Chinese Diamonds for the King of Kings

What can one say of the injustice, cruelty, and oppression meted out to vast numbers of young brides and the younger wives and women by the older ones or their husbands? The marriage customs of China which demand that a young woman be under the care of, or rather guarded and watched, by her mother-in-law is necessary so long as the morality of the men is what it is.

My Bible woman and I were preaching in a heathen home. I had noticed a very fine young woman of about twenty among pur listeners. As we were preaching cries and sobs came from a room to the side of the court where we were. I signed to Mrs. Wang to find out the cause. A few moments later she called me out, and led me to the room from which the cries had come. As we passed through the court I noticed a poor idiot boy, a most pitiful sight. I found in the room we entered the fine young woman I had noticed among our listeners. She was sitting on the brick bed, a picture of utter despair. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and as she rocked herself back and forth she moaned and sometimes cried aloud, always the same words, – "Oh, it is for life, for life!" I tried to discover the cause but failed. The only thing anyone would say was, "She often takes these turns." On our way home my women told me the truth. This beautiful girl in the prime of life had been married to the idiot boy. The boy's family needed a strong woman of ability to do their weaving and sewing. An extra gift to the Go-between on condition she secured such a wife for the idiot boy procured for them what they wanted. But what did they care for the broken heart? They were heathen!

The last phase of heathenism I will touch upon is —Its utter hopelessness in face of Death. Again and again have I asked heathen women what they had to look forward to after death; one and all have said, only horror and fear. Never has the story of my own dear Mother's wonderful death, passing as she did with the very Glory of heaven shining on her face, failed to move an audience of heathen women: again and again have they come to me at such times saying, "We want to know how to die like that. We suffer enough here, how can we go where there is no more suffering?"

Many dark scenes come to mind as I write; but what I have given is sufficient to justify us in saying that Heathenism is cruel; it is wicked, and heartless, and selfish, yes, and devilish!

***

"If THOU forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto DEATH … He that keepeth THY SOUL doth not He know it!"

SKETCH X

The Blind Famine Refugee

The winter of – was a sad, bitter one for those living in Eastern Shantung. The great Yellow River, truly called "China's Sorrow," had burst its banks, devastating a large area of thickly populated country. In spite of well organized famine relief administered by missionaries and other representatives of foreign countries (some of whom lost their lives from famine fever when engaged in this work), many people perished from starvation, fever or exposure.

Early one morning towards the end of February when the weather was still bitterly cold, a sad thing was happening inside a little wayside temple not far from one of the villages in this famine region. On the cold brick floor just in front of the idol's shrine lay a dying beggar. Famine was claiming one more victim. Beside him knelt his blind wife, swaying backwards and forwards moaning piteously. On the opposite side, nestling close to his dying father, as if for protection and warmth, slept a little boy of about six years of age.

All through that cold pitiless night the poor woman had knelt there listening to the hard breathing which told what she could not see, – that the end was near. As the day dawned the last struggle ceased. Quietly, with the quietness and numbness of despair, the woman arose, felt for her child, awoke him, then grasping her stout beggar's stick with one hand and laying her other on the child's shoulder she motioned him to lead her away.

Reaching the road she hesitated. Where should they go to? Death from starvation seemed to await them on every side. As she stood there hesitating there came into her mind the remembrance of what someone had said long before – that a long way off, about one hundred miles distant, lived a man who could give sight to the blind. Quickly with a sense of desperation the poor blind beggar woman resolved to try to reach that man.

The sufferings of that journey can only be faintly imagined. They had no protection from the bitter winds by day, nor the cold frosty nights, but thin, torn, beggar garments. No resting place by day or night, but the roadside or the shelter of a wayside temple. Sometimes a whole day would pass when they failed to obtain even the few crumbs of black mouldy bread (made chiefly of chaff) usually thrown to them.

