Entering now the intermediate school we find about 50 pupils under the care of Miss Lyman–studying in the next three higher grades. Object lessons, drawing and music are continued here. Classes from this room are taught by members of the senior class, Normal department, for practice work, under the watchful criticism of Miss Lyman.
Finally we pass to the industrial rooms, where we find Miss Milton instructing classes in needlework, etc., and with great interest observe the instruction and practice of the class of girls in the art of cooking, the subject to-day being a cream cake, which is prepared and baked under the direction of the teacher.
The music room we must pass by, and we can but glance into the vocal class of 50 from the Normal department to notice that they are reading music quite readily under the very successful instruction of the music teacher.
A DAY AMONG THE LOWLY, FEB. 16, 1882.
By Miss Lena Saunders, New Orleans.
Thursday is visiting day. No mothers’ meeting nor sewing school. My early morning visit to the Colored Orphanage made and prayer said, I called upon the sick deacon. Armed with his blessing, my Bible and basket of creature comforts I went on. Aunt Patience’s humble home of one room came first. I had missed Aunt Patience from the mothers’ meeting and now missed her cordial welcome. She was ill and had lost all confidence in the missionary. It happened in this way. The church prayer-meeting was very loud one night, the day had been a long, weary one, and, when about 10 o’clock, a woman was endued with “the power,” and the consequent excitement ensued, I quietly left the meeting. Aunt Patience was there, and this morning before I had even inquired about the “misery,” she exclaimed, “You dun prayed that the Holy Spirit would come with power and you telled us to pray for’t tu, and we did pray good. Then when it came you’se the very fust ’un to skedaddle; you didn’t ’cognize the answer to your own prayers, honey,” and the tears were in her eyes.
“Sure enough,” I said, “but I didn’t know ’twas coming in that way.” “But, honey, when ye prays to God for power ye must take it as it comes and be on the lookout.” “Aunt Patience,” I said, “the power I prayed for was that the Good Spirit would come into our hearts and make us kind and loving and patient toward each other, teach us how to lead dying souls to Christ and incline our hearts to keep God’s commandments.” “Yes, honey.” After a little further talk we knelt in prayer, and in her petition Aunt Patience prayed, “Massa Jesus teach dis ole chile to serve you quiet-like if dat bes’ please you.” They only need to be taught. The next old sister was more destitute. ‘Mancipation met all her needs ’ceptin’ the rations. With a few of God’s promises and a material proof of His love she was comforted.
Three little girls were absent from the sewing-school, so I called to enquire for them. The mother had learned to guard their health, and so kept them out of the rain–reluctantly, because she wanted them to hear about Christ’s sermon on the mount, which for several weeks had been our sewing-school Bible lesson.
Old Mrs. H. was at her ironing board, with heaps of snowy linen about her. Only a few days ago she was “a sinner woman.” To-day she sang quietly “I’ve been redeemed,” and her face sang, too. Sister F.’s house is my Valley of Baca. I stopped a moment for a cooling draught.
Little street children followed for Sunday-school papers. At least fifty were distributed, and a word about the Crucified One dropped among as many children. Some of them sat down under the trees to thoughtfully study the picture of Christ blessing little children, and one said, “See. See, dat misses knows ol about it.”