THE LAST DAYS
At Tientsin James Gilmour was the guest of Dr. Roberts--for too brief a
time his colleague in Mongolia--and the doctor's sister, who kept house
for him. The story of the closing days cannot be better told than in
their words. To Miss Roberts fell the sorrowful task of sending the news
of their irreparable bereavement to the two motherless lads in England.
'Tientsin: June 6, 1891.
'My dear Willie and Jimmie,--You will wonder who I am that call you
by your names and yet have never known you.
'But I think, when you hear that your dear father spent the last
five weeks of his life with my brother, Dr. Roberts, and myself,
perhaps you will not be sorry to get a few lines from an unknown
friend. It is now many weeks since we received a letter from Mr.
Gilmour saying he hoped to be able to attend the annual meetings in
Tientsin, and who would take him in? My brother replied at once,
saying what a real pleasure it would be if he would stay with us.
And so he came, and about a fortnight before the time, of which we
were all the more glad. He looked the very picture of health on his
arrival, and was in excellent spirits; many remarked how very well
and strong he looked.
'I remember well the day he arrived, it was a Saturday afternoon.
I suggested that he should have some dinner at once, but,
thoughtful-like, as your father always was, he said, "No, thank
you, I have already had all I want; I shall not require anything
more till your next ordinary meal."
'By-and-by we showed him his room, "whose windows opened to the
sun-rising." We had made it as pretty and comfortable as we could,
and brightened it with freshly cut flowers. The next day I noticed
he had taken the tablecloth off his writing-table, and in the
evening he handed it to me, saying, if I remember rightly, "Here,
mademoiselle, is your tablecloth. I am afraid of inking it. You had
better put it away." I was grieved, and begged he would use, and
ink it, too, for the matter of that; but it was no use, not on any
account would he spoil my cloth, and therefore would not use it.
'He seemed very happy with us, and I think thoroughly appreciated
the homelikeness of his surroundings after his lonely life in
Mongolia, and the dismal rooms of a Chinese inn, and it was such a
pleasure to minister to his comforts in every possible way we could
think of.
'He used to spend his days, as a rule, in the following way:--
'After breakfast he would write letters. At 10.45, after a cup of
cocoa, he would go over to the hospital, returning at 1 o'clock to
dinner. This over, he would go back with my brother to see the
in-patients. At 4.30 we would all have tea together, after which he
would make calls, or go for a walk, or talk over committee matters
with Mr. Lees or Mr. Bryson. Many evenings he would be invited out,
or would be at a meeting, or would spend it quietly at home; and so
the time went by till meetings began. Then the whole day till 4
P.M. was spent in committee, and at six Mr. Gilmour had a
Bible-class for an hour with the Chinese preachers who had come to
attend some of the meetings.
'These were nearly over when your father began to complain of
feeling done up and of having fever. The following Sunday he was in
bed. This was only eleven days before he died. On Monday, however,
he was better. and up, and was able to be with us all day, and took
the Communion with us all in the evening. Then we chatted together
for some time and sang hymns, amongst others, "God be with you till
we meet again!" No. 494 in Sankey's _Songs and Solos_.
'In this connection let me tell you some of Mr. Gilmour's favourite
hymns in the book just mentioned. Amongst these were Nos. 494, 535,
150, 328. I dare say you would like to learn them and sing them for
his sake.
'Your dear father was only in bed ten days before the end came, and
all this time he spoke but little. He was too feverish and ill to
want to talk or to listen: he just lay quietly, bearing his
sickness with remarkable patience. One day, observing he was a
little restless, I went to his bedside and asked him if he wanted
anything. "No, nothing," was his reply, "only that the Lord would
deliver me out of this distress."
'The last few days his mind was not clear, but all his wanderings
were about his work. It was the last day but one of his life; he
was more restless than usual, trying all the time to rouse himself,
as if for a journey, when he looked up and said, "Where are we
going?"
'"To heaven," I answered, "to see the Lord."
