“NOT IN THE GOOD TIMES.”

One Saturday afternoon as Edith and Marty entered the room where the meetings of the band were held, half a dozen girls rushed to them, exclaiming,

“Oh, what do you think! Mary Cresswell has a letter from Mrs. C——!”

How eager they all were to hear that letter! As soon as the opening exercises were over, Miss Walsh told Mary she might read it. The young secretary looked quite proud and important as she unfolded the letter, very tenderly, indeed, for it was written on thin paper, as foreign letters are, and she was afraid of tearing it.

After speaking very nicely of the letter she had received from them, Mrs. C—— went on to tell them something about Lahore and about the school they were interested in. She said:

“You must not imagine a well-arranged schoolroom with desks, maps, black-boards, and so on. We cannot afford anything like that, and in any case it would be useless to the kind of pupils we have. We pay a woman a little for the use of part of the room in which she lives, and while the school is in session she goes on with her work in one corner. This room is quite dark, as, having no windows, all the light it receives is from the door. It has no furniture to speak of. The teacher and pupils sit on the earth floor.”

She then described the dress of the little girls, which certainly did not appear to be very comfortable for the cool weather they sometimes have in North India, and said, “No matter how poor and scanty the clothing, they must have some kind of jewelry, even if it is only glass or brass bangles. They are anything but cleanly, as they are not taught in their own homes to be so; besides, some of their customs are considerably against cleanliness. For instance, they must not wash themselves at all for a certain length of time after the death of relatives. So it sometimes happens the children come to school in a very dirty condition.”

These children, Mrs. C—— said, were bright and learned quite readily. She mentioned some of the hymns and Scripture verses they knew, and some of the answers they had given to questions she put to them.

“But the great difficulty is,” she wrote, “they are taken away from school so young to be married and thus lost to us. Still it is good to think that they receive some religious instruction, and matters in regard to girls and women in India are gradually improving. Not quite so much stress is laid on child-marriage; indeed, some native societies are being formed for the purpose of opposing this custom, and many more girls are allowed to attend school than used to be the case.

“But there is room yet for great improvement. You, my young friends, in your happy childhood and girlhood, cannot conceive the miseries of these poor little creatures. Thank God your lot is cast in a Christian land, and oh! do all you can to send the gospel light into these dark places of the earth.”

The girls had a great deal to say about this letter, and as it was sewing afternoon, Miss Walsh allowed them to talk over their work instead of having any reading.

“Somebody told me,” said little Daisy Roberts, “that in India they don't care as much about girls as boys, and sometimes they kill the girl babies. Is that so?”

“Yes,” replied Miss Walsh. “It used to be a very common custom, and is still so to some extent, though the British Government has done much to stop it.”

“They must be very cruel to want to kill their own dear little babies. Why, if anybody should hurt our little Nellie, we'd all fly at him and nearly tear him to pieces,” and Daisy's face got very red and she doubled up her little fist at the very thought of such a thing.

“It isn't always, nor perhaps often, done in a spirit of cruelty. Sometimes it is because the parents are poor and cannot afford to marry their daughters, for weddings cost a great deal, and according to the notions of the country everybody must be married. Often it ruins a man to get his daughters married, and he lives in poverty all the rest of his life. Then very ignorant and superstitious parents sometimes sacrifice their children to please their gods, and as girls are not as much thought of as boys, it is frequently the girls who are killed. But, as I told you, the Government does not allow such doings, and when people are found breaking the law they are punished. Besides, as Christianity spreads these wicked things cease.”

“I think that way they have of making little girls get married is awful,” said Edith. “Just think of being dragged off to be married when you're only a little mite of a thing, and having to leave your own mamma and live with a cross old mother-in-law who abuses you!”

“Don't their fathers and mothers love them at all, Miss Agnes, that they send them off that way and allow them to be miserable?” asked Marty, who was ready to cry over the miseries of the poor little India girl.

“Of course there are many cruel parents—heathenism, you know, does not teach people to be kind and loving—but many love their children as much as your parents love you. In fact they are over-indulgent to them, and let them do just what they please when they are small. And you may imagine that the mother especially has a very sore heart when her little daughter is taken from her and when she hears of her being ill-treated in her new home. But it is considered a disgrace if girls are not married when mere children; and a loving mother wishes to keep her daughters from disgrace.”

“And how if the little girl's husband dies?” Rosa Stevenson inquired.

“Oh, then the poor little widow leads a miserable life.”

“Why, how?” Marty asked. “Can't she go back home then?”

“No,” Miss Walsh answered. “She has to live on in the father-in-law's house, where she is treated shamefully, made to do hard work, is half starved, and not allowed clothes enough to keep her comfortable. She is not taken care of when sick, and is treated worse in every way than you have any idea of or ever can have.”

“It's perfectly dreadful!” declared one of the girls.

“Didn't they use to burn the widows on their husbands' funeral pile?” asked another.

“Yes, but the British Government put a stop to that.”

