" Your unfailing Emma."

" Your unfailing Emma."

" Your unfailing Emma."

Surely the devotion of an affectionate daughter to an honoured father, and the loyal obedience of a military officer to the Commander-in-Chief, were never so combined before !

From St, Louis the Consul proceeded to the Army's Land Colony, " Amity," in Colorado. Hither a number of poor city families, comprising a population of some three hundred persons, have been transplanted from poverty and squalor to a healthful, happy Hfe of farming, on a beautiful, fertile stretch of land some 3,500 feet above the sea level. Here, in the " Cherry Tree Orphanage," built by the colonists themselves for city waifs, Mrs. Booth-Tucker held her last meeting, and had the joy of seeing forty-six persons " kneeling at the mercy-seat."

It was at " Amity " Station the Consul stepped into the train which was destined to carry her to the Eternal Shore. She was accompanied by Colonel Thomas Holland, and her own private secretary. Ensign Hester Dammes. In two days she hoped to meet her husband in Chicago, but her journey was to have another and a nearer end.

At Topeka she was met by Colonel Addie, the officer in charge of the South-Western Province, to whom she had wired her desire for an interview. He rode with her as far as Kansas City, discussing the affairs of the Army, and he also sang to her a new hymn which he had recently

90 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

composed for an old tune. The subject was sudden death. Two hnes of the chorus ran—

"You can never tell when your death-bell's tolling, You can never tell when your end may be."

And the last verse pleased the Consul so much that she had it three times over—

" Time and place will cease to know you, Men and things will pass away; You'll be moving on to-morrow, You are only here to-day."

The Colonel subsequently said that while with the Consul during these last hours of her earthly life, he was much impressed by " the air of other-worldliness about her." It were rather, he tells us, " the voice, the look, the touch, the words of an angel, than of a human being."

On parting from Colonel Addie at Kansas City, after utilizing the brief stoppage there to visit a new Industrial Home which the Army had lately acquired, Mrs. Booth-Tucker, resuming her journey towards Chicago, busied herself for some time in dictating correspondence.

For the sake of quietness she was seated for the time being in an unoccupied tourist sleeping car near the front of the train, but the coach in which preparations had been made to pass the night was in the rear. After a while she dismissed her secretary, and sat chatting with Colonel Holland only.

At about ten minutes past nine she rose to retire to her sleeper, and was in the act of making her way thither, when the train came to a standstill with an awful crash, and the Consul and Colonel Holland were buried in the debris of the wrecked car.

Emma Booth-Tucker was never conscious again.

Two terrible blows on the head, either one being sufficient to have proved fatal, rendered her condition hopeless from the first, and two hours later she was " promoted to glory."

The accident occurred near Dean Lake, on the evening of October 28, 1903, and the Consul breathed her last at Marceline, Missouri, a few miles further along the line, in the train sent to the lelief of the injured. It is not too

much to say that the shock of the Consul's death sent a thrill throughout the whole world. For wherever the Salvation Army has planted its banner, thither the sorrowful news was swiftly flashed, and everywhere it was received with deepest grief.

The anguish of the Consul's own near relations is too recent and too sacred for us to dwell upon ; but, true to their convictions of duty, they one and all were able to rise so far above all personal considerations as to make the utmost use of every incident of the funeral arrangements with the object of saving souls. No touching or dramatic adjunct was omitted that might serve to make the tragic death of Emma Booth-Tucker as effective as had been her strenuous life.

Conveyed in its funeral casket from Chicago back to New York, the body lay in state both at the Carnegie Music Hall and at the Assembly Hall of the Salvation Army. At Chicago three thousand persons were present at the memorial service, and listened to Commander Booth-Tucker's heroic address on the work and character of his departed wife. In New York uncounted thousands more filed past the flower-laden bier, where, dressed in full Army uniform, canopied by the Army flag, with her well-worn Bible and Hallelujah bonnet lying at her feet, the mortal remains of the Consul formed the centre of one of the most pathetic and impressive services ever held in that city.

Wreaths and messages of sympathy had poured in from high and low, rich and poor. Persons of every shade of religious opinion and almost every civilized nationality united in their tributes of affection for the dead Consul and sympathy for her bereaved family.

The crowds, the enthusiasm, the manifestations of grief were all repeated a few days later, when the casket was finally consigned to earth. Only the funeral of General Grant could be said to have created more widespread feeling among all classes of society.

At the grave-side. Commander Booth-Tucker was enabled to address the audience at great length, and even the little twelve-year-old daughter, disciplined thus early

92 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

in Army fortitude, came forward and sang a hymn over her mother's coffin. The funeral service lasted two hours, and it was estimated that ten thousand persons stood throughout.

In London, the Congress Hall at Clapton was the scene of memorial tributes scarcely less striking than those exhibited on the other side of the Atlantic. Here the patriarchal figure of the General himself was the cynosure of interest and sympathy. Supported by Mr. and Mrs. Bramwell-Booth and his youngest daughter, Lucy (Mrs. Booth-Hellberg), the venerable head of the Salvation Army uttered a heart-stirring speech, in which the brilhant virtues of the departed Consul, as a Soldier, a Woman, a Wife, a Mother, and a Daughter, were eloquently set forth, and her noble example made the text of a powerful appeal.

It is said that La Tour d'Auvergne, the first grenadier of France, is still on the rolls of the fighting strength of the French Army, and at the periodic Roll Call, in answer to his name come back the words, " Dead on the Field."

This incident suggested to an officer in the Salvation Army some touching verses to the memory of Consul Emma Booth-Tucker, and with the first and last of these our brief sketch may fittingly close.

" Warrior Spirit, bold and daring. Others' hardships ever sharing, Spirit that would never yield, Fighting, suffering, on the Field.

While our Army Flag keeps waving, While immortal souls we're saving, On our Roll shall stand revealed— 'Consul, dead upon the Field.'"

Jfmncts Ixiiilcu l^i&crgaL

%

CHAPTER I.

OUTWARD SUNSHINE, INWARD CLOUDS.

"pEW children could be born into more favourable -^ conditions of life than those which surrounded the early days of the little girl who first saw the light at Astlcy Rectory, in Worcestershire, on December 14, 1836.

Frances Ridley Havergal was the youngest child of the Rev. William Henry Havergal, and Jane, his wife. Her sisters numbered three, and she had two brothers.

Mr. Havergal, physically, is described by one of his early parishioners as " a lithesome man—not a lithesomer in England." He could when young walk three miles in twenty-five minutes, and he " never touched the stiles— he'd go clean over them." Mentally, he was singularly gifted in musical composition, as it is scarcely necessary to tell any one who studies the names attached to the tunes in any of our church hymnals. As a pastor, the same old friend mentioned above testifies that " He do be in and out of the houses all the week, and that fetched them to church on the Sunday; and he do be as frequent to Dissenters as to t'others."

Mrs. Havergal, we are assured bj^ one who knew her intimately during the early part of her married life, possessed great beauty, and was noticeable for '' the brightness of her expression and the sparkle of her eye," which little

94 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

Frances inherited. That she was also a woman of deeply Christian character, quotations from her correspondence, and the records of her patience and resignation during the long and painful illness which ended her life at a comparatively early age, abundantly testifv.

The subject of our present sketch was therefore born to a goodly heritage from both her parents. Her second Christian name was given her by her godfather, the Rev, W. H. Ridley, a hneal descendant of the martyred Bishop, and with it may have come an influence towards that strong Protestantism, linked with a passionate attachment to the Church of England, for which Frances was conspicuous throughout her life. This feeling she expressed in one of her poems :—

"But what the R. doth represent I value and revere, A diamond clasp it seems to be, On golden chains, enlinking me In loyal love to England's hope, The Church I hold so dear."

Like so many rarely gifted children, Frances was remarkably precocious, and in accordance with the custom of fifty or sixty years ago, her education was commenced as soon almost as she could speak.

Her eldest sister Miriam was her first teacher, and she describes her two-year-old pupil as an extremely pretty child, with " fair complexion, light curling hair, and bright expression." At that age the little creature could already talk fluently, and learned reading, spelling, and one of Jane Taylor's rhymes for half-an-hour every morning. In the afternoon twenty or thirty stitches of needlework and a text of Scripture were the appointed task.

The play-study of the kindergarten was at that time unknown, but probably to little Frances' quick intelligence those early studies were no hardship, while between times she frolicked in the large Rectory garden with her pet dog.

She was still but an infant when she began to sing hymns, in imitation of her father, who possessed, in addition to musical genius, a " sweet, lovely voice." At three years

96 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

old she could read easy books with sufficient ease to enjoy them, and would frequently take refuge under a table to finish some absorbing tale.

On her fourth birthday, little Frances, strange to relate, was brought down after dinner to dessert crowned with a wreath of hay-leaves —singularly prophetic of the poetic fame that lay before her.

Her active brain being always eager for learning, the child acquired considerable knowledge of the German language by taking care to be always in the drawing-room while a professor was giving lessons to her sisters. At seven years old she wrote her first simple rhymes, naturally a reflection of the teaching she was accustomed to receive, and a forecast of the many hymns from her fluent pen which should resound throughout the churches of our land in years to come :—

"Sunday is a pleasant day,

When we to church do go ; For there we sing, and read and pray, And hear the sermon too.

On Sunday hear the village bells;

It seems as if they said, Go to the church where the pastor tells

How Christ for man has bled.

And if we love to pray and read

While we are in our youth. The Lord will help us in our need,

And keep us in His truth."

It will be noticed that the remarkable correctness of the rhythm of these lines is only marred by a syllable too many in line three of verse two. This suggests that the word " father " may have originally occupied the place of " the pastor," which would have been only natural as well as true.

Frances, like her father, was " lithesome," a buoyant, fairy-like sunbeam of a child, " sometimes a little wilful and troublesome from mere excess of animal spirits, but always affectionate and grateful for any little treat." She was intensely fond of Nature—blue sky, sunshine, and the

loveliness of green, waving trees having the most powerful influence over her, often quieting her restless spirit and soothing her with the peace of God when the loving exhortations of her friends had but little effect. She read all the poetry that came in her way, and was scarcely eight years old when she lighted upon Cowper's lines upon the beauty of the varied creations in God's world, ending—

" My Father made them all !"

Instantly there awakened in the child's heart an intense longing to make these words her own. Again and again they recurred to her, haunting her with the idea of an unattainable bliss, and causing her to say to herself a dozen times a day, " Oh, if God would but make me a Christian before the summer comes! " because she so longed to enjoy His beautiful works to the uttermost.

But, alas ! the popular theology of that day, ignoring the fact that our Saviour taught His followers that they must be " converted" in order to " become as little children," demanded of the httle ones themselves the moral convulsion known as " conversion," and this, for years, stood between the child Fanny and her Saviour's waiting love.

None guessed the spiritual hunger and darkness which often overshadowed that bright spirit, few could have imagined how the young heart was yearning for conscious union with the great Father, and was ever held back by inability to "become a Christian" according to the stereotyped experience on which her parents' creed insisted.

•' My general notion," she writes, in her autobiography of these seeking years, " was that I didn't love God at all, and was very bad and wicked altogether; that if I went on praying very much, something would come to me and change me all at once, and make me like many whom I read about and a few whom I saw."

Especially the monthly administration of the Lord's Supper so intensified the child's longing to come to God, that, being forbidden to be present even as a spectator, she would listen to the service through the closed vestry

G

98 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

door, and sob as she felt that it was not for her. But, like so many another sensitive and highly-strung child, Frances could not confide these sorrows to even those nearest and dearest ones, the lovehness of whose lives, in contrast to the severity of their theories, had been chiefly instrumental in arousing the hunger and thirst after righteousness with which her young soul was filled.

When eleven years old, Frances lost her mother. Her sorrow was overwhelming, but she has regretfully confessed that she " did not, would not, see God's hand " in the bitter stroke, and that it left her worse than it found her as regards her spiritual condition. Yet this hardened young sinner—as she even in after j'ears sincerely believed herself to have been—wrote at this time in her little book of poems:

"Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, Neither can man's heart conceive, The blessed things God hath prepared For those who love Him and believe."

And again—

"Oh ! had I the wings of a dove,

Soon, soon would I be at my rest; I would fly to the Saviour I love,

And there would I lie on His breast."

So the years of childhood passed on. Frances seems to have privately read her Bible and prayed with more than moderate regularitj^ and not infrequently cried herself to sleep at night over that hopeless conviction of her own great wickedness of heart which even at twenty-two years of age she records with special thankfulness, as an evidence of having been kept from the " deadly error " of daring to think herself " as good as others."

In the spring of 1850 these spasms of secret grief seem to have resolved themselves into an almost settled melancholy. Over the spirit of the young girl just entering her teens there came a strange new sense of the vanity of life and earth and everj-thing but " the one thing," and when alone, she often sat and thought about it all until she wept. Lying awake in bed she spent many an hotir

earnestly, and as it seemed to her poor bewildered little mind, vainly, praying for that gift of " faith "—so vaguely understood—without which she had been taught to believe that salvation would be impossible.

In August of that year, Frances for the first time went to boarding-school.

