A VISIT TO THE BASE
FROM WHENCE WE ARE AGAIN SENT FORTH WITH FRESH SUPPLIES
IT was with mixed feelings that we came to realise that the days were
few until that experience known as "taking furlough" was to be ours.
It was indeed hard to leave our post. England seemed so far away, and
the thought of having to readjust oneself to English ways and English
dress was not inviting. The desire to see relatives and friends pulled
toward the West, but I realised that an even stronger magnet was drawing
me with tremendous force to remain in the land of the Celestial.
It was arranged that two experienced missionaries, the Misses Higgs and
Johnson, should join Miss Mandeville who had been with us for nearly two
years, during our absence. A year of strenuous effort on their part in a
post requiring the exercise of tact and forbearance, enabled us to see
marked progress in the work upon our return a year later.
In order to carry out our plan of advance new buildings were necessary,
and a consultation was held as to the sum required. On the most
economical computation this would certainly be L500, and we left for
England with the hope and prayer that if it were for the glory of God
this sum might be forthcoming.
The months passed by, and sums various were contributed. We were due to
leave England in March, and we were still far short of the required
amount, when in February, my friend and Pastor, Dr. Campbell Morgan,
arranged that I should have an opportunity of telling the members of
Westminster Chapel of the work in Hwochow. It was Sunday morning and the
usual collection for Church expenses had been taken, but at the close of
the service Dr. Morgan announced that those who wished to do so might
send contributions to him, which would be forwarded to me. Thanks to the
generosity and kindness of those concerned, we left for China with our
L500 less L50. In March we started on the interesting journey through
Siberia, bringing with us that which was of more value than much gold,
Miss French's younger sister, Francesca, to join us in our missionary
work.
We reached Moscow, that fascinating city with its churches, Kremlin, and
numerous historic interests. We seemed to be at the parting of the way
where East and West meet and merge. Partly for the sake of economy and
partly for the interest of being more with the people of the land, we
decided to travel, not by the _train de luxe_, but by the Russian daily
post train. We were thus able with comfort to do the journey from London
to Peking for L20 each, whereas by the International train L35 is
required for fare alone.
How keenly we enjoyed it all! The wide, roomy railway compartments, the
slow, steady movement of the broad gauge train, enabling one to read and
write with comfort; the rush with a tin kettle for hot water from the
huge tanks with unlimited supply, provided at each station; the buying
of the day's provision from the peasants who crowded to the platforms
with eggs, butter, and milk; the reading aloud of some Russian book in
the Slavonic surroundings, which contributed so much to make its
disconcerting unexpectednesses seem the natural expression of the
Russian temperament.
How delightful it all was; but when we reached Manchuria Town and found
ourselves in the midst of Chinese, we felt the thrill which comes with
the first sight of home. A few more days, and we were in Peking.
We walked in the acres of parkland which surround the Temple of Heaven,
and saw its blue-and-yellow-tiled roofs outlined on the azure of the
Eastern sky. We stood in the pavilion where the "Son of Heaven,"
fasting, rested before he proceeded to pray for his people in the double
office of priest and king.
What gorgeous scenes the midnight skies have witnessed where the altar
raises its marble carvings and mystic symbols to the open vault of
heaven. No sign of idolatry is visible; here he worshipped Heaven and
Earth, and bowed before the Supreme Ruler, praying for the millions of
his people to whom he stood as father. A magnificent conception! The
mind of man could scarcely rise higher in ethics of worship, as in
solemn splendour the beasts are slain, and the prostrate Emperor under
the starlit sky calls upon the unknown god. Confucius seemed to realise
the unbridgeable chasm between the offender and his judge when he said:
"If a man have offended against heaven, there is none to whom he can
pray"; and here the ruler of this great people prayed, but with a
recognition of limitation which brought him, later on, back to the
familiar idol shrines with an offering of incense and acceptable gifts.
From the quiet dreams of that place, we returned to the hustle and
bustle of native city life. Our rickshaw men, with marvellous speed and
agility, were soon rushing us through the crowds of peddlers shouting,
yelling, and calling on every passer-by to purchase their goods.
Beggars, scarcely recognisable as human beings, knocked their foreheads
on the ground, beseeching us to give them some cash. The moral support
of a policeman is inadequate to the task of protecting the newcomer who
has yielded to an impulse of pity.
