“In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the Angel of His Presence saved them.”
OUR litters were once more rigged up, and eight o’clock that Sunday morning saw us released from captivity and again starting out with thankful hearts. July 1—the first day of a week and the first of a month of unimaginable terrors and undreamt-of sufferings. Thank God they were hidden from our eyes; and there was given us instead the sight of the Lord lifted up above all, and the promise, “Fear not, for I am with thee; look not around thee, I am thy God.” The day of slaughter at Pao-ting Fu, it was destined to be to us also very memorably the day of darkness and of the shadow of death.
It was not easy to face the mob again after nearly three days of privacy, and with the knowledge (now more than ever certainty) of what it was sure to mean. But then we were under official protection, and this went far to allay anxiety. Expectant crowds had gathered as usual, and now we were fairly launched—in the thick of it once more.
The headman led my litter, accompanied by the Shuen-teh messenger, who wore an air of authority that seemed to carry everything before it. The latter accompanied us beyond the village boundary, and at the parting of the roads took courteous leave of us and returned to the city. The Lord render to him again the kindness he showed us, our true friend and benefactor! The yamen gentlemen and soldiers kept close beside us; and their presence undoubtedly made itself felt. At any rate, it was an untold comfort to us; for as yet we knew nothing of the widespread conspiracy under Imperial auspices which converted our passports into mere paper and our rightful protectors into our persecutors and very murderers.
Our reception all along the road to Wu-an was of such a kind as to show us what our fate would have been but for the escort. The word had gone on that we had paid out money for our release, and it was clear that each town and village we passed through was eager for a share of the spoils. The men were generally armed with some implement or other, and our appearance was greeted with an outcry of “Iang kuei-tsï! Shah iang kuei-tsï!” (“Kill the foreign devils!”) Our curtains, kept closely drawn, were quickly torn away. From the evil look and malicious gestures of the crowds, as they hooted and cursed us out of their place, I am sure it would have gone very hard with us, had not God’s mercy provided official help. Even as it was, the people were hardly restrained from assaulting us, and one could only be conscious that it was again God’s fear holding them back at the very crisis of their rage.
Arrived at Wu-an we were driven into the yamen, where word was speedily brought us that the Mandarin was willing to give us audience. I confess I followed the “runner” with some trepidation, as I had never interviewed a Ta Ern (great man) before, nor seen the awful majesty of a yamen judgment hall. Besides, my vocabulary was not of the largest, and my knowledge of yamen etiquette by no means of the profoundest. However, Chi-fah was with me, and I took courage. We passed through two small, mean-looking courtyards—it surprised me to see how mean they looked—into a third equally small, but with a display of tinsel and dingy finery which marked it out as the Mandarin’s own quarters. At the doorway was the Ta Ern himself in full official dress waiting to receive me with a small retinue of gentlemen. As soon as he saw me he reached out his hand in the most fatherly way, and with a genial smile led me to the guest’s seat on his left. Two cups of tea were brought immediately for himself and for me, and the reassuring manner of the kindly-seeming old man (however hollow) sent all my fears to the winds. He conversed most affably with me, examining my passport, and assuring me he would do all in his power to get me through to my station without further annoyance. While we were thus talking a small crowd stood by, dirty underlings rubbing shoulders with the upper ten, and one and all, the higher with the lower, innocent of even the smallest semblance of decorum in the presence of their chief. In due course a “uen-shu” (or passport letter to the next magistrate) was made out, and an escort to Shae Hsien provided.
On returning I was surprised to find my wife seated, not in the litter as I had left her, but on the ground, the little ones by her crying bitterly, and she herself looking as if she had received some shock. The mules had become restive and refused to stand, with the result that just before I appeared the litter had been overturned, and they thrown to the ground. Thank God, they sustained no serious injuries; albeit my dear wife, in trying to save the children, had fallen heavily enough to be badly bruised. But she made light of the misadventure, and her brave spirit soon brought smiles into the little ones’ eyes in place of tears.
We lost no time in getting off, as delay meant increasing crowds, synonym at such a time for increasing danger. The escort given us consisted of six sorry-looking underlings, who shortly after starting dropped to four. These men, who should have been for our help, proved to be our worst enemies.
We must have been traveling about four hours in the mountains for a distance of some thirty-five li (twelve English miles), when we struck a broad, dry riverbed, along which the mule track lay. I had noticed that an hour or so previously the escort had again dropped to two, which made me not a little uneasy. However, I persuaded myself that the remaining two represented officialdom; and after all, what more did we need?—no one would attempt to touch us where Government authority was in evidence. How little I knew! At a bend in the river track we came upon a large straggling village town; and ere we were well abreast of it the torrent bed was swarming with excited men and lads, and the air rent with shouts and yells of “Shah-iang kuei-tsï! Shah, shah!” We saw they were preparing to stone us. Any number of missiles lay around them ready to hand, and already the greater number had armed themselves. Several stones had actually been hurled, when Chi-fah stopped the litters and asked the escort the meaning of it all.
