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"In Christ's Stead": Autobiographical Sketches:
Electronic Edition.

Moore, Joanna P., 1832-1916.

Funding from the Library of Congress/Ameritech National Digital Library Competition supported the electronic publication of this title.

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First edition, 2000
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Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
2000.

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Source Description:
(title page) "In Christ's Stead": Autobiographical Sketches
(cover) In Christ's Stead
Joanna P. Moore
275 p., ill.
Chicago
Published by the Women's Baptist Home Mission Society
1902
Call number BX6495.M66 I5 1902 (Rare Book Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill)

        The electronic edition is a part of the UNC-CH digitization project, Documenting the American South.
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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

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Page i

"IN CHRIST'S STEAD" AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL
SKETCHES

BY

JOANNA P. MOORE

Ye shall receive power when the Holy Ghost
is come upon you, and ye shall be my witness ACTS I:8

CHICAGO
PUBLISHED BY THE WOMEN'S BAPTIST HOME MISSION SOCIETY
2411 INDIANA AVE.

Page verso

COPYRIGHT, 1902 BY THE
WOMEN'S BAPTIST HOME MISSION
SOCIETY

Page iii

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO THE
WOMEN'S BAPTIST HOME MISSION
SOCIETY

        Because of the comfort and help it has given to the neglected little ones of earth. I have never been a wife or mother. Now no true woman can say this without an undertone of regret, and yet, ever since the time I rocked the cradle for my little brothers and sisters, until to-day, the sunny face of childhood and the loving touch of little fingers, be they dark or fair, have kept the mother-love alive in my heart. But the children I saw were too many to be gathered into one mother-heart, therefore God gave help through this blessed Society, which, during its twenty-five years has sent forth a thousand women with the love and patience of true motherhood, and these have saved a multitude of children of all races, from a life of sin and for a life of usefulness on earth and a home in heaven.

        This service, alone, secures for the Society the gratitude of the whole nation, and with the nation I lay down my little tribute of love. The help given to the children comforts me most, but it is only one of the many streams of blessings that the Society has sent flowing through barren lands in the United States, Cuba, Porto Rico and Mexico, causing them to blossom as the rose.

        We do not forget that God is the real source of all supplies, but He has used the prayers and careful gleanings of our Baptist motherhood and their children to accomplish this great work, during the last twenty-five years, and that He may grant them still greater zeal, faith and love for the service of the next twenty-five years, or until Jesus comes, is the prayer of

THE AUTHOR.

Page v

CONTENTS.

Page vii

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

        During the last fourteen years I have been asked to write the story of my life, but I have said;" No, no, I am too busy living my life to stop to write it. If lives are ever written on earth it should be when that life has begun in eternity"; or I said," There are too many books now, if read there will be no time left to read God's blessed book, the Bible, and why write a book that no one has time to read."

        Besides, my life is such a common, every-day affair, who would care to read it? Lately friends have said that much in my life would help the dear colored people of the United States. Now whatever will help them I stand ready to do, if first of all, it will glorify God, and, surely, what really helps any of God's family does glorify Him; therefore, praying that the Holy Spirit may bring to my remembrance the part of my life that will help save souls for whom Jesus laid down His life, I begin my task.

        If my readers expect me to entertain them with the amusing, queer, ignorant expressions the colored people have spoken in my hearing, they will be disappointed. The black man has been held up to ridicule too long; even the pictures of him usually seen in papers are only caricatures. It is true that, lately, we do see a few representative colored faces in print. As to their peculiar dialect, the ignorant white people of the South use about the same. I would not dare hold up to ridicule either class, any more than I would make fun of the ignorance of my dear grandmother who had but little chance for an education.

Page 1

EARLY LIFE AT HOME AND IN SCHOOL.

        On September 26, 1832, a baby girl opened her blue eyes for the first time. It was in a farm-house in Clarion County, Pa. Mother said," She looks like her father." Father said, "I will name her Joanna Patterson, for my dearest and best aunt.["] A sweet little sister about four years old wanted to see the baby, but she could only see with her hands, for her eyes had been totally blind for more than a year. A brother about seven years old, also gladly welcomed this little baby. Two of her sisters and one brother had moved to heaven before she came.

        The first work that I remember doing was" taking care of baby." Before I was fourteen years old five brothers and two sisters had been added to our family. Two of these died when quite young, a brother before I can remember, and a sister when I was seven years old, left us for a home in heaven. Rebecca, my blind sister, was a great help in taking care of the children. She dearly loved them. Mother was so sorry for sister's blindness that she seldom gave her any work to do, but when I was old enough she gave me a great plenty to do. I wanted help and soon found that Rebecca had wonderful power to see with her hands. She could shell the peas, grind the coffee, gather currants when I took her to the bushes, she could wash dishes and clothes, and oh, so many things. At first mother objected to my having her work, but when she saw it made sister happy to help me, she let me have my way. I taught her how to knit, and for many years she knit all the stockings for the family, and also learned how to knit beautiful

Page iii

lace. She could even tell the color of flowers by the sense of touch. She loved me dearly and would do anything to please me. I was in a fair way to become selfish, only that my brothers demanded their rights, and sometimes I thought a little more; yet they were as good as brothers generally are. It was well for me that I was taught to give up sometimes. As I look back over my childhood life, there is nothing I am more thankful for than being one of a large family. Where there are so many to clothe and feed, we must think of others and learn to give brother a piece of our apple. I am very thankful also for my blind sister. She was a great blessing to the whole household. If the boys were sometimes rude to me, they never dared to speak a cross word to Rebecca. She was the sweet, gentle angel that often settled our childish quarrels. Another cause of thanksgiving is being a country girl. God's plan for his children is the country, the city is one of the many inventions man sought out. You see more of God's handiwork in the country ; the trees, the flowers, the birds, the animals. All these were a constant delight to me and are till to-day. The country cannot fail to please and comfort any who will simply open their eyes and look. I did not attend school regularly. It was only open two or three months in the year, and that in the winter time, but somehow I learned to read before I was eight years old. My oldest brother Richard taught me some lessons. We used to study together in a book called "Introduction to the English Reader," and committed some verses to memory. We had but few books and papers in those days, but we had the Bible and the Episcopal Hymn and Prayer book. These especially interested my sister. To her I owe much of whatever love I have for books. She would say, "Joanna, read to me, and I will wash the dishes, sweep the floor, take care of the baby, if I must carry him round to keep him quiet. I will do anything if you will only read." I was the one who always led her out to the barn, into

Page 3

the garden, into the fields, and to a neighbor's house, or wherever she wanted to go. Usually I enjoyed it, because I loved her and she loved me, and we both loved the dear little children, and yet I remember I sometimes tired of waiting on her. I wanted to go out in the fields and play. I am sure I was always selfish, and yet I know my name was called very often to serve in many ways nearly every member of the family. I am very thankful to-day that there has always been some one weaker than myself along some line, one that I could really help and comfort. Oh, if I had always done it gladly and cheerfully, what a happy little girl and big girl I would have been. But I did not know it was more blessed to give than to receive; therefore by my impatience and selfishness I lost many blessings. Some one may read this who says, "My life is all service, every one of the family calls on me to give and to help. They think I never get tired. I cook, I wash, and I mend. Strange, no one tries to help me." Oh, how many times I have heard such pitiful complaints from persons like myself, who were only doing their duty, but who spoiled the good they did by complaining. Did you ever read Luke 6:38? The pay for real service is given into the heart, but it can't get there until love opens the door, then our joy is complete.

        Like many children I was careless. I did not know that forgetting a duty was a real sin, but one day I saw the sad results of my negligence. Mother had a nice garden of vegetables and of flowers. I helped her take care of them. I think I was about nine years old. Mother often said, "Be sure to shut and fasten that garden gate." Yet, I left it open one night, the hogs got in and destroyed the garden. I never can forget it. I was scolded but not whipped. I never was whipped in my life, but this time I suffered more than any one else, cried all day, and said to myself, "Just to think! everything is lost, because I forgot to close that gate. I will never forget again," but many times since "my forget" has caused great

Page 3

losses and made me lose many opportunities of doing good. I remember another "I forgot." About a year later I was washing the dishes on the table that had a leaf that could be let down or lifted by means of a slide. Mother often said, "Do not put the dishes on the leaf, for the table may upset." I forgot, and the table did upset and there lay the broken dishes. Mother was in the next room, heard the racket, and came and looked on in dismay. Some choice things were broken. Mother was angry, and I suppose I might have been severely punished, only father happened to come in just at that time and quietly took mother into the next room. I heard him say, "Mother, don't whip her." She didn't want to follow this advice. "You are spoiling that girl; she deserves to be whipped," was mother's angry reply. I heard no more, for I left the room, saying to myself, "I have the best father in all the world. I am going to try hard to be good, and let mother see I am not spoiled, because she does not whip me." Perhaps a whipping would have done me good, but I think not. It might have helped some children, but surely I suffered enough that day and for many days. Rebecca was so glad I wasn't punished. She heard what father said. It's a long time since I was a little girl and I have forgotten much of what did happen. It was a very commonplace life that I lived. Nothing remarkable. I liked to work in the garden, rake hay with my brothers, gather the sheaves of wheat into piles of thirteen; the men set twelve of them on end and put one on the top for a roof. We called that a shock of grain, which was thus protected until ready to be taken into the barn. I could harness a horse, and ride on horseback without a saddle. I used to carry water for the men in the harvest field. Had it not been for Rebecca I fear I would not have taken much time for reading, because when not at work I would have been playing in the meadows with the calves and the lambs.

        Father often told me that I must have a good education,

Page 5

and then he would take me to the north of Ireland, his native home. He often would describe the country to me. Father was fond of poetry, and used to recite some of Burns' poems. I remember three: "A Man's a Man for a' That," "Highland Mary," "The Louse on Misses Bonnet." He was also fond of history and yet he never bought his children books. I know they were hard to obtain in those days. I often think to-day what a blessing appropriate books would have been to me and my brothers. For this and many other reasons I am now asking God to send me $1,000,000 so that I can supply the homes of our dear colored people with books to read. Many of them do not know the value of such an addition to their fireside. I would also need to have some one to go into their homes and show them how to read these books to their children. I would not put one cent of this money into a public library, but would supply the individual homes and thus win the children to love home. Perhaps we would form select reading clubs that could meet in different homes, and so use the social element to secure the reading of good books. All reading the same book at the same time has been the great inspiration of our Fireside School plan. One million dollars is a large sum of money for which to ask. But "I am coming to a King, I may large petitions bring." I believe this prayer will be answered, because it is a very great need. Bad books are scattered broadcast. "If good we plant not, vice will fill the place. And rankest weeds the richest soil deface."

