Chapter XI: Closing Labours (1)

James Gilmour remained in Great Britain less than eight months. The society of his boys was a great delight to him. He rejoiced in renewed intercourse with relatives and old friends. His religious convictions and his own spiritual life deepened still more. He went to a considerable number of meetings to speak on missionary work and needs, and he everywhere produced a great impression.

Referring to this visit, and especially to his intercourse with the boys, a near relative writes:--

'It was a time full of interest and pleasure. What a variety of moods, from the frolicsome to the pathetic, he displayed! But evidently his wife's death had laid hold upon his very soul, and there seemed so much more of sadness and tenderness than on his former visit, when he had enjoyed her bright companionship. On one occasion, referring to a medical missionary who had brought his wife home from China hopelessly ill, and who was expecting the end, he said: "Eh, man, he little knows the _terrible_ dark valley he has to come through, and if Christ is not with him he will be undone!" He spoke the words as though he were again going through his own agony, and then added: "But if Christ is with him he will come out of it with victory, and Christ will be dearer. But he has _no_ idea what he has to face, though he thinks he has."

'He had looked forward to spending part of his time with his sons at Millport, where he had spent June and July 1883 with his wife and boys on his former visit. So we went there for a month, and they had a good time boating, and walking, and reviving old memories of the happy home circle. The thought of reunion was always made prominent. The boys must ever remember his earnest efforts to lead their thoughts heavenward, and they do think of heaven as a very real place.

'While at Millport he spent several nights in pasting up texts on every place likely to catch the eye; on stones and gateways and fences all round the island. He felt he must work while time was granted to him. I had noticed him making paste, but thought nothing of it. I had heard the sound of a softly closing door at midnight, but thought it must be fancy. It had gone to my heart to feel his icy cold hand when he gave me his morning greeting. I noticed the little texts pasted up, but never thought of them as his work till the next day, when he began to make more paste, and then the whole thing came to me like a flash. I begged him with tears not to go out in the cold night air, and said that I knew God would rather have him stay in his warm comfortable bed and get well and strong. He answered so kindly: "Sister, it pains me to grieve you." But he finished his work nevertheless.

'He was always wonderfully considerate, and grateful for any attention. Sometimes, when he saw me unusually tired, he would go and get an extra pillow and make me rest on the sofa, or when we came to the table he would place me in a comfortable chair and pour out the tea himself, or he would say: "Sister, take a cup yourself first, then you will be able to help us."

'On the day before he left us to return to China he really said his farewell. We had finished dinner, and when he went out he stood and looked in through the window at the happy faces still around the table. He threw a kiss, and then his feelings overcame him, his lip quivered, the tears came to his eyes, and he hastened away. Later in the day, when I was speaking hopefully of seeing him again, he answered: "I shall see your face no more."

'I know he felt very much giving up the comforts of civilised life, but he set his face to it. It touched me much the last evening he was with us, when, after I had to remind him two or three times of some business it was needful for him to attend to before he would go, he said: "I can hardly drag myself away from this bright cosy scene."

'His was a rarely sensitive soul. It pained him to hear any one speaking evil of another. I have seen him turn deadly pale when he has heard any one impute a wrong motive. He longed for more of the spirit of Christ among men. How he longed, too, for more workers in the Mission field! Many a time he would say, after a walk through Hamilton on a Saturday evening: "Just think! In a little town like this there are men preaching at every other street corner, and I am alone in all of those hundreds of square miles in Mongolia! What you people are thinking of I cannot imagine!"'

In a correspondence which he conducted with the daughter of one of his former professors there is very much that reveals how deep and strong his religious life had become, and how he had noted the current of renewed spirituality which is evident now in all sections of the Evangelical Church.

From this correspondence we have been permitted to cull some beautiful and helpful passages.

'Glasgow: November 18, 1889.

