Mr. Wang, like so many Chinese Christian men, thought his wife too stupid to learn, and when she first came in touch with Mrs. ——, the missionary's wife, she was practically a heathen. As she came in with little Spring, now a bright little girl of nearly seven, the foreign woman could scarcely hide her disappointment when she saw Mrs. Wang, she was so extremely (shall I use the word) ugly, so untidy, slouchy, and even far from clean. Yet there was a look in those small deep set eyes which said plainly, "Yes, I know how different I am from you, but oh, I do want you to love me." And the other felt herself strangely drawn to her. Before long a deep and abiding affection sprang up between the two, so different, yet at heart one.
Many times in the lesson periods that followed Mrs. —— was tempted to give up in despair, Mrs. Wang was so slow to learn. One day after a particularly discouraging time of study, Mrs. Wang turned to her teacher and said, "Teacher Mother, do not be discouraged because my mind is like a sieve, for my heart has Jesus there."
The evidence of the new life within soon began to be seen in the changed, happier, more restful face, and in the cleaner, tidier garments. Willingly she allowed little Spring's feet to remain unbound, which meant much at that time when women and girls with unbound feet were unknown.
Although Spring had not the beauty of her older sister, Slave, she was bright, quick, in her ways like her father, and most affectionate. From the first contact with the missionaries the child's heart seemed open to the Gospel, she came soon to show a love for the Saviour unusual in one so young. The greatest treat little Spring could have in those early days was to be allowed to play with the gentle fair-haired foreign child of her own age.
One day the two children wandered outside the backgate into the fields beyond. Suddenly they came upon some dogs devouring the body of a little child. Spring, to whom such a scene was not unknown, looked on unmoved, but the tenderly guarded foreign child gazed in speechless horror, then screaming loudly ran towards home. Her mother, anxious at her disappearance, had just reached the gate when the child appeared almost frantic with terror and shock. A word was sufficient for the mother to learn the cause of the trouble. "Oh, Mother!" cried the child, sobbing on her mother's breast, "I see it now, a dear little baby. Oh, mother, mother, those terrible dogs. I can never forget it."
That night the mother knelt long beside her child's bedside. Other little ones had come and gone. This child seemed like a delicate lily, too sensitive and high strung for such a land as China, where outside the Mission Compound one could never tell when one would come upon a scene that might hurt and shock.
Some time later the child was taken ill. There was no doctor near and once more the parents went down into the Valley of the shadow of death with a precious child. Meningitis developed. Spring and her mother watched and waited outside the child's sick door for some word of hope. But after days of great suffering the little one was taken to where there will be "no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying."
A day later missionaries and Christians gathered about the open grave beside which rested the little coffin almost covered with beautiful flowers. It was then that Mrs. Wang recalled the cruel death of her two boys and what had been done with their little bodies. The contrast was indeed great: here were every token of love and honor for the precious remains; but what moved Mrs. Wang end went to her heart was the look of Hope written on the mother's face as they all sang together—
"Little children, little children.
Who love their Redeemer
Are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.
"Like the stars of the morning
His bright crown adorning,
They shall shine in His beauty
His loved and His own."
As these words sank deep into Mrs. Wang's very soul, there came a great yearning that her own people might hear of this Gospel that gives a soul a hope after death.