
 weeks afterwards he started for the coast, be- 
 ing utterly broken down in health and hoping 
 thus to recruit it. But the Master said to His 
 wear}" servant, “It is enough. Come up 
 higher.” 
 
 Five books full of deeply interesting notes 
 of his journeys and discoveries were obtained 
 by Mr. Chatelain, and turned over to the 
 writer, in 1893. They are stained and worm 
 eaten, and afford evidence of the exposure and 
 difficulties to which their owner was subject 
 during his toilsome, dangerous journeyings. 
 It is sad and quite inexplicable that such no- 
 ble lives as that of Dr. Summers should be so 
 soon ended, but he labored as long in Africa 
 as the Saviour did upon earth, and seven times 
 longer than did that greatest of men, John the 
 Baptist. 
 
 “ Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
 
 And scan His work in vain; 
 
 God is His own interpreter, 
 
 And He will make it plain.” 
 
 “What I do thou knowest not now, but 
 thou shalt know hereafter,” said Jesus to 
 Peter, and so says to us. 
 
Students of the International Medical Missionary Society — 18S8. 
 
TRAINING MEDICAL MISSIONARIES. 
 
 Chapter XXXVII. 
 
 Training Medical Missionaries. 
 
 One object, and, indeed, the chief one, had 
 in view in inaugurating medical mission work 
 in New York, was the education of young men 
 and women who should go forth into heathen 
 lands, as Dr. Summers did, to “heal the sick 
 and preach the Gospel” in accordance with 
 the Saviour’s example and teaching. 
 
 But inasmuch as by far the larger number 
 of Christians in America knew very little of 
 the need for medical aid in heathen lands, and 
 the great value of it as a means of opening the 
 way for the Gospel, it seemed best to place 
 an object lesson of this two-fold agency in 
 their midst, one which would at the same time 
 afford the best school for the practical training 
 of students both medically and religiously. In 
 a word, it was desired that many a “Dr. Sum- 
 mers” should be so trained and sent forth. 
 
 Some of the ways in which I obtained help 
 are referred to in this chapter, and relate to 
 the demands of the work God had given me to 
 do, as well as to my more personal needs. 
 
 In the spring of 1885, as the time drew near 
 for the termination of the lease of the house 
 on East Broadway — the owner having decided 
 to live in it thereafter — some anxiety was felt 
 as to the “next step.” 
 
 The desirability of the Society renting a 
 167 
 
"tell them.” 
 
 house was strongly urged, but for lack of 
 means was reported upon adversely by the 
 committee appointed to consider the subject. 
 
 just at this time, however, Dr. B. C. Atter- 
 bury, of Pekin, China, who was home on a 
 visit, generously came to our assistance. A 
 meeting of the Board was arranged, and the 
 doctor, being firmly convinced that the work 
 should go forward, urged the members to take 
 a larger house, offered at a low rental, as a 
 Home and Institute for Students. He nobly 
 offered to pay the first quarter’s rent (three 
 hundred dollars) of the house, 1 18 East Forty- 
 fifth Street, and it was taken and became the 
 headquarters of the Society. 
 
 Half a dozen students had resided in the 
 house which I had rented on East Broadway, 
 of whom the two referred to had gone to the 
 foreign field. 
 
 For the new house more furniture was 
 needed, but friends came to our aid and the 
 house was “fitted up.” We soon had twelve 
 students, among them being Rev. Lewis R. 
 Scudder, grandson of Dr. John Scudder, the 
 first medical missionary to go from America 
 to a heathen land, he having left New York 
 for India in 1818. 
 
 All this time the good work had been going 
 on at the mission dispensaries, and hundreds 
 were coming for medical treatment, many of 
 whom also obtained healing for the soul. In 
 1886 another dispensary was opened in New 
 York, and in 1887 a sixth in Brooklyn, while 
 168 
 
TRAINING MEDICAL MISSIONARIES. 
 
 in the fall of the latter year a second house 
 was taken for lady students, many of whom 
 had applied to come. The total number in 
 training during that year was forty-seven, so 
 speedily had the work grown. 
 
 Of the number of students in training and 
 financially aided, from 1881 to 1897, one hun- 
 dred and twenty have been appointed to India, 
 China, Africa and other lands, to serve under 
 the various mission boards. They have gone 
 ont to do in these countries similar work to 
 that which they did in New York, and it is a 
 source for encouragement and considerable 
 satisfaction to the managers that of all those 
 who have thus been sent out under the en- 
 dorsement of the Society, not one has proved 
 unsatisfactory, but, on the contrary, we are 
 constantly hearing commendations of them 
 and their labors. 
 
 A more devoted, loving band of young peo- 
 ple it would be difficult, if not impossible, to 
 find. Coming from twenty different coun- 
 tries, and belonging to nearly as many de- 
 nominations of evangelical Christians, they 
 have lived and labored together in the Gospel 
 of words and works. 
 
 To see these young men and women, many 
 of them college graduates, some from homes 
 of considerable refinement, devotedly working 
 among the most repulsive human beings in 
 the slums of New York, and striving by acts 
 of loving service and kindly words to “rescue 
 the perishing and care for the dying,” is a 
 
 169 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 sight that has often rejoiced the heart and 
 made full amends for the hard trials which at 
 times almost led to abandonment of the work 
 in utter despair. 
 
 Not only has the advantage of such practi- 
 cal training been realized, but its worth has 
 been manifest as a means of testing devotion 
 to, and fitness for, real mission service. 
 
 Great care has been exercised in the accept- 
 ance of candidates, and in their retention; no 
 one being accepted for more than one year 
 at a time. 
 
 The following extract from a circular issued 
 in 1886 will give the reader some idea of the 
 kind of men sought for and aided by the 
 Society: 
 
 OUR STUDENTS — THE MEN WE WANT. 
 
 First. Not those who are given to this 
 world and its pleasures or treasures, but ear- 
 nest Christians, who have given these up to 
 labor for and follow Christ. 
 
 Second. Not those who are “good at noth- 
 ing,” and have failed at everything, and who 
 therefore think they are “called to the Lord’s 
 work;” but those who have succeeded in what 
 they have previously undertaken. 
 
 Third. Not the weak, either physically, 
 mentally or spiritually; but men who are 
 strong in the Lord, and have healthy minds in 
 healthful bodies. 
 
 Fourth. Not cantankerous individuals, 
 whom “no one can live with;” but those of 
 genial adaptability of disposition and character. 
 
 170 
 
TRAINING MEDICAL MISSIONARIES. 
 
 Fifth. Not those who would like to go and 
 “see the world;” but those who want to go 
 and “bless the world” with their deeds. 
 
 Sixth. Not those who are afraid to soil their 
 hands with work, but such as are ready to do 
 anything and everything to help themselves 
 and assist others, like their Divine Master. 
 
 Seventh. Not such as are fastidious as to 
 their food and surroundings; but those who, 
 like good soldiers, are willing to endure hard- 
 ness, and exercise economy and self-denial at 
 home and abroad. 
 
 Eighth. Not those who want others to 
 ‘‘carry them” through their educational course 
 and ever after; but such as will use all their 
 powers to aid themselves, and will only allow 
 others to do for them what they cannot possi- 
 bly do for themselves. 
 
 Ninth. Not those who only talk of what 
 they are “going to do” in India, China or 
 Africa, but those who already “have done” 
 something at home. 
 
 Tenth. In short, men are needed with brains 
 to think and act intelligently, with hearts to 
 love and serve, with hands ready to do with 
 their might what they find to do, and feet 
 ready to run in the path of duty, although it 
 entail privation and suffering. 
 
 Such men the world needs all the time, and 
 needs them badly just now, and it is the pur- 
 pose of this Society to train and send out as 
 many as possible of such persons. 
 
 171 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXXVIII. 
 
 A Terrible Trial. 
 
 How great a blessing is that of a good wife; 
 truly her price is above rubies. It was my 
 privilege to be so blessed “through all the 
 changing scenes of life” from 1866 to 1887. 
 Then it was my great sorrow to lose my be- 
 loved partner, who. joined me in the first mis- 
 sion work I ever did in Sheerness in 1864. 
 
 How much the writer owes to her earnest 
 prayers and efforts for any good he may have 
 done, he cannot tell, but very much of the suc- 
 cess attending his efforts was, he feels sure, 
 the result of her hearty co-operation and en- 
 couragement. Nobly did she enter into all 
 his plans and perform a mother’s part toward 
 the “boys,” as the students were familiarly 
 called. 
 
 As one family we gathered around the table 
 at meal times, and bowed together daily in 
 prayer and praise. 
 
 As an illustration of her devotion and help- 
 fulness, I narrate the following: 
 
 One day in September, 1887, I was in sore 
 need of two hundred and fifty dollars to meet 
 due bills for the Society, and had in vain gone 
 to man, by calling upon three of those whom 
 I thought could and would help, but I got 
 nothing. 
 
 172 
 
A TERRIBLE TRIAL. 
 
 My dear wife said, “Why don’t you go and 
 see Mr. C ?” 
 
 I replied that he had never given us more 
 than a hundred dollars a year, and he had 
 already given us fifty dollars. 
 
 “Never mind,” said she, “go and see him.” 
 I did so, and to my great astonishment he 
 asked, “How much do you need?” 
 
 Somewhat hesitatingly I replied, “Two 
 hundred and fifty dollars. But — ■” I was 
 about to explain that I did not expect him 
 to give that sum — so small was my faith — - 
 but before I could say it he said: 
 
 “I’ll give you that amount.” 
 
 I came home with the check for two hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars, and said playfully to the 
 dear sick one, whose faith had brought the 
 deliverance, “How much did you expect me 
 to get?” 
 
 At once she replied, “Why, all of it, of 
 course.” 
 
 “Well,” I said, “he gave me this towards it,” 
 and placed the check in her hands. 
 
 A few days prior to this occurrence, viz., 
 Sunday, September 4th, 1887, I was about to 
 leave home to conduct the evening meeting 
 at one of our missions, when my wife asked 
 me not to go, for, said she, “I feel that I shall 
 go home to-night.” I accordingly remained, 
 and from seven o’clock until midnight she was 
 actually “dying by inches.” The whole of 
 the extremities were cold and lifeless by 
 twelve. During the intervening time she had 
 17 3 
 
Edith. 
 
 Perc >’- Ernest. 
 
 SIX OF OUR CHILDREN. 
 
A TERRIBLE TRIAL. 
 
 bidden us all “good bye,” and had talked of 
 her heavenly home. 
 
 Just at midnight she suddenly said in a 
 whisper, “George, dear, I don’t think I shall 
 go to-night, after all. Someone is praying me 
 back,” and added, “I feel so hungry.” We 
 thought of the daughter of Jairus brought 
 back to life, and it seemed that the same One 
 was in that sick room also. 
 
 Not until seven years later did I know that 
 our son, Harry, had stolen out of the room at 
 that time, and shutting himself in his room, 
 had there pleaded with God to “spare her yet 
 a little longer.” Some one challenging the 
 efficacy of prayer, led to the discovery. So 
 God again answered a boy’s prayer, as told in 
 a previous chapter. 
 
 The reader may the better understand how 
 great was my loss when, on November 5th, 
 1887, my dear partner was taken from me to 
 her well earned rest and reward. 
 
 Five of our dear children had preceded their 
 mother, and were ready to welcome her. And 
 I was left with five, the youngest, Percy, a 
 bright little fellow of two and a half years, 
 three girls, — Edith, Lillie, and Florrie — aged 
 respectively thirteen, eleven and seven years, 
 our oldest son being then eighteen. With 
 broken health, following months of care dur- 
 ing night and day, it was a wonder how I lived 
 through it all. 
 
 It was a great joy, however, to have around 
 me a band of sympathizing friends in our 
 i75 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 forty students, and especially to have in our 
 eldest son one to whom I could look for help 
 at this time. 
 
 Only two days after my beloved partner’s 
 removal, I was stricken with pneumonia and 
 kept to my bed for three weeks. Oh! how 
 the mother was missed amid it all! 
 
 No sister or relative athand to do a mother’s 
 part, how dark it all seemed to the one lying 
 in bed, sick and helpless. But in His own 
 time and way God provided the needed aid. 
 “My soul, wait thou only upon God.” 
 
 In this narration of the struggles of forty 
 years, I have chiefly spoken of financial de- 
 liverances, not because others less tangible, 
 but none the less real, were not given; but 
 simply because such may be “explained away” 
 with comparative ease, whereas those relating 
 to the “things of earth,” which can be seen 
 and felt, handled and weighed, are less con- 
 trovertible, if not entirely so, and therefore 
 may the more readily strengthen the faith of 
 others. But, as with Dr. Summers in the 
 heart of Africa, so with the writer, there have 
 been times when the need was far deeper than 
 money could meet. For ’tis greater far to 
 minister to a mind diseased and troubled, than 
 even to a hungry or sick body. 
 
 As instances of this kind of deliverances, 
 the two following experiences are here nar- 
 rated. 
 
 At one time, on the day that my devoted 
 wife was taken from me, a terrible sense of 
 176 
 
A TERRIBLE TRIAL. 
 
 loneliness came over me, when it was as if 
 the Saviour stood by me, as He did with Paul, 
 and said again, “Lo! I am with you alway.” 
 The following day I looked into the face cf 
 the dear one as she lay still in death, and was 
 chilled by the feeling that there was no “re- 
 turn look of love” from her. Just then there 
 came to my mind, with peculiar force, afford- 
 ing the needed relief, “I will see you again, 
 and your heart shall rejoice.” 
 
 I said, “It is enough,” and turned away re- 
 conciled, to wait until that day should indeed 
 come. 
 
 How do I explain these things? Simply as 
 being in accordance with the promise of 
 Christ, “When He, the Spirit of truth, is come, 
 He will bring all things to your remembrance 
 that I have said unto you.” 
 
 “And they remembered His words,” Luke 
 xxiv: 8. 
 
 It has often happened that a bad man has 
 been turned from his sins, even as the writer 
 was in 1864, by the memory of words read or 
 learned from the Word of God in years gone 
 by, and long forgotten. 
 
