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THE QUIVER, 11/1899 ***

Produced by Delphine Lettau, Julia Neufeld and the Online
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Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

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* * * * *

The Quiver 11/1899

[Illustration: MOTHERHOOD.

_After the Picture by_ MISS IDA LOVERING.]


By the Author of "The Child Wives and Widows of India," Etc.

A garrison of snow-capped mountains; a valley smiling in Oriental
luxuriance; the gorgeous, romantic loveliness described in
"Lalla Rookh" - such are the general impressions of the land of
Kashmir. Dirt, disease, and degradation summed up its prevailing
characteristics in the eyes of an Englishman, who, in October, 1872,
toiled wearily over the Pir Panjal, 11,900 feet above the level of
the sea.

This was Dr. Elmslie's last journey. He hardly realised, as he
dragged his weary limbs over rough but familiar paths, that one
object for which he had struggled for years was practically
accomplished. He sank from exhaustion on the way, and the day
after his death Government granted permission for missionaries to
spend the winter in the Valley of Kashmir. Still farther was he
from knowing of another result of his labours. He had appealed to
Englishwomen to bring the gifts of healing to suffering and secluded
inmates of zenanas. Dr. Elmslie had found a direct way to the hearts
of prejudiced heathen men. The sick came to him for healing, and
learnt the meaning of his self-denying life.

[Illustration: (_Photo: Elliott and Fry._)


(_At the time she went to India._)]

"Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life,"
are ancient words of wisdom; but this rule has exceptions. To Hindu
women, at least, caste is dearer than life. It would be as easy
to restore the down to a bruised butterfly's wing as to give back
self-respect, and with it all that makes life worth living, to a
zenana lady who has been exposed to the gaze or touch of a man other
than a near relation. Custom of the country debars a respectable
woman from receiving ministry to body, soul, or mind, unless it
comes from one of her own sex. Dr. Elmslie's appeal resulted in Miss
Fanny Butler's offer of service to the Indian Female Normal School
and Instruction Society. She was the first enrolled student of the
London School of Medicine, which had just been transferred from
Edinburgh, and passed second out of one hundred and twenty-three
candidates, one hundred and nineteen of whom were men, in the
Preliminary Arts Examination. She went to India in October, 1880,
the first fully qualified medical missionary to women.

Seventeen years after Dr. Elmslie's death Dr. Fanny Butler obtained
another concession for Kashmir, the permission for missionaries to
live within the city of Srinagar. She saw the foundations of a new
hospital for women begun within the city, and fourteen days after
she also laid down what, an hour before her death, she described
as a "good long life," in the service of Kashmiri people. The age
of thirty-nine, she said to the friends who surrounded her, and
who felt that she of all others could not be spared, was "not so
very young to die," and she sent an earnest plea to the Church of
England Zenana Society, the division of the old society to which
she belonged, to send someone quickly to take her place. The new
hospital was the gift of Mrs. Bishop (Miss Isabella Bird) in memory
of her husband. She had seen the dirty crowd of suffering women at
the dispensary door overpower two men, and the earliest arrivals
precipitated head foremost by the rush from behind, whilst numbers
were turned away in misery and disappointment.

Hospitals and dispensaries have rapidly increased since the day
of pioneers. Absolute necessity has forced medical work on many
missionaries in the field. The most elementary knowledge of nursing
and hygiene appears miraculous to women sunk in utter ignorance. A
white woman too modest to give them remedies for every ailment is
usually regarded as unkind. A neglected missionary dispensary is
practically unknown.

[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Church of England Zenana
Missionary Society._)


(_Showing some of the patients placed out to spend the hot night in
the open._)]

At the time when the Countess Dufferin started her admirable
scheme for providing medical aid for Indian women a well-known
Anglo-Indian surgeon stated publicly that, whatever other
qualification was required in a candidate, two were absolutely
necessary: she must be a lady in the highest sense of the word,
and she must be a Christian, and he proceeded to give good reasons
for what he said. The experience of every woman who has taken up
this work would bear out his sentiments. Without courtesy and
ready intuition of the feelings of others it would be hard to
get an entrance into zenanas, and nothing but love and devotion
to her Master would enable a woman to persevere in spending her
life amongst sick heathen women, in spite of sights, scenes, and
vexations beyond conception in England.

