I Was Among the Captives
George Christopher Willis
Table of Contents
Foreword
The only excuse for the publication of this book is the hope that it may "publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all Thy wondrous works." It has been prepared from memory; and only with the greatest hesitation, and at the repeated request of friends. It is for these friends it has been written. May it be an encouragement to some of the Lord's own, in these dark days, to count more fully on GOD, the Faithful God. We will ever find:
"HE FAILETH NOT”
He faileth not, for He is God!
He faileth not, His Grace how good!
He faileth not, His Word is clear!
If we have God, whom need we fear?
He bars the sea with feeble sand.
The ax did swim at His command.
He parts the sea, makes long the day;
This is the God to Whom we pray!
(From Chinese) G. C. W.
Chapter 1:: Back to Work … 1937
ANOTHER furlough over!
How those days at home with the loved ones do fly!
The anguish of "Farewell" to the older children was past, and they had settled down to study far away.
The last hectic days before leaving had arrived, and in less than a week we would be speeding out to catch "The Empress" back to China.
And then the war!
We always knew it might come. Living in China is like living over a volcano. We had heard the rumblings so often that we did not think it would really break out. But it did, and Japan was at China's throat.
They say: Only queer people go to China, and the longer one stays, the queerer one gets: and we had been there fifteen years. However, we still had sense enough to realize that when Japan was attacking Shanghai, it was madness, if not an impossibility, to go there; and a cable saying "Wait" settled the question.
We postponed our sailing a fortnight, till the next "Empress", and from that to the following one; and so the weeks dragged on. We were amazed at the magnificent stand the Chinese made at Shanghai, but we well knew what the final outcome must be; so we were expecting the cable that arrived in November telling us to proceed: the tide of war had rolled over Shanghai, and now was beyond.
Several had expected to travel with us, but it was felt wiser for them to wait; so my wife and I with the two younger children started for Kobe, Japan. No ships were running as yet to Shanghai, but we lived in hope; and after a week in Kobe we found a P. & O. ship that had courage to make the trip, and we booked passage on it, arriving in Shanghai on December 19th, 1937.
As we sailed up the Whangpoo River, on which Shanghai is built, we could all too plainly see the sad wreckage of war that had ravaged this poor city. There were flags everywhere. Never had I seen so many flags: large and small. Houses too, and poor wrecks of factory buildings, even the boats and sampans on the river, had every one its flag: but all were Japanese. It was easy to see who was master in Shanghai.
Bomb craters on Avenue Edward VII, at Wing On's Department Store, and at the Palace Hotel, were now filled in and the streets re-paved. Though people still spoke with horror of the thousands killed by these three bombs, there were also many remarkable preservations.
Barbed-wire, sand-bags, and barricades were everywhere, and the tension of war could still be very plainly felt. Hongkew, a great Japanese district in the north end of the city, had been definitely taken over by the Japanese army and navy forces. They had great barracks here, that were in reality forts, for the Naval Headquarters. Nobody was allowed over the bridges leading to that part of the city without a special pass, and no Chinese at all were allowed to enter it.
Quinsan Gardens, where the Book Room had been located so many years, was in this district.
My sister Helen, and Miss Dorothy Dear, had carried on all through the war in Shanghai. They had rather a bad time getting out of Hongkew; but through God's mercy, we had a very nice meeting-room with a tiny kitchen and small flat attached, on Szechuen Road, only a few hundred feet over the main bridge from Hongkew, and on the right side of Soochow Creek. To this they came. They had some very narrow escapes, and at one time the ambulance arrived to pick up the pieces; but once again God's mercy preserved them. A shell struck the flats over the meeting-room, and some were killed, but again all of "our's" were mercifully preserved. My sister and Miss Dear did not live at the meeting-room, as a friend in the suburbs kindly took them to his home.
The Book Room, being in Hongkew, was of course closed; and indeed it was most difficult to even get in and see it. With the greatest trouble they got permission to move some of the stock to an empty shop that had wonderfully been provided for them, just back of the British Consulate. A friend in the Scottish Bible Society helped them, and they still talk of the difficulties and deliverances of that move. But that was all before we arrived back in Shanghai. Twice, I think, the plate glass window had been blown in by bomb concussion, and finally the owner boarded it up. It had just received its third plate of glass when we got "home".
The location of this shop was good. It was on Yuen Ming Yuen Road, near Hong Kong Road, so was close to the General Post Office for mailing parcels. It was also close to the Bible Societies and other publishers, so that missionaries from the interior, down to buy supplies, could easily find us.
Things were in this position when we arrived again in China. It was hopeless to think of carrying on in Quinsan Gardens, the old home of the Book Room, but the new shop was far too small to take care of the work. Our "business manager", Mr. Chung Chan Lai, found a good empty shop at the corner of Avenue Road and Hardoon Road, below some nice apartments. He strongly advised taking this. It was several miles west of the other shop just rented, and in a more residential part, on the corner of a busy street, with a main street car line passing the door, and was one of the best locations for the Chinese Christians. The China Inland Mission and a number of large independent Chinese Gospel Halls were within a few blocks. We had four nice plate glass windows, where Gospel posters could be displayed, just opposite a street car stop, and close enough for anyone to read. Most important, the rent was very cheap!
Perhaps I should add that the secret of the cheap rent was the fact that when there was a heavy rain, all this part of Avenue Road and Hardoon Road flooded till it became one vast lake, and sometimes there would be almost eighteen inches of water in the shop. And not only was the shop flooded, but all the drains for the apartments above met below our floor (there are no cellars in Shanghai), and would sometimes burst and add their contents to the waters from the street. If then it turned hot, the steam rose from this water, till everything in the Book Room dripped. When at last the flood subsided, no pen could describe the mess in our shop: yet how often and how bravely has our helper there turned cheerfully to the work of clearing up.
The rent was cheap; and we were poor; so we gladly and thankfully closed the deal, and the shop was ours. The agent in charge of the apartments and shops below was an earnest Christian, and he has been a good friend to us ever since that time. There will be more to say about this little shop, but I would like to tell you first a little about Mr. Chung Chan Lai, who was the means (against my more cautious judgment) of taking this place that has proved to be such a blessing and such a help.
Chan Lai (as he always is to us) was a native of Yeung Kong city, in the province of Kwangtung. He was one of the early fruits of my father's labors in that city. His parents were poor, very poor. His father had a hard time making enough to keep soul and body together for his little family. They nicknamed Chan Lai "The sloppy boy", as he was always untidy and slovenly. But he came to the meetings, a boy in his teens, and insisted he believed in the Savior and loved Him, and begged for baptism. My father had no confidence in the boy, and for a long time refused to baptize him. Chan Lai, however, was persistent, and at last he was baptized. From that day there was a change: he stood and walked erectly, he dressed tidily, his hair was neatly brushed; and when I wrote my father to see if he could suggest a boy to help in the Book Room, he sent me Chung Chan Lai. He was unmarried then, and later returned to his old home and brought back his young bride, Shuk Tac, a lovely Christian girl. Six children came to bless that little home, but one dear little girl the Savior took. Then the strain of war laid the beloved husband and father low, and after a year of suffering with tuberculosis, he joined his little daughter in those many mansions, with the Savior he loved so well and Whom he had served so faithfully. Never in any land have I seen a better and more dependable servant and friend. Not only absolutely loyal and altogether honest, but he had also that keen sense of business that so many Chinese from the south possess: he seemed to be like Issachar "that had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do" (1 Chron. 12:32). I look forward to that day when I may hear his Master, and mine, say to him, "Well done, good and faithful servant." He was a loss that has never been made up.
My pen will lag, and yet my story is not begun. With great difficulty we finally got out more stock and some bookcases from Quinsan Gardens, and started up in business at 1381 Avenue Road, with Mr. Chung in charge.
But we still had quantities of additional stock, furnishings and printing presses, for which some place must be found. I was in despair. Refugees had poured into Shanghai until there was not an empty nook or corner anywhere at any price; and we were poor. We tried everything we could think of; we offered rewards for information as to any sort of place to rent: but all to no avail. We were at our wits' end (Psa. 107:27), or, as the margin puts it, "all our wisdom was swallowed up." I need hardly say we had prayed about it, and then in man's extremity came God's opportunity, and He provided us with just what we needed: a large old house, and the rent was cheap. There was room for all our stock, our printing presses, our type (and it takes a lot of room for Chinese type), room for the offices we needed, the translator and the artist, and a little corner for me. There was a little flat, really very cozy, for my sister and anyone helping in the work, and a wonderfully nice room for a meeting room. We were able to give up the more expensive room on Szechuen Road that had proved such a boon through the war, and that saving nearly paid our rent.
I am compelled to confess that the secret of the low rental was again the floods. This place, in a heavy rain, became flooded to an even worse degree than our shop on Avenue Road. I have seen the street deep under water, sometimes for weeks at a time. I have seen a coffin float about, up and down the road in front of this house for days at a time; and to get in and out of the house one had to wade through this water. Through God's mercy I do not think any of us ever took sick from it. (It was a common thing for the poor to put their dead out on the street. As a rule trucks went about every morning collecting them).
This house was about a mile further from the center of the city than the Avenue Road shop, and our residence was perhaps a little over a mile beyond it. It was within walking distance of several of the British barracks, and indeed was remarkably well located for our work.
No Chinese were allowed to go to the old shop to help with the move, though we had a few Russians, but the bulk of the work fell to us. The Missionary Home, Sunday School Union, and Christian Book Room, had occupied four large, old, houses. We had one house entirely to ourselves, besides our retail shop which occupied part of the ground floor of two others. Our printing plant was in a garage that we had enlarged to take care of it.
It was a terrific job to pack and move everything. The conditions of the different rooms reminded me a good deal of what it will be like at the Lord's coming. Our people had no warning to leave. A radio message had been sent out, but we had no radio, so at the last moment they had had to drop everything and flee. There was no time to prepare, or to put their rooms to rights before leaving; and almost every room told its own tale. There were things in some rooms which had no business to be there, and how little the occupants had thought that I would be the one to inspect and pack what they had left. May the Lord grant to us His Own, that the tale we leave behind us when He comes, may be one of which we need not be ashamed.
Chapter 2:: Friends and Helpers
THERE ARE FEW MEN who "buy up opportunities" (Eph. 5: Literal Translation) like Mr. G., and few men who are so diligent and tactful in tract distribution. I had tried for years to get access to the large Shanghai Boys' School with tracts, but always without success. Now Mr. G. found a real welcome there. This was largely through the good testimony left behind by two Christian boys who had passed through the school, and it may be a great encouragement to any young readers who are seeking to live for Christ in your school or university. I think it was about the same time Mr. G. met a very disreputable looking British soldier who had deserted some days before, and now was about at the end of his tether. Mr. G. brought him home, cleaned him up and fed him. He then got a taxi and took him right out to the barracks, personally saw his commanding officer, and pleaded for mercy for his new friend. This began to open the door for work amongst the soldiers, and it was not long before Mr. G. had the entry of every British barracks in Shanghai. He nearly drove us to desperation to provide him with sufficient English Gospel tracts, and in sufficient variety, to keep him going week after week in the various barracks. This drove us to begin the weekly Gospel sheet known as "The Trumpeter".
Mr. G. had once worked in the Navy Yards in England. Indeed he had given up a good job there and a pension and a dear little home and a lovely garden, to come out into the work of the Lord. This previous training stood him in good stead with the service men, and he seemed to know just how to take them. Perhaps even more the secret was that he loved them, and how he loved to spend and be spent for them. Each week he would go through every barrack and leave a copy of "The Trumpeter" on every bed. Many a talk he had with the men, and always left a warm invitation to the English Gospel meeting, and to supper at our house afterward.
Often our little hall would be filled, and sometimes we would have twenty or more boys and men from the Seaforth Highlanders, East Surrey's, or Army Service Corps out for supper. Mr. G. would go down to the barracks and hunt them out and bring them up to the meeting in taxis. It was quite a job for my wife to provide enough food for all, for she did all the cooking herself, but she never lacked. She used to keep large fruit jars filled with stewed fruit of one kind and another. The pleasure of the men to get into a real home, with the children there, and a table-cloth on the table and real home cooking, was more than a recompense for the labor. I wish you could have seen them eat, especially the Seaforth Highlander "boys". It was in strawberry season they excelled. We had great Chinese bowls filled with stewed strawberries (for one can eat nothing raw in China), and as quickly as one great bowl was emptied, another two-quart-jar of berries was poured into it again. I have often had the pleasure of giving four or five large helpings to some of those boys on a Sunday evening. And then in the winter we would have a good grate fire, or probably two, for we had a huge living room with two fireplaces in it, just what we needed for all these men; and they would sit around the fire, with my wife at the piano, and sing. Each would have his own favorite hymn, and those particular hymns to this day still conjure up in our minds some special face and voice that had grown very dear to us.
I must not pass over the kindness of the Drum-Major of the Seaforth Highlanders. He was in charge of "the boys", who were mostly in the band, and he always did his utmost to get them out to the meetings; nor may I forget the kindness of the Chaplain of that same regiment, for he also did all in his power to help in our work amongst the men. One New Year's he asked us if we could take all the boys out to our house to stay over the holidays, as there are some wild scenes in the barracks at that time of year. There were, I think, eleven "boys", that is those under seventeen and a half. A corporal was to come with them and keep them in order. We of course, gladly agreed to take them; and put glass windows in an open upstairs verandah, for we had nowhere else to put them. We cleared out a room for dressing, and got twelve beds ready; we put up a stove and had everything quite cozy for them. They arrived in due course, but within ten minutes the corporal disappeared and was not seen again. I do not know what we would have done without dear Sgt. M. of the Royal Army Service Corps, who had found the Lord some months before and was always a very great help in the work; and Ginger McK. of the Seaforths. They were also spending the holidays with us, and when our boys disappeared, they hunted the city till they found them and brought them home again. I had better not try to describe their labors, but we simply could not have managed without them. My wife still thinks those were the wildest days she ever spent in her life.
Another to whom we owed an unspeakable debt was Captain R. of the East Surrey Regiment. It was through his help and kindness and courage that the door into that regiment was kept open. Capt. R. (afterward Major R.) was a true English gentleman, and an earnest, consistent Christian. His older brother was at that time the only British doctor in missionary work in Burma. He was laboring with The Bible Churchman's Missionary Society, a dear, devoted servant of God.
