Fruit from the jungle

Front matter

M i'ife.?* m

Class _JBVL2___.

Book ,

Foreword

TO those who may read this little volume, I wish to say that at first I had no intention of writing a book. Had I so planned, I should have formed a consecutive narrative, one chapter the unfolding of another, thus making a well rounded whole.

Most of the chapters herein given are experiences from real mission life, and were intended for papers to be read by our young people in America; a few are the outlines of addresses given while on furlough. Some of them have appeared in missionary publications in the United States.

As this matter accumulated, friends suggested the idea of printing the whole' collection in book form. This I finally decided to do, hoping thus to bring these experiences before a larger number of young people, who might thereby obtain a clearer understanding of mission life among the heathen, and whose interest in this great work might thereby be increased.

I have always felt that real mission life among the heathen is not so fully depicted to our youth in America as it should be; hence my plainness of speech in several instances. The refined conditions of society in the United States of America make it exceedingly difficult to explain properly real conditions in this field; but it is hoped that this little book will help to an understanding of the great need, and awaken among our young people a sympathy and soul burden for the depressed and lower classes in heathen lands.

M. D. Wood.

Introduction

I AM requested to introduce myself to those who may read this little book ; indeed, a list of questions to be answered has been placed before me.

My paternal and maternal grandparents were natives of old England, which they left to find a home in New England, where both my father and my mother were brought up. In their youth, my parents listened to the preaching of William Miller and other Adventists. In fact, they both professed conversion among the Adventists, and were baptized by them. Later they were married by Elder Clark, of Massachusetts, who was pastor of an Adventist church till his death, and who conducted my father's funeral service from his meeting house.

Six sons and one daughter were born in our family, I being the third youngest child. About the time of my father's decease, the four elder sons were able to earn their own living, and to assist my mother, who had the care of the three smaller children. For a short time, an aged uncle, who had no children of his own, gave me a home, and sent me to the village school. While there, I attended an Adventist Sunday school, and also some of their camp meetings. Thus my first impressions of religion were molded by these sober and devout yet hopeful people. At a very early age, I fully believed that Jesus was soon to return to this earth.

My next home, at the age of eleven years, was with a godly family of first-day Adventists, Mr. and Mrs. J. F. Guild, of North Attleboro, Massachusetts. This dear couple, who had no children, became my foster parents. They were known as Millerites, and our home was the stopping place of the Adventist ministers who itinerated in New England. Originally, Mr. Guild was a Baptist; and he, with about forty others who accepted the teaching of Mr. Miller, was expelled from that church. Many times I have heard the Burnham brothers, as well as Dr. Litch, of Boston, and other Adventist preachers; and as they gathered around our table, I have listened to their serious conversation about sacred matters. In fact, I may truthfully say that I was rocked in the cradle of Adventism.

Until I was twenty-five years of age, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Guild was mine; and I never knew, so far as love and kindness were concerned, any difference between them and my own parents. I grew to love and respect them as tenderly as a child could; and to me, their memory will always be sacred. They both sleep in Jesus, to come forth, I fully believe, when He shall wake His sleeping saints. At Mr. Guild's death, he left several thousand dollars to be used in mission work.

Until I was well along in my teens, I attended the public schools; but when I was eighteen years old, Mr. Guild sent me to Mr. Moody's school for boys at Mount Hermon, Massachusetts. I had been there but six weeks when, through the personal efforts of my Sunday school teacher, Miss Jessie Ironside, I gave my heart to Christ, and realized a great spiritual change in my life. All desire for worldly pleasures and rewards was taken away, and I threw myself whole-heartedly into Christian service.

There was no Adventist church near Mount Hermon, so I attended the Methodist church, which afforded me an opportunity to teach a class in Sunday school, and to assist in other religious meetings. From the time of my conversion, I had a great desire to lead my unconverted young friends into the way of repentance and faith, and to see them take the same definite step I had taken. To this end I prayed and worked day and night. The greatest joy I ever felt was when some of them accepted Christ as their Saviour.

Just about that time, the Student Volunteer Movement was organized at Mr. Moody's school, and I became completely absorbed in the subject of foreign missions. My heart was stirred to its depths as I listened to appeals for consecrated men. At six o'clock in the morning, Mr. Moody personally led large meetings for boys and young men who felt their need of the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Although I attended these meetings, I did not gain that for which I sought; but later, at a Methodist camp meeting, faith was rewarded, and my heart was filled and satisfied with His sacred presence.

