PAUL, THE APOSTLE OF BANZA MANTEKE. BY REV. HENRY RICHARDS, BANZA MANTEKE, AFRICA. "I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." When you see the effect of that power on the heathen, it becomes still more real and glorious to you. Some have asked, What kind of Christians the Africans make, if they really give up their heathenism and become civilized? We have 1,500 church-members at our station, and, as far as I can judge, we have as spiritual and devoted a church as you will find anywhere. Of course, they are not perfect; if they were we should have to send them over to America and England to preach, but as a whole they compare favorably with any other body of Christians. When the people began to turn to Christ in large numbers we felt that if the Gospel was to spread extensively in Africa we must train. young native Christians for the work of taking it to the masses of heathen all around, else we should never be able to reach them. When I was in America ten years ago I asked for funds, and started a school to train these young preachers. We have now fifty earnest and devoted preachers and teachers, some of them men of great power, and all of them have won many souls. Most of the 2,000 people that have been baptized at our station, have been brought in by the native Christians themselves; we missionaries have about as much as we can do to teach converts, translate the Scriptures, and carry on the medical work. It is a principle with us not to do what we can train the natives to do for themselves. In 1891, when we opened the training school, the people had no literature of any kind, no grammars, and no dictionaries. They did not know how to read or write, but as soon as they became Christians they wanted to learn, and we taught some of the most intelligent and most earnest men at our training school. In the Kongo region the line between heathen and Christians is very marked. In fact they are called, in the native language, the children of God and the children of the devil. The heathen call themselves children of the devil. Some of our Christians have suffered martyrdom-some have been poisoned, others have been shot -but they are willing to suffer persecution for Christ. There was one man, the son of a chief, who did all that he could to oppose the Gospel. We have Christians in over fifty villages, and this man would go into those villages to disturb the meetings. He would take his drum and some wine, and begin to dance to call the people away from the service. The weak ones would sometimes go and join in the dance. The sound of the drum seemed to electrify them; it reminded them of heathen times. Sometimes when this man, whose name was Nloko (meaning "a curse "), could not draw the people away from the meeetings, he would come in and drive the people out by making a great commotion. We did not know what to do with him. At that time the railroad was not opened, and everything had to be taken into the country on men's heads. The government was having a great deal of war material taken into the interior, and found it difficult to secure carriers, so they passed a law that even missionaries could not get carriers without permission of the state. When we wanted porters we had to hire a kapita (head man), and have him registered, and then he would go and press other carriers into the service. This chief's son did not want to be a carrier. So he came to our station, and offered himself as a kapita for the mission. We engaged him, and when he went on the road he often took our Christian carriers with him. Our Christians always have meetings when they are on the way. I have seen them come into camp so tired out that you would think they would immediately lie down and sleep, but after a little rest, they would gather together, and one who could read or preach would be chosen to expound the Scriptures. As a rule they began by singing and prayer. The heathen sometimes go away and make a noise, but the Christians go after them and talk to them about spiritual things. In this way our kapita heard the Gospel from the carriers and from the people at the station. No heathen can come to our station and go away again without hearing the Gospel. I wish that could be said of all our home churches. If a heathen comes to the station they surround him, and he must hear the Gospel before they let him go away. Our kapita heard the Gospel, though he hated it, and went on opposing Christ as much as ever. Banza Manteke is ten miles south of the Kongo. The river is four miles wide, rapid, and rather dangerous to cross. There was difficulty in getting carriers enough on our side of the river, so Nloko decided to try the other. One day, when he had crossed the Kongo to get carriers, and had failed, he came back to the river, having used up all his cloth which serves in place of money. He expected to find a canoe man there to take him across. no man. He called, but could get no answer. There was no canoe and The sun was setting, and he thought of the alligators there that carry off many people who go down to the river for water, or to bathe, or to fish. There are also snakes, panthers, leopards, and other wild animals in the country. The man became greatly frightened, and was hungry, too. What was he to do? As he stood there all alone, the thought came to him: "Those Christians say that God answers prayer. I will pray." So he prayed and said, "You see how I am situated, God. I am here alone, and don't know what to do. Those Christians say you hear prayer. Can't you help me?" He had never prayed before, but when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the canoe man coming toward him. He was greatly rejoiced. The canoe man came along, and Nloko said to him, "I have nothing to pay you." The man said, "Never mind. Give me the cloth on your shoulders, and I will take you across." Nloko broke down as he thought of how God had heard his prayer, though he had always been fighting against Him, and he began to shed tears. It takes a good deal to make those strong men cry. The canoe man said, "What are you crying for? I will take you across all right." "Oh, man," cried Nloko, "it isn't that; I can't tell you why I am crying, for you wouldn't understand." He couldn't bear the thought that he had fought so hard against the very God who had heard his prayer, and helped him in his distress. When he reached the other shore he started homeward, and on his way he gave his heart to the Lord Jesus Christ, for he had heard the Gospel and knew the way of salvation. He reached home, and went to sleep. Next morning at six o'clock the people gathered together for worship, and he went into the schoolhouse to worship with the others. He said, "I am a Christian now." "Oh, no," they replied; "go away." Nloko-" the curse"-a Christian! The man who always disturbed the meetings and tried hard to destroy the work! No! None of them would believe in him, and he did not know what to do. He went to other towns, and said, "I am a Christian;" but no one received him. At last he went to a place called Viaza, about three days' journey away, where he had some relatives, and after he had been there some months, a report came that he had gained some converts. I confess that I and others were skeptical, but I sent for Barnaba, one of our best and most experienced preachers, and told him to go over and see what the work at Viaza was like. He went, and stayed for a year. He wrote back: "Yes; I believe the peo ple are real Christians." Converts in a new district are kept on probation for about a year before they are admitted to baptism. After waiting a year we went over to Viaza and examined fifty candidates. We received twenty of them, and organized a church, which is to-day a strong, self-supporting Christian church. Nloko was baptized. There was now no longer any doubt about his conversion. I gave him the name of Paul-because his experience was so much like that of the apostle. He came back to our station and after working there a little time, was received into the training school, and remained there for nine months. By that time he was able to read and expound the Scriptures with wonderful power. The people did not know how he learned to read, and when I asked him he said, "When I became a Christian I took a little schoolboy into my house. He taught me the letters, and then the syllables, and then I found I could read." The man seemed to be full of the Holy Spirit. While he was at the training-school he preached on Sundays and at other times, winning a number of sinners. Nine months is as much as our students can stand at one time; then they go out and work for a year, and afterward come back to the school. Paul asked to go to Kinkanza, a town some eight miles away, the largest town in the district. For years we had been trying to get an entrance for the Gospel there, but without success. Monday morning is the day when the native preachers come to give a report of their work, when we examine candidates and attend to church matters. One Monday a preacher who had been going over to Kinkanza regularly for some time, refused to go any longer. He said: "I don't mind their meeting me, as they do, with guns and knives; I don't mind their knocking me about and kicking me, as they often do, but now they mock at and curse the name of Jesus, and I can't bear that. I don't want to go there any more." That was where Paul wanted to go, so we sent him there. He went over to the town and said, "You know me. Let me come here and teach you." They said, "We liked you before, but we won't have you now, and no one must receive you." Paul was not so easily discouraged. He came to me and asked for a tent. I gave him an old army tent that I had, and he took it and put it up outside of the heathen town, right in a path by which the people went in and out. He stayed there for some months, but there were no converts. It was the height of the cold season, and he suffered much from the cold and dampness, and some |