Page 6

SCHOOL DAYS.

        When I was nearly fourteen years old, an Episcopal minister, who was at the head of a ladies' seminary, about fifty miles from my home, made us a visit. Father was a member of that church. I recited the catechism and some hymns to this preacher, and he urged father to send me to his school. Money was very scare, but he would give me the privilege of working for part of my board. This was good news for me. Mother arranged my wardrobe as best she could and soon I was seated in Mr. Killikelley's school, amid a class of fashionably dressed young ladies. From their looks I thought my coming was an intrusion. Some of these girls knew how to sneer very slyly at the awkward dress and manners of a country girl. Perhaps I was over-sensitive, but I know it was not all in my imagination. The teachers did not allow it and in the general lectures such rudeness was severely rebuked. I said it was a fashionable school. There were only a few girls there, if any, who were doing work which might be called drudgery except myself. My dress was neat and comfortable, but not in style. I did not ever wear a corset. I am ashamed to think now that I cared so much for the criticism of those thoughtless girls, but I must tell it, if only to let the reader know I have great sympathy for country girls who haven't learned all the foolish fancies of the city. It seemed to me that this trouble would kill me. I was too timid to tell the teacher and too anxious to get an education to write home. But God, who has always cared for me so tenderly, raised me up a friend. After I had been there about two weeks, some one

Page 7

knocked at the door of my little room. I was in tears, but I dried them as best I could, and opened the door. It was the teacher that heard most my classes. I was trying hard to keep back my tears. The teacher drew a chair beside me and put her arms around me, saying, very kindly, "I know the cause of these tears; you have been a brave little girl and I love you." Then I cried harder than ever. She held me close to her heart as tenderly as any mother could have done, and kissed my wet cheeks whispering, "Do not feel ashamed of these tears; they are not wrong. The girls that tease you do not understand you. Some day you will have a better education than they have. God has given you a beautiful form and a sound mind. Be strong and make use of what God has given you." These are a few of the words by which she comforted me. I do not think I said anything in reply, but my hungry heart fed upon her love and caresses, as a child does on its mother's milk. Dear, blessed teacher. She never could know how much comfort and help she was to that sensitive child, and yet I was not as happy as I should have been. I often said, "I wish I knew as much as these other girls and could dress as well as they do," and a great many other foolish wishes. And yet I went on with my studies. The teachers were kind. I am glad I had this experience, because it taught me the teacher's power to help and it gave me sympathy ever since for poor, awkward, ignorant country boys and girls and for city children who have never had a chance.

        The spring before I was fifteen years of age Mr. Rockey, one of our neighbors, who had a large family of children, called at our home. Mother and I were busy ironing in the next room. When I heard him say, "I want Joanna to teach our school this summer," father said, "She has not sufficient education, nor would she be able to control the school." Our neighbor replied, "She can teach all that can

Page 8

come in the summer and we will see that our children obey. I've been around among the neighbors and they were all agreed." This was to be a private school so I did not need to be examined. Mr. Rockey came in to tell mother and me of his plans and have me write my name, to show how well I could write. "Do you really think, Mr. Rockey, that I can teach school?" I asked with great earnestness. "Oh, yes," he said, "the children are all delighted, and you must be ready to begin school on Monday." When he was gone I danced for joy, saying, "I'm a teacher, I'm a teacher, I'm a school ma'rm." I was fairly wild with delight. I did not know then the great responsibility connected with being a teacher, nor the sad effects of poor teaching, or I would not have been so eager to begin, poorly fitted as I was for my task. During my experience as a teacher, I often remembered the good teacher that comforted me, and I longed to know how to study my pupils, so that I could see what they needed without being told; know where to wisely encourage and just as wisely rebuke, at the right time; know as that teacher did. Oh, how far reaching has been her influence. I was very proud of that first school. I seemed to walk on air, my feet scarcely touched the ground. The school was considered a success. I taught again the next summer, but it was only because my patrons did not know what it took to make a good teacher.

Page 9

SCHOOL TEACHING.

        I remember with delight the first school I taught in the winter. Friends were unwilling to have me try it. They said I could not wade through the snow drifts and the large boys would not obey a child like me, but I got a pair of boots such as the men wore, pinned up my dress and started early, for the snow was deep. I succeeded and always after liked the winter schools the best. I early made it a matter of conscience never to be late to any engagement. Teacher, it will save you much trouble if you will be first at your school. Even though the door be locked until you come. I either made my own fires or was there to help make them. There were no janitors for our schools. I usually got the most troublesome boys to come and help arrange the school room. It did them good.

MY FIRST CONVERT.

        It was as a teacher that I had my first experience in leading a soul to Christ; the school was in winter time in Redbank Township, a German settlement. They had never had a Sabbath school there, but I succeeded in organizing and conducting one that was greatly blessed. One of my pupils who was about eleven years old had a drunken father. The dear little fellow used to come early to school so that he could help the teacher and have a quiet talk and sometimes a prayer. During the holidays I went to Clarion town to attend a teachers' Institute. While there my dear boy Willie was taken sick. They sent for me to my home which was

Page 10

four miles distant, but Clarion was twelve miles farther away and the snow was very deep. Therefore they did not send to that place for me. There were no railroads. The dear boy called for me until the very last day, then he said, "Tell my teacher that she will find me when she comes to heaven," and with that sweet message he said good-bye to the sickness and sorrow of earth, and entered the joy of heaven. Oh, how long he has been there waiting for his teacher to come. I was greatly grieved because I was not sent for.

        Teaching school was always a delight, and yet, I had many trying times. I never could leave all the cares of the school room behind when I started for home. No, indeed, I carried them to my bedroom and often lay awake half the night studying what to do with bad boys or girls, or how to make a hard lesson plain. To-day I thoroughly believe that the way to succeed with any vocation is to make it a part of your very self and weave it into your every thought and prayer. I have no sympathy with those who take hold of any kind of work with the tips of their fingers. No, no! Grab hold of it with both hands and hold on as if your very life depended upon its success, for it does.

        In those days the rod was freely used in the schools, the teacher marched around with one in his hand, all day, often slashing it upon the seat to frighten the pupils. Against this I protested with all my might in our teachers' meetings and elsewhere. I only used the rod three times that I can remember in all my fifteen years of teaching, and then it did no good. They said I did not know how to administer such punishment, and perhaps they were right. My schools were never very quiet; there was freedom, but not real disorder. As a general thing I loved my pupils and they loved me and we did not try to worry each other. I know I made mistakes for which I shed many tears.

        Shortly after I united with the church I felt

Page 11

it my duty to read the Bible and pray with my pupils. In Pennsylvania public schools this was not forbidden, but I had never prayed in public and feared I could not. One morning I said, "Children we can't be good to-day unless God helps us. Let us kneel and pray." All got on their knees and I said, "Our Father which art in heaven," and there I stopped. I could not repeat another word, not even the prayer I had said every day from a child. After a time of quiet we arose from our knees. The children were much impressed. I thought they would smile at my failure; but no, it had a good effect and perhaps was the best prayer I ever made, for I was so very much in earnest. I think the children thought my short prayer was what I wanted. I have always taught the Bible as well as prayed in my school; yes, taught it, not simply read it. Once in Illinois the directors said, "We do not allow the Bible taught in our schools"; then I said, "I will leave"; but they replied, "Oh, no, don't leave." So I had my way. To God be all the glory.

        It is very encouraging to remember how God has always helped me. Just here let me tell you another experience that may perhaps help some fainthearted teacher. There was a large troublesome school near Clarion town. The winter of which I speak the teacher left after teaching one month--rather the scholars drove him out. They came for me to take the school. I said, "Yes, if you will wait until I finish this school I'm teaching." They waited and I went. The school numbered about sixty. The house was crowded. We had no graded schools in the country. Many of the pupils were between the ages of 16 and 20. Some were very unruly. I began with my Bible lessons and prayer. The order was not the best. I kept some after school, wrote little letters to others, praised those that were good and tried to be patient. I had several talks with about six of the large girls. They were not all good, but I thought I would tell them

Page 12

how they could help me; perhaps that would make them more careful. Dear reader, I want you to know that there are a great many people in this world bad because no one believes in them. But notwithstanding all my plans, the school was far from what it ought to be. When I had taught about two weeks several of the large boys came to the door while I was praying. The door was shut as it always was during devotions. They began to mock my prayer, repeating part of it and saying "Amen." The prayer ended, the door opened and in walked my bad boys. I said nothing, but called a class to recite. I had been trying hard to keep the tears back and could bear it no longer, sank on a seat and cried like a child. Mary Wilson, one of the large girls came up and took the book and heard the class recite. I tried a half-dozen times to dry my tears that forenoon and failed each time. Now this was an entirely new experience for me. I never had done so before nor have I since. It was not a bit like me. I had not planned it. If I had it would have lost its effect. The girls heard the classes and managed the recess and I sat there and cried. The pupils knew I was making a great effort to be calm. Every one was very quiet and orderly. The girls told me that the bad boys never once looked up. At noon we went to a little stream of water in the woods. The girls bathed my face, combed my hair and comforted me. They said half the school had been in tears in the morning. Well, I taught that afternoon, never referred to the morning, nor did I at any time afterwards--buried it all--never by word or look reproved the bad boys, nor did they make any apology; but they came to school and behaved themselves most of the time. The battle was fought and won, and I had nothing to do but trust and pray. I finished that school and taught the next winter. We had a reading circle, that met some evenings in the week and a great exhibition at the close of the school. It was one of

Page 13

my best schools; there were many intelligent pupils. Surely God can use the weak things of this world. The last school I taught in Pennsylvania was a select one. It was really the first session of what is now called the Reeds Institute, Reeedsville, Pa. The day after the closing exhibition we met in the church to say good-bye, not to meet again, as I was going west. Rev. Benjamin H. Thomas, the pastor of the church, said he called, opened the door saw us all on our knees, most of us in tears; he felt it was too sacred a place to intrude, so left. Those were certainly the most devoted pupils I ever had, intelligent and faithful.

Page 14

EARLY RELIGIOUS LIFE.

