07 ON CIRCUIT

Chapter 7 ON CIRCUIT And Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom. -- ST. MATTHEW. A MINISTER at home recently remarked to me that, in his opinion, a primary qualification in a successful missionary was a certain consecrated love of adventure. There is a grain of truth in the observation, though perhaps it is somewhat out of date as applied to the majority of missionaries of to-day. It points back more particularly to the pioneer age of mission enterprise. Then the missionary was a kind of " bird of passage," ever exploring fresh fields whose very geography was a comparative blank to the Western world; then he presented himself to the home mind in his ideal aspect as traveler, and the imagination was wont to encircle his doings with the aureole of romance. But that phase of a missionary’s work is fast passing away, and will soon be gone. The world is growing smaller every year, and there are few places on the globe where " hallowed footsteps never trod," or where some intrepid apostle has not taken up " his appointed post." Experience proves that missionary organization tends to follow certain fixed laws, and that the best results accrue to a settled, rather than a roving ministry. After a few years, when the novelty of living in a new country has worn off, it requires rather a consecrated sense of duty to enable the missionary to go through the commonplace routine of his circuit within which narrow limit alone is there any scope left for the play of adventure. The three banes of missionary existence in Manchuria are bad roads, dirty inns, and springless carts. If anyone can find adventure lurking under these conditions, after his first few years, then he is to be congratulated. He is certainly well endowed with missionary capability. The difficulty of travel in Manchuria is only equaled by the difficulty of learning the language. Indeed, the latter is in some sense the easier of the two, for after a few years it is possible to say all one has to say, but the roads remain for ever. Of course, if one has a taste for riding, one can indulge it to the top of one’s bent. The Manchurian ponies are hardy little animals: they need no stable, and ask little grooming. But though most new-comers begin by riding, they invariably end by choosing what is after all the less of two evils - the Chinese cart! Many considerations influence this decision. The intense cold of winter, when the bulk of the traveling has to be done, makes riding far from agreeable; while under the scorching heat of the summer sun, it would be dangerous if not impossible. Moreover, it is more dignified, from a Chinese point of view, to drive in a cart than to ride. No Chinaman who could afford a cart would ever dream of riding. Your new-comer, of course, does not know this, but his " boy," who has comfortably ensconced himself in his master s cart, does, and rather enjoys the honour unconsciously paid to his dignity by the uninitiated foreigner, who plays the role of outrider to perfection. For, after all, riding does not enable one to get rid of the cart ; to the foreigner it remains a sine qua non. His superior civilization has unfitted him for living upon Chinese fare, or lying upon the hard brick kang; hence the necessity of the cart to convey his food-box and bedding. The heroic attitude of new comers who affect to dispense with such creaturely comforts usually ends in failure or a furlough! The small passenger cart can hold two at a pinch, and one easily. It is drawn by two or three sturdy mules. The driver sits on the shafts in front, guiding his team with a long whip, and (if allowed) a copious vocabulary of curses. When the novice emerges from his first excursion, he vows he will never again be induced to undergo such torture. But after the discipline of bumps has done its work, and especially after the art of sitting a la Chinois has been acquired, it is astonishing how one gets to like this much-abused vehicle. The Chinese dearly love their cart, and think there is no means of locomotion to equal it. It is even related of a high Pekin official who had spent some years as ambassador in a European capital, that on his return to his own country, as he took his seat in his cart for the first time, he was overheard to remark, with an evident grunt of satisfaction : " Ai yah, after all there’s nothing like a Chinese cart for comfort! "

