The Quiver 3/ 1900. Anonymous

Now from the Punjab men are pushing still farther afield; Quetta has long been occupied, and the medical missionary has found a welcome from the Afridis themselves.

      Let us take another mission founded in answer to an appeal from without, and that an appeal from a layman. People who recall the missionary meetings of a generation ago will remember that no more thrilling story was told at them than the history of William Duncan's early work amongst the Tsimshean Indians of the North Pacific coast. It was a marvellous example of courage, tact, and patience, rewarded by the conversion of savages of a singularly unapproachable type. It was a naval officer, Captain Prevost, who suggested that mission to the Society, carried Mr. Duncan thither, and landed him at Fort Simpson in 1857. In ten years' time he had baptised nearly three hundred adult converts. In 1862 the Christian community was moved to Metlakahtla, where the spectacle of a cannibal and violent people living in peace and industry was long deemed one of the marvels of missionary enterprise.

      I pass by such striking histories as those of Uganda, of the attempt of J. A. Robinson and Graham Wilmot Brooke to reach the Soudan from the Niger, and of the massacre of English women at Hwa-Sang in Fuh-kien, to recall romances of another kind. What could be more moving than the careers of some of the Society's converts? Is there any more striking history of its kind than that of the Rev. Dr. Imad-ud-din, a learned Mohammedan, who had sought the peace of God by every available means, and at last found it in Christ? Or what would they who distrust converts say to the career of that once notorious Border bandit, Dilawar Khan, baptised in 1858, who served as an officer in the Guides, and died in Chitral whilst in the service of the British Government?

      But it is time to leave these things and to speak of some aspects of the Society's work which concern all missionary enterprise.

      "IN THE UTTERMOST PARTS OF THE EARTH."

      (The peoples amongst whom the C.M.S. Missionaries are now working.)

      Twice in its career the Church Missionary Society has definitely committed itself to a policy of faith as it has committed itself to sending out all who offer and are found qualified. It is a policy which, judged by the most secular standard, must be accounted a success. The growth of its staff in recent years, under this system, has been most striking. The Society has had its periods of stagnation and disappointment; at times its directors have felt driven to retrenchment. Thus in 1859 the number of European missionaries on its roll was 226; ten years later it was only 228. But, whereas in 1889 the number was 360, in 1898 it had risen to 802. During the first ten years the Society sent out five agents; in the ten years ending with its Jubilee the number was 119; in the nine years ending 1898 it reached 719. The income of 1848 was £92,823; the income of 1898 was £331,598. Its latest statistics show that there are about 240,000 natives associated with its missions, and of late it would seem that its clergy baptise on an average about twenty adult converts every day.

      (Photo: A. G. Carlile, Exmouth.)

      SIR JOHN H. KENNAWAY, M.P.

      (President of the Church Missionary Society.)

      In this month of April all round the world—from North-West Canada to New Zealand, from Palestine to Japan, from Central Africa to the Indian frontier—men will be keeping the centenary of that meeting at "The Castle and Falcon," in Aldersgate Street. For a hundred years of work, considered in relation to the power and the wealth and the responsibilities of our nation, there may be little to show; but, for such as there is, men of many races, and once of many creeds, will, with one accord, give thanks to God.

      THE CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY'S MAP OF THE WORLD.

      (The shaded portions indicate the present-day fields of work.)

THE MASTERFUL YOUNG MAN

       Table of Contents

A COMPLETE STORY.

       Table of Contents

      By Margaret Westrup, Author of "They Furriners," Etc.

      He stopped in the shade of the high old wall and listened.

      A smile shone in his blue eyes as the sweet, childish voice sounded clear and high in the still, scented air.

      "What now, Jeannette, shall the mistress of Ancelles fall in love like an ordinary mortal, then?"

      There was mischief in the pretty voice, but there was pride, too.

      "But yes, mamzelle! Love comes to all—high and low—and spares no one its pangs."

      "Pangs? Ah, bah! it shall have no pangs for me!"

      "Ah, mamzelle! do not be rash."

      "How will it take me, Jeannette? Tell me, that I may be prepared. Will it come like a fiery dart to my bosom, bringing a light to my eyes, and a colour of roses to my cheeks? Or will it take me sadly, rendering my cheek pale and my spirits low? Tell me, Jeannette."

      "Not the last way, mamzelle"—the voice was slow now—"for you are too proud."

      "You are right, Jeannette, I am too proud! 'Tis not I who must be pale and afraid. 'Tis the other. Love must come to me humble and suing—to be glad or sorry at my will. Is it not so, Jeannette?"

      "How should I know, mamzelle?"—sadly—"I dread its coming at all."

      "Bah! what matters it? And why should it come? I, for one, do not want—— Ah! do not scream so, Jeannette—it is a man—he is hurt."

      The man scrambled to his feet, and tried to bow, but his face was ghastly.

      "I beg your—pardon——"

      "You are hurt, monsieur. Do not try to apologise. Jeannette, help him to the house. Follow me."

      The man leant on Jeannette's stout shoulder, and followed the stately little figure through the sunny, twisting paths, sweet and rich with their wealth of roses, up to the old château with its narrow windows gleaming in the sunshine.

      "Here, Jeannette," said the little mistress of the roses and the château. "Monsieur, you will rest on the sofa."

      He obeyed the wave of the small white hand and lay down.

      "Jeannette, send for Dr. Raunay."

      Jeannette departed.

      The man opened his blue eyes.

      "I am so sorry——"

      "You must not speak," eyeing him with grave, dark eyes. "You will keep quiet till the doctor comes."

      He submitted.

      Jeannette returned immediately.

      "Are you thirsty?" asked his little hostess gently.

      "No—thank you."

      "You want for nothing?"

      "No, thank you."

      She sat down and waited.

      Then later—"Jeannette, lower the blinds. Make no noise."

      "Thank you," said the man.

      "Do