Woman and Her Saviour in Persia

by Thomas Laurie · English · Gutenberg #8699 · 499,175 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Woman and Her Saviour in Persia

Author: Thomas Laurie

Release date: August 1, 2005 [eBook #8699]
Most recently updated: August 19, 2012

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8699

Credits: Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMAN AND HER SAVIOUR IN PERSIA ***

Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

[Illustration: PLAIN OF OROOMIAH, FROM THE SEMINARY AT SEIR.]

WOMAN AND HER SAVIOUR IN PERSIA.

A RETURNED MISSIONARY.

With

Fine Illustrations, and a Map of Nestorian Country.

PREFACE.

Our Saviour bade his disciples gather up the fragments, that nothing be
lost; and many who have known of Miss Fiske's fifteen years of labor
for woman in Persia, have desired her to prepare for publication the
facts now presented to the reader. The writer was one of these; and it
was only when he found that she could not do it, that he attempted it,
in accordance with her wishes, simply that these interesting records of
divine grace might not be lost.

The materials have been drawn from the letters and conversations of
those familiar with the scenes described, and especially from Miss
Fiske. In all cases, the language of others has been condensed, as much
as is consistent, with the truthful expression of their ideas; and, in
the translation of the letters of Nestorians, it has not been deemed
essential to follow slavishly every Syriac idiom, for, instead of these
letters owing their interest, as some have supposed, to their
translators, they may have sometimes rather suffered from renderings
needlessly idiomatic.

It was at one time proposed to embrace the history of both the Male and
Female Seminaries, but the proposition came too late, and the memoir of
the lamented Stoddard gives so full an account of the former, that now
we need to hear only the story of its less known companion; but let the
reader bear in mind that as much might have been said of the one as of
the other, had the design been to give an account of both.

A strict adherence to the order of events in the following pages would
have produced a series of disjointed annals. To avoid such a breaking
up of the narrative, each subject has been treated in full whenever
introduced, though that has involved a freedom somewhat independent of
chronological order.

The notices of the revivals are mere incidental sketches. Their
complete history remains to be written.

The beautiful Illustrations introduced are all new, copied from
sketches taken on the spot by the skillful pencil of a dear missionary
brother, whose modesty, though it will not consent to the mention of
his name, yet cannot prevent a grateful sense of his kindness. The Map
is an improvement on others previously published, and, besides adding
to our geographical knowledge, will be found valuable to the friends of
missions.

If the readers of these pages enjoy but a small part of the delight
found in their preparation, the writer will not regret his undertaking.
May the day be hastened when heaven shall repeat the hosannas of a
regenerated world, even as now the abundant grace bestowed upon the
Nestorians redounds, through the thanksgiving of many, to the glory of
God.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

WOMAN WITHOUT THE GOSPEL.

POLITICAL CONDITION.--NESTORIAN HOUSES.--VERMIN.--SICKNESS.--POSITION
AND ESTIMATION OF WOMAN.--NO READERS AMONG THEM.--UNLOVELY
SPIRIT.--SINS OF THE TONGUE.--PROFANITY.--LYING.--STEALING.--STORY
ABOUT PINS.--IMPURITY.--MOSLEM INTERFERENCE WITH SEMINARY.

CHAPTER II.

MARBEESHOO.

VISIT THERE.--NATIVE ACCOMMODATIONS.--HOSPITALITY OF SENUM.--MOHAMMEDAN
WOMEN.

CHAPTER III.

THE SCENE OF THE NARRATIVE.

NESTORIANS.--THEIR COUNTRY.--FRONTISPIECE.--LAKE.--PLAIN.--FORDING THE
SHAHER.--MISSION PREMISES IN OROGMIAH.

CHAPTER IV.

MISSIONARY EDUCATION.

OBJECT.--MEANS.--STUDY OF BIBLE.--PUPILS KEPT IN SYMPATHY WITH THE
PEOPLE.--PEOPLE STIMULATED TO EXERTION AND
SELF-DEPENDENCE.--TAHITI.--MADAGASCAR.

CHAPTER V.

BEGINNINGS.

MRS. GRANT.--EARLY LIFE AND LABORS.--GREAT INFLUENCE.--HER SCHOOL.--HER
PUPILS.--BOARDING SCHOOL.--GETTING PUPILS.--CARE OP THEM.--POVERTY OF
PEOPLE.--PAYING FOR FOOD OF SCHOLARS.--POSITION OF UNMARRIED MISSIONARY
LADIES.--BOOKS.

CHAPTER VI.

THE SEMINARY.

MAR YOHANAN.--STANDARD OF SCHOLARSHIP.--ENGLISH BOOKS READ IN
SYRIAC.--EXPENSE.--FEELINGS OF PARENTS.--DOMESTIC DEPARTMENT.--DAILY
REPORTS.--PICTURE OF A WEEK DAY AND SABBATH.--"IF YOU LOVE ME, LEAN
HARD."--ESLI'S JOURNAL.--LETTER FROM PUPILS TO MOUNT HOLYOKE
SEMINARY--FROM THE SAME TO MRS. C.T. MILLS.

CHAPTER VII.

VACATION SCENES.

IN GAWAR AND ISHTAZIN.--VILLAGES OF MEMIKAN.--OOREYA, DARAWE, AND
SANAWAR.--IN GAVALAN.--ACCOMMODATIONS.--SABBATH SCHOOL.

CHAPTER VIII.

EARLY LABORS FOR WOMEN.

FIRST MEETINGS WITH THEM.--FIRST CONVERT.--FIRST LESSONS.--WILD WOMEN
OF ARDISHAI.

CHAPTER IX.

FRUITS OF LABOR IN NESTORIAN HOMES.

USEFULNESS AMONG RELATIVES OF PUPILS.--DEACON GUWERGIS.--REFORMED
DRUNKARD AND HIS DAUGHTER.--MATERNAL MEETINGS.--EARLY INQUITIES FROM
GEOG TAPA.--PARTING ADDRESS OF MR. HOLLADAY.--.VISIT TO GEOG
TAPA.--SELBY AND HER CLOSET.

CHAPTER X.

GEOG TAPA.

DEACON MURAD KHAN IN 1846.--PENTECOSTAL SABBATH IN 1849.--MEETINGS IN
1850 AND 1854.--EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL OF YONAN IN 1858.

CHAPTER XI.

REVIVAL IN 1846.

PREPARATORY WORK.--SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS.--NAME FOR REVIVAL.--SCENES
IN THE SEMINARIES IN JANUARY.--DEACON JOHN, SANUM, AND SARAH.--MR.
STODDARD.--YACOB.--YONAN.--MEETING IN THE BETHEL.--PRIEST
ESHOO.--DEACON TAMO.--PHYSICAL EXCITEMENT AND ITS CURE.--ARTLESS
SIMPLICITY OF CONVERTS.--MISSIONARY BOX.--MEETINGS BEFORE
VACATION.--MR. STODDARD'S LABORS.--FEMALE PRAYER MEETING.--REVIVAL IN
THE AUTUMN.

CHAPTER XII.

FIRST FRUITS.

SARAH, DAUGHTER OF PRIEST ESHOO.--MARTHA.--HANNAH.

CHAPTER XIII.

SUBSEQUENT REVIVALS.

DEACON JOHN STUDYING BACKSLIDING IN 1849.--WORK IN VILLAGE OF
SEIR.--WIVES OF SIYAD AND YONAN.--KHANUMJAN.--WOMEN AT THE
SEMINARY.--GEOG TAPA.--DEGALA.--A PENITENT.--SIN OF ANGER,--REVIVAL IN
1856.--MISS FISKE ENCOURAGED,--STILLNESS AND DEEP FEELING.--UNABLE TO
SING.--CONVERSION OF MISSIONARY CHILDREN.--VISIT OF ENGLISH
AMBASSADOR.--REVIVAL OF 1857.--LETTER OF SANUM.

CHAPTER XIV.

DARK DAYS.

SEMINARY BROKEN UP IN 1844.--DEACON ISAAC.--PERSECUTION BY MAR
SHIMON.--FUNERAL OF DAUGHTER OF PRIEST ESHOO.--DEACON
GUWERGIS.--ATTEMPT AT ABDUCTION OF PUPIL.--PERIL OF SCHOOL.--MRS.
HARRIET STODDARD.--YAHYA KHAN.--ANARCHY.--LETTER FROM BARILO.

CHAPTER XV.

TRIALS.

EVIL INFLUENCE OF HOMES.--OPPOSITION IN DEGALA.--ASKER KHAN.--POISONING
OF SANUM'S CHILDREN.--REDRESS REFUSED.--INQUISITOR IN SCHOOL.--TROUBLES
AT KHOSRAWA.--LETTERS FROM HOIMAR.

CHAPTER XVI.

PRAYERFULNESS.

LANGUAGE OP PRAYER.--PRAYER ON HORSEBACK.--OLD MAN IN SUPERGAN.--MAR
OGEN.--EARNESTNESS.--FAREWELL PRAYER MEETING IN 1858.--LETTER FROM
PUPIL.--SPIRIT OF PRAYER IN 1846.--WOMAN WHO COULD NOT PRAY,--"CHRIST
BECOME BEAUTIFUL."--CLOSET IN THE MANGER.--MONTHLY
CONCERTS.--PRAYERFULNESS IN 1849 AND 1850.--SABBATH, JANUARY
20TH.--INTEREST CONTINUED TILL CLOSE OF TERM.--FAMILY
MEETINGS.--AUDIBLE PRAYER.-ANSWER TO MOTHERS' PRAYERS.--CONNECTION OF
REVIVALS WITH PRAYER AT HOME.

CHAPTER XVII.

FORERUNNERS.

MOUNTAIN GIRLS IN SEMINARY.--PRAYING SARAH.--RETURN TO THE
MOUNTAINS.--VISIT OF YONAN AND KHAMIS, IN 1850.--OF MR. COAN, 1851.--OF
YONAN, AGAIN, 1861.--SARAH'S LETTERS.

CHAPTER XVIII.

LABORERS IN THE MOUNTAINS.

LETTER OF BADAL.--ACCOUNT OP HANNAH.--THE PIT.--LETTER OF GULY AND
YOHANAN.--ACCOUNT OF SARAH.--LETTERS OF OSHANA.--LETTERS AND JOURNAL OF
SARAH,--LETTERS FROM AMADIA,--CONFERENCE OF NATIVE HELPERS.

CHAPTER XIX.

EBENEZERS.

EXAMINATION IN 1850.--COLLATION AND ADDRESS.--VALEDICTORY BY
SANUM.--SABBATH SCHOOL IN GEOG TAPA.--EXAMINATION THERE IN
1854.--PRAYER MEETING AND COMMUNION AT OROGMIAH, MAY, 1858.--SELBY, OF
GAVALAN, AND LETTER.--LETTER FROM HATOON, OF GEOG TAPA.

CHAPTER XX.

COMPOSITIONS.

THE FIELD OF CLOVER.--THE LOST SOUL.--THE SAVED SOUL.--HANNAH.

CHAPTER XXI.

KIND OFFICES.

HOSPITALITY OF NESTORIANS.--KINDNESS OF PUPILS.--BATHING FEET.--LETTERS
OF GOZEL, HANEE, SANUM OF GAWAR, MUNNY, RAHEEL, AND
MARTA.--HOSHEBO.--RAHEEL TO MRS. FISKE.--MOURNING FOR THE
DEAD.--NAZLOO.--HOSHEBO'S BEREAVEMENT.--DEATH OF MISSIONARY
CHILDREN.--LETTER FROM SARAH, DAUGHTER OF JOSEPH.

CHAPTER XXII.

PROGRESS AND PROMISE.

BENEVOLENCE, EARLY MANIFESTATION OF.--PROGRESS.--REVIVAL OF BENEVOLENCE
IN APRIL, 1861.--INTEREST OF PARENTS FOR THE CONVERSION OF THEIR
CHILDEREN.--PEACE IN FAMILIES.--REFORMED
MARRIAGES.--ORDINATIONS.--COMMUNION SEASONS.--MISS RICE AND MISS
BEACH.--CONCLUSION.

* * * * *

_List of Illustrations._

I. PLAIN AND LAKE OF OROOMIAH, AS SEEN FROM ROOF OF SEMINARY AT SEIR

II. MAP OF THE NESTORIAN COUNTRY.

III. FEMALE SEMINARY.

IV. TENTS.

V. MISSIONARY SCENE IN TURGAWER.

VI. COURT YARD OF SEMINARY.

VII. SEIR GATE, OROOMIAH.

VIII. TIARY GIRL.

WOMAN AND HER SAVIOUR.

CHAPTER I.

WOMAN WITHOUT THE GOSPEL.

We love to wander over a well-kept estate. Its green meadows and
fruitful fields delight the eye. Its ripening harvests make us feel as
if we too were wealthy. But while the view of what lies before us is so
pleasant, our joy is greater if we can remember when it was all a
wilderness, and contrast its present beauty with the roughness of its
former state.

So, in viewing the wonders of divine grace, we need to see its results
in connection with what has been. We can appreciate the loveliness of
the child of God only as we compare him with the child of wrath he was
before. Paul not only recounts the great things which God had done for
the early disciples, but bids them remember that they were once without
Christ; and before he tells them that God had made them "sit together
in heavenly places in Christ Jesus," he reminds them that they had
"walked according to the spirit that now worketh in the children of
disobedience."

In seeking, then, to set forth the great things which God has done for
woman in Persia, let us first look on her as his gospel found her, that
we may better appreciate the grace which wrought the change.

We can understand the condition of woman in that empire only as we bear
in mind that its government is despotic, and that no constitutional
safeguards shield the subjects of a thoroughly selfish and profligate
nobility. The Nestorians, too, are marked out alike by religion and
nationality as victims of oppression. However great their wrongs, they
can hope for little redress, for a distant court shares in the plunder
taken from them, and believes its own officials rather than the
despised rayahs, whom they oppress. Even when foreign intervention
procures some edict in their favor, these same officials, in distant
Oroomiah, are at no loss to evade its demands.

The Nestorian is not allowed a place in the bazaar;[1] he cannot engage
in commerce. And in the mechanic arts, he cannot aspire higher than the
position of a mason or carpenter; which, of course, is not to be
compared to the standing of the same trades among us. When our
missionaries went to Oroomiah, a decent garment on a Nestorian was safe
only as it had an outer covering of rags to hide it. [Footnote 1: The
bazaar is, literally, the market, but denotes the business part of a
city.]

In their language, as in Arabic, the missionaries found no word for
_home;_ and there was no need of it, for the thing itself was wanting.
The house consisted of one large room and was generally occupied by
several generations. In that one room all the work of the family was
performed. There they ate, and there they slept. The beds consisted of
three articles--a thick comfortable filled with wool or cotton beneath,
a pillow, and one heavy quilt for covering. On rising, they "took up
their beds," and piled them on a wooden frame, and spread them down
again at night. The room was lighted by an opening in the roof, which
also served for a chimney; though, of course, in a very imperfect
manner, as the inside of every dwelling that has stood for any length
of time bears witness. The upper part of the walls and the under
surface of the roof--we can hardly call it ceiling--fairly glitter, as
though they had been painted black and varnished, and every article of
clothing, book, or household utensil, is saturated with the smell of
creosote. The floor, like the walls, is of earth, covered in part with
coarse straw mats and pieces of carpeting; and the flat roof, of the
same material, rests on a layer of sticks, supported by large beams;
the mass above, however, often sifts through, and sometimes during a
heavy rain assumes the form of a shower of mud. Bad as all this may
seem, the houses are still worse in the mountain districts, such as
Gawar. There they are half under ground, made of cobble stones laid up
against the slanting sides of the excavation, and covered by a conical
roof with a hole in the centre. They contain, besides the family, all
the implements of husbandry, the cattle, and the flocks. These last
occupy "the sides of the house" (1 Sam. xxiv. 3), and stand facing the
"decana," or raised place in the centre, which is devoted to the
family. As wood is scarce in the mountains, and the climate severe, the
animal heat of the cattle is a substitute for fuel, except as sun-baked
cakes of manure are used once a day for cooking, as is the practice
also on the plain. In such houses the buffaloes sometimes break loose
and fight furiously, and instances are not rare when they knock down
the posts on which the roof rests, and thus bury all in one common ruin.

The influence of such family arrangements, even in the more favored
villages of the plain, on manners and morality, need not be told. It is
equally evident that in such circumstances personal tidiness is
impossible, though few in our favored land have any idea of the extent
of such untidiness. If the truth must be told, vermin abound in most of
these houses; the inmates are covered not only with fleas, but from
head to foot they are infested with the third plague of Egypt. (Ex.
viii. 16-19). This last is a constant annoyance in many parts of Turkey
as well as Persia. If one lodges in the native houses, there is no
refuge from them, and only an entire change of clothing affords relief
when he returns to his own home; even there the divans have to be
sedulously examined after the departure of visitors, that the plague do
not spread. The writer has known daughters of New England, ready for
almost any self-denial, burst into tears when first brought into
contact with this.

At first, the teachers of the Female Seminary in Oroomiah had to
cleanse their pupils very thoroughly, and were glad thus to purify the
outside, while beseeching Christ to cleanse the heart. Each one, on her
first arrival, had to be separately cared for, lest the enemy should
recover ground from which he had already been driven with much labor.
Missionary publications do not usually tell of such trials, but those
who drew the lambs from the deep pit, loved them all the more tenderly
for having gone down into it themselves, that thence they might bring
them to Jesus. Such trials are less common now, for it is generally
understood that a degree of personal cleanliness is an indispensable
requisite for admission to the Seminary; but such a demand, at that
time, would have rendered the commencement of the school impossible.

The pupils became much improved in personal appearance, and some of
their simple-hearted mothers really thought their children had grown
very pretty under their teachers' care. So, as many of them were
strangers to the cleansing properties of water, they would ask again
and again, "How do you make them so white?"

But if such houses were comfortless abodes for those in health, what
were they for the sick? Think of one in a burning fever, perhaps
delirious, lying in such a crowd. In winter, there they must remain,
for there is no other place, and in summer, they are often laid under a
tree in the day time, and carried up to the flat roof, with the rest of
the family, at night.

Dr. Perkins, in the early part of his missionary life, tells us that in
a village the family room was given up to him for the night, and in the
morning he found a little son had been born in the stable. He supposed
that he had been the unwitting cause of such an event occurring there;
but longer acquaintance with the people shows that woman almost
invariably resorts to that place in her hour of sorrow, and there she
often dies. The number who meet death in this form is very large.

In Persia, as in other unevangelized countries, women spend their days
in out-door labor. They weed the cotton, and assist in pruning the
vines and gathering the grapes. They go forth in the morning, bearing
not only their implements of husbandry, but also their babes in the
cradle; and returning in the evening, they prepare their husband's
supper, and set it before him, but never think of eating themselves
till after he is done. One of the early objections the Nestorians made
to the Female Seminary was, that it would disqualify their daughters
for their accustomed toil. In after years, woman might be seen carrying
her spelling-book to the field, along with her Persian hoe, little
dreaming that she was thus taking the first step towards the
substitution of the new implement for the old.

Nestorian parents used to consider the birth of a daughter a great
calamity. When asked the number of their children, they would count up
their sons, and make no mention of their daughters. The birth of a son
was an occasion for great joy and giving of gifts. Neighbors hastened
to congratulate the happy father, but days might elapse before the
neighborhood knew of the birth of a daughter. It was deemed highly
improper to inquire after the health of a wife, and the nearest
approach to it was to ask after the welfare of the house or household.
Formerly, a man never called his wife by name, but in speaking of her
would say, "the mother of so and so," giving the name of her child; or,
"the daughter of so and so," giving the name of her father; or, simply
"that woman" did this or that. Nor did the wife presume to call her
husband's name, or to address him in the presence of his parents, who,
it will be borne in mind, lived in the same apartment. They were
married very young, often at the age of fourteen, and without any
consultation of their own preference, either as to time or person.

