<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER V. SOLDIERS TWO </h2>
<p>And now a new day dawned for the lonely young missionary. He had not a
convert but a helper and a delightful companion. His new friend was of a
bright, joyous nature, the sort that everybody loves. Giam was his
surname, but almost every one called him by his given name, Hoa, and those
who knew him best called him A Hoa. Mackay used this more familiar boyish
name, for Giam was the younger by a few years.</p>
<p>To A Hoa his new friend was always Pastor Mackay, or as the Chinese put
it, Mackay Pastor, Kai Bok-su was the real Chinese of it, and Kai Bok-su
soon became a name known all over the island of Formosa.</p>
<p>A Hoa needed all his kind new friend's help in the first days after his
conversion. For family, relatives, and friends turned upon him with the
bitterest hatred for taking up the barbarian's religion. So, driven from
his friends, he came to live in the little hut by the river with Mackay.
While at home these two read, sang, and studied together all the day long.
It would have been hard for an observer to guess who was teacher and who
pupil. For at one time A Hoa was receiving Bible instruction and the next
time Mackay was being drilled in the Chinese of the educated classes. Each
teacher was as eager to instruct as each pupil was eager to learn.</p>
<p>The Bible was, of course, the chief textbook, but they studied other
things, astronomy, geology, history, and similar subjects. One day the
Canadian took out a map of the world, and the Chinese gazed with amazement
at the sight of the many large countries outside China. A Hoa had been
private secretary to a mandarin, and had traveled much in China, and once
spent six months in Peking. His idea had been that China was everything,
that all countries outside it were but insignificant barbarian places. His
geography lessons were like revelations.</p>
<p>His progress was simply astonishing, as was also Mackay's. The two seemed
possessed with the spirit of hard work. But a superstitious old man who
lived near believed they were possessed with a demon. He often listened to
the two singing, drilling, and repeating words as they marched up and
down, either in the house or in front of it, and he became alarmed. He was
a kindly old fellow, and, though a heathen, felt well disposed toward the
missionary and A Hoa. So one day, very much afraid, he slipped over to the
little house with two small cups of strong tea. He came to the door and
proffered them with a polite bow. He hoped they might prove soothing to
the disturbed nerves of the patients, he said. He suggested, also, that a
visit to the nearest temple might help them.</p>
<p>The two affected ones received his advice politely, but the humor of it
struck them both, and when their visitor was gone they laughed so hard the
tea nearly choked them.</p>
<p>The missionary was soon able to speak so fluently that he preached almost
every day, either in the little house by the river, or on the street in
some open square. There were other things he did, too. On every side he
saw great suffering from disease. The chief malady was the terrible
malaria, and the native doctors with their ridiculous remedies only made
the poor sufferers worse. Mackay had studied medicine for a short time
while in college, and now found his knowledge very useful. He gave some
simple remedies to several victims of malaria which proved effective. The
news of the cures spread far and wide. The barbarian was kind, he had a
good heart, the people declared. Many more came to him for medicine, and
day by day the circle of his friends grew. And wherever he went, curing
disease, teaching, or preaching, A Hoa went with him, and shared with him
the taunts of their heathen enemies.</p>
<p>But the gospel was gradually making its way. Not long after A Hoa's
conversion a second man confessed Christ. He had previously disturbed the
meetings by throwing stones into the doorway whenever he passed. But his
sister was cured of malaria by the missionary's medicine, and soon both
sister and mother became Christians, and finally the stone-thrower
himself. And so, gradually, the lines of the enemy were falling back, and
at every sign of retreat the little army of two advanced. A little army?
No! For was there not the whole host of heaven moving with them? And
Mackay was learning that his boyish dreams of glory were truly to be
fulfilled. He had wanted always to be a soldier like his grandfather, and
fight a great Waterloo, and here he was right in the midst of the battle
with the victory and the glory sure.</p>
<p>The two missionaries often went on short trips here and there into the
country around Tamsui, and Mackay determined that when the intense summer
heat had lessened they would make a long tour to some of the large cities.
