Part 3--SOWING BEFORE THE STORM.

*Opening a New Station*

*Part I. THE MISSIONARY'S HOME.*

Wee Nell's eyes had closed at last, and the tired mother rising from the

child's bedside crossed the cement floor to the adjoining room, where a

boy of six was busily engaged drawing on a blackboard to the evident

delight of his little sister.

"My boy," said his mother, "baby has just gone to sleep and must not be

disturbed. These constant crowds of women keep her from proper rest, so

run out with your little sister to the back compound and play."

As the children disappeared, the mother prepared to cut out some little

garments, but scarcely had she taken scissors in hand when suddenly she

laid them down again, and stood listening. In the distance could be

heard the noisy shouts of a band of cotton gleaners. "Would they come

in?" she asked herself. Then, as they could be heard sweeping through

the front gateway, she pushed her work to one side exclaiming aloud,

"Oh, dear, dear, how can I ever get the children's clothes made! If

only a rainy day would come I might get something made."

"Patience, patience," her husband's voice came through the study door.

"These crowds will not last indefinitely, so do your best to reach them

while you may." Before he had finished speaking his wife's voice could

be heard greeting the crowd in the courtyard.

"Please sit down here in the shade and rest, do sit down, see, here are

benches and mats," she urged as they crowded about her, a wild unruly

mob.

"We have come to see," cried a dozen voices at once.

"I know you have," she replied, trying to speak so as not to waken the

baby and yet be heard above the din of voices. "I really cannot let you

inside unless you first sit down and listen to what I have to say."

Then as they still hesitated she continued, "If you will sit down and

listen, I will promise to let you inside and show you everything." This

promise had the desired effect--down they sat on mats, some on

benches,--a few timid ones kept close to the gate so as to be ready to

flee at the first approach of danger! As the mother tried to tell them

why she had come--of a Saviour from sin--of a hope after death, some

listened intently and seemed to get a gleam of light, but for the most

part the crowd was restless and keen only to get inside the house about

which they had heard so many strange stories. At last baby Nell

wakened, and making the fact known by lusty cries, gave the women the

opportunity they desired.

As the mother ran to her little one the crowd of forty or fifty women

and children pressed in after her. With the baby in her arms the mother

faithfully kept her promise. Nothing escaped their curious eyes--beds

were turned back, drawers opened, sewing machine examined, and organ

played before they appeared satisfied. Whereupon they rushed off as

quickly as they had come, saying to one another, "The foreign devil

woman does not seem as bad as people say she is." Others said, "But who

knows, you can never judge by appearances!" Half an hour later the

husband returned from the man's preaching to find his wife in tears.

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, everything," his wife replied between her sobs. "I just can't bear

it. You don't know how they despise me and what terrible things they

are saying. Besides when I came back to my work I found they had

carried off my last pair of scissors and part of the material I was

making a dress of. That is not all. The cook has just been in to say

that several teaspoons are missing."

"Tut, tut," replied her husband, man-like. "That's nothing. Why they

are only _things_ anyway!"

A few days later came the missionary's turn to need sympathy. He came

in from the front looking pale and apparently quite worn out.

"I tell you what, wife," he said, "I cannot stand this strain much

longer without help! If I only had a good preacher to put in charge of

the preaching hall, I could get along; but with lime to weigh, bricks to

count, wood and timber to measure, and all the Mission accounts to keep,

besides the oversight of all these workmen, and the preaching to these

crowds of men that are coming daily, well--I just must get help."

He went into his study, but returned a moment later with an open Bible

in his hand. Pointing to these words, "My God shall supply all your

need," he said, "Wife, do we really believe this? If we do, then let us

join in asking God to meet this pressing need of ours for an

evangelist."

"But how is it possible," returned his wife. "We have not got even one

convert yet, and have promised the other stations not to ask help of

them as they are undermanned?"

"True, but God is able to fulfil His own promises."

As the husband prayed, the wife thought, "but, oh, how can help come.

_It is as if we were praying for rain from a clear sky._"

Two days later the answer did come,--not, indeed, as they expected, but

above all they could have thought. The story of this must be left for

our next sketch.

*Part II. AS RAIN FROM A CLEAR SKY.*

"Call upon me in the day of trouble and I will deliver thee, and thou

shalt glorify me."

A poor broken opium slave lay on a kang or brick bed with only a thin

straw mat between his emaciated form and the cold bricks. His livid

color, with the peculiar dark shade of the moderate opium user, his

sunken cheeks and labored breathing, all betokened the man had reached

the stage when only a miracle could save him. Beside him stood a

missionary, who was saying earnestly as he laid his hand kindly on the

man's shoulder:

"Wang Pu Lin, I tell you God _can_ save you."

"No, no, Pastor," the man replied sadly, "It's no use. I've tried and

failed too often. I believe all you preach, but what is the use of

believing when this opium binds me as with iron chains? Even Pastor

Hsi's Refuge failed to cure me. No no, don't waste your time on me.

I'm beyond hope." And the man turned again to his opium.

But the missionary was not the kind to be so easily rebuffed. The next

day found Wang Pu Lin and the missionary on the Mission court en route

for the station of Chu Wang.

For ten awful days Wang Pu Lin's body, mind and soul hung in the

balance. The missionaries united in doing all that was possible to

relieve the man's agonies. It was on the tenth night the crisis came.

Many times later Wang Pu Lin told how that night he went out when in

bitter agony into the darkness. To his distorted brain there appeared

to him a horrible being urging him to jump the wall and get relief once

more in opium. As he stood wavering a voice seemed to call to him,

"Wang Fu Lin, Wang Fu Lin, beware! Yield now and you are lost." As he

heard this voice he made one desperate effort, crying aloud, "Oh, God,

help me. I will die rather than yield." Staggering back to his brick

bed he threw himself upon it and slept till morning. He wakened, as the

future proved, a new and victorious man.

* * *

Three years passed. The missionary at the new station is facing the

crisis described in our last sketch. Help must come in the shape of an

evangelist, or he would break down. The spiritual wireless is set in

motion. The cry for aid is heard. And help is sent truly _as rain from

a clear sky_.

During the three years since his deliverance from the opium, Wang Fu Lin

and his family had had a bitter struggle for existence. As a Christian

he could no longer make a living by street story telling and the keeping

of low opium dives, and every effort to get honest employment had

failed. At last he determined to seek a position in the city of

Changte, to reach which he must needs pass by the Mission where the

missionary was then facing his crisis.

Wang Fu Lin called on the missionary as he was passing. But no one could

have looked less like an answer to their prayers. Still fearfully

emaciated, racked with a cough which ere long would end his life,

dressed in almost beggar rags, the poor fellow presented a pitiable

spectacle. But "the Lord seeth not as man seeth."

After consulting together the missionary and his wife determined to try

him for a few days--for he could at least testify to the power of God to

change and keep the lowest opium slave. Within an hour or two of his

entering the Mission gate, apparently a beggar, Wang Fu Lin was cleansed

and clothed in a Chinese outfit of the missionary's, and was seated in

the men's chapel preaching to a crowded audience.

From that very first day of his ministry, there was no doubt of his

being a messenger sent by God. He had in a wonderful degree the power

and unction of the Holy Spirit. He had natural gifts as a speaker, and

these had been developed during the many years of street story telling.

Now all was consecrated to the one object--the winning of souls to

Christ. He seemed to be conscious that his time was short, and always

spoke as "a dying man to dying men." From the very first men were won

to Christ; the first being a native doctor of some note, the second a

wealthy land owner.

For three years during those early days of stress and strain, he was

spared to help in laying the foundations of the Changte Church. Then

God took him. Though more than twenty years have passed since his

death, he is still remembered and spoken of as the Spirit-filled

preacher.

*Part III. SOWING BEFORE THE STORM.*

The five years between 1895 and 1900 were years fraught with much danger

and many difficulties to the missionaries at the new station at Changte.

The anti-foreign, anti-missionary attitude of the people was hard to

live down. It became quite a common thing for the missionary to be

called hastily to the front to quiet a threatening crowd.

On one occasion the Mission premises were practically surrounded by an

unruly mob and for many hours the missionaries were in imminent peril.

One thing helped greatly in living this danger period down safely. The

missionaries of whom I have already written had moved from the poor,

unhealthy Chinese house with the cement floor into a semi-foreign house,

the first of the kind to be built in that region. As this house was

being built they feared it might prove a barrier between themselves and

the Chinese, and perhaps hinder the progress of the work which had begun

to be very encouraging, so they prayed that God would make their new

home a blessing and a means of reaching the people still more, and like

so many of our prayers they came to see the answer lay largely with

themselves--so they determined to allow all who wished, to see through

their home. Many thousands took advantage of this permission. The high

water mark in numbers was reached when eighteen hundred and thirty-five

_men_ passed through the missionary's home in one day. Many hundreds of

women were received that same day by the wife and her colleague in the

work. On ordinary occasions the missionary had his wife play the organ

for the bands of men he led through, but on this particular occasion she

was too much engaged with the women to do so. The missionary therefore

was forced to be his own organist. Though he did not know one note from

another, he could at least pull out all the stops, lay his hands on as

many notes as possible, and pump the bellows vigorously. The result

called forth from admiring crowds the gratifying remark, "Why he plays

better than his wife!" The Gospel was faithfully proclaimed to all who

came. The missionaries soon began to see good fruit from this plan of

reaching the people.

During the second year at Changte hundreds of students had come to the

city for the tri-annual government examinations. Many of these visited

and showed plainly their anti-foreign attitude--sometimes causing quite

serious trouble.

Before the next examinations came round, three years later, the

missionary was well prepared for them. At first they came as before

full of self-satisfied convictions that they were quite superior

representatives of the most superior race. Curiosity alone led them to

the foreigner's home. But no sooner would they catch sight of the large

astronomical charts on the missionary's study wall than their attitude

invariably changed. The missionary knew well the importance of

reserving his ammunition till the right moment! The proudest of those

scholars in face of those charts became like children.

As the man of God led them (at their own request) step by step on into

the wonders of creation of which they knew nothing--often would come the

cry, "Teacher stop, have pity on us--you make us feel like the man in

the well who thought he saw the whole heavens!"

The change that came over hundreds of these students was truly

remarkable. Just one instance of the fruit of this work. The missionary

was touring far west of Changte and stayed with his party at a certain

inn. The inn-keeper when asked for his bill as the party was leaving

replied--"Honorable teacher, I could not accept anything from you. My

son was at the recent examinations at Changte and has told me of his

visit to your home and what you are doing for our people!"

One day early in 19-- three of the missionary's children were gathered

in front of a curious looking chart tacked on the wall of the study. It

was a rough map of the Changte field, and over parts of the chart were

red dots. The eldest child was counting those red spots and had reached

to forty-nine when his father entered.

"Oh, father," cried the boy, "just look, there are almost fifty red

places."

"Yes," said his father, "And do you know dear children that every red

mark means a place where one or more Christians are, and where the light

of the Gospel that can save men has entered?"

"Oh, won't it be lovely, father, when the whole map is red?" said a

sweet fair-haired little girl as she threw her arras about her father's

neck.

Oh kind Heavenly Father, who withheld from Thy children's human sight

what Thou knewest was so soon to come upon them!

A few short weeks after the above scene the spirit of the little

fair-haired child had returned to the God who gave it, the missionaries

even fleeing before their would-be murderers--the Chinese Christians

scattered. Many throughout China, both missionaries and Chinese

Christians were witnessing a good confession even to cruel death for

Christ's sake.

So the blood of the martyrs became in China, as in the early times, the

seed of the Christian Church in China.

*SKETCH V*

*Testing God*

_A True Incident._

*Testing God*

*A TRUE INCIDENT.*

"_Faith steps out on the seeming void and finds the Rock beneath._"

Few in the home-land have any just conception of what it means for a

missionary's wife with little children to engage in aggressive

evangelistic effort for the reaching of her heathen sisters. The

following sketch which is true in every detail may serve to illustrate

what a missionary mother must face when engaging in such work.