 Surely the Holy Spirit is rightly called the 
 Comforter, for He is indeed the physician to 
 the troubled soul. The One who knows the 
 Word of God, for He indited it, and who 
 knows, too, just the word suited to each case, 
 and He applies it through the memory. 
 
 *77 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XXXIX. 
 
 A Chapter of Stirring Events. 
 
 Testimony might be given in regard to 
 things pertaining to spiritual matters; deliver- 
 ances from opposition to the work, and the 
 success of the work in other ways; but it is 
 deemed best for the purposes of this little 
 book rather to bear testimony to God’s faith- 
 fulness in temporal and tangible things which 
 cannot so well be called into question, hence 
 may the more readily strengthen faith in 
 others. 
 
 On one occasion the Society was in great 
 need of seventy-five dollars to meet due pay- 
 ments, when that exact sum came to the edi- 
 tor of the New York Witness, who had from 
 time to time referred to the work in his col- 
 umns. It was sent by a friend, to this day un- 
 known, the envelope simply bearing the post 
 mark, “Santa Fe.” 
 
 At another time we were sorely pressed for 
 one hundred dollars. Upon retiring, my wife 
 and I prayed earnestly that something might 
 be sent next day. The following morning I 
 called upon our treasurer, and found that a 
 messenger had just brought him one hundred 
 dollars in cash, and would not say who had 
 sent him, though urged to do so; and to this 
 day I do not know the sender. 
 
 One day my friend, Mr. Edis, of Philadel- 
 
 .78 
 
A CHAPTER OF STIRRING EVENTS. 
 
 phia, called to see us. At the time I had but 
 a few cents in the house. We called at the 
 office of a friend down town, and while there 
 the brother of the friend I had called to see 
 and to whom I had never spoken in my life, 
 astounded me by handing me a check for one 
 hundred dollars, although he knew nothing of 
 my need at the time. 
 
 At another time, my dear aged, blind friend, 
 Rev. Charles Parker, of Brooklyn, knowing 
 that there was need for money to meet the 
 expenses of the work, kindly offered to take 
 me, on a certain day, to some friends who 
 were very wealthy and from whom he felt sure 
 he could obtain some money. He had at 
 times been successful before in obtaining help 
 for us from his friends, but on this day we 
 spent three hours going around in the cold 
 and snow of a hard winter all in vain, for we 
 did not get a single cent. (This dear friend 
 died on the very same day that Dr. Summers 
 died in Africa, May 24th, 1888, and was buried 
 by the Rev. Dr. Cuyler.) 
 
 That same evening I went by invitation to 
 the house of Mrs. B. B. Atterbury, and had 
 only been there five minutes when she sur- 
 prised me by putting into my hand a fifty- 
 dollar bill. She knew absolutely nothing of 
 the need at the time. It really seemed as if 
 God, who had seen my poor blind friend and 
 me going around in the snow waiting upon 
 men in vain, had taken pity on us. What else 
 could explain it? 
 
 179 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 In the summer of 1885, I attended the con- 
 ference held at Northfield by Mr. D. L. 
 Moody. One morning an account of medi- 
 cal mission work was given by me in the tent. 
 The following morning, at breakfast, a gentle- 
 man expressed his interest in the account of 
 the work I had given on the previous day, and 
 handed me his card, which read, “Rev. George 
 II. Griffin, Springfield, Mass.,” at the same 
 time he said, “I used to live in New York, 
 and know the condition of things there.” 
 
 “Do you know a Mr. Charles Griffin there?” 
 I asked. 
 
 “Know him? Indeed! Why, he is my 
 brother! Do you know him?” 
 
 “Yes,” I replied, “I do. He recently sent 
 us an organ for our Institute.” 
 
 “What,” said he in astonishment, “have you 
 got that old organ?” 
 
 I replied that we had. 
 
 “Why, I’m so glad; I did not know what 
 mission he wanted to give it to when he wrote 
 and asked me about it. Why I played on 
 that instrument in our old home for twenty 
 years.” 
 
 That afternoon, Mr. Griffin called another 
 Christian worker and me into his room, and 
 said, “I want to give you each $25.00.” He 
 knew nothing of my circumstances, but I had 
 only ten cents left in my pocket when I reached 
 that conference, towards meeting board and 
 expenses home, but the needs were again sup- 
 plied. Stranger still to say, the other worker 
 180 
 
A CHAPTER OF STIRRING EVENTS. 
 
 for New York was in just the same position as 
 myself, except that he had sixteen cents. 
 Neither his benefactor nor myself knew of his 
 need, and neither of them mine. 
 
 At the close of 1886, the Society was in ar- 
 rears and had to make up the deficiency by a 
 certain date, as a gentleman had promised to 
 give the last quarter of the sum needed when 
 the other three-fourths was collected. The 
 day came, and all the money was in but thirty- 
 four dollars. Upon seeing the gentleman re- 
 ferred to, he noticed that all was not yet paid 
 in, referring to the thirty-four dollars. Upon 
 my saying that I would be responsible for that 
 amount, he kindly gave me his check. 
 
 I had been asked, some days before this, by 
 Mr. Lanpbier, to lead the Fulton Street Prayer 
 Meeting on that day, but as the time drew 
 near I felt that I must “beg off,” and try to 
 obtain that thirty-four dollars. When I saw 
 him, however, I seemed unable to disappoint 
 him, and so took the meeting. At the close, 
 Mr. John P>. Wood, of Philadelphia, whom I 
 did not recognize as ever having seen before, 
 came up and shook hands with me, and, with- 
 out my saying anything of the circumstances, 
 took out of his pocket a twenty-dollar bill and 
 gave it to me. I was so touched by this fur- 
 ther proof of Divine care that I told him of 
 the opportune help he had thus afforded. He 
 again surprised me by giving me another 
 twenty-dollar bill, saying, “I may as well com- 
 plete the job.” 
 
 181 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 The strange thing was that he had never 
 been in that meeting in his life before, and 
 only came in at five minutes to one. I had 
 only met him once before; he had never pre- 
 viously given me any money, and had just 
 “run up” to New York on business that morn- 
 ing from Philadelphia. 
 
 A few months after commencing the work 
 in 1 88 1, certain expenses, including rent of 
 mission, cost of drugs, etc., had to be met by 
 a certain day and two hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars were needed for this purpose. But they 
 were not forthcoming, even in part. 
 
 I was very much puzzled and perplexed at 
 the time, and a few days later was conversing 
 with our treasurer, who told me of an expe- 
 rience related to him by Mr. George Muller, 
 when he, on one occasion, had to pay three 
 hundred pounds. The day came, but no 
 money, and a week had nearly passed, w’hen 
 a lady called with a check for the exact sum 
 and remarked, “I made this check out some 
 days ago, but neglected to bring it to you.” • 
 c trangely enough, that same evening our 
 treasurer met a gentleman, who said to him, 
 “I made you out a check for two hundred and 
 fifty dollars some days since for the medical 
 mission. I’ll send it to-morrow.” 
 
 In January, 1892, I contracted a severe at- 
 tack of pneumonia, which laid me aside for 
 five weeks. This was followed by a more 
 severe attack of pleuro-pneumoniain the latter 
 part of April, which nearly ended my earthly 
 182 
 
A CHAPTER OF STIRRING EVENTS. 
 
 career. During the month of May I was all 
 but "gone” on two or three occasions, and 
 was only able to crawl about the house dur- 
 nig the early part of June. 
 
 My physician, Dr. J. R. Learning, “ordered 
 me away” for two months, but how to go was 
 the query, and this caused some anxious 
 thought. 
 
 Only in the previous October had we lost 
 our dear little boy, Percy, aged six years, from 
 diphtheria. Truly, it was a dark and trying 
 winter. 
 
 One day, in the middle of June, a letter was 
 received from a lady, an entire stranger, ask- 
 ing if I would be “offended” if she sent a little 
 gift for the worker, for, as she went on to say, 
 she had noticed that the workers overlooked 
 themselves in caring for the work, and that 
 others also forgot them. 
 
 We wondered who could have told her of 
 our circumstances, and wrote expressing sur- 
 prise, and making enquiry. The reply came 
 stating that no one had written or spoken to 
 her about our needs, but as she was making 
 up packages of papers to send to the solitary 
 light house keepers, she had noticed a copy of 
 The Christian Herald for December 30th, 1891, 
 containing an account of my work and mis- 
 sion. The reply contained a check for fifty 
 dollars. Two sisters (the Misses Leitch) were 
 also led to send us fifty dollars. 
 
 183 
 
“teli. them.” 
 
 Chapter XL. 
 
 A Wonderful Deliverance. 
 
 In March, 1888, a few months after the de- 
 parture of my beloved wife, the following ex- 
 perience was met with. 
 
 One Saturday morning myhouskeeper said, 
 “Doctor, I would like a little money to-day, 
 please, as several things are needed.” There 
 were two or three small bills to be paid that 
 day also, and I had been troubled with the 
 knowledge that a certain dear friend, who had 
 loaned me seventy-five dollars, had need of it. 
 It seemed as if everything came at once that 
 morning, and all looked dark. After making 
 it a matter of prayer, I went down town with 
 the intention of calling upon two friends who 
 had aided in the past, and who I thought 
 might help now. 
 
 Walking along Fulton Street, I passed the 
 place where the noon prayer meeting is held, 
 saying to myself as I did so, “I should like 
 very well to go in, but I must go on, and see 
 these men and get one hundred dollars if I 
 can to-day.” I had not reached the corner 
 before I was turned around, and was walking 
 deliberately back again, and did what seemed 
 at the time was contrary to common sense and 
 right. I went into the meeting, and was 
 scarcely seated when in walked the very man 
 184 
 
A WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE. 
 
 to whom I owed the seventy-five dollars. Ah! 
 thought I, you will doubtless think I ought 
 to be trying to get that seventy-five dollars 
 rather than praying here. Not that such a 
 thought really entered his mind; for we were, 
 and are still, the best of friends, but he was 
 there praying that help might come to him 
 also. 
 
 At the close of the meeting, one of the two 
 men I had intended to call upon surprised me 
 by coming forward and saying, as he shook 
 hands with me, “I think I must have been 
 sent here for something.” I replied that I 
 hoped he had got it; but said nothing of my 
 circumstances. 
 
 “The fact is, doctor,” said he, “Fve been 
 thinking about you,” and so saying took out 
 of his pocket a check for seventy-five dollars. 
 “There, will that be any help to you?” 
 
 I replied that indeed it would. 
 
 “But,” he added, “I may as well make it 
 even money,” and, so saying, he placed twenty- 
 five dollars in cash in my hand. 
 
 I beckoned to the friend to whom I owed 
 the seventy-five dollars, and handed him the 
 check. Then we three went apart and praised 
 our God. I remarked at the time that the 
 money was only a small part of this transac- 
 tion, and that the time might come when trou- 
 bles and trials would be so thick that we 
 might be led to question everything. In such 
 times we would do well to remember to-day. 
 Some time after this the friend who gave me 
 1S5 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 the one hundred dollars that day was in deep 
 family trouble, and sent for me. It helped 
 him much then to be reminded of my deliver- 
 ance by his instrumentality. 
 
 What was additionally strange about this 
 occurrence was that my friend had only been 
 in that place twice in his life previously; and 
 again, I was under the impression that he did 
 not close his office until one o’clock on Satur- 
 days, whereas he did so at noon; so had I 
 gone to his office I should have missed him 
 altogether. 
 
 In April, 1886, I was kept awake one night 
 and was led to decide to publish, The Medical 
 Missionary, to disseminate facts concerning 
 the need for and value of medical missions, 
 and so obtain “help for the helpless.” 
 
 I had not a single dollar in hand at the time, 
 and no subscriptions promised, but early the 
 next morning I wrote out my first announce- 
 ment of the paper, to be printed on the back 
 of the report of the Society just then going 
 through the press. The ink was not yet dry 
 upon the page I had written when there came 
 by mail the knowledge that a man whom I 
 had taken into my full confidence and had 
 told of my purpose some day to start a paper 
 to be called, The Medical Missionary, had got 
 ahead of me by issuing the first number of a 
 magazine bearing that exact title. At first I 
 was terribly staggered, but simply adding the 
 word Record, went on. Only one number of 
 that paper was ever issued, while The 
 186 
 
A WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE. 
 
 Medical Missionary Record continues to this 
 day. The first year the loss upon the 
 Record was $350, but that was met by 
 receipts from some well-to-do private pa- 
 tients during that year whom I was asked 
 specially to attend. Each year there has been 
 some loss on the journal, up to the present 
 one, but in some way or other the bills have 
 all been paid. 
 
 It would not be right to let the reader sup- 
 pose that at times things were not allowed 
 to get very dark indeed before deliverance 
 came, but the darkest hour usually precedes 
 the dawn, and must be passed through ere the 
 dawn can be welcomed. 
 
 At times faith was very much tried, for 
 things did not come out, or in, just as was de- 
 sired. The apostles received the scourging, 
 and that unjustly, and were actually placed in 
 the innermost dungeon, before it could be 
 demonstrated to Paul and Silas, and to the 
 world also, not only that “He knoweth how 
 to deliver,” but that “all power in heaven and 
 upon earth” has been given to Him who said 
 it had been so given. 
 
 The disciples in the storm; Daniel in the 
 den; Joseph in the pit; Paul in the shipwreck; 
 Jehoshaphat surounded by his enemies and 
 helpless; Mary and Martha at the grave — all 
 illustrate the fact set forth by David, in the 
 words, “I was brought low, and He helped 
 
 187 
 
“tell titem.” 
 
 Chapter XLI. 
 
 The IVidozv and the Fatherless. 
 
 To no class of persons has God made so 
 many promises as to the fatherless and the 
 widow. And terrible curses are pronounced 
 upon the heads of those who take advantage 
 of and oppress those who are thus left help- 
 less. 
 
