02 Early Lights & Shadows (Age 1- 41)
PART I EARLY LIGHTS & SHADOWS
Age 1 - 41 ARTIST OR MISSIONARY ? IN the early years of last century there lived in Perthshire a prosperous farmer named Moir. He leased two properties Daldoran and Thornhill which were well stocked with cattle, and he had a balance of 1000 to his name in the bank. One ill day the laird’s factor, a worthless man, who had fallen into difficulties, applied to him for financial help, and he, sympathetic and generous, became his surety to a large amount. As not infrequently happens in cases of the kind, the surety was called upon to make good the responsibility he had undertaken. Ere the claim was satisfied the farmer was swept bare of all his possessions and had not a penny to call his own. The household was broken up, and father and sons went into service.
One of the sons, John, found work in Glasgow. With the same simple trust in human nature as his father he placed all his savings in the care of his master. By and by the latter failed, and John’s money was lost. Undaunted, he started again, and after many difficulties and hardships attained success. He was, however, forty-six before he felt justified in marrying. Then came years of sunshine and happiness, with children growing up in the home. There were three girls and a boy, the second of the girls being Christina, who was born on October 23, 1844.
John Moir was a quiet man, of sterling character and deep religious convictions, and his wife was like-minded, and they were loyal to the best traditions of Scottish homes. The children were carefully drilled in the Shorter Catechism, gathering every Sabbath evening round their father and repeating the answers. Often he would tell them that he fyad learned the Larger Catechism off by heart and rallied them on not being able to do what he had done.
Mrs. Moir died when Christina was ten years of age. The manner of her going was that of one who had lived much in the Unseen. The dividing line had worn very thin. " The room is full of angels," she said, in an awed whisper. She committed the children to the care of Bessie, the eldest, who thenceforward became the mother of the household. Mr. Moir passed away ten years later. He seemed at the last to have a vision of Christ, and his last words were, " Peace. I shall see Him as He is now." The appropriate text of the funeral sermon preached by his minister, the Rev. David Young of Montrose Street (now Woodlands Road) Church, was, " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace."
Christina was educated at a private school. She was a girl of original character, taking life seriously, and early began to consider her future. Two careers, widely diverse in character, appealed to her, that of an artist and that of a missionary. She had an eye for pictorial effect, and haunted the city exhibitions. Long afterwards, during the lonely years in Africa, the memory which gave her most pleasure was the enchanting time she spent in those galleries. A cousin who was an etcher encouraged her in her ambition to study art, but her father opposed the idea: in his estimation drawing and painting were not " useful " accomplishments for girls. The longing to be a missionary was more deeply implanted in her nature and less objection was taken to the proposal. In her mother, indeed, she found a strong ally who stimulated her interest in the work abroad by every means in her power. The last prayer she taught Christina was, " May the knowledge of the Lord cover the earth as the waters cover the seas." When she was about fourteen Christina had a definite religious experience which shows how life touches life and creates impulses and movements that influence others in ever-widening circles. A cousin came to visit the family, and one day in conversation she ventured to ask Christina if she had faith in Christ. A simple question, but it startled the girl and made her think. The two friends went to a meeting in Bridgegate Free Church where a workman in his rough clothes told how he had found Christ. " The words that caught me," he said," were, ’Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest ’." Christina returned home deep in thought and longing to secure the rest and peace which the Divine invitation offered. She knelt in prayer, intimate and intense, and when she rose her life had been surrendered to Christ.
After this she naturally passed into the service of the Church, becoming a teacher in a mission Sunday School and then in one in connection with Montrose Street congregation. Amongst her colleagues there was a Miss Paterson, who afterwards became the wife of the Rev. John Sclater, the founder of the mission station in South Africa with which Christina became so closely connected. Mrs. Sclater recalls the strong impression which the girl made upon her by her pronounced principles and the character of her prayers at the teachers’ meetings. During one of Mr. Sclater ’s furloughs he gave an address in the church on Kafraria, and so stirred the heart of Christina that she told her elder, Miss Paterson’s father, that she was willing to give herself to the work. A LOVE MYSTERY
THERE was another experience affecting Christina at this period which had probably the greatest influence in determining her career. The factors that alter the currents of lives are not always visible or known to onlookers ; they are sometimes of the most secret character ; but it is only in the light of these hidden causes that after-events can be read aright. If the course of true love had run smooth for Miss Moir the African mission-field might have lost one of its noblest workers. In the church she attended sat a young man, the son of a banker in the city, who was attracted by the fair-haired, winsome girl. The liking was mutual and gradually there grew up between them an affection which ripened into deep and steadfast love. They did not give much expression to their passion ; they were both of strong reticent natures ; but it flowed pure and sweet and made life for them beautiful and glad. It gave an impetus to the girl’s religious impulses and made her a still more earnest and efficient worker.
Time merely accentuated the bond between them. No open declaration was necessary, for the mutual understanding was perfect. The young man went to London to train as a banker and a year or two later he received an appointment in India. He returned to Glasgow to say farewell to his friends. It was not time to enter into a definite engagement, but anxious to keep in touch with the girl he loved he devised a scheme which, he imagined, would fulfill the purpose. He made the three sisters agree to write him regularly and he promised to write each in return. In this way he would be able to correspond with Christina without exciting comment. And so, happy in the dream of youth, he went forth to make his fortune. The plan was carried out. Christina wrote, and then going quietly about her work, looked and waited for a reply. She waited in vain. Her sisters received letters from India and wrote in return, but none came for her, and she remained outside the friendly correspondence. Her heart grew wistful, then sad, then cold. Gradually all casual references to her dropped out of his communications to the other sisters, and she, on her part, never mentioned his name. It was a mystery. There was clearly a misunderstanding somewhere but she was not conscious of anything blameworthy.