'"No," he replied, "that is not the address."
'"Yes it is, Mr. Gilmour," I said again. "We are going to heaven;
would you not like to go and see the Lord Jesus?"
'Then he seemed to take in the meaning of my words, and reverently
bowed his head in assent, his lips quivered, and his eyes filled
with tears; and he was quieted, like a weary child who has lost his
way and finds on inquiry that only a few more steps and he will be
at rest and at home.
'The next day, his last, was still more restless. At one time he
seemed to be addressing an audience and earnestly gesticulating
with his hands; and, with as much force as he could command, he
said: "We are not spending the time as we should; we ought to be
waiting on God in prayer for blessing on the work He has given us
to do. I would like to make a rattling speech--but I cannot--I am
very ill--and can only say these few words." And then he nodded his
head and waved his hand, as if in farewell to his listeners.
'It was seven o'clock in the evening when my brother saw the end
was not far off, and at once we sent for all the other members of
the Mission that all might watch with him in this last solemn hour.
He was unconscious the whole time, and his breathing laboured.
'The two doctors battled for an hour and a half to keep off Death's
fatal grasp, but to no purpose: the Lord wanted His faithful
worker, and we could not keep him, though we wanted him much, and
knew that Willie and Jimmie in England needed him more.
'Gradually the breathing became quieter and quieter, till at last,
about 9.30, he just closed his eyes and "fell asleep," with the
peace of Heaven resting on his face.'
In a letter sent by Dr. Roberts to Dr. Smith, who was then in England, a
few further particulars are given.
'He preached one Sunday evening a very solemn sermon on "Examine
yourself," and no one can soon forget the way he preached. During
the annual meetings he was extra busy. Everyone remarked what a
good chairman he made, and in the devotional meetings from 9 to
9.30 A.M. he was always ready to lead in prayer or speak a few
words. Freshness, to the point, and to the heart--characterised all
he did or said. In the evenings he conducted services for the
native preachers present at the annual gathering, and to these
meetings he took one foreigner each night to assist in the
speaking.
'It was at the close of this busy week, when tired out, that he got
the fever which eventually carried him home. The fever was very
irregular in type, but after some days I felt it was an exceptional
type of typhus fever. Great weakness of the heart was a
characteristic feature all through his case, and but for this sad
complication I believe he would have been alive to-day. Weak action
of the heart was an old enemy of his. For the first week of his
illness he did not feel very poorly, and we had many chats
together, and some prayer and reading of God's Word every night
nearly. But in the second week his temperature went up to 106∞,
and, though it came down under anti-pyretics, he seemed never to
regain his former ground. His mind became more and more clouded.
Parker took the night nursing, my sister the day, and I sat with
him when time allowed. On Thursday, May 21, the day on which he
died, he was very delirious all day, though he knew us all. I did
not give up hope till 7 P.M., when his heart failed him in spite of
active stimulation. It was then that we all gathered round his bed.
I did my utmost with the help of Frazer to avert the sad end; but
ere long, seeing our efforts were vain, we ceased, and sat in his
room and saw him gradually and very peacefully pass away, his
breath getting feebler and feebler till he closed his eyes and fell
asleep in Jesus.'
The funeral took place towards evening on May 23, 1891. It was a lovely
afternoon, and the sun shining brightly lent additional force to the
words of John Bunyan which were printed upon the simple sheet containing
the hymn to be sung at the grave: 'The pilgrim they laid in an upper
chamber whose window opened towards the Sun-rising.' The coffin was
borne to the grave by two relays of bearers; the first consisted of
three European and three native preachers; the second, on the one side,
of the Rev. S. E. Meech, his brother-in-law; the Rev. J. Parker, his
colleague, and Dr. Roberts; and on the other Liu, his faithful Chinese
preacher and helper, Chang, the tutor of the theological class at
Tientsin, and Hsi, his courier, a native of T· Ss[)u] Kou. His last
resting-place immediately adjoins that of his dearly loved friend, Dr.