The lady under whose care she was placed—a Mrs. Teed, of Belmont—was a devoutly Christian woman, who knowing that that half-year would be the finale of a long course of school-work, was most anxious that it should be a time of great spiritual blessing to her pupils. She constantly prayed and spoke with the girls, both collectively and individually, concerning their souls, with the result that many conversions occurred. The two who were Frances' favourite companions were among those whose hearts were specially touched.

One of these, a girl named Mary, seems to have been the first to show Frances a better way than constantly brooding over her own guilt. She reminded her of the unconditional invitation of the Lord Jesus to every little child, and sweetly begged her, if she really felt that she was still a child, to go straight to Jesus Himself, and tell Him that she desired to love Him, and could not; assuring her that He would teach her. This sound advice Frances acted upon " in darkness and trembling," but the dawn of joy was not yet.

Her other favourite school-fellow, one whom she owns she " loved with a perfectly idolatrous affection," was " Diana." This young maiden—" the sunbeam of the school"—was one who had, like Frances, been wishing and praying for forgiveness a long time. One day, towards the close of the term, a realization of the Saviour's love suddenly burst upon her, and her joy was at once visible in both face and voice.

As soon as possible Diana sought her friend Fanny, and told her all her gladness, repeating the " good news " which Mary had already spoken. " Only come to Him, and He will receive you. Even now He loves you, though you don't know it."

But Frances went home for the Christmas holidays still

loo WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

" in the dim twilight of miserable and even disappointed longing."

Early in the next year she summoned courage to confide her trouble to Miss Cooke, the lady who soon afterwards became her loving step-mother. The latt'^r hopefully assured Frances of her firm belief that so great a desire for forgiveness was certain to be very shortly fulfilled, and urged her to commit her soul trustfully to the Saviour at once.

This suggestion brought the child the first gleam of hope with regard to rehgion which her fourteen years had ever experienced, and for a few days she was actually happy. A frequent renewing of that giving up of her soul to Christ which had produced the joy was able to recall it, and we may fairly record that the long-delayed "conversion" had at last taken place.

After the summer vacation of that year, Frances went to a new school, but before the term was ended a severe attack of erysipelas in the head and face put a stop to all her studies for many months.

To one with so great a love for learning this was a terrible trial, but Frances was able to w^ite to her friend, Elizabeth Clay:—" Still, I am sure it will all be right; and if I receive good things at the hand of such a Father, shall I murmur at such a drawback, which is only to teach me a lesson I must learn after all ? "

CHAPTER II.

GLEAMS OF LIGHT.

IN November 1852, Mr. Havergal's eyesight, which had for some time been failing, became so much worse as to lead him to visit Germany to consult an eminent oculist. His newly-wedded wife and his daughter Frances accompanied him.

As they decided to remain abroad some considerable time, it was arranged that the young girl should attend

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL loi

the " Louisenschule " in Dusseldorf, while Mr. and Mrs. Havergal travelled.

Among the one hundred and ten scholars at that school, Frances had reason to believe herself the only one who cared for religion. Different indeed from the gospel-saturated atmosphere at Belmont! But, she decided, " very bracing." She earnestly tried to bear witness for Christ and to win others, and a considerable amount of persecution followed, without any known good result among her companions.

Still she felt that these ungenial surroundings had made her " come out more boldly and decidedly on the Lord's side" than she might have done for years under other circumstances.

As regards her studies, she came off with flying colours. Her own account of the last examination is given in a letter to the young friend mentioned above. " In the Louisenschule, when a girl has not learnt everything (as you know I did not), she receives merely her testimony, but no number. This half-year, however, it seems that all the masters, in council assembled, were so very pleased with the Engliinderin's (English girl's) papers and conduct, that they agreed to break their rule for once, and honour me with Numero I., a thing which they had never done before ! "

The summer of 1853 found Frances at Obercassel, boarding with the Pastor Schulze-Berge and his wife, the former being for the time her tutor. With him she studied French and German Literature, the poets, and Universal History. She was exceedingly happy with this good pastor and " frau pastorin," and as a noble German family resided at Obercassel. to whose " court" the brilliant and charming young English girl was frequently invited, she had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with many members of the German aristocracy. Pastor Schulze-Berge's report of his interesting pupil, written to her sister many years afterwards, declares that " sho showed from the first such application, such rare talent, such depth of comprehension, that I can only speak of her progress as extraordinary. . . . What imprinted the stamp of nobility

I02 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

upon her whole being, and influenced all her opinions, was her true piety, and the deep reverence she had for her Lord and Saviour, whose example penetrated her young hfe through and through."

At the age of eighteen Frances was conlirmed. She had long been thinking of and preparing for this solemn time, and a detailed account of the ceremony and her own emotions was found among the sealed papers left to be opened by her sister after her death. In her manuscript book of poems, under date of that memorable day, she wrote—

"Oh ! 'Thine for ever,' what a blessed thing To be for ever His who died for me ! My Saviour, all my life Thy praise I'll sing, Nor cease my song throughout eternity."

Notes and verses found among her papers prove that she was in the habit of renewing this vow—to her so deep and real an act of consecration—every year until her death.

Returning home, Frances not only continued her studies with unabated energy, but began to contribute poetic enigmas and charades to those little publications of the period called "Pocket-books" and "Keepsakes." Up till past the middle of the last century these annuals afforded almost the only available opening to the young aspirant for the honours of literature, and the prizes which they offered, Frances, under the pen-name of " Sabrina " or " Zoide" (for no budding poet in those modest days ever dreamed of blazoning out his own real identity), often obtained. If the reward took the form of money, Frances, in imitation of her father's custom of devoting the proceeds of his musical compositions to God's work, sent it to the Church Missionary Society.

In the spring of 1856 came her first visit to the home of her married sister, Ellen, now Mrs. Shaw, of Celbridge Lodge, County Kildare, Ireland. Here she took all hearts by storm.

A young Irish school-girl, invited with others to spend an afternoon with the EngUsh visitor, describes the en-

trance of Frances into the drawing-room. " Carolling like a bird " she " flashed into the room ! Flashed ! Yes, 1 sav the word advisedly—flashed in like a burst of sunshme, like a hillside breeze, and stood before us, her fair, sunny curls falling round her shoulders, her bright eyes dancing her fresh, sweet voice ringing through the room. I shall never forget that afternoon—never! I sat perfectly spellbound as she sang chant and hymn with marvellous sweetness, and then played two or three pieces of Handel, which thrnied me through and through. . . . As we walked home down the shady avenue, one and another said—' Oh, isn't she lovely ? and doesn t she sing like a bom angel?' 'I love her, I do; and I'd follow her every step of the way back to ^England, if I could! ' Oh, she's a real Colleen Bawn ! ' "

Another of the class felt aU the time that there must be the music of God's own love in that fair singer s heart, and that so there was joy in her face, joy in her words ]oy m her ways. And the secret cry went up from that young Irish heart—" Lord, teach me, even me, to know and love

Thee too." , , . <. j ^ >> ^f ^

This living yet unspoken gospel, this good news ot a glad heart, beaming through the whole personality, is the most powerful of aU preaching. But Frances Havergal beHeving intensely in the definite, verbal utterance of one's own confession of faith before others and of direct appeals to them, deplored very sadly m after years that she had not spoken out more freely to those impressionable young Irish girls. On a subsequent visit a smging-class was formed, which she and they mutually enjoyed, but a few years after, as she sat by the sick-bed of the most gifted of them all, the girl confessed that m those happy summer evenings when their young leader used to walk down the avenue with them after class, she had Imgered, longing and hungering for a word " about the Saviour instead of "pleasant, general remarks fbou^ ^he nice hymns and tunes." Others, eventually, led the seeking soul to God, but, " Ah, Miss Frances," she said, I ought

to have been yours !" ^^^„^f

This was a lesson which the young lady never forgot.

I04 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

In after life she strove earnestly to let no opportunity slip, to allow no one who came even for a few minutes within the range of her speech, whether in the way of business or pleasure, to pass on without some plain words on the subject of salvation and the state of the soul before God.

With this decision came also the resolution never to use her beautiful voice—one of the many gifts of this richly-endowed nature—for any purpose but " singing the Gospel." " You cannot be all for Him," she writes, " as long as your voice is not for Him. Which shall it be ? All for Him, or partly for Him ? Answer that to Him whom you call Master and Lord."

Taking the view that everything not distinctly and obviously in the sendee of the Lord must be more or less on the opposite side, all secular music became taboo to her. Even " mildly sacred songs " seemed unsatisfactory, and as life advanced she adopted the rule of singing the words of Scripture almost exclusively. She even endorsed with delight the behef of one enthusiastic young friend, that a severe cold on the chest, caught the very evening that the latter, after some doubts, had consented to take part in a secular concert, was a direct sign that such a performance was unpleasing to God.

Although outwardly so brimful of life and spirits, Frances Havergal appears to have never possessed really good health. After reading of the impression of joy and radiance which her looks conveyed, it is strange to find her experiencing a morbid thrill of delight at fancying, from the flushed appearance of her face in the glass one evening, that she might possibly be the victim of consumption !

The strong common-sense of the present day has routed the feeble sentimentality of " the fifties." Now, as good a Christian girl as Frances would rejoice at the prospect of a long life of useful service, but the religious literature and thought of half-a-century ago set forth the superior attractiveness of early death and a speedy entrance into the realms of bliss.

Of course the subject of our present sketch was an earnest

Sunday School teacher. She kept a sort of diary of her scholars, whom she dearly loved, and as this is dated from 1846 to i860, it would appear that she first undertook so responsible a position when between nine and ten years old ! In this age of constantly advancing efficiency in all who attempt to instruct the young, such a state of affairs seems inconceivable, but other instances could be mentioned of well-brought-up children of that period, especially clergymen's daughters, beginning to teach the small villagers in their neighbourhood at a remarkably early age. Presumably, all that was required was instruction in spelling out the Bible, and committing to memory verses of Scripture and hymns. We should have further supposed the discipline difficulty to have been unheard-of in those primitive and well-ordered days, but the young teacher herself says, " At one time I had desperateljr up-hill work, for mine was then the worst class in the school, and, out of fourteen, only a small minority were even hopeful." But surely, when this experience was reached, Frances herself was past childhood.

In i860, Mr. Havergal, after fifteen years' work at St. Nicholas, Worcester, removed to the little country parish of Shareshill. This was chiefly for the benefit of his own health. One of the first improvements his coming effected was the abolition of the Sunday post. This was a question on which Frances always felt very keenly that many Christian people did not realize their responsibilities. " * No manner of work,' " she wrote, shortly before her death, " must include postal delivery, and it is not right to ignore it."

About this time she was at last able to say that she had " lost that weary bondage of doubt, and almost despair, which'chained me for so many years. I have the same sins and temptations as before, and I do not strive against them more than before, and it is often just as hard work. But, whereas I could not see why I should be saved, I now cannot see why I should not be saved if Christ died for all. . . . His death is really my confidence, and I have tasted the sweetness of one new thing— praise / "

Yet, before long, we find her " borne back into all the

io6 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

old difficulties of the way, with many sin-made aggravations." " I think," she adds, in her autobiographical record of all her inner life, " the great root of all my trouble and alienation is that I do not now make an unreserved surrender of myself to God, and until this is done I shall know no peace. I am sure of it. I have so much to regret; a greater dread of the opinion of worldly friends, a loving of the world, and proportionate cooling in heavenly desire and love."

She had been singing in the Philharmonic Concerts, and feared that the pleasure which public applause gave her was hindering her spiritual progress. Therefore, when ill-health interrupted these performances, she accepted it as a sign from God. " No one," she declares, " professing to be a Christian at all, could possibly have had a more cloudy, fearing, doubting, sinning, and wandering heart-history than mine has been through many years."

The comment of her sister and biographer, Maria V. G. Havergal, upon these confessions is : " Deep borings, even down into darksome depths, often precede the supply of unfailing springs of refreshing water. Thus my dear sister knew much of doubt and gloom, so that she might be able to comfort others and reveal to them God's deep teachings in the darkness."

It was Frances' custom to pray in private three times a day. She kept a paper in her Bible, with the subject of each prayer-hour carefully arranged. Those of the earlier devotions were mainly for spiritual gifts and graces; those of the evening for pardon, for a vision of her own sinfulness, and against the special weakness of drowsiness in the morning, to which her delicate health and need of rest rendered her liable. Had she been granted wisdom to substitute for the latter petition a prayer against her tendency to over-work, a valuable life might have been prolonged. As it was, her feverish energy impelled her to drive a fragile body to its utmost limit of endurance, distressing a kind old servant, and doubtless many another who loved her, by getting to her Latin books long before breakfast, and using up every odd minute in some kind of work or study.

Frequent breaks-down in health and the enforced idleness of being " laid up " were the natural result. It was a poor economy of life, at best.

CHAPTER III.

WITH VOICE AND PEN.