Then I became more settled, and felt impelled to prepare for a life of service. About this time, I became a member of a Methodist church in New York City, a step which caused my dear old foster father some pain, for he had hoped I would become an Adventist preacher. While attending school in that great city, I found splendid opportunities to work in the large missions, and for some time conducted a Sunday school for the Chinese.

While listening to the address of a missionary from India, I had a clear and convincing call to that field. Jesus said, "My sheep hear My voice, . . . and they follow Me." The voice of the Shepherd is sufficient for one of His fold.

At that time, I was very timid, and hesitated to tell my friends of my future plans; nevertheless I ever kept the one object in view, and bent everything to that end. When I told one friend, she thought me mad; and when I told my mother, she wept for grief. The path of duty is not always bright, neither do our dearest Christian friends always see eye to eye with us.

In the fall of 1892, after seven years of study and preparation for mission work in India, I sailed for my future home and field of labor, in company with some other young people who had been my school companions. Now the door of opportunity had swung open, and I was indeed glad. We sailed by way of Europe, and landed in Bombay after a rough voyage and many new and interesting experiences.

As I saw the huge blocks of rudely carved stone, bedaubed with vermilion and garlanded with flowers, and the nearly nude priests, covered with ashes from burned cow dung, bowing on knees and faces before those heathen gods, my heart was stirred. I had read books on India, seen pictures of Indian life, heard missionaries lecture about Hindustan; but the awful reality of idol worship had never fully gripped me till I stood dazed, under that burning Indian sun, in the streets of Bombay. To see a human being, made in the likeness of his Creator, prostrating himself at the feet of a dirty, repulsive image of stone, knowing naught of the true God, moves a person's sympathies till he is filled with zeal to tear the scales from their poor, blinded eyes.

For three years, my chief occupation was language study. Two years after my arrival, I was married to Miss Effie Holmes, from my own state, Massachusetts. She was a member of the Methodist Church, had sailed for India one month before me, and had taken up the same language I was studying. Her period of service was brief. For one year, she battled with Indian fever; and she died at the end of her third year in the field. She sleeps in a quiet English graveyard in the Central Provinces.

Two years later, I was again married, this time to Miss Anna Mattock, of the Baptist Church, from Pennsylvania. She too was converted at about eighteen years of age, and in a missionary meeting had received her call to India.

The incidents recorded in these pages now find their place in my life's history.

My wife has always conducted medical work in each place where we have been stationed, every year treating thousands of sick and afflicted natives. The special blessing of God has accompanied her labors. Although the mother of four children, all born in India, she has never permitted her maternal cares, or anything else, to stand in the way of her doing the work which she believes God has called her to do.

In the fall of 1909, with the object of giving our children better opportunities to gain an education, we sailed for the United States ; and immediately on my arrival, I took up the pastorate of two Methodist Episcopal churches in Minnesota. The Lord blessed our labors, and souls were added to the church.

For several years, I had been convinced that the churches as a whole were not following the Bible as closely as they should. Man-made creeds have taken the place of God's word, and I yearned to know that what I taught and practiced in church life was in conformity to the revealed oracles of God. When I followed the rules of the church, I was certain that in some instances I was not fully on Scriptural grounds.

Then the constant clamor from church members to make me a lodge member drove me farther from them. I had no affinity for, and no desire to be a member of, anything but Christ's own body, the church. Thus the false position of the church, and the worldliness of the same, led us to withdraw from

Introduction conference, pastorate, and membership. It was a sad and painful step; but, convinced that we were in the right path, we believed that the hand of God would lead us in the future. There were a few days of testing, when we wondered just what to do; but all was left in the hands of our heavenly Guide. Very soon a call came to take up church work in North Dakota. We did so, and spent some months in that state. While we were there, young people gave their hearts to Christ, and we had many proofs that God was with us.

One day a young canvasser, C. J. White, came to our meetings. He impressed me as very sincere, and free from that spirit of worldliness which possesses so many of the young professed disciples of Christ in the churches. Later Mr. White called at my home, and I learned that he was a Sabbath keeper. I was

The Wood Family When They Accepted the "Present Truth"

not only surprised, but stunned. I had never heard a good word said in favor of Sabbath keepers, although personally I had never known one before. To me, it was a novel thing to meet one who kept the seventh day, and who was not a Jew.

