Within a few weeks after this, several who had long been inquirers came and requested baptism, although they were well aware that by doing so they were making themselves liable to death by most horrible torture. One man, a prominent native in good circumstances, and well known as a great orator and metaphysician, who had for a long time been arguing with Mr. Judson about Christianity, now openly declared himself a follower of Jesus. Others did the same, and God seemed to reward His servants by showing them such results from their labours as they had hardly hoped ever to obtain.

The threats of persecution for a time ceased, and the prospects of the mission improved in every way. By early in 1821 the number of baptized disciples had increased to nearly twenty, and among them were several professional men of great influence in the city and some women. Many others, although not professed disciples, showed by their acts that they sympathised with the Christians and would do what they could for them.

In December, 1821, Dr. Price, a medical missionary, arrived with his wife from America, and soon afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Hough returned. Though the missionaries were left in comparative peace, they well knew that severe measures might at any time be taken against them. Every now and then there came rumblings of the threatened storm, and one of the chief converts was obliged to flee from the city on account of proceedings being started against him for his change of faith.

A few months before the arrival of Dr. Price, Mrs. Judson had so broken down in health that her husband decided to send her to America for the long sea voyage. She first went to England, where she received a warm welcome from many Christians, and then she proceeded to the United States, where she spent the winter. Medical men in America were unanimous in advising her not to return to the East, as they said her state of health was such that she would probably die before long if she went there. But nothing could keep her back from what she felt to be the post of duty. "I cannot prevail on myself to be any longer from Rangoon than is absolutely necessary for the preservation of my life," she said; so in June, 1823, she started on the return journey, accompanied by another missionary and his wife.



CHAPTER VII.

PRISONERS OF WAR.

When Mrs. Judson reached Calcutta on her return voyage to Rangoon, she was informed that war might break out at any time between England and Burmah, and was strongly advised not to attempt to go on. But she was determined to rejoin her husband at once, and finding that a vessel would start for Rangoon in a few days, she took a passage in it. She was not to stay long in Rangoon, however, for the Emperor had ordered Dr. Price and Mr. Judson to take up their residence in Ava. Dr. Price was already there, and Mr. Judson had only stayed at Rangoon to meet his wife, on the understanding that he should set out for the capital as soon as possible.

The missionaries attempted to carry on their work at Ava in the same way as they had previously done at Rangoon, but the public mind was in too excited a state just then to permit of much progress being made. The Emperor had for some time treated the English Government with open disdain, and had collected an army together for the avowed purpose of invading Bengal. He even caused a pair of golden fetters to be made, to bind the Governor-General of India when he should be led as captive to Ava. But before the Emperor could carry out his plan, the English took the initiative and invaded his country. He was confident of victory, but information was soon brought to him that the English had captured Rangoon, and this was followed by news of various other English victories.

The foreign residents at Ava naturally felt that their position there was somewhat precarious. At first the Emperor assured them that "as they had nothing to do with the war, they should not be molested;" but when tidings of English triumphs followed one another in rapid succession, the attitude of the natives grew more and more menacing.

Some Englishmen formerly in the employ of the Court were seized, and their belongings examined. In the account book of one of them were items recording certain sums having been paid to Mr. Judson. This money had been given to him in exchange for circular bankers' orders, sent from America; but the Emperor did not understand this. He concluded that Judson had been paid to be an English spy, and at once gave orders for the arrest of both the missionaries.

The scene can best be described in Mrs. Judson's own words. "On the 8th of June, just as we were preparing for dinner, in rushed an officer holding a black book, with a dozen Burmans, accompanied by one whom, from his spotted face, we knew to be an executioner, and a 'son of the prison.' 'Where is the teacher?' was the first inquiry. Mr. Judson presented himself. 'You are called by the King,' said the officer—a form of speech always used when about to arrest a criminal. The spotted man instantly seized Mr. Judson, threw him on the floor, and produced the small cord, the instrument of torture. I caught hold of his arm. 'Stay,' said I, 'I will give you money.' 'Take her too,' said the officer, 'she also is a foreigner.' Mr. Judson, with an imploring look, begged they would let me remain till further orders. The hardened executioner drew tight the cords, bound Mr. Judson fast, and dragged him off I knew not whither. In vain I entreated the spotted face to take the silver, and loosen the ropes; but he spurned my offers and immediately departed."

Mr. Judson was hurried away to the death prison, and his wife found herself a captive in her own house. She was exposed to many insults from the guard of soldiers set over her, and for three days she was unable to go out. Then, by a judicious bribe, she obtained a certain measure of liberty. She at once went to the governor of the city and sought to obtain the release of her husband. This could not be gained, but she purchased permission to see him. He crawled to the door of the prison, as fast as his trebly-bound limbs would allow, and spoke for a minute to her; but before they could exchange many words Mrs. Judson was peremptorily ordered away by the jailer.

The Government officials came again to the mission-house and seized all the silver they could find in it; but Mrs. Judson had received warning of their visit, and before they arrived had hid as much money as she could. Had she not done this, she and her husband must inevitably have starved during the following months. As it was, she had something now with which to mollify the officials, and she succeeded in getting her husband and Dr. Price taken out of the common prison for a time, and placed in an open shed.

Day by day she worked incessantly, petitioning every one of influence, from the Queen downwards, for her husband's release. Many sympathised with her, but one and all declared themselves unable to do anything. The governor of the city, who had chief control of the prison, happily became their friend, and did all he dared for them. Three times he was informed by a near relative of the Emperor, that if he would cause all the white prisoners to be privately put to death it would be pleasing to the monarch; but every time he managed to avoid doing it.

For seven months Mrs. Judson strove daily on her husband's behalf, and spent what time she could with him in the gaol. "Sometimes," she said, "I could not go into the prison till after dark, when I had two miles to walk in returning to the house. Oh, how many times have I returned from that dreary prison at nine o'clock at night, solitary and worn out with fatigue and anxiety, and endeavoured to invent some new scheme for the release of the prisoners."

After her husband had been in prison for some months, she gave birth to a little daughter, and for a few weeks was unable to get about to look after the captives as before. During this time news came to Ava of further great defeats of the Burmese troops, and the treatment of the captives was at once made harsher. They were again shut in the inner prison, among all the common malefactors of the place, and were each bound with five pairs of fetters. The hottest season of the year had now arrived, and the situation of the prisoners was far more terrible than any words can describe. The room in which they were confined was occupied by about a hundred native criminals; there was no ventilation beyond that afforded by the cracks in the walls, and the continual stench and heat were almost unbearable. As soon as she could get about, Mrs. Judson built herself a small bamboo hut by the gate of the prison, and lived there, to be as near as possible to her husband. After he had been a month in this black hole Mr. Judson was taken ill with fever, and after much entreaty she was permitted to move him to a little bamboo cell by himself, and to go in daily to feed him and to give him medicine.



CHAPTER VIII.

"THROUGH MUCH TRIBULATION."

The darkest hour had not yet come! Two or three days after she had secured the removal of her husband from the common prison, he and all the white men were suddenly seized and hurried out of the city. Mrs. Judson was engaged elsewhere at the time, and for some hours she was unable to learn where the prisoners had been taken; but a servant who had seen them leave gave her a clue, and she at once followed it up. She deposited her books and medicines with the friendly governor, and set out with her babe on her arm, and two orphan children she had adopted by her side, seeking her husband. After a wearisome journey she found him in a wretched prison at Oung-pen-la, almost dead from weakness and the torture he had undergone on his forced march, and was greeted with the pathetic words, so illustrative of Adoniram Judson's utter unselfishness, "Why have you come? I hoped you would not follow, for you cannot live here." The prison was placed in a lonely spot, far away from any village. There was no accommodation for Mrs. Judson, and no food could be obtained near at hand. She was refused permission to build herself a little hut, but the jailer found her a small, dirty store-room in his own house, and here she and the three children lived for the next six months. Day by day she searched for food, not only for her husband, but for the other white prisoners; and though worn out with pain and sorrow, cheered them, looked after their every want, and continually applied to the officials for some improvement in their lot. The untold privations she was suffering soon told on a frame that had never been very strong. Her two adopted children were taken with small-pox, and when they had partly recovered the baby was also attacked. Mrs. Judson had now to look after them in addition to her other work, and would often spend the day attending to the prisoners, and the night in nursing the children. The watchings and fatigue at last broke her down, and for two months she was unable to leave her bed. She had for most of the time no attendant except a common Bengalee cook, but this man proved an invaluable aid. He worked almost without ceasing, nursing Mrs. Judson, searching for provisions, and feeding the prisoners. The little baby was in a most deplorable state. It had no nurse, Mrs. Judson could not feed it on account of her fever, and the only way it existed was by her husband obtaining permission from the jailer to go out for a short time each day, carry the child around the village, and beg a little nourishment for it from those mothers who had young children. "I now began to think the very afflictions of Job had come upon me," wrote Mrs. Judson. "When in health I could bear the various trials and vicissitudes through which I was called upon to pass; but to be confined with sickness, and unable to assist those who were so dear to me, when in distress, was almost too much for me to bear; and had it not been for the consolations of religion, and an assured conviction that every additional trial was ordered by infinite love and mercy, I must have sunk under my accumulated sufferings."