The heat of August was almost overpowering to the Canadian. Flies and
mosquitoes and insect pests of all kinds made his life miserable, too, and
prevented his studying as hard as he wished.</p>
<p>One oppressive day he and A Hoa returned from a preaching tour in the
country to find their home in a state of siege. Right across the threshold
lay a monster serpent, eight feet in length. A Hoa shouted a warning, and
seized a long pole, and the two managed to kill it. But their troubles
were not yet over. The next morning, Mackay stepped outside the door and
sprang back just in time to escape another, the mate of the one killed.
This one was even larger than the first, and was very fierce. But they
finished it with sticks and stones.</p>
<p>When September came the days grew clearer, and the many pests of summer
were not so numerous. The mosquitoes and flies that had been such torments
disappeared, and there was some relief from the damp oppressive heat. But
he had only begun to enjoy the refreshing breaths of cool air, and had
remarked to A Hoa that the days reminded him of Canadian summers, when the
weather gave him to understand that every Formosan season has its
drawbacks. September brought tropical storms and typhoons that were
terrible, and he saw from his little house on the hillside big trees torn
up by the root, buildings swept away like chaff, and out in the harbor
great ships lifted from their anchorage and whirled away to destruction.
And then he was sometimes thankful that his little hut was built into the
hillside, solid and secure.</p>
<p>But the fierce storms cleared away the heavy dampness that had made the
heat of the summer so unbearable, and October and November brought
delightful days. The weather was still warm of course, but the nights were
cool and pleasant.</p>
<p>So early one October morning, Mackay and A Hoa started off on a tour to
the cities.</p>
<p>"We shall go to Kelung first," said the missionary. Kelung was a seaport
city on the northern coast, straight east across the island from Tamsui. A
coolie to carry food and clothing was hired, and early in the morning,
while the stars were still shining, they passed through the sleeping town
and out on the little paths between the rice-fields. Though it was yet
scarcely daylight, the farmers were already in their fields. It was
harvest-time—the second harvest of the year—and the little
rice-fields were no longer like mirrors, but were filled with high
rustling grain ready for the sickle. The water had been drained off and
the reaper and thrasher were going through the fields before dawn. There
was no machinery like that used at home. The reaper was a short sickle,
the thrashing-machine a kind of portable tub, and Mackay looked at them
with some amusement, and described to A Hoa how they took off the great
wheat crops in western Canada.</p>
<p>The two were in high spirits, ready for any sort of adventure and they met
some. Toward evening they reached a place called Sek-khau, and went to the
little brick inn to get a sleeping-place. The landlord came to the door
and was about to bid A Hoa enter, when the light fell upon Mackay's face.
With a shout, "Black-bearded barbarian!" he slammed the door in their
faces. They turned away, but already a crowd had begun to gather. "The
black-bearded barbarian is here! The foreign devil from Tamsui has come!"
was the cry. The mob followed the two down the streets, shouting curses.
Some one threw a broken piece of brick, another a stone. Mackay turned and
faced them, and for a few moments they seemed cowed. But the crowd was
increasing, and he deemed it wise to move on. So the two marched out of
the town followed by stones and curses. And, as they went, Mackay reminded
A Hoa of what they had been reading the night before.</p>
<p>"Yes," said A Hoa brightly. "The Lord was driven out of his own town in
Galilee."</p>
<p>"Yes, and Paul—you remember how he was stoned. Our Master counts us
worthy to suffer for him." But where to go was the question. Before they
could decide, night came down upon them, and it came in that sudden
tropical way to which Mackay, all his life accustomed to the long mellow
twilights of his northern home, could never grow accustomed. They each
took a torch out of the carrier's bag, lighted it, and marched bravely on.
The path led along the Kelung river, through tall grass. They were not
sure where it led to, but thought it wise to follow the river; they would
surely come to Kelung some time. Mackay was ahead, A Hoa right at his
heels, and behind them the basketbearer. At a sudden turn in the path A
Hoa gave a shout of warning, and the next instant, a band of robbers
leaped from the long reeds and grass, and brandished their spears in the
travelers' faces. The torchlight shone on their fierce evil eyes and their
long knives, making a horrible picture. The young Canadian Scot did not
flinch for a second. He looked the wild leader straight in the face.</p>
<p>"We have no money, so you cannot rob us," he said steadily, "and you must
let us pass at once. I am a teacher and—"</p>
<p>"A TEACHER!" he was interrupted by a dismayed exclamation from several of
the wild band. "A teacher!" As if with one accord they turned and fled
into the darkness. For even a highwayman in China respects a man of
learning. The travelers went on again, with something of relief and
something of the exultation that youth feels in having faced danger. But a
second trouble was upon them. One of those terrible storms that still
raged occasionally had been brewing all evening, and now it opened its
artillery. Great howling gusts came down from the mountain, carrying
sheets of driving rain. Their torches went out like matches, and they were
left to stagger along in the black darkness. What were they to do? They
could not go back. They could not stay there. They scarcely dared go on.