Later, when attempting to tell the story of these days, the poor woman seemed able to recall little else than the ever present dread she had, lest when they reach the doorway of the wonderful man who could give sight to the blind, it would perhaps be closed against them. Needless to say these fears were groundless, for when at last the mother and child reached the Mission gate almost dead from starvation and exhaustion, kind loving hands received them. They were taken into the Women's Hospital, cleansed, clothed, and fed.

The day following their arrival one of the missionaries went to Mrs. Ma, for such was the blind woman's name, and said:

"Mrs. Ma, I have been sent to tell you that the doctor has great hopes of restoring your sight. But you are far too weak for the operation yet. He says you are to have all the food you can eat, and that I am to get you anything you fancy. Now just tell me what you want."

At first the poor woman could not take it in. Then when Mrs. S – , repeated what she had said, and the meaning began to dawn upon her, she stretched out her hands and with an indescribably touching cry in her voice said, "If it is true indeed that I can really have what I most crave for, then oh, please just give me a little SALT!"

Reader, you, who have never known want, can scarcely comprehend the full significance of that request. "Just a little salt!" What deprivation, what agony of want is revealed in that word! To those of us who had seen something of the sufferings of famine victims, it meant volumes.

With tender loving care Mrs. Ma was nursed back to strength and health; but many weeks passed before the doctor pronounced her fit to stand the operation. Sight was restored to one eye, the other being quite beyond recovery. With glasses she was able to learn to read. The woman's gratitude knew no bounds. At first her eagerness to hear the Gospel and learn to read was largely due to this intense gratitude, but gradually the "True Light" entered her soul, and she became a sincere, earnest, humble Christian. Later she was appointed matron of the Women's Hospital where for twenty years she worked faithfully for the salvation of the women in the hospital.

Mrs. Ma's little son was put into the Boys' School soon after their arrival. As the years went by he passed through one Mission School into another, until he reached the Union Medical College of Peking. His whole life as a student had been such that the missionaries felt amply justified in paying his expenses through his medical course. He received his M.D., graduating with high honors in 19 – . A large hospital had just been erected in an important city in North China. Dr. Ma was asked to become house physician of this hospital. Soon after his appointment to this position he married a fine Christian girl, one of the most promising graduates of the Women's College of Peking.

It was in Dr. and Mrs. Ma's cosy home near the hospital that the writer last saw old Mrs. Ma who was there on a visit to her son. She had long been too frail for active work. Her sight was gone, but the reflection of an inner light illumined her countenance as we recalled together the goodness of the Lord since the day she arrived at the Mission gate a poor starved Blind Beggar Refugee seeking Light.

SKETCH XI

Links in a Living Chain

A poor suffering woman lay in the ward of the Womens' Hospital at Changte. She had been there for over a month. Had she come earlier her life might have been saved, but ignorance and fear had kept her back till the terror of Death drove her to the Mission Hospital.

As the Missionary Doctor entered with her assistants the woman's face brightened up with a glad welcome smile.

"How much have you learnt to-day?" said the doctor bending over her kindly.

"Oh, doctor, I'm so stupid, and the pain is so bad I can't learn like the others. But oh, doctor, I have learnt this," and as she spoke she drew out from under the coverlet a sheet of paper on which was printed in large Chinese characters the hymn "Jesus Loves Me." And as she crooned over slowly the four verses making some slips the doctor listened patiently, correcting when needed. Then with a few tender words she passed on through the wards.

Not many days later, Mrs. Chang, the sick woman, had to be told nothing more could be done for her but she must return home to die. The long journey home over rough stony roads was borne with amazing fortitude, for had not her life been one long lesson in bearing hardness. For weeks she lay on the brick bed in her home at Linchang, a wonder to her family and neighbors. What was the secret of the change? She had left them with the horror and dread of death upon her face. She returned with her face shining with joy and openly stating she no longer feared death although she knew her days were few. She seemed happy and in peace. The hymn sheet was always in her hand and when asked why she was not afraid to die she would point silently to the second verse of the hymn and then chant aloud, trying to sing as she had heard others sing in the Hospital, but though the tune she sang could not have been recognized it sounded sweet in the ears of One who heard. Over and over that second verse was repeated for it contained that which was the Hope of her soul:

"Jesus loves me, He who died,Heaven's gate to open wide,He will wash away my sin,Let His little child come in!"