* * *

"I simply cannot, dare not, go," the wife was saying as her husband

stood before her with a Chinese letter in his hand. "The letter states

plainly that an epidemic of smallpox has broken out in the very place we

planned to go to. If it were not for baby I would gladly go; but

supposing he should later take the smallpox and die?" and her voice

ended with a sudden break. "But," replied her husband, "I am perfectly

sure that if we definitely trust Him for the child God will not let him

come to harm. The Christians are all expecting us, and would it be

right to show the white feather at the first appearance of danger? How

can we tell the Chinese to trust God if we do not?"

For an hour or more the mother went through a bitter struggle between

her fears for her child and an impelling sense of duty towards her

heathen sisters. At last she determined to go, but with fear and

trembling lest the child should get the smallpox.

The following evening after bumping (the only word to express the

movement) for eight hours in a springless cart over hills and stony

roads, the missionaries reached the village of Hopei. Some distance

outside the village a few Christians were awaiting their arrival and

escorted them through the darkness to the Inn--each one anxious to help

in getting their guests settled. One carried the roll of bedding--two

others the food box, still another sought to get possession of the baby,

but the mother feared to part with him. Everything was piled in a

promiscuous heap on the large brick platform which took up about half of

the room which they were told was to be their living-room and women's

preaching place as well. The room was certainly not inviting; the roof

was broken in (ceiling there was none), the walls were black with the

soot and dirt of generations, and hard uneven lumpy earth did for

floors. Furniture, there was none--not even a table or chair.

The mother's first question was "where can I keep the baby?" For answer

she was led to an opening in the wall beyond which was a mud hole just

large enough to spread their bedding, but at the further end were

several great rat holes! A sudden desperate fear for her child took

possession of the mother, but pride kept her from letting her husband

know her fears.

Early the following morning the women and children from the surrounding

country began crowding in. By nine o'clock the room was packed to

suffocation with a great crowd outside trying to get in. All were

clamoring to see and feel the foreign woman and her child. These women

knew absolutely nothing of the Gospel, and as the missionary mother

looked into their rough, ignorant, sensual faces and thought how she had

even risked the life of her precious child to come to them, a great

yearning came into her heart to be used of God to bring light to their

dark minds. For many hours a day she and her faithful Bible woman

preached to the ever changing crowd. Sometimes they were both in

despair at the crush and confusion. Constantly could be seen children

marked with smallpox carried in their mother's arms. At times the

atmosphere was so over-powering the mother could only cry to God to keep

her from fainting.

Though early in May the weather was very warm, and the husband

continually had the easier time for he had both light and air preaching

as he did in the open court.

All through the week the baby had stood the confinement and conditions

wonderfully. When not asleep he would delight and win the women by his

happy ways. But Saturday morning found him ill and feverish, lying

listless in his mother's arms. The mother was for at once rushing home

with him, but her husband gently rebuked her lack of faith, and reminded

her of their promise to hold a communion service at a distant village on

the morrow.

Before day-break the next morning, Sunday, all the missionary's party

was astir, and as the dawn was breaking they filed out of the yard

through the quiet deserted streets into the country, following a winding

mountain path. When at last the summit of quite a high hill was

reached, the missionary sent the rest of the party on ahead, while he

and his wife sat down with their sleeping child. For a long time

neither could break the silence, their hearts were too full. Never will

either forget the peace and beauty of that hour. It was all intensified

by the contrast with what they had left behind. The mother could only

think with horror of the darkness and dirt, sin and suffering, turmoil

and unspeakable degradation in which they had lived for those six days.

But now it seemed as if they were in heaven itself. Oh, the beauty of

that scene! To the east the sun was just appearing in all its height of

glory. To the north, south, and west, rose mountains and hills still in

shadow, except for the tipping of the coming sun whose herald of glory

lit up the eastern sky and plain which stretched out before them as far

as the eye could reach.

It seemed there on that hill-top alone with God so easy to trust for the

little one who was still feverish and ill. But all too soon, as it

seemed, they had to leave that quiet spot and go down into the

valley--to the noise and confusion of the village where their Sabbath

ministry lay. The following morning early they once more turned their

faces homeward, and as the mother saw the bright, happy smile on her

child's face, the fever gone, she pressed him to her with joy and

thankfulness, and there arose in her heart a cry for forgiveness that

she had been so faithless and unbelieving.

This cruel self, oh how it strives

And works within my breast,

How many subtle forms it takes

* * * *

As if it were not _safe_ to rest

And venture _all_ on Thee."

As years passed the mother's faith did grow, but it was on _God's

faithfulness_ until she learnt it _was safe_ to venture _all_ on Him.

Dear fellow-mother in the homeland, as you realize from these lines

something of what it costs a mother in China to step out from her home

to save her Chinese sisters, ask yourself "Could _I_ do it?" Oh, my

sisters, criticize less and pray more for the missionary mothers of

China.

*SKETCH VI*

*A Christian General*

_Hope for China's Soldiers._

*A Christian General*

*HOPE FOR CHINA'S SOLDIERS.*

(The following letter was written on board river steamer immediately at

the close of the visit to General Feng's camp.)

On Board Yangtze Steamer,

September 2, 1919.

Dear Home Friends:

About the beginning of July, a very urgent message reached Doctor

Goforth from General Feng of Chang-teh, Hunan, asking for a "mission"

among his troops. The only possible time he had to give was the last

week of August, and the meetings were arranged for this time. Later the

General telegraphed for me to come for meetings among the 70 or 80

officers' wives.

When the time drew near that we should have to leave Chi Kung Shan for

Chang-teh, word came that cholera was raging at places along the

railway. Then the heat became so intense I was tempted to listen to

some who urged me not to go. But as I hesitated, I was led to

Ecclesiastes 11:4--"He that observeth the wind shall not sow, and he

that regardeth the clouds shall not reap." How could I refuse to go, in

face of such a text? If I had not gone, what I would have missed!

The journey of one day by train and three by steamer was extremely hot.

It was as if we were in a Turkish bath day and night. We slept at night

on the deck of the steamer. On Sunday afternoon, Aug. 24th, we reached

the house of Mr. Caswell of the Holiness Mission. It was amusing to

read the General's letter written in English by his Chinese English

Teacher, in which he said to Mr. Caswell, "I beg you to prepare the

treatment for their coming."

General Feng called within an hour of our arrival. He is over six feet

tall, and every inch a General, yet without a trace of the bombast so

often seen in the higher-class Chinese. His manner is a curious and

striking mixture of humility, dignity, and quiet power; he has a

handsome, good face. He at once impresses one as true and sincere, a

man to be trusted. He has been a Christian for six years.

THE STORY OF HIS CONVERSION.

The story of his conversion is most interesting, but it is too long to

give in detail. In brief, it is as follows:--When a young fellow of

sixteen, he joined the army. Shortly after, the Boxer Uprising broke

out. He was among those sent to put down the Boxers at Pao-ting-fu, but

his commanding officer was really in league with them. One day he stood

in a mission courtyard when the Boxers came in. A single lady

missionary came out to meet them, and pleaded for her own life and the

lives of the others with her, and with great power recounted what she

and others had been doing for their people. What she said touched the

young soldier. She and the others were spared then, but he heard that

they were all beheaded later.

Soon after, he was taken ill and treated at the mission hospital in

Peking. On leaving, he wanted to give money; but the doctor said. "If

you are truly grateful for what we have done for you, then all I ask of

you is to remember that there is our God in heaven Who loves you."

Later, he was again obliged to go to hospital for treatment at a place

far distant from the first one. Here the doctor, on his leaving, said

almost exactly the same words--"Remember there is a God in heaven Who

loves you."

Some time after this, the future General was in Peking when Dr. Mott was

holding meetings. He heard Dr. Mott, was much impressed, signed one of

the cards, and joined a Bible Study Class. He was thus definitely

started on the right road; and, though other circumstances combined to

lead him to take an out-and-out stand, he dated the beginning of his

Christian life from Dr. Mott's visit.

THE GENERAL'S WORK.

Before coming here to Chang-teh, we had heard a great deal of what

marvels the General had accomplished in the year he has been here; but

what we have seen surpasses what we heard. General Feng has the welfare

of his soldiers, both body and soul, at heart. This is seen by the fact

that he has put down vice of all kinds. All bad resorts and their

inmates are removed far from the camp. No smoking, drinking, gambling,

or opium is allowed. The officers, including himself, dress in the

plainest gray cotton. Even the officers' wives are not allowed to wear

silks, but just plain cotton. No foot-binding is allowed.

The General has arranged all sorts of athletic sports for officers and

men. There is a fine reading room; the illiterate are taught to read.

There is a school for officers' wives taught by a Christian lady, the

wife of one of the officers and a graduate of the Peking Girls' School.

There is an industrial school for women; also an industrial school for

men who are nearing the age limit of the army, to teach them ways of

earning a livelihood.

Christian worship is taught and encouraged in every way. One morning Dr.

Goforth and I had occasion to pass through several courtyards of the

men's quarters just at breakfast time. As we passed along, we saw the

men in groups standing before the food singing their morning hymn of

thanksgiving. And we were told by the missionaries living near the camp

that every evening they can hear the soldiers singing their evening

hymn. Sometimes it is, "Oh, come to my heart Lord Jesus; there is room

in my heart for Thee"--or "Pass me not, O gentle Saviour." As the

soldiers march along the street, they sing Christian hymns, one of the

favorites for marching being "Onward, Christian Soldiers."

The General has a band, and also a choir; but I hardly know what to say

about the quality of the singing and music generally. I can only give

my impression of it as I heard them in the Assembly Hall at one of the

meetings. The band, organ and men all start at once on the third stroke

of the baton, no leading note being given. Every instrument in the band

seemed to my ears to be tuned to a different key, and every man seemed

to sing without the least regard for the key of his neighbor. All kept

the tune, as far as I could hear, and all played or sang as loudly as

they could bang, toot, or shout. The general effect was deafening, and

to me almost appalling, for there were about 1,000 men and some twenty

instruments engaged. When the General later called upon the choir of

twenty men to sing by themselves with just the baby organ accompaniment,

it was really delightful to listen to them. They sang very well indeed.

THE MISSION AND ITS RESULT.

And now as to the "Mission" we have just held. From the first, God has

been very manifestly working. Twice every day Dr. Goforth has had an

attentive and keenly interested audience of about 1,000 men, chiefly

officers. At three of these meetings the wives were permitted to be

present; but all the rest of the women's meetings were separate, when

God gave me much help in speaking to them. At our last meeting,

practically all the officers' wives present said they wished to follow

the Lord Jesus.

At one of the last meetings for the men, General Feng broke down as he

tried to pray. What seemed to affect him was the thought of his

country. As soon as he could recover from his sobs, he stood up and,

facing his officers, pleaded for his country--pleaded with them to join

him in putting aside all mean motives, and think and work and pray for

their country. One of his staff officers followed, praying earnestly,

then one after the other of the officers, with sobs and tears cried to

God on behalf of themselves and their country.

An old missionary who was present, and who described the scene to me,

said he did not think there had ever been such a scene before when a

general wept before his own officers, with all that followed. But the

discipline was not broken by it; for when the General rose to leave, the

audience rose as one man.

Dr. Goforth and General Feng went yesterday to a camp 23 miles away,

where there are about 4,000 troops. Five hundred of these have already

been baptized, and hundreds more are enquiring. A Christian Chinese

gentleman, who has won a fine name, is to come to act as the General's

chaplain and organize the work among the troops.

THE COMING MAN OF CHINA.

Many feel that General Feng is the coming man of China. His troops

belong rightly to the north, but were sent down here to fight the

Southern Army. General Feng, however, has made it clear to the Peking

Government that he is willing and eager to fight the enemies of his

country; but, unless forced to do so, he will not fight his own

countrymen of the south. When the war was on, he telegraphed more than

once to be sent to France; and when the situation looked very serious in

Shantung a few months ago, General Feng was spoken of as the man to cope

with the Japanese.

