Where He may lead I'll follow,
In Him my trust repose,
And every hour in perfect peace
I'll sing, "He knows, He knows."

After a visit to Tientsin and a brief rest in Peking, largely occupied with preparations for his next sojourn in Mongolia, he started on January 25, 1887. At Ta Chêng Tzŭ he secured a kind of home, so as not to be exposed to all the discomforts and drawbacks of inn life, hoping also that a fixed centre might forward the preaching of the Gospel. Two rooms were taken for a year. They were situated at the inner end of a little trading court, around which were a tin-shop, a rope-spinner's room, and a stable. In one corner there was a pigsty. 'When first I saw it I almost refused to occupy it; but really there is no help for it, and finally we took it for a year.' It is always difficult to secure premises in a Chinese town, and exceptionally so under the limitation of money and of suspicion and dislike to which Christian missionaries are always exposed. 'It is only a lodging for me,' Mr. Gilmour continues, 'convenient for seeing converts or inquirers. The court is much too small, and the place not sanitary. But don't be in the least uneasy. My health is quite as safe there as in the best premises in Peking. I intend to occupy them for a month at the beginning of the Chinese year, and ten or fifteen days in the fourth, seventh, and tenth months. I hope also to come to some arrangement for a lodging in Ch'ao Yang. In Tá Ssŭ Kou I am simply in an inn, and pay at the usual rate for the nights I am there.'

A letter to his boys, dated March 24, 1887, depicts the kind of scene he so often witnessed, and the routine of work which would have proved so irksome but for the love and peace with which the Saviour filled his soul.

'Mai Li Ying Tzŭ is a very wicked place. There were no less than fourteen large tents set up for gambling, and, in addition, some thirty or forty mat-tents for gambling. I was there three days. The first day people were shy. The second day they were not much afraid. The third day I had quite a lot of patients. We sold a good few books, preached a good deal, and doctored a number of patients. From there we went to Bo-or-Chih, starting in the dark and travelling seventeen English miles before breakfast. After we had travelled ten miles we came to a little town just as people were opening their doors. A seller of chieh jao, that sticky stuff, had just set out his wheelbarrow with his pudding. We each bought a great piece, wrapped it in a chien ping (a thin scone), and travelled on, eating it. That was our breakfast. Arrived at Bo-or-Chih, we set up our table at once, and, after preaching for a short time, patients came round us in crowds, and kept us busy till late in the afternoon.

'The inn in which I am staying now is owned by two men, brothers, both of whom are opium smokers. The inn has a good trade, but it is all no use: it all goes to opium, and no good comes of it. There are two barbers connected with the place, and they both drink and gamble, so that they are in rags and poverty, though they have a fairly good business. It is so painful to see men degraded thus when, but for drink and gambling, they might be well off.

'April 28, 1887.—For the last week I have been very busy at a great temple gathering, which lasted six days. Such crowds of people came, though it was only a country district. It was the great religious event of the year for the neighbourhood, and how do you think they do? They hire a theatrical company to come and act six days in a great mat stage, put up for the occasion in front of the temple. Theatrical exhibitions are the religion of China. These shows are supposed to be in honour of the idols in the temple. The people think the gods will thus be pleased, and give them good seasons, health, etc.

'What a crowd of women came to worship at the temple on the great day of the festival! Till noon that day women only were allowed to enter: no men. How the women were dressed—in all the colours of the rainbow, red trousers being especially prominent! How they moved along on their little feet! Walk you along on your heels—as I have seen you do—and that is just how they move.

'No end of gamblers came too. There were twenty-six, or so, large tents put up to gamble in, and about as many straw-mat booths, and they all had plenty of trade. Eh, man, it is sad to see the utter worldliness of these Chinese. They soon found me out. I had my tent put up in a quiet place away from the bustle.[8] In front is the great flying sign, "The Jesus Religion Gospel Hall." At the one end, "God the Heavenly Father;" at the other, "Jesus the Saviour." They found me out, not because they wanted to hear me preach, but to get medicine. Oh, the numbers of suffering people I saw and attended to! I used to go out early in the morning, and be there all day, most of the time so busy that there was no time to eat. To get food I had to steal away because everyone would want me just to attend to him or her before I went. When I had attended to that one there was another, and so on. I was able to cure a number of them, and got preaching a good deal too. I sold a number of books. It was the first time that a missionary had ever been there, and it was difficult to make them understand.'

[8] See the illustration on [p. 245].

It is, as a rule, by direct dealing with individuals that the best results of Christian work in China are obtained, and to this Mr. Gilmour was always ready to make everything give way. In season and out of season, at any hour of the day or night, he was at the service of inquirers. The sight of a seeking face could banish his most exhausting feeling of fatigue, and nothing so swiftly dispelled the depression, from which he so often and so severely suffered, as the sight of a heathen coming to be more perfectly instructed about 'the doctrine.' Here are one or two such scenes:—

'In the eighth month we had great pleasure in finding Mr. Sun much advanced in knowledge, and confessing his Christianity with great boldness. Before we left he was baptized, and one or two others were coming forward as inquirers—notably one man, who is a member of a sect, was making earnest inquiries. These men seem to be following after righteousness in their own half-instructed fashion. These sects are strong in numbers in some parts of the district, and, if God should give us some of these men as converts, we might hope for rapid progress among their companions. The last that I heard of this man, he was coming to Mr. Sun, asking many questions. He lodged with us one night, and I invited him to breakfast with me in the morning. He was declining on the plea that he was a vegetarian. It was with much satisfaction that I was able to say in reply, "So am I."

'The Tsai li ti are strong in Ch'ao Yang. I have been praying and working to gain them for a year and more. One evening a deputation of two men called upon me in my inn, and said they had come representing many who wanted to know about Christianity. They, the Tsai li ti, had been watching me ever since I had come to Ch'ao Yang. They had listened much and often to our preaching, and now they had come to make formal inquiries. I gave them such information as I thought they needed, and we got on well enough till they asked me to refute a slander. The slander was to the effect that in a chapel in Peking, the preacher would, when he finished preaching, get down off the platform and have a smoke! I had to admit that this was no slander, but a true statement. I had a good deal to say in explanation of it; but, alas! the men came no more.'

To form any just estimate of Mr. Gilmour's work in Eastern Mongolia, it is needful constantly to bear in mind that it was practically a new departure. So far as we know, he is the only missionary in China connected with the London Missionary Society who adopted in toto not only the native dress, but practically the native food, and, so far as a Christian man could, native habits of life. His average expense for food during his residence in his district was threepence a day. This rate of expenditure was, of course, possible only because he adopted vegetarianism. His practice acted and reacted upon his thought, and he came at this time to hold the view, for and against which a great deal may be said, that it was a mistake for Chinese missionaries to live as foreigners—that is, to wear foreign dress, arrange their houses and furniture as nearly as possible in European style, and eat European food. Both on its economical side and also as impressing the mind and heart of the Chinese, he believed that his was the more excellent way.

Most of his co-workers at Peking and Tientsin did not agree with him. As agreement would have involved, perhaps, following his example, under conditions that differed widely from those of Ta Chêng Tzŭ and Ch'ao Yang, this difference of opinion was only what was to be expected. It is referred to here only as a well-known fact, and no story of Mr. Gilmour's life could be trustworthy which did not represent the decided way in which, when he felt that loyalty to his work and loyalty to his Master constrained him, he could and did act in direct opposition to the wishes and views of brethren whom he fervently loved.