PAM. 
 N. AMER. 
 
 A Helpmeet 
 For Him 
 
 "By Eleanor j\. Hunter 
 
 LITERAUTRE DEPARTMENT 
 of the Woman's Board of Home 
 Missions of the Presbyterian Church, 
 156 Fifth Avenue, New York 
 
Helpmeet for Him." 
 
 BY ELEANOR A. HUNTER. 
 
 WHEN Kitty Hastings married the Rev. 
 John Carter, people said she had made a 
 mistake. It was well known that J ohn 
 was not her only chance. She had had more 
 than one wealthy wooer, but with the perver- 
 sity of her sex she had chosen John Carter, 
 and John had no more money than she had. 
 
 Kitty was a pretty girl, small and slight, 
 with graceful, gentle ways. She had a pair of 
 honest, clear gray eyes, and anybody who got 
 one good look from them trusted her at once. 
 Everybody liked Kitty Hastings, and a good 
 many people loved her. 
 
 As for John, he was tall and slender; a schol- 
 arly looking fellow, and indeed he had taken 
 honors in his college course. There was noth- 
 ing otherwise noticeable in his appearance, 
 but there was a world of quiet determination 
 written in the liijes of his face, and he was, 
 as Kitty often proudly said to herself, "as 
 good as gold." 
 
 And John had decided to become a Home 
 Missionary. "What a mistake!" people said 
 again. "He should take a professor's chair in 
 some college, where he could indulge his 
 
scholarly tastes." But John felt that he liad 
 a ' ' call " and Kitty stood by him ; so he applied 
 to the Home Board, was accepted and ap- 
 pointed to— of all places in the world — Bitter 
 Creek. 
 
 Bitter Creek was a typical western town. 
 The new railway running through it made it 
 the natural outlet for a series of mining 
 camps, and the stream from which it took its 
 name ran through a wide and fertile valley, 
 sure to be occupied by settlers. The first 
 house built in Bitter Creek was a slab shanty 
 for a railway station ; the second was a liquor 
 saloon, and the third was the "Occidental 
 Hotel," and in four weeks from the time these 
 buildings were erected, Bitter Creek had 
 seven hundred inhabitants and more were 
 pouring in daily. 
 
 When John and Kitty arrived at Bitter 
 Creek they went to board at the Occidental 
 Hotel, but the prices of that establishment 
 were far beyond John's slender purse, and he 
 made haste to build a little cabin like the 
 others. It was, perhaps, one of the poorest 
 shelters ever called by the beautiful name of 
 home, but John and Kitty were very glad and 
 thankful to be in it, and just as soon as John 
 had Kitty fairly settled, he set about his 
 Master's business in good earnest. 
 
 But how could a man like John, a little shy, 
 a little stiff, a little-formal in manner, trained 
 in all the wisdom of the schools, but with no 
 great knowledge of human nature, get into 
 touch with such a community as this ? 
 
 3 
 
There was no room in the town where he 
 could hold service, so one Sunday he invited 
 them to meet him in the open air. He stood 
 upon a dry goods box, surrounded by a crowd 
 of rough faces, and Kitty standing close 
 beside him sang like a thrush — 
 
 " I am so glad that our Father in heaven 
 Tells of His love in the book he has given. 
 Wonderful things in the Bible I see ; 
 This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me." 
 
 They listened in silence while she sang, and 
 were quiet during the opening prayer, but 
 when John began to preach interest flagged, 
 and he found it hard to hold his audience. 
 
 Still, they did not despair. John succeeded 
 after a Jittle in erecting a building where he 
 could hold services, though few came to the 
 meetings. But John put in a word wherever 
 he could, and Kitty made friends wherever she 
 could. There were a few children in the 
 place, and they gathered them into Sunday- 
 school. People soon found out that Parson 
 Carter and his wife were friends worth having 
 in sickness. Kitty would go with nourishing 
 and delicate food, ready to nurse or to do any- 
 thing to relieve the sufferer ; and John was 
 always by her side, strong and helpful. 
 
 So they lived until after baby Jack was 
 born; and there never was such a baby, so 
 merry, so hearty, so loving, and afraid of 
 nothing in all the world. He was a little 
 evangelist in his own right. Bitter Creek 
 could not resist him. The rough miners com- 
 ing down from camp used to pause at the win- 
 dow to see him while Kitty was putting him 
 
 4 
 
to bed, and she used to call them in, and put 
 him, all rosy and warm in his little flannel 
 nightgown, right into their arms. After the 
 frolic she would treat the company to cups of 
 hot coffee, and taking the baby would just sit 
 down and sing, while they listened, 
 
 "Hugh, my dear, lie still and slumber; 
 Holy angels guard thy bed," 
 
 until the boy was fast asleep. 
 
 One evening a messenger came for John, 
 saying that a very sick man had need of him. 
 On inquiry it was found that the sick man 
 was at a little settlement ten miles distant. 
 John had never left Kitty alone at night 
 before, and he hesitated. 
 