There was hardly a man among the Nestorians who did not beat his wife.
The women expected to be beaten, and took it as a matter of course. As
the wife lived with the husband's father, it was not uncommon for him
to beat both son and daughter-in-law. When the men wished to talk
together of any thing important, they usually sent the women out of
doors or to the stable, as unable to understand, or unfit to be
trusted. In some cases, this might be a necessary precaution; for the
absence of true affection; and the frequency of domestic broils,
rendered the wife an unsafe depositary of any important family affair.
The same causes often led the wife to appropriate to her own foolish
gratification any money of her husband she could lay hands on,
regardless of family necessities. Women whose tastes led them to load
themselves with beads, silver, baser metal, and rude trinkets, would
not be likely to expend money very judiciously.

In 1835, the only Nestorian woman that knew how to read was Heleneh,
the sister of Mar Shimon; and when others were asked if they would not
like to learn, with a significant shrug they would reply, "I am a
woman." They had themselves no more desire to learn than the men had to
have them taught. Indeed, the very idea of a woman reading was regarded
as an infringement of female modesty and propriety.

It is a little curious, and shows how we adapt ourselves to our
situation, that the women were as unwilling to receive attention from
their husbands as they were to render it. Several years after the
arrival of Miss Fiske in Oroomiah, the wife of one of her assistants
visited the Seminary, and on leaving to return to her village, the
teacher, in the kindness of her heart, proposed to the husband to go
and assist her to carry the child. She seemed as if she had been
insulted in being thought unable to carry it, and sent her husband back
from the door in any thing but a gracious mood, leaving the good
teacher half bewildered and half amused at this reception of her
intended kindness.

Indeed, until some of them were converted, all that was lovely and of
good report in woman was entirely wanting. They were trodden down, but
at the same time exceedingly defiant and imperious. If they were not
the "head," it was not because they did not "strive for the mastery."
They seemed to have no idea of self-control; their bursts of passion
were awful. The number of women who reverenced their husbands was as
small as the list of husbands who did not beat their wives. Says Miss
Fiske, in writing to a friend, "I felt pity for my poor sisters before
going among them, but anguish when, from actual contact with them, I
realized how very low they were. I did not want to leave them, but I
did ask, Can the image of Christ ever be reflected from such hearts?
They would come and tell me their troubles, and fall down at my feet,
begging me to deliver them from their husbands. They would say, 'You
are sent by our holy mother, Mary, to help us;' and do not think me
hard-hearted when I tell you that I often said to them, 'Loose your
hold of my feet; I did not come to deliver you from your husbands, but
to show you how to be so good that you can be happy with them.'
Weeping, they would say, 'Have mercy on us; if not, we must kill
ourselves.' I had no fear of their doing that, so I would seat them at
my side, and tell them of my own dear father,--how good he was; but he
was always _obeyed_. They would say, 'We could obey a good man.' 'But I
am very sure you would not have been willing to obey my father.'

"It is one thing to pray for our degraded sisters while in America, but
quite another to raise them from their low estate. When I saw their
true character, I found that I needed a purer, holier love for them
than I had ever possessed. It was good for me to see that _I_ could do
nothing, and it was comforting to think that Jesus had talked with just
such females as composed the mass around me, and that afterwards many
believed because of one such woman."

Sometimes the revilings of the women were almost equalled by similar
talk among the men, as in a village of Gawar, where they said, "We
would not receive a priest or deacon here who could not swear well, and
lie too." In the same village, a young man spoke favorably of Mr.
Coan's preaching in Jeloo. Instantly a woman called out, "And have you
heard those deceivers preach?" "Yes," was the reply, "both last year
and this, and hope I shall again." Hearing this, her eyes flashed, and
drawing her brawny arms into the form of a dagger, with a vengeful
thrust of her imaginary weapon, she cried, "The blood of thy father
smite thee, thou Satan!" and dreadful was the volley of oaths and
curses that followed. Yet she was only a fair specimen of the village.

We of the calmer West do not know what it is to have a mob of such
women come forth in their wrath. In one town was a virago, who often,
single-handed, faced down and drove off Moslem tax-gatherers when the
men fled in terror. No one who has ever heard the stinging shrillness
of their tongues, or looked on their frenzied gestures, can ever forget
them, or wonder why the ancients painted the Furies in the form of
women. Words cannot portray the excitement of such a scene. The hair of
the frantic actors is streaming in the wind; stones and clods seem only
embodiments of the unearthly yells and shrieks that fill the air; and
yet it was such beings that grace made to be "last at the cross and
first at the sepulchre."

The East is notorious for profanity, and among the Nestorians women
were as profane as men. The pupils in the Seminary at first used to
swear, and use the vilest language on the slightest provocation. Poor,
blind Martha, on her death bed, in her own father's house, was
constantly cursed and reviled. She was obliged sometimes to cover her
head with the quilt, and stop her ears, to secure an opportunity to
pray for her profane and abusive brother; and though, in such
circumstances, she died before her prayers were answered, yet they were
heard, for he afterwards learned to serve his sister's God. "Do you
think people will believe me," said a pupil to her teacher, who was
reproving her for profanity, "if I do not repeat the name of God very
often?"

Lying was almost as common as profanity, and stealing quite as
prevalent as either. It was a frequent remark, "We all lie here; do you
think we could succeed in business without it?"

In the early days of the Seminary, nothing was safe except under lock
and key. Sometimes there seemed to be a dawn of improvement, and next,
all the buttons would be missing from the week's washing, and the
teacher was pretty sure to find that her own pupils were the thieves.
Miss Rice tells of one, amply supplied with every thing by her parents,
yet noted for her thefts. Indeed, sons and daughters were alike trained
to such practices. In 1843, Miss Fiske could not keep a pin in her
pin-cushion; little fingers took them as often as she turned away, and
lest she should tempt them to lie, she avoided questioning them, unless
her own eye had seen the theft. No wonder she wrote, "I feel very weak,
and were it not that Christ has loved these souls, I should be
discouraged; but he has loved them, and he loves them still." If the
pins were found with the pupils, the answer was ready--"We found them,"
or, "You gave them to us;" and nothing could be proved. But one summer
evening, just before the pupils were to pass through her room to their
beds on the flat roof, knowing that none of that color could be
obtained elsewhere, the teacher put six black pins in her cushion, and
stepped out till they had passed. As soon as they were gone, she found
the pins gone too, and at once called them back. She told them of her
loss, but none knew any thing about it. She showed them that no one
else had been there, and therefore they must know. Six pairs of little
hands were lifted up, as they said, "God knows we have not got them;"
but this only called forth the reply, "I think that God knows you have
got them," and she searched each one carefully, without finding them.
She then proposed to kneel down where they stood, and ask God to show
where they were, adding, "He may not see it best to show me now, but he
will do it some time." She laid the matter before the Lord, and, just
as they rose from their knees, remembered that she had not examined
their cloth caps. She now proposed to examine them, and one pair of
hands went right up to her cap. Of course she was searched first, and
there were the six pins, so nicely concealed in its folds that nothing
was visible but their heads. This incident did much good. The pupils
looked on the discovery as an answer to prayer, and so did their
teacher. They began to be afraid to steal when God so exposed their
thefts, and she was thankful for an answer so immediate. The offender
is now a pious, useful woman.

Yet some were so accustomed to falsehood, that, even after conversion,
it cost a struggle to be entirely truthful, and missionaries could see,
as Christians in our own land cannot see, why an apostle should write
to the regenerate, "Lie not one to another." The teacher labored to
impress her charge with the sinfulness of such conduct, but in the
revival of 1846, they seemed to learn more in one hour than she had
taught them in the two years preceding. Yet that faithful instruction
was not lost. It was the fuel which the Spirit of God kindled into a
flame. The sower has not labored in vain because the seed lies for days
buried in the soil.

In that revival, the awakened hastened to restore what they had stolen.
One came to Miss Fiske in great distress, saying, "Do you remember the
day, two years ago, when Sawdee's new shoes were taken from the
door?"--They leave off their shoes on entering a house.--"Yes, I
recollect it." "You thought a Moslem woman stole them, but"--and here
her feelings overcame her--"I took them, for I was angry with her, and
threw them into a well. What shall I do? I know Christ will not receive
me till I have confessed it to her. Can I go and confess it to-night,
and pray with her, and then may I go and work for money to replace
them?" She paid for the shoes, and became a bright light in her dark
home. There were many such cases, and from that time the teachers had
little trouble from theft. New pupils would sometimes steal, but the
older ones were ready to detect them, and show them a more excellent
way. Miss Fiske says of this, "The frequent visits of the Holy Spirit
have removed an evil which mocked my efforts. God made me feel my utter
helplessness, and then he did the work." That same term there was but
one case of theft in the Male Seminary, though formerly it was not
infrequent there.

In reference to transgressions of the seventh commandment, much detail
is not expedient. It is sufficient to say, that the first impressions
of earlier missionaries respecting the purity of Nestorian women were
not sustained by subsequent acquaintance. The farther they went beneath
the surface of things, the more they found of corruption. One might go
to Persia supposing that he knew a good deal of the degradation of the
people, and yet really know very little of the pit into which he was
descending.

A seminary gathering together such a company of young females, was a
new thing in Persia, and it will readily be conceived that amid a
Mohammedan community it was an object of peculiar solicitude to its
guardians. Many a Moslem eye was on those girls, as the results of a
religious education appeared in their manners, their dress, and
personal beauty. In one instance, an officer of government attempted to
take one of them to his harem, but God thwarted his purpose through the
interference of the English consul. Similar dangers threatened from
other sources, and eternity alone will reveal the burden of care and
watchfulness they involved. If only one pupil had been led astray, what
a hopeless loss of confidence would have followed among the people! In
the early years of the institution, when parents could hardly be
persuaded to trust their daughters out of their sight for a single
night, it might have broken up the whole enterprise; but in this
matter, also, God showed himself the hearer of prayer, and not one
danger of the kind was ever allowed to be more than an occasion for
renewed intercession, and more confiding dependence on his gracious
care. Sometimes, in vacation, it seemed strange to its guardians that
they had no longer a fold to protect, and could retire to rest free
from that anxious solicitude that sometimes drove sleep from their eyes.

It is not in the beginning of missionary life that all these things are
understood: they are learned gradually. This is wisely ordered, that
the missionary be not discouraged at the outset. Strength is given each
day to meet new trials as they come, and it would not be leaving a
truthful impression on the reader, if, at the close of this description
of what has been, it should not be recorded, to the praise of divine
grace, that a great change has taken place. There are many to-day to
whom the missionary may say, "Such were some of you; but ye are washed,
but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord
Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." Not only do some who stole steal
no more, but many young husbands now provide separate apartments for
the bride whom they bring home, and they need all that the word "home"
expresses to describe their mutual joy. The hour of suffering is
anticipated by a considerate affection, and that affection is so
reciprocated that many hearts safely trust in the daughters of the
Female Seminary of Oroomiah.

It is not merely education that has wrought this change, but a Bible
education. Paul cared for just such converts, and left divine teachings
for the use of those who should come after him in the same work. As a
young wife said to her teacher one day, after she had been talking with
her about her new duties, "I thank you; you are right. I am glad that
you have told me what Paul says, and I think that God has told you the
same thing." Many a graduate might say, with another, "I thank you for
your instructions, and as I look on the trials of ungodly families,
every drop of my blood thanks you."

CHAPTER II.

MARBEESHOO.

VISIT THERE.--NATIVE ACCOMMODATIONS.--HOSPITALITY OF SENUM.--MOHAMMEDAN
WOMEN.

The following account of Miss Fiske's visit to Marbeeshoo, in November,
1847, presents a vivid picture of things as they were, and the
Christian thoughtfulness of one who had learned a more excellent way:--

"As we sat at dinner a few days since, Mr. Stocking proposed that I
spend the Sabbath with him at Marbeeshoo. I said at once, 'I cannot
leave my school.' But he forthwith called Sanum, Sarah, and Moressa, my
oldest girls, and asked them if they did not love souls in Marbeeshoo
well enough to take good care of school, and let me be absent till
Tuesday. They were delighted to think of my going where no missionary
lady had ever been, and said, 'We will do all we can for the girls, and
we will pray for you, if you will only go and try to do those poor
women good.' It was hardly two o'clock before we were on horseback.
Marbeeshoo is about fifty miles from us, and in Turkey. Two years ago
it was said 'no lady should try to go there,' but brother Stocking
thought not so now; and I was willing to follow where he led,
especially as a former pupil had recently settled there. We must be out
over night, but we thought best not to spend it in a tent, on account
of the cold. Near sunset we came to Mawana, a village of mud huts. We
went to the house of the head man, who joyfully welcomed us to his
house. It consisted of a single low room, inhabited by at least a score
of men, women, and children. They came in one by one, but already the
hens had found their resting place, evidently no strangers there.
Several lambs had been brought into their corner, and three or four
calves, each had his couch of grass. Our horses had been arranged for
the night on the other side of a partition wall, some three feet high.
When all were within, the coarse bread and sour milk were brought out
for supper. Then Mr. Stocking read from the Bible, and talked, and
prayed with the numerous family, and the women sat around me, while I
tried to do them good, till about ten o'clock. At that time, the mother
of the family rose, saying, 'Now we will settle it.' I listened to hear
the settlement of some family quarrel, but to my surprise her meaning
was, 'We will settle where to lie down for the night;' and as I looked
over the room I thought, surely some little skill in settling is
needed, if we are all to sleep here. But soon she took out three of the
children to an empty manger, where she put new hay, and quickly settled
them; they were covered with an old rug, and at once fell fast asleep.
She then returned, saying, 'Now there is room for our guests,' and
brought a piece of cotton cloth, which she said was _all_ for me. In a
short time, one and another was fast asleep. They lay on mats, without
either bed or pillow, and the divers breathing or snoring of men, and
calves, and lambs was soon heard, all mingled together.

"I found myself sitting alone with the old lady, and so, putting my
carpet bag under my head, and drawing my shawl about me, I lay down
too. This was a signal for extinguishing the light; but before that, I
had marked a road, where I thought I might possibly pass out between
the sleepers should I need fresh air. There was no sleep for me; and
the swarms of fleas made me so uncomfortable, that before midnight I
found my way out, and remained as long as the cold air of that November
night allowed, and so passed out and in several times during the night.
I watched long for the morning, and at length it came, and the
sleepers, one by one, arose. They all hoped I had slept well, and I
could not tell them I had not, for they had given me the best they had,
and told me again and again how glad they were that I had come, and
hoped their house would always be mine when I came that way. There was
a proposal for breakfast, but the morning was so fine that I suggested
to Mr. Stocking that a carpet bag sometimes furnished a very good
breakfast.

"We did enjoy that ride very much after a sleepless night. The road was
often only a narrow path on the edge of a precipice, and such as I had
never passed over before; but I thanked my God at every step for the
pure, fresh air of those mountains. As we approached the village, hid
away among the cliffs, and in such a narrow spot that houses were
placed one above another on the terraced hill-side, one of our
attendants insisted on riding forward, and we were not greatly
surprised to find a crowd ready to welcome us. One and another cried
out, 'Senum wants you to go to Zechariah's.' So to Zechariah's we went,
and there was my pupil, waiting with open arms to receive me. She took
me from my horse, exclaiming, 'Is it true that you have come? I have
heard where you staid last night, and I know you did not sleep at all.
Come right into my room; there are no fleas here; I have a bed that is
clean, that I keep for the missionaries. I will spread it for you, and
you shall sleep before any body comes to see you.' The bed was spread;
she gave me milk to drink (Judg, iv. 19), and then said, 'I will guard
the door so no one shall disturb you, and I will wake you for dinner.'
I was soon asleep, and slept two long hours before she woke me.

"When she did, she came with her tray in her hand, where was the
freshly baked bread, the nicely cooked little fish, which, she said,
'my husband caught expressly for you and Mr. Stocking,' honey from
their own hives, milk from their flock, and other simple refreshments.
All was neatly prepared, and we were so thankful for the dear child's
attentions! When dinner was over, she said, 'Now I want you to see the
women; but they must not come here, for they will leave fleas, and you
will not be able to sleep tonight. There is another large room the
other side, and we will have meeting there this afternoon.'

"About three o'clock I met there more than one hundred poor women, who
of course must ask many questions before their curiosity would be
satisfied. They finally became quiet, however, and I could tell them of
the Saviour, who had loved to teach just such needy ones as they were.
I enjoyed the afternoon very much; it was all the more precious for the
discomforts of the night, and the comforts of Senum's house. The next
day was the Sabbath, and most of the time I was in the 'large room,'
where the women came freely. In the afternoon about three hundred were
present. I was weary at night, but Senum's care, with the thought of
the privilege of meeting so many who had never before heard of Christ
as the _only_ Saviour, made me forget it all."

Painful as is this view of woman as she was among the Nestorians, her
condition was still worse among the Mohammedans; not, indeed, in
matters of outward comfort, for the wealth of Persia is in Moslem
hands, and they occupy every position of rank or authority in the land.
But in all that pertains to morality and religion, they stand on a
lower level.

The Nestorian woman may not have known what was contained in the Bible,
yet she knew that it was the word of God, and was ready to receive all
its teachings as of divine authority. To her Moslem sister it is not
only an unknown book, but one she is taught to regard as superseded by
the Koran.

Although the Nestorian woman knew nothing of spiritual worship, yet she
regarded the Lord's day as set apart for his service. The Moslem, on
the other hand, regards it like any other day of the week, and exalts
her Friday to the place that of right belongs to the Sabbath of the
Lord.

In all her degradation, the Nestorian woman reverenced the name of
Jesus as her God. True, she had no correct idea of salvation or
redeeming love; yet even a blind attachment to that sacred name is not
without its reward. She may have fallen very low, but there was a power
even in her ignorant adherence to Christ, that kept her from falling to
the level of those who renounced him for the Arabian impostor. This was
seen especially in the blessings that came to her through the
institution of Christian marriage, while others groaned under the
debasing influence of a sensual polygamy. The wretchedness this
occasioned is a topic too large and too painful to dwell upon here. But
the wide gulf that separated the two classes was clearly seen, when on
her Sabbath the missionary could speak to the Nestorian of her Saviour
out of her Bible, while the Moslem knows nothing beyond her kohl and
her henna,[1] her dresses and her follies, and other topics at once
belittling, debasing, and corrupting. [Footnote 1: Kohl is a black
powder used to paint the eyebrows and eyelashes. Henna is a plant
employed to stain the nails, and sometimes the entire hand and part of
the foot, of a dark orange hue.]

CHAPTER III.

THE SCENE OF THE NARRATIVE.

NESTORIANS.--THEIR COUNTRY.--FRONTISPIECE.--LAKE.--PLAIN.--FORDING THE
SHAHER.--MISSION PREMISES IN OROOMIAH.

We will now glance at the scene of the events to be narrated, as it may
not be familiar to every reader. To write of woman in Persia would
embrace the whole empire as the field of inquiry; for the existence of
woman is coextensive with the population. But "Woman and her Saviour in
Persia" confines our attention to those who have been taught the truth
as it is in Jesus; for when Christ sent forth Paul to preach his gospel
to the Gentiles, it was that they might receive forgiveness of sins,
and inheritance among them who are sanctified by faith that is in him;
and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? Our
theme, then, confines us to the Nestorians, who number about one
hundred thousand souls. About two thirds of these live in Turkey; but
the following pages relate principally to those residing in Persia, and
hence the title of the volume.

This people inhabit, along with Koords and other races, the territory
extending from the western shore of the Lake of Oroomiah to the eastern
bank of the Tigris. It includes the Persian province of Oroomiah, and
both the eastern and western slope of Central Koordistan. The most
inaccessible recesses of the Koordish Mountains have been their refuge
for centuries. The whole region extends across four degrees of
longitude, with a varying breadth of from one to two degrees of
latitude. Attention will be called especially to the city of Oroomiah
and the villages around it. The plain of that name is seventy-five
miles long and from twelve to twenty miles in width, containing more
than a thousand square miles. It is dotted with perhaps three hundred
villages, the population varying, according to the size of the village,
from less than one hundred to more than a thousand inhabitants.