'May He Himself lead you into closer and closer communion with Him,
and give you in very full measure His joy and His peace! For myself
and for you, I pray that we may be more captivated with Him and His
friendship. You know, I suppose, No. 565, "In the Secret of His
Presence," in the 750 edition of Sankey. No. 328, "O Christ, in
Thee my soul hath found," is one I like too, as being the
expression of partly experience and partly aspiration. He is truly
the true source of true satisfaction. May we be led to trust Him
more largely in all the things of our lives! I am sure, too it will
be the things where we have trusted Him most and been most
consecrated in His service that we shall value most when we look
back on life from the end. May you be largely satisfied with His
blessing and Himself!'

'November 20, 1889.

'I wonder if your experience is anything like mine--that I have
often got less benefit than I had hoped from special withdrawals
from common surroundings to get more into the presence of the Lord.
One or two prominent instances of this have happened to me. I am
glad He can be found anywhere, and that He is easy of access always
with favourable or unfavourable surroundings.

'About feeling--never mind that at all. Things are so whether we
feel them or not. Let us take God at His word, and not consider
our feelings. God refuses no one who comes to Him in sincerity. Let
us be sure of this. I once heard Spurgeon say a good thing: "When
doubts or the devil comes and says, 'You are not saved; you are not
right with God,' I go to Him and say, 'If I never came before, I
come now; if I never trusted before, I trust now.'" That cuts off
all doubts about the present as standing on the past, and gives a
fresh start.

'All over the kingdom there is a hunger and thirst among many for a
life of greater nearness to God; a feeling not only of the need of
God being more of a daily, hourly reality and factor in our life,
but that without Him more real and present life is not a
satisfactory thing. When this feeling takes possession of one, we
do not need to give up things as denying ourselves for Christ, so
much as that we are changed in attitude towards many things. We
drift away from them. Things that were gain to us we count loss for
Christ. Our aims are different. May our lives be more fully taken
captive thus! To a life lived thus, death is not a breaking off of
anything; it is an enlargement of sphere.'

'Hamilton: December 5, 1889.

'All I know about the process is just going to God and telling what
I want, and asking to be allowed to have it. "Seek, and ye shall
find; ask, and ye shall receive." I know no secret but this.... God
understands His scholars, and knows how to teach each one.
Different scholars may require different ways. We may trust
ourselves in His hands, only let us be earnest students. I have at
different times been quite surprised how a book, or a friend, or a
remark conveying just the teaching needed at the time has been
brought into my way. Yes, none teach like Him.'

'_December 25, 1889._--Oh that we may be more completely given over
and up to Him to be used at His pleasure and as He pleases! Oh for
more faith in Him! My lads are, I think, enjoying themselves; I
commit them to Him; but eh!'

'_January 1, 1890._--Just returned with my two lads after a day
spent in London seeing my ship, the "Peshawur". The ship is full.
My berth is not in a good place--but it is not bad, after all, and
it is not for long.... You'll have lots of need of wisdom, and
Jesus is made unto us wisdom as well as other things.... He'll
teach you all right. Don't let us refrain for fear we make
mistakes. The greatest mistake we could make would be to do
nothing....

'Everyone is amazed to see me look so well. It is remarked on all
round. I feel remarkably well too....

'May God be pleased to use me in His service!'

His heart was in Mongolia. At the very earliest moment which the medical authorities and the Directors of the London Missionary Society would sanction he returned. He sailed for China on January 9, 1890. As the steamer was running down the English Channel he wrote a letter to an old college friend just returning to England whom he had not seen for twenty years, and whom he was very sorry to miss:--

'In answer to yours of November 19 I directed an envelope to you
long ago. It has lain in my writing-case ever since, often seen but
always taken precedence of by the thing that stepped in before.
Now's your turn. I'm sorry you'll not see me in England. I sailed
yesterday My health has been restored, and I am off again.

'You say you want reviving--Go direct to Jesus and ask it straight
out, and you'll get it straight away. This revived state is not a
thing you need to work yourself up into, or need others to help
you to rise into, or need to come to England to have operated upon
you--Jesus can effect it anywhere, and does effect it everywhere
whenever a man or woman, or men and women ask it. Ask and ye shall
receive.