After a while, Mr. White fell ill; and as canvassers have no certain dwelling place, I shared mine with him, and tried to nurse him back to health, little realizing that God, who "moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform," had sent that young man to me as His messenger. One day I said, "Mr. White, I wish you would tell me why you keep the Jewish Sabbath."

Thereupon he did tell me why; but I was no nearer keeping it than I was before. In fact, I was filled with bitter prejudice. After a short space of silence, I agreed to study the Bible with him on the subject. Soon light began to dawn, and I saw the path, marked out for all time, for God's people to walk in. I sincerely repented that I had always broken the fourth commandment, and pledged to keep God's holy law in the future.

Soon other hidden truths began to appear as a result of Bible study. I saw that man is not yet immortal; that all who sleep in Jesus, as well as all the wicked dead, are unconscious in their graves, awaiting the trumpet call of God. Prophecy, which had always seemed like a very stale and musty subject, now took on new freshness and luster; and books that had been sealed from my vision glowed with simplicity and interest. The investigative judgment and the end of the wicked were as clear as a bell, as I read with new interest and meaning words I had never understood before. I had promised to keep God's law; and that very fact seemed to put me into such relationship to truth that the Holy Spirit took

Introduction IB

the things of God, and revealed them to me. Jesus Himself was not merely the Son of God, but God Himself, and the author and creator of all things. In reality, I had a new Bible.

This was a second conversion, and it made all things new. I cannot, in few words, tell the marvelous changes that took place in my vision of the Christian faith during that period ; it is enough to say that in a few months, I emerged from the dried-up chrysalis of human creeds and church rules, and was inhaling the atmosphere of another world.

Let no one think I am exaggerating. This to me was a very fact. I was heartily tired of theology, and welcomed the bread of truth. For months, I ate it as a hungry soul, and wondered why I had been so impoverished.

The next step was to place our children in one of our best schools. When this was done, my wife and I were free for a year of special Bible study and research at the Foreign Missionary College, at Washington, D. C. Here we heard the word of God unfolded by men who had made its study the one great object of their lives. Those golden days of special privilege will never be forgotten.

In the fall of 1912, the General Conference brethren thought it good to send us back to India, and to this we gladly agreed. Bidding the two older children a sad farewell, and leaving them in school, we again sailed for India, this time by way of the Pacific Ocean. At all the halting places on the way, we found churches of Seventh-day Adventists, who welcomed us, and some of whom would gladly have detained us in their fields.

After a fifty days' voyage, we landed in Calcutta, and soon took up the threads of our work at Kalyan, Bombay Presidency. The last five years have been spent in building up the Marathi Seventh-day Adventist church, also the medical, school, and literature work.

It is now fifty years since I first saw the light of day, twenty-five since I first put my feet on India's soil, and seven since I first heard the message of God's remnant church. Never for one moment have we regretted taking the step that cast our lot with this people; we only regret that the message found us so late. Our children are being educated in this truth; and several of our former friends have taken a stand for it, and joined God's commandment-keeping people. Not only so, but our spiritual children in India are now accepting the truth, and assisting us in telling it to their own people. Our hope is that we may toil on until the Lord of the harvest returns to reward His people with immortality.

M. D. Wood.

Kalyan, G. I. P., India, January 1, 1918.

Contents

Foreword 5

I Life at Kalivali 17

II Idol Worship 29

Chapter I

HEN I had been in India a few months, I decided to leave the comfortable mission house and the society of English-speaking friends, and try life among the heathen in a native village. It was my plan to learn to speak the language "like a native"; and I felt that in order to do this, for a time I must hear nothing else. The superintendent soon found a building that had been used as a travelers' rest house, or chowdie, for natives in the village of Kalivali. Every Indian village has such a house for natives to stop in overnight. Two of us young missionaries, bent on the same object, decided to use this house, and prepared to move in.

Kalivali is ten miles from the nearest railway station. We were driven over the country in native bullock carts till we came to a large stream. The cart men took our goods over, and we were carried across on the backs of big, strong natives, who asked only a few pice for their labor.