[Illustration: (_From a Photograph._)


The greatest difficulties are probably met in high-caste zenanas.
There, in the midst of unhealthy surroundings, the friends and
neighbours have grand opportunities of undoing any good that may
have been accomplished. It is grievous to a medical missionary to
find her fever patient dying from a douche of cold water, because
the white woman has defiled her high caste by feeling her pulse.
It is enough to make her give up a case in despair if, after she
has explained that quiet is absolutely necessary, the friends and
neighbours decide that the evil spirit supposed to be in possession
must be driven out by the music of tom-toms. A Hindu man is said
to "sin religiously," and a Hindu woman excels him in devotion to
her creed. A fever patient in the Punjab refused to drink milk - the
one thing of all others that her medical woman ordered her - because
she said, if it were the last thing she swallowed, her soul would
pass into the body of a cobra. One medical missionary found a
woman, who was in a critical state, lying on a mat, whilst an old
woman, supposed to be learned in sickness, stood on her body, or
patrolled up and down like a sentinel, as far as the length would
admit. This was kindly meant. Another found one suffering seriously
from the effect of a linseed poultice. She had carefully explained
the mysteries of making and applying it, but in her absence the
patient's friends had spread dry linseed over her chest and poured
boiling water over it.

[Illustration: (_Photo: Baness Bros._)


(_Patients outside the Tarn Taran Hospital Dispensary._)]

Happily, all the women in India are not secluded in zenanas. By
far the largest proportion live in the villages, but their notions
of propriety are very strict. The hard-working field-women will hide
themselves on the suspicion of a _sahib_ being within reach. When
once they are satisfied that the visitor belongs to their own sex
and is harmless, crowds beset the missionary encampments. Many tales
of suffering are poured into sympathising ears.

"I am blind from crying for my only son" is not an infrequent
complaint. Nothing can be done in this case.

"There is no god or goddess to love a Hindu woman. Whatever
offerings we make her, the goddess of small-pox smites us, and then
the men say the women have not offered enough, and are angry." This
was the reply of a Punjabi woman, who spoke for her friends and

One Bengali woman told a missionary of the death of a precious baby
boy. There did not seem much the matter, but the _hakim_ (a native
quack) first gave him something burning to swallow, and then applied
a red-hot iron to each side in turn; and the child only drew one or
two breaths after this treatment. This also, one hopes, was kindly
meant. The Hindus are by no means wanting in humanity, but ignorance
is often as fatal as cruelty.

Many patients find an excuse for coming again and again to the
dispensaries. There they hear of blessings in this world and the
next which they say seem too good to be true. They see love shining
in the earnest faces, and feel it in the touch of hands that will
not shrink from dressing repulsive sores.

The majority of cases in dispensaries are ordinary fevers or skin
diseases resulting from dirt, and other scourges that follow
defiance of elementary rules of health.

Patients discharged as cured often return. "Tell me again that Name
that I can say when I pray," one of them asked, to explain the
reappearance of her shrivelled old face; "I forget so soon." And she
went on her way repeating the Name that even some of the heathen
realise must be exalted above all others.

"I know that your Jesus must reign over our land," a Punjabi woman
said to a lady who had opened a dispensary at Tarn Taran, a sacred
city of the Sikhs; "I know it, because your religion is full of
love and ours has none at all."

The mission hospital at this city, with the name which literally
means "The Place of Salvation," and the dispensary seen in the
illustration, came mainly into being through the determination
of the inhabitants. A suffering baby might claim a share in its
existence. This infant's mother brought it to a missionary whose
training as a nurse had made her a friend in sickness. The child's
sight was hopelessly gone. The mother said that the _hakim_ had told
her alum was good for sore eyes, so she had put it under the lids.