Surely it is a cause for most earnest praise to God that such a man is

being raised up. The very fact that such wonderful possibilities lie

before him, and that after all he is but human, should call forth

definite prayer for him. China needs--oh, so terribly!--just such men.

May God grant that General Feng be kept and used to save his country at

this time of crisis.

July 24th, 1919.--Almost a year has passed since the above letter was

written. Several thousands of General Feng's soldiers are now baptized

and the splendid work continues. But as I write, civil war, which has

been simmering for years, has now broken out in dead earnest, General

Feng and his men are in the midst of the conflict and all are looking to

him and his friend Wu-pei-fu to save the situation in this crisis.

*SKETCH VII*

*A Chinese Nobleman*

*A Chinese Nobleman*

As I review the life of the man of whom I am to write, two incidents of

over thirty years ago come to mind. On our way to China one of our

fellow-passengers was a man who had been in business twenty odd years in

China. He declared there were no real Christians in China, that they

were all "rice" Christians--followers of the foreigner for what they

could get and so on. Practically all the passengers, except the

missionaries heartily agreed with these statements. Later we heard the

same thing repeated on the coast steamer. Shortly after reaching our

destination a well-known resident of China, who had occupied for

twenty-five years a responsible position in the "Customs" made such

positive statements along the same line that the writer began to wonder

if these things could be true. Six weeks later this accuser, and as I

know now to be, cruel slanderer of the Christians had gone to meet his

Judge--dying suddenly in his chair as the result of a vicious debauch!

It is now the writer's privilege to give testimonies after thirty years

standing, to the genuineness of the Chinese Christian--here is one of

them.

Twenty miles northeast of the Mission Station of Changteho lived a

well-to-do banker and landowner named Chen-Lao-Jung. He was a man of

most masterful personality. His old mother, to whom he was greatly

devoted, had long been afflicted by attacks of what the Chinese called

demon possession--which from all accounts exactly resembled those

recorded in the Bible. Every heathen means had been used for her

relief. Witch doctors, necromancers, Buddhist priests, and others had

used their arts upon her (some of these being very cruel), but the poor

woman was "nothing better, but rather grew worse."

One day a Christian called when the woman was in a serious and violent

condition. Mr. Chen asked Mr. Hsu, the Christian, to pray to his God

for his mother, but the Christian replied, "I would gladly do so, but it

is useless for me to pray to my God, who is the only true God, when you

recognize so many other gods that are false. These household gods must

first be destroyed: then I can pray." (Oh, that our home Christians

would realize this too, _then_ would _they_ know the power of prayer).

After some demur Mr. Chen decided that he had tried these gods and they

had failed him, now he would burn them rather than lose this opportunity

of having his mother healed by the Christian God!

In face of the bitterest opposition from his family and neighbors he

publicly burnt all the household gods. Then he and Mr. Hsu followed by

all the family and a crowd of curious neighbors went into the mother's

room where she lay foaming on the bed. Mr. Hsu first sang the hymn

"Jesus loves me"--then prayed, then sang again.

Gradually the woman quieted down and before long was completely

restored. Thus the Lord as of old answered prayer and delivered the

woman from the terrible power which had had such a hold upon her. Her

deliverance was so wonderful that all the family and some neighbors

immediately accepted the Gospel.

Mr. Chen left his home and business for several weeks and came to the

out-station where the writer and her husband were. Here he took the

place of a little child. His humility, earnestness, and sincerity

impressed us all. When he felt he had grasped the main truths of the

Gospel he returned home realizing as few Christians seem to do, that he

had been saved to save others. He at once started family worship, and

prepared a building as a chapel and preaching hall--here he gathered and

taught all who wished to learn. His whole family became out and out for

Christ and soon neighbors were won. The first of these was a notable

opium slave. The story in detail of the growth of Christianity in Mr.

Chen's region would fill a volume, but space permits only the brief

record of open outstanding facts.

About two years after Mr. Chen became a Christian the locusts came over

the country in great numbers, eating all before them. Mr. Chen told his

family that since they would all be busy fighting the locusts, family

worship would for the time be given up. A few days later a fine boy in

the family, about seven years of age, became paralyzed in one side and

was unable to get off the kang (or brick bed). The following is Mr.

Chen's own account of what followed.

"One day I was out in the fields fighting the locusts when I suddenly

seemed to waken out of sleep. "Hsing Wu kuo lai" I cried aloud--'Why!

_the connection is cut! The connection is cut!_' I hastened home and

called all the family together. I told them to get down on their knees

and confess with me our sin of _putting God aside_, that by doing so we

had cut the connection with God, for God had said, 'Your iniquities have

separated between you and your God and your sins have hid His face from

you. Oh, Lord now that the connection is mended, won't you heal the

little boy?' And as we prayed we heard the child get off the kang, and

before we rose from our knees he was running around quite well."

Mr. Chen became a tower of strength to the missionary, who when obliged

to be absent sometimes from that part of his field would commit the

affairs of the Church into his hands. Did he get money for this, you

ask. No--all his service was for love of his Lord.

Not many months ago this man stood bravely, grandly, one of the severest

tests any Christian could be put to.

He had a very dear little daughter, a pretty, gentle, timid child of

about nine years of age. This child was away from home when she was

attacked by a young woman of violent temper, the daughter of another

Christian. The child was struck several times with a heavy stick, and

as she fled terrified was followed and struck again, it is believed, on

the head, a few days later the child returned home, but could say little

else than, "I'm afraid" over and over again. She sank rapidly and died;

but before her death she told her father of the attack upon her. A few

days later the writer received a most touching letter from Mr. Chen in

which he reviewed the past--what he had been saved from--what Christ had

been to him--then wrote as follows--

"Shepherd Mother--My heart is crushed, my little daughter is dead. I do

not want the one who killed her to be punished. I only ask that you

warn her so that other children shall not suffer as mine has done."

Those of us who know how exceedingly _revengeful_ the Chinese are by

nature will agree that one could scarcely find a more beautiful example

of the power and fruit of the Gospel of Jesus Christ than this.

*SKETCH VIII*

*Mr. Doong*

*Mr. Doong*

My husband and I with our children had settled down for a few weeks'

stay at one of our out stations, when I noticed one morning at breakfast

a strange man sweeping the yard. He looked such a queer bundle of

incongruous clothes I could not make out if he were a teacher, a poor

farmer, or a coolie. The man's face was so wrinkled and his shoulders so

stooped he looked a much older man than his years, which could not have

been more than fifty.

"Who is that queer old man?" I asked my husband.

"His name is Doong Lin Huo," he replied, "he has come to study the

Gospel and is so grateful for what he is getting he has begged me let

him do something to shew his gratitude."

Some days later one of the Evangelists came to me for some medicine for

Mr. Doong, saying he was very ill with that foe of native and foreigner

alike--dysentery. I had only one small bottle of expensive medicine

which I kept for ourselves in case of emergency. It was unopened and

when once opened I knew it would lose its strength. So I said:

"I have only medicine for ourselves."

"I fear if something is not done for Mr. Doong he will die," the

Evangelist said as he turned away disappointed. This decided me and I

hastily gave him out several doses. Later he came for more and a few

days passed when Mr. Doong himself appeared dressed up in fine

_borrowed_ garments, and his face shining with the extra rubbing he had

given it. Before we could prevent him he had prostrated himself before

me knocking his head several times on the floor, saying, "Oh, lady, you

have saved my life!"

The story of this man's conversion is of interest in that it is typical

of thousands in China. His people were farming mountain villagers.

Some years ago when visiting his village I was impressed with the

picturesqueness of the situation, built as it is on the side of a steep

mountain cliff above a rapidly running stream. As we went through this

village street we walked up steps as if going up stairs.

Mr. Doong's family was large even for this land, it consisted of several

of the old passing generation, also his five sons and their wives and

children and some of their sons' wives and their children. All lived

within one enclosure. The family owned some land but as the mouths

increased it was not sufficient for their needs and some sought

employment, especially during the winter months. Mr. Doong himself was

among these, he joined a low travelling theatrical company, as cook and

lived as low a life while with them as any human being could well live.

When the missionary first came across him he was using his animals

during the slack winter months to escort travellers over the mountains

west of his home.

One day the missionary arrived in the village with his party of

preachers on their way to a famous goddess' temple situated two hundred

Chinese miles further west among the mountains. Mr. Doong and his

animals were hired for the journey. Day by day as the party stopped at

noon and for the night preaching was carried on in the open. During

those days Mr. Doong caught little else of the preaching than that they

were speaking against the gods. He became alarmed and so sure was he

that the great goddess would cause some terrible calamity to overtake

them on their arrival at their destination he determined to leave the

party as speedily as possible, and it was with a sense of real relief

that he saw, as he thought, the last of them.

Some weeks later he had occasion to go to the distant city of Lin-Hsien

far off among the mountains. Here he found the same missionary with his

preachers still preaching as before--and no calamity had befallen them!

He began to have doubts as to whether they might not be right after all.

Every opportunity was taken advantage of to hear what they had to say

with the result that when the time came for him to leave, he turned his

face towards home a changed man.

His first step was to destroy the household gods, much to the horror and

anger of his family and neighbors, who all believed him to have become

bewitched by the foreigner and waited to see some dread judgment fall

upon him. Surely facing such odds as bravely as this man did and with

quiet steady calmness raises him to the place of a real hero.

His next step was to give up his opium. This he did without the aid of

other drugs. He simply sought God's help and got it. His is one of the

rare cases we have known of, where the terrible opium habit has been

broken without human aid.

Then came his visit to our out-station to learn to read and understand

the Bible. It was no easy task for either pupil or teacher at his age,

but so earnest was he and diligent that in a few weeks he could read the

Chinese New Testament sufficiently well to get the meaning and in a few

months had practically mastered its "characters."

Three years passed during which time Mr. Doong had won the highest

opinions from missionaries and his fellow Christians. His name was

suggested as a probationary evangelist, and although his lack of

education was against him, his beautiful spirit, so gentle, and so full

of love to all with whom he came in contact, seemed to more than make up

for this lack and he was unanimously called to the preaching of the

Gospel. As time passed, results from Mr. Doong's ministry amply

justified this step, for wherever Mr. Doong was placed the work

flourished and converts were added.

On one occasion the writer visited one of these places with her husband.

It was a busy pottery centre, known far and wide for its unspeakable

immorality. Yet even in this most difficult field Mr. Doong had

gathered out a little company of believers.

I shall not soon forget the welcome we received on our arrival after a

long trying dusty journey, at the door of the humble place where he

lived and where we were to stay. He was so hearty and kind and yet had

a certain dignity and courtesy which made me say inwardly, "Can this be

the same man who was cook in a low theatrical company?" Yes he was the

same, yet not the same, for his whole life, his looks, his wonderful

power of holding heathen audiences for over an hour at a time all

testified to the power of Christ to save and transform men.

At the close of our visit I told my cook to settle as was the custom

with Mr. Doong for the coal we had used during the ten days we had been

there. The cook returned to say Mr. Doong refused to take anything for

it. I called the dear old man and protested that this would not do. He

looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Mother, Shepherd, will

you not allow me the privilege and pleasure of doing even this much for

you, when you and your husband have done so much for me? What would I

have been had you not come with this blessed Gospel?" With full heart

and dim eyes I could only put my hands together and bow low my thanks.

When home on furlough I sent to a missionary for a photo of Mr. Doong

for a lantern slide. In due course the photo arrived with a note from

Mr. Doong himself, which ran as follows: "Dear Shepherd Mother, I thank

you for the compliment you have paid me in asking for my photo. I would

reciprocate and ask for yours but there is no need _for your countenance

is engraved on my heart!_"

After an absence from our old field for some five years it was a great

joy to both my husband and myself to have Mr. Doong once more our

co-worker, but it was only for a brief period. Our hard pressed doctor

needed the best man we could give him as Hospital Evangelist and Mr.

Doong was chosen for this position. There he remained till advancing

years with its increasing physical weakness forced his retirement and he

returned home, but not to the home of the early years for now almost all

had been won to Christianity, as well as many of his neighbors.

