A decade of mission life in Mexican mission homes

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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DECADE OF MISSION LIFE

IN

MEXICAN MISSION HOMES,

BY NANNIE EMORY HOLDING.

ILLUSTRATED.

Nashville, Tenn. :

Publishing House Methodist Episcopal Church, South.

Barbee & Smith, Agents.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1895,

By Nannie Emory Holding, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Dedication

This Little Story was Written For the Women and Children of Methodism,

and is Dedicated to the

Woman's Board of Missions of the Methodist

Preface

As our Mexican work drew toward the close of its tenth year I involuntarily began to incorporate into my annual report the principal features of its growth. As the writing grew under the inspiration of the moment, I jestingly said to Miss Harper, "Mrs. McGavock will think I have sent her a book." She answered, " Put it aside and make it a book." Her suggestion gave birth to this simple story of our daily life in the Mission homes.

Chihuahua, Mex., October 20, 189i.

1892-1893.

Famine — Typhus — West End Day School — Weddings 235

A DECADE OF MISSION LIFE IE" MEXICAN MISSION HOMES.

Chapter I

INTRODUCTORY — ARRIVAL — GIRLS' SCHOOL — LAREDO SEMINARY BAND — COTTIE HOGE LIBRARY — WELL — INITIAL "CONCERT."

"For as the earth bring eth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the tilings that are sown in it to spring forth, so the Lord God voill cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations."

THE first instrument in God's hands of turning the attention of our women toward the needs of Mexico was Rev. A. H. Sutherland, the founder of Southern Methodism on the border. As early as 1879, he was writing of the great need of Christian education, and urged that the children of Mexico should not be forgotten and left out of the plans and purposes of the Woman's Board of Missions. In his own words we quote the plea: " Will not our dear Christian sisters of the Woman's Missionary Society help us to possess the land? Every new mission we establish on this border is another star to mingle its rays with the streams of light that are pouring down upon this darkened land of nine millions of souls."

Rev. Joseph Norwood took up the plea, and offered to receive two girls into his home as the beginning of a school for girls. During the year 1880, Mrs. Sutherland and Mrs. Norwood had both taken Mexican children into their families as a preparatory step toward an established school. They were full of interest and burning desire to see the work put upon a firm basis, and did not desist from personal efforts to that end, boarding and teaching the children until the appropriation for settled work was made at the annual meeting in the spring of 1881. September of the same year found Miss Annie Williams and Miss B e b e c c a Toland, the first two missionaries sent to this field by the Woman's Board, ready for service.

Ground had been donated to the work of the Board by Bev.

Elias Bobertson — that on which Laredo Seminary now stands.

After the second building was erected, he gave another block, which, by ex- Ra.. Elias Robertson. change with the

city, made it possible for us to extend our borders. As the work grew, and he saw that it was no longer an experiment, he established the "Bobertson Scholarship." Two of the graduates of the seminary have come to their honors through this gift of our generous, large-hearted brother, whose memory we love to honor. We lost a friend indeed when God called him home. He was ever ready with kindly interest and advice to help us over many a rough place in those early days.

After brother Robertson's gift to the Board, estimates and plans for building were submitted to the Executive Committee by Mr. William Headen in the spring of 1882. While the building was in progress, day schools were opened by Miss Williams at Concepcion, and Miss Toland at Laredo (the first married to Rev. J. F. Corbin in April, 1883, the latter bearing her part bravely until now). From these two day schools, where prejudice was first broken, pupils were drawn for the seminary which was opened in the fall of 1882.

I would not in the least degree depreciate the labors of these faithful missionaries who thus laid the foundation of the work, but the birthday of Mexican Missions for me is October 20, 1883, the day when I first entered Laredo Seminary; and it is from this date that I begin to write the story of our Mission homes.

In this retrospect, it is almost as if I hold in my grasp a beautiful and sacred volume, upon whose every page I behold the unfolding of a divinely laid plan.

Standing to-day at the close of the first decade of the work which the Lord has committed to my keeping, I feel that there are no fitting words to express the praise due unto his name for that which, by his blessing, has been accomplished. From "the day of small things " he hath indeed caused to spring forth "righteousness and praise " before the nations.

As 1 took hold of the work, I had but little conception of the beauty and grandeur of that which was to spring from the " day of small things." The eye of faith did not see, in the four-room building called " Laredo Seminary," five beautiful, large Mission homes in as many different cities, with prospering day schools besides; nor could it discern in the little band of seven children the multitude of happy boys and girls filling with work and laughter and song the halls and homes supplied by the Woman's Board.

1883-84.

Laredo Seminary.