Then the day came when according to Chinese custom neighbors and friends crowded into the chamber of death to see the end. As long as she had breath she urged her husband to go to the mission and learn the Gospel. She begged that none might go to her grave to weep, for she said, "I will not be there. I will be in Heaven." When the last moments came her face was illuminated with joy and she raised her hands as if to welcome someone as she passed away.

The effect of this deathbed scene was truly remarkable. Mr. Chang her husband, her only son and daughter and son's wife immediately became Christians. A quarrel which had separated Mr. Chang and his eldest brother for ten years was made up and this brother became an earnest Christian. Only a few months passed when a time of severe testing came to this family. The son's wife was taken ill and died. During her illness and at her death she witnessed as wonderful testimony to the Christian's hope as her mother-in-law.

The neighbors on the east side of the Chang's homestead were a large influential family named Fan. The younger Mrs. Chang's death-bed scene so touched one of the young men of this family that he determined to break away from the heathenism of his home and become a follower of Christ. His soul became so on fire for the Lord that he influenced many in his family until they were on the point of turning away from their heathenism. It was at this juncture that my husband and I began an aggressive evangelistic campaign in this town near their home, and great hopes were felt that the entire family would become Christian, when as in the case of Dr. Dwan (see "As Silver Is Refined") a series of events so terrorized the family that for over a year they refused to believe but that the gods were fighting against them for changing their belief. And is it any wonder? Almost immediately after young Mr. Fan became a Christian one calamity after another came upon the family till the climax was reached when one of the younger sons, about fourteen years old, went to visit a relative some ten miles distant. He never reached their home, but disappeared and was never heard of again. A little later another son who had become a seeker after Christ went to the Mission Hall apparently well was taken suddenly ill and before even a neighbor could be called passed away.

But in spite of these things, which to the heathen people of Linchang were certain proofs of the power of the gods to take revenge, young Mr. Fan stood true and within a year had won back several of his family. From this time the church grew in Linchang. Within a few years a nice Christian church and school house was erected by the Christians within sight of the Fans' home, the evangelist in charge also being supported by themselves.

Some years later it was the writer's privilege to assist her husband in a series of special meetings held in this little Linchang church, which during the ten days of the "Mission" was filled to its utmost capacity. Not soon could one forget the scenes of those days when one after another consecrated himself afresh to the Lord.

Two cases stand out prominently. One was that of a wealthy landowner who also was partner in a prominent business concern in Linchang. At considerable financial loss to himself he gave up this business to become a preacher of the Gospel. The second case was that of a proud Confucian scholar who at that time held a position of head teacher in a government school. He also caught the vision which forced him to resign his position in order to preach the Gospel.

Many times during those days as I witnessed the Holy Spirit working in the hearts of these men and women and saw signs of the light of the Gospel beginning to spread throughout that whole region I thought of that first little seed of truth sown in the heart of the poor suffering woman as she lay in the women's hospital in Changte.

SKETCH XII

Our First Woman Convert

A Mere Memory

The following is but a brief memory of the long gone past. Even the name of the woman is forgotten but not the look on her pale patient face as she lay for weeks in the Mission Hospital – our first woman in-patient. Though almost thirty years have come and gone since those earliest days in North Honan the memory of this woman remains as one of the very few bright gleams in what was to us pioneer missionaries a time of darkness and peril.

The people were still bitter against us though a year had passed since a foothold had been gained in what we had so long looked forward to as our "Promised Land." Stories of the vilest nature widely circulated and believed did much to hinder the progress of the Gospel, and make the people fear and hate us. They believed we were capable of the very worst atrocities. Were I to attempt the plain record of many of these stories British law would forbid the publication.