"You have used it in such a way as to blind your baby," the
missionary said; "and I could have told you what to do."

"How should I know?" the woman replied, using a common phrase to
express helplessness or lethargy; but she told the story to her
friends, and other mothers, whose babies' eyes were suffering, soon
proved that the white woman had made no empty boast. Ophthalmia
is terribly common in India, and its marvellous cures began to be

One day a family party carried an invalid into the verandah of the
Tarn Taran mission house. The missionary looked inside the _doolie_;
she was not a doctor, and declined to undertake such a serious case,
and told the men to take their invalid to the Amritsar Hospital.
They were determined to take no such trouble. To show that she was
equally determined to make them, she went inside the house and shut
the doors and blinds. Who would hold out the longest? The result was
a foregone conclusion. The Punjabis, armed with a greater disregard
for a woman's life, gained the victory by the simple method of
beating a retreat, leaving the helpless woman behind them. In common
humanity she could not be left to die. In a few days her family
returned to inquire, and were gratified to find her progressing
towards recovery. The white woman's celebrity was now secured, and
to her consternation and embarrassment she found her verandah full
of patients, and, from overwork, was soon herself added to the
number. The people of Tarn Taran afterwards gave the building for a
Women's Mission Hospital, and a new one is now in the charge of a
fully qualified lady doctor.

Hospitals are by far the most satisfactory part of medical
missions. In zenanas and dispensaries it is one thing to prescribe
and give advice, and another for orders to be obeyed, especially
if they are contrary to rules of caste or custom. It is well known
that a Hindu soldier, who will follow his British officer into the
fiercest _mêlée_, and, if necessary, die for him, if true to his own
creed, will not receive a cup of water at his hands. When wounded
his parched lips will close tightly, lest his caste should suffer.
The same principle debars his womenfolk from accepting physic in
a liquid form from Englishwomen. They may, however, take powders.
Written directions are generally useless, and verbal ones often
misunderstood. It is little wonder if dispensary patients make slow

"Are you sure you took the medicine I gave you?" inquired a medical
missionary of one who made no advance at all.

"Quite sure, Miss Sahiba."

"How did you take it?"

"I ate the paper and threw away the dust."

This mistake was not astonishing under the circumstances. One
Mohammedan specific is to swallow a paper pellet with the name of
God written in Arabic; another, for the _mullah_ to write an Arabic
inscription on a plate, and for the water that washes it off to be
the dose.


(_Dr. Wheeler stands at the left-hand side of group._)]

It is well when superstition and misconception stop short at
swallowing paper and inky water. A woman, seriously injured from
an accident, was carried into the Duchess of Connaught Hospital,
Peshawur. Her husband accompanied her, and saw the medical
missionary in charge carefully attend to fractures and bruises. Rest
and sleep and quiet were doing their work, and the man was left to
watch. A sudden crash startled the ward. The husband had turned
the bedstead over on its side, and flung his wife down. He fancied
she was dying, and said it would imperil her soul if it departed
whilst she lay on anything but the floor. He had the satisfaction
of knowing that she died where he placed her. This was a case
of a Hindu "sinning religiously." It would be harder to forgive
the frequent sacrifice of life to superstition, if there were no
ennobling element underlying it of honest desire for some vague
spiritual good.

The Duchess of Connaught Hospital is a permanent memorial of her
Royal Highness's kind interest in the women of India. Whilst on the
North-Western Frontier she went through the Dispensary and Nursing
Home which represented the first effort to bring medical aid to the
Afghan women, and allowed it to be called after her name. A new and
much larger building, of which a drawing has been reproduced, has
taken the place of the native quarters, where Mohammedan bigotry
was by slow degrees overcome. For years the ladies of the Church of
England Zenana Missionary Society, who had charge of this hospital,
were the only Europeans living within the walls of Peshawur.
Every night the great city gates closed them in, and separated
them from other missionaries and from Government servants. They
chose to be in the midst of their work, and though outbreaks of
Mohammedan fanaticism repeatedly checked teaching in schools and
zenanas, ministry to the sick continued, and never lost the friendly
confidence of Peshawuris.