He came home on furlough and they met, but years of silence are not easy to explain or span, and they drifted further apart. She said nothing, showed no sign of distress, and buried her sorrow deeper in her heart. A poem she wrote at this time gives a clue to her thoughts and fancies. It is like an eyelet in a wall through which we obtain a glimpse into a secluded garden. We see her stricken and disillusioned heart, but we also see her soul rising above mortal pain and struggle and finding peace and rest in the Eternal. We see also the blossoming of those qualities of faith and devotion which sent her at last to Africa in obedience to the " golden law of sacrifice " :
Wherefore, O wav’ring soul, this wild unrest, This beating at the prison bars of life ?
It is the Lord of All who dealeth out Thy daily lot how canst thou then repine ?
Think of the sorrows of the Lord of All, His daily dying through His earthly years, The agony of dark Gethsemane, When blood-sweat flow’d, when darkness filled His soul, With none to watch and none to sympathise.
Behold thy Saviour drink the bitter cup Unmurmuring__" ’Twas not My will, but Thine."
Think, think of this, my soul, and how canst thou Say aught ? Think of false Judas ; remember too The soldiers, with the lanterns and the staves ; The Spotless Lamb led silent forth to slaughter ; The malice and the fiendish craft of men And devils all array’d in blackest hate ; The garments parted, and the kingly robe, The reedy sceptre, and the crown of thorns Piercing His flesh ; anew the blood flows forth. And all that pain and shame were borne for thee. And now they blindfold, mock, and buffet Him ;
Then force the weary, fainting Son of Man The heavy cross to bear, along the way Of grief to Calvary, where He, uplifted, dies With basest ones on either side. My soul, Behold the Man ! my soul, behold thy God ! This death brings life to thee. And now Combined is all the force of Hell. The sun In horror seeks to hide his face, and noon Doth wear the sombre hues of darksome night.
Christ in deep anguish cries : " My God, My God, Why dost Thou Me forsake ! " ’Mid pangs of death Resigns His soul into His Father’s hand, And then ’tis o’er. Triumphantly the cry Utter’d on earth is by angelic hosts With gladness caught and echoes through all space As they do bear the Lamb of God again To Paradise, with ransom’d new-born soul, Pledge of His pow’r to save to th’ uttermost, Baffling the very might of Satan, As He arose, the first-fruits from the dead. My soul ! thou canst not fathom love like this.
It has a height, a depth, a length, a breadth Thou canst in life but know in part ; but joy Awaiteth thee. Look up, rejoice, He lives, A glorious Saviour ! Constantly He pleads For thee within the veil, with God, thy God.
Thy times are in His hand, He orders all Joy in the thought that thou canst suffer loss Or cross for Him. He led the way, He bids Thee follow on, and with thy life it ends.
If it is dark, how bright the light of heav’n, Pure, dazzling, unimagined and unknown To mortal earth. Here night shuts out the day, " Earth’s fairest flow’rs bloom but to fade and die," And fondest friends forsake. He felt this too.
Cling close to Him ; He will not leave in life Nor yet at death forsake. Him glorify ;
Let every wish, and word, and work be for Him, And for those who love His name ; and those Who are without bring in that they too may Receive His saving grace. The golden law Of God is sacrifice. The fields are white To harvest, but the labourers are few Lord of the harvest, thrust Thy lab’rers forth.
Fear not ; the cloudy pillar leads by day, The fire by night ; beneath the brooding cloud The manna falls, and He is " God with us."
Yea, as the boundless ocean covers all The deep, so shall the knowledge of Thy name O’erspread the earth. FROM FIFE TO SOUTH AFRICA
ALL thought of the mission-field was meanwhile banished by the call of a service lying more closely to her hand. John Moir was, in accordance with his mother’s wish, studying for the ministry, and one of the sisters was needed to keep house for him. Christina saw that this was the path of duty for her and cheerfully subordinated her own ambition to his interests. John passed through the High School, University, and Divinity Hall, graduating M.A. and B.D., and was called to Cairneyhill, in the west neuk of Fife, whence his sister naturally accompanied him. She was now a capable young woman of twenty-eight, in every way fitted to discharge the duties of the lady of the manse. Cairneyhill is situated in the historic district where the Relief Church was cradled, and borders the high road from Dunfermline. The manse and church stand side by side, two plain grey buildings, with a garden and a neighbouring " green " still known as the tent-green, because the preaching tent was pitched there at the sacrament season. The manse of Cairneyhill was well known throughout the United Presbyterian Church, for in it had been carried on, during the ministry of the Rev. John More, a " seminary for young ladies," which drew pupils from all parts of Scotland. Its founder and principal was the minister’s wife, who, for forty years, both taught and mothered the girls with equal efficiency. The hospitality of the manse was proverbial, and there was seldom a week-end when some distinguished preacher or group of college students did not pay it a visit. Mr. More was a man much beloved by his people, and when Mr. Moir settled amongst them he found his memory still cherished. His own modest and gentle ways reminded them so much of their old pastor that they slipped into the habit of calling him " Mr. More," and " Mr. More " he continued to be to the end.
