"Ah, my brother, but there are the horrors of demon worship with which to contend, and the stonelike barriers of ancestral worship to break away. The former is as bad as Buddhism, where it has taken deep hold."
"As it has in our sampan man here," observed Mr. Reid with a sigh. "Oh, if I could only see some impression made on him by our teachings, some little inclination toward the truth as it is alone found in the pure gospel of Jesus."
"Do not despair. He may turn to the better way in time. It seemed to me during the services last evening that he listened more intently than I had ever seen him. He seemed to be impressed too, by the questions that were asked, especially by the earnest ones of the old man."
"Oh, but he is so persistent in his devotions to that wretched little image he has. Only this morning I saw him fondling it. Sometimes I feel like taking it from him and pitching it far out into the stream."
"Oh but, father," said Helen earnestly, now joining the conversation because she felt that she must, "that would not be best, believe me."
"But how are we to teach them a better worship until we take their miserable idols from them?"
"Oh, father, we mustn't tear down to build up. If a man were living in an old and insecure house, we wouldn't pull it down over him, for fear of the damage it would do. If we were his true benefactors, we would simply invite him away from the old and into a better one."
"Well said!" declared Mr. Wilburn, his eyes shining. "You are a true reasoner, Miss Helen."
"But so long as they have these horrid images that they believe can counteract the evil effect of the demons, they will go on worshipping them. We must get them away."
"But not by compulsion, father."