 How the heart of the Saviour went out in 
 sympathy towards the poor widow of Nain 
 when on the way to bury her only son. No 
 human voice or pleading was required to 
 touch His heart. “When He saw her, He 
 had compassion, and said unto her, ‘Weep 
 not,’ ” and soon “wiped all her tears away,” 
 by removing the cause of them. 
 
 After the age of twelve, we have no men- 
 tion of Joseph, the reputed father of Jesus. 
 But it is stated that while on the cross Jesus 
 commended his mother to the care of “that 
 disciple whom Jesus loved,” and it is written, 
 “From that hour that disciple took her unto 
 his own home,” John xix: 17. So even the 
 experience of the widow and orphan was one 
 through which the Saviour passed, and with 
 which He can therefore fully sympathize. 
 
 In September, 1866, when the writer had 
 been married about three months, he visited 
 his wife’s native town, Gosport, and when leaV' 
 188 
 
THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS. 
 
 ing home, he was asked to visit some friends 
 of his wife’s earlier years, and did so. 
 
 Calling at one home, he found it indeed “a 
 house of mourning.” The head of the fam- 
 ily, a fine, stalwart, sea captain, had “passed 
 away” but a few days before, and the bereaved 
 widow and her four young children were 
 grouped together in grief for their loss, and 
 fear and anxiety for the future. The coming 
 among them of a young man full of buoyancy 
 and hope — a stranger, yet a fellow Christian — • 
 who tried to sympathize with and so “dry the 
 widow’s tears,” had a good tonic effect. 
 Having to stay in the town a few days, he 
 ventured to ask if he might make his “hotel” 
 there, and was gladly granted his desire.. 
 Writing home to my wife, I narrated the 
 circumstances, and asked if she would like me 
 to bring one of the children back with me. 
 The thought was very pleasing to her, and 
 she at once wrote back cheerfully, “Certainly, 
 1 should be delighted for you to bring one of 
 the children home with you.” 
 
 The question then arose as to which one 
 should be the one, a very difficult problem 
 for a mother to solve. 
 
 The two older children were boys, aged 
 eleven and nine years; the younger ones girls 
 of seven and five. The choice or decision 
 finally fell upon the older of the two girls — - 
 Fanny — and she readily accompanied me 
 home on my journey of three hundred miles. 
 While it was a great joy and pleasure for 
 
 i §9 
 
‘‘TELL them.” 
 
 my wife to have a bright young girl compan- 
 ion, it, to some small extent at least, lightened 
 the widow’s heart and life, to feel that some 
 one — yes, her Father in heaven — was really 
 caring for her and her fatherless little ones. 
 
 The father and husband was a man of great 
 faith, and felt that he could well trust his dear 
 ones to Him who has said, “Leave thy father- 
 less children to Me,” and he acted accord- 
 ingly. And, as God has also said. “Them 
 that honor Me, I will honor,” oO He has hon- 
 ored him and his. 
 
 Upon my joining the troop ship Crocodile 
 about a year later, we removed to Gosport 
 and shared house and home with the Ferrins 
 family for several months. 
 
 To-day the children have all grown up and 
 are “doing well.” The oldest son is in a good 
 position in the service of the British govern- 
 ment. The second son is in business for him- 
 self, and the youngest daughter has been for 
 some years engaged in business in London. 
 
 From 1866 to 1876 the two families were 
 in close touch and sympathy, but in the later 
 year, it may be remembered that the writer 
 left Portsmouth for Liverpool; and later on, 
 in 1879, came to America, and the separation 
 was widened bv distance, although not in 
 sympathy. 
 
 In 1888, upon my first visit to England, 
 whither I went as a delegate to the great mis- 
 sionary conference held in Exeter Hall, Lon- 
 don, in June of that year, I desired to learn 
 190 
 
THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS. 
 
 of the welfare of my old friends, from whom 
 I had not then heard for several years. 
 
 I wondered if all the family were still alive, 
 and realizing the uncertainty of life, almost 
 feared to enquire. 
 
 However, arriving in Gosport, I found that 
 all were yet alive, had done well, and were 
 doing well. Their first enquiry was, very 
 naturally, as to where my devoted wife was. 
 
 Twenty-two years before, in 1866, I entered 
 their home — then a house of mourning — now, 
 in 1888, I entered it again — a mourner. 
 
 There was much to tell and to hear during 
 the next few days, of God’s dealings and care 
 for the two families, who for years had been 
 separated by the broad Atlantic. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XLII. 
 
 Retribution. 
 
 Thoughts there were in the heart of the 
 visitor, which, however, found no expression 
 at that time. But will the reader be much 
 surprised to learn that the one who, in 1866, 
 went with him on that journey of three hun- 
 dred miles, was willing, in 1889, to undertake 
 a voyage of three thousand miles to “a far 
 country?” 
 
 In July of that year she crossed the ocean 
 as wife to the writer, and became a mother to 
 the motherless children of the one who wel- 
 comed her to her home many years before — 
 a fatherless child. 
 
 “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he 
 also reap,” is as true of right doing as of 
 wrong surely. It certainly seemed true in 
 this case. 
 
 If there is one event above all others in 
 which we need to seek, and be sure of obtain- 
 ing, Divine guidance, it is in marriage. And 
 what is true in a first experience, is more so 
 in any subsequent transaction, especially where 
 the care and training of children are con- 
 cerned. 
 
 What is true of a parent so left, applies with 
 equal, if not greater force, to the one who is 
 asked to fid the vacant place. 
 
 192 
 
RETRIBUTION. 
 
 If parents often realize the difficulty of 
 training their own children, as they certainly 
 do, how much more must one do so who 
 nobly undertakes the responsibility of acting 
 a parent’s part. 
 
 This consideration is often sufficient to de- 
 ter, when all else appears favorable to the 
 step. 
 
 One of the most romantic and deeply in- 
 teresting stories to be found anywhere is con- 
 tained in the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis 
 — read it. 
 
 One of the main objects in the issuance of 
 this little book is that it may be of help to 
 others, by telling of what God did for one, 
 and what He is equally ready to do for all. 
 
 There were some incidents connected with 
 my taking the step just narrated, that are al- 
 most too sacred to tell, and yet I feel led, for 
 the sake of others, and for the glory of God, 
 to tell them. 
 
 The one who had been my devoted partner 
 in life for more than twenty-one years, a few 
 days before she was “taken home,” conversed 
 with the husband, whom both knew she would 
 soon be leaving, concerning the five children 
 so soon to be left motherless. Neither had 
 mother or sister living, who might act a 
 mother’s part. Concerning her going to the 
 “home-land” there was no question, but some 
 anxiety was evinced regarding those who 
 would be left behind; and her mind reverted 
 to “Fanny,” whom twenty years before she 
 193 
 
RETRIBUTION. 
 
 welcomed to her heart and home, and now 
 wished she were by her side. 
 
 In addition to other reasons, this was one 
 which helped me in deciding upon my course 
 of action, and only gratitude finds a place in 
 my heart as in 1897 I thus write of it. 
 
 If the dear little fellow, Percy, of two and 
 a half years old, needed the care of a loving, 
 motherly heart, the oldest, Harry, perhaps 
 needed it more, and not less the three moth- 
 erless girls between them. 
 
 While the hand and heart of God was 
 directing me, through the lips of a devoted, 
 but dying wife, the same One was controlling 
 the destiny of her of whom she spoke on the 
 other side of the Atlantic. For years we had 
 not heard from her or her family, and knew 
 not if they still lived. They, too, knew not 
 of my loss, until, many months later, I entered 
 their home once more. 
 
 No word, or hint, escaped me concerning 
 those things which were on, or in, my heart 
 in 1888 until I returned to America. Then, 
 after much prayer, I wrote, and, with three 
 thousand miles between us, each was better 
 able to be surely guided by a Divine hand and 
 heart than if near together, and thus more un- 
 der the influence of each other. 
 
 19S 
 
Marion and Clifford Dowkontt. 
 
A TRIO OF CASES. 
 
 Chapter XLIII. 
 
 A Trio of Cases. 
 
 During the sixteen years that have passed 
 since the opening of the first medical mission 
 in New York in 1881, over one hundred thou- 
 sand medical attendances have been given to 
 the sick poor at the various mission dispen- 
 saries since established, and in the homes of 
 those struggling with poverty, sickness and 
 resultant sorrow, often, but not always, the 
 outcome of sin on the part of the sufferer or 
 of others. 
 
 As a result of these efforts on the part of 
 the students preparing for similar work 
 abroad, they have been trained at home to 
 labor elsewhere and have gained much expe- 
 rience, while they have also been the means 
 of leading many of the vicious and criminal 
 classes to forsake the service of sin and Satan 
 for that of the Saviour of men. 
 
 In short, scenes have often been witnessed 
 over which angels must have rejoiced in 
 heaven, as saints and sinners did rejoice over 
 on earth. And what greater or grander sights 
 can mortal eyes look upon. 
 
 The following trio of cases, occurring in 
 the early history of the Society, may serve 
 to illustrate the power of this agency to reach 
 i97 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 the various classes who are more or less in- 
 accessible to ordinary Christian effort. 
 
 One day a poor Christian woman asked me 
 to visit her cousin, a man well on in years, 
 and a violent infidel. Neither relatives nor 
 friends dare speak to him about his soul. His 
 Christian parents were long since dead, but 
 upon going to him an entrance was gained 
 to his home, his heart and his soul. He had 
 a half-witted son, with whom he spent his 
 time playing with a pack of greasy, black 
 cards, but a few weeks after my first visit the 
 cards went out and the Bible came in, and 
 there was great rejoicing. 
 
 He had been in the employ of one of the 
 leading firms in New York for thirty years. 
 Had been sick over six months, and the al- 
 lowance from his sick club had ceased after 
 six months. The first thing done was to se- 
 cure from his employers an allowance of 
 twenty dollars a month, which was continued 
 until his death some months later. 
 
 After “the change” took place everybody 
 was welcome, even to the previously despised 
 minister, and prayer meetings were held in 
 his room as often as he could get any one to 
 pray there. His last words were, “Be sure 
 and tell the doctor I died trusting in Jesus, 
 and ask him to tell my mates at the funeral 
 of the great change in me.” 
 
 One day a poor fellow with bleared, blood- 
 shot eyes and breath reeking with rum, came 
 with his arm injured. “Doctor, I fear my 
 198 
 
A TRIO OF CASES. 
 
 arm’s broke, I wish you'd see to it.” I did 
 so and found it was not broken, but severely 
 sprained. Having attended to it, I spoke to 
 him as follows: 
 
 “John, do you know what I was thinking 
 of when I wrote your name in my book?” 
 “No, doctor; what?” 
 
 “Well, I was wondering if, when your 
 mother gave you that name, she did not hope 
 that some day you might be like one of those 
 Johns that we read of in the old Book.” 
 “Well, doctor, I shouldn’t wonder but she 
 did, but I’m not like one of them, and never 
 will be. But please let me go, I only came 
 to get my arm seen to.” 
 
 “Yes, I know, John, but having seen to it 
 for you, you surely won’t go away like that.” 
 At first it was vain to plead. He knew he 
 was lost, he said, but he did not want to think 
 about it nor get “there” any sooner than he 
 could help. He was afraid to pi ay or touch 
 the Bible, as he was urged to look at a verse, 
 for fear God would strike him dead. He 
 had cursed God, he said, as he came into the 
 mission, although he came to God’s servant 
 for relief. 
 
 But it was not all in vain, however. That 
 man prayed and wept ere he left that place: 
 prayed not only for himself, but for his poor 
 drunken wife, too, and they both became 
 Christians, the man a deacon of a Presbyte- 
 rian church. 
 
 One afternoon a poor woman with a baby 
 
 199 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 in her arms and a little boy of five years by 
 her side, came to the mission, and, while the 
 service was proceeding, she laughed several 
 times. Curious to know the cause of such 
 strange conduct, I found that she had often 
 been to the place when it was a liquor store, 
 and had witnessed strange sights there; and 
 now finding the liquor store a dispensary, and 
 then “to hear the ‘Word o’ God,' ” as she said, 
 “read there,” the contrast was to her ludic- 
 rous. However, she came to the meeting 
 that night, and upon returning home her 
 husband, a rough man, asked, “Where have 
 you been?” “To the mission.” “Well, then, 
 clear out.” She did so very quickly, taking 
 the baby with her. The little boy essayed to 
 follow, but the father called him back. “You 
 come here. What are you crying for, eh?” 
 “Well, papa, if you knowed what they said 
 there, you wouldn’t turn mother out.” “What 
 did they say?” “They said, ‘Wash me and I 
 shall be whiter than snow.’ ” The word went 
 home to the man’s heart. Presently he said, 
 “Go and call your mother back,” and the boy 
 quickly obeyed. A few nights later that man 
 was at the meeting, and a few weeks after 
 the wife brought the glad news: 
 
 “Doctor, I’m so glad, my Jem’s converted.” 
 Often would she testify of what Jesus had 
 done for her and hers through the mission. 
 Some months later the man took very sick 
 and nearly died. Then the two children sick- 
 ened with measles and bronchitis, and before 
 
 200 
 
A TRIO OF CASES. 
 
 they could get well the poor woman’s health 
 gave way under the strain of poverty and de- 
 votion to her dear ones. 
 
 One morning she awoke her husband and 
 said, "Jem, I think I’m dying; I wish you’d 
 get out and kneel down and say a prayer for 
 me.” As well as he could — and surely as well 
 as was needed to obtain the answer — he prayed, 
 then arose to get his devoted wife a drink. 
 Returning to the bedside, he found she had 
 “gone” to drink of the Water of Life. 
 
 The following three sketches of cases ap- 
 peared in The Nezv York Witness, and led 
 several to send us help: 
 
 201 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XLIV. 
 
 Dead, Biit Alive Again. 
 
 “Shure, an’ she’s not long for this world, 
 the poor thing, wid such a cough as that.” 
 
 “No, indeed, I should say not, either; it’s 
 terrible to hear what a hollow sound it has, 
 isn’t it? Do you know her?” 
 