Mackenzie, and the service at the grave was conducted by the Rev.
Jonathan Lees and the Rev. J. Parker. Chang offered prayer, and a
farewell hymn was sung.
Sleep on, beloved, sleep, and take thy rest;
Lay down thy head upon thy Saviour's breast;
We love thee well; but Jesus loves thee best--
Good night! Good night! Good night!
Until the shadows from this earth are cast;
Until He gathers in His sheaves at last;
Until the twilight gloom be overpast--
Good night! Good night! Good night!
Until we meet again before His throne,
Clothed in the spotless robe He gives His own,
Until we know even as we are known--
Good night! Good night! Good night!
Little Chinese boys who had known and loved Mr. Gilmour came forward and
threw handfuls of flowers into his grave, loving hands laid upon the
coffin a wreath of white blossoms on behalf of the now orphaned boys
far away, and the simple but beautiful service was closed by a
spontaneous act on the part of the Chinese converts present. Pressing
near the grave of him whose heart loved China and the Chinese with a
fervour and an enthusiasm that may have been equalled, but certainly
have never been surpassed, they sang in their own tongue the hymn
beginning, 'In the Christian's home in glory.'
The labourer had entered into the rest he had so often seen by the eye
of faith. 'There remains,' he wrote, less than a year before his death,
'a rest. Somewhere ahead. Not very far at the longest. Perfect, quiet,
full, without solitude, isolation, or inability to accomplish; when the
days of our youth will be more than restored to us; where, should
mysteries remain, there will be no torment in them. And the reunions
there! Continuous too, with no feeling that the rest of to-day is
to-morrow to be ended by a plunge again into a world seething with
iniquity, and groaning with suffering.'
Many pages might be filled with loving eulogies of James Gilmour. But
the best of all is the simple story of his life. Yet two or three
references to his work and influence must here find a place.
From the pen of Dr. Reynolds comes this weighty testimony:--
'The end of his career came all too suddenly, and in gathering
together my impressions of it as a whole, I am convinced that I
have seldom seen a man so entirely possessed by a grand idea, so
utterly persuaded that we had a debt to pay to the heathen world,
so invincibly sure that Christian faith and life was the one
supreme need of these regions beyond our circle of light. Few men
have cast the bread upon greater waters, have sown the seed over a
wider area, or had to mourn more sadly over those heart-breaking
months which intervene between the seedtime and the harvest.
Impartial critics have recognised the intense honesty, the shrewd
wit, the faculty of vision, the power to tell the story of his rare
experiences with such verisimilitude as to force upon the reader a
ready acquiescence in every detail of his narrative. But his
Christian brethren saw a deeper vein than this in Gilmour's
achievements. He was ablaze from first to last with a passionate
desire to set forth Christ in His majesty and mercy, in all His
power to heal and to command. I had unexpected opportunities of
finding how tender and affectionate his nature was; how grateful
and enthusiastic his love to his Hamilton home, to his father,
mother, and wife, and how faithful and loyal he was to the society
and the brotherhood of his Alma Mater.'
The Rev. G. Owen, at a memorial service held in Peking very shortly
after Mr. Gilmour's death, gave a sketch of his character and work, and
thus summed up his life:--
'He spared himself in nothing, but gave himself wholly to God. He
kept nothing back. All was laid upon the altar. I doubt if even St.
Paul endured more for Christ than did James Gilmour. I doubt, too,
if Christ ever received from human hands or human heart more
loving, devoted service.
'If anyone asks, "Would it not have been better if Mr. Gilmour had
taken more care of himself and lived longer?" I would answer: "I
don't know. His life was beautiful, and I would not alter it if I
could. A few years of such service as he gave Christ are worth a
hundred years of humdrum toil. We need the inspiration of such a
life as his. Heaven, too, is the richer for such a man and such a
life. The pearly gates opened wide, I have no doubt, to receive
him. Angels and men gave him glad welcome, and what a smile would
light up the Saviour's face as He received His faithful servant
home!"
