THE

MISSIONARY REPOSITORY

For Youth.

THE WESLEYAN MISSION TO ASHANTI. MR. FREEMAN'S JOURNEY.

WE have heard a great deal lately from Mr. Moffat about Africa, but there is a country there of which even his "big book" does not tell us,—we do not know that he ever visited it, but other missionaries have; missionaries from the Wesleyan Society; and they are busy there now, sowing the same precious seed, and working for the same kind master ;-all "one in Christ Jesus."

The country we mean is Ashanti, a native kingdom on the Gold Coast, Western Africa, the richest and most civilized of all the African states. It must be a fertile land with its spreading forests of brushwood, and its green plantations, which look much like our English hop-grounds, and have a little hut at the corner of each, where a slave and his family reside; but the people are still very barbarous. They forget that men may be courageous without being cruel, and the fathers try to teach their young sons to be brave by making them eat parts of the bodies of those slain in battle! They also sacrifice hundreds of human beings when any of their great men die—thus are the "dark places of the earth" full of cruelty; be thankful, dear young friends, that on you "the true light hath shined," and rejoice too that we trust "the day-star" is rising even on dark Ashanti.

I believe it was in 1839 that the Rev. T. B. Freeman, of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, first visited Kumasi, the chief town of Ashanti, simply to look round and see whether it was likely a mission could be established there. He thought it might, and lately he has again journeyed thither, and it is parts of the story of that journey we wish you to read.

No. 54.

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MR. FREEMAN'S JOURNEY.

You all like to look at a painting. Fancy now you are seeing with your eyes instead of hearing with your ears, and I will try to give you a picture of these "African Travellers." The sky over head was bright and blue, lofty forest trees waved on high, and the broad leaf of the plaintain cast its soft cool shadow around; but the silence was broken by the hum of many voices, as the large party passed slowly along. Large indeed it was; Mr. Freeman and Mr. Brooking, the missionaries, were there,-two native princes who journeyed with them, many servants, a hundred and sixty Ashanti carriers, almost as many from the coast, and a sergeant and six soldiers; in all about three hundred and forty men. What could they want with so many? Ah! there were no railways there as there are in England, along which heavy burdens seem to shoot like arrows; -no good old-fashioned highroads, where the well-laden wagon may pursue its patient course;-no-every package, small or large, must be carried by men, and the missionaries were taking many presents with them, partly in the hope of finding favour by their offerings in the eyes of the king of Ashanti, and partly to show him how many useful arts he might learn by receiving the English strangers. However, the men went cheerfully along, shouting as they wound their way among the tall trees over hill and valley, while the music of the drum and fife was sometimes broken by the sounds of the axe and bill-hook, with which some were clearing away many of the smaller trees. One curious burden was borne along-some of the men carried the body, and some the wheels of a close carriage! That was the wrong way you will say. Ah! but we must remind you again there were no smooth roads for it to roll along-a turnpike would have been a welcome sight then-but no carriage had even been there before. And why should it now? what was the use of a missionary society sending such a present as this? Think for yourselves, dear readers, and try

THE SYRIAN MAID.

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if you can find out how a carriage would be likely not only to please the king, but to benefit his country, and if you discover the right reason, you will see it was worth such weary labour.

And now you must picture the rosy sunset; the men hastily erecting little huts or tents for the night, the missionary family gathering together for evening worship, where probably the voice of prayer had never been heard before, nor the song of praise echoed. And there, while the shadows of night closed around, and the sparkling fire-flies flitted about, and the bright stars looked down from heaven, how gladly would that weary company lie down to rest; but how few amongst them would feel that they could sleep in peace because they trusted God would make them to dwell in safety!

But now we must leave them till next month, when we hope to tell you something more of this "Journey to Ashanti."

THE SYRIAN MAID.

[By the Author of "The Night of Toil."]

E. M. I.

EVERYONE who has read the Bible has heard of Mount Lebanon. It is a very high mountain; where once very large cedars grew, and where some old decayed trees may still be seen. At the foot of this mountain there is a pleasant valley, filled with corn, olives, and vines. Here lies the town of Beyrout. There is one house in that town, in which a little girl lives named Angoul. She ought to be a good girl, for her name means "Angel." Her parents are neither rich nor poor; they earn their bread by spinning silk, and Angoul early learned to help her mother in her trade. She might never have known to do anything besides, if it had not been for a gentleman, named Assaad Yacoob Kayat, who came to live in her town when she was about eleven years old. This gentleman was a Syrian, who had travelled in England. He pitied the

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THE SYRIAN MAID.

ignorance of the women and girls in his own country, and when he returned there, he wished to open a school for girls, as well as boys. But he knew it would be very hard to persuade the parents to send their little girls to school, for it is a strange thing for them to learn to read and write. They are left to grow up in ignorance, and they are shut up in their houses, and not permitted to be seen except by their own relations. But Assaad determined to try to persuade the mother of Angoul to let her come to his school. The mother did not like to spare her, because she was so useful at home in spinning silk; but at last she consented, on condition that Angoul would work very diligently when she returned from school. Angoul grew very fond of learning. She paid so much attention, that in a few months she could read in the gospels, and write upon her tin slate with a reed dipped in ink. She comes to school every morning at six, and returns home at noon. She comes again in the afternoon, and returns at five. In the cool of the evening, she sits with her mother, and spins silk. Now, Angoul has many interesting things to talk about as she spins she can tell her mother the history of the blessed Saviour, and sing the hymns she has learned by heart. Would you not like to have a peep at the little girl? I will try and help you to imagine what sort of a child she is. Look at that house. The lower part is built in the shape of an arch, and it looks like a vault. It is there that Angoul lives, while other people lodge in the stories above. There is a large garden before it, full of mulberry-trees and fig-trees. Angoul is dressed in a long robe of a reddish colour; upon her head she wears a scarlet cap, with a yellow kerchief twisted round her temples like a turban. This dress would look very gay in England, but it is the common one in Syria. Angoul is fair, like an English child, and she has light hair, but her eyes are very dark, and her long hair is plaited and hangs over her shoulders. Such is the little Syrian maid. She is a happy child, because she has learned