"For behold .... how that not many wise after the flesh, not many

mighty, not many noble are called. But God hath chosen the foolish

things of the world that he might put to shame them that are wise."

*SKETCH IX*

*Heathenism As I Have Known It*

Part 1--HEATHEN VERSUS CHRISTIAN WORSHIP.

Part 2--FACTS.

*Heathenism As I Have Known It*

"_If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those

that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold we knew it not; doth

not he that pondereth the heart consider it? And he that keepeth thy

soul, doth not he know it? And shall not he render to every man

according to his works?_" (_Prov._ 24:11, 12.)

"If you can get our church people to really believe the heathen NEED the

Gospel, you will have gone a long way to bring about the desired

attitude towards Foreign Missions." So said a prominent Foreign Mission

Secretary to the writer. Another Foreign Mission Secretary, who had

spent many years on the Foreign Field as a missionary, suggested the

subject for this Sketch, saying, "Draw it plain, for they need to know."

The subject is not a pleasant one; draw the picture of heathenism as you

will, it can be only dark and repelling; neither _dare_ one write all

one knows....

1.--HEATHEN VERSUS CHRISTIAN WORSHIP.

Missionaries and converts were gathered in full force for their annual

evangelistic campaign at one of the largest, most important centers of

heathen worship in China--the Hsun-Hsien Fair or Festival. Inclement

weather had somewhat delayed the influx of pilgrims. It was suggested

that my husband and I take advantage of this fact to make a long planned

visit to the temple of the goddess Lao Nai Nai, (Old Grandmother) who

drew to her shrine every year vast crowds of men and women of every

class. (It is estimated that during the ten days of the winter festival

alone, over a million pilgrims kneel before this image.)

We started quite early one morning hoping thereby to escape any

possibility of great crowds. As we ascended the hill on which the

temple stood, the road was lined on either side with booths and mat

stalls where commodities such as pilgrims required, were sold. There

were paper babies, made of brilliant colored paper on cornstalk frames.

(The goddess was believed to have power to bestow living children in

return for the paper offerings.) There were paper horses, and women and

young girls, made to look very life-like, all of which were supposed to

turn into the real kind for the use of the spirits beyond. Dice and

gambling cards were much in evidence; also peep shows, which we were

told were of the most obscene kind.

By the time we had reached the main entrance to the temple my courage

had begun to fail, and gladly would I have backed out, but my husband

felt we must go on. Passing through the great gates we entered a large

court, on either side of which were crowds of men and women, some at

tables, some seated on the ground, all feasting or gambling. In and out

among these, peddlers passed calling loudly their wares. Utter confusion

prevailed, but we had no difficulty in getting through to the court

beyond; here, however, we found the crowd increasingly great. A large

iron caldron resting on a pedestal stood in the center of the court

surrounded by several men stripped to the waist, these were dancing and

shouting as they stirred the fire in the caldron with iron sticks, the

fire being fed by the paper offerings of the pilgrims. The men's faces

and bodies were blackened by the paper ashes. The whole scene was most

gruesome and reminded one of Dante's "Inferno."

The men, catching sight of us, demanded fiercely our paper offerings;

one of them going so far as to seize me by the arm. I shrank in terror

behind my husband, who urged me not to show fear, but to keep moving on;

to go back now was impossible, for the whole crowd was moving on towards

the right hand flight of steps leading up to the goddess' temple. On

reaching these steps there was a pause and then a sudden rush, strain,

and crush, when I found myself landed at the top of the steps, and my

husband pushing me out of the crowd into a ledge of the balcony. Here

we stood apart, almost hidden from the crowd.

What a sight the courts below presented! The crowds, seethed and

crushed; hundreds of explosives seemed to be fired every moment; the

noise and confusion was indescribable. As we watched there were some

things that made one's heart ache. Heathenism seemed stamped upon most

of the faces. Old men and women could be seen helped along by younger

ones. Some of these must have been well on to eighty; some were so

frail and old as to be almost carried. We knew that these were old

grandfathers or grandmothers being taken to the goddess' shrine to ask

for a grandson.

As I turned from the sight, sick at heart, and closed my eyes for a

moment, I seemed to forget my surroundings and before me rose a vivid

scene in the dear homeland. I seemed to be once more in the old seat in

Knox Church, Toronto. Our beloved, white-haired pastor, Dr. Parsons

stood at the Communion Table. And I could hear him say, "That I might

know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His

sufferings." The quietness, the reverential worship, the solemnity of

the whole scene seemed as real as if I were there. But oh, the contrast

as I opened my eyes on the scene before us! _That_ was

Christian--_this_ heathen worship!

Taking advantage of a lull in the crowd, we entered the temple. On one

side a group of Buddhist priests at a table were counting the money

offerings. In the center was the shrine of the goddess, the image

itself being far back almost out of sight. Immediately in front of the

image a brass ring was suspended. A railing kept the pilgrims from

getting too near, and as they knelt at this rail they threw their

offerings through this ring. If the cash or coppers passed safely

through the ring their petitions were sure to be granted! This, of

course, encouraged many trys. It is said many millions of cash are thus

offered year by year. The Buddhist priests use this money largely in

gambling, drunkeness, and evil living.

We had seen enough. Gradually we made our way out by a back gate

through the kindness of a friendly Chinese. We passed a small side

shrine just behind the goddess' temple. Looking inside I noticed what

seemed like a bundle of filthy rags, but seeing it move, I looked closer

and found beneath a beggar--dying of starvation. From a near by eating

house we procured a bowl of hot soup, but the poor creature was too far

gone for help. There at the very foot of the heathen goddess the man

died, with multitudes of her devotees passing him by without a thought

of pity or sense of responsibility towards a fellow being. As soon as

his last breath would be drawn, yes, and knowing what I do of

heathenism, I dare say, even _before_, he would be taken out, thrown

into a hole and barely covered; while his poor beggar rags would be

claimed by other beggars who perhaps before long, came to share the same

fate. _That_ is heathenism!

*II.--FACTS.*

"The tender mercies of the heathen are cruel."

Some years ago my husband and I went to a certain out-station where a

camp of soldiers was stationed. A day or two before we arrived a man

had killed one of the soldiers in a fight. The man escaped, but was

later caught. (The utter injustice and often cruel oppression of the

soldiers towards the people, lead us to believe quite possible, even

probable, the man had right on his side.) He was taken before the

military chief who said, "Since the man has killed one of yourselves you

can do as you like with him."

For three days, while a platform was being erected, the poor creature

was tortured by the soldiers with the most unspeakable refinement of

cruelty. The platform on which he was to be executed was erected quite

close to where we lived. The man was put on this high platform and in

the presence of a great multitude of men, women, and children was

cruelly done to death. We could hear the shouts of the people as they

witnessed fresh signs of suffering. The awful details of this execution

cannot be put on paper. That evening I called our chief Evangelist in

and said, "Please write out as full a description of what has taken

place as possible, for I wish to send it to the press with an appeal

against such barbarism." And this was his reply,

"But what is the use, Teacher Mother? _This is not an isolated case_.

It is done by the soldiers all over China, under like circumstances!"

Much more could be said on this phase of heathenism-cruelty. But we do

not wish to dwell longer than necessary on any one part of this dark

picture. But as I have studied the fruits of heathenism during these

years of closest contact with a heathen people I have come to feel that

this heartlessness and lack of pity is one of the most prominent

features of heathenism.

One outstanding illustration of this. Li Shan Pao was the son of one of

our Evangelists; he was a young lad of promise and we had been helping

him through the High School at Wei Hwei Fu. One day he and some other

lads were by the river near the school. Li Shan Pao undressed and went

in for a swim, though the others tried to dissuade him, for the weather

was still cold. He swam across the river and about half way back, when

he seemed to get into difficulties. The other lads on the shore called

frantically to a passing boat for assistance. The men on this boat by

just putting out an oar, or stretching out a helping hand, could have

saved the boy, but though the lads on shore kept offering more and more

money the only answer they received was, "It's not enough!" Then over

the drowning boy they went without an effort to save him! When the

missionaries came on the scene and drew the boy out, he was quite beyond

help. _That is Heathenism_. But terrible as the guilt of these men may

seem to us, yet are they not more guilty who deliberately close their

eyes to their personal responsibility towards the dying souls of their

fellowmen, whether at Home or on the Foreign Field?

The practice of Infanticide, which is one of the most terrible fruits of

heathenism, is far more common than many believe. For several years I

scarcely knew of its existence till my work began to take me out among

the people. The three cases which I shall confine myself to in this

Sketch, came to my notice within a short time of each other.

When preaching in a district among the hills Northwest of Changte, my

husband, through what seemed a mere accident, found out that the custom

existed through a wide region, of _putting all girls but one to death at

birth in each family_! This they justified by saying the grain and

water would not be sufficient for all if the population was not kept

down!

A Chinese woman, belonging to a well-to-do family, called to see me one

day. She had a beautiful baby boy in her arms. Her husband had just

become a Christian and she seemed interested and some time later became

one of our leading Christian women. But how dark her heart was then can

be seen by what follows. A few weeks after her first visit she came

again, but _without the baby_. The following conversation took place:

"Why! Where is your beautiful boy?"

"Oh, it's thrown away."

"But it was quite well when you came before. What disease did it have?"

"It did not have anything wrong." By this time I felt there must be

something not right and determined to find out the truth. At last the

woman told this story. One cold night the baby was lying on the outside

of the "kang" or brick bed, it got out from under her cover and rolled

off on to the floor. It was quite naked for the Chinese do not use night

clothes, and instead of the mother taking the child up off the cold

brick floor, she let it stay there all night. When she picked it up in

the morning it was dead. I said, "Oh, how could you be so cruel?" She

replied with a laugh, "I had plenty of other children and did not want

the bother!"

When at an out-station a man brought a little baby, asking me to give it

something to stop its crying as the mother was so tired of hearing it

cry she did not want the child. I could not find anything the matter

with the little one and told the father so. Some days later I saw the

man in the yard and asked about the baby. He said it was "thrown away"

meaning dead. I called my Bible woman and told her to find out the

cause of the child's death. This is the story the father told her. On

returning home the mother received her husband with angry looks saying,

"I told you I don't want it; take it away." The father took the little

one to a field away from the village and making a hole put the baby into

it, but as he ran away the child's cries caused him to return and take

it out again, but when the little one kept on crying he became impatient

and throwing it back, covered it over and returned home. Who can say

how many children meet a like fate in this heathen land every year?

What can one say of the injustice, cruelty, and oppression meted out to

vast numbers of young brides and the younger wives and women by the

older ones or their husbands? The marriage customs of China which

demand that a young woman be under the care of, or rather guarded and

watched, by her mother-in-law _is necessary so long as the morality of

the men is what it is_.

My Bible woman and I were preaching in a heathen home. I had noticed a

very fine young woman of about twenty among pur listeners. As we were

preaching cries and sobs came from a room to the side of the court where

we were. I signed to Mrs. Wang to find out the cause. A few moments

later she called me out, and led me to the room from which the cries had

come. As we passed through the court I noticed a poor idiot boy, a most

pitiful sight. I found in the room we entered the fine young woman I

had noticed among our listeners. She was sitting on the brick bed, a

picture of utter despair. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and as

she rocked herself back and forth she moaned and sometimes cried aloud,

always the same words,--"Oh, it is for life, for life!" I tried to

discover the cause but failed. The only thing anyone would say was,

"She often takes these turns." On our way home my women told me the

truth. _This beautiful girl in the prime of life had been married to

the idiot boy_. The boy's family needed a strong woman of ability to do

their weaving and sewing. An extra gift to the Go-between on condition

she secured such a wife for the idiot boy procured for them what they

wanted. But what did they care for the broken heart? They were

_heathen_!

The last phase of heathenism I will touch upon is--_Its utter

hopelessness in face of Death_. Again and again have I asked heathen

women what they had to look forward to after death; one and all have

said, _only horror and fear_. Never has the story of my own dear

Mother's wonderful death, passing as she did with the very Glory of

heaven shining on her face, failed to move an audience of heathen women:

again and again have they come to me at such times saying, "We want to

know how to die like that. We suffer enough here, how can we go where

there is no more suffering?"

