CHAPTER XLV.
MRS. LUCY ANN HENRY COLE.
This devout young lady is the daughter of Mary Elizabeth and Philip Henry, who resided at Rose Hill, three miles north of Richmond, Va., where the subject of these lines was born on the 31st day of March, 1865. Her father was drowned when she was nine years old, leaving the entire responsibility of a large family upon her mother. Like most Afro-Americans, in those days, scarcity of means for support was an every-day reminder at this widow's house. However, there was one bright character in that gloomy home—Lucy Ann was always cheerful and ever with a book in hand seeking to know the contents thereof.
She exhibited such an aptness to learn and teach that she received the name of "teacher" among the children with whom she used to play. When she entered the Richmond public schools at ten years of age (the family having moved into the city) the little "teacher" had learned to read and write. The mother being compelled to work for "daily bread," and "Annie," being the next dependence for a nurse, could not enter school as early ps most children do, and now entering at ten years, she could not expect to remain very long. Sure enough, when she had been to school only six short years, mother's health failed and the faithful child bade her school adieu to become the only sick-nurse to an afflicted mother.
However, by faithful study, she had finished the grammar grade. Although the mother's health was, after a long illness, partially restored, yet Lucy Ann could not return to school; being the oldest of several children, she was bound, by a sense of duty, to remain at home and lighten the burdens that fell heavily upon a disabled parent. She was never idle, though sometimes in poor health herself On becoming a Christian she united with the Ebenezer Baptist Church, of Richmond, and ever afterwards lived a devoted, faithful, Christian life.
There is one memorable fact that we here note: From the very hour she was converted she declared that Africa was the field of labor to which her attention, in some mysterious way, had been turned. At various times she would ask her mother if she (mother) thought Africa would ever be reached by this anxious seeker for truth. Her mother, scarcely believing that she (daughter) ever could get to that far-away land, would carelessly reply, "The Lord, will open the way." However dark and discouraging the way then seemed to Lucy Ann, she still cherished a fond hope in her breast that the Lord would open the way. In all this she had not failed in her devotion to her domestic duties, while, at the same time she taught a subscription school as a means of help in supporting herself. This school lasted two years, during which time she was also assistant missionary to Miss Helen K. Jackson. Possibly we are now reaching the point in this history when God, in "His own way," is ready to satisfy the desires and answer the prayers of this saint-like child of His. A tea-table is spread at the house of one of her brethren in Christ; she is invited, as were several other respectable citizens, among whom was Rev. J. J. Cole, a missionary to that land—
"Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand."
That land so far away, where—
"The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone."
Here she met, for the first time, him whose wife she was evidently sure to become. This was not a fixed plan of any naan or woman. Certainly none of the parties on either side dreamed of any such results as did come. However, Miss Lucy Ann Henry and Rev. J. J. Cole met for the first time; they beheld each other; they liked each other, and finally they loved each other. Rev. Cole in a few days (or possibly the next day) found his way to the Henry residence, and again and again he made his way there. Her mother saw that God was about to "open the way." She became anxious about things, and one day when she thought that Rev. Cole was coining to get her consent to the marriage of Lucy Ann she left home, saying, "I will never consent."
During this opposition of the mother this brave and Christian girl said to a friend, "I will not marry until I get my mother's word, however anxious I am to go to that great land to labor." In the meantime God came to the mother and changed her about so that she freely consented, and all was well.
Lucy Ann felt the need of some further training for the great work now before her, so she entered the Hartshorn Memorial College at Richmond, Va., where she spent a short while and then turned her face towards the "Dark Land," and gave herself in marriage to Rev. J. J. Cole, on the 21st day of December, 1886, at the Ebenezer Baptist Church, Revs. Richard Wells and J. A. Taylor officiating.
Who can solve this mystery? Who can fail to see the hand of God in this marriage of the happy couple that sailed on the 3d day of January, 1887, for Africa, where they have successfully labored for so many years? Truly the Lord is great. His word is everlasting. Surely—
"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
"Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will."