Nothing seemed more circumscribed and permanent than the life Miss Moir lived in this quiet country manse, yet the lines of coincidence were stretching out from the ends of the earth to change its even tenor. One day there appeared a young mining engineer named Allan Forsyth, the eldest son of the editor of the Inverness Advertiser, who had just returned from Australia and was paying a visit to his aunt in the village. He was attracted by the pleasant thoughtful woman flitting in and out of the homes of the people and he wooed her diligently. She regarded him with favour. That old romance of hers had still tremendous power over her inmost feelings, but it was foolish to cherish the thought of it and make it spoil her future, and so she resolutely put it away and turned to the practical possibilities of life. Before long the friendship culminated in an engagement, but as Mr. Forsyth was called away to some work in South America, the wedding was deferred. In due time John Moir married and his sister felt free to realise her old longing. She had always been attracted by the character of the work in South Africa, where both the Free Church and the United Presbyterian Churches carried on missions amongst the Kafirs, and in 1878 she offered herself to the Mission Board of the United Presbyterian Church as an unpaid worker for that field, for a period of three years. In view of her attainments she was accepted as a teacher for the girls’ school at Emgwali, the mission station rendered famous by its association with the first ordained native minister, the Rev. Tiyo Soga. Started in a thatched cottage in 1861 by the Ladies’ Kafrarian Society, an auxiliary Church agency which has, during its long career, rendered splendid service in the cause of education in Kafirland, the school developed into a well- equipped and efficient institution, and became noted as a centre radiating Christian and civilizing influences amongst the natives of the country.
Thirty-four years of age, Miss Moir was older than the women missionaries who are now taken on the staff, but she never saw cause to think that she began too late. It might be very well for younger girls to undertake ordinary station work, but she believed that in the case of the difficult conditions and problems associated with raw heathenism, age and experience count more than freshness and enthusiasm.
She left Southampton in the SS Nubian in January 1879, the month when the Zulu War opened so disastrously. The first part of the voyage was very stormy, and there was a great deal of sickness amongst the passengers, but calm came in time. The company on board was a varied one, and there was much to interest and amuse the untraveled but observant and shrewd Scottish passenger who kept so quiet and tranquil amidst the petty distractions of the journey. In her diary are brief characterizations of various persons : the Bishop who was kept busy all day escorting the numerous seasick ladies of his party on deck, and who preached to a pale and listless few from the text, " Man goeth forth to his work and to his labour till the evening " ; the Curate who threw off his sanctimoniousness when he threw off his surplice ; the German who was so desperate to learn English that he waylaid ladies for lessons ; the bejewelled diamond-digger and gambler who said there was no proof that the Bible was true, and who, on being told to think half an hour daily, declared that if he were to think he would go mad ; the children to whom she found gingerbread cake an excellent means of introduction ; the lady who told her, a little spitefully, that she had seen more degraded people in Edinburgh and Glasgow than in the whole of Natal.
After a passage of twenty-four days Cape Town was reached. It was bathed in the light of sunset, and Miss Moir thought she had never seen a lovelier sight. Here she made her first acquaintance with the dark-skinned natives, and set herself, as she said, to " get used to them." At Port Elizabeth she visited the places of interest, but everything suggested " a thirsty land wherein is no water." The steamer arrived at East London, the port of entry for the vast territory of Kafraria, late on a Saturday evening, but a storm kept the passengers on board until the following afternoon, when she was swung over the side in a basket, and landed and faced alone the strange conditions of a new country. A LAND OF BLOOD AND SUPERSTITION ON the way out she had been studying books relating to South Africa (Theal’s chiefly) and taking notes, endeavoring to form some conception of the country to which she was proceeding, the people who occupied it, and the conditions of life amongst them ; and gradually she built up a picture in her mind which had greater elements of interest than she had imagined. She knew that the sub-continent of Africa was classic mission ground, but she began to realise that the whole story of its human occupation was extraordinarily fascinating and thrilling, an epic of movement over vast regions in which entire races strove for mastery and survival, a record of struggle, adventure, and peril, and that the district in which she was being located was the scene of some of the most dramatic episodes in the development of events.
***** As she read, a vision of the country came before her, and especially Kafirland itself, rich in physical beauty and economic possibilities. It lies in the eastern corner of South Africa, where the coast curves round from the Cape and is washed by the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. From the sea the land rises in a series of terraces until it culminates in the lofty range of the Drakensberg.
Into this strip of territory is crowded a wonderful throng of valley, wood, plateau, veld, and peak, threaded by streams and rivers, now low and quiescent or altogether dry, now pouring down in sudden flood. A pastoral and agricultural country, the chief productions are sheep and cattle, maize, oats, wheat and barley, and potatoes, beans, and other food plants. Only small patches of the soil, however, are cultivated by the natives. The seasons are the reverse of those in Britain, summer extending from October to March, winter from April to September. In the district of Fingoland the summer is uniformly hot, often with a shade temperature of 100 to 104 degrees, and there are frequent thunderstorms and hailstorms, but the mornings and evenings are cool and exhilarating. In winter there is a dry sunshiny cold, the temperature often falling below 45 degrees, and the higher hills are white with snow.
*****
Then her thoughts dwelt on the history of the land. South Africa was originally occupied by the Bushmen, a pigmy people on the lowest level of existence, but with some idea of art, as drawings of animals on the walls of their cave dwellings testify. They were succeeded by the Hottentots, who, though wild and savage, were superior to them both in physical and mental qualities. Their language had peculiar suction " clicks" made by the tongue against the teeth or palate and used for the sound of certain letters.
Both Bushmen and Hottentots dwindled almost to the point of extinction before the advent of a stronger race, composed of many groups calling themselves the Bantus, who swept in great waves down from the unknown north. The vanguard of the advancing horde moved along the south-eastern seaboard, and overran the whole of the fair country as far south as the Great Fish River, where it came up against the frontiers of the white men. To the members of this, the Xosa group, was applied the name of Kafir an Arab word meaning " unbeliever " and the region became known as Kafraria. The Bantus were a nation of warriors who acted on the principle that might was right ; they entertained nothing but contempt for tribes who were weak and loved peace, and crushed them without pity ; and those whom they enslaved they exploited without mercy. From the Hottentots they adopted the " clicks " which form so curious an element in their speech to-day.
