“I HAVE fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give to me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.” 2 Tim. 4:7, 8.
Considering the circumstances under which these words of triumphant faith were spoken, we must regard them as among the most remarkable utterances in all history. The apostle Paul was nearing the end of his earthly journey. Rejected by his own nation to whom he sought to minister the gospel, forced to appeal to the court of Cæsar to escape the unjust judgment of his own flesh and blood, incarcerated in a dreary dungeon cell, forsaken by his own disciples, with the prospect before him of speedy death, the situation was indeed anything but hopeful or reassuring. But while the outlook was dark, the uplook was bright. A greater than Cæsar sat on the throne of eternal justice, and to him the apostle looked for the final adjudication of his faith. A heart of infinite love yearned over the persecuted and forsaken disciple, and in that communion and fellowship the apostle found solace and comfort.
In his prolonged captivity the apostle had been surrounded by the legionaries of Rome. He had witnessed the triumphal celebrations of victorious armies. He had looked upon the battle-scarred veterans as they returned from the conflict. He compares in this scripture the experience of the soldier of Christ with that of the soldier of earthly governments. But O, what a difference in the aims, the purposes, the methods, the labors, the rewards, of the two classes!
The nations of men fight for the love of conquest, for national honor, for aggrandizement in money or in territory, because of real or fancied insults. Victory is purchased at any sacrifice of pain and suffering and bloodshed. Desolated fields, burning villages, ruined homes, widowed wives, orphaned children, and a thousand other woes follow in the wake of human strife. “There are thorns in victory’s proudest crowns.”
To the apostle human war brought its lesson and served him as a simile, but in his heart its spirit found no appeal. His was a holier cause. His was a fight for God and for the eternal principles of love and justice and purity and peace. It was his to heal wounds, not to make them; to save life, not to destroy it; to reconcile his enemies, not to do them despite. Of the conflict in which he was engaged, he declares:—
“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” Eph. 6: 12.
“For the weapons of our warfare,” he says, “are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds, casting down imaginations and every high thing that exalteth itself above God, bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Cor. 10: 4.
This warfare included primarily the conflict with sin in his own heart. Of his own experience he says:—
“But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” 1 Cor. 9: 27.
And as the apostle sought through the mighty weapons of God’s Spirit and grace to vanquish the enemy of all righteousness from his own heart, so he sought by every means in his power to assist his fellows to wage the same successful warfare in their experience. This was the great and mighty conflict in which the apostle engaged. It was a fight for character, for right, for God.
He further declares, “I have kept the faith.” The keeping of the faith meant far more to the apostle than the giving of mental assent to a system of theological dogmas and doctrines. This brief word represented a life of sacrifice and suffering, of toil and hardship and privation. Born in the proud city of Tarsus, a Roman citizen in his own right, a Jew in religion, a member of the aristocratic sect of the Pharisees, taught by Gamaliel, a learned doctor of the law, a member doubtless of the Sanhedrin, the apostle Paul had before him every worldly prospect for a successful and honorable career. Easily could he have become a leader in his own nation and in the world7of thought and action. But he was turned aside from this pleasing prospect.
While on his way to Damascus, commissioned by the highest authorities of the Jewish church to persecute even unto death the followers of Christ, a vision from God enlightened the eyes of his understanding. He saw for the first time in their true light his own sordid purposes, his unholy and selfish ambitions. He realized the vanity of human achievement, the emptiness of worldly honor and glory, the worthlessness of earthly riches, and in striking contrast the beauty and nobility of a life devoted to God and to the uplifting of his fellow men, and the eternal reward of well-doing. He declares:—
“But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.”
It was no easy service to which the Master called him. He must throw in his lot henceforth with a poor, despised people. He must adopt a name associated in the world’s estimation with a cross of infamy. But the greatness of his soul and the nobility of his purpose were shown by his decision. He stopped not to confer with flesh and blood. He returned not to Jerusalem to take counsel with his friends. He was obedient to the heavenly vision, showing first to those in Damascus, later in Jerusalem and in Asia Minor, and finally in Rome, his change of life purpose, and his newborn faith.
