Stories Worth Rereading

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During the month of June dangers thickened about the devoted band of
missionaries and Christian Chinese who lived in the mission compound not
far from the wall of Pao-ting-fu. There was no mother in Pastor Meng's home
to comfort the hearts of five children living face to face with death. But
thirteen-year-old Ti-to, the hero of our story, was as brave a lad as ever
cheered the hearts of little brothers and sisters. Straight as an arrow,
his fine-cut, delicate face flushed with pink, with firm, manly mouth and
eyes that showed both strength and gentleness, Ti-to was a boy to win all
hearts at sight.

By the twenty-seventh of June it was plain that all who remained in that
compound were doomed to fall victims to Boxer hate. Pastor Meng called his
oldest boy to his side, and said: "Ti-to, I have asked my friend, Mr. Tien
to take you with him and try to find some place of refuge from the Boxers.
I cannot forsake my missionary friends and the Christians, who have no one
else to depend upon, but I want you to try to escape."

"Father," said the boy, "I want to stay here with you. I am not afraid to
die."

"No," the father replied. "If we are all killed, who will preach Jesus to
these poor people?"

So, before the next day dawned, Ti-to said good-by, and started with Mr.
Tien on his wanderings. That same afternoon Pastor Meng was in the chapel
when a company of Boxers suddenly burst into the room and seized him. A
Christian Chinese who was with him escaped over the back wall, and took the
sad tidings to his friends. The Boxers dragged Pastor Meng to a temple, and
there, having learned that his eldest son had fled, tortured him to make
him tell Ti-to's hiding-place. But the secret was not revealed. In the
early morning scores of Boxer knives slowly stabbed him to death. But the
face of the Master smiled upon this brave soul, "faithful unto death."

Three days later, four of his children, his only sister and her two
children, and the three missionary friends for whom he had laid down his
life, were killed.

But what of the little one who had left home four days before? Determined
that not one member of the family should be left, the Boxers searched for
him in all directions. But Mr. Tien had taken Ti-to to the home of a
relative only a few miles from Pao-ting-fu, and they escaped detection.
This relative feared to harbor them more than two or three days, so they
turned their faces northward, where a low range of sierra-like mountains
was outlined against the blue sky. Seventeen miles from Pao-ting-fu, and
not far from the home of an uncle of Mr. Tien's, they found a little cave
in the mountainside, not high enough to allow them to stand upright. Here
they crouched for twenty days. The uncle took them a little food, but to
get water they were obliged to go three miles to a mountain village,
stealing up to a well under cover of darkness. In that dark cave, hunger
and thirst were their constant companions, and the howling of wolves at
night made their mountain solitude fearsome.

Ti-to had lived for five days in this retreat when word was brought to him
that father, brothers, sisters, aunt, cousins, and all the missionaries
belonging to the three missions in Pao-ting-fu, had been cruelly massacred,
and that churches, schools, homes, were all masses of charred ruins.

After twenty days of cave life, Mr. Tien's uncle sent them warning that
Boxers were on their track, and that they must leave their mountain refuge
immediately. Then began long, weary wanderings toward the southwest, over
mountain roads, their plan being to go to Shansi. One day in their
wanderings they had just passed the village of Chang-ma, about sixteen
miles south of Pao-ting-fu, when a band of Boxers, some armed with rifles,
some brandishing great swords, rushed after them, shouting, "Kill! kill!
kill the secondary foreign devils!"

Escape was impossible. Before this howling horde had overtaken them, a man
who was standing near them asked Ti-to, "Are you a Christian?"

"Yes," the boy replied. "My father and mother were Christians, and from a
little child I have believed in Jesus."

"Do not be afraid," the stranger said; "I will protect you."

Then the Boxers closed about them. Mr. Tien was securely bound, hand and
foot. Ti-to was led by his queue, and soon they were back by the Boxer
altar in the village. When the knives were first waved in his face, and the
bloodthirsty shouts first rang in his ears, a thrill of fear chilled
Ti-to's heart; but it passed as quickly as it came, and as he was dragged
toward the altar, it seemed as if some soft, low voice kept singing in his
ear the hymn, "I'm not ashamed to own my Lord." All fear vanished.

