After some months an Arabic teacher was assigned to the station to teach a new missionary the language, and about that time we moved into a larger house. Then our numbers increased, and one of those early pupils was a young Jewish girl; another was a Jewish boy, who remained about three years, and was always a docile and clever pupil in English and Arabic; he has a complete Bible in Arabic, which they read in his home. The girl was a great help to us in every way—first in school, and later in the hospital; she is quite a changed girl and a superior one, and we trust the day will come when she will openly confess Christ and follow Him. Some grown-up lads were among those first scholars, and they came to learn English. One of the older boys was such an apt pupil that he was taken on the staff of the English Political Agent as interpreter for the Persians; another advanced so far that he is able to buy and sell for the wholesale business, and for this reason is a great help to his father, a merchant in Bahrein. These boys have learned much of the truth along with their English, and neither of them now believe that the sun sets in a pool of black mud!
The reflex influence of the school is felt even in their homes, changing some of the habits and language. Some of those early scholars have gone to the Eternal Home. Quite a number of the missionaries and native helpers have helped from time to time in this school, for when one left, another would take up the work. The last few years the girls have been doing needlework and learning how to make their own clothes neatly.
There are a great number of Christians and Jews, but the greater number in good weather are Moslems, and in the cool season the little room is overcrowded, and one teacher is very busy trying to keep all employed. The school is still in the initial stage, but it has proved its right to exist, and when we look into the brightening faces of those who gather to be taught, and listen to the Scripture portions repeated and the hymns spiritedly sung, we can only say: “What hath God wrought!” To outsiders the school may seem a small thing, but to us, who have watched its slow growth, it is encouraging. The teaching has always in view the honour of Christ in a land where His title, “Son of God,” is disputed.
If you could see our new school building you would know how much better off the children are who come to the Christian school than those who still attend the native schools. The rooms and the seats, and windows through which glorious sunshine and light shine, the blackboards and maps and pictures all help to educate through “eye gate.” The boys and girls are graded and separated, for coeducation is not yet a good thing in Arabia. When I taught in the school I used to surprise the girls occasionally by bringing to school some little treat of fruit, dates or candy; and I wish you could have heard their hearty “Thank you” and listened to them as they left the yard and went over the desert to their houses, singing at the top of their voices in Arabic Christian hymns which they had learned in school. They thought it would please me and impress us with their goodness. And it was good to hear these girls and sometimes small boys singing “My Faith Looks up to Thee,” “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know,” etc. And even if they did not understand the deep meaning nor enter into it, it gave them pleasure to sing the bright tunes. And while they sang, they were out of mischief at least. It was so new for these Moslem girls to have any one to care anything about them.
XVI
THE STORY OF A ROLLER BANDAGE
The day was very hot, and I was very tired. The flies were buzzing thick around me and it was impossible for me to keep awake over the book which slipped from my fingers and fell on the floor. I stretched myself for one of those delightful noonday naps which, in spite of the heat and the flies, revive the life of the missionary and make him ready for the work of the afternoon, and as I slept, I dreamed a dream.
I was walking up towards the mission hospital, when what should I see coming down the steps but a roller bandage, walking along as happy as could be, and after exchanging the usual Arab greeting of “Salaam,” he told me this story:
“I suppose you have never heard of me before, and I am sure you never will unless I introduce myself and unroll the story of my short but interesting life.