Of the stern realities of his Christian experience he speaks freely. Comparing his credentials of apostleship with the claims of false teachers, he declares:—
“Are they ministers of Christ? (I speak as a fool) I am more: in labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep; . . . in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness. Beside those things that are without, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the churches.”
And this on the part of the apostle was not an unwilling service to his Master. He declares, “I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake.” The keeping of the faith meant something to the apostle Paul. It meant wearing labor, toilsome journeys, unremitting toil, sacrifice, persecutions, and finally death.
Was all this sacrifice worth while? Did it pay the apostle to turn aside from every earthly prospect, to reject all that the world proffered him, and to cast in his lot with the humble people of God? Will the Christian’s hope give comfort when all else fails? Listen to the apostle’s unwavering profession of faith from his prison house in Rome. Speaking of his appointment as a preacher of righteousness, and of the persecutions which that work brought to him, he declares: “Nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.”
We find a striking parallel of the experience of the apostle Paul in the history of Moses. Within his grasp were the riches of Egypt. As a son of Pharaoh’s daughter he was heir to the Egyptian throne. Every motive of worldly ambition, of selfish interest, of personal gratification, urged him to identify himself with the royal household. But, closing his ears to every importunity, he thrust out of his reach these proffers of worldly greatness and honor. The record is that he esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt, and chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.
This sterling integrity of a faithful servant was honored by the God of heaven. Moses became the leader of a mighty movement, an agent in the hands of God for the formation of a commonwealth founded upon principles of equity and justice which have been incorporated into the laws of every civilized government since that period. And when Moses died, God gave him a resurrection and took him home to glory. Think you when Moses descended upon the mount of transfiguration, and amid the celestial glory talked with Elijah and with Christ, he regretted the choice he had made? The proud throne of the Pharaohs had long since crumbled to dust; the haughty oppressors of the children of God were known only in the pages of history; but Moses, who chose the lot of the bondmen and esteemed the reproach of Christ above the pomp and pageantry, the riches and glory, of worldly splendor, lived and reigned in the courts above.
Is the Christian’s hope worth while? Let the patriarch Job answer. From the depths of his affliction he cried: “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.” “If a man die, shall he live again? all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come. Thou shalt call, and I will answer thee: thou wilt have a desire to the work of thine hands.”
Let the prophet of God answer as he contemplated the reward awaiting faithful Israel: “Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth part of Israel? Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”
Listen to the king of Israel as in soul distress he turns to God: “I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.” “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”
And to this concert of testimony might be added the dying witness of the saints of God in every age. It was the witness of the apostle. His testimony was: “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.”
In this conflict of warring principles every created intelligence has a part. Directly or indirectly, consciously or unconsciously, every human being is casting his influence on the side of God or on the side of the adversary. There is no neutral ground. Indeed, to choose to be neutral is to choose the ways of death. And no man can evade responsibility for his choosing.
Human reasoning says that it is vain to serve God, and inquires, What profit is it that we have kept his ordinance and walk mournfully before the Lord of hosts? The Lord in this life apparently puts little difference between the righteous and the wicked. He sends his rain on the just and the unjust. He desires that man shall serve him from love and from principle rather than through the hope of temporal reward. But the time will come, he declares, when ye shall “return, and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that serveth him not.” Of his children at that time the Lord declares, “They shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.” In that day we shall recognize, as never before, that it pays to serve God.
It was to the day of final awards that the apostle Paul looked forward. It was respect for the recompense of the reward which led Moses to decide for God. May God make that our hope. The night of sin will soon be over. We see the signs of approaching day. Christ will soon come to take his children home. May we learn to suffer with him there, that we may reign with him in eternity. By his grace may we so live that at the end of our earthly journey we may say in the words of the Spirit’s prompting, representing our own experience. “I have8fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give to me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”
F. M. W.
A Providence of Early Somabula Mission Days
By W. A. S.
