CHAPTER XII
A Korean Christian Starts Work in Haing Ju—Changed Lives of Believers—A Reformed Saloon-keeper—The Conversion of a Sorceress—Best of Friends—A Pleasant Night on the Water—Evidence of Christian Living—Our Visit in Sorai—A Korean Woman’s Work—How a Kang Acts at Times—Applicants for Baptism—Two Tonghaks—In a Strait betwixt Two—Midnight Alarms—Miss Jacobson’s Death.
In the late fall of the same year Mr. Underwood and I started again on a trip to the interior, the first we had made together since our wedding journey, but now we were accompanied by our child, six years old, and a native woman, who acted as cook, nurse and general assistant. She rode in a native “pokyo” or chair with the child, I in another, while Mr. Underwood walked or rode his bicycle, as opportunity permitted. Our first destination was Haing Ju, a dirty little fishing village on the river, about ten miles from the capital. Work had started here just after the cholera in the fall of 1895 through the teaching of a native named Shin Wha Suni, a poor fellow who had, according to his own confession, been hanging around us for some time, pretending to be interested in Christianity, in the hope of getting some lucrative employment in connection with church work.
After the cholera hospital was opened, he was there on several occasions, and was much surprised to find that foreign women would spend whole nights nursing sick Korean coolies. When he chanced to see one weeping over a poor man, whom all her efforts had failed to save, he went away astonished and impressed with the idea that “there is something in that religion that makes them love us like that, something that forgets self, something that I have never dreamed of before, something mysterious, glorious, oh, that it were mine!”
He hungered and God fed him. He sought and found the Saviour, and when he had found him, he set forth at once to tell the good news to others. Taking a jikay, the frame which Koreans wear on their backs to facilitate the carrying of heavy loads, and which all native carriers use, he started forth to the country to earn his living in this humble way while chandohaoing or “passing on the Word.” He went as far as Haing Ju, and there on the sand of the river bank he talked to scoffing people all day.
At night, when it was dark, one of the men who had seemed to treat his message lightly, came and asked him to come to his house and talk the matter over at more length. He went, and soon another believer was gained. “Oh, it was good, the taste of a soul saved,” said the new preacher. “Now it seemed to me I could never be satisfied with anything else; could never rest until I had more.” The man who had been converted offered the use of his house as a preaching place. The men gathered in one room, the women in another, and Shin read the gospels and the tracts and taught them the catechism and hymns. The number of Christians grew from week to week, and the little meeting place became too small and had to be enlarged. The whole tone of the village gradually changed, and from being known as one of the hardest and most disreputable places on the river, it now became a model of decency and respectability.
Testimony to this effect was offered by some farmers, who appeared one day in my husband’s study and asked him if he had anything to do with the Christians in Haing Ju. He replied in the affirmative, half afraid the people had come with some charge against them. “Well,” the strangers said, “we should like to buy the books which teach the doctrine they are practicing there, we want to learn that doctrine in our village too.”
Their village, Sam Oui, was not quite three miles away, and in former times they had been much troubled by the brawls and bad character of Haing Ju. Their vegetables had been stolen from the fields, their fruit and chestnuts from the trees, “but now,” said they, “the people not only do not climb the trees for the nuts, but the boys leave those on the ground untouched.”
Here was power in a faith which kept hungry boys from carrying off even nuts lying temptingly in reach. This was something the like of which they had never seen or heard; they had been taught not to steal, especially if likely to be discovered, but a power that could prevent men and boys from wishing to steal was miraculous. One of the saloon-keepers of Haing Ju, a man whose only source of livelihood was in this trade, became thoroughly converted, and at once realized that he could no longer sell drink to his neighbors, nor could he conscientiously dispose of his stock in trade at wholesale to other dealers, so he emptied it all on the street. He was able to obtain a little work now and then, but he was not strong enough for coolie labor. He had no trade and no farm, and at times his need was great, and often the family were on the verge of starvation, but the man’s faith never failed, he never gave up his hold on God. Finally sickness attacked him, he became very lame, and hearing of the hospital in Seoul, managed to be conveyed thither, and while there we heard his story, and as I needed just then a caretaker for my dispensary, we engaged him and his wife to live on the place and do the light work necessary. His leg did not improve much at the hospital, nor did the doctor give him much hope, but this, too, he made a subject of prayer and faith, and erelong rejoiced in a complete recovery.