Upon this they stepped forward, and in a very casual, half apologetic way produced our papers for the headman to see, who forthwith took possession of our litters and led us to a large newly-built inn, standing by itself at the head of the way. As we entered the courtyard the gates were closed behind us, no one being allowed admission but the village elders. The guestroom ran the whole length of the north side of the courtyard, and was only partially finished. There was a good k’ang, however, at one end, and a good roof was over our heads, affording substantial shelter from the intense heat; for both of which we thanked God. In this room we passed through a time of agony such as was not surpassed at any period of our sufferings, before or since.
It was the old story of a ransom price with the alternative of death. The matter was discussed in cold blood before the very officers who were pledged to protect us—and with their connivance. Nay, more, at their instigation. For on arrival at the inn the two who had been left with us were rejoined by their comrades who had so mysteriously disappeared. With the knowledge of the previous attempts (not wholly unsuccessful) to levy blackmail, they had hastened on before to inform the townsmen of our approach and to arrange the plot for our arrest. They were not such fools as to let slip a golden opportunity of making a handsome squeeze for themselves; while the blame, if it fell upon anybody, would fall upon the townsmen; for what could they do against a riotous multitude?
I never saw Chi-fah in such distress of mind. We were strictly guarded. The escort withdrew themselves sullenly to the opposite end of the room with their opium and tobacco, and made not even a pretense of doing their duty by us. Our one hope (humanly speaking) lay in our being able to inform the Kuan at Shae Hsien of our plight, and secure his prompt intervention. But the distance was long (from 80 to 100 li there and back), and who could go? The muleteers utterly refused; and when Chi-fah planned under cover of darkness to slip out on mule-back, they became so nasty that the thought had to be abandoned. So the afternoon wore on, the plotters plotting at the one end, and we making our prayer to God at the other.
At nightfall a small lamp was brought in, the feeble light of the raw cotton twist only serving to make darkness visible and to reveal the shadowy forms of the evil men at the other end as they sat in conclave. Partly to hide them from our view, and partly to provide ourselves some privacy, we contrived to stretch a cord from wall to wall and hung it with our coverlets. We had just put the children to bed when Chi-fah told me that there was now no hope of getting out alive. It was not merely a money question, he said, but we were held responsible for the prolonged drought; and it was the common belief that nothing but foreign blood would bring the rain. Unless God Himself directly intervened by a miracle, nothing could save us.
“But,” said I, “we are under official protection, and when the Government has undertaken to safeguard us, what have we to fear?”
“That goes for nothing in the circumstances,” he replied; “the escort itself has betrayed us, and they can easily excuse themselves to their superiors by saying that they were overpowered by numbers.”
Then indeed sore anguish came upon me and soul distress. The news must be kept at any cost from my dear wife, and I charged both Chi-fah and Mrs. Chang to tell her nothing that would unduly alarm her. I sought grace so to control my feelings that I should not betray them by look or manner; but notwithstanding, she guessed the truth, and begged me never to keep anything, however painful, from her. She would not be denied her wifely privilege of fellowship with me in prayer, nor therefore of partnership in all the suffering; and from that time on I kept nothing back. We had all things in common, the worse as well as the better.
Thus it came to pass that we had been pouring out our heart before God, and seeking grace to endure even unto death, if His will were so, when a truly marvelous thing happened. The door was pushed open, and a soldier in full uniform entered, and quietly hung his coat and cudgel on the latchet. His handsome face and commanding manner were something out of the common, and could not fail to arrest attention. But this was not enough to account for the effect his sudden appearance produced upon all. I cannot describe it. It was simply startling. He was only a non-commissioned officer sent on special service to Li-ch’eng; and he was merely putting up at the inn for the night in the ordinary course of his journey— that was all. No, not all. Our eyes were opened to see in him none other than God’s deliverer. Even as he entered the door, he stood before us as the very angel of God. I might almost say “a light shined in the prison” —there was something so supernatural about his presence. It was the most remarkable experience of its kind that I ever had, or my wife either; for we were both conscious of it at the same time. Not only so; but his coming produced a corresponding fear in the hearts of our enemies. We learned afterward that the escort were in dismay, believing that his business was in some way connected with them. In any case, the general impression produced on all was that he was charged with some important commission concerning us and in our behalf.
In keeping with our conviction was the remarkable fact that from the first he identified himself with us and espoused our cause. Chi-fah invited him to eat his food within the privacy of our curtained space and talk with him there—an invitation to which he at once responded. How vividly the picture stands out before me—the two figures dark against the coverlet in the dim flicker of the lamp flame talking earnestly in whispers inaudible to all beside! As yet we knew nothing of the stranger and his errand, and could know nothing of the tenor of his conversation; and yet we seemed to know intuitively that he was God’s messenger, and that his words were of peace and not of evil.
After the soldier had finished his meal he withdrew, and with a heart almost too full to speak, Chi-fah came to tell us all. It was believed by our captors that the man was officially sent to look after us; and on the strength of this belief he undertook to pass us out at dawn the next morning, and himself accompany us to Li-ch’eng. What this news meant to us cannot even be imagined. It was literally the turning of the shadow of death into the morning.