        My religious life dates back to early childhood, as I suppose it does with most persons. I do not know who taught me my first prayer, only as long ago as I remember, I repeated the Lord's Prayer with sister Rebecca before retiring, but I did not often pray in the morning. I was not taught to. Strange that so few parents or even Christians pray in the morning, because the day time is when we are more sorely tempted, when battles are fought and lost, because we did not give ourselves and all we are to God in the morning. Till I was about twelve years old my father usually had family prayers and read the Bible, but the lesson was not explained to us children, and I had but a dim idea of what prayer and the Bible meant. During this time an Episcopal minister boarded in our house part of the time, but he did not talk to me personally about my soul, but when he left, he gave me a little book of sermons for children; each sermon had a prayer following, which the author said must be read in a closet. I did not know what that meant, but in our house was a closet without a window where old things were stored away. Into that I took my little book, leaving the door a little open, so that a few rays of light might fall on the book. I knelt and read the prayer after each sermon, just as the writer told me to do. I cannot repeat one word of the book, only the title, "Come, ye children, hearken unto me and I will teach you the fear of the Lord." I know this book gave me a correct idea of sin and brought conviction to my heart. I saw how I had disobeyed my parents and been often

Page 15

selfish and angry with my brothers. I learned also that God loved me, a little child, and I wanted to love Him. I really believe I gave my heart to the Lord in that dark closet, when I was about nine years old, but I never told any one, not even my sister, but I read her the book. I was a timid child and no one asked me questions on those subjects. Brother Richard has told me since he has grown that when about ten years old he used to shed tears because of his sins and try to pray, but no one helped him. That was the golden opportunity to lead him into a fuller knowledge of God, but it was lost and he did not become a Christian until forty years of age. I myself became very thoughtless, did not confess Christ until about twenty-one. You see how much was lost, because my early faith was not nursed with careful lessons from God's word, and yet my parents were Christians and ministers often visited my home. But they did not think that a little girl's heart could be hungry for God, or else they did not know how to tell the sweet story of Jesus' love to little children.

        Do you wonder that I am so very anxious to give every little child a good book, telling them about Jesus and His love, and also do I long to show parents how to feed the souls of their children. These and similar thoughts are the steps that led up to our Fireside School.

        My mother was a Presbyterian, therefore I committed their catechism as well as the Episcopal. I did not understand much of it, but I am glad that I learned both. They do teach the great fundamental truths of our religion. I have noticed that all our evangelical churches agree on all but a very few subjects and these few have been so largely discussed that they have grown to be mountains and separated God's children, and made them forget the ten thousand subjects upon which they agree. It is the devil's plan to scatter God's people. God's plans make us all one in Christ. Rebecca and I

Page 16

took great delight in learning by heart the hymns in the prayer book. At one time we could recite fifty. Sister, by simply listening, learned things quicker than I could and remembered better. She could not only see with her hands, but her ears were almost as useful as my ears and eyes together. She knew each one of the family and the neighbors also by both their step and their voice.

        My mother was a very industrious woman and took but little time for reading. Farmers' wives in Pennsylvania, and perhaps everywhere, had, I fear, more than their share of work to do. They milked and fed the cows and other animals, and cultivated the vegetable gardens, etc. We seldom had a servant to help with the work, except when mother was sick. The men who helped with the farm work did not do the chores around the house, as they do in the west. Father and my brothers were, also, busy till late in the evening. Father was very generous and would really lend to the neighbors what he needed that very day himself. He surely "gave to him that asked." This often brought great inconvenience to the work at home. He also had a way of asking every neighbor that called to stay for dinner, or if he were a stranger to spend the night and many nights. Yes, every one received a warm welcome at our home, but father did not always think how much extra care his hospitality brought to his wife. I have noticed that many husbands are just as thoughtless as dear father. There is such a thing as being unwisely kind. Father was very willing to go security for all that needed such help, and in this way lost much of his property, which dear mother had fully done her share in earning. Father was a kind of a doctor, extracted teeth and gave medicine. Mother was very kind to the sick and poor and knew how to nurse and take care of them. My oldest brother taught school in the winter and worked on the farm in the summer. He was very kind to his parents and to all of us. When

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about twenty-seven he left home for Illinois, which was then the "far west." Brother Alexander followed shortly, also Adderly. This left me alone with my parents. They moved west in 1858 and I taught school there that year and returned to Pennsylvania to settle up a business and meanwhile taught school. Dear father left us for heaven the spring of 1860.

        But I must return and tell you more about my girlhood life. When I was about fifteen years old our family had the whooping cough. The three youngest also at the same time took the measles. The older ones had passed through that disease. These two diseases together were very hard to manage. Alas, alas, the angel of death came to our dear home and within about one month's time carried away the pet of the household, our three-year-old sister, and our two dearly beloved brothers, Willie, aged five, and Wilson, eight years. Oh, how dark and sad and still was every room in our once happy home. Mother gathered together all their clothes and playthings into a room and there she would shut herself in for hours and weep and talk to the children as if they were present, calling them by name in the most pitiful way. We could not induce her to come out until she had thus unburdened her breaking heart. Sister's grief was more quiet, but it seemed to me it was deeper. I was more troubled for mother and sister, because I thought they, too, would die and leave me all alone.

        About two years after the death of the children our beautiful home was burned to ashes, also my books and other treasures that I prized highly; about six months after, my darling sister moved to the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Dear sister had never recovered from the death of the children. She talked much about them when she was sick and the joy of seeing them. "No one is blind up there, no one is sorrowful, death cannot enter there, and Joanna, you will come soon, and we will all be together, and we'll see Jesus, and oh, how

Page 18

happy we will be." This was the way she used to comfort me, because other sorrows besides death had come to our home. I never can tell you how much I missed sister Rebecca and I miss her to-day. Her pure, unselfish love for me was great, and my heart needed just such devotion. Then she had been my special care from a child. Mother missed her even more than she did the little children, because during the last years I had been away from home teaching much of the time. Sister was very fond of singing and the night before she died an angel sang for her our favorite hymn, "Awake my soul, in joyful lays." I was with her when she said with great delight, "Joanna, some one is singing our hymn," then she repeated it in part while she listened in a rapture of joy. But that music was only meant for sister's ears. I could not hear it. Whatever it was, God sent it to prepare my poor sick, tired sister for her dying hour. You may call it imagination, but it was as real to her as the vision of heaven was to the dying Stephen, Acts 7: 55-56.

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CALL TO MISSION WORK.

        

        JOANNA P. MOORE IN 1867

        I taught school the winter of 1852 near Reedsburg, boarded with John Corbett's family. At night they took me with them to a revival meeting at Greenville. Here I was convicted of sin and led to see Jesus as my Saviour, yet at the same time I remembered my childhood faith and it seemed as if I was a reclaimed backslider. No one asked me to unite with the Baptist church, but I saw the converts

Page 20

baptized and asked, Can this be the Bible way? After much study of the Bible, I told my parents that I wanted to be baptized. They objected, especially my father. I waited one year for their consent. As it was not given I obeyed what I thought was God's command, joined the Baptist church and it is the only church to which I have ever belonged. Father was greatly displeased, and said that I should never come home, but his love for me overcame his opposition and he sent for Joanna to come home.

        About a year or two after my baptism I heard Rev. Sewell Osgood, a returned missionary, preach a sermon on "Foreign Missions," which brought almost as great conviction of sin to my soul as the meeting in which I was converted. I wept like a child. My soul burned with indignation toward all Christians. How could they neglect this last great command of our Lord and Saviour, and yet say they loved Him. How did there come to be so many heathen that had never heard the name of Jesus. It was all new to me. If I ever heard it before my ears must have been like those described in Acts 28:27. I had a talk with Brother Osgood and said I felt that I must go and tell the good news. He said that I needed preparation; that those heathen people would ask me many questions that I could not answer. For example, "You say, God is good. If so why does He let our poor people starve? Why let the crops fail, why do those who love Him, suffer?" I remember this distinctly and could give no answer. But it did not discourage me. When I talked it over with the Lord and myself I found that very often persons in this country asked the very same questions, which no one here could answer. No matter, I said, I can tell them about Jesus and how He loves and comforts me. I will tell them how He died to save all mankind. They don't know that and I do. I cannot settle all these other questions, but I can carry the message that Jesus gave His disciples. After these meditations partly with myself

DIAGRAM EXHIBITING THE
Actual and Relative Numbers of Mankind
CLASSIFIED ACCORDING TO THEIR RELIGION
Each square represents 1,000,000 souls:

This diagram was first issued by "The Church Missionary Society" of London.
The two white squares in the black indicate converts from heathenism.

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and partly with the Lord I would jump to my feet and say, "I will go, I'll just start and walk and somehow I'll get there. I do not find in my Bible that Paul waited for an education, or outfit, or salary. God has 'all power,' that is what He told His disciples and He also said He would go with them as they carried the message." It seemed that the first thing for me to do was to start and God would see that I got there. And I suppose I really would have started, trusting the Lord, had it not been that there was trouble in my home that needed my care. But it gave me a new incentive to strive for education. I had been teaching both summer and winter; many a time when my school closed, I said "I'll go to school next term." But the money I earned was needed for other things, and so it seemed as if my school days had ended. However, in 1856, I did attend a school at New Bethlehem, Pa., for six months. Most teachers in those days only needed to know the three Rs, "Reading, Riting and Rithmetic." There was a little geography and history taught sometimes. I studied these at home, also algebra.