Meanwhile the English army was daily coming closer and closer to the capital, and Mr. Judson was taken out of prison and sent down to the Burmese camp, to act as translator in the negotiations which were going on between the two forces. The victorious British general, Sir Archibald Campbell, ordered the Burmese to pay a heavy war indemnity, and to cede a large part of their territory to the English; and he also stipulated that all foreign prisoners who wished should be handed over to him. Consequently the Judsons found themselves once more free, after a year and seven months' imprisonment, and were made the honoured guests of the English general.

But the relief came too late, for Mrs. Judson's constitution was completely undermined by the privations she had endured. She and her husband settled in Amherst, a new town in British Burman territory, and hopefully looked forward to carrying on a useful work there. They had not been many months in the place before Mrs. Judson had a bad attack of fever, at a time when her husband was away helping the English general. She seemed temporarily to get better, but she had no strength left to resist the disease, and gradually sank. "The teacher is long in coming, and the new missionaries are long in coming," she murmured in a moment of relief from her delirium. "I must die alone, and leave my little one; but as it is the will of God I acquiesce in His will. I am not afraid of death; but I am afraid I shall not be able to bear these pains. Tell the teacher the disease was most violent, and I could not write; tell him how I suffered and died; tell him all that you see; and take care of the house and things until he returns." For most of the time she lay unconscious, and on October 24, 1827, after about sixteen days of illness, and at the age of thirty-seven, she passed away before her husband could return. Soon afterwards her baby followed her.

And so went home one of the noblest women who have laboured in the mission field. Her brave spirit, her undaunted trust in God and in the power of prayer upheld her, when the courage of the bravest men would have failed. Not a little of the remarkable success of the work of God in Burmah is due to the indomitable perseverance and the wise devotion to God and to her husband of Ann Judson; and wherever the Gospel is preached, that also which this woman hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.

Was her life thrown away? Were the labours and sufferings she had bodily undergone wasted? Not so. The story of her life has been and still is a precious heritage for the whole Church militant, a lesson which ever appeals to Christians to rouse themselves from self-seeking and apathetic lives, and consecrate their talents to the Master's use. Though she was taken up higher, the work in Burmah did not stop, and before many years had passed, hundreds and thousands of the people among whom she had laboured were professing to serve the true God; so true is it that "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church."

FRED. A. McKENZIE.



MARY LOUISA WHATELY.



I.

PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.

Mary Louisa Whately came of a distinguished family. Her father, Dr. Richard Whately, for many years Archbishop of Dublin, was one of the most remarkable and prominent men of the first half of the nineteenth century, a voluminous writer, a strenuous thinker, and a statesmanlike ecclesiastic. Her mother, Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. W. Pope of Uxbridge, was, says Miss E.J. Whately, a woman of "grace and dignity of character, delicacy of mind and sensitive refinement, which were united with high powers of intellect and mental cultivation and a thirst for knowledge seldom exceeded." [1] She was an ardent Christian, and devoted herself to works of beneficence and Christian service among the poor, as far as her delicate health would allow.

[Footnote 1: Life of Archbishop Whately, by his daughter, vol. 1. p. 43.]

Mary was born at Halesworth in Suffolk, of which parish her father was then the rector, on August 31, 1824. The following year her father was appointed Principal of St. Alban Hall, and removed with his family to Oxford. In 1831 he accepted the Archbishopric of Dublin, and thus at the age of seven Dublin became, what it remained for thirty years, Mary Whately's home. She was the third of a family of five, four girls and one boy, who all inherited something of their mother's delicacy of constitution and a good share of their father's strength of intellect and character. They were near enough to each other in age to share one another's studies and games, and, living a very retired life, depended largely on each other for companionship. For a portion of the year they resided in the archiepiscopal palace in Dublin. But on account of the many social demands made on him in the city, the place became distasteful to Dr. Whately, and he engaged a charming country residence called Redesdale, some four or five miles out of town. Here he resided the larger portion of the year, living a quieter life than was possible in the city, and driving into Dublin on most mornings to attend to his official duties. In the intervals of study and the discharge of public duty he devoted himself to his garden, in the cultivation of which he displayed much skill and ingenuity. Redesdale was the children's home, though the life there was occasionally varied by a stay in London (where their father usually spent a few weeks each spring to attend the House of Lords), at Tunbridge Wells, where they had relatives, or at the seaside, and later by visits to the Continent.

The Archbishop had very decided views on the training and education of children, and his wife also, as her English Social Life shows, had thought much on the subject. One of the Archbishop's rules was that children should never learn anything by rote. "When Mrs. Whately and I first married," he observed on one occasion, "one of the first things we agreed on was, that should Providence send us children, we would never teach them anything they did not understand. 'Not even their prayers, my lord?' asked the person addressed. 'No, not even their prayers,' he replied." [1] Mary's education was conducted mainly by a governess, under the superintendence of her parents. Her brother, Archdeacon Whately, thus refers to her early life: "Our life in Ireland was on the whole a very retired one. For the greater part of our sojourn there we saw very little society, nor had my sisters a sufficient vent for a craving, which in some of them was very strong, for social intercourse and active work.... In early life she showed the germs of that vigour and energy of character for which she was afterwards so distinguished. In all our youthful games she was fond of taking the lead, and generally succeeded in obtaining it.... Like most young persons of a sanguine and imaginative temperament, she lived very much in an ideal future of her own creation.... It was well for my sister that we were not allowed in our younger days to read any unwholesome trash in the way of fiction. We were not indeed unduly restricted in works of imagination, but we read nothing which was foolish or sensational, and a higher taste than the taste for mere stories was cultivated in us. Mary Whately had a strong predilection for works of travels, history, and adventures. Perhaps these tastes were a foreshadowing of her future destiny, and prepared her for it." [2] Her sister adds, "Mary was from her earliest years ardent and impulsive, hot-tempered and generous. She was quick at lessons, and possessed of a retentive memory, though the active brain and lively imagination made schoolroom routine somewhat irksome to her." [3]

[Footnote 1: Life of Archbishop Whately, by his daughter, vol. 1. p. 62.] [Footnote 2: The Fireside for 1889, pp. 817, 818.] [Footnote 3: Life of Mary J. Whately, by E.J. Whately, p. 10.]



II.

THE BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIAN LIFE AND SERVICE.

Dr. and Mrs. Whately gave their children a careful religious and moral training, and sought to instil into their minds the highest motives for right doing, and to set before them a high standard of conduct. Mrs. Whately early associated her daughters with herself in visiting among the poor in the village of Stillorgan, which adjoined the grounds of Redesdale, and in teaching in the village school. The poor of Dublin also were not forgotten, and especially at Christmas time Mary shared with her mother in the distribution of gifts among the deserving poor in the city, and in the entertainment of many of them in the servants' hall of the palace.

It is not known, perhaps she could not herself tell, exactly at what period the light of the Gospel first dawned upon her heart, but a subsequent time at which her spiritual life was much deepened and intensified was very marked. In 1849 the health of her brother broke down, and he was ordered by the physicians to spend the winter on the Continent. Mary accompanied him. They went first to Nice, but the climate disagreeing with them, they passed on to Florence and Pisa, and subsequently spent some time among the Waldensian valleys. This tour was in many ways a preparation for Mary's future life. She took lessons in painting, which was to be the chief recreation of her later years; she attained some proficiency in Italian, which led her a few years afterwards to engage in mission work among the poor Italians in Dublin; and her visit to the Waldensian valleys gave her her first insight into evangelical work abroad. But most important of all, she became acquainted with M. Meille, a young Waldensian pastor, and his wife, through her intercourse with whom her religious convictions became intensified and her spiritual horizon widened. When she returned to Dublin the great Irish famine was still continuing. The distribution of food and other efforts to relieve the distress were occupying the attention of all philanthropic persons. Mrs. Whately had become actively engaged in this work, and she and her daughters henceforward took a more prominent part in aggressive Christian work than they had hitherto done. Famine relief paved the way for greatly extended effort to spread Gospel knowledge among the Roman Catholic population. Industrial and Bible schools, refuges, and other Christian institutions sprang up in various parts of the country. Protestant missions to Roman Catholics were greatly extended. In this work Mary Whately found opportunity for the expression of her deepened spiritual experience. She taught in the adult classes at the Townsend Street Mission Hall joined her sisters and other ladies in founding a ragged school for boys—the first in Ireland—and afterwards in instituting a work among destitute girls, which issued in the Luke Street Girls' Home where hundreds of poor girls were taught to live respectable and Christian lives. These various forms of Christian service gave her tact and experience in dealing with the poor, which proved invaluable in her subsequent work in Egypt. As her sister says, "The Irish Church Mission work was the preparatory training to which she always especially looked back with thankfulness. The admirable manner of teaching and explaining Scripture employed in their schools she felt to have been the most valuable education for her subsequent life-work." [l]

[Footnote 1: Life of Mary L. Whately, by E.J. Whately, p. 15.]