'My dear brother, I have learned that the source of much blessing
is just to go to Jesus and tell Him what you need. I am delighted
to hear you say you need blessing, because I know there is plenty
and to spare with Jesus. Oh for an outpouring on all parts of the
L.M.S. missions!

'There is so much that I would like to say that it is hardly worth
while beginning to say anything; so I'll simply commend you to
Jesus in all His fulness.'

On January 21, 1890, when nearing Port Said, he wrote:--

'We have excellent company on board. Never had such a very pleasant
voyage. Some of the First Salooners come to our Bible readings.
Those who are unfriendly to Christianity are careful to give no
cause of offence and are polite. So far our voyage has been an
exquisite picnic. Knowing well what is before us, we still rejoice
in the present Elim and calmly trust for the future. I went on
board with a "tremendous cold." So did two or three others. Mine,
as I expected, went with the exposure.... No one teaches like Him
who also was the first of preachers. In daily, hourly, humble
communication with Him you will want for no wisdom and for no
guidance and for no shepherding. Rejoice in that you have Him to
manage everything for you.'

He reached Peking on March 14, 1890, and on March 24 started again for Mongolia. He entered upon his last spell of work with a good heart and with high hopes. Dr. Smith was to be his medical colleague. While in England Mr. Gilmour had visited Cheshunt College, and had there fired the heart of Mr. Parker with the desire and purpose of being his colleague. He was looking forward to his speedy arrival. During his absence in England Dr. Smith had paid one brief visit to Mongolia by himself, and another, still briefer, in the company of the Rev. T. Bryson of Tientsin. Meanwhile the work had been going on slowly and steadily under the care of the native helper, Mr. Liu, and of some of the converts. We now follow the story of this last year's work as it is told in Mr. Gilmour's letters and reports. On May 9, 1890, he wrote to the Rev. R. Wardlaw Thompson:--

'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. FÍng for
worship. Both of these men we saw, and their story seems true. FÍng
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 7_l._ 10_s._ 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.'

'August 10, 1890.

'I cannot say God gives me all the victories I want, but He keeps
me in peace and faith, and that is not a little thing. My
devotional reading lately has taken the form of the Chinese Psalms,
and Schereschewsky's high Chinese notwithstanding (for which may he
be forgiven), they are very refreshing and strong. How like are the
heart-longings and soul-breathings of the old Judean hunted
outlaw--brigand, if you like to call him so--to the heart and soul
feelings of the educated Occidental of the nineteenth century! Poor
old Moses, another outlaw, what a battered old life he led, but
what a grand soul, and how wonderfully he outlived it all, and was
quite hale when called to die! How his people troubled him!--so
like the Chinese. Fancy Moses going up the mountain to die alone.
It is so nice to have a later glimpse of him in the New Testament
alongside of Elijah, who too was once under a cloud. God does not
keep up things. "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath
He removed our transgressions from us." Love to all.

'JAMES GILMOUR.'

'Ch'ao Yang, August 19, 1890.

'My dear Sons,--I have just got here after a very hard journey of
four days. It is summer and the rains are on; the roads are very
bad.

'Our first adventure was in a deep narrow gully going up a
mountain. We met a cart coming down. There was no room to pass and
no room to turn back. What were we to do? One of the carts had to
be pulled up the bank. Neither would go up. Both carters sat and
looked at each other. Our cart was heavy, the other cart was light.
After looking at each other awhile the other cart was pulled up and
our carter helped him down again after we had passed.

'Our next adventure was in a river. The leading mule sank in a
quicksand. The carter, shoes and all, jumped into the water; in a
few seconds I had stripped all but a cinglet and pants, and was in
the river too. We got out after a little while.

'Next day we stuck in a quagmire. We hitched the mules to the tail
of the cart, pulled it out, then dug a new road in the side of the
ravine and got past.

'The third day we upset our cart in a very muddy place early in the
morning, and got caught in a thunder-shower in the afternoon. The
fourth day we stuck in a mud-hole half a mile from the end of our
journey, and when we got to our inn found our rooms in possession
of a crowd of people doing a wedding.