HAVING dwelt at length upon the inner, spiritu^ development of Frances Havergal from childhood to maturity, we will now turn our attention to her in-

Her first accepted contribution to a real magazine appears to have been her well-known hymn " I gave my life for Thee," It was suggested to her during a visit to Germany in 1858, through casually sitting down to rest opposite that picture of the Crucifixion which usually bears this motto. The verses flashed upon her like an inspiration, and she at once noted them down on a scrap of paper. But she was not pleased with the result, and tossed it into the fire. As, however, the paper feU out unharmed, she decided to keep it. Some time after she showed them to her father, who was so favourably impressed that he wrote the tune " Baca " speciaUy to go with them.

These verses subsequently appeared in Good Words, ana occasioned a request from the editor for further poetical contributions from the same pen. .

The first cheque the young authoress received she characteristically devoted entirely to sacred uses. Ihe bulk of the money she gave to her dear father (he accepted the love, but not the cheque), hoping to further some one or other of the religious objects he had always at heart, and the remainder she divided between similar

works. . ,

The delight of this first achievement was, however, but the forerunner of a keen disappointment. Not from any failure of literary success, but because the over-taxed mind was too much for the frail body. The doctors

io8 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

fiat was, " She must choose between writing and living. She can't do both."

Thus for nine years the pen was laid aside. When, after this interval of waiting, Frances published her first book, The Ministry of Song, she regarded the delay not as the result of any error in self-management, but as the direct interposition of the Divine Will, " because He knows best what will really ripen and further His work in us."

The precise date when Frances first discovered her wonderful gift for musical composition does not appear, but it was evidently somewhere between '60 and '65.

Towards the close of the latter year she revisited her friends in Germany, and took the opportunity of obtaining the opinion of the German musician, Hiller, on the merits of her work. This was at the earnest desire of her former tutor, Pastor Schulze-Berge, but sorely against her own inclination, because, she modestly confesses, " I expected nothing but utter quenching from such a man."

Her father and step-mother were at that time staying at Bonn, and the latter accompanied Frances to an appointed interview with the great composer.

He received them kindly, and then in silence proceeded to examine the volume of melodies which the young lady had submitted for his verdict.

When about three-quarters through, he suddenly asked, " What instruction have you had ? "

" I told him," Frances relates, " of Hatherley's having corrected my first six songs, and my having a musical father, to whom I occasionally referred difficult points, and with whom I had musical talk in general. ' I do not care anything about that,' said he. ' I mean, what regular musical course have you gone through, and under what professor ? ' I told him I had done nothing of the sort. He looked very hard at me, as if to see if I was telling the truth, and then turned back to my music, saying, ' In that case I find this very remarkable ! ' "

The professor subsequently told Frances that although he saw no sign of great creative power in her melodies, he was astonished at her harmonies. "It is something singular," he said, " to find such grasp of the subject, such

power of harmonization, except where there has been long and thorough study and instruction; here I can give ahuost unlimited praise."

On being asked whether there was promise enough in her efforts to make it advisable for her to devote herself to music as a life-work, he replied that he could sincerely and unhesitatingly say that there was.

Hiller recommended to Frances a book of exercises, which she conscientiously determined to go through before attempting any more composition. Of course she had, in an amateur way, studied harmony years before—chiefly by reading as much of a treatise on the subject as she could grasp last thing every night before going to bed, and working out the exercises in her head before falling asleep— but the amazement and almost scepticism of the great man on hearing that she had been through no regular " academical course," was an immense compliment.

Needless to say, this gifted musician-poetess was an exquisite pianist. Her sister says : " Often she sang for me her recitative and air to the words in Isaiah xii. . . . The third verse, ' Therefore with joy,' etc., was real water-music ; the notes seemed sparkles of water dropping gladly, and the illusion was so perfect that one's soul seemed refreshingly sprayed with joy."

We may here mention that this elder sister, Maria, had often anticipated she might have Frances to play and sing to her when she was dying, little thinking the younger one would be called first. Yet, during the long and painful months that Maria lay sick unto death, the memory of those lovely melodies again and again returned to her with such extraordinary vividness that it was sometimes difficult for her to realize that she was not listening to them with her outward ears. It seems scarcely fanciful to imagine that the blessed spirit of the departed was allowed thus to communicate with the mind of the dear one left behind, and soothe her sufferings in the very way that they had been wont to promise one another should be. Many an hour of pain was beguiled to Maria Havergal by these wonderful mental reproductions of her sister's music.

Frances' touch, we are told, was instinct with soul, as

no WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

was also her singing. A pupil of Beethoven once pronounced her rendering of the Moonlight Sonata " perfect " ; and her memory was such that she would play through Handel and much of Beethoven and Mendelssohn without any notes.

The Rev. W. H. Havergal died on Easter Tuesday morning, 1870, aged seventy-seven. It was quite unexpectedly, from apoplexy.

"... There was no last word of love,

So suddenly on us the sorrow fell; His bright translation to the home above

Was clouded with no shadow of farewell ; His last Lent evening closed with praise and prayer, And then began the songs of endless Easter there,"

It was soon after her father's death that Frances began preparing Havergal's Psalmody for the press. This book was afterwards largely used in connection with the Rev. C. B. Snepp's Hymnal, Songs of Grace and Glory, to which compilation Frances herself contributed several original compositions.

In nothing did she miss the comradeship and counsel of her dearly-loved father more than in his advice about her music. One morning, shortly after her bereavement, she was puzzling over some difficult point which he coidd at once have made clear to her, when there flashed into her mind the words, " Thou art the Helper of the fatherless." This was instant comfort to her, and she formed the habit of seeking Divine help in both her musical and poetic composition, accepting the thoughts and ideas that came to her as sent direct from God.

" Writing is praying with me," she told a friend; " for I never seem to ^vrite even a verse by myself, and feel like a little child writing. You know a child would look up at every sentence, and say, ' And what shall I say next ? ' That is just what I do ; I ask that at every line He would give me, not merely thoughts and power, but also every word, even the very rhymes. Very often I have a most distinct and happy consciousness of direct answers."

Of course it was a deep joy to this consecrated young

genius to hear of her poems or music being used and blessed by God, and she fully realized the high privUege that was

hers. ,, . ^

" Literal ' singing for Jesus,' " she wrote, is to me, somehow, the most personal and direct commission I hold from my beloved Master ; and my opportunities for it are often most curious, and have been greatly blessed ; every hne in my little poem ' Singing for Jesus' is from personal experience."

In this connection it may not be out of place to relate one instance of the kind of work for her Master which she was able so often to accomplish, and also of a strangely granted prayer.

Frances Havergal, than whom a more loyal soul never lived, was accustomed to pray especially for our dear Queen Victoria's youngest child, and one day, when revising the proofs"' of her elegantly got-up volume Life Mosaic, with its exquisite coloured illustrations of Alpine flowers and scenery by the Baroness Helga von Cramm, she exclaimed, " Oh, I should so like to send one to the Princess Beatrice! "

There seemed, however, to be no means of approach to her Royal Highness, and Frances made the matter a subject of special petition.

During a subsequent visit to London, she was present at an amateur musical evening, where she was much interested by the beautiful singing of an Italian lady.

Presently Frances herself was invited to sing, and after rendering one of Handel's compositions, was persuaded to give the company a song of her own. ^ ^

She chose, " Whom, having not seen, ye love.' She always sang so rejoicingly," says her sister, " the words ' Though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice, up the scale of joy, and then the deep adoring thrill, ' With joy unspeakable and full of glory.' "

As she left the piano, the Italian lady, her eyes full of tears, whispered, "Miss Havergal, I envy you! Your words and face tell me you have something I have not.

A pleasant correspondence followed this interview, and when it transpired that the lady was well acquamted with

112 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

the Princess Beatrice, Frances ventured to make her the intermediary of her longed-for offering to her Roj^al Highness. The book was graciously accepted, and in return the Princess sent the poetess her photograph, with her autograph written beneath it, and a pleasant assurance that she admired the poetry.

Long after, the surviving sister was gratified to see an extract from Frances' lines on " September," enwreathed by the same Princess in heather and autumnal leaves, in her artistic Birthday Book.

Frances' intense sense of what we may almost call " verbal inspiration " as regarded her compositions, enabled her to take all experiences connected with them in a spirit of complete submission, believing everything, good or bad, to be equally an ordering of the Divine Will.

Thus, when a fire occurring at her publisher's totally destroyed the results of six months' labour, of which she had no copy or even a memorandum to assist her memory, she took it that she had been too anxious to get the book done (it was an Appendix to Songs of Grace and Glory), that she might hasten on to other work of her " owa. choosing and planning." Therefore she thanked God for mercifully giving her another opportunity of doing these hymns more patiently and more for Him.

In the same spirit she regarded as an especial mark of Divine favour a relapse after the serious attack of typhoid fever which had almost proved fatal in '74 and '75. Lamenting that in the earlier part of her illness she had not "glorified Him in the fires," because " after I had lost all my strength, I could not bear the pain without moaning and crying out, and showing eagerness for remedies," she felt that a recurrence of illness was a proof of God's pardon and a gracious opportunity of learning the " turned lesson " over again.

In the limited space at our disposal, it would be impossible to give extracts from the melodious poems which have made the name of Frances Havergal so widely known and dearly loved both in this country and across the seas. We must content ourselves with mentioning a few of her works.

The Ministry of Song was, as we have already indicated, her first volume of poetry, and was published in 1869. This was followed by companion volumes, Under the Surface and Under His Shadow, in all of which the heart-experiences of the writer as well as her spiritual revelations and inspirations are set forth, as one reviewer expressed it, " with truth, delicacy, and sweetness." " Each poem," said a well-known religious weekly, speaking of Under the Surface, " is a life-song and a heart-story," and every one breathes that profound devotion to a personal Saviour which was the joy of the writer's radiant Ufe. The power for good of these books can be hardly over-estimated, for they have reached a circulation of hundreds of thousands, and no one can read them without being spiritually uplifted.

But, perhaps, in the devotional world, Miss Havergal's prose works have had even greater popularity than her poems. Kept for the Master's Use, a little book, which it is hardly necessary to remind our readers has for its text the twelve couplets of F. R. H.'s own universally sung Consecration hymn, is a Christian classic, endorsed in its noble aspirations by the most devout souls in every denomination. My king, or Daily Thoughts for the King's Children, is scarcely less widely appreciated; this, and three companion volumes of the same series— Royal Commandments, Royal Bounty, and Loyal Responses —show most wonderful typical meanings in innumerable little-noticed passages of the Old Testament, particularly in the history of King David. Miss Havergal displays striking insight—sometimes one is almost tempted to call it ingenuity—in discovering hidden allusions to the relation of Christ's servants to their Lord. The Royal Invitation and Starlight through the Shadows are also somewhat on these her favourite lines.

A tender lover of children. Miss Havergal could not be content to leave them without a share in the Divine feast. Little Pillows, being Good Night Thoughts for the Little Ones, has had great vogue ; Morning Bells, being Waking Thoughts for the Little Ones, scarcely less so, and Morning Stars, or Names of Christ for His Little Ones, follows them

H

114 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

closely. Bruey, the story of " a Little Worker for Christ," has been much liked, and The Four Happy Days is a pretty story in which under the name of " Annie " the authoress tells the experiences of her own child-life, especially those relating to the death of her mother.

Of the hymns, sacred songs, innumerable articles for magazines, the booklets and the papers on all kinds of religious topics which flowed from Miss Havergal's untiring pen, we can only speak in passing. Her private correspondence was also voluminous, and it is in letters to individuals that her sweetness of manner, intense earnestness, and bright, practical piety are ofttimes seen at their best.

CHAPTER IV.

* ONLY FOR THEE !

FRANCES HAVERGAL'S life was not only richly dowered with natural gifts, but her circumstances were in every way of the most happy and favoured. She was an illustration of the truth that from those to whom much is given much will be required ; nor did she disappoint Him who had so lavished blessings upon her that she might as abundantly impart to others.

In addition to the privilege of being surrounded by relatives and friends of a high degree of Christian excellence, and persons of aU classes who regarded her wherever she went with loving admiration, she possessed the advantage of complete freedom from all the sordid and depressing cares of lower middle-class life, and the opportunity of frequent travel in delightful companj^.

In girlhood, as we have seen, she enjo3'ed a long sta}? in Germany, visiting several interesting spots. This was iollowed by visits to her sister's home in Ireland. But a greater event was Frances' first sight of Switzerland, whither she journeyed, in May 1869, with her brother-in-law, Mr. Crane, his wife and eldest daughter. As usual,

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL ti5

she carefully wrote in her diary of every scene she looked upon, and all the emotions to which it gave rise. Some of her descriptions are gems of word-painting.

Thus she describes the Rhine Falls:—" It was fascinating to look down on the wild rapids, sheets of glass-like transparency, flowing swiftly over rock tables; then a sudden precipice below water, which might go down to any depth, only that you are not looking down into darkness, but into emerald and snow mingled and transfused marvellously. . . . You look up, and see masses of bright water hurled everlastingly, irresistibly down, down, down, with a sort of exuberance of the joy of utter strength : you look across, and see shattered diamonds by millions leaping and glittering in the sunshine; you look down, and it is a tremendous wrestling and overcoming of flood upon flood, all the more weirdly grand that it is half hidden in the clouds of spray."