In 1856, as she was in ill health, it was recommended that she should spend the winter in a warmer climate. Egypt was chosen, and, accompanied by a friend, she landed at Alexandria and proceeded to Cairo, where she remained several months. This was her first acquaintance with what was to be the land of her adoption. Before returning home in the spring of 1857 she made a prolonged tour in Syria and Palestine. She took much note of the mission work carried on in various places, and so greatly interested was she in the work among Jewesses then carried on in Jerusalem that she had some thoughts of giving it for a time her personal assistance.



III.

FIRST EFFORTS IN CAIRO.

The year 1860 was one of sorrow and bereavement to Mary Whately. She lost first her youngest sister, then her mother. Under the strain of nursing and sorrow her own health was seriously affected, and she was ordered by the doctors to spend the winter in a warmer climate. Her thoughts recurred to Egypt and her former pleasant sojourn there; accordingly she selected Cairo as her residence, purposing in her heart to make an attempt to bring the Gospel within reach of the Moslem women and girls. Egypt was then very different from what it is now. Railways were but just beginning to make their appearance, the Suez Canal was not yet cut, European customs, now so prevalent, had scarcely begun to invade the age-long usages of the upper classes. English residents in Cairo and tourists up the river were alike few in number. Few outside influences had been brought to bear on the Mohammedan population to moderate their extreme bigotry and hatred of anything called Christian—a word which they invariably associated with the picture and image worship of the members of the Greek or Roman Church with whom they had come in contact, or with the irreligious pleasure-seeking of tourists, or travellers by the overland route to India. The Copts, or descendants of the early Egyptian Christians, were almost without exception buried in the profoundest ignorance of the Scriptures and of Christian truth, given over to superstitious beliefs and practices, and destitute of any real spiritual life. Education for boys was of the most primitive character; for girls it was never thought of, nor had any educational effort ever been made for them during the twelve centuries which had elapsed since the rise of Mohammedanism. Christian missionary operations were almost non-existent. The American Presbyterians had recently commenced missionary effort, but their work was mainly, as it still is, among the Copts, and they had not yet opened a station in Cairo. Since 1827 indeed the Church Missionary Society had maintained a missionary—sometimes two—in Cairo, but their work had not issued in the formation of a Protestant Christian Church.

"It was laid on my heart," says Mary Whately, "to try and do something for the girls and women of the land, especially those of the Moslem poorer classes, far the most numerous, of course. The only schools hitherto opened for the children of the land had no scholars except from the Copts or native Christians; others were considered quite out of reach, and many of my friends endeavoured to dissuade me from an attempt which was sure to end in failure, as they said. However, it seemed best to make an effort, at all events. But it was begun in prayer, and therefore difficulties and delays did not greatly discourage me." [l]

[Footnote 1: Life of Mary L. Whately, pp. 21, 25.]

Mary Whately, accompanied by a cousin, resided for a time with Mrs. Lieder, of the Church Missionary Society. But in order to open a school she had to engage a house for herself; and after great difficulties one was secured in a suitable position. It was but a comfortless abode, and only rude furniture and inefficient domestic help were obtainable. But Miss Whately held outward comforts in light regard. Even in later days, when she had built for herself a capacious and comfortable house, it was furnished in the simplest, even rudest fashion, and all her personal expenses were cut down to the lowest possible point, that she might have the more to spend the work to which she gave both her heart and her life. As as she was settled in her new house she endeavoured to make acquaintance of her neighbours.

Miss Whately was but just beginning to learn Arabic, and the only assistants she could get for starting her school were a Syrian matron—who could speak but a few words of English and read with difficulty the New Testament—and her daughter of thirteen. Accompanied by the Syrian matron, Miss Whately went out into the surrounding lanes and invited the women to send their little girls to her to be taught to read and sew. She met with many curt refusals and received many fallacious promises; but when at last, in February 1861, a start was made, nine little girls were present the first morning "No recruiting sergeant," she says, "was ever so pleased with a handful of future soldiers, for it was beating up for recruits for the Lord." [1] The numbers gradually increased, though from time to time they were seriously affected by the spreading of malicious reports and the opposition of bigoted relatives and the only way to keep up the attendance was to go round visiting to obtain recruits, and to cultivate an acquaintance with the parents of the old scholars. In three months the children had been reduced to some sort of order, taught the alphabet and the way to sew; they could repeat a few texts, and sing a few hymns with some approach to sweetness. But perhaps of more importance still, they had learned to love and obey their teacher. Before her return to England for the summer she took them for an early morning feast in the public gardens of Cairo: and when the simple repast was finished, while "the little ones danced and waved boughs in a perfect ecstacy of merriment," the elder girls, she says, "seemed to find no pleasure so great as following us about, pointing to the flowers, and frequently throwing their arms round us, exclaiming, 'I love thee! I love thee much!' with eyes really overflowing with affection. How often had it been said 'You can make nothing of Moslem girls!' but the key of love is wonderfully powerful, and equally so in every land in opening the doors of young hearts." [2]

[Footnote :1 Bagged Life in Egypt, new ed., p. 29.] [Footnote :2 Ibid., p. 110.]

Meanwhile the beginnings of other Christian work had been made by Miss Whately. In the early mornings she would drive or ride a few miles out of the city, and seating herself near to some hamlet would enter into conversation with the women and girls, and seek to instil into their dark minds some drops of divine truth. Much of her time also was spent in visiting the poorer women of the city.

When, at the end of May, both the heat of the climate and family claims necessitated her return home, she placed her little school under the care of a teacher whom the Society for Promoting Female Education in the East provided.

The following winter was passed with some friends at Pau. After a trip to the north of Spain she spent another summer at home. In the autumn of 1862 she again arrived in Cairo, to re-open her school, which had for some time been suspended through the departure of the teacher. Many of her former scholars, hearing of her return, came to give her a very hearty greeting, and were willing to come back to school, bringing their younger sisters with them. They had, however, forgotten nearly all they had learned, and were at first very unruly. No assistance beyond that of an ignorant woman to help keep order and teach a little sewing was obtainable, while Miss Whately's still imperfect acquaintance with Arabic increased the difficulties which are everywhere experienced in the conduct of a ragged school. The younger children were especially difficult to deal with. The parents of the Mohammedan children objected to the use of pictures, being accustomed to see them the objects of reverence on the part of the Copts and other Eastern Christians, while the Coptic children were inclined to worship them. Amusing songs in Arabic, suitable for young children, there were none; and when a little marching about was attempted for the sake of variety, the mothers said, "We send our children to learn, and you teach them to play! If that is what they go to school for, they may as well be at home." [1] After a time a young woman was found who could do a little teaching. Miss Whately had to continue to give all the religious instruction herself. Yet, despite the many difficulties, the school was firmly established and continued to make slow but steady progress.

[Footnote 1: Among the Huts, p. 269.]

When her scholars were about to start for the "school-treat" to which reference has been made, a little boy, looking on with envious eyes, had exclaimed in a piteous voice, "I wish I were a girl." [1] "It was indeed a triumph," says Miss Whately, "to the little school that it caused an Egyptian boy even for a moment to wish himself a girl." Other boys had expressed their desire to come to school; so, as the 'girls' school did not meet on Sundays, Miss Whately started a Sunday class for boys. This was all it was possible for her to do by herself. But just at that time she became acquainted with one who, with other members of his family, was henceforth to be closely associated With all her work in Egypt. This was Mansoor Shakoor, a young Christian Syrian of good family and education, who, after working for some years as teacher and evangelist in Syria, had become agent in Cairo for the Moslem Mission Society, recently established in England. First of all Yousif Shakoor, brother of Mansoor, came to help her in work.[2] Later Mansoor also entered her employ, and she maintained both the brothers from her private resources. Thus she was provided with devoted and efficient helpers. Under their superintendence a regular school for boys was established, and when in 1863 she again returned to England she left the charge of all her work in their hands. On the 8th of October in that year Archbishop Whately died, and Mary Whately's Irish home being broken up, she determined henceforth to fix her permanent abode in Cairo. She now hired another house near to her own residence for the accommodation of the increasing schools.

[Footnote 1: Ragged Life in Egypt, new ed., p. 167.] [Footnote 2: Life of Mansoor Shakoor, pp. 58, 59.]

Very few English people can stand the intense heat of the Egyptian summer, and Mary Whately being disinclined in 1864 to come so far as to England, spent a short time instead in Syria. When she returned to Cairo she took with her to educate and train Fereedy Naseef, the young cousin and betrothed of Mansoor Shakoor. For this young girl there sprang up in Mary Whately's heart a deep and warm affection; she called her and treated her as her daughter, and both before and after her marriage in the summer of 1868 she resided under Miss Whately's roof. When in 1872 her husband died, she still remained, and Miss Whately shared with her the care and training of her young son and daughter, while she in return gave great assistance in the conduct and work of the mission.