Speaking of some of the earlier experiences in the planting of the Somabula Mission, in Southern Rhodesia, Elder F. B. Armitage told how one problem of food supply for the mission school was solved by timely provision in an unlooked-for way. He says:—
At a time when our mission school was growing, and food had to be supplied for forty or forty-five students, the milk problem became a difficult one. There had been a dry season, and a weedy growth which the African boys are accustomed to use for greens, of which they are very fond, had been destroyed. This left the mealies, or Indian corn, as practically the one article of food, without change. Milk was needed to eat with the corn.
We began hunting for cows. If only two or three could be secured, we knew it would be a great help to the school. But no cows could be found. We sent runners out in various directions, and all returned unsuccessful. This need was made a matter of prayer to our Heavenly Father, that in some way beyond our unaided power, our wants might be supplied.
About this time, as I was working about the station, I heard one of the native boys calling out, “Teacher, come and see! come and see!” Going out at his call, I saw coming across the country a string of oxen. Thirty-two we counted, traveling as fast as they could go. Thirty-two oxen mean two span, for in Africa sixteen oxen count as a span for hauling. Their heads were up, and they were running as animals do in fright.
“Lions have been after these oxen,” I said to the boys. “There is a loaded wagon somewhere, passing, and the lions have frightened these oxen away.” I sent the boys out to steer the fleeing animals into our herd yard. They succeeded, and immediately the panting oxen lay down as if at home, lying still and resting long in their exhaustion. We cared for them and fed them, and on the second day an owner appeared in search of the animals, highly pleased, indeed, and grateful to find that we had taken them in and cared for them.
The oxen had been frightened by the lions away to the northward of our mission, and had fled to the southwest. But the wind had veered round, and the frightened animals changed their course. When pursued by lions, oxen never run with the wind; for they know that the tactics of the lions are to get in ahead of the fleeing animal. The oxen pursued always keep the wind in their faces, so that they can scent the approaching enemy. Thus the veering of the wind turned the oxen in our direction and guided them to us.
In talking of our need with the owner, we inquired if he knew of any one who had cows to sell. “No,” he said, “I do not know of even one.” But after standing silently for a few moments, looking down in earnest thought, he said: “I will tell you what I will do. I do not know of any cows for sale in this whole country; but I will send you several for you to keep for a time.”
He appointed a time for our boys to come down to the police camp and get the cows, adding, “You can keep them as long as you like.” We sent down to the camp at the time appointed, and back came the herdboys driving seventeen cows in splendid condition, and these we had the use of for several years. They not only gave an abundance of milk, but were good butter makers, an important item in our effort to develop self-supporting industries in the school, butter at that time fetching a high price.
“We felt,” says Elder Armitage, in recalling the experience, and all must agree with him, “that the Lord’s own providence had brought to us this splendid additional means of support for the new mission.” Thus again the Lord had spread “a table in the wilderness.”
W. A. S.
Celibacy
By C. M. S.
“Rome Never Changes”—No. 14
Celibacy
One of the most peculiar practices of the Roman Church is the compulsory celibacy of its priests, monks, and nuns. It is a practice both unnatural and unnecessary, and one which was not followed by any of the patriarchs. It was never a practice in the Jewish church, and did not manifest itself in the Christian Church until hundreds of years this side the days of the apostles. It is still more peculiar in that, while marriage is one of Rome’s seven sacraments, and all the sacraments are believed to have “the power of signifying sanctity and justice, and of imparting both to the receiver,” the clergy, monks, and nuns are denied the right to receive the blessing which that sacrament confers. See “Catechism of the Council of Trent,” De Sac., pars 2, sec. 10.
Concerning the matter of celibacy, the Council of Trent speaks as follows:—
Whoever shall affirm that persons in holy orders, or regulars, who have made a solemn profession of chastity, may marry, let him be anathema.—Council of Trent, sess. 24, can. 9.
In view of Rome’s two claims, that she is the true apostolic church, and that she never changes, we might be led to expect that the doctrine of the celibacy of the clergy was a doctrine of apostolic origin, and that it was practiced by the apostles and their immediate and all other successors. But what is the fact in the case? Paul claimed for himself the right to marry; and, in making the claim, shows beyond the possibility of doubt that the principle or doctrine of celibacy was unknown in the days of the apostles. He says:—
“Have we not power to lead about a sister, a wife, as well as other apostles, and as the brethren of the Lord, and Cephas?” 1 Cor. 9:5.