We had not seen the house we were to occupy, till we drove up in front of it. To say the least, we were surprised to see this native "mansion," which consisted of one big room, about twenty feet long by fifteen feet wide. The house was made of dried mud, with a floor of the same material. When we walked over the floor, our shoes broke up the dry crust that was its surface, and it soon looked like an ash heap.

The way in which the natives keep down the dust is to smear the floor over with a slime made of water and fresh cow manure. This mixture is prepared in a pan, and spread on evenly by hand. If applied once or twice a week, it furnishes a fresh, thin, green carpet of cow dung, that is effective for the purpose, but the odor is sickening. The natives always go barefooted indoors, so they do not break up their floors. I suppose the use of so much water on the floor made the house more unhealthful than usual. A tent, which we could have placed under a large shade tree, would have been cleaner and far safer.

We had scarcely reached our new quarters when a crowd of curious natives flocked around to look us over. We said "Salaam,"

and they soon departed. The house had but three walls, with a row of posts in front; so we had no privacy whatever. At first, we sat and pondered the situation, and planned what to do to make ourselves comfortable. As soon as one learns how to get on with little or nothing, it is easy enough; but the learning takes time.

Finally we concluded to tack up sheets at one end of the room, and place our cot beds there for privacy. But this was not a sure protection; for if a native wanted to see us, he did not stop to knock, — that being a European custom, — but deliberately pulled aside the curtain and walked in.

We had employed a native Christian cook named Bapu, — an honest fellow, but untrained, and so filthy that we lost our appetites when he brought our food to the table. He had no house to sleep in, so made our front steps his place of abode for some time. We were glad to have him there as our interpreter. He cooked our food on one end of the front steps; and when the wind blew in our direction, the smoke came also, and frequently brought with it strong whiffs of garlic and frying onions.

Sometimes we kept a little food or milk overnight; and as we had no doors, the village dogs and cats entertained us from sunset till dawn. Finally we secured some bamboo matting and nailed it across the opening in front, piling up our table and chairs for a door at night. We were frequently aroused by the dogs pushing over the pile of furniture, which would come down with a crash. Then we would lie in bed and hear the dogs scratching on the matting, and sniffing at the food in our screen-covered box.

Our front yard was also a gathering place for donkeys; and when several of them brayed half the night, we had a restless time of it. The rotten ceiling rafters made a good hiding place for sparrows, which lived on the crumbs that fell to the floor; and at times, our house was like a large bird cage.

Gradually we became accustomed to these somewhat unpleasant surroundings, and slept on untroubled by minor disturbances, with one exception — bedbugs. Natives had used the house for years, and the posts and the rafters were alive with these pests. All our goods were covered, and there was no way of getting rid of them.

We engaged a hunbi (farmer boy) to instruct us in the language, and made its study our main business. Once a week we had "market day" in Kalivali, when a few villagers would gather, and spread out their wares under the scorching sun. How they stared at us two white men when we went among them! Much of their stuff was sold in the lump rather than by weight. At first, this was a problem to us, for we had never bought that way before, and we scarcely knew how much we should receive for our money. We knew only a little of the language, but found the market a good place for practice.

We kept a small native pony, which took us from village to village, and became a real companion. The turtledoves had their nests in the babul (gum arabic) trees, and their plaintive cooing added to our feeling of isolation and loneliness. I have never enjoyed their mournful cry since then.

But those were profitable days. We studied books, customs, and people, and soon found ourselves quite advanced in native ways and ideas. Never shall I forget those experiences; and although they were hard at the time, I shall always be grateful for them. We learned much of value that we might not have gained under more favorable conditions. God greatly helped and blessed us there.

FACE TO FACE WITH A WOLF

Wild plums, or bora, grew on the river banks near Kalivali; and one evening, we went to gather some of them. The sun had set, and the evening was cool and pleasant. As we were filling our baskets with the luscious yellow fruit, we looked up, and to our astonishment, saw, directly in front of us, and not more than ten feet away, a large wolf. For a second, we were dazed. It was necessary to act quickly; and as we had no weapon with which to defend ourselves, we decided to give one yell, and leap suddenly at him. This we did, and as suddenly he was gone, and we saw him no more. We were thankful he did not attack us; for we were in close quarters, and he might have done us much harm.

