"Dear Miss Tolman, you said, 'You love Miss Fiske, you must also love Miss Rice.' Did you think that we would not love her? We love them both, not only for leaving their friends to come to us, but also because they are full of the love of our dear Redeemer.
"We have heard that you are going to India. We are glad, and love you more for it, because the love of Christ constrains you to this, and thus in spirit you come very near to our dear teachers. We entreat Almighty God to be with you, and bring you in safety to the place he appoints for you, that you may be a light among a dark people. We hope that when there you will not forget us, but write us about your work, and about the daughters of India, whether they love you much or not. Tell your friends not to sorrow for you, but to rejoice that they have a friend ready to go and teach those who know not Christ. The Saviour guide you in all your labors."
Those who aided Miss Lyon to carry out her large-hearted plans in New England, little dreamed that offshoots from the vine they planted would so soon be carried to the ends of the earth. Who does not admire that grace which, in this missionary age, raised up such a type of piety to be diffused over the globe? Doubtless it will undergo changes in Persia, as it has done already; but the devout student of Providence will watch its growth with interest, and its developments will not disappoint his hopes.
CHAPTER VII.
VACATION SCENES.
IN GAWAR AND ISHTAZIN.—VILLAGES OF MEMIKAN.—OOBEYA, DARAWE, AND SANAWAR.—IN GAVALAN.—ACCOMMODATIONS.—SABBATH SCHOOL.
To the interior pictures of the school in the last chapter we add some vacation scenes, though chronologically in advance of other things yet to come.
[Illustration: Tents.]
Towards the close of July, 1851, Mr. Stocking and family, with Misses Fiske and Rice, and several native helpers, spent the vacation in Gawar. Mr. Coan accompanied them on his way to regions beyond. Wandering from place to place, like the patriarchs of old, they pitched their tents at first near the village of Memikan. A sketch of these tents is here presented. The women there were frequent visitors, and few went away without some idea of the truth as it is in Jesus. The pious natives were unwearied in labor, and sometimes woke the missionaries in the morning with prayer for the people round about them. On the Sabbath, there was preaching in as many as five different villages, and after morning service in Memikan, the women came to the tents to receive more particular instruction from their own sex. In the evening, a mother who had buried her son in February—then a very promising member of the Seminary at Seir[1]—brought her youngest daughter, about six years of age, saying, "We give her to you in the place of Guwergis. He has gone to a blessed place. You led him there. We thank you, and now intrust to you our little daughter." Eshoo, the father, spoke of his departed son with much feeling, but most sweet submission. He said to Miss Fiske, as the big tears glistened in the moonlight, "I shall not be here long. I shall soon rejoin him. My hope in Jesus grows stronger every day." The death of that dear son was not only a great spiritual blessing to him, but the mere mention of his name at once secured the attention of the villagers to any thing the missionaries had to say about his Saviour. [Footnote 1: Nestorian Biography, p. 127.]
On Monday, they left for a visit to the Alpine district of Ishtazin. Unable to take horses along those frightful paths, they rode on hardy mules. In a subsequent journey over the same road, the fastenings of Miss Fiske's saddle gave way, and she fell, but providentially without injury. Sometimes they climbed, or, more hazardous still, descended, a long, steep stairway of rock, or they were hid in the clouds that hung around the higher peaks of the mountain. Now the path led them under huge, detached rocks, that seemed asking leave to overwhelm them, and now under the solid cliffs, that suggested the more grateful idea of the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. Down in the valley were pleasant waterfalls, little fields rescued by much labor from the surrounding waste, choice fruits, and such a variety of flowers, that it seemed as if spring, summer, and autumn had combined to supply them. Then, in looking up, the eye rested on silver threads apparently hanging down from far-off summits, but really foaming streams dashing headlong down the rocks, yet so distant that no sound came to the ear from their roaring waters.