Dominica, West Indies by Philip Giddings

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 28, 1907

Dominica, West Indies

By Philip Giddings

PHILIP GIDDINGS

A FEW weeks ago I made a complete tour of the island on foot, to learn all I could concerning its conditions, and to distribute our literature. I had written previously to all the schoolteachers, inviting them to subscribe for the Caribbean Watchman, and this was an opportunity to know them personally. With the exception of four, I secured their subscriptions.

As to physical conditions: no one doubts the volcanic origin of the island, in the presence of its Soufrière, so perceptible to our senses sometimes, and tarnishing our silver, and the evidence of the “Boiling Lake, the focus of volcanic action in the Grand Soufrière, a region in the southern part of the island, about five square miles,” whose heated water registers one hundred eighty degrees Fahrenheit.

“One rainy Sunday afternoon, the fourth of January, 1880, the eastern sky, which had presented a somewhat somber appearance since sunrise, was perceptibly obscured, and a dark, lowering, cloudlike body spread rapidly through the atmosphere from the direction of the Grand Soufrière, and as it came athwart the sky in a northwesterly course, a shower of fine ashes descended, and covered all the neighboring regions, blanching everything with a lustrous envelope of snowy whiteness. The rain fell white as milk, and fields, walls, and buildings were smeared over with a pasty substance, which afterward became hardened into a thin crust in all directions.” Rocks of considerable proportions were also among the ejecta propelled hundreds of yards away.

Dominica is a ragged, craggy country, well described by Columbus to Isabella of Spain, when he took a piece of paper, crushed it, and, opening his hand, said, “This is Dominica.” Hard roads—some mere footpaths—tedious heights to climb, and many rivers to cross, make traveling laborious; but the harmlessness of its forests and the healthfulness of their climate compensate.

On Sunday morning as I was passing along, a Catholic woman called me in to sing for her. The family gathered, and I sang, spoke to them, left some reading-matter, paid visits in the neighborhood, and went on.

At a Carib Indian woman’s house I sold a copy of “Our Paradise Home,” and gave her a tract on the Sabbath question. I was surprised to see her with a Bible, she being a Catholic. I read some texts from it showing why we keep the seventh-day Sabbath. She said, “Mark it. The priest does not want us to read the Bible; he fears we will see things; but I will read.”

Thus from village to village I passed, having Bible talks, and leaving tracts or leaflets. Where night befell me, there I slept. I was going on to the next village one wet evening, when I heard a voice: “Father, Father [thus they call their priests], won’t you sleep at our place?”

I met kindness nearly everywhere on the journey. There were villages, however, where a Bible placed before them would be like casting pearls before swine (Matt. 7:6); and one man to whom I offered a booklet acted as if he wanted to fulfil the latter part of that verse on me.

It was a rugged experience, but I arrived home after five weeks, feeling well and strong, a vegetarian diet again proving sufficient for mental as well as physical stress.

At our last baptism, five received the rite, two being Catholics. Another Catholic young man is preparing to follow.

In a town about twenty-seven miles from here, where one candidate was baptized, a very large crowd of Catholics gathered. I read the scriptures authorizing baptism, and the condition and manner of performing the rite. As I read the text from the King James version, I requested one of the audience to read the same from the Douay version, after which I read the same scripture from the French Testament. And thus we read all the scriptures, closing with Cardinal Gibbons’ statement on page 317 of “Faith of Our Fathers:” “For several centuries after the establishment of Christianity, baptism was usually conferred by immersion; but since the twelfth century, the practise of baptizing by infusion has prevailed in the Catholic Church, as this manner is attended with less inconvenience than baptism by immersion.” When we got to the water, the sympathy of the better part of the audience was with us, and the behavior was surprisingly good.

Three of our young people have left for the Jamaica school. We miss them and their help very much, but gladly give them up, with the hope that they will come back equipped to do valiant service in this field that needs them so much.

Elder L. E. Wellman has come to assist us with our church building for a few days. We laid the foundation last week, and are pushing ahead. This is our rainy season, and so we are building between the showers. We have a beautiful church site, facing the main street that communicates from country to town. On that street are the two libraries, the police station, the law court, and the government house. Just opposite us is the dwelling of the treasurer of the government, and to the east of us is the boys’ school. When our building is finished, it will be seen from the sea as well. Will those of our friends who have not yet fulfilled their promises take this as a reminder? We need means now.

Some of our Catholic neighbors are angry to see us begin to build. The Catholic editor speaks kindly of us. We need your prayers and alms.

Roseau, Dominica.