That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

Some one asked if it would not be proper to have the Chaplain make a prayer? For a few moments no reply was given, then one with the fervor of little Evans burst out, “Who is the chaplain? Where is he? What is he? What have we got to do with him? What has he done for us? We do not even know him. We were born without him, have lived without him and shall have to die and be buried without him, unless he can find it convenient to leave his croquet or billiards and rattle a prayer over our graves.”

Nothing more was said about this, not even a motion offered, and the little chap did not so much as receive an invitation to our opening. Why should he? He had never called on any one of them, never noticed them and so was nothing to them. What else could he be? His time was so occupied in “Society,” at the grand dinners, at the lawn parties, gossiping with the women about the latest fads in church decoration and millinery, preparing sermons on the wearing of surplices, the position at the eucharist, or the sign of the cross at baptism, the training of his surpliced choir, his postures and intonations, his daily visits to the club; so engrossed with the silly sheep and the follies of his flock that he had no time or inclination to look after the poor outcasts, the goats outside, so why should these run after him?

I think this was the milk in the cocoanut in regard to the opinion and feeling about the Chaplain.

There was a disposition not to have any Europeans present except Mr. Jasper and my wife, but I proposed that the Collector and a few others be invited and no objection was made. I had a sinister motive in this which was to have enough of this set present to see what we did and to circulate the report in “Society.” There was a Mrs. Grundy, a terror, not to evil-doers, but to everybody else, on account of the wagging facility of her tongue. She resembled a busy bee in this, that she was always busy and carried a sting in her tale. Her husband was an homunculus of a man, so counted for nothing. As I knew she would be excessively flattered by an invitation when all the others were left out, and as she would make an excellent substitute for a night reporter on a morning paper, she got one of our engraved cards highly perfumed.

The women took charge of the refreshment part of the ceremony, and assisted with their good taste in the decorations, and it is not necessary to say that everything they did was worthy of them.

Mr. Jasper at once consented to preside and to deliver the address, as it was a pleasure as well as a duty he felt he ought to perform. The time came. There were a number of Eurasian friends from other stations, besides those who had aided us with their subscriptions. “Our Club” was crowded to its fullest capacity. It was a rare entertainment. The music with several recitations, the refreshments and the after social visit were very enjoyable, but the creme de la creme of the occasion was the address of Mr. Jasper, so characteristic of the man, eloquent in its rhetoric and delivery, but still better because he spoke the thoughts of his soul, with such kindly, yet severe criticisms of the Eurasian character as to make us all wince under them, and with such tender urgent appeals as to bring tears into the eyes of everyone.

The main idea was the development of true manhood and womanhood, first in purity of thought. “For you are what your thoughts make you, and remember that every thought you have and every word you utter are immortal and will effect your souls forever.” While he was describing his highest ideals of character the audience seemed lifted up above themselves with holy aspirations, and when he showed the failure of many and the causes of them, every one could see himself as in a polished mirror and feel that he himself was being described. As several said afterwards, Mr. Jasper could not have given a better description of themselves had he known every secret of their whole lives. There was not an objection to any of his criticisms as all knew they were true to the strictest line. He took an hour in the delivery of the address though it seemed not more than half that time as all were entranced by his earnest thoughts. The address was printed to be kept as a creed or a Bible among us. Why not as a Bible or Sacred Scripture as good as any other man or set of men could make for us? All truth is true, no matter who utters it. “Precepts and promises from the lips of Jesus are not made true because he uttered them, because they were eternally true in the beginning with God.”

A little incident occurred during the social part of our opening that greatly affected me. Among our guests were a woman and her husband from a distant station. She was of fine appearance and address. She came to me and taking my hand, asked, “Mr. Japhet, do you remember me?” I could not for the moment recall her, and she remarked, “Do you remember once at night rescuing a young girl from two policemen? I was that girl, and many a thousand times have I thought with tears of joy of what you did for me! And I have prayed for you almost daily that the richest of heaven’s blessings might descend on you. Where would I have been taken and what would have become of me, if you had not saved me from what would have been my fate infinitely worse than death! I owe my life here and my eternal life, all I owe to you. You were indeed my savior, and I want to thank you with all my heart and all my soul.”

She wept for joy, as the contrast, of what she might have been and her present position, overcame her. I would belie myself and not be true to my manhood, if I did not admit that I also wept. What could give me a greater joy than to have been the means of saving a soul, and she an innocent helpless girl, from the jaws of a monster vice, and from a life of the foulest degradation, misery and eternal death? Better this than to be a hero in the greatest battle of the world. Such a deed, I can but think it, has an eternal record of good, while even the destruction of one fellow mortal in war, bears with it an everlasting stain and remorse, though it may win a medal or an empty plaudit to perish with this life. Some one has said: “He that saveth a soul from death shall hide a multitude of sins.” I trust this may be true for me.

She introduced me to her husband, a fine looking man. I heard afterwards that they were well-to-do and highly esteemed. She had heard of “Our Club,” and they came of their own accord, as she wished to see me and to express her gratitude for her salvation, as she called it. They were introduced to my wife and invited to our home where the whole story was retold and again she expressed her thanks with tears. There was joy not over a sinner that repented, but over an innocent one saved from sin and death. Is it not far better to keep people from sinning than to redeem them from sin?