'One thing made the journey very pleasant: it was this. Just as we
were starting, one of the Christians, a Chinese farmer, but a man
who is poor and dresses and eats very poorly, came and gave me two
tiao, about 3_s._ 2_d._, to give to God. I was so glad to see him
do it, and no doubt God was glad too. Then at the end of the
journey, when we were stuck in the mud-hole and could not get out,
up came one of the Christians, took off his stockings and shoes,
went into the mud and helped us out. The country was very beautiful
all the way--just at its best.'

In a letter to another correspondent he depicts what is involved in Chinese travelling during the wet season:--

'The last thing we had to do was to make a journey of eighty miles.
You would soon do that in England. Here, in August, it is no easy
matter. It is just the time when, on account of the rains, no one
should travel, and no one does travel who can help it. Carts would
not go. I had to find my way home from a cart inn the night before
we started along a newly rained-on muddy Chinese street in the
dark. Next day I had much brightness shed on the journey by one of
the Chinese Christians--a poor man with, oh, so poor a
coat--giving a donation to print Christian books. It amounted to
about $1.00 (one dollar) in all, but it meant a lot of self-denial
to him; and as I passed, a little later, the drought-parched
district where he lived, and looked at the poor fields, I wondered
where he got the money. I suppose God gave him the heart to give
it. Starting a journey with such a bit of light made it cheery.

'We travelled at those eighty miles four days, and rested one
Sabbath, five days in all. Within three-quarters of a mile of the
end of our journey our cart stuck in a mud-hole. We had passed,
shortly before, the cottage of a Christian, and, after we had been
some half-hour or more in that hole, this Christian suddenly
appeared on the scene. He is a great fellow for being neat and
clean. In a few moments he was in the mud, ordering about the
carter, shouting at the mules, and lifting at the stern of the
cart. Even the mules felt there was some new factor added to the
problem. They made a new effort and out the cart came. Would you
credit it? A cart had been upset there some days before; it was
said they had lost some thirty shillings in silver. The natives,
hoping to find the money, literally dug up the highway and left a
pit there. We did not know this, thought it was an ordinary pool,
and drove straight into it. The Christian touch at the beginning of
the journey, and the little Christian adventure at the end, made
the journey and its remembrance quite pleasant.

'I am now reading Moule's _Veni Creator_, which came a few days
ago. What helps me most just at present is the Psalms. I take a few
verses every morning (almost), and learn off the Chinese
translations of them. I never knew there was so much in the Psalms
before. I believe that even at the end of a long life, this
(discovery of more and more in God's Word) will hold true of all
the Bible, and then for the beyond there is the Inexhaustible
Himself--satisfaction for the present and plenty for the future.

'The endless sorrows and sufferings of this people here come home
much to me. I see much of their bodily suffering, and in some
feeble measure bear their sorrows and carry their griefs without
being able to relieve them much. How dead and dark they are to
things spiritual!'

Dr. Smith, who spent some weeks with Mr. Gilmour during this summer, has sent the following most interesting sketch of his daily life at this period. They were together for the most part at T· Ss[)u] Kou.

'He always got up at daylight, folded up bedding, and then began
reading. About six a man arrived, selling hot millet and bean
porridge. He bought two bowls of this for early breakfast. He
continued reading Chinese, generally aloud; and when he came to a
difficult word he repeated it again and again, in order to impress
it upon his memory. About eight he had breakfast, consisting of
Chinese rolls and a cup of cocoa.

'At nine he went to the street with his tent, Mr. Liu, the native
preacher, accompanying him. One of the inn-servants assisted the
latter in carrying tent and medicine boxes and in erecting same.
The tent was erected in a broad street at the back of our inn,
where a daily market was held. The medicine boxes were placed on a
little table, in front of which stood a wooden form and another at
the side. The patients were seated on these. Any difficult cases
were sent to the inn to be treated by me. On the table were also a
number of copies of various tracts and portions of Scripture. Mr.
Gilmour dispensed medicines, talked and preached as the opportunity
offered.