Many dark scenes come to mind as I write; but what I have given is

sufficient to justify us in saying that Heathenism is cruel; it is

wicked, and heartless, and selfish, yes, and devilish!

* * *

"If THOU forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto DEATH ... He that

keepeth THY SOUL doth not He know it!"

*SKETCH X*

*The Blind Famine Refugee*

*The Blind Famine Refugee*

The winter of ---- was a sad, bitter one for those living in Eastern

Shantung. The great Yellow River, truly called "China's Sorrow," had

burst its banks, devastating a large area of thickly populated country.

In spite of well organized famine relief administered by missionaries

and other representatives of foreign countries (some of whom lost their

lives from famine fever when engaged in this work), many people perished

from starvation, fever or exposure.

Early one morning towards the end of February when the weather was still

bitterly cold, a sad thing was happening inside a little wayside temple

not far from one of the villages in this famine region. On the cold

brick floor just in front of the idol's shrine lay a dying beggar.

Famine was claiming one more victim. Beside him knelt his blind wife,

swaying backwards and forwards moaning piteously. On the opposite side,

nestling close to his dying father, as if for protection and warmth,

slept a little boy of about six years of age.

All through that cold pitiless night the poor woman had knelt there

listening to the hard breathing which told what she could not see,--that

the end was near. As the day dawned the last struggle ceased. Quietly,

with the quietness and numbness of despair, the woman arose, felt for

her child, awoke him, then grasping her stout beggar's stick with one

hand and laying her other on the child's shoulder she motioned him to

lead her away.

Reaching the road she hesitated. Where should they go to? Death from

starvation seemed to await them on every side. As she stood there

hesitating there came into her mind the remembrance of what someone had

said long before--that a long way off, about one hundred miles distant,

lived a man who could give sight to the blind. Quickly with a sense of

desperation the poor blind beggar woman resolved to try to reach that

man.

The sufferings of that journey can only be faintly imagined. They had

no protection from the bitter winds by day, nor the cold frosty nights,

but thin, torn, beggar garments. No resting place by day or night, but

the roadside or the shelter of a wayside temple. Sometimes a whole day

would pass when they failed to obtain even the few crumbs of black

mouldy bread (made chiefly of chaff) usually thrown to them.

Later, when attempting to tell the story of these days, the poor woman

seemed able to recall little else than the ever present dread she had,

lest when they reach the doorway of the wonderful man who could give

sight to the blind, it would perhaps be closed against them. Needless

to say these fears were groundless, for when at last the mother and

child reached the Mission gate almost dead from starvation and

exhaustion, kind loving hands received them. They were taken into the

Women's Hospital, cleansed, clothed, and fed.

The day following their arrival one of the missionaries went to Mrs. Ma,

for such was the blind woman's name, and said:

"Mrs. Ma, I have been sent to tell you that the doctor has great hopes

of restoring your sight. But you are far too weak for the operation

yet. He says you are to have all the food you can eat, and that I am to

get you anything you fancy. Now just tell me what you want."

At first the poor woman could not take it in. Then when Mrs. S----,

repeated what she had said, and the meaning began to dawn upon her, she

stretched out her hands and with an indescribably touching cry in her

voice said, "If it is true indeed that I can really have what I most

crave for, then oh, please just give me a little SALT!"

Reader, you, who have never known want, can scarcely comprehend the full

significance of that request. "Just a little salt!" What deprivation,

what agony of want is revealed in that word! To those of us who had

seen something of the sufferings of famine victims, it meant volumes.

With tender loving care Mrs. Ma was nursed back to strength and health;

but many weeks passed before the doctor pronounced her fit to stand the

operation. Sight was restored to one eye, the other being quite beyond

recovery. With glasses she was able to learn to read. The woman's

gratitude knew no bounds. At first her eagerness to hear the Gospel and

learn to read was largely due to this intense gratitude, but gradually

the "True Light" entered her soul, and she became a sincere, earnest,

humble Christian. Later she was appointed matron of the Women's

Hospital where for twenty years she worked faithfully for the salvation

of the women in the hospital.

Mrs. Ma's little son was put into the Boys' School soon after their

arrival. As the years went by he passed through one Mission School into

another, until he reached the Union Medical College of Peking. His

whole life as a student had been such that the missionaries felt amply

justified in paying his expenses through his medical course. He

received his M.D., graduating with high honors in 19--. A large

hospital had just been erected in an important city in North China. Dr.

Ma was asked to become house physician of this hospital. Soon after his

appointment to this position he married a fine Christian girl, one of

the most promising graduates of the Women's College of Peking.

It was in Dr. and Mrs. Ma's cosy home near the hospital that the writer

last saw old Mrs. Ma who was there on a visit to her son. She had long

been too frail for active work. Her sight was gone, but the reflection

of an inner light illumined her countenance as we recalled together the

goodness of the Lord since the day she arrived at the Mission gate a

poor starved Blind Beggar Refugee seeking Light.

*SKETCH XI*

*Links in a Living Chain*

*Links in a Living Chain*

A poor suffering woman lay in the ward of the Womens' Hospital at

Changte. She had been there for over a month. Had she come earlier her

life might have been saved, but ignorance and fear had kept her back

till the terror of Death drove her to the Mission Hospital.

As the Missionary Doctor entered with her assistants the woman's face

brightened up with a glad welcome smile.

"How much have you learnt to-day?" said the doctor bending over her

kindly.

"Oh, doctor, I'm so stupid, and the pain is _so_ bad I can't learn like

the others. But oh, doctor, I have learnt this," and as she spoke she

drew out from under the coverlet a sheet of paper on which was printed

in large Chinese characters the hymn "Jesus Loves Me." And as she

crooned over slowly the four verses making some slips the doctor

listened patiently, correcting when needed. Then with a few tender

words she passed on through the wards.

Not many days later, Mrs. Chang, the sick woman, had to be told nothing

more could be done for her but she must return home to die. The long

journey home over rough stony roads was borne with amazing fortitude,

for had not her life been one long lesson in bearing hardness. For

weeks she lay on the brick bed in her home at Linchang, a wonder to her

family and neighbors. What was the secret of the change? She had left

them with the horror and dread of death upon her face. She returned

with her face shining with joy and openly stating she no longer feared

death although she knew her days were few. She seemed happy and in

peace. The hymn sheet was always in her hand and when asked why she was

not afraid to die she would point silently to the second verse of the

hymn and then chant aloud, trying to sing as she had heard others sing

in the Hospital, but though the tune she sang could not have been

recognized it sounded sweet in the ears of One who heard. Over and over

that second verse was repeated for it contained that which was the Hope

of her soul:

"Jesus loves me, He who died,

Heaven's gate to open wide,

He will wash away my sin,

Let His little child come in!"

Then the day came when according to Chinese custom neighbors and friends

crowded into the chamber of death to see the end. As long as she had

breath she urged her husband to go to the mission and learn the Gospel.

She begged that none might go to her grave to weep, for she said, "I

will not be there. I will be in Heaven." When the last moments came

her face was illuminated with joy and she raised her hands as if to

welcome someone as she passed away.

The effect of this deathbed scene was truly remarkable. Mr. Chang her

husband, her only son and daughter and son's wife immediately became

Christians. A quarrel which had separated Mr. Chang and his eldest

brother for ten years was made up and this brother became an earnest

Christian. Only a few months passed when a time of severe testing came

to this family. The son's wife was taken ill and died. During her

illness and at her death she witnessed as wonderful testimony to the

Christian's hope as her mother-in-law.

The neighbors on the east side of the Chang's homestead were a large

influential family named Fan. The younger Mrs. Chang's death-bed scene

so touched one of the young men of this family that he determined to

break away from the heathenism of his home and become a follower of

Christ. His soul became so on fire for the Lord that he influenced many

in his family until they were on the point of turning away from their

heathenism. It was at this juncture that my husband and I began an

aggressive evangelistic campaign in this town near their home, and great

hopes were felt that the entire family would become Christian, when as

in the case of Dr. Dwan (see "As Silver Is Refined") a series of events

so terrorized the family that for over a year they refused to believe

but that the gods were fighting against them for changing their belief.

And is it any wonder? Almost immediately after young Mr. Fan became a

Christian one calamity after another came upon the family till the

climax was reached when one of the younger sons, about fourteen years

old, went to visit a relative some ten miles distant. He never reached

their home, but disappeared and was never heard of again. A little later

another son who had become a seeker after Christ went to the Mission

Hall apparently well was taken suddenly ill and before even a neighbor

could be called passed away.

But in spite of these things, which to the heathen people of Linchang

were certain proofs of the power of the gods to take revenge, young Mr.

Fan stood true and within a year had won back several of his family.

From this time the church grew in Linchang. Within a few years a nice

Christian church and school house was erected by the Christians within

sight of the Fans' home, the evangelist in charge also being supported

by themselves.

Some years later it was the writer's privilege to assist her husband in

a series of special meetings held in this little Linchang church, which

during the ten days of the "Mission" was filled to its utmost capacity.

Not soon could one forget the scenes of those days when one after

another consecrated himself afresh to the Lord.

Two cases stand out prominently. One was that of a wealthy landowner

who also was partner in a prominent business concern in Linchang. At

considerable financial loss to himself he gave up this business to

become a preacher of the Gospel. The second case was that of a proud

Confucian scholar who at that time held a position of head teacher in a

government school. He also caught the vision which forced him to resign

his position in order to preach the Gospel.

Many times during those days as I witnessed the Holy Spirit working in

the hearts of these men and women and saw signs of the light of the

Gospel beginning to spread throughout that whole region I thought of

that first little seed of truth sown in the heart of the poor suffering

woman as she lay in the women's hospital in Changte.

*SKETCH XII*

*Our First Woman Convert*

*Our First Woman Convert*

*A Mere Memory.*

The following is but a brief memory of the long gone past. Even the name

of the woman is forgotten but not the look on her pale patient face as

she lay for weeks in the Mission Hospital--our first woman in-patient.

Though almost thirty years have come and gone since those earliest days

in North Honan the memory of this woman remains as one of the very few

bright gleams in what was to us pioneer missionaries a time of darkness

and peril.

The people were still bitter against us though a year had passed since a

foothold had been gained in what we had so long looked forward to as our

"Promised Land." Stories of the vilest nature widely circulated and

believed did much to hinder the progress of the Gospel, and make the

people fear and hate us. They believed we were capable of the very

worst atrocities. Were I to attempt the plain record of many of these

stories British law would forbid the publication.

It is little wonder, therefore, that our good doctor, a man of

exceptional ability who had left brilliant prospects behind to come to

China, chafed under the petty cases which came to the Hospital, and had

more than once openly expressed his wish for some "good cases" which

would help to open the people's hearts towards us. Before long his wish

was abundantly gratified for three years later that hospital recorded

_twenty-eight thousand_ treatments in one year, a goodly proportion

being "good" cases.

The beginning of the breaking of the ice of prejudice came when one day

a man wheeled into the hospital yard a barrow on which lay his sick

wife. He seemed very loath to come but his poor wife appeared past

feeling. It was most evident that only the hope of relief from

otherwise certain death could have induced them to risk coming for help

to the foreign doctor.

A little later the doctor announced a serious operation imperative. To

this the woman gave her consent but the man hesitated. How impossible

it is for those brought up in a Western land to form any conception of

the struggle the man went through in face of such a sweeping away of

life-long prejudices, but at last in face of that great enemy, Death, he

yielded.

Oh, how we prayed for that case! There we were, a mere handful of

missionaries in the midst of a bitterly hostile people many of whom were

only waiting and watching for an excuse to attack and murder us. Should

the operation prove fatal and the woman die under the doctor's knife it

would have been quite sufficient to stir up a mob which would in all

probability have destroyed us all. But the operation passed safely and

during the weeks of convalescence the doctor's wife told into willing

ears the message of a Saviour who died to "open Heaven's door." From

the first the woman showed a wonderful keenness in learning the truth.

