'I have been all over the district, spending a month at Ch'ao Yang. There we were privileged to baptize four adults, one a woman, and one child, all Chinese. Two of these were young men who have been under instruction for eight or nine months, and are very pleasing cases indeed. The other two were a man and his wife, who is the first woman who has had courage to be baptized in this district. These last are an outcome of the medical work. They live in a small hamlet where the first beginning of an interest in Christianity took its rise from a man who came to me in the market-place with a bad sore in his leg, which had been caused by a wound from his own harvest sickle. The sore was cured, and friendly relations sprung up with the whole hamlet, and I am thankful to hear that, though only one family has put away its idols, all the neighbours are friendly.
'In Ch'ao Yang there are several inquirers. Some of the Christians give great satisfaction, others are not so satisfactory. One man, a Christian, tells me that his wife was possessed by an evil spirit, and to please her and cure her he had to allow the re-establishment of the worship of that spirit for her benefit. No sooner was this done than the woman was cured! Such things are firmly believed in by the Chinese.
'A most pleasing incident in our experience at Ch'ao Yang was a visit from a well-to-do farmer who lives some twenty li from the town. He has been friendly and an inquirer from the first. He has made no profession of Christianity, but says he reads his New Testament regularly, and prays. He has also taught two men in his neighbourhood. The one is a carpenter. The other is a farmer. They know the Catechism, observe the Sunday, and meet with Mr. Fêng for worship. Both of these men we saw, and their story seems true. Fêng came and spent a day with us. I asked him why he did not make an open profession of Christianity. His reply was that he lives with his parents, as all Chinese do, and that he cannot arrange his house disregarding them, who with his wife and children are still heathen. He has been able only partially to do away with idols in his own house. Outside too of his own house heathen pressure is so great that, he says, were he to join Christianity it would be no use for him to live! He says he lacks the courage single-handed to meet all the persecution that would descend on him were he baptized. Meantime he is instructing those about him in the hope, apparently, that were there several together they could better stand the trouble. It is an interesting case, but not at all satisfactory. My hope about him is that, if he keeps conversant with the Word of God, the Spirit may give him no rest till he has courage to take his stand and make his confession.
'We had a splendid month in the market-place. Chinese and Mongols in plenty, both to preach to and to heal. One Mongol betrayed a most intimate and full knowledge of Christianity. The drought gave good opportunity of speaking of many things, and in most cases we had respectful attention. It was a hard month's work. Seven till noon or a little after was our market time; the afternoon private patients, the evening inquirers, makes a very long day, which begins at daylight and does not end till after the second watch of the night has been set. The Chinese usually secure a rest just after noon, but frequently just then some patient would turn up, and put an end to quiet. In most cases the strain is relieved by holidays through rain and storm; but even this was wanting this time, so we had almost uninterrupted work.
'I am more than ever eager to have the medical work given over to a medical man. One day in Ch'ao Yang a man came swaggering across the open space in the marketplace. People pointed towards him and laughed. He was laughable, the ridiculous part of him being a straw hat which was an imitation, caricature rather, of a foreigner's hat. I could not help laughing. It was no laughing matter, though. He was a messenger from the cavalry camp just outside the town. He had come to take me to treat two soldiers who had received bullet-wounds in an encounter with Mongolian brigands. I had never seen a bullet-wound in my life, but I knew I could do more for the wounded men than any Chinese doctor; so I went. The wounds were then forty-eight hours old, and I dressed them as best I could, paying a daily visit for about a fortnight. Two wounds, though deep, were merely flesh; with these I had no difficulty. The third was a bone complication. I knew nothing of anatomy, had no books, absolutely nothing to consult; what could I do but pray? And the answer was startling. The third morning, when in the market-place attending to the ordinary patients, but a good deal preoccupied over the bone case, which I had determined should be finally dealt with that day if possible at all, there tottered up to me through the crowd a live skeleton, the outline of nearly every bone quite distinct, covered only with yellow skin, which hung about in loose folds. I think I see him yet—the chin as distinctively that of a skeleton as if it had bleached months on the plain. The man was about seventy, wore a pair of trousers, and had a loose garment thrown over his shoulders. He came for cough medicine, I think; if so, he got it; but I was soon engaged fingering and studying the bone I had to see to that afternoon. I was deeply thankful, but amidst all my gratitude the thing seemed so comical that I could not help smiling, and a keen young Chinaman in the crowd remarked, in an under tone, "That smile means something." So it did. It meant, among other things, that I knew what to do with the wounded soldier's damaged bone; and in a short time his wound was in a fair way of healing. I was and am very thankful; but, after all, I am more impressed than ever with the fact that things are badly out of joint when there are lots of Christian doctors at home, and abroad too, and I, knowledgeless, am left to do the doctoring in a large district like this quite beyond the reach of medical help, not only for the natives but even for myself should I need it.