This is the character of the faith of these hardy fishermen and farmers on the river. As we approached the village we were astonished to hear the strains of a Christian hymn, “Happy day, happy day, when Jesus washed my sins away.” It was a band of little boys whom Shin had been training, and who had come out to meet us. We spent two or three days in this place, women and men crowding into the little building to every meeting. Mr. Underwood baptized thirty-eight people, a young couple were married, one hundred and thirteen catechumens were received, and some babies baptized.
Speaking of babies reminds me of a sad little incident which occurred while I was holding the first meeting there with the women. Hoping to win their interest, knowing how many little dead babies are carried away from Korean homes, I told them of the Saviour’s love for little ones, that he held them in his arms and caressed them when on earth, and had said that the spirits of these little ones do always behold the face of the Father; so that would they only believe and give their hearts to him, they should see their little ones again in heaven.
A great sob broke from one of the women who commenced passionately weeping. As soon as she could speak, she told me, her voice broken with violent emotion, that she had been a sorceress, and in a moment of frenzy had dashed her only child, a baby, to the floor and killed it. She, a mother, had killed her child, and could she ever be happy again, could God forgive such as she, could she ever be permitted to see her murdered child again? She feared she was too wicked. All of us wept with her, and she was told of the great mercy and pardoning love of God, and found peace in Christ.
Mr. Underwood also visited Sam Oui, the village which had learned of Christ through the example of Haing Ju, and baptized a handful of Christians there, enrolling a number of catechumens. When people do not seem quite ripe for baptism, yet have put away idolatry, keeping the Sabbath, putting away concubines, and living a life of apparent conformity with the ten commandments, they are enrolled in this class of catechumens. While I was engaged during the morning with the women, the “amah” was charged to take care of our little boy, but when the service was over, as he was nowhere to be seen, we started out to find him. As we walked down the lane we saw coming toward us a row of some seven or eight boys of his age (the dirtiest in the town, I am sure), he in the center, an arm around one on either side, all chatting and laughing together in the merriest mood possible. How could we help laughing, how help being half pleased, even while horrified at what such contact might portend, how many varieties of microbes, not to mention other things.
From Haing Ju we took a Korean junk down the river to Pai Chun. We went on board at night, and as it was bitterly cold, we were told we must go down under the deck, as there was absolutely no sheltered place above where we could sleep. The hole to which we were relegated was not attractive. There were odors of fish ages old, the space was not high enough even to sit upright in, and barely wide enough for Mr. Underwood, our child, our “amah” and myself to lie packed side by side (no turning or moving about) in the stern.
A lantern glimmered at the other end, it looked very far. There was water there, and perhaps rats, and certainly great water beetles and cockroaches, and sometimes, hours and hours after we had been packed in that gruesome place, a boatman came and crawled over us, and dipped out buckets of water. Men were tramping back and forth over our heads all night. I felt sure that some of them would come through, and there seemed to be enough racket to indicate a storm at sea, a collision or a fire—at times I was almost convinced it was all three. If it had been, we certainly could never have made our escape from the trap in which we were wedged like sardines. However, as we were merely sailing down a broad, but not very deep river, and could easily have neared the shore before sinking in most circumstances, things were not so bad as they seemed, and next morning when we emerged into the bright sunlight what had been a night fraught with awful probabilities was now simply an amusing episode.
All day Sunday we sat on the deck in the sun, singing and enjoying the brilliant atmosphere. From Pai Chun we proceeded on foot or in chairs to Hai Ju, and thence to Sorai, where a theological leader’s class was waiting for Mr. Underwood. Everywhere the warm-hearted welcome which awaited us was a delightful surprise to me. People, even women and children, came out miles to meet us, and followed us in crowds when we left, as if they could not bear to let us go.
There were only a few beginnings of work in Hai Ju at that time. It is the capital of the province and rather a demoralized town, even in a heathen country, full of hangers-on of government officials, people accustomed to getting a living out of the people through fraud, bribery, oppression, “squeezing” and all sorts of political dirty work and corruption; evil men and still more evil women spreading the cancerous disease through the little town, until every one appears to be steeped in “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life,” and worshipers of the god of this world.
