But you have never experienced it, and could not understand.'The labourer is worthy of his hire.' Well, my hire is under two hundred a year, and eight of us must live--or starve--on it.And I have worked, ay, until my health is broken.A labourer indeed! I am a very hodman, a spiritual Sisyphus.And now I must go back to carry my load and roll my stone again and again among those hopeless savages till I die of it --till I die of it!""At least it is a noble life and death!" exclaimed Owen, a sudden fire of enthusiasm burning in his dark eyes.
"Yes, viewed from a distance.Were you asked to leave this living of two thousand a year--I see that is what they put it at in Crockford--with its English comforts and easy work, that /you/ might lead that life and attain that death, then you would think differently.But why should I bore you with such talk? Thank Heaven that your lines are cast in pleasant places.Yes, please, I will take one more glass; it does me good.""Tell me some more about that tribe you were speaking of in your sermon, the 'Sons of Fire' I think you called them," said Owen, as he passed him the decanter.
So, with an eloquence induced by the generous wine and a quickened imagination, the Deputation told him--told him many strange things and terrible.For this people was an awful people: vigorous in mind and body, and warriors from generation to generation, but superstition-ridden and cruel.They lived in the far interior, some months' journey by boat and ox-waggon from the coast, and of white men and their ways they knew but little.
"How many of them are there?" asked Owen.
"Who can say?" he answered."Nearly half-a-million, perhaps; at least they pretend that they can put sixty thousand men under arms.""And did they treat you badly when you first visited them?""Not at first.They received us civilly enough; and on a given day we were requested to explain to the king and the Council of Wizards the religion which we came to teach.All that day we explained and all the next--or rather my friend did, for I knew very little of the language --and they listened with great interest.At last the chief of the wizards and the first prophet to the king rose to question us.He was named Hokosa, a tall, thin man, with a spiritual face and terrible calm eyes.
"'You speak well, son of a White Man,' he said, 'but let us pass from words to deeds.You tell us that this God of yours, whom you desire that we should take as our God, so that you may become His chief prophets in the land, was a wizard such as we are, though grater than we are; for not only did He know the past and the future as we do, but also He could cure those who were smitten with hopeless sickness, and raise those who were dead, which we cannot do.You tell us, moreover, that by faith those who believe on Him can do works as great as He did, and that you do believe on Him.Therefore we will put you to the proof.Ho! there, lead forth that evil one.'
"As he spoke a man was placed before us, one who had been convicted of witchcraft or some other crime.
"'Kill him!' said Hokosa.
"There was a faint cry, a scuffle, a flashing of spears, and the man lay still before us.
"'Now, followers of the new God,' said Hokosa, 'raise him from the dead as your Master did!'
"In vain did we offer explanations.
"'Peace!' said Hokosa at length, 'your words weary us.Look now, either you have preached to us a false god and are liars, or you are traitors to the King you preach, since, lacking faith in Him, you cannot do such works as He gives power to do to those who have faith in Him.Out of your own mouths are you judged, White Men.Choose which horn of the bull you will, you hang to one of them, and it shall pierce you.This is the sentence of the king, I speak it who am the king's mouth: That you, White Man, who have spoken to us and cheated us these two weary days, be put to death, and that you, his companion who have been silent, be driven from the land.'
"I can hardly bear to tell the rest of it, Mr.Owen.They gave my poor friend ten minutes to 'talk to his Spirit,' then they speared him before my face.After it was over, Hokosa spoke to me, saying:--"'Go back, White Man, to those who sent you, and tell them the words of the Sons of Fire: That they have listened to the message of peace, and though they are a people of warriors, yet they thank them for that message, for in itself it sounds good and beautiful in their ears, if it be true.Tell them that having proved you liars, they dealt with you as all honest men seek that liars should be dealt with.Tell them that they desire to hear more of this matter, and if one can be sent to them who has no false tongue; who in all things fulfills the promises of his lips, that they will hearken to him and treat him well, but that for such as you they keep a spear.'""And who went after you got back?" asked Owen, who was listening with the deepest interest.
"Who went? Do you suppose that there are many mad clergymen in Africa, Mr.Owen? Nobody went.""And yet," said Owen, speaking more to himself than to his guest, "the man Hokosa was right, and the Christian who of a truth believes the promises of our religion should trust to them and go.""Then perhaps you would like to undertake the mission, Mr.Owen," said the Deputation briskly; for the reflection stung him, unintentional as it was.
Owen started.
"That is a new idea," he said."And now perhaps you wish to go to bed;it is past eleven o'clock."