        I went west again in 1861 and taught in the summer. I had earned many dollars teaching school, but it was all gone. However this winter I decided to attend school in Belvidere, Ill. My brothers lived on farms, one six, the other ten miles from town. I was a stranger and had no money to pay my board, but I said, "I surely can find a home where I can work for my board." For two days I walked the streets of Belvidere, but no one needed a girl to work for her board. This was a new and trying experience for me. It hurt my pride as well as nearly discouraged me. It was about dark the second day, when I timidly knocked at the door of a farm-house in the suburbs of the town. The mother met me and said, "No, we do not need any one; but", said she, "wait until I see my husband"; and this is what she said to him: "There is a

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girl at the door that wants to work for her board and go to school this winter. It's very strange, but last night I saw this very girl in a dream. Now I wish you would keep her to-night. She looks tired and I believe God wants us to do something for her." At first he was unwilling, but finally concluded to let me stay all night. The family consisted of three children, two boys and a girl, Fanny, George and Charles. The father's name was Andrew Moss. The Lord gave me favor in their sight. I was told to come the next Monday and start for school. At first the position was a very trying one, but dear Fanny took me into her heart and ever after treated me as a sister beloved. In fact the whole family soon adopted me and have ever since been my best friends. It is true I was required to do hard work, but I knew how to work. Fanny was a better scholar than I and helped me with my studies. She delighted to have the care of some one and I needed such a friend, as everything was new to me. That was a very successful winter. The next summer I taught and in the fall entered Rockford Seminary. There I worked for part of my board. My clothes were not in style, but I had learned not to care much for such things. If ever any poor girl had a hard time getting an education, it was Joanna Moore; but I loved to teach school and I wanted to be a first-class teacher. I had lost some of my enthusiasm for foreign missions, because I seldom heard it mentioned. No one had encouraged me. The fact is, the churches were asleep on this great subject. The war that began in 1861 was then raging. Many of the girls in the seminary had laid aside their embroidery and were knitting socks and preparing bandages for the soldiers. I took no part in that. My spare moments were given to study or work. On New Year's of 1863 I attended what they called a jubilee meeting. They said the black man was free and some shouted for joy. But to my ears there came with the shout of victory an

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undertone of sadness, a piteous cry for help. The next day, as I tried to study my lessons, there passed before my imagination a panorama of bondmen, tied down with cords of ignorance, superstition, and oppression.

        Some time in February a man who had been on Island No. 10, which is located in the Mississippi River about thirty miles north of Memphis, visited the Seminary and told us of his visit to that island, where were about 1,100 women and children in great distress. A Baptist minister had moved there and was in command of a colored regiment, who guarded the island. The speaker drew a very sad picture of their bodily suffering and their extreme ignorance, asking, "What can a man do to help such a suffering mass of humanity? Nothing. A woman is needed, nothing else will do." I cannot recall all he said, only I know my school room and foreign missions, with all their sweet attraction, receded and kept receding, till they were in the background of my picture, and there in the front stood the black woman, with her child, both half naked, stretching out empty hands, crying for help. I had a great way of building air castles, and my castles were now filled with black people; but I threw them all down and marched off in another direction; but the first thing I knew there was a whole panorama of black people right before me. Finally I began talking to myself in real earnest, asking, "What can I, a poor child, do? What kind of people are they? Why did God let them be slaves and shut the door of knowledge to them for so many years? Will they listen to me? I have nothing to give them; I suppose God will show me how to love them. Every heart needs love. Yes, I expect I can love them, but they need something more substantial than love. There are many older and wiser than I. Let them go and do this work. But oh, it will take an army to supply the needs of these people. What shall I do?" and so on, I asked myself and asked God a thousand questions

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and only got one answer: "Go and see and God will go with you." My decision was made before school closed. I did go, I did see, God did go with me and He went before me and cleared the way, and behind me as a rear guard. Duty was made plain, results glorious, and to-day I stop to shout "Glory Hallelujah." I surely made a good bargain when I invested in the Negro race.

        I bought a little cottage in Belvidere for my mother and left her amid many of my friends who I knew would take good care of her. She would not live with either of my married brothers. Their children annoyed her. She was old and tired, had carried many burdens and wanted a quiet place to rest, but she did want Joanna to stay with her--said she could not be happy without me. Her cries and great sorrow when I left were the hardest things I had to bear, but I recognized God's claim as first (Luke 9:59-62). For this I was severely criticised, but to-day I feel sure that God was pleased with the sacrifice I made. Mother was willing, as she said, to give me up to a good husband, but not to go alone into dangerous places. Don't you see like many another father and mother she had more faith in man than in God?

        Do you remember how much money we spent and how many lives were lost in order to make this nation loyal to our country's flag? Was that more important than to make our nation loyal to King Jesus? Should we not love God more than we love our country? Yes, you say, our love to God is supreme. Then prove it by pouring out your treasures as you did in that war time. Send your Christian armies forth "with the Cross of Christ going on before." Parents, give to the cause your sons and your daughters; your dearest household treasures. Follow them to the gate, as we did in that old time with the tears streaming down our cheeks and our hearts breaking with sorrow and yet we said, "Go, your country needs you." In the same spirit

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of self-sacrifice let us say, "Go, the Master hath need of your service. No matter if you never return; we will meet up there when the 'General Roll is called.'"

        I decided to go. The condition of home was different than at the time when I wanted to be a foreign missionary. Then I surely was needed at home, and am glad I staid. But how was I to reach this Southern field? I could not tell. I had but little money, but I felt about the same as when I wanted to go to India. The Sabbath school of the first Baptist church in Belvidere to which I belonged wanted me to go, especially Mary Moss, the teacher of the infant class. They pledged to give me $4.00 per month and the government gave me transportation and soldiers' rations. The American Baptist Home Mission Society gave me, by way of endorsement, a commission, at the same time stating that they could not pay any salary.

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ISLAND NO. 10 AND HELENA.

        Some time in November, 1863, I landed on the desolate shore of Island No. 10. Another woman from Ohio had just arrived, on the same mission. Rev. Benjamin Thomas, a Baptist minister from Ohio, was captain of the regiment that guarded the island. His wife was with him. They kindly gave us a part of their home. I cannot make you understand how it all seemed to me. I had scarcely ever seen a colored person, and had never spoken to but one till then.

        Some time after I arrived two women were called up before Captain Thomas to be punished for fighting, and the fight was not yet over. Both were still in a most fearful rage, calling each other terrible names. Captain Thomas called me out, and in a laughing manner said: "Miss Moore, I will turn this case over to you. Since you came here to make people good, try your hand on these women."

        I do not know what I said, only I know they laughed at my earnestness, and I cried myself to sleep that night, as I did many another night that winter. Such a mass of suffering, sin, and ignorance as was gathered on that island surely no one ever saw before.

        I had a talk next day with the women Captain Thomas handed over to me, but I fear I did them but little good. I have learned since that you can never help any one till you love them a little after the way that Jesus loved you. I only pitied those women then. God showed me that I must keep in close communion with Him, and take His spirit with me in all my work, if I ever expected to be a comfort to any

Page 27

human soul; and there on that island, among those wretched people, I learned "to walk with God" as I never did before.

        Soon the poor women learned to come to me with their troubles and cares. Miss Baldwin, who shared my labors, was an earnest Christian. We wrote hundreds of letters to our friends in the North for clothing, for the people were almost naked. Often we found children on the wharf with nothing on them but a part of a soldier's old coat. The women and children were free, but did not know where to go or what to do. They were taken by the soldiers on the boat, and as this was a "contraband" camp, they were landed here.

        The winter of 1863-'64 was very cold. We suffered greatly. Our store-room had no fire. There we spent every alternate day. Our plan was to visit in the cabins and tents one day and find what each one needed, and give a written order, which we filled the next day from the store-room that our friends from the North kept filled in answer to our letters. Often those who needed help least would tell us the most pitiful story, so we found it necessary to visit their homes, if homes they could be called. They had to use so many things in common. Three families with six or ten children each, cooked their food in the same pot on the same fire. Each had to wait for the other. No wonder that a mother with crying, hungry children would quarrel when thus situated.

        We had a large Sabbath school, besides other meetings with the women and children in their homes. It was indeed a great joy to read the Bible to those who had never heard it before. After spending five months on this island the whole colony was removed in April, to

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HELENA, ARKANSAS.

        I can never forget that helpless mass of humanity that I helped to stow away on those boats. Every day seemed a year, so much was happening. Part of the colony stayed in Helena, and part was scattered on the plantations that were near Helena within the guarded part. The Quakers, or Friends, from Indiana, had just come to establish an orphan asylum. They took some of our children. These good people had also an industrial school for the women and day schools for the children. Not long after I came to Helena they offered to employ me; to this I gladly agreed. My reader will remember that I started off on this mission with the promise of four dollars per month from the children. My heavenly Father knew I needed more help, therefore He had these godly Quakers ready to take care of me. I remained in their employ till the close of 1868, when I was obliged to leave the work. I wish I had time to tell you in detail the good accomplished by the Society of Friends during the war and just after it closed. Not only in Arkansas, but all over the South. They were very kind to their missionaries. They invited me to their yearly meeting in Indiana and treated me with great courtesy. They knew I was a Baptist but never asked me to unite with their church. I cannot say too much in praise of the Friends. Those I knew were surely a superior class of Christians.

THE HOME FARM NEAR HELENA.

        The Home Farm, about three miles from Helena, was a contraband camp something like Island NO. 10. Here were gathered a great company of women and children and helpless old men. A company of soldiers in a fort near by guarded it. There were no white people there, and no one was teaching or helping those people to a better life. I offered to go and live there. The other teachers called me

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presumptious and crazy, but I went. We fixed up a room in a cabin with a colored woman. I got the soldiers to make me an arbor and some rude seats, made by driving posts in the ground and fastened on them a split sapling; nailed my blackboard to a tree, and divided the colony into four divisions. The very little children, older children, adults who could read a very little, or rather those who wanted to learn, and the old people who could only listen as I read to them. Each division spent about one hour and a half in school. A little before dark every evening a great crowd gathered around my cabin for family prayers. I read the Bible and explained it, and gave them a memory verse. Then they sang their weird, old plantation hymns, and prayed their old-time prayers till after dark. Then each retired with a sweet, glad song in all hearts, for so it seemed, judging by the joy in my own heart. O, how I did enjoy each day there! Once a week I came to Helena in the ambulance that brought the sick ones to the hospital. I have been exposed to smallpox and other contagious diseases, but the Lord has kept me. One of the nights I was in Helena a raid of rebel soldiers came to the colony, and so disarranged things that I could not go back. The same God that had sheltered me all these years brought me home the very day the danger came to that outpost. Praise the Lord!

        After this I began to teach the colored soldiers that were guarding Helena. I found none that could read well; several others could read a little, having been taught occasionally by officers of the regiment. I found only one who was a Christian. I opened a school in four or five companies which I taught at different hours of the day. I never had more than ten at once, and yet I had more than one hundred on my list. Each day I taught all one verse of the Scripture till they knew it perfectly; giving them plain, easily understood texts, such as "All have sinned and come short of

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the glory of God;" "The wicked shall be turned into hell and all the nations that forget God;" "God so loved the world," etc.; "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Other than this I said very little to them on the subject of religion except a short prayer at the opening and closing of the school. I had not been teaching more than six weeks till I noticed a seriousness in the manner of some, which showed they were under conviction of sin. The Bible did this. Those texts of Scripture sank down deep into their hearts, and all night long as they stood on guard, God's word was doing its blessed work. There I learned the value of the Bible, and from that day to this I have been trying to get God's words into the homes, the hands, and the hearts of every human soul I meet. God speed the day when His message will be made the subject of the social conversations, and Bible study be the great work of our associations, conferences, and conventions.