KOREAN WOMEN AT WORK. [PAGE 191]
As a special day had been set for the beginning of the class in Sorai, and people were coming from all directions to meet us there, we hastened on to be in time. Walking along the main road thither, Mr. Underwood overtook a young farmer, with whom he opened conversation in a friendly way, and asked if he had heard of the Jesus religion. “Yayso Kyo?” “Oh, yes,” was the reply, “I have heard much of it, many people in this province do that doctrine, it is very good.” “Do you believe also?” said my husband. “Oh, no, I cannot be a believer,” replied the man. “These Christians spend their time and money doing good to others, I must do for myself, I cannot afford to practise this doctrine.” This was unintentional witness borne to the fair fruit of Christianity in the man’s believing friends and neighbors. A little further on, as my chair was set down to rest the coolies, an old woman ran out of a neighboring shanty to kugung the foreigner. I told her who I was and why I had come, and asked if she knew of this doctrine. “Oh, yes, it was good, very good.” “Then why do you not believe?” “Oh, I sell liquor, that is my business. I cannot do that and be a Christian.” Another involuntary testimony to the lives of the Christians of Whang Hai, and to the sincerity of those who had been taught that the way must be made straight and clean for the coming of the Lord.
When we arrived at Sorai I found the Christian women all gathered to meet me in the house of one whom I had known before in Seoul. They offered refreshments of their best, persimmons, pears, chestnuts and eggs, and expressed their pleasure over our coming in the most cordial and heart-warming way. Most of them I had never seen before, but we seemed to love each other at first sight, for the bond in Christ is a very strong one.
Mr. Kim Yun O, the wealthy man of the village, one who had been a great sinner but was now one of the strongest and most earnest of the leaders, had invited us to occupy his new sarang or guest room. It was quite a commodious sunny room, and we were pleased to find it was quite new, so we need fear few of our little enemies.
While Mr. Underwood was holding his classes with the men in the church all day, patients of all kinds came to me in the mornings for several hours. Then I taught the girls and boys how to sing the hymns, for they had never known what it means to sing, and though they made a joyful noise to the Lord, it was not joyful to the fleshly ear at all, but a most awful combination of discords, flats and sharps, mixed up in the most hopeless confusion, whole bunches of keys on one string, moanings, groanings, sounds of woe as if all the contents of the pit had come forth before the time, or all the evil spirits exorcised from the village had returned to spoil their praise.
The young people were the most hopeful to begin with, and were soon doing remarkably well. Every afternoon we women had a Bible class together. Most of those who came were baptized Christians or catechumens, though some unbelievers were always present. About twenty-five crowded into Mr. Kim’s anpang each day. It is delightful to be allowed to teach such women, so hungry for truth, so eager to learn, so full of humble loving interest in every word, with such a spirit of childlike faith.
Mrs. Kim, in whose house we were staying, was a busy woman, and her life was not an easy one. She was small and frail, with two children, her husband and old mother to work for, with one servant to help. The preparation of food for her own family and many Korean guests (for a Korean gentleman’s guest house is always well filled at meal time) was in itself no light matter. The rice comes in very rough, only partly husked, and must be pounded a long while in a great wooden vessel, with a heavy club, larger at either end, which is almost all that a woman can lift (a fine exercise for athletic women’s clubs). Water is usually brought in on the head from quite a distance, brass bowls and spoons kept bright, garments must be washed and smoothed, with what pains I have already described, animals cared for, fires made.
But the country women work in the fields, too, helping to sow the cotton, tobacco, rice and barley. When the cotton is ripe they pick and prepare it, and only after much toil is it ready for use. Then they weave their own cloth and make up their own garments, in the dark little rooms in which the women live and work. They prepare and dry certain vegetables for winter’s use, and with much labor, themselves press out the castor oil which they use in their tiny lamps. In the fall they make their kimchi for the whole year.
Timely hints dropped now and then, and the example of a Christian husband’s care for his wife, have done wonders among the native Christian homes, and much lightened the hard lot of the women. Of course we did our own cooking in all these little villages, our personal entertainment adding nothing to the work of the poor house wife. The people at Sorai are extremely generous and were constantly bringing us presents of chickens, eggs, persimmons, etc. We were much embarrassed by all this bounty, for we knew the people were poor and that such gifts cost a large sacrifice on their part.
When one’s wages are not more than ten cents a day a chicken means quite a good deal of money. Yet we could not refuse their offerings, for when we tried to do so they felt so hurt we found it was impossible. The people already at that time were paying the running expenses of a Christian day school, which they had endowed, by setting apart the income from certain fields for this purpose, and if the crop was poor and the income insufficient, they made it up to the required amount.