Only magistrates of a certain grade use " chairs." These require eight bearers at least; four to carry and four for relief. It is undoubtedly the most comfortable mode of travel, but so expensive that only high officials care to indulge in the luxury. In their case, however, it is probably more a matter of dignity than of comfort. The Chinese show the same consideration to the man who keeps a " chair," as we at home do to one who keeps a carriage. With good roads it is possible to make from thirty to forty miles a day. But the roads are generally bad. In dry weather they are hard and rutty ; in wet weather they are soft and marshy. Traveling is then slow and precarious. The cart sticks in the mud, or gets upset in the water, and not seldom the mules have to be levered out of the slime with poles to prevent them from drowning. Theoretically each farmer is responsible for the upkeep of the road that skirts his property, but it is a law more honored in the breach than in the observance. And carters often show their contempt for this neglect of duty by leaving the road and running across their ploughed fields. The Chinese are early risers. They are on the roads with their carts a couple of hours before dawn. " Pull early ; don t pull late " (la tsao, pu la wan) is the carter’s maxim. As he loves an early start, so he dislikes a late arrival, for then the inns may be crowded, and it is difficult to attend to his cattle in the dark. Two meals must suffice the traveler in the short winter day. He stops usually for ta chien (dejeuner) at eleven, and has his second meal at sundown, when he turns in for the night. The inn-yards are very large, as they have frequently to accommodate hundreds of carts and their teams. The sleep of the weary traveler is often rudely broken by the braying of donkeys, the kicking of mules, or the clapper of the watchman as he goes his eerie round in the dark. The interior of a Chinese inn is not an attractive sight to the visitor from the West accustomed to the comfort, not to say luxury, of a European hotel. It is dark and dirty. Smoke and steam greet him at the door on entering, for the cooking is done within sight of the guests. Cobwebs of years hang from the grimy rafters, the air is laden with smells that baffle description, and a continual babel of sound rises from the crowd of gathering inmates. It takes some degree of fortitude to be able to pass a comfortable night inside. But all this comes in time. The people sleep on the kang, a species of brick bed heated by means of a flue that passes from the cooking stove at one end, the smoke from which escapes by means of a chimney at the other. These kangs run the length of the inn on both sides. They extend from the wall a little over six feet the length of a man and are about three feet high. During the daytime the bed-rugs are cleared off, and meals are taken, sitting tailor fashion, from off a small table on the kang. Pigs are frequent visitors in the inns, and an occasional invasion of rats is not unknown.

Traveling brings us into contact with some of the lowest classes in the country. The Chinese themselves have a proverb to the effect that " carters, boatmen, innkeepers, chair bearers, Yamen-runners, even though not found guilty (of some particular delinquency), ought all to be killed, for they are generally guilty." (Ch uan, chc, tien, chiao, ya, wu tsui, yieh kai shah). The experience of every foreigner who has traveled far in China will enable him to bear ample testimony to the truth of native discrimination in this respect.

Such are some of the conditions under which the missionary in Manchuria has to prosecute his calling while on circuit. For the most part his time is passed at the centre, where the course of the work follows the lines already indicated, but three or four times each year he has to travel over his diocese for the purpose of examining inquirers, baptizing converts, stimulating small Christian communities, and generally taking effective oversight of the district under his charge. I propose to give notes of two itineraries. The first describes a short journey which I took after I had been a few months in the country, while one’s mind was yet susceptible to fresh impressions. The second describes a journey through the Korean valleys, made some years later, when the movement towards Christianity in the East was beginning to attract our attention.

It was on Friday afternoon, 11th September 1896, that I set out from Moukden for the north, in company with Mr. Inglis, on what was practically my first missionary journey. As we intended riding, we allowed our carts to start a few hours ahead of us. The day was not promising. There had been much heavy rain, and we knew the roads would be bad. Our worst fears on that point were more than realized We had only proceeded a short distance when suddenly, without warning, we were caught in a sharp thunderstorm. Fortunately we were just in time to get into a small inn at Yu-lin-pu (Oak Forest village) twelve li from Moukden. The rain came down in torrents. Our ponies had to stand outside, and the saddles were soon soaked. It was impossible to proceed, so I had my first glimpse of a Chinese inn. The chang - kwei - ti (inn keeper) at once stepped forward and invited us to be seated on the kang. He conducted us to the innermost place, the seat of honour. Groups of people, caught like us in the storm, squatted about, smoking their long pipes and chatting to each other. Our clothes were carefully examined. I was asked why I had buttons on both sides of my double-breasted coat ? what my boots cost? what was my honorable name? where I had come from? whither I was going? It is not rude to ask such questions; it would be rude not to answer them. In this inn I first saw Chinamen smoke opium. There were two of them. They had evidently made up their minds that they could not travel farther that night, so they began to make themselves comfortable. A little vessel, resembling a spirit-lamp, was handed to them by a servant, over the flame of which a small piece of opium was held between finger and thumb, till it melted somewhat. It resembled a piece of brown sealing-wax, and was the size of a marble. After it had been heated to the proper consistency, it was placed in the bowl of a large wooden pipe, and the fumes inhaled. These men looked supremely happy ; quite oblivious to their sordid environment. We did not stay long enough to see the full effect. I suppose in the morning they would awake from their dreams to the stern realities of earth again. The ravages of opium-smoking are not always apparent to the eye of sense. They have to be read in the man s loss of character and will, and in his utter insensibility to higher things. But the storm is nearly over. We have already lost two hours, and cannot stay longer if we are to catch up on the carts. So without waterproofs or umbrellas (all which are in the carts) we mount our dripping saddles and ride through the rain to Da-wa. Da-wa means the " great hollow," and is some twenty li from Moukden -- " great ditch " would be a more appropriate description of it to-day. The little stream at the village had swollen very high. There was a stone bridge, but it was neither broad enough nor high enough to allow the volume of water to pass under it. Our carters, who had not got farther than this place, came down to pilot us across, crying directions from the farther side. We managed to ford it, but paid the penalty in the shape of a good wetting. This was my first night in a Chinese inn, and I confess to a feeling of uneasiness. Not a movement could one make without being closely scrutinized Eating or dressing no matter what look up where one liked, the holes in the paper windows were studded with eyes. I had heard so much of the filth of Chinese inns that it was not to be wondered at if my imagination littered the place with rats and vermin. Judge of my surprise, therefore, when I awoke in the morning to find that I had slept as soundly and rested as comfortably as if I had been in my bed at home.