While Cape Colony was being settled and developed with an occasional clash on the borderland between the forces of civilization and barbarism, events were taking place in the interior of the continent of the most appalling character. In one of the more powerful Zulu groups a lad named Chaka grew up, active, daring, and ambitious. Step by step he rose to command the army, and eventually became ruler of the tribe. He was in his rude way a military genius, he devised the short assegai, trained and disciplined his warriors into perfect efficiency, and organised schemes of colossal conquest. When all was ready he began a course of systematic subjugation, rapine, and slaughter. He ravaged the continent from east to west, laying waste populous regions and exterminating entire tribes, including vast numbers of women and children. Historians estimate that from first to last nearly two million lives were butchered or starved to death through the agencies he set in motion.
Many tribes fled before the approach of the destroyer, and in their turn plundered and murdered as they marched. One of these was the wild Angoni, who finally settled on the high lands of Nyasaland, now a mission-field of the United Free Church. Another group, consisting of broken remnants of several tribes who concealed themselves in the forests and subsisted by cannibalism, at last crossed the Tugela River, and made their way down through Kafirland, where in 1824 they were attacked and defeated by the Xosa. Amamfengu they were called " vagrants, wanderers " a word which Europeans soon twisted into Fingo. They were so cowed by their experiences that they had no spirit to resist the harsh and humiliating serfdom which was imposed upon them. Events proved, however, that in submitting to the yoke they were unconsciously stooping to conquer.
There was no cessation of the frontier troubles with the Kafirs, who periodically raided the Colony and left a trail of fire and blood behind. The missions of the Free Church and United Presbyterian Church of Scotland and other bodies stood as outposts in a sort of no-man’s-land and were subject to perpetual alarms and often destroyed. Punitive expeditions were undertaken, but the Imperial Government were reluctant to add to their responsibilities by acquiring more territory.
During one of these campaigns the Fingoes begged to be taken under British protection, and about 17,000 were located south of the Fish River in order that they might form a buffer region between the two races. As with the negroes in Jamaica and the Southern States of America, the bitter experiences of slavery had destroyed many of their tribal customs and taught them habits of regular industry, and when they regained their independence they developed rapidly in character and material prosperity. This was specially the case when they came under the influence of the missionaries. In subsequent wars they proved their loyalty and fought well for the Government. British officers referred to them as holding prayer-meetings in camp and as being an example to the white soldiery. The event which more than any other brought the long struggle for supremacy to an end was one of the most extraordinary in the history of Africa. It was a case of national suicide. A seer, prophesying through the medium of his niece, announced that orders had been received from the spirit world that the Kafir people were to kill their cattle and destroy their maize and corn. As soon as this was done vast herds would emerge from the ground, the country would smile again with grain, and there would be luxuries, clothes, and guns for every one. The warriors of the past would reappear, and in a final conflict, the whites and the Fingoes would be scattered like autumn leaves and swept into the sea. All who believed this, and acted in the faith of it, would enjoy perpetual youth.
It was a glittering prospect but the cost! The Kafir loves his cattle and it tears his heart to part with them. There was, however, no escape. The paramount chief, Kreli, ordered every man to obey, and the work of destruction was carried through to completion. Over two hundred thousand head of cattle were killed and the entire corn supply was scattered to the winds. When the time for the fulfillment of the prophecy passed and the days wore on, the Xosa passed through agonies of anxiety, fear, disappointment, and despair. They were in a land without food. Impelled at last by hunger and misery they began to crawl into Cape Colony, a nation of skeletons, multitudes falling dead by the way. Fully 30,000 men, women, and children perished. In a short time the country beyond the Kei River the Trans-kei was depopulated and deserted, and nothing but empty kraals and heaps of snow-white bones were left to tell the tale of a people’s magnificent faith and incredible folly. The policy of the Imperial Government was still against the extension of colonial territory, and the desolated upper part of the Transkei was, therefore, offered to the Fingoes. They flocked over in their thousands. Many Christians were amongst them, but also some of the worst characters that heathenism develops. These naturally kept together and settled in out-of-the-way districts.
It was thus that Fingoland came into existence. Missionaries of the Free Church and the United Presbyterian Church at once followed up the migrants, and divided the region into two zones of influence. The Rev. Tiyo Soga, then missionary at Emgwali, chose a site in the United Presbyterian sphere for a station among the Christians who had settled at Mbulu, and the work of organizing and establishing a mission was entrusted to the Rev. John Sclater, who came from Scotland for the purpose. This station soon became well known throughout the Church at home. To Mr. Sclater succeeded first Major Malan, a Christian soldier, and then the Rev. James Davidson, who went through the last Kafir war in 1877, when four United Presbyterian stations were plundered and destroyed. Though Mbulu was only a few hours’ march from the scene of hostilities, Mr. Davidson stuck fearlessly to his post, as also did his Free Church neighbor at Cunningham.
***** Of the people in their present condition she knew only what was told discreetly in the books. There was much to their credit. A brave, robust race, proud and independent, and possessing abundant intellectual ability, they appealed to her own strong nature. Though they had lost their tribal government and many of their habits had been modified in contact with civilization, they had changed little in essential character and the great bulk were still heathen.
They lived, she learnt, in kraals or villages of beehive - shaped huts constructed of wattle-and-daub or sods, with only one low opening, which served as door, no chimney, and little or no furniture. Formerly they clothed themselves with the skins of animals, now they wore blankets which they folded gracefully over their bodies, and they adorned themselves with necklets and armlets of beads, and copper and iron rings. As a protection from the sun and insects they rubbed their skin and blankets with red clay mixed with fat, hence the name " red " Kafir ; when they became Christians the clay and the blanket were renounced in favour of civilised dress. Polygamy prevailed. Women occupied an inferior position, being bought in marriage for a dowry of stock, and a man calculated his wealth by the number of wives and cattle he owned. Her chief interest was in their religious position, and she gathered that though their folk-lore showed considerable powers of imagination they had never reached forward to any true spiritual conceptions. What might be called their religion was a hazy mixture of magic and mystery. The Unseen to them was peopled by malignant spirits, and their lives were haunted by superstitious fears which were played upon, for his own profit, by the witch-doctor or priest. Some of their tribal rites were repulsive in the extreme, and virtue under the conditions imposed by custom was impossible. But such a general statement conveyed nothing to her. What it really meant she was to learn, to her horror, in the days to come.
