44 DISCOVERIES IN SOUTH-CENTRAL AFRICA. [APRIL, stream many of them were gathered, watching, with extravagant gesticulations and discordant cries, the fleet which rendezvoused upon its waters. There, beneath the bright sky of the tropics, thirty-three canoes, manned by 160 rowers, were awaiting the signal for their departure. Our traveller, having had the choice of this fleet, selected one twenty inches in width and thirty-four feet long, with six experienced and athletic rowers. But though the Zambese rolled down in ample volume against them, no sooner was the word of command given, than they swept through it at a rate which showed that the skill and strength of these inland mariners were more than equal to its force. As they proceeded up the river Dr. Livingston was filled with admiration of its magnificence and beauty. "It is often," he writes, "more than a mile broad, and adorned with numerous islands of from three to five miles in length. These, and the banks too, are covered with forest, and most of the trees on the brink of the water send down roots from their branches, like the banian. The islands, at a little distance, seemed rounded masses of sylvan vegetation, of various hues, reclining on the bosom of the glorious stream. The beauty of the scene is greatly increased by the date palm and lofty palmyra towering above the rest, and casting their feathery foliage against a cloudless sky. The banks are rocky and undulating, and many villages of the Banyeti, a poor but industrious people, are situated upon both of them. They are expert hunters of hippopotami and other animals, and cultivate grain extensively." After some fifty miles' travelling, the travellers entered the country of the Barotse, where the river changes its name, and is called the Leeambye. At the time of Dr. Livingston's visit the stream ran low, and the valley was covered with coarse succulent grasses twelve feet high, and as thick as a man's thumb, upon which he saw, in every direction, large herds of cattle grazing. On visiting the higher lands, which form the boundaries of the valley, he found them covered with trees and gardens, which the industrious natives had filled with sugar-cane, sweet potato, manioc, yam, bananas, millet, &c. On the lower grounds, when the waters retire, they raise large quantities of maize and Caffre corn. These productions, with abundance of milk and fish, give to the Barotse country great celebrity as a land of plenty. But, alas! it is also a land of death. "The fever," writes Dr. Livingston, "must be braved if a Mission is to be established, for it is very fatal even among natives. I have had eight attacks of it, the last very severe; but I never laid by. I tried native remedies in order to discover if they possessed any valuable means of cure; but, after being stewed in vapour baths, smoked like a red-herring over twigs in hot potsherds, and physicked secundum black artem, I believe our own medicines are more efficacious, and safer." The previously-unknown region through which we have now been tracking the course of Dr. Livingston, like a large portion of the country watered by the same noble river, abounds with game. "Beyond Barotse," he writes, "the herds of large animals surpass any thing I ever saw. Elands and buffaloes- their tameness was shocking to me.' Eighty-one buffaloes defiled slowly before our fire one evening, and lions were impudent enough to roar at us. .. Sable antelopes bound, and so do the nakong; and there is a pretty little antelope on the 1857.] LUTHER'S PSALM. 45 Secheke, called heranyane, which seemed new to me. The birds are in great numbers on the river, and the sand-martins never leave it: we saw them in hundreds in mid-winter; and many beautiful new trees were interesting objects of observation." During this part of his journey Dr. Livingston suffered much from fever; and such was his exhaustion, that, if he looked up suddenly, his head became dizzy, and he almost lost his consciousness. In addition to this, he was alone, as he had not been on his previous journeys; and the absence of some friend, with whom he could hold Christian intercourse, was specially felt when the shadows of evening closed, and terminated the active occupations of the day. He was then doomed to bear "the everlasting ranting of the Makololo ;" for although most kind, and even devoted to him, they were savages of the first water. "To endure," he writes, "their dancing, roaring, and singing, their jesting, anecdotes, grumbling, quarrelling, murdering, and meanness, equalled a pretty stiff penance.' "You very kindly say," he writes, addressing a friend, "you fear for the result of my going alone. I hope I am in the way of duty: my own conviction that such is the case has never wavered. I am doing something for God. I have preached the gospel in many a spot where the name of Christ has never been heard." LUTHER'S PSALM. "COME, brother Melancthon," Luther would say, when the prospect looked dark, "let us sing the forty-sixth Psalm." If all in our churches, who truly love Christ and His gospel, could join in that Psalm with the fulness of faith, the ardent pray er, the willingness to do all, and suffer all, and renounce all, for Christ's sake, which burned in the heart of the great Reformer, we should have no more doubt of immediate