 “Not much — only by sight — seein’ her 
 round about the Fourth Ward now and then. 
 She’s just one of them poor, unfortunate crit- 
 ters as there’s too many of about this quarter; 
 an’ they dies off by scores afore they’re hardly 
 women.” 
 
 “Indeed! Then you know somethingabout 
 this part of the city?” 
 
 “Well, I should say I did. Why, I been 
 livin’ round this quarter for more ’n thirty 
 years.” 
 
 “Is that so? Well, I’ve always lived up 
 town till lately, but since I lost my husband 
 and was left with four little ones, things have 
 altered much with me; and my health has got 
 so poorly recently that I felt I must come and 
 see the doctor, and get something to 
 strengthen me.” 
 
 “Well, yer looks kind o’ white lookin’, but 
 the doctor ’ll no doubt do yer good.” 
 
 “Ah! My friend said so who advised me 
 to come. She had been here and got relief 
 
 202 
 
DEAD, BUT ALIVE AGAIN. 
 
 herself; and she said that the doctor reads out 
 of the Bible and speaks to the patients.” 
 
 “Oh, yes, that he does; an’ I likes to ’ear 
 it, for the way it is, as yer know, with us poor 
 people, we don’t seem to ’ave no time to think 
 about our poor souls at all.” 
 
 “Yes, that is so, is it not? We are all the 
 time caring for the body and forgetting the 
 soul.” 
 
 “But I can tell yer, I well remember the 
 time when there warn’t no preachin’ done ’ere 
 — only plenty of whiskey, an’ lots o’ devil’s 
 work.” 
 
 “Indeed ” 
 
 “Yes; it’s myself as knows it Why, this 
 place was a rum-’ole ever since the ’ouse was 
 built, more’n thirty years ago, till the doctor 
 took it and turned the saloon keeper out.” 
 
 “Dear me! what a change ” 
 
 “Yes, and I can tell yer there’s been as big 
 a change in me since I come ’ere!” 
 
 “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” 
 
 “Why, I’ve often been in ’ere for my drops 
 for me an’ my ole man; specially Sunday 
 mornin’s; then we had to go to the side door 
 over there; it’s the same door and the same 
 place, but it don’t seem the same any more 
 than I’m the same as I used to be, for since 
 I come ’ere I’ve given myself right up to 
 Jesus, an’ I’m a deal happier in my mind, an’ 
 I find as things go along better every way.” 
 “Well, I cannot but rejoice with you, for 
 although I have had my struggles, still I al- 
 203 
 
“teli. them.” 
 
 ways know where to go to, as the little hymn 
 says: 
 
 “ What a Friend we have in Jesus, 
 
 All our sins and griefs to bear; 
 
 What a privilege to carry 
 
 Everything to God in prayer/’ 
 
 “Why, they sing that ’im 'ere o’ nights, an’ 
 there’s a dear lady what comes ’ere too; yer'll 
 see ’er presently. You must comedown some 
 night.” 
 
 “Yes, I will.” 
 
 The foregoing conversation might have 
 been overheard one afternoon in the waiting 
 room of the New York Medical Mission, 81 
 Roosevelt Street, between two of the many 
 patients who were gathered there. 
 
 The entrance of the doctor, and the lady 
 referred to, caused the speakers to stop talk- 
 ing. After a few moments spent in prayer, 
 the doctor proceeded to speak to those pre- 
 sent upon the great joy the Saviour had in re- 
 ceiving sinners, as shown by the parable of 
 the lost sheep in the fifteenth of Luke. “You 
 see, my dear friends, that Jesus is not only 
 willing to receive sinners who have wandered 
 far away from God, and able to save them, 
 but He rejoices over them, and even calls all 
 heaven to rejoice too, and not over a hun- 
 dred, but over just one. And now let me ask 
 you, has there been joy there over you yet? 
 If not, God grant there maybe even to-day.” 
 A few words of prayer followed, in which 
 God’s blessing was sought, both as regards 
 
 204 
 
DEAD, BUT ALIVE AGAIN. 
 
 the physical and spiritual needs of those pre- 
 sent, and then the patients came into the con- 
 sulting room, one by one. 
 
 “This poor girl's very sick, sir,” said the 
 janitor as he assisted the poor creature, whose 
 cough had been so distressing, into the doc- 
 tor’s room. 
 
 “Sit down, my girl, and tell me all about 
 yourself. What is your name?” 
 
 “Mary Connor.” 
 
 “And how old are you?” 
 
 “Twenty-one, doctor.” 
 
 “Where do you live?” 
 
 “No. — Water Street, sir, just round the 
 corner.” 
 
 “How long have you been sick?” 
 
 “Oh, for some months now; only I thought 
 it would wear off, and so I did not go to a 
 doctor. But I’m so bad now I can’t rest, and 
 I have had hardly any sleep for several 
 nights.” 
 
 The doctor having asked some more ques- 
 tions, and examined the poor girl (although 
 little of that was needed to convince him that 
 she was in the last stage of consumption), in 
 a kindly manner said: “Well, my poor girl, 
 I am afraid there is not much that I can do 
 for you, except to give you some temporary 
 relief. But tell me, how is it about your poor 
 soul? Have you thought about that?” 
 
 “Not much, sir, I must own. But now and 
 then — just at times — I have. But then I’d 
 take a good drink, to drown it all.” 
 
 205 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 “Just so. And that is just how the devil is 
 doing all the time when God, by His Spirit, 
 is seeking one of His poor lost sheep. He 
 tells them to take this cursed stuff, and so 
 they drive off their best friend from them and 
 don’t know it.” 
 
 Here the poor girl dropped her head, and, 
 realizing the force of the truth presented, 
 burst into tears, and then said, “Doctor, the 
 name I gave you just now was not my right 
 one, only one that I took when I began this 
 devil’s life.” 
 
 “Indeed, then, what is your right name?” 
 “Why, it’s Grace Brown.” 
 
 “Well, I am glad you have told me that; 
 it’s just one step towards right to give up the 
 devil’s lie. But, tell me, are your father and 
 mother living, Grace?” 
 
 “I really don’t know, sir.” 
 
 “Indeed; then how long since you heard 
 from them?” 
 
 “Why, never since I left home, and that’s 
 just four years ago.” 
 
 “And you have never heard of or from 
 them, or written to them?” 
 
 “No, sir,” and the poor girl burst out with, 
 “Oh, my poor mother! shall I ever see her 
 again? She’s no doubt dead. I fear I must 
 have killed her. I’ve beenashamed and afraid 
 to write, and thought I would just die as I’ve 
 lived; but, oh, it may be that God has sent 
 me here to-day so that I may yet see her 
 again.” 
 
 206 
 
DEAD, BUT ALIVE AGAIN. 
 
 “I’m glad you have that thought, Grace, 
 and don’t you see it’s just in keeping with 
 what Jesus says about ‘seeking till He find it;’ 
 so He has been seeking you all this time, and 
 now I trust He has found you. Thank God 
 for it.” Having obtained the address of her 
 parents, and given her such assistance as she 
 seemed to need, the doctor bade her go home 
 and remain there, and he would see her the 
 next day. 
 
 “Good day, sir; and I thank God I came 
 here to-day, for I feel better in my mind now, 
 at any rate.” 
 
 As soon as the rest of the patients had been 
 seen, a letter was written to Grace’s parents, 
 who resided two hundred and fifty miles from 
 New York City. 
 
 The next day the doctor and the lady re- 
 ferred to visited Grace — it was indeed a horri- 
 ble place. She had been cast off by those 
 who had profited by her sin, and a poor man 
 and woman, though very rough in their ways, 
 had kindly hearts enough to take her in; for, 
 as they said, “they had children of their own, 
 and they didn’t know what they might come 
 to afore they died.” 
 
 When told that her parents had been writ- 
 ten to, poor Grace expressed her joy, and said, 
 “I shall be so anxious now, doctor, till you 
 get an answer, so that I may know if they are 
 still alive and will let me come home.” 
 
 “Depend upon it, you shall know of it just 
 as soon as we hear from them.” 
 
 207 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 That afternoon a telegram was received 
 from her father, “Our hearts are full of joy. 
 We long to welcome our poor Grade. All 
 are still alive. Will write more.” 
 
 When the poor girl received this news, her 
 joy knew no bounds; and one could not but 
 see that it was a joy that a stranger could not 
 meddle with, as the Scripture says. A letter 
 followed, full of expressions of rejoicing at the 
 prospect of meeting their lost one, who, as the 
 father said, was “dead, but is alive again; for,” 
 said he, “my boy has been twice to New York 
 City to try and find her, in vain, and now by 
 this sickness she is found.” 
 
 One morning a finely built young man 
 came to the dispensary and asked if Dr. Dow- 
 kontt was in. On seeing him, he inquired, 
 somewhat impatiently: 
 
 “Where is she?” 
 
 “Who do you mean?” asked the doctor. 
 
 “Why, my poor sister, Grace; is she here? 
 Let me see her, sir, at once. Oh. don’t keep 
 me waiting!” 
 
 “She is not here, my dear fellow, but I will 
 soon take you to where she is;” and putting 
 on his hat, the doctor led the way. As they 
 turned into Water Street, the young man 
 asked: 
 
 “What! is she down here?” 
 
 “Yes,” replied the doctor. “Come along; 
 you need not be afraid, as I am with you, al- 
 though it is a pretty dangerous place, I can 
 tell you.” 
 
 208 
 
DEAD, CUT ALIVE AGAIN. 
 
 “Yes, I can see that by all these fellows and 
 girls standing about.” 
 
 “This is the house,” said the doctor, as they 
 entered a wretched tenement; the stairs 
 seemed to give way under them as they as- 
 cended. The young man,| with a shudder, 
 exclaimed: 
 
 “Oh, my God! is it possible my poor sister 
 is here?” 
 
 "Yes, it is, and you will see her directly; 
 only try and compose yourself all you can.” 
 
 Knocking at the door, the doctor asked if 
 Mary was there. 
 
 “But my sister’s name is Grace, not Mary.” 
 
 “That's all right; Mary is the name they 
 know her by.” 
 
 The door opened and the doctor entered 
 first. Poor Grace came forward out of an 
 inner bed room. 
 
 “Mary, I have brought a friend to see you,” 
 said the doctor, as the brother entered. Each 
 scanned the other for a moment; but Grace, 
 recognizing her brother first, shrieked: 
 
 “Oh, my brother! it’s Tom! Oh, my God!” 
 and fell on his neck; as Tom recognized the 
 voice, they wept for joy. As soon as they 
 had become somewhat calmed, Grace asked 
 concerning her poor father and mother and 
 brothers and sisters; and upon hearing that 
 they were all still alive, and waiting to wel- 
 come her, she burst into tears, exclaiming: 
 
 “Thank God! Thank God! I shall yet 
 see them again.” 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 That afternoon some conversation took 
 place between Tom and the doctor concerning 
 arrangements for poor Grace to return home. 
 
 “Well,” said Tom, “I had to wait till yester- 
 day to get my pay, and as I’ve a wife and chil- 
 dren to support, and the poor old people are 
 getting on in years, they can’t do much; so 
 I had to pawn my watch to make up the ten 
 dollars to come with. I know I shall lose 
 my job over this, but I don’t mind. She had 
 better go home to-night with my ticket, and 
 I can get home somehow.” 
 
 “Oh, but you can’t do that, 1 said the doctor, 
 admiring Tom’s self-denial. 
 
 ‘Oh, yes,” said Tom. “I can foot it some- 
 how, or maybe I can get a job in the city, and 
 then I can save up enough in a week or two 
 to get home with — in fact, doctor, that’s the 
 only way as I see it can be done.” 
 
 “Well, you leave that to the Lord, and I’ll 
 go and see a friend of mine and see what he 
 will do. I am sorry I haven’t any means by 
 me to help you with. I wish I had; but never 
 mind; no doubt some help will come.” 
 
 “Thank you, doctor, a thousand times. I 
 only wish you could see the old couple. Why, 
 when your letter came my poor old mother 
 nearly went out of her mind for joy — in fact, 
 we thought she would never come right — for 
 she tore the hair out of her head by handfuls, 
 crying out for her ‘poor Grade.’ ” 
 
 That night (Saturday) Gracie, Tom and the 
 doctor, were at the Grand Central Depot 
 210 
 
DEAD, BUT ALIVE AGAIN. 
 
 awaiting the nine P. M. train for the West. 
 Having boarded the train and given special 
 instruction as to Grace’s being kept warm, 
 and seeing that they were supplied with some 
 refreshments, the doctor bade them "good- 
 bye.” 
 
 Poor Grace and Tom seemed quite unable 
 to express the gratitude they felt as they said, 
 “May the Lord bless you, doctor, and make 
 you the means of saving many more, and if 
 we never meet again on earth, the Lord bring 
 us to heaven.” 
 
 It was the close of the following week when 
 a letter was received by the doctor from 
 Grace’s father, in which he told with deep 
 feeling that his poor lost one had gone to “the 
 better land,” on the Wednesday after arriving 
 home, “and,” said he, “I have seen many die, 
 for I am over seventy years old, but I never 
 saw any one die so happy as our poor Gracie. 
 Yes, she just came home to die, but, thank 
 God, we saw her and had her with us at the 
 last; and, my dear doctor, I don’t know how 
 to thank you enough, but I give you ‘a million 
 of thanks’ for your kindness to my poor, lost 
 Gracie.” 
 
 21 1 
 
SOME TROPHIES. 
 
 Chapter XLV. 
 
 Some Trophies. 
 
 “Is the docther in, sir?” asked a poor Irish- 
 woman, quite out of breath with the effort she 
 had made to get to the dispensary. 
 
 "Yes, he is,” replied the janitor. 
 
 “Thank Gcd for that! Will you tell ’im as 
 I wants ’im at once, please?” 
 
 “Yes; but what’s the matter?” 
 
 “Why, there is a poor woman as is kilt in- 
 tirely, so she is, and she’ll die if the docther 
 isn't quick there.” 
 
 On being shown into the consulting room, 
 she burst out with : 
 
 "Och, docther, dear, come aroun’ quick. 
 