It is little wonder, therefore, that our good doctor, a man of exceptional ability who had left brilliant prospects behind to come to China, chafed under the petty cases which came to the Hospital, and had more than once openly expressed his wish for some "good cases" which would help to open the people's hearts towards us. Before long his wish was abundantly gratified for three years later that hospital recorded twenty-eight thousand treatments in one year, a goodly proportion being "good" cases.

The beginning of the breaking of the ice of prejudice came when one day a man wheeled into the hospital yard a barrow on which lay his sick wife. He seemed very loath to come but his poor wife appeared past feeling. It was most evident that only the hope of relief from otherwise certain death could have induced them to risk coming for help to the foreign doctor.

A little later the doctor announced a serious operation imperative. To this the woman gave her consent but the man hesitated. How impossible it is for those brought up in a Western land to form any conception of the struggle the man went through in face of such a sweeping away of life-long prejudices, but at last in face of that great enemy, Death, he yielded.

Oh, how we prayed for that case! There we were, a mere handful of missionaries in the midst of a bitterly hostile people many of whom were only waiting and watching for an excuse to attack and murder us. Should the operation prove fatal and the woman die under the doctor's knife it would have been quite sufficient to stir up a mob which would in all probability have destroyed us all. But the operation passed safely and during the weeks of convalescence the doctor's wife told into willing ears the message of a Saviour who died to "open Heaven's door." From the first the woman showed a wonderful keenness in learning the truth. While still unable to sit upright and scarcely strong enough to hold her book she studied almost constantly the simple Christian Catechism.

One day to my great surprise as I responded to a timid tap at my door, I found this dear woman shrinking and uncertain as to whether she would be admitted, and almost fainting from weakness. I led her gently in and as she lay on the sofa we talked together of the blessed Saviour. After all these years the joy I felt, in speaking of the precious truths to this first Christian Woman of North Honan, still remains. She seemed even then to have her thoughts turned toward Eternity for she loved to have me dwell on the Heavenly Home, and the hymn she loved best was:

"My home is in Heaven, my home is not here."

Soon her visits became quite regular and as she lay on the lounge listening and asking questions she was not the only one who was learning for many were the lessons she unconsciously taught me of fortitude under suffering, and the simpleness of childlike trust. It seemed at times as if every separate fruit of the Spirit in that glorious cluster could be seen in this very babe in Christ. Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, faith, meekness, all just shone from her countenance. One day shortly before her return home she asked a question concerning the Holy Spirit which showed what wonderful progress she had made in spiritual understanding.

Although she left us apparently cured, a few months saw her back again for treatment. It was then she was received as our first Probationer for Baptism but long before the year of probation had ended she had passed away in certain hope of entering into the Presence of her Saviour.

SKETCH XIII

Two "Rice" Christians

Part I. THE "WOLF BOY."

As one travels Westward from the city of Changte, the country becomes more and more mountainous and rocky. Villages throughout that region are frequently troubled, during the cold winter season, by wolves, desperate with hunger venturing into the village streets injuring and sometimes carrying off children.

During the winter of – a lad about fourteen years of age, named Cheng (surname) Woo-tse (given name), left his home near Changte to visit an aunt living in a village ten miles west of that city. One day, as the lad was going on a message, a great wolf rushed down the village street, and, before he could be driven away, jumped upon the boy clawing and eating part of his face.

For months the ignorant villagers did what they could to relieve the poor boy's terrible sufferings; but, alas, those who are at all acquainted with Chinese methods of treatment know how worse than useless such attempts would be. Only when it became apparent the boy would die were the people willing for him to be taken to the Mission Hospital.

Naturally this most unusual case aroused great interest; all came to know of the "Wolf Boy" as he was called. For almost a year he remained in hospital, carefully and tenderly nursed by his mother; her devotion to her boy being most noticeable.