        One day I said to the boys in each division: "All of you who are sorry for your sins and want to be forgiven, come to the children's school room at 7 o'clock." It was next to my home. There the other teachers taught the children each day. When I entered that school room, there sat three of my boys in tears. "My sins, my sins. How can I be forgiven?" was all they could say; and I, what could I do? No preacher there; no chaplain in that regiment; nothing could I do, but tell them about Jesus and his love, and then we all got down on our knees and prayed as I never prayed before. Then the boys prayed. When we rose from our knees two were converted. I wish you could have seen them as they quietly walked the floor praising God, their faces all aglow with the joy of pardoned sin. The next night five new inquirers came and one poor boy rushed in saying, "O pray for me; I am on guard to-night, but I am such a sinner I have come to ask

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your prayers." I think three were converted that night.

        For one week we had the meeting every night, after that we met only once a week, and on the Sabbath. The teachers of the children often met

        JAMES C. OWEN

with us. The good work went on, till sixty of those soldiers were converted.

        Those who were converted were nearly all between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four years. It was perfectly marvelous, the progress they made in their studies. I had been a teacher for most of the time among white people for the past fifteen years, but in all that time I never had pupils that learned as fast as some of those boys. They not only memorized, but reasoned; got hold of ideas and expressed them in writing. I taught them only about seven months, and all that time they attended to their usual soldier duties. It was all learned in the spare minutes

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that the other soldiers in the regiment idled away. But few of these boys knew even their alphabet till they came to me. Their conversion to Christ did much to awaken and strengthen their intellects. It is well that I had this glorious experience with these colored soldiers in the first part of my work among this despised race. From that day to this nothing has occurred that could dampen my enthusiasm for the colored people, both as regards their moral and mental elevation.

        Rev. Carter, an African Methodist Episcopal minister came to Helena about the time I left. He was the only colored minister there. They wanted to be baptized; I took them to the home of this pastor. He examined them, and one Sabbath about twenty-five marched down to the Mississippi River and were buried with Christ in baptism. We formed ourselves into a little church with no officers--only the following

COVENANT OF CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS IN MISS
MOORE'S SCHOOL.

        We, the undersigned, feeling the need of united effort on our part to resist the many temptations that surround us, and the sins that so easily beset us in our present trying position, therefore resolve

        I. That we enter into a solemn agreement to meet together every Wednesday night for prayer to Almighty God for help and assistance to serve Him who gave Himself a ransom that we through faith in Him might have eternal life.

        II. Resolved, that the object of this meeting be to inquire after the spiritual progress of each other, and to comfort, cheer, and encourage each other in every good word and deed.

        III. Resolved, that we each at all times exercise toward each other that brotherly watch care and love which the children of God are required to feel,and if a brother be overtaken in a fault, we that are

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spiritual will seek to restore such a one in the spirit of meekness, considering ourselves lest we, also, be tempted.

        IV. Resolved, that henceforth, with God's help, we will endeavor to live as humble and devoted followers of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and strive in all that we do or say to have an eye single to the glory of God.


        This covenant was signed by 62 men, representing seven companies in the 56th regiment.

        Mother's sickness called me home about the close of the war, and these soldiers were soon after mustered out of service. I kept in touch with a number of these soldiers for several years. Three, James Owen, George Gaines and John Meadows, are to-day faithful ministers of the gospel. I give you some of the words they wrote in my album just before I left for the North. You wonder that they express themselves so well. I took much pains in showing them how to write letters. It was one of our every-day studies with those who could write. I can take space for but four of the many letters written in my album:

HELENA, Ark., July 20, 1865.

        Kind Teacher:--I want to say some words of comfort to you. You have been a great light to me and have led me from darkness into such light as I never saw before. Dear teacher, I wish I could repay you for your kind teaching and Christian walk, by which you have led me to consider my own salvation and turn to God. I feel as if no other friend so dear could leave me. But I know that the spirit of Him who goes with you will stay with me.

Your obedient scholar,

JAMES C. OWEN.


        Here is another from an eighteen-year-old boy:

        Kind Teacher:--O that I could reward you for your great kindness to me and our poor, degraded and long-oppressed people. I know not my future,

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but whatever it is, I intend you shall hear it, and I also intend that, with the help of God, you shall hear nothing bad of me. Your people have often said that the negroes could not be made into intelligent people, but I am determined that that shoe shall not fit me. I will try as you have often told me, to choose

        GEORGE W. GAINES

for my companions the moral, the sensible, and, especially, the religious. I do want to be useful in this world, and try to do good to all I meet whether white or black. I never will, with Jesus to help me, forget the promises I have made to God and to you, to live so on earth, that at last I may meet my teacher who has been my dearest earthly friend, in immortal glory where parting is no more.

Your most obedient scholar,

GEORGE W. GAINES.


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        Another wrote:

        Kind Teacher:--I want to inform you that I have been studying about the greatness of your good that you have done the poor colored people who has been bound down in the South under the hands of the slave trader who has driven them from to to fro for many a long year, shot them like dogs, fed them like hogs and run them like deer. Miss Moore, there never was any other nation of people that ever was read of by this generation that ever had anyways near the hard and cruel treatment that the poor colored people have had. You are one that came down to this low wilderness of the South when the times were dark and gloomy, and the poor colored people were in deep ignorance and you have proved yourself more than a common friend to them. I am one who has lived in bondage for twenty-one years, and I always looking to see who is the true friend to the black people. I never do pass one or speak to you or any other teacher but I think, "There is a friend." Miss Moore, your name is bound to be written in the of many, long to be remembered, long to be loved, long to be Blessed with the name of God. I do wish I was well enough learned to write and spell, so I could just write what I can see and know about what You have done and what a great friend you are to the black people. It will be hard for us poor colored soldiers to get along without you.

JOHN MEADOWS.


        The specimens already given are the best and I will take space for part of one more letter:

        Dear Teacher:--I thank God for the optunity he has blesst me with sending a good teacher to our regment to teach my fellow solders how to read the Holy Bible, the first Book among many books, and to right Letters to thar frends. Dear, teacher since you have bin hear you have learned a great many of the Regment how to read God's word and how to find him. Dear teacher the time is drawing near when

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we have to part, and how I dread that. . . . . Dear teacher, I have been deprived of a grate portion of my time for study on account of sickness, but I thank God for what I receave. I thank God that he spared me to see the time I long hope for and was afraid that I would never see the south winds blow over a free country. O if I could open the eyes of my people from a deepe slumber they would behold the glowreyfull light of liberty which have been hidden behind the cloud of slavery for many years. But now there is a chance for us, let us make haste and improve the advantages of the day and night, but the first Book of all is the Bible; it teach us how to live and how to die. Dear teacher we will never be able to pay you for the great good you have done but heaven shall be your reward.

ALFRED S. WILLIAMS.


        You will see by the words of these young men that even at that early date they felt the heavy hand of prejudice that would discourage them from trying to be or do what white men had done, or from what other human lives had attained. It was not from me that they got their ideas of what the white people would do or say. It was a subject on which I seldom spoke. I only sought to save their souls and enlighten their minds and this has been my effort ever since. It is sad to remember that all through the struggles of 39 years of freedom this hand has been heavy upon them. O God, how long!

        In 1868 I went to Lauderdale, Miss., to help the Friends in an orphan asylum. After I had been there about six weeks the superintendent's daughter sickened and died, and both parents left to carry the remains of that loved daughter to her grave in Richmond, Ind. I was left in charge of the asylum. Soon after, that terrible disease, the cholera, made its appearance. Eleven of our children died within one week, and then the plague stayed. But that one week brought me face to face with death as I had

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never been before. There was no other white woman there. I had the care of the children, gave them their food, conducted their morning and evening prayers, and watched by the sick bed of the dying. Often those who were well and happy when they retired, ere the daylight came were in the cold grave, for

        JOHN MEADOWS

they were buried the same hour they died. I was often up with them during the night and held their cold little hands in mine. Two of them I remember especially; they died a gloriously triumphant death, saying, with their last breath: "Sister Moore, I am going to Jesus; I will meet you there." Most of them expressed a hope in Christ. Since then I have never needed to ask: "Will any one there at the beautiful gate, be waiting and watching for me?" How wonderfully God has blessed me; praise His name!

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A LESSON IN GIVING TO GOD.
IN 1866-1867.

        I taught schools in Little Rock and I was delighted with the aptness and ability of the pupils. We had no writing desks, but I had the pupils get down on their knees and utilize the seat for a desk, putting the other books on the floor. We kept things in order and made many good writers. We had school at night for older pupils. All were more eager to learn, it seems to me, than they are now. I did not find as many white negroes in Arkansas as in Louisiana and other states, yet they were all shades from real black to nearly white. To my night school came a fine looking young woman who was certainly white. I wanted her to go to a white school, but she said, "No, I'm colored." I said, "No, you are white." She said, "Mother says I'm colored and there is no use in my trying to be white." Alas, I soon learned the debasing influence of slavery and heard tales too sad to repeat, therefore I buried them out of sight; but when I hear white men and women talk sneeringly of the impurity of the colored race, as though they were worse than all races, my blood boils with holy indignation, for I know the black man is not any more impure than his white brother, and perhaps less guilty.