Mr. and Mrs. G. left Shanghai to go on furlough, and he asked me to continue the work amongst the soldiers. Some had been brought to the Lord, and they helped. How thankful we were later, when these very men were amongst the first to try and stem the tide of the Japanese in Singapore and Malaya, that the Lord had given us this open door amongst them. I wonder how many we will meet above? Major R., promoted to Lieut.-Col., was in command for the British of more than one Japanese Internment Camp, and bore a noble testimony. He laid down his life in one of these camps. The Japanese Commandant remarked of him, that in happier times, he would have been proud to have called him his friend.
The first of that group of Christian soldiers to leave us was Malcolm R. He came from the Island of Orkney, and was a piper in the Seaforths. Most of the men in the Seaforth Highlanders came from the Highlands of Scotland, and found Shanghai a dreary place. They were homesick for their rocks and crags and woods. The East Surrey Regiment, on the other hand, who mostly came from London, felt quite at home. Malcolm had found the Lord at the meetings, and it had been lovely to see him grow in the things of God. He was very tall and well built, and gentle as a little child. We all just loved him. He used to tell us of his home and his mother, and how he longed to see her. His leave was long overdue, but at last was granted. The night before he sailed he brought his pipes out and played them for us at the house, and gave the children a lesson. He promised to send us one of his mother's own cheeses as soon as he got home. Alas, war broke out while he was on the ocean, and we had a note saying his home leave had been cut to a few days; he had tried to send the cheese, but no food was allowed out of England. He was just leaving for France, and I suppose he was amongst that heroic little group who held the gates of Calais and Dunkirk. We look to meet him again "in that day".
While Mr. G. was laboring amongst the English-speaking men and boys of Shanghai, our brother, Mr. C., was equally diligent amongst his own people. It was against the law to preach on the streets, but Mr. C. provided himself with a megaphone, and used to walk the streets shouting verses of Scripture, giving out tracts, having conversations, and getting into homes. He had Chinese Gospel meetings in the room, as well as a Chinese Sunday School, and I need hardly say had it well filled. The war had been going on for almost two years, and refugees had poured into Shanghai. Great mat-shed camps had been built holding thousands of these poor destitute victims. Mr. C. diligently visited these and preached the Gospel to them. Dear Mr. F. and Mr. T., who have been such a comfort to us through all these dark years, were the fruit of that time of labor. They were old friends, and it was a great joy when they accepted the Lord, and took their places at the Lord's Table.
Although many refugees flocked to Shanghai, far more turned westwards, and fled before the approaching Japanese armies to "Free China". In this way the province of Yunnan in the far south-west, and Kweichow and Szechuen further to the north, had a vast influx of Chinese from every part of the "occupied area". The peculiar opportunities thus presented in the west of China stirred Mr. C.'s heart, and after much prayer and waiting upon the Lord, he felt definitely that the Lord was calling him to that work. The difficulty was that his mother's body was awaiting burial. On account of the Japanese occupation of the city of Shanghai, no bodies were allowed to be taken outside the city for burial, and the dead were kept in great warehouses, piled high with coffins. Mr. C. could not bear to go away and leave his mother's body unburied. I had known her, and a dear old saint she was, so I could enter keenly into our brother's exercises. The Scripture, "let the dead bury their dead, but go thou and preach the kingdom of God", decided Mr. C., and he left Shanghai for the far west with his dear wife and a lovely boy and girl. He left us with the warmest love and fellowship of his brethren, and his mother's body still unburied.
Mr. C. took with him a large stock of books, tracts, posters and such like Christian literature, intending to offer them for sale in the west, where it was now impossible to send by mail. Mr. and Mrs. Collier happened to be in Hongkong as Mr. C. and his family passed through, and they had a most happy time together. Mr. C. went by railway from Indo-China to Kunming, the capital of Yunnan. He settled here and found plenty of opportunity for the Gospel, as well as plenty of danger from air raids. His little son showed me bits of a shell that narrowly escaped killing the whole family.
But the war-clouds were ever growing darker at Shanghai, and it was only too evident we might easily lose everything there. Singapore seemed the best place for a further stand, and I talked it over with Major R. He strongly advised opening there. I wrote a friend, a Christian officer in the Navy, and he gave the same advice, but added, "Do it now." So it came about that without either funds or workers to take over, we packed case after case with literature to send to Singapore. Mr. Collier was still in Hongkong, so I cabled him to see if he would go down and get us started. He kindly agreed, and I sent our chief helper, Mr. H., to help in the work. The Lord prospered their labors, and provided them with a suitable little shop, with a nice flat above at C Short St. After the work was running, Mr. Collier and Mr. H. returned, and Miss Hayman and Miss Hayhoe kindly took it over, and carried on most efficiently.
In order to get the cases packed for Singapore, we had taken on an extra man for a few weeks. We had not intended to keep him, but he made himself so valuable that we could not part with him, and it was not long before we put him in charge of the Avenue Road shop. He was a Christian; brought up in an orphanage at Chinkiang, and later had passed through a missionary college in Kiukiang. He spoke English quite well, and proved himself to be one on whom we could depend. He was married and had several children, most of whom were still in the orphanage at Chinkiang, but later joined their parents in Shanghai.
In the meanwhile difficulties were increasing in Shanghai. The stress due to the vast numbers of refugees had forced rents to almost incredible figures, and the opportunity to make money caused our landlord at Jessfield Road to seize a large portion of our property there. He took our meeting room, a lot of our storage and printing shop and all our type room, without reducing our rent or giving any compensation. He did this with only a month's notice, putting us in an almost impossible situation, and I realized the next step would be to turn us out entirely. The landlord of the house where we had lived for a good many years, was a good Christian friend, a sea captain. He said to me: "Why don't you build yourselves a godown on my property?" (A "godown" is the word commonly used in the east for a "warehouse"). It was a great venture, but in a remarkable way the Lord provided the funds, and we started on the building. Then the Japanese interfered and held up the work for six months.
When at last we got the needed Japanese permit for the warehouse building, I had to leave the next day on a long trip to west China, but our sons took charge, doing much of it with their own hands. It was completed none too soon, as before even the roof was finished, our landlord at Jessfield Road turned us out of the entire property, and we had nowhere to go. When I got back from my trip a few months later, everything was complete and in order.
All this time Miss Dear, whom I have hardly mentioned, had been quietly bearing the burden of the regular Book Room work. She alone, with a little Chinese help, took entire charge of the shop at Yuen Ming Yuen Road. She kept all the accounts, she handled all the correspondence except personal letters, though my wife for years had taken care of all the letter filing. No words can tell what her many years of quiet, efficient, unselfish labor in the Book Room has meant to that work; and she has been a daughter to us in our own home. What an unspeakable joy and comfort she has been to my wife; always ready to help in anything that was to be done; always cheerful and contented; one of God's best gifts to us, and to His work in the Book Room. May God be with and bless her dear ones "for the loan which is lent to the Lord.”
Chapter 3:: To Kunming and Back
MR. C. KEPT WRITING begging for more stock, which we just could not send him. There was now only one route open to Inland China, and that was through Rangoon, Burma, up the railway to Lashio, and then over the famous Burma Road to Kunming. The railway over which Mr. C. had traveled, had long since been seized by the Japanese. We must use the Burma Road or not go at all, and probably now or never. The Chinese workers in the Book Room, who all took a keen interest in the work, thought we ought to send the supplies asked for; and one or two volunteered to make the trip. Going over the Burma Road at that time, while it was constantly being bombed, was not very healthy; and also the difficulties of passing through Burma were very great, and besides we had no money. However, we had so often seen the difficulties melt away as we reached them, that once more we started packing cases, this time for Kunming. The work amongst the soldiers had just come to an end, as they had been moved to Singapore, or Penang, and with the good helpers we had, it seemed best that I should be the one to go. We had about two tons of literature for Mr. C., besides some to drop off at Singapore. I got the last berth on a little British-India ship bound for Calcutta via Rangoon. Almost the last remnants of the British forces in Shanghai were on board, nearly all old friends, and we had some very happy evenings together with a dear old saint returning to India for one more visit to her old field of labor.
We had a couple of days in Singapore, and at last reached Rangoon, the capital and main city of Burma, situated at the mouth of the Irawadi, that great river which flows south throughout the greater part of the country, and is somewhat to Burma as the Nile to Egypt. Perhaps a few words as to Burma might help to give our readers a better understanding and sympathy with that great land. Its southern borders are on the Indian Ocean, its northern borders are amidst the wild mountains of south-western China. From the plains along its great river, the country stretches away into the vast hills of east and west Burma, largely covered even to this day by untold stretches of jungle. To the hills and valleys and jungles of this land, and of that portion of China to the north of it, the aboriginal tribes people of not only this country, but of other countries, gradually retreated; and here in these wild fastnesses, such as the valley of the Selwyn, and other great rivers, these people finally found a refuge to which their enemies were either unable or unwilling to follow them. And so we find in Burma today representatives of multitudes of peoples, nations and languages. As nearly as I can recall, the official census of the year in which I passed through Burma showed more than one hundred and thirty different languages, as native to Burma, besides those that had come in from outside lands, such as Chinese, English and the languages of India. And in south-western China other tribes may be found, speaking still other languages. The difficulties for the work of the Gospel in these parts can hardly be described; and yet it is amongst just these tribes people, in China at least, that the Gospel has won such glorious victories in recent years. We need to remember that our God is the GOD of Impossibilities: with HIM "all things are possible.”
My books and I landed at Rangoon. I took up lodgings at the Missionary Home, a comfortable house in beautiful grounds, conducted by a large mission in this country. And then started the labor of getting the books through customs. It required three solid weeks of hard work to release those few cases to pass through Burma to the borders of China. An American missionary doctor was trying at the same time to get some medicine and medical supplies through customs, also for use in China. When I returned to Rangoon some six weeks later, he was rejoicing that at last this feat had been accomplished, and he was free to get on with his journey. Much grace is needed, and more patience than most of us possess, for such seasons.
And yet I do thank God for those three weeks in Rangoon. It was just at the Centennial of the Burmese Bible, translated a hundred years before by that noble soldier of Jesus Christ, Dr. Adoniram Judson. A great celebration was held in Rangoon, and missionaries from various parts of the country came to take part. This gave me a view of missionary work in that land that I might not otherwise have seen. And what a view it was! For nearly twenty years we had been seeking in China to earnestly contend for the faith, in the face of the insolence of infidelity and "modernism"; but never had I seen this work of the devil come out so boldly and so plainly, as it boasted itself in Burma. It surely was "another gospel" and richly merited the double curse of the first chapter of Galatians. One of the leading missionaries remarked during those three weeks: "All this translating the Bible for the heathen is a great mistake; far better translate—'s books!" (naming a well-known modernist). The family in the room next to me in the "Home" were giving up work in one of the neediest parts of Burma, and at a time when they could not be replaced, because not only had they lost all faith in the Scriptures, but even doubts had come in as to whether there was a God; and as they put it to me, they felt it better to leave before they passed on their doubts to the native Christians. I confess I was more drawn to that family for their honesty than to most I met in Burma; would that all such would follow their example, and go home instead of spreading doubts, where strong confidence is needed.
I left Rangoon sick at heart at what I had seen, and yet more deeply thankful than I can express for the privilege that had been granted us in China, to have had some share in contending for the faith in that land. I had the privilege of traveling with Mr. and Mrs. A. B. C. and a new worker, who also were on their way to China. The train left Rangoon in the afternoon, reaching Mandalay the following morning. Changing trains there, Lashio was reached in the evening. I stopped at Maymayo, the lovely spot in the hills where missionaries and others went to escape the heat of the plains. I was seeking Dr. R., the older brother of Major R., who had been so kind to us in Shanghai. Dr. R. had charge of a hospital on the railway line north of Mandalay, with a company of earnest and devoted Christian men and women who are true to the Word of God, and who have done a remarkable work for the Lord in that part of Burma known as "The Triangle", but perhaps better known since the war, as "The Ledo Road.”
Dr. R. and his lovely little family were having a few days of well-earned rest in Maymayo, so it was my privilege to meet them there. I will never forget a delightful evening when he and his dear wife and I sat round the open fire, and talked of the needs and the opportunities in Burma; and we ended that evening by prayer together, and a sentence in the dear Doctor's prayer still rings in my heart, "Help us, Lord to use the weapon that the enemy has forged to turn the war against himself." The weapon referred to was the fact that amongst the multitude of Buddhist monasteries in that land (and it is full of them), most boys are taught to read, so the illiteracy in Burma is not as great as in most heathen countries. Through the Japanese attack on Shanghai eight years before, Burma and its needs had been greatly pressed on my heart; indeed, had there been the faith, it might be that the Book Room would already have found an entry into that country. You can guess, perhaps, how Dr. R.'s prayer touched both my heart and conscience, and how I longed with the help of God, to have a share in providing Gospel literature for the millions waiting for it in Burma.
But my duty at the moment was to take such literature to west China. How it was to be done, the Lord alone knew. I think I mentioned we had no money for the venture when we started, and indeed it was only step by step as the funds were needed along the way that the Lord provided them, or opened the door in some other way, as now He did in Lashio.
I think I may not pass that town by, without a few words of description as to how I found it in the autumn of 1940, just a year before the Japanese attack. Lashio was the end of the railway, and the beginning of the "Burma Road". It was to Burma what the "end of steel" used to be in the pioneering days of Canada. The shops seemed to breathe the same atmosphere as the stores in the north of Canada, where we used to buy our outfits for some long canoe trip into the wilds beyond.
Lashio itself was in three distinct parts, the three points of a triangle, each separated from the other by two or three miles. The first point was the railway station and all that centered around it; second, the business center with the Bazaar, and the Market, a wonderful place where an untold variety of races met to do business; Chinese, Indian, Burmese, Karen, Shan, and on and on the names might be mentioned of tribe after tribe, each recognized (to the initiated) by the style of ornaments they wore. There was a keenness and earnestness about everybody, utterly lacking in Rangoon, where no office would open before ten in the morning, and there might be three public holidays in a week, when they would not open at all. The third point of the triangle was old Lashio, an old Chinese settlement, where almost all were Chinese, with a market and shops of their own.
I will not easily forget the night I arrived in Lashio. It was pitch dark, and I an utter stranger. I had hoped that Mr. C. would meet me, but he was in hospital, though I did not know it then. As I stepped off the train a tall young fellow, who looked as if he might come from the American continent stepped on. I guessed who he was, as I had been trying to take a little care of his young wife, who had arrived in Rangoon by plane from China, while I was there. After a few words together a fine looking Burmese gentleman of about my own age, stepped up to me with a lantern, and in excellent English asked "if it was Mr. Willis?" This was the Headmaster of the large Government Boys' School in Lashio. He kindly took me home with him, gave me a most delicious supper of chicken, and provided a place for me to sleep. May that dear man receive rich reward for the boundless hospitality that he has so liberally showered on the Lord's people passing through Lashio.