While still unable to sit upright and scarcely strong enough to hold her

book she studied almost constantly the simple Christian Catechism.

One day to my great surprise as I responded to a timid tap at my door, I

found this dear woman shrinking and uncertain as to whether she would be

admitted, and almost fainting from weakness. I led her gently in and as

she lay on the sofa we talked together of the blessed Saviour. After

all these years the joy I felt, in speaking of the precious truths to

this first Christian Woman of North Honan, still remains. She seemed

even then to have her thoughts turned toward Eternity for she loved to

have me dwell on the Heavenly Home, and the hymn she loved best was:

"My home is in Heaven, my home is not here."

Soon her visits became quite regular and as she lay on the lounge

listening and asking questions she was not the only one who was learning

for many were the lessons she unconsciously taught me of fortitude under

suffering, and the simpleness of childlike trust. It seemed at times as

if every separate fruit of the Spirit in that glorious cluster could be

seen in this very babe in Christ. Love, joy, peace, long-suffering,

gentleness, faith, meekness, all just shone from her countenance. One

day shortly before her return home she asked a question concerning the

Holy Spirit which showed what wonderful progress she had made in

spiritual understanding.

Although she left us apparently cured, a few months saw her back again

for treatment. It was then she was received as our first Probationer

for Baptism but long before the year of probation had ended she had

passed away in certain hope of entering into the Presence of her

Saviour.

*SKETCH XIII*

*Two "Rice" Christians*

Part 1--THE "WOLF BOY."

Part 2--THE "WOLF BOY'S" MOTHER.

*Two "Rice" Christians*

*Part I. THE "WOLF BOY."*

As one travels Westward from the city of Changte, the country becomes

more and more mountainous and rocky. Villages throughout that region are

frequently troubled, during the cold winter season, by wolves, desperate

with hunger venturing into the village streets injuring and sometimes

carrying off children.

During the winter of ---- a lad about fourteen years of age, named Cheng

(surname) Woo-tse (given name), left his home near Changte to visit an

aunt living in a village ten miles west of that city. One day, as the

lad was going on a message, a great wolf rushed down the village street,

and, before he could be driven away, jumped upon the boy clawing and

eating part of his face.

For months the ignorant villagers did what they could to relieve the

poor boy's terrible sufferings; but, alas, those who are at all

acquainted with Chinese methods of treatment know how worse than useless

such attempts would be. Only when it became apparent the boy would die

were the people willing for him to be taken to the Mission Hospital.

Naturally this most unusual case aroused great interest; all came to

know of the "Wolf Boy" as he was called. For almost a year he remained

in hospital, carefully and tenderly nursed by his mother; her devotion

to her boy being most noticeable.

The doctor and his assistants set themselves to do their utmost for what

they felt was one of the most difficult cases that had ever been in the

hospital. The doctor sought to give the boy, as far as it was possible,

a new face; but, after months of careful treatment and clever grafting,

he was only partly successful. He succeeded in saving the sight of one

eye and in forming practically a new mouth. But after the doctor had

done all it was possible to do the boy still remained such a horrible

sight he was forced to wear a mask.

While in the hospital all those months this poor torn lad won the hearts

of all by his gratitude for every kindness, his cheerfulness and

patience under great suffering, and his simple loving nature. The

kindness shown them opened the hearts of both mother and son to the

Gospel message and both became Christians. It was the boy, however, who

received the story of the Saviour's Sacrifice with real joy. What it

meant to him came out one evening at the weekly prayer-meeting.

The little group of Christians gathered were startled and deeply touched

when the "Wolf Boy" suddenly began to pray; his face was so bound as to

make speech difficult but this is what he said:

"O Lord! I thank Thee for letting the wolf eat my face, for if he had

not I might never have heard of this wonderful Saviour."

When at last the time came for the boy and his mother to leave the

hospital, the missionaries felt it would be heartless to turn the boy

adrift to the "tender mercies of the heathen," so gave him the situation

of water-carrier for their yard. Here he lived and worked amongst us

for some years.

The writer can never forget this boy's sympathy and sorrow when one of

the little foreign children, whom he looked upon as his friends, became

sick unto death. Outside the sick child's door he waited and waited

every moment he could spare from his work, hoping and praying for the

word of hope that was not to come. When, at last, he was told the

precious spirit was no longer with us, his grief was most touching.

Four years later the boy left us to take a situation at an adjoining

mission station. Near this mission a river, wide and deep, flowed. It

was here the wolf boy met his death. When bathing with some other lads

he was carried out of his depth and drowned.

* * *

Many years have passed since this humble servant died, but there still

remains in many a heart a warm remembrance of the lad, so physically

hampered, but through whom the Christ-life shone so brightly as to make

him a blessing and an example to those who knew him.

*Part II. THE "WOLF BOY'S" MOTHER.*

"_Faithful in that which is least._"

The following brief sketch is a true and grateful tribute to the

faithfulness of one who has been to the writer one of the greatest

blessings a mother, with little children, could have--a faithful,

devoted nurse.

As I write there comes before me a vivid picture of the scene in the

hospital ward where I first saw Mrs. Cheng. On the wide brick platform

or bed, which reached across one end of the room from wall to wall, were

stretched a number of patients, each one on their own thin mattress or

bedding, and each attended by their own friends; foreign nurses being

unknown in China then. In the further corner of this "kang" or general

bed, Mrs. Cheng bent over her poor mangled son, whose face was

completely hidden by bandages.

On that first visit I remember being much impressed with the mother's

soft voice and quiet dignified manner, and with her extreme gentleness

in tending her child. Each subsequent visit increased the desire to

secure this woman as a nurse for my children. Soon the opportunity

came.

Mrs. Cheng soon found that months instead of days or weeks must elapse,

before her child could leave the hospital. The question as to how she

could support herself and her son while in the hospital became a serious

one; she, therefore, gladly accepted my offer to meet their expenses in

return for her help some hours each day with the children. By the time

the doctor had pronounced the "Wolf Boy" ready to leave the hospital,

Mrs. Cheng had proved herself such a blessing and "treasure" in our home

that a warm welcome awaited her from the children as well as their

mother and she was installed as their permanent nurse.

Less than one year after Mrs. Cheng came to us, that terrible cataclysm

of horror--the Boxer uprising--took place, and we were all ordered to

flee. With four small children the thought of that long cart journey

_without Mrs. Cheng_ was appalling; but would she come? Her boy still

needed her to dress his face, and her old mother, of almost eighty, to

whom she was greatly devoted, looked constantly to her for help. We laid

our need before her and for one day she hesitated, going about the house

as if dazed. At evening she came with tears, saying, "Shepherd Mother,

I must go with you. My old mother weeps but tells me to go. My boy

needs me, but he, too, says I must go, for the children need me most."

Days and weeks of terrible experiences followed, during which Mrs. Cheng

proved herself a blessing to the sorely tried mother. Again and again

she was tested as few have ever been; how she stood the tests we shall

see.

The story of that journey has already been written, and only what

specially concerns Mrs. Cheng will here be mentioned.

On the eleventh day of the journey a band of armed men came down upon

our party like an avalanche, and in the melee Mrs. Cheng and our little

daughter, Ruth, became separated from us. Can we ever forget, how, when

men stood over the faithful nurse demanding the child, she refused to

give her up, but lay upon the little one, and took blow after blow upon

her own body? Only the greed for loot saved them, for the men seeing

others getting our things left them to get their share.

That same night when again our party was facing what seemed almost

certain massacre, several Chinese came to Mrs. Cheng urging her to leave

us, promising to see that she would be taken safely back to her home if

she would, but she refused.

About 2 o'clock that morning I heard the sound of weeping in the

courtyard; going out I found Mrs. Cheng sitting by the steps weeping

bitterly, and moaning aloud:

"I must go, I must go; they need me, even if they kill me I will go."

Sitting down beside her we clung in our distress to each other. Then a

strange thing happened. Two Chinese women came creeping towards us

through the dark court, and kneeling down at our feet took our hands in

theirs. Almost too surprised for words I said:

"Are you Christians?"

"We don't understand," they replied.

"Then why have you come to us now?"

"Because our hearts feel sorrow for you." These words but imperfectly

convey the beautiful and touching sympathy of these heathen women, for

as they spoke, tears were in their eyes, and their look and manner meant

more than words. Before I had time to say more than a few words to them

the call came to get into our carts.

Once, during the wonderful day of deliverances that followed, the cry

was raised by the mob that surrounded our carts:

"Get the nurse out, drag her out, we will have her!" And for a few

terrible moments it seemed we would lose her, but God in His great mercy

heard the cry that went up for her. A man came through the crowd,

evidently one of some influence, and shouted: "Don't touch her, leave

her alone; don't you see there are children and they need her?" So we

were allowed to pass on.

In those terrible days that followed, when almost starved, when sickness

came to first one and then another, when all were exhausted and tried to

the lost point of endurance, Mrs. Cheng thought not for one moment of

herself, but only for those she served. During all those hard, hard

days not a word of complaint or of her own sufferings escaped her.

Almost a month from the time we left our home we reached Shanghai and

here we had to part with our faithful helper. It was arranged that Mrs.

Cheng should go to a friend of ours in Chefoo till the troubles were

over, and we return to the Homeland.

Last words of farewell were being said at Mrs. Cheng's cabin door, as

her steamer was about to leave. The dear woman clung to me unwilling to

part and her last words were:

"Oh, my Shepherd Mother, do take good care of the children!" So smiles

were mixed with tears as we parted.

* * *

Two years passed. Conditions were once more becoming normal, or nearly

so. Missionaries were returning to their various stations, but could

we, who had been through that Baptism of Blood, ever be just the same as

before? We had been spared for further service, while others had been

TRANSLATED. Surely we had been saved to serve as never before. A new

and difficult life was entered upon--the opening of new out-stations,

the breaking of new ground. All through the years of that life when

traveling constantly from place to place, Mrs. Cheng was a patient and

willing sharer in all the hardness and a never failing source of comfort

to me. Never once in all those years, that I can recall, did this woman

ever get really angry or even out of temper with the children, and it

was a life that tried temper and patience to the utmost.

The years have passed on and with them the _little_ children from our

care, but Mrs. Cheng remains. Although sixty years of age she appears

in some things to be renewing her youth! During the recent war, when we

women were trying to do our "bit" through the Red Cross, Mrs. Cheng came

to me one day and begged me to allow her to take my place at the sewing

machine. At first I refused, but finally let her try but with some fear

lest she break the needle. To my great surprise she was soon able to go

on with the Red Cross work quite alone; indeed she came to make the

soldiers' garments so well as to call forth special praise from the Red

Cross Headquarters. This greatly surprised me, for I could never get her

to attempt to learn the machine when the children were small. One day I

asked her why this was so, and her reply was:

"_Then_ I could not learn because the children filled my heart, _now_,

my Shepherd Mother, it is empty!"

Let us take, in closing, a peep into Mrs. Cheng's own home. At break of

dawn on New Year's morning, 1918, Mrs. Cheng, her only remaining son and

his wife, and their three children, were busily engaged preparing their

New Year's feast, which consisted of dozens (amounting probably to

hundreds) of tiny meat dumplings, each one just large enough for one (?)

luscious, mouthful. (These dumplings are to the Chinese at the New Year

season what turkey and plum pudding are to the Westerner.)

When all was ready, even the pot or rather large caldron, at boiling

point awaiting the precious dumplings, Mrs. Cheng gathered her household

around her and together they knelt and worshipped the Christian's God.

Heathen neighbors gathered about the open doorway and watched, in

wondering but respectful silence, the kneeling group, and listened to

their hymn of praise. Worship over, while the rest dropped dumplings

into the bubbling water, Mrs. Cheng preached to the curious and

questioning neighbors. Telling me of it afterwards she said,--"Of

course, I could not preach, but I just told them what I knew of the Lord

Jesus."

Oh, that all God's more favored children in every land would do just

THAT.

*SKETCH XIV*

*Daybreak in One Home*

Part 1--LITTLE SLAVE.

Part 2--SLAVE'S FATHER.