IV.

MISSION WORK IN CAIRO AND ON THE NILE.

Is it possible to convert Moslems to Christianity? are they ready to receive it? No one perhaps is more competent to answer these questions than Mary Whately, and this is what she says: "To say, as has been sometimes rashly declared, that the Moslems are ready to receive Christianity, and that the faith of the false prophet is crumbling away, is what I would not venture for a moment to assert. But I can state as a fact, that in the neighbourhood of Cairo the peasant population both men and women, are willing, and many of them eager to listen to the Word of God when it is brought before them judiciously and discreetly, as well as with kindness and zeal." [1]

[Footnote 1: More about Rugged Life in Egypt, p. 210.]

Subsequent experience confirmed this view, and more than twenty years later she remarks "It is necessary to be discreet in dealing with Mohammedans, for if the spirit of bitterness is once aroused, the door is shut, for the time at least, against good influences." [1] To awaken to an experience of vital religion the ignorant, superstitious, and spiritually lifeless Copts is a difficult task; to bring to personal faith in Christ the bigoted Moslems is more difficult still. "A Moslem's religion," she says, "is twined up with his political, social, domestic life so minutely, that the whole rope, as it were, has to untwisted before he can be free from error, and the very admixture of truth in their book makes it harder in some respects to refute than if, like the heathen doctrines, it was all wrong throughout. Perhaps the intense self-righteousness of Moslems is after all the hardest point about them; their notion that in the end all who are Islam are safe strengthens them in this belief." [2] Nevertheless, the points of contact between the Mohammedan faith and the Christian a wise teacher can use as pegs to hang Christian teaching upon; and this Mary Whately's previous experience among the ignorant and bigoted Roman Catholics of Ireland enabled her to do with much tact. When peasants said to her, "Your book is Christian—we don't like Christian books," she would explain that it was God's book, and that the Koran did not forbid it to be read; and that she wanted to tell them about Seidna Eessa (the Lord Jesus), whom Mohammed acknowledged to be a prophet. In this way many an initial difficulty would be overcome, and the reading, with simple explanation, of stories from the Gospels would elicit the response, "The words are good," and the request for the gift of a New Testament.

[Footnote 1: Life of Mary L. Whately, p. 109.] [Footnote 2: A Glimpse behind the Curtain, p. 117.]



As soon as Miss Whately had settled in Egypt she began visiting the poorer women of Cairo. Usually she was received with courtesy, and when she became known, with gratitude; and though this work was arduous and consumed much time, through it an entrance was made for the Gospel into many homes. Into the houses of the rich she penetrated but seldom, partly because her work lay in other directions, and partly because these were occupied by numerous slave-wives, who, being chiefly Circassians or Georgians, spoke Turkish, and did not understand Arabic. In earlier years Miss Whately did all the visiting herself, and her books bear abundant testimony to the skill with which she could turn the conversation to spiritual matters; in later years she was much assisted in it by Mrs. Shakoor and by a Bible-woman whom she employed.

Mansoor and Yousif Shakoor engaged in similar work among men. They often found men at the coffee-houses willing to listen to the reading of the Scriptures. When this was put a stop to through the opposition of the Moslem priests, a book depot was opened, which did good service for some years. Evening meetings were also established, but these were attended almost exclusively by Copts, though occasionally a Moslem would brave the real danger of being present at a Christian service.

Beside the early morning rides to which reference has been made, which afforded opportunities for religious conversation, Miss Whately would occasionally stay for a week or two at some farmhouse or by the seaside, and find opportunities of teaching the people around something of the Gospel. The following is an incident connected with this work in the country: "At an open spot just outside the village a barber was shaving a peasant's head, and, as usual, a group were assembled near him chatting and smoking. Mr. Shakoor took advantage of this and resolved to join the party of men, and get into conversation, while I went a little further in search of some women. I soon found four or five with some little girls, all sitting upon a dust-heap! They looked very dirty, as well they might, but I remembered 'who can raise up the beggar from the dung-hill and make him to sit among princes.' I saluted the poor women in a friendly way, and though looking astonished they replied civilly. After a little chat and a few questions on both sides, I asked if they had ever heard about our first parents, Adam and Eve, and how sin came into the world. They just knew the names, but no more, and were pleased to listen while I related the story. Before I had finished, an old woman who had come up interrupted me. A young man who was standing near and listening, desired her not to interrupt the lady, for he could see she was learned, and 'thou art ignorant,' he added, with more truth than politeness. 'But you are not well placed here,' he said, pointing to the heap on which they were seated. 'Come to the roof of my house, my mother will show you the way, and these women can come too if they like.' I acceded to this courteous invitation, and followed the mother and son up the mud-brick steps leading to the rude terrace; and though anything but clean, it was a great improvement on what we had left, and with genuine kindliness the old woman brought out an old but well-preserved carpet and spread it for me. The others had followed, and sat round to hear what the stranger could have to read to them. They really seemed interested, though sometimes interrupting me with remarks not at all to the purpose. I managed to bring them back to the stories I read, of course choosing the simplest possible, and trying to explain a little as we went." [1]

[Footnote 1: Among the Huts, pp. 181-184.]

Miss Whately would occasionally make an excursion into the desert, making the acquaintance of the wild Bedouin tribes, and reading to them the Scriptures. "Lady," once said a Bedouin, lifting the curtain of a tent in which she and her sister were seated, "I saw your horse at the water, and my comrade and I are come to hear some of your book." They listened attentively while she read to them the ninth chapter of John's Gospel.

An important part of her work was the missionary tours which she made each year in the winter or early spring. The first of these journeys was in 1861, the last within a few weeks of her death. The spiritual condition of those she visited is thus described by Miss Whately: "The mass of the peasants are little, if at all, different from what they were in the days of Pharaoh. Instead of praying to gods of stone and revering brutes, it is true they now call on the Almighty, but know scarcely anything about Him, neither His Word nor His laws. Much of the religion of the fellah consists in prostrations, and his spontaneous prayers are usually invocations to dead men, as we see with Nile boatmen and other labourers; when in a fatiguing work, they call on the 'Lord Hosseen or Zeid,' &c. to 'stretch out a hand and help.' Buffaloes and sheep are frequently sacrified at the shrines of sheiks of reputed sanctity, or at the mosque dedicated to Lady Zeynab. A pilgrimage to Mecca and the performance of certain ceremonies there are supposed to cleanse the pilgrim from sin. The Copts (who form the minority of the population) have always preserved their veneration for Scripture, but neglected it, and were extremely ignorant, till in some degree aroused by the efforts of missionaries to seek more after education, and to read more of the Word of God." She proceeds thus to describe the work among these people: "On our yearly Nile excursion we had great cause for encouragement, both among the Copts and the far more numerous Moslems. The coast of the river is dotted with numbers of villages—some almost large enough to be considered towns, boasting a few houses with windows, a mosque, and a small primitive school; others are mere hamlets, consisting of mud huts crowded closely together, and built in and out of the palm-trees. We brought to several of these places both medicine for the sick and books for those who desired them, and were heartily welcomed as the peasants' friends; indeed every year the welcome grows warmer. Dr. Azury, the skilful medical man of the Mission, has always numerous patients; and after their bodily ailments have been attended to, they and their friends and neighbours assemble on the shore to hear him read from the Bible. Mrs. Shakoor and myself are at the same time occupied in visiting the poor women in their homes or in reading and speaking to troops of both men and women in the open air. When we are going to leave, the boat is besieged by men and lads asking for Bibles or portions of Scripture, which are given to those only who can read. The last sight as we sail away is often that of a circle gathered round one who reads aloud to those who cannot read for themselves." [1]

[Footnote 1: Report of the English-Egyptian Mission for 1887.]



V.

PROGRESS OF THE SCHOOLS.

The boys' school, which had begun with a few ragged Moslem children in a room which was little better than a stable, increased rapidly. In 1870 the pupils numbered one hundred and sixty in daily attendance. About half were Moslems, the rest Copts and Syrians, with one or two little negro slaves or bronzed Nubians. Many were very poor, but some belonged to the middle classes, and there were even a few from wealthy families, who would ride to school on donkeys from distant quarters of the town. The two brothers Shakoor devoted much of their time to the superintendence of the school, and taught all the higher branches, being assisted in writing, spelling, &c., by several native teachers. The girls' school advanced less rapidly, because of the early marriages, which usually withdrew the pupils about the age of twelve, and because girls were more wanted at home than boys. In 1870 there were about a hundred names on the roll, with an average attendance of seventy or eighty.