The frontispiece gives a view of this plain, from the roof of the
mission premises at Seir, one thousand feet above the city. The lofty
Wolf mountain appears on the right, and the high range west of the
narrowest part of the lake on the left. The lake itself is seen beyond
the plain at the foot of the mountains which rise abruptly from its
eastern shore. The distance makes it seem much narrower than it is, for
while one hundred miles in length, it is not far from thirty miles in
breadth. Its surface is forty-one hundred feet above the sea, and four
hundred feet below the city of Oroomiah. No living thing exists in its
waters, which are both salt and bituminous.

The plain is more crowded with villages than here represented, and each
one is made conspicuous by its grove of trees, as well as its houses.
The city appears prominent at the foot of the hill, though six miles
distant from the spectator. It is in the same latitude with Richmond,
Virginia, and contains about thirty-five thousand souls. The plain
slopes up very gradually from the lake, and Mount Seir rises, behind
our point of view, two thousand eight hundred and thirty-four feet
above the city. Farther west, the summits of Central Koordistan rise,
range above range, to the height of seventeen thousand feet.

We pass down from Seir to the city by a carriage road, now by the side
of vineyards, and now near fields of wheat and clover, diversified by
orchards and gardens of cucumbers. All of these, and indeed the whole
plain, owes its fertility to canals, led out from the rivers which
descend from the mountains. Willow, poplar, and sycamore trees line
these watercourses. All kinds of fruit trees abound, while the rich
verdure of the plain contrasts strikingly with the bare declivities
that overlook it from every side. The villages on either hand are
clusters of mud houses crowded together for greater security, and every
tree in their groves has to be watered as regularly as the fields and
gardens.

Before reaching the city we must ford the Shaher, a river that, though
frequently all drained off into the fields in summer, is very deep in
early spring, when fatal accidents sometimes occur. It was here that,
in May, 1846, Miss Fiske narrowly escaped a watery grave. On her way to
Seir, with Mr. and Mrs. Stoddard, the horse lay down in the middle of
the river, leaving her to be swept off by the rapid current. Mr.
Stoddard hastened to the rescue; but the moment his steed was loose, he
rushed to attack the horse of Mrs. Stoddard, and, as Miss Fiske rose to
the surface, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Stoddard looking back on the
battle, and his wife held between the combatants by her riding habit,
which had caught on the saddle; but while she looked the dress gave
way, and Mrs. Stoddard was safe. She herself had sufficient presence of
mind not to breathe under water, and, on coming up for the fifth time,
floated into shallow water near the opposite shore, forty rods below
the ford, just as Mr. Stoddard reached the same point.

From the river, beautiful orchards line the road on both sides to the
city gate, of which a representation is given on page 154; and about
one eighth of a mile inside of that, where the Nestorian and Moslem
sections of the city join each other, stand the mission premises, built
of sun-dried bricks, like the houses around them.

They occupy a little more than an acre, in the form of a parallelogram;
and if, for the sake of clearness, we compare it to a window, the
bottom of the lower sash is represented by a long, earthen-roofed
structure, half of it a dwelling house, once the home of Dr. Grant, but
now the dwelling of Dr. Wright. It is the building on the left of the
engraving at page 131, and the round object occupying the nearest
window in the second story is a clock, the gift of a well-known
merchant of Boston, brother of one of our deceased missionaries. Let
our lower sash be filled by two large panes in modern style, and these
are represented by two courts surrounded by pavements, and shaded by
large sycamore trees. In the engraving just referred to, the spectator
stands in one of these courts, looking over a low wall into the other.
For the top of the lower sash, we have another building, extending
across the premises. The left half of this appearing on page 131,
behind the trees, and on the opposite page represented without them,
was the first home of Dr. Perkins, and is now the Female Seminary; but
repeated additions and modifications have been required to transform a
building, originally erected for a private residence, into a structure
suitable for such a school.

Miss Fiske first taught in one room of a building to the right, which
does not appear in the engraving, though a part of it is seen on page
131; then, as the school grew larger, another room was added, and when
those quarters became too strait, this building was remodelled for its
use.

[Illustration: Female seminary at Oboomiah]

As we shall have a good deal to do with the Seminary in these pages,
let us become familiar with its home. Between the central door and the
one on the left, those three windows belong to a large room once used
as a chapel, but since then as a guest room for the accommodation of
the women whom we shall see coming here to learn of Jesus. In this
room, Nestorian converts first partook of the Lord's supper with the
missionaries. The left of the three windows directly over these, with
the rose-bush in it, belongs to Miss Fiske's private room, and the
other two to her sitting room. This the pupils have named "The Bethel,"
and it is so connected that the teacher can step into recitation room,
dining room, or kitchen, as occasion requires. The last named apartment
is on the rear of the building. The largest recitation room, by a
curious necessity, is in the form of a carpenter's wooden square, with
the teacher's desk in the angle between the two compartments. One of
these is on the back side of the building, out of sight; the other,
extending across the end, is represented in front by the window at the
extreme left.

Over the central door is, first, the steward's room, and then closets
over that; for one of the results of the successive alterations and
additions is, that parts of the building are two, and other parts
three, stories high. Miss Rice's room is directly over the door on the
left hand, as the steward's is here. The three windows in the second
story, to the right of the two central closets, open into the dining
room, and one of the girls' rooms occupies the corner beyond. On the
lower floor, going from the central door to the right, is first a
closet, and then a large guest room for visitors; and underneath the
whole is the cellar where the boys' school was first taught, that has
since grown into the Male Seminary at Seir.

The rooms of the pupils are mostly in the rear. These are large enough
to accommodate six or eight occupants, as the Oriental style of living
does not require so much furniture as ours. In each room is a member of
the senior class, who exercises a kind supervision over her younger
companions. Every room has two or more closets, designed especially,
but not exclusively, for devotion; and some sleep in the recitation
rooms, as such a use of them at night does not interfere with other
uses during the day.

But we had almost forgotten our imaginary window, the upper sash of
which remains to be described. In that we have only one pane,
representing a large court, with the chapel on one side, and the wash
rooms and other outbuildings of the Seminary on the other. This court
is more garden-like than the other two, has fewer trees, and a long
arbor, covered with grape vines, forms a covered walk in the middle of
it. It was in this arbor that the tables were spread for the collation
in 1850, to be described hereafter. This court is invaluable as a place
for out-door exercise, where the pupils may enjoy the fresh air, free
from the annoyances and exposures of the streets in an Oriental city.

A stream is led through all these courts in a channel lined with stone.
Its murmuring waters are a pleasant sound at early dawn, when they
mingle sweetly with the morning song of birds. Here many Nestorian
women come to fill their earthen pitchers, as the water is not carried
through the courts of Christian houses. The mission premises belonged
to Mohammedans; and here, in the shade of the tall sycamores, Mrs.
Grant used to sit, with her children, and talk with the women who came
for water. Her successors find time to continue the same practice, and
as the natives let down their pitchers (Gen. xxiv. 18), and now and
then one is broken (Eccles. xii. 6), realize that they live in a Bible
land, and seek to make its daughters feel the power of Bible truth.

The Seminary is outwardly very humble, and would contrast very
unfavorably with the stately edifices of similar institutions at home.
But we shall see that the Saviour has not disdained to honor it with
his presence, and its earthen floors and mud walls[1] have witnessed
many a gracious visit of the Holy Spirit. Though the glory of Lebanon
has not come unto it, yet has God himself beautified the place and made
it glorious. [Footnote 1: The pilasters in the engraving are made of
brick, and not only support the large timbers of the roof, but, by
their greater projection, protect the softer material of the wall from
the weather. The whole is plastered outside with a mixture of lime and
clay, that requires frequent renewal.]

CHAPTER IV.

MISSIONARY EDUCATION.

OBJECT--MEANS--STUDY OF BIBLE--PUPILS KEPT IN SYMPATHY WITH THE
PEOPLE.--PEOPLE STIMULATED TO EXERTION AND SELF-DEPENDENCE--TAHITI.
--MADAGASCAR.

Let us now look at some of the principles on which missionary education
was here carried on, that we may see what kind of an instrumentality
God was pleased to crown with his blessing.

The Seminary was founded, not to polish the manners, refine the taste,
or impart accomplishments, but to renovate the character by a permanent
inward change. The main dependence for bringing this about was the
power of the Holy Ghost--the only power that can impart or maintain
spiritual life in man. This dependence was expressed in fervent prayer,
offered for years amid discouragement and opposition, and, instead of
ceasing when an answer came, only offered by a greater number. It is
worthy of note that some of the seasons of greatest revival were
preceded by disasters that threatened the very existence of the mission.

The principal text book was the word of God; partly, as we shall see,
through a providential necessity, but chiefly because it was God's own
chosen instrumentality for the salvation of our race; and it was
eminently adapted for the education of such a people. The teachers
could say, with a beloved co-laborer on Mount Lebanon, "To the
Scriptures we give increased attention; they do more to unfold and
expand the intellectual powers, and to create careful and honest
thinkers, than all the sciences we teach." It is also most efficient in
freeing mind and heart from those erroneous views that are opposed to
its teachings; and actual trial developed a richness and fulness of
practical adaptation to the work that astonished even those who already
knew something of its value. Its precepts and instructions were also
clothed with power: requirements and counsels which from the missionary
had only awakened opposition, coming from the Bible were received as
messages from heaven. Said a Nestorian to a missionary who had been
speaking to him the words of God, "His words grew very beautiful while
we were talking." In reference to every suspicious novelty or
distasteful duty, the Bible was the ultimate appeal. The missionary
could say to them as Paul did to an early church, "When ye received the
word of God, which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of
man, but, as it is in truth, the word of God, which effectually worketh
also in you that believe." Besides, those thus educated were to teach
others, and needed to be thoroughly furnished from the divine oracles
with the truths they were to impart. It is not strange, then, that in
the Seminary the Bible was studied both doctrinally and historically;
that they had a system of theology and tables of Scripture chronology;
that biblical biography and geography were regular studies; that
different portions of Scripture occupied different years; and that,
instead of Butler's Analogy and Wayland's Moral Science, were the
Epistles to the Romans and Hebrews studied with all the accurate
analysis and thoroughness bestowed elsewhere upon the classics. Such
teaching would yield good fruit any where, and the good seed found good
ground in Persia.

So much for the instrumentality; but, then, influences are every where
at work to check the growth of the plant of grace, and these must be
overcome. There is danger that missionary education may be made worse
than useless by allowing the sympathies of pupils to become alienated
from the masses around them. Children from heathen families may be
puffed up with an idea of superiority to their own people. Their taste
may be cultivated so as to render disgust with heathen degradation
stronger than the Christian desire to do them good. A foreign language,
foreign dress, and foreign habits may widen the gulf that separates
them from their people, till, what with an undue exaltation on the one
hand and a suspicious jealousy on the other, usefulness is well nigh
impossible. But here such tendencies have been carefully watched and
guarded against. The pupils have been trained with the view of doing
good among their own people. No line of separation has been drawn in
dress or diet, furniture or household arrangements. While taught to be
neat, the goal kept ever in sight has been, a happy usefulness in their
own homes, the elevation of the mass just as fast as was consistent
with mutual love and sympathy, the people not feeling that their
daughters were denationalized, and they not lifted out of sympathy with
the homes they were to bless. Hence, even in 1844, we find the mud
floor of the small school room covered with straw mats; one window, of
oiled paper, admitting the light; and a brick stove, with a few rude
benches, its only furniture. In the other room, where the cooking was
done, the pupils ate, and spent their time out of school. Here were two
windows of like material; and besides the mats, the floor was covered
with a thick felt, on which they spread their beds at night. A table
was provided, covered with a coarse blue and white check. There were
also a set of coarse plates and a few other dishes, but no knives nor
forks. They eat their soup with wooden spoons, and their other food
with their hands. Their clothing, like their cooking, was mostly in
native style; and they were taught to make it for themselves.

Another object in missionary education is, to do enough to stimulate to
exertion, and yet not foster inefficiency or undue dependence. The
Nestorians are poor, but doing too much for them may make them still
poorer. They must be brought to sustain their own institutions at the
earliest possible moment, and their training should keep that end in
view. Hence Miss Fiske writes, "At first I was inclined to do more for
them than afterwards, and at length settled down on this principle,--to
give my pupils nothing for common use which they could not secure in
their own homes by industry and economy. So I furnished only such
articles as they could buy in the city. I preferred that they should
make all their own clothing, and may have grieved friends sometimes by
declining clothing which they offered to send for them. We chose rather
to spend our own strength in training them to provide for themselves. I
do not mean that I am not glad to see foreign articles in Oroomiah; but
we were in danger of fostering a more expensive taste than they would
have the means of gratifying. Our great object is to raise up the most
efficient coadjutors from among the people, and they must labor among
their neighbors as of them, and not as foreigners, and be prepared to
carry forward the work when we leave it.

"At first we clothed as well as boarded our pupils, and then led them
to provide one article after another, till they clothed themselves. It
was delightful to see the interest parents began to take in clothing
their daughters, in order to send them to school after they provided
their own garments. They took better care of them, and so learned to
take better care of other things. Since I left, Miss Rice has advanced
farther in this matter; and last year most of the pupils paid a trifle
for tuition, amounting in all to over twenty dollars. It often costs
more than the amount to secure these pittances; but it does our pupils
good, and we spared no pains to this end."

It is touching to see the spirit manifested by some parents in this
connection. One very poor widow, whose little field of grain had been
devoured by locusts, brought a large squash and a quantity of raisins
which she had earned by laboring for others--a self-denial almost equal
to her previous giving up of her only bed for the use of a daughter in
the Seminary, which she brought, saying, "I can sleep on the _hasseer_
[rush mat], if you will only receive her into school."

It certainly is not benevolence to do for others what they can do as
well for themselves, or to do for them in a way to diminish either
their ability or disposition to provide for themselves. Missionaries
may be in danger of staying too long and doing too much for a people,
rather than of leaving them too soon after the gospel has taken root
among them.

Native pastors came into being at Tahiti simply because the French
drove off the missionaries. They were not ordained before, but at once
proved themselves equal to the work that Providence assigned them; and
after twenty years of French misrule, in spite of Popery on the one
hand and brandy and vice on the other, there are now more church
members under these native pastors than ever before.

Twenty years ago the European shepherds were driven from Madagascar,
and a few lambs left in the midst of wolves; but God raised up native
pastors, and, instead of tens of Christians under Europeans, there are
now hundreds, yea, thousands, under these natives.[1] Those
missionaries are wise who aim constantly at results like these; and it
is in such a spirit that work has been done among the women of Persia.
[Footnote: Rev. Dr. Tidman, secretary of the London Missionary Society,
in "Conference of Missions at Liverpool," 1860, p. 225.]

CHAPTER V.

BEGINNINGS.

MRS. GRANT.--EARLY LIFE AND LABORS.--GREAT INFLUENCE.--HER SCHOOL.--HER
PUPILS.--CHANGED INTO BOARDING SCHOOL.--GETTING PUPILS.--CARE OF
THEM.--DIFFICULTIES FROM POVERTY OF PEOPLE.--PAYING FOR FOOD OF
SCHOLARS.--POSITION OF UNMARRIED MISSIONARY LADIES.--BOOKS.

We have seen that among the Nestorians it was counted a disgrace for a
female to learn to read; and even now, in the districts remote from
missionary influence, a woman who reads, and especially one who writes,
is an object of public odium, if not of persecution. How, then, could
the Nestorians be induced to send their daughters to schools? What
overcame this strong national prejudice? These questions open a
delightful chapter in divine providence, showing how wonderfully God
adapts means to ends, even on opposite sides of the globe.

A Christian gentleman in the State of New York, on the death of his
wife's sister, adopted into his own family her infant child. She was
trained to the exercise of a practical Christian benevolence, and her
superior mind was improved by an education remarkably thorough. In the
classics and mathematics she exhibited uncommon aptitude, and made
unusual attainments; so that it was truly said of her, "Perhaps no
female missionary ever left our country with a mind so well disciplined
as Mrs. Judith S. Grant." She sailed for Persia, July 11, 1835; and
there she displayed rare ability in acquiring the language of the
people. The Turkish she soon spoke familiarly. In a short time she read
the ancient Syriac, and acquired the spoken language with at least
equal facility. Previous even to these acquisitions, she taught Mar
Yohanan and others English; and as they noticed the ease with which she
turned to her Greek Testament, whenever ours seemed to differ from the
ancient Syriac, they regarded her with feelings in which it would be
hard to say whether wonder, love, or reverence was the strongest. Some
might have cried out, when her fine intellect and rare acquirements
were devoted to the missionary work, "Why is this waste of the ointment
made?" But had her friends searched the round world for a sphere of
greatest usefulness, they could not have selected one where her rare
gifts would have accomplished so much; and when such a woman manifested
deep solicitude for the education of her sex, ancient prejudice fell
before her. She taught her own domestics to read. She sedulously
cultivated the acquaintance of both Christian and Mohammedan women; nor
did she rest till she had opened a school for girls in what is now Mr.
Coan's barn. Such was her zeal, that when her health would not allow
her to go there, she taught the pupils in her own apartment. She
commenced with only four scholars, but at the same time prepared the
maps for Parley's Geography in modern Syriac, and the old map of
Oroomiah, so familiar to the readers of the Missionary Herald, was her
handiwork. Nor was her usefulness confined to her school room. Hers was
the privilege of creating such a public sentiment in favor of the
education of woman, that her successors have found the gates wide open
before them, and often wondered at the extent and permanence of the
influence she acquired. There is no one topic of which Miss Fiske has
spoken to the writer so frequently, and with such enthusiasm, as the
great work that Mrs. Grant accomplished for woman in Persia, during her
short missionary life. She was the laborious and self-denying pioneer
in female education, and every year thus far has brought to light new
evidence of her extensive usefulness. It was no empty compliment, when
the venerable Mar Elias said, "We will bury her in our church, where
none but very holy men are laid. As she has done so much for us, we
want the privilege of digging her grave with our own hands."

Miss Fiske writes, shortly after her arrival, "The first Syriac word I
learned was 'daughter;' and as I can now use the verb 'to give,' I
often ask parents to give me their daughters. Some think that I cannot
secure boarding scholars, but Mrs. Grant got day scholars; and when I
hear men, women, and children say, 'How she loved us!' I want to love
them too. I mean to devote at least five years to the work of trying to
gather girls into a boarding school, as Mrs. Grant desired to do. She
has gone to her rest. I wonder that I am allowed to take her place."
And again: "I am usually in school till three P.M., and then I go out
among the poor mothers till tea time. They often say to me, 'Mrs. Grant
did just as you do.' Her short life was a precious offering. I feel
each day more and more that I have entered into the labors of a
faithful servant of Christ."

Among the pupils of Mrs. Grant was Selby, of Oroomiah, who was
hopefully converted while teaching some day scholars connected with the
Seminary, in 1845. Raheel, (Rachel,) the wife of Siyad, the tailor
mentioned in the Memoir of Mr. Stoddard, was another. So were Sanum,
the wife of Joseph; Meressa, the wife of Yakob; and Sarah, the daughter
of Priest Abraham, and wife of Oshana, of whom we shall hear more
hereafter.

After the death of Mrs. Grant, January 14, 1839, the school was
continued under the charge of Mr. Holladay, who employed native
teachers to assist him, the ladies of the mission cooperating as they
could. It then passed into the hands of Dr. Wright, who had the care of
it when Miss Fiske arrived in Oroomiah, June 14, 1843. During all this
time it was only a day school, and contact with vice in the homes of
the pupils greatly hindered its usefulness. It was for this reason that
Miss Fiske was exceedingly anxious to make it a boarding school, so as
to retain the pupils continuously under good influences. But would they
be allowed to spend the night on the mission premises? This was doubted
by many, and all had their fears; yet in August an appropriation was
made for the support of six boarding pupils, who were to be entirely
under the control of the mission for three years. Some said they could
not be obtained for even one year, and not one of them would remain to
complete the three. Even Priest Abraham said, "I cannot bear the
reproach of having my daughter live with you." At that time, scarcely a
girl twelve years old could be found who was not betrothed; and years
were devoted to the preparation of a coarse kind of embroidery, a
certain amount of which must be ready for the wedding.