For they did not know the way, and any moment a fresh blast of wind or a
misstep might hurl them into the river. But they decided that they must go
on, and on they went, stumbling, slipping, sprawling, and falling
outright. Now there would be an exclamation from Mackay as he sank to the
knees in the mud of a rice-field, now a groan from A Hoa as he fell over a
boulder and bruised and scratched himself, and oftenest a yell from the
poor coolie, as he slipped, baskets and all, into some rocky crevice, and
was sure he was tumbling into the river; but they staggered on, Mackay
secure in his faith in God. His Father knew and his Father would keep him
safely. And behind him came brave young A Hoa, buoyed up by his new
growing faith, and learning the lesson that sometimes the Captain asks his
soldier to march into hard encounters, but that the soldier must never
flinch.</p>
<p>The "everlasting arms" were around them, for by midnight they reached
Kelung. They were drenched, breathless, and worn out, and they spent the
night in a damp hovel, glad of any shelter from the wind and rain.</p>
<p>But the next morning, young soldier A Hoa had a fiercer battle to fight
than any with robbers or storms. As soon as the city was astir, Mackay and
he went out to find a good place to preach. They passed down the main
thoroughfare, and everywhere they attracted attention. Cries of "Ugly
barbarian!" and oftenest "Black-bearded barbarian" were heard on all
sides. A Hoa was known in Kelung and contempt and ridicule was heaped upon
him by his old college acquaintances. He was consorting with the
barbarian! He was a friend of this foreigner! They poured more insults
upon him than they did upon the barbarian himself. Some took the stranger
as a joke, and laughed and made funny remarks upon his appearance. Here
and there an old woman, peeping through the doorway, would utter a loud
cackling laugh, and pointing a wizened finger at the missionary would cry:
"Eh, eh, look at him! Tee hee! He's got a wash basin on for a hat!" A Hoa
was distressed at these remarks, but Mackay was highly amused.</p>
<p>"We're drawing a crowd, anyway," he remarked cheerfully, "and that's what
we want."</p>
<p>Soon they came to an open square in front of a heathen temple. The
building had several large stone steps leading up to the door. Mackay
mounted them and stood facing the buzzing crowd, with A Hoa at his side.
They started a hymn.</p>
<p>All people that on earth do dwell Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.</p>
<p>The open square in front of them began to fill rapidly. The people jostled
each other in their endeavors to get a view of the barbarian. Every one
was curious, but every one was angry and indignant, so sometimes the sound
of the singing was lost in the shouts of derision.</p>
<p>When the hymn was finished, Mackay had a sudden inspiration. "They will
surely listen to one of their own people," he said to himself, and turned
to A Hoa.</p>
<p>"Speak to them," he said. "Tell them about the true God."</p>
<p>That was a hard moment for the young convert. He had been a Christian only
a few months and had never yet spoken in public for Christ. He looked
desperately over the sea of mocking faces beneath him. He opened his
mouth, as though to speak, and hesitated. Just then came a rough and
bitter taunt from one of his old companions. It was too much. A Hoa turned
away and hung his head.</p>
<p>The young missionary said nothing. But he did the very wisest thing he
could have done. He had some time before taught A Hoa a grand old Scottish
paraphrase, and they had often sung it together:</p>
<p>I'm not ashamed to own my Lord Or to defend his cause, Maintain the glory
of his cross And honor all his laws.</p>
<p>Mackay's voice, loud and clear, burst into this fine old hymn. A Hoa
raised his head. He joined in the hymn and sang it to the end. It put
mettle into him. It was the battle-song that brought back the young
recruit's courage. Almost before the last note sounded he began to speak.