The doctor and his assistants set themselves to do their utmost for what they felt was one of the most difficult cases that had ever been in the hospital. The doctor sought to give the boy, as far as it was possible, a new face; but, after months of careful treatment and clever grafting, he was only partly successful. He succeeded in saving the sight of one eye and in forming practically a new mouth. But after the doctor had done all it was possible to do the boy still remained such a horrible sight he was forced to wear a mask.

While in the hospital all those months this poor torn lad won the hearts of all by his gratitude for every kindness, his cheerfulness and patience under great suffering, and his simple loving nature. The kindness shown them opened the hearts of both mother and son to the Gospel message and both became Christians. It was the boy, however, who received the story of the Saviour's Sacrifice with real joy. What it meant to him came out one evening at the weekly prayer-meeting.

The little group of Christians gathered were startled and deeply touched when the "Wolf Boy" suddenly began to pray; his face was so bound as to make speech difficult but this is what he said:

"O Lord! I thank Thee for letting the wolf eat my face, for if he had not I might never have heard of this wonderful Saviour."

When at last the time came for the boy and his mother to leave the hospital, the missionaries felt it would be heartless to turn the boy adrift to the "tender mercies of the heathen," so gave him the situation of water-carrier for their yard. Here he lived and worked amongst us for some years.

The writer can never forget this boy's sympathy and sorrow when one of the little foreign children, whom he looked upon as his friends, became sick unto death. Outside the sick child's door he waited and waited every moment he could spare from his work, hoping and praying for the word of hope that was not to come. When, at last, he was told the precious spirit was no longer with us, his grief was most touching.

Four years later the boy left us to take a situation at an adjoining mission station. Near this mission a river, wide and deep, flowed. It was here the wolf boy met his death. When bathing with some other lads he was carried out of his depth and drowned.

***

Many years have passed since this humble servant died, but there still remains in many a heart a warm remembrance of the lad, so physically hampered, but through whom the Christ-life shone so brightly as to make him a blessing and an example to those who knew him.

Part II. THE "WOLF BOY'S" MOTHER"Faithful in that which is least."

The following brief sketch is a true and grateful tribute to the faithfulness of one who has been to the writer one of the greatest blessings a mother, with little children, could have – a faithful, devoted nurse.

As I write there comes before me a vivid picture of the scene in the hospital ward where I first saw Mrs. Cheng. On the wide brick platform or bed, which reached across one end of the room from wall to wall, were stretched a number of patients, each one on their own thin mattress or bedding, and each attended by their own friends; foreign nurses being unknown in China then. In the further corner of this "kang" or general bed, Mrs. Cheng bent over her poor mangled son, whose face was completely hidden by bandages.

On that first visit I remember being much impressed with the mother's soft voice and quiet dignified manner, and with her extreme gentleness in tending her child. Each subsequent visit increased the desire to secure this woman as a nurse for my children. Soon the opportunity came.

Mrs. Cheng soon found that months instead of days or weeks must elapse, before her child could leave the hospital. The question as to how she could support herself and her son while in the hospital became a serious one; she, therefore, gladly accepted my offer to meet their expenses in return for her help some hours each day with the children. By the time the doctor had pronounced the "Wolf Boy" ready to leave the hospital, Mrs. Cheng had proved herself such a blessing and "treasure" in our home that a warm welcome awaited her from the children as well as their mother and she was installed as their permanent nurse.

Less than one year after Mrs. Cheng came to us, that terrible cataclysm of horror – the Boxer uprising – took place, and we were all ordered to flee. With four small children the thought of that long cart journey without Mrs. Cheng was appalling; but would she come? Her boy still needed her to dress his face, and her old mother, of almost eighty, to whom she was greatly devoted, looked constantly to her for help. We laid our need before her and for one day she hesitated, going about the house as if dazed. At evening she came with tears, saying, "Shepherd Mother, I must go with you. My old mother weeps but tells me to go. My boy needs me, but he, too, says I must go, for the children need me most."