I may not stop to tell of all the kindness I received on every hand in Lashio, but I must mention one or two who proved themselves very real friends. One was a young Civil Engineer in Government employ, a Karen Christian, who had been struck with the contrast between the ways of the early church, and the methods he saw employed about him now. It was my privilege to stay with this dear Christian on my return visit to Lashio. Another who proved a friend in need was also a Karen Christian. (Perhaps I should have explained that the Karens are one of the largest tribes of Burma, and the tribe that more largely than any other, has turned to the Lord. This may be because of an old tradition amongst them that once they had a Book from Heaven, but on account of their sins they lost it. The day, however, would come when their little white brother would bring it again to them; and then they must be sure to receive it. The story of the first Karen Christian is fascinating. He was a murderer of the deepest dye, one guilty of almost every sin, but washed and cleansed, he was used of God to lead hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of his fellows to the Savior he had found). Our new Karen friend had three trucks operating on the Burma Road; and just at the time when it seemed impossible to get a truck anywhere, this dear man volunteered to take up my books, and Mr. C.'s baggage and supplies, as far as the city of Paoshan, about half-way to Kunming, the city where Mr. C. was living. The pamphlet, "Wrecks on the Burma Road", gives a further account of this journey.
Kunming at that time was receiving so much attention from the Japanese planes that we decided to leave about half the stock at Paoshan, which we thought would be a safer place than Kunming. As it turned out later the whole city of Paoshan was laid flat by Japanese planes, the house destroyed in which our stock was stored, but much of it, in spite of all, was saved. The stock in Kunming was never hurt by raids, though fire from one of them came so close that some of the literature was scorched. There were also some other merciful preservations.
I stayed in Paoshan as short a time as possible, and pushed on to Kunming to see dear Mr. C., and leave him the literature I had taken up. I may not dwell on that week with our beloved brother. As always at such a time, the days seemed to pass all too quickly, and it was time for me to start back on that long journey, and fill a promise I had made of a visit in Singapore; otherwise I might have gone by air, much more cheaply and quickly, direct to Hongkong. Mr. C. accompanied me to Paoshan, where he picked up further supplies of stock, and once again turned his face northwards, while I continued my journey back to Lashio. The call of Burma had been very loud through these weeks, and as I passed through Lashio again, I saw the official in charge of land, and he most kindly agreed to lease me a site for a house for storage, from which a truck might operate either north to China, or south over the excellent roads of Burma. My wife and I hoped to move there ourselves. But God had other purposes and in a little over a year from that time, poor Lashio became one of the world's battlefields.
I had a day in Penang on the way south, and visited my old friends of the Seaforth Highlanders, who were now stationed there. Thence I went by train to Singapore, a long interesting journey, through Malaya, one of the hardest and neediest countries in the world. I asked how many Malayan Christians there might be. One earnest laborer in those harvest fields replied he thought there might be four; another replied that he did not think there were more than three. Does not this rise up as a challenge to some Christian living at home in comfort? "If I have eaten my morsel alone...," said Job, but how often have we rejoiced "alone" in our well spread tables, spiritually and literally, without a thought of those who are perishing of hunger?
I had two weeks in Singapore with Miss Hayman and Miss Hayhoe and two of the Chinese children from Yeung Kong. It was my privilege to stay with Mr. W., our helper in the Book Room at that time. He was shortly to be married, and had prepared a cozy little flat for his bride. Here we lived together. The vast, vast fields of the islands of the South Seas, those great islands like Borneo, Java and Sumatra, or the Celebes; and those vast numbers of small islands; many of them, oh, so many of them, utterly without the Gospel, rose up before me, and I thought, what a center Singapore might become in this greatest of all wars; the Lord of Life and Light, against the powers of death and darkness. It was a joy to see how the work was developing, and to hear of the open doors the ladies were finding all about them. I had a happy time with my East Surrey friends who were in this city, and some delightful visits with Sgt. M., who was also located here.
Chapter 4:: Translation Work
As I PASSED HONGKONG, on my return journey, I saw my sister Helen, and talked over with her the question of looking over some manuscripts we had received of a revision of the translation of the four Gospels into Chinese. For a long time we had felt that one of the most urgent needs in China was a new translation of the New Testament. We have often been asked, and rightly asked: Why don't you publish more books on the truths of the New Testament? One of the great difficulties in such a work has been the present Chinese translation of the New Testament. In many ways it is excellent, especially considering the difficulties under which the translators worked; for it was one of the very first books to be put into the spoken language of the people, instead of the literary style, which is very difficult to understand, especially if read aloud. But even this translation does not provide what is necessary for clear and simple exposition of the New Testament. For example, "The Church" is translated "The Teaching Society". If one seeks to write on the truths of the Church of God, the first necessity is to point out that the Church is not a Society, and has no scriptural authority to teach. Sunday is "Worship Day". Monday is "Worship Day One", Tuesday, "Worship Day Two", and so on till Saturday is "Worship Day Six" and of course that brings Sunday, the Lord's Day, to the Seventh Day, instead of the First Day.
On almost every page, as one seeks to write on the Books of the New Testament, one meets with such expressions, or with mis-translations which cannot be passed by in a trustworthy exposition. If these errors and frailties are pointed out publicly to the Chinese Christians, it might well cause a feeling of lack of trust in the New Testament, and more harm than good might be done.
With this difficulty facing us we have done very little in the way of publications on the New Testament, waiting and hoping for a good and reliable new translation to be produced. Many have felt the need, and a few translations have been brought out. Indeed, we ourselves wasted much time, strength and money trying to publish one of these. But as far as we can judge, no satisfactory translation has as yet been produced.
For these reasons we felt every encouragement should be given to our Chinese brethren who were attempting to meet this need; and my sister Helen came to Shanghai to try and go over this new translation of the four Gospels. It soon became apparent that it would be easier to make an entirely new translation, than correct this one. For about two years, much work was put into this effort. The Gospel of Matthew was published, and a large part of Mark translated; and much information collected for a fresh Greek-Chinese dictionary. But before more was done, the opportunity passed, and it has not been possible to do more.
Chapter 5:: Our Printing Plant Sold
AS DIFFICULTIES in Shanghai increased, unrest amongst the working classes also increased. This may have been in part due to increased costs without proper increase in wages; but it was by no means only due to this cause. There was a tenseness in the very atmosphere which everybody felt; all knew disaster was ahead, and it made men unreasonable and restless.
I suppose there were few, if any, workmen better treated than were our men, including our printers; but through those months they became more and more difficult to handle, and more and more unreasonable. Our printing costs went up till it became apparent that it was impossible for us to carry on compared to the very much lower expenses of the Chinese printing concerns about us. A number of our printers were not Christians, and these men kept stirring up the rest to make trouble. As this spirit increased, we decided the best thing to do was to sell our plant while we still had the opportunity to do so.
It was in March, 1941, that we sold out to a very old friend of ours who had for years been doing much of our printing. Our friend was an earnest Christian man, and we knew of no one to whom we would rather turn over our plant than to him. The plant also suited him well. His presses were large, and he was not in a position to handle the type of work for which ours were designed; so it was to his advantage to take it.
The price we got was not high, but the bargain included an undertaking to look after any of the men who wished to remain, so that we were clear of this responsibility. The greater part of the price was to be taken out in printing; so we at once arranged to stock up heavily in posters and tracts, both of which have been very important lines in our business. This gave us unusually heavy stocks in these essential Gospel witnesses, and with our new warehouse, we were in a position to store them. We did not know then that this was the Lord's merciful provision for us, and that those heavy stocks were there to carry us through five years, when we would not be able to renew them. A Chinese Christian wrote us recently referring to this, and pointed out how like it was to God's provision in Egypt for the years of famine ahead.
But God's hand was graciously in this sale in another way. Just about nine months after we sold, war broke out; and one of the first proclamations of the Japanese was that all sales by British and Americans made within six months before the war were null and void, and the properties sold were taken over by the Japs. They did actually try to put in a claim for our printing plant, but the purchaser was able to prove he had held it for nine months, so the matter was dropped.
“How good is the God we adore,
Our faithful unchangeable Friend;
His love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.”
Chapter 6:: The Blow Falls
SUCH WAS TRE POSITION of affairs in the autumn of 1941. An old lady had invited herself to stay with us, and was not inclined to leave. The work of the Book Room was piled up like mountains. Our magazine, "The Trumpeter", was still being called for, even though the troops had left Shanghai, and we did not feel like giving it up. (Dear Mr. Armet used to say: "Giving up is of the devil"). The little magazine John had carried on, "Lift Up Your Eyes", fell to us to edit. "The Steward" was needed more than ever. The proof-reading alone was very heavy, not to speak of editing and preparing for the press. I think about twenty books and pamphlets were out of print, besides new books waiting to publish, as, for example, Sidney Collet's book, "The Scripture of Truth", which a St. John's student (whom we will call "T") and some other friends at the University had translated. We had the manuscript for an exposition of Jonah in both English and Chinese, though we had already published a scroll of pictures from the Book of Jonah. Two of Edward Dennett's books, on Nehemiah and Zechariah, were also translated, but not published.
My sister was working hard on the translation of the New Testament, and I was trying to help as much as possible. One of my own letters, dated December 5th, 1941, has just arrived in Toronto, over four years on the way. I will quote a few lines: "Four hundred and fifty Britishers left yesterday. The city seems to be thinning out of British and Americans; but it seems to have more Chinese than ever, and it is full of German Jewish Refugees. Poor things, they are having a hard time.”
Early Monday morning, December 8th, there was a rumor that the Japanese had attacked the city, and sunk the British and American gunboats at anchor in the river. By eight o'clock the rumor was a certainty. I will never forget that day. There was a gentle drizzle of rain, as though Heaven wept at what lay before this poor, doomed city of four and a half million souls.
I rode to work on my bicycle as usual, a ride of about five miles right through the heart of the city. I was not stopped nor molested, but I could see parties of Japanese soldiers moving in from various directions. I saw them take possession of the Telephone Exchanges, and other important buildings. Our main shop is just back of the British Consulate, and I watched the Japanese take possession of it. I wondered how long it would be before our turn came. I saw other parties of Japanese pasting up great placards all over the city: placards that had been prepared beforehand, and were all ready to go up the moment the fateful day arrived.
I went through all our stock to see if there might be anything to which objection could be taken, and burned one or two things in the washbasin. There was no business that day. I emptied the safe and went out and paid a large printing account for ten thousand of the little book, "Come Home", paid it with gold drafts I had been holding to buy Canadian paper, and I arranged for the printer to hold those books until after the war might be over. I left for home early, but was stopped at a barbed wire barricade that had arisen since the morning. I must show my passport, and that was at home. Through God's mercy I was able to telephone, and one of our Chinese workmen brought the passport to me.
Our total resources in the Book Room Bank Account in Chinese money were $240, I suppose not much over $10, Canadian money. I put this all into flour for the staff, so that they would at least have something to eat. It took the best part of two days hard work to get the money out of the bank. I warned the men they must get other jobs at once. Food prices quickly soared, but in one way or another, we and our men were cared for, and I do not think anyone went hungry. It was remarked: "Cornmeal's our staple diet, we boil and bake and fry it." But it was a good diet. Little by little most of our men got other work. We kept on our translator, and the man who managed our Avenue Road shop, and also our old carpenter because he could not get another job, and he had been with us so long. I think all the other workers left.
In our own house we had an amah, who had been with us many years, and a young girl who had lately come to us. Both were from Yeung Kong. About two weeks before the war broke out the girl decided she must return home immediately. It was not very convenient, but we sent her down to Mr. and Mrs. Collier, who were then in Hongkong. How thankful we were she was away when the blow fell. Our older amah soon found quite a good job with a Chinese Christian family. One night I awakened suddenly, remembering that this amah had given me over $240 to keep for her. The matter had completely gone out of my mind, and I had not a cent, and could think of no way of repaying her.
I put it into the Lord's hands, asking Him to work for us. Next day we had $243 worth of business, far more than since the war started, and just enough to pay the debt. I think she had given up hope of getting it, but did not like to ask for it, and was greatly surprised.
We returned our electric stove to The Shanghai Power Company, from whom we rented it. (This, I am sure, was a mistake, but we meant it for the best). We changed the electric bulbs all through the house to 2 or 3 watt, removing them entirely where we could. The Power Company kept sending out inspectors to find out why our account was so greatly reduced; but I would not advise my readers to try and work with a 2, or even a 3, watt bulb. Every expenditure possible was cut off.
About four days after the Japanese occupation, we all had to go and register. It was a bitter cold day, and we had to stand in a queue for hours waiting our turn; and from that day onward hardly a week went by that we were not called on for something or other that meant long waits, often hours at a time, in the bitter cold. Soon we all had to wear red arm bands, the British with a large "B" and a number; the Americans had an "A". All owners of motor cars were required to deliver these up at various specified centers. It was bad enough to lose one's car, but for these who had no gas, it was necessary to hire coolies to push the car to the required spot, where it was to be seized.
I have mentioned that all sales within six months made by British or Americans became null and void, and the Japanese seized such property. Placards were placed on houses and gates forbidding the removal of anything from it. They put one on the gate from our house, but missed the gate from our warehouse, so each day when I rode to work on my bicycle, I took with me a load of literature, and so kept up the stocks at our two shops. Stocks of certain materials had to be declared by Allied Nationals, and then were seized. Amongst these were various kinds of paper. We had the greater part of two bales of a kind of India paper that we were holding for our New Testament, but it was such a rare type that it was not listed. Many Chinese business firms also suffered at this time through the same methods.
The busses disappeared from the streets, and the street cars were hopelessly inadequate to take care of transportation. Whoever could do so bought a bicycle until there were none to be had except at most fabulous prices. Miss Dear and I each took three days a week at the main shop in town, and we had no Chinese helper.
Miss Dear had for some time been living with a friend, Miss M., about a mile nearer the city than our house at Brenan Road. Miss M. kindly took care of her support through these dark, difficult days. In rather a remarkable way a bicycle was provided for her. I had my own good B.S.A. heavy-duty bicycle that dear Mr. Featherstonhaugh had provided for me some years before. This was invaluable now, carrying parcels of books and tracts, delivering coal to our house, and indeed almost every sort of load was piled on that poor bicycle. It finally was sold for $85,000 to provide parcels of food for us when we were in camp.