His voice rang out bold and unafraid over the crowd of angry heathen.</p>
<p>"I am a Christian!" he said distinctly. "I worship the true God. I cannot
worship idols," with a gesture toward the temple door, "that rats can
destroy. I am not afraid. I love Jesus. He is my Savior and Friend."</p>
<p>No, A Hoa was not "ashamed" any more. His testing time had come, and he
had not failed after all. And his brave, true words sent a thrill of joy
through the more seasoned soldier at his side.</p>
<p>That was not the only difficult situation he met on that journey. The two
soldiers of the cross had many trials, but the thrill of that victory
before the Kelung temple never left them.</p>
<p>When they returned to Tamsui they held daily services in their house, and
A Hoa often spoke to the people who gathered there.</p>
<p>One Sunday they noticed an old woman present, who had come down the river
in a boat. Women as a rule did not come out to the meetings, but this old
lady continued to come every Sunday. She showed great interest in the
missionary's words, and, at the close of one meeting, he spoke to her. She
told him she was a poor widow, that her name was Thah-so, and that she had
come down the river from Go-ko-khi to hear him preach. Then she added, "I
have passed through many trials in this world, and my idols never gave me
any comfort." Then her eyes shone, "But I like your teaching very much,"
she went on. "I believe the God you tell about will give me peace.. I will
come again, and bring others."</p>
<p>Next Sunday she was there with several other women. And after that she
came every Sunday, bringing more each time, until at last a whole
boat-load would come down to the service.</p>
<p>These people were so interested that they asked the missionary if he would
not visit them. So one day he and A Hoa boarded one of the queer-looking
flat-bottomed river-boats and were pulled up the rapids to Go ko-khi.
Every village in Formosa had its headman, who is virtually the ruler of
the place. When the boat landed, many of the villagers were at the shore
to meet their visitors and took them at once to their mayor's house, the
best building in the village. Tan Paugh, a fine, big, powerfully-built
man, received them cordially. He frankly declared that he was tired and
sick of idols and wanted to hear more of this new religion. An empty
granary was obtained for both church and home, and the missionary and his
assistant took up their quarters there, and for several months they
remained, preaching and teaching the Bible either in Go-ho-khi, or in the
lovely surrounding valleys.</p>
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<h2> CHAPTER VI. THE GREAT KAI BOK-SU </h2>
<p>The missionary was now becoming a familiar figure both in Tamsui and in
the surrounding country. By many he was loved, by all he was respected,
but by a large number he was bitterly hated. The scholars continued his
worst enemies. They could never forgive him for beating them so completely
in argument, in the days when A Hoa was striving for the light, and their
hatred increased as they saw other scholars becoming Christians under his
teaching. There was something about him, however, that compelled their
respect and even their admiration. Wherever they met him—on the
street, by their temples, or on the country roads—he bore himself in
such a way as to make them confess that he was their superior both in
ability and knowledge.</p>
<p>These Chinese literati had a custom which Mackay found very interesting.
One proud scholar marching down the street and scarcely noticing the
obsequious bows of his inferiors, would meet another equally proud
scholar. Each would salute the other in an exceedingly grand manner, and
then one would spin off a quotation from the writings of Confucius or some
other Chinese sage and say, "Now tell me where that is found." And scholar
number two had to ransack his brains to remember where the saying was
found, or else confess himself beaten. Mackay thought it might be a good
habit for the graduates of his own alma mater across the wide sea to
adopt. He wondered what some of his old college chums would think, if,
when he got back to Canada, he should buttonhole one on the street some
day, recite a quotation from Shakespeare or Macaulay, and demand from his
friend where it could be found. He had a suspicion that the old friend
would be afraid that the Oriental sun had touched George Mackay's brain.</p>
<p>Nevertheless he thought the custom one he could turn to good account, and
before long he was trying it himself. He had such a wonderful memory that
he never forgot anything he had once read. So the scholars of north
Formosa soon discovered, again to their humiliation, that this Kai Bok-su
of Tamsui could beat them at their own game. They did not care how much he
might profess to know of writers and lands beyond China. Such were only
barbarians anyway. But when, right before a crowd, he would display a
surer knowledge of the Chinese classics than they themselves, they began
not only to respect but to fear him. It was no use trying to humiliate him
with a quotation. With his bright eyes flashing, he would tell, without a