1 cannot forget the thrill which passed through my soul as I stood for the first time at the door of the little mission situated upon the burning sand of Laredo's desert waste. " It shall blossom as the rose." As the words came, with almost the clearness of human utterance, it was as if the Master himself had stooped to cheer my heart.

One has but to glance at Laredo Seminary of 1893 to see in it a literal fulfillment of the promise: "Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree." Step by step, from the two small buildings upon one block of land, the school has grown, until it includes within its boundary lines seven blocks of land, or an area of over fourteen acres, upon which are situated seven buildings with seventy rooms. Year by year more room was needed, and year by year the way opened to supply the lack. Sometimes, from almost impenetrable darkness, the light came in radiant splendor, shining upon all the way so there could be no mistake in walking in it.

The seven little ones, who welcomed us in the soft tones of their musical language on that beautiful October morning, formed the nucleus of our girl's school.

In those early days, when prejudice and fanaticism seemed a part of Laredo atmosphere, naturally the growth of the school was slow. We considered it a special providence when any of our dark- browed sisters would so far forget their timidity as to call at our home. And great was our joy when a mother came, bringing her little girl of scarcely seven. For more than live years we were permitted to watch the unfolding of this child's nature. We saw her grow almost into womanhood; saw the awakening of the spiritual life; then she was not, for God took her.

I remember the coming of another child, " found down by the river," so the children said. How lovely, and yet how forlorn, the five-year-old baby seemed. She is still with us, growing, developing. Her place to-day is among the dearly beloved ones of the family. I might tell of others, for the coming of each was an event; but after that first year memory is lost in a maze, for not one or two, but scores and scores of bright, eager faces press forward for recognition. Some have " passed over," some are wives and mothers, some are teachers in our Mission schools, teachers in public schools, teachers in private schools; circle within circle, ever widening, wid< ning, whose breadth can only be covered by eternity's ^ea. Those seven little ones have had their number added to until nearly one thousand girls have been brought under the influence of the life-giving power of the blessed gospel of Him who hath led and guided all the way. As I glance over the above sentence two sisters rise before me seeming to say, reproachfully: "Have you forgotten that you considered us your first Christmas donation? how we came to you on that very loveliest of all Christmas days? how glad you were to welcome us, and how shyly we met your advances? You may have forgotten, but we have not, for that day was the opening of a new life to us. For six blessed years we were inmates of your home. Though we may often, by our

IN MEXICAN MISSION HOMES.

carelessness and perversity, have tried your patience, we protest against being forgotten, for we stand to-day among your loving children who are trying to do their part in the world's great battle." Indeed, I beg pardon

Miguel for seeming to forget you, our New Mexico children. As you come before me I recall many incidents of your life among us. I remember, Arebela, your first English letter to your father. No doubt you have forgotten it long ago. Let me repeat from memory's page: "Dear papa, you said when I could write in English you would give me anything I wanted. I ask only this, that you give your heart to Jesus, whom I have learned to love."

Pressing close after these came the three sisters from Mexico as a gift o± the new year. One of them became a helper in the day school established some years afterwards in Laredo. Daring the intervening years how faithfully she helped me bear the burdeu of domestic affairs. Dear Lucia, her quick, eager ways and cheerful spirit often made the rough places smooth for my weary feet. To day she is a happy wife and mother, and her little boy, Miguel, among my best loved grandchildren.

Here and there, scattered among these olive buds from the ancient Aztec root, we would sometimes see the pure white flower of Saxon origin. Of these were Lizzie and Flossie, two bright, lovely children, who quite often forgot they were in the minority; but they were made to remember it, when attempting to hold too queenly a sway over their dark-eyed companions. As a rule, these two classes — the conquered Aztec and the conquering Saxon — played, sang, and studied harmoniously side by side as though they had sprung from the same race. We, too, knew no difference; each alike found its way to the heart. Lizzie, having no mother, grew to be as a daughter to me; coming to me for counsel and advice in her times of doubt. Fain would I have kept her in the dear old home. Flossie was full of bright, mischievous ways, which often caused reproof to fall upon the winsome child, though in no degree lessening the affection which was so freely lavished upon her. To-day these, the first two American children who found a place in our home and school and lives, are making homes of their own. Not long since, Flossie, with baby Arthur, was spending the day with us. As she ran hither and thither, playing hide and seek with her beautiful boy, along the broad vine-clad galleries, which had so often resounded 1o her childish laughter, she seemed to us as lovely and as lovable as in the days of old.