While here in Sorai we had a new and rather unpleasant experience with the working of the Korean kang, which we thought we knew well. In the midst of winter the wind suddenly turned in the wrong direction for our fires. The fire being built at one side of the house and the chimney opening at the other, we made the very chilling discovery, that when the wind blows into the smoke vent a fire cannot be coaxed to light. Our room was bitterly cold, and it is surprising how a floor, which can become intolerably hot, can also under the proper circumstances become so cold and damp. I was obliged to wrap my rheumatic frame in furs and rugs, while they brought in a great bowl or wharrow full of glowing charcoal fire, with which I was comparatively unacquainted. However, that night the room began dancing about in the giddiest kind of way, all grew dark—and my husband spent several hours with me in the cold night air outside our room, in the effort to ward off successive fainting attacks. When our child, too, complained of headache and giddiness, we no longer questioned the cause, and henceforth preferred pure cold air to carbon dioxide.
It was interesting in the cold, sleety, snowy weather to see how the Christians managed to attend church, even from long distances. The women would fold up their clean skirts and put them with their shoes and stockings on their heads, roll up their pajies or divided skirts quite high out of the reach of wet, and with a thin cotton apron, or no outer wrap at all over their heads and shoulders, trudge miles through snow and mud, facing a cutting wind. Quite a number of people were examined for baptism while we were there. One old woman, whose case seemed rather doubtful on account of her ignorance, was asked what was her dearest wish. “That I may be with Jesus always” was the reply. “And how do you know you will always be with him?” “Because I am holding close to him now, and will hold close all the way.” She had at least learned that Jesus supplies the soul’s whole need, that to be in his felt presence is heaven, and that to hold and be held by him is the only way to reach and be kept there. Surely she had the end and aim of all theology in a nutshell.
SCHOOL BOYS.
GIRLS SEWING AND WRITING WITH NATIVE TEACHER. [PAGE 191]
I will copy a few notes from my diary on the testimony given by some of the people who applied for baptism at this time.
No. 15, Mrs. Kim: Said her relatives and friends had all been trying to induce her to believe, but her heart had grown harder and harder, and she had determined she would not be a Christian; but suddenly one night she saw herself with awful clearness, a great sinner, had that moment yielded her heart, almost involuntarily (so irresistible was the impulse), to Christ, and from that time had had perfect peace and blessedness. Asked if she had spoken on this subject to unbelievers, replied in affirmative. Has now been trusting Christ a year and three months. This woman has done since then much devoted voluntary service for her Master.
Another: At a time when those who wished for prayer were asked to raise their hands, she says she raised hers, and at that moment felt as it were a knife through her heart. From that time she has felt that she belonged to Christ, and since then her mind has been at peace. She prays regularly three times a day, but is praying all the time in her heart. While she is praying she never falls into sin, but if through some inadvertence and lack of prayer she sins, she asks God to pardon, knowing that he will.
Another, No. 5: “Why do you believe?” “Because Jesus forgave me and died for me.” “How do you know you are forgiven?” “Because the Bible says he will forgive all that come to him.” Said he used to have a wicked heart and worshiped devils, but now his heart and mind were quite changed. Asked what repentance is, replied that it “was mending one’s conduct and eating a new mind.” Asked if he had told the good news to others, said he had, but no one in his neighborhood yet believes. He cannot read, and asked who Jesus is, says he is God’s only son. Asked why he died for us, says he doesn’t know. “Do your neighbors know that you do not sacrifice any more?” “Yes.” “Do you know you cannot have a concubine?” “Yes.” “Have you suffered anything for Christ?” “They abuse me behind my back.” (He was the richest and chief man of his district.) “If you have to suffer severely what will you do?” “I will bear it, God will help me.” He pays the expenses of well-taught Christians to go to his home and preach to his neighbors. He comes a long distance to Sorai to church and seems anxious about his neighbors’ souls. He came to the class bringing his own rice.
No. 6: Says he trusts Jesus because he knows he has forgiven his sins. Knows they are forgiven because his heart is changed, his old covetousness is all gone, it is now easy to do what Jesus commands. “Do you ever forget Jesus?” “How could I forget him? How could I forget my Lord?”
