AMY WILSON-CARMICHAEL
Keswick Missionary C.E.Z.M.S.
AUTHOR OF
"THINGS AS THEY ARE"; "OVERWEIGHTS OF JOY";
"THE BEGINNING OF A STORY," ETC.
WITH FIFTY HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOS SPECIALLY TAKEN FOR THIS WORK
MORGAN AND SCOTT LD.
12 PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS
LONDON MCMXII
Copyright, Morgan & Scott Ld., 1909
| FIRST EDITION, Quarto (Fifty Photogravure Illustrations) | 2,000 Nov., 1909 |
| EDITION DE LUXE (Fifty Photogravures on Japon Vellum) | 250 Nov., 1909 |
| OCTAVO EDITION (Fifty Half-tone Engravings) | 5,250 July, 1912 |
TO THOSE WHO CARE
Dohnavur, Tinnevelly District,
South India
Christmas, 1909.
Each for himself, we live our lives apart,
Heirs of an age that turns us all to stone;
Yet ever Nature, thrust from out the heart,
Comes back to claim her own.
Still we have something left of that fair seed
God gave for birthright; still the sound of tears
Hurts us, and children in their helpless need
Still call to listening ears.
Owen Seaman.
From "In a Good Cause."
FOREWORD
TO THE
PRESENT EDITION
WHEN first "Things as they are" trod the untrodden way, it walked as a small child walks when for the first time it ventures forth upon young, uncertain feet. It has to walk; it does not know why: it only knows there is no choice about it. But there is an eager looking for an outstretched hand, and an instant gratefulness always, for even a finger. A whole hand given without reserve is something never forgotten.
It was only a child after all, and it had not anticipated having to find its way alone among strangers. It had thought of nothing further than a very short walk among familiar faces. If it had understood beforehand how far it would have to walk, I doubt if it would have had the courage to start; for it was not naturally brave. But once on its way it could not turn back; and thanks to those kindly outstretched hands, it grew a little less afraid, and it went on.
Then another small wayfarer followed. It also was very easily discouraged; an unfriendly push would have knocked it over at once. But nobody seemed to want to push so unpretentious a thing, so it gained courage and went on.
And now a more grown-up looking traveller (though indeed its looks belie it) has started on its way; more diffident, if the truth must be told, than even its predecessors. For it thought within itself—Perhaps there will be no welcoming hands held out this time; hands may grow tired of such kind offices. But it has not been so. And now the sense of gratefulness cannot longer be repressed.
All of which means that I want to thank sincerely those kings of the Book World—Reviewers—and those dwellers in that world who are my Readers, for their insight and the sympathy to which I owe so much.
Once I read of a soldier who wrote a letter home from the midst of a battle, on a crumpled piece of paper laid upon a cannon ball. His home people he knew would overlook the appearance of the paper and the lack of various things expected in a letter written in a quiet room upon a study table. And he knew he could trust them not to bring too fine a criticism to bear upon the unstudied words hot from the battle's heart.
I have thought sometimes that these books were not unlike that soldier's letter; and those who read them seem to me very like his home people, for they have been so generous in the kindness of their welcome.
Amy Wilson-Carmichael.
Dohnavur,
Tinnevelly District
S. India.
Feb. 19, 1912.