p. 713 | A REAL LIVE MISSIONARY

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 17, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 45.

A REAL LIVE MISSIONARY.

WE knew a whole week beforehand that she was coming, and that my mamma was going to invite all the ladies to our house to hear her talk. We were going to have ice cream and cake, and mamma said that I and Mamie Webster—she's my most intimate friend—and Daisy—she's my little sister—might help pass the things, only Daisy was so little she couldn't pass anything around but the napkins.

I used to wish sometimes that Daisy could have stayed a baby, for she wasn't any trouble then. She just took naps all day, and mamma took care of her, and she was cunning to play with when I felt like it; but now she is old enough to want to do everything that Mamie and I do, and I have to look after her, and yet she's too little for our plays. Mamie says she's real sorry for me sometimes. She hasn't any little sister, only a brother Chris. Anyhow, she did not care about seeing the live missionary from China as we did, and Mamie and I used to sit on the steps and wonder what she'd look like. Chris said she'd have little feet no bigger than Daisy's, so she would waddle instead of walk, and she would have eyes cut bias, and look like the bunchy ladies on the fans, and that she would want us to fire firecrackers, like the Fourth of July. I knew mamma wouldn't have firecrackers, but we were wild to see her, and, anyway, it would be fun to help pass the cake and things. We were going to wear our best white dresses, and I lent Mamie my bangle, and she lent me her beads, because all the girls at school who were intimate friends like Mamie and me lent each other things to wear.

The ladies were getting ready a box of things and some money for the missionary to take back with her, but Mamie and I had

been saving up for ever so long to buy a lawn tennis set; still we said we'd each give a quarter. That was more than the other girls did, but then they were not going to see a real missionary. I was having a real good time that morning helping mamma in the kitchen, but just at the most interesting moment, when we were sticking the bits of citron in the pound cakes, what must Daisy do but upset the egg basket, and three rolled on the floor and were smashed. So of course mamma made me take her outdoors to amuse her. I felt real cross, but I took her around to the front door, for I hoped Mamie would come over and we could talk; but she didn't, and Daisy was just as quiet playing with some pebbles, and then I felt crosser than ever. But Mamie came over early in the afternoon all dressed, and we sat down on the steps to watch for the missionary. We thought if we were there we could see her feet as she came up the steps. Ever so many ladies came, and most all spoke to us. At last our minister's wife came with some strange ladies. She kissed me, and said: "Why do you stay out here, dear? Don't you want to come in and hear about little girls in China?"

"Yes'm," said I, "but we're waiting for the missionary from China to come. We want to see her feet first."

"Yes," said Mamie, "we want to watch her waddle up the steps."

They all laughed at that, and one of the ladies said pleasantly: "I am the missionary, dear, and, see, my feet are really big. But do come, and I'll tell you about the poor little feet that are so tied up they can never grow like yours."

Mamie and I felt queer when they laughed, and we did not want to follow them in.

"Isn't it a shame?" said Mamie. "She's just like anyone else, and her dress isn't funny at all."

After a while we heard them singing, and it was just like evening meeting, not a bit like what Chris said they did in China—no "tom-tom" or anything. It was very disappointing, but we thought we would go in so as to be in time for the ice cream. Besides, it was sunny on the steps.

The missionary was sitting in a big chair, and Daisy was close beside her on a little stool, looking ever so cute. Well, she talked a long time, and told us ever so many stories, and sometimes everybody laughed, and sometimes they cried, and then she took Daisy on her lap, and took off her little slipper, and showed us how they tied up the babies' feet to keep them small. It must hurt awfully. She kept Daisy on her lap and told about one poor little girl who was sick and her mother ran away and left her, and of how she cried to herself till the missionary found her; and then how she began to save part of the food they gave her for her mother, and how sweet and unselfish she grew. It made a queer kind of lump come in my throat, and I saw that Mamie was winking like anything. Then she began to talk about Jesus, and doing things for his sake. Daisy slid off her knee and ran out of the room, and I leaned over and whispered to Mamie that I meant to give fifty cents.

"So do I," said Mamie, "and I'm going to ask Chris to give some too."

I began to think whom I could ask, for I did not want Mamie to get ahead of me, but mamma and papa always gave for themselves, and Daisy hadn't any money, because she was too little, when the door opened and she came slowly in; and what do you think that little thing had done?

She had her big dolly—the one she loved best, with real-for-sure hair—under one arm, and the other was around the neck of our old cat, its poor legs and tail dragging along on the ground.

She looked real sweet and earnest when she came in, and pushed the cat and the dolly both into the missionary's lap, and said:—

"You may take them to that poor little girl."

Then she turned to go away, but the cat looked at her and gave a sad little mew. Daisy's lips began to quiver; she stood still for a moment, then all at once she ran to mamma, and hid her face in her lap, and began to cry quietly to herself.

Oh, I did feel so mean and so ashamed of myself! I had thought I was so much better than Daisy, and here she had given away her two very dearest things. I was so sorry I had ever been cross to the dear little thing. Most everyone cried a little, and the missionary said something about Jesus calling a little child and setting him in the midst. I didn't listen much, for I was thinking I would ask mamma to let me give my five-dollar gold piece.

Well, we had the ice cream and cake, and then the ladies went away; but the missionary stayed a little longer, and talked to just us children. She explained to Daisy that she could not possibly take the poor old cat to China, but that Jesus knew she was willing to give him all she could, and he would thank her. Daisy wanted her to take the dolly, and she said she would, and would give it to the little sick girl in China. And then she talked to Mamie and me about our giving, till somehow it seemed as if we were just putting our money into Jesus' own hands, and that he was loving us for it. Mamie and I think real live missionaries are ever so nice.—S. S. Times.