We had hoped for fair weather, but how vain was the hope! Think of the worst of Scotch mists, with roads that baffle description, and you will have some faint idea of the elements against which we had to do battle for the whole of the next day. We reached Yilu about five o clock in the afternoon the place we should have reached, under ordinary conditions, the first evening. Here we found Dr. and Mrs. Ross, and four Zenana ladies who had preceded us the day before. Dr. Ross was in the midst of a great work that had just sprung up in Yilu and the neighborhood For miles around inquirers were pressing in, anxious to be examined for baptism. The work in this region began about two years ago, and was now taxing Dr. Ross’s energies. It was most cheering. The inn where we were staying was full of country people who had stopped work and had come long distances in order to be present at the services, and we were told that very many more inquirers were to be found in the villages to the west. It was Saturday evening when we arrived; and as Dr. Ross was on the ground, we decided to push on to Fan-hoa-pu (Fan River village) on Sunday morning, and endeavor to be in time for service there. Accordingly we started at six on Sabbath morning. I don t think I ever traveled on Sunday before, but I never felt happier to do so than just then. There is a fine hill, a little to the north of Yilu, which we had to cross. At the summit there is a good Buddhist temple. It is quite noticeable the farther north one goes, how nearly every hill is crowned with a Buddhist temple. These places witness to a truth that was once living, but which is now as dead as the stone and lime of the buildings. For centuries the people had set all their hopes for eternity on what this place had to teach. Look within. It is stuffed full of idols of the most hideous shape! I could not help contrasting this symbol of the old faith with the new one that was busy in the town lying at our feet. Blessed be God there are souls in Yilu to-day who lift up their eyes above this hill, even to the Living God from whence cometh their help ! When we arrived at Fan-hoa (twenty-five li from Yilu) service was over; after waiting a short time, however, the congregation reassembled, and we had worship with them. Fan-hoa is just a small out-station from Yilu, so when I speak of congregation do not think of a crowd. I think there were only ten members, a few inquirers, but numberless heathen. Mr. Inglis preached. I could not follow all he said, but I did understand the satisfaction on the faces of the people. They drank in every word, and looked as though they could have listened all day. We tried to teach them a new hymn, and after some intercourse started again for the main road to catch up on our carts. Thus closed one of the most peaceful and quiet Sabbaths that I ever spent. On Monday (14th September) we reached Tiehling, saw the new church, climbed the hill behind the town, and had a superb view. The character of the scenery reminded me of Perthshire. Two lovely rivers are visible from the Iron Hill, and add variety to the scene the Tsai and the Liao. We now entered the Tsai valley, taking the south side of the river, while we instructed our carters to take the north side. This was unfortunate, as we afterwards discovered. We agreed to meet at nightfall at Tsai-hoa-kow village (mouth of Tsai River) ; but when we arrived at the village, we were coolly told that they had not seen a cart for months. The roads were quite impassable. We were in a fix. We had neither bedding nor food. We were confidently assured that the carts could not possibly arrive that night. We asked them to give us what food they had : small millet, eggs, and garlic. There was a soldier in the inn who made himself particularly agreeable to us. He gave us his rugs to squat on, offered me his ivory chopsticks to eat with, and explained to the country people, who crowded around to look at us, what important personages we were. It was highly convenient, since it saved us the trouble. He was a blustering sort of fellow, but we were grateful to him for his kindness. It was my first attempt to eat Chinese food, but in spite of an excellent appetite, the experiment was not a success. Mr. Inglis, of course, felt quite at home. We were just in the middle of our meal, when to the astonishment of everyone, and to my unbounded delight, we heard the rumbling of approaching carts. I at once dropped the chopsticks from my cramped fingers, and bade adieu to Chinese food. The carts had had a bad time. They had come to a bit of the road worn away by the action of the river, and had to make an extended detour across fields in order to circumvent it. It was now pitch dark and another thunderstorm was brewing. Gradually the inn settled down to rest. But I could hear one voice still speaking far into the night. It was Sung, our native evangelist, with a group of eager listeners around him our soldier friend amongst them. He was explaining"the doctrine." It is only some two years since his own feet began to travel in the way of life. It would seem as if he did not wish to tread it alone.

