WHILE Dr. P. was with us, five made public profession of their faith in the gospel. Most of these were foreigners, who by the wars in the interior, had in the mysterious providence of God, been brought by a way they knew not, to find an eternal home, by becoming fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God; and often did they endeavor to describe with native eloquence, the distinguishing love and mercy of that God who had directed their feet to the Kuruman Mission. Mamonyatsi, one of these, some years after died in the faith. She was a Matabele captive, and had accompanied me from the interior, had remained some time in the service of Mrs. M., and early displayed a readiness to learn to read, with much quickness of understanding. From the time of her being united with the children of God, till the day of her death, she was a living epistle of the power of the gospel. Once, while visiting the sick, as I entered her premises, I found her sitting weeping, with a portion of the Word of God in her hand. Addressing her I said, “My child, what is the cause of your sorrow? Is the baby unwell?”
“No,” she replied, “my baby is well.” “Your mother-in-law?” I inquired.
“No, no,” she said, “it is my own dear mother, who bare me.” Here she again gave vent to her grief, and holding out the gospel of Luke in a hand wet with tears, she said, “My mother will never see this word, she will never hear this good news.” She wept again and again, and said, “Oh, my mother, and my friends, they live in heathen darkness; and shall they die without seeing the light which has shone upon me, and without tasting that love which I have tasted!” Raising her eyes to heaven, she sighed a prayer, and I heard the words again, “My mother, my mother.” This was the expression of one of Africa’s sable daughters, whose heart had been taught to mourn over the ignorance of a far distant mother. Shortly after this evidence of divine life in her soul, I was called to watch by her dying pillow. She feared no rolling billow. She looked on the babe to which she had but lately given birth and commended it to the care of her God and Saviour. The last words I heard from her faltering lips were, “My mother.”