# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1890_S11 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. 11 Mari, the Outcast and Foundling. In India there are many children who have never known their parents. Girls especially are often exposed and deserted by their mothers in infancy, for it is deemed a disgrace for a family to have many daughters. Since the British Government at present severely pun- ishes the-crime of child-murder, which used to be fearfully prevalent in India, parents who wish to get rid of their girls take them to some large city, set them down in the streets and forsake them, consoling themselves with the thought that some kind person will find them and care for them. So these children, if they do not-die from exposure, grow up in the bazaar or market-place. To-day perhaps a bearded Musselman will take them up, play with them and ‘give them something to eat; to-morrow a Hindoo farmer may take pity on them and give them a little care; then some woman, passing by, may bestow a little attention upon them. Thus they lead a vagrant, forlorn life, eager, like the dogs, for some bone, or piece of bread or cake that are thrown down to them. As they become older, they be- gin to help themselves by beg- ging and stealing, and as a con- sequence they are mercilessly knocked about and often cruelly abused. Of course they have no opportunity of learning any- thing but evil; and so they go to wreck in body and soul. Such a pitiful creature was little, seven year old Mari, who a few years ago found her way to the missionaries at Calicut. She knew nothing about her parents; as far back as her memory served her, she had had no home and had lived in no house, but had stayed and strolled about in the market-place of a neigh- boring mountain city. By day she had been accustomed to beg and spend the time with other children on the streets, and at night she would crouch under some tree or creép into the corner of a veranda of some house, where, shivering with cold, she would try to wrap herself in her rags. On the mountains of India it is quite cold, particularly at night, and so her tattered and scanty clothing afforded her poor protection. In consequence of such exposure the poor child had early contracted rheumatism and the gout, so that her limbs >wWere twisted out of shape and she could hardly walk erect. Hearing of the warmer climate of the lowlands, she started to go down one day, not knowing that it was a considerable distance into the valley, and that it required & good day’s march at a brisk rate to reach it. Owing to her crippled condition, she made poor progress. The first night she met a com- pany of travelers who were camping out for|health. This was a brilliant offer which the the night and had kindled a fire. They allowed | little one eagerly accepted. The next day she her to lie down with them and also gave her| rode with her new mistress to Cannanore, where something to eat; but when they arose to go|a European garrison was stationed. At first it: was so cold that little Mari could not get up for pain. So she Jay in the street until the sun had risen and warmed her sufficiently to continue her journey. She walked all day as fast as she could. Some people, whom she met, advised her to make haste so as to reach an inn befure night, for in those regions there are many tigers, elephants and wild boars, and it would not be safe to spend the night in the open air. But though she hurried on as fast as she could, the night overtook her before she was able to reach the hbuse. For fear of the wild beasts she did not dare to stop, and yet Valley of the Kedron. her little, crippled feet refused to bear her up longer. The howling of wolves, which she heard not far off, urged her to put forth her last energies, until she sank to the ground ex- hausted, unable to take another step. In her distress she began to cry aloud for help; but who should hear her in this deserted place? She may have been lying in the road about half an hour—and meanwhile it bad become quite dark—when she heard the noise of an approaching wagon. She arose quickly to avoid being run over, and when the carriage drove by she took hold of it and begged to be taken along. The lady in the carriage, when she beheld the little girl, allowed her to climb in. Only a short distance further on they reached the travelers’ inn. Here they secured lodging, and after supper, of which little Mari was permitted to partake also, the lady inquired into her history. When she learned that the child was a deserted orphan, she offered to keep her as her servant, to provide her with cloth- ing and food and try to have her restored to the lady was very kind. Mari attended to the housework as well as she could and began to improve in health. But soon it appeared that her mistress was a very bad woman, who kept company with the soldiers and was given to drunkenness. At such times she found pleasure in torturing little Mari; she beat and pinched her, poured hot water on her, pressed sharp thorns through her ears and nose, and then laughed at the child’s cries. Mari was too timid to resist such cruelties. But one day when the woman in her drunken fury heated an iron tripod red hot and placed the child thereon, the intense pain over- came her timidity, she fled from the house and made her way to the neighboring town Tala-- cherry. Here she began her old vagrant life again. From this place she came to Calicut, where, for several months, she had been living in the market-place and sleeping at night under some ve- randa, among others that of the English school, from which she could look into the garden of the girl’s school. One morning the sexton met her on the ve- randa and asked her whether she would not like to attend school and learn something and live with the other children. She could hardly believe that she would be received; but she went along with him and so, in her sick, forlorn and miserable condition, she was brought into the mission house. In less than a year her entire appearance was changed. With the excep. tion of some stiffness in the feet, owing to the burns she had received at Cannanore, she be- came a healthy, cheerful child, kind, diligent and generally beloved in the school. May the Lord claim her for Himself and make of her a true child of God.—Jittle Missionary. << Christ for me, the Sinner. God knows us much better than we know ourselves. None of us have an idea how really bad we are! You think you have some idea; but what you see of yourself is only a peep, and nothing at all compared with what is there; but God knows you thoroughly. Your whole life, with all its failure, is before Him; but, oh! the comfort! God, who knew these sins, laid them on Christ, and believing, thou art free. Jesus only knows how heavy our debt is, for He had to pay it. —_> ~