OVER THE VELD TO PATERSON
KNOWING no one in East London Miss Moir made her way to the nearest hotel. Next day she went down to the Custom House to secure her luggage. As she stood in the crowd she heard some one say, " I’ve been looking a’ day for a Miss Moir, and I’m blowed if I can find her." She turned and saw a young man. " I’m Miss Moir," she said, smiling.
Instantly his manner changed ; he became extremely polite, and stated that he had been sent by Mr. Coutts, the agent of the steamship line, to find her. Mr. Coutts, a Scot, was known as the " guardian angel of the missionaries " on account of the kindly interest he took in their welfare. He looked after the affairs of new arrivals, arranged their journey into the interior, and saw them off by train. To his care Miss Moir gratefully committed herself.
Early in the morning, without breakfast, she boarded a train for Peelton, thirty-eight miles up country. At the first stoppage she felt the need of food and asked the guard how long the train waited. " Oh," he said, " just till you’re ready," and she had therefore time for her cup of tea. With her usual helpfulness she carried another cup to her sole fellow-passenger, a decent country woman with a babe in her arms, and was presented in turn with a rosy-cheeked apple which, somehow, brought up a memory of Scotland. From Peelton she proceeded over the veld by bullock wagon to Emgwali, a garden on the rolling expanse of bare country, and was received by the Principal, then Miss Ogilvie, who was called by her Kafir girls " the mother of the sorrowful." The new teacher was warmly welcomed by the native women amongst whom were two widows of Sandilli, the famous chief of the Gaika tribe, who had taken part in the last rebellion. " Sometimes," they said, " we feel inclined to doubt the goodness of God, but we thank Him for sending another teacher. We did not know we had so many kind friends over the sea."
She continued the task of acquiring the language with the quiet resolution habitual to her. Kafir is not easy ; it is more difficult than the Efik spoken in Calabar though not more difficult than Chinese or the tongues of India. It was odd to hear it spoken and sung in all its native vigor by the people ; owing to the " clicks " in many of the words it seemed as if she were listening to a collection of clocks ticking or a body of carters starting their horses.
She found that her name was a stumbling-block. There is no sound of " r " in Kafir the word Kafir itself is foreign to them and they could not pronounce " Miss Moir " but they soon turned it into "Miss Moyana " or " ’Smoyana " by which she was ever afterwards known. As Moyana means " a breath " (in a spiritual sense) or " a little breeze," it was not an inappropriate designation for one who was destined to come into their lives so often like a breath of pure air from the fields of God.
She had not long, however, to sit and hear the strange " ba, be, b0," of the children at their lessons. Word came from Paterson that Mrs. Davidson, the wife of the missionary, was seriously ill, and that a helper was urgently required. Miss Moir was chosen to go.
Travelling all day through a rain-washed land bright with geraniums and aloes she camped after sunset, gipsy fashion, and next morning crossed the Kei River in a wagon drawn by fourteen oxen and arrived the same evening at Paterson. The beauty of its situation appealed to her. The station stood on a slight eminence at the head of the Mbulu Valley and commanded a far-stretching view down towards the Tsomo River and away to the mountains about the Kei. High hills, that suggested to her the slopes of Arran, enclosed it, with richly wooded glens softening their lower outlines. Here and there, in open spaces, or half-hidden by vegetation, the round huts of the natives clung to the ground like limpets to the rocks on the shore. From the heights immediately above a magnificent prospect was obtained as far north as the Stormberg Range. The manse, a little below the church, was a goodly building with a garden stocked with orange and other fruit trees and flanked by singing streams.
So, in the ordering of her life she came to the district where her work in the future was to lie. But there were years of training and hard experiences to be undergone before she finally settled in the niche that was waiting for her.
Those who remember her at this time state that she was very cheerful and happy. She evinced a high conception of duty and had evidently surrendered herself completely to the service she had chosen. Strongly built, slow and deliberate in speech and manner, she impressed them as one who would persevere steadfastly in whatever task she undertook and would never deviate from it because conditions did not square with preconceived notions. How true the estimate was her subsequent career will show.
SCHOOL AND KRAAL HER advent at Paterson synchronized with an event which she always remembered with pleasure. She had not been more than a day or two in the manse when the Rev. Dr. Laws, then engaged in founding the Livingstonia mission in Nyasaland, paid the Davidsons a visit. The famous missionary gave an address to the Christian and heathen population in which he told them a little of his life-story, described the work of exploration and settlement in which he was engaged, and asked for men to assist. Two natives offered themselves as evangelists.
Perhaps what struck her most at first was the extraordinary amount of work devolving upon the missionary. He had a population of from nine to ten thousand under his care : there were many out-stations, one thirty miles away, one twenty-five miles, another twenty miles, a fourth eleven, a fifth ten and so on, The day schools numbered nine with 550 scholars, the Sunday schools ten with forty-nine teachers and 452 scholars. The mountainous nature of the country added greatly to the difficulty of traveling and the fatigue incurred in supervising his vast " parish," and it was always a wonder to her how he compassed all he had to do. Yet his was not an uncommon case in the South African mission-field.