During this tour Frances enjoyed the realization of her childhood's dream and longing, and beheld snow mountains for the first time. She was deeply impressed. " I never saw anything material and earthly," she writes, " which so suggested the ethereal and heavenly . . . and one could better fancy them to be the visible foundations of the invisible celestial city, bearing some wonderful relation to its transparent gold and crystal sea, than only snow and granite."

From Switzerland she soon after travelled back to the Highlands of Scotland, the scenery of which pleased her

greatly.

In 1871 Frances again visited Switzerland with her friend Elizabeth Clay. They had a most delightful tour Qf several weeks' duration, and our poetess rapturously pictures an Alpine dawn and sunrise :—" When we came oul we saw the ' daffodil sky ' which Tyndall describes— in the east a calm glory of expectant light as if something positively celestial must come next, instead of merely the usual sun. In the south-west the grand mountains stood, white and perfectly clear, as if they might be waiting for the resurrection, with the moon shining pale and radiant over them, the deep Rhone valley dark and grave-like in

n6 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

contrast below. As we got higher, the first rose-flush struck the Mischabel and Weisshom, and Monte Leon came to Ufe too ; it was real rose-fire, delicate yet intense. The Weisshom was in its full glory, looking more perfectly lovely than any earthly thing I ever saw. When the tip of the Matterhom caught the red light on its evil-looking rocky peak, it was just like a volcano, and looked rather awful than lovely, giving one the idea of an evil angel, impotently wrathful, shrinking away from the serene glory and utter purity of a holy angel, which that Weisshom at dawn might represent, if anything earthly could."

1872 finds our mountain-clamberer on the top of Snowdon. Wales, she declared, no more suffers in comparison with Switzerland " than a forget-me-not beside a rose." Her favourite mountain verse was, " Unto Thee, O Lord, do we give thanks, for that Thy name is near Thy wondrous works declare."

In 1873 Frances was back again in her beloved Switzerland, this time with her friends Mr. and Mrs. Snepp, and their daughter Emily. It was during this visit that her high spirits and delight in physical activity nearly led to sad disaster. She had a perfect passion for " glissading " down icy slopes, and excitement on one occasion getting the better of discretion, she and her guide were all but precipitated into a fathomless abyss. It was Mr. Snepp's presence of mind that saved their lives.

In 1874 Switzerland was again revisited, in company of her niece and other friends. A word-picture of " Sunset on the Faulhorn " was the gem of her " circular letters " home during this tour, but it is too long to be quoted here.

1875 was the year of Miss Havergal's serious illness, and subsequent relapse, already alluded to, and she did not leave England, but appears to have had a pleasant autumnal sojourn at picturesque Whitby. The following summer, however, found her escorting her sister Miriam to the beauties of the Alps.

It was during this sojourn that, at Champery, Frances became acquainted with the Baroness Helga von Cramm,

FRAN'CES RIDLEY HAVKRGAL.

a gifted artist, in collaboration with whom she soon after published an exquisite series of cards, bearing Alpine views and verses. This seems to have been the last glimpse of Switzerland.

In 1878, Somersetshire, Devonshire, and Wales were all visited. It was from the lovely " Welsh nest," at Caswell Bay, Swansea, that in June of the following year her soul winged its way to the glories of the Heavenly Land.

During all these journeys, wherever she went and whenever she stopped, this zealous evangelist seized every opportunity of speaking of the Saviour to all around her. The sunny beauty of her countenance, so often remarked, the unaffected joyousness of her manner, and her merry laugh, were ever the greatest possible recommendations of the religion she preached.

She was always ready to give, not only the little books and papers she invariably carried with her for the purpose, but her own time and energy—herself, in fact—to any whom she felt she might by any means help.

At Ormont Dessus, during one of her Swiss tours, she willingly gave up best part of a morning which she had intended to employ in writing a poem, to talk to a labouring man and his sons who crossed her path. This opportunity was a direct answer to her prayer to be made " just as willing to do any little bit of work for Him . , . simple and unseen, as this other piece of work which might win something of man's praise."

Soon after her return from this holiday, Frances, though actually in the first stages of typhoid fever, put herself to considerable inconvenience to see, during a railway journey, a young stranger whom her sister had written her was needing help. " It will be well worth any fatigue," she said, " if I can comfort her."

When visiting at the houses of relatives or friends it was the same thing. The sen^ants of the family and the cottagers around alike adored the sweet-voiced, sunshiny lad}^ who spoke to them so winningly about higher things. " Bible-readings in the servants' hall, kind talks alone, and helpful prayers, are all remembered."

F. R. H.'s own account of how she came to write her most popular hymn—

" Take my life and let it be Consecrated, Lord, to Thee,"

is a fair instance of the way in which she worked for her Master when enjoying the hospitahty of friends.

" T went for a little visit of five days. There were ten persons in the house, some unconverted and long prayed for, some converted but not rejoicing Christians. He gave me the prayer, ' Lord, give me all in this house ! ' And He just did ! Before I left the house every one had got a blessing. The last night of my visit I was too happy to sleep, and passed most of the night in praise, and renewal of my own consecration, and these little couplets formed themselves and chimed in my heart one after another, till they finished with, ' Ever, only, ALL for Thee ! ' "

Again: '" I was at a large regular London party lately, and I was so happy. He seemed to give me 'the secret of His presence,' and of course I sang ' for Jesus,' and did not I have dead silence > Afterwards I had two really important conversations with strangers ; one seemed extremely surprised at finding himself quite easily drifted from the badinage with which he started into a right-down personal talk about his personal danger and his only hope of safety ; he took it very well, and thanked me."

In her correspondence. Miss Havergal of course found abundant opportunities for introducing the one paramount topic of interest; both in communicating to other Christians the helpful revelations and rich Biblical " finds " which were sent to her by her Master, and in urging the blessedness of the consecrated life upon those who had not yet tasted its joys. To her own large circle of nephews and nieces she was indeed a guiding, guardian angel.

To one little child she writes :—

<(

Dearest ' little thing,'

"Let the Lord lead you, let Him have you altogether. And, dear pet, blessing hardly ever comes alone ; if He

I20 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

has the joy of winning you altogether for Himself, He won't stop there; He will do more, He is doing so here. . . . I feel most deeply for you. Keep very close to Jesus, my darling, and ask JHim never to let you take back what you have now given Him. Be His entirely, without any reserve, and He will be yours entirely." . . .

Of course, so widely-popular a writer received shoals of letters, from shoals of persons, on all possible subjects, both relevant and irrelevant, especially from would-be authors, who calmly asked to have their MSS. carefully read and criticized, without the least regard to the time and labour that must be expended upon them.

The following is a specimen of the multifarious requests that reached her, by one post: —

" Request for contribution to Irish Church Advocate. Hymns for special New Year Services wanted. To write cards suitable for mourners. For set of six more ' Marching Orders.' Request for poems to illustrate six pictures. For prayer, S3'mpathy and counsel (two sheets crossed). Two sheets from a septuagenarian, requiring thought. Request to write a book suitable for Unitarians. Sundry inquiries and apologies from one who had been printing her verses with another author's name. Request to reprint an article, with four explanatory enclosures. Also to revise a proof, and add my opinion. To revise many sheets of musical manuscripts. Three requests to supply cards for Bazaars. Advice wanted how to get articles inserted in magazines. To recommend pupils. To promote a new magazine. To give opinion on an oratorio. Some long poems in manuscript to revise and advise thereon. Besides packets of leaflets and cards wanted."

To partially meet such overwhelming pressure, a circular was printed, giving numbered answers to the most constantly recurring queries, which could be marked according to the correspondent's particular question or questions. But even with the relief this afforded, many hours a day were unavoidably occupied in replying to individuals whose special needs could not be brought under any general heading. Of course, appeals for spiritual

advice were always answered personally and at full length. The amount of Bible-noting and marking, and also of diary-writing which Miss Havergal's marvellously active pen also accomplished is simply astonishmg. At the beginning of the last year of her life a friend sent her a little Journal of Mercies, in which she took great delight in entering whichever " mercy " seemed uppermost in her mind for each day, " not one in a thousand, though ! she characteristically comments.

It often happens that the pen and the needle are not equaUy favoured by the same hand. One is therefore rather surprised to find that Frances Havergal was an accomplished needlewoman. Her work, we are told, ' was exquisite, from the often despised darmng to the most delicate lace-work and embroidery." She actually confessed " I do like getting a whole pile of socks to mend when 'l visit busy mothers; and at missionary working parties it amused me to see my plam-sewmg handed round. But as we once heard a gifted lady remark— It a woman has brains, she ought to be able to do everytJnng better than one who has not! " And records of the varied accomplishments of feminine geniuses seem to bear this out.

The mention of embroidery and lace-work suggests the inquiry as to how much of outward adornment this apostle of entire consecration deemed allowable to a Christian. ^^

Speaking on her couplet " Take my silver and my gold, she said: "As He has entrusted to me a body for my special charge, I am bound to clothe that body with His silver and gold so that it shall neither suffer from cold nor bnng discredit upon His cause ! . . . H the King's daughter is to be ' all glorious within,' she must not be outwardly a fright' I must dress both as a lady and a Christian. The question of cost I see very strongly, and do not consider myself at liberty to spend on dress that which might be spared for God's work." (This latter remark would certainly apply as well to time as to money/) She adds: " By dressing unremarkably, yet with a generally pleasmg effect, no attention is distracted. ... But I shaU always ask for guidance in all things."

Her jewellery Miss Havergal had long ago given up to

122 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

be sold for the benefit of a missionary society, with the exception of one or two brooches for actual use, and sundry small memorials of departed friends, which she " redeemed " for their value in cash. But the fact that she brought as a gift for a friend when returning from one of her Swiss tours a locket of " crystal and amethyst," with the remark that " The very words ' crystal and amethyst' are like a far gleam from the heavenly city," shows that she did not consider the wearing of precious stones to be an inherently sinful thing.

Temperance work ever claimed the warmest advocacy of F. R. H.'s tongue and pen. She appears to have realized increasingly the imperative need of total abstinence among Christian workers, for while, when visiting Switzerland in 1871, she records the mutual drinking in " red wine " of a toast with some friendly Italians who lunched one day at the same spot as she and her companion, her chapter on " Take my lips " in Kept for the Master's Use, which was completed not long before her death, concludes with these words:—"I only say here, you who have said, * Take my lips,' stop and repeat that prayer next time you put that to your lips which is binding men and women hand and foot, and delivering them over, helpless, to Satan ! Let those words pass once more from your heart out through 3^our lips, and I do not think you will feel comfortable in letting the means of such infernal work pass in through them."

It was Temperance work, indeed, that was uppermost in Miss Havergal's mind during the very last weeks of hei life, and it was her enthusiasm in this particular cause which prompted the indiscretion as regards health that directly brought on her fatal illness.

It was at Caswell Bay, on May 21, 1879, ^^^^ Frances Havergal fulfilled an engagement to meet some men and boys on the village bank, to speak to them on the subject of taking the pledge.

Ever since her serious illness in '74 and '75, her health, never robust, had been more delicate than ever, and what were termed " feverish attacks," and supposed to arise mainly from, debility, were of frequent occurrence. The

greatest care should have been taken that she was never exposed to the risk of catching cold. But on this particular occasion a most unfortunate spot was chosen for the meeting it was a day of rain and mist, and after standing a long time in the damp, Miss Havergal returned " wet

and chilly." , ,

Next day she felt poorly, but not bad enough to remain indoors; the day after, however, as the sense of chill increased, she was seen by a doctor. On May 24 she was confined to her bed, yet no one suspected that this attack of indisposition was to prove any more serious than many of apparently the same sort which had preceded it.

On the 26th she used her pen for the last time, to correct a proof of Morning Stars. Still she was not suffering, and even her doctor did not anticipate danger. Not until the eighth day subsequent to the fatal chill did distressing symptoms make their appearance. Then " jever and internal inflammation came rapidly on, and aU the symptoms and agony of peritonitis."

From that time forward there was Uttle rehef from pam, and " all remedies failed." .

Her brother and sisters were sent for, and quickly came. They sang to her and prayed with her as she could bear it during the succeeding days, and she thanked them, and all about her, most sweetly for their kindness. But her constant thought was of rapturous joy that the meetmg with her King, for which all her life she had been longing, was actually at last drawing near.

" Beautiful! Too good to be true ! " she said, when one of her doctors told her that probably she would go that very day ; and she was heard to murmur, " So beautiful to go ! " again and again during the last hours.

At length, early on Whit Tuesday, June 3, release came. A few minutes before the end, she was able to sing, " clearly, though faintly," a verse of the hymn, " Jesus, I will trust Thee ! " to her own tune " Hermas." _

And then, to quote Miss Maria Havergal's description ot the closing scene :—" For ten minutes we watched that almost visible meeting with her King, and her countenance was so glad, as if she were already talking to Him. Ihen

124 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON she tried to sing, but after one sweet, high note,' He-

her voice failed, and as her brother commended her soul into her Redeemer's hand, she passed away. Our precious sister was gone—satisfied—glorified—within the palace of her King ! "

The remains of the " sweet singer" were carried to Astley, to be buried beside those of her beloved father. A golden star, of Banksia roses, and a poet's wreath of laurel and bay were conspicuous among the many floral tributes laid upon her grave. It had been a dark and stormy day, but just as the burial service was ending the hearts of the many mourners were comforted by a gleam of June sunshine, and the birds burst into melody all around.