Before Hope and Christopher went home in June, 1941, Christopher had traded two beautiful white pigeons given him by one of the soldier lads, for a very good hatching of little chicks. He also built a chicken house for us, built it up on stilts so that the chickens would not get drowned in the floods, (for our garden, and even our house, both were flooded in the heavy rains). He also wheeled numbers of barrows of earth from another part of the garden, and raised a plot of ground quite high above the rest. In this he planted us a garden, so that for the first time in Shanghai we might have the joy of our own fresh vegetables. The garden did quite well, and showed signs of good promise, when an unusually high flood came and wiped it out completely.
Conditions in the city grew steadily worse. Food was scarce; fuel almost impossible to get. The Japanese issued their own money, which they forced us to buy: $2.00 for $1.00 of theirs, and it was worth not a bit more in buying power than the old money. People grew more and more desperate, and with the Municipal Police Force paralyzed, crime grew fast. The Japanese did not care, provided it did not touch them, and fear protected them from much, as their retaliation for the least offense was terrible.
You will understand that under such conditions, stealing from the "enemies of Japan" became a very favorite and profitable enterprise. Knowing all this, and with a great desire to protect our chickens, I put a switch with a chain-pull on our bedroom light, and a string from the chain to the chicken-run door, so that when opened, it would turn on our light. All went well for a few nights, when suddenly, about two in the morning, on went the light; I dashed out of bed and downstairs to the chicken run, expecting to catch the thief red-handed. When I got there, in the pouring rain (with very little on) I found all peace and quietness; and as I cogitated on the matter, I realized that the string had shrunk with the wet, and so turned on the light!
A bit later the thieves did manage to get away with one chicken, when they were quite big; so we finally put them into our amah's bedroom (she was gone), nailed up the window well, put a regular log of wood across the door and secured it with an immense padlock which had been salvaged from a German submarine; and from then on our chickens were in peace.
They began to lay about three weeks after war broke out. Two had been drowned in the floods. Many more would have been drowned but for our amah. Those chickens seemed to have the hearts of ducks, for they had a passion for getting into the flood all around their house. Then our kind amah would take off her shoes, roll up her trousers (the women in China wear trousers), and boldly go to the rescue of the miserable little creature. Then she would bring it in, dry it at the back of the stove, and return it safe and sound to the chicken house. Two more had been stolen through the fence. The people would come with long bamboo poles, with little nets or hooks on the end, and putting them through holes in the fence, would get a chicken near enough to grab it. Another, as I mentioned, was stolen from the chicken house. This left us seven laying hens, and I do not think there was a day passed on which they did not present us with some eggs, very often a half dozen. We sold enough at a good price to pay for the keep of the hens, and we had eggs for ourselves all through those hard months.
A little later a friend gave us a setting of prize white leghorn eggs, and these gave us some of the finest white leghorns I have ever seen, and they laid splendidly. There was a rice and grain shop nearby who most kindly gave us their shop sweepings at unusually low rates, so it did not cost much to keep the hens. This was one of God's ways to meet our daily needs. My wife took entire care of the chickens, and managed all the business of the eggs.
Thieves stole most of our fence, which was made of split bamboo. They stole our overcoats and raincoats off the pegs in the front hall, as well as all our aluminum pots and pans except one pot full of porridge on the stove. They stole what appeared to be a solid brass pendulum from our clock, but threw it away when they found it was hollow. In fact, they stole nearly all we had of any value except our books. When we went to bed at night, we had to bring the drawer with our knives and forks (not silver), what pots and pans we had left, my wife's sewing machine, my typewriter and my bicycle, and store them under and round the bed. The bicycle, being most valuable, was generally locked to the bedpost with a heavy chain and padlock.
One cold morning, about five o'clock, I was going across the lawn in the pitch dark, to turn on the water (the tap was at the other house), when I fairly ran into the arms of a thief who had taken out a pane of glass from the window of our neighbor's house, and was busy helping himself to their boots and clothing. I don't know who was the more scared, the thief or myself. Sad to say he got away with a good pair of shoes.
One day our friend Dr. Huizenga, who was in charge of the Leper Hospital and the Refugee Tuberculosis Hospital, called up to say he had noticed that one of our neighbors had two tiny pigs, just such as he needed to eat up the waste from his hospitals; would I buy them for him? I warned him that he must send for them at once, or they would surely be stolen, as we did not feel like having two little pigs under our bed, in addition to what was there already. The Doctor readily agreed to this, and we got the pigs. His Chinese helper came on his bicycle and took one away (all he could carry), and promised to come back for the other. But he did not arrive, and night came on. We did not know what to do, but decided to put the remaining little pig in a small brick building, away from the house. It had become a general dump for all kinds of rubbish, and so we put "piggy" in here. He came to us dressed in a gentleman's necktie, foreign style, tied round his middle, and a rope tied to that. We tied him to a leg of an old table stored in the shed, put a padlock on the door and hoped for the best. Next morning I went out early to see how "piggy" had survived. The padlock was off, and lying on the ground by the door, the door was open, the rope and necktie were still there, but no sign of any little pig. We searched the garden with no result, so I telephoned Dr. Huizenga and told him the pig had been stolen. He took it well, as a Christian should, and we reckoned the incident closed. Later in the day I was passing the shed, and there was "piggy", large as life. He had slipped out of his necktie, crawled over to the back of the shed, behind the rubbish, and gone to sleep. When the thief arrived for him, he evidently supposed that some other thief had got in ahead, and so gave up the job. Although it is true we lived in "The Badlands", a part of Shanghai many were afraid to enter, still I do not like to think that it was our poor neighbors, with whom we were such friends, who stole from us.
Perhaps you should know how it was that Dr. Huizenga happened to see the little pigs. It was the previous Sunday evening, I think, quite late, when the telephone rang. A stranger was at the other end of the line, who told me he was proprietor of a certain night club, or cabaret. It was one of a very questionable character in a very questionable part of the city. He told me that two of my friends were there and were very anxious to see me. He would put them on their way in rickshaws, and would I come to a certain bridge in the center of the city immediately and meet them. It was pouring rain, but I could not refuse, and so in a few minutes I was on my way to the city on my faithful old bicycle, wondering very much what it all meant.
I left my bicycle at the Book Room, which was close to the bridge, but before I could reach our meeting place two rickshaws met me, and sure enough the two friends stepped out. We got rid of the clamoring coolies, and made our way to the shop. What did it all mean? Then it dawned on me, as I listened to Mr. X. talk. The strain and the hunger, for he had often been hungry, had been too much, and the poor overtaxed brain had given out. His wife, who was with him, was nearly desperate. The hours dragged wearily by, while I tried to soothe and comfort these dear people; for they were missionaries; earnest, devoted, self-denying missionaries. They were almost strangers in Shanghai, having come from Japan only a few months before war broke out. They were faithful and energetic tract distributors and came to us for supplies. In this way we knew them pretty well, and often they would have lunch with me in the back of the Book Room; indeed, it was not long before this, I had tried (while seeking cheap food) a meal of boiled birdseed. Mr. X. and I managed it, but his wife, who was ready for almost anything, felt this was too much. But apart from ourselves, they had hardly a friend in the city.
Through God's mercy it happened that I had a large sack nearly full of unshelled walnuts that I had bought from a peddler a few days before. My poor friend was almost starving, and at last I got him started cracking and eating these walnuts. This kept him busy till morning, and a little after five o'clock we started for Brenan Road. We walked till the first street car came, and went to its terminus, and took rickshaws the rest of the way; my poor friend stopping every now and then to crack another walnut, and so we got home. We were in despair, hut a good friend came to our relief. He saw the American consul, and arranged for Mr. X (who was an American) to go into an institution, the Consul undertaking to pay all expenses; provided a proper doctor's certificate could be procured. It was for this reason Dr. Huizenga called at our house. Mrs. X. stayed with us, and Mr. X. gradually improved, but we all realized that he was not in any condition to face the strain of China any longer, and our good friend pressed his case with the Consul, so that he might be sent home oft the first Repatriation Ship. Through the mercy of God, Mr. X. was well enough to be released, and at the last moment a passage was found for him. They spent the last night at our house. They were to meet a special street car for the boat next morning at six o'clock. I had told a man to arrange for a rickshaw coolie to sleep at our house that night with his rickshaw; but instead of this he had merely got a promise that the man would be on hand at five in the morning. We were up in good time, and it was a joy to see my friend his old happy self, rejoicing in the Lord. After some breakfast, and a much-needed haircut in the kitchen, we gave up hope of the rickshaw coolie, and walked to the street car, getting there just in time. I am thankful to say Mr. and Mrs. X. got home safely and have been very well, enjoying a very hard-earned furlough.
Chapter 7:: Helpers in Distress
AN EARNEST CHRISTIAN CHINESE student was greatly concerned for us. When I first met him he was in his first year in the Faculty of Medicine; but later he changed to Theology. His father was a dear old pastor in the Church of England near Ningpo. T. was a Christian, and was often troubled by the attacks on the Bible in the University. All through his course he used to bring his difficulties down to the Book Room, and through God's mercy, we found books on hand that easily and completely answered every quibble. In his delight, T. took some of the books to the University to show the professors, for he felt sure they did not know these things; but he could not find one man who had the courage to face them; and, as T. remarked, the men who wrote these books had far higher degrees than the professors who denied the Scriptures.
I have mentioned we had about two bales of special thin paper, and T. arranged to sell one of these for us, and we received some $8,000 (Japanese money); that was a tremendous help, and tided us over for a long time.
Another kindness T. did for us at this time was in connection with the Steel House on our compound, which was empty. Although housing in the city was in such a terrible condition, and rents were so appalling, yet we could not find any respectable foreigner who would come down to our part of the city to live. The house itself was quite well built, and roomy and comfortable. It was high up above the floods and damp, and had a good brick foundation, and the rent asked was reasonable; but as soon as the prospective tenants saw the surroundings, it was enough. However, T. had a number of nice friends at the University. Some of them arranged to rent the house together, forming a sort of "Hostel" for themselves. It was a most satisfactory solution of our difficulty. The rent was always paid promptly, and they kept the house spotlessly clean. They were excellent neighbors, and we used to enjoy having them come on a Sunday evening for some English hymns. On account of increasing difficulties in their own circumstances, they later had to give up the house, but we look back with only pleasure on their stay. I still have a little seal which one of them engraved for me, with all their names on the side. It is one of my treasures.
Another from whom we received much kindness was the Canadian Trade Commissioner. He was the grandson of a dear old saint, a French Protestant pastor, who had suffered much for Christ's sake. I had boarded with this old gentleman during my first year at the University, over thirty-five years before. For his grandfather's sake, the Commissioner showed us untold kindness; amongst other ways, he took messages home for us, when he returned to Canada on the first repatriation ship. Before he left, being much concerned for fear we would have a hard time after he was gone, of his own accord he arranged that we should at any time be able to draw funds from the British Residents' Association, who had by that time arranged for funds to take care of those who were stranded. But the Lord cared for us all through, so that it was never necessary to ask anyone for help, except Himself.
Another who helped us greatly at this time, and not us only, but many of the Lord's people, was Mlle. J. She was Swiss, and so not subject to the many irritating rules of the Japanese. She lived in Nanking, but from there, and through special journeys to Shanghai, we may well say, "She was a succourer of many, and of ourselves also.”
Another friend who I suspect helped us much more than we can ever know was an officer in the Japanese Navy; a dear, humble Christian man. He used to come into the Book Room and buy expensive books. He spoke such beautiful English that one day I said to him, "You were educated in England, I think." He replied, "Yes, at Cambridge." I asked if he knew Mr. B. "Oh, very well, I have been many times at his house to tea." And from that time he often came to tea with us on a Sunday evening, and would enjoy some English hymns afterward. One night, as I walked with him to the street car, he remarked: "How to be loyal to Christ, and loyal to my Emperor, I do not know." I felt more sorry for my poor Japanese friend than for any of us who had no such question to decide. This kind friend lent us the latest edition of Nestle's Greek New Testament, with some revisions of text that we had been very anxious to see.
Some months after the war had been going on, one morning we found in our postbox a letter, uncensored, from a brother in California, with a draft enclosed for fifty American dollars. How such a thing happened, how such a letter could have come through, I have not the slightest idea, but those funds, coming just when they did, were worth ten times the amount at an ordinary time. How true and faithful the Lord is! "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!”
There were other friends, whose names I may not even hint at, who were friends indeed to us. The war had been on for just about a year, and not a word had come through from the children. We were hungry for news, as you can guess. There were so many, many questions we wanted to ask, and we did not even know if they were alive or not. It was fairly late one Saturday afternoon in December that a messenger arrived and handed me a letter: it had a Canadian Airmail stamp, and was addressed in handwriting I well knew. Somehow or other, a letter from Christopher himself had got through. Just how much that meant to us can never be told. Later some Red Cross forms did get through, and some messages were passed on through friends, but I do not think we had another real letter from one of the children. It was this long, long wait for news that was hardest of all to bear. But to each dear friend who formed a link in the chain that brought news to us, each known to the Lord above, we do indeed give our most heartfelt thanks.
I must not pass by the work that dear Tien Chei did in this connection. After we went into camp, a number of letters from the children, or others, were received by her. It was quite impossible to send these letters into camp, but in the most ingenious way, Tien Chei gave us the gist of the news in the short Red Cross letters that were allowed. And though only one letter a month from each person might be sent, yet Tien Chei did this work so well, that after we came out of camp, and Tien Chei gave us the original letters, we realized that she had so cleverly condensed their contents, that we had missed practically nothing. What a debt we owe to that dear girl, and how truly she spent and was spent for our sakes. I do not know of anyone else who could have done for us what she accomplished.
And there are others, whose names are in the Book of Life, who time and again, often at a risk to themselves, were not ashamed of our reproach, and out of their own deep poverty abounded in the riches of their liberality. On more than one occasion a sum of money was left for us at the Avenue Road shop. We never knew who left it, and once with the money was left a tin of butter. We took that butter into camp and opened it on the birthday of one of our dear friends there. Indeed there were several who shared that butter as a most unusual treat. I think that was the only butter we tasted during those five dark, difficult years. But though we know not the giver, there is One who knows, and we rejoice that He will not forget.