Many tender memories cluster around our first Christmas in our Mission home. It was at this time that Mrs. Park made her first visit to Laredo. A stranger then, but ever afterwards my trusted, honored friend. I remember how it came about that she visited us at that time. I was just beginning the work; I saw the need of many, many things to make our home more comfortable and the grounds more attractive. Not knowing how far I might venture, in trying to place the work as a whole before the people, 1 wrote our Secretary, asking if it would be possible for some member of the Board to be sent that she might see and present our needs. So it was that Mrs. Park came to us, and for her visit we have never ceased to be glad and grateful. A truer, nobler friend has never been ours, and from that day to this she has been closely allied with the Mexican Mission.

On that first Christmas, she discovered — I have never exactly understood how — that there was no Christmas turkey on hand. This was not in accordance with her idea of Christmas, so she determined that she would find a large turkey for her missionaries and their little flock. I did not know of her purpose, when she made known that she had important business in town. I intimated that we were too far out for her to walk, the sand deep and the sun hot, even though it wa.s Christmas time. I was more than willing to attend to anything she desired. 2

No, she alone could accomplish her object. Of course the result, to the enjoyment of the inmates of our home, was a Christmas dinner according to time-honored custom.

It was in this winter of 1883 that we became acquainted with our Mexican brother, Eev.

J. P. Eodriguez.

It was through him that we received the Christmas donation of the two New Mexico children.

He,too,through all these years has proved a faithful, tender friend. Ysabel and Maria, his grandchildren, were two of the seven. Ysabel became our first native helper. As 1 write, a pleasing little incident in her child life occurs to me. During that first year I began giving the children a text, morning and night. At night I used Miss Havergal's " Little Pillows." The texts are so simple, so lovely, that any child, no mat-

Our First Christmas Donation.

ter how small or weak, may comprehend. One night, when all were still, and as I thought, quietly sleeping, I heard the sound of bare feet on the stair. I hastened to see the cause. Ysabel was half-way down, seeming to hesitate whether to come on or to return. Upon my exclamation of " Child, why out of your bed so late at night?" she answered: "Oh, I have forgotten my little pillow ! Please let me have it, then I can sleep."

During this year, one of the discomforts to which we were subjected was that of defective flues. It seemed to have been thought that as fire was so little needed in this climate, any kind of flue would answer the purpose. There were plenty of flues of the kind, two in a room, one north, the other south. We wondered why two should be necessary, if it were really so, as every one said, "One rarely needs fire in this climate, except when there is a norther." I had not known a "norther" from personal experience, but when told that they might come at any moment from October to April, of never less than three days in duration, no respecter of persons, time, or circumstances, and that when they did come I would most certainly know it — for the wind blew from north, east, south, and west without reference to any prescribed rule — I concluded that the better part of valor would be to prepare for the coming contest by putting up a stove. Beautiful, bright, and lovely were those November and December days: mornings and evenings cool enough for fire, which gave a cheery, homelike aspect to our two rooms. The little stove was certainly a treasure. At noon, with doors and windows open, we reveled in summer warmth and beauty. As the busy, happy days flew by, we decided that the story of the "norther" was a myth. Alas for dreams of undisturbed earthly bliss and ease ! I think it must have been some

20 A DECADE OE MISSION LIFE

time in January when, one day, Miss Toland suddenly exclaimed, "A norther! " and with a quickness born of sad experience began to close windows and shut doors. Our children — twelve — came rushing in, some crying, "A sand storm!" others, "A norther! a norther!" To say the wind blew, would be putting it too mildly ; to unaccustomed ears, it simply shrieked; it

"Blew as 'twad blown its last; The rattling show'rs rose on the blast."

With the shaking doors and rattling windows; with the drifting sand bursting through every crevice, filling eyes, ears, and mouth; piling in heaps upon the floor; drifting upon chairs and beds — surely, under such adverse circumstances, we had enough to keep ourselves calm, and quiet the children; but a more trying experience awaited us. The cry burst forth, "Look at the stove! " The wind, sweeping down the narrow flue, was driving the smoke into the room; with another roar, shake, and clatter, the door of the stove flew open, and ashes and flame burst out. In the confusion one cried one thing, one another, when Miss Toland, equal to the emergency, said : " We will move it to the other side." The other side! What could she mean? Was there really another side to this fearful situation? While I stood as one dazed, she was already at work, with folded towels, papers, and everything available, and with the help of sister and the children, she was carrying the " little treasure " to the "other side." Ah! light began to dawn upon my clouded brain! The mystery of two flues was solved With renewed hope I sprang forward to grasp the tottering pipe. The stove being light and the room small, the feat of " changing sides " was soon accomplished. With a sigh of relief, we stood for a moment contemplating our work. The wind still shook window and door with unabated force, and the sand still drifted, forming little billowy waves over the floor, just as we had seen and admired it a few days before when out walking with the children.