One day in August, Mar Yohanan said to Miss Fiske, "You get ready, and
I find girls." She devoted that month and the next to preparation for
her expected charge. But the day came for opening the school, and not
one pupil had been obtained. The teacher was feeling somewhat anxious,
when, from her window in the second story, she saw Mar Yohanan crossing
the court, with a girl in either hand. One of them was his own niece,
Selby, of Gavalan, seven years of age; the other, Hanee, of Geog Tapa,
about three years older. They were not very inviting in outward
appearance; but it did not take Miss Fiske long to reach the door,
where the bishop met her, and placing their little hands in hers, said,
in his broken English, "They be your daughters; no man take them from
your hand." She wrote to a friend an account of her success, adding, "I
shall be glad to give them to the Lord Jesus, and love to look on them
as the beginning of my dear school." These two pupils were supported by
ladies in Maiden, Massachusetts, and the number soon increased to six;
but fifteen days after, two of them, finding the gate open, suddenly
left for home. Their teacher did not think it advisable to follow them;
nor did she see them again till, ten years after, an invitation for a
reunion of all her scholars brought two whom she did not recognize. She
said, "Perhaps you were here under Mrs. Grant?" "No, we were your own
scholars for fifteen days, and we are very sorry we ran away." They are
now both useful Christians, and the places they left in 1843 were
speedily filled by others.

The care of the school was much more exhausting than its instruction.
When the teacher went out, and when she came in, she must take her
pupils with her, for she dared not leave them to themselves. Indeed, so
strong were the feelings of their friends, that they allowed them to
remain only on condition that they should lodge with or near their
teacher, and never go out except in her company. A native teacher
rendered such help as he could, needing much teaching himself; and
everything combined to make the principal feel that hers was to be a
work of faith and prayer. As the first of January approached, she
thought how sweet it would be to be remembered by dear friends at Mount
Holyoke; and when it came, she wrote to Miss Whitman, "In looking over
Miss Lyon's suggestions for the observance of the day, last year, I
cannot tell you how I felt as I read the words, 'Perhaps next new
year's day will find some of you on a foreign shore. If so, we pledge
you a remembrance within these consecrated walls.' I thought not then
that privilege would be mine; but since it is, I count your prayers the
greatest favor you can confer."

At Oroomiah, the missionaries met together for prayer at one o'clock,
and after that Dr. Perkins and Mr. Holladay preached to the assembled
Seminaries, while the ladies of the mission met separately for prayer;
then united intercession again closed the day. And they needed to wait
on God, for many difficulties combined to prevent success.

One was the poverty of the people. To say merely that they were poor
gives no true idea of their situation to an American reader. They were
extremely poor, and grinding oppression still keeps them so. In 1837,
Mr. Stocking found very few pupils in the schools wearing shoes, even
in the snow of midwinter; and one sprightly lad in Sabbath school had
nothing on but a coarse cotton shirt, reaching down to his knees, and a
skull cap, though the missionary required all his winter clothes,
besides a fire, to keep him comfortable.

Another evil growing out of their poverty was, that the missionairies,
in order to give the first impulse to education, resorted to some
measures which, after an interest was awakened, had to be laid aside in
order to increase it. For example, poor parents could not be persuaded
to earn bread for their children while they sent them to school; hence,
to get scholars at first, the mission furnished their daily bread; and
this having been done for the boys, had to be done for the girls also.
So, in the winter of 1843-44, twenty-five cents a week was paid to the
day scholars, the others having their board instead. But the current
having once commenced to flow in the new channel, such inducements
became more a hinderance than a help, and, in the spring of 1844, Miss
Fiske told her scholars that no more money would be paid for their
bread; and though some of the mission feared it would be necessary to
resume the practice, instead of that it was soon dropped in the other
Seminary also.

But the special difficulty growing out of the condition of woman in a
Mohammedan country demands our notice. Some may suppose that because
Miss Fiske and Miss Rice have succeeded so well, an unmarried lady from
this country has nothing to do but to go there and work like any one
else. This is not true; such a one cannot live by herself: her home
must be in some missionary family. She cannot go out alone, either
inside or outside of the city. In many things she needs to be shielded
from annoyances here unknown. And God provided all that the teachers of
the Seminary needed of such help; first, in the kind family of Mr.
Stocking, and, after his death, in the pleasant household of Mr.
Breath. Indeed, not one of all the missionary circle ever stood in need
of such a hint as Paul gave the church at Rome concerning the deaconess
of Cenchrea. As Miss Fiske says, playfully, "Whenever we went with them
to visit pupils at a distance, they always made us believe that it was
a great privilege to take us along;" and every lady who goes out, in a
similar way, to labor in the missionary field, will find just such
Christian kindness indispensable to her comfort and usefulness. In such
a sphere of action, a lady's dependence is her independence.

Another difficulty was the want of books. Such a thing as a school book
had been unknown among the Nestorians. The only ones to be had in 1843
were the Bible in ancient Syriac,--a language unintelligible to the
common people,--and the Gospel of John, with a few chapters of Genesis,
in the spoken language, besides a few tracts. Later came the Gospel of
Matthew, and, after that, the four Gospels. Mr. Stocking prepared a
Spelling Book of fifty-four pages, 8vo, a Mental Arithmetic of
twenty-four pages, and afterwards a larger Arithmetic. Mr. Coan, a
Scripture Spelling Book of one hundred and sixty pages, 8vo. Mr.
Stoddard issued a very full and complete Arithmetic for the older
scholars in 1856, but his System of Theology did not appear till after
his decease, in 1857. Dr. Wright was the author of a Geography of three
hundred and two pages, printed in 1849. Mr. Cochran's Scripture
Geography appeared in 1856, and Barth's Church History was published
the same year. But the book studied more than all others, and most
efficient in enlightening and elevating the people, was the Bible, of
which the New Testament appeared in 1846, and the Old in 1852. As many
as three hours a day were devoted to that; and no recollections of
missionary education in Persia are so pleasant as those of the Bible
lessons. The pupils have pleasant memorials of some of them in the form
of Bible maps, drawn by themselves, which now form a conspicuous and
appropriate ornament of their homes.

It may seem to some as though so much study of the Bible would make the
pupils weary of its sacred pages; but precisely the contrary was true.
When the New Testament, shortly after it was printed, was offered to
those who, during recreation hours, would commit to memory the
Scripture Catechism, containing more than one thousand texts, some
learned it in three weeks, and others in a longer time; and their joy
in receiving the reward could hardly be expressed. It was near the
close of the term, and some who had not quite finished when vacation
began remained to complete the task; for they said they could not go
home unless they carried with them their Testament; and the diligent
use they made of it afterwards showed that their desire was more than
mere covetousness. Even eighteen months after, writing to a friend in
America, they say, "Now we have each of us this blessed book, this
priceless blessing; would that in it we might all find salvation for
our souls. This book is from the unspeakable mercy of God; nor can we
ever repay our dear friends for it." I cannot forbear quoting here the
closing sentence of the letter--"Dear friend, the gentle love of the
Saviour be with you. AMEN."

CHAPTER VI.

THE SEMINARY.

MAE YOHANAN.--STANDARD OF SCHOLARSHIP.--ENGLISH BOOKS READ IN
SYRIAC.--EXPENSE.--FEELINGS OF PARENTS.--DOMESTIC DEPARTMENT.--DAILY
REPORTS.--PICTURE OF A WEEK DAY AND SABBATH.--"IF YOU LOVE ME, LEAN
HARD."--ESLI'S JOURNAL.--LETTER FROM PUPILS TO MOUNT HOLYOKE
SEMINARY.--FROM THE SAME TO MRS. C. T. MILLS.

When Mar Yohanan returned to Persia after his visit to the United
States, in 1843, Prince Malik Kassim Meerza, who could speak a little
English, asked him, "What are the wonders of America?" He replied, "The
blind they do see, the deaf they do hear, and the women they do read;
they be not beasts." Having visited Mount Holyoke Seminary, he often
said, "Of all colleges in America, Mount Holy Oke be the best; and when
I see such a school here, I die;" meaning that then he would be ready
to die. When he brought her first boarding scholars to Miss Fiske, he
said, "Now you begin Mount Holy Oke in Persia."

As she sought to reproduce one of our female seminaries, as far as was
possible in such different circumstances, it seems fitting to enter
somewhat into the minutiae of its arrangements.

Resemblance to similar institutions at home is not as yet to be sought
in the standard of scholarship, though that is rapidly advancing. In an
unevangelized community, the people move on a lower level. Not only
social condition, but morality and education, feel the want of the
elevating influence of the gospel. A seminary that commences operations
by teaching the alphabet must advance far, and climb high, before its
graduates will stand on a level with those whose pupils were familiar
with elementary algebra when they entered; yet its course of study may
be the best to secure the usefulness of its members in their own
community. If ragged village girls, untutored and uncombed, studying
aloud in school hours, and at recess leaping over the benches like wild
goats, now study diligently and in silence, move gently, and are
respectful to their teachers and kind to each other, a thorough
foundation has been laid; and if, in addition to that, the literary
attainments of the lower classes to-day exceed those of the pupils who
first left the school, the superstructure rises at once beautifully and
securely.

Leaving out the Bible,--which has been already spoken of,--to the
original reading, writing, singing, and composition; have been added by
degrees, grammar, geography, arithmetic, and theology; with oral
instruction in physiology, chemistry, natural philosophy, and astronomy.

But we should neither understand the attainments of the pupils, nor the
source of their marked ability as writers, did we not notice that, as a
reward for good conduct during the day, their teacher was accustomed to
translate orally to them, at its close, at first simple stories, and
then such volumes as Paradise Lost, The Course of Time, and Edwards's
History of Redemption. To these were added such practical works as
Pike's Persuasives to Early Piety, Pastor's Sketches, and Christ a
Friend; and the pupils understood books a great deal better in the free
translations thus given, than in the more exact renderings issued from
the press. Baxter's Saints' Rest, poured thus hot and glowing into a
Syriac mould, was more effective, at least for the time, than the same
after it had cooled and been laboriously filed into fidelity to the
original.

The Seminary was unlike similar schools at home in the matter of
expense. In 1853, the cost for each pupil was only about eighteen
dollars for the year, including rent, board, fuel, lights, and clothing
in part; and as this was paid by the American Board, education to the
people was without money and without price. We have already alluded to
the efforts of the teachers to train up the people to assume this
expense themselves.

Let us now trace the progress made in getting the pupils away from the
evil influences of their Persian homes. In 1843, besides her six
boarding pupils, Miss Fiske had a few day scholars; next year she had
still fewer; and the year after that, they were dropped entirely. Many
wished to send their daughters in this way; but she was decided in her
refusal to receive them, because thus only could the highest good of
the pupils be secured. At first, so great was her dread of home
influences, that she sought to retain them even in vacation; but she
soon saw that their health and usefulness, their sympathy with the
people, and the confidence of the people in them, required them to
spend a part of the year at home. This also gave their teachers a good
opportunity to become acquainted with their friends and neighbors, and
a door was opened for many delightful meetings with women, in which the
pupils rendered much assistance. It also secured the influence of the
parents in favor of what was for the good of their daughters, and made
them interested in the school. During Miss Fiske's entire residence in
Persia, fathers rarely disregarded her wishes concerning their
daughters in her school.

The only time that the teachers were ever reviled by a Nestorian father
was in the case of a village priest. He came one day to the Seminary to
see his daughter, and because she did not appear at once,--she was
engaged at the moment,--he cursed and swore, in a great passion, and
when she did come, carried her home. No notice was taken of it, and no
effort made to get her back; but three years after, the first
indications of his interest in religion were deep contrition for his
conduct on that occasion, and a letter full of grief for such treatment
of those who had come so far to tell him and his of Jesus. He at once
sent his daughter back, and three weeks after she too came to the
Saviour, and even begged, as a favor, to have the care of the rooms of
the teachers her father had reviled. Since then, the priest has written
no less than three letters, as he says, to be sure that so great
wickedness was really pardoned, it seemed to him so unpardonable.

The circumstances of the Seminary required a domestic department. It
was difficult, in Persia, to have girls only ten years old take charge
of household affairs; yet a beginning was made; but how much labor of
love and patience of hope it involved cannot be told to those who have
not tried it. At first, their one hour of work each day was more of a
hinderance than a help; but gradually, through watchfulness and much
effort, they were brought to do the whole without the least
interference with their regular duties in school. They were thus
trained to wait upon themselves, and so one deeply rooted evil of
Oriental life was corrected. This practice also relieved the school of
the bad influence of domestics, while it prepared the pupils for lives
of contented usefulness among a people so poor as the Nestorians.
Besides, in this way they acquired habits of regularity and punctuality
such as they never saw in their own homes.

But while these Western habits were inculcated, such of their own
customs as were harmless were left untouched. They were carefully
taught to do things in their own way, so as naturally and easily to
fall into their proper place at home.

At first, in their daily reports, Miss Fiske dared not ask any question
the answer to which she could not ascertain for herself. The earliest
she ventured to put was, whether they had combed their hair that day.
The pupils all stood up, and those who had attended to this duty were
asked to sit down. The faithful ones were delighted to comply. The
others, mortified and ashamed, remained standing; but if one of them
tried to sit down, a glance of the eye detected her. This simple method
laid a foundation for truthfulness and self-respect; and from this the
teacher gradually advanced to other questions, as their moral sense
became able to bear them, till, when they could answer five
satisfactorily, such as, "Have you all your knitting needles?" "Were
you at prayers?" "Were you late?"--things that could be ascertained at
once,--they thought themselves wonderfully good, little dreaming how
much the teacher did not dare to ask, lest she should lead them into
temptation. After the first revival, she could ask about things that
took place out of her sight; and now this exercise is conducted in the
same way as in our best schools at home. There is very little
communication now between them in the school room. In 1852, there were
only five failures on this point for four months, and those by new
scholars. Dr. Perkins wrote, that year, "The exact system in this
school, and the order, studiousness, good conduct, and rapid
improvement of the pupils, in both this and the other Seminary, are
probably unsurpassed in any schools in America."

In reply to a request for the picture of a day in the Seminary, Miss
Fiske writes, in 1862,--

"You ask for a day of my life in Persia. Come, then, to my home in
1854. You shall be waked by the noise of a hand-bell at early dawn:
twenty minutes after, our girls are ready for their half hour of silent
devotion. The bell for this usually finds them waiting for it, and the
perfect quiet in the house is almost unbroken. At the close of it,
another bell summons us to the school room for family devotion, where,
besides reading the Scriptures and prayer, they unite in singing one of
our sweet hymns.[1] In a few minutes after this, another bell calls us
to breakfast, and, that finished, all attend to their morning work.
Tables are cleared, rooms put in order, and preparations made for
supper--the principal meal in Persia; then for an hour they study
silently in their rooms. At a quarter before nine o'clock I enter the
school room, while Miss Rice cares for things without. We open school
with prayer, in which we carry to the Master more of our little cares
and trials than in the early morning. My first lesson is in Daniel,
with the older pupils, while two other classes go out to recite in
another room. Yonan stays with me, for I want him to help and be helped
in these Bible lessons. The class enjoy it exceedingly, and the forty
minutes spent on it always seem too short. The other classes now come
in, and all study or recite another forty minutes. After that, a short
recess in the yard makes all fresh again. The older classes then study,
while one of the younger ones has a Bible lesson with me on the life of
Christ. Each time I go over it with them I find things which I wonder I
had not perceived before. It is delightful to hear them express their
own thoughts of our blessed Saviour. We trace his journeyings on maps
prepared by the pupils, and they study the Scripture geography of each
place. After this, one class recites ancient Syriac to Yonan, and
another, in physiology, goes out to Miss Rice, leaving me to spend
forty minutes with the older girls on compositions. At present the
topic is, "The Christ of the Old Testament;" and I am thankful that I
studied Edwards's History of Redemption under Miss Lyon. This done,
fifteen minutes remain for a kind of general exercise, when we talk
over many things; and then the noon recess of one and a half hours
allows the girls to lunch, see friends, and recreate, till fifteen
minutes before its close, when they have a prayer meeting by
themselves. [Footnote 1: At first, only one hymn was printed on a
separate sheet; then a little hymn book of five,--as many as Luther
commenced with at the Reformation. Now the hymn book contains about two
hundred hymns, and some of the pupils can repeat them all.]

"In the afternoon, Miss Rice takes charge of the school, and I have the
time out. At present the first hour is given to writing; soon astronomy
will take its place. Recitations in geography follow till recess, and
after that singing or spelling. The last hour, I go in and hear a
lesson in Hebrews. On this Epistle we have full notes prepared in
Syriac, and we study it carefully, in connection with the Old
Testament. Miss Rice also has a lesson in Judges, and then all come
together for the daily reports, more as a family than a school. There
is still an hour before supper for mutual calls, knitting, sewing, and
family duties. After supper and work are over, and they have had a
little time to themselves, come evening prayers. Then they have a short
study hour in their rooms, followed by the half hour for private
devotion, which closes the day.

"Of course, at another time, the studies might be somewhat different.
The hours that Miss Rice and I are out of school we spend in seeing
visitors, holding prayer meetings, going out among the women, and
sometimes devote a whole day to a distant village."

Having thus looked in on a day of study, let us, through the same
glass, take a view of the Lord's day. The letter is dated December,
1855.

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have learned here that He who fed five thousand with
the portion of five can feed the soul to the full with what I once
counted only crumbs. May I give you one of the Master's sermons? A few
Sabbaths ago, I went to Geog Tapa with Mr. Stoddard. It was afternoon,
and I was seated on a mat in the middle of the earthen floor of the
church. I had already attended Sabbath school and a prayer meeting with
my pupils, and, weary, I longed for rest. It seemed as if I could not
sit without support through the service. Then I remembered that after
that came my meeting with the women readers of the village; and O, how
desirable seemed rest! But God sent it in an unexpected way; for a
woman came and seated herself directly behind me, so that I could lean
on her, and invited me to do so. I declined; but she drew me back,
saying, "If you love me, lean hard." Very refreshing was that support.
And then came the Master's own voice, repeating the words, "If you love
_me_, lean hard;" and I leaned on him too, feeling that, through that
poor woman, he had preached me a better sermon than I could have heard
at home. I was rested long before the services were through; then I
spent an hour with the women, and after sunset rode six miles to my own
home. I wondered that I was not weary that night nor the next morning;
and I have rested ever since on those sweet words, "If you love me,
lean hard."

But I intended to tell you of our Sabbaths in school. Saturday is the
girls' day for washing and mending, and we are busy all day long. Just
before sunset, the bell calls us to the school room, and there we
inquire if the last stitch is taken, and the rooms are all in order. If
any thing is still undone, the half hour before supper sees it
finished. After leaving the table, every thing is arranged for the
morning, and then we have a quiet half hour in our rooms. After this,
half the pupils come to Miss Rice, and half to me. Each has a prayer
meeting, remembering the absent ones, also the Female Seminaries in
Constantinople, South Hadley (Mass.), and Oxford (Ohio). All retire
from these precious meetings to their "half hour," as they call it, and
before nine o'clock all is quiet, unless it be the voice of some one
still pleading with her God.

The first bell, Sabbath morning, is at half past five, when all rise
and dress for the day. Morning prayers are at half past six; then comes
breakfast, and, our few morning duties being done, the girls retire to
study their Sabbath school lessons, and sometimes ask to meet together
for prayer. At half past nine, we attend Syriac service in the chapel.
The Sabbath school follows that, numbering now about two hundred
pupils. About two thirds of our scholars are teachers in it, and it is
a good preparation for teaching in their homes. Those who do not teach
form a class. We then go home to lunch, flavored with pleasant
remembrances and familiar explanations of the morning service. The
afternoon service commences at two o'clock, and our Bible lessons an
hour before supper, though some are called earlier, to help us teach
the women who come in for instruction. At supper, all are allowed to
ask Bible questions, and before leaving the table we have evening
prayers. At seven o'clock, Miss Rice and I go to the English prayer
meeting, while the pupils meet in six or seven family meetings, as they
call them, the inmates of each room being by themselves, and the pious
among them taking turns in conducting them. If any wish to come to us
after this, we are glad to see them; and often this hour witnesses the
submission of souls to God.

Besides these there is a weekly prayer meeting on Tuesday evening, a
lecture on Friday afternoon, and on Wednesday, as well as Sabbath
evening, the school meets in two divisions for prayer.