Tuesday morning, 15th September. Rain, rain, rain! We have had rain every day since we started. But we must press forward, rain or no rain. The carters are lazy, and have a most tantalizing way of putting us off when they don’t wish to start. At last we are on our way to Tsai-hoa-pu (Tsai River village). It is a dreary ride, over mountain passes, through narrow gorges, and along the beds of tributary streams. The only thing that enlivens the proceedings is the spectacle of some cart axle-deep in mud, the drivers shouting at the stolid cattle to urge them forward. We turn a corner and here is one such, just outside the village whither we are going. We are seen by the drivers, and though desperate over their sunken cart, a gleam of glad recognition lights up their faces. " It is the pastor," they exclaim, " he is come." Instantly Mr. Inglis dismounts, though the mud takes him up to the top of his boots. I regret to say that my appreciation of Chinese etiquette was not keen enough to draw me out of the saddle. A few words are exchanged, and we pass on. At the village there is a chapel where we can put up; a pleasant change from the inns. Many people come from long distances to meet with us. Our carter friend actually turned back and cleaned himself up, and came to the chapel to talk with us. When he entered, we did not at first recognize him, till he explained that he was the man we had met on the road. Our brief stay at this station was very encouraging. The members turned out in large numbers in spite of the rain. Many stay at long distances from the chapel, and could not possibly be present on account of the bad roads. The Tsai valley is not thickly populated. The people are nearly all farmers and live widely apart. This makes cohesion in the work difficult. But they are an earnest, industrious, and simple people. The day after the meetings were over, as we were proceeding on our journey, we happened to see three men fording the river. It was very high and cost them some trouble. We did not pay much attention to them at first. They, however, had recognized who we were and ran after us. They were inquirers on their way to meet with us at the village we had just left. They had been misinformed of the day of our arrival, and had come a day late. One of them was dressed in the white sackcloth of mourning; as he approached us he knelt on the ground and made the kow-tow. The only cloud that threatens the work here is the persecution that comes from the Roman Catholics. They are strong in this valley. In one of the villages (which is almost wholly Catholic) a French priest resides. Last year they pulled down the village temple; this year they have built a chapel on the ruins, with a cross conspicuously placed on the top of it. At Shang fei ti, a distance of one hundred and thirty li up the Tsai valley, Mr. Inglis and I parted company, he to go to the far east, and I to cross the watershed into the Ching valley, en route to Kaiyuan. Up till this time I had not required to speak much. Now I should have to use my own tongue. It was like learning to swim by being thrown into deep water. Again we had fearful torrents of rain. My carter wished to step twenty li short of Ba-ka-shu, but I would not hear of it. It was a sharp thunderstorm we had got into, grand among those lonely hills. About five o clock in the afternoon the sky cleared and the sun shone out, spreading a sheen of golden light over the tall brown stalks of the millet. The sun would be down in less than an hour, and we had yet a long way to go. Darkness falls almost immediately after sunset. I had not seen the cart for a while, having ridden ahead. As I stood among those fine hills in the twilight, involuntarily the words of Newman s hymn came to my lips, and I began to sing "O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, Till the night is gone."