OUR FIRST PUBLIC WORK

It was in Kalivali that we began our first public services in India. Though we could say very little in that strange language, God was with us, and wonderfully helped us. We would take our stand before a huge village idol, and say:

"This is stone; no God here. God above, not on earth. God above in heaven. We on earth. Devil is bad. Sin is bad. You stop sin. You believe in God, and Jesus His Son. Jesus died for you and me. Jesus saves me. Come to Jesus."

Then we would sing several songs, which the natives always appreciated. It is so much easier to read or sing than to talk! Sometimes our cook would help in these simple efforts, telling the people who and what we were, and thus advertising our religion. It was feeble work indeed; yet God blessed it, and gave us many tokens of His favor. The natives never made sport of us nor gave us trouble, but tried to help us talk to them, and acted as if they knew what we wanted to say, even when we could only half express ourselves. We soon learned to read very well, and much of our spare time was spent in reading the Bible in different parts of the town.

One young man of great intelligence used to spend many of his evenings with us, talking of Christ and reading His word. His heart was hungry, and he used to say, "Some day I will be a Christian too." I think that at special meetings a few years later he was converted.

The head master of the village school became quite friendly, and called often to see us, frequently bringing a little gift of food from his home. Sometimes it was only a bit of fruit, such as a lime; but it expressed his desire to be friendly.

CROSSING A RIVER BY "CHARPIE"

While at Kalivali, we made one trip to the mission house, ten miles distant. A heavy rain fell during our stay; and on our return, we found the river at Kalivali badly swollen. Carts could not cross, and men and bullocks were swimming over. Our cart man was paid at the river bank, and left us. There we sat for some time, watching the natives and the cattle, and wondering how we should get across. We prayed God to help and deliver. What else could we do but call upon Him?

Surely He heard and answered; for soon the natives of Kalivali brought a charpie (cot bed), and a big bundle of dried squashes tied to ropes. Then four strong men bade us be seated on the bed, and they tied the dried squashes to it. We obeyed orders; and each man, grasping a corner post , of the bed with one hand, swam with the other till we had crossed the deep and angry stream, and landed safely on the other side. The squashes buoyed us up, and the men furnished the power and propelled us oyer. All we had to do was to sit perfectly stillnot so easy, under the circumstances

The well water at Kalivali was salty and unfit for use, so we had to drink river water. Of course, all the villagers living on the banks of the river for miles up and down the stream not only drank the river water, but bathed their bodies and washed their clothes daily in it. We boiled the water used alum to settle or purify it, strained it through a towel, and then placed it in a water jar in the breeze to cool It was quite unsatisfactory after all was done, but we were thankful to have even that.

We never knew the import of the words, "Sorrow not, even as others which have no hope " till we saw a funeral at Kalivali. A man living near us died in the night Early in the morning, the barber shaved the heads and faces of the mourning brothers and other male members of the family. The corpse was laid on a crude bamboo bier, his face was painted red, and then the mourners were permitted to express their grief.

The women pulled their hair and beat their breasts, shrieked, rolled on the ground, and frothed at the mouth. About nine o'clock in the morning, the men took up the body, and bore it to the river, where they immersed it, and then they carried it to the graveyard. There they lighted their pipes for a smoke, and proceeded to dig a shallow hole for a grave. They were loud and rough. At last, two men jumped into the grave, doubled up the dead man under their feet, placed huge rocks on the body, and then covered it with earth. These poor people know of no resurrection through a living Christ.

After a while, we came down with fever, as a result of the dampness and unhealthful surroundings of our mud house, and the unclean river water. We moved out just in time to save our lives, but not soon enough to avoid an illness that lasted three months, and brought us close to death's door. A trip of two weeks to a cooler climate in the hills built us up, and so we pulled through. A change of climate will often break up a very stubborn attack of India fever. How good God was to us during those days of initiation!

Much earnest work has since been done in Kalivali, and some have believed in Christ. Many more will accept if properly taught. May God bless Kalivali.

Chapter II

T is very easy to learn what Jehovah thinks of idols. "I am the Lord thy God," He declares. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them." Through the psalmist, He says, "Confounded be all they that serve graven images, that boast themselves of idols." Again: "Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hands. . . . They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them."