The following journal, kept during the revival, in 1860, by Esli, an
assistant teacher, forms an appropriate continuation of this interior
picture of the Seminary:--

"_February 1st_. To-day, a part of the girls wrote compositions on
'anger,' and a part on 'the gospel.'

"_3d, Friday_. John was here to-day writing to Mount Holyoke Seminary,
and attended our noon prayer meeting. In the afternoon, Deacon Joseph
of Degala preached from the words "King of kings and Lord of lords." In
the evening, Mr. Coan sung with us, and we read the weekly report of
our conduct.

"_5th, Sabbath_. In the forenoon, Dr. Wright preached from Acts ii. 37.
He said that we must know what sin is; that we are sinners; and that we
cannot save ourselves. In the afternoon, Priest Eshoo preached from
Luke xv. 32. The evening prayer meetings were very pleasant.

"_9th_. A blessed morning. Some of the girls are thoughtful. This was
seen in the quiet at table and the silence in the kitchen. The work was
done both earlier and better than usual. During the study hour, the
voice of prayer sounded very sweetly in every room. When the girls
walked in the yard, it was very quiet, and so when they came in. Our
noon prayer meeting was very pleasant; Miss Rice said a few words on
the shortness of time. While Hanee prayed, some wept. When Miss Rice
dismissed us, no one moved; all were bowed on their desks, weeping. She
then gave opportunity for prayer, and while I prayed, all were in
tears. The girls have kept all the rules well to-day. This evening, the
communicants met with Miss Rice, and the rest with Martha. Miss Rice
read about Jonah in the ship, and said a few words; after that, Raheel
the teacher prayed. Then Hanee spoke a little of her own state, and
asked us to pray for Raheel of Ardishai, who is thoughtful. I spoke,
and asked them to pray for Hannah and Parangis, who are in my room.

"10th. The state of our school is the same. Mr. Cochran preached on the
faithfulness of the Jews under Nehemiah, when they rebuilt Jerusalem.
After meeting he told us that the members of the Male Seminary spent
yesterday as a day of fasting and prayer, and many rose confessing
their sins. One very wicked man, also from the village, asked them to
pray for him. After work was done in the kitchen this evening, a little
time remained, and the girls there asked to have a meeting. With
gladness of heart I knelt and mingled my tears with theirs, as though
I, too, were commencing the work. Afterwards Mr. Coan came and sung
with us, and we read the accounts of the week."

Esli, the writer of the above, is the daughter of Yohanan, a pious man
in Geog Tapa, who for a time was steward of the Seminary. She was one
of the first fruits of the revival of 1856, and graduated after Miss
Fiske's return to America. She has since been a most faithful assistant
of Miss Rice, and is very much beloved by the pious Nestorians. But the
following letter to Miss Fiske, from her own pen, dated April 1859,
will form her best introduction to the reader:--

"When I recall your love to me, my heart is full. I remember the times
when we knelt together before our Father in heaven, in godly anguish
for priceless souls. Especially do I remember when God first came near
to me, how you shared my sorrow by day and by night, and pointed me to
Him who bled for me. After you brought me to Christ, you showed me the
helps to a Christian life; that I must pray not only in my closet, but
also in my heart, when at work or studying, that God would keep me. O
that I had heeded your counsels more!

"This winter the Lord led me to see my cold state. For a time the
Saviour's face was hidden; then it seemed to be midnight; but I looked
above, and the darkness fled. I saw him standing with open arms, and
quickly I threw myself into those arms. Tears of joy fell from my eyes,
and by the grace of God I was enabled to go forward day by day. Secret
prayer has since been very pleasant to me.

"We have had pleasant seasons of prayer in our school this winter, and
we trust that some souls have been born again. I have the care of a
circle of girls in the kitchen. They work well, and keep it clean. I
think you know that such work is difficult, but if you were to come in
you would find every thing in order. Every Wednesday we scour all the
shelves and the doors.

"The girls have made the yard very pleasant; but one thing is wanting
there: we miss you at the cool of the day, walking in it to see if any
evil has grown up in your garden.

"I went to my village in vacation; the prayer meetings there were very
pleasant, and I enjoyed much, praying with the women alone. Our seasons
of family devotion also were delightful. In the morning we read the
Acts in course; and as each read a verse, my father asked its meaning.
When he went away to preach, I used to lead, and we then read the
portion for the day, in the book called 'Green Pastures for the Lord's
Flock.'

"In the school we have studied Ezra, in connection with Haggai and
Zechariah, and are now in Nehemiah. In the New Testament we are on
Paul's third journey, and have nearly finished Scripture geography and
theology."

The Seminary keeps up a Christian intercourse with the institution at
South Hadley, as the following letters will show; and the beautiful
melodeon in the sitting room is a tuneful testimony to the liberality
of Holyoke's daughters.

"Many salutations and much love from the school of Miss Fiske to you,
our dear sisters of the school at Mount Holyoke. We rejoice that there
is such a great institution full of holy words and the warm love of
Christ: we hear that many of you have an inheritance above, and are
daily looking forward to it. We want to tell you how glad we are that
the Holy Spirit has come among you, and that God has turned so many to
himself. Though we are great sinners, we rejoice exceedingly in the
success of the work of God in every place; and we beg you to pray that
the Holy Spirit may visit us also, and our people, and strike sharp
arrows into flinty hearts, that they may melt like wax before the fire.
Blessed be God, that though we had become the least of all nations, and
adopted many customs worse than the heathen, and our holy books were
carefully laid away and never used, yet he put love into the hearts of
his servants, that they should come to this dark land. We are greatly
obliged to you and to your people for so kindly sending us these
missionaries. They have greatly multiplied our books, and, as we trust,
brought many souls to Christ. Some of us, formerly, knew not who Christ
was, or whether a Redeemer had died for us; but now he has gathered us
together in this school of godly instruction; and some of us are
awaking to our sins, and to the great love God has shown in sending his
Son to die for us. We thank God very much that we know Jesus Christ,
the only Saviour.

"Again, we want to thank you for sending Miss Fiske to teach us the way
of life; we love her because she greatly loves us, and desires our
salvation. Every day she takes much trouble that we may be the
daughters of God. But her burdens are so great, that we fear she will
not remain long with us, unless some one comes to help her. And now we
have a petition to present: we hear that in many of you dwelleth the
spirit of our Master, Jesus Christ; and that you are ready to leave
home and friends, and go to distant lands, to gather the lost sheep of
Christ. Dear sisters, our petition is, that you will send us a
teacher.[1] We shall greatly rejoice if one comes, and will love her
very much. We ask this, not because we do not love Miss Fiske. No! no!
this is not in our hearts; but she is weak, and her work is more than
she can do alone. We shall expect one to come, and pray God to bring
her to us in safety. [Footnote 1: Miss Mary Susan Rice, already
mentioned in these pages, went out this same year (1847), from the
Seminary in South Hadley.]

"Please remember us in your closets and in your meetings, and ask your
friends to pray for us and for our people. Farewell, beloved sisters."

The following extracts are from a letter written by them, in 1848, to
Miss Susan L. Tolman, now Mrs. Cyrus T. Mills of the Sandwich Islands,
and formerly of Ceylon:--

"Much love from the members of the Female Seminary of Oroomiah to you,
our dear Miss Tolman. We are very glad to find one who loves us so
much, and prays for us. Our delight in your letter was greater than we
can express. Miss Fiske came in joyfully with it in her hand, and while
she read, it seemed as if you were present, inviting and drawing us to
Christ.

"Give our love to all in your favored school, and ask them to pray for
us. We love all those dear ladies, because they have been so kind to
us, and have been willing that Miss Fiske and Miss Rice should leave
them, and come here for our sakes. Though they were dear to you, we
think that now they have come to us, your joy in them is greater. We
hope to hear of many of you carrying the leaves of life to the dark
corners of the earth.

"Dear Miss Tolman, you said, 'You love Miss Fiske, you must also love
Miss Rice.' Did you think that we would not love her? We love them
both, not only for leaving their friends to come to us, but also
because they are full of the love of our dear Redeemer.

"We have heard that you are going to India. We are glad, and love you
more for it, because the love of Christ constrains you to this, and
thus in spirit you come very near to our dear teachers. We entreat
Almighty God to be with you, and bring you in safety to the place he
appoints for you, that you may be a light among a dark people. We hope
that when there you will not forget us, but write us about your work,
and about the daughters of India, whether they love you much or not.
Tell your friends not to sorrow for you, but to rejoice that they have
a friend ready to go and teach those who know not Christ. The Saviour
guide you in all your labors."

Those who aided Miss Lyon to carry out her large-hearted plans in New
England, little dreamed that offshoots from the vine they planted would
so soon be carried to the ends of the earth. Who does not admire that
grace which, in this missionary age, raised up such a type of piety to
be diffused over the globe? Doubtless it will undergo changes in
Persia, as it has done already; but the devout student of Providence
will watch its growth with interest, and its developments will not
disappoint his hopes.

CHAPTER VII.

VACATION SCENES.

IN GAWAR AND ISHTAZIN.--VILLAGES OF MEMIKAN.--OOBEYA, DARAWE, AND
SANAWAR.--IN GAVALAN.--ACCOMMODATIONS.--SABBATH SCHOOL.

To the interior pictures of the school in the last chapter we add some
vacation scenes, though chronologically in advance of other things yet
to come.

[Illustration: Tents.]

Towards the close of July, 1851, Mr. Stocking and family, with Misses
Fiske and Rice, and several native helpers, spent the vacation in
Gawar. Mr. Coan accompanied them on his way to regions beyond.
Wandering from place to place, like the patriarchs of old, they pitched
their tents at first near the village of Memikan. A sketch of these
tents is here presented. The women there were frequent visitors, and
few went away without some idea of the truth as it is in Jesus. The
pious natives were unwearied in labor, and sometimes woke the
missionaries in the morning with prayer for the people round about
them. On the Sabbath, there was preaching in as many as five different
villages, and after morning service in Memikan, the women came to the
tents to receive more particular instruction from their own sex. In the
evening, a mother who had buried her son in February--then a very
promising member of the Seminary at Seir[1]--brought her youngest
daughter, about six years of age, saying, "We give her to you in the
place of Guwergis. He has gone to a blessed place. You led him there.
We thank you, and now intrust to you our little daughter." Eshoo, the
father, spoke of his departed son with much feeling, but most sweet
submission. He said to Miss Fiske, as the big tears glistened in the
moonlight, "I shall not be here long. I shall soon rejoin him. My hope
in Jesus grows stronger every day." The death of that dear son was not
only a great spiritual blessing to him, but the mere mention of his
name at once secured the attention of the villagers to any thing the
missionaries had to say about his Saviour. [Footnote 1: Nestorian
Biography, p. 127.]

On Monday, they left for a visit to the Alpine district of Ishtazin.
Unable to take horses along those frightful paths, they rode on hardy
mules. In a subsequent journey over the same road, the fastenings of
Miss Fiske's saddle gave way, and she fell, but providentially without
injury. Sometimes they climbed, or, more hazardous still, descended, a
long, steep stairway of rock, or they were hid in the clouds that hung
around the higher peaks of the mountain. Now the path led them under
huge, detached rocks, that seemed asking leave to overwhelm them, and
now under the solid cliffs, that suggested the more grateful idea of
the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. Down in the valley were
pleasant waterfalls, little fields rescued by much labor from the
surrounding waste, choice fruits, and such a variety of flowers, that
it seemed as if spring, summer, and autumn had combined to supply them.
Then, in looking up, the eye rested on silver threads apparently
hanging down from far-off summits, but really foaming streams dashing
headlong down the rocks, yet so distant that no sound came to the ear
from their roaring waters.

The party stopped at Ooreya, on one of its flat roofs, shaded by a
magnificent walnut tree. The villagers brought mulberries, apples, and
other fruits, till they could prepare something more substantial, and
seemed to forget their fears of the patriarch in their zealous
hospitality. After supper, all adjourned to the churchyard, and there,
in the bright moonlight, a crowd of eager listeners heard of Christ,
and redemption through his precious blood. The silence of night was
broken only by the voice of the preacher, and the echoes of the
surrounding cliffs seemed to repeat joyfully the unwonted sounds. Yonan
preached from the words "Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in
their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom." He
commenced by asking whether Christ was right in so doing. They replied,
"Certainly he did right." "Yes," said the preacher, "and as he did, so
must his followers do; and you must expect to see them in Ishtazin.
When we cease to climb over these precipices to come to you, fear lest
we have become Mussulmans, for Christians cannot but go from village to
village to preach the gospel." The reader will see the force of such an
appeal, when he remembers that Mar Shimon had forbidden these people to
receive the missionaries because they preached. This was followed by a
statement of the doctrines that Jesus preached, in which he did not
fail to bring out the essence of the gospel. When he sat down, Khamis,
the brother of Deacon Tamo, followed with a most impassioned
exhortation. The missionaries had thought him a good preacher before,
but the place and the circumstances--he was among his own native
mountains--seemed to carry him beyond himself. All through this region,
the people appeared to render as much honor to him as they would have
done to Mar Shimon. The assembly dispersed, and the travellers lay down
where they were, to battle with the sand-flies till the welcome dawn
lit up the conspicuous summits high above them.

Almost every moment of the next forenoon was filled by personal
religious conversation with many who never heard such truths before. In
the evening, even more fixed attention was given to another service in
the open air, at the village of Boobawa, for the pious Mar Ogen[1] was
then living there, and the bright light of his piety had not shone in
vain. Several were earnestly inquiring how to be saved. [Footnote 1:
Nestorian Biography, p. 267.]

On Thursday, the day after their return to Memikan, Mr. Coan, Priest
Dunkha, Khamis, and Deacon John left for Central Koordistan, and Deacon
Isaac went to Kochannes. But though the laborers were fewer, the number
of visitors continued the same. Next Sabbath, besides two services, and
two meetings with the women in Memikan, there was preaching in three
other villages. In Chardewar, the home of Priest Dunkha, Miss Fiske
found his daughter, who had come with them from Oroomiah, already full
of work. She had just dismissed her Sabbath school, and was reading the
Bible with her cousin, the village priest, who did all in his power to
help her, both in her school through the week, and her meetings with
the women. One Sabbath, almost every woman in the place had been
present, as was the case also when she was visited by Misses Fiske and
Rice, and Sanum said that she could not ask for a better place in which
to work for Christ. There was more of real hunger for the truth here
than any where else in the mountains.

Leaving Memikan, the travellers removed to Darawe, the village
described on page 21. Here they could scarcely get permission to pitch
their tent, or procure provision for themselves and horses; yet even in
such a place, the manifestation of Christian love was not without
fruit, though many bitterly opposed them to the last. The neighboring
villages wondered at the missionaries going there at all, and still
more at their being able to remain.

At Keyat, the kindness of the people, and pleasant intercourse with
them, were all the more grateful for the contrast with what had gone
before. Here Miss Fiske met with that kind reception from Mar Shimon,
then passing through the place, described on page 159, while the tent
literally flowed with milk and honey furnished by the villagers, whom
he had charged to take good care of their visitors.

On the following Sabbath, Yonan preached to a congregation of about two
hundred, at Sanawar, where forty families of refugees from Saat were
spending the summer. When Miss Fiske and Miss Rice visited their camp,
they found a number of temporary huts enclosing a circle, where the
domestic labors of spinning, weaving, and cooking were actively going
on. All the women at once left their work, and welcomed their visitors
with every mark of confidence and gladness. Some of them had heard the
gospel from the missionaries in Mosul, as they had often spent the
winter near there. So they drank in every word with eagerness.

The ladies were delighted with their visit, especially with a widow,
who, though unable to read, showed unusual familiarity with the Bible,
and, as they hoped, a spiritual acquaintance with its doctrines. When
the topic of our fallen nature was mentioned, "Yes," said she, "we were
all shapen in iniquity, as David testifies." When asked if she had any
hope of being saved from sin, she replied, "I am very far from God, yet
my only hope is in the wounded side of Jesus Christ. If penitently I
stand beneath the blood dropping from his cross, I hope that my sins,
though red like scarlet, may become as white as snow." Her views of the
way of salvation were not only clear, but beautifully expressed. It was
exceedingly refreshing, in that region where they had expected only
darkness, thus to find the rays of light struggling through from their
associates in another mission; and it gave a delightful foretaste of
the time when the voice of one watchman upon those mountain tops should
reach to another, and on all sides the eye behold the trophies of
Immanuel. It was with feelings of peculiar interest that they heard,
some years after, that this stranger in Sanawar, but, as they fondly
hoped, their sister in Christ, held fast her confidence in his grace to
the end, and so fell asleep in Jesus.

For a companion picture to the preceding, we turn to the summer of
1852. Mr. Stocking moved out to Gavalan, the native place of Mar
Tohanan, early in the season, and both teachers followed, with thirteen
of their pupils, about the middle of June. The village lies near the
base of a range of mountains, at the northern end of the plain of
Oroomiah, forty miles distant from the city. On the east the blue
waters of the lake seem to touch the sky, and stretch away to the south
in quiet loveliness. Sometimes, when reposing in the gorgeous light of
sunset, or reflecting the red rays of the full moon, they remind the
beholder of the "sea of glass mingled with fire" revealed to the
beloved disciple. The breeze from the lake, in the long summer days, is
very grateful, and the evening air from the mountains makes sleep
refreshing.

Mar Yohanan gave the school free use of two rooms as long as it
remained. In the court yard before them a large tent was pitched, that
served for dining room, dormitory, and reception room, or diwan khaneh.
An adjoining house afforded a comfortable recitation room. Here the
regular routine of the school went on, and while men from the village
found their way to Mr. Stocking's at the hour of evening prayer, women
also came to the school room at the same hour. At the last meeting of
this kind before Miss Fiske returned to the city, nearly forty were
present, listening with quiet attention to the words of life. On the
Sabbath, the sides of the tent were lifted outward from the bottom, and
fastened in a horizontal position, so as to admit the air and exclude
the sun. The ground beneath was covered with mats, and formed quite a
pleasant chapel. In the forenoon, this was thronged with attentive
hearers. The children of the boys' school in the village sat close to
their teacher. The members of the girls' school could be distinguished
from their playmates by the greater smoothness of their hair, the
whiteness of their faces, and general tidiness. Among the old men, the
venerable father of the bishop was very conspicuous. The members of the
Seminary crowded round their teachers so as to leave more room for
others, and still all could not get under the shadow of the wings of
the tabernacle. Mr. Stocking preached in the forenoon, and in the
afternoon the people came together again as a Sabbath school. Each of
the pupils of the Seminary had a class of women or girls, and seemed to
learn how to do good faster than ever before. They visited them at
their houses during the week; they sought out the absentees; and it was
delightful to go round the school and note the interest of both scholar
and teacher. If these were zealous in teaching, those were no less so
in learning. The classes, after the introductory services, filled every
available corner in the rooms, the tent, the front of the house, and
even sat on the low mud wall of the court. With the same variety of
character, there was greater diversity of lessons than in schools at
home. Some studied the Old Testament, and some the New; others were
just learning to read, and those who could not read at all were taught
the Scriptures orally. One class of Armenians was taught in Turkish.

Matters went on very well for two Sabbaths, but on the third, women and
children had vanished. What was the matter? It had been reported that
all this labor was only a preparation to transport them to America, and
the simple-minded mothers staid away with their children in great
trepidation; but visits from house to house, during the week, dispelled
their fears, and next Sabbath all were again in their places, and this
pleasant labor in Gavalan continued till September.

CHAPTER VIII.

EARLY LABORS FOR WOMEN.

FIRST MEETINGS WITH THEM.--FIRST CONVEKT.--FIRST LESSONS.--WILD WOMEN
OF ARDISHAI.