Part 3--SLAVE'S RELEASE.

*Daybreak in One Home*

*Part I. LITTLE SLAVE.*

One of the most wonderful things about this wonderful old land of China,

is the number, size and length of her great waterways. Millions of her

people live, yes and die, on the large and small craft (chiefly the

latter) which ply up and down these great streams.

Twenty-five days' hauling up one of these rivers from the Port of

Tientsin, brings us to the town of Swinsen. There can be little doubt

but that this place dates far back, for not far distant can be still

seen the ruins of what was once--three thousand five hundred years ago,

or before Moses led the Children of Israel out of Egypt,--the

flourishing capitol of the Kingdom of China.

The Wang family, for many generations, had made their home in this

curious old town of Swinsen. To trace the history of one section of

this family, as I think you would like to hear it, we shall have to go

back forty years. Could we about that time, have taken a peep through

one of the gateways on a narrow street of this town, we would have seen

a strange sight.

Standing in the centre of the court, and surrounded by a rough mocking

group, was a young girl. She was dressed in all the gaudy garments of

an Eastern Bride, but her finery served only to show forth the more

conspicuously how ungenerous Nature had been in the matter of good

looks. Tall and very thin, with a slouchy uncertain manner which gave

her loose ill-fitting garments the appearance of being made for another,

and with deep smallpox marks covering her face, and only partially

concealed by powder and paint, she certainly did not appear the

beautiful bride they had been led to expect.

A storm of ridicule and scorn was kept up by the group surrounding her.

"Evidently," said one, "she has been brought up in a poorly-managed home

or why have her feet been allowed to grow so large?"

"Were we not promised a beautiful, rich, clever, bride, with tiny feet?"

said another. And the storm of abuse upon the innocent girl and absent

"go-between" became so bitter as to make the poor creature shrink in

terror. At last, like an animal brought to bay, she turned pleadingly

towards a bright young man standing on the outskirts of the group, her

bridegroom of a day, who till that moment seemed heartily to enjoy the

fun of tormenting her. Catching her pleading terrified look he flushed

as if with shame; then calling out sharply,--"Enough, enough! Let her

alone. She is not to blame, and, anyway, she is here to stay." With

this he gave her a not ungentle push towards the door of their

apartment, then hastened through the gate and disappeared down the

street.

As is the custom in China the Wang household was ruled with a rod of

iron by the old grandmother. And the old lady certainly had her hands

full for there were four sons, and four daughters-in-law, also numerous

grandchildren. The new daughter-in-law was no favorite with her, and

young Mrs. Wang, as we shall call her, had a hard and bitter life. All

the women of the family joined in making her the drudge. One would have

to understand heathenism and the conditions of a heathen home to fully

comprehend what refinement of cruelty and meanness can be exercised by

women under like circumstances. Again and again Mrs. Wang was tempted,

as she knew so many other brides had been, to end her wretchedness by

jumping down the well or taking opium poison, but something seemed to

keep her from this awful deed.

One day there arrived to comfort the poor girl's heart a tiny stranger.

Because it was a girl the other members of the family took no interest

in its arrival, but the mother's heart, crushed and starved for so long,

went out to her little daughter. She thought long for a beautiful name

for her, and at last decided to call her "Lily Blossom." But when the

old grandmother heard of her choice of a name she was furious, and

asserted her authority in no uncertain manner, declaring, "No girl in my

family will ever receive such a name. Why! it is just tempting the

fairies to send us _only girls_. Her name is to be SLAVE." And Slave

she was called.

The child grew up pretty and attractive, surprisingly so considering the

coarse and unattractive surroundings in which she lived. She was her

mother's constant companion, and even when very young would try to

shield her mother from the blows often showered upon her.

When Slave reached her sixth birthday preparations were made to have her

feet bound. Three or four women were needed for the performance. One

to hold the child, a second to bandage, and one or two more to pull the

bandages. A veil must be drawn over one terrible hour. Then we see her

rolling from side to side on the large brick bed in a state of

semi-consciousness. Her shrieks and cries had become reduced to low

moans.

At last her mother in pity offered to loosen the bandages, but little

Slave pushed her away with all her remaining strength, saying, "No, no,

I want my feet small, I must have my feet small." And the mother

knowing well the bitterness and cruelty she had suffered because of her

own feet being allowed to grow to almost natural size, yielded.

For months Slave was practically a cripple, then gradually she learned

to balance herself on her crushed and broken stumps of feet. Later the

child's delight knew no bounds, for everywhere she went her tiny feet,

clothed in beautiful embroidered shoes, attracted the admiration of all.

* * *

Seven years have passed and we now find Slave a beautiful girl of

thirteen. Her beauty had been much talked of, and great expectations

were indulged in regarding her marriage. The child outwardly seemed to

take more interest in making her pretty shoes than in these discussions

regarding her future "Mother-in-law's home," but in reality she was a

keen and interested listener to all that was said on the subject.

More than one "go-between" had visited the home for the purpose of

arranging a match with Slave, but the family knew her market value and

were hard to please. At last a woman came from whom Slave instinctively

shrank. Yet it was she who succeeded in satisfying the demands of the

family. This woman stated positively that the "Mother-in-law's home,"

for whom she was the middle-woman, was all that could be desired. They

owned considerable property, and were the chief family of their village.

As to the man himself, why he was all a girl could wish for or be proud

to call a husband,--young, handsome, clever, and so on.

The outcome of it all was the usual gifts were exchanged and Slave's

fate was sealed for life.

Two short years passed then word was received from Slave's

mother-in-law's home that the wedding must take place on a certain date

in the near future. During the busy days of preparation that followed,

Slave's heart palpitated many times as with mixed feelings she thought

of the future. Then alas, all too soon the eventful day arrived, when

two Sedan chairs were set down at the Wang's gateway. The one

containing the waiting bridegroom, was handsomely decorated in blue and

silver, but the bride's chair was even more gorgeous in its trappings of

gold and crimson.

When the time came for farewell, tears of real sorrow were shed, but

little Slave's heart was too full of the handsome young bridegroom to

permit such sad feelings remaining long. No sooner was she safely behind

the curtains of her chair than she arranged with utmost care, her veil

and ornaments, seeking meanwhile to get a glimpse of the one who was to

be hers for life. Often had she pictured to herself the "handsome young

man" described by the "go-between," and it was with only joyous

anticipation that she thought of the future. No response, however, came

from the other chair.

The journey was soon over, and as they approached her future home Slave

became increasingly nervous and shy. She could easily have caught a

glimpse of her bridegroom's face through her veil as they alighted from

their chairs, but her eyes seemed glued to the ground. She felt herself

led through the crowd of noisy spectators, and was conscious that he was

beside her. Together, side by side, they knelt before the household

gods. But it was not till she had been led to the bridal chamber and

seated on the brick platform or bed, with her garments arranged to the

best advantage, that the crowd was admitted and her veil was raised.

A low murmur arose at the sight of her great beauty. Still little

Slave's eyes would not rise. It was not till all had left and she was

alone with her husband that her eyes rose with one swift glance. But,

alas, poor child, it was not to see the bridegroom of her dreams, but

instead she saw a man old enough to be her father,--a man with the marks

of a debauched and wicked life plainly written on his countenance,--a

typical opium slave; in other words a man only in name, rather a brute

in human form!

As Slave caught sight of this man standing there, intoxicated with wine,

and looking like a beast about to pounce upon its prey, the shock of

disappointment was too great. Her face became deathly white, and with a

piercing cry,--"My mother, oh my mother," she fell forward unconscious.

We must leave our little friend to enter the darkness alone, only one of

multitudes in this dark heathen land of China whose innocence and

happiness are year by year sacrificed to the greed of gain and cruel

marriage customs of their own land.

We shall see later how the Light that can lighten the deepest darkness,

came at last into little Slave's life, giving peace and hope.

*Part II. SLAVE'S FATHER.*

Slave was gone! As really lost to her parents as if she were dead.

When the truth concerning the man she now belonged to for life became

known, her mother wept long and bitterly, but there was no redress; they

had to bear as others had borne, who had been deceived by an

unprincipled "go-between."

Some months after Slave's marriage, there came to fill her place two

fine twin boys. Mrs. Wang's day had dawned at last. The old

grandmother could not do enough for her and the once despised and

ill-treated drudge was waited on hand and foot by the other women, at

the command of the old lady.

For three whole years this state of things lasted, then one day the

grandmother announced her intention of _making the two boys take the

smallpox_. (Many of the Chinese believed that children must have the

smallpox when young or they will not grow up strong). The mother's

heart sank as she thought of what the result _might_ be. She ventured

to protest but was silenced by a shower of blows. The grandmother took

both of the fine healthy boys to a neighbor's house where they had

smallpox, and kept them there a whole day to ensure them getting the

disease. A week later both became ill.

We must draw a veil over the horror of the days that followed the agony

of the mother, the despair of the father, the rage of the grandmother

when she saw the children would die, and the ill-concealed malice of the

other women. A few days passed when a little body, wrapped in a piece

of old matting, was carried by the father to the children's pit outside

the city. A little later this scene was repeated, and Mrs. Wang's day

of happiness ended.

The cruel death of their two beautiful boys was the beginning of dark

days for _our_ Mr. and Mrs. Wang. The old grandmother died shortly

after from excess of rage. (The fits of rage to which women give way in

China cannot easily be understood by the Westerner). It was in one of

these attacks, caused no doubt by disappointment at the result of her

treatment of her grandchildren, that the poor old autocrat collapsed and

died. The day before the funeral was to take place the old husband was

found dead in bed.

An expensive funeral and excessive feasting which followed and which

custom required reduced the family to desperate financial straits.

The days following the funeral were tempestuous ones for the Wang

household, and the "domestic typhoons," as they have been correctly

described, were fiercer and more frequent than ever. At last the day

came when the family mutually decided to separate, which they did in

true Chinese fashion--each couple would be responsible for their own

finances, but would continue to live as before "within the one gate."

This arrangement would have been favorable to our branch of the family

had not Mr. Wang lost his situation as teacher almost immediately after

the change. Then followed several moons (months) of fruitless search

for employment. Everything that could be was sold or pawned to get food.

One day Mr. Wang's boatman brother returned from the coast. He told

them of a man who had come up on their boat who was looking for a

teacher for a missionary living in an adjoining province, and he urged

Mr. Wang to take this position. The women-folk, however, bitterly

opposed saying, "If he once gets under the spell of the foreigner we

shall never hear of him again." But they could not starve, and when it

was learned the salary would be considerably more than what he had been

getting even the women yielded.

Mr. Wang was himself only half inclined to go, for he could not get out

of his mind the remembrance of stories he had heard of wholesale

poisoning carried on by the missionaries.

Shortly after his departure a little girl came to comfort Mrs. Wang in

her loneliness. Now that she was her own mistress, she chose a pretty

name for the child, little dreaming what a beautiful herald it was of

the brighter day so soon to dawn, she called it Spring!

One morning when little Spring was just three weeks old, the Wang family

received a great surprise. They were all seated at their own doorsteps

or squatting around the court, each with a bowl of millet poised in one

hand and a pair of chop sticks in the other, when the front gate opened

and who should appear but Mr. Wang. It was as if a bomb had fallen! In

a few moments the court was crowded with curious neighbors, all eager to

hear the reason for his return.

The truth in brief was that he had reached the Mission Compound safely,

had been well received by the other Chinese teachers, had been in the

missionary's home and had taught him and his wife for one day, but that

night had been seized with sudden panic lest he get under the spell of

the missionaries, and had gathered up his belongings and when all were

asleep had quietly slipped away. This, however, was not just how Mr.

Wang told it to the waiting crowd. He found it necessary to add a good

many embellishments to make it a less humiliating story than it would

otherwise have been, and these additions were not always favorable to

the foreigners.