Upon the north side of the family tomb, under the branches of a fir-tree planted by her father, is the inscription :—

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL,

YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF THE REV. W. H. HAVERGAL, AND JANE HIS WIFE.

Born at Astley Rectory, 14th December 1836. Died at CasweU Bay, Swansea, 3rd June 1879. Aged 42.

By her writings in piose and verse, she, " being dead, yet speaketh."

" The blood of jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all

sin." —I John i. 7.

Photo. l'y\ THE GRAVE OF FRANCES KlULEY HAVERGAL. Ul. K. Ucmsvjonh.

CHAPTER I.

A FOREST CHILD.

RIGHTLY and fairly to judge the character of any human being, one should be well acquainted with his family history for several generations before he was born. This being in most cases impossible, it is better, obviously, to judge very mercifully, or not at all. Concerning the subject now before us, the almost unique personality of the Hindu lady, Pundita Ramabai, we must, to discover the earliest perceivable trace of her mental and spii"itual origin, go back to the beginning of the last century.

At that period, a young Brahmin student at Poona, Ananta Shastri by name, chanced—" eternal God that chance did guide "—to have for his tutor in Sanskrit a gentleman who was also tutor to one of the roj-al Princesses. How it came about that this little lady was thus taught we are not informed, for at that time it was a thing almost undreamed-of in India for a woman to learn so much as to read and write. However, Ananta Shastri was much impressed by the fact that a girl actually could be taught as well as a boy, and conceived the wild and revolutionary idea that he would like an educated wife !

His own course of study completed, the young Brahmin returned to his home in the Mangalore district, full of a generous enthusiasm to impart to the girl-bride who was

waiting for him all he himself had attained. But neither the maiden herself nor Shastri's mother was inclined to give him any encouragement. " He will be wanting to teach a primer to the chickens next ! " they derisively said.

So he was forced to relinquish his hopes.

In course of years, Ananta Shastri's children grew up, and his wife died. At about forty years of age, being an earnest and devout man, he undertook a pilgrimage to one of the sacred rivers of India. Bathing one morning in its waters, he met with a fellow-pilgrim of his own caste. The latter was a man with several daughters to dispose of, who, having learned a few particulars as to the clan and position of the stranger, agreed, gladly enough, to give him in marriage a fine little girl of nine years old.

Needless to say, the wishes of the child or her mother were not deemed of any account whatever. She was soon prepared for her journey of nine hundred miles to her future home, and Ananta Shastri set out to return, all his blighted hopes of an educated wife springing once more into life.

This time, although he bargained with his mother that he should teach his Httle bride to read, he still found the opposition of relatives and fellow-Brahmins so great that at last he carried her off to a rude home in the forest, where they could pursue their studies unmolested. Here many a night the tiny wife lay under her quilt, shaking with terror at the howls of the wild beasts that prowled around, while Ananta Shastri, like a true knight, kept guard with drawn sword outside. He seems indeed to have treated her with a tender and chivalrous solicitude that invests the strange story with the beauty of tnie romance, and must have taught love to the child's young heart while her mind was imbibing the Puranas' sacred lore.

As time passed on, and the girl bride became the mother of a son and daughters, their father, now an old man, adhering to his enlightened views with regard to education, caused them all, impartially, to be instructed in reading, writing, and the sacred learning of the Brahmins. His wife gladly aided him in teaching her children, but so utterly did his friends disapprove of such revolutionary

128 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

proceedings, that Ananta, finding himself socially ostracized, took up a permanent abode in the forest.

Here, in April 1858, was born to this singular pair their youngest child, a Httle girl, who was given the name of Ramabai. This means " sister of Rama," the goddess of light—an unconscious prophecy of her future life, for truly has Ramabai been a light to those who for ages had sat in impenetrable gloom.

The child was unusually bright and intelligent. Early taught by a fond mother in the scriptures of Hinduism, she at the age of twelve years had committed to memory no less than eighteen thousand verses from these sacred writings. Sanskrit, the language in which they are written, thus became perfectly famihar to her. From hearing her parents speak Marathi, she became fluent in this dialect also, as well as Kanarese, Hindustani and Bengali, which she acquired during the wanderings of the family.

Along with Ananta Shastri's advanced ideas on the subject of female education, he held opinions differing from those of his co-religionists as to the child-marriage of girls. Therefore, we find Ramabai at fifteen or sixteen years of age still living with her parents, sister, and brother at home. On other points, however, the family observed the utmost strictness in regard to Brahminical usages. On one occasion, during a sea-voyage of three days* duration, when meals prepared in accordance with their own caste codes could not be obtained, they all not only fasted totally from all solid food, but did not relieve their thirst by a single drop of water, lest it should contain ceremonial defilement.

In advanced age the good old pundit was overtaken by poverty, infirmity and blindness, the first-named affliction resulting more or less from too lavish hospitality towards religious pilgrims and students. Then came the terrible famine of 1874-77. The family of Ananta Shastri, though so well versed in the sacred learning of the Brahmins, possessed no secular education by which money might be earned, and to engage in any kind of manual labour would involve loss of caste—to them, an inconceivable degradation. So, beheving their misfortunes to be the punish-

ment for some unknown sin, there was nothing left for them but to endeavour to propitiate the gods, and so secure " a change of luck."

This they essayed by spending a large proportion of the little money that remained to them in alms to Brahmin priests, and in pilgrimages to sacred tanks and streams; also in gifts to astrologers, from whom they hoped to learn the mind of the gods concerning them. Their constant prayer was for wealth, learning and renown, which they believed would be showered upon them from heaven, without any more practical efforts on their own part. Yet, though the gods of brass and stone were dumb, the cry of these poor, earnest, sincere people had entered the ears of Him who alone could help, and the answer was already on its way, though only to be received in this world by the youngest of the group.

To human sight things went from bad to worse. Clothing, jewellery, silver-ware, even the cooking vessels of copper and brass were sold—not to procure food, but to give yet more alms to the obdurate deities, while the family lived sparingly on grain of the coarsest kind. Ramabai's brother, a fine young fellow a few years older than herself, fasted so continuously in the hope of winning divine favour that his constitution was injured beyond recovery.

At length the last coin was spent, the last handful of nee gone, and this sad little group of five who so helplessly loved one another realized that the time to die of starvation had indeed come. They decided to meet the end hidden in the depths of the forest, and thither they accordingly retreated.

But release from suffering was tardy. For eleven days and nights they lingered, subsisting miserably on leaves, water, and a few wild dates. At length a voluntary death by drowning in a sacred tank, which is regarded as a meritorious rather than a sinful action by the Hindus, was decided upon to put an end to these hopeless and protracted sufferings.

The dear old father resolved to die first, and bade a solemn farewell to his children one by one. The turn of

I

I30 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

his youngest, the girhsh Ramabai, came last. That touching scene can be described in none but her own simple words :—

" I shall never forget his last injunctions to me. His blind eyes could' not see my face, but he hold me tight in his arms, and stroking my head and cheeks, he told me in a few words broken by emotion to remember how he loved me, and how he had taught me to do right, and never to depart from the way of righteousness. His last loving command to me was to lead an honourable life if I Uved at all, and to serve God all my life. He did not know the only true God, but served the—to him—unknown God with all his heart and strength ; and he was very desirous that his children should serve Him to the last. ' Remember, my child,' he said,' you are my youngest, my most beloved child. I have given you into the hand of our God ; you are His, and to Him alone you must belong, and serve Him all your Hfe.' "

But the God whom he thus ignorantly worshipped, and the movings of whose Spirit he in darkness faithfully obeyed, preserved the good old man from suicide. Ananta Shastri's son at this critical hour rose up and bravely said he would renounce all caste pride, and do an}^ honest work that he could find to support his parents. The old Brahmin was persuaded to give up his idea of death in the sacred tank, and though almost too weak to move, the pitiable httle group made their way out of the jungle and once more sought the abodes of man.

In a village at the foot of the mountain, which they reached after two days' weary and painful journeying, the family at first took refuge in a temple, but the priests, whose religion teaches little pity for the weak and suffering, turned them out. The next day they found temporary refuge in a ruin, and a young Brahmin gave them some food.

Here, after a few days' illness, Ananta Shastri's release came. Alone, his son carried the body out beyond all human habitations, and buried it according to the directions of the sacred code.

The same day the mother was taken ill, but she lingered

for some weeks. Though the young man found himself by this time too weak to work even if he could have obtained employment, they were still too proud to beg, and lived wretchedly on what was given them by kind-hearted neighbours. Once, towards the last days of her life, the sick woman suffered so terribly from hunger that she sent Ramabai to the house of a Brahmin lady to beg a piece of coarse cake.

Although kindly received, the young girl could not force her tongue to frame the humiliating request; but her silence and irrepressible tears spoke for her, and the bread was given. Alas ! it was too late to be of any service to the dying woman. A few days later the three young wanderers were orphans indeed.

Ramabai feels not a shadow of doubt as to the salvation, through God's loving mercy, of both her parents. Speaking in America, years after their death, she said, " If any one wishes to say that my father, so eager to learn of God, and my mother, so tender and sweet, have gone to hell because no Christian ever reached them with the glad tidings of Christ, I have only to tell you never to say so in my presence, for I will not hear it, and I cannot bear it."

We will not linger longer over this saddest part of Ramabai's life. The elder sister was the next victim of starvation, and Ramabai and her brother were left to struggle on alone. They travelled on foot, without shelter from the cold at night or the heat by day, to the northern boundary of India, then back to the east as far as Calcutta. Sometimes the young man got work to do at wretchedly low wages, but even this was most precarious, and most of the time the pair were still on the verge of star\'ation.

Two results, however, that were good came of these weary trampings—the sister and brother gradually lost faith in the Hindu religion, and gained, through what they saw and heard, increased enthusiasm in the cause of the down-trodden Hindu woman.

They began to speak publicly on the subject, endeavouring to enlist the sympathy of their co-religionists. Ramabai herself, so young and so gifted, attracted such attention among the Brahmins of Calcutta, which city they eventu-

132 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

ally reached, that she was invited to appear before a solemn conclave of Pundits. These wise men were so much amazed at the girl's learning—mistress of seven languages, as well as of the sacred books—that they conferred on her the title of " Sarasvati," or '' Goddess of Wisdom," and permitted her, the only woman ever so honoured, to be called " Pundita."

Thenceforth poverty and privation were of the past. Together Ramabai and her brother travelled throughout Bengal, holding meetings on the education and emancipation of woman. Notwithstanding the opposition their father had endured, and the scepticism of the Brahmins of his day as to the possibility of cultivating female intellect, a concrete example of what could be done in the person of the Sarasvati was everywhere received with enthusiasm and generously supported.

But the mutual happiness of this devoted pair was all too short-lived. Ramabai's brother was taken ill in Calcutta, and his strength, wasted by years of privation and hardship, soon succumbed. His last thoughts were for his young unprotected sister. " God will take care of me," she said, to comfort him.

" If God cares for us," said he, " I fear nothing."

So he passed away, and Ramabai was left alone.

CHAPTER II.

THE HINDU WIFE AND WIDOW.

TO the fact that Marathi women are not confined in the zenana, as are most of their sex in the North-Wost and other parts of India, is chiefly owing the liberty with which Ramabai Sarasvati moved among the Brahmins of the more southern provinces. But she showed herself of so independent a mind as to assert her freedom from the bonds of caste, by remaining unmarried until she was twenty-two years of age, and then uniting herself to a man of her own choice.

RAMABAI AND HER DAUGHTER MANORAMA.

134 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

Ramabai's husband was a Bengali gentleman, a graduate of Calcutta University, Bipin Bihari Medhavi, M.A., whom, to the scandalization of the women round about, she dared to call by his first, or as we should say, his " Christian" name. Such familiarity with the exalted being whom a Hindu wife is taught to regard as " like unto a god," was surely enough to make their hair stand on end.

For less than two years the pair led a happy hfe in the husband's home in Assam, during which time a baby girl was born to them. She was a welcome gift—not disliked or despised, or regarded as a misfortune, as a first-born daughter usually is in India. And she was named Manorama, or " Heart's Joy," to signify her parents' love for her.

Before little Manorama was twelve months old, her father was stricken down by cholera, and once more Ramabai was called to suffer the agony of bereavement.

This time her loss placed her in what, under ordinary circumstances, would have been the most painful condition imaginable to a high-caste Hindu woman—that of a widow without a son. But the Sarasvati's education, her emancipation from the tyranny of caste, and her knowledge of the world gave her a tremendous advantage, and rising bravely above her own grief, she set herself to alleviate the sufferings of her sisters in sorrow.

Often as we have heard of the extreme sadness of the lot of the Indian widow, the reasons which have brought about this deplorable state of things are not clear to all our minds. It is naturally a puzzle to many how the " mild Hindu," whose Vedas teach him to " consider the life of ever^' animal as precious as his own," and who has actually founded a hospital for disabled horses, dogs, bullocks and monkey's, can be so inhumanly cruel to infants and women of his own race.