moment's hesitation, where it was found and come back at the questioner
swiftly with another, most probably one long forgotten, and reel it off as
though he had studied Chinese all his life.</p>
<p>He was a wonderful man certainly, they all agreed, and one whom it was not
safe to oppose. The common people liked him better every day. He was so
tactful, so kind, and always so careful not to arouse the prejudice of the
heathen. He was extremely wise in dealing with their superstitions. No
matter how absurd or childish They might be, he never ridiculed them, but
only strove to show the people how much happier they might be if they
believed in God as their Father and in Jesus Christ as their Savior. He
never made light of anything sacred to the Chinese mind, but always tried
to take whatever germ of good he could find in their religion, and lead on
from it to the greater good found in Christianity. He discovered that the
ancestral worship made the younger people kind and respectful to older
folk, and he saw that Chinese children reverenced their parents and elders
in a way that he felt many of his young friends across the sea would do
well to copy.</p>
<p>One day when he and A Hoa were out on a preaching tour, the wise Kai
Bok-su made use of this respect for parents in quieting a mob. He and his
comrade were standing side by side on the steps of a heathen temple as
they had done at Kelung. The angry crowd was scowling and muttering, ready
to throw stones as soon as the preacher uttered a word. Mackay knew this,
and when they had sung a hymn and the people waited, ready for a riot, his
voice rang out clear and steady, repeating the fifth commandment "Honor
thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which
the Lord thy God giveth thee." A silence fell over the muttering crowd,
and an old heathen whose cue was white and whose aged hands trembled on
the top of his staff, nodded his head and said, "That is heavenly
doctrine." The people were surprised and disarmed. If the black-bearded
barbarian taught such truths as this, he surely was not so very wicked
after all. And so they listened attentively as he went on to show that
they had all one great Father, even God.</p>
<p>He sometimes found it rather a task to treat with respect that which the
Chinese held sacred. Especially was this so when he discovered to his
amusement and to some carefully concealed disgust, that in the Chinese
family the pig was looked upon with affection, and as a young naval
officer, who visited Mackay remarked, "was treated like a gentleman."</p>
<p>Every Chinese house of any size was made up of three buildings joined
together so as to make three sides of an enclosure. This space was called
a court, and a door led from it to another next the street. In this outer
yard pigs and fowl were always to be found. Whenever the missionary
dropped in at a home, mother pig and all the little pigs often followed
him inside the house, quite like members of the family. Every one was
always glad to see Kai Bok-su, pigs and all, and as soon as he appeared
the order was given—"Infuse tea." And when the little handleless
cups of clear brown liquid were passed around and they all drank and
chatted, Mrs. Pig and her children strolled about as welcome as the guest.</p>
<p>The Chinese would allow no one to hurt their pigs, either. One day as
Mackay sat in his rooms facing the river, battling with some new Chinese
characters, he heard a great hubbub coming up the street. The threatening
mobs that used to surround his house had long ago ceased to trouble him.
He arose in some surprise and went to the door to see what was the matter.
A very unusual sight for Tamsui met his gaze. Coming up the street at a
wild run were some half-dozen English sailors, their loose blue blouses
and trousers flapping madly. They were evidently from a ship which Mackay
had seen lying in the harbor that morning.</p>
<p>"Give us a gun!" roared the foremost as soon as he saw the missionary.</p>
<p>Mackay did not possess a gun, and would not have given the enraged
bluejacket one had he owned a dozen. But the Chinese mob, roaring with
fury, were coming up the street after the men and he swiftly pointed out a
narrow alley that led down to the river. "Run down there!" he shouted to
the sailors. "You can get to your boats before they find you."</p>
<p>They were gone in an instant, and the next moment the crowd of pursuers
were storming about the door demanding whither the enemy had disappeared.</p>
<p>"What is all this disturbance about?" demanded Kai Bok-su calmly, glad of
an opportunity to gain time for the fleeing sailors.</p>
<p>The aggrieved Chinese gathered about him, each telling the story as loud
as his voice would permit. Those barbarians of the sea had come swaggering
along the streets waving their big sticks. And they had dared—yes
actually DARED—to hit the pet pigs belonging to every house as they
passed. The poor pigs who lay sunning themselves at the door!</p>
<p>This was indeed a serious offense. Mackay could picture the rollicking
sailor-lads gaily whacking the lazy porkers with their canes as they