than of ultimate deliverance and victory. Those whose treasure is in heaven, whose love centres there-who can adopt the words as true in their personal experience—may with confidence join in singing— God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. There is a river, The streams whereof shall make glad the city of God The holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved : God shall help her, and that right early. The heathen raged, the kingdoms were moved: The LORD of Hosts is with us: The God of Jacob is our refuge. Be still, and know that I am God: THE CONVERSION, TRIALS, GODLY LIFE, AND HAPPY DEATH, OF CATECHIST DANIEL, THE FIRST ELDER OF THE REFORMED PROTESTANT DUTCH CHURCH IN VELLORE. (Concluded from p. 33.) SOME years after Daniel's baptism I removed from Madras to Arcot. I was alone at my station: I had not even a single native assistant in the work of the gospel. I felt confident that Daniel would be a help to me. I therefore, with Mr. Vansomeren's permission, invited him to Arcot, and, after suitable instruction, installed him as catechist. A more faithful one I never knew. To the day of his death he gave me great satisfaction. New sunbeams fell upon his path. For years he had lived without wife or child. The Lord was now pleased to show him favour. The Lex Loci had been promulgated, which directs that change of religion shall deprive no man of his rights. Encouraged by this enactment, Daniel and I visited the district where his family lived. The wife was summoned to court; the case was examined; the claim of Daniel to his children was admitted, and they were delivered to him. The mother is an energetic woman, and in a few months succeeded in having the eldest girl enticed from her father. We feared we should never recover her. She was taken down the country, and afterward carried to Madras. The magistrate within whose district this transpired got a clue to her whereabouts, and certified the Madras police of her having been kidnapped. The police officers went to the house where she was said to be. The occupants declared they knew nothing of her. The house being searched, a room was found locked. They said it was a store-room, and that the master of the house, who was absent, had the key. The door was forced, and in the corner was seen the crouching form of the girl. This girl grew up to be a fine young woman, and I married her, last Christmas, to a worthy Christian man. The other two children are in our schools, and give much promise. Daniel was a man of middle stature, rather stoutly built. He was calm, grave, and dignified in his demeanour, and his face beamed with benevolence. He had a strong, well-proportioned mind, which took firm hold of the great points of Christian doctrine. His judgment was excellent. I often asked his counsel. There was a wonderful simplicity about him, which endeared him to all who knew him. He was an honest man. This is high praise in this land of lies, where truth is fallen in the streets. Christian and heathen had entire confidence in him. There was never a suspicion breathed by any one against him. He was a striking exemplification of what God can do, by His grace, in a Hindu's heart. I can say, without reservation, that he was "righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord, blameless." He was a shining light in the midst of a perverse and crooked generation. He came up out of a horrible pit, even out of the miry clay of Hinduism; but he was washed from it all, for he uniformly adorned the profession which he had made. A hard-hearted old heathen, hearing of his death, exclaimed, "Ah, he was certainly a good man.” I once visited his native town with him. Though he was an outcast to his townsmen, yet they had been so impressed, in his previous visits, by the sincerity which was stamped upon every feature of his countenance, and shone forth in all his words and conduct, that they paid him those 1857.] LIFE AND HAPPY DEATH OF CATECHIST DANIEL. 47 courtesies which none extend more politely than the Hindu, when so dis posed. O that we had more such men! How great is his loss to us! A lamp which burned brightly in this darkness is suddenly extinguished. When Daniel first entered upon his labours as catechist, though he knew how to proclaim the way of salvation, he could not answer all the objections, and unravel the cunningly-woven sophistries, of the heathen; but he soon became skilled in the work of dealing with them, and none could confound or silence him. I have sometimes listened, with interest aud profit, to the able manner in which he handled those who opposed the truth. For some years Daniel was my companion in preaching, both in the streets of the place where I lived, and on tours. All my recollections of him are delightful. He was my friend, my brother, and my colabourer. I loved him very much. More than a year ago it was evident to all that his constitution was breaking up. He wished to make one more effort, before he died to reclaim his wife. He undertook the journey in a feeble state, was very ill after he reached her, partially recovered, and prevailed on her to accompany him back. She came, intending a mere visit, but was persuaded to remain. This was in answer to Daniel's prayers. His heart was much engaged for his heathen wife. After her return