It was quite dark when I arrived at the inn. They declined to open the big gate to let the cart through, but I just walked inside and sat down, and when they saw I was a foreigner, the gate was quickly opened and everything done for my comfort. I was not long in the inn when a number of people came in saying " Ping - an Mushih " (peace to the pastor). News travels quickly in China. Some Christians in the village had heard that a foreigner had arrived. Thinking it was either Mr. Webster or Mr. Inglis, they had come to pay their respects. It was a great disappointment when they came to the end of my Chinese. But they took it in good part, and my " boy " more than made up for my deficiencies.

We were on the road next morning by six o clock. This was Friday ( 18th September). It was eighty li down the Ching valley to Kaiyuan, and as the roads were bad, I did not think I could reach it in one day, so meant to take two. This bit of the road proved to be a miniature chapter of accidents. When I was riding along the side of a ditch, suddenly I saw a huge adder. I dismounted to have a look at him. There he was basking in the sun, working his fangs and keeping his eye fixed upon me. I thought I should like to have him. So I gave him a smart stroke over the head with my whip. What the effect was I do not know, for my pony, which I had neglected to hold, thinking the blow was meant for him, bolted. Down the hill he went and I after him. My " boy " who was in the cart behind saw what happened and made chase likewise. After half-an-hour’s run the " boy " brought him back. But I lost my snake. The rain had gone, the sky was clear, and the sun hot; so I suggested to my " boy " that I should get into the cart, and he should ride for a change. Hitherto I had avoided the cart, but to-day I thought I would try it. I was not half an hour in it when it upset in a deep pool of mud and water. I had to crawl out, and found myself up to the knees in slime. The mules had lain down, and the poor carter was distracted. We hailed a man to come and help us; he only stood and looked at us without the least sympathy or response; it was no business of his. I managed to get him to hold the pony, whereupon it took the united efforts of the carter, my "boy," and myself to lift the cart up. My bedding and clothes were soaked with water. So my " boy " suggested that I should ride on to Kaiyuan and try to reach it that night. I started with fifty li of bad road to cover, and it was now two o clock. On the way towards Kaiyuan, just as the sun was setting, I was riding along a little footpath with the river on my right, and a millet field on my left, when suddenly, as I turned a corner, I was brought face to face with two human heads stuck on the ends of poles. A cold shudder crept over me. I whipped up my pony and passed quickly. Then I realized that I was in a heathen country. I learned afterwards that four men had been beheaded in Kaiyuan a few days before. These were the heads of two of them; both notable robbers. It is customary to expose their heads at the scene of their depredations as a warning to others.

It was a real pleasure to get to Kaiyuan after this day’s experience. I had a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Webster. Though the youngest missionary centre, Kaiyuan has a great and growing work on hand. I have a pleasant recollection of a visit we paid to the Confucian Temple of Literature, where we were handsomely received by some of the leading scholars of the town. On Monday, 21st September, I retraced my steps southwards to Moukden by the main road, but without further incident that calls for special remark. So ended my first fortnight’s itinerating. The next journey, which I propose to relate, was to the Korean valleys in the winter of 1898. I was fortunate on that occasion in having the companionship of Mr. R. T. Turley, F.R.G.S., the agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society, who had traversed part of the road before. In addition, we were favored with the company of Mr. Sprent, of the S.P.G, Mission. During the two previous years there had been a widespread movement towards Christianity all over the eastern region, not only among the Chinese, but also among the Koreans living on the banks of the Yalu. It was to inquire into the nature of this work, and particularly to see what could be done for the establishment of a mission to the Koreans that this journey was undertaken. The following rough notes were made on the spot, and appeared in the Record in May 1899 :

"13th December 1898: We left Moukden this afternoon in the thick of a snowstorm, and reached Tungling twenty li distant the same evening. Next morning (14th December) we started at four o clock, found the Hun River not quite frozen over; one cart went through the ice. We met some large carts and borrowed their light. They knew the river better than we, so we crossed in their wake all right. Had breakfast at Ma-chia-wan-tzu; innkeeper and family all Christians. After food, Mr. Turley and I rode on in advance of our carts to a little village called Hsia-fang-shen, where we saw the chapel and girls school (nine girls). Are there many Christians in your village ? we asked. We are all Christians here, they replied, except one family ; they are Roman Catholics. In the evening reached Fu-shun (eighty li from Moukden); had worship with the Christians in their own chapel thirty present.