For years we had published more than one English Scripture Calendar, but this year, on account of the difficulties we decided not to try even one. However, the demands were so insistent that we decided it was an opportunity that could not be neglected. Our good printer friend promised to rush the printers, and I worked all night getting designs prepared and in an amazingly short time we had a nice little calendar. It sold well, and I hope was a comfort to many who were in trouble. Our Chinese Gospel Calendar went out as usual, but was reduced to a smaller size. Mr. Ruck sent out his "Daily Food Calendar" himself from Peking. And so ended the first year of war.
A YEAR OF WAR
Battle and bursting Bomb!
Fire and Flood and Fight!
Have scarred the year that's gone
With War's accursed blight.
Goodness and Grace of God!
Mercy and Love and Light!
Have crowned the year that's gone,
Marked by His measureless might.
Darkness and Dread, Dismay,
'Twas thus the year began,
But all along the way
God's loving care is strewn.
And though each day is still
Appalling to our view;
Compassions never fail,
Each morning they are new.
So, Courage, Brother, then,
To enter this New Year,
He'll ne'er forsake His Own,
With Him we need not fear.
So let the New Year come,
With Storms and Wind and Wave,
They'll drive us nearer Home,
And He is strong to save.
His blessing may He give,
Within reign Rest and Peace,
Grace, e'er for Him to live,
Look up, and ever praise.
Chapter 8:: Deliverances
THESE MONTHS WERE VERY difficult and trying ones. Hardly a week went by that the Japanese did not have some new regulation to attend to, new reports to make, or old ones to make in a new way. The Book Room specially roused their suspicions, and we had endless reports to make about it: our stock, our buildings, our finances, where we got our money from, etc., etc. Our landlord had returned home on one of the repatriation ships, and had left the care of his property in my hands. I had quite a few interviews over this. There are three buildings on it. A very old house in rather bad shape, built of brick covered with roughcast. Second, a bungalow built of steel plates brought out from Scotland; and last, our warehouse, or godown, as we call it in China. It is built of brick. The Japanese sent for me once to know what these buildings were made of. They asked about the old house in which we lived, and about the go-down; and forgot to ask about the middle house, the one made of steel plates. Had they asked about this almost certainly they would have immediately sent and taken all the steel plates of which it was built. Surely this was the Lord's doing; and another of His tender mercies. I might say that our landlord was a dear Christian man, one who commits all his cares to the Lord; and we did rejoice that the Lord so honored his faith.
Our compound was surrounded with an old split bamboo fence. It was dry as tinder. Next to us, on the south side, was a huge field that had been used as a garbage dump, but now was covered with refugee straw huts. There were such camps on almost every bit of vacant land in Shanghai, and it was a terrible thing when one of these straw villages caught fire, as they not infrequently did. The fire chief told me that if there was a wind, it was quite hopeless to put out such a fire, and that in our case, our house had not a chance. We had a high brick wall built just opposite the house on the south side, but it would be terribly futile in case of a fire. Before war broke out, one night about midnight John was having a bath before getting into bed, when suddenly through the bathroom window he saw a great light. A straw hut built against our fence on the north corner was on fire, and the flames were shooting high into the sky. Quickly he called the fire brigade (and it is said Shanghai had the second best fire brigade in the world), then he wakened us. We rushed down and tried to fight it, but it mocked our efforts, and was already rapidly spreading south and east along our old fence. Our servants' quarters, where Mrs. Chung and her older children slept, were on fire, and in a few moments it would reach a small wooden two-storied house we had built for Mr. Chung when he was so ill; now two of the younger children slept upstairs in it. Before I could get the second child out of that house the stairs were burning, and my arm was scorched bringing him out. We broke down the fence where the fire was spreading south, in the hope we might hinder it reaching the main straw village, for that would have been an awful calamity, with the hundreds, or thousands, crowded into what in a few moments might become one vast furnace of flame, and almost no way out.
While we were working on this part of the fence, the flames had traveled eastward till they were just at our house. We gave up hope, and began to get together what things we needed most, so that we might save a little. Just then the Fire Brigade arrived. It was pitch dark, but with coolness and no apparent hurry, in a few moments they had the hoses ready; everything spoke of efficiency, and it was easy to see the men were accustomed to such emergencies. Our house was far back from the road, down a lane, and very hard to get at. The roads in this part of Shanghai were controlled by the Municipality, hut the land away from the roads was under Chinese control. Just as the Brigade were ready to turn the hose on the fire, a Chinese policeman arrived to question their right to come on Chinese territory. The Fire Chief did not stop to argue the point, but merely turned the hose on him, and the last I saw he was rolling over and over in the mud in the dark. He did not wait for further argument. It was not many moments before we could see a change, and in perhaps ten minutes the fire was out, and we were saved. "Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!”
It was by no means the last fire, and so in spite of poverty we kept our telephone, as it was the only means of communicating with the Fire Brigade. Through the mercy of God, never again did the fires ever assume the seriousness of that first one. There is a regular system about handling a fire in a straw hut. You knock out the supports and the heavy thatched roof falls on the fire, and smothers it; if you are in time, and all goes as it should. I had not realized the strain the constant fires and thieving were to the children until I was at home this time, when they spoke of what it meant in Canada to be able to go to bed without expecting to be wakened in the night with alarm whistles blowing and have to rush to see if it was fire or thieves.
These neighbors of ours in the straw-huts provided a nice Sunday School, and we grew very fond of many of the children. We generally went through the village every Lord's Day afternoon with tracts, so that we knew a great many of the people there. There were said to be over four thousand people housed on that field. A clinic that our sons had carried on had made friends with many of them.
Another specialty of the Japanese at this time was their "Blockade" system. Signal bells were placed in various parts of the city, and at any moment these bells might ring; then ropes would be tied across the road at every block, and nobody was permitted to pass these ropes. One might be held for hours in this way. In case an attack was made on a Japanese, the whole block, or perhaps several blocks, would probably be blockaded in this way for days, or even weeks; and the suffering of the people was unspeakable. It was reported that in some instances hundreds died of starvation through this horrid torture.
Our houses were searched, and all our furniture, carpets or rugs, curtains, etc. were listed and labeled as belonging to the Japanese, and nothing was allowed to be moved. In this and a hundred other ways, a war of nerves was kept steadily going on, all through those first sixteen months.
Then, one morning (I think it was November, 1942), about five o'clock, the Japanese soldiers raided many houses, and hundreds of men were carried away, some to be locked up in a special camp at Haiphong Road; and others to be sent to "Bridge House", formerly a large apartment building, now the place to which the Japanese took their unfortunate victims for torture; and in the art of torture, the Japanese are experts. Nobody knew when his turn might come. Chinese who had a grudge against a foreigner had their opportunity of revenge now, and had only to "inform", either truly or falsely, and probably in the dark of some early morning, a truck of Japanese soldiers would arrive and carry the victim off, hardly giving time to throw on a few clothes. In those days we lived with a suitcase packed with the necessities of life, and were ever ready to be seized. Again we may say, through the tender mercy of God, our household was spared this trial.
In the early days of the war a Japanese truck half filled with books, and with five marines in it, drove up to our branch shop at the corner of Avenue and Hardoon Road. Our brother was alone in the shop, and saw with dismay that they had come to seize our stock. He is by nature very timid, and he felt this was more than he could endure. The marines jumped down from the truck and made for the shop door; but before they could enter, a stranger, a Chinese gentleman, neatly dressed, entered the shop ahead of them. For some unknown reason they seemed unable to follow him, and loitered about, looking in at our four large windows, but they did not enter. This was about nine in the morning, and they stayed around until after eleven, but never set a foot inside the door. The stranger asked what the men wanted, and our brother explained that the Japanese were seizing the stocks from many of the book-shops in the city, and now had come to seize our stocks. They had prayer together, and the stranger comforted and encouraged him, and so the time passed. Our brother knows practically all the Chinese customers who come to the shop, but this gentleman was a complete stranger. At last the soldiers climbed into their truck and drove away. The stranger also left, without purchasing anything or even making any inquiry as to anything in the shop. When Mr.— told me the story, he ended by asking:
“Mr. Lee, do you believe in angels?"
"I do, Mr. —.”
“So do I, Mr. Lee." (My Chinese name is Lee).
But time would fail me to tell of all the mercies that daily attended our way. We had been having visit after visit from Japanese to our down-town shop on Yuen Ming Yuen Road. All sorts of reports had to be made, lists of stocks, inventories of furniture, etc., so we tried to clear out what we could. We sold our cash register, and every night when I went home I would take a load of books, or other stock, and we tried to spread this about amongst our friends, so that all might not be lost. A friend had insisted on leaving his typewriter with us at the Yuen Ming Yuen Road shop, while he went to Australia. We did not need it or want it, but I suppose our shop had seemed as safe a place as anywhere. Shortly before the war began this typewriter, and our own, were both stolen. We moved another typewriter away from the Avenue Road shop, and kept one old portable typewriter at the house; so the Japanese did not get these. We made a copy of our ledger, and kept it at the house, so that we could keep track of our accounts, in case the shop was seized.
I think it was Saturday morning, about 9:30, early in January, 1943, that three Japanese suddenly arrived at the down-town shop, and announced that they were seizing it. I was alone there, and had with me the copy of the ledger in order to bring it up to date. I was given about five minutes or less to clear out, and was allowed to take nothing except my bicycle, and a little food I kept for my lunch. They took all our keys, closed the shop and departed.
I hurried round on my bicycle to a friend, who also had a book shop, to give warning, so that if possible, at least the account books might be saved; but alas, when I arrived I found the place full of Japanese officials taking it over. I think the two branches of the Bible Society were seized that day, and various other book shops; but our Avenue Road shop was spared; how, or why, we do not know, except a Father's tender care.
Chapter 9:: Internment Camps
I THINK IT WAS IN February that the first group of foreigners, apart from those sent to Haiphong Road or Bridge House, were ordered to report, in the course of a few days, to be interned. Amongst those called up in this group was our friend who had helped John get home. We all turned in and helped him pack and get ready; but it was rather a sad time. Dear Mr. M., of the Scottish Bible Society, was also called up at this time. He and I had taken Hebrew lessons together during the earlier months of the war, while business was so bad. We had an excellent teacher, one of the Jewish Refugees, a Hebrew teacher from Berlin. It was not long until Miss Marsh and Miss Dear had their call to leave. There were various camps, and nobody knew where they might be sent, and whether friends and families would be together. Mr. M. and Mr. X.'s friend had been sent across the river to Pootung. We had accompanied them down to the armories where they had to gather, each carrying his own personal baggage. Mr. X.'s friend was so weighed down that he could not manage, and I had to take one bag, and repack it in Red Cross parcels and send it to him that way. Miss Marsh and Miss Dear were ordered to Yangchow, a city perhaps 200 miles north-west of Shanghai, on the Grand Canal. We heard there were to be three camps in that city, in various mission premises. Each person was ordered to buy, or bring a folding chair, a single bed, and in all not more than four pieces of baggage, besides what they carried. We helped pack up their boxes and beds, hoping that they might be preserved from looting en route. They left from the Cathedral grounds and once again we accompanied them. This time to the launch for the steamer that was taking them to Chinkiang, where they must change into small boats for the canal.
It was during those dark days that our old carpenter came over to say goodbye. He had left us a few months before, tempted away by an offer of big wages; but he was an old man now, and a first class worker, and he could not turn the work out fast enough, and they soon let him go. We could not take him back, with the Internment Camp ahead, and the poor old man was left at loose ends. His wife was a masterful woman who had always ruled the home. He had been the only Christian in it for many years, and she had led him a sorry life. He stayed and talked and told me his troubles. I tried to comfort him by pointing him upwards; and then I accompanied him out to the gate. We both realized it would be the last time we would meet down here, and he had given me loving, faithful service for nearly twenty years. He had been a slave of opium, but the Savior had redeemed him; and as we stood at the gate talking, both unwilling to part, he said to me: "O Mr. Lee, if only the Lord would take me Home now. I have nothing more to live for down here, and I just want to go Home!" How little I expected that within a week, before we even started for camp, "The little Lao Baan", as we always called him, would have his wish granted, and go to the Home he loved. What a change from the Shanghai home, a little old garage with a mud floor, crowded so that there was not an inch of room anywhere. What a change, the song of the Lamb instead of the scolding, cursing, fighting that went on around him all the time. What a change, to be loved and wanted, instead of hated and despised. I sometimes wonder if the poor of China who have had so little down here, may not joy more in the joys of the glory than we who have had so much more. It was Jimmie (you will hear of him later) who came to me, saying, "Mr. Lee, you must not go to the Lao Baan's funeral, and you must not help with the expense; his wife is having an idol funeral." Jimmie was right, and so we had not the opportunity of showing the last marks of love down here: but all will be righted There.
These were hectic days. A Chinese firm was trying to get possession of the premises occupied by our main shop; and promised to arrange to get all our stock packed in cases, and stored in a warehouse until after the war. This sounded very attractive, and day after day was spent trying to get this arranged. At the same time friends who were leaving for Internment Camps would beg for assistance, as it meant breaking up the homes, packing everything one possessed, and trying in desperation to get these things scattered amongst Chinese or neutral friends. In the spare moments from these things, we tried to dismantle our own house. We had not much of value, but the children had gone home and left their possessions behind, and all these had to be sorted and packed. Then we had books, books, books and more books. We valued some of these very much; and they all had to be sorted over. A very earnest Chinese Christian man with whom we had been working on the translation of the New Testament, suggested that books from various Christians be sent to him, and he would make them into a library of Christian books for Christian young men, and these could be returned if desired later on. The British Residents' Association was arranging for books to be collected for libraries for the various camps, and we collected several hundred from the shop and the house for this purpose.
We stored many of the books up under the roof, behind a large brick chimney that ran through one side of this attic space. There was no floor, and only a tiny opening in the ceiling through which one could crawl. From this opening nothing behind the chimney could be seen, so we hoped that these things might be safe. The danger from fire was ever present, and we knew that if bombs fell nearby, the poor old house would probably collapse; but these things could be committed to our Father above, and we knew that "Except the Lord keep the city the watchman waketh but in vain." As there was no floor, we had to build one to hold our things, but we had enough old boards to do this. All our pictures (and we had many), had to be taken down, taken out of their frames, and packed, and the glass and frames packed in the attic. The pictures, and other things, which we specially valued, we packed in several trunks, and sent to a neutral Consulate friend's house; and a few weeks later the Japanese seized the house, and all were lost. We still have the empty frames for those valued pictures! All sorts of odds and ends about the house followed to our "hiding-hole" up under the roof. Many of our books went up there, and I brought most of our paper shells, the records of our publications, from the godown to this same hiding-hole. Many of our zinc and copper blocks for our printing were put away there, until I began to wonder if the poor old house would stand the strain. Our friend, Mr. M. W., who was rather at loose ends, living in the Camp at Columbia Club, often used to come over and give a helping hand. On top of all we laid a pretty, wooden text that John had carved for me: "Able to keep".