The family had to face the fact that there were three "mouths to fill"

and some work must be got, but weeks of searching resulted as before in

failure. Our friends would certainly have starved had not other members

of the family given, sometimes almost thrown, food to them. At last in

sheer despair Mr. Wang accepted a position in the Yamen (City Hall) for

just his food. Thus Mrs. Wang was left to battle with her little babe

alone. The cold pitiless winter faced her and bitter indeed did she

find the struggle for existence. To earn even three and a half cents a

day, she was obliged to sit at her spinning wheel far into the night,

with her babe inside her wadded garment to keep it warm.

* * *

During those long winter months Mr. Wang sat at his desk in the Yamen

the face of the missionary seemed to come before him vividly--so kind,

so true, so different from any face he had ever seen before.

Gradually he came to the point of resolving that had he another chance

he would return to the missionary. The opportunity was nearer than he

imagined.

While at his work one morning he heard an unusual commotion outside.

Stepping to the front gate he found a great crowd hurrying towards the

river. A man shouted to him, "Two foreign demons are coming up the

river. Come and see the fun."

Without so much as a thought for his work awaiting him, Mr. Wang caught

up his teacher's long gown to accelerate speed, and before the man

ceased speaking had started to run with the others. His behaviour on

this occasion at least was quite unworthy of a proud Confucian scholar,

all of whom pride themselves on imitating the sage in never making haste

under any circumstances.

Just as the tiny house boat, with two foreign men standing on its deck,

came in sight, Mr. Wang reached the river bank. Had he tried he would

have found it difficult to say why he trembled so. He was only

conscious of an intense desire that one of these men might be _his_

foreigner. At last as he recognized the missionary he had taught for a

day, he could scarcely repress a cry of joy, or wait till the boat was

drawn up to where he stood. Then, not waiting for the plank to be put

down, he leaped on board and faced the astonished missionary, who looked

his amazement as he recognized him.

Before the other could find words, Mr. Wang, making a low bow hurriedly

asked forgiveness in a few humble words. He ended by saying, "I know,

sir, you are not what people say you are. I was wrong, forgive me. If

you will take me back I will be glad to teach you."

While he was speaking the missionary's face was a study--surprise,

annoyance, relief, pleasure--all came in turn. The missionary, who could

now speak the Chinese language a little, laid Ids hand kindly on the

young man's shoulder and said:

"Not a word more, Mr. Wang. I am in need of a teacher so you may

consider yourself engaged, but you must be ready to start back with us

three days from now."

The poor fellow looked his gratitude but could find no words. As he

turned to leave the missionary called him back and said in a low voice

as he handed him some money, "Take this, you have a wife and she must be

provided for, we will reckon later." This thoughtful act completed the

capture of Mr. Wang's heart. From that moment he became the devoted

follower of the missionary although as yet he knew nothing of his

message.

Three days later found Mr. Wang settled in his little "tsang" or cabin

on the missionary's houseboat. Next to his was the larger cabin

occupied by the two missionaries as sleeping and living apartment. A

partition of open woodwork covered with paper separated the two cabins.

Mr. Wang had not been in his compartment very long before he had, in

true Chinese fashion, by moistening the tip of his finger and applying

it to the paper partition, made a hole sufficiently large to enable him

to watch all that passed in the adjoining cabin without himself being

seen. Day by day he spent every moment he could get at his self made

vantage ground. How those men puzzled him! As he noticed how quiet and

orderly, and above all how strangely happy they were, without being

boisterous, he became conscious of a growing sense of respect and

admiration. Before they had reached their destination, the missionary's

home, Mr. Wang had lost every trace of doubt or fear of the foreigners.

Mr. ----, the missionary, was a keen judge of character. His knowledge

of human nature was gained in the slums of a so-called Christian city,

and it was well for him that such experience had been gained before

meeting the more complex problems of the Chinese character. As day by

day the missionary studied with Mr. Wang he became more and more

convinced that this man must meet Christ first in him, His

representative, for he found him sharp, keen, critical, and alas,

utterly untrustworthy. But the day came when Mr. Wang testified, when

he was being received into the Church, "I learned first to love the

Pastor, then to love his Saviour."

*Part III--SLAVE'S RELEASE.*

Six years have passed since Mr. Wang entered on his duties as teacher to

the missionary. During all those years he had been an invaluable

assistant to Mr. ---- in the strenuous and difficult work of opening a

new mission station at the large and important city of C----. The time

had now come when it was thought best for Mr. Wang to bring his wife

from their old home. A small cottage was secured just opposite the

mission gate for them, and here a happier life began for Mrs. Wang than

she had ever thought possible.

Mr. Wang, like so many Chinese Christian men, thought his wife too

stupid to learn, and when she first came in touch with Mrs. ----, the

missionary's wife, she was practically a heathen. As she came in with

little Spring, now a bright little girl of nearly seven, the foreign

woman could scarcely hide her disappointment when she saw Mrs. Wang, she

was so extremely (shall I use the word) _ugly_, so untidy, slouchy, and

even far from clean. Yet there was a look in those small deep set eyes

which said plainly, "Yes, I know how different I am from you, but oh, I

do want you to love me." And the other felt herself strangely drawn to

her. Before long a deep and abiding affection sprang up between the two,

so different, yet at heart one.

Many times in the lesson periods that followed Mrs. ---- was tempted to

give up in despair, Mrs. Wang was so slow to learn. One day after a

particularly discouraging time of study, Mrs. Wang turned to her teacher

and said, "Teacher Mother, do not be discouraged because my mind is like

a sieve, for my heart has Jesus there."

The evidence of the new life within soon began to be seen in the

changed, happier, more restful face, and in the cleaner, tidier

garments. Willingly she allowed little Spring's feet to remain unbound,

which meant much at that time when women and girls with unbound feet

were unknown.

Although Spring had not the beauty of her older sister, Slave, she was

bright, quick, in her ways like her father, and most affectionate. From

the first contact with the missionaries the child's heart seemed open to

the Gospel, she came soon to show a love for the Saviour unusual in one

so young. The greatest treat little Spring could have in those early

days was to be allowed to play with the gentle fair-haired foreign child

of her own age.

One day the two children wandered outside the backgate into the fields

beyond. Suddenly they came upon some dogs devouring the body of a

little child. Spring, to whom such a scene was not unknown, looked on

unmoved, but the tenderly guarded foreign child gazed in speechless

horror, then screaming loudly ran towards home. Her mother, anxious at

her disappearance, had just reached the gate when the child appeared

almost frantic with terror and shock. A word was sufficient for the

mother to learn the cause of the trouble. "Oh, Mother!" cried the

child, sobbing on her mother's breast, "I see it now, a dear little

baby. Oh, mother, mother, those terrible dogs. I can never forget it."

That night the mother knelt long beside her child's bedside. Other

little ones had come and gone. This child seemed like a delicate lily,

too sensitive and high strung for such a land as China, where outside

the Mission Compound one could never tell when one would come upon a

scene that might hurt and shock.

Some time later the child was taken ill. There was no doctor near and

once more the parents went down into the Valley of the shadow of death

with a precious child. Meningitis developed. Spring and her mother

watched and waited outside the child's sick door for some word of hope.

But after days of great suffering the little one was taken to where

there will be "no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying."

A day later missionaries and Christians gathered about the open grave

beside which rested the little coffin almost covered with beautiful

flowers. It was then that Mrs. Wang recalled the cruel death of her two

boys and what had been done with their little bodies. The contrast was

indeed great: here were every token of love and honor for the precious

remains; but what moved Mrs. Wang end went to her heart was the look of

Hope written on the mother's face as they all sang together--

"Little children, little children.

Who love their Redeemer

Are the jewels, precious jewels,

His loved and His own.

"Like the stars of the morning

His bright crown adorning,

They shall shine in His beauty

His loved and His own."

As these words sank deep into Mrs. Wang's very soul, there came a great

yearning that her own people might hear of this Gospel that gives a soul

a hope after death.

* * *

Sometime after her little friend's death, Spring entered the mission

school for girls, the first girls' school to be opened in that part of

China. Year by year as they passed, Spring grew in the love and esteem

of her teachers. Her bright, happy ways and true Christian character

endeared her to all. But the one Spring loved most of all was the mother

of the friend she never forgot. On one occasion when the writer was

home on furlough, she received the following letter from Spring: "Dear

Teacher Mother, Come back very soon. As one who is hungry longs for

food and one who is thirsty for drink, so my heart longs for you!"

When fifteen years of age Spring graduated with such distinction that

she was sent to the advanced school for girls in Peking. Upon her

return she became assistant teacher in the Mission Girls' School.

About this time Mrs. Wang's health broke down. A little daughter had

come whom they named "Brightness." Through all the months of weakness

and failing health, the poor suffering woman showed forth a true spirit

of patience and resignation. One day an urgent call came for the

missionary's wife to go and see the sick woman. Hastening to the little

cottage across the way, she found the court empty so entered the door

unannounced, and passing through the outer room she lifted the curtain

that served for door into the room where she could see dimly the form of

her loved friend lying on the brick bed.

There was no mistaking the look which plainly told the last call had

come to Mrs. Wang. Overcome with the shock of seeing the end so near,

Mrs. ---- sank down beside her friend and wept bitterly. Slowly the

dying woman raised her hand and stroked the head of the weeping woman,

and with difficulty said, "Don't grieve for me. There is much I want to

say, but the time is too short. Listen! My child, my little Slave,

does not know about the Saviour. Help Spring to go to her before it is

too late."

There was a long silence broken only by suppressed weeping from Spring

who was standing by. Then Mrs. Wang continued, "And you, my friend;

thank you again for bringing this precious Saviour to even me. And you

have helped me so much."

"No, no," said Mrs. ---- unable to keep silence longer. "It is you who

have helped me. Your patience under trial has been a constant rebuke to

me for my impatience." She could say no more for even while she was

speaking the Glory of the unseen world seemed to shine on the dying

woman's face.

* * *

Some months after her mother's death the way was opened for Spring to

visit her father's old home. She had many times longed and prayed that

she might fulfil her mother's dying request. With some difficulties

Spring found where her sister lived and as she drew near the house her

heart rose in earnest prayer for her sister's conversion.

An old woman responded to her knock at the gate, to whom Spring made

herself known, then asked to see her sister. The old woman who turned

out to be Slave's mother-in-law, directed her to the door of the room

where we last parted with poor Slave--a broken-hearted bride.

Tapping gently on the door and receiving no answer, Spring entered. On

the long brick bed at one end of the room lay her sister. The wasted

frame and racking cough told all too plainly Slave's days on earth were

few. As Spring stood looking at her sister for a moment, almost too

overcome to speak, she thought of her mother's words, "before it is too

late."

For three days Spring remained with her sister. Fortunately for them

both Slave's husband was not at home, and the old mother-in-law left

them alone only too glad to have someone to relieve her from waiting on

the sick one.

When Spring described to her sister their mother's beautiful death,

tears ran down Slave's cheeks as she said, "Oh, that I too could have

such a hope!"

"You can, my sister," eagerly cried Spring. "I have come as mother

wished, to tell you how you can go to where she is." Then patiently and

lovingly she opened up to her sister, step by step, the glorious Gospel

of a Saviour from sin and a hope after death. Slave listened and drank

in the message as one parched with thirst would drink from a living

spring.

Once when the sisters were talking closely together, Slave suddenly

broke into a passion of uncontrollable weeping. Then came little by

little as she had strength to tell it, the story of those terrible years

since she left her father's home. At last as if words failed her, she

loosened her garment and revealed her shoulders and back covered with

bruises and healed scars, silent witnesses to the cruelty of the past.

Gradually the Peace and Hope born of her new found faith came into

Slave's poor starved soul. And as the sisters parted never as they knew

well to meet again on earth, Slave said, "Yes, it is different now, I

shall be in heaven before you. I have no more fear now. But pray for my

husband."

* * *

There is a Love that longs with deep affection

To gather all the sinsick sons of men

Beneath its wings of shelter and protection,

And give them health again.

It is the love of Jesus, sweet with longing,

His full salvation to the world to give,

Crying to all the dead, earth's highways thronging,

"Come unto Me, come unto Me, and live."

_By Annie Johnson Flint_.

Copyright, Evangelical Publishers.