'And he being dead yet speaketh. He says, "Be faithful, work hard,
for the night cometh when no man can work. Be earnest, for life is
brief; be ready, for life is uncertain." But why did God call him
away in the midst of life and work? I don't know. Possibly work
here is not of such importance as we think. Or there is more
important service elsewhere waiting for such men as Mr. Gilmour. He
has been faithful over a few things; he has been made ruler over
many things, and has entered into the joy of his Lord.'
Mr. Parker wrote to the sons of his late colleague on June 6, 1891:--
'It is sad that my first letter to you should be to tell you about
your father's death, of which no doubt you have heard long ago....
The last photographs of yourselves which you sent out he always had
where he could see them. Whenever he travelled he took them with
him. At Tientsin during his last illness he had them on a low side
table, just on a level with his bed, so that as he lay there he
could see them.... He was very happy, and died like a faithful
soldier who had finished his work. It is sad, dear boys, to lose a
father such as he was, but it is a great blessing to have had such
a father, one so brave, so courageous, one who for the sake of
Christ suffered bodily discomfort and pain, suffered terrible
loneliness that he might win some of God's sinning children back
to their Father's arms. He lived and suffered for the Mongols, and
though God denied him the honour of baptizing even one of them, yet
so faithful was he to his work that he toiled on to the very last.
"Faithful unto death" are words fully exemplified in your father's
life.'
In his first letter from Mongolia after his prompt return to carry on in
a like spirit of faith and devotion the work from which Mr. Gilmour had
been summoned away Mr. Parker depicts the grief of the native Christians
on learning their loss. 'The sorrow of the converts here (Ch'ao Yang) at
the news of Gilmour's death was very touching Grown-up men burst into
tears and sobbed like children when they were told he was dead. All
along the route where Gilmour was such a familiar visitor, in the
market-place, and at their fairs, the first question they asked as soon
as they saw me was, "Has Mr. Gilmour come?" And at my reply there was
always great astonishment, accompanied by expressions of sorrow. Every
day at evening prayers I can hear Gilmour's name mingled with their
petitions. The Christians here have sent a letter of sympathy to his two
boys.
'Here in Ch'ao Yang there are any amount of Mongols, not nomadic,
tent-loving, but settled here, and hence they do not have to be
sought. Right in the centre of the town is an immense Mongol temple
with two or three hundred priests. Every day I have several of the
priests in here, and yet I have heard again and again that this
mission is misplaced. Some such words often pained the heart that
is now still in death. But this is, and shall be, essentially a
Mongol mission in this, that as the best efforts of dear Gilmour
were for making Christ known to the Mongols, my best endeavours
shall be to this end. But if some hungry Chinaman, standing by as I
hold out the bread of life to his Mongol brother, seeks to eat of
it, he shall have it, and be as welcome as the other.'
The letter to the children referred to in Mr. Parker's report is a
fitting description of James Gilmour's life, and he himself would have
desired no other panegyric. It came from the hearts of men on whose
behalf he had given his very best, and it shows how strong a hold he had
obtained upon their affection.
'We respectfully enquire for the peace and happiness of your
excellencies, our brothers Gilmour, also for the peace of your
whole school. In the first place Pastor Gilmour in his preaching
and doctoring at Ch'ao Yang, north of the Pass, truly loved others
as himself, was considerate and humble, and had the likeness of
(our) Saviour Jesus. Not only the Christians thank him without end,
but even those outside the Church (the heathen) bless him without
limit. We, who through Pastor Gilmour have obtained the doctrine of
the second birth, and received the grace of Jesus, had hoped with
Mr. Gilmour to have assembled on the earth until our heads were
white and in the future life to have gone with him to heaven.
Little did we think we should have been so unhappy. He has already
gone to the Lord. We certainly know he is in the presence of the
Lord, not only praying for us, but also for you our brothers.
