“It was a blessing the Natives were so kind, and oh, how we experienced that ‘God stayeth His rough wind in the day of His east wind’; for except the trouble with Mungaw, we had no other serious ones to contend with, and He gave us to realize as I at least never did in the same way how entirely the work was His. It looked so mysterious, that after we had come down at such a sacrifice to health and family ties to devote our whole time to the work, it should be so retarded by one individual; for often, at his worst, only eight or ten had the courage to come to School, and we could as well have taught fifty. But we could leave it trustingly to the Lord, feeling that all we had to do was the work He laid to our hands from day to day. What a restful feeling it gives one to be ‘only an instrument in His hand.’...
“Litsi was the one most in danger, her house standing a little below ours, and I having been roused at three o’clock to attend her only the morning before, John was very averse to my going, in the circumstances; and I fain would have contented myself with sending her comforts, but I could not think to leave her with her mad husband, who had still sternly refused to let any one go near her; so I hurriedly dressed, roused the cook to boil the kettle, and took one of my girls with a lamp. We found to my intense relief the baby already born, and Mungaw so delighted at having another _son_ that he was inclined to be tolerably kind. I took advantage of his mood—as it was through him I could reach Litsi—praised him for being such a clever doctor, and advised him to get her into the house out of the raw cold air, and offered him the services of my girl to light a fire, which he graciously condescended to accept! When I went back with some tea and things for the baby, they looked much more comfortable, Litsi sitting in the house by a bright fire, with the lamp beside her. Urging her to lie down, I returned home and looked into the girls’ house to see how it was faring with my other invalid,—for dear Yawaci had been carried to us at her own request in a dying state.”...
“All that day was spent running betwixt the invalids. Dangerous symptoms ensued with Litsi. Mungaw got fearfully excited at a lot of women coming to see her, and stood over her with his loaded musket (he had stolen another, as the pious fit did not last long), appealing to me whether his word as Chief should be obeyed or not. I seconded his efforts, as they were doing no good, and got them cleared to a little distance—at hand if they were needed, and by deferential behaviour got him to let me come and go with food, etc. He attributed her illness to an absurd crotchet of his own, and held to it that she would be better at sundown. Meanwhile, the time was being wasted, and we had so many anxious thoughts. Was it right that her life should be sacrificed to a madman’s freaks? Was it right to give in to him, or how far was it right to risk his wrath? We took it all to our ever-present Counsellor; and then John decided that if I found her no better he would go himself, whatever the consequences.
“On my way I met Mungaw coming in at the gate with the empty dishes, and he said quite humbly that he was wrong in his supposition, and would like exceedingly if the Missi tané (= man Missi) would go and see her, for he did not know what to do. John soon put matters all right, telling them there was no cause for alarm,—gave directions about one or two things that had been neglected, and ordered fomentations. She had no more relapses, and he really seemed grateful the next morning when he came for her breakfast, as I could not go to her very early on account of the tidal wave.