Then we thought it very beautiful, as the children played in it. Some dropped into it, others heaping it over them buried themselves from sight, still others measured their length in it, and others marked footprints in the soft, white bed. The gleeful laughter of childish voices awakened the echoes, which, coming back to us in softened cadence, awoke other echoes in our hearts. How often, in the Kentucky home, we, as children, had played in the white snow, as these were playing now in the white sand of the Bio Grande. Yes, it was very beautiful then, but now the scene had changed; there were no rosy tints of sunset glow glistening upon it now as it lay in provoking heaps upon the floor, tables, chairs, and beds; covering clothing, face, and hands; nor had smoke, cinders, and soot been chary of their gifts. That moment of relief was short, for as we lifted our eyes to each other's face with words of congratulation at the success of our efforts, we saw what a grotesque group we formed, and peal after peal of laughter burst from our lips. And this was not the end, the increasing cold made it necessary to add more fuel to the slumbering coals; the wind, not to be outdone, suddenly changed its course, and, as it seemed to us, redoubled its fury as it again drove the smoke into the room. As there was no " other side " left, there was nothing to do but to put out the fire, and for the rest of the night make ourselves as comfortable as possible under the direful circumstances.

The cleaning process of the next day I leave to the imagination. These scenes of " changing sides " were not "once, nor twice." Every possible and impossible device was suggested to render our flues serviceable, but all to no avail. Every norther brought the same discomfort and labor. Fortunately that winter was one of

Brother Rodriguez, Maria,

Victoriana, Lupita.

Nicolasa, the shortest and mildest we have ever known in Laredo.

During that year, as our numbers gradually increased,

we were in a dilemma to know how to accommodate thirty children, when we had been so sure that there was only room for twelve, by a little crowding. Finally, we decided to subject ourselves to a little crowding in our own -apartments. Cots were placed in both rooms close together, leaving only standing space between. Many times we had to seek our beds in self-defense, because there was no walking or sitting room. During the day the cots were folded and set aside, and the space converted into reception, class, and music rooms, and, as it sometimes occurred, into hospital use. Once we had decided to put a sick child in my room as being more private than Miss Toland's. The night had closed in upon us, warm and sultry; doors and windows were wide open; now and then a ray of moonlight from between the parting clouds fell in softened radiance on the face of the sleeping child, while I lay quietly watching by her side. From past experience I had learned to read " the signs of the times." I felt sure that the dead stillness of the night was but the forerunner of the fierce, relentless norther; and it so proved: by morning it was upon us, and to add to the distress of the occasion, our sick child was no better, and we found it necessary to call the doctor, Flossie's father. He came just as the other side had been occupied. By this time practice had made us experts in making the change. Traces of smoke still lingered, but we were more than ordinarily comfortable, and I knew the doctor was too polite to notice or speak of any sign of discomfort. To my consternation I saw that the smoke was increasing instead of going out. I turned to the stove. Tiny puffs of smoke were curling out into the room, giving warning, as I too well knew, of what it meant to do. I looked at the doctor, who was quietly giving directions, at the same time writing the prescription, handkerchief in one hand, pencil in the other.

24 A DECADE OE MISSION LIFE

Suddenly the smoke, no longer to be restrained, burst in volumes into the room. With ejaculations of which I did not know our good doctor was capable, and a faint " Please excuse," he made a rush for the gallery, where sentence and ejaculations were finished under his breath. We afterwards made it a laughing matter, but at the time I was too much concerned about the patient to notice the ludicrous.

Acting upon the doctor's advice, 1 wrote the same day to Mrs. McG-avock, our loved Secretary, describing the situation, and asking permission to use the contingent fund to put in an old-fashioned country fireplace ; for we could think of nothing else by means of which we could get even with our "enemy." When the mason came, our only stipulation was, "Make it large enough." Since then we have not felt altogether easy when some one would slyly remark: " Brick enough for a small-sized house!" We comforted ourselves, however, with the thought that there were many things not dreamed of in Horatio's philosophy: we knew, and they did not.

But to turn to other matters. Laredo Seminary Band was organized in the fall of that first year, since which time nearly four hundred dollars have been given to various charitable objects. Sometimes the money was sent to the Treasurer at Nashville, sometimes it went toward the support of some waif less fortunate than her associates, sometimes toward the native preacher's salary. At one time, when the Band was small, how happy they were to be able to send ten dollars to the relief of orphan children! They were not satisfied with this, but added stockings, aprons, dresses, etc., from their own scant supply, until we had to offer a word of restraint.