Here is Cephas, (Peter. See John 1:42.) whom the Church of Rome claims as the first pope, used by Paul as one whose example he had a right to follow in the matter of marriage; and not only so, but the “other apostles” also set the same kind of example. Matthew and Luke both speak of Peter’s wife’s mother. The apostles, even “the brethren of the Lord,” were not celibates. The “first pope” (the one whom Rome claims as the first pope) was a married man; others of the apostles were married men; and Paul claims that he had a right to marry,—as much right as the others had,—and he does not condemn them for the example they set. How different is his example and his attitude from that of the Council of Trent, which pronounces a curse upon those who teach that they who have entered “holy orders” have a right to marry. Paul teaches that the ministers of Christ’s church have a right to marry. The Council of Trent declares that they who teach that are accursed. In view of Rome’s claim that she is the apostolic church, has there not been a change, a radical change? What Peter did, Rome now declares her spiritual leaders shall not do, under pain of her anathema. What Paul taught then, Rome declares can be taught now only under her curse. We know of no other church that has changed to such a tremendous degree as the Church of Rome has changed in this matter.
Bungener, in his history of the Council of Trent, says that while the Church of Rome “has made male or female saints of all the persons named or alluded to in the New Testament, and even of some who are not named or alluded to there,—for example, the father and mother of Mary,—she has taken care not to grant the honor to the wife of Peter, notwithstanding the fact that Paul represents her as accompanying the apostle in his painful and perilous journeys.” One cannot help wondering why this blank is left in the calendar of the saints. We can see no reason for the omission except that the Roman Church does not wish to emphasize the fact that Peter (her “first pope,” so-called) had a wife, and that any pope who would follow his example now would be under the ban of her curse. But there is the fact that Rome now prohibits and curses the thing that “blessed Peter” did, and that the other apostles did, and that Paul said they all had a right to do.
The inconsistency of Rome’s position in this matter is further shown in the matter of the qualification of bishops and deacons. What the qualifications of officers are we find in the following scripture:—9
“A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife. . . . One that ruleth well his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity; (for if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?) . . . Likewise must the deacons be grave. . . . Even so must their wives be grave. . . . Let the deacons be the husbands of one wife, ruling their children and their own houses well.” 1 Tim. 3:2-12.
That Paul had a definite purpose in specifying these qualifications is seen from the fact that he continues the subject over into the next chapter of his letter to Timothy, and there tells the reason for laying down those qualifications of church officers. He says:—
“Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils; speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron; forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats,” etc. 1 Tim. 4:1-3.
Did the Spirit speak truly? Did Paul’s prophecy come true? Let Rome’s prohibition of marriage among her bishops, priests, deacons, and nuns answer these questions. Paul, through the influence of the Holy Spirit, saw that working of apostasy creeping into the church, and left, for our benefit and enlightenment, his testimony and the testimony of the Spirit against it; for, said he, “The Spirit speaketh expressly.” This is an emphatic expression, and is used nowhere else in the New Testament and only twice in the Old. That which the Spirit warns against “expressly,” and “expressly” declares is an indication of departure “from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils,” ought to be expressly heeded by Christians everywhere.
Paul, speaking under the Holy Spirit’s influence, warned the church against the practice of celibacy. He declared that practice to be an indication of apostasy; that it was fostered by seducing spirits; and that as a doctrine it was a doctrine of devils. What the Holy Spirit declared would come did come, and is in the world today, one of the most striking features of the Roman Church. Can the church now turn its back upon the warnings of the Holy Spirit, the testimony of Scripture, and the example of the apostles, and say that what was a sign of apostasy in the days of Paul is now a sign of loyalty to Christian truth? To do so would be to declare the apostles apostates and to put the warnings of the Holy Spirit under the anathema of the church. And logically that is exactly what is done when the Roman Church condemns what Peter and the other apostles did and what Paul taught they had a right to do, and then anathematizes the teaching that the spiritual leaders
of the church may marry. There is in this matter a deadly conflict between the Roman Church and the Holy Spirit. Surely the true Christian ought to be able to decide which is the more Christian of these two contestants.
