One day Jessica was nowhere to be seen. Morning passed away, afternoon came, and then followed the evening, but still Jessica had not come back. Weeks went by, and feeling sure she had been stolen, they ceased to look out for her.
In the middle of lessons one morning, a pair of arms was flung suddenly round the missionary’s neck, and someone was showering her with kisses. It was Jessica.
“Where have you been? Why did you run away from school?” asked the lady looking displeased at Jessica.
Her eyes brimmed over with tears as she answered: “I went to fetch you a present.”
“A present!” echoed the teacher.
“Come,” said Jessica, taking her hand, and leading her to a wood close by. “There is the present I have brought you,” said Jessica; and looking she saw eleven little naked, half-starved children, all bunched together, and looking terrified at the white person.
Having heard the Good News for herself, she loved the Lord Jesus so much that she just longed for other children to hear of Him too. She had journeyed for miles over rough woods with her bare feet, over dangerous paths, and through streams of water, in order to bring others to the Saviour. What a dear little brown missionary she was! For she is now in the presence of the Lord.
Another little Indian orphan, named Elsie, was being cared for by the Rev. J. and Mrs Williams. Her father had died about seven years previously, and her mother also passed away soon afterwards. Mrs Williams took special charge of this bright little girl, but one day several of Elsie’s Indian friends went off on a hunting tour, and took her with them.
Some time afterwards they returned, but without Elsie. What had become of her? Was she lost or dead? Alas, no. Perhaps it would have been far better if she were. “What have you done with Elsie?” And the reply was that the Indians had sold her to a Spaniard!
What was the price he paid for Elsie? Why, just a bag of flour, and a bottle of gin! Months have passed, and still no Elsie. It is feared that she cannot return if she would. Away from her tribe and from all who love her; sold to a Spaniard who cares not for her; this poor little jewel is living, redeemed with the precious blood of Christ, the slave of a white man, but the child of the living God.