From the Band came our first converts. After Faith Hall became a verity, we organized the Faith Hall

IN MEXICAN MISSION HOMES.

Church, into which fold we gathered the little ones as they came to Christ.

Before we had the comfort and blessing of a place, our very own, in which to worship, we thought it right and best to go with the children every Sunday morning to the church in the city, a mile away. The sand was deep, the sun hot, or the wind strong ; sometimes there was a combination of the three, and we with not much physical strength to battle with the elements; but we knew it was right, did i t , and found a blessing in the doing.

One incident of that Sundaygoing comes to mind. It was the day that Bishop MoTyeire was to preach for us. It was quite an event in our lives. A mother never took more pride in seeing her children well dressed — no mother ever had so many — than 1, as I looked upon oar. thirty olive-browed, sparkling-eyed children, arrayed in

Mrs. Annie Williams Corbin.

their pink lawn dresses, which it had taken us far into the night to make ready. (That was before the dear home workers knew how to save us the weary stitch of the midnight hour, and before our children knew the pleasure of "my society.") Our children were very bright, pretty, and happy in their new dresses — ah! I forget; there was one in tears, because the ribbon on her hair was not so fresh as her neighbor's. We filed them out, two by two, Miss Toland at the head of the column, and I bringing up the rear with the wee ones. We trudged on quite bravely, keeping a pretty straight line considering the depth of the sand. Just on the outskirts of the city we saw Bishop McTyeire coming to meet us. A bright smile lighted up his face as he halted us, and stepped aside with that grand military air which belonged so peculiarly to Bishop McTyeire. I think he was a general without knowing it. He spoke of the bright faces and neat appearance of the children; commended the order with which we marched, though he reproved us for being too close together; placed us two feet apart, said that was the proper distance; gave the order "Forward, march!" and in a moment we were moving toward the courthouse where he was to preach. As we marched along the narrow streets of Laredo, he noticed and spoke of the difference between the appearance of our neatly attired children and the ragged squalor of those who met us at almost every step. He said : " We do not fully appreciate the power of the silent influence of appearance." We cannot easily forget the practical sermon of that Sunday morning, "The five talents;" neither can we forget how well the children sang, until the leader began to pout because " I cannot have a book all to myself."

An amusing incident occurred the following day. The bishop was to dine with us, and the children were to have a holiday in honor of his presence. As we older ones lingered at the dinner table to enjoy the rare conversational powers of Bishop McTyeire, the children quietly dispersed. In the midst of the conversation the thought came to us. "How quiet the children seem!" and we congratulated ourselves upon their good behavior. Afterwards one whose conscience was more tender, or whose love of "telling" was greater, revealed the fact that they had taken advantage of our prolonged stay in the dining room to indulge in an impromptu ball, having first taken the precaution to place a sentinel to give the alarm at the first movement of the enemy in the room below. We do not remember which was the greater, the bishop's amusement or our consternation at the secret of such unusual stillness. A ball was given on the following evening to which all were invited. At its close Flossie said: "If you will not make me dance any more, I promise never to dance at the seminary. Til just do it at homer

Those early days of " beginnings" are the ones which come most readily at memory's call. It was near the Christmas of 1884. The thought had been put into the heart of friends living in Frankfort, Ky., to send their missionary a box. Since then the precious Christmas season has come and gone, until ten times it has flooded our lives with its brightness, bringing gifts of love from far-away friends; gifts from many who knew us not, but who loved us for the Master's sake. Standing out clear and bright among those many gifts, with its own mission to perform, was that first book from the first Christmas box. Lifting it from its place among the perishable things, I turned its leaves lightly, and found it a pleasing child's story. Holding it aloft, in view of the little ones pressing forward to see what a Christmas box could contain, I said: "Look, children! this is the beginning of Laredo Seminary library! " When I wrote our thanks I mentioned the little book, and told our purpose concerning it. A few weeks went by, when one morning a letter came, telling of the pleasure a little girl had taken in helping prepare the Christmas box for the Mexican children; how she had been so eager that the book should go too ; how, a short time after, she began to fade; how, before our letter reached its destination, she had passed into the heavenly fold ; how the stricken mother, when told of the thought that had been given to us, asked that we name the library " Cottie Hoge," in memory of her precious child. Thus our library was christened mid sorrow and tears, and, like many lives thus touched by sorrow, it has gone on growing and blessing all around it. Hundreds of children have drawn comfort, pleasure, and profit from Cottie Hoge, who " being dead, yet speaketh." With each recurring anniversary of our Saviour's birth a gift, prompted by the love of the mother-heart, finds its way to the Cottie Hoge Library.