'About one he returned to the inn, and had dinner, consisting of
meat, etc., which was bought at a Chinese cook-shop. About three
we generally took a walk to the country. We used to go out to look
at the various crops, and Mr. Gilmour would chat away to one and
another whom we met on the road. He was generally recognised, and
in the most friendly way. I have a very pleasant recollection of
these times; often our conversation would turn to home, to our boys
and friends. Sometimes he would tell me about his student friends,
while at other times he used to tell me of his deputation work at
home, and about the various people he had met there.

'Often a gentleman would come up and ask, "Where are you going?" to
which Mr. Gilmour would reply, "We are cooling ourselves; we are
going nowhere." It was always a mystery to people what we could
possibly mean by taking walks to the country. One day two lads
followed us for some miles across some low hills, anxious to know
our business, and getting well laughed at by their friends, poor
fellows, on their return to the town.

'One thing about Mr. Gilmour always impressed me deeply--his
wonderful knowledge of the little touches of Chinese politeness,
and his wonderful power of observation. He loved the
Chinese--looked upon them and treated them as brothers, and was a
man who lived much in prayer; and in this lay his great power as a
missionary.

'When he met a Mongol he would exchange a few words of Mongol with
him, and it was wonderful to see the man's face light up as he
heard his own tongue. All the Mongols knew that he could speak
their language, and as one of the few who did.

'As we returned to the town and were walking along the street, many
of the passers-by would bow; and here and there a shopkeeper would
give him a friendly bow. Sometimes he would buy a few peaches or
apples, and not unfrequently he would give a sweetmeat vendor two
cash for two sweets, handing one to me.

'About half-past four we returned to the inn, and then, as a rule,
some people would be there waiting to see him. Mr. Sun, the
box-maker, used often to come to read the Scriptures with Mr.
Gilmour, and then they would discuss various points; Mr. Sun giving
his opinion, and then Mr. Gilmour putting him right. Sometimes an
outsider would drop in, and then, not unfrequently, Mr. Sun would
talk to him about the Gospel.

'About six Mr. Gilmour had some cocoa and bread. At the time of the
lighting of the candles Mr. Gilmour had made it a rule for the
Christians to assemble for evening prayers, and, accordingly, they
all turned up then. A Chinese table was placed in the centre of Mr.
Gilmour's room, and three wooden forms were placed round the table
for the accommodation of the preacher and the Christians. Mr.
Gilmour and I used to sit on chairs at the vacant side of the
table. On the table stood two Chinese candlesticks, each surmounted
by a Chinese candle. A Chinese candle is made from the castor bean,
and is fixed to the candlestick by running the iron pin on the
latter into a hollow straw in the end of the candle. Then we also
had a Chinese oil lamp. The upper vessel is simply a little
earthenware saucer, containing a little oil, and in it lie some
threads of cotton (a cotton wick). This is made to project over the
edge of the saucer and is then lighted. The lower part of the lamp
is simply an earthenware receptacle, in which the oil for
replenishing the lamp is kept, and, while in use, the little lamp
is supported in it. This often used to remind me of the parable of
the virgins, and in reading that parable by the light of such a
lamp one is able to make it very realistic to Chinamen.

'Our evening worship consisted in first singing a hymn, Mr. Gilmour
leading. Then Mr. Gilmour offered up a short prayer; after which we
read a chapter either in the Old or New Testament, reading verse
about. Each man had a copy of the Scriptures. Then Mr. Gilmour
gave a little address on the chapter; after which we had another
prayer--one of the Christians being asked this time. Then another
hymn and the benediction.

'Usually one or more of the Christians would remain chatting with
Mr. Gilmour. As soon as they had gone we had a cup of cocoa
together. Then Mr. Gilmour and I used to have evening prayers
together. He used to read a chapter from a little book by Mr.
Moule, and then we both prayed.

'After this we used to sit chatting together until bedtime, and so
ended a day.'