'A grim commentary on these wounds was the fact that in leaving Ch'ao Yang I was to pass through a brigand-infested district—so badly infested that travellers have abandoned the road. As saith the Scripture, "The highways were unoccupied, and the travellers walked through byways." I had avoided this road twice, and was ashamed to avoid it again, so we went straight through it. We saw no one to harm us, but a week ago it was just as likely that I should to-day have been lying on a Chinese kang, trying to dress my own wounds, as that I should have been sitting here writing to you.
'I am at present waiting for Dr. Smith, whose last word to me, dated Tientsin, April 9, was that I should either see him or hear from him here between June 6 and 12.
'Yesterday, Sunday, June 8, had a pleasant day. The three Christians here have grown. Two of them have been through a good deal of trouble and stood it well. The farmer, who has been very ill, guessing we would be here, came in and spent the day with us. They seem very earnest.'
The beneficial result of the home visit of 1889 was very evident at this time. It had arrested the 'running down,' from which he had severely suffered. It had enabled him to renew old friendships, and to form new ones. His wholehearted devotion to the difficult work of his life and the wonderful intensity and depth of his faith had touched the hearts of many faithful men and women at home, who gladly responded to his oft-repeated request, 'Pray for me and for the conversion of the Chinese and the Mongols.' He renewed his interest in the broad current of the world's life. We have seen how some years previously he gave up all reading but the Bible. Now, while he studied the Bible with all his old eagerness, he had various newspapers sent to him, he rejoiced in the receipt of books sent by friends—especially those bearing upon the culture of the soul—and he kept his eye upon the religious and social movements of the day.
The selections from his correspondence which follow illustrate these changes in him. He modified his mode of life in Mongolia. Having given up vegetarianism on his homeward voyage he did not resume it upon his re-entrance on Mongol life. He remained a total abstainer, and his hatred of opium, whisky, and tobacco continued as strong as ever, although he did not now make abstinence from the two latter a test of Church membership. He reserved more of the Sunday as a day of rest, taking only the religious services with the Christians and inquirers, and not, as formerly, setting up his tent on the street. The old careworn look disappeared, his form regained much of its former life and spring, and his face filled out, his smile resumed the brightness of old, and the voice came back to a good deal of its early clearness. All these evidences of a change for the better served to augur many years of happy work. In a letter to a friend he playfully alludes to the twenty or thirty years of labour yet remaining, and he often—half in jest and half in earnest—asserted that life in the interior was so healthy that he should probably outlive his fellow-workers at Tientsin and Peking.
By the mail that conveyed the letter quoted on [page 263] he also wrote to an Edinburgh friend:—
'Do you know Adolphe Monod's Farewell? It was sent to me lately by Rev. C. New, of Hastings, an old Cheshunt fellow-student. I have enjoyed it all, but most, I think, chapter xii., "Of Things not seen." A volume of sermons, entitled The Baptism of the Spirit, and other Sermons, by Mr. New, I have enjoyed intensely. To the meek child-like spirit desiring the sincere nourishing of the Word nothing, I think, could be more helpful.... If ever you send a book to the boys, let it be one that will do their souls good.
