Noble Deeds Of American Women Part 11

She tears her from the loved away, Whom she on earth no more may see, And looking up to heaven, exclaims, "_My Saviour, I do this for thee!_"

Then hastens to her task again, The pleasant task her Saviour's given, That, finished all, she may ascend, And lure the distant ones to heaven.

A KIND-HEARTED CHIPPEWA.

Both men and women belie their nature When they are not kind.

BAILEY'S FESTUS.

In the early settlement of Ohio, Daniel Convers was captured by the savages; but he had the good fortune to be purchased by a n.o.ble-hearted Indian whose wife possessed a kindred spirit. His condition, we are informed in the Pioneer History of Ohio, "was not that of a slave, but rather an adoption into the family as a son. The Indian's wife, whom he was directed to call mother, was a model of all that is excellent in woman, being patient, kind-hearted, humane and considerate to the wants and comfort of all around her, and especially so to their newly adopted son. To sum up all her excellences in a brief sentence of the captive's own language, she was 'as good a woman as ever lived.'"[28]

[28] Mr. Convers escaped from his Chippewa friends, at Detroit. Touching the treatment he received from his adopted mother, a writer says: "How few among the more civilized race of whites would ever imitate the Christian charities of this untaught daughter of nature!"

HUMANITY OF A CHEROKEE.

How poor an instrument May do a n.o.ble deed.

SHAKSPEARE.

During the Revolution, a young Shawanese Indian was captured by the Cherokees and sentenced to die at the stake. He was tied, and the usual preparations were made for his execution, when a Cherokee woman went to the warrior to whom the prisoner belonged, and throwing a parcel of goods at his feet, said she was a widow and would adopt the captive as her son, and earnestly plead for his deliverance. Her prayer was granted, and the prisoner taken under her care. He rewarded her by his fidelity, for, in spite of the entreaties of his friends, whom he was allowed to visit, he never left her.

SELF-SACRIFICING SPIRIT OF THE MISSIONARY.

Thou know 'st not, Afric! sad of heart and blind, Unskilled the precious Book of G.o.d to read; Thou canst not know, what moved that soul refined, Thy lot of wretchedness to heed, And from her fireside, bright with hallowed glee, To dare the boisterous surge and deadly clime for thee.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

We know not how one may exhibit greater benevolence than to offer life for the spiritual good of the heathen; and he virtually does this who goes to some, at least, of the missionary stations. Those in Africa are the most unhealthy, and their history presents a frightful bill of mortality. In his journal of January, 1846, Dr. Savage, of the Protestant Episcopal mission in Africa, states that during the nine years previous to that date, the whole number of missionaries under the patronage of the different Boards, in Africa, had been sixty-one, and of that number forty were then dead. American Baptists alone lost eleven between 1826 and 1848. Five of them were buried in the single town of Monrovia. With such facts as these, touching African missions, staring the disciple of Christ in the face, it must require no common degree of moral courage for him to embark in the enterprise.

The following letter, by Miss Maria V. Chapin, of Vermont, was written prior to her leaving this country for West Africa, and breathes the sentiments of a self-sacrificing and heroic Christian. Mult.i.tudes of like examples, equally as n.o.ble, might be pointed out, but it seems to be needless: this letter may stand as a type of the spirit usually exhibited under similar circ.u.mstances. It was addressed to the Rev. Dr.

Vaughan, then Secretary of the Foreign Committee of the Protestant Episcopal church:

"The question of my personally engaging in a mission to the heathen, has long been before my mind, and received, as it claimed, my most serious and prayerful consideration. This great work is now brought nearer to my mind than I could ever before regard it, and I trust it does not appear the less desirable. I have considered the subject in every light, so far as I am able from the information I have respecting it, and I can never take up the question again, to find reasons for going. My mind is now settled as to the duty, should no unforeseen providence prevent, of leaving home and country for a heathen land. A long adieu to my kindred and friends will rend the heart; I feel already that it will; but at the same time, the prospect of doing good to some poor heathen soul will fill it with joy, and the hope of advancing, in ever so small a degree, the cause of my Redeemer, will be a constant feast to the soul. The silent tear of parental affection and solicitude would indeed overpower me, had I not confidence that He who thus afflicts, will support, my beloved parents. Neither, in the present case, can I think it proper to follow, altogether, the opinion of friends. With the smiles of my heavenly Father, I must be happy, though friends forsake me. I feel an inexpressible pleasure in commending them to G.o.d, a.s.sured that they will be enabled to give up their child without regret, in the hope that she will do good to perishing souls. And I have, also, that blessed hope, that, should we never again meet in this world, we shall be a happy family circle at the right hand of G.o.d. Still, I feel my own insufficiency to decide a question of such importance as that of leaving all that the heart holds most dear on earth, to encounter the toils and hardships of a missionary life. Indeed, I would not decide for myself. I trust solely to Him who has promised grace and strength. Though, at times, great weakness has constrained me to shrink at the prospect before me, I have been consoled and supported in the a.s.surance that G.o.d will perfect strength in my weakness. I feel a desire to act in accordance with the will of G.o.d; to do nothing which would be displeasing in His sight. I think I am willing to be, and to do, anything for the sake of the glory of G.o.d; and if I can only be sure that I am wholly under the guidance of His spirit, I shall be fully satisfied. It is difficult, I know, to a.n.a.lyze one's feelings, and ascertain the real character of the motives by which we are actuated; I feel my liability to be deceived, and my need of Divine a.s.sistance. The only question which concerns me, is, are my motives pure and holy?

