the population, if not exterminate certain sections altogether. . . .
The afternoons were devoted to surgery. Often the numbers of needy cases made it necessary for the doctor to continue into the hours of the night. As the news of the doctor's arrival radiated into the villages and hamlets, well-nigh hopeless cases were carried into the hospital. The Bedouins, not knowing that even to modern medicine and surgery there is a limit, brought victims of tuberculosis in its last stages. Forms of skin and bone, carried on stretchers, appeared every day; victims of venereal diseases, so repulsive that their faces were not to be shown to the public. One look at such a specimen is enough to leave one cold and chill for days and days. "An extreme case," the doctor says. "No, not extreme," says the Arab. "There are many like that in Hayil." But the amir [king] did not know this until the doctor came.[1]
It is a grim story but a true one, and illustrates how, generally speaking, throughout the Moslem lands there is need and opportunity for medical mission work. It is probably true that the devoted Christian doctors have opened more Moslem hearts to the truth of Christ's love than has any other type of missionary. If it were only possible to multiply a hundredfold the mission hospitals of Sheikh Othman, Basrah, Bahrein and Kuweit in Arabia, Quetta and Bannu on the Northwest Frontier of India, Tanta and Old Cairo in Egypt, Teheran and Meshed in Iran and Beirut in Syria, who could tell the mighty results for good that would follow throughout the Moslem world, not
- ↑ "Guests of King Ibn Saoud," by G. D. Van Peursem, in The Moslem World, April, 1936, pp. 116-17.