"Sunday, 18th December: Arrived at Hsin- ping-pu (two hundred and ninety li east of Mouk- den) late last evening. Had worship to-day with the congregation over fifty people present. I took the service, and Mr. Sprent preached, taking for his theme the four last things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell. Mr. Turley preached in the evening. The church is very pretty inside, and suitable for over one hundred people. Hsin-ping-pu has a population of (say) eight thousand people, and is a flourishing business place. It is the focus of three large trade roads, and the district is rich in wood, hemp, tobacco, etc. The Romanists have also recently opened a chapel here.

" 19th December: Arrived at Wang-ching- men this afternoon; heavy snowstorm. This place (forty li east of Hsing-ping-pu) marks the old boundary of what used to be No-man s- Land, or the buffer territory between Koreans and Chinese. There are a few Christians here, and many inquirers. These we met in the house of Mr. Shih, the native doctor. All speak of petty persecution from the Romanists.

" 20th December: Stayed over night at a small village, Ying-erh-pu-kai ; very bad inn. We were told by a little boy beforehand that it was a tung ren tien (an inn that froze people); but we, unfortunately, did not take his hint, and paid the penalty in the shape of heavy colds. The scenery up these valleys is very wild in winter; but in spring and summer it must be beautiful. The hills are well wooded, and every available patch of soil is assiduously cultivated. The people are largely immigrants from Shantung. Allotments of land are let out to them by the Government, and after four years they pay a small rent. The fields are still strewn with the stumps of trees that are the only remaining traces of the virgin forest.

" 22nd December: Arrived last evening at Tung-hua-hsien. Beautiful little church. Tung- hua is five hundred and ten li east of Moukden; a rising place every business house has more work on hand than it can overtake. Joiners very busy building new houses. This seems the most suitable place for an eastern centre, should it be necessary and practicable in the future for us to take that step. The Romanists have already established themselves here as their headquarters. We called to pay our respects to the priests, and they received us kindly; they did not, however, return our call. On Saturday afternoon we also visited the local magistrate a very nice, frank young fellow, and very favorably disposed to the doctrine. He asked for some of our books, and especially some copies of our Church Magazine (published at Moukden), which we had pleasure in giving him.

"Christmas Day, 25th December: Rose this morning at six o clock. Mr. Sprent read the English Church communion service and dispensed communion. It was a most refreshing service. High Church, Low Church, and Presbyterian, all three had no difficulty in realizing our unity in Christ Jesus while at His table.

" At twelve o’clock we had service with the Chinese and Koreans, baptized thirty - three Chinese and six Koreans. The examining of the Koreans was done through an interpreter with great difficulty. My heart went out to these Koreans, truly they are sheep without a shepherd. It is greatly to be desired that someone might take up this work without further delay, or we may see a large migration over to the Romanists.

" The magistrate returned our call this after noon; came in his chair with great ceremony.

" Monday , 26th December: To-day started on our journey up the Loa-chuan-kow (valley), and reached Si -tao-chiang the first night, here we met about twenty-five Koreans, and examined a Korean school.

" Next day continuing our journey up the valley, we passed coal pits and a large iron- smelting foundry. On Friday morning we reached Tungkow-tien-tzu, an open plain that leads down to the banks of the Yalu. Just over the river were the Korean hills. Tung- kow is a small port on the Yalu River. There are some large grain stores and distilleries. The town itself is scattered, but is the centre of a considerable population, both Korean and Chinese. In the afternoon we crossed the Yalu on the ice and touched Korean soil. We had now reached a point where no foreigners had ever been before, and we felt that it was fitting to engage in prayer, beseeching the guidance of Almighty God as to the future establishment of any mission for the spiritual well-being of the Korean people. We entered a small Korean village. The people made us very welcome, and were pleased to show us the inside of their dwelling-houses. The humming noise of a school made us aware that the education of their children was not being neglected by these simple Koreans, even in such an out-of-the-way region. Many of them had seen our books, and had heard of our church at Tunghwa.

" At Tungkow Mr. Sprent left us to take a week’s journey into Korea, as far as Kangkai, while Mr. Turley and I struck a south-westerly direction down the Hsin-kai-ho (valley). This valley is more fertile and consequently more thickly populated than the one we had just passed through. We came upon a large and flourishing Chinese town seventy li south-west of Tungkow, called Yu-shu-lin-tzu (Elm Tree Forest). We did not know of the existence of such a place before. There is a large Korean population here also, and we met thirty-five men, all of whom were reported bondifide inquirers into the doctrine.