The cause lies in the calumniation of women by the Hindu Scriptures.

In most Oriental countries woman is regarded as immeasurably the inferior of man. Even the Jews before the time of our Lord were not untouched by this idea, '

though it never reached the pitch of absolute brutality as in India at the present day. The Hindu is taught by his sacred writings that man is everything that is noble and good, but woman, his temptress, as naturally prone to all evil. No doubt it is the sin of our first mother that has borne bitter fruit in the misery of countless millions of her daughters. Woman, according to the Hindu Vedas, is vain, immodest, unfaithful, and her heart " more deceitful than that of a viper."

Therefore the urgent need of every possible restraint to keep her fairly within the rules of decent behaviour. Hence, the early marriage, and the subsequent impnson-ment in the zenana. A gentleman who allows his daughters to remain unmarried after ten, or at the utmost twelve years old, is thought to have disgracefully neglected his duty towards them. Vast numbers are consequently married as mere infants, sometimes to boys of their own age, but often to men of mature years. To get a girl married to a Brahmin is considered so specially meritonous an act, that some unscrupulous youths of that sacred caste go about the country' marrying all and sundry, accepting bridal gifts from parents, and departing to be heard of no more. Occasionally one of these much-married beings will have over a hundred nominal waves aU of whom are plunged in the horrors of widowhood should he untimely die.

As a rule, the betrothed girl goes away to her husband s home long before she reaches a marriageable age, that she may be prepared for the duties of wifehood by her husband's mother. Then her troubles begin. Sometimes the mother-in-law is considerate and kind, but too often she is tyrannical and hard to satisfy, and occasionally, especially if it should happen that her son is not pleased with the bride chosen for him, she treats the poor little creature with bitter cruelty. In any case, the lonclmess of the child-wife, torn from her mother and all whom she loves, and sent' perhaps hundreds of miles away to a home among strangers, may be imagined. ^ ^u

Yet marriage is looked forward to with more hope than terror by most little Hindu giris, for they know it will be a

136 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON"

time of feasting and merriment, of sweetmeats, fireworks, and the donning of gay clothes, when each one for a brief, bright season is a centre of interest and petting, and reigns as a little queen. Of the long years of misery that may follow their innocent young hearts know nothing.

The position even of the most beloved wife is to our Western minds one of humiliating servility. Her main business is to prepare her husband's food and to serve him with it, meekly standing by till he has finished, then gratefully making her own meal from what he has been pleased to leave upon the dish, A current Mohammedan tradition sufficiently pictures the Oriental ideal of a good wife.

" A woman was one day seen sitting half in the sunshine and half in the shade. By her side was a vessel full of hot water and another of cold. Also, close by, was a stick, a piece of rope, and a small heap of broken bricks.

" On being asked the meaning of all this, she replied : ' My husband is a grass-cutter, and I know not whether at this moment he is at work in the sunshine or in the shade. I want to sympathize with him whichever it may be. And I know not whether, on his return, he will need hot water or cold, so I have prepared both. Also, should he be in a bad humour, it is impossible to say whether he will choose to chastise me with a stick or a rope's end, or if he would prefer to throw bricks at me. So I have got them all ready for his hand.

" When Mahomet heard this, he said here was indeed a good woman, who deserved to go to heaven."

The one way in which a Hindu woman may raise herself in the general estimation is by becoming the mother of sons. Having " looked upon the face of a living son "is to a man a passport to future blessedness, while a husband having died sonless has no right to heaven or immortality. Therefore the wife who confers this boon on her husband places him under an obligation which he is free to reward by gifts of sweetmeats, jewellery, and fine dresses, these being the only goods which the inferior mind of a woman is supposed to appreciate. He is indeed commanded by

the Vedas to take care that she is made happy, that his welfare and that of the children she bears him may not suffer. She may even, after giving her husband one or tvvo sons, venture to present him with a daughter, without fear that the helpless mite will be cradled in the nearest well, or "accidentally" furnish a meal for the night-urowling beasts of prey. tt- j

Should her sons live to man's estate, the lot of the Hindu woman reaches its highest possible pmnacle of bhss for she rules supreme over them, and their wives and families. A son is commanded alwavs to honour his mother.

But even a favoured wife has not for a moment her husband's trust. She is believed to be always liable to betray him unless closely watched. Hence the excessive severity of her seclusion. Ramabai relates the story of a lady who, seeing from a window that her little son— her only one—was in imminent peril in the street impulsively rushed out to save him. If anything could have excused the violation of purdah rules it was surely such an emergency as this. But although the husband, on hearing of the incident, did not openly blame her, she was

seen alive no more. , , j • i„

Another wife was killed by her jealous husband simply because a glimpse of her back had been accidenta ly seen by another man through an open door, she herself being wholly unconscious of the circumstance.

Such then is the condition of the happy wife m India-she who by securing the eternal bli ,s of her lord has won the approval of himself and his relations—classed by Hindu Shastras among the valuable female properties of her husband, such as " cows, mares, she-camels, slave girls, she-goats and ewes;" and, say they, Let a wife who wishes to perform sacred ablution, wash the feet of her husband and drink the water ! " . ,^ , , , ,,

But on the reverse side of the picture is the fate of the sonless wife ; and that of the sonless widow is darkest of all. Nothing can be more sad than the wholly unmerited sufferings of the child-widow whose husband has died before the consummation of their marriage. This gravest of al misfortunes, is very liable to occur when the betrothal of

138 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

mature or even elderly men to mere babies is not uncommon.

To be thus left a widow is considered a sure sign that in a previous state of being the poor little girl committed some fearful crime, for which not she alono but the man who was unlucky enough to marry her has had to suffer— he being hurried, sonless, to a hopeless doom on her account. The feelings with which she is regarded by his relations can therefore be conceived.

Some sad day the child is suddenly snatched from her companions, her pretty clothes and ornaments all stripped off, and her rich dark hair shorn close to her head. This disfiguring shaving is repeated by some castes every two weeks, for they believe that the widow's long tresses would " bind her husband's soul in hell! " She is then clad in a single coarse, ugly garment, to mortify her vanity ; her tinkling silver bangles and sparkling gems are confiscated to humble her pride, while the scantiest food and frequent fastings are ordained for the subduing of the evil passions with which her young soul is believed to be filled. The hardest work, the vilest names, and the most brutal blows are henceforward her daily portion—for is she not in essence a murderess ? She may never again join in any festivity, she may not even be seen at a family gathering, for her touch is pollution, the sight of her an omen of ill-luck. And this as long as her dife lasts, for remarriage is strictly forbidden. No wonder that many of the unhappy creatures seek relief from their miseries in suicide.

The practice of burning alive the widow on her husband's funeral pyre was put an end to, as is well known, as far back as 1829, but " cold suttee," as a leading reformer has well named it, still remains. Said a Hindu widow to a European friend ; " The English have abolished suttee, but, alas, neither the English nor the angels know what goes on in our houses, and the Hindus not only do not care, but think it good."

Another widow touchingly said : " Bruised and beaten, we are like dry husks of sugar-cane from which the sweetness has all been extracted."

I40 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

This then was the class to which Ramabai herself now belonged, and whose earnest champion she had become.

It was years before, when a mere child herself, that the Pundita's sympathies had been first aroused on behalf of the victims'of Hindu notions about women.

In part of her father's house there lived a man with his mother and his young wife of sixteen. The poor girl's heartrending cries when brutally beaten for some trifling fault filled the happier child with an indignation that after nearly thirty years was keenly remembered. She believes it was her first call to the service of her ill-used sisters.

Later, the troubles of a friend, a high-caste young lady named Rukhmaibai, confirmed the Pundita in her longing to see Indian women placed in a less unfair position with regard to marriage.

Rukhmaibai was a well-educated girl, betrothed in her childhood to a boy of her own age on the understanding that he was to receive education equal to her own. Her relations must have been among the few who sympathized \vith the enlightened views of Ananta Shastri, for she was also allowed to remain at home till she was nineteen years of age. Then, when her young husband claimed her, it was found that his parents had neglected their part of the contract. He was illiterate, and in many ways quite repulsive to his bride.

Rukhmaibai appealed against the union, but even an English judge was compelled to come to the decision that as the law stood there was nothing for it but to order the girl to join her husband, or endure six months' imprisonment. She chose the latter alternative, but subsequently a compromise was effected, and by bearing the cost of the trial, and paying the disappointed bridegroom 2000 rupees wherewith to marry another wife, she was released.

But Ramabai's first real -protegee was a poor little arab of the streets, a Brahmin child cast out by her husband's relations after his death, and who had been able, chiefly owing to extreme lack of physical beauty, to lead a virtuous if starving hfe, up to the age of twelve years.

This homeless wanderer Ramabai took under her pro-

tection, and she is now leading a happy and useful life as a Christian Bible-woman.

But there were myriads of others—in 1891 the number of widows in India was estimated at 23,000,000—many of them quite young girls and children, in similarly wretched case, and Ramabai could not rest till she had wrought some practical work for the alleviation of their lot.

CHAPTER III.

A BOLD PROJECT.

ALL this time, though, like her father, Ramabai was in her loving sympathy for suffering unconsciously following "the Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world," she knew not the source of her good impulses nor who was guiding her. But she had already heard of the Christian religion, and was deeply interested in it, insomuch that she procured a Bible and began to study its teachings.

For a while, after her husband died, Ramabai supported herself and her little daughter by lecturing on the Education of Women. Her intimate acquaintance with the Hindu scriptures enabled her to assert that their most ancient teaching enjoined that women should be taught, and this the Brahmins were unable to deny. She was so favourably received, especially in Poona, that a society of high-caste Marathi ladies was actually formed, with branches in various cities, for the avowed purpose of encouraging the education of girls and postponing marriage to maturity.

In 1882 Ramabai spoke on these subjects before a British Commission on the question of Education in India ; and the President was so much impressed by her views, and the clear and able way in which she stated them, that he had them translated from Marathi and printed in English.

142 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

Soon after this, the Fundita conceived the idea of further improving her education, and acquainting herself with the EngHsh language and literature by a visit to these islands.

A Christian mission at Poona recommended her and her little daughter to the hospitality of an Anglican Sisterhood at Wantage. Here she was received, and remained for a year, studying English and the Christian Scriptures, with the result that before leaving she had embraced the Christian faith, and with her little Manorama was baptized according to the rites of the Church of England.

After this twelvemonth's preparation, Ramabai accepted the post of Professor of Sanskrit at the Cheltenham Ladies' College, which she held for a year and a half, continuing her own studies at the same time.

It is interesting to learn that, even in our cold, damp, and variable chmate, this Brahmin lady faithfully adhered to the rules as to diet in which she had been brought up. Never did she taste fish, flesh, fowl, or even an egg, for that contains the germ of life which is so sacred in the estimation of Hindus. Nor can we suppose that this was any great piece of self-denial, for the sight and smell of meat is most disgusting to those who have never tasted anything but fruit and grain. She was also a strict abstainer from alcoholic beverages.

When Ramabai had been at the Cheltenham College a year and a half, she was invited by a fellow-countrywoman, Anandibai Joshi, of Poona, to go and see the latter receive her medical degree in Philadelphia. Thus was another new world opened before the Pundita's eager gaze.

The late Miss Frances Willard's picture of our heroine in early womanhood is as graphic and graceful as one might expect. After stating that Ramabai can trace her Brahmin ancestry for a thousand years, she tells us that the Pundita has "dark grey eyes, full of light, a straight nose, with a tiny tattoo between the brows, mobile lips, close-cut blue-black hair, and perfect white teeth." She dressed, we are told, in grey silk, very simply made, with a boyish, turn-down collar, and a white " chuddah " or native shawl draping her head and shoulders.

In personal characteristics she is " full of archness and repartee, handling our English tongue with a precision attained by but few of us who are to the manner born." Yet in disposition she is "incarnate gentleness, combined with celerity of apprehension, swiftness of mental pace and adroitness of logic."

To which fascinating description Miss Willard's mother, in her diary of that memorable visit, added :—" Pundita Ramabai is a marvellous creation. She has a surprisingly comprehensive intellect; is as open to perceive truth as a daisy to the sun ; with face uplifted, she marches straight into its effulgence, caring for nothing so she find the eternal truth of the eternal God—not anxious what that truth may be." Tenderness towards all living creatures is also one of Ramabai's winning traits ; " even of flowers she thinks we ought to let them grow and to admire them in their bright living beauty rather than to pull them from their stems. The wearing of birds on bonnets seems to her a pitiable vulgarity."

This, then, was the woman who took to America, the land where above all others our sex is crowned with honour, her harrowing story of the Hindu wife and widow.

Ramabai at once found a true friend in Rachel Bodley, A.M., M.D., the Dean of the Women's Medical College in Philadelphia, and the early death of Dr. Bodley's former Hindu pupil, Anandibai Joshi, soon after her graduation, seemed to draw the American lady's heart the more closely to this second freedom-seeking Asiatic.

The Pundita's sojourn in America extended to three years. During that time she took every opportunity of studying the educational methods of that country, and especially the kindergarten system, which greatly aroused her interest. She also travelled much, with a view to enlisting public sympathy in the important scheme which was now definitely shaping itself in her mind.

