him,
and when I visited him in his home in Shlozan, in the Kurram Valley,
I found that he was in the habit of reading the book to some of his
neighbours who came together to listen; and although up to that time
he had never met a missionary, he had made much progress in Christian
experience and knowledge of the Bible.

I had a pupil in the mission school who enlisted in one of the frontier
regiments. He was the son of a Mullah of the Khattak tribe. After he
had been in the regiment about a year he wrote me a letter saying
that he desired Christian baptism, and was looking forward to the
day when he would be standing by my side preaching the Gospel to
his fellow-countrymen. This was through the influence of a Christian
officer in his regiment. Not that the officer tried to convert his
men--far from it--but the beautiful transparency of his character
and the sincerity of his religion drew his men irresistibly to him,
and several desired to become Christians. A Pathan becomes very much
attached to an officer whom he admires, and will bear any hardship
or danger for him, and therefore it is not surprising that some have
become desirous of adopting his religion. For a long time there was
a sect on the frontier called the Nikal Sains, who formed a kind
of schismatic Christian sect owing to their devotion to Nicholson,
of Delhi fame, which amounted in their case almost to a worship of him.

On one occasion a Pathan soldier in a frontier regiment came to me,
urgently begging me "to make him a Christian." He was so ignorant
of what Christianity meant that I could only offer to give him
instruction, but he was so much on outpost duty that this was
very difficult. He knew that in order to become a Mussulman it was
sufficient to repeat the Kalimah in a mosque, and he thought that there
must be some corresponding Christian formula, and that by repeating
it in our church he might become a Christian. He thought, further,
to prove his sincerity to me by saying he was ready to wear a topi
(hat) instead of a turban. His desire apparently rose merely from an
admiration of his Christian regimental officers.

In the Tochi Militia there was a Wazir Subadar, a fine fellow, who
had seen much active service, and would soon be retiring. One day he
was murdered, possibly by a Sepoy whom he had been obliged to punish.

Shortly afterwards his son came to me, earnestly begging me to admit
him to the Christian Church. Apparently it was to escape