It was long Miss Whately's desire to acquire a piece of land on which to build suitable school premises. Her desire was gratified when in 1869 the Khedive, Ismail Pasha, at the kind suggestion of the Prince of Wales, made her a grant of the freehold of nearly an acre of land, just outside the old wall of Cairo, the only condition being that the building erected on it should have a handsome front, as it would face a main road. Considerable delay was experienced in getting the necessary papers for making the possession secure, and it was not till 1871 that the building was erected. Mansoor Shakoor, who had considerable knowledge of architecture, designed it, and superintended all the details of its erection. By its side, and separated from it only by a garden, Miss Whately put up a house for herself, that she might be always close to her work. About one fourth of the cost was contributed by those who in Cairo and in England took an interest in the work of the school, but Miss Whately herself contributed the remainder of the outlay, amounting to about four thousand pounds.[1]

[Footnote: 1 Letter from Mary L. Whately, The Christian, June 15, 1882.]

In consequence of the extension of the work, and because this large outlay had seriously diminished her resources, Miss Whately depended largely on the gifts of others for means to carry on her work. After the addition of a medical mission in 1879, the expenses of the work amounted to some L1200 or L1300 a year, a sum which, of course, it was quite out of her power personally to provide. L200 of this was derived from an annual grant from the Egyptian, Government, and about L150 from paying pupils, while occasionally grants were received from several English societies. The new schools soon became one of the "sights" of Cairo, and the English and American tourists who visited them contributed considerably to the funds, while the rest of the money required was collected in England, mainly through the efforts of members of Miss Whately's family and the honorary secretary of her English committee. But the difficulty of securing sufficient funds to carry on her work efficiently was always one of Mary Whately's chief burdens, and she was often obliged to make up deficiencies herself. During her occasional visits to England, which latterly occurred only once in two or three years, she was largely occupied in addressing public and drawing-room meetings on behalf of her work.

But to return. The new school buildings were opened in January 1872. "All the friends and acquaintances who took any interest in education, whether natives or Europeans, were invited to be present. The school hall, a large and beautiful room, though very simple and without any architectural ornaments, was adorned for the occasion with wreaths of green leaves, berries, and flowers, such as an Egyptian winter offers in abundance; and a table spread in an inner room with fruit and sweets to regale the children, while coffee and sherbet were handed among the visitors. Mr. Shakoor then spoke to the parents and friends of the scholars, telling them how the building had been made for God's glory and the good of the children in time and in eternity, and that with a good secular education the knowledge of God's revealed Word in the Old and New Testament was given to all of them." [1] Four months later Mansoor Shakoor died, an irreparable loss to the mission, and four years later his brother Yousif followed him.

[Footnote 1: Life of Mansoor Shakoor, p. 98.]

From the opening of the new buildings the schools advanced rapidly. It was soon found that the simple teaching of reading and writing to the boys would not attract scholars, but to secure the advantage of instruction in English and French, geography, history, and accounts, many parents would send their boys, who were thus brought under Christian influence. The extent to which this prevailed may be judged from the testimony of the schoolmaster, that "of the boys brought up under his tuition, not one had, so far as he could find, taken more than one wife," which showed a great breaking away from the traditions of Mohammedanism.[1]

[Footnote 1: The Christian, June 29, 1888.]

The girls received a simpler education, but with both boys and girls the daily reading and explanation of the Scriptures in Arabic held a prominent position, the Bible being the principal reading book in use. "Nor is the teaching of those things that concern salvation confined strictly to the time spent in reading Scripture. A few questions, or a remark in the course of a secular lesson, often shows them what is the most important of all matters in our minds. Nothing positively controversial is taught; that is to say, no contemptuous expressions about the religion of any of the children are allowed, and the plainest truths of the Gospel specially set forward; but occasionally something comes into the lesson which shows to an intelligent learner the vanity of the superstitions around them." [1]

[Footnote 1: Among the Huts, p. 116.]

The policy of employing Egyptians or Syrians as teachers was frequently challenged by people in England, and vigorously defended by Miss Whately. "The schools are under my personal superintendence," she wrote in 1885, "receiving not only daily supervision, but examination from me, and I never gave up the teaching of any part of Scripture into other hands, until I had truly converted as well as educated teachers as assistants." [1]

[Footnote 1:The Times, Aug. 15, 1885.]

In 1879 pupils had to be refused for want of room, and from that time till her death the scholars numbered nearly seven hundred.

The period of the Arabi rebellion in 1882 was a severe testing time. Though deliverance came at the eleventh hour, and Cairo was spared, "the inhabitants," writes Miss Whately in her report for that year, "lived for months in a sickening anxiety which can hardly be realized by those who only know the general facts from the papers." Not only Jews and Christians, but Moslems who remained faithful to the Khedive were threatened with torture and death. Miss Whately stayed at her post long after nearly all the Europeans had fled, and only left when the English Consul informed her that he would be no longer responsible for her safety. "The superintendent of the Mission Boys' School remained in Cairo at great personal risk, to keep things together as much as possible. The schools were not closed till the bombardment of Alexandria, when the excited mobs in the streets made it unfit for children to be abroad, and it soon afterwards was necessary to take away the board with the notice of the 'British Schools,' &c." The school buildings were used as a refuge for the homeless and persecuted, both foreigners and Egyptians. A list of buildings doomed to pillage included the Mission House. "The second day after the entrance of the victorious army, the superintendent opened the school. The pupils flocked back by degrees. At first some of the children of Arabists hung back, but began to follow the rest after a time." Miss Whately had the joy of knowing that in the time of extremest danger many young Coptic girls, formerly her pupils, when urged to pretend to turn Moslems to save their lives, had replied, "No! if we die, we die in the faith of the Messiah." [1]

[Footnote 1:Report of English Egyptian Mission for 1882.]

Yet the same year a night school for youths of the better classes was established. Several years previously Miss E.J. Whately had founded in connection with the school a branch for the education of the children of European parents in Cairo. After the rebellion these were much less numerous, and the branch, henceforth known as the Levantine School, was chiefly attended by Jewesses, Armenians, Syrians, and others of Eastern race, who paid for the education they received. Among them it did good service. Subsequently small branch mission schools were established in Gizeh and other places.



VI.

THE MEDICAL MISSION.

Sympathy with the sick poor around her for whom no medical aid was available, early led Mary Whately to dispense simple remedies and especially to distribute medicine to relieve the terribly prevalent ophthalmia. In this she attained considerable skill, and though her nerves were more susceptible than others often thought, she bore bravely the contact with dirt and the sight of suffering which these labours entailed. "She loved to relate," says her sister, "what affectionate gratitude was called out by these acts. The Egyptians are very sensible to kindness, and she never forgot how a poor mason, whose hand, injured by the fall of some part of a wall, she had daily dressed, afterwards recognising her as he passed by her garden railing, saluted her with the words, 'May Allah ever hold your hand, O lady!' This kindness it was that won her a way among the poor of the city. In lanes and streets where she had been met by pelting with dust and cries of 'Cursed Nazarene!' she was now met by the salutation, 'Blessed be thy hands and feet, O lady!' or similar words of welcome. 'Sitt Mariam' (literally Lady Mary) became a household word in many mouths." [1]

[Footnote 1: Life of Mary L. Whately, p. 62.]

Miss Whately perceived that medical mission work—of which none whatever had been attempted in Cairo—would form an excellent introduction to Christian work among the adult population. In 1878 therefore she engaged Dr. Azury, a skilful Syrian doctor, who had been trained in the American Medical College at Beyrout, and who had lately married Mrs. Shakoor's sister. Almost before the necessary premises could be secured numerous sufferers applied for treatment. At first a small wooden room was built by Miss Whately on her premises as a waiting room for the patients and dispensary for the doctor; and during the first three years over four thousand patients were cured or relieved, and many operations performed, some of which restored sight to the blind. In 1881 a suitable building for this branch of the Mission was erected, containing two airy waiting rooms, one for women and children and the other for men, a consulting room in which the doctor saw his patients, and two separate rooms, each containing a bed or two for the reception of cases that needed constant care. In the waiting rooms Mary Whately might be found almost any morning reading the Bible and talking to the patients waiting their turn to see the doctor. No compulsion was used, but an attentive hearing was usually obtained, while a psalm or some story from the New Testament was read and explained. As the same people would often come every day or two for several weeks, something like continuous teaching could be given. In this work Mary Whately greatly delighted. In any difficult case, says a friend (Sunday at Home, 1889, p. 406), "'Sitt Mariam' would take her place in the surgery, ready with a kind word and practical assistance." An instance of the good done by the mission is given by the same writer. "A young woman came one day weeping bitterly; she was one of the wives of a sheik of a village some miles away, and she was almost blind. Her husband had told her that she was no longer of use to him, and he should divorce her. She was in a pitiable state of distress. The doctor, by God's help, was able to cure the poor young wife completely. She returned to her village in deepest thankfulness, and was taken back into favour by her lord and master. Some time afterwards she returned again, this time bringing a tall turbaned man with her, who proved to be her husband; he was the sufferer this time, and the good and forgiving wife had persuaded him to come and see the doctor to whom she owed so much. After some time the man was cured, and during his bodily treatment we may be sure that his soul was not forgotten. He showed his gratitude by sending many from his village to the Medical Mission; so that the seed was sown broadcast."



