Both Swinton and Major Henderson expressed the same opinion.
“I am not afraid of being laughed at,” continued Alexander, “when I tell you that I think it most important, wherever we may be during our travels, to keep the Sabbath holy, by rest and reading the service.”
“With pleasure, as far as I am concerned, and I thank you for the proposal,” replied Swinton.
“And I am equally pleased that you have proposed it, Wilmot,” said Major Henderson; “even we may be of service to the good cause, if, as we pass through the land, the natives perceive that we respect the Sabbath as the missionary has requested them to do. We are white men, and considered by them as superior; our example, therefore, may do good.”
The evening was passed away very agreeably with Mr S, who was inexhaustible in his anecdotes of the Caffres. He informed them that Hinza intended to call the next morning to receive his presents, and that he would be interpreter for them if they wished it.
Alexander, having thanked the missionary, said, “I think you mentioned, sir, that some of your brother missionaries have their wives with them. Since you have told us so much of the precarious tenure by which you hold your ground here, and I may add your lives, I think that the wives of the missionaries must have even more to encounter than their husbands.”
“You are right, sir,” replied the missionary, “there is no situation so trying, so perilous, and I may say, so weary to the mind and body, as that of a female missionary. She has to encounter the same perils and the same hardships as her husband, without having the strength of our sex to support them; and what is more painful than all, she is often left alone at the Mission-house, while her husband, who has left her, is proceeding on his duty, at the hourly peril of his life. There she is alone, and compelled to listen to all the reports and falsehoods which are circulated: at one moment she is told that her husband has been murdered; at another, that he is still alive. She has no means of hearing from him, as there is no communication through the country; thus is she left in this horrible state of suspense and anxiety, perhaps for many weeks. I have a letter from a brother missionary, which is in my writing-desk, wherein the case in point is well portrayed; I will get it, and read that portion to you.” Mr S went to the other end of the room, and came back with a letter, from which he read as follows:—
“Having been detained among those distant tribes for nearly two months, report upon report had been circulated that the interpreters and guide, as well as myself, had all been murdered. On my arrival within forty miles of the station, I was informed that all doubt upon the subject had been removed by a party of natives who had passed the Mission station, and who pretended an acquaintance with all the particulars of the massacre. We had been travelling the whole day, and night had come on; I was most anxious to proceed, that I might relieve the mind of my dear wife, but the earnest remonstrances of my little party, who represented it as certain death to all of us to cross the plains, which were infested with lions and other savage beasts who were prowling in every direction, at length induced me to wait till the next day. But scarcely had day begun to dawn when I sallied forth, without either arms or guide, except a pocket compass, leaving my fellow-travellers to bring on the waggon as soon as they should arouse from their slumbers. This impatience had, however, well-nigh cost me my life; for having to wade through many miles of deep sand with a vertical sun over my head, I had not accomplished half the journey before my strength began to fail, and an indescribable thirst was induced. Nevertheless, I reached the Mission in safety, and with truly grateful feelings to the great Preserver of men. A few minutes prior to my arrival, the wife of one of my brother missionaries, little imagining that I was at hand and alive, had entered our dwelling, to apprise my wife of the latest intelligence, confirming all that had been said before respecting my fate, and to comfort her under the distressing dispensation. At this affecting crisis, while both were standing in the centre of the room, the one relating, the other weeping, I opened the door, bathed in perspiration, covered with dust, and in a state of complete exhaustion. ‘Oh, dear!’ cried our friend; ‘is it he—or is it his spirit?’ I must, my dear sir, leave to your imagination the scene which followed.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mr S, folding up the letter, “a missionary’s wife, who fellows him into such scenes and such perils and privations, does, indeed, ‘cleave to her husband.’”
“Indeed she does,” replied Mr Swinton; “but we will tax you no longer, my dear sir. Good-night.”