[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Church of England Zenana
Missionary Society._)


In its early and humbler days, the fame of this hospital reached
far-away Khorassan. A lady of that country who was suffering
terribly, caused herself to be carried the fifteen days' journey to
Peshawur. Miss Mitcheson, who opened the first dispensary, and is
now the head of the hospital, saw that her case was critical and
required an operation of a far more serious kind than she had ever
attempted, and begged her to allow the civil surgeon to see her.

"I would rather die," the patient answered. The combined forces of
suffering, fear of death, and persuasion, were powerless to move
her. The Englishwoman, of whose powers she had heard in her own
country, might do what she liked with her, but no man should come
near her. Happily Miss Mitcheson successfully accomplished what was
necessary, and the Khorassan lady made a good recovery. When the
time came for parting from her new friends, she promised to use in
her own country the knowledge she had gained in Peshawur. She kept
her word, as more visitors from Khorassan testified, and they said
she had not forgotten the benefits she had received in the mission

[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Church Missionary Society._)


During Miss Mitcheson's absence in England Dr. Charlotte Wheeler,
who with her fellow-workers, in the illustration on p. 102, stands
in the verandah of the old building, superintended the medical work.
On Miss Mitcheson's return, Miss Wheeler opened a medical mission
amongst the women in Quetta. This work extended rapidly on and
beyond the frontier, so that in November, 1896, when it was a year
old, eight different languages were spoken on the same day in the
dispensary waiting room.

Institutions for training Christian girls of India as doctors or
nurses have come into existence as the number of candidates has
increased and the necessity has arisen. The North India School
of Medicine has been established at Ludhiana with this object.
Many of the mission hospitals also have training classes. St.
Catherine's Hospital, Amritsar, under the superintendence of Miss
Hewlett, who has had nineteen years' experience, has provided very
valuable assistant medical missionaries for stations in the Punjab
and Bengal. At the last census a hundred Christian women - counting
missionaries, assistants, patients, nurses and students - were within
its walls. An illustration shows the inmates mustering before going
to church.

One student in St. Catherine's Hospital, who had gained a
scholarship, gave promise of a brilliant career. Before the time
of study in which she delighted was over, the lady superintendent
became suspicious of what this young girl described as broken
chilblains on her fingers. A doctor was called in, and confirmed
her impression that it was leprosy. An Eastern girl knows, what in
Europe is only faintly imagined, of the horrors of this loathsome
disease. One cry of anguish only escaped her when she was told
the verdict. Then she rose above the trial, and resigned herself
cheerfully to the will of God. She was prepared to start the next
day for the Leper Settlement near Calcutta without meeting her
friends or fellow-students for a word of farewell.

"What comforts me," she said to the Clerical Secretary of the Church
of England Zenana Missionary Society, who was in Amritsar at the
time, "is that I may go as a missionary rather than as a patient."

She went to that place of death and banishment, to live out the rest
of her days in ministry for others. In her case the days lingered
into years, and the disease took a severe form, but her devotion
and courage never failed. When death came to her as a friend, and
her work was done, the memory of the "superior girl," who had lived
among the afflicted people as a missionary rather than a patient,
remained. Perhaps her fellowship in suffering gave her the final
qualification to be a missionary to lepers.

India is the land which above all others cries out for lady medical
missionaries; but other Eastern countries have also a claim.
Wherever Islam has planted its iron heel, women are jealously
guarded in harems, and it is very unusual for a man to be allowed
entrance on any pretext. In China, also, women of superior class are
hidden within the high walls that surround their houses. Those free
to go out gain little but suffering from the barbarous attentions of
native surgeons. In the East the knowledge which brings relief from
pain is a power to overcome obstacles to Christianity that resist
every other force.