Paul declares that “marriage is honorable in all,” and does not exclude the clergy from that honor or that right; and Peter shows that chastity and marriage are associated in the believers. See 1 Peter 3:2. If marriage and chastity are incompatible, then God’s institution of matrimony (which Rome calls a sacrament) stands condemned as an unchaste institution. But the Word of God, the teachings of Christ and his apostles, and common sense condemn such an idea. Nevertheless, one of the great cardinals of the Roman Church, Cardinal Bellarmine, declares that “it is a greater evil for a priest to marry than to commit fornication.”—De Monach, lib. 2, cap. 34, Tom. II, col. 375. Whom shall we believe, Cardinal Bellarmine or the Holy Spirit? Whose example shall we follow, that of the cardinal or that of “blessed Peter”?
One of the scriptures which Rome dwells upon and misinterprets in teaching the practice of celibacy is the following:—
“The children of this world marry, and are given in marriage: but they which shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage: neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels.” Luke 20:34-36.
But this text, if it could be interpreted as Rome interprets it, would unjoint the entire gospel and disarrange the whole plan of salvation. If her interpretation were true, then all who “obtain that world” will have lived single in this world. Only those who have been celibates will have a “resurrection from the dead.” More than that, one who practiced celibacy here would never die, but would be “equal unto the angels” here and now. If that text applies to the practices of Christians in this world, all these deductions are logical and inevitable. But this scripture cannot be so applied. It is a plain and most inexcusable wresting of the scripture so to apply it. The caviling Sadducees, who did not believe in a resurrection, had asked the Saviour whose wife a certain woman would be in the resurrection who had had several husbands in this life. His answer was, as the text plainly teaches, that “in the resurrection” (that is, in the future life) those who have been accounted worthy of the resurrection “neither marry, nor are given in marriage: neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels.” But there is no promise nor prospect that in this life
men and women are to be made equal unto the angels by anything that they may do or refrain from doing. Says the Scripture concerning this matter:—
“What is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou visitest him? Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; and crownedst him with glory and honor.” Heb. 2:6, 7.
To attempt to make the Saviour’s answer to the Sadducees an authorization of celibacy in this present life is a flagrant misinterpretation of our Saviour’s words, a violent wresting of the scripture, which must receive the condemnation of heaven.
Another text which is similarly misused is the following:—
“These are they which were not defiled with women; for they are virgins.” Rev. 14:4, 5.
If this is, as Rome teaches, a divine authorization of celibacy, it puts the stamp of Heaven’s disapproval upon all who have contracted matrimony in this world. Even Adam, who was married by Jehovah himself, would fall under the implied condemnation of that scripture, as would all the patriarchs and most of the prophets and the apostles—and “blessed Peter.” But the text teaches nothing of the kind. It means that that company of the redeemed are “virgins” in a spiritual sense. They have not been defiled by a union with apostate churches.
We have shown that whereas the institution of marriage was God-ordained, was practiced by the most exemplary followers of God in all ages, was recognized by our Saviour, was declared by his apostle “honorable in all,” was practiced by the disciples of our Lord, including Peter, the Church of Rome has forbidden it to her spiritual leaders under pain of her curse; and this the Spirit declared the spirit of apostasy would do. Rome still claims to be the true apostolic church. On that claim, therefore, taken together with her attitude toward marriage, she herself proves that she has changed. Not only so, but in that attitude toward that institution, the Roman Church fulfills to the letter the prophecy of Paul given through the Holy Spirit.
We shall consider in another article the time when this practice came into the church, and the source from which it came.
C. M. S.
I Am Only One, but I Am One
This motto hangs in the Review and Herald chapel. It is well worthy of being made the motto of every life:—
“I am only one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything, but I can do something.
What I can do I ought to do;
And what I ought to do, by the grace of God I will do.”