When they began to bind Mr. Tien to the altar, he spoke no word for
himself, but pleaded most earnestly for the little charge committed to his
care, telling how all his relatives had been murdered, and begging them to
spare his life. Perhaps it was those earnest, unselfish words, perhaps it
was the boy's gracious mien and winsome face, that moved the crowd; for one
of the village Boxers stepped forward, saying: "I adopt this boy as my son.
Let no one touch him. I stand security for his good behavior."

Ti-to's deliverer was one of the three bachelor brothers, the terror of the
region. But it was evident that Mr. Chang's heart was completely won by the
boy. For three months he kept him in his home, tenderly providing for every
want. Let Ti-to tell the story of those days in his own words:--

"Of course I could not pray openly. But sometimes when my adopted father
was away with the Boxers on their raids, I would shut the door tight and
kneel in prayer. Then every evening when the sun went down, I would turn my
face to the west, and in my heart repeat the hymn:--

"'Abide with me: fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens: Lord, with
me abide.'

"Mr. Chang was in Pao-ting-fu when my father was killed, and told me how
they stabbed and tortured him. I supposed that my uncle and his wife, who
had gone to Tung-chow, had been killed, too, and all the missionaries in
China. But I knew that the people in America would send out some more
missionaries, and I thought how happy I would be sometime in the future
when I could go into a chapel again and hear them preach."

But Ti-to had not long to wait for this day of joy In October expeditions
of British, German, French, and Italian soldiers from Peking and Tientsin
arrived at Pao-ting-fu, and the Boxer hordes scattered at their coming.
Soon to the brave boy in the Boxer's home came the glad tidings that his
uncle was still living, and had sent for him to come to Pao-ting-fu.

Mr. Chang loved the boy so deeply that he could not but rejoice with him,
sad though he felt at the thought of parting with him. Fearful of some
treachery or of harm coming to Ti-to, he went with him to Pao-ting-fu, then
returned to the village home from which the sunshine had departed.

Later Ti-to studied in the Congregational Academy in Peking, and then in
Japan. He is now an earnest teacher of Christianity, for which he so
bravely faced death.--_Selected_.

What the Flowers Say to Me

Our Father made us beautiful,
And breathed on us his love,
And gave us of the spirit that
Prevails in heaven above.

We stand here meekly blooming for
The stranger passing by;
And if unnoticed we are left,
We never stop to sigh,

But shed our fragrance all abroad,
And smile in shine or rain
And thus we do the will of God
Till he restores again

A realm of peace on earth, to last
The countless ages through;
Where flowers bloom and never fade;
And there is room for you.

IDA REESE KURZ.

HOW NYANGANDI SWAM TO CHURCH

Nyangandi lived in west Africa, near the Ogowe River. She was going away
from the missionary's house one afternoon, where she had been to sell
bunches of plantains to the missionary, when his wife said:--

"Now, you must not forget that you have promised to come tomorrow to
church."

"Yes," the girl replied, "I will surely come if I am alive."

The next morning she found that somebody had stolen her canoe, and no one
would lend her one to go to church in. But she had promised to go, and she
felt that she must. She swam all the way! The current was swift, the water
deep, and the river fully a third of a mile wide, but by swimming
diagonally she succeeded in crossing the river.

Remember this little heathen girl in west Africa when you feel tempted to
stay away from the house of God for some trivial reason.--_Selected_.

To Those Who Fail

"All honor to him who shall win the prize!"
The world has cried for a thousand years;
But to him who tries, and who fails and dies,
I give honor and glory and tears.

O, great is the hero who wins a name!
But greater many and many a time
Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame,
And lets God finish the thought sublime.

And great is the man with the sword undrawn,
And good is the man who refrains from wine,
But the man who fails and who still fights on,
Lo! he is the twin brother of mine.

--_Selected_.

THE LITTLE PRINTER MISSIONARY

A ragged printer's boy, who lived in Constantinople, was in the habit of
carrying the proof-sheets to the English editor during the noon lunch-time.
The editor was a busy man, and exchanged no words, except such as were
necessary, with him. The boy was faithful, doing all that he was bidden,
promptly and to the best of his ability, but he was ragged, and so dirty as
to be positively repulsive. This annoyed the editor; but, as he was no
worse in this respect than most of the boys of his class, the busy man did
not urge him to improve his personal appearance, much as he would have
enjoyed the change. But one morning the boy came in with clean face, hands,
and garments. Not a trace of the old filth was to be seen about his person;
and so great was the change that his master did not recognize him.