VII.

LITERARY EFFORTS.

Mary Whately, though she belonged to a book-writing family, aspired to no literary fame. Her ten books were all the outcome of her work in Egypt, and were written to awaken interest in it, and in some cases to secure funds for it. She was, as a girl, the "story-teller" of the family, and among her companions secured a reputation for her powers of narration. This gift she turned to good account.

"It was at her father's suggestion and by his advice that her first book, Ragged Life in Egypt, was published. A friend staying in the house had been reading to him a series of letters Mary had written her, describing her first settlement for the winter in Cairo, the commencement of her school, her visits among the poor, etc. He listened with much pleasure and attention, and on his daughter entering the room a few minutes afterwards, he said, 'Mary, you ought to publish these papers!' Her first answer was, 'Oh! people are tired of Egypt! they have had so many books of travels there and so many details!' 'Yes,' he rejoined, 'but yours will be new; you have reached a stratum lower than any foreign visitor has yet done.' This determined her to publish; and the book was finished and brought out immediately. In 1863 the same friend read to the Archbishop during his last illness the manuscript of the second part, More about Ragged Life in Egypt. On the morning on which the reading was finished, he took his gold pen from his pocket, and giving it to her said, 'I shall never use this again, Mary; take it, and go on.'" [1]

[Footnote 1: Life of Mary L. Whately, pp. 55-57.]

In 1871 she published a further account of Egyptian life and of her mission work, under the title, Among the Huts in Egypt. Meanwhile in 1867 she had contributed to the Leisure Hour, and afterwards issued as a volume, The Story of a Diamond. Another story, Lost in Egypt, was written in 1881. In 1873 Miss Whately published a biography of Mansoor Shakoor, and in 1881 she wrote Letters from Egypt for Plain Folks at Home. In 1878 she published a story called Unequally Yoked, illustrating the miserable lives of English women who have been persuaded to marry Mohammedans, and in 1872 she wrote A Glimpse Behind the Curtain, a story of life in the harems of Cairo. Her last book appeared in 1888 with the title, Peasant Life on the Nile. With changed names and in a slightly veiled form, it recounts the history of some who received spiritual blessing through her mission work. All her books are written in a simple unaffected style, and reveal an unrivalled acquaintance with Oriental character and the Egyptian mode of life. Most of them are illustrated by engravings from her own sketches.



VIII.

RESULTS.

Writing in 1861 Miss Whately said, "The reaping time is not yet." [1] Ten years later she writes: "It is a missionary's duty to sow beside all waters, and to lose no opportunity, even if his chance of doing good be but small. The sower of the seed has need of much patience; and though he need not actually be expecting and looking for disappointment, as that would paralyse his efforts for good, he must yet be prepared for it." [2] In this spirit of patience and perseverance Mary Whately carried on her work, and though her work was largely pioneering, she was not without encouragement. Her hand was the first to begin to break down the wall of ignorance, prejudice, and bigotry which had for centuries shut in the people of Egypt. She convinced thousands that the Christian book is a good book, and Christian men and women good people, despite the evidence to the contrary of so many in Egypt who bear the Christian name but do not live the Christian life. The sentiments of the people are leavened by thousands among them who in youth passed through her schools, and there acquired an acquaintance with Scripture truth. "Youths employed under Government, on the railways or in mercantile houses, who have received with the secular education which has secured their positions, a thorough knowledge of the Bible as its condition, continually greet her after they have quite outgrown her recollection." [3] The teachers in later years were chiefly composed of those who had been pupils in the schools, and of whose conversion she had no doubt. Thousands of poor sufferers were relieved by the Medical Mission, thousands of homes made happier by the visits of herself and her assistants. Many of the Scriptures distributed on her Nile journeys were kept and read, and found afterwards in most unlikely places.

[Footnote 1: More about Ragged Life, p. 199.] [Footnote 2: Among the Huts, p. 151.] [Footnote 3: Lost in Egypt, preface.]

In 1870 Miss Whately was able to tell of the first of her scholars of whose conversion she could feel sure. In 1878 she writes of two little boys, pupils in her school, who read the Bible at home to their old nurse, a slave woman, during the illness which terminated in her death. So simply did she receive the truth, that she declined to see the Mollah or reader of the Koran, saying, "No, no, I want no one but Him whom the boys tell me about; the boys' Saviour is my Saviour." [1] In Peasant Life on the Nile Miss Whately gives several instances of Copts who through her efforts refused to turn Moslems, and of others who became Christians in deed and in truth.

[Footnote 1: Letters from Egypt, pp. 117, 118.]

Instances of blessing on the work of the Mission might be multiplied. Nevertheless the difficulty of bringing a Mohammedan to an open avowal of Christianity always remained extremely great. Converts to Christianity always incurred the risk of secret poisoning. Yet in the report for 1888, penned by Miss Whately only a few weeks before her death, she says, "The seed sown in past years is evidently taking root;" and the accounts for that year contain the significant entry, "Clothes for poor convert on his baptism, L2." She also gratefully acknowledged that the reading of the books of her lending-library, largely supplied by the Religious Tract Society, had reached more Mohammedans than any other Christian agency.



IX.

TWILIGHT.

Like the twilight in the land of her adoption, the twilight of Mary Whately's life was very brief. Her sun went down while it was yet day. Her last years were among her busiest. She would rise very early, often watching from her balcony the dawn break, and then would take a ride in the fresh morning air, or go out into her garden, for, as with her father, gardening was her delight. After a simple breakfast she would be usually found in the dispensary by nine o'clock, reading and talking to the patients. When they had all been cared for, she would teach her Scripture class in the Levantine school, and afterwards visit the other schools, or attend to some of her domestic duties. After a short rest in the heat of the day, the remainder of the afternoon would be occupied with receiving or paying visits, and the short evening before retiring early to rest, when free from various forms of mission work, with painting or reading. When burdened with the difficulties of the work, she would often exclaim, "Why tarry the wheels of His chariot?" and the coming of the Lord was ever the object of her lively anticipation.

In the summer of 1888 she paid her last visit to England, taking also a tour in Switzerland, which she greatly enjoyed. Early in the autumn she returned to Cairo, where she was joined by her elder sister, who frequently spent the winter with her. In February she made preparations for her usual Nile trip. After the boat had been engaged and paid for, she caught a cold, and was urged to defer the journey; but as this would have caused extra expense, she declined. The excitement of the work, which, on account of the doctor being unable through ill health to accompany her, was unusually heavy, kept her up for the time, but on her return to Cairo she had to retire to bed. Bronchitis set in, and in a few days the gravest was feared. A relapse discovered weakness of the heart, and on the morning of Saturday, March 9, 1889, her spirit fled. Then was there, as of old, "a grievous mourning" among "the Egyptians." No need was there to employ professional mourners to make a wailing; the teachers and scholars, and the hundreds of poor men and women who had learned to love her, wept aloud for her. Her body was laid to rest in the English cemetery in Cairo, but she herself rested from her labours among those of whom she wrote:—

"Oh! they've reached the sunny shore Over there; They will never hunger more; All their pain and grief is o'er; Over there.

Oh! they've done the weary fight Over there; Jesus saved them by His might; And they walk with Him in white; Over there."

W.R. Bowman



AGNES JONES[1]

[Footnote 1: The extracts are made, by kind permission of Messrs. Nisbet & Co., from Agnes Jones, by her sister.]

CHAPTER I.

YOUTHFUL DAYS.

A chance visitor to the Liverpool Workhouse on Brownlow Hill might be lost in wonder at its vastness, as he looked at its streets of large buildings and was told of its more than four thousand inhabitants. He would scarcely imagine that those bare-looking groups of buildings possess an historic interest. Yet to the Christian philanthropist it is holy ground, for there, in willing sacrifice for others, were spent the last years of the life of that saintly woman who gave the death-blow to the old system of pauper nursing and all its attendant evils. But we are looking at the stream as it enters the limitless ocean of eternity. We can do that again by-and-by. Let us turn now rather to the beginning of that stream of life and trace it onwards.

Agnes Elizabeth Jones was born at Cambridge on the 10th of November, 1832, the 12th Regiment, of which her father was the lieutenant-colonel, having arrived there only a few days before.

When Agnes was about five years of age, her father's regiment, which had previously been quartered at Cork, was ordered to Mauritius. The wonderfully varied and beautiful scenery of this little island—a tiny gem set in the heart of the Indian Ocean—with its curiously shaped mountains, and tropical trees and plants, made a wonderful impression on the mind of the child, and although she was only eleven years old when she left, she always cherished the memory of it.