Dear Mother, Home and Friends:—I feel that I must grasp the first opportunity to write you concerning our voyage across the sea and our safe arrival in Africa. After thirty-five days at sea, of which I shall write later, we arrived at Grand Cape Mt., W. C. Africa, February 7, 1887. The bark "Cardena," in which we sailed, cast anchor February 7th, about three miles off land. We were then carried in a boat, which was rowed by four men, to Cape Mt. Landing. The boat came within forty or fifty feet of land.
One by one we were carried ashore in the strong arms of the naked heathen. Rev. H. McKinney was first to greet us, after which the natives came one by one to bid us welcome. * * * After spending some time at the Episcopal mission, they left for their own special field some way off across the lake (Bendoo Mission).
Looking downwards we could see the bottom of the lake all covered with rocks. Mr. and Mrs. Topp began to sing "Let us build on a rock," and as we were nearing our last landing we all bravely sang "Hold the fort, for I am coming." Nearer and nearer we came to the shore, the last verse rang out loud and strong:
"Fierce and long the battle rages,
But our help is near;
Onward comes our Great Commander,
Cheer, my comrades, cheer."
And as the chorus died away and was lost upon the breezes we stepped upon the field "whereunto we are called."
As the day wore on evening came, and with it came family worship. In the little sitting-room we met in company with about fourteen natives, most of whom were naked; some had on their cloth. They sat on chairs, sofas, and the floor. As the organ poured forth the beautiful melody, "There is a fountain filled with blood," we sang it as we never sang before. * * * Some day you may see me when you looketh not for me. * * * Come over and help us dispel the darkness.Yours in Africa,Lucy A. Cole.
Mrs. Cole is a Christian lady of great integrity; she is indeed a help-mate to her husband. She is a hard worker, and is going from morning until late at night. A look at the mission house would convince any one that a woman's gentle hand played a daily part in the arrangement of everything around. The floors are kept perfectly clean. The bedding is thoroughly aired every day.
Little tidies and what-nots are so skillfully arranged that one almost forgets that he is in a heathen land. Indeed, everything is inviting, and when her husband returns after a walk or boat-ride through the hot tropical sun from his labors among the heathen he finds his wife waiting and everything in readiness to make him happy and to give the rest so necessary in that climate. Often, too, she accompanies him and leads the singing before and after preaching. Mrs. Cole has her school of sixteen children to teach. They love her as if they were her own children. None of them want to leave her, and when the parents of the children come for them to take them home they cry and beg to stay with "daddy and mamee," as they call Rev. Cole and Mrs. Cole. When these children are brought to the mission they come without any clothes. Not even a rag or string around the waist. Of course it would be out of the question for them to be naked. What is to be done? There is no appropriation for this school, and the little money sent by the few friends cannot go far. The question is answered in the reality of the case, that these children are all neatly dressed and well fed. How is it done? The parents of the children do not give a single penny's worth to dress them, nor as much as a grain of rice to feed them. Indeed, it is a general thing that these children must be ransomed from slavery or a price paid to the parents to get them in school. How is it done? It is done by self-denial and industry by Rev. and Mrs. Cole. All the clothing is made by Mrs. Cole with the needle and thread. She has no sewing machine.
It is wonderful how fast she can make the needle fly, even when her mind is not on her sewing. Would you look on the picture? Look! far over the lake you see yonder cloud as black as midnight; it is the sign of a hurricane. When it comes it will be furious. The waters of the lake dash like a heavy sea. A little boat five miles away is battling with the waves; you do not know who are in the boat, but if your eye was as well practiced as another's eye who is watching, you would see that they are Rev. Cole and three or four native Africans. They are pulling at the oars with all their might, lest the storm overtake them. But here at your side on the mission piazza stands Mrs. Cole. Look in her face and you will see deep care and anxiety seated there. Look in her hands. She holds a little dress half finished for one of her school-girls. The needle and fingers have never stopped. How fast they fly! Stitch after stitch until the thread is used up, and then, for a moment the eyes are moved from the boat to re-thread the needle or to change to another seam, and the work goes on. Now the boat is at the landing; all jump out and pull the boat to the shore. Mrs. Cole heaves a gentle sigh as if a silent prayer is answered, and continues her work.—African Missions, March, 1892.