The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1894, Page 7

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‘Phe: Lnaitheran Pioneer.

we'do nothing, we thought, to encourage the
little fellow and make him smile? We tried.
Twenty-one new subscribers were secured.
That is not much, but perhaps even this is
pleasant news to the little man. We shall en-
deavor to gain more friends for him.

Everybody who has met the Pioneer is
pleased with him. We hear only words of
praise and the highest commendation for him.
The only trouble is, that not everybody comes
forward to pay the subscription price. How-
ever, some may not know how much it is.
Permit us to call their attention to the fact,
that for 25 cents, for only 25 cents, the Pro-
NEER will visit them every month in the year.
If anybody does not know from whom to ob-
tain it, let him enclose 25 cents in stamps in
an envelope, and send his address, plainly
written, with the request for a copy of the
Pioneer to the Concordia Publishing House,
St. Louis, Mo., and the paper. will be mailed
to him promptly and regularly.

Another word concerning the Pioneer. Some
are in the habit of throwing the paper away,
when they have read it. This should not be
done. It should be carefully laid aside. He
that goes to this slight trouble will not re-
gret it. He will read it again later with the
same relish with which he read it before. And
what a blessed companion the old PIoNEER is
in the lonely hours, when persons are confined
to their room or bed with sickness, anybody
who has tried him can testify. Aue.

the newly slain victims. Oh, how often during
the years of their captivity did the missionaries
hear the sound of the death-horn and the death-
drum.

“Two blasts of the horn signify ‘Death,
death!’ and three taps of the drum, ‘Cut it
off!’ whereupon a tap upon another drum
announces, ‘The head has fallen.’’’ How
often, in the walks which they were permitted
to take, did the poor prisoners come upon the
trunks of bodies from which the heads had
been severed. Again and again their diaries
recount the awful fact: ‘‘We passed ten, we
beheld five bleeding trunks.’’ When in 1874
the British took possession of this den of
murderers, an army surgeon who had been
quartered in the house of the executioner-in-
chief related that the latter had informed him
that during the last year between two and
three thousand persons, five to six daily, had
been slain. ‘‘Whenever the king commutes
a sentence of death, fines are imposed, or the
ears, nose or lips of the person are cut off.
Every day one may meet people who have
been deprived of all these members. Fre-
quently the mouth of those whose lips are cut
off becomes almost entirely closed by the de-
velopment of proud flesh, so that they can
hardly eat. Then they must ask the king to
open their mouth, and this operation is gruffly
performed by the executioner with one cut of
his knife.”’

The province of Dahomey was even more
terrible than Ashantee. Only about seven
years ago a missionary ventured to enter this
den of lions for the purpose of securing the
king’s permission to begin mission work in his
dominion. This king has been reigning since
1853 and has, during this time, on a moderate
estimate, slain on an average 200 persons
every year. If the thousands of heads taken
in the numerous wars be added, he may doubt-
less be regarded the greatest of all living mur-
derers. While the above mentioned missionary
tarried in the capital a bloody festival was in
progress, and daily fresh human heads were
impaled at the entrance of the king’s palace.
—tThe history of many other parts of Africa,
Madagascar, the South Sea Islands, and other
parts of the heathen world, presents a horrible
tale of similar deeds of bloodshed and savage
cruelty.

Last winter one of their friends published
a short account of the little home, and hap-
pening to meet- that day a gentleman well
known as a financier all over the country,
handed it to him.

‘This Home is but a mile or two from your
house, Mr. C »” he said.

“Yes,’’ said Mr. C , carelessly ; ‘‘I have
heard of it. Kept up by prayer and faith, eh?’’

‘*Yes. A bad capital for business, I fancy.’’

Mr. C thrust the paper in his pocket,
and thought no more about it. That night, at
about 11 o’clock, he was sitting toasting his
feet before going to bed, when there was a tap
at his door, and his daughter-came in with the
paper in her hand and her cheeks burning with
excitement.

“Father, I’ve been reading about this Or-
phan Home. We never have done anything
for it.’’

‘*And you wish to help the orphans, do you?
Very well, we will look into the matter to-
morrow.’’

She hesitated. ‘‘Father, I want to do it
to-night.”’

It was a bitter night in December; the snow
lay upon the ground. ‘The horses and coach-
man are asleep long ago. Nonsense, my dear;
wait until morning.’

‘Something tells me we ought to go now,”’
she pleaded, with tears in her eyes.

Mr. C yielded; he even caught the in-
fection of her excitement, and while she called
the servants and heaped the carriage with
bundles of bedding, clothes and baskets of
provisions, he inclosed a hundred dollar bill
in a blank envelope. :

In the meantime the guardians of the or-
phans had on that day spent their last dollar.
‘*We had,”’ said the matron, ‘‘actually nothing
to give the children for breakfast.””

The two women went to their knees that
night, God only knows with what meaning in
their cries for daily bread.

While they were yet praying, a carriage
drove to the door, and without a word, the
clothes, provisions and money were handed
out by an unknown lady inside. ;

They knew God had sent her in answer to
their prayers. :

——_—< + oo

Is brief, in all, even in the smallest creat-
ures, yea, even in their least members, we see
the almighty power and the great wonder-
working of God. For what man, however
powerful, wise, and holy he be, can out of a
fig make a fig-tree, or even one other fig? or
out of a cherry-stone a cherry-tree, or even
understand how God does it? Zuther.

**Notninc to give,’’ did you say? -No one
is so poor as that. You may not have money,
but there are other things often better than
money. Here are some of them: time, patient
care, a cordial welcome, advice, a good ex-
ample, the pleasure of being appreciated, a
pleasant word. You have many things to give.
Such as you have, give.

~~ + oo -

Cruelty in Heathen Lands.

About 20 years ago two missionaries of the
Basle Society, laboring on the Gold Coast,
one of them with wife and child, were captured
by the notoriously savage natives of Ashantee
and carried to Coomassie, the capital of the
province. ‘They were kept for four years in
this African dungeon, until finally by the war
of the English against Asbantee they secured
their liberty. Their diaries are full of accounts
of bloody and atrocious deeds which they were
‘compelled to witness. Upon the return of
the warriors, for example, there ensued great
slaughter of human victims. ‘‘During the eh-
tire day we heard the wailing of the mourners ;
most of the inhabitants were fasting, with skin
painted red. It seemed as though the clangor
of horns and drums would never cease. - In
a single yard 15 poor captives lay in irons,
waiting their slaughter. One poor woman at-
tempted to run away, but she was soon re-
captured and her cheeks pierced with a knife.
In honor of the six chiefs of Coomassie who
had fallen in battle 40 victims were slain.””

Whenever the king pays a visit to Bantama,
and enters the house where his forefathers
sleep, or whenever this house is to undergo
any repairs, human sacrifices are paid. In
this house the skeletons of the deceased kings
are preserved; and the ruling king enjoys the
honor of besmearing them with the blood of

—s +o oo

A True Story.

A few years ago a couple of good women,
living together near one of our great cities,
took two or three orphan children into their
homes.

As time passed, other helpless, friendless
little ones came to them, until they had thirty
under their care. Their own means they gave
to the last dollar, and for the.rest they trusted
God, living from week to week on the contribu-
tions of the charitable, but making it a rule to
ask help of nobody but Him who has promised
to be a father to the fatherless.