CHAPTER XXXIII.
I am surprised that I cannot recall whether my desire to become a
minister transformed itself into a wish to lead the more militant life
of missionary, by a slow process or suddenly.
It seems to me that the change must have come at a very early period.
For a long time I had taken an interest in Protestant missions,
especially in those established in Southern Africa, among the
Bassoutos. During my childhood we subscribed for the "Messenger," a
monthly journal that had for frontispiece an interesting picture
which, very early in my life, made a forcible impression upon me.
This picture held a higher place in my regard than those of which I
have already spoken, but by no means because of its execution, its
color or background. It represented an impossible pine tree growing at
the edge of a sea, behind which a resplendent sun was setting, and, at
the foot of the tree, there was a young savage who was watching the
approach of a ship, from a distant point upon the horizon, that was
bringing to him the glad tidings of Salvation.
Early in my life, when from the warm depths of my soft and downy nest,
I looked out upon a yet formless world, that picture evoked many
dreams; later when I was more capable of appreciating the extreme
crudity of the design, that huge sun, half-engulfed in the sea, and
that tiny mission boat sailing towards the unknown shores still had a
very great charm for me.
Now when they questioned me I replied: "I expect to be a missionary."
But I spoke in a low voice, in the voice of one not sure of himself,
and I felt that they no longer believed in my asseverations. Even my
mother, when she heard my response, smiled sadly.
Doubtless my answer exceeded what she expected from my faith;--
probably she said to herself that it was never to be; no doubt she
thought that I would become something very different, in all
probability something less desirable, that it was impossible at this
time to foresee.
This determination of mine to become a missionary seemed to solve my
every problem. It would mean long voyages and an adventurous, perilous
life,--but journeys would be undertaken in the service of the Lord,
and the dangers endured for His blessed cause. That solution brought
me great tranquillity for a long time.
After having thus won peace for my religious conscience, I feared to
dwell upon the thought lest it should disclose some unexpected
weaknesses. But still the chill waters of commonplace sermons, with
their endless repetitions and stock phrases, continued to flow over
and wash away my early faith. My shrinking from life increased rather
than diminished. There seemed to hang between me and the years to come
a great curtain whose heavy folds it was impossible for me to lift.