" At the mouth of the Hsin-kai-ho valley we met a large number of Chinese inquirers, who had fitted up a chapel for themselves, though no foreigner had ever been there before, and we did not so much as know of the existence of this chapel. There was only one baptized person in the village, and to him was due the spread of the new religion in the place. He had been baptized at Tung-hua-hsien on Dr. Ross’s last visit. The name of the place was Chiu-tsai-yuan-tzu. I baptized six persons. Next day at Chiang-tien-tzu, where we spent a night, I was able to baptize nine men and one woman, and two children.

" 5th January 1899: From Chiang-tien-tzu we reached Huai-ren-hsien on Friday morning. We did not expect to find any Christians here, but we were most agreeably surprised. No sooner had our carts entered the city than a young man came running up to my cart and looking inside exclaimed, It’s the pastor! He’s come! This was quite an unlooked-for welcome, for Mr. Turley had just been telling me that when he passed through Huai-ren last he was rather discourteously treated. We were at once invited to the home of the young man, whose father kept an inn. There were two baptized persons in the place: a Moukden member and a Liaoyang member (the latter formerly studied medicine in the hospital under Dr. Westwater, and is now practicing medicine on his own account). The two members were both some time in the place before they knew of each other s existence, but a colporteur happening to pass along that way, they were separately attracted to him, and then discovered each other. I had pleasure in adding to their number our enthusiastic young friend above mentioned, so that made a Christian community of four. They expressed themselves as most anxious to have a chapel. There were a number of inquirers, but these would require further instruction.

" Sunday, 8th January: Reached Tai-ping- shao (one hundred and ten li south of Huai-ren) early this morning. Last year, when Mr. Turley passed this place, there were no Christians and no chapel; though there must have been many secret inquirers into the doctrine, for in the spring of this year a deputation waited on Dr. Ross and asked him to send them a preacher. They undertook not only to provide a chapel and all expenses, but to pay the preacher s salary. To-day we had worship with about thirty people in a commodious building of their own. Tai-ping-shao is a country town, nestling among the hills, with a population of (say) three hundred families. It is the centre of a large farming district. I was able to baptize twelve men.

" 10th January 1899: Arrived late this evening at Chiu-tsai-kow, a name famous in the history of our mission, and connected particularly with the religious history of one family, namely, that of Mr. Ku. Our mission had scarcely started in the port of Newchwang when Mr. Ku, now a venerable old gentleman of seventy- eight, turned up. He had spent nearly all his fortune in building temples, visiting monasteries, and other vain attempts to store up merit so as to save his soul. He came across some of our books, and at once perceived that this was what he was in search of. He found his way to Newchwang, and stayed for some time with Mr. Macintyre, who daily instructed him in the way of salvation through Jesus Christ. Dr. Ross also met him there, and was so impressed with his religious experience that he at once baptized him. Since then nearly twenty-five years ago he has lived a steady, industrious, and blameless life. He is surrounded in his old age by four generations of his children, about forty in all, and enjoys the esteem of his neighbors far and near. We had six baptisms here, a young wife recently married into the family, and children. One of our Liaoyang schoolgirls has recently married into the family, who was for some time assistant in the Ren-mu-yuan (women’s hospital). She is sorely missed in Liaoyang, but it is to be hoped she will get into active work in Chiu-tsai-kow. Amongst so large a house hold her influence and better education should tell for good.

" We picked up Mr. Sprent again at Chiu- tsai-kow. Then it came to my turn to leave the party. Mr. Sprent and Mr. Turley pursued their journey down the Yalu, thence to New- chwang, while I came due west vid Kuantien to Liaoyang.

" Kuantien, which I reached on 12th January, is a large and important place, four hundred and sixty li east of Liaoyang. The Ku family have put a chapel at our disposal there, and I hope to send a preacher after Chinese New Year. We shall soon see the whole intervening space between Liaoyang and Chiu-tsai-kow filled up with preaching stations.

" I arrived home on Monday, 16th January, having covered about eight hundred miles of ground, baptized seventy-six people, opened three new chapels, and done some little, in conjunction with my fellow-travelers, towards confirming the churches in the faith in those outlying and needy districts through which we passed."