The American Missionary. Volume 44, No. 02, February, 1890. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ centuries. They are teaching those who are to be the teachers of their people. They are preparing those who shall lead their own peoples. It is not a work of a score of years, nor of half a century. It is a part of the work of Christianity, whatever time it may take, and we ask those who pray "Thy kingdom come" to remember these missionary teachers and preachers before God that they may be of good courage, faithful and patient in their ministering.

      Thirdly.—These pages represent also the faith and sacrifices of Christians by which this service of Jesus Christ goes on. Brethren and sisters, you who contribute to this work, read in these names assurances to gladden your hearts and cheer your faith. See what solid regiments of the Master's army are in the land where slavery has perished, but where the problems which follow it are larger than ever before. Look up the locations of these missionaries on the map, and see where they are, in the valleys and on the mountains of the South, in plains of the far West, and on the shores of the Pacific sea. They report cheering tidings. Their schools are overflowing. Converts are being added to their churches. Our institutions are in harmony and zealous emulation. The year has opened auspiciously, "And the best of all is, God is with us."

      The Rev. Frank E. Jenkins, who succeeded the Rev. C.J. Ryder as a Field Superintendent, and who has served the Association since that time with an untiring devotion and with signal ability, has at his own urgent request been transferred from this general work to a specific part of the field.

      He has accepted the pastorate of the Congregational Church of New Decatur, Ala., with which we are in co-operation. Our consent to this change would have been the more reluctant but for the fact that we are in heartiest sympathy with the missionary purposes contemplated in this exchange of service.

      We congratulate the New Decatur church upon its entrance into its tasteful edifice—recently dedicated,—with a pastor whom we relinquish from the relationships of Field Superintendent only upon his own repeated convictions of duty, and in view of his preference for this particular work.

      Southern Notes

      By Secretary A.F. Beard.

      The "sleeper" had been transformed into a parlor car, which was used that day chiefly by the colored porter and myself. The "paper-boy" came through and offered me a New York Illustrated Weekly, adorned on the first page with the portrait of Jefferson Davis, for whom the South was then mourning with great abundance of white and black cotton cloth.

      After I had declined with thanks to invest in this picture, I turned to the colored porter who was travelling in the white man's car in apparent "social equality" and casually remarked, "Your people should feel very grateful to Jefferson Davis for what he did for you. You ought to have that picture." With a surprise that he could not conceal, he intimated that he did not understand me. He "didn't care for it," and "didn't know what Jeff Davis had done for his people."

      Time being at some discount, I undertook to tell him that "Jefferson Davis did more than any other person to take the South out of the Union. He was chief among the secessionists. Then, as President, he made so many mistakes, he did more than any other man to prevent the success of the Confederacy. He did more to bring about the freedom of the slave than any other man. Since the emancipation of your race came on as a consequence of secession, why should you not be grateful to Jefferson Davis and cherish his memory?"

      The black man by this time had gathered himself up for his reply to my Q.E.D. Not knowing what my sympathies might be, he replied in a slow and careful way, "Well, sir, I can't see it as you do. The way it looks to me is this, you know. In these days there are a good many people who don't believe in God—not much—but I reckon it was God who set my people free. You see, he didn't want that condition of things any longer. It was God who did it, sir, that's what I think, and I don't believe it was Jeff Davis. That's my view."

      I did not argue the question further. When one gets down solid upon the decrees, then I stop. But as the car rolled along with the speed usual on Southern railways, I pondered the text, "The wrath of man shall praise Him, and the remainder thereof shall he restrain."

      He was a colored porter, and I may have transgressed the laws of "social equality" in asking him aught other than to make up the berth, and to call me early. With the judgment resting upon Geo. W. Cable—who is never to be forgotten or forgiven because he had conference with some colored people in Nashville, and did not insult them—one should be very careful of his social equality. Nevertheless, I ventured to talk with this colored porter. I asked him what he knew about his race, and what he thought of his people and their prospects.

      He said, "I was raised in North Carolina, never had much chance myself, had only a country school to go to—kept by a colored man—not very good teacher—pretty good—better than none. But there's good many good schools now, and good many smart colored people by this time, sir. There's a good many risin' all the time. Old Fred. Douglass is a right smart man, you know; but then he sort o' left his race when he married a white woman. We don't think so much of him as a leader as we used to."

      The car rolled on. It was two hours late at my station. The bus man who stood in the stage door and collected the fares was conversational. He was unaware that by my ride and conversation in the car, I had forfeited my "social equality" with him. Hence he did not ostracise me; but smiling, said, "Train very late to-day, sir." "Isn't it usually as late as this?" I asked. "Invariably, sir, except when it's later."

      Paragraphs

      Dr. Rankin, the newly-elected President of Howard University, writes:

      "Everything at the University begins very promisingly. We had a crowded preaching service on Sunday night, and are observing the week of prayer at 12:30 noon. The meetings are full and impressive."

      "If a donor should give a great material gift to the University, I am sure I ought to write you. But the great Giver is giving us the choicest of spiritual gifts. Eight of the students, one of them a senior, this noon expressed a desire for prayers. We continue the daily meeting at noon."

      The immigration into the United States is steadily declining, as appears by the figures reported in the papers, while the blending of the foreigners here is steadily and rapidly going forward, rendering them speedily one people. On the other hand, the colored population in the Southern States is steadily augmenting, while the alienation between the black and white races in the South is becoming more pronounced. The Southern problem is the more difficult of solution.

      A clergyman in a Southern town who is connected with families of great influence, and who ministers to a large white church, is accustomed to preach every afternoon in a colored church under the care of this Association. He usually repeats to the colored church the sermon preached in the forenoon to his own people, and finds that those who hear it in the afternoon appreciate it fully. The two remarkable facts in this incident are that the gentleman should consent to do this gratuitous labor for the colored church, and that the colored church should understand and appreciate the sermon prepared for the cultured white congregation.

      A Beautiful Gift

      Mr. Silas M. Rideout, of Cumberland, Maine, has presented to the American Missionary Association, through the Boston office, a most beautiful box for keepsakes. It is about 6 inches in width, 9 in length and 4 in depth, made of inlaid woods of different colors very tastefully arranged, "American Missionary" being set in the cover. The inside is lined with plush. On a card in the box the following was written by a friend: "This box was presented to the American Missionary Association by a good man living in a small town in Maine, who, like that good fisherman of whom we have heard, gives such as he had. This dear brother of four-score and two years, made this box and presented it to the American Missionary Association, with its contents $10.25, which was contributed by such of his friends as desired to have a look at the skill of their aged brother in his work СКАЧАТЬ