 "You must go, John," decided Kitty. "You 
 must not miss this chance to do the Lord's 
 bidding." 
 
 So, after a little consideration, John went 
 for Mrs. Mulligan, a decent and kindly Irish 
 neighbor, to come and stay with Kitty, and 
 then started upon his lonely ride. 
 
 That was a dreadful night at Bitter Creek. 
 A company of miners were in town; there 
 was a great deal of drinking and excitement 
 and finally a quarrel, a pistol shot, and a poor 
 drunken wretch fell dead, pierced through 
 the heart by a bullet. The saloon keeper 
 instantly put out his lights, fearing the fray 
 would continue. There were a few moments 
 of wild confusion, but presently the dead 
 man's friends bore him out into the air. They 
 soon saw that the shot had proved fatal. 
 Some started to apprehend the murderer, but 
 
 5 
 
others remained by the poor dead body. They 
 tried to return with it to the saloon, but the 
 keeper of that establishment prudently re- 
 fused to open his doors again. So they placed 
 the i-emains upon a shutter and bore them to 
 the Occidental ; but the landlord there refused 
 them a resting place. It was a cold night 
 and something must be done, but no one 
 knew where to go next for an asylum. At 
 last one of the men spoke : 
 
 "Boys, "said he, "let's go to Parson Carter's; 
 he'll take poor Harry in, I know." 
 
 And so, about two o'clock in the morning, 
 Kitty was aroused by a knock at the door. 
 She hastily dressed and opened it. 
 
 "Where's the Parson?" inquired a rough 
 voice. 
 
 "He is at Brownsville, with a sick man," 
 explained Kitty. "What do you wish with 
 him?" 
 
 "Nothing," stammered the man, embar- 
 rassed by the unexpected reply. "It's no 
 matter, don't you be frightened; we just 
 wanted the Parson for something, that's all." 
 
 But Kitty had been looking at that black, 
 motionless heap which they had brought with 
 them, and which they had laid upon the path 
 as they parleyed. 
 
 ."Is any one hurt ? " she asked. ^ 
 
 "No, ma'am," said the man. "Leastways 
 he ain't hurt now." 
 
 "Is he dead? Why do you bring him 
 here ? " asked Kitty— she had not lived a year 
 in Bitter Creek for nothing. 
 
 6 
 
"Because," answered the man in despair, 
 " we ain't got nowhere else to put him." 
 
 He tried not to swear before Kitty, as he 
 told how he had been refused shelter for his 
 poor dead friend, and how, as a last resort, 
 they had brought him to the Parson's. 
 
 Kitty made her decision instantly. "You 
 have done quite right," said she. "It is 
 just what my husband would wish; bring 
 him in." 
 
 "Are you sure you won't be afraid, ma'am? " 
 asked the man. 
 
 " I am not afraid," answered Kitty. "Bring 
 him in, lay him in the sitting-room, and I 
 will take care of him until morning." 
 
 They obeyed her, and laid their burden on 
 the floor of the little room. 
 
 Kitty went into the bedroom and returned 
 with a pillow for the poor head which would 
 never need one more. She knelt by the dead 
 man, and, folding back tbe old coat which 
 covered him, she lifted his head and slipped 
 the pillow gently under it. When she saw 
 his face she knew it, and she could not repress 
 one pitiful little cry, and then, with hands 
 that never trembled, she closed the staring 
 eyelids, and going to the bedroom once more 
 she returned with a handkerchief of John's, 
 which she laid gently over the quiet face; 
 while the rough men stood awkwardly by, 
 speechless, and watching her as if fascinated. 
 
 "There," said she, turning to them, "you 
 can go now ; I will take care of him — poor 
 f ellow !— until my husband comes." 
 
 7 
 
One or two of them tried to thank her with 
 rough, husky voices, and one, the dead man's 
 special comrade, asked if he should not stay 
 with her until her husband came. But Kitty 
 gently refused this offer, for indeed she was 
 more afraid of the living than the dead. She 
 afterward discovered, however, that this same 
 man sat quietly upon the doorstep until he 
 saw John riding down the road in the early 
 morning. 
 
 Kitty and her humble friend kept the vigil 
 together. Mrs. Mulligan upon her knees 
 murmured prayers for the dead man's soul, 
 and Kitty, kneeling beside her, prayed also; 
 but she prayed for the living; and so John 
 found the two w^omen when he reached home. 
 
 That afternoon at sunset the murdered man 
 was buried in the little graveyard, which lay 
 upon the bleak hillside just outside the town. 
 J ohn conducted the services. He spoke gently 
 of the poor man whom they were laying away ; 
 but he did not neglect to speak a few sotemn 
 words, which came right from his heart, to 
 the little company who listened. He told 
 them what their responsibility was for that 
 sad tragedy, and reminded them that such an 
 end might easily be theirs if their lives re- 
 mained unchanged. 
 