passed, happily unconscious of the trouble they were raising. But there
was no amusement in Kai Bok-su's grave face. He spoke kindly, and
soothingly, and promised that if the offenders misbehaved again he would
complain to the authorities. That made it all right. Heathen though they
were, they knew Kai Bok-su's promise would not be broken, and away they
went quite satisfied.</p>
<p>One day he learned, quite by accident, a new and very useful way of
helping his people. He and A Hoa and several other young men who had
become Christians, went on a missionary tour to Tek-chham, a large city
which he had visited once before.</p>
<p>On the day they left the place, Kai Boksu's preaching had drawn such
crowds that the authorities of the city became afraid of him. And when the
little party left, a dozen soldiers were sent to follow the dangerous
barbarian and his students and see that they did not bewitch the people on
the road.</p>
<p>The soldiers tramped along after the missionary party, and with his usual
ability to make use of any situation, Mackay stepped back and chatted with
his spies. He found one poor fellow in agony with the toothache. This
malady was very common in north Formosa, partly owing to the habit of
chewing the betel-nut. He examined the aching tooth and found it badly
decayed. "There is a worm in it," the soldier said, for the Formosan
doctors had taught the people this was the cause of toothache.</p>
<p>Mackay had no forceps, but he knew how to pull a tooth, and he was not the
sort to be daunted by the lack of tools. He got a piece of hard wood,
whittled it into shape and with it pried out the tooth. The relief from
pain was so great that the soldier almost wept for joy and overwhelmed the
tooth-puller with gratitude. And for the remainder of the journey the
guards sent to spy on the missionary's doings were his warmest friends.</p>
<p>After this, dentistry became a part of this many-sided missionary's work.
He went to a native blacksmith and had a pair of forceps hammered out of
iron. It was a rather clumsy instrument, but it proved of great value, and
later he sent for a complete set of the best instruments made in New York.</p>
<p>So with forceps in one hand and the Bible in the other, Mackay found
himself doubly equipped. Every second person seemed to be suffering from
toothache, and when the pain was relieved by the missionary, the patient
was in a state of mind to receive his teaching kindly. The cruel methods
by which the native doctors extracted teeth often caused more suffering
than the toothache, and sometimes even resulted in death through
blood-poisoning.</p>
<p>A Hoa and some of the other young converts learned from their teacher how
to pull a tooth, and they, too, became experts in the art.</p>
<p>Whenever they visited a town or city after this, they had a program which
they always followed. First they would place themselves in front of an
idol temple or in an open square. Here they would sing a hymn which always
attracted a crowd. Next, any one who wanted a tooth pulled was invited to
come forward. Many accepted the invitation gladly and sometimes a long
line of twenty or thirty would be waiting, each his turn. The Chinese had
considerable nerve, the Canadian discovered, and stood the pain bravely.
They literally "stood" it, too, for there was no dentist's chair and every
man stood up for his operation, very much pleased and very grateful when
it was over. Then there were quinine and other simple remedies for malaria
handed round, for in a Formosan crowd there were often many shaking in the
grip of this terrible disease. And now, having opened the people's hearts
by his kindness, Kai Bok-su brought forth his cure for souls. He would
mount the steps of the temple or stand on a box or stone, and tell the
wonderful old story of the man Jesus who was also God, and who said to all
sick and weary and troubled ones, "Come unto me,... and I will give you
rest." And often, when he had finished, the disease of sin in many a heart
was cured by the remedy of the gospel.</p>
<p>And so the autumn passed away happily and busily, and Mackay entered his
first Formosan winter. And such a winter! The young man who had felt the
clear, bright cold of a Canadian January needed all his fine courage to
bear up under its dreariness. It started about Christmas time. Just when
his own people far away in Canada were gathering about the blazing fire or
jingling over the crisp snow in sleighs and cutters, the great winter
rains commenced. Christmas day—his first Christmas in a land that
did not know its beautiful meaning—was one long dreary downpour. It
rained steadily all Christmas week. It poured on Newyear's day and for a
week after. It came down in torrents all January. February set in and
still it rained and rained, with only a short interval each afternoon. Day
and night, week in, week out, it poured, until Mackay forgot what sunlight
looked like, his house grew damp, his clothes moldy. A stream broke out up
in the hill behind and one morning he awoke to find a cascade tumbling
into his kitchen, and rushing across the floor out into the river beyond.