The teachers of the Seminary did not confine their labors to its
inmates; they expended both time and toil for adult women as well as
for their daughters, and never felt that they gave them too large a
proportion of their labors. At first there was a strong feeling among
most of the women that they might not worship God along with deacons
and readers; and so they could not be persuaded to attend public
preaching. But Miss Fiske found that a few would come to her room at
the same hour; so, encouraged by her missionary sisters whose hearts
were in the work, but whose family cares prevented their doing it
themselves, she visited the women at their houses, to urge them to come
in. Then, as her own knowledge of the language was as yet imperfect
(this was in 1844), and she wisely judged that listening to a gentleman
would sooner prepare them to come in to the regular service, she
secured one of the missionary brethren to conduct the meeting. The
first day only five attended; but soon she enjoyed the sight of about
forty mothers listening to the truth as it is in Jesus. On the third
Sabbath, she was struck with the fixed attention of one of them, and,
on talking with her alone, found her deeply convinced of sin. She had
not before seen one who did not feel perfectly prepared to die; but
this one groaned, being burdened, and seemed bowed to the dust with the
sense of her unworthiness. When Miss Fiske prayed with her, she
repeated each petition in a whisper after her, and rose from her knees
covered with perspiration, so intensely was she moved: her life, she
said, had been one of rebellion against God; and she knew that no
prayers, fasts, or other outward observances, had benefited her, or
could procure forgiveness. In this state of mind she was directed to
Christ and his righteousness as her only hope; and though for some time
little progress was apparent, at length, as she herself expressed it,
"I was praying, and the Lord poured peace into my soul." The change in
her character was noticed by her neighbors. From being one of the most
turbulent and disagreeable of the women in her vicinity, she became
noted for her gentleness and general consistency. She has since died,
and her last days were full of a sweet trust in her Saviour. She was
the first inquirer among Nestorian women.

This meeting was given up as soon as the women found their way to the
regular service; but ever since there have been separate meetings for
them at other hours.

Until the revival in 1846, those who conducted these meetings had to
labor alone, for there were none of the Nestorians to help them.
Indeed, Miss Fiske had been in Oroomiah more than two years, before
women came much to her for strictly religious conversation, or could be
induced to sit down to the study of the Scriptures.

Some of her first efforts to interest them in the Bible were almost
amusing in the difficulties encountered, and the manner in which they
were overcome.

She would seat herself among them on the earthen floor, and read a
verse, then ask questions to see if they understood it. For example:
after reading the history of the creation (for she began at the
beginning), she asked, "Who was the first man?" _Answer_. "What do we
know? we are women;" which was about equivalent in English to "we are
donkeys." The passage was read again, and the question repeated with no
better success. Then she told them, Adam was the first man, and made
them repeat the name Adam over and over till they remembered it. The
next question was, "What does it mean?" Here, too, they could give no
answer; not because they did not know, for the word was in common use
among them; but they had no idea that they could answer, and so they
did not, and were perfectly delighted to find that the first man was
called _red earth_, because he was made of it. This was enough for one
lesson. It set them to thinking. It woke up faculties previously
dormant. The machinery was there, perfect in all its parts, but so
rusted from disuse, that it required no little skill and patience to
make it move at all; but the least movement was a great gain; more was
sure to follow. Another lesson would take up Eve (Syriac, _Hawa_,
meaning _Life_). Miss Fiske would begin by saying, "Is not that a
pretty name? and would you not like to know that you had a
great-great-grandmother called _Life?_ Now, that was the name of our
first mother--both yours and mine." It was interesting to notice how
faces previously stolid would light up with animation after that, if
the preacher happened to repeat the name of our first parents, and how
one would touch another, whispering with childish joy, "Didn't you
hear? He said Adam."

Such were the women who came to the Seminary for instruction; but the
teachers also went forth to search out the no less besotted females in
the villages; and, as a counterpart to the above, we present an account
of labors among the wild women of Ardishai, a village twelve miles
south-east from Oroomiah.

When Miss Fiske had been in Oroomiah about one year, Mr. Stocking
proposed a visit to Ardishai. So the horses were brought to the gate,
one bearing the tent, another the baskets containing Mr. Stocking's
children, and a third miscellaneous baggage; besides the saddle horses.
The first night, the tent was pitched on one of the threshing floors of
Geog Tapa; but as American ladies were a novelty in Ardishai, the party
there, in order to secure a little quiet, had to pitch their tent on
the flat roof of a house. It was Miss Fiske's first day in a large
village, and she became so exhausted by talking with the women, that
she can never think of that weary Saturday without a feeling of
fatigue. As the village is near the lake, the swarms of mosquitoes
allowed them no rest at night; and morning again brought the crowd with
its idle curiosity as unsatisfied as the appetite of more diminutive
assailants. About nine o'clock, all went to the church, where Mr.
Stocking preached, while the women sat in most loving proximity to
their strange sisters, handling and commenting on their dresses during
the discourse. Mr. Stocking could preach though others talked, and
readily raised his voice so as to be heard above the rest. At the
close, Priest Abraham, without consulting any one, rose and announced
two meetings for the afternoon; one in another church for men, and a
second in this for women, who must all come, because the lady from the
new world was to preach. So the news flew through the neighboring
villages. The good lady called the priest to account for his doings;
but he replied, "I knew that they would come if I said that, and yon
can preach very well, for your girls told me so." He was greatly
disappointed, however, when he found that his notice left him alone to
preach to the men, while Mr. Stocking preached to some six hundred
women, with half as many children. They were a rude, noisy company, not
one of them all caring for the truth; and there was no moment when at
least half a dozen voices could not be heard besides the preacher's.
When he closed, as many as twenty cried out, "Now let Miss Fiske
preach." So he withdrew, and left her to their tender mercies. Her
preaching was soon finished. She simply told them, that when she knew
their language better, she would come and talk with them, but she could
not talk at the same time that they did, for God had given her a very
small voice, and her words would no more mingle with theirs than oil
and water. They said, "Oil and water never mix; but we will be silent
if you will come and preach." Months passed on, and she again visited
the village. The women remembered her promise, and hundreds came
together; but they did not remember to be silent. As soon as she began,
they began; and if she asked them to be quiet, each exhorted her
neighbor, at the top of her voice, to be still; and the louder the
uproar, of course the louder the reproofs. At length Miss Fiske said,
"I cannot say any more, unless you all put your fingers on your
mouths." All the fingers went up, and she proceeded: "I have a good
story to tell you; but if one takes her finger from her mouth, I cannot
tell it." Instantly muzzled voices, all round the church, cried, "Be
still, be still, so that we can hear the story!" Some minutes elapsed,
and the four hundred women were silent. "Once there was an old woman--I
did not know her, nor did my father, and I think my grandfather did
not; but he told me--" Here commenced many inquiries about said
grandfather; but again the fingers were ordered to their places, and
their owners told that they should hear no more about the woman if they
talked about the grandfather. "Now, this woman talked in meeting,--I
should think she must have been a relative of yours, for ours do not
talk in meeting,--and after many reproofs she was forbidden to go to
church any more if she continued to do so. She promised very
faithfully; but, poor woman, she could not be still; then, as soon as
she heard her own voice, she cried out, 'O, I have spoken in meeting.
What shall I do? Why, I keep speaking, and I cannot stop.' Now, you are
very much like this woman, and as I think you cannot stop, I must." By
this time their fingers were pressed closely on their lips, and no one
made a reply. Having thus secured silence, Miss Fiske took the New
Testament, and read to them of Mary, who, she was sure, never talked in
meeting; for if she had, Jesus would not have loved her so much. She
talked to them about fifteen minutes more, and prayed with them, and
they went away very still and thoughtful.

Miss Fiske gave this account to the writer, with no idea that he would
print it. But he thinks--and the reader will doubtless agree with
him--that in no other way could he convey so vivid an idea of woman as
she was in Persia, or the tact needed to secure a first hearing for the
truth. Miss Fiske was often called to deal with just such rude
assemblages, and by varied methods she generally succeeded in securing
attention. In subsequent visits to Ardishai the number of hearers was
never again so large; but they came together from better motives, and,
as we shall see, not without the blessing of the Lord. In March, 1850,
Miss Rice met nearly three hundred women in the same church, some of
them awakened, and a few already hopefully pious.

CHAPTER IX.

FRUITS OF LABOR IN NESTORIAN HOMES.

USEFULNESS AMONG RELATIVES OF PUPILS.--DEACON GUWERGIS.--REFORMED
DRUNKARD AND HIS DAUGHTER.--MATERNAL MEETINGS.---EARLY INQUIRERS FROM
GEOG TAPA.--PARTING ADDRESS OF MR. HOLLADAY.--VISIT TO GEOG
TAPA.--SELBY AND HER CLOSET.

Having thus glanced at early labors for women in the Seminary and in
the villages, let us now turn to another field of usefulness among the
relatives of the pupils, who came to visit them in school; and here we
are at no loss for a notable illustration.

In the autumn of 1845, Deacon Guwergis, of Tergawer,--and almost every
reader was either priest or deacon,--brought his oldest daughter, then
about twelve years of age, and begged for her admission to the
Seminary. He was known as one of the vilest and most defiantly
dissolute of the Nestorians, and Miss Fiske shrunk from receiving the
daughter of such a man into her flock. Yet, on the ground that, like
her Master, she was sent not to the righteous, but to the lost, she
concluded to receive her. Still the father, during his short stay,
showed such a spirit of avarice and shameless selfishness,--he even
asked for the clothes his daughter had on when she came,--that she
rejoiced when he went away.

His home was twenty-five miles off, in the mountains, and she hoped
that winter snows would soon shield her from his dreaded visits. Little
did she think that his next coming would result in his salvation. In
February he again presented himself at her door in his Koordish
costume, gun, dagger, and belt of ammunition all complete. He came on
Saturday, when many of the pupils were weeping over their sins; and the
teacher could not but feel that the wolf had too truly entered the
fold. He ridiculed their anxiety for salvation, and opposed the work of
grace, in his own reckless way. She tried to guard her charge from his
attacks as best she could; but they were too divinely convinced of sin
to be much affected by what he said. His own daughter, at length,
distressed at his conduct, begged him to go alone with her to pray.
(The window on the right of the central door of the Seminary points out
the place.) Ho mocked and jeered, but went, confident in his power to
cure her superstition. "Do you not think that I too can pray?" And he
repeated over his form in ancient Syriac, as a wizard would mutter his
incantation. His child then implored mercy for her own soul, and for
her perishing father, as a daughter might be expected to do, just
awakened to her own guilt and the preciousness of redemption. As he
heard the words "Save, O, save my father, going down to destruction,"
he raised his clinched hand to strike; but, as he said afterwards, "God
held me back from it." No entreaties of his daughter could prevail on
him to enter the place of prayer again that day.

The native teacher, Murad Khan, then recently converted, took him to
his own room, and reasoned with him till late at night. Sabbath morning
found him not only fixed in his rebellion, but toiling to prevent
others coming to Christ. At noon Miss Fiske went to the room where he
was. (The two lower windows on the right of the engraving of the
Seminary mark the place.) He sat in the only chair there, and never
offered her a seat; so she stood by him, and tried to talk; but he
sternly repelled every attempt to speak of Jesus. She then took his
hand, and said, "Deacon Guwergis, I see you do not wish me to speak
with you, and I promise you that I will never do it again unless you
wish it; but pledge me one thing: when we stand together in judgment,
and you are on the left hand, as you must be if you go on in your
present course, promise me that you will then testify, that on this
twenty-second day of February, 1846, you were warned of your danger."
He gave no pledge, but a weeping voice said, "Let me pray." The hand
was withdrawn, and he passed into the adjoining room, whence soon
issued a low voice, that Miss Fiske could hardly yet believe was
prayer. The bell rung for meeting, and she sent her precious charge
alone, while she staid to watch the man whose previous character and
conduct led her to fear that he was only feigning penitence in order to
plunder the premises undisturbed. She staid till a voice seemed to say,
What doest thou here, Elijah? then went and took her place in the
chapel; soon the door opened again very gently, and Deacon Guwergis
entered; but how changed! His gun and dagger were laid aside; the folds
of his turban had fallen over his forehead; his hands were raised to
his face; and the big tears fell in silence; he sank into the nearest
seat, and laid his head upon the desk. After Mr. Stoddard had
pronounced the blessing, Miss Fiske requested Mr. Stocking to see
Deacon Guwergis.

He took him to his study, and there, in bitterness of soul, the recent
blasphemer cried out, "O my sins! my sins! they are higher than the
mountains of Jeloo." "Yes," said Mr. Stocking, "but if the fires of
hell could be out, you would not be troubled--would you?" The strong
man now bowed down in his agony, exclaiming, "Sir, even if there were
no hell, I could not bear this load of sin. I could not live as I have
lived."

That night he could not sleep. In the morning, Miss Fiske begged Mr.
Stoddard to see him, and after a short interview he returned, telling
her that the dreaded Guwergis was sitting at the feet of Jesus. "My
great sins," and "My great Saviour," was all that he could say. He was
subdued and humble, and before noon left for his mountain home, saying,
as he left, "I must tell my friends and neighbors of sin and of Jesus."
Yet he trembled in view of his own weakness, and the temptations that
might befall him. Nothing was heard from him for two weeks, when Priest
Eshoo was sent to his village, and found him in his own house, telling
his friends "of sin and of Jesus." He had erected the family altar, and
at that moment was surrounded by a company weeping for their sins. So
changed was his whole character, and so earnest were his exhortations,
that for a time some looked on him as insane; but the sight of his
meekness and forgiving love under despiteful usage amazed them, and
gave them an idea of vital piety they never had before. He returned to
Oroomiah, bringing with him his wife, another child, and brother, and
soon found his way to Miss Fiske's room. As he opened the door, she
stood on the opposite side; but the tears were in his eyes, and
extending his hand as he approached, he said, "I know you did not
believe me; but you will love me--will you not?" And she did love him,
and wondered at her own want of faith. In a few days, he was able to
tell Mr. Stocking, with holy joy, that two of his brothers were
anxiously seeking the way of life. His own growth in grace surprised
every one, and his views of salvation by grace were remarkably clear
and accurate.

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

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

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

[Illustration: MISSIONARY SCENE IN TEEGAWER.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nestorian families have been already described in part, but the absence
of the religious element in them can hardly be realized by Christians
here. They did not believe that a child was possessed of a soul until
it was forty days old. This belief affected all their feelings towards
children, and their custom of burying unbaptized infants outside of
their cemeteries did not serve to correct such impressions.

Family registers were unknown. In 1835, probably not five Nestorians
could tell their birthday, and but few knew in what year they were
born. Miss Fiske kept a list of all the children, which was read at
every meeting; but at first she could record the birth of only the very
youngest. The deceased children were written down in a separate page,
and it was sad to see how much they exceeded the number of the living.
One childless mother, who had buried eleven, was always present; for
she said she wanted to pray for the children of others, though her own
were not. They assembled in Miss Fiske's room, sometimes to the number
of thirty, with, such of their little ones as were too small to attend
the other meeting, and, seated on the floor around her, were never more
happy than when telling their troubles, asking questions, and receiving
instructions about family duties, much more specific than could be
given on other occasions. Now and then she read to them, from English
books, facts and truths adapted to their needs. One good man in
Fairhaven, Connecticut, who had heard of this, sent a complete set of
the Mother's Magazine, to be used in that way. So interested were they,
that many of them walked regularly three miles and back again, under a
burning sun, to enjoy these gatherings; and from a monthly, it had to
be changed to a weekly meeting. It sometimes lasted three hours, but
never seemed to them too long; and, commenced in 1850, it is still kept
up with as much regularity as Miss Rice's many other duties will allow.
It would be interesting to dwell on its results; but a single incident
may suffice. One mother, whose husband was not a Christian, was very
regular in private devotion, but thought she could not offer prayer in
the family, till her husband became dangerously sick, when, in the
agony of her intercession for him, she vowed that, if God would spare
him, she would establish family prayer. So, as soon as he was able to
bear it, she gathered her children around his bed, and after they had
read the first chapter of Matthew, verse about, she led in prayer, and
so went on reading the New Testament in the morning and the Old
Testament in the evening, till she got through with the whole of the
former, before any one of the missionaries knew that she had commenced.

The teachers of the Seminary enjoyed very much the visits of the early
inquirers from Geog Tapa, in the summer of 1845, most of whom became
hopefully pious the following winter. Let us look in on one visit made
towards the end of May. A pupil announces that two women below wish to
see Miss Fiske; and a middle-aged stranger is shown into her room. In
answer to the usual inquiry, "From whence do you come?" she replies, "I
have come from Geog Tapa, for I have heard that you have repented, and
I want to know about it." She has walked six miles on purpose to make
the inquiry. "I wish that you, too, had repented," calls forth the
reply, "Alas, I have not! I am on my way to destruction." Feeling that
the Bible was the safest guide for such an inquirer, Miss Fiske reads
appropriate portions, explaining as she reads. The visitor shows a
great deal of Bible knowledge for one who cannot read, indicating that
she had not been inattentive to the faithful instructions of Priest
Abraham and Deacon John, and her questions are numerous and intensely
practical. Among other things, she asked, "Is it true, that for one sin
Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden?" and on being told that it was so,
"There," said she, turning to the unconcerned neighbor, who had come
with her, "do you hear that? What will become of you and me, who have
sinned so often?" At length prayer was proposed, to which she eagerly
and tearfully assented; and though the tongue that commended her to
Jesus, in that strange language, might have faltered, the heart did not
share in the embarrassment. The woman, like the first inquirer,
repeated every word of the prayer in a low whisper, as though unwilling
to lose a single syllable. The conversation was then resumed till it
was interrupted by the entrance of some of the pupils on business.
"Have you finished?" was the woman's eager inquiry. "I wish very much
to hear more of these things." Her companion now begged her to go home.
"No," was the kind reply; "you may go, but I must stay here to
prayers." Evening prayers were earlier than usual that evening for her
sake, but still she lingered. She had not yet found rest. Selby, one of
Mrs. Grant's pupils, then in the Seminary, now conversed with her; and
as there seemed to be a sympathy between them (Selby had recently found
peace in believing), they were left by themselves. After supper, Selby
remained with her an hour or more, that they might pray together, till
it was quite dark, and her friends had sent for her repeatedly. She
left, having first begged permission to come in to morning prayers.
Morning came, and before sunrise she was again listening intently to
the reading of the Word, and, after devotions, left for home, earnestly
begging Miss Fiske to come and spend a week in Geog Tapa.

The Seminary was dismissed June 5th. On that day, several hundreds of
the parents and friends of the pupils, in both Seminaries, were invited
to a simple entertainment, got up in native style. The gentlemen of the
mission ate in one room, with the men and boys, and the ladies in
another, with their own sex. The confidence and kind feeling manifested
by all towards the school was very gratifying. After dinner, the whole
company, seated in the court, listened to an address from Mr. Holladay,
then about to return home. He spoke to parents and children on their
duties, privileges, and responsibilities: towards the close, he spoke
of the almost certainty of never meeting them again till the judgment,
and bade them an affectionate farewell. His utterance was often choked,
and his hearers wept; and well they might, for in him they parted with
a faithful friend. During the exercises, the members of the two schools
sang, twice, to the great gratification of their friends.

That evening most of the pupils went home, all but a few of the girls
carrying with them a copy of the four Gospels, in modern Syriac, which
they had paid for with their needles.

Miss Fiske left for Geog Tapa on the 14th of June with Mr. Stocking,
reaching that place as the people were coming out from evening prayers
in the church. The first to welcome them were six pupils, residents in
the village, who greeted their teacher with a hearty good will. Next to
them came Pareza, the inquirer, changed somewhat in her feelings, but
with no loss of religious interest. John, too, was there (the native
pastor): he had been busy, day and night, instructing the people, and
had taken special care of the pupils, that they might both improve
themselves and exert a good influence on others. When Mr. Stocking
asked him about matters in the village, "O sir," said he, "it is a very
good time here now; very many love to hear the truth; their hearts are
very open. O sir, I have very much hope!" After supper, the villagers
poured into the room for a meeting, to the number of one hundred, while
some thirty or forty more were unable to get in. This was all the more
welcome, as no notice whatever had been given. It was a clear moonlight
evening, and the groups outside were distinctly visible, through the
latticed side of the room. John commenced with an earnest prayer for a
blessing on the evening; asking, in his simplicity, that "the people
might run after the word like sheep after salt"--a strange expression
to us, but most appropriate and striking there. Fixed attention was
given to Mr. Stocking's discourse: then John, who feared that those
around the door had not been fed, spoke to them of Zaccheus. "The crowd
about him," said he, "did not know his feelings; but Jesus knew them,
and loved him; and so, mothers and sisters"--they, as an inferior
class, had to take the lowest places while the men were within--"if you
have come here to-night with a broken heart, though we have not seen
you, Jesus has." He then, with Miss Fiske's pupils, sung a hymn, and
the meeting closed. Still, many women lingered; some sitting down by
Miss Fiske, and others in little groups, talking over what they had
heard; very different from previous visits, when dress and such things
were the most interesting themes of conversation. This was the first
meeting in the village in which the missionaries noticed much religious
interest.