Another: Says that since spring, when Christ came into her heart, all has been at peace. Asked, “Who is Jesus?” Replies, “God’s only son.” “What is he to you?” “We are brethren since we have one Father.” “How is God your Father?” “All believers are now his children.” “Are your sins forgiven?” “Entirely forgiven.” “How do you know it?” “My mind is now at peace. I am entirely happy.” “Are you not sad since your husband died?” “Since after death we shall all live again at God’s right hand I feel no anxiety.” “What if difficulties should arise?” “I don’t know about the future, but God takes care of me now, and I think he will continue to do so. I’ll tell Jesus and ask his help.” “Do you commit sins now?” “On account of the flesh I cannot escape from sin, I cannot say I do no sin.” Her father-in-law is not a believer, but though she lives in his house she keeps the Sabbath and attends worship regularly.
No. 37 was a Tonghak, rebel and robber. Has believed nearly two years. “Who is Jesus?” “He is God’s son.” “What has he done for us?” “He died on the cross, and through his precious blood my sins are forgiven.” “Do you know this?” “I know it.” “How do you know it?” “I cannot read the Bible, but as I was a criminal, and Jesus has made me live, I know I am forgiven.” “Where is Jesus?” “At God’s right hand.” “Anywhere else?” “There is no place where he is not.” “What is Jesus doing for us?” “I don’t know, I only know I am saved.” “Have you told others about Jesus?” “I am always saying, Here was I a criminal, and Jesus forgave me, and saved me from punishment, and gave me peace of mind, how can I help but believe.”
This man comes ten miles to church in all weather. Even when twenty miles away at work, he would come in late Saturday night to be at church, stay all day, without his food, and go back at night over a high mountain pass. He was one of two rebels, who came to the leader and said they wanted to be followers of Christ and be baptized. The leader said that if they were sincere Christians they must make restitution by giving themselves up to justice. One of the two then went to the Romanists, and is now one of the most notorious of the gang of robbers and desperados under the lead of Father Wilhelm. The other, this applicant, gave himself up, was thrown into jail and condemned to death. While in jail he astounded the jailers and prisoners by continually singing hymns of joy and praise. The prisoners declared he was mad, as no one could sing like that in such a case. While he was in jail the king escaped to the Russian legation, all prisoners were set free and he was released. He has been a happy, consistent Christian ever since.
Another is a young man of nineteen, has only lately begun to trust in Christ. His father is a believer, his mother and wife are not. Baptism, he says, is a sign of faith in Christ. He thinks it would never do not to be baptized, but insists he is saved now. Says he knows and feels it in his heart. He has destroyed all idols, and keeps the Sabbath. He goes over the mountain three miles to church and allows no laborers to work for him on Sunday, though he is obliged to pay them for the day’s work as though they had. He comes at his own expense to attend the class.
The above are given merely as a few specimens of the kind of questions and replies commonly heard at these examinations. Only those whose changed lives were witnessed to by leading Christians who know them were baptized. After a delightful stay with these simple-hearted Christians, where the world and all its evils seemed far removed, and God very near, we were obliged at the close of the class to start back to the capital. Our three temporarily hired coolies had forsaken us, disliking to wait so long (about three weeks) without work, and it was an impossibility to replace them in that neighborhood, where nobody ever rides in a chair.
So we had to hire an ox-cart or talgoogy, the most primitive of all possible wheeled conveyances, and in it, with our loads tucked in with all our mattresses, quilts, rugs and pillows, was placed our little treasure, our only child, with the woman servant.
With great difficulty a man was found who consented to help my own servant carry my chair. But soon an unlooked-for difficulty arose. I found the ox-cart had gone by a different road from that on which I had come in my chair, for the former could not cross the narrow bridges (mere footpaths for one) over the rivers, but must take the fords, far too long a distance for the chair coolies. Nor could the cart take the narrow paths over precipitous passes, which the chair must follow to shorten the road for the carriers. I was assured that all would be well, the helpers and Christians were with the child, and was forced to submit to what could not now be helped. Mr. Underwood, after seeing me well started, paced at a flying rate across to the other road to see that all was well with the boy, and then back again to the wife.
At about five o’clock we reached a place where the two roads meet, but no signs of the talgoogy. It was fast growing dark, a mountain pass lay yet before us, the road was wild and lonely, we wished our little one was with us. At length we went on to the village just beyond the pass and waited. Time passed, but no tidings of the cart and its precious contents. Darkness fell, the cold was bitter. Koreans were sent out with lanterns to light the way for the belated, or render any needed help. Still no word. At length Mr. Underwood himself, unable to wait longer, went out to look for the party. And now with them both in the lonely mountain, and night upon us, I had double need to trust in God. One always knows that all will be well, will be for the best, but as one cannot see whether that best means God’s rod or his staff, the heart will flutter in dread of the pain. Just to wait without fear upon him, takes a calm, strong soul, and a full measure of grace.
