When his daughter returned to school, on the 30th of March, she was accompanied by one of her father's brothers, who seemed to have cast away his own righteousness, and to rely on Christ alone for pardon. As no missionary had conversed with him, Mr. Stocking felt desirous to know how he had been led into the kingdom, and learned that he had promised Deacon Guwergis to spend the Sabbath with one of the native teachers of the Female Seminary. This teacher and others prayed with him, till he threw away his dagger, saying, "I have no more use for this," and in tears cried out, "What shall I do to be saved?" He gave no evidence then of having submitted to Christ, but in his mountain home he seemed to make a full surrender, and became well acquainted with the mercy seat. The native helpers felt that he was moving heavenward faster than themselves. In April, it was found that as many as nine persons in Hakkie, the village of Deacon Guwergis, gave evidence of regeneration, five of them members of his own family; and the whole village listened to the truth which the zealous deacon constantly taught.

He always remembered the school as his spiritual birthplace, and ever loved to pray for it. Once, when rising from his knees in the Male Seminary, where he had been leading in evening devotion, he exclaimed, "O God, forgive me. I forgot to pray for Miss Fiske's school." So he knelt again and prayed for it. And Mr. Stoddard said he did not think there was a smile on a single face, it was done with such manifest simplicity and godly sincerity.

In June, 1846, Miss Fiske visited Hakkie with Mr. and Mrs. Stocking. It was the first time ladies had been in the mountains, and the good deacon was greatly delighted. Labors were then commenced for females there that have been continued ever since. The annexed sketch will give a more vivid idea of the nature of such labors than the most accurate description. One day the party was toiling up a rough ascent, and the deacon, as much at home among the rocks as the wild goats, offered his assistance. The reply was, "We get on very well." At once his eyes filled, and he said, "You once helped me in a worse road; may I not now help you?" And his aid was at once gratefully accepted. At the top of the hill, while the party rested, they heard his voice far off among the clefts of the rocks, pleading for them and their relatives in distant America.

[Illustration: MISSIONARY SCENE IN TEEGAWER.]

After his conversion, the deacon devoted himself to labors for souls, especially in the mountains. One might always see a tear and a smile on his face, and he was ever ready, as at first, to speak "of sin and of Jesus." He traversed the mountains many times on foot, with his Testament and hymn book in his knapsack. In the rugged passes, he would sing, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me," and at the spring by the wayside, "There is a fountain filled with blood" flowed spontaneously from his lips. He warned every man, night and day, with tears, and pointed them to Jesus as their only hope. He rested from his labors March 12th, 1856, and, as his mind wandered in the delirium of that brain fever, he dwelt much on those days when he first learned the way to Christ. He would say, "O, Miss Fiske was right when she pointed out that way;" and then he would shout, "Free grace! free grace!" till he sunk away unconscious. Again he would say, "That blessed Mr. Stocking! O, it was free grace." These were almost his last words. The daughter who prayed with him that first Saturday was by his dying bed, and her voice in prayer was the last earthly sound that fell upon his ear.

It may strike the reader as strange that a man so notorious for wickedness as Deacon Guwergis was, should be allowed in the Seminary; but Oriental notions of hospitality are widely different from ours; and in order to do good to a people, however rude, they must feel that you are their friend. No protection from government can take the place of this feeling of affectionate confidence from the people; and while sufficient help was at hand to repel any overt wickedness, the highest usefulness required that patient love should have its perfect work, and in this case, at least, its labor was not unrewarded.

The usefulness of the Seminary among the relatives of its pupils was illustrated in another case that occurred about the same time. March 2d, 1846, the father of one of the girls called and inquired, with tears, if his daughter was troubled for her sins. Surprised at such an inquiry from a notorious drunkard, he was exhorted to seek his own salvation. He then told how he had been taught the plague of his own heart, and, as a ruined sinner, was clinging to Christ alone. His prayers showed that he was no stranger at the throne of grace. Father and daughter spent the evening mingling their supplications and tears before the mercy seat. The daughter had given more trouble than any in school, and several times had almost been sent away. Four days later, her mother came, and remained several days, almost the whole time in tears, and hardly speaking, except to pray. Her daughter and the pious members of the school were unwilling to let her go till she came to Christ, and she seemed to take him for her Saviour before she left. She was a sister of Priest Abraham, and had been so exceedingly clamorous and profane in her opposition to religion, that her brother had for years dreaded to see her. How did he rejoice, when, instead of the customary oath, he found her uttering the praises of her Saviour! The sister of her husband had been one of the vainest of the vain, wearing an amount of ornament unusual even for a Nestorian; but she no sooner put on the righteousness of Christ than she sold her ornaments, and, giving the proceeds to the poor, clothed herself with that modest apparel which becometh women professing godliness. The husband himself, though an illiterate laborer, preached the gospel while at work in the field, and often took two or three of his associates aside to pray with them, and to tell them of Christ and his salvation.

But these cases must suffice: we can only indicate the ways in which the school became a centre of holy influence, especially for woman; but it is impossible to narrate all the facts.

After the revival, the Seminary was thronged with visitors, who desired the time to be filled up with religious instruction. That year witnessed a rich ingathering of wives and mothers, brought by their converted husbands and children to be taught the way of salvation. The teacher who received visitors always found enough to do both by day and by night. As soon as there were two praying women in a village, Miss Fiske and Miss Rice sought to establish female prayer meetings; and when they visited a village, the women expected to be called together for prayer; and when the women returned the visit, they each sought to be prayed and conversed with alone. This was done also with the communicants generally three times a year. The prayers and remarks of the pious members of the school often gave a high spiritual tone to the weekly prayer meeting. Occasionally there were maternal meetings; and on such occasions one teacher met with the mothers, and the other with the children in a separate room.

These took the place of the early meetings with women mentioned in the beginning of the chapter, and were very useful.