Chinese Diamonds for the King of Kings

* * *

During those long winter months Mr. Wang sat at his desk in the Yamen the face of the missionary seemed to come before him vividly – so kind, so true, so different from any face he had ever seen before.

Gradually he came to the point of resolving that had he another chance he would return to the missionary. The opportunity was nearer than he imagined.

While at his work one morning he heard an unusual commotion outside. Stepping to the front gate he found a great crowd hurrying towards the river. A man shouted to him, "Two foreign demons are coming up the river. Come and see the fun."

Without so much as a thought for his work awaiting him, Mr. Wang caught up his teacher's long gown to accelerate speed, and before the man ceased speaking had started to run with the others. His behaviour on this occasion at least was quite unworthy of a proud Confucian scholar, all of whom pride themselves on imitating the sage in never making haste under any circumstances.

Just as the tiny house boat, with two foreign men standing on its deck, came in sight, Mr. Wang reached the river bank. Had he tried he would have found it difficult to say why he trembled so. He was only conscious of an intense desire that one of these men might be his foreigner. At last as he recognized the missionary he had taught for a day, he could scarcely repress a cry of joy, or wait till the boat was drawn up to where he stood. Then, not waiting for the plank to be put down, he leaped on board and faced the astonished missionary, who looked his amazement as he recognized him.

Before the other could find words, Mr. Wang, making a low bow hurriedly asked forgiveness in a few humble words. He ended by saying, "I know, sir, you are not what people say you are. I was wrong, forgive me. If you will take me back I will be glad to teach you."

While he was speaking the missionary's face was a study – surprise, annoyance, relief, pleasure – all came in turn. The missionary, who could now speak the Chinese language a little, laid Ids hand kindly on the young man's shoulder and said:

"Not a word more, Mr. Wang. I am in need of a teacher so you may consider yourself engaged, but you must be ready to start back with us three days from now."

The poor fellow looked his gratitude but could find no words. As he turned to leave the missionary called him back and said in a low voice as he handed him some money, "Take this, you have a wife and she must be provided for, we will reckon later." This thoughtful act completed the capture of Mr. Wang's heart. From that moment he became the devoted follower of the missionary although as yet he knew nothing of his message.

Three days later found Mr. Wang settled in his little "tsang" or cabin on the missionary's houseboat. Next to his was the larger cabin occupied by the two missionaries as sleeping and living apartment. A partition of open woodwork covered with paper separated the two cabins. Mr. Wang had not been in his compartment very long before he had, in true Chinese fashion, by moistening the tip of his finger and applying it to the paper partition, made a hole sufficiently large to enable him to watch all that passed in the adjoining cabin without himself being seen. Day by day he spent every moment he could get at his self made vantage ground. How those men puzzled him! As he noticed how quiet and orderly, and above all how strangely happy they were, without being boisterous, he became conscious of a growing sense of respect and admiration. Before they had reached their destination, the missionary's home, Mr. Wang had lost every trace of doubt or fear of the foreigners.

Mr. – , the missionary, was a keen judge of character. His knowledge of human nature was gained in the slums of a so-called Christian city, and it was well for him that such experience had been gained before meeting the more complex problems of the Chinese character. As day by day the missionary studied with Mr. Wang he became more and more convinced that this man must meet Christ first in him, His representative, for he found him sharp, keen, critical, and alas, utterly untrustworthy. But the day came when Mr. Wang testified, when he was being received into the Church, "I learned first to love the Pastor, then to love his Saviour."

Part III – SLAVE'S RELEASE

Six years have passed since Mr. Wang entered on his duties as teacher to the missionary. During all those years he had been an invaluable assistant to Mr. – in the strenuous and difficult work of opening a new mission station at the large and important city of C – . The time had now come when it was thought best for Mr. Wang to bring his wife from their old home. A small cottage was secured just opposite the mission gate for them, and here a happier life began for Mrs. Wang than she had ever thought possible.

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.