 There’s poor Mrs. W , yer knows ’er — 
 
 she’s been ’ere — an’ now she’s a-bleedin’ to 
 death.” 
 
 The doctor snatched up his hat and hastened 
 to accompany the speaker, and on the way to 
 the house endeavored to obtain further infor- 
 mation respecting the case, so as to be the 
 better prepared. “Tell me how it all hap- 
 pened.” 
 
 “Indeed an’ I will, docther. Shure, it’s ’er 
 ’usban’ that’s to blame, so it is.” 
 
 “Well, what did he do?” asked the doctor. 
 
 “Why, sur, he ’it ’er on the ’ead wid a great 
 dish, an’ she, the poor woman, as nice a little 
 body as ever lived, the Lord ’av mercy on us!” 
 213 
 
“Tell them.” 
 
 “I suppose the drink had to do with it, as 
 usual?” queried the doctor. 
 
 “Yes, indeed, sur; but it wasn’t she as took 
 it, only ’ini.” 
 
 By this time they had arrived at the door 
 of the house, which was situated in a long 
 alley with a row of houses on either side and 
 only one entrance — a dangerous place this at 
 one time, where a policeman dare not enter 
 alone, and where a number of them together 
 were none too safe to enter, for all sorts of 
 missiles, including brick-bats, etc., would be 
 showered down upon their heads from the 
 windows and roofs ; but things had changed a 
 good deal of late under better management. 
 
 “This is the place, sir; come right in an’ 
 welcome, sir,” said the guide. 
 
 It was indeed a sad sight that met the doc- 
 tor’s gaze as he entered the room; there sat 
 
 Mrs. W covered with blood, which was 
 
 flowing freely from the wounds in her head. 
 
 A couple of the neighbors were trying to 
 cheer her, as they supported her in the chair 
 in which she was seated. 
 
 Upon examination, the doctor found her in 
 a fainting condition from loss of blood, and 
 after giving some restoratives, proceeded to 
 wash away the blood and discover the wounds, 
 which \vas no easy task. 
 
 While this was being done, the women pre- 
 sent were very free in their denunciation of 
 the husband’s conduct, who, as they said, with 
 a good deal of truth, would make three of her; 
 
 214 
 
SOME TROPHIES. 
 
 but none of them seemed to blame either the 
 devil, the drink, the drink-seller, or those who 
 licensed the sale of that which is the cause of 
 so much misery. 
 
 How true it is that Satan blinds the eyes of 
 the people, as the Word of God says: “Lest 
 they should see with their eyes, and be con- 
 verted, and I should heal them.” 
 
 Having discovered the locality and extent 
 of the wounds, removed some of the hair, and 
 applied the needed dressing, the doctor pro- 
 ceeded briefly, but tersely, to point out to his 
 audience the results of drink. “I tell you, my 
 friends,” said he, “when you take this cursed 
 drink, you, so to speak, take the devil into 
 vou, and you place yourselves entirely in his 
 power; now just think of this case; this poor 
 woman might now be lying dead and her fool- 
 ish husband would have been tried, and would 
 no doubt, have been hung for murder, and 
 all through this cursed drink.” 
 
 “Yes, indeed, its thrue for yez, docther, so 
 it is, for it’s only God’s mercy she’s not killed, 
 I’m sure.” 
 
 “You may well say that, my friend, for had 
 the dish not broken, or had it struck the poor 
 woman on its edge instead of on the flat part 
 of it, she most certainly would have been 
 killed; and I’ll tell you more; her husband 
 would have found out what many more have 
 done, that the one who led him into the trou- 
 ble would never help him out— I mean the 
 devil.” 
 
 215 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 “No, indeed, that’s true enough, sir. He 
 drags us into it, though, plenty, if we let him,” 
 chimed in one of the women. 
 
 “Well, now, my friends,” said the doctor, 
 “the patient must be left quiet or the result 
 may yet be very seriousj and, as I am leaving 
 you, I want to tell you just two things for you 
 to think over. One is this: I have been offer- 
 ing a five-dollar bill for more than two years 
 now to the man or woman who can tell me 
 that the devil helped them out of trouble just 
 once in all their lives.” 
 
 “Och, shure, sir; he never does that.” 
 
 “Well, then, don’t let him drag you into it, 
 but look to the great Physician, who died 
 for you on the cross so that we might be saved 
 out of the trouble the devil would drag us 
 into.” 
 
 “The Lord help us to do so. sir.” 
 
 “And now the other thing I want to say is 
 this: I Avant you to do as I did thirty years 
 ago, and that is, give up this terrible drink, 
 which I call ‘the devil’s right arm,’ and never 
 let it come into your houses; it never comes 
 into mine, and I have six children, and none 
 of them ever tasted it, and I hope they never 
 will.” 
 
 “That the Lord may pour His blessin’ on 
 you and yours, and give yer all a place in 
 ’eaven, and do so for all of us,” exclaimed the 
 doctor’s guide, as he bade them good night. 
 
 One evening, about ten days after the above 
 occurrence transpired, a tall, powerfully built 
 216 
 
SOME TROPHIES. 
 
 man, accompanied by a little woman, entered 
 the Medical Mission Dispensary, at 81 Roose- 
 velt Street, during the meeting held for those 
 of the patients or others who could attend. 
 
 The subject dealt with was the ability and 
 willingness of Christ to save to the uttermost 
 all who came unto God by Him. 
 
 An appeal was afterwards made for any who 
 felt their need of the Saviour, and who be- 
 lieved He was able and willing to save them, 
 to stand up and say so. 
 
 The tall man rose up and said: “Doctor, I 
 want to find Jesus. I’ve come here with my 
 wife to give myself to God. I want peace, 
 for I’ve had no rest for days; and last night 
 I could not sleep at all, thinking of my sins, 
 and of my poor dead praying mother. I want 
 you to pray that I may find Jesus to-night.” 
 
 During the utterance of these sentences the 
 strong man trembled, and the tears coursed 
 down his cheeks, showing his deep earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 When he sat down, his wife stood up, and 
 in a weak voice said: “Doctor, I want to thank 
 God that He spared my life, and also my hus- 
 band’s, and to thank you for your kindness 
 to us ; and now I want you all to pray that we 
 may both be saved.” 
 
 Others followed, and then some time was 
 spent in prayer. Upon rising from their 
 knees, the strong man, and the weak woman 
 by his side, testified to a newly-found peace, 
 and there was joy in their hearts, and in the 
 217 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 hearts of those at the little meeting, and we 
 felt sure that 
 
 There arose a cry to the gates of heaven, 
 
 ‘ Rejoice ! 1 have found My sheep;’ 
 
 And the angels echoed around the throne, 
 
 ‘ Rejoice, for the Loid brings back Ilis own ! ’ ” 
 
 On the Sunday following, they were both 
 in their places, and the man said: “My heart 
 is full of praise to God, because He saved me; 
 isn't it wonderful? Why, I had only one step 
 more and I should have been in hell, and never 
 have seen my dear mother; but now I can look 
 forward to meet her. Praise the Lord! Be- 
 fore this, 1 used to despise the Bible, and wor- 
 ship the beer can; but now it is changed, and 
 we have peace and happiness in our home.” 
 
 218 
 
LIFE LESSONS LEARNED. 
 
 Chapter XLVI. 
 
 Life Lessons Learned. 
 
 To one who has lived for half a century and 
 more, and whose life has been one of continu- 
 ous struggle, as indeed most lives are, there 
 is nothing, perhaps, so calculated to produce 
 mingled feelings of joy and sadness, pain and 
 pleasure, as a retrospective view of the years 
 lived, never to be lived again. 
 
 Journeying through the “school of life” for 
 fifty years ought to be freighted with many 
 lessons well learned and rewards well earned; 
 but, alas! we are poor scholars at best, and 
 few can find satisfaction with the life they have 
 lived, so fraught with blessing, and yet so bur- 
 dened with sin, sorrow and frequent failure. 
 David said, or wrote, “Surely goodness and 
 mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” 
 He doubtless so wrote because he realized that 
 they had been following him in all the past 
 days of his life. 
 
 The goodness of God following man all the 
 time, and yet mercy also, because of his prone- 
 ness to sin, in spite of all God’s goodness. 
 
 Thus does the goodness of God and the vile- 
 ness of man appear by contrast. 
 
 How much of this has been true in the 
 writer’s experience cannot be told, for “God 
 only knows, the love of God.” 
 
 219 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 There are, however, some things which 
 stand out prominently as lessons at least partly 
 learned, that the writer may be allowed to 
 mention here, and which may prove helpful 
 to our readers. 
 
 First. “The faithfulness of God.” 
 
 The preceding pages contain many evi- 
 dences of Divine watch-care; not only over 
 those who trust in Him, and pray to Him, but 
 also over those who themselves are careless, 
 and yet, and because of this perhaps, have 
 been “entrusted” to Him by loving hearts. 
 
 Shall a mother’s dying prayer for her child 
 not be heard and answered by her Father in 
 heaven? “Master, I have brought unto Thee 
 my son, which is lunatic,” and “he was 
 healed.” She of Canaan “besought Him for 
 her daughter,” and she, too, was healed. Oh! 
 for more of faith that brings others to the 
 Master, to whom the children were brought, 
 and who said to one concerning his son, 
 “Bring him to Me.” 
 
 Another lesson is, not only to “Wait on 
 God,” but to “Wait for God.” 
 
 Wait on Him in prayer, and wait for Him 
 to answer. 
 
 As an illustration of this, the manuscript for 
 this little book, in large part, at least, was 
 written many months before any of it was in 
 type, “waiting for God.” A friend, Mr. L. 
 D. West, came one day and offered me the use 
 of one hundred dollars, to “help get the book 
 
 220 
 
LIFE LESSONS LEARNED. 
 
 out,” for, said he, “I want it, and am sure it 
 will do good.” 
 
 David wrote, “My soul, wait thou only upon 
 God.” That is a still higher lesson. To wait 
 upon God, and friends, is easier usually than 
 to wait only upon Him. But, later in life, the 
 heart cries out in despair as to creature help, 
 and prays, 
 
 “ Change and decay in all around I see, 
 
 Oh 1 Thou who changest not, abide with me.” 
 
 Too often we will not give God time to do 
 His work. He does not actually need it, but 
 He generally uses it. He can as easily make 
 oaks of acorns in ten seconds as in fifty years, 
 but He does not waste His miracles, nor hurry 
 needlessly. “Wait thou His time; the darkest 
 night shall shine as brightest day.” 
 
 A lesson of very great importance to learn 
 is, that the Christian life is surely one of war- 
 fare without, although of peace within. Even 
 the Prince of peace was always at war. A 
 friend spoke one day of a certain Christian 
 man who was “always in hot water.” This 
 led me to call his attention to the fact that 
 such was really the experience of Jesus. 
 When “principle” rather than “policy” rules 
 a life, opposition is sure to be met with. “As 
 far as lieth in you” — or it is possible for you to 
 do so — “live peaceably with all men.” Im- 
 plying the impossibility of doing so with some 
 men. 
 
 The apostle, however, says, “We wrestle not 
 against flesh and blood” — our own, or that of 
 
 221 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 others — “but with principalities and powers, 
 of wickedness.” The “visible” foes are not 
 the ones most to be feared and grappled with, 
 but the “unseen.” 
 
 “Simon, Satan hath desired you; but I have 
 prayed for you,” said Christ as He “lifted the 
 curtain” and revealed the real scene of conflict 
 - — unseen and unknown to mortal man. 
 
 Thank God that even the desires of Satan 
 cannot be hid from the Captain of our salva- 
 tion, who knows how, not only to pray, but 
 also to “die to save.” 
 
 With increasing years come a fuller knowl- 
 edge of three things: 
 
 1st. One’s own inherent weakness and in- 
 ability to withstand the “wiles of the devil." 
 
 2d. The subtlety and power of Satan; but, 
 thank God, 
 
 3d. The greater power of Christ, who is 
 able both to “deliver” and to "keep.” 
 
 "He knoweth hozv to deliver the godly.” 
 “T am persuaded that He is able to keep,” 
 wrote Paul. 
 
 The more progress one makes in the Divine 
 life, the more fully are the personality, pre- 
 sence and power of God felt and known; and 
 equally so, perhaps, is Satan realized to be no 
 myth, but a person, having great power, who 
 is seldom, if ever, absent. At times, it may be, 
 leaving one “for a season,” only it would seem 
 that he may return with increase of power and 
 cunning, even as “an angel of light.” Alas 
 for us when he so appears, or comes in like a 
 
 222 
 
LIFE LESSONS LEARNED. 
 
 “flood,” did not the Master — yes, Satan’s 
 Master, too — appear for our deliverance, as 
 when He came “walking on the water” to the 
 storm-tossed disciples, and said, “It is I; be 
 not afraid.” 
 
 One of the first hymns my dear mother 
 taught me, fifty years ago, when I was about 
 five years of age, began, “Guide me, O, Thou 
 great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren 
 iand.” 
 
 I am free to say that I do not think I un- 
 derstood those lines at that time; but, as the 
 years go by, I like to remember them, and 
 especially the next two, “I am ‘weak,’ but 
 Thou art ‘mighty;’ ‘Hold me’ with Thy power- 
 ful hand.” 
 
 What a difference between the little child 
 “holding on” to one finger of the parent’s 
 hand, and the same little hand, in realized 
 weakness, placed in the father’s stronger one, 
 which clasps it firmly! “Hold Thou me up, 
 and I shall be safe.” No safety elsewhere, or 
 otherwise, all through life. 
 
 Of Moses it is said, “He endured, as ‘seeing 
 Him’ who is invisible.” Surely this is the 
 secret of all really successful endurance, to- 
 gether with the remembrance of the promise, 
 “In due season we shall reap.” 
 
 223 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XLVII. 
 
 The Great Conflict. 
 
 A good thing to do at certain times is to 
 “consider Him”- — Jesus — “that endured such 
 contradiction of sinners against Himself.” 
 Marvellous indeed was His patient endurance, 
 and tremendous the opposition which assailed 
 Him continually. 
 