But it was not only that her mind was roused to a keen appreciation of the beauties around her during her residence in Mauritius. The higher part of her nature, chiefly through the faithful teaching of one of the French pastors on the island, was also touched, and in the young heart there arose the longing to be safely folded in the arms of the Good Shepherd. A sentence in one of his sermons haunted her night and day:—"And now, brethren, if you cannot answer me, how will you at the last day answer the Great Searcher of hearts?" An arrow shot at a venture, it pierced her heart, and although she did not yet yield herself fully to God, she never entirely lost the desire to be His, even when apparently outwardly indifferent. We may well thank God for His servant's earnest ministry, for had he been less faithful, the whole course of that life, which was to prove so valuable in the service of the Lord, might have been changed.

From Madagascar, five hundred and fifty miles from Mauritius, yet its next-door neighbour westwards in the silver sea, there came, when Agnes was yet but seven years old, the tidings of a fearful persecution of the Christians. The letters received at that time told of indescribably dreadful sufferings for Christ's sake, and the sight of the Malagasy refugees who fled to Mauritius, fired her young soul with the desire to become a missionary. This desire, however, in her exceeding reserve, she kept to herself. God had other purposes for her, and it was amongst her own country people, and not in the foreign field, that He called her to labour.

After the return of her parents from Mauritius, the greater part of four years was spent in a beautiful spot at the foot of the hills of the Donegal Highlands on the banks of Lough Swilly, one of the loveliest of the Irish lakes. This period is spoken of by her sister as one in which she appeared utterly indifferent to spiritual things, yet some entries in her journal indicate an intense longing after a higher life. They certainly show that she knew the sinfulness of her own heart and the weakness of her resolutions, and that, in common with so many reserved natures, while hiding the true state of her feelings from others, she was much given to introspection and inclined to magnify her faults. Such reserved natures do not "wear their heart on their sleeve," and it should be a comfort to parents and teachers who are anxiously watching children to know that "things are not always what they seem," and that many a child who seems altogether careless is in reality not far from the kingdom.

In January, 1848, when a little over fifteen, she was sent to school at Stratford-on-Avon, and remained there until her father's death in 1850. The good discipline of this school and the wise guidance of her teachers had a most wholesome effect on the development of her character, and the steady, indomitable perseverance in the face of difficulties which so marked her after-life distinguished her then. By her painstaking and close attention she made up for her want of quickness in learning. Hence she never forgot what she had once learned.

The actual time of her conversion seems to have been during the period that she resided with her mother and sister in Dublin. To the earnest man of God whose ministry they attended, the preparation of the younger members of his flock for admission to the Lord's Supper was no perfunctory task. He introduced her, with others of his candidates, to one of his helpers as "anxious inquirers." So shy and reserved was Agnes that she said but little, yet this lady remarked of her:—"In the class her intense appetite for the living bread was so apparent, that I often felt myself speaking to her only, her calm gentle eyes fixed on me, as God helped me to speak."

It is impossible for those who have definitely accepted Christ's salvation, and who truly realise His love to perishing sinners, to be idlers in His vineyard. We are therefore not surprised to find her soon at work, her own particular plot being in the ragged school. Her needy little scholars were a great interest to her. She always showed the greatest sympathy and devotion to them, and while caring for their souls did not forget their bodily needs. Even when on a holiday she sought and found work amongst the poor. Indeed, distress of any kind always appealed to her heart.

There are some Christians who are very active in the outside world, but who forget that the first duty of a child of God is to "show piety at home." It was not so with Agnes Jones, for it was in the home that the beauty of her life was most visible, and it was in the family circle that the affection and unselfishness of her character shone most conspicuously. Others, indeed, could plainly see the development of the Christ-life in her, but she herself, dwelling as she did in the presence of her Lord, was prone to judge herself harshly. Thus, with every moment occupied, she charged herself with being lazy and negligent.

The first step towards the great work of her life was taken while on a visit to the Continent in 1853. During the May meetings in Paris, there was one held on behalf of the Oeuvre des Diaconesses, one of the branches of the Institution at Kaiserswerth on the Rhine, founded by Pastor Fliedner. This she attended, and was then first made acquainted with that work, which became of great interest to her, an interest which was much strengthened by a visit to Kaiserswerth itself about two months later. "As we drove away," she writes, "my great wish was that this might not be my last visit to Kaiserwerth.... That visit was, I believe, a talent committed to our care; may it not be buried."

So full was she of the conviction that by seeing more of the work at Kaiserswerth she would be the better fitted for her beloved work in Ireland, that she proposed that she should go there for a week. To her great joy her mother concurred in the proposal, and earnestly did Agnes pray that this visit might be blessed and sanctified by God to His glory.

She was charmed with all that she heard and saw at Kaiserswerth, with the love which was so manifest in all, with the intensity of purpose, the perfect obedience, the beautiful order, the incessant work without fuss or bustle, and above all with the spirit of prayer, which pervaded the whole institution. Her journals show how strong was her desire to return there for training, for she believed that "as we use means to fit us for any earthly profession, so are we bound to use every means which will enable us to adorn our Christian profession." Her friends, however, knew nothing of her wishes. They were told only in the ears of her God.



CHAPTER II.

AT WORK IN THE VINEYARD.

For some time after her return from the Continent, Agnes Jones resumed her former work in Dublin, labouring more energetically than ever. In 1856, however, she and her mother returned to Fahan, the old home on the shore of Lough Swilly, always a favourite spot with her, not only because of the beauty of its scenery, but also because her beloved father was there laid to rest.

To the Christian who is ever on the watch opportunities for service are never lacking, and Agnes soon found her hands full. Did a child fall into the fire—a very common accident in that district—she must be fetched, for so gentle yet so firm was her touch in dressing wounds that the fame of her skill had spread for miles, and she was sent for from far and near, to Protestants and Roman Catholics alike. Was some one dying, still it was she who must come to smooth the pillow and speak the words of life.

The spiritual side of her work she never lost sight of, but made the rest subservient to this, as a means to an end, always reading the Bible if allowed, and following the reading by a simple but practical and faithful explanation. She was indeed "instant in season" and out of season. In all weathers she might be seen speeding along the lonely mountain roads, setting off soon after breakfast, to be at work the whole day, with the exception of the early dinner-time, and often not returning until after dark. She was tempted, as every other worker is, to relax her energies and to stay at home if the weather were bad, or if she were not feeling well; but instead of yielding, she would, if a bad headache came on, start off the earlier, that she might not lose the chance of a visit through the pain increasing. Yet her duties at home were never neglected. Rather than omit them, she would rise at five, that she might anticipate the wants of others, and save her mother trouble.

Agnes herself, in her intense humility, considered that she was an unsuccessful worker, and was inclined to condemn herself for lack of zeal and earnestness. But her work was a great joy to her, and especially did she love her happy talks with some of the aged Christians amongst the sixty families she regularly visited.

He is a rash soldier who ventures into the battle without a weapon tried and proved, and he can only be an unsuccessful Christian worker who does not make the Word of God the rule and guide of his life. To Agnes Jones the Bible was a constant study. She was a most earnest student of God's Word, and delighted to meditate upon it. In her journal she writes:—"What should I be without my Bible?" And again, realising the truth of the promise, "He that watereth shall be watered also himself," she says:—"God's Word often comes home more strongly to my own heart as I read to the poor, and try to make a few simple remarks." Little wonder is it that, knowing and loving His Word as she did, Christ was to her a very personal Saviour and Friend. Her one longing was for more and more likeness to Him.



CHAPTER III.

FOREIGN TRAINING.

However strong and good our wishes may be, it is never safe to force on their accomplishment. They are never the losers who wait God's time, and the wisest course of all is the one which Agnes Jones pursued, of telling her wishes to God, and then, in perfect submission to His will, leaving the issue with Him.

It was not until seven years after her visit to Kaiserswerth that the way was made open for her to return there. This step had been suggested by her mother five years previously, but the filial spirit was so strong in her that, although she eagerly desired a more thorough training for God's service, she felt that her mother stood first, and refused to leave her alone. Now the case was different, and she gladly seized the opportunity. Still she was nervously fearful lest after all she should not be following the guiding pillar.

It was in the autumn of 1860 that she arrived at Kaiserswerth, where she immediately entered heartily into the work. Her intention was to stay for only a month, or at the most six weeks; but after she had been there but a short time, the pastor so strongly represented the great advantage it would be to her to spend the whole winter in the institution, that she felt constrained to write for her mother's permission to do so. As ever, she was full of prayer for God's guidance, and that whatever was done might be only for His glory. Her mother leaving the choice entirely with her, she decided to remain, believing that the training would be of inestimable use to her in her future work.

The Deaconesses' Institution at Kaiserswerth had a very small beginning. Pastor Fliedner, having heard of Mrs. Fry's work amongst female prisoners, was filled with longing to follow her example, and received two discharged prisoners, whose friends had refused them, with the object of giving them the chance of retrieving their character. He set them to work under the personal supervision of himself and his wife. The work soon increased, and assistance was needed. To the penitentiary were added an orphanage, a training-school, a hospital, and a lunatic asylum. More and more workers were drawn in, and at the time of Agnes Jones's first visit there were fifteen branches of the institution in different parts of the world. This number by the time of her second visit had increased to fifty.