She soon learned, also, to realise how potent a force the missionary’s wife was in a South African mission-station, and to have compassion on her. The missionary had his varied traveling and intercourse with teachers, agents, and visitors to keep his spirit fresh, but upon the wife lay the monotonous burden of domestic management, and the handling of a thousand and one irritating details. Often there were hardships of no ordinary kind to be endured, involving risk to strength and health, but the difficulties and trials were faced and overcome with uncommon courage and cheerfulness. The advent of a white teacher, trust-worthy and efficient, brought great relief to Mr. and Mrs. Davidson. She was entrusted with a large part of the day school work in conjunction with the native teacher. There was an average of sixty scholars but the numbers soon doubled. They were the children of Christian and heathen parents and attended in all sorts of attire. Most of the boys wore long shirts ; some had jackets but no trousers. One was arrayed in a soldier’s old coat, and all displayed brass rings. The girls came in prints and shawls and without shoes or hats. The latter were taught sewing and knitting in addition to the ordinary subjects. The school was not without children of an older growth. One six-foot lad strove hard to keep dux of his class. Another ’"boy" twenty-four years old, and married, came thirty miles to attend the white teacher’s reading lessons. Such ambition did not seem unnatural to Miss Moir after she had talked with a man who offered her 5 pound if she would teach his child to be a good arithmetician. " I will do it without a premium," she said. " But why are you so anxious about it?"
"I went," he replied, " to the white man’s shop to buy a blanket, and was made to pay 16s. for it. Afterwards I found a ticket on it which I was told was marked 10s. I want my boy to read so that he may not be cheated when he grows up." " Very well," she agreed, " but he shall be taught something for the life to come as well as for this one."
Coming out of the " red " huts, the children were often in an unfit state for school and a dozen at a time would be sent down to the river to be cleansed. Their quaint ways were a perpetual source of interest and amusement. A little household girl, when her turn came to repeat a verse from the Bible, thought a moment and said, " God loves me ; me loves God." " Where is that found ? " she was asked. " Oh," she replied, " me make it up; me in a hurry; not time to learn."
Even at so long-established a station as Paterson the desire to take advantage of the school was by no means general. Many heathen parents placed it under a rigid boycott and threatened to beat their children if they ventured near. There was one girl with a gentle voice and kind disposition who attracted the teacher’s attention by her eagerness to learn. She was the daughter of a heathen and had, when an infant, been thrown out to die by her grandmother because she seemed too sickly to live. Her cries caused her mother to crawl out and bring her in, and she was nursed into strength, and was now a fine healthy girl of thirteen. Her father proposed to remove her from school, and in dread of the blow she one day shyly asked her teacher to visit him. His hut was on a plateau at the end of the valley with a magnificent view. She found him to be a tall muscular man, clad in a blanket, seared and worldly, and afraid lest Bekiwe would not wish to be sold for cattle when she came of age.
Miss Moir thanked him for allowing the child to attend school. " I didn’t send her," he said roughly, " she went herself," adding significantly, " when these clothes are done where is she to get new ones? " " If Bekiwe trusts in God He will provide for her."
Some time afterwards Bekiwe received a shawl from a Sunday School in Scotland, and she said to Miss Moir, " ’Smoyana, you said if I trusted in God He would provide, and He has sent this." In a letter of thanks to the children of the Sunday School she said: " My parents are heathen, I am a believer, but they are not like me, believing. The place I live at is the place where the heathen sit. I am the only person who dresses,"
" What made you think of going to school ? " her teacher once asked her. " When I looked at my father’s pass," was her reply, alluding to the written permission to travel obtained by natives from the magistrate, " I thought I would like to read it and so decided to come to school for a year. God came into my heart and then I had no wish to leave." Of Bekiwe we shall hear again.
Another important work Miss Moir undertook was to visit the kraals on Sunday mornings accompanied by a bodyguard of the Christian children who formed a kind of choir. In this way she came close to heathen life in its stark squalor and degradation, and to the heathen mind, so curiously simple and yet so baffling complex. Not always was she welcome. Some men, when they saw her coming, would slink away up the mountain "to look after their sheep," they said. One exclaimed in disgust, " You are always speaking about your gods. I am sick of it." Another muttered, " God will be with us whether we love sin or not." After she had spoken on the resurrection, one protested indignantly, " I will not rise from the dead." The only comment of a young man on an address she gave on prayer was, " Can I get what I want from God ? " then, in an undertone, " I would like a jacket." This materialistic attitude of mind sometimes had startling manifestations. One day she was sitting in a kraal in the midst of a group of half-naked men and women decked with ornaments of beads and coins. They were cooking, eating, or lounging, while lean dogs roamed around. She began to tell them the story of the Crucifixion. As she spoke the women fastened their eyes upon her, their hearts touched by the pathos of the great world-tragedy. When she finished they expressed their horror at the cruelty of the men who had put so gentle a Saviour to death. Then one young man, covered with beads, rose, and with dramatic posturings showed how He had hung on the Cross and suffered and died.
She never lost patience with them. Quietly, doggedly, unceasingly, she taught them the love of God and the principles of the redemptive gospel. When she asked one man what he would do with his child if the latter would not come to him or obey him, he said : " I would speak pleasantly to it and induce it to come." " That is what I mean to do to you until I bring you to the Great Father," was her reply.
" Never mind the people not treating you kindly, ’Smoyana," remarked another man. " They are ignorant and foolish, and know nothing ; go on and teach them." From time to time a wave of spiritual conviction and surrender moved the district and swept considerable numbers into the membership of the Church. These occasions often followed prayer-meetings which were held by the people themselves and were carried on throughout the night.