 Scarce was He born in Bethlehem, and an- 
 gels, wise men and shepherds rejoiced thereat, 
 when the enemy of souls — and of bodies, too 
 — caused Herod to send his soldiers to destroy 
 Him whom God had sent, so that man might 
 not have a Saviour. 
 
 But He who knows what is in man, also 
 knows what is in Satan, and foiled him in his 
 dire purpose. 
 
 Then came the years of toil and struggle at 
 Nazareth, the worst city in that land. “Can 
 any good thing come out of Nazareth?” one 
 asked in amazement. Yes, thank God, One 
 — the Son of God — went into that city pure 
 and holy, lived and labored in it for a life time, 
 and left it as pure as on the day He entered it, 
 but not through any lack of trial and tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 I t thirty was the Saviour of men baptized 
 and anointed for His work, but immediately 
 He passed through the hottest conflict with 
 
 224 
 
THE GREAT CONFLICT. 
 
 the arch-fiend, Satan. Starved almost to 
 death by forty days’ abstinence; in the desert, 
 among wild beasts, hounded by the foe of God 
 and man, He stood it all unscathed. 
 
 How the subtlety of Satan is seen in the 
 final three-fold temptation. First, "If Thou 
 be the Son of God, command these stones to 
 be made bread.” Take the law into your own 
 hands, you see that God has left you to starve, 
 He cares not — deliver yourself. To the 
 woman, many centuries before, he said, ‘‘Hath 
 God said ye may not eat of the trees?” But 
 the woman corrected him; not “trees,” but 
 “tree,” only one. Christ ever preached, “God 
 so loved.” Satan ever tries to prove the con- 
 trary . 
 
 Second. “He taketh Him to a high moun- 
 tain,” and by another assault, but in vain, does 
 he try to excite ambition. 
 
 Twice has Christ defeated his opponent by 
 “It is written.” Very well, then, Satan will 
 meet Him on His own ground. Now together 
 they wend their way; where to? To the Holy 
 City, to the holiest place in that city; more, 
 to the highest pinnacle of that temple — the 
 temple of God, in Jerusalem. And now from 
 the very Word of God Satan quotes, to justify 
 his third assault. “If Thou be the Son of 
 God, cast Thyself down, for it is written” — 
 yes, truly, it is written — “He shall give His 
 angels charge concerning Thee.” But it is 
 also written, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord 
 thy God.” Beaten again, the devil “leaveth 
 333 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Him for a season.” Yes, for a season; but 
 only a short one. 
 
 Returning to Nazareth, again is Christ as- 
 sailed by the enemy. Not now in person, but 
 through men. “He stood up for to read,” 
 and “they rose up, and thrust Him out;” and 
 would have cast Him over “the brow of the 
 hill,” and dashed Him to pieces, could they 
 have done so; “but He, passing through their 
 midst, went His way.” 
 
 One day, when very much tried by the con- 
 flict — caught like a vessel between icebergs — 
 on the one hand, knowledge of the terrible 
 needs of the suffering millions in heathen 
 lands by lack of medical aid, as also of the 
 Gospel; and, on the other, hundreds of young 
 men and women applying to me for help and 
 training to become fitted to go to their aid, 
 I was led to study the Saviour of men, and 
 His conflict with Satan, as never before. I 
 observed and deplored the fact that, while 
 there were numerous theological seminaries 
 to prepare men to “preach,” there was not 
 in existence for any, or for all of the denomi- 
 nations together, a single Christian institution 
 to teach men to heal the sick. And yet the 
 Saviour “healed all” who came to Him, both 
 in body and soul; and in sending out, first 
 twelve, and then seventy, He gave to each the 
 two-fold command to “preach” and to “heal.” 
 
 r 
 
 226 
 
. Society Students, 1892 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter XLVIII. 
 
 What Satan Hates. 
 
 After reading the Sermon on the Mount one 
 day, I noted that, wonderful as that sermon 
 was, and preached by the Prince of preachers, 
 not a sign of opposition was evoked thereby, 
 either of act or word, and I wondered at this 
 marked exception. But I read on, and found 
 that after preaching thus, Jesus “came down 
 the mount,” and proceeded to put into prac- 
 tice what He had taught. 
 
 The first one to meet Him was “a man full 
 of leprosy,” and he was healed. Others fol- 
 lowed, until we read in verse sixteen, of chap- 
 ter eight, of the Gospel by Matthew, “He cast 
 out the spirits with His word, and healed all 
 that were sick.” 
 
 In the thirty-third verse of the next chapter, 
 “The multitudes marvelled, saying, ‘It was 
 never so seen in Israel.’ ” 
 
 Ah, things have gone too far now! Why, 
 the people are captivated by His wonderful 
 power. Something must be done, and war is 
 declared. Satan puts blasphemous thoughts 
 into the hearts of the leaders of God’s chosen 
 people, and blasphemous words come from 
 their lips, “He casteth out devils through the 
 prince of the devils.” Again they make the 
 charge in chapter xii: 24. 
 
 228 
 
WHAT SATAN HATES. 
 
 Some one has said, “If you don’t let God 
 use you, the devil soon will.” These leaders, 
 who should have welcomed and aided the Son 
 of God from heaven, being blinded by preju- 
 dice and bigotry, became the tools of Satan 
 and Christ’s bitterest foes. To them did 
 Herod turn for information as to “where 
 Christ should be born,” when the wise men 
 sought it from him. They soon responded, 
 readily quoting from the Scriptures. 
 
 The wise men believed and worshipped ; 
 Herod believed, and “sought His life;” but 
 they who alone possessed the knowledge and 
 gave it to others, did not believe, and did not 
 go to welcome or to worship Him whom God 
 had given and sent! 
 
 Marvellous indeed, almost past belief! But, 
 having rejected God and His Son, Satan urges 
 them on, and uses them more and more, until 
 they, not only do not believe at the raising of 
 Lazarus, who had been “dead four days,” 
 but “they took counsel” how they might not 
 only put Christ to death, but “Lazarus also,” 
 because many did believe, and but a short 
 time after they killed the Prince of life. 
 
 To-day in heathen lands, amid darkness, 
 degradation, sin and suffering, when mission- 
 aries relieve pain, cure disease and save life, 
 they are looked upon by the people as verit- 
 able messengers from heaven, a heaven un- 
 heard of before, perhaps, but even felt now. 
 
 After Dr. Allen saved the life of the Korean 
 prince, when dying from hemorrhage through 
 229 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 a wound, by ligating the bleeding arteries in 
 the presence of a dozen helpless Korean sur- 
 geons, (?) who had poured molten wax into 
 the wound to no purpose, the prince said, 
 “Doctor, my people say, you did not come 
 from America, you came from heaven.” 
 
 “Heal the sick that are therein, and say unto 
 them, 'The kingdom of God is conre nigh unto 
 you.' ” 
 
 Two difficulties beset those who thus go out 
 to heal and to preach. One, the multitudes 
 overwhelm them, clamoring for relief; the 
 other that, after obtaining it, the people often 
 fall down to worship their deliverer. Will 
 they listen to a message about the great Phy- 
 sician? Yes, indeed, and gladly believe it. 
 And thousands to-day arc rejoicing because 
 of their having dene so. But by so much as 
 success attends such ministry will Satan be 
 stirred to opposition; and, while “nothing is 
 too hard” for God to do, nothing is too mean 
 and despicable for Satan to do in opposition 
 to a cause which, following the example and 
 teaching of Christ, seeks to provide healing 
 for the bodies and also the souls of perishing 
 men. 
 
 Perhaps nowhere has the battle between the 
 messengers of God and the servants of Satan 
 been more clearly manifest than in the history 
 of missions in Madagascar. At first there 
 were Gospel triumphs most wonderful. Then 
 the flame of persecution rose, and thousands 
 were dashed to pieces over precipices. Again 
 230 
 
WHAT SATAN HATES. 
 
 the Gospel triumphed, especially through the 
 medical skill of such men as Dr. Davidson. 
 
 A fine hospital was built a few years since, 
 and opened by the Queen in person, and many 
 in that island country rejoiced with those in 
 the home-land. 
 
 Another power recently invaded the coun- 
 try, and confiscated the property of the Prot- 
 estant missionaries through Jesuitical intrigue. 
 
 Yet once again, in 1897, the French Protes- 
 tant Society has sent thirty men and women 
 to redeem the cause of Christ from these 
 marauders, and two have already been mur- 
 dered. Most of the massacres in China have 
 been due to the fiend-like opposition kindled 
 in the bosoms of some, who, unable to dispute 
 the fact of the “wonderful healing” performed 
 by the medical missionaries, started lying slan- 
 ders that cures were only made by the use of 
 portions of the human body, to obtain which 
 children and others were kidnapped and killed. 
 Truly the “Father of Lies” is a great inventor. 
 Such opposition is due simply to their being 
 “blinded by Satan,” who would lead them to 
 murder their best friends, supposing them to 
 be their worst enemies. So did he succeed in 
 killing the very Son of God, who “went about 
 doing good.” 
 
 “For this purpose was the Son of God mani- 
 fested, that He might destroy the works of the 
 devil.” Hence Satan sought to oppose, ob- 
 struct and destroy Him: and all who live as 
 Christ did, preaching by act, no less than 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 word, are liable to meet a similar fate. “If 
 they have persecuted Me, they will persecute 
 you.” “Behold, I send you forth as lambs 
 among wolves.” But He who said “Go,” also 
 said “Lo, I am with you alway.” 
 
 Therein alone lies our hope of ultimate suc- 
 cess; meantime be it ours to “watch and pray,” 
 to “labor and wait,” assured of final victory 
 through Him who rose triumphant over death 
 and the grave, over Satan and sin. 
 
 232 
 
THE RETROSPECT THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Chapter XLIX. 
 
 The Retrospect — Thanksgiving. 
 
 In “looking backward” over the scenes and 
 experiences narrated herein, and those which 
 for various reasons remain untold, my heart 
 is stirred with gratitude to our Father in 
 heaven, and to the many friends of earth. 
 
 The words of David well befit heart and lip, 
 “Bless the Lord, oh, my soul, and forget not 
 all His benefits. 
 
 “Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; 
 
 “Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; 
 
 “Who crowneth thee with loving kindness 
 and tender mercies.” 
 
 How true of the writer’s experience! lead- 
 ing to songs of praise as memory recounts His 
 doings, in the language of the old hymn, 
 
 “ When all Thy mercies, 0 my God, 
 
 My rising soul surveys, 
 
 Transported with the view, I’m lost 
 In wonder, love and praise.” 
 
 And leading also to prayer, 
 
 Oh, to grace, how' great a debtor, 
 
 Daily I'm constrained to be; 
 
 Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, 
 
 Bind my wandering heart to Thee.” 
 
 Often have I felt the force of the following- 
 words, and record them here as a heartfelt 
 tribute : 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 “ Weak is the effort of my heart, 
 
 And cold my warmest thought, 
 
 But when I see Thee as Thou art, 
 
 I’ll praise Thee as I ought. 
 
 “ Till then I would Thy love proclaim 
 With every fleeting breath; 
 
 So shall the music of Thy name 
 Refresh my soul in death.” 
 
 But, as one has said, “Thebestthanks-giT/ing 
 is ihanks-living.” So may the life, as well as 
 lip, testify the gratitude of the heart within. 
 
 A ery noticeable is the Saviour’s apprecia- 
 tion of any “deed of kindness done” in His 
 name, or to one of His, even to the “cup of 
 cold water.” 
 
 To-day we can only minister to Him 
 through others, His needy children; but in so 
 doing, He views and values such ministry as 
 actually done to Himself. Many are the dear 
 friends who “showed kindness,’ first to a poor 
 boy, and then to a struggling man, trying to 
 serve his God by ministering to his fellows. 
 
 Of the friends of boyhood, scarce one re- 
 mains, at least, as known to me. Yes, one 
 such, a playmate of childhood, comes to mind, 
 whose consistent Christian devotion impressed 
 me deeply in 1863. She is still living in Chel- 
 tenham, England, engaged in the work of 
 “rescuing the perishing, and lifting the fallen.” 
 
 Miss Wall, in the year named, refused to 
 accompany me to a theatre, with her mother; 
 and was the first to speak a “friendly word” 
 of rebuke in those days. And to-day memory 
 234 
 
THE RETROSPECT — THANKSGIVING. 
 
 recalls the incident of thirty-five years ago in 
 grateful remembrance. 
 
 To the family who first welcomed me as a 
 fellow Christian, joined me in the work I 
 sought to do, and became the means of intro- 
 duction to my partner in life for twenty-one 
 years, I record my gratitude. 
 
 The “Missions to Seamen” Society was the 
 instrumentality, through their missionary, 
 which led to my knowledge of that family, and 
 which otherwise was a means of help in those 
 days. 
 
 No one can fully appreciate the value of a 
 Christian friend, and the reception from such 
 of “white winged messengers” of cheer and 
 encouragement, as a sailor, isolated on board 
 ship in a foreign land. 
 
 From 1868 to 1870, I enjoyed this privilege 
 at the hands of my dear friend, Miss Weston, 
 who was pleased to style me in those davs her 
 “Recruiting Sergeant;” not only because I 
 had been the means in God’s hands of recruit- 
 ing her, but because I was always “on the 
 lookout” for more candidates for her friend- 
 ship. Since 1868 the whole navy has changed. 
 
 It is strange to think that not a single man 
 or boy serving in 1868 is probably now in the 
 naval service. 
 
 Some of the officers remain, but of these 
 very few, but Miss Weston is still at the helm 
 of the Gospel and Temperance cause in the 
 British navy, and now of the United States 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 navy also. May she long remain at her God- 
 given post of duty. 
 
 To all the dear friends in Liverpool — some 
 among the well-to-do, others of the struggling 
 working class, I desire to express my grati- 
 tude. Cne picture only is herein given of a 
 friend in that city, but that one, Mr. B. F. 
 Babcock, is so widely appreciated for his many 
 years of devotion to the medical mission, and 
 to the city mission, that others will accept him 
 as their representative also. Thank God for 
 all such men. Would that we had many more. 
 
