The following papers are selected from "India's Women”:—
CALCUTTA A STRONGHOLD OF ISLAMISM.
Its foundations are deeply laid. Its walls of bigotry and superstition rise up around it, shutting out all view of heaven. Its inhabitants are ignorant and self-righteous. "Give us knowledge, but no Savior," was the cry of one of our Mohammedan sisters; to whom Miss Bardsley made answer, "But, Bibi, if you do not care to hear, I cannot come, for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and I could not come to you and not speak of Jesus." "Then, Miss Sahib," was the answer, "do not come; I like to see you, but I do not care to hear of Jesus.”
Another woman, a pupil of Miss Wrangham, who has joined the Mohammedan Mission in Calcutta this year, is very eager for her secular lessons, but places her hands over her ears when the Bible lesson is given.
Yet the steady labor goes on, and in time indifference gives way.
One of the lady workers thus writes:—
“I wish I could take you one and all with us for one day's work. Those we work amongst are for the most part very poor, and they do indeed hear gladly. I can only remember five occasions when entrance has been refused. At first some have said no' through fear, or the thought that we wanted pice, which they were too poor to give; but a few words and kind looks have quieted their minds; they have made us sit down, and have listened to our message.
“Come with me into this house; it is a Mohammedan one. Two sisters live here. We sit down on mats; they listen attentively, but suddenly one jumps up.
“Do not leave, Bibi,' I say; just sit a little while.'
“She answers, Why should I hear all these good words to myself? I must call my friends.' She calls them, and then Miss Roseboom has to begin and tell the same words over again. If she leaves anything out, she is interrupted, showing that the woman has really listened to the Gospel message.
“Now we are walking along a narrow path to a house which we wish to visit. An old woman stops us; we do not know her, but she knows us, and has heard us speak before. She says, Miss Sahib, come to my house and sit and speak to me. I am in sorrow, and your words bring comfort to sorrowful hearts.'”
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BURDWAN.
Upon one occasion when I was taking my seat in a third-class zenana carriage in the train from Burdwan to Calcutta—a journey of some sixty miles—our bearer, an earnest native Christian, who had come to help me into the train, opened the carriage door, and, handing in an old lady, said to me, "Ma'am, this woman wants to hear about religion.”
Naturally my sympathies and interest were at once aroused in my traveling companion. She was tall and thin, and must have had a handsome face in her youthful days. Her widow's garb was a spotlessly clean white sari without any colored border; but what struck me most was the earnest, fervent look in her dark eyes. She thanked the servant graciously, and then, seating herself beside me, said, "He says that you will tell me of the true religion.”
I cannot tell you how earnestly she listened, asking questions such as these: "Then can I get pardon for my sins?" "Will the Lord Jesus receive such a sinner as I am?" "I never heard of this beautiful religion before!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how I wish I had such faith as this!”
We talked on rapidly for half an hour, and I quoted texts to show her God's way of salvation. All too soon we arrived at the station where my interesting friend was to alight, to go to her old home in a village near Mymaree. She told me the address of her son with whom she lived; he was postmaster in a remote village in the Burdwan district. As she bade me good-bye, the tears stood in her eyes as she said:
“Oh, how I wish I were going all the way to Calcutta with you, that I might hear more of these beautiful words! I want to get eternal life. I have told my son I want to go and lead a religious life as a fakir [religious beggar], that I may obtain peace of mind; but he will not hear of it. How I should like to come to you and hear more!”
I gave her a warm invitation to our mission-house in Burdwan, and I can never forget her sad, yearning look as she followed the carriage along the platform as far as she could.
Afterward I wrote to her son, sending a Testament (marked by one of our orphan girls), begging him to read it aloud to his mother, as she could not read herself. He wrote a most polite answer, but said, "The Christian religion is for you, and our religion is for us. My mother must remain in her own religion.”
There was no missionary within reach of their village whom I could ask to visit them, and although I kept the address for years, yet I was never able to go there.
Oh, if you could only realize what pain it gives us to feel the great responsibility of being unable to reach these numberless villages where there are many like this dear widow, thoroughly dissatisfied with their own round of meaningless rites and ceremonies, and groping longingly in their deep darkness after the true Light. We have that Light; are we seeking to diffuse it? This story is only one of many we might tell to illustrate the crying need there is for us to extend our village mission stations in this populous district, where Hinduism has many of its almost impregnable strongholds.
The seed of God's Word has been sown in many young minds as well as in the minds of those reached in the zenanas. With God we leave the result.
Yet for our encouragement we often hear of instances where childlike faith begets perfect confidence in the love and protecting care of God. We give two of such instances.
“The heathen mother of one of our little girls in Virudupattie told us that when the cholera was very bad in that place she said to her little girl of seven, 'You must not go to school, or you will catch it.'
“Oh, no,' said the little girl, I shalt not, because the Lord Jesus Christ will take care of me if I ask Him; I am not afraid.'”
Does not this little heathen girl teach a beautiful lesson of trust?
“A sad story comes to our ears today of a little girl strangled and her jewels stolen. The child lived not far from here. The mother of two of our dear girls, Kusheem and Kiron, fears for her children, and does not wish them to go to school.
“' Mother, no harm can happen to us, for God will take care of us; we cannot die unless it is His the children pleaded with simple faith.”
“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass. The salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: He is their strength in the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them and deliver them.”