"Why, you are a new boy entirely!" he said when convinced of the lad's
identity.

"I am going away, back to my own home." said the boy, quickly, "and I came
to ask a favor of you. Will you pray for me after I am gone?"

"Pray for you!" exclaimed the editor.

"Yes," returned the boy. "You think I am a heathen, but I am not. I have
been attending chapel and Sunday-school in the Bible house. I have learned
to read and to write, and, best of all, I have learned to love Jesus, and
am trying to be his boy. But I cannot stay here while my father, mother,
brothers, and sisters do not know about him. So I go back to my own village
to tell friends and neighbors about him. I don't know much yet, and I want
you to pray that I may be helped when I try to tell my people what he is to
me."

"And it is because you are going away that you have washed and fixed
yourself up so well?" asked the editor, thinking what a fine boy clothes
and cleanliness had made of him.

"It is because I am Christ's boy now," was the answer. "I want to be clean
and to have my clothes whole in honor of the Master I am trying to serve."

"I hope your friends will receive as much from Christ's love as you have,"
said the man.

"And you will pray for them and for me?" urged the boy.

The man promised; and, full of hope, the lad started on his long walk
homeward, to tell the story of the cross to the dear ones there, in his own
wretched home first, and afterward to the neighbors among whom he had spent
his childhood days.--_Selected_.

Consecration

Ready to go, ready to wait,
Ready a gap to fill;
Ready for service, small or great,
Ready to do His will.

--_Phillips Brooks_

THE MISSIONARY'S DEFENSE

The following occurrence was related by Missionary von Asselt, a Rhenish
missionary in Sumatra from 1856-76, when on a visit to Lubeck:--

"When I first went to Sumatra, in the year 1856 I was the first European
missionary to go among the wild Battas, although twenty years prior, two
American missionaries had come to them with the gospel; but they had been
killed and eaten. Since then no effort had been made to bring the gospel to
these people, and naturally they had remained the same cruel savages.

"What it means for one to stand alone among a savage people, unable to make
himself understood, not understanding a single sound of their language, but
whose suspicious, hostile looks and gestures speak only a
too-well-understood language,--yes, it is hard for one to realize that. The
first two years that I spent among the Battas, at first all alone and
afterward with my wife, were so hard that it makes me shudder even now when
I think of them. Often it seemed as if we were not only encompassed by
hostile men, but also by hostile powers of darkness; for often an
inexplicable, unutterable fear would come over us, so that we had to get up
at night, and go on our knees to pray or read the Word of God, in order to
find relief.

"After we had lived in this place for two years, we moved several hours'
journey inland, among a tribe somewhat civilized, who received us more
kindly. There we built a small house with three rooms,--a living-room, a
bedroom, and a small reception-room,--and life for us became a little more
easy and cheerful.

"When we had been in this new place for some months, a man came to me from
the district where we had been, and whom I had known there. I was sitting
on the bench in front of our house, and he sat down beside me, and for a
while talked of this, that, and the other. Finally he began, 'Now _tuan_
[teacher], I have yet one request.'

"'And what is that?'

"'I should like to have a look at your watchmen close at hand.'

"'What watchmen do you mean? I do not have any.'

"'I mean the watchmen whom you station around your house at night, to
protect you.'

"'But I have no watchmen,' I said again; 'I have only a little herdsboy and
a little cook, and they would make poor watchmen.'

"Then the man looked at me incredulously, as if he wished to say, 'O, do
not try to make me believe otherwise, for I know better!'

"Then he asked, 'May I look through your house, to see if they are hid
there?'

"'Yes, certainly,' I said, laughing; 'look through it; you will not find
anybody.' So he went in and searched in every corner, even through the
beds, but came to me very much disappointed.