Early in the morning, Miss Fiske's pupils were gathered together for a
Bible class. The women soon filled the room. The exercise continued all
the forenoon, simply because it could not be closed. It was impossible
to send away unfed those who hungered for the word. Among the women
were a few men, one of them the husband of the inquirer. He was asked,
"Have you and your wife chosen the good part?" He covered his face for
a moment; the tears rolled down his cheeks; and then he said, "By the
grace of God, I hope we have." His heart was too full to say more.

Soon after noon, Mr. Stocking preached in the church, on the barren fig
tree, to a crowded assembly. The heat and the multitude made the place
very uncomfortable, but the interest deepened till the close. As soon
as they were out of the church, many women crowded around Miss Fiske,
some of whom she could look on as truly pious, and more as thoughtful.
One, who was the first to be awakened about a year before, seemed now a
growing Christian. On leaving, she said, "Perhaps I shall not see you
again till I meet you in heaven." She seemed to be looking forward with
humble hope to a sinless home. With others, she had encountered much
opposition from her family and friends. She has since entered into rest.

On the 19th, Selby visited Miss Fiske, and in answer to a question
about a place for private devotion, "O, yes," said she, "there is a
deep hole under our house, like a cellar, and there I go every day to
pray."

A brief account of her may not here be out of place. In 1830, when she
was an infant in her mother's arms, the cholera in five days carried
her father and five of his household to the grave. In 1838, she was one
of the first pupils of Mrs. Grant. She learned more rapidly than the
rest, and yet was so amiable that she was loved by those whom she
excelled. Still, she was a stranger to God, and she felt it. When
thirteen years of age, her brother took her out of school, replying to
her earnest pleadings, to be allowed to remain, "You have been there
already too long." At the same time she was forced to marry a boy
twelve years of age, with whom she had never spoken. For days
previously, tears were her meat and drink; nor was she the only one
that wept. After this, the missionaries seldom saw her, till, one cold
Sabbath in the winter of 1844-45, a girl entered the chapel, wrapped,
as brides usually are, in a large, white sheet. She was not recognized,
of course, till her mother led her forward, saying, "I have brought
Selby here to-day to listen to the words of God; she loves them and you
very much." She was feeble and much depressed, and expressed a strong
desire to return to school. Her father-in-law consented to her teaching
in the primary department, on condition that her husband was received
into the Boys' Seminary, which was done. She now manifested much
interest in religion, and one day wept much, and inclined to be alone.
The next evening, she went to Miss Fiske, distressed with a sense of
sin. Said she, "I have lied, and stolen, and sworn; nor that only, but
have lived so long without once loving my kind, heavenly Father! When I
felt sadly about dying at home, I thought then only of hell; but now my
sins--O, how many they are! I never knew before that I was such a
sinner." The next day, at her father-in-law's request, she was to spend
the Sabbath at home. She was very loath to go, but it was not thought
best to try to retain her, and she went. There she found neither closet
nor Christian friend, and the house was full of guests from morning
till night, whom, she was required to entertain. Yet in the morning she
returned with even increased interest in spiritual things. Said she,
"Two or three times I was left alone for a moment, and then I tried to
commit my soul to my Saviour." Those few moments she seemed to value
above all price. Not long after, she found peace in Jesus, who became
her chosen theme. No wonder she loved to point others also to the Lamb
of God, and lead them to the mercy seat.

CHAPTER X.

GEOG TAPA.

DEACON MURAD KHAN IN 1846.--PENTECOSTAL SABBATH IN 1849.--MEETINGS IN
1850 AND 1854.--EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL OF YONAN IN 1858.

The village of Geog Tapa is so prominent, and has been so largely
blessed, that, though there is not room for a continuous account of the
work in that place, we here give a glimpse of its progress in different
years.

Deacon Murad Khan, one of the assistants in the Seminary, and a native
of the place, spent some Sabbaths there in May, 1846. He took turns
with the other native teacher in this, going Saturday, and returning on
Monday. He tells us that, after morning prayers in the church, pious
men met together to pray for a blessing on the day; twelve of their
number then went to labor in other villages, the rest remaining to work
at home. Passing through a vineyard, he found hidden among the vines a
youth setting home gospel truth to a group of others about his own age.
At their request, he expounded the parable of the ten virgins to them
till it was time for forenoon service; then they separated, to spend a
few moments in private devotion before entering the church.

In 1849, the pious men of the village divided it into districts, and
visited from house to house for religious conversation and prayer.
Meetings were held daily, and well attended. The most abandoned persons
were hopefully converted. Crimes committed twenty-five years before
were confessed, and restitution made. One Sabbath in February, Mr.
Stocking and Mar Yohanan found a large assembly in the house of Mar
Elias, listening to an exhortation from Priest Abraham. Mar Yohanan,
who had not been there since his conversion a little while before, was
then called on, and spoke of himself as the chief of sinners, having
led more souls to destruction than any other of his people, and being
all covered with their blood. In regard to his flock he said, the
fattest he had eaten, the poorest he had cast away, the lame and the
sick he had neglected. He begged them no longer to look to their
bishops for salvation, but to repent at once and turn to God. Priest
Abraham, then recently awakened, also made a humble confession of his
sins as their priest, and besought them, one and all, to attend to the
salvation of their souls.

In the afternoon, the church was crowded, and a number, unable to gain
admission, retired to a school room, where a meeting was conducted by a
member of the Male Seminary. In the church, they sung the hymn, "Come,
Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove." Mar Yohanan offered prayer, and Mr.
Stocking preached from the text, "Now, then, we are ambassadors for
Christ," and produced a very deep impression, which was increased by
short addresses from the bishop and others. This was known afterwards
by the name of the Pentecostal Sabbath.

In 1850, those previously renewed gained new light, and those whose
piety was doubtful--to use Deacon John's broken English,-were "very
much firmed." Miss Fiske and Miss Rice spent a day in the village,
after the close of their spring term, and had delightful intercourse
with about twenty women hopefully pious, and many more inquirers. In
the evening, supper was hurried through, and men, women, and children
hastened to the house of the pastor. Mr. Stocking preached there to a
crowded assembly of men, while the teachers adjourned to a neighboring
house, to meet with the women. Their hearts were full at meeting so
many for whom they had alternately hoped and feared, now sitting in
heavenly places in Christ Jesus; they remembered seeing their first
penitential tears, and could hardly restrain their own for joy. The
house was full, and in a silence interrupted only by stifled sobs, they
communed together concerning Jesus and his grace. It seemed as though
God perfected praise that night out of the mouths of babes, by keeping
them perfectly still in their mothers' aims; and as the pupils of the
Seminary belonging to the village, in their prayers, laid mothers,
sisters, and friends at the feet of Jesus, the place seemed near to
heaven. Next day, about one hundred and fifty attended another meeting,
and it was with difficulty the teachers could tear themselves away. One
of the pious mothers could not bear to have her daughter, recently
converted in the Seminary, leave her sight; and more than once a day
they bowed together at the throne of grace. When this mother met Miss
Fiske her feelings were so intense she could only say, "Thank God,"
over and over, and weep. Her husband was moved by his child's anxiety
for his salvation. Once, when she urged him to pray, he replied, "I
cannot; but you may pray for me." She at once knelt and interceded for
him, with many tears. The gray-headed man knelt also, deeply moved, and
tears flowed from eyes not used to weep. When she ceased praying, she
rose; but his strength was gone; he could not rise. Yet the love of the
world was strong within him, and it is to be feared that he resisted
the Holy Ghost.

In 1854, Miss Fiske found about sixty families maintaining family
prayer, and hardly a family in which there was not some one that seemed
to be a true disciple. John held a prayer meeting Sabbath morning with
those whom he sent out, two and two, to preach in the neighboring
villages, and in the evening they reported what they had done. Sabbath
school commenced about nine o'clock, and before it opened, almost all
were reading or listening to those that read; and then the school
continued in session two hours, without a sign of weariness. The number
wishing to learn to read was so large that it was difficult to provide
for them. Men came begging good teachers for their wives, and women
came pleading for spelling books for their husbands. After school, at
their own request, Miss Fiske met twenty-one girls, who had been
members of her school (twenty of them now teachers in the Sabbath
school), and gave them a word of counsel and encouragement in their
work. At the close of afternoon service, the women who could read staid
with her till near sunset, they never so thankful before, and she never
more thankful to be with them.

The next glimpse we take of Geog Tapa shall be from a native
standpoint. A young man of the village, possessed of more than ordinary
abilities, was early taken into the Male Seminary. His influence over
the rest was so great, and so decidedly opposed to religion, that he
was about to be sent away, when grace made him the first fruit of the
revival in 1846. Yonan (for that is his name) was a teacher in the
Female Seminary from 1848 till 1858, and, as he was generally
accustomed to spend his Sabbaths in his native village, on Monday
morning he handed in to Miss Fiske a written report of the labors of
the previous day; and from, these we now give some extracts:--

"_January 17th_, 1858. I had a pleasant time in morning family prayer,
at which several young persons were present. The Sabbath school was
followed by a meeting, at the close of which I returned to my room with
four young men. I talked with them about two hours, first about coming
to church,--for they attend only occasionally,--and in this they
promised to do better. I then questioned until I reached their inmost
souls. I asked one, 'What is the distance between you and God?' 'My
teacher, there is a very great distance between us.' 'Is it God's
fault, or yours?' 'It is mine.' I then looked on another, noted for his
wickedness, and said, 'Beloved, did not Christ come for you? His
stripes, his anguish, his crucifixion,--were they not for you? Why,
then, treat him so ill? Has he left the least thing undone for you?' He
admitted the truth, but seemed like a rock. At length I said to them,
'Now, Satan has provided something or somebody outside the door, to
drive these thoughts from your hearts.' One replied, 'True, Satan has
let down all the nets of the Sea of Ardishai[1] for us.' I prayed for
them, and they left me, serious. Then I prayed for them alone. Soon my
little sister Raheel came in, who is under Papal influence. I talked
with her about prayer to the saints, and opened to the ten
commandments, and began to read; but she did not want to hear. My heart
yearned over my poor sister, and I prayed with her. [Footnote 1: Lake
of Oroomiah.]

"Moses preached in the afternoon about Achan, and after that I had my
usual meeting with the pious women. Guly returned with me for
conversation. I think she is a blessed Christian. She labors and prays
with two of her companions. She told how her cousin ridiculed her, and
I encouraged her to go forward, but said, 'If all the world think you a
Christian, don't rest till you can say, 'I know in whom I have
believed."' We prayed together, and O, what a prayer she offered!
Deacon Siyad led the evening meeting.

"_January 24th_. After morning service, I took Baba Khan and Guwergis
to my room. The first I had labored with last year, and thought him
interested. His wife fears God, and has often asked me to talk with
him. He is seldom absent from church or prayer meeting, and often goes
out with our young men when they preach. This was my thought in talking
with him: 'Near the kingdom, but not in it.' I earnestly pressed these
questions: What do you think of yourself? What is your dependence for
salvation? Have you repented? In short, on which side are you? He was
troubled; tears ran down his cheeks, and for a time he made no reply.
At last he said, 'I cannot tell.' A companion began to answer for him,
with the confidence of ignorance, judging Christians and finding holes
in the coats of the righteous: 'Who knows whether a man is a Christian?
God alone.' I said, 'Are there any Christians in our village?' 'Yes.'
'Then you know some as Christians?' His words were many, while Baba
Khan's were few. My father here came in, but I prayed with them all,
and then went to church, where I preached from the words, 'And thou
mourn at the last.'

"To-day I conversed with Sadee. I found her in the habit of praying
with her sisters in Christ one by one. I advised her to try and lead
some of her unconverted neighbors to Christ by her labors and prayers.
She promised to do so. We spent more than an hour speaking the language
of Canaan, and then knelt at the feet of the Saviour whom we love. She
prayed, spreading out her hands to heaven, as I think the early saints
used to do; and it seemed as though God would fill us with blessing in
answer to that prayer. She left me alone, and thanking God for these
blessed opportunities to labor.

"_January 31st_. After meeting, conversed with Munny, daughter of
Mukdesseh. It was profitable to talk with her. She said that her
sainted mother used to say, "When, my heart is cold, I go to Christ,
and never rise from my knees till he warms it." She has some hope for
her husband, and also fear, since he does not forsake wine. She told of
a woman for whom she had prayed and labored five or six years, and
promised to do so with others. O, what a sweet savor of piety did I
receive from her! If we had many such mothers in Geog Tapa how changed
it would be! I cannot write all our pleasant words; they remain for
eternity.

"_February 7th_. I took home from Sabbath school two young men, for
whom I have fears because they drink too much wine. I talked long with
them, not as though I would take a pledge from them, or that it is a
sin ever to drink at all, for I thought this would not be profitable;
but I asked them questions, that they might themselves distinguish what
is right; as, 'Does wine make you to sin?' They owned that it did.
Their hearts seemed won to the right, but the work is the Lord's. May
he save them from this temptation.

"In the afternoon, I began to talk with Sanum without feeling, but
ended in tears. I did not ask questions, but carefully explained the
difficulties and the fight of faith, also the special grace of God to
his people. When I said to her, 'I want you to enlarge your heart, and
take in one more besides the two women whom you now labor with,' she
selected a very ignorant one. I am afraid that I do differently,
seeking rather an easy work.

"_February 22d_. This afternoon I sent for Nargis. I had never thought
of her as a Christian, but I found that I was greatly mistaken. It is
all my own fault. I had seldom met her, and never prayed with her. I
commenced: 'Do you think yourself a Christian?' 'I do.' 'How long have
you thought so?' 'About eight years.' 'How is it that I have not known
it?' 'Yakob was my pastor, and since he left I have had none.' Then she
told of her awakening, and sufferings for Christ's sake, between her
betrothal and her marriage. 'I used to go to evening meetings with
Yakob, and on my return my uncle would take me by the braids of my hair
and throw me on the ground, saying, "You go because there are young men
there." Sometimes I found the door barred against me; then I went to a
neighbor's to lodge, or oftener to the stable, and slept in a manger;
but I was never afraid, for Christ was with me: for a time my betrothed
wished to put me away. It was then I found Christ, and I have never
forsaken him since.' She is now poor and in distress. She attends
church and Sabbath school, but cannot go to evening meeting, as her two
little children keep her at home. She lamented this, not thinking that
she could serve Christ in the care of these little ones. I told her, 'I
preach that prayer and the care of children are equally a duty.' She
was greatly comforted: these words seemed like oil poured into the
flickering lamp. I gave her the 'Green Pastures,' and prayed with her.
I have great confidence in her piety.

"On Friday forenoon, I saw Martha, the wife of Eshoo. I trust she has
grace in her heart; and her husband hopes that he is a Christian, but
looks after her more than himself. She sees him not doing right, and
tells him in love; he is not pleased. Still, she thinks him a
Christian. She wished I would talk to them together, that their path
might be one. I told her I did not think it best that she should talk
much to him, but be very quiet, pray for him, be obedient to him, and
hope to win him by her chaste conversation coupled with fear. She
received my words well.

"_February 28th._ I talked with Moressa. We hoped, seven or eight years
ago, that she was a Christian; but her husband soon prevented her
attending meeting, and so she remained, till lately she came to church
again. I did not know that one of the sisters in Christ had prayed
regularly with her all this while, but supposed that she had gone back
to her dead forms, and that God moved me to call her to repentance. But
I found her trusting that she had been set in Christ's breastplate, the
light of which can never go out. I said, 'Do you think you love the
Saviour?' 'Yes, as the apple of my eye.' 'Are you sure that you have
not forsaken him in all these years?' 'I have been very sinful all the
time, but do not think I have taken my hand from Christ.' My heart was
now drawn towards her. I said, 'Moressa, forgive me. I have been an
unfaithful shepherd. I have not once searched for you. I confess my
faults.' 'I have faults. I have been a wandering sheep, forsaking the
fold.' 'Have you kept up secret prayer during all these years?' 'I
have.' I found that she had learned to read at home, and I gave her a
Testament. I have a good hope for her; but how negligent I have been!
There may be many Christians unknown."

These extracts might be extended; but enough have been given to
illustrate the inner workings of Nestorian piety, and the labors of
those so appropriately called "native helpers." It was such men that
Paul called his helpers in Christ Jesus.

The women of Geog Tapa, in a letter to Miss Fiske, written Feb. 1861,
thanking her for her labors among them, say, "We often think, What are
we more than the women of other nations, that we should have such
heavenly blessings? and are ready to cry, Blessed is the dust of the
land that sends forth such good news, and makes known the way of life
to the world." They add, that at their last communion more than eighty
souls sat down at the Lord's table; and it seemed as if He who sitteth
between the cherubim was present in the church.

CHAPTER XI.

REVIVAL IN 1846.

PREPARATORY WORK.--SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS.--NAME FOR REVIVAL.--SCENES
IN IHE SEMINARIES IN JANUARY.--DEACON JOHN, SANUM, AND SARAH.--MR.
STODDARD.--YAKOB.--YONAN.--MEETING IN THE BETHEL.--PRIEST
ESHOO.--DEACON TAMO.--PHYSICAL EXCITEMENT AND ITS CURE.--ARTLESS
SIMPLICITY OF CONVERTS.--MISSIONARY BOX.--MEETINGS BEFORE
VACATION.--MR. STODDARD'S LABORS.--FEMALE PRAYER MEETING.--REVIVAL IN
THE AUTUMN.

The first revival in Oroomiah seemed to burst forth like a fountain in
the desert. Yet, as such a fountain, though springing full grown from
the earth, is connected with unseen arrangements working out that
visible result, so was this revival connected with an extended process
of preparation. For years there had been a laborious inculcation of
divine truth, especially in the Seminary. True, there had been few
conversions; but those few were an essential part of the preparatory
work. The roots of this revival extended back as far as the conversion
of Deacon John, in 1844. Even in those still unconverted, there had
been a wonderful preparation of the way of the Lord. No one could
compare the condition of the places yet unblessed by missionary labor,
with those so favored, and not feel this. Religious education had made
a marked improvement in the appearance of the pupils of both
Seminaries, in their personal habits, their intelligence, and
especially in their knowledge of the doctrines of the gospel. Old
superstitions had lost their hold; they could no longer trust in fasts
and ceremonies, and they had an intellectual understanding of the way
of salvation through a Redeemer. True, all this did not necessarily
involve a spiritual work; but God is pleased to have the way thus
prepared for that Spirit who sanctifies through the truth. Those who
had received the most instruction were the first to come to Christ, and
have since lived the more consistent Christian life.

Then, in the good providence of Him who always observes a beautiful
order in the manifestations of his grace, other influences tended to
the same result. The very delay of the blessing called forth earnest
prayer from the husbandmen who were waiting for precious fruit, and had
long patience for it, till they received the early and the latter rain.
The trials which the missionaries had passed through in 1845 also
tended to produce that despair of help from themselves which usually
precedes blessing. In 1844 they numbered sixteen souls; but in 1846,
from various causes, they were diminished to ten. These were not
discouraged, but remained at their post confident that labors in the
Lord cannot be in vain. Then the persecution under Mar Shimon shut them
up to God as their only hope, while it rid them of some native helpers,
who cared chiefly for their own temporal advantage. The army of Gideon,
on all sides, was being diminished in order to secure obedience to that
precept, "He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." The feeling was
general, "all our springs are in God." One of the missionaries said, in
the autumn of 1845, "God never formed a soul that Christ cannot redeem
from the power of sin. I know this people are sunk in sin and
degradation; but Jesus died to save them, and we may see them forever
stars in his crown of rejoicing, if we are only humble and faithful
enough to lead them to the Saviour."

