p. 12 | A NEEDY FIELD by Jennie L. Blowers

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jun 17, 1903

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 29, No. 24.

A NEEDY FIELD.

By Jennie L. Blowers

[Jennie L. Blowers, in American Missionary.]

On the northeast corner of the island of Porto Rico is a narrow cape running out into the sea called the "Heads of San Juan." On the very point, high up on the bluff, is the lighthouse tower, a landmark by day and a danger signal by night, its great red eye gleaming brightly over the tumbling white surf that leaps and dances against the beautiful coral reefs, a peril to the careful mariner. On the north the waves roll down from Labrador, unhindered by even a tiny dot of land. But on the south there are near neighbors in the islands of Vieques and Culebra, with St. Thomas just discernable like a black cloud against the horizon. Here, on this cape of about five miles in length and one in width, lives a very sturdy, healthy people.

Almost shut off from the mainland, they are ignorant, but they have also escaped many of the vices that fall in the wake of civilization. Unlike the country people in many parts of the island they never suffer hunger for they raise their own provisions—beans, rice, sweet potatoes, and vegetables.

Not many of them are Catholics, and one of the women, who knew a little English, recently sent in this word to the pastor of the Congregational church of Fajardo: "O please come out and preach to us, the people are just bleating and yelling for the Gospel." In response to this earnest appeal two services have been held here, with a congregation of over fifty bright, intelligent, earnest worshipers. The first time a regular sermon was preached, but the second the minister could not attend, so the service was conducted by a company of live church workers.

We had a glorious ride, following the coast for more than a mile. On the land side the mountains, covered with a rich, tropical vegetation, sloped back from the shore or rose in jagged cliffs. Our pony crushed the shells and bits of dainty coral as he cantered along, while the tide came in to our very feet.

We stopped in a sheltered cove where a few shacks were clustered together, and where fishing-nets and skiffs were drying on the sand. The people were awaiting our coming, and, as a fine mist was creeping in from the sea, we were forced to crowd into one of the largest shacks for our meeting.

O, if you who have always worshiped in a magnificent city church only attended one such service as this! Your hands would go down into your pockets and they would not come up empty. During our three years in Porto Rico we have never attended a more spiritual service than this one. The guests were given the few benches, the children sitting on the floor, and the adults closely packed together standing behind and filling the doorway. All were well-dressed and clean, and listened to every word with a most eager, reverent attention. A holy hush filled all the place, as Peter, our spokesman, read the Word, and one and another prayed or gave a few earnest words of Christian experience or admonition.

In this company of over fifty people of unmistakable intelligence, only two of the women could read, and not more than a half dozen of the men or boys. There is a public school for boys somewhere on the cape, but none for girls. We are determined to get out and teach the poor women and children if we have to live in a shack, eat fish, and fraternize with mosquitoes and other nocturnal companions.

But we need funds to buy Bibles and hymn-books, and to meet the other expenses of the work which should be opened at once. But you ask, "Why such need of haste?" This is why: Because the immediate need is imperative.