We packed case after case of books, hoping that a place for them could be found somewhere. The evenings were usually spent sitting by the grate in our bedroom sorting and burning old records and correspondence. I will never forget those days.
The kindness of our Chinese friends was unspeakable. One evening one of them came over to say farewell. He noticed I had no winter overcoat (mine had been stolen), and immediately he took off his own coat, and insisted I should take it. A day or two later he brought us three foreign-made folding chairs that he had purchased from ships in port. He had made his business buying and selling on board foreign ships. But perhaps the greatest kindness of all that he showed us was an offer to store all our books and other things about which we were in despair. Not only did he offer to arrange for the storage, but he himself came with trucks and coolies, personally saw to the loading, went with them through the streets to the French Concession, getting them past police and guards, and piled everything up in a large empty warehouse, in which a friend of his was interested. He himself insisted on paying all expenses, and the night before we left he brought us over for a gift, a Thousand Japanese Dollars. May the One who does not forget a cup of cold water given in His Name reward this dear man!
One of our former employees who had come to us as a boy just out of school, and of whom I was exceedingly fond, on two occasions brought us quite large sums of money. He now held quite a good post, and these were in return for what he had taken while he was in our employ. I knew he had been in the habit of doing this, and he knew that I knew. Indeed once I had laid a trap for him, and had a very hard time saving him from gaol. It is very sweet to see such "fruits of repentance" and was no little cheer at such a time, but one longs still more for "repentance towards God". One of our last evenings was spent with him and his young wife at a sumptuous Chinese feast, which ended by them supplying cakes for Miss Dear, who was leaving next day for Camp.
We had a great friend, Miss M. L., who with her friend, Miss T., had put the entire Bible into Phonetic Script, for the uneducated. Even an utterly illiterate person who speaks Chinese can learn to read the Bible by this means in a few weeks. These two ladies had prepared it all; they had had the special type made for it; (we had made it in our printing shop); they had raised the funds for printing; they had read all the proofs, and they had been the backbone of spreading the knowledge of Phonetics. Miss T. had tuberculosis of the eyes, and had to remain in a darkened room. Miss L. was such an invalid, that she was really not fit for anything, but to lie all day on a couch. Under most circumstances ladies in their position would have had a couple of nurses to look after them, and would feel they had done well to endure their trials, without accomplishing anything more. These two ladies did more than most able-bodied men, not to speak of their influence that spread far and wide over China.
Miss L. sent for me to ask if I would arrange to store some of her books and pamphlets. I was at that time quite in despair over my own books and pamphlets, but I could not refuse such a friend. I offered to put them in the room being used for our chicken house. I well knew they would bring a guard of angels with them to encamp round about them, so I was not over-anxious: and they lay there safely all through the troubles.
That visit with Miss L. was a great cheer and help to me. Instead of finding her on a couch where she ought to have been, I found her up and hard at work sorting and packing, to be ready to go into Camp. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said to me, "it's an opportunity that the angels must envy. We have been praying for years for the unconverted foreigners in Shanghai, but we never can get a chance to get near them, and now the Lord is shutting them up with us, where they cannot get away. I do hope that I may be sent into Camp.”
This dear soldier of Jesus Christ was the only one I can recall who was just running over with eagerness for the opportunities offered by a Concentration Camp. She worked so hard to be ready to go, that she was too ill to be sent until much later in the war. Before I left she gave me a verse, Ezek. 1:1, to take to camp with me: "As I was among the captives... the Heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God." How many times during the next two and a half years did those words come to my mind, as I gazed at the gray old walls that shut us in, the gates locked and barred, the sentry boxes, the machine-gun emplacements, and the sentries themselves. I could look up, through an opened heaven, and there was not a thing between me and the Lord. Like Paul, we were "prisoners of Jesus Christ"-not of the Japanese. You will understand why I am using part of this verse for the title of this book.
We were sitting at lunch one day about the end of the first week in March, when the telephone rang. I remarked to my wife, "It's our call to go into Camp," and sure enough it was. "Come down and register for the Civil Assembly Center," for they did not call them Internment or Concentration Camps. We had no idea where we might be sent, but had fond hopes that it might be the Camp where Miss Dear had been sent. Our orders were to be ready to leave March 15th. (Another of God's mercies, for most people had not so long a time of warning), and we were to go to Yangchow, the city to which Miss Dear had gone: would we be in the same camp?
Those days were hectic beyond all description, but in the midst of them a heavier blow fell than any we had had so far. In a little junk shop only a few doors from our house there was found a great pile of back numbers of "The Trumpeter" that had been stolen and sold for old paper. Who had done it? It was not hard to trace. Our head man, whom I had kept on when everybody else, but one, had to be let go, the leading brother in the meeting, the one in whose hands I had arranged to leave all the Book Room affairs, the one with whom I had worked so closely for more than ten years, the one who was like a son to me,-he was the one who had done this shameful deed; nor was this all, he had considerably more of some of our most costly stock secreted and ready to sell. It nearly broke my heart. How those words came to my mind, "Mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted." I learned to enter, in a very small measure, as I had never done before, into one of the special sorrows of The Man of Sorrows.
The heavy baggage had to be ready and sent off the day before we were to leave. Every trunk we possessed that was any good had been given to the children when they went home, and now trunks were almost impossible to get. We worked feverishly; I got one old trunk all packed and ready to go; I turned it over to rope it, and the whole bottom fell out. We had no other trunk to take its place, and no money to buy another, nor was there time to send it to be repaired. The only thing to do was to unpack, and turn in and repair it myself: precious moments that should have gone to packing used for this! And then came the beds; we were short of rope, and used up all the odd bits we could find, and then old, worn out electric wire. We had one bed already packed in a bundle with mosquito net poles, a folding canvas chair, etc.; but there were two single iron beds, three folding chairs, a folding table, mattresses and Chinese wadded quilts, etc., etc., etc., all to be packed into one huge bundle. We had old canvas curtains from the verandah in which to wrap it all. It took us till two in the morning to get it all finished; and with a sigh of relief I turned it up on its side ready to leave in the morning. That last turn was too much for it, and chairs and table, bed ends and quilts, all just literally dropped through the bed spring that we had counted on making a solid bottom to our bundle. We felt as if we could sit down and cry. My sister suggested that if we used a Chinese bed-bottom (just a wooden frame with cane or bamboo strips woven across it), that would be much lighter, and we could rest it on two trunks when we got to camp. This seemed a good idea, and as we had one fitted over the top of a bath, to make Hope's bed when she was a child, we used it, and took out one of the steel bed-springs, and two bed-ends of those we had packed. Somewhat after three in the morning we got the new package made up, and thankfully lay down for a little sleep.
A few days before we left, we were able to negotiate an order on Canada for $500, getting about $13,000 of Japanese money in place of it. We left this money with our good friends with whom we had worked so long on the New Testament. They were both good business men. The money was dropping fast at this time, and they used the cash to buy goods of some kind or other, and as money was needed to care for the shop, the house, or the Chinese dependents left behind, our friends kindly sold some goods and provided the needed funds. This was a great comfort to us, as dear Mr. Chung Chan Lai's widow was remaining behind with her children to watch the house. Mr.— was at the other end of the Compound, living upstairs in the warehouse, and so watched it. His wife had a job with the Government Police, and that helped in various ways, even though it meant she was often absent: but some of the children were generally about the place all day long; and actually on the one hand we had very little of any value to the neighbors to steal; and on the other, living in "The Badlands" as we did, with our house off the beaten track, well hidden, on one side by a great bristle factory, on another by a Chinese tannery, on a third by a big rubber shoe factory, and all between by straw huts; the Japanese were not as much attracted to us and our district, as to most other parts of Shanghai. I might remark in passing, it depended which way the wind blew, as to what particular odor we might enjoy from our neighbors.
We had been warned to take into camp everything we could in the way of foodstuffs. With so many thousands of persons all buying quantities of food, especially canned goods, it became almost impossible to procure anything that was of any real use: and the prices were fantastic. For this reason we decided not to try and buy canned goods, but to stick to more foundation foods. Sugar was strictly rationed, but the rationing was carried out on the basis of Municipal Property Tax Receipts. Each Tax Receipt allowed so many pounds of sugar. We held four receipts, covering the four properties on which we paid rent. These gave us a very large ration of sugar, far more than we could use, and we often had the pleasure of supplying friends in need. A day or so before leaving for camp, I called on an old friend in the wholesale grocery trade to see if he could give me some things we needed. He was unable to do so, but remarked: "There is a ration of sugar due today, and you must take up your allowance." I was so busy and tired, I was tempted to let it go, but he insisted, and sent one of his men to guide me to the particular spot where it was that day being given out. I got a large allowance, but had only my bicycle with me. It was not well wrapped, and before I got very far along Peking Road I found I was leaving a little trail of sugar behind me. I expected there would be a riot, but nobody seemed to notice for some unaccountable reason, and I managed to patch it up, and get it safely home. We did this up in several parcels and arranged for a lot of it to be sent to us through the Red Cross. Had it arrived, we would have been well off for sugar. Alas, much of it was stolen en route, or from our trunks after arrival. We also bought several sides of bacon, as we heard we should be allowed to do our own cooking. This was a sad delusion, and I had a great time cooking that bacon over little bonfires out near the incinerator. This however was quickly prohibited. I felt my bacon must be cooked, and decided to risk trying it. We would fry up a whole side at once, putting the hot slices in a tin, and then pouring the fat over them. In this way we could eat them cold whenever we wished. I had just got nicely started, and had some delicious looking slices of bacon ready for the tin when a Japanese guard arrived on the scene. The bacon was smelling perfectly delicious, so I gave him a sweet smile, and asked him if he would like a bit. He could not resist, and I got my side of bacon finished in peace. We also bought shelled peanuts, and as we packed we dropped shelled peanuts into every crack and cranny of our trunks. It made them unusually heavy, for there was no waste space, but it gave us a lot of good food at a very low price. My wife had a good many bottles of jam and canned fruit. We knew how good they would taste in camp, but how were we to get them there? We finally packed them in our daughter-in-law's baby-bath, shelled peanuts all around and between them, and they traveled up well. We also brought several pounds of cheese, and husbanded it with such care that it was very high before it was finished. We were eating in the dining room at that time, and our friends had a good deal to say about our cheese. Then one of them told us a story about a friend in his room. A lady with a boy of about ten years of age lived above them. The lady's room got such a horrid smell that she said to her small boy: "You must take your shoes off and change your socks." He obediently did this, but no improvement. "Put those shoes and socks outside the window. I cannot stand the smell." So the little lad obediently put them out of the window, but the smell kept up. "Go and wash your feet." His feet were washed and still the room smelt as before. Then she discovered that a gentleman in the room below had a piece of cheese that he was cherishing.
The baby-bath that we had brought up to carry the glass fruit jars proved of inestimable value for washing clothes, and it was not often out of use. Friends would speak ahead for the loan of it for days to come. Another of the most useful things we brought was a stone pestle and mortar. The Chinese make these and sell them on the street; they use them for making rice flour or any kind of small grinding. This had been our son Christopher's last present to his mother, and she could not bear to leave it behind, though I could not see how we could pack it. However, it was finally pushed into a great new dunnage bag we had had made, and it arrived safely. I think everybody in camp used to borrow that stone pestle. It was hardly ever at home. Each person, at one time, had an allowance of pepper seeds, unground, from the Red Cross. I suppose nearly all those seeds were ground in that mortar. It would also make peanut butter, and some of the Jews used it for the most delicious confection of ground almonds that they made for certain feast days: and they usually returned some of the confection with the stone.
Our last free Sunday came, and the last time we would have the privilege of remembering the Lord for a long time to come-how long? We had no idea. I think our friends felt it even more keenly than we ourselves. They gathered that night with us for supper. Mlle. J., our Swiss friend, had come down from Nanking especially to say goodbye. Miss Y., a young Chinese lady, who had been a good and true friend, and her brother T. were there, and several of the Chinese students who had lived next us, came for a last farewell. Mlle. B., a dear old French Christian lady was there, and our friend from the Japanese Navy. It was a strange company, but all drawn together by the bonds of love, and nearly all united into that one body where there is neither Jew nor Greek, but where we are all one in Christ Jesus.
Chapter 10:: We Leave for Camp
ONE OF OUR FORMER EMPLOYEES, a Christian man who used to be in the printing shop, was now riding a bicycle to pull a "pedi-cab". A pedi-cab is a ricksha, generally made wide enough for two persons to sit side-by-side, and pulled by a man on a bicycle. These were not used in Shanghai until the war, but after the buses were taken off the streets, and traffic became almost impossible, these pedi-cabs sprang up like mushrooms, and they earned good money, but it was very hard work. So as this brother was pulling a pedi-cab we arranged with him to be at the house in the early morning of March 15th, and to bring another cab with him. There was no danger of him failing us; he was not that kind. We were up early, trying to get the last things stowed away, for we fully expected that anything that might be left would be looted. But long before we had finished this bit of work, our Chinese friends arrived from all quarters to bid us farewell. They had delicious refreshments for us, but these seemed to choke us, and after very real and earnest prayer, we packed ourselves into the pedi-cabs and started for the Cathedral grounds, where we had been ordered to assemble. We had as much hand-baggage as we could possibly carry, for it was only the hand-baggage that had any certainty of arriving: very much of the heavy baggage was looted on the way to the Camp. We met others coming from all directions in every kind of conveyance. Each of us was tagged, and of course we all wore red arm-bands with a big "B" on it, although there were three of our number with an "A",-American wives of British husbands. The tag had a Chinese character on it, "Ing" for "English", if British, and "Mei" if American; and a number by which hereafter we would be known.
We were supposed to give up the keys of our house at the Cathedral gate, but I forgot mine, and I hope have it still. Our dear brother who brought us down saw us as far as the gate, and helped us with our baggage, but indignantly refused to accept a cent for the service he had so graciously rendered. The One who does not forget a cup of cold water given in His Name, will not forget that loving act.