This was nothing less than the founding of a school where Hindu widows of high caste could be received and educated by their own countrywomen in such a way as to enable them to earn their own living when their school course was

144 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

finished. Especially did Ramabai hope to train teachers who might be received into native homes, and even penetrate the seclusion of the zenana itself with the light of knowledge and truth.

With this end in view she addressed drawing-room meetings everywhere, and larger audiences whenever she could, evoking enthusiasm and gaining supporters among the most cultured and intellectually advanced of American women in all sections of the Christian Church.

While with Dr. Bodley, Ramabai also wrote her deeply interesting book, The High-Caste Hindu Woman, which is unique, as throwing light upon the existing condition of things from the inside, which could only be done in an absolutely accurate and reliable manner by one who had actually lived from childhood in the midst of the abuses of which she so graphically speaks. To this volume Dr. Rachel Bodley added an admirable preface.

This work further aroused the sympathies of American women, and as the profits arising from the sale of it were— and still are—devoted to the cause which Ramabai had at heart, she was able to start at once on the production of educational material for her projected school. Before leaving America she had sufficient money to purchase about six hundred electrotype plates for the illustration of her complete series of books, which were to comprise a primer, five graduated reading-books, a geography, and a natural history—the first series of the kind for girls ever published in India.

But perhaps the most valuable fruit of Ramabai's visit to America was the formation in 1887 of the " Ramabai Association," to which is almost entirely owing the Pundita's ultimate ability to realize the dream of her life. The head-quarters of the Association were in Boston, the President and Vice-Presidents included representatives of five religious denominations, the Board of Trustees secured some of the best business intellect of that city, and the Executive Committee was composed entirely of women. The object of the Ramabai Association was the formation of " circles " in every part of the States, which should pledge themselves to provide a certain sum annually for

ten years, to start and maintain a home and school in India for high-caste widows.

After travelling and speaking throughout Canada and in most of the cities on the Pacific coast, Ramabai bade good-bye to her generous Transatlantic entertainers in November 1888, and set out for her Indian home, via San Francisco and Hong Kong.

Parting from her true friend, Dr. Rachel Bodley, the Pundita begged her to remind the readers of her book that " it was out of Nazareth that the Blessed Redeemer of mankind came ; that great reforms have again and again been wrought by instrumentalities that the world despised. Tell them to help me to educate the high-caste child-widows, for I solemnly believe that this hated and despised class of women, educated and enlightened, are by God's grace to redeem India,"

Ramabai's personal humility (indelible mark, perhaps, of her race and sex), notwithstanding her courage and high aspirations, is well illustrated by her own comparison. " Christ," she once said, " came to give different gifts to different people. Some He made prophets; some He made preachers; some He made teachers. Since I have become a Christian I have thought He has given me the gift of being a sweeper. I want to sweep away some of the old difficulties that lie before the missionaries in their efforts to reach our Hindu widows."

After making the most of her opportunities whilst journeying to still further enlarge the circle of her sympathizers, the Pundita landed in Bombay early in the year 1889.

Here was awaiting her the welcome of her little Mano-rama, now about eight years old, who had arrived in India from England a short time before in the care of one of the Sisters from Wantage. Asked by a friend why she had not left the child to finish her education in England, Ramabai said, " I want her to grow up among her people, to know them as they are, and to prepare herself for the work there is before her. If I left her in England, she would grow up to be an English girl, and not one of us."

146 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

So truly does this pioneer of female education in India realize that to make culture and Christianity really acceptable to the Hindus, it must be shown to be perfectly compatible with the retention of native customs in regard to both food and dress.

In this spirit, therefore, and with the broadest ideas upon most subjects, Ramabai, in the spring of 1889, opened her Widows' Home in the busy Anglo-Indian city of Bombay.

CHAPTER IV.

ITS WALLS ' SALVATION ' AND ITS GATES ' PRAISE.*

CHARADA SAD AN, or "Abode of Wisdom," was the ^ somewhat high-sounding name, attractive to Oriental ears, which Ramabai gave to her boarding-school.

She commenced with two pupils, one of whom was a poor young widow who had three times essayed to put an end to her own wretched existence, and was only deterred by the fear that even if she did so she might again be bom a woman. An efficient helper was found in Miss Soonderbai Powar, another Hindu lady reformer, who has visited England in the interests of a suppression of the Opium Traffic, and an elementary study of three languages, Marathi, Sanskrit, and English, was at once commenced.

As to the ground which the Sharada Sadan was to take with regard to the delicate and difficult question of religion, Ramabai had definitely made up her mind. Strict neutrality she believed to be the only practicable position.

Already it had been proved that Christian missions were of small avail as affording refuge for the high-caste widow. Their avowed object being the conversion of the heathen, no Hindu woman with any regard for the faith of her fathers would be willing to place herself under

proselytizing influences for the sake of material comforts. If we substitute the term " loyal Brahmin " for that of " obstinate idolater," which is too often used to describe faithful souls who are not ready to at once embrace a, to them, new and false religion, we shall be the better able to sympathize with their position. The worthiest are not the soonest won ; it is the thin rock-soil which produces the quickest crop.

Ramabai felt that to make her school an institution for the promulgation of Christianity would defeat its primary object. Therefore, she pledged herself to her Brahmin friends that the utmost liberty should be accorded to all inmates of her Home to maintain their own religion, and facilities afforded for the performance of all sacred rites and for the strictest observation of the customs of caste. And although she claimed equal liberty for herself and her assistant to worship in accordance with their own Christian belief, she promised that no pressure whatever should be brought to bear upon the minds of her pupils.

Certain well-intentioned persons were disposed to find fault with this arrangement, as we know there have been teachers foolish enough to promise non-interference with the religious ideas of Hindu pupils, and then break their word !—a course which must inflict more injury upon the cause they wish to serve than the work of many missionaries can undo. But Ramabai was faithful.

The school increased rapidly, and in 1892 the " Abode of Wisdom " was removed to Poona, as being in every way a more desirable locality for the purpose.

A delightful description of this new home is given by Mrs. Helen S. Dyer, who visited it on the occasion of the opening ceremonies, and to whose charming book, Pundita Ramabai ; the Story of Her Life, we are indebted for much of the information contained in this sketch.

The bungalow, she tells us, stands in a garden, which is " dotted here and there with fine shade trees, the gold mohur, the plumeria, and others, which are covered with gorgeous flowers in their season. Roses and lilies, jasmine and elemanta, variegated crotons, caladiums, bougainvillea, and the hundred and one tropical shrubs that are cherished

148 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

greenhouse plants in our colder atmosphere, luxuriate in the beautiful climate of the Deccan of India. ... A shaded fernery planted around a fountain close to the house affords a cool retreat for the heat of the day. . . . The pupils came and went everywhere, learned their lessons in groups in the drawing-room, or walked in the garden by twos and threes, gathered roses and lihes for each other and the visitors, made wreaths of jasmine, and decked each other's hair."

A glimpse of Paradise indeed to the child-widow, whose portion had previously been that of a hated outcast, to whom everything pleasant was to be rigorously denied !

" I wish them," said Ramabai, " to see the contrast in everything where love rules, I wish them to become acquainted with as many good people as possible ; to learn what the outside world is like from pictures and books ; and to enjoy the wonderful works of God, as they ramble in the garden, study with the microscope, or view the heavens from the little veianda^i on the roof."

No wonder that the girls followed their dear friend and teacher aU about the bungalow, and " clustered around her like bees! " No wonder that her good-night kiss was a boon on no account to be missed, but to be claimed twice over if a little innocent scheming could compass it! No marvel, either, that the religion which was known to be the source of all this sweet motherly kindness should ere long begin to attract some of the young hearts thus within the range of its tender influence.

It was the custom of Ramabai to meet with her companion-helper, Soonderbai, and her httle Manorama, for Bible-reading and pra3'er every morning before the duties of the day were begun. If any of the pupils voluntarily chose to join them, they, of course, were not forbidden. As time went on not a few did so, and by the spring of 1893 quite half the widows in the Sharada Sadan had formed the habit of attending this family worship, several apparently being deeply impressed.

When the Brahmin supporters of the school heard of this they were indignant. They wished the pupils to be

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150 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

kept to the strictest observance of the Hindu religion, but not to be free to attend Christian services. This, Ramabai pointed out, was not that absolute neutrality which had been laid down as one of the fundamental rules of the institution. She appealed to the parent committee in America, and was of course upheld by them.

About twenty-five girls, however, were withdrawn from the school by those in authority over them, and bitter tears were shed. Ramabai knew that many were going back to hardship and ill-usage which would seem more unendurable to the poor things than ever, and some even to the imminent danger of moral iniin. The case of one girl, a Gujerathi, whom Ramabai had adopted as her own, was so desperate that the principals of the school had recourse to unusual stratagems to rescue her.

These, which never overstepped the bounds of strict legality, were successful, and so enraged the leading Hindus of the Bombay Presidency that the extinction of the Sharada Sadan seemed at one time imminent. But Ramabai was staunchly supported by her American friends, and the storm was weathered.

Meditating much upon plans for the continued support of her school, the Sarasvati hit upon the idea of starting a fruit farm. A suitable piece of land having been found at Khedgaon, about forty miles south of Poona, the trustees of the American Fund were applied to for help. This they were reluctantly compelled to refuse, as such money could not legally be used for the purchase of land. Copies of Ramabai's appeal were, however, sent round to several friends.

Greatly disappointed at this refusal, Ramabai went to Bombay to try and raise money on her own life insurance, but without success. Returning to Poona, heavy-hearted, she noticed, as the train rushed along, a tiny bird sitting on the branch of a tree, undisturbed by the fiery monster with all its smoke and noise. Then she " thought of what the Bible said about the sparrow, and felt ashamed of her lack of faith."

On reaching home she reminded her teachers that although she had so failed they had a rich Father in heaven

who would yet give them that farm ; and she and her friend Soonderbai agreed to pray together, remembering our Saviour's promise, for the money wherewith to pur-

clllSG it

'" Not' long after," she writes, " I was awakened very early in the morning, and a cablegram from America put into my hand. I trembled, fearing I knew not what, but raised my heart in prayer to God to help me bear whatever the cablegram contained. I opened it, and the farm was

mine!" j j i. u

Half-a-dozen American friends had responded to her appeal with sufficient generosity to start a special fund for the acquiring of the longed-for farm; other contributions were subsequently added, and in 1894 the purchase of the land was an accomplished fact.

By degrees the spot was cleared, and planted with fruit trees and various crops, but one rocky portion still remained unutilized. What it was reserved for was presently to be seen. .

The terrible famine of 1897 aroused m Ramabai a passionate desire to do something for the rescue of tha hundreds of young widows whom she knew to be exposed to even worse perils, in such a crisis, than those of starvation only. The difficulties in the way were tremendous, but at length she resolved to travel to the Central Provmces, where the distress was the greatest; and money for her needs began to flow in.

Having found shelter for the first sixty girls and women she gathered in, Ramabai told their pathetic story m a letter to the Bombay Guardian, and this, being reprinted in pamphlet form, was circulated largely not only in India, but also in England and America, with the result that still more support was given.

An outbreak of bubonic plague, however, put a stop to the reception of famine victims at the Sharada Sadan, and arrested the erection of new premises at Poona for tlieir accommodation.

At once Ramabai's thoughts turned to the piece of unoccupied land at Khedgaon. Permission from America was cabled for, and promptly obtained, and grass huts

152 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

were speedily built to shelter the poor outcasts. The pupils at the Sharada Sadan were as enthusiastic as their dear teacher on behalf of these poor sisters. They willingly denied themselves food to help to provide for the famine-stricken, and when Ramabai appealed to them for volunteer mothers for several very tiny children who had been brought in along with older ones, the response was ready and tender.

At a camp-meeting, some six months before the famine was thought of, Ramabai had felt strangely prompted to ask God for the apparently impossible boon of an increase of the fifteen spiritual children (converts) which up to that time He had given her, to two hundred and twenty-five ! It seemed almost madness to dream of obtaining, let alone of providing for so many, yet the desire was urgent, and the words coming into her mind, " Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh ; is there anything too hard for Me ? " convinced her that it was to be granted.

Now the way was made open. When the famine was over, and Ramabai had placed in various mission orphanages all of the rescued ones that she could, she found herself with just three hundred girls to whom she was free to teach the Gospel. In less than ten months from the commencement of her famine-campaign, ninety of these rescued ones were baptized as Christians.

About this time, after ten years' existence, the original school was able to report that fourteen pupils had been trained as teachers, nine of whom were occupying good positions, two having opened schools of their own. Of eight trained nurses, five were in employment. Seven girls had become matrons, two were housekeepers, and ten had happy homes of their o^vn. Of the three hundred and fifty widows who had been in the home a longer or shorter period, forty-eight had become Christians through the unconscious influence of the principals, twenty-three of whom were voluntary Christian workers, all retaining their Hindu customs and dress.

Ramabai's hope, however, that at the expiration of these ten years of support pledged by the Boston Association

the Hindus themselves would be sufficiently enlightened to take up the work, was not fulfilled.