he failed rapidly. He walked one morning to see our new graveyard, where his dust now reposes, and that was, so far as I recollect, his last walk. He sank gently away from day to day. He had nought to fear. Was not Jesus' righteousness his own? Could earth or hell pluck that robe away? No! he drew it tightly around him, and laid down quietly to die. He had not the slightest dread of death, but was anxious to go and be with his Redeemer. He waited for the coming of the Son of God, as a bride waiteth for the bridegroom. He often expressed himself with humble, happy, assurance. The day before he died, knowing that his hour was at hand, he said to me, "I am a wretched sinner in myself. I have no stock of personal merits to which I can look; but I have the perfect, the infinite, righteousness of Jesus. Resting on this, my soul is peaceful. Death is welcome. May our good Lord bring my family into the fold !” It was pleasant to watch him as he went down into the valley of death. The light on the other side illumined all the defile between. His steps were sure. The strong arm of Christ supported him-how could he slip? He was conscious of his Lord's presence, and, in his feebleness, he leaned upon Him. He was walking in the same calm and self-possessed manner so long as we could see him. It was a happy death scene, like a beautiful sunset. The glow of a better world was upon the distant horizon where our dear traveller was disappearing. I sat by his bedside, and read to him precious words chosen from different parts of the holy word. His wife, heart-stricken with the now quickened memory of her past unkindnesses, wept bitterly, with her arms thrown around him. Our preparandi lads stood near, with tearful eyes. Mrs. Scudder was there, and my little children came also, for they, too, loved Daniel. The dying man lifted his hand to his head, according to oriental custom, and said to Mrs. Scudder, with a sweet smile, "Salaam, mother! How kind in you to come." To all my questions he replied most satisfactorily. We knelt and committed the 48 LIFE AND HAPPY DEATH OF CATECHIST DANIEL. [APRIL. soul of our dear brother to Jesus. When we arose we looked upon his face. It was lifted up to the hills, from whence he, no doubt, saw the angels descending, and above them the Son of God at the gate of the city. "Santosham! Santosham!" (i. e. "Joy! Joy!") were his last words, and he passed away from earth to heaven. Thus died a believing Hindu. It was not a death of stupid indifference. He knew and believed all that a sinful soul has to fear. It was not a death of terror. He knew and believed all that a redeemed soul has to enjoy. So he died; not indifferent, not terrified, but in the full enjoyment of a serene, unclouded, soul-assuring hope in Jesus. Daniel was also the name of the Rev. Dr. Poor, who recently died in Jaffna, and his last words likewise were, "Santosham! Santosham!" The black man and the white man looked forward upon the same enchanting prospect, experienced the same joy, and expired with the same thought and the same expression. They were one in Jesus here, and are one with Him in glory now. Blessed gospel! how wonderful are thy achievements! how amazing thy assimilations! We buried him in our new graveyard, wherein never man before was laid. That body-a temple of the Holy Ghost-has crumbled into temporary ruins, only to spring up a new edifice at the resurrection morn. "So then death worketh in us, but life in you." Daniel's death has proved a seed of life. She who would not hear of Christ while her husband lived, now gives her ear and her heart to the truth. She has always been very tenacious of her caste, counting it of all things most dear. This she has abandoned. At our last love-feast she partook of food with our church members, thus publicly renouncing her caste. The tears rolled down her cheeks, for she remembered that her husband was at the previous love-feast, and then his entreaties could not have prevailed upon her to come. She has taken up her lot with God's people, and I trust that before long we shall see in her heart and life the warrant for admitting her to the Lord's table. Thus Daniel's patient life, his unquenchable love, and his gentleness, which seemed wasted for many long years upon this apparently incorrigible woman, have, at the last, produced fruit. He is not here to see this result. A solitary home was a part of the trial belonging to his pilgrimage; but he faltered not; and his meek endurance, his holy walk, and his happy death, have, by God's grace, brought his wife to the gates of the Lord's fold; and, as there is joy in heaven over every sinner that repenteth, he may know it, and rejoice. I have hopes that another branch of this family will also be led to the truth. Reader! Pause a moment. Whoever you are, you need, as much as Andiappen did, to become a new creature in Christ Jesus. Have you, like him, repented of your sins and forsaken them? Have you, like him, embraced the Lord Jesus with a living faith? Have you, like him, taken up your cross? Do your heart and life exhibit those fruits of holiness which are the only proof of union to the Redeemer? Do you feel yourself a stranger on the earth, and are your eyes fixed upon heaven, and your feet tending thither? Vellore, December 5, 1855. HENRY M. Scudder. |