“I believe I'd rather be burnt up and done with it than have to lead such a miserable life,” said Mary Cresswell.

“Oh, no, it would be dreadful to be burnt,” said Rosa.

“Seems to me it's dreadful all around,” said Marty, sighing.

“You may be thankful you don't have to make the choice,” said Miss Walsh.

“Then the poor children are not even made comfortable when they go to school,” Rosa went on, “so dirty and forlorn!”

“How queerly they're dressed,” said Hannah Morton.

“They seem to be dressed principally in earrings and bracelets,” remarked Marty.

“Miss Agnes,” inquired Mary, “aren't there other kinds of schools besides these little day-schools?”

“Oh, yes. One of the first things that the missionaries try to do is to establish boarding-schools, so as to get the boys and girls altogether away from the influence of their heathen homes. This is the way many converts are made. There are now many such schools and much good has been done by them. You remember we sent the extra ten dollars we had last year to help build an addition to a boarding-school in China.”

“Are Chinese little girls treated as badly as the ones in India?” Marty asked.

“Why, yes,” said Hannah, before Miss Walsh could reply. “Don't you remember the 'Chinese Slave Girl,' that Miss Agnes read to us?—at least read some of it. And don't you know how they are tortured by binding their feet?”

“That isn't done on purpose to torture them,” said Mary. “That's a custom of the country.”

“Most of their customs appear to be tortures,” said Marty.

“Yes,” said Miss Walsh, “the customs of barbarous and half-civilized nations are very hard on the women and girls.”

“Well, it all makes me feel very sorrowful,” Marty declared. “I never thought before, when I've had such good times all my life, that there are so many little girls who are not—a—”

“Not in the good times?” said Miss Walsh, helping her out.

“Yes, ma'am; and I do wish I could do something for some of them.”

“So do I,” said several of the others.

“I suppose,” suggested Edith, “the faster we send the gospel to those countries the better it will be for the girls and everybody.”

“Couldn't we raise more money this year, enough to support another school, or to pay for a girl or boy in a boarding-school somewhere?” Rosa proposed.

“In that case we should have to double, or more than double, our usual amount,” said Miss Walsh. “The question is, can we do that?”

“Oh, do let us try!” exclaimed several of the girls.

Then they began forthwith to make plans for raising more money.

“Of course the more members we have, the more money we'll raise,” said Mary Cresswell, “so I think we'd better try again to get others to join our band. I have asked the Patterson girls two or three times, but I'm going to ask them again.”

“Better not ask them plump to join,” suggested Bertie Lee. “Just get them somehow to come to one meeting, and then they'll be sure to want to belong.”

“There's some wisdom in that,” said Miss Walsh, laughing.

“Yes'm,” said Bertie, “and I believe I'll try that way with Annie Kelley.”

“I'm going to ask that new girl in our Sunday-school class,” said Hannah.

“I'm going to try to get somebody to come,” said Marty.

“So am I,” “And I,” cried the others.

“That's right,” said Miss Walsh. “We want to get as many people as possible interested in missionary work, and, as Mary says, the more that are interested and belong to societies, the more money will be raised, and, of course, the more good will be done. So, don't you see, you are aiding the cause very much when you try to make our meetings attractive, and so induce others to join the band.”

“I've thought of a way to make some missionary money, if it would be right to do it,” said Edith.

“What is it?” asked Miss Walsh.

“Well—you know those prizes Dr. Edgar and Mr. Stevenson give at the Sunday-school anniversary for learning the Psalms and chapters—would it do to ask them to give us money instead of books or anything else, so that we might have it for missions?”

“We certainly might ask our pastor and superintendent what they think of the plan. I have no doubt they would be willing to adopt it when they know what the money is to be used for. I think myself, your idea is a very good one.”

“Yes,” said Rosa, “we should not only be studying the Bible for our own sakes, but be helping missions at the same time.”

“We'd be working for our missionary money then, shouldn't we?” remarked one of the girls.

“Yes, indeed!” replied another, with a laugh and shrug. She was not fond of committing to memory.

“It's a good way, though,” said Marty, standing up for Edith's suggestion, “and I'm going to start right in and learn something. Miss Agnes, I wonder how much they'd give for the 119th Psalm?”

Marty asked this in real earnest, and although Miss Walsh felt like smiling, she answered gravely,

“I don't think it is quite the right spirit in which to study the Bible, Marty—doing it only for the sake of the money, even if the money is for missions.”

“Oh! I shouldn't do it just for the money, but I thought if I could get more for a long Psalm than for a short one, I'd rather learn the long one, and have more missionary money. But I shouldn't want to do it if it was wrong, you know,” Marty added, looking distressed.

“I know you would not,” said Miss Walsh kindly. “I have no doubt your motives are all right, though you can hardly explain them. I can understand that you would be willing to do considerable hard work for missions, and I am glad of your willingness and enthusiasm. They help me.”

Then Marty looked radiant.

There were other plans proposed, and every one had so much to say that Miss Walsh had some trouble in getting the meeting to break up.

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