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He wouldn't stop to speak to a poor boy like me." "But hell do all that for you Bobby, if you ax him." "But how can I ax him, if I don't know where he lives? and how could I get: there when both my legs is broke?" "Bobby, they told us, at the mission-school, as how Jesus passes by. The teacher said he goes around. How do you know but what he might come round to this hospital this very night?
A certain good bishop, on making a tour of inspection through a mission-school of his diocese, was so impressed by the aspect of all its beneficiaries that his heart overflowed with joy, and he exclaimed to a little maiden whose appearance was particularly suggestive of creature-comforts, "Why, my little girl! you have everything that heart can wish, haven't you?"
The sunshine slanted in through the open door, and not a moat of dust danced in the rays, for nothing had been disturbed for some time, and the dust was settled. They went top-side, into the lofts. The same thoroughness presented itself. Everything had been cleared out, absolutely. "Stolen!" exclaimed Withers. "Clean-sweep!" said the shroff, in his mission-school English.
The shroff was a young Chinese who spoke excellent, mission-school English, and wore good European clothes, and he shared Withers' astonishment that such a thing had happened. "Wanted to go home, he said. Had had enough business. Gone home ten days ago, with his family. Said say good-bye to you." Withers' first feeling was of relief. That's that, he thought to himself, and just as well.
Wali Dad used to lie in the window-seat for hours at a time watching this view. He was a young Muhammadan who was suffering acutely from education of the English variety and knew it. His father had sent him to a Mission-school to get wisdom, and Wali Dad had absorbed more than ever his father or the Missionaries intended he should.
She meant to take a class of rough little boys in the mission-school, and she meant to ask the mothers of the little girls to let them come, once a month, and play with the little boys from the streets she to play with them, and watch over them every moment; but to try to interest the girls in teaching the boys gentleness and good manners. I don't know how it would have worked.
Hurry! before the red beans grow cold." The child sent a long-drawn "Hei" in answer to her mother, then to herself she said over and over: "Be goodu be goodu." She had heard the words a few times before, but they were associated with her visits to the mission-school and a certain oblong box out of which came sticks of red and white with a very sweet taste.
Wali Dad used to lie in the window-seat for hours at a time watching this view. He was a young Muhammadan who was suffering acutely from education of the English variety and knew it. His father had sent him to a Mission-school to get wisdom, and Wali Dad had absorbed more than ever his father or the Missionaries intended he should.
"A good dinner to four hundred hungry children, some of them half starved," said Edith as her mother shut the door. "I shall enjoy the sight as much as they will enjoy the feast." A little after ten o'clock on the next morning, Mr. Dinneford and Edith took their way to the mission-school in Briar street.
At a certain time of year you might see in it quite an exhibition of stockings, pinafores, dresses and other pretty things, prepared for the children of a mission-school in India. By thinking of the needs of those children far away the invalid not only kept her own sufferings at bay, but created for herself delightful connections with God's work and God's people.
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