        The Friends who always followed in the wake of the war ready to bind up wounds and comfort the dying, came also to Little Rock, to care for the neglected children. I had charge of the asylum here for several months while the superintendent went home. This made me very happy. I taught the children

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as I have everywhere, about the heathen, who had never heard the name of Jesus; no, not always, for I did not always know the story myself. The children of the asylum got but little money, not a cent was spent till we prayed over it. I'll tell you about one of our boys. We will call him Tom, but I am not sure that was his name. His uncle made him a visit, Tom blacked his boots and for that received a nickel. Childlike, he ran to me, saying, "Let me go and buy some candy." I said, "No, wait until after prayers to-night." He objected, but I was firm. All the children knew about Tom's nickel. I called him up at prayers. There were about sixty little ones. How I did love them. This nickel was the first subject as it was on our hearts. "Tom, let me see your nickel." He handed it to me. I asked, "Does this money all belong to you?" "Oh, yes," was his reply. "How did it get to be yours?" "I blacked uncle's boots, and he gave me the nickel." I asked the children if they thought the money all belonged to Tom. Some said that I ought to have a part. "No, no, it doesn't belong to me." I then asked, "Those who think all this money belongs to Tom, hold up your hands." All hands went up. Then I gave Tom the nickel, saying, "I want you to answer another question, 'How did you black the boots?'" He went through the motion of blacking. I took hold of his arm asking, "Is this arm strong enough to black boots?" "Oh, yes," he said. "Well who made this arm strong enough to black uncle's boots?" He did not answer. I asked the children. They said, "God made it strong." Then I said to Tom, "Do you believe it was God made your arm strong enough to black boots?" "Yes," he nodded. "Now don't you think you ought to say, "God and Tom blacked uncle's boots, and if God helped, don't you think He ought to have part of the money?" He nodded his head. All the children were greatly interested. There was no disorder. I asked their opinion on the subject. All were agreed that God

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should have part. Now the next question is, "How much should Tom give God? God is here, He's listening. We'll ask Him in prayer. Then we all knelt, and I think they all prayed the best they knew how. We had a specific object for prayer. Our prayers are usually too general to get a direct answer. When we rose from our knees all were very quiet. I looked at Tom and asked earnestly, "My dear boy, what did God tell you ?" He stretched out his little hand and with a voice trembling with tears, yet with a happy look on his face, said decidedly, "God may have it all." Then my tears came as I put my arms around the dear child, saying, "God doesn't want it all, we will wait till morning for you to decide." I could see that those children got a clearer idea of God's ownership than most adults have, judging from their gifts. After a little hymn the children were dismissed. I followed them to their rooms and saw them safely tucked away for the night. The next morning at prayers, Tom told us all that he would give God three cents and keep two for candy. We cheered Tom for his generosity in giving God the largest share and I bought him two cents' worth of candy. The other boys gathered around him and all got a little as far as it would go. Tom had learned the joy of giving and couldn't stop. I'm sorry to tell you that all our children were not as good as Tom. Some stoutly objected to giving any of their money, saying "they needed it all." And yet we got seventy-five cents in those three months. It was used to get Bibles for a mission in Arabia. The Friends got the money and they were supporting the school. It has been the burden of my prayers and my lessons for many years that parents would teach their children to give to God as soon as they teach them to pray to God. One service is just as holy and as necessary as the other. Teach also that they must give what is their very own, but do not send them out to beg from others or you will take the blessing out of the gift.

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RELIGION OF THE COLORED
PEOPLE.

        The old-time religion of the colored people was a reality to them, was a comfort in their days of trouble here, but their greatest joy was in the conception of the future. In one of their hymns the chorus runs:--"Hard times and tribulation; we'll part no more when we meet in heaven."

        Their faith rested mainly on dreams and visions, and who can say that in the days of enforced ignorance God did not reveal himself to them who truly sought Him, in this manner.

        They had a formula of questions which they asked the convert, much as follows:

        1. What started you out to pray?
The usual answer was "Trouble."

        2. How did you feel as you prayed?
I got worse and worse the longer I prayed.

        3. What troubled you?
My sins.

        4. Tell how you were delivered.

        The answer to this question usually included a long list of visions, beginning with, "I saw myself carried here and there (perhaps to hell), saw myself hanging over hell by the hair of the head. At last I went out and said, 'Lord help me; do your will with me.' Then deliverance came."

        (Is not this really your experience? The sinner tries in many ways to save himself--sometimes by prayers and tears, without relief till he surrenders,

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and by faith receives Christ as his Savior. Then comes peace and rest.)

        5. For whose sake were you forgiven?
Unless the candidate could say," God forgave me for Jesus' sake," he was turned back to seek longer.

        They seem to have a clear idea of the atonement. After conversion they often saw themselves carried up to heaven, where they tried on their long white robes, golden slippers, and crowns, all of which exactly fitted. Then God said, "Go back to yonder world and tell both saint and sinner what a dear Savior you have found." Often one saw his heart taken out all black with sin, but the Savior washed it white. Is not this the gospel? I John 1: 7. I believe their conversion was genuine--the trouble was and still is this, that after conversion they were not taught how to keep that heart clean. This is where the church errs in its teachings to-day.

        One of my fireside pupils wrote me a few days ago, saying: "Our people believe in sinning every day, but I accepted the gift of the Holy Spirit and have such rest and peace as never before. I can be patient with my children and kind to the people who hate me. I am kept sweetly trusting but they say I am mistaken, that I do sin every day but I know I've got something that keeps me from sinning."

        I answered as follows:

        Dear Sister--You are on the right road. Give the people the Bible and pray for them. While you keep hid away in Christ, Satan cannot touch you. Jesus came to save his people from their sins and not in their sins. The Christian is no longer the servant of sin. Read Romans, 6th chapter.


        But few of our colored people could read their Bible and their teachers failed to make this truth plain. Hence they went back into

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the world and half of the people you met were "fallen members," as they called backsliders. Some taught that this old body sinned but the soul did not sin; for example at a funeral I heard a minister say, "There lies sister Jane; her tongue often told lies, but her soul never sinned." They got this doctrine from a false interpretation of the seventh chapter of Romans. I know a multitude of religious teachers to-day who have about the same method of apologizing for sins. It is a dangerous thing to teach half the Gospel as the result of such teaching is a backslidden church.

        I have often heard it said that the colored man's religion did not keep him from lying and stealing. Does the white man's religion keep him from pride, from conformity to the world, from neglecting to send the Gospel to the heathen, and many other sins? Many of the colored preachers did not know that indulgence in strong drink was sinful. They had seen it used freely by professing Christians. I explained Habakkuk 2:15 to a minister who drank wine. He asked with great earnestness, "Is there really a curse on those who drink and treat their neighbors to wine?" He could not read very well and spent a long time learning to read that verse, and then vowed not to touch wine again and not to give it to others, and kept his vow.

PLANTATION SONGS.

        The students of our schools who go over the country, singing what they call plantation songs, do not know how to sing them. God taught our dear people the melody of those songs in the furnace of afflictions. It is music that cannot be learned in any other school. There was an undertone of sadness that brought tears to your eyes and those who listened heard much that was not expressed in words. Those songs were the channel for the overflow of sorrow that they had not liberty to express in any other way.

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        I remember the first Sabbath in Rev. John Mark's church in New Orleans after a choir was formed. The old people rose but could not sing. They tried to sway back and forth with the music, but could not. This hurt them, and it hurt me. It is true there was a kind of music in the singing of that choir, but, to them, it lacked the "melody in the heart unto the Lord."

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WORK IN CHICAGO.

        I had really had only about five years service with the colored people until 1873, but often as I have spoken or written on the subject, I've counted all the years from 1863 to 1902. Perhaps it was because my heart was with the colored people in the South during the time I spent in the North, and I did help them all I could with letters, money, and influence. Nothing kept me from them but my mother's poor health. She was subject to attacks that threatened immediate death. My brothers thought no one but Joanna could take care of mother. I gave up preparation for the Foreign Field in 1855, because my parents very much needed me; and yet in one sense I have been a foreign missionary ever since. If giving up my plans thus for the sake of my parents was a mistake, it was not a willful sin. I suppose it was all part of the training I needed for my work in the South. Having been called home three times, I concluded I would not leave my mother to go so far away until her health was better. Some one, I think Dr. Blackall, told Mr. B. F. Jacobs that I wanted to do mission work; therefore he sent for me, engaging to pay my board for six months, but nothing more. This was a sacrifice of money, because I got good wages for teaching, but it was a joy to give all my time to direct Christian work.

        Early in April, 1869, I began work for the North Star Baptist Church. I cannot remember with what success, but I find from an old record, that I made 2,292 visits in three months. I then came to work in Shield's Mission of the First Baptist Church

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for three months. Through our Cottage meetings, especially, a blessed work of grace began. They didn't want me to leave at the end of three months, and I remained until early spring, when I was employed by the Eighteenth Street Baptist Church. I might say much of the work in Chicago, but haven't time now. God supplied my needs in answer to prayer.

        In October, 1870, I was again called home to care for mother, and felt it not safe to leave her even for Chicago, but I taught school in Belvidere and vicinity, until the fall of 1873. While teaching I was a kind of Sabbath school missionary. That is I started a Sabbath school wherever I taught which I think was in ten different schools, and helped to keep them up. The winter of 1870 my school was in the country. They said "You can never have a Sunday school in the winter," but I secured the use of the schoolhouse, and told my pupils to come, and bring their parents. It was the most successful Sabbath school I ever had. The house was crowded; parents brought their whole families in sleighs. We called this the Ever-Green School, as Sabbath schools in the country were usually closed in the fall.

        In 1871 the Women's Foreign Missionary Society of the West was organized. Mrs. Tolman wrote asking if I could be their missionary. This awakened old hopes and brought up a new conflict in my heart. I remember that Mrs. O. B. Stone spent nearly a whole night with me in prayer for this subject. My heartstrings were pulling me towards the negroes, towards the heathen, and towards my mother. Many of my Belvidere friends wanted me to go to the heathen. Mrs. Fulton, my pastor's wife came with me to Chicago. I was then about forty years old. Some of the Board thought I was too old, this about decided me to stay with mother. This was one of the many times when good Brother Osgood gave me much comfort and

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kind advice. I thought he was the only one who really understood me. Perhaps some day God will let me visit a mission in heathen lands. I cannot think of anything on earth that would comfort me more.

WHAT LED ME TO THIS WORK FOR HOME.

        During the years that mother's feeble health kept me from the South, my thoughts were with the freed people. I remembered how unfit these slave mothers were to take care of their children's souls and minds, and that the father's slave life had forced him to leave the entire care of his family to the master and that because of all these, there should be more done for the present fathers and mothers. However, I said but little to any one on this subject because the popular plan for helping the colored people was the schools in which to educate teachers and preachers; but I did find three men in Chicago to whom I opened my heart on this subject. They represented the three great Baptist missionary organizations. Rev. S. Osgood, the Foreign Mission; Rev. I. N. Hobart, Home Mission, and Rev. F. G. Thearle, the Publication Society. From these I received sympathy and words of encouragement. These were men who knew how to listen even to a woman. A good listener is a wonderful comforter, one that by face and manner makes you feel be is taking in what you say. Others listen with a faraway look and restless manner that makes you want to shut your mouth and never say another word. Dear Brother Hobart was especially interested; I can never forget his sympathy and he proved it real by the way he fostered my work for four years. He simply told the churches and individuals of the work I was doing. That was all the appeal he made, except that he paid my expenses to come North and speak to associations and churches. A letter written on Nov., 1874, reads as follows: "I have just received a letter saying that the Women's Mission

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Circle of Galesburg has appropriated fifty dollars for your work." He then gives me in the same letter the names of the principal donors to my work the first year. The money amounted to more than two hundred dollars but this was not all I received. Often the money was sent direct to me. In this way the Lord supported me till the organization of our blessed Women's Baptist Home Mission Society, February 1, 1877, when I had the honor of receiving their first commission.

