THE MISSIONARY'S AVOCATION 121 



cry I can never forget. Her face is furrowed with pain 

 and suffering. The disease has worked its way in her. 

 The little organ is always carefully dusted and polished, 

 but it is never open, she plays it no more. So many of 

 the joints of her fingers have rotted off that she cannot 

 touch the keys. But her face is always radiant, a smile 

 plays about that pain-wrought face. No word of com- 

 plaint, ever a word of cheer for him that is weary. Most 

 of the women in the asylum are now Christians, after 

 having confessed their faith in the God and Saviour they 

 have learned to know through Frances. I know of no 

 human life into which there has come a heavier cross 

 than has come into the life of this Indian leper girl, nor 

 do I know any other human life that has taken its cross 

 and borne it more bravely or with such unflagging cour- 

 age. And after associating with such Great Hearts as 

 some of the leper Christians I too thank God for having 

 driven me into the Leper Asylum, having forced upon 

 me a job I did not want and was not looking for, but a 

 job that has provided me with the richest and deepest 

 spiritual experiences of my life. 



When I said good-by to the lepers (temporarily, I 

 hope) on the thirteenth day of August, 1919, there were 

 nearly five hundred lepers in the asylum, although the 

 accommodations were for about four hundred, the extra 

 hundred squeezed in on verandahs, under trees, some 

 sleeping on the floor of the church. In the place of the 

 ten acres of land there were nearly one hundred and 

 twenty in a high state of cultivation. There were dairy 

 cattle, silos, and beautiful gardens and orchards. A lit- 

 tle over a mile away was one home with nearly forty 

 girls, children of lepers, but untainted, and another home 

 for boys with a like number. These children are being 