 With heartfelt gratitude would I record the 
 friendship shown in the city of Philadelphia, 
 wherein, in the earlier years, not less in later 
 ones, was extended to us much of practical 
 as also prayerful sympathy. That city is very 
 dear to my heart because of those early and 
 hard struggles, but none the less so, because 
 of later friendships formed there. A noble 
 band of ladies, yes, two bands now, meet each 
 month as auxiliaries of the I. M. M. Society, 
 and together send several hundreds of dollars 
 to aid our struggling students in New York. 
 
 To one and all of these dear friends I record 
 my indebtedness and gratitude for friendly co- 
 operation in the cause of medical missions. 
 Brotherly love certainly dwells there. 
 
 My dear old friend, Mr. Jones, is still with 
 me in the work in New York, the only one 
 remaining of the fifteen men who joined me in 
 1 88 1. Drs. Sabine, Post, Agnew and Learn- 
 ing, and the Revs. Drs. Wm. M. Taylor, 
 236 
 
THE RETROSPECT — THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Howard Crosby, C. F. Deems, W. R. Wil- 
 liams, Arthus Brooks, and Bishop William 
 Harris, have all gone to their home and re- 
 ward. Also some of the devoted women who 
 helped in the early days of straggle, Mrs. At- 
 terbnry, Mrs. Crowell, Mrs. Lefler, Mrs. Tif- 
 fany, Mrs. Ezra Hoyt, and Miss Phoebe 
 Magie, whose names are not only “written in 
 heaven,” but who dwell there now. 
 
 The great apostle Paid took particular pains 
 to mention some of “thosewomenwho labored 
 with me in the Gospel,” and to speak of some 
 who were “not ashamed of my chain,” as 
 Onesiphorus. 
 
 In these days iron fetters may not, do not, 
 bind our feet, or chains our wrists; but a chain 
 of circumstances oft surround, and imprison 
 us, putting our fidelity, and that of professed 
 friends, to a severe test. 
 
 At such times how precious is the friendship 
 of a true man or woman, who does not stand 
 on the bank to watch you drown, or wonder 
 if you can swim to shore, but who, with out- 
 stretched, helping hand, stands by you, and 
 makes it impossible for you to “go down,” or 
 fail in effort for others. 
 
 In 1887, after losing my devoted wife, two 
 noble women, who had already evinced their 
 interest in the cause, came forward and inau- 
 gurated the Woman’s Branch of the I. M. M. 
 Society, Mrs. Elias J. Herrick, and Mrs. 
 Stephen Smith, wife of a veteran physician and 
 
 237 
 
“teli. them.” 
 
 teacher, who for the past seven years has been 
 President of our Society. 
 
 Through ill health, the last named lady has 
 recently had to withdraw from the work, but 
 Mrs. Herrick has nobly “stood by the ship” 
 in all weathers. Securing Mrs. Margaret 
 Bottome as President, many other ladies 
 joined, and some forty devoted women now 
 form this branch. Through the influence and 
 efforts of Mrs. Herrick, the Merion and New- 
 port Auxiliaries of the Society were formed, 
 and the Philadelphia Auxiliary owes its exist- 
 ence to her, inasmuch as it is an outgrowth 
 of that of “Pennsylvania,” meeting at Merion. 
 
 Perhaps nothing is of greater interest to a 
 child than to watch the growth and develop- 
 ment of a seedling, which, given to it by a lov- 
 ing parent, is planted, watered, cared for and 
 watched over by the child. IVhat grander 
 work than to plant “something that will 
 grow,” whether in the earth, in the heart of 
 man, or on the earth for the benefit of man. 
 
 Although dependent upon sunshine and 
 rain, there is a part for man to do in tilling 
 the ground and sowing the seed. 
 
 The parable of Christ regarding sowing and 
 reaping, and gathering of fruit into harvest are 
 full of instruction. 
 
 “Didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? 
 From whence are the tares?” How the re- 
 sponse oftentimes applies to Christian effort 
 in explanation of non-success. “An enemy 
 hath done this.” 
 
THE RETROSPECT THANKSGIVING. 
 
 But, busy and malignant as the enemy is, 
 yet “in due season we shall reap;” thank God 
 for this assurance. 
 
 What of the harvest to date, and what of 
 of the future? 
 
 The future, all unknown, we must leave 
 until time shall make it to-day. But, review- 
 ing the years gone by, there is encouragement 
 and satisfaction in the thought that “some- 
 thing has been done.” To think of one hun- 
 dred men and women daily surrounded by the 
 sin-sick and suffering in India, China, Africa, 
 Persia, Syria, Siam, Burmah, Ceylon, and 
 other isles of the sea, to whom they not only 
 preach the Gospel of words, but of skillful, 
 kindly act also, is full reward for much labor. 
 
 Several of these workers, who “came to 
 go” — came to New York to go to these dark 
 lands — attend two hundred patients in a day. 
 Allowing one hundred a day to each of the 
 one hundred now in the field, gives a total 
 of ten thousand A day relieved of bodily suf- 
 fering, and pointed to the great Physician for 
 healing of the soul. “But what are they 
 among so many?” may well be asked. 
 
 Still we will, and do, thank God for so much 
 done, and look to Him, in answer to earnest 
 prayer, to “send forth more laborers into His 
 harvest,” by revealing to those who should 
 “go,” or “give,” their personal responsibility 
 to do one or both as He who died to save 
 them, and all men, shall direct. 
 
 239 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Who has yet answered the questions of the 
 great missionary apostle? 
 
 “How shall they call on Him in whom they 
 have not believed?” 
 
 “How shall they believe in Him of whom 
 they have not heard?” 
 
 “How shall they hear without a preacher?” 
 and 
 
 “How shall one preach except he be sent?” 
 Romans x: 14. 
 
 Surely, there is a sending by men — by the 
 gift of the means — as well as a sending by 
 God. 
 
 Does some one ask, “How shall they preach 
 when they are sent?” Even as Christ and His 
 disciples did, by act of healing and help, no 
 less than by word of truth. 
 
 No greater or grander work can be given 
 man to do on earth, surely, than to relieve suf- 
 fering bodies and save sin-sick souls. Such 
 is the honor put upon the writer, and daily in 
 the slums of New York is he so engaged, 
 while seeking to aid and train others to “go 
 and do likewise” in other lands. 
 
 Not other work of any sort does he desire, 
 but more means to do more of this same kind 
 he would gladly welcome, and is praying for, 
 believing that, in His own good time and way, 
 He, who caused water to burst from flinty 
 rock for a thirsty people, will touch hearts into 
 loving sympathy. And the work will be done. 
 
 240 
 
One of my dearest friends in America was the late Rev. 
 Adoniram Judson Gordon, D. D. , of Boston, whose las 
 letter to me is here reproduced. It “ speaks for itself,” or, 
 rather, for him who wrote it. 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 Chapter L. 
 
 “What Wilt Thou?” 
 
 It is the Lord of glory who speaks. Before 
 Him stands a poor blind beggar; sightless, 
 friendless, helpless; clad in rags, his body 
 trembling with hopeful expectancy. “What 
 wilt thou that I should do unto thee?” Oh, 
 wonderful question. Prompted by Divine 
 pity, the Son of God places Himself at the dis- 
 posal of a beggar, who at once gets what he 
 seeks — his sight. The blind man called, and 
 Christ heard and answered him. 
 
 "What wilt thou?” The order is reversed. 
 It is a blind man who speaks now to this same 
 Son of God. Blinded by “a light above the 
 brightness of the sun,” he has heard a voice 
 calling him, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou 
 Me?” and now he asks in wonder and sub- 
 mission, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to 
 do?” To the one sight has been given, from 
 the other it has been taken. To the first 
 Christ surrendered, “What wilt thou?” the 
 second surrenders to Christ, “What wilt 
 Thou?” 
 
 Fitting representatives of the whole race, 
 surely. The suffering and the needy on the 
 one hand, to whom in pity the “Son of man 
 came to minister:” on the other, the strong, 
 impulsive man, determined to do, as he had 
 242 
 
“wit AT WILT THOU?” 
 
 already done, persecute the people of God, 
 taking advantage of the weak and helpless, 
 and yet as in a moment changed into the 
 world’s greatest Christian hero and martyr. 
 
 Sad that such an experience should be nec- 
 essary to bring a man in humble submission 
 to his God, and lead to full surrender for ser- 
 vice, but if it must be, the price paid is not 
 great. To-day it seems to be as true as then. 
 Men often will not serve their God, and think 
 of and help their needy fellows, without some 
 terrible calamity and loss. “If thou knewest 
 the gift of God, thou wouldst have asked, and 
 He would have given.” What an A B C 
 statement of the need of the world. 
 
 If they knew, they would ask, I would give. 
 “Wilt thou be made whole?” “Sir, I have no 
 man to put me in.” No man to put him in 
 the way of healing for his body, although the 
 pool was there provided ; it did not reach him 
 t — he could not reach it — and no man — awful 
 statement — no man — of all the men in those 
 parts, to put him in. Thousands enjoying full 
 health of body, while he had lain afflicted for 
 thirty-eight years, because “no man” cared 
 enough to help him. It seems scarcely cred- 
 ible, and yet matters were even worse with 
 Bartimeus, for when he cried, “Have mercy 
 on me,” they “ commanded him to hold his 
 peace,” instead of taking him by the hand and 
 leading Him to Jesus. 
 
 Did the Saviour not answer his cry at first, 
 to give those near to him an opportunity to 
 
 243 
 
“tell them.’* 
 
 bring him? Perhaps so, for we read “Jesus 
 stood still, and commanded him to be brought.” 
 Some people seem to want a “special call” or 
 command, when surely the crying need itself 
 should be sufficient voice. 
 
 “Go thou, and do likewise,” was the fitting 
 comment of the Son of God upon the Good 
 Samaritan. Officials who saw the man in his 
 need, “passed by,” when they should have 
 helped, by virtue of their sacred office, and so 
 disgraced their office. The Samaritan, as he 
 journeyed — saw him — had compassion — went 
 to him — bound his wounds — -set him on his 
 beast — brought him to an inn — took care of 
 him — and said, “Take care of him — I will 
 repay.” 
 
 Why this man must surely have believed in 
 the Book of Acts. 
 
 But I forbear, except to press home the 
 truths contained in these references upon the 
 heart of the reader, who has journeyed with 
 me along the story of fifty years, in which I 
 have freely spoken, as "heart to heart,” I 
 trust. 
 
 “What wilt thou?” The words came to me 
 last night, as I write about them to-day, just 
 as a question from God to my soul, and I could 
 but reply, “Lord, Thou knowest — what wilt 
 Thou?” ' 
 
 “Who will have all men come to a knowl- 
 edge of the truth.” Yes, Lord, that must be 
 Thy will indeed; “why will ye die?” is the 
 question; “I have found a ransom.” And the 
 
 244 
 
“what wilt thou?” 
 
 pitying voice of Jesus is heard pleading, “How 
 often would I have gathered — but ye would 
 not.” And it seems to have a wider meaning. 
 “How often would I have gathered,” gathered 
 in the souls that are perishing, to whom I sent 
 you, saying, “Preach the Gospel to every crea- 
 ture,” and “ye would not”give or go. 
 
 Will there some day be a reckoning? Christ 
 certainly so taught. 
 
 And then the mind reverted back to the 
 question, “What wilt thou?” and the reply 
 framed itself. Lord, if Thou wilt, stir up the 
 hearts of Thy blood-bought people to sym- 
 pathy for their suffering fellow men and 
 women, open their eyes, as Thou didst those 
 of Elisha’s servant — yea, open our eyes, too — - 
 that we may see the unseen, or be so made to 
 realize its reality, that we may be more anx- 
 ious to lay up “treasures in heaven” than on 
 the earth, and more anxious to serve and help 
 others than to be served ourselves. And give 
 to all 
 
 “A heart in every thought renewed, 
 
 And filled with love divine , 
 
 Perfect and right, and pure and good, 
 
 A copy, Lord, of Thine.” 
 
 Then truly all will be easy. To tell only of 
 the need will be enough to call forth all 
 needed help. Amen and Amen. 
 
 It remains now but to tell of the need, and 
 of plans to meet it, in which I trust the reader 
 will also be interested, at least, and desire to 
 have some share, which all are welcome to 
 2 45 
 
“tele them/’ 
 
 do. In doing this I must go back a dozen 
 years at first, to 1885, when we moved into 
 1 18 East Forty-fifth Street. 
 
 On June 14th, 1885, our dear boy, Ernest, 
 was taken from us, only six weeks after 
 “moving in” to 118. 
 
 He was born in 1872, crossed the Atlantic 
 with us, and shared in all our trials until his 
 death. A bright little fellow, but with frail 
 body — the weak one of the flock — the lack of 
 many things told upon him more than upon 
 the others. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon his brother, Harry, 
 received an extra dollar from his employers 
 for extra work, and with much joy placed the 
 bright dollar in his hand, saying, “Here you 
 are, Ernie, this will get you something nice,” 
 and the little fellow was very much pleased. 
 
 For various reasons the dollar w r as not 
 changed, but carefully nursed, as it were, by 
 its owner. The following evening, Sunday, 
 the tired little body, and spirit too, were “at 
 rest.” 
 
 The dollar remained for very nearly three 
 years unchanged, unused. Shortly before his 
 dear mother followed him in November, 1887. 
 it was decided to make “Ernie’s last dollar” 
 the “first dollar” of our future Medical Mis- 
 sionary College, which we hope may now soon 
 be consummated. 
 
 There have been added to “Ernie’s last dol- 
 lar” several single dollars, one from “A poor 
 widow,” one from a boy, “The first dollar” he 
 246 
 
“what wilt thou?” 
 
 ever earned. Others in the mission field 
 have sent gifts from five dollars to one hun- 
 dred dollars, and some at home have given 
 and promised, so that not long since over five 
 thousand dollars were in hand. 
 