"Then I began a little probing myself, and requested him to tell me the
circumstances about those watchmen of whom he spoke. And this is what he
related to me: 'When you first came to us, _tuan_, we were very angry at
you. We did not want you to live among us; we did not trust you, and
believed you had some design against us. Therefore we came together, and
resolved to kill you and your wife. Accordingly, we went to your house
night after night; but when we came near, there stood always, close around
the house, a double row of watchmen with glittering weapons, and we did not
venture to attack them to get into your house. But we were not willing to
abandon our plan, so we went to a professional assassin [there still was
among the savage Battas at that time a special gild of assassins, who
killed for hire any one whom it was desired to get out of the way], and
asked him if he would undertake to kill you and your wife. He laughed at us
because of our cowardice, and said: "I fear no God, and no devil. I will
get through those watchmen easily." So we came all together in the evening,
and the assassin, swinging his weapon about his head, went courageously on
before us. As we neared your house, we remained behind, and let him go on
alone. But in a short time he came running back hastily, and said. "No, I
dare not risk it to go through alone; two rows of big, strong men stand
there, very close together, shoulder to shoulder, and their weapons shine
like fire."

"Then we gave it up to kill you. But now, tell me, _tuan_, who
are these watchmen? Have you never seen them?"

"'No, I have never seen them.'

"'And your wife did not see them also?'

"'No, my wife did not see them.'

"'But yet we have all seen them; how is that?'

"Then I went in, and brought a Bible from our house, and holding it open
before him, said: 'See here; this book is the Word of our great God, in
which he promises to guard and defend us, and we firmly believe that Word;
therefore we need not to see the watchmen; but you do not believe,
therefore the great God has to show you the watchmen, in order that you may
learn to believe.'"--_Selected_.

LIGHT AT LAST

Dr. Kirkpatrick, with the Baptist Mission in the Shan States of Burma,
tells in the _Missionary Review_ of an aged woman whom he met on a tour in
a mountain district, where no missionary had ever before set foot:--

"This old woman listened attentively, and apparently believed. She had
never seen a white man, although, according to her birth certificate, she
was one hundred and twenty-three years old. As she sat huddled together by
the fire, she said: 'Teacher, is it true that the Lord can and will save
me, a woman? Do not deceive me; I am very old, and must soon fall into
hell, unless this new religion is true. I have made many offerings, and
made many long pilgrimages to the most sacred shrines, and still find no
relief from the burden of sin. Please teach me to pray to this Jesus that
can save.'

"I explained the plan of salvation, and God's love for her, and taught her
a simple prayer of a few words. She seemed very grateful. As I was about to
leave her, she said:--

"'Teacher, you come from the great American country, do you not?'

"'Yes,' I answered.

"'Is your country greater than the Shan country?'

"I assured her that it was.

"'Are the people there all Christians?'

"I had to confess that they were not, but that there were many Christians.

"'Were your parents Christians?'

"'Yes, and my grandparents, and ancestors for several generations.'

"'My parents,' she said, 'died when I was young My brothers and sisters all
are dead. I have been married three times, and my husbands are all dead. I
had nine children, and they are all dead. I had many grandchildren, and
they are all dead except this one with whom I am living. I have seen three
generations fall into hell. Now I believe in Jesus, and hope to go to the
heavenly country when I die. If there are so many Christians in your
country, and you have known about this Lord that can save for so long, why
did you not come and tell us before, so that many of my people could have
been saved?' With the tears running down her cheeks, she said: 'I am so
glad to hear this good news before it it too late; but all of my loved ones
have fallen into hell. Why did you not come before?'

"That question still haunts me. I wish every Christian in America could
hear it as I did.

"A few weeks later I saw some of the men from this village, in the bazaar
at Namkhamm, and asked them about the 'old grandmother of the village.'
They told me that she died the day before, and that they had come to buy
things for the funeral. After much questioning, they said they were ashamed
to tell me that she was crazy. As she grew weaker, she told everybody that
she was going to die in a few days, and she was very happy about it. She
was going to the heavenly country, and other such foolish things. When she
was too weak to speak aloud, she kept whispering, '_Yasu hock sung; Yasu
hock sung_' (Jesus loves me; Jesus loves me), with her last breath. The
first and only time this woman ever heard the gospel, she accepted it. It
is an exceptional case, but there are others like it."

THE BROWN TOWEL

"One who has nothing can give nothing," said Mrs. Sayers, the sexton's
wife, as the ladies of the sewing society were busily engaged in packing
the contents of a large box, destined for a Western missionary.

"A person who has nothing to give must be poor, indeed," said Mrs. Bell, as
she deposited a pair of warm blankets in the already well-filled box.