And still it poured and the wind blew and everything was damp and cold and
dreary.</p>
<p>He caught an occasional glimpse of snow, only a very far-off view, for it
lay away up on the top of a mountain, but it made his heart long for just
one breath of good dry Canadian air, just one whiff of the keen, cutting
frost.</p>
<p>But Kai Bok-su was not the sort to spend these dismal days repining.
Indeed he had no time, even had he been so inclined. His work filled up
every minute of every rainy day and hours of the drenched night. If there
was no sunshine outside there was plenty in his brave heart, and A Hoa's
whole nature radiated brightness.</p>
<p>And there were many reasons for being happy after all. On the second
Sabbath of February, 1873, just one year after his arrival in Tamsui, the
missionary announced, at the close of one of his Sabbath services, that he
would receive a number into the Christian church. There was instantly a
commotion among the heathen who were in the house, and yells and jeers
from those crowding about the door outside.</p>
<p>"We'll stop him," they shouted. "Let us beat the converts," was another
cry.</p>
<p>But Mackay went quietly on with the beautiful ceremony in spite of the
disturbance. Five young men, with A Hoa at their head, came and were
baptized into the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.</p>
<p>When the next Sabbath came these five with their missionary sat down for
the first time to partake of the Lord's Supper. It was a very impressive
ceremony. One young fellow broke down, declaring he was not worthy. Mackay
took him alone into his little room and they prayed together, and the
young man came out to the Lord's Supper comforted, knowing that all might
be worthy in Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>Spring came at last, bright and clear, and Mackay announced to A Hoa that
they must go up the river and visit their friends at Goko-khi. The two did
not go alone this time. Three other young men who wanted to be
missionaries were now spending their days with their teacher, learning
with A Hoa how to preach the gospel. So it was quite a little band of
disciples that walked along the river bank up to Go-ko-khi. Mackay
preached at all the villages along the route, and visited the homes of
Christians.</p>
<p>One day, as they passed a yamen or Chinese court-house where a mandarin
was trying some cases, they stepped in to see what was going on. At one
end of the room sat the mandarin who was judge. He was dressed in
magnificent silks and looked down very haughtily upon the lesser people
and the retinue of servants who were gathered about him. On either side of
the room stood a row of constables and near them the executioners. The
rest of the room was filled with friends of the people on trial and by the
rabble from the street. The missionaries mixed with the former and stood
watching proceedings. There were no lawyers, no jury. The mandarin's
decision was law.</p>
<p>The first case was one of theft. Whether the man had really committed the
crime or not was a question freely discussed among the onlookers around
Mackay. But there seemed no doubt as to his punishment being swift and
heavy. "He has not paid the mandarin," a friend explained to the
missionary. "He will be punished."</p>
<p>"The mandarin eats cash," remarked another with a shrug. It was a saying
to which Mackay had become accustomed. For it was one of the shameless
proverbs of poor, oppressed Formosa.</p>
<p>The case was soon finished. Nothing was definitely proven against the man.
But the mandarin pronounced the sentence of death. The victim was hurried
out, shrieking his innocence, and praying for mercy. Case followed case,
each one becoming more revolting than the last to the eyes of the young
man accustomed to British justice. Imprisonment and torture were meted out
to prisoners, and even witnesses were laid hold of and beaten on the face
by the executioners if their tale did not suit the mandarin. Men who were
plainly guilty but who had given their judge a liberal bribe were let off,
while innocent men were made to pay heavy fines or were thrown into
prison. The young missionary went out and on his way sickened by the
sights he had witnessed. And as he went, he raised his eyes to heaven and
prayed fervently that he might be a faithful preacher of the gospel, and
that one day Formosa would be a Christian land and injustice and
oppression be done away.</p>
<p>The next scene was a happier one. There was an earnest little band of
Christians in Go-ko-khi, and two of the young people were about to be
married. It was the first Christian marriage in the place and Kai Bok-su
was called upon to officiate. There was a great deal of opposition raised
among the heathen, but after seeing the ceremony, they all voted a
Christian wedding everything that was beautiful and good.</p>
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