The Church of England Zenana Missionary Society has sent out a
qualified lady doctor to Foochow, and in 1894 the Church Missionary
Society opened a hospital for women in Hangchow with one large
and six smaller wards. One patient who was brought into this
building - of which two views are given - suffering from diseased
bones, has gone out to devote her recovered health and new knowledge
to the service of God and her own countrywomen.

[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Church Missionary Society._)


There is scarcely a mission hospital or dispensary that cannot
tell of similar results of the double ministry to body and soul.
Each year justifies the increased number of women with medical
qualifications sent into the mission field. Some, like Mrs.
Russell Watson, of the Baptist Mission at Chefu, are the wives of
missionaries, others have been sent out by various missions, such
as the Zenana Bible and Medical Mission, or by the women's branches
(added during the close of the present century), to the more
venerable societies.

Dr. Henry Martyn Clark, of Amritsar, once asked a friendly Hindu
what department of foreign missions his people considered most

"Why should I reveal our secrets to the enemy?" the Hindu responded.
But he yielded to persuasion. "We do not very much fear your
preaching," he said, "for we need not listen; nor your schools, for
we need not send our children; nor your books, for we need not read
them. But we do fear your women, for they are gaining our homes; and
we very much fear your medical missions, for they are gaining our
hearts. Hearts and homes gone, what shall we have left?"

What may be expected when medical and women's missions are combined?
According to the friendly Hindu, the very citadels of idolatry and
superstition might tremble at the advance of this double force to
rescue the captives.



This month we devote our space to a pictorial representation of an
heroic act by James Williamson, a fisherman of Whalsay, Shetland.
During a heavy storm he waded out to the succour of two companions,
who had been pinned on the rocks by their capsized boat and were
in imminent danger of drowning. Williamson was at first carried
away by a heavy sea, but was returned by the next. Then with an
extraordinary effort he lifted the side of the boat, seized the men,
and, with one under each arm, fought his way through the boiling
surf to dry land. For this conspicuous act of bravery Williamson was
awarded the Silver Medal of THE QUIVER Heroes Fund.]

[Illustration: PLEDGED]


By Katharine Tynan, Author of "A Daughter of Erin," Etc.



"And then, old fellow," went on Sir Anthony's letter to Jack Leslie,
of the Blues, his particular chum, "I stood staring, with my eyes
watering and a little scratch on my nose bleeding where the old
rooster - for a rooster it was - struck me with his spurs as he flew.
He might have knocked out my eye, the brute! The second missile (an
invention they call a sun-bonnet, I believe, made of pink calico and
horribly stiffened) lay crumpled at my feet. And there in front of
me stood the culprit herself, looking half-ashamed and half-inclined
to follow the example of the other sun-bonnet which had buried
itself in a big chair at the end of the room, and made scarcely a
pretence of stifling its peals of laughter. I felt no end of a ninny
I can tell you, especially as the owner of the first sun-bonnet was
by long chalks the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen.

"I'm no good at describing a girl's charms, but even at the first
glance her beautiful violet eyes struck me. Blue eyes and black
lashes and eyebrows - it is a thing happens over here sometimes,
they tell me. Then, though she'd been rushing about after the
ancient barnyard fowl who was to have graced the table in my honour,
she had no more colour than a white rose; and yet she looked the
picture of health and life - so different from fine ladies. This was
Miss Pamela - Pam for short - as I discovered later. To finish her
description, her charming head is covered with a mass of short black
curls. She had a very shabby frock on, which didn't take a bit from
her loveliness. I couldn't help wondering what the mater would have
thought if she could have seen her. She would surely have called her
'a young woman,' with that superb contempt of hers.

"However, the breeding tells. Nothing could have been finer than the
little air with which she pulled herself together, and said, as if
it were an every-day thing to blind and maim your visitors:

"'You must be Sir Anthony Trevithick. I am so sorry. That wretched
fowl flew in through the open window, and we've been three-quarters
of an hour chasing him round. It was so unfortunate his flying out
just at that moment, and still more unfortunate that I should have

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