There was still, however, the difficulty to face of the people’s temper towards us on account of the drought. Continually throughout the day they had been battering at the gate and threatening to break it in with repeated cries to bring us out to them; and we gave ourselves earnestly to prayer on this account. It being the Lord’s day, we determined to hold Divine service before lying down to rest, and with our Chinese Bibles and hymnbooks we took our seat on the ground by the curtain under the lamp. As we prayed and sang praise to God, a deep hush fell upon all in the room, and ere long we were joined by the soldier and the two muleteers. As he would be better understood, I asked Chi-fah to read and expound the Scriptures; and then we sang again and each prayed in turn. The soldier listened with the deepest interest. There was something beautiful about that young man’s face and manner that drew the heart out peculiarly towards him. I see the earnest eyes still fixed on the preacher as he preached unto him Jesus; and I cannot but believe that, in answer to much prayer, the seed of eternal life was sown in the fruitful soil of a heart prepared by the Spirit of God to receive it.
“Whoso offereth me the sacrifice of thanksgiving, glorifieth me; and prepareth a way whereby I may show him the salvation of God.” The second miracle of that memorable day followed almost immediately upon the conclusion of our worship. We had pleaded with our God to have mercy upon the people, not only in their deep spiritual need, but also in their temporal distress. And we asked very definitely in the hearing of all that, for the glory of His great name, He would be pleased to send the rain in abundance that night, that they might know that He was the merciful God, and that we His servants were not the cause of the drought. Scarcely had we laid ourselves down on the k’ang, ere His voice answered from heaven in a thunder crash that shook the prison, and the rain fell in a deluge that ceased not all the night through. When morning broke it was clear shining after rain; and the song of the Lord was in our mouths. The gate of our prison-inn opened to us, as it were, of its own accord. Our heaven-sent soldier rode beside us and never left us all the way. No one molested us as we passed out into the road and along the highway to Shae Hsien. Indeed, we scarcely saw a soul, for at daybreak all hands had hurried to the fields to take early advantage of the long-looked-for opportunity for putting in the seed.
Arrived at Shae Hsien, I had to leave my wife and children at the inn under the soldier’s care, while I accompanied Chi-fah to the yamen. I was determined to guard as far as possible against a repetition of the last experience; and an official interview was an urgent necessity. We found that we had to walk from one end of the city to the other—to me an interminable walk in the thought of my loved ones alone in the inn and at such a time. In spite of pigtail and gown I was recognized as an alien, and the inevitable crowd began to haunt my heels. By the time we reached the yamen it was uncomfortably large, and from the expressions which repeatedly saluted my ear it was by no means certain that we should get out without trouble.
The “Men-shang” (or Mandarin’s deputy) received us coldly enough, and said it was impossible for us to see the Lao-ie. I presented my card, and insisted that he should take it in—my business was imperative. He returned with the excuse that his Excellency was too unwell to see me. Upon this I said that, that being so, I had no alternative but to appeal to his superior, the Prefect of Chang-teh. The gentle hint had the desired effect, and in a few minutes we were ushered into the “great man’s” presence. I told him briefly of all we had suffered on the way from Wu-an, of the inadequacy of our escort to protect us, and of the current report that our passport was a forgery. I begged him to endorse it with his seal, and to give us a guarantee of safe conduct to the next Hsien of Li-ch’eng. Glad to get rid of us at any price, he readily agreed; and thanking him for his kindness in receiving me, I made the customary bow and withdrew.
In the mercy of God, the curiosity of the people, either on the street with us or with my dear ones at the inn, did not break bounds, although it was clear that their feeling towards us was not what it was in the near past. We did well to be moving, and as soon as our escort arrived with our official papers we were off. The non-commissioned officer accompanied us still. His presence at the inn had been of the utmost service and comfort to my wife; and together with a canner from the Wu-an yamen—a lad who had followed us unofficially and attached himself voluntarily to us—he had kept the crowd away from the door of the guest room, thus enabling them all to get their meal without molestation.
There was no demonstration as we filed down the high street to the south gate, and from that time on our journey was pursued in peace. At Li-ch’eng we changed escorts without the formality of a visit to the Lao-ie; and here we took farewell of our soldier deliverer. My wife’s eyes moistened, I know, as we commended him at parting to the mercy and love of God in Christ; and I am not ashamed to confess that my own did, too.
In addition to several books we made him a present of five hundred cash—a sum utterly inadequate to his services as it seemed to me; but Chi-fah knew his own people best, and cautioned me not to give beyond that amount. Unworthy as I thought the gift, the recipient acknowledged it graciously and with every appearance of unaffected gratitude.
The abundant rain had tranquillized the hearts of the people, at least for the time being; and they were now too busy in the fields to notice us much. As we neared our sister station of Lu-ch’eng, the familiar road seemed to parable our inner experience and to sing aloud of the loving kindness of our God. For the parched ground had become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water; and we, since last we passed this way, had seen the glory of the Lord and the excellency of our God.