One evening the women of the Church met for prayer in a Fingo hut. Mr. Davidson and his daughter and Miss Moir went over and entered, and sat with the natives on the floor. The place was dimly lighted by a candle and a lamp, and in the rows of dark, intent faces they saw many of the school children. Some of the women were in tears ; one grew so excited that she overturned the lamp. When the missionaries left at ten o’clock the meeting was in full progress. In the early hours of the morning Miss Moir was awakened by the sound of weeping, and discovered that it came from the people, who were marching in the darkness from the hut to the Church. Many were in deep distress and crying out to God. At half-past four Mr. Davidson and Miss Moir went up with candles, and the missionary held a short service and then advised all to go home. They left, but gathered again in the hut, and continued until morning in prayer. Some hours later, when Miss Moir was in school, which was held in the Church, the women who had been at the meeting entered the building. School was dismissed, the bell was rung, and another prayer-service was held. Mr. Davidson asked all who wished to give themselves to Christ to stand up, and forty did so. On another occasion the church bell was heard ringing at one o’clock in the morning. Mrs. Davidson and Miss Moir rose and went to the church, and found a company laboring under great excitement. Men were on their knees praying fervently. One was huddled at the door weeping. A woman in heathen dress with a baby on her back cried aloud, " Lamb of God, take away my sins ! " Mrs. Davidson addressed and quieted them, and they gradually dispersed. ON THE EDGE OF REBELLION THE country had never quite settled down to conditions of peace, and there were occasions when the outlook caused anxiety. One night when Mr. Davidson was at an outstation, and Mrs. Davidson and Miss Moir were alone in the manse, a wild cat endeavored to gain entrance into the fowl house. At midnight Mrs. Davidson arose and opened her window and shouted in the endeavor to frighten the animal away. Then fearing that Miss Moir would be alarmed she went to her room and explained.
" Oh," was the calm reply, " I thought the rebels had come and were murdering you, and I was just waiting my turn ! "
After the Zulu uprising the Cape Government thought it wise in the interests of peace, to disarm all natives throughout the country. The Basuto tribe refused to comply with the requirement and hostilities ensued. The disaffection extended to the territory adjoining Fingoland, occupied by the Tembu and Pondomisi clans, the boundary of which was only three hours’ ride from Paterson. Towards the close of 1880 rumors of rebellion began to reach the manse. The Fingoes grew alarmed, for in such racial conflicts they were always classed with the Europeans. " What can we do ? " asked a woman. " We have been disarmed. The minister will need to pray hard for us."
Then news came of a magistrate having been treacherously slain, of white traders and Fingoes being murdered, of shops being plundered and wrecked, and of refugees escaping over the border. All available forces were mobilized, and mounted police patrolled the district. As an attack was expected, the party at the manse were ordered to be ready for instant flight. They buried their valuables in the garden, made up a change of clothes, and placed their coats and ulsters where they could be swiftly picked up.
Mr. Davidson, however, was unwilling to leave unless he were driven out by force. He had been through one war already, and was not afraid. He held communion and took as his text, " Should such a man as I flee ? " "I prefer," he said, " to die at my post of duty." When the levies departed for the front the women of the district went up to a mountain overlooking the rendezvous to watch and pray. From the out-station of Lutuli, within an hour’s ride of the enemy, came a request that Communion might also be dispensed there before the men left for Tembuland. Mr. and Mrs. Davidson at once responded to the appeal, and Miss Moir accompanied them. They found a large company gathered, including many heathen, with badges on, ready for action. As the service proceeded, a little girl, the daughter of the chief, tiptoed into the church, and approaching her father who was officiating as an elder, whispered something in his ear. He rose and went up to Mr. Davidson.
" Make haste," he said, " a mounted messenger has brought word that fighting has begun and we must go." The heathen men left the building, and saddled the horses while Communion was dispensed, the chief performing his duties as calmly as on an ordinary occasion. Then the women gathered round their husbands and sons and bade them " Goodbye." There was no sighing or sobbing then, but when the company had passed out of sight they came together to weep and pray. On the way back to Paterson the missionaries saw huts burning on both sides of the border, and encountered many fighting men hurrying to the scene as well as Fingoes fleeing from the enemy country. Some hours later the women of both stations met, and ascending a high hill remained there in intercession from sunrise to sunset. The missionaries were perpetually on the alert, but the news that was brought of the progress of the operations became less alarming. Shortly after the paramount chief of the Tembus had set fire to a mission-station he was killed, and the conflict slackened. Then other chiefs surrendered, and the war was over. The Mbulu contingent returned without loss.
HAIL, RAIN, LIGHTNING THE work of the station resumed its normal course, the only disturbing events being the occurrence of droughts, floods, and storms. Hailstones on one occasion broke most of the windows in the mission - house. The dry spells were particularly trying ; so high did the temperature sometimes rise that even the natives were injuriously affected. Prayer-meetings for rain were usually held at such periods, and Miss Moir’s testimony as to their effect is remarkable. Once, for instance, a drought was being experienced, suffering was imminent, and a day of humiliation and prayer was appointed by the chief magistrate of Fingoland. The morning was sultry and intensely hot, the wind blowing as from a furnace. At a kraal near the station Miss Moir held a service, and told the people of the efficacy of genuine intercession. An evangelist began fervently to pray that the drought would break. As he went on, a peal of thunder was heard, rain began to fall, and Miss Moir was drenched before she reached the manse.
After a period of scorching heat a thunderstorm broke over Mbulu. The lightning played vividly about the station, and the thunder crashed and rolled with long reverberations down the valley. After one terrific peal came the cry, " The church is on fire ! ’ : There was a rush to the building, but the natives were afraid to venture near. When rain began to pour down an attempt was made to save some of the furnishings ; one man seized the clock, another the Bible and copy-books, others the seats and door ; but all else was consumed.