 When this is multiplied by ten, making fifty 
 thousand dollars, we can obtain our charter 
 from the legal authorities, and found our col- 
 lege, and for this we pray and labor, and plan 
 and wait. 
 
 The financial crises of the past five years 
 have played sad havoc with all missionary and 
 charitable societies, most of them being deeply 
 in debt, or just emerging therefrom. 
 
 Just as soon, however, as Christian hearts 
 are made to feel the great need that exists for 
 such an institution for many valid, urgent 
 reasons, and to realize the immense value of 
 the agency of medical missions, they will 
 surely give to this enterprise, whose claims 
 and plans are fully set forth in a little pamphlet 
 to be had for the asking, bearing the title, 
 “Shall it be in vain?” 
 
 In 1894, I issued a little book, “Murdered 
 Millions,” the fifth edition being issued in 
 1897. The veteran preacher, Dr. Cuyler, 
 warmly endorsed it in his “Introduction,” and 
 an edition in Great Britain, and one in Canada, 
 have also been published. Many letters of 
 encouragement have been received from those 
 whose hearts have been stirred to give them- 
 selves. Would that others who possess much 
 of wealth, would provide what we now need 
 247 
 
“tell them.” 
 
 to accept and train the scores, yes, hundreds, 
 of noble young men and women applying for 
 admission and aid. 
 
 “What wilt thou?” Shall the question be 
 asked of the reader? No; rather may he or 
 she ask of God, “Lord, what wilt Thou have 
 me to do?” and then act upon the counsel of 
 a noble woman, 
 
 “Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it.” 
 
 Common sense, no less than actual expe- 
 rience, dictates that those who go as mission- 
 aries to foreign lands should be instructed in 
 all that it is possible for them to know con- 
 cerning the people — their language, religion, 
 diseases, customs and needs — before they go 
 out; but, strange to say, up to the present time 
 there is no institution in the world which fully 
 provides for this. 
 
 A MISSIONARY UNIVERSITY 
 
 is an imperative need at the present time, and 
 I trust will be a reality by the time the next 
 great missionary gathering is held. The last 
 one met in London in 1888, the next one is 
 to be held in New York in April, 1900. The 
 proposed Medical Missionary College will 
 likely become the nucleus of the larger in- 
 stitution, and later be The Medical Department 
 of the Missionary University. 
 
 Time will tell, and time will show, how 
 God will lead, and His people follow. 
 in meeting this crying need. 
 
 How better can this little volume, which 
 248 
 
“what wilt thou?” 
 
 has aimed to “Tell them,” not only of 
 “ great things done ” by our Father in Heaven, 
 and by friends on earth, but also of the need 
 for “greater things than these” being done — be 
 concluded than with the prayer, 
 
 “Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done 
 
 on earth, as in heaven.” Amen. 
 
 T^AVING thus concluded his life-story, as far as lived 
 1 ~ and written, the author desires to “ introduce” to the 
 reader, by name, those friends who, at the present 
 time, are co-operating with him in this work of Medical 
 Missions — the grandest cause on earth — that of seeking to 
 Heal the Sick and Preach the Gospel. 
 
 The three Auxiliaries named have over one hundred 
 members, so that, with the members of the Woman’s Branch, 
 there are fully one hundred and fifty noble women thus 
 banded together. In addition are the men who have been 
 led to put their hands to this work. What a noble army ! 
 May their numbers increase ! 
 
 For the past we may well ask, “What hath God 
 wrought ?’ ’ 
 
 For the future, we hear Him say, “ Thou shall see greater 
 things .” 
 
 249 
 
The International Medical Missionary Society, 
 
 New York City. 
 
 AUXILIARIES: — No. i, Pennsylvania, Merion, Pa. 
 
 No. 2, Newport, R. I. 
 
 No. 3, Philadelphia, Pa 
 BASIS — Unitedly Evangelical. 
 
 OBJECT — To aid and train intending Medical Missionaries of all 
 Evangelical Denominations, for service at home 
 and abroad. 
 
 Officers of thv Society. 
 
 President, Stephen Smith, M.D., LL.D. 
 
 Vice-President, Robert E. Pattison, Philadelphia. 
 
 Medical Director, George D. Dowkontt, M.D. 
 Treasurer, Edward A. Jones. 
 
 Secretary, J. Edward Giles, M.D. 
 
 Cor. Secretary, G. Harry Dowkontt, M.D. 
 
 Board of Trustees , 
 
 Rev. S. L. Baldwin. D.D. 
 Rev. Henry N. Cobb, D.D. 
 Rev. C. C. Creegan, D.D. 
 Rev. Charles R. Erdman. 
 Rev. Albert B. King, 
 
 Rev. Rhoades, D.D. 
 
 Rev. W. T. Sabine, D.D. 
 Rev. Sylvanus Stall, D.D. 
 
 George D. Dowkontt, M.D. 
 G. Harry Dowkontt, M.D. 
 J. Edward Giles, M.D. 
 Edward A. Jones. 
 
 Charles T. Kilborne. 
 Robert E. Pattison. 
 Stephen Smith, M.D., LL.D. 
 William H. Youngs. 
 
 Officers of the Board of Trustees , 
 
 Chairman, Stephen Smith, M.D., LL D. 
 
 Secretary, Geo. D. Dowkontt, M.D. 
 
 Treasurer, Charles T. Kilborne. 
 
 The Board of Trustees, four of whose members are Secre- 
 taries of large Mission Boards, have under their especial 
 consideration and care at this time (January, 1898) the fur- 
 therance of the project to establish a Medical Missionary 
 College , referred to in the preceding pages. They will 
 heartily welcome the co-operation of all interested in this 
 movement on behalf of earth’s suffering millions, both at 
 home and in distant lands. 
 
 “Whoso hath this world's good , and seeth his brother 
 have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
 him, how dwelleth the love of God in Him ?” How, indeed ? 
 
Officers of Auxiliaries 
 
 OF THE 
 
 International Medical Missionary Society. 
 
 Pennsylvania (formerly Merion) t No. 1. 
 
 President, Mrs. Matthew Baird. 
 
 Vice-Presidents, 
 
 Mrs Annabella E. Winn, Mrs. William Simpson, Jr., 
 
 Mrs. John R. Whitney, Mrs. John B. Gest, 
 
 Mrs. Clyde Edwin Barton, Mrs. John L. Richards, 
 
 Mrs. Charles R. Erdman. 
 
 Treasurer, Mrs. Thomas J. Richards. 
 
 Secretary, Miss Elizabeth C. Winn. 
 
 Auxiliary No. 2, Newport, R. I. 
 
 President, Mrs. J. M. Bryer. 
 
 t,. r> ■ j . ( Mrs G. B. Reynolds. 
 
 Vice-Presidents, ^ Mrs Benjamin Hazard. 
 
 Recording Secretary, Mrs. E. P. Allen. 
 
 Corresponding Secretary, Mrs. J. P. Cotton. 
 
 Treasurer, Miss E. H. Swinburnd. 
 
 Auxiliary No. 3, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 President, Mrs. Howard Butcher. 
 
 Vice-President, Mrs. John R. Whitney. 
 
 Treasurer, Miss Sarah M Taylor. 
 
 Secretary, Mrs. Caleb Allen. 
 
Woman's Branch 
 
 OF THE 
 
 International Medical Missionary Society. 
 
 Officers and Managers far the year i8qS. 
 
 President, Mrs. Margaret Bottome. 
 
 <■ Mrs. Elias J Herrick, 
 Vice-Presidents,^ Mrs. J A. Edgar, 
 
 (Mrs Haskell A. Searle. 
 
 Recording Secretary, Mrs. Philip A. Malleson. 
 
 Corresponding Secretary, Miss Lucy M. Green. 
 
 Mrs. Mortimer Addoms, 
 
 Miss A. B. Althause, 
 
 Mrs. Louis J. Belloni, Jr., 
 
 Mrs. Emil Blum, 
 
 Mrs. Margaret Bottome, 
 
 Mrs. Henry C. Coe. 
 
 Mrs. Jefferson Coddington, 
 
 Mrs. Joseph Cornell, 
 
 Mrs. Ida K. Dailey, 
 
 Mrs. George H. Dunham, 
 
 Mrs. S. Derickson, 
 
 Mrs. Geo. D. Dowkontt, 
 
 Miss L. E. Day, 
 
 Mrs. J. A. Edgar, 
 
 Mrs. Wm. H. 
 
 Treasurer, Mrs. George Kitching 
 gers, 
 
 Mrs Gibb, 
 
 Mrs Horace Green, 
 
 Miss Lucy M Green. 
 
 Mrs. Elias J. Herrick, 
 Mrs. A. Fillmore Hyde, 
 Mrs. George Kitching, 
 Mrs. William F. Lee, 
 
 Mrs. Philip A. Malleson, 
 Mrs. Norman L. Munro, 
 Mrs. Guy R. Pelton, 
 
 Mrs. A. G. Ruliffson, 
 
 Mrs. Haskell Searle, 
 
 Mrs. John N. Stearns. 
 Miss Sarah A. Shepley, 
 /oolverton. 
 
THE MISSIONARY CALL 
 
 My soul is not at rest. There comes a strange 
 And secret whisper to my spirit, like 
 A dream of night, that tells me I am on 
 Enchanted ground. Why live I here ? The vows 
 Of God are on me, and I may not stop 
 To play with shadows, or pluck earthly flowers, 
 
 Till I my work have done, and rendered up 
 Account. The voice of my departed Lord — 
 
 “Go teach all nations” — from the Eastern world 
 Comes on the night air, and awakes mine ear. 
 
 And I will go. I may no longer doubt 
 To give up friends, and home, and idol hopes, 
 
 And every tender tie that binds my heart 
 To thee, my country. Why should I regard 
 Earth’s little store of borrowed sweets? I sure 
 Have had enough of bitter in my cup 
 To show that never was it His design 
 Who placed me here, that I 'should live in ease, 
 
 Or drink at pleasure’s fountain. Henceforth, then, 
 
 It matters not if storm or sunshine be 
 My earthly lot, bitter or sweet my cup; 
 
 I only pray, God fit me for the work; 
 
 God make me holy, and my spirit nerve 
 For the stern hour of strife. Let me but know 
 There is an Arm unseen that holds me up. 
 
 An eye that kindly watches all my path, 
 
 Till I my weary pilgrimage have done; 
 
 Let me but know I have a Friend that waits 
 
 To welcome me to glory, and I joy 
 
 To tread the dark and death-fraught wilderness. 
 
 And when I come to stretch me for the last, 
 
 In unuttered agony, beneath 
 The cocoa’s shade, or lift my dying eyes 
 From Afric’s burning sand, it will be sweet 
 That I have toiled for other worlds than this. 
 
 I know I shall feel happier than to die 
 On softer bed. And if I should reach heaven — 
 
 If one that hath so deeply, darkly sinned — 
 
 If one whom ruin and revolt have held 
 With such a fearful grasp — if one for whom 
 Satan hath struggled as he has for me — 
 
 Should ever reach that blessed shore, oh, how 
 This heart will glow with gratitude and love 1 
 And through the ages of the eternal years, 
 
 Thus saved, my spirit never shall repent 
 That toil and suffering once were mine below. 
 
 — Dr. Brown , in Christian Advocate. 
 
By the Author of u Tell Them.” 
 
 Murdered Millions 
 v* 
 
 Medical Missions* 
 
 Synopsis: What is Murder? — The Great Physician. — The 
 Need of Medical Missions. — The Value of Medical Missions. 
 
 ■ — What Has Been Done. — What Ought To Be Done, etc. 
 96 pages. Price, 15 cts. ; #10 for 100; mailing free. 
 
 Dr. Cuvier, in his Introduction, says: “ I earnestly bespeak 
 for this important treatise a hearty welcome and an attentive 
 reading. It carries its own vindication on every page. We 
 have had numberless books, letters and speeches in behalf cf 
 spreading the Gospel among 1 dying souls all over the globe. 
 Only within a few years has the enterprise of Medical Mis- 
 sions begun to sound its thrilling appeals for the diseased and 
 dying bodies of our fellow-creatures.” 
 
 A Summer^ Fishing on the 
 Bowery* 
 
 48 pages. 5 cents; 25 copies for £1.00; mailing free. 
 
 Not an account of pleasant angling in rural scenes, but ( f 
 earnest fishing for men in the slums of New York. 
 
 "Tell Them;" 
 
 OR, 
 
 The Life Story of a Medical Missionary. 
 
 2 56 pages, 25 illustrations. 
 
 Cloth, boards, gilt top, 60 cents. Limp '^covers, 30 cents. 
 Mailing, 5 cents extra. 
 
 Direct from address below only, TWENTY copies for FIVE 
 DOLLARS, mail or express included. May be sent 
 to various addresses. 
 
 Office of The Medical Missionary Record, 
 
 J21 East 45th Street, New York. 
 
The Double Cross 
 
 AND 
 
 Medical Missionary Record* 
 
 PUBLISHED SINCE 1886. 
 
 DEVOTED TO MEDICAL MISSIONS IN ALL LANDS. 
 
 Edi'or and Proprietor, George D. Dowkontt, M. D. 
 Associate Editor, George H. Dowicontt, M. D. 
 
 Goes to all the Medical Missionaries throughout the world, 
 and to nearly one thousand Y. M. C. and Y. W. C. 
 Associations in the United States 
 and Canada. 
 
 PUBLISHED MONTHLY. 
 
 24 pages, 7 x 10, illustrated. 
 
 Price, Fifty Cents a Year; mailed to any land, free. 
 Student Missionary Volunteers, Societies of Christian En- 
 deavor, Y. M. C. A. ’s and Y. W. C, A.’s, 
 half-price — 25 cents a year. 
 
 Office, 12 J East 45th Street, New York. 
 
 Sample copy free on application. 
 
 Ncte. — F or one dollar, a copy of each of the books named on the 
 opposite page will be mailed free, and one year’s subscription to The 
 Double Cross credited. 
 

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