In August 1890 Dr. Smith lost his wife, who as Miss Philip had become known and beloved by a large number of friends of the London Missionary Society, both in Great Britain and Australia. He had also become so ill that the ensuing weakness, together with the great shock of his wife's sudden loss, compelled him, early in 1891, to return to England on a visit. Before doing so he was able to take Mr. Parker, the young and active colleague appointed to assist Mr. Gilmour, out to Mongolia, reaching T· Ss[)u] Kou on December 5. Greatly encouraged by the arrival of his young helper, Mr. Gilmour was grievously disappointed by the enforced return of Dr. Smith, and the indefinite postponement of the hospital scheme that was so near to his heart, and upon which he always asserted, in his judgment, the ultimate success of the mission depended. But discipline of this kind only drove him back more entirely upon God. In a letter to Mr. Owen, dated December 29, 1890, he writes:--

About myself I have lots to be thankful for. I am mostly in the
light, sometimes very sweetly. Sometimes, though, it is cold and
dark; but I just hold on, and it is all right. Romans viii. I find
good reading in dull spiritual weather, and the Psalms too are
useful. When I feel I cannot make headway in devotion, I open at
the Psalms and push out in my canoe, and let myself be carried
along in the stream of devotion which flows through the whole book.
The current always sets towards God, and in most places is strong
and deep. These old men--eh, man! they beat us hollow, with all our
New Testament and all our devotional aids and manuals. And yet I
don't know. In the old time there were giants--one here and there.
Now there are many nameless but efficient men of only ordinary
stature.

'Brother, let us be faithful. That is what God wants. What He
needs. What He can use. I was greatly struck by one saying of Mrs.
Booth's. It will not be so very different there (in heaven) to what
it is here. I guess she is right. I guess there will be differences
of occupation there as here, and I guess that our life here is a
training for life and work there. Oh the mystery! How thin a wall
divides it from us! How well the secret has been kept from of old
till now! May the richest blessings be on you and yours and your
work!

'Yours affectionately,
'JAMES GILMOUR.'

The year 1891 found Mr. Gilmour hard at work as usual, in good health and spirits, and with the hope and apparently the prospect of many years of service before him. And yet, just as the summer was beginning, he was called to the presence of the King, and to the perfect work and fellowship of 'the Church of the firstborn.' Had he been able to choose his fate he would hardly have wished it other than it was. His work in Mongolia was steadily growing; slowly, it is true, but yet gaining a strength and impetus that will abide, and has well begun the conquest of Mongolia for Christ. Though practically without a medical colleague, and actually without the hospital for which he had so toiled and prayed, he was cheered and strengthened by the constant presence and fellowship of Mr. Parker. His letters are all in a cheery and buoyant strain, and, although referring not unfrequently to the future life, without a hint or a suspicion that he was in any degree conscious of the rapid way in which the days of his earthly life were running out. In a letter to Mr. Thompson, dated January 7, he says, 'You will be glad to hear I am in good health and spirits.'

To Mr. Owen he wrote on March 2:--

'Does God not mean to have a medical man here? I wonder! Wondering,
I tell Him as I tell you, and try to leave it with Him, and in very
great part _do_ leave it to Him too. It is good to have His calm
mercy and help. How's your soul, brother? I'll tell you how mine
is--eager to experience more of the Almighty power inworking
inside. Eager to be more transformed. Less conformed to the world.
Eager to touch God more, and have Him touch me more, so that I can
feel His touch.

'I am distressed at so few conversions here. But again sometimes
very fully satisfied in believing I am trying to do His will. That
makes me calm. I am scared at our property venture, but again trust
in God, and the fears subside. The world to come, too, sometimes
looms up clear as not far distant, and the light that shines from
that makes things seem different a good deal.'

From other letters that remain we catch glimpses of the course of his action and thought during these last weeks. During the year 1869 he met in Edinburgh Mrs. Swan, the widow of one of the pioneers of the Mongol Mission of 1817 to 1841, and that interview gave the chief direction to the work of his life. In March 1891 he heard of Mrs. Swan's death, and he wrote to Miss Cullen, her niece, the following letter:--