At the time of the revival, Dr. and Mrs. Perkins resided at Seir, and
Dr. and Mrs. Wright were temporarily with them in that village. Mr.
Breath was in the city, but using the Turkish mainly, he never ventured
to give religious instruction in Syriac; so that Mr. Stocking and Mr.
Stoddard were the only laborers in Oroomiah. They lived on the mission
premises already described; and at that time the Male Seminary occupied
a building in the same enclosure.

One day in the autumn of 1845, Mr. Stocking, Miss Fiske, and Deacon
John were riding together, when John asked in English, "If we ever have
a revival here, what shall we call it?" Mr. Stocking replied, "Let us
get it first; then we will find a name;" and when it did come, the
pious Nestorians at once called it "an awakening."

Towards the close of December, Mr. Stocking noticed repeated
indications of deep seriousness among the pupils of Mr. Stoddard, and
felt that they were on the eve of a revival. About the same time,
Deacon John was more active in labor, and earnest in prayer. In the
Seminaries, the teachers did not think so much of what their pupils
were, as of the power of God to make them like himself. They labored in
hope, expecting a blessing; but it came sooner than they looked for,
and in larger measure. The first Monday of the new year, January 5th,
was spent as a day of fasting and prayer; and the missionaries had just
begun to pray, when they found that some were praying for themselves.
Miss Fiske went into her school, as usual, at nine o'clock, and, after
telling her flock that many prayers were being offered for them that
day in a distant land, led their morning devotions, and then sent them
into another room to study with a native teacher. Sanum and Sarah
lingered behind the rest; and as they drew near, she asked, "Did you
not understand me?" They made no reply; and she saw they were weeping.
"Have you had bad news?" Still no reply; but when they got near enough,
they whispered, "May we have to-day to care for our souls?" and Sarah
added, "Perhaps next year I shall not be here." There was no private
room to give them, but they made a closet for themselves among the fuel
in the wood cellar, and there spent that day looking unto Jesus; nor
did they look in vain. Their teacher did not know where they had gone,
till, long after one of them had died, the survivor gave her an account
of that memorable day.

On Sabbath evening, January 18th, the words at the English prayer
meeting were few; but the prayers carried the dear pupils and laid them
at the feet of Jesus. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Stoddard was
lighting his candle to go home, when Mr. Stocking asked if he saw any
indications of interest in his school. There was no reply; but the
expressive face, and the candle dropping unnoticed as he held it,
showed that thought was busy, and the heart full. At length he said,
with deep feeling, "I should expect to see interest if we felt as we
ought to feel;" and passed out. All were impressed with his manner, so
earnest, yet so humble. He retired to his study, called John, and
talked with him on the state of the school. He proposed that they
should each day make some one pupil a subject of special prayer and
personal effort, and begin that night with Yakob of Sooldooz. They
prayed together for him, and then he said, "John, I want to talk with
him to-night; we don't know what may be on the morrow; go and call
him." Yakob, who had acted badly in meeting that day, came, expecting
to be punished; but when Mr. Stoddard kindly asked him to come and sit
down by him, and, taking his hand, said, "Have you ever thought that
you have a soul to be saved or lost?" he broke down at once. He
confessed that the whole school had combined to shut out the subject
from their thoughts, but really felt so uneasy, that if one of them
should be brought to Christ he thought all would follow. Then the good
man, who was so distressed that day because he could see no impression
made by the sermon, thanked God and took courage. Not willing to devote
Monday to Yakob alone, he conversed with another of the same name, and
he too went away weeping to his closet. The two had been in the
recitation room but a little while before their feelings became so
intense that they had to ask leave to retire. "It is God!" "It is God!"
was whispered from seat to seat; and at noon a group collected to
discuss what was to be done. One proposed to rise up against the work,
and put it down; but at length Yonan of Geog Tapa said, "I don't want
to be a Christian; I don't mean to be; but I am afraid to oppose this;
we had better let it alone. If it is God's work we cannot put it down,
and if it is man's work it will come to nought without our
interference." Nothing more was said, but before school commenced that
afternoon, some of those boys were on their knees in prayer.

In the evening, Mr. Stoddard sent for two leaders in the opposition,
very promising scholars, but of late forward in every thing that was
evil--one of them this Yonan, and as he himself told afterwards: "Mr.
Stoddard said, 'If you do not wish to be saved yourselves, I beg of
you, from my inmost soul, not to hinder others;' and eternity so opened
up before me, that I was ready to be swallowed up. I longed for some
one to speak to me of the way of escape; but no such word was spoken to
me that night. I could not sleep, for I was almost sure there was but a
step between me and death." Late on Thursday evening, the other Yonan,
of Ada, came to Mr. Stoddard in extreme agitation, who conversed with
him a while, and then left him there to pray alone. That night he too
could not sleep. The years he had spent in sin rose up before him in
the light of God, and filled him with anguish; but next morning, in
conversing with Mr. Stoddard, he seemed to find rest in submitting to
sovereign mercy.

On Monday evening, the indications of interest in the Female Seminary
were such, that the teacher invited those disposed to seek salvation at
once, to come to her room at five o'clock. Before that hour, a number
had retired to pray for themselves. Just then, Mr. Stoddard came to the
door of the teacher, saying, "I cannot stop; but I wanted you to know
that four or five of my boys are much distressed for their sins." This
was the first intimation she had of what was taking place in the other
school; and she turned away from Mr. Stoddard to find five of her
pupils in the same condition. Mr. Stoddard came in again, in the course
of the evening, to pray and consult; and Mr. Stocking gave up every
thing else to labor with the pupils in both schools. Both Dr. Perkins
and Dr. Wright came down frequently from Seir. Every day brought out
new cases of those who were being taught of God. Wednesday evening, at
the conclusion of a sermon from Mr. Stocking, on the words, "Behold, I
stand at the door and knock," no member of the Male Seminary seemed
willing to leave his seat. After a few words of exhortation, they were
dismissed to their rooms; but so intense were their feelings that they
came in crowds to the teacher's study, where he preached Jesus Christ,
and forgiveness through his blood, till near midnight; then, fatigued
and exhausted, he retired to rest. Thursday evening, in the English
prayer meeting, Mr. Stoddard said, "God will assuredly carry forward
his own work. Let us give ourselves up to labor for him, in pointing
these precious souls to Christ." After the meeting, the teachers of
both Seminaries left to engage in that blessed work till midnight.
Eleven years after, on the same evening, and about the same hour, one
was called to see the other pass from earth into the presence of the
Saviour whom he then set forth so faithfully. No wonder the survivor
recalled it in the hush of that parting scene.

It is difficult to describe the occurrences of this eventful week. The
teachers' rooms were in such demand as closets for the pupils, that
they could hardly command them long enough for their own devotions.
They were ready to write "Immanuel" on every thing around them. The
girls were very free to express their feelings, and they had such
perfect confidence in their teacher, that often, during the revival,
some of them woke her in the morning, standing at her bedside, with
some inquiry about the way of life.

The two schools hardly knew any thing of each other till Friday
evening, when they met in a room fitted up for the Female Seminary the
preceding autumn. The first time Mr. Stoddard entered it after this, he
looked round, and said, "May this room be wholly consecrated to the
Lord forever;" and this evening Christ seemed to take possession of it.
The boys sat on one side, and the girls on the other; and seldom,
perhaps, has there been a company more under the influence of things
unseen. It seemed as though God himself spoke that evening through his
ministering servants, and this and that one was born there and then. It
was in the same room that that last prayer meeting of the teacher with
her former pupils was held, July 15th, 1858. In the engraving, the two
upper windows, immediately to the left of the small ones over the
central door, belong to this room.

At the close of the week, ten of the pupils were trusting in Christ;
and of the next Lord's day it might truly be said, "That Sabbath was an
high day," for the Lord was present, and many strong men bowed before
him. Priest Eshoo had watched the boys; he had watched his own praying
Sarah; and now he looked within. He had never been known to weep; he
scorned such weakness; but when, at the close of the afternoon service,
Mr. Stocking took his hand, saying, "Be sure you are on the right
foundation," he buried his face in his handkerchief and wept aloud. Nor
did he weep alone; Deacon Tamo, too,--whose levity all through the week
had been a sore trial to Mr. Stoddard, so that he had asked, "Can it be
that God has let him come here to hinder the work?"--now trembled from
head to foot. Mr. Stoddard prayed with him, and as they rose from their
knees, Tamo looked him in the face, and, with streaming eyes, said,
"Thank you, thank you for caring for my soul."

During the following week, most of the inmates of both Seminaries were
deeply convinced of sin, and daily some souls seemed to come to the
Saviour.

But some things rendered it apparent that the interest was not all from
above. One evening, fifteen or twenty boys were found rolling on the
floor, groaning and crying for mercy. Measures were taken at once to
prevent the repetition of such a scene, and at evening prayers Mr.
Stocking commenced his remarks by asking if any of them had ever seen
the Nazloo River, at Marbeeshoo, near its source. Startled by what
seemed a very untimely question, a few answered, "Yes." "Was there much
water in it?" Wondering what he could mean, the answer was, "No; very
little." "Did it make much noise?" "Yes; a great deal." The catechist
went on: "Have you seen the same river on the plain?" By this time,
every ear was listening, and all replied, "Yes." "Was it deep and
wide?" "Yes; it was full of water." "And was it more noisy than at
Marbeeshoo?" "No; it was very quiet and still." The parable was now
applied very faithfully. He said that he had hoped the Holy Spirit had
been teaching them the evil of their hearts; but their noise and
confusion that evening showed him that there was no depth to their
experience. The effect was wonderful; they hung their heads and quietly
dispersed, and from many a closet that night might have been heard the
petition, "Lord, make me to know my heart, and let me not be like that
noisy river." What threatened to be an uncontrollable excitement became
at once a quiet but deep sense of guilt. Their desires were not less
intense, but more spiritual; their consciences were very tender, and
their feelings contrite, but subdued and gentle.

In this revival, the converts had a great deal of feeling, but no
knowledge of the mode in which such feelings find expression in
Christian lands; and in the freshness and strength of their emotions
they yielded to every impulse with an unconscious simplicity that was
exceedingly interesting. If they were under conviction of sin, that
found immediate and unrestrained utterance. If they thought they were
forgiven, that, too, at once found expression. There was a wonderful
transparency of spirit that revealed each varying aspect of their
feelings, and withal a tendency to undue excitement that needed careful
handling. Indeed, it was found necessary to watch their social meetings
very closely, and sometimes to direct them to pray alone.

For three weeks, very few visitors came to the Seminary. The time
seemed to be given expressly for the benefit of the pupils, and it was
like one continual Sabbath. Every corner was consecrated to prayer, and
most of the work was direct effort for the salvation of souls. But
after that, visitors began to come, and then the young converts became
helpers in Christ Jesus, even the sight of their devotion turning the
thoughts of others to spiritual things. Often ten or fifteen women
spent the night on the premises; and at such times, all the spare
bedding was brought into the great room, which was transformed into a
dormitory. The teacher often staid with them till midnight, and then,
from her own room, could hear them praying the rest of the night. In
connection with this, one incident claims our notice. One day in
February, a box arrived from America for the Seminary; but so engrossed
was the teacher with more important duties, that it was midnight ere
she could open it. Next morning, all were invited to her room, to see
the contents. She told of the kind friends who had sent it, and the
love of Christ, that constrained to such kindness. They were moved to
tears, but not one rose to examine the things, and not a word was
spoken, till the proposal was made that the quilts should be kept for
the use of their friends who came to hear the word of God. All joyfully
agreed to that, and then, after looking at the articles, they returned
to pray for their benefactors.

The last meetings of the school before the March vacation were called
thanksgivings, and fitly, too, for in the two Seminaries as many as
fifty souls had begun to love the Saviour, When they left, the
universal cry was, "Pray for us." "Pray for us in the temptations that
await us at home." One little girl said, "Did you ever see a new-born
lamb cast into the snow and live? And can we live?" Thank God, most of
the hopeful converts did live, and we trust are to live forever, with
the good Shepherd who gave his life for their salvation.

It does not fall in with the design of this volume to give a complete
account of the revival, but we cannot leave it without a word more
about the instrumentality of Mr. Stoddard in connection with that work
of grace. He was abundant in preaching. He did not think that the most
ordinary sermons are good enough for the mission field; for he knew
that the Nestorians could discriminate as well as others nearer home,
and so wrote out his sermons carefully in English, but in the Syriac
idiom, noting on a blank page the books consulted in their preparation.
He also excelled in labors for individuals. The first inquirer became
such while Mr. Stoddard pressed home upon his conscience his guilt as a
sinner against God; and the same is true of many others. After
conversing with a person, he always led him to the throne of grace, and
then had him present his own offering there; and after such a one had
left, he seemed unable to turn his thoughts to any thing else, till
again in private he had commended him to God. Indeed, he often began to
do this before they descended the stairs. He kept a little book, in
which he recorded every case, the state in which he found the person,
and any subsequent change; and it was noticed that where he began, he
continued to labor, not only till there was hope, but even assurance of
hope. Such labor is as exhausting as it is delightful; and no wonder
his strength proved less than his zeal and love.

It was a great joy to him when his people could take part in prayer
meetings. He divided the thirty converts among them into three circles,
and met each of them twice a week: this furnished him a season of
refreshment every day, and each of them took part at least once a week.
They were thus early initiated into a course of Christian activity, and
taught that they would lose much themselves, besides failing to do good
to others, if they held back. The converts were so rooted and grounded
in this truth, that once, when Miss Fiske was in Geog Tapa, a brother
said to her that she must not leave the village till she had induced a
woman to pray with her, whom they all regarded as a Christian, but who
would not take part in their female prayer meetings; and when she
objected to urging her, Deacon John replied, "If she was an ordinary
Christian, we might let her pass; but her position is one of such
prominence, that the other women will do just as she does; and so she
must do right," Miss Fiske talked long with the delinquent, but she
insisted that she could not do it. The missionary told of her own
trials in the matter,--how she had staid away from meeting lest she
should be called on, and remained unblessed till she was willing to do
her duty. She prayed with her once and again, even a third time, before
she consented, saying, "I will not displease God any more in this." So,
drawing very close to her instructor, she offered two petitions for
herself, and one that her friend might be rewarded for showing her her
duty. Hannah was soon active in the women's meetings, and is to this
day a most useful and consistent Christian.

Another marked feature in Mr. Stoddard's labors was his tact in setting
others to work for Christ. He taught his pupils that they must toil as
well as pray, and soon after the first converts were brought to Christ,
definite labor for others was assigned to them, not only among their
schoolmates and those who visited the premises, but also in gathering
in those not disposed to come to meeting. Once, when three fourths of
the pupils were hopefully pious, Mr. Stoddard said, "I must bring in
more, just to furnish work for these converts." He himself was happy in
his work, because he gave himself wholly to it, without the least
reservation; and amid the many trials that marked the years of his
residence in Persia, he looked beyond them all, to Him who not only can
give joy in suffering, but, by means of it, bring sinners to the
Saviour.

The hopeful converts in the Seminary, after spending the summer of 1846
at their own homes, in circumstances of great trial and temptation,
returned, all save one, not only retaining their interest in spiritual
things, but established in Christian character. Their friends also
testified to their thoughtfulness, prayerfulness, and cheerful
obedience at home, and the influence of their piety was happy on others.

For a while, in the autumn of 1846, the school was disbanded on account
of the cholera. But, contrary to the fears of many, after a separation
of two months, all were spared to meet again, though hundreds had
fallen on all sides. Three weeks afterwards, the Christians among them
seemed more than usually earnest in prayer for the conversion of the
impenitent, and at once the answer came. The first one awakened was
Moressa, now the wife of Yakob, of Supergan, and then about fourteen
years of age. She had been taken into the family of Mrs. Grant nine
years before, and that of Mr. Stocking afterwards. She had received
much religious instruction, with apparently little effect; but now her
convictions were deep, though she did not submit to Christ for nearly a
week after she felt she was lost. Her case deeply enlisted the
sympathies of her fellow-pupils, and soon several others passed through
a season of deep distress, to rest in the grace of Christ.

One of these was Eneya, sister of Oshana, and now the wife of Shlemon,
in Amadia. Her widowed mother had fled with her children to Oroomiah
before the Koordish invasion of her native Tehoma. Few children have so
deep a sense of sin as she had, or exercise such implicit trust in the
Saviour. At that time, her teacher wrote, "May she become a messenger
of great good to her countrywomen;" and now, that prayer is being
answered in her usefulness in that distant and lonely field of labor.
Altogether there were seven who seemed at this time to take the Lord
Jesus Christ as their God and Saviour.

CHAPTER XII.

FIRST FRUITS.

SARAH, DAUGHTER OF PRIEST ESHOO.--MARTHA.--HANNAH.

Let us now turn aside to take a nearer view of the first fruits of this
revival. The first to ask the way to heaven, to find it, and to enter
through the gate into the city, was Sarah, or Sarra, as the Nestorians
pronounce it. She was born among the rude mountaineers of Gawar, in
1831. Her father, Eshoo, then a deacon, regarded her at first with the
aversion Nestorian fathers usually felt towards their daughters; but
her strong attachment to him while yet a child, so won his heart, that
when the Koords overran Gawar, in 1835, and the family fled from their
smouldering village, he was willing to be seen carrying her on his
back, in the same way that his wife bore her younger sister. The family
stopped for a time at Degala, and subsisted by begging from door to
door, lodging at night in a stable. The fine intellect of the
self-taught father soon brought him to the notice of the missionaries;
and one day Mrs. Grant, then just about securing her long-cherished
desire of a school for girls, asked him, in her winning way, "Have you
any daughters? and will you not send them to our little school?" The
inquiry revived a wish that he had felt while yet in Gawar, that his
daughter should learn to read; and in the spring of 1841, when he moved
from Degala to the city, he sent her to the mission school. She had
just entered her tenth year--a tall, slender, dark-eyed girl, even then
giving indications of her early death, and though often a great
sufferer, she applied herself so diligently to study, that she soon
became, as she ever continued to be, the best scholar in the school.

The ancient Syriac Bible was the principal text book; and she so far
mastered that language as to acquire a knowledge of Scripture rarely
attained in any land by a child of her years. She was the walking
concordance of the school; and her knowledge of the doctrines of the
Bible was even more remarkable. Under the teaching of Mrs. Harriet
Stoddard, she had also learned to sing sweetly our sacred music. Still,
with all her acquirements, she was destitute of grace; and her
declining health led her teacher to feel much anxiety for her salvation.

On the first Monday in 1846, she said to Sanum, one of her schoolmates,
who, she knew, was thoughtful, "Sister, we ought to turn to God. Shall
we ever find a better time than when so many are praying for us?" They
together resolved to spend the day in seeking salvation; and the manner
in which they made known this purpose to their teacher, and carried it
out, has been already related. (See p. 116). From that day, she never
seemed to waver. As soon as she found peace for herself, she sought to
make others acquainted with her Saviour; not forgetting, however, that
prayer of the Psalmist, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me,
and know my thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me
in the way everlasting." Feeble as she was, she never shrank from
labor. Hours every day were spent in her closet, and the rest of her
time was sacredly used for Christ. She had much to do with the
conversion of the twenty schoolmates whom she was permitted to see in
Christ before she went home; and she did much for the women who came to
the Seminary. Her teacher never knew a young person more anxious to
save souls. Both pupils and visitors loved to have Sarah tell them the
way. They said, "We can see it when she tells us." No wonder they saw
it, for she seemed to look on it all the time. Her teacher depended
much on her, and yet often remonstrated with her for such incessant
labors. Still she felt that she must be about her Father's business
while the day lasted. Her desires for the salvation of her father
seemed to commence with her anxiety for herself; and his feelings were
soon so tender that he could not answer an inquiry about his own state
without tears. Sarah was the first to know that he had found peace. His
first religious intercourse with her was to tell her that he had found
Jesus. He had known that she was thoughtful, but was not prepared to
find her so full of humble hope and holy joy. Next day, when urged by a
missionary to labor for the salvation of his family, he replied, "Sarah
knows the way to heaven better than I do. She can teach me far better
than I could her." Their previous strong attachment now ripened

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