I was presented with and referred to a pamphlet or periodical, in fact, a quarterly. It appeared to be devoted to the reports of missionary labours. It is a branch of literature never by me thoroughly investigated. Mrs. Ulswater has a remarkable series of these pamphlets, covering more than ten years. A veritable find!
Now, in this number of the periodical in question, about two years old, was an illustrated article by one Mr. Tupper, a missionary, describing an orphan-asylum in the island of Clementina, and ah! so feelingly, with such pleasant details of the names and prospects of individual orphans, that I quickly shared the interest of Mrs. Ulswater. We wished to make the acquaintance of the following orphans, to wit, the orphan named “Susannah,” the orphan named “Thaddeus,” and the orphan named “James,” and the orphans “Caleb,” “Zillah,” “Stephen,” and “Naomi,” these apparently being the seven beneficiaries of the establishment.
“Susannah,” wrote Mr. Tupper, “is characterised by great vigour of mind, and by astuteness, if not perhaps by invariable serenity. She is the daughter of the late Rev. Mr. Romney of Georgia, U. S. A., my predecessor at this mission, who with his devoted wife died of an epidemic fever some eight years ago. Upon my arrival I found the orphans in a state most distressingly uncivilised. There are perils in this remote corner of the world, but hunger and cold are not among them. Little shelter is necessary, and food is to be had for the taking. Physically, a child can grow up and thrive almost unregarded.”
And so on, most interesting remarks by Mr. Tupper.
Clementina looked like a comfortable island. We recognised the port, and the high green hill, which the illustrations pictured as the site of the mission.
The Violetta was anchored not far from the shore. Mrs. Ulswater and I were landed on the white beach under the hill. We climbed the hill. “On the very crest,” in the words of Mr. Tupper's description, stood “a cluster of bamboo cottages hidden in foliage.” The Asylum!
Horribile dicta!
“Well,” said Mrs. Ulswater, “I never!”
The cottages were empty! Nay, ruined, decadent, most of the roofs fallen! Eight decrepit bamboo structures in a row! The traces of a lawn, now faded into wilderness! Oh, neglect and desolation! What had we here? An orphaned orphanage! Most ridiculous of asylums!
A hen fled yelling across the open. In the wake of, in pursuit of, this hen, there rapidly wriggled out of the thicket seven scratched, and scarcely to be called clothed, individuals. My impression was immediate.