 That week a deputation came to call upon 
 John and Kitty. The spokesman was the 
 dead man's special friend. 
 
 "Parson," said he, "we know you'd like to 
 preach to us. We know it's your business, and 
 we hain't behaved very polite to you about it, 
 
 8 
 
but now we're ready to listen. We know 
 you're the right sort, an' as for your wife " — 
 the speaker hesitated, and his voice shook — 
 "she's the kind of a woman who makes a 
 man believe in the angels, whether or no. 
 There must be a God, or there couldn't be 
 wimmin like her. And what we want to say 
 is, if you have a big audience on Sunday don't 
 you be skeered. They'll behave perfectly re- 
 spectful, an' you can say what you please to 
 em;" and he added slyly, "if Mrs. Carter 
 would sing us a song the boys would be 
 mighty pleased." 
 
 On Sunday the rude little church was filled 
 to overflowing, but it was a quiet and respect- 
 ful audience. And Kitty did sing; and John 
 preached as he never had preached before, for 
 he was filled with the power of the Holy 
 Spirit; and many souls were born again as 
 the result of that. blessed day's labor. 
 
 These incidents happened a number of years 
 ago. As was expected, the fertile valley filled 
 with settlers, and John broke the Bread of 
 Life to them, while Kitty went out and in 
 among them, winning all hearts. 
 
 "She is the one," said John, "who opens 
 the way for me." 
 
 Many of the settlers were poor foreigners, 
 ignorant of many things. It was Kitty who 
 taught their wives to make wholesome bread, 
 how to out their children's garments and how 
 to sew them neatly. She was full of a sweet 
 wisdom as to the care and training of chil- 
 dren and the nursing of the sick. And every- 
 
 9 
 
one who was in trouble turned to her for help 
 and sympathy as naturally as a child goes to 
 its mother. And what she was, and is, to her 
 husband, with her indomitable courage and 
 cheer, her sanctified common sense, her lovely 
 intuitions, and her utter unselfishness, only he 
 knows. 
 
 By and by there were schoolhouses built in 
 that valley, and John and Kitty had the help 
 of intelligent men and women in their work. 
 At last a beautiful church was built and paid 
 for, and John had the happiness of preaching 
 the first sermon ever heard within its walls. 
 
 Then the Home Board said to John: "An- 
 other man can carry on this work, while you 
 are peculiarly calculated for the frontier. 
 Will you not go again to the front and open 
 another new field ? " 
 
 And John, like the true soldier of the Cross 
 that he is, answered, " I will go; " and to-day 
 he stands again in the front rank with his 
 face to the foe, and Kitty stands by his side. 
 
 Among friends of Home Missions John's 
 worth, I am glad to say, is recognized, and the 
 magnificent work which he is doing is spoken 
 of appreciatively. But Kitty's labors are not 
 noticed. Her name is not " mentioned in the 
 dispatches," and yet the fight is hardest upon 
 her, and she shows a courage which even 
 transcends John's. In fact John could never 
 do the work he does without her. 
 
 She has four little mouths to feed now, and 
 four dear little bodies to clothe, and yet John's 
 salary is no larger than it was when he was 
 
 10 
 
married, because the great Presbyterian 
 Church does not pay all "its tithes into the 
 storehouse." Kitty has to work far too hard. 
 She scrubs, she cleans, she cooks, she sews; 
 she stops at nothing by which she can make 
 her family comfortable ; and she helps John in 
 his parish work besides. 
 
 Kitty has grown too early old, and she is 
 very tired. She does not falter. No; but 
 unless help comes soon she will slip from 
 John's side like a wreath of snow in the spring 
 sunshine, and to her husband and children, 
 and to the Church of Christ, she will be an 
 irreparable loss. 
 
 Kitty is not the only woman whose precious 
 life is being poured out like water upon the 
 Home Mission fields of the Church, and in 
 these days, when the cause of Christ needs 
 e^ery helper, is it right for us who stay at home 
 to allow our sisters who are bearing the burden 
 and the heat of the day, in the tremendous 
 conflict which is now going on between the 
 evil and the good, to make so costly and so 
 needless a sacrifice? 
 
 Price, 3 cents each. $1.50 per liundretl. 
 
HE HOME MISSION MONTHLY 
 
 is an illustrated magazine published by the 
 Woman's Board of Home Missions, and is indis- 
 pensable to an intelligent comprehension of 
 Woman's work for the evangelization of the Home 
 land. Each number contains fresh letters from the 
 front, abundant material on the topic of the month, 
 and a department of Hints and Helps which will be 
 found very suggestive in conducting a society. It 
 also contains a department for young people. The 
 Subscription Price is Fifty Cents Per Year. 
 Address subscriptions to Miss 8. F. LINCOLN, 
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