MRS. W. H. ANDERSON
By MRS. W. H. ANDERSON
The Native of the Kraals as I Know Him—No. 3
MRS. W. H. ANDERSON
The people we are working for are the Baila and Batonga tribes. They have a few marked characteristics. They are strong, tall, well-built men and women. The women always carry the load, and it is always carried on the head, even if it is nothing more than a piece of bark. Enormous loads are carried in this manner. Since the white man came into the country, the people wear a little clothing, but in their villages they are generally arrayed in nature’s garb.
The true Baila wear long cones on the back of the head. These are sometimes built a yard high. They are doing away with this custom now, for they say it would be hard to fight the white man should they ever have to do so, for by taking hold of this cone he might cause one much pain; so now it is seldom built higher than six inches.
The Batongas do not have this custom, but both tribes knock out the four front teeth. They look hideous enough. When asked why they do this, they reply, “We do not want to be like the zebra, we want to be like the cattle.” The teeth are generally knocked out when the child is about twelve years old. It is a very primitive process, too. They take a nail or a stone and set it against the tooth and push it out. It takes four or five persons to hold the victim. I have had children come to me to have their teeth pulled after they had been broken off. They are hard to get, but I have always succeeded, and they tell me, “When we have any more to be knocked out, we will have you pull them.”
They are very generous to one another with their food. They seldom talk against members of their own tribe, but one of another tribe will tattle quickly enough. It is a rare thing for one to speak of the wrongdoing of another.
Morally their character is very low. Lying is looked upon as an accomplishment, and a man who can deceive cleverly is considered to have great wisdom. They are so accustomed to telling lies that they often do it when the truth would be to their advantage. Why do they do this?—Because they have heard nothing but lies all their lives. They have not been taught the value of truth. I have often thought that they were capable of telling the biggest falsehoods on the shortest notice of any people in the world. Stealing is a common thing. Consequently every man is suspicious of his neighbor. If you ask them why they do it, they will tell you that it is not they, but the evil spirit in them.
Their names always mean something, as Chongo, rainbow; Hanyaba, beans; Twambo, stories; Myanda, roots; Mayinza, summer; Lupenga, sorrow; Chibea, pet; Mukuni, wood. Have you never heard of Mr. Bean, Mr. Wood, and Mr. White? They are very keen on having the white man give them names. Knowing that their names always mean something, the white man always makes the names he gives mean something too, to the next employer. They usually mean traits of character, as lazy, lice, matches, porridge, crazy, jam, etc. The natives will invariably give as their new name the name given by the white “boss.” Of course they do not know what it means.
There are many things which we have to endure and which seem ridiculous to us. The native does many things which at the time are very trying, but which, when they become history, are very amusing. The natives must be watched all the time. They do not get a chance to do so much mischief for me, for they know that I am likely to appear on the scene at any moment. I do not turn the kitchen over to the “boy” as some do. I gave a boy a glass fruit bottle of cream to shake, for this is a primitive way of churning, and presently I heard a queer noise. I thought my butter had gone. I went out to see, and sure enough his curiosity had got the better of him, and he had to see inside. So he opened the bottle, and out came the butter. I asked him what was the matter, and he replied, “It just came out.”
Most of the white men in the country are not married, so are compelled to get on with untaught native boys to do their housework. The native is always anxious to obtain a job as cook for the white man, for he likes to lick out the dishes and clean up the table for the “boss.” One man was telling me he came in very hungry and thirsty one evening, and his boy of course had a good drink of tea ready for him; but he found that the boy had used his smoking tobacco instead of the tea. The boy wanted to put sage in the sausage to make it real good, but instead it was nicely flavored with tobacco leaves. Another man came in unexpectedly and found the kitchen boy washing his old dirty shirt in his cooking pot. A government official came past his kitchen about mealtime, and seeing the boy sitting flat on the floor with a pot of pumpkin between his knees, taking it out with his hand and throwing it with a chug into the dish, inquired, “Who is having pumpkin here today?” The boy replied, “It is for my boss.” He said he resolved to stay away from the kitchen after that, especially near mealtime. For what the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve.