Mrs. Sayers looked at the last-named speaker with a glance which seemed to
say, "You who have never known self-denial cannot feel for me," and
remarked, "You surely think one can be too poor to give?"

"I once thought so, but have learned from experience that no better
investment can be made, even from the depths of poverty, than lending to
the Lord."

Seeing the ladies listening attentively to the conversation, Mrs. Bell
continued: "Perhaps, as our work is finished, I can do no better than to
give you my experience on the subject. It may be the means of showing you
that God will reward the cheerful giver.

"During the first twenty-eight years of my life, I was surrounded with
wealth; and not until I had been married nine years did I know a want which
money could satisfy, or feel the necessity of exertion. Reverses came with
fearful suddenness, and before I had recovered from the blow, I found
myself the wife of a poor man, with five little children dependent upon our
exertions.

"From that hour I lost all thought of anything but care of my family. Late
hours and hard work were my portion, and to my unskilled hands it seemed
first a bitter lot. My husband strove anxiously to gain a subsistence, and
barely succeeded. We changed our place of residence several times, hoping
to do better, but without improvement.

"Everything seemed against us. Our well-stocked wardrobe had become so
exhausted that I felt justified in absenting myself from the house of God,
with my children, for want of suitable apparel. While in this low
condition, I went to church one evening, when my poverty-stricken
appearance would escape notice, and took my seat near the door. An agent
from the West preached, and begged contributions to the home missionary
cause. His appeal brought tears to my eyes, and painfully reminded me of my
past days of prosperity, when I could give of my abundance to all who
called upon me. It never entered my mind that the appeal for assistance in
any way concerned me, with my poor children banished from the house of God
by poverty, while I could only venture out under the friendly protection of
darkness.

"I left the church more submissive to my lot, with a prayer in my heart
that those whose consciences had been addressed might respond. I tried in
vain to sleep that night. The words of the text, 'Give, and it shall be
given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and
running over, shall men give into your bosom,' seemed continually sounding
in my ears. The eloquent entreaty of the speaker to all, however poor, to
give a mite to the Lord, and receive the promised blessing, seemed
addressed to me. I rose early the next morning, and looked over all my
worldly goods in search of something worth bestowing, but in vain; the
promised blessing seemed beyond my reach.

"Hearing that the ladies of the church had filled a box for the
missionary's family, I made one more effort to spare something. All was
poor and thread-bare. What should I do? At last I thought of my towels. I
had six, of coarse brown linen, but little worn. They seemed a scanty
supply for a family of seven; and yet I took one from the number, and,
putting it into my pocket, hastened to the house where the box was kept,
and quietly slipped it in. I returned home with a light heart, feeling that
my Saviour's eye had seen my sacrifice, and would bless my effort.

"From that day success attended all my husband's efforts in business. In a
few months our means increased so that we were able to attend church and
send our children to Sabbath-school, and before ten years had passed, our
former prosperity had returned fourfold. 'Good measure, pressed down, and
shaken together, and running over,' had been given us.

"It may seem superstitious to you, my dear friends, but we date all our
success in life to God's blessing, following that humble gift out of deep
poverty. He may not always think best to reward so signally those who give
to him, but he is never unmindful of the humblest gift or giver. Wonder not
that from that day I deem few too poor to give, and that I am a firm
believer in God's promise that he will repay with interest, even in this
life, all we lend to him."

Glances of deep interest, unmixed with envy, were cast from the windows at
Mrs. Bell, as, after bidding the ladies adieu, she stepped into her
carriage. Her consistent benevolence had proved to all that in her
prosperity she retained the same Christian spirit which, in her days of
poverty, had led to the bestowal of the brown towel.

"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Sayers, "if we all had such a self-denying spirit,
we might fill another box at once. I will never again think that I am too
poor to give."--_Our Young Folks_.

ONLY A BOY

More than half a century ago a faithful minister coming early to the kirk,
met one of his deacons, whose face wore a very resolute expression.

"I came early to meet you," he said. "I have something on my conscience to
say to you. Pastor, there must be something radically wrong in your
preaching and work; there has been only one person added to the church in a
whole year, and he is only a boy."

The old minister listened. His eyes moistened, and his thin hand trembled
on his broad-headed cane.

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