The thin faces light up at sight of us, and a cordial welcome is extended. The only whole chair is brought forward for our use. You might expect a torrent of complaints from these poor creatures. But no, instead come words of praise to God that He had spared so many of their lives, that He had been _with_ them in their sufferings.
A year ago, when we visited this hut, we found them stolid and indifferent, caring nothing for spiritual things. The woman sat smoking over the fire, scarcely vouchsafing us a word, and muttered to a crony, "Wot's thet thar woman nosing 'bout yere for? She'd er heap sight better let we uns erlone."
It was very hard to ask permission to hold prayers with them in such a hostile atmosphere, but it is our duty to "sow beside _all_ waters," so we proffered our request.
"Yer kin ef yer mines ter. I haint er carin'," was the ungracious reply.
But what a change _now_. The woman's face glows with a light that only comes from the "light of the world." "God's been mighty good ter we uns," she says. "Ef hit hedn't ben fer Him we'd er died. An' we uns air bound ter do ez near right ez we kin, an' serve ther Lord, ther hull lot on us."
Does it not make our own hearts glow to hear such words, and see the wonders God hath wrought? And with thanksgiving we read and pray with them, and strengthen their faith with God's Word. After noting their needs, and promising to supply them from the articles sent us by generous Northern friends, we go on to the next house.
We find the same sad state of affairs; fever-worn men and women, wasted children, and starvation and want staring them in the face. But we find also the same great change. God's Spirit has been working among them, and hearts are softened and lives changed by His power. So we go from hut to hut, until the way becomes too steep to ride, and we leave our horses and climb, on foot, the lofty, rocky ridges.
We find men who were reckless and bad ready to listen to God's Word, and in broken voices asking for prayers. We find women who have lived lives of open shame penitent and contrite, showing by their abandonment of their evil ways that they are sincere when they say, oh so earnestly, "We uns air tryin' ter do right."