It was a disaster, but not irremediable. The people at once resolved to proceed with the erection of a new and better building. With the self-denial which has always been characteristic of the Christian members of the tribe, they gave freely of their time, labour, and money. They quarried the stones and provided oxen to convey these to the site. They offered gifts large and small. The children brought every penny they saved. Two boys of ten who went a long day’s journey with a message received a shilling for their trouble. Tired and hungry, they appeared at the mission-house and asked for two sixpences in exchange. Next morning at school they tendered a sixpence each " to build the church." Bekiwe received 1s. 6d. to provide herself with a new jacket. Before going to buy it, she also handed in a sixpence. When the foundation-stone was laid, a horse, sheep, and other live-stock were cheerfully given. The spirit of the people was amusingly shown by a competition which took place between a native teacher and his mother-in-law. She put down a penny. He laid down a threepenny piece. She capped it with another penny. He placed a threepenny piece on that. And so the friendly contest went on until her tenth and last penny was gone ; but not to be outdone, she went and brought half a dozen eggs and set them down.
Contributions in kind were often given to the mission. A woman once appeared with a pot and bundle on her back. She laid down the pot, lifted the lid, and let out four chickens. Then, opening the bundle, she released the mother-hen, saying : " Take them ; it is my offering to the Lord." When the church at the out-station of Incisininde was opened, one teacher gave 1 pound for himself and a sheep for his boy ; another, a clock ; a third, window-blinds ; a fourth, pennies equal to the number of his scholars 120. A heathen chief in Highland cloak and earrings said : "I give a sheep for my first wife, a sheep for my second wife, a sheep for my third wife, a sheep for my fourth wife, and a sheep for myself." Many gave again and again. The total amount received on that occasion was 120.
***** The three years for which Miss Moir had engaged herself were at an end. According to Mr. Davidson she had done splendid work, and he was sorry to lose her. So were the people. They came to bid her farewell, giving her ’ tickies " threepenny-pieces to keep them in remembrance. One of these was also sent to their old missionary, Mr. Sclater, with a message : " Abahlolokazi baka Esigubudweni ba - bulisa Umfundisi Slatelli pesheza kolwandle, kakulu " " The widow women of Esigubudweni greet Rev. Mr. Sclater over the sea very much." Two little boys in shirts shyly presented her with a shilling, " to buy food for the way."
She received two quaint addresses, one from the scholars, 115 in number, and one from the teacher. The latter, referring to her " humble heart," said " Miss Moir was so kind that I had almost forgotten she was a white person. She didn’t show any difference in color for the whole of the three years she was here." He praised her for being so good a mother to the " little dirty Fingo children," and then he drew a picture of how " their little eyes " would be gazing away in the direction of Kei looking for the return of " their good kind Miss Moir in vain.’ . THE END OF HER ROMANCE
SHE reached Scotland to find her old romance risen, like a ghost from the past, to mock her with the thought of what might have been. The mystery of the broken relationship had been solved. The explanation was simple and no blame attached to the lovers. It had been a case of jealousy and intercepted correspondence. The banker learnt the reason when it was too late. To his dismay he found that she was engaged to Mr. Forsyth, who now came from South America to claim his bride. The tragedy of unfulfilled dreams was hastening to its close.
After spending a time at Cairneyhill Miss Moir was married to Mr. Forsyth in Glasgow, and the couple went to reside in London. But the lure of the gold-fields continued to draw the mining prospector. At this period the Transvaal was coming into notice as a gold-producing area. The first really successful field in South Africa was that near Lydenburg rich alluvial ground from which nuggets many pounds in weight were being unearthed. Mr. Forsyth made up his mind to try his fortune there, and a few months later the couple were settled at the picturesque mining town among the mountains. Their married life was brief. Little more than a year afterwards Mr. Forsyth was fording the Komati River on horseback when his saddle shifted in mid-stream, and he was swept away by the flood- waters and drowned. The news was broken to Mrs. Forsyth by two members of the Dutch Reformed Presbyterian Church, the elder of whom slipped into her hand a paper on which was written, " Thy Maker is thy Husband." Her life again seemed to lie in ruins about her, but there was one bright gleam in the darkness. She received a letter from her former lover offering her a home with his two sisters. Though deeply touched by his thoughtfulness and devotion, she felt she could not accept his bounty, and he acquiesced. A few hasty lines which he sent her reveal his poignant sorrow and resignation :
We may not meet to tell the tale Of all our griefs and fears, To mark the ravage time has wrought Within three dreary years.
We may not meet in this cold world But we shall meet above, And for the pains we’ve suffered here We’ll reap abundant love.
We may not meet to tell the tale Of those we trusted long ago, Who stood by us in times of peace But left us in our woe.
It may be added that some years later, having retired in ill-health, he died in Edinburgh. Thus ended our heroine’s one real romance, though its memory, at once bitter and sweet, had always power to move her strong, reserved nature to its depths.
*****
She faced the future with a brave heart. Her income would only be 40 per annum, and it was not possible to do much on that. She could, of course, return to Scotland and spend the remainder of her days in some narrow and obscure position ; but her nature craved a less conventional outlet, and her thoughts turned longingly again to the mission-field. She would never be able to emulate the missionaries, with their extensive spheres and great range of service, but she felt in all humility that she might be able to fill a niche somewhere perhaps undertake the kind of work a Bible-woman did at home. She was willing to go forth, not knowing or caring whither, and make her home alone in the desert with only the heathen around her. A letter was soon on its way to the Mission Board of the United Presbyterian Church in Scotland offering her services as a voluntary worker for Kafraria. She made it quite clear that she would ask nothing from the resources of the Church.
" I should not like to displace any worker now engaged," she wrote ; "I only wish to help the cause of God with my time, influence, and means. I will go where there is the greatest need, where a missionary is away on furlough, where there is a missionary family in sickness or trouble, or where there is an out-station with native chief without a missionary. If the Board will point out the place where my time will be most usefully employed, I am ready at once to go and begin." So fine and disinterested an offer was accepted with gratitude, and she was asked to go, in the first place, to Paterson. Selling her house, she returned by the new route through Portuguese East Africa to Delagoa Bay, and thence to East London and Paterson, which she reached early in the year 1886.