The deaconesses as novices passed through every department of the work, and received a thorough training in both nursing and household work, the pastor wisely considering that if, when in visiting the poor, they could render them practical help, their words would prove far more effective. Much was made of Bible study, both public and private, and this, as well as the Stille Stunde (quiet hour), a half-hour daily set apart for prayer and meditation, could not but tend to give a spiritual tone to the whole work. Agnes revelled in all this, and found great happiness in the daily routine, in spite of much which was, perhaps, somewhat needless drudgery, such as sweeping and dusting her room, washing up after meals, and even black-leading stoves. She had, however, well learned the lesson that no action can be mean to the Christian if it come in the way of duty. Sometimes, indeed, it seemed a waste of strength to spend so much of the day in manual work, especially work which so injured her hands that for some time she was obliged to keep them poulticed, and was thus unable to assist in the hospital. Still she was, as she said herself, "as happy as the day is long, and it does not seem half long enough," in spite of a longing sometimes "for home sights and voices."

Soon after her arrival at Kaiserswerth, fourteen sick boys were given into her care for twelve hours a day. This was no easy task, particularly when she was left in sole charge of them, some being too far recovered to lie in bed, and needing to be kept at lessons or work. As the weeks rolled by, her work was changed, and in addition to other employment, she instructed a number of classes in English, both in the training-school and among the deaconesses. As for herself, she was daily becoming more proficient in German, and in a very short time was able easily to follow the sermon. This was a great enjoyment to her, as she much valued the truly evangelical teaching at Kaiserswerth.

At the end of three months of steady work, she spent a few days with an uncle and aunt who were staying at Bonn, but the gay boarding-house life contrasted so unfavourably with the happy Christian fellowship at Kaiserswerth, that she was thankful to return to her duties, playfully writing:—"The nun will not soon again leave her cell, for it was with very nun-like feelings she met the world again." Yet she was no misanthrope. She did not bring to God a heart which had tried earth's pleasures and had found them wanting, nor a life jaded with pursuing them. From the first, she had cast aside the love of worldly things, and had chosen to be wholly the Lord's.

During the latter part of her stay at Kaiserswerth, her duties lay entirely in the hospital. In January she wrote:—"My duties are in the children's hospital, all ages from two to twelve. It is a new life for me in a nursery of sick children, and a busy one too, for every moment they want something done for them."

A month or so later she was appointed superintendent of the boys' hospital, a post of peculiar responsibility and difficulty. It was one, too, from which she shrank, holding the mistaken idea that she possessed no powers of government. Certainly it was a position to tax the patience, for the children were not too ill to be noisy and disobedient, or even sometimes to unite in open rebellion, while the task was not rendered easier by the necessity of speaking in a foreign tongue.

Altogether she had a very busy life. She rose at 5.O A.M. every day, and kept hard at work, with the exception of the intervals for meals and the Stille Stunde (quiet hour), until night. "The cleaning and keeping my dominion in order is such a business," she writes. "Sweeping and washing the floor of the three rooms every morning, two stoves which must be black-leaded weekly, each taking an hour, weekly cleaning of windows, tins, dinner-chests, washing-up of bandages, &c., besides the washing-up after each of our five meals, keeps one busy." She must have been strong in those days, for she wrote:—"I come over from the other house every morning at six, the ground white and windows frozen over; often at three in the afternoon the water outside is still frozen, yet night or morning I never put on bonnet or handkerchief, unless when I go out for a walk."

From the first the hospital patients with their varied needs were a great interest to her. Now it is a dying man, beside whom she has to watch, longing to minister words of comfort, yet unable to do so, fearing that her then want of fluency in the language might trouble him in his weakness. Yet as she heard the poor man's cry, "Lieber Heiland, hilf mir" (Dear Saviour, help me), her prayers, too, rose for him to the compassionate Saviour. Now it is a little boy with a bad back, terrible sores, and a racking cough, who would let no one else touch him. "Every night," she says, "I used to pray with Otto after they were all in bed, and he used to put his poor little arm round my neck as I knelt beside him; but last night (the night before he died) he said of himself, 'I will only now pray that Jesus may take me to heaven, and that I may soon die,' and as I had put my face near him to hear, he said, 'Lay your cheek on mine, it does me so much good.'"

We have seen quite enough of Agnes Jones by this time to know that she never shrank from a duty, however repulsive. Her love for her Master, and her desire to serve others for His sake, preserved her from any fastidiousness. In spite of her sensitive and sympathetic nature she could bear to witness the most painful operations without flinching, for she kept before her mind the ultimate good which would accrue from the present suffering.

One day news reached Kaiserswerth of the deplorable condition of one of the English hospitals in Syria. Sick and well, it was stated, were crowded together in a place where rubbish of every kind was thrown, an insanitary condition anywhere, but especially so in an Eastern climate. Helpers, they said, were much needed. Agnes longed to step into the breach, and in a letter to her mother she says:—"The English send plenty of money, but hands are wanting. It is no new thought with me that mine are strong and willing; I would gladly offer them. Could my own mother bear to think of her child for the next few months as in Syria instead of Germany? It is but temporary, and yet an urgent case. My favourite motto came last Sunday, 'The Lord hath need;' if He has need of my mother's permission to her child He will enable her to give it. This is but the expression of a wish, and if my own mother were to be made too anxious by the granting it, let it be as if unasked by her own Agnes."

Her standard of filial obedience was indeed a high one, though no higher than the standard of God's Word. Before this, in asking permission to remain longer at Kaiserswerth, she had written to her mother:—"Your wishes shall be my guide, now and for the future, as long as I am blessed with such a loving counsellor. I trust my present training in obedience will not be lost in reference to home."

Although she thought the whole training at Kaiserswerth invaluable she wrote long after:—"I believe all I owe to Kaiserswerth was comprised in the lesson of unquestioning obedience." Those who would rule must first learn to obey, and certain it is that she would never have been fitted to be afterwards the head of a large institution hundreds to care for and govern, had she not so truly imbibed the spirit of obedience.

While she had a profound admiration for Kaiserswerth, she could still see that the life of a deaconess, shielded though it is from the world, is not exempt from danger. Some fancy that the life of a deaconess, or of any one similarly set apart, must be much more free from temptation than that of any ordinary person. "I think," she wrote, "every one is as much called on as a deaconess is to work for Him who first loved us; but if this does not constrain us as Christians, neither will it as deaconesses, and certainly the 'Anstalt' (Institution) is a world in which the Martha-spirit may be found as well as in the outer world. There are many most deeply taught Christians here, many whose faces shine, but I should say, comparing my home life (but few have such a home) with that of the deaconesses here, I should say that, in many positions here, there are more, not only daily but hourly temptations."

The fact that nursing was her vocation had for a long time been dawning on her mind, but the way to go to Syria did not seem open, and the Lord had other work for her. Almost by the same post there arrived two letters, one from Mrs. Ranyard, so well known as the originator of the London Bible Mission, suggesting that she should go and help her in the great work of superintending and training the Bible women, the other from a philanthropic gentleman, unfolding a plan for a proposed nurses' home in connection with an infirmary, and asking if she, after a few months' special training, would become its superintendent. Thus, while one door was shut, two others unexpectedly opened to her.

But which should she enter? This was the question which she prayerfully debated. She wished to lay out her life to the best interest for God, and both schemes had special attractiveness to her; the one, because of its intensely spiritual work; the other, because of her love for nursing, and the boundless possibilities for good there might be in training nurses. She feared, however, that as superintendent of the nurses' home she might be fettered in more definite Christian work. She felt she must be left in no uncertainty on this point. In her letter replying to the gentleman who had written to her, she said:—"You sent me the ground plan of the building, but I would ask, is its foundation and corner stone to be Christ and Him crucified, the only Saviour? Is the Christian training of the nurses to be the primary, and hospital skill the secondary object? I ask not that all should be of one Christian denomination, but what I do ask is that Jesus, the God-man, and His finished work of salvation for all who believe on Him, should be the basis, and the Bible the book of the institution. If this be your end and aim, then will I gladly pass through any course of training to be fitted to help in your work."

Soon after writing this letter she bade farewell to Kaiserswerth. Her plan was to go first to London to consult with Miss Nightingale and other friends as to her future. The seven months in Germany had been most happy ones, and she was ever thankful for the time she had spent there. She fully saw the great need of Christian training institutions. In those days the Evangelical Protestant churches, unlike the Romanists, who for many centuries had largely availed themselves of it, were not alive to the importance of the ministry of women. There were no institutions in England where Christian women could be trained to work for Christ, that work of all others the most important, and some, to secure the training they longed for, and could not get elsewhere, had even entered Roman Catholic sisterhoods. Times are changed now, thank God, and although there is still the need of more, there are many institutions where Christian women can be thoroughly and efficiently trained for service of different kinds at home and abroad.