'We pray you, when you see this letter, not to grieve beyond
measure. We hope that you will study with increased ardour, so as
to obtain the heavenly wisdom, like Solomon, and that afterwards
you may come to China, to this Ch'ao Yang, to preach the Gospel
widely. As the father did, may the sons follow, is our earnest
desire.
'Signed by the Ch'ao Yang Christians,
'LIU MAO LIN (preacher).
P'ANG TIEN K'UEI.
WANG SHENG.
NING FU TUNG.
CHANG WAN CH'UAN.
CHANG KUEI.
CHIANG SHENG.
WANG HUI HSIEN.
LIU I (your father's servant).
SUNG KANG.
CH'U WEN YUAN.
CHANG CHEN.
CHANG MAO CHI.
NING KUANG CHEN.
LIU CHO.
T'IEN TE CH'UN.
HU TE.'
Here, then, we leave him. If the story of his life fail to touch the
heart, to deepen faith, to exalt our estimate of renewed human nature,
and to revive enthusiasm in work for Christ at home and abroad, the
fault must be in him who has tried to tell it, and to set in order the
facts.
God's ways are ofttimes dark. James Gilmour had often felt this, and, to
those who knew him, it seemed as though he were taken just when God's
work needed him most, when the first-fruits of the coming harvest were
being gathered, when his knowledge of the Chinese and the Mongols, and
their knowledge of him and affection for him, were beginning to tell.
But God knows best, and nothing can deprive the Church of Christ of the
splendid self-sacrifice, of the noble perseverance in the path of duty
of the bright example of courage, devotion, enthusiasm for souls, and
patient continuance in well doing shining so clearly through all the
long, years of toil. Love, self-crucifixion, Jesus Christ closely
followed in adversity, in loneliness, in manifold perils, under almost
every conceivable form of trial and hindrance and resistance both
active and passive--these are the seeds James Gilmour has sown so richly
on the hard Mongolian Plain, and over its Eastern mountains and valleys.
'In due time we shall reap if we faint not.' His work goes on. He is now
doing the Master's bidding in the higher service. There, we must fain
believe, he is finding full scope for those altogether exceptional
spiritual affinities, and powers and capacities which stand out so
conspicuously all through the story of his inner life. Upon us who yet
remain rests the responsibility of carrying forward the work he began,
of reinforcing the workers, of bearing Mongolia upon our prayers until
Buddhism shall fade away before the pure truth and the perfect love of
Jesus Christ, and even the hard and unresponsive Mongols come to
recognise the truths James Gilmour so long and so faithfully tried to
teach them--that they need the Great Physician even more than they need
the earthly doctor, and that He is more able and willing to heal the
hurt of their souls than the earthly physician is to remove the disease
of their bodies.
Is not the real lesson of James Gilmour's life twofold? If it be looked
at from the point of view of results, it should give clear and vivid
ideas of the unwisdom of being cast down by the absence of results in
face of the difficulties of missionary work in China. It is to be feared
that there are still large numbers of good Christian people who believe
that for the conversion of Chinamen and Mongols all that is requisite is
to put into the hands of the heathen a copy of God's Word in their
native tongue, and then preach to them the good tidings of salvation. No
man in this, or in past generation, has done this more faithfully than
James Gilmour. No man ever believed more firmly in the truth that it is
'not by might nor by power,' but by the direct influence of the Holy
Spirit, that the intellect and conscience and heart of the heathen are
to be subdued to the Saviour. No man ever wrestled more eagerly and
fervently in prayer on behalf of the ignorant and sinful, and yet his
avowed converts can be numbered on the fingers. Does this prove that God
is unfaithful? Does this tend to show that the enterprise is hopeless?
