Two stalwart youths rose at once and hurried to the outside of this primitive meeting-house, where they mounted guard.
“I have been sent,” continued Soa, “by my uncle, with orders to enter your meeting ‘as a Christian,’ take note of your names, and report them to him!”
There was a tendency on the part of some to shrink into the background on hearing this.
“Now,” continued Soa, “I have come to obey only part of his orders. I have come, as a Christian, to warn you of the dangers that surround you. The Queen is exceeding mad against you. It will be your wisest course to refrain from meeting together just now, and rest content with worshipping in your own homes. But let not this distress you, my friends. The God whom we love is able to turn darkness into light and to make crooked things straight. Neither let it break up our meeting just now. We are safe at present. Let us get out the Word and enjoy the worship of our Saviour while we may.”
There were murmurs of assent and satisfaction at the close of this brief address, and one of the young men, with grave—almost mysterious—looks, took up a small spade and went towards that part of the wall where Ravonino sat. The latter rose to let the young men get at a particular spot, which was marked on the wall with a small—almost imperceptible—red square. Here, after turning up a few spadefuls of earth, he struck upon a stone. Lifting it, he disclosed a hole about a foot square. The old man who presided at the meeting thrust his hands into this hole and gently lifted out a thick volume, which he laid reverently upon a flat rock that formed a sort of natural table in front of him.
This was “the Word” to which reference had been made—an old, much-soiled and worn Malagasy Bible, which had been buried there, so that, whatever might become of its Christian owners, it might escape being found and condemned to the flames, as so many of its fellows had been.
It was a curious Bible this, in more respects than one. In Madagascar the Bible was printed first in sections by the natives, under the superintendence of the missionaries; these sections got scattered, for teaching purposes, and various editions of different sizes were printed at different times. The original owner—if we may not call him fabricator—of the Bible, now referred to as having been dug up in the cave, must, in his desire to possess the Word of God complete, have been at considerable pains to secure every fragment and leaf that came in his way, and then had them all bound together. A clasp of leather and a European hook-and-eye fastened the edges. The different portions, of course, did not fit exactly, and some of the verses necessarily overlapped. Nevertheless, a nearly complete and substantial Bible was the result of his labours. See Note 1.
Taking up the treasured book with great care, the young man before mentioned by the name of Totosy opened it and selected a text. “Fear not, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
From this he preached an admirable sermon, full of hope and consolation to men and women situated as his companions were at that time, and holding up Jesus not only as the deliverer of the world from sin but from fear of physical death. Strengthening of this sort, truly, was much-needed, for during the previous persecutions of 1837 and 1849 Queen Ranavalona had given terrible evidence of her fierce and relentless nature, so that Christians were now well aware of what they had to expect if another cruel fit came upon her.
The sermon finished, another hymn was sung, followed by a prayer, after which, before finally breaking up and dispersing, the worshippers collected in various groups; and exclamations of surprise, joy, and fervent thanksgiving were heard, now and again, when friends who had parted as enemies on account of religious differences unexpectedly met as brothers in the Lord.