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WORK IN NEW ORLEANS.

        This work began in the fall of 1873. Rev. Gregory was president of Leland University, when I arrived there. He was a good man and much beloved by the pastors. He often invited them to his home to supper and showed them his books and pictures, treated them with the same respect he would the most distinguished white guests. I very much admired this plan of his. It was so Christ-like. I had the honor of helping to teach these ministers when I could spare the time.

        There was a small one-roomed house near Leland, with a fireplace. I bought a bed, table, two chairs, and a few cooking utensils, and began housekeeping, as this was much cheaper than boarding. I rose early, made a cup of coffee, which with bread and sometimes an egg, was my breakfast. I prepared a little lunch and often started out at six a. m. and did not return until seven p. m. I stopped at some home to eat my luncheon. What did I do all day? Reading the Bible in the homes of the people was my principal work. Only a few had Bibles. Many could not read, but no matter how busy, they were willing to stop and listen, taking their hands out of the wash tub and wiping them on the coarse apron, down they sat and begged me to stay longer than I could. It seems to me they cared more for the Bible than they do now. I remember coming one day into a yard where four women were washing. When they saw my Bible and papers, they thought I looked like a fortune teller. One woman said, "Will you tell me my fortune?" I said, "Do you want me to tell what will happen to you in the future?

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if so, I can do that." "What must I pay?" she asked. "I do not charge, I tell your fortune out of this book." She stretched out her hand for me to look at it, as fortune tellers often do, but I said, "No, all sit down and be quiet and I will tell you." After all were seated I opened my Bible and read, "And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned" (Mark 16: 15-16). I read also an account of the judgment with the sheep on the right hand and the goats on the left, ending with this, "These shall go away into everlasting punishment and the righteous into life eternal." Then I preached a little sermon and prayed. They were very much impressed. One who was a Christian said, "I told them you were no fortune teller, these others are sinner women. I am glad you have told them the truth."

        What else did I do? I sometimes wrote letters for the people who had been sold in the days of slavery, if they could only remember the name of their old master's post-office; I have written hundreds of such letters. From a few I have received glad response, but only from a few. It was very sorrowful, pitiful work. You need never tell me that the black man does not love his home and friends. I know better.

        Well, what else did I do? I taught the little children how to sew and sometimes helped the mother cut out a garment, taught them hymns and verses from the Bible. I often carried a bag of needles and thread, and when I found the children alone, as I often did, I helped them mend the garment that they wore, washed the baby's face, helped the children with their play and tried to do a mother's part for poor, neglected little ones, whose mothers were toiling to get them bread. After two or three months spent in this way I began holding meetings after school for the children, in three of the churches

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in Carrollton, then a suburb of New Orleans. The names of the pastors of these churches were Thomas Peterson, Henry Davis and Guy Peck. They were good men and useful. We also organized Sunday schools to be held respectively at 9 a. m., 11 a. m., and 3 p. m. I must not forget to tell you of three ministerial students in Leland who went with me regularly to the morning Sunday schools and as often as possible to the afternoon. Their names were Alfred Owens, Taylor Fryerson and Charles Roberts. I think they are all alive to-day and are doing blessed work for the Master. Once a week they came to my room to study the Sabbath school lesson. Sabbath school work as I taught it was new to them. They all signed the temperance pledge and have kept it ever since. I remember the day Rev. Fryerson signed against tobacco. They were three remarkable boys. I am glad God let me help them in their young days. I prepared a constitution for Sabbath schools, as it was so difficult to make the people understand the difference between Sabbath school and day school. They taught spelling in nearly all the Sabbath schools and so few could read well they were often obliged to take sinners for officers and teachers. The next year I helped Rev. George W. Walker in his Sabbath school. He was one of the most honorable, straightforward, reliable preachers we had then in New Orleans. A teacher of his Sunday school, who was a Christian, had died about a year before and left him without a Christian in his school, except a deacon who would come in and open with prayer. He told me that he would often rise at midnight to ask God to send a teacher for his Sabbath school, "And now, Sister Moore," he said, "you are an answer to my prayer. Surely God did send you." Perhaps it was two years after this when an English evangelist came to New Orleans because he had heard of my work. He began a revival meeting in Rev. Walker's church. The seed had been sown and a glorious harvest was

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reaped, mostly young people. Two of Rev. Walker's children were brought into the Kingdom. I followed this meeting with a Bible reading for young converts at my home every Saturday night for one

        GEORGE WALKER

year. They nearly all attended, and were delighted with the lessons which I prepared and gave them to study during the week. Brother Walker said these converts stood the storm of temptation better than any he ever knew, only two or three among them became backsliders, and to-day I think most of them
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are standing firm. This was because they were taught God's word and daily prayer, and to walk by faith instead of feeling.

        Dear pastors, the reason your converts backslide is because you starve them to death. What would you think of a parent who starved her child? Pastors often scold the members for doing wrong, but cross words do not feed. God's word must daily be eaten. You should prepare the word in small doses so that it can be taken in. The sincere milk of the word makes them grow strong, 1 Peter, 2:2. After the milk food, gradually give them stronger diet. You must plan some way to have them eat daily; one good meal on Sunday will not suffice. So I taught the pastors, and in my work at this time may be seen the working out of the conception that found its final expression in the Fireside School.

        When the days were long I had a school at 5:30 p. m., to reach which I had to cross the Mississippi in a skiff. I never missed a meeting unless it was stormy. Once, when the wind was very high, the boatman said, "I would rather not go, especially with a woman, for they get scared." I promised to sit perfectly still and not say a word. Then he said, "I'll risk it." He was a colored man and a Christian. Oh, such a storm! I held on to the sides of the skiff and prayed. The water dashed in on every side. I never spoke but once, asking in a trembling voice, "Ferryman, will we be drowned?" "It is just as the Lord has it," was his quiet reply. His words calmed me in a minute. I wasn't at all afraid. I had given myself up to die, but we landed safely. The boatman sank on the bank of the river completely exhausted, saying, "I have been crossing this river for seven years and never before see'd such a storm." I taught my Sabbath school and returned. The storm was over. The skiff glided over a waveless sea in the light of the moon. Oh, it was so beautiful and restful after the long day of toil. I went to my home singing with melody in my heart.

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                         "One more day's work for Jesus,
                         One less of life for me,
                         But Christ is dearer, and heaven nearer,
                         Than yesterday to me.
                         Lord if I may,
                         I'll work another day."

        Soon we had a Sabbath school in each of the colored Baptist churches in New Orleans; before I came they had schools in only three; one of these was the First African Baptist Church, which had a very large membership; but the school was small. I wanted to help them, but they were not anxious to have me. I attended regularly for more than a month, sat in different classes, as they did not seem to need me for a teacher. But I learned a lesson which my readers may need to use some day. It is this. If you know how to teach, if it's really in you and you are humble and respectful, you will always teach and some one will listen. Matters little whether you are at the head or the foot; I am quite sure I taught those classes and gave no offense to the teachers, because I was careful to treat them with great respect. I mention this because many leave Sabbath schools, saying, "They would not give me a class." They do not know that pupils may be teachers. After some time the young people asked the superintendent to let me be their teacher. He consented. A few weeks after, a stranger came into my class one morning. He was very attentive and modest. His name was Rev. A. Fairfax, pastor of a church in Northern Louisiana, who had been driven away from his home because of some political strife between white and colored, and had come to the city to think and pray for guidance. I soon found that Rev. Fairfax was a better teacher than myself, and teacher and pupil quietly let him do most of the teaching while there. The grumblers who cannot find a place to work usually need to sit a little longer at Jesus' feet and learn from the Great

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Teacher "to be meek and lowly in heart." The superintendent of this school fell sick. The school asked him to let me serve as superintendent until he got well. Two months later he returned to the school, but I could not persuade him to take his place. He rose and said, "Teachers and scholars, I am tired, I have served my time. Sister Moore, you go ahead." And I did go ahead. We started an infant class, the first they had had in that city. We had a large room that suited the purpose. Often after Sabbath school, we invited those who wanted to find Jesus, to stop for a half-hour prayer meeting. A large number of the Sabbath school were converted, but when I took the children converts to meet the deacons, they asked questions which required visions and dreams to answer. Therefore most of them were sent back to seek for more. Some did see visions and were admitted, and some were received because I urged it; but here as elsewhere we saw the need of feeding and training after conversion.

        About the same time I began a Sabbath school in Rev. White's church, Sunday afternoon, where we also had a sewing school. A great revival was the result of these meetings. The pastor's wife, Frances White, was very helpful. Ten of these children converts began, about six weeks before Christmas, to save or earn a present for Jesus on his birthday. This was my first effort to correct the un-Christian way of spending Christmas. We had a Christmas tree. About seventy teachers and children had presents on that tree, each costing about five cents. I spent much time hunting in the stores to get cheap, appropriate gifts. It would interest you had I time to tell how those children earned that money. Nine girls and one boy. I think we had only $1 .75, but it represented much labor and prayer. After the tree was set up in the church, but before the presents were there, these ten children and myself met in the church, and sat down around the tree. I read the letter which had this address on the envelope,

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"To the Lord Jesus in Heaven, by way of Africa." One child asked, "Will Jesus reach down and take the present off the tree?" I explained, perhaps for the twentieth time, that Jesus did not need our gifts, but He knew that we would want to give Him something to show our love, so He told his followers that when they gave to the poor, or to send the Bible to those who did not know His love, Jesus would put that down in His book, as if it were given to Himself. Then our boy climbed up on the ladder and hung the envelope on the top of the tree. We joined hands around the tree and prayed. I have often felt near to heaven, but there with those little children that Christmas eve, I was nearer heaven than I had ever been before. Oh, it was blessed. The children were much affected. There was a quiet awe as well as joy in all our hearts, as we walked out of the church. Surely we had been on the Mount of Transfiguration. Beloved readers, I tell you truly, offering gifts to the Lord for any part of His work is the most sacred and glorious service He has left on earth for His children. Alas, alas, how it has been polluted and dragged down and shared with the world, and this is one reason why we have a backslidden church. My gifts to God and the prayers that went with them have been the best part of my life; but remember, the gift must be given to the Lord's own blessed work, not to build a fashionable church because pride prompts us to be like the church over the way, or else because we think to put the church instead of Christ as the great attraction to secure a congregation.