Never would I bear the missionary standard, without having in my heart the missionary spirit. I have calmly and deliberately weighed the subject, and feel that no attraction from its novelty, no impulse from its moral dignity, can bear up, and carry forward any one, amidst the long continued labors of almost uniform sameness which you represented to me; nothing but a thorough conviction of being in the path of duty, nothing but the approving smile of Heaven, can keep one from despondency, from sinking into hopeless inactivity; but I have calmly and deliberately weighed the subject, and feel a willingness to give up comforts, and submit to privations, to forsake ease and endure toil, to a.s.semble no more 'with the great congregation,' but seek the Lord in the wilderness, or in the desert--in short, to make every sacrifice of personal ease and gratification, for the one great object of making known a crucified Saviour to those who are perishing in ignorance and sin. Indeed, what sacrifice can be too great, if what is done for Him who bought us with his own blood can be called a sacrifice, for those to make, who have themselves experienced the efficacy of a Saviour's blood?

I have reflected, that should I go out, cheered by the smiles of friends, and encouraged by the approbation of the churches, yet soon, amidst a people of strange speech, I shall see these smiles only in remembrance, and hear the voice of encouragement only in dying whispers across the ocean. Yet, when I have considered the command of Christ, 'Go ye and teach all nations,'--and when, in pouring out my soul on this subject to the Father of light, I have realized more of that sweet 'peace which pa.s.seth all understanding;' objections have all dwindled to a point; I have been enabled, by the eye of faith, to discover the finger of G.o.d, pointing me to the benighted African, and have heard his voice saying, with the affection of a Father and the authority of a Sovereign, 'Come, follow me'--'He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me;' and adding, for my encouragement, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' I do feel that G.o.d calls me to become a missionary, and do, with this belief, resolve to consider myself as devoted to that service, hoping that G.o.d will qualify me, and make me a faithful servant for Christ's sake."[29]

[29] This letter was written in the fall of 1841. Miss Chapin, afterwards Mrs. Savage, embarked for Africa on the twenty-eighth of the following January, and reached Cape Palmas on the twenty-fifth of March.

As might be antic.i.p.ated, her labors soon closed. She died on the field, in December, 1843.

"That life is long which answers life's great end."

DARING EXPLOIT OF "TWO REBELS."

Think'st thou there dwells no courage but in b.r.e.a.s.t.s That set their mail against the ringing spears, When helmets are struck down? Thou little knowest Of nature's marvels.

MRS. HEMANS.

During the sieges of Augusta and Cambridge, two young men of the name of Martin, belonging to Ninety-Six district, South Carolina, were in the army. Meanwhile their wives, who remained at home with their mother-in-law, displayed as much courage, on a certain occasion, as was exhibited, perhaps, by any female during the struggle for Independence.

Receiving intelligence one evening that a courier, under guard of two British officers, would pa.s.s their house that night with important dispatches, Grace and Rachel Martin resolved to surprise the party and obtain the papers. Disguising themselves in their husbands' outer garments and providing themselves with arms, they waylaid the enemy.

Soon after they took their station by the road-side, the courier and his escort made their appearance. At the proper moment, the disguised ladies sprang from their bushy covert, and presenting their pistols, ordered the party to surrender their papers. Surprised and alarmed, they obeyed without hesitation or the least resistance. The brave women having put them on parole, hastened home by the nearest route, which was a by-path through the woods, and dispatched the doc.u.ments to General Greene by a single messenger, who probably had more courage than the trio that lately bore them.

Strange to say, a few minutes after the ladies reached home, and just as they had doffed their male attire, the officers, retracing their steps, rode up to the house and craved accommodations for the night. The mother of the heroines asked them the cause of their so speedy return after pa.s.sing her house, when they exhibited their paroles and said that "two rebels" had taken them prisoners. Here the young ladies, in a rallying mood, asked them if they had no arms, to which query they replied, that, although they had, they were arrested so suddenly that they had no time to use them. We have only to add that they were hospitably entertained, and the next morning took their leave of the women as ignorant of the residence of their captors as when first arrested.

ELIZABETH MARTIN.

The mothers of our Forest-land!

Their bosoms pillowed _men_.

W. D. GALLAGHER.

--A fine family is a fine thing.

BYRON.

The mother-in-law of the two patriotic women spoken of in the preceding article, was a native of Caroline county, Virginia. Her maiden name was Marshall. On marrying Mr. Abram Martin, she removed to South Carolina.

When the Revolutionary war broke out, she had seven sons old enough to enlist in their country's service; and as soon as the call to arms was heard, she said to them, "Go, boys, and fight for your country! fight till death, if you must, but never let your country be dishonored. Were I a man I would go with you."

Several British officers once called at her house, and while receiving some refreshments, one of them asked her how many sons she had. She told him, eight; and when asked where they were, she boldly replied, "Seven of them are engaged in the service of their country." The officer sneeringly observed that she had enough of them. "No, sir, I wish I had fifty!" was her prompt and proud reply.

Only one of those seven sons was killed during the war. He was a captain of artillery, served in the sieges of Savannah and Charleston, and was slain at the siege of Augusta. Soon after his death a British officer called on the mother, and in speaking of this son, inhumanly told her that he saw his brains blown out on the battle field. The reply she made to the monster's observation was: "He could not have died in a n.o.bler cause."

When Charleston was besieged, she had three sons in the place. She heard the report of cannon on the occasion, though nearly a hundred miles west of the besieged city. The wives of the sons were with her, and manifested great uneasiness while listening to the reports; nor could the mother control her feelings any better. While they were indulging in silent and, as we may suppose, painful reflections, the mother suddenly broke the silence by exclaiming, as she raised her hands: "Thank G.o.d!

they are the children of the republic!"[30]