It was cold, and people's nerves were on edge. One old friend of mine, Lady —, was weeping. I had known her in the days when she was very wealthy, and now she had lost everything. A present of even an egg had been thankfully accepted in the months previous to this day. Yes, she had been very wealthy in this world's goods, but had no treasure in Heaven, where thieves do not break through and steal. Some ladies had thoughtfully provided hot coffee for us, and how thankfully we received it, while waiting for the word to start.
A number of old friends came to the fence (they were not allowed in the grounds) for a last farewell. Mr. C.'s brother was there with a gift of $100, an odor of a very sweet smell, a sacrifice especially acceptable, and peculiarly well-pleasing to God; for I think it was the first public confession he had made as to whose side he was on: and it was exceedingly refreshing to our hearts. He was in Heaven when we returned. We had arrived early, and I slipped in to say goodbye to our dear friend in the Japanese Navy, as his rooms were quite close by.
We were all divided into groups, according to the numbers on our tags; this did instead of a name from this time forward. In time came the order to start; and I wish you could have seen us. Quite a few had brought Chinese bamboo carrying poles, and had their baggage swing at each end, the way the coolies do. In other cases where there were two able-bodied persons in a family, the pole was carried between them, and a great load swung from it: bedding, suitcases, rubber-boots, water-pails, and everything you can imagine. The head of a large firm of Chartered Accountants in Shanghai, had bought a child's "pram" and loaded it up with their belongings, and wheeled it along in comfort. He afterward sold it in the Camp to the father of one of the few babies to arrive there. Being a Canadian, I carried my load in true Canadian style, with a tump line round my forehead, made up from the strap of a nice little canvas dunnage bag which our good Canadian friend, M. W., had given me just before he had to leave for Camp.
We marched down Kiukiang Road, thickly lined with sympathizing friends and Chinese who had the courage to show their sympathy. Some even stepped out into the road to help the aged and infirm, or the ladies, with loads which were far too heavy for them, and which they never should have had to carry. An angry Japanese sentry would drive such an one back, but two more would dash in and take his place.
So we reached The Bund, and the friendly crowds could come no further; each of us had to bear his own burden, and stumble along as best he could. The tender was tied up at The Customs Jetty, and we made our way onboard, waiting for it to take us out to a ship lying at anchor in the river. The Japanese arranged we should go to Camp in this particular way in order to humiliate us before the Chinese; but the effect was quite different to what they had expected.
We had a lunch-basket with several thermos bottles in it, a large and perfectly delicious cake from dear Mrs. L., a beloved Chinese widow; there was a big tin of biscuits from Mrs. N., wife of our landlord when first we came to Shanghai. That tin afterward became a most valued water-pail. And besides, there was bread, and those other things we used to think necessary to make up a lunch. In addition there were two tiny plants, in the smallest of pots. The cat had broken them off in the sunroom, one a red geranium and the other a scented geranium. The rest of the plants my wife had taken to an old Chinese man who kept a greenhouse, and was a special friend of our children.
We got safely on the tender with our baggage stowed away, when a fellow-traveler climbed on the rail, and feeling herself very clever, took a flying leap and landed with both feet in our lunch-basket. She made a witty remark about it as she climbed out, and we found that through the Lord's goodness she had only broken one of our thermos flasks. We were deeply thankful, as they were almost a necessity, and refills soon cost $1,200 each.
We reached the ship without further mishap, and were herded onboard. Most of us slept on sort of shelves which completely filled the stern, like ordinary third class Chinese accommodation; but some of the older ladies were given real berths. On account of her age, my wife was offered one of these, but decided to stick close by me.
We had not been onboard long when we were ordered to surrender our passports. This was a bitter blow, but we had no choice. We had been advised to bring as much money as possible with us, in order to purchase supplies at the "Camp Canteen" which the Japanese authorities were going to provide. Many, in their innocence, had done as they were advised. Mercifully we had not much money to bring. When the passports had been gathered in, the next step was to report exactly how much money we each had in our possession. We realized then what the next step would be, but there was no help for it. So we were prepared for the blow when the Japanese took all our money, giving us a credit at the Canteen instead.
We arrived onboard about noon, but it was almost evening before we weighed anchor and started for the Yangtze River, and thence up to Chinkiang, where the Grand Canal crosses it. It was a treat to be on the river again. My wife had had some five years shut up in Shanghai, and though I had had the trip to Kunming and back, still the strain of the last two or three years had been very great, and to turn away from it even in such a manner as this, brought a measure of relief, I think, to each of the three of us.
We reached Chinkiang next morning, and about ten o'clock we transferred the baggage to barges that were ready to start up the Grand Canal. It was perhaps noon when we started. The weather was lovely, and I think most of us enjoyed the trip. It was late afternoon when we reached Yangchow, and then we were all lined up, two and two, with as much baggage as we could conveniently carry (a much more merciful arrangement than at Shanghai), and marched under guard through the narrow Chinese streets to the grounds of the American Church Mission. On the way my sister managed to slip a letter addressed to Tien Chei in Chinese characters, to a shop keeper, with a dollar bill as an inducement to post it. This he did, and Tien Chei had the satisfaction of knowing we had arrived safely. We did not know then that this would be the last time we would walk those streets for two and a half years.
The balance of the baggage was brought in by Chinese wheelbarrows, while we were collected (some 200 of us) in front of the verandah of "Government House", and the Camp Commandant gave us a long address in Japanese, which was intended to impress us very much. Before he began he announced that there should be no smoking while this ceremony proceeded. Alas, he had not gone far when he spied a little thread of smoke arising in one of the back rows. His face looked like a thunder cloud, and in ominous tones he commanded that the culprit should be brought forward. It turned out to be a miserable, scared girl. We wondered if she was to be shot or beheaded on the spot, but after a terrible warning that in future there must be implicit obedience to every command of the Camp Commandant, the young lady returned to her place a sadder and a wiser girl.
When the speech was finally ended a summary of it in English was read to us. We were told that the Japanese had brought us here to protect us, and that now it was our "happy home" and we had better not try and leave it, as the guards had orders to shoot to kill anybody who might make such an effort.
Then everyone was compelled to sign a paper saying he would not complain about anything. It was quietly pointed out as we signed that a signature made under compulsion was not valid; and I rather fear that the signatures recorded that day did not hinder most people expressing their minds as to conditions in the camp when they felt like doing so.
Two days before, the first consignment of people for this camp had arrived, also a group of about 200. They knew we were coming, and most kindly had saved enough boiling water from their own slender allowance to give us each a cup of tea. How welcome that was!
We saw, piled in the middle of a small field in front of the houses, a mountain of great packages, enormous bundles of beds and bedding, and huge boxes. This was our "Heavy Baggage" that had come on ahead of us, and later we had the joy of trying to find our own belongings in this bewildering mass. There was also a great room, which had been the gymnasium of the school, which was filled with the trunks.
The speech being over, we had a long wait, and then queued up for room allotments. Our room was a long, dark north room with one window looking out on a rather dark court. We inwardly groaned at the prospect: but tried to face it cheerfully. We had just got our lighter baggage stowed away here, when a message came from the billeting table to report there immediately. We were told we had been moved to another room. Would it be better or worse? How thankfully we found it better, much better! It was a corner room facing South and East, and had three windows. It was not a large room, but eight of us were crowded into it; four families; each of us had a corner. However, we thankfully began getting our baggage collected, and soon started to try and transform our corner into something like a little "home". As you can guess, in a company where the large proportion were women and children, our efforts were often interrupted with requests to carry somebody's trunks up or downstairs, or help undo some great bundle of beds; but in the course of a few days things really began to take shape. No nails were allowed in the walls, which made it much more difficult; however, we got ropes stretched across the room, and some improvised curtains put up, that gave a suspicion of privacy.
Our trunks were piled in the passageway downstairs, for there was absolutely no room for them where we were; and the first night my sister's trunk was pretty thoroughly looted, and a good many of her much needed clothes taken, together with a good share of our precious supplies. But some people lost very much more than we did, and it was a case of "Take joyfully the spoiling of your goods.”
The light and air of this room made it one of the pleasantest in Camp, even in spite of the crowded conditions. Our companions were really a most interesting collection. Next to us was a man of the sea, a Captain I think, and his charming wife. On our other side was a Jewish man and wife; he was rather a well-known business man in Shanghai, owner of a flourishing shop on Nanking Road. He was nearer seventy than sixty, pleasant and very easy to get on with, but he had a somewhat eccentric wife who had turned Christian (and I believe she was a true Christian; I had known her a long time in Shanghai). She was one who was calculated to teach her husband and her friends much patience. The other man in our room was a very gifted missionary, almost blind, "modern" in his beliefs, with a charming little wife who was a true Christian. The room was, I suppose, fifteen, or possibly sixteen, feet square, so you can guess (or, probably you can not guess), what a problem it was to fit in.
The first night I suggested that as we were all companions in distress, I had no doubt they would be glad if I were to read my evening chapter aloud, and proceeded to do so. I am afraid this so terribly frightened our seafaring neighbor, that he took no chance of such a thing happening again, and next day got moved to other quarters. But we became, and remained, good friends all the time we were in Camp.
My sister had been sent to live in the "Ladies' Dormitory". This was a huge upstairs room with more than sixty ladies of every kind and age and description. It was quite impossible for her to have a moment of quiet for reading or study or prayer, and the outlook for a long stretch of life under such conditions was dark enough. To add to her troubles, when we got her bed unpacked, we found we had brought the wrong bed-ends for her spring, and it would not fit together. There was nothing for it, but to try and tie it up with rope, but even so, and after being fitted with quite orthodox "sway-bracing", it still swayed in a most alarming fashion whenever she ventured to make use of it.
Two days after we arrived, the final group, another two hundred, arrived in the pouring rain, on a cold miserable day. Wet to the skin, they straggled in loaded down with their hand baggage, which was, like themselves, soaked with a long journey and no proper protection. They were herded into the old school chapel, which now served as a dining room, and they went through, in their wet clothes, what we had endured in the sunshine.
Chapter 11:: Life in Camp
HOWEVER, LIFE BEGAN to settle down. We were supposed to manage our own "internal affairs". The head of the Camp had been selected for us by the British Residents' Association in Shanghai; and a most excellent choice they made. Mr. Grant was a man far from young. He had been in command of important positions in the business and shipping world in Shanghai, and was accustomed to command. He was very capable, courageous and always courteous and cheerful. As far as I could judge there was no other man in the Camp capable of doing what he did for two years and seven months, and doing it always with a smile.
Mr. Grant was Chairman of a Camp Committee of eight members, which really managed the affairs of the Camp; and incidentally provided endless amusement to everybody, as they criticized its doings, held a "general election" every three months, and so expressed their praise or blame of what was done. The Camp was divided into "Sections" with "Section Leaders", who were responsible for those in their section, and so we were in a way made responsible for the conduct of the Camp. We had to parade every morning after breakfast, and this could be made a rather trying ordeal. It was a very common thing for one or another to be carried off the parade ground fainting. The various "Leaders" had to take roll call of their particular group at night, in their rooms.
In the early days of Camp life it fell to my lot to take roll call each evening in our part of the Camp, and this gave me an opportunity to get to know our neighbors. One who specially attracted my attention was a young widow with her only child, a lovely boy, of perhaps twelve or thirteen. He wore the Cathedral School colors, and so I supposed he belonged to the Anglican Church. He was not very strong, and on one or two occasions was kept in bed with some ailment or other. His mother was very busy in the Camp kitchen, so the child was left alone. I used, at times to go in and read "Martinko" aloud to him. I expect you know the book, but if not you should read it. It is a sweet story of a little herd boy in Central Europe, who found the Savior. We had not been in Camp many months when this dear child was again taken ill, and died very suddenly. He and his mother proved to be Roman Catholics, and the old priest held a special service after his death, in which he quoted the boy's last words, which proved to be a bright and ringing testimony to his faith in Christ as his Savior. This was the first death in our midst, and was peculiarly sad: it reminded us of the keen sympathy of our Savior, as the Spirit of God records especially of such a case, he was "the only begotten son of his mother, and she was a widow." (Luke 7:12).
A tiny field, closed in by four high brick walls, with a locked door to it, was transformed into a little cemetery, and as the months wore on, grave after grave appeared there. With the exception of the last grave, of which I must speak later, I suppose none was more sad than this, the first one; and it left behind a desolate and broken-hearted young mother, who never again in Camp had heart or strength to take up its duties and cares.
But I have wandered far from my description of those early days of Camp life.
Innumerable Committees and Sub-committees were formed to manage every conceivable thing, until it was a wonder we got anything accomplished at all. Everybody was given a slip of paper with a series of questions as to one's education, training, experience, etc., and from these we were appointed to various jobs about the Camp. To my sister fell the lot of teaching in the Girls' School. This suited her well, as she was qualified for the work, and accustomed to it. The Headmistress of the school, Miss Penfold, was a charming and capable young lady from the Cathedral Girls' School in Shanghai, who was with her old parents in the Camp. The school was well managed, and had an excellent and very congenial staff of teachers. Miss Penfold's older sister was Headmistress of another Girls' School in another camp at Shanghai.
To my wife fell the lot of peeling and preparing vegetables three times a week, for the morning. It was a very trying and tiring job for one who was not young, and had not the strength for standing so long, and being deaf made it still more difficult; but many showed her kindness and would hunt a box or stool for her, so that I think she still has no unpleasant memories of those long mornings in the dreary, dingy Camp kitchen. My work was pouring tea and water for the morning breakfast queue. My co-worker on this job was an ex-policeman from the Shanghai Police Force. When turned out of that job by the Japanese he had got work with an undertaking firm, and so kept soul and body together. He was a splendid worker; not a lazy bone in his body, and we count both himself, and his fine American wife, as two good friends: and indeed since coming out of Camp he has given full proof of the reality of this friendship. We each stood behind a table, and boys brought us kettles of boiling water or "tea" (the campers claimed it was made of willow leaves), from the kitchen, and with a kettle in each hand, we would fill the thermos flasks, teapots or whatever receptacle the people might bring. They lined up in a long queue, sometimes a very long queue, and then the water would fail, and people's patience would give out. Of course it was a bit trying to have to stand for an hour, or an hour and a half, in order to get a pint of boiled water,— I dare not write "boiling", by the time it reached the public. And you must remember, nobody dared drink a drop of water unless it was boiled.