***

Sometime after her little friend's death, Spring entered the mission school for girls, the first girls' school to be opened in that part of China. Year by year as they passed, Spring grew in the love and esteem of her teachers. Her bright, happy ways and true Christian character endeared her to all. But the one Spring loved most of all was the mother of the friend she never forgot. On one occasion when the writer was home on furlough, she received the following letter from Spring: "Dear Teacher Mother, Come back very soon. As one who is hungry longs for food and one who is thirsty for drink, so my heart longs for you!"

When fifteen years of age Spring graduated with such distinction that she was sent to the advanced school for girls in Peking. Upon her return she became assistant teacher in the Mission Girls' School.

About this time Mrs. Wang's health broke down. A little daughter had come whom they named "Brightness." Through all the months of weakness and failing health, the poor suffering woman showed forth a true spirit of patience and resignation. One day an urgent call came for the missionary's wife to go and see the sick woman. Hastening to the little cottage across the way, she found the court empty so entered the door unannounced, and passing through the outer room she lifted the curtain that served for door into the room where she could see dimly the form of her loved friend lying on the brick bed.

There was no mistaking the look which plainly told the last call had come to Mrs. Wang. Overcome with the shock of seeing the end so near, Mrs. – sank down beside her friend and wept bitterly. Slowly the dying woman raised her hand and stroked the head of the weeping woman, and with difficulty said, "Don't grieve for me. There is much I want to say, but the time is too short. Listen! My child, my little Slave, does not know about the Saviour. Help Spring to go to her before it is too late."

There was a long silence broken only by suppressed weeping from Spring who was standing by. Then Mrs. Wang continued, "And you, my friend; thank you again for bringing this precious Saviour to even me. And you have helped me so much."

"No, no," said Mrs. – unable to keep silence longer. "It is you who have helped me. Your patience under trial has been a constant rebuke to me for my impatience." She could say no more for even while she was speaking the Glory of the unseen world seemed to shine on the dying woman's face.

***

Some months after her mother's death the way was opened for Spring to visit her father's old home. She had many times longed and prayed that she might fulfil her mother's dying request. With some difficulties Spring found where her sister lived and as she drew near the house her heart rose in earnest prayer for her sister's conversion.

An old woman responded to her knock at the gate, to whom Spring made herself known, then asked to see her sister. The old woman who turned out to be Slave's mother-in-law, directed her to the door of the room where we last parted with poor Slave – a broken-hearted bride.

Tapping gently on the door and receiving no answer, Spring entered. On the long brick bed at one end of the room lay her sister. The wasted frame and racking cough told all too plainly Slave's days on earth were few. As Spring stood looking at her sister for a moment, almost too overcome to speak, she thought of her mother's words, "before it is too late."

For three days Spring remained with her sister. Fortunately for them both Slave's husband was not at home, and the old mother-in-law left them alone only too glad to have someone to relieve her from waiting on the sick one.

When Spring described to her sister their mother's beautiful death, tears ran down Slave's cheeks as she said, "Oh, that I too could have such a hope!"

"You can, my sister," eagerly cried Spring. "I have come as mother wished, to tell you how you can go to where she is." Then patiently and lovingly she opened up to her sister, step by step, the glorious Gospel of a Saviour from sin and a hope after death. Slave listened and drank in the message as one parched with thirst would drink from a living spring.

Once when the sisters were talking closely together, Slave suddenly broke into a passion of uncontrollable weeping. Then came little by little as she had strength to tell it, the story of those terrible years since she left her father's home. At last as if words failed her, she loosened her garment and revealed her shoulders and back covered with bruises and healed scars, silent witnesses to the cruelty of the past.

Gradually the Peace and Hope born of her new found faith came into Slave's poor starved soul. And as the sisters parted never as they knew well to meet again on earth, Slave said, "Yes, it is different now, I shall be in heaven before you. I have no more fear now. But pray for my husband."

***

There is a Love that longs with deep affection
To gather all the sinsick sons of men
Beneath its wings of shelter and protection,
And give them health again.
It is the love of Jesus, sweet with longing,
His full salvation to the world to give,
Crying to all the dead, earth's highways thronging,
"Come unto Me, come unto Me, and live."

    By Annie Johnson Flint.