# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1932_S6
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

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THE LUTHERAN PIONEER

A Sunday Attendance at Our Colored Mission in Buffalo, N. Y.

or sisters are filing in. An observing bystander
wonders where they will all find room. It is ex-
plained to him that arrangements have been made
for one class to meet in the front hall. “But,” the
puzzled inquirer continues, “can you seat them all?”
“After a fashion only; but if necessary, the tots
in the Primary sit three on two chairs or double
up on single chairs.” “And how many chairs
have you?” “Seventy-two.” “And what is your
average attendance?” “Our average attendance has
been steadily climbing, but last month [October]
we reached a new height — seventy-two.” “That
was splendid. But do you not really need a more
adequate place of worship?” “Indeed we do, and
we have every reason to thank God to-day because
of the fine Christian spirit shown by our fellow-
Lutherans of Buffalo and Vicinity. Due to their
liberality we shall soon be working under ideal con-
ditions. A new and inviting chapel is now being
erected, and we believe it. will be ready for use
some time before Easter. With a new chapel and
God’s blessings we hope to reach out to many more
souls than we could possibly reach, or care for,
under the present circumstances.” E. P.

&

Fi *

Flood Relief Work in China.

What Others: are Doing.

Making our uncertain way along the “duck-
“boards” (though this is a misnomer, for no decent
duck would use these boards, but would flounder
through the muck beneath, I’m sure), we stopped at

the temple door, and in the murky
shadow under a torn and dilapidated
piece of matting a pair of bare feet
—ery dirty and old- and knotted-
looking — poked out; they belonged
to an old woman, a villager washed
out of house and home and reduced
to dire poverty. She is now receiv-
ing her hot rice each day.

Walking through the creaking
door, grinding painfully on the large
wooden hinges, incidentally awaken-
ing the herds of mangy, scaly pariah
dogs round about, we at once set
out to investigate the motley tribe
of humanity that has taken up a
temporary abode there. There is a
fetid odor, an almost overpowering
one, and that peculiar stertorous
breathing of wearied people —a flash-lamp! What
a sight! All around, everywhere, on the ground,
under the very feet almost of the huge idols and
images, there lie under the most filthy rags, families
herded like cattle; no, worse than cattle; the very
pigs in the stench-laden, filthy mud are at least in
their natural surroundings, but these men and
women are huddled in promiscuously, men, women,
and children. The first lies just touching the door,
and we touch him gently, and his grimy, naked form
partly appears from under the dirty, padded quilt.
“Oh, yes, give me one, please; I have a family of
six mouths here and one on the old home roof watch-
ing that the timber is not washed away or stolen.
Yes, please give me tickets.” “How many persons
are there?” “Three big and three small — myself,
wife, and my mother” (abe is eighty years old and’

’ Two Residences of Missionaries in Hankow
and Dwelling of Servants.