Or has God been teaching us, by the life of one of His ablest and truest
servants, the lesson of patient continuance in the path of His commands,
whether He blesses or whether He withholds? Is He not proclaiming to His
Church the need of a self-sacrifice _in all its members_ commensurate
with that displayed by James Gilmour and others who like him have not
counted their lives dear unto themselves in the struggle with
heathenism? Some must go in the 'forlorn hope.' Some must lay down their
lives in preparing the highway of our God. 'Herein is the saying true,
One soweth and another reapeth.' But succeeding toilers in the Mongolian
field, as the direct result of James Gilmour's sowing, will be able in
days to come to apply to themselves our Lord's words, 'I sent you to
reap that whereon ye have not laboured:--others have laboured, and ye
are entered into their labour.'
If the life of James Gilmour be looked at altogether apart from the
results that can be entered in tables of statistics, how splendidly
inspiring it is! Faithful to his Master, faithful to his work, although
the Master _seemed_ to delay the blessing, although the work wore down
the worker. 'I,' said St. Paul to the thankless Corinthian Church,
'will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls. If I love you more
abundantly, am I loved the less? But be it so.' And in the Epistle to
the Romans he applied to the Jews who were resisting the Gospel the
ancient words of Isaiah: 'But as to Israel He saith, All the day long
did I spread out my hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people. I
say then, Did God cast off His people? God forbid.' Nor will God cast
off the Israel of China, or the Mongols who gave to the faithful teacher
respect, attention, and in a way the love of their hearts, but who as
yet have not surrendered those hearts to their true Lord. James Gilmour,
in season and out of season, in almost constant solitude, in
superabounding physical labours that often overburdened him, and once
nearly broke him down, in the long disappointment of the most cherished
hopes, and under the constant strain of what would have crushed any but
a giant in faith, lived a life which, if it taught no other lesson, was
yet well worth living to teach this--that Jesus Christ can and does give
His servants the victory over apparent non-success, after the most
vehement and long-sustained effort to secure success, and that this is
the greatest victory possible to renewed and sanctified human nature.
PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW STREET SQUARE
LONDON
CHEAP EDITION.
Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. cloth boards.
JAMES GILMOUR
OF MONGOLIA:
_HIS DIARIES, LETTERS, AND REPORTS._
[Illustration: Sincerely yours James Gilmour]
EDITED AND ARRANGED BY
RICHARD LOVETT, M.A.
_Author of 'Norwegian Pictures,' 'The Printed English Bible,'
'London Pictures,' &c._
PUBLISHED BY THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
56 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
[P.T.O.
* * * * *
Press Notices
OF
THE LIFE OF GILMOUR.
'The story of James Gilmour will, if we mistake not, take a place of its
own in modern missionary literature. To a world devoted so much to
mercenary interests, and a Church too given to take things easily, the
life is at once a rebuke and an appeal not easily to be
forgotten.'--CHRISTIAN WORLD.
'We are sure that this work will be read with the deepest interest by
Churchmen as well as Nonconformists.'--RECORD.
'A notable addition to the number of impressive and fascinating
missionary books--a volume fit to stand on the same shelf with the
biographies of Paton and Mackay.'--BRITISH WEEKLY.
'James Gilmour may appear to some as a hero, to others as a deluded
enthusiast, but no one who takes up this account of his life and work
can fail to be fascinated by it.'--MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.
'Out of sight the most interesting and valuable missionary biography of
recent years.'--LITERARY WORLD.
'Not only deeply interesting as a record of missionary labour, but teems
with characteristic sketches of Chinese manners, customs, and
scenery.'--TIMES (WEEKLY).
'Unlike many missionary records, his letters and journals can be read.
Indeed, it is difficult to stop reading, once you have begun.' NATIONAL
OBSERVER.
'For an age which, as the editor remarks, likes "large and quick
returns" for its investments, the history of a man who had for many
years to possess his soul in patience has a real and permanent value.'
DAILY TELEGRAPH.
'From every point of view the book deserves the highest praise.' GLASGOW
HERALD.
'Not the least interesting portion of the book will be its strange
pictures of life amid Mongol surroundings.'--LIVERPOOL COURIER.
* * * * *
By JAMES GILMOUR.
AMONG THE MONGOLS.
