Maud Elizabeth Boaz served with the Church of England Zenana Mission Society in China and writes of her experiences there. My thanks to Redcliffe College for making a copy of this public domain title available for digitisation.
Maud Elizabeth Boaz [1873-1937], “And the Villages thereof”. London: Morgan & Scott, . Hbk. pp.173. [Click to visit the download page for this title]
- “A Sower Went Forth”
- Among Thorns
- Some by the Wayside—Some an Hundredfold
- Deeper Down—Farther Out
- Pearls and Their Polishing
- “New Year—Come! Bring Prosperity!”
- “Clear Shining After Rain!”
- Through a Mountain Pass
- The Fining Pot
- Through Much Tribulation
- Chrysanthemums and Churches
- Emergency Days
- What if the Light Fail?
Chapter 1: “A Sower Went Forth”
It is a glorious autumn morning, the sky a cloudless blue and the air cool, fresh, and exhilarating. We are ready early for our walk to the mountain villages.
In such air, under such a sky, bathed in such sunshine, with hearts overflowing with the gladness and joy of being entrusted with the “unsearchable riches” of the blessed Gospel, we start on our way, armed with Bibles and pictures for a day’s preaching. We are taking no food with us, preferring to trust to the hospitality of the village; even if we should find our trust misplaced, we still have “food to eat that they know not of.”
The road winds round and round a mountain, with rice-fields on our left hand; the rice is almost ripe, but looks as if it badly needs the rain to swell the grain. Every blade of grass is tipped with vermilion, the bracken is turning brown and gold, and every shrub has its own distinct colour and beauty. The mountain is covered with pine and furze, and the way is very lovely.
Somehow these Chinese village roads, as they wind in and out amongst the mountains, are captivating. We are always wanting to see what is round the corner; turning corners has the greatest fascination, and they draw us on and on. At every corner turned there lies a new picture spread before us, with here and there a peep of a far-away village or hamlet, hidden amongst the trees, or nestling cosily at the foot of a mountain. Again, of a sudden we are just in front of another without any warning whatever, except, it may be, the grunt of an old mother-pig, who is venerable and wise enough to be allowed to stray of her own sweet will, since she can be trusted to find her way back by supper-time!
Sometimes our way leads straight up a mountain pass, on and on, up and up, till we reach a small resthouse on the brow of the hill, with two seats and a roof. Blessed rest-houses! How thankfully we have sunk on to a seat, after a long and weary pull up under a blazing Chinese sun! These rest-houses have been built, in the spirit of true philanthropy, by kindly men and women who have wished to do some good deed during their lives. How many travellers have rested awhile under their cool shade, before passing down the mountain on the other side!Pages 1-2.