'I may be filling my life too full, but between medical work and spiritual work I have barely time to sleep, and I find that, for any hope of continuance of work, I must have time to sleep. For the last month I have been getting up at 4.30 A.M., and our evening worship and after conversation was not over till, say, 9 or 9.15 or 9.30, or even, once or twice, till 10 P.M. Then it would take us some time to square up the day's affairs, and spread out my bedding. In the daytime I used to bolt my door, determined on an hour's quiet; but often this was in vain. I would hear some poor cultivator come for medicine; he had a long way to go home, and I could not but let him in and attend to him.
'Yesterday, as no one knew we were here, I escaped at 5.30 and made for the hot springs, twelve miles away. I walked there and back, and in consequence to-day am lame on my feet—badly blistered. I had a grand day—so quiet. Going, I sat down behind a mud wall and read the four first chapters of Hebrews. Arrived, I had my bath, then got an empty room in an inn, had sleep, dinner, tea, and read the rest of Hebrews. I never saw so much in Hebrews before.... On the road I had a four-mile conversation with a farmer, who finally said he believed Christianity was true. We have baptized six in all since I returned, five adults and one child—all Chinese. "Be not weary in well-doing. In due time we shall reap, if we faint not." We are on God's side. God has need of us. Oh let us be such as God can take pleasure in! Faithfulness and love to Him are what He wants. Surely we can let Him have these two. Oh that it might be that everyone in every contact with us might feel the spiritual touch! Would not this be ideal Christian life? May He work it in us!
'Have you been to any Salvation Army efforts? I always felt better for going, but latterly did not go much—I could not stand the "row." I am eager that you should identify yourself with some soul-saving agency. If it really is a soul-saving concern, I don't think it matters very much what it is.'
On July 21, 1890, he wrote to the same friend:—
'Since July 3 we have had most extraordinary weather for this part—rain and dull; there have been only four or five days when I could go on to the street with my tent. I am therefore not so busy. In addition, Dr. Smith has joined me, and as he does all the indoor medical work, I am still less busy, and so I can write you more at leisure than usual.
'The rain reached a climax on Saturday night, July 19. Till then, roofs and walls held out well. There were leaks in places, but nothing serious. We thought it had cleared off. Not a bit of it. The wind changed, it is true, but then rain came down in torrents, the ceilings—all reeds and paper—began to give way. Ever and anon splash came a bag of water, as the paper burst in different places, and Dr. Smith and I had a lively time of it shifting our boxes and bedding to dry spots. By dusk it was serious. I was just about my wits' end when a Chinaman put his head into my room, and said with a grin, half in jest, half in earnest, "There is a tent standing idle out in that room, why not put it up in your room?" The idea of putting up a tent in your bedroom seemed so absurd that we had a good laugh over it; but after thinking over it awhile, and thinking out how the thing could be done, we actually did it. It covered two-thirds of my kang, and a little space on the floor where I put my boxes. The inner corner of the tent I put up to cover my stock of books and medicines, lit my lamp, brewed a pot of tea, and, squatting on my feet, called in Dr. Smith. He said I looked "just like an opium-smoker." Dr. Smith had a portable iron bedstead. On the top he put floor mats and a waterproof, and, without undressing, we went to bed. After a little a great crash was heard. Some part of the buildings had come down. In the rain and dark it was not easy to see what it was, but we at last found there had been more noise than real damage. We were thankful when day dawned.
'The Chinese suffered much more than we did. Such a rain happens so seldom—once in three or four or five years—that houses are not roofed to resist it; the Chinese deeming it cheaper to take the wetting than to spend the extra money it would take to make the house stand such an extra rain.