BY THE LATE
REV. JAMES GILMOUR, M.A.
With Engravings. 2s. 6d. cloth, gilt.
'There has been, if our experience serves us at all, no book quite like
this since "Robinson Crusoe"; and "Robinson Crusoe" is not better, does
not tell a story more directly, or produce more instantaneous and final
conviction. No one who begins this book will leave it till the narrative
ends, or doubt for an instant, whether he knows Defoe or not, that he
has been enchained by something separate and distinct in literature,
something almost uncanny in the way it has gripped him, and made him see
for ever a scene he never expected to see.'--THE SPECTATOR.
'Mr. Gilmour tells a story well, and though he tells it quite simply and
straightforwardly, he never misses the point of it. He writes, moreover,
after having had exceptional chances of gaining a thorough acquaintance
with the Mongolian character.'--THE GUARDIAN.
'There is a charm in the quiet way in which the modest missionary tells
of his life in Tartar tents, of the long rides across the grassy plain,
and of the daily life of the nomads among whom he passed so many years.'
FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW.
'Mr. Gilmour's volume is one of the most charming books about a strange
people that we have read for many a day.'--NATURE.
'Mr. Gilmour has lived _tÍte-‡-tÍte_ with a Buddhist Lama under his own
movable roof; he has shared the hospitality of the desert caravan; he
has taken his turn in the night-watch against thieves; and he has dwelt
as a lodger in their more permanent abodes of trellis-work and felt. As
a picture of the raw material from which Chinese civilisation has been
finally evolved--the primitive stage of Tartar nomad communities--these
sketches possess a great sociological value; while from the point of
view of the reader for amusement alone they are full of liveliness and
local colouring.' PALL MALL GAZETTE.
'Although it appears in unpretentious form, this is a really remarkable
chronicle of travel and adventure.'--THE GLOBE.
By JAMES GILMOUR.
* * * * *
Crown 8vo. 5s. cloth.
MORE ABOUT THE MONGOLS.
Selected and Arranged from Mr. GILMOUR'S Diaries and Papers
By RICHARD LOVETT, M.A.,
_Author of 'James Gilmour of Mongolia' &c._
'The style of the writer and the novelty of the theme, and the heart
which so longs for "Mongols" showing itself on many a page, combine to
make the work intensely interesting, instructive, and impressive.'--THE
PRESBYTERIAN.
'The experiences of a devoted missionary, whose gift of circumstantial
narrative has not inaptly been likened to Defoe's.'--THE TIMES.
'It is indeed a delightful volume, which will be welcomed by all who
desire the extension of Christ's kingdom on earth.'--ENGLISH CHURCHMAN.
'Extracts from the diaries of one of the most adventurous and
self-denying of missionaries.'--SATURDAY REVIEW.
'Will be welcomed wherever the name of James Gilmour is known.' THE
RECORD.
'A fascinating volume of travels, and a series of observations on men
and manners which show the stuff of which our British missionaries are
made.' METHODIST TIMES.
'Will delight readers of all ages.'--CHRISTIAN WORLD.
* * * * *
Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. cloth, gilt edges.
JAMES GILMOUR AND HIS BOYS.
By RICHARD LOVETT, M.A.
With Facsimile Letters and many Illustrations.
'Ought to be in every Sunday School library.'--THE CHRISTIAN.
'It is full of curious passages of adventure; and has a strong religious
interest which will not fail to give young readers an intelligent
appreciation of the nature of foreign mission work.'--SCOTSMAN.
'It has been skilfully put together and will make an admirable
gift-book.' BRITISH WEEKLY.
'It should find a place in all Christian homes.' WESTERN MORNING NEWS.
'It is one that all boys, and girls too, will delight to read.' SCOTTISH
LEADER.
'A fascinating volume from beginning to end.'--BAPTIST.
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
56 Paternoster Row, London; and Sold by all Booksellers.
_Spottiswoode & Co. Printers, New-street Square, London._