“Is there any place where I can hold a service to-morrow?” “Service?” “Yes, a preaching service.” “Preaching? Oh, yes, I’ll get you one,” he replied with genial heartiness. Next day Mr. Robertson came into the bar, which was crowded with men. “Well, have you found a room for my service?” he inquired of his genial host. “Here you are, boss, right here. Get in behind that bar and here’s your crowd. Give it to ’em. God knows they need it.”
Mr. Robertson caught the wink intended for the boys only. Behind the bar were bottles and kegs and other implements of the trade; before it men standing up for their drinks, chaffing, laughing, swearing. The atmosphere could hardly be called congenial, but the missionary was “on to his job,” as the boys afterward admiringly said. He gave out a hymn. Some of the men took off their hats and joined in the singing, one or two whistling the accompaniment. As he was getting into his sermon one of the men, evidently the smart one of the company, broke in:
“Say, boss,” he drawled, “I like yer nerve, but I don’t believe yer talk.” “All right,” replied Mr. Robertson, “give me a chance. When I get through you can ask any questions you like. If I can I will answer them; if I can’t I’ll do my best.”
The reply appealed to the sense of fair play in the crowd. They speedily shut up their companion and told the missionary to “fire ahead,” which he did, and to such good purpose that when he had finished there was no one ready to gibe or question. After the service was closed, however, one of them observed earnestly: “I believe every word you said, sir. I haven’t heard anything like that since I was a kid, from my Sunday-school teacher. I guess I gave her a pretty hard time. But look here, can’t you send us a missionary for ourselves? We’ll chip in, won’t we, boys?”—Robert E. Speer, “Servants of the King.”
(2049)
Missionary Beginnings—See [One, Winning].
MISSIONARY CALL
Friends were trying to dissuade one whose ancestors were not three generations out of cannibalism from going as a missionary to one of the savage islands of Polynesia. They recounted all the hardships and dangers to be encountered. “Are there men there?” asked the volunteer.
“Men? Yes; horrible cannibals, who will probably kill you and eat you.”
“That settles it!” was the sublime rejoinder. “That settles it! Wherever there are men, there missionaries are bound to go!”