        About nine years after this I visited New Orleans. A young mother with her first born in her arms, met me saying, "You have forgotten me. I am one of the little girls that gave a present to Jesus on Christmas in Rev. White's church." I asked, "Has giving that present helped you since." "Oh, yes, it has made me a better Christian, and I am going to teach my baby to give to Jesus on Christmas."

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Dear teachers, let us not be discouraged. Some seed does grow and "gathered in time and eternity, sure will the harvest be."

        I have not time to tell you about the other fifteen Sabbath schools in and around New Orleans. They were all as interesting as those I have mentioned. The pastors were kind and helpful, the Lord went before and opened doors and hearts according to his promise. An association met in New Orleans which was attended by many country pastors. After hearing me speak, they invited me to come to their churches. I was permitted during that same year to visit a few.

GOD'S ANSWER TO PRAYER.

        While visiting in New Orleans I found many homes without Bibles. It is true that in most families only children could read, but even where parents could read, nothing of the Bible was found but a scrap. The agent of the American Bible Society, Mr. Ivy, gave me books on trust to sell, but not to donate, except in rare cases. When I began my country work he said I sold more Bibles than the agents, and he wanted me to become an agent. I said, "No, I am employed by another society, and cannot give all my time to this." "No matter," said he, "take a year if you want for one parish and visit every home. I will give you all the Bibles you wish to donate, letting you use your judgment; but, of course, you will sell all you can. I will also give you five cents for every family you visit." This was certainly a direct answer to prayer. I now could pay the expense of traveling, supply the poor with Bibles, and hire others to help me. We found it pretty hard carrying such loads of books, but would not hire any one to carry them. I cannot now tell how many Bibles were sold and how many donated. I think I began this work in 1876 and continued until 1881. I canvassed ten parishes and parts of three others.

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I was assisted, during vacation, by some of the students from Leland--Jonas Henderson, Solomon Clanton, and Frank Long, also Mary Walker, Virginia Johnson, and Cornelia Lewis. Each helped a little. I found Mrs. Ryder, a white woman from the North, whom I employed for two years. We not only sold Bibles, but managed every other phase of our missionary work, and yet it was real colportage work. The minutes of the Colored Baptist State Convention for 1886 records that I sold and donated about $500 worth of books that year, mostly Bibles. So you see we kept on at this kind of work because it was greatly needed, and the Lord supplied the means in answer to the prayer of faith. Hallelujah!

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        MISS JACKSON. MISS MOORE. MISS WILSON (Mrs. Weaver).
MISS BUTLER. MISS PECK

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FIRST HELPERS IN NEW
ORLEANS.

        The first helper God sent to me in New Orleans was Carrie Vaughn. She was young, a good singer and very fond of children. At first she said she couldn't talk in public. "No matter, sing your sweet songs and that's enough," was my reply. One day at a meeting in the country I said, "the children do not understand that hymn, I am tired, you explain it, verse by verse." She began in a clear, interesting manner that charmed both old and young. When I got home I said, "You know what happened to the man that buried his talent? You have a talent for talking to children, I know by the way you explained that hymn." This encouraged her and she proved a useful helper. All enjoyed her singing. After leaving me she became the wife of Rev. G. W. Scott, and accompanied her husband to Japan to share his labor as a missionary.

        It was a glad day that brought to my home Alibis Dyer, of Dayton, Ohio, in September, 1876. I had been alone for several months and when I came home tired each evening everything had looked very dark and lonely, but now her sweet young face, her love and her courage shined away the darkness. Yes, she was courageous, nothing was too hard for her to attempt. Once we were preparing for a Christmas tree. We were upstairs in the church down in one of the alleys she saw from the church window a man beating his wife, and flew downstairs. The first thing I knew there stood Abbie grasping the husband's arm and beseeching him not to strike his wife. I feared the police might

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come and arrest them. So down I went, but the quarrel was about over. In one of the trips near the Gulf of Mexico, Abbie was taken sick from exposure and was not able to return to the work. But she still lives to bless the world as the wife of Dr. Allen, a fine oculist and aurist.

        March, 1877, Dr. and Mrs. Blackwell visited New Orleans and brought me a commission from the Woman's Baptist Home Mission Society. This meant help, prayer, courage, perseverance, and supplies for all hungry hearts and neglected bodies of poor colored people. I thanked God and took courage; it has done more than I then hoped for, because now streams of blessings carry comfort and help to twelve different nationalities besides the negroes. Praise the Lord! The first missionaries they sent me were the immortal Jennie L. Peck, Helen R. Jackson, Agnes Wilson, and Sarah Butler. They were four of the best women that ever lived. I have never ceased to thank God for their help. There they stood with such happy faces, willing hands, and hopeful hearts ready for any work, however hard, that I suggested. It is true they often tired carrying bundles and clothing to the poor, packets of books and papers, from early in the morning till late at night, but without a word of complaint. We were all very happy. My readers need never waste pity on true missionaries, because they are the happiest people in the world. We soon spread out all over New Orleans, Gretna, and Algiers, two towns on the opposite side of the river. Later I took sometimes one and sometimes another to help me in plantation work.

        Dear Helen Jackson, after two years with me was transferred to Raleigh, N. C., and later to Richmond, Va. After many years of continuous and fruitful service, she was called from earth to heaven in August, 1898.

        Jennie Peck became a general missionary in Texas in 1884, and since 1895 she has been preceptress of the Caroline Bishop Training School for Colored Women in Dallas, Texas. I have asked her to tell which of all our varied lines of work seemed to her the most important. In reply she sends me the following:

        My Dear Miss Moore:--It was giving the Bible to the people and seeing the wonderful power it had to enlighten the minds, reach hearts, and change lives. Indeed, ever since I have been in the work, that is all that seems to pay. I have never known anything that seemed to me so blessed as what we did when we took our arms full of Bibles and went out to the country to those who had no light.

        They read the Bible. God kept His promise and our faith was constantly strengthened as we saw how "The entrance of His word gave light" through the power of the spirit, and their lives were changed by it. If I were writing a book of our work I'd want above all things to make it show to those who read it, the wonderful power of the Word of God. If Christians believed in the Holy Bible as they should, they would hasten to supply the people with Bibles, and then God's cause would prosper.


        Dear Sister Peck, I surely agree with your testimony, and along with the Bible should go a spirit-filled teacher, to patiently explain the scriptures, and urge the necessity of daily study. This is the work of our missionaries and of our Fireside Schools.

        Agnes Wilson, who has for a number of years been the wife of Rev. Amos Weaver, a Baptist pastor, sends me the following from her journal:

        "We landed at a strange place one night, as the boat stopped to take on freight. We never knew at what hour we would reach our destination. We had hard work to find shelter till morning. Finally the woman who kept a store permitted us to go in and we lodged on the counter. As morning dawned we committed Isaiah 41 :10. We found our people at

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the church, as this was the Sabbath, teaching the Sunday school with day school books, there being no Bibles. They were raising money for churches by fairs on the Sabbath day. We continued some days at this point. I remember once Kitty Sherwood and I were obliged to leave Osborn Dickerson's church, because the white people who sold liquor were opposed to our temperance and Bible work as it interfered with their business. They wrote threatening letters to us, and told the colored people we must leave.

        "Later, Miss Moore took me and went back, entering those same stores, offering them Bibles and teaching temperance to the very persons who had written notes of intimidation. We stayed and finished the canvass. We found that several who had signed the temperance pledge had broken it, the pastor among the number, but they all repented and signed again. I remember one planter who had come from the East, his name was Palmer, his sister had a school for colored children in one room of their residence. They were very kind to their colored neighbors."


        Sarah Butler, now the wife of Rev. J. E. Morris, a Baptist minister, sends me this letter :

        Dear Miss Moore:--My first trip with you was taken to Napoleonville, Assumption Parish, in 1879. We organized a Sunday school with an enrollment of 29, but during the week we visited the plantations round there and the next Sabbath we had 125 at Sunday school. We organized a temperance society there, but it did not amount to much because we could not get the pastor to sign the pledge. We sold a good many books there and among them fourteen Gospels of St. John in large print. At that time Sister Smith, who was 60 years old, bought one, and in two days learned to read two verses of the 14th chapter. When we went back in a month she could read fourteen verses, and was very happy.

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        Our next stop was at Rev. Nelson's church. There we had such an interesting teachers' meeting. There were five men, none of whom could read well. We all seated ourselves around a small table, on which was a feeble light, but the men were so interested in the study of the Bible that we had a good time. It was on that trip that one of the good brothers took us a five-mile drive to another church, with mule and cart. The harness on the mule was wonderful. The lines were made of small rope, and all the harness was tied together with strings.

        We sat on chairs in the cart but the roads were rough and we were pitched from one side to the other. We enjoyed it, however, and I can see our driver now, laughing heartily and apparently as much amused as we were.

        It was on this trip, too, that we had such a hard time to get anything to eat. You made mush for breakfast and then found we had no milk to use with it, and we had to wait until our hostess milked the cow, and then the milk was strained through a dirty cloth. We asked the sister to cook the eggs in the shell, thinking they, at least, would be clean, but when we broke them into our cups, we found that the cups were dirty.

        We were out ten days at that time. I visited 119 houses, attended three Sunday schools, two temperance meetings, five children's meetings, and three meetings on the plantations. I sold $15.65 worth of Bibles and Testaments. By the report, you did twice as much. You were with me at some of the meetings, but part of the time at other places.

        I sold a Bible to a man who had been preaching seven years and had never owned one. He said he used to go to the school teacher and get her Bible to find a text. Then he hugged his Bible and said, "But now I have one of my own."

        Later Agnes (Miss Wilson) and I went again into Assumption Parish. In all we took four trips down

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there within a year. We held teachers' meetings, one Sunday school institute, and spent a good deal of time looking after the temperance work. At one church we found eight who had kept the pledge, but four had broken it. Three renewed