In 1898 she therefore paid a second visit to America, the result of which was that the Ramabai Association was re-organized, and started afresh on a satisfactory basis.

Meanwhile a new building at Khedgaon was being erected to accommodate the great increase of scholars; a new friend, a Miss Abrams, an American missionary, being in charge of the settlement there.

After a busy time of mingled trial and encouragement, and a brief visit to England, Ramabai reached India again in time for the dedication of these new premises. They are called by their foundress, " Mukti," which means " Salvation " ; while " Praise the Lord" in Marathi characters is inscribed over the principal gate. A large number of missionaries and Christian friends were gathered on this occasion, as well as the entire establishment from the parent school at Poona. To this building was added a special rescue home for those women who had been injured and deserted by wicked men.

Mrs. Helen S. Dyer, who, with her husband, visited Khedgaon in 1899, describes the flourishing state of the Mukti home, both as to its temporal and spiritual work, and the many industries which were being carried on ; dairy-work (promoted by a special gift of money to buy cows, from a lady in England), oil-making, the cultivation of grain and red pepper, and the weaving of sarees upon hand-looms, being among the most profitable. The undertaking is thus to a large extent self-supporting, but it has been from time to time greatly helped by those almost miraculous gifts, arriving exactly when most needed, which the history of every good work can record.

Another clever stroke of business carried through by Ramabai's practical wisdom was the purchase of a farm hard by the Mukti settlement, which belonged ^o a liquor-dealer, and was in danger of becoming the site of a liquor-shop. On this vacant spot Ramabai invited the hawkers from the surrounding country to establish a weekly bazaar. This has been a great success, and quite a boon to the neighbourhood, the nearest having previously been

154 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

eight miles away. When the people are assembled here to buy and sell, a splendid opportunity is afforded of telling them the story of the Gospel.

In 1900 a recurrence of famine once more taxed Rama-bai's resources to the uttermost, but many of the converted girls who were themselves rescued in the preceding famine gladly helped to tend the poor victims that were brought in, many of them suffering from loathsome diseases resulting from starvation and neglect.

Among the older native women who helped at this distressing time, were three whose love and zeal their leader specially records with warmest praise. They were named Gangabai, Kashibai, and Bhimabai. These travelled hundreds of miles on foot and unprotected, enduring great hardships in their search for starving girl-outcasts, to gather them into the shelter of Ramabai's home.

Not least among the difficulties in the way of rescuing the poor young creatures was the almost unconquerable suspicion and fear with which they often regarded their would-be benefactors. Ignorant heathen acquaintances, as well as those who wilfuUy planned their ruin, had filled their minds with horrible stories of the selfish and cruel purposes to which they would be sacrificed if once they fell into the hands of the Christians. It was the work of months, and sometimes years, to make them believe, for instance, that they were not being fed and fattened that oil might by and by be extracted from their bodies by roasting or grinding in a mill! Nothing is more eloquent of the usual social condition of the child-widow, than the fact that it seems almost impossible for her to conceive the idea of being cared for and loved. But this is the heavenly lesson which, above all others, Ramabai's school was founded to teach.

With a few extracts from the Report issued in that year we must draw to a close.

Ramabai says :—" Five hundred and eighty girls in the Mukti Sadan, and sixty in the Kripa Sadan (Rescue Home) are being trained to lead a useful Christian life. . . . Including the hundred girls of the Sharada Sadan, I have altogether nearly seven hundred and fifty girls under

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CHUNDRABAI, THE HEAD TEACHER AT RAMABAl's COLLEGE.

IS6 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

training. . . . The Sharada Sadan has trained seventy teachers and workers in the past eleven years, and the Mukti school has trained nearly eighty girls to earn their own living in the past three years; eighty-live of the old and new girls have found work in their own mother institutions, and sixty-five of the old girls are either married or earning their living as teachers and workers in different places. ... I have had a hundred requests from missionaries and superintendents of schools to give them trained teachers, Bible-women, or matrons. I have had quite as many, perhaps more, requests from young men to give them educated wives. It will not be difficult to find good places and comfortable homes for all these young girls when the proper time comes. . . . My aim is to train all those girls to do some work or other. Over two hundred of the present number have much intelligence, and promise to be good school teachers after they receive a few years' training. Thirty of the bigger girls have joined a training class for nurses. . . . More than sixty have learned to cook very nicely. . . . Forty girls have learned to weave nicely ; and more than fifty have learned to sew well and make their own garments. The rest, small and large, are learning to do some work with ' the three R's.'

" Most of my helpers have joined the Bible Training Class taught by Miss Abrams. . . . Out of this Bible Training Class I hope there will rise a trained band of Bible-women, who will take the Gospel to their sisters in their own homes. Some girls have already begun to go about in the villages around here. They are working as Zenana Bible-women and Sunday School teachers in their spare time."

Chundrabai, Ramabai's head teacher, whose portrait is given on page 155, was herself a widow at twelve years old. But being singularly favoured in possessing a mother wise and strong-minded enough to insist on sending the child, first to a mission school in Bombay, and subsequently to the Sharada Sadan to be educated to support herself, her life was preserved from much of the suffering that would otherwise have been her lot.

A recent visitor to the colony of rescued ones reports

PUNDITA RAMABAI '57

that Ramabai's family now consists ot no fewer than eighteen hundred widows. Most of those preserved from the last great famine will bear the traces of that ternble time to their lives' end. Many were already beyond possibility of rescue when brought to Mukti,and only the five hundred small graves in the cemetery there bear witness to the efforts unavailingly made to save them.

Ramabai begs every friend who visits her from this favoured land of ours to remember her in her immense work and responsibility with their sympathy and prayers. So impressive is the sight of her needy children and the loving care she bestows on them, that she rarely appeals

in vain. ■ t- i j

Writing quite lately to one of her supporters m England, the Pundita says :—" Try as I will I cannot maintain this large company of eighceen hundred people with less than 150/. per week ; this works out at less than threepence per head per day. To try to do with less is to starve the children, and send them about almost naked." But surely one-and-ninepence a week—less than the cost of maintaining many a pet animal in England—seems marvellously httle with which to feed, lodge and clothe a child ; 4/. los. per annum only, to save a girl-widow from despair and admit her into the paradise of a loving Christian

home.

In the midst of all her cares and responsibihties, Ramabai, the trusting child of a loving Father, keeps always sunny and young. A recent gift from England, coming at a time of great necessity, enabled her to dispense new sarees, long needed, to her huge family. The little widows received the bright new garments with rejoicing, but Ramabai's heart was so light and glad that she playfully dressed herself up in one of the smartest of them, a bright green (her own dress is usually of pure white), and thus disguised, and with her head covered, paid a surprise visit to the room of one of her teachers, who for several minutes did not guess who the stranger was ! The peals of laughter among the tiny widows who shared m this innocent joke must have seemed like the music of heaven to tliose who heard.

IS8 WOMEN WHO HAVE WORKED AND WON

It was while these new sarees were being distributed that one of the elder giris said to Miss Abrams, " We don't want sarees, or anything else ; we only want Bibles. Do give us a Bible ! " " Wouldn't you rather," asked one of the helpers, "have a big feast instead of a Bible?" " No," replied the girls, who were inmates of the Rescue Home ; '* for that would be only one day's pleasure, but this food for our soul will take us to heaven."

Soon after, through the kindness of a member of the Society of Friends, their wish was gratified. Twelve hundred copies of the Word of God in Marathi, neatly bound in cloth, arrived as a present to Khedgaon. On the following Sunday the platform of the Mukti Church was decorated with green leaves and pot plants, and given up to the precious books. Nine hundred were presented that day to girls who were able to read them, and, we are told, " The dehght of the children knew no bounds."

In June igoo Ramabai's daughter, Manorama, who was educated at the expense of one of her mother's many friends, at the Chesbrough Seminary, North ChUi, New York, returned to India to relieve her mother and learn the details of the work. She has been appointed Vice-Principal of the Sharada Sadan. We are sure that all who read this brief sketch of the gifted Sarasvati's noble undertaking will wish for both mother and daughter many years of happy comradeship in their blessed work.

THE END

LORIMEK AND CHALMERS, PKINTEKS, EDINBURGH.

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My Bible Picture Book. Contains i6 full-page coloured and many other Illustrations. With descriptive stories from the Old and New Testaments. Size ii by 8 inches. In bright cloth binding.

Following Jesus: A Bible Picture Book for the Young. Size, 13J by 10 inches. Contains 12 beautifully coloured Old and New Testament Scenes, with appropriate letterpress by D.J.D.

Brought to Jesus: A Bible Picture Book for Little Readers. Contains 12 New Testament Scenes, printed in colours, Size 13^ by 10 inches. Handsome coloured boards,

Bible Pictures and Stories : Old and New Testament. In one

Volume. Bound in cloth boards, with 8g full-page Illustrations. Potters: their Arts and Crafts. Historical, Biographical and

Descriptive. By John C. Sparks and Walter Gandy. Crown 8vo.

Copiously Illustrated. Cloth extra. The Story of Jesus. For Little Children. By Mrs. G. E.

Morton. Large 8vo. 340 pages. Eight pictures in best style of

colour-work, and many other Illustrations. Handsomely bound

in cloth boards. Victoria : Her Life and Reign. By Alfred E. Knight. Crown

8vo. 384 pages. Cloth extra, 2s. 6d.; cloth, gilt edges, 3s. 6d.

2s. each.

T/ie Home Library.

Crown 8vo. 320 pages. Handsome Cloth Covers. Fully Illustrated. (Books marked with an asterisk are also bound with Gilt edges, 2S. 6d. each.) •

*A Little Bundle of Mischief. By Grace Carlton.

*By Creek and Jungle : Three Chums in the Wilds of Borneo.

By John K. Leys. *A Gentleman of England : A Story of the Days of Sir Philip

Sidney. By E. F. Pollard.

* Dorothy ; or. The Coombehurst Nightingale. By E. M. Alford.

* Three Chums ; or. The Little Blue Heart. By E. M. Stooke.

'Neath April Skies ; or, Hope amid the Shadows. By Jennie

Chappell. Under the Roman Eagles. By Amyot Sagon,

^Helena's Dower; or, A Troublesome Ward. By Eglanton Thorne. The Red Mountain of Alaska. By Willis Boyd Allen.

*rrue unto Death : a Story of Russian Life. By E. F. Pollard.

By Bitter Experience : A Story of the Evils of Gambling. By Scott Graham.

By S. W, Partridge * Co,

CtS, 63.cn (continued).

THE HOME LIBRARY (continued).

Love Conquereth; or, The Mysterious Trespasser. By

Charlotte Murray, White Ivory and Black, and other Stories of Adventure by Sea and Land. By Tom Bevan, E. Harcourt Burrage, and John Higginson. *The Adventures of Don Lavington; or, In the Days of the

Press Gang. By G. Manville Fenn. *Roger the Ranger : A Story of Border Life among the Indians. By E. F. Pollard. Brave Brothers; or, Young Sons of Providence. By E. M. Stooke. *The Moat House ; or Celia's Deceptions. By Eleanora H.

Stooke. *The White Dove of Amritzir: A Romance of Anglo-Indian Life. By E. F. Pollard. In Battle and Breeze : Sea Stories by G. A. Henty,G. Manville

Fenn, and J. Higginson. Crag Island ; or. The Mystery of Val Stanlocli. By W. Murray

Graydon. Edwin, the Boy Outlaw ; or. The Dawn of Freedom in England. A Story of the Days of Robin Hood. By J. Frederick Hodgetts.

Neta Lyall. By Flora E. Berry, Author of " In Small Corners,"

etc. Six Illustrations. The Lion City of Africa. By Willis Boyd Allen. The Better Part. By Annie S. Swan. John : A Tale of the Messiah. By K. Pearson Woods. Leaders into Unknown Lands. By A. Montefiore-Brice, F.G.S.

Lights and Shadows of Forster Square. By Rev. E. H.

Sugden, M.A. The Martyr of Kolin ; A Story of the Bohemian Persecution.

By H. O. Ward. Morning Dew-Drops : A Temperance Text Book. By Clara

Lucas Balfour. Mark Desborough's Vow. By Annie S. Swan. My Dogs in the Northland. By Egerton R.Young. 288 pages. Norman's Nugget. By J. Macdonald Oxley, B.A.

LiS, QSiCri [continued). THE HOME LIBRARY (continued).

A Puritan Wooing: A Tale of the Great Awakening in New

England. By Frank Samuel Child. The Strait Gate. By Annie S. Swan.

Stuart's Choice ; or Castleton's " Prep." By Charlotte Murray. Under the Sirdar's Flag. By William Johnston. Wardlaugh ; or, Workers Together. By Charlotte Murray. Alfred the Great: The Father of the English. By Jesse Page.

Library of Standard Works by Famous ^Authors.

Crown 8vo. Bound in handsome Cloth Boards, Well Illustrated, (Books marked with an asterisk are also bound with Gilt edges, 2S. 6d. each.)

The Children of the New Forest. By Captain Marryat.

The Starling. By Norman McLeod. *Hereward the Wake. By Charles Kingsley.

The Heroes. By Charles Kingsley.

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