At last, thank God, they both came back quite unharmed, only hungry and cold, but the thought of tigers, leopards and robbers, that might have met them, only made me realize more fully the mercy which brought them safe to my arms.
That night we slept in a small Korean inn quite like all the rest, only a little smaller and dirtier than most, with domestic animals and fowls of all sorts quartered round us, the paper door of our room only separating between them and us. Suddenly, about two or three in the morning, we were startled out of our sleep by the most terrific roaring, and the sounds of a general panic in the inn; the excited shouts of men, women shrieking, and such a chorus of barking, yelping, cackling, squealing as cannot be described. But the awful roaring, and a stamping and hustling distinguishable above all, made it seem probable that one or more wild animals of some sort had invaded the hostel. Mr. Underwood hastily extinguished our light, which shining through our door, might attract notice, and went out to discover the cause of the uproar. He soon came back, saying that a couple of oxen, usually so meek and tractable, had been fighting, had pulled themselves loose from their stalls, and had now escaped, one chasing the other out of the inn. They are enormous creatures, at times like this as dangerous as any wild beast, and it was remarkable that no one in the inn was seriously hurt, as they could hardly have escaped being, had the oxen remained fighting in the cramped confines of that little place.
KOREAN STREET. [PAGE 18]
HORSES IN AN INN YARD. [PAGE 198]
Nothing worthy of note occurred during the remainder of our return trip, except one night, when camped in the tiniest and most comfortless little room, we were again wakened by an awful roaring. The sort of roar that every mother hears with a quaking heart, and knows right well what it imports. She knows it comes from a wild beast in her child’s throat, and jumps to the rescue. Croup in a hut with paper doors and windows full of cracks and holes, where the wind steals in on all sides, many miles from home, is not too easily defied. But we soon had a wharrow fire and hot water, a croupy child’s mother always has ipecac and flannels close at hand, and while we changed hot applications for an hour or so, we were forced to draw on our benumbed inventive faculties for novel stories to interest the half-suffocated child. The following day we were obliged to continue our journey, for exposure and discomfort there exceeded what must be met on the road, but the child, usually slow in rallying from those attacks, on this occasion made an especially quick and favorable recovery.
In April of this year, 1896, Dr. J. McLeavy Brown, of the English Custom’s Service, was placed in charge of the nation’s finance by a royal decree, a post which he continued to fill for a long time to the benefit of all concerned, except the squeezing officials, who, now that their opportunities in that line were curtailed, proceeded to squeal lustily instead.
In the summer of 1896, Miss Jacobson, an enthusiastic young missionary nurse, who had learned the language with wonderful quickness, and won the hearts of Koreans on all sides, was very ill with dysentery for several weeks. She recovered apparently and returned to her work, but was soon attacked by violent fever, which refused to yield to the usual remedies, until at length the existence of a local organic disease was developed, which in spite of every effort carried our dear sister away. But her deathbed was a place of rejoicing rather than mourning. More than one exclaimed it was good to be there. Bitterly as we knew we should feel the loss of so helpful and sympathetic a sister later, we could but enter into her joy at that hour. Her bedroom seemed like the ante-room to the throne-room itself. Her face was wreathed in smiles, and a look of unearthly glory lay upon it. Her words were all of joy and hope, and full of the rapture the realized presence of the Lord only can give.
We felt we had no right to make place for selfish mourning there, she was so manifestly happy, and to depart was so far, far better. When her remains were taken to the cemetery, now becoming rich with much precious dust, her casket was carried on the shoulders of the native Christians, who sang joyful songs of the better land all the way. It was like the return of a conqueror, and the country people, as they saw and heard, asked what kind of death or funeral was this, all triumph and joy? Where were the signs and sounds of despair that follow a heathen corpse?
To carry a dead body is looked upon as very degrading. So the fact that the native Christians insisted on doing this, and would not allow hired bearers to touch the dear form, showed how they all loved and honored Miss Jacobson; and I have told it to show the kind of feeling which exists between the people and their foreign teachers, as well as to lay a little tribute to the memory of a noble and devoted fellow-worker.