A lady, telling of her experience, said she had a boy who had had no training. She went into the kitchen and saw his face wet with perspiration, so told him to wash. He grabbed the tea towel and rubbed his dirty face with it. She said, “Jackalash, what are you doing?”—“Nothing.” “Why do you take the tea cloth to rub the perspiration from your face?”—“You told me to wash.” “Yes, but that is not washing. I want you to wash in water.” “Well,” said Jackalash, “there was water on my face,” showing her the tea cloth. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of lad, and would never hurry or worry, devoting the entire morning to the washing of the breakfast dishes. He would first take the plates and lick them clean, then admire the pattern on them, trace them all round with his fingers, and call other boys to come and admire them, too. After that he would think of washing them, and would take the pail and saunter leisurely to the river. After a while he would return, sit flat on the floor to wash them, for fear they would fall off the table. These are a few of the experiences with which we are confronted continually. One time a boy did not fancy washing dishes very much, so he put them down and had the dog lick them out. When he was reprimanded for it, he said, “They are clean, aren’t they?”
The native sees no use for anything unless it can help him work or fills him. One day I was coming from the garden with some cut flowers. As I met the boy, I asked him if he would like one. He asked if it was kudya (food), and I told him that it was only a flower, but that he might have it if he liked. “No,” he said, “you better keep it.”
Rustchuk, Bulgaria
By Z. G. BAHARIAN
Z. G. BAHARIAN
THE peculiar experiences through which I have recently passed may be of interest to the readers of the REVIEW. October 27 I left Constantinople in a Russian boat called “Tsar Michael,” in order to go to Samsun. On the night of the twenty-ninth it arrived at Sinub, and was waiting outside the harbor for the morning in order to discharge the passengers for that place. But before it was light, we noticed that the boat suddenly started, turned toward the north, and began to sail with all the speed it could muster. We learned a little later that the political relations between Turkey and Russia had been severed, and that we were taken prisoners and were going to Russia. On the boat were about thirty Moslems, thirteen Armenians, several Greeks, and a few Persians. Some were rich, others were poor. Many had taken money sufficient for the voyage only, so we were all deeply anxious.
October 30 we passed before Theodosia, Yatta, and Sevastopol, toward Odessa, but suddenly our boat turned to the east, and on the thirty-first anchored at Iskadovski, a small village. We heard that war had been declared against Turkey, and we were captives in Russia. Ten soldiers came up to the boat to guard11us. After two days, officers came in and took all guns and revolvers that the passengers had. All Moslems were selected and sent into the interior, and liberty was granted to the rest to land and buy things from the market. We heard that all Christians were to be left in this village. We sent telegrams to the governor of Odessa asking permission to go to Odessa. It was granted, and in the same boat we were taken to Odessa, November 9, and left free to go anywhere in Russia, but had no permission to go out of the country. We were glad for so much freedom. I went to a hotel near the Armenian church. I was a stranger in a strange land, and had only forty dollars. I spent fourteen days in Odessa. At the Café Constantinople I found a number of Armenians gathered. God gave me opportunities to talk with them concerning present truth. Many heard for the first time that the end is near and that the present condition of things is a special sign of the times. I searched anxiously in this large city for our people, but found none.
I tried to get permission to go to Bulgaria, but was refused. Later a prominent Armenian sent the Armenian priest to the general governor, and secured his consent. This was a miracle indeed. November 23 I left Odessa by train, and the next afternoon arrived at Reni, and from there crossed the Danube by boat, reaching Rustchuk on the morning of November 29. Here I found a dozen believers in the message, and I was thankful to be free. Several days I held meetings with the church, and strangers also attended our studies. I see that Bulgaria is a ripe field, and many will accept the truth through the labors of the believers. I intend to go to Constantinople. This is not a wise step, looking at it from a human standpoint, but I must go in order to be at the head of my work.
I believe that the merciful hand of God guided me through this experience. I felt his presence nearer than ever before. I do not yet understand his purpose, but I was always assured that a good purpose was working. My faith is firmer.
As correspondence was very irregular, many hearts were troubled concerning my sudden absence. Let all be glad that I am alive and free. Thanks to God for his mercies.