'In the wet weather I have been going into the Chinese Psalms, and have been much struck with the happy state of those who "fear the Lord," "trust in the Lord," and who, under a variety of expressions, are described as being on the Lord's side, and under His protection.
'And all these promises we can take for ourselves. Did you see in The Christian some time ago a story from Annan, of an old woman who was on the point of being sold out for not paying her rent? She had no money. Her son was in America. A neighbour, thinking it strange that her son had not sent her money, asked to see her letters. There was one with a Post-office Order for 7l. 10s. in it. She had had it for some time, but thought it was only a picture. When cashed she was in funds. Wasn't she a stupid old woman? To be bankrupt, with an uncashed P.O. Order in her possession! How often we are much more stupid than she! To be fearful, anxious, troubled, cast down, when we have all the promises of God in our possession, ready for our use.
'Let us cash our cheques. Nay, we have not only God's promises, but God Himself for our portion. Why should we be spiritually bankrupt?
'Another thing I notice is the difference subjective states make in reading the Psalms. Sometimes I go over a Psalm and see little in it. At another time I go over the same Psalm and find it full of richness. How important it is to have the light of the Holy Spirit in our Scripture reading!'
'July 30.—The little Wordless Book you sent soon fell into the hands of a Chinese convert, who asked to be allowed to carry it off. He wants to speak from it. He likes it because it gives him carte blanche, and lets him say just what he likes....
'How full the Psalms are! These days I am going through them in Chinese, as I said; I take one each morning and commit some verses of it carefully. Then, during the day, as time permits, I read a few more. How one the soul of man is! When dull and cold and dead, and feeling as if I could not pray, I turn to the Psalms. When most in the spirit, the Psalms meet almost all the needs of expression. And yet deluded men talk of the Bible as the outcome of the Jewish mind! The greatest proof of the Divine source of the book is that it fits the soul as well as a Chubb's key fits the lock it was made for.... Now I am off to the street with my tent.'
'Mongolia: July 28, 1890.
'My dear Meech,—Dr. Smith came here July 2. The rains set in immediately on his arrival, and we have had it since. The spiritual rain has not come yet, nor are there any signs of it. When it does come may it come like the physical rain! Glad to see you have been having some. May you have much more! Make the valley full of ditches, brother, and then look out for the flood. Do you think we'll be able to go up to Him at last and say, "We did our part, but you did not do yours, Lord"? Eh, man! Elijah called down fire with a short prayer, but his servant made six vain journeys to the summit only to return with the discouraging news—nothing. May the good Lord, who knows our frame and remembers we are dust, give us a little now and again, at any rate, if only to keep us going meantime! Eh, man! there will be no lack on His part. He'll shine up all right, not only to perform, but to succour His servants who trust in Him.'
'July 28, 1890.
'My dear Owen,—I know worry should be an unknown element in a believer's experience. I am eager to have done with it. I thank Him for much of its absence. But dissatisfaction with the present state of things is not worry, but legitimate soul-longing, and the death of that would be a bad thing.
'I can hardly tell how I am; Since Dr. Smith came I have taken little note of inward things or outward either. It is very pleasant to have him here, and as the best sign of digestion is not to know one has a stomach or a digestion, is the best sign of spiritual health not to know one has a soul at all? I wonder is this so? His presence has made a difference. Duty has kept me living quietly in good lodgings, with only such work as I can easily do without any over-rush, and the prospect of another month like it! I fear I am not such company to him as he is to me.
'We have had terrible rains; the rivers were not crossed for five or six days, and, even after that, two men were swept away on two separate days—four men, in all, from this one town alone.
'I know you pray for us here. Eh, man! if the thing would move, if the rain would come! "As the eyes of servants," etc. (Psalms cxxiii., cxxvi.). I often read these Psalms together. And then I think what would please me best as a master would be to see my servant going ahead, energetically, and faithfully, and loyally with his work, not moping about downcast. Then is not this what God wants in us? So here goes cheerily and trustfully.'