On we rushed through massive gates, where we ran serious risks of an
overturn in meeting a string of heavily laden camels, with sonorous bell
hanging to the neck; brightly and gaily dressed ladies passed and
repassed in rickshaws; men on horseback, coalheavers, foreign women on
bicycles, shining motor-cars, and glass-panelled, silk-upholstered
carriages composed a moving picture, with the gates and huge enclosure
of the forbidden city as background. From the pandemonium of Chinatown
we swung into Legation quarter, where macadamised roads take the place
of cobblestones, and for this you call down blessings on civilisation,
the rubber tyres of your rickshaw running rapidly and smoothly over the
way. Without transition, you pass from East to West. The Wagon-Lits
Hotel's fine buildings face you, large foreign shops abound, at night
electric lights will blaze over the streets still filled with
pleasure-seekers, thoughtless and forgetful, though the words written in
days of siege can be clearly descried on the broken fragment of Legation
wall: "Lest We Forget."
At the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank we entered to transfer money which was
to enable us to erect those longed-for buildings in Hwochow. Whilst I
was transacting my business, a voice behind me addressed Miss French by
name, and the cashier looked up quickly. Immediately upon the conclusion
of my business he asked: "Is that Miss French of Taiyueanfu? Fifty pounds
have been lying to her account for three years, and we have been
unsuccessful in tracing her whereabouts." Identity having been fully
established the money with interest was paid to us, and with our L500
complete and some extra, we journeyed homewards. A strange coincidence
you say! Yea, verily, unless "we take our courage in both hands, and
call it God."
After a train journey for the next two days, came slow travelling from
Taiyueanfu to Hwochow. Long and weary days, in which one takes many hours
to accomplish thirty miles, turning in at night to a Shansi inn. A
wonderful place it is, carried on with the minimum of expense and
trouble to the owner, whose responsibility ends when he has provided you
with a kettle of boiling water in an absolutely empty room, the walls
and ceiling of which are dirty beyond description. In the courtyard are
a few sheds where your mules are stalled for the night, while horses and
donkeys, kicking and braying, vie with _insecta_ in enlivening for you
the hours of darkness. Meanwhile your landlord has sent to ask whether
you are requiring food. The bill of fare offers _mien_,[7] with
accompanying condiments of salt, vinegar, and red pepper. Should you be
a _bon vivant_ you will ask for onion and a few bean sprouts, though
this entail the reckless expenditure of the further sum of one penny.
You lodge a protest at such extortionate charges, for, as your servant
remarks, "at such a price we cannot afford to eat." Two sticks cut from
a tree serve for table cutlery. "I hate luxury," said Goethe, "it kills
the imagination." Here imagination flourishes. Through the dirt and
grime of the wall I can decipher a poem which tells me that when I come
to reckon with my landlord, my account will be as flowing river. Other
scrawls eulogise him, and assure me: "Whoever sleeps upon this _kang_,
sleeps in peace." (I must have been an exception!) An idol, half-torn,
hangs in one corner of the room, and in another I discover a Christian
tract. Who has passed this way before me? I am aroused from my reverie
by the sound of a voice, which utters, without seeing the humour and
pathos of the remark: "The foreign devil is reading characters." I turn
to see an eye filling the space of a torn piece of window paper,
shamelessly scrutinising me, and as I do so the intruder withdraws to
discuss with the muleteers my failings, virtues, and intimate habits.
Long before light the men are calling us, and we arise, anxious to lose
none of the cool morning air. Delays occur, for last night a portion of
the harness was pawned to pay for the men's supper. Either we supply the
necessary money to redeem the pledge, or wait there indefinitely. We
first declare that nothing will make us produce that sum which they are
not entitled to receive until the journey's end, but both they and we
know that a compromise must be effected. Alas, it is already light and
the sun rises glorious, but to-day we are to reach home, and nothing
seems hard. A short stay for dinner, and at sunset the gates of Hwochow
are visible. I cannot describe these homecomings; the welcomers and
welcomed know, and that is enough.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] Vermicelli--cut with a knife.
THE BUILDERS
"The house is not for me, it is for Him.
His Royal thoughts require many a stair,
Many a tower, many an outlook fair,
Of which I have no thought, and need no care.
Where I am most perplexed, it may be there
Thou makest a secret chamber holy--dim,
Where Thou wilt come to help my deepest prayer."
GEORGE MACDONALD.
"Toil, workman, toil; thy gracious Lord
Will give thee soon a full reward;
Then toil, obedient to His word,
Until He come.
Sing, pilgrim, sing; Christ's mighty Hand
Will bring thee safe to that bright land;
Then sing--it is thy Lord's command--
Until He come."
ANON.