The water was heated in six or eight large Chinese iron pots. These pots are made of cast iron, very thin, and look as if they had been sliced off a great hollow iron globe. Some of the larger ones might have been two and a half, or even three feet in diameter. These were built over brick stoves, which were connected with brick flues to a chimney. The chimney at first was not nearly high enough, and it was impossible to get the stoves to draw. The stokers would have a wild time trying to get these great pots of water to boil. You would see them down on their knees amongst the ashes, fanning the fires with all their might: but it was a rather heartbreaking business, both for the queue and for the workers. Many an hour have I spent on my knees trying to help with those miserable stoves, and glad to be away from the comments and jibes of the long, impatient queue at the water tables. By the end of our Internment, two or three very ingenious engineers amongst our own people had worked out a much more satisfactory solution of this vexed problem of hot water.
But there was another duty besides this: I had to stand by the people who served the meals and see that no extra-hungry person slipped in and got a second helping. We were allowed by the Japanese six rather small and rather thin slices of dry bread a day, and twice a day a ladle of "stew"—"S.O.S." it was familiarly called, "Same Old Stew". As I look back, it seems strange that anyone should have been needed to hinder a person wanting a second helping of that stew, but of course some days it was worse than others, and on the days when it was not as bad as usual, and when one was always hungry, there was undoubtedly an urge for even a second helping. It was meant to be pork stew, but if anyone got a piece of pork as large as the end of his thumb, he did well. And several days a week were meatless, with only vegetable stew, and that was even worse than the other. But I have to confess that in all the months I had that particularly nasty job, I never caught anybody making the effort. But the Committee could hardly have chosen a worse man for the task, as I loathe being a detective, and find it almost impossible to remember faces. So it is quite possible that many a hungry lad had an extra portion without being reported. My job did not include the bread, where a very efficient lady was in charge. I recall overhearing one boy remark to another, "I snitched a whole loaf, and she never saw me." So it is more than likely somebody "snitched" a ladle or two of "S.O.S." and nobody saw him either.
During the first part of the internment the bread was cut in slices, and two slices each were served three times a day. Towards the end a small loaf of bread a day was served to each person, and the cutting was avoided. Cutting the twelve hundred slices for breakfast was another of my jobs, and meant an early start, but the early morning, before the Camp got up, was the only time when one had a chance for a little quiet. For the first year, or year and a half, the Japanese kept a rather strong electric light burning all night on a small verandah off the kitchen. This was about the only place in the early morning one could get light enough for a read, and many a morning have I had a delightful time, perched on an old table under that light.
For some time we had quite a stock of cracked wheat with us, supplied originally by the American Red Cross for the Chinese; but they did not care for it (so the story went), and so it was given to us. Even before coming into Camp we had been able to buy a few pounds a month for each person at a very low rate. For quite a time this cracked wheat was used to give us each a little portion of something hot for breakfast. There was, of course, neither milk nor sugar to eat with it, unless one had it privately; and I fancy very few had such luxuries to spare for their "morning cereal". The wheat was rather old, and full of "livestock", which we skimmed off the top of the great cauldron in which it was cooked. But nobody minded that. We also were given a small bowl of rice each day by the Japanese. Each person had a granite bowl or plate, and three times a day we lined up with these to get our portion of food, and twice a day we lined up again for some water. Of course, one person could get the ration for a family; so we had an arrangement whereby I collected the food, and my sister washed up. This was a peculiarly disgusting job. Buckets of water, that once were clean, and sometimes had been hot, stood on the ledge of the verandah where I used to read. Here again a queue would form, and the six hundred plates and bowls of the camp would go through these buckets, and were called "washed".
But these queues were really not as bad as they sound. It was here you met your friends, and it was here you got the news of the day. It was here you heard the deadly secret news of "The Bamboo Wireless", news of the outside world that found its way in by one means or another; news that generally nobody believed, but often we hoped it might be true. The Japanese provided English newspapers for us, printed by themselves, and with these they kept us well supplied with all the bad news you can imagine. Many campers were hopelessly depressed, as they read of constant Japanese victories, and the continual sinking of the whole allied navy. But even these newspapers were a help, for we had two or three people in camp who read these papers with the minutest care, making notes of names and places captured or bombed. There were two or three good maps in camp, and with the help of these, day by day a certain amount of real news was pieced together. But we were never quite sure how correct our guesses might be.
I left us enjoying the luxury of a light, airy room, crowded it is true, but not unbearable. We managed to swing shelves from our ropes, and got quite comfortably settled down, when one afternoon we received word from the Billeting Committee that we were to move immediately to another room in another building. The Chairman of the Committee enlarged on the excellencies of the new room, and the very select neighbors we would have, all of which made me rather suspicious. However, in an Internment Camp it is best to meekly do what you are told, as far as in you lies. I bargained, however, that my sister should have a place in the new room, and rather unwillingly this was granted. So we quickly gathered our possessions together, dismantled our shelves; and, to the grief of our neighbors took down our ropes, and moved over to the new room.
The room was about ten feet, or ten feet six inches wide, and a little over twenty feet long. It had a door in the center of the north end, and one window in the center of the south end, and one very small electric light in the middle of the room. The window looked out on a court, which was chiefly occupied with the lavatories of the men's and women's dormitories. But mercifully over the roof of these we could see a juniper tree, and beyond that a bit of the playing field, and some trees beyond.
My sister moved in also, and we being first comers, took the front part of the room, near the window. We quite realized we would not be alone in such a spacious room, and that we would almost surely have to give up half the front portion of it, so we did not settle in too securely. But even with this, the question that made us most anxious was, who were the new neighbors to be? There was every conceivable variety in our camp, and some.... Well, perhaps you can guess our thoughts.
Our new neighbors arrived next day. To our relief we found they were Mr. and Mrs. W. Mr. W. was an old friend, having come to China as a missionary some fifty years before. Later he had left missionary work, and joined the Post Office, and many an interesting story he had to tell of those early days, and his travels as Postal Inspector. Later he joined the Shanghai Municipal Council, but for some years had been retired on a pension, and had been acting as secretary of the Cathedral. Mrs. W. was Portuguese. We lived together for about two and a half years, and I believe I can truthfully say it would have been hard to find more congenial roommates.
The move we had dreaded from the window never took place, for our new neighbors mercifully disliked fresh air and sunshine as much as we loved them; and so they thankfully settled into the dark end of the room and put up a good substantial curtain all around their part, which kept out what they called "drafts" (but we called "fresh air"), and gave us a measure of privacy. It would have been hard to find tastes that were more suited to each other than theirs and ours. The window was in two leaves, on hinges. As the weather began to grow cooler, Mr. W. would remark, "As there are two parts to the window, we have a right to one of them, and we want our part shut. You can do what you like with your part." That was fair enough and suited us well, and our part generally stayed open.
That window became quite a landmark in the camp, for the tiny slip of red geranium in the wee pot grew until it filled the largest pot that could be found, and at one time had as many as six large blooms on it. My wife tended it like a dear child, and it responded marvelously. Mr. W. was a great gardener himself, and old Dr. Kew of the British Nurseries, the most famous in Shanghai, was also in camp. They would hold consultations together as to how it was best to treat it, and it certainly did them credit. It nearly always had some bloom, and many came to look at it. It was the only geranium in camp, I think; and somehow a red geranium always makes one think of "home".
I almost wish you could have seen our new room. We had two long shelves at each side of the window that took our dishes and odds and ends, and we had a little folding bookcase with three shelves that my brother Somerville had given me when I was a boy, hung at one side of the wall. Near it was another we had manufactured from a board we had brought with us, also with three shelves, all full of books, and we had photographs on the walls, and a few pictures, including "Little Miss Mischief", a sweet child whose likeness has always hung in our living room. Our table stood under the window, and with the plants on the window sill, it had quite a touch of home.
The bugs were great enemies. In some rooms it was terrible, and even in our own room it was one long fight. Our friends in the other end of the room were old, and found it a great labor to take their beds and bedding out to be sunned on a fine day, the way most did. The big curtains round their beds were also very rarely sunned or washed, and all this induced the bugs to take up residence with them. They went to bed very early, before seven, and then began a hunt through their mosquito net. We would hear the result: "That was a big one!" "I missed this one," and so forth. They had their net anchored to ours with a cord, and the bugs used that cord as a bridge to come to our net, so every morning we had also to have a hunt. But I am thankful to say they never got into our beds or bedding, and never were really bad in our part of the room. Rats and mice also abounded, and it was incredible the way they would make their way into trunks or suitcases.
Although we had about six hundred in our camp, we had very few able-bodied men. We had a great many old people. Mr. M. of the Scottish Bible Society was, I think, about eighty, and a number of others were not far behind. Then we had a large number of children. I think the Girls' and Boys' Schools together had well over a hundred children. We also had many single women; and last, but not least, we had quite a number who were not in love with labor. One of these remarked, when pressed by a hard-worker, to try and do more towards his share: "I admit I don't do any work if I can help it. But suppose I was to do half your work for you, what would be the result? You love work and you would immediately find some other work to occupy your time, so you would be no further ahead; and I who hate work would be miserable." The result of it all was that by far the heaviest end of the work fell to a comparatively few who were willing to do it; but this was, I believe, a mistake, and being underfed and overworked, some of the best in the camp, have found it hard, or impossible, to "come back" now that they are set free.
Chapter 12:: The Camp Itself
BEFORE GOING FURTHER with the story of "Camp Life", perhaps I should turn aside and try and give you some description of the camp itself. Yangchow, where it was located, is a large city, situated on the west bank of the Grand Canal, perhaps fifteen miles north of the mighty Yangtze River. In the days before the war, there was a motor-bus service from Yangchow to the north side of the Yangtze, opposite the city of Chinkiang, where (you may recall) the Grand Canal crosses that river. Yangchow is a very old city, and at one time many centuries ago, there probably was some knowledge of the Gospel in it. It is said there were three Nestorian churches in this city: perhaps seven hundred years ago. Later, Marco Polo was governor there. It is a typical old Chinese city, with narrow streets, and old-fashioned Chinese shops; as well as many that are up-to-date. In recent years the Gospel was first brought to this city by the China Inland Mission at very great cost, amidst bitter opposition: but the Gospel has triumphed, and there are today several missions in it that have done excellent work, and many true believers in Christ. For a long time the China Inland Mission had its Ladies' Training Home in Yangchow, as well as other work more definitely amongst the Chinese. The Baptist mission has also had a good work in the city, and the Baptist missionaries from Yangchow in former days were amongst our best customers and our dearest friends. The American Church Mission was largely engaged in educational work, and had large schools for both young men and women. Dr. and Mrs. Ancell, who had built up this work for the mission were, I believe, true and earnest Christians; so that there are few cities in China that have been more blessed with a clear witness for the great truths of Christianity.
The Japanese seized practically all mission property in the "Occupied Area" and used it for barracks, internment camps, or for other purposes as they pleased. There was one lady, a member of the China Inland Mission, of Estonian nationality (I think), and so a neutral. She bravely stayed on alone, helping the Chinese Christians as she was able. The Japanese seized the premises where she lived, and she was forced to share a poor and tiny Chinese house with a Chinese Christian family; but her faith and courage never flagged, and the moment she was free to do so, after the Japanese surrender, she came to visit us in the Camp and to cheer our hearts.
The word "Compound" in the east comprises any given property with all the various buildings on it. There were three internment camps in Yangchow, called "Civil Assembly Center 'A'," or "C.A.C. 'A'" for short, "C.A.C. 'B'", and "C.A.C. 'C'". We were "C.A.C. 'C'". Miss Dear, we found to our grief, was in "C.A.C. `A'", and we never saw her, although for many months she was interned in the same city. Our friend, Mr. M. W. was also in this camp, but he went home on the second repatriation ship. That camp was housed in one of the China Inland Mission compounds. Camp "B" was in the Baptist Compound, and we, "Camp "C", were in the American Church Mission Boys' School Compound. This was, I think, the largest compound in the city. Camps "A" and "B" each had about three hundred persons, while we had six hundred, and another fifty Belgians from Tientsin, were later sent to us.
I have tried to draw a little plan of the place from memory. Had it ever crossed my mind that it might be of use, I could have brought out with me an accurate scale plan of the greater part of it. But this will give an idea of what it was like. There were two gates, the front one was at the east side as shown. This was large and impressive. It was formed by two immense black doors, under a very fine covered gateway, with quite an imposing entrance on the street side. It was almost always kept locked with an immense padlock, and inside a sentry box stood by. The newspaper board hung in the shelter of this gateway in later days, so when the papers came in, there was always a crowd here.
There was another, much less pretentious gate, at the southwest corner of the compound. That corner was more or less out of bounds to the campers, and was the special portion of the Japanese guards and officials. The church was comparatively new, and rather a fine building. The vestry was used as the Japanese Commandant's office; the chancel was the camp office, the front part of the main portion was the Boys' School, and the remainder was divided up into living quarters, with Chinese mats, or curtains, making little rooms for families. It took many months of bickering and changes before it was finally worked out as described; and this is true of almost everything I may try and tell. We would try one thing, and it would not work, or somebody would not fit in, and then something else would be tried, until we finally seemed to get a bit settled down.
The Japanese kept one good, two-storied residence for their own use. The hospital occupied what was, I suppose, the largest and best of the separate residences. Some of the staff lived here, and there was a good sized men's ward downstairs, with a number of rooms for ladies upstairs, and an X-ray room in the attic with living-quarters for the man in charge, and his family. The dentist had an office on the ground floor, also the dispensary; and behind the main building was the clinic and doctor's office. We had one lady and three men doctors, and great credit was due them for the comparatively good health of the camp. I think we all marveled at Dr. Gillison's operations, amidst the most primitive surroundings, and I do not think he had one that was not a success. We had a good nursing staff, and a number of our best girls helped about the hospital. During the latter part of our internment, the hospital had its own private kitchen, with special stokers and cooks.
Next to the Hospital came "Government House", where Mr. Grant lived with Mr. B., the Camp Secretary. Mr. B. later retired and Mr. Parry took up that office. A number of others, who were generally considered very fortunate, occupied the rest of the house, though in reality there was not much to choose between the various buildings and rooms, as we were all crowded; and most grew very weary of the sight of those who were so closely pressed upon them. Someone composed a song while in camp: I think every line began with "No longer..." I recall one line: "No longer to share a room with YOU!" (great emphasis on the YOU). And that is, I am afraid, rather the way we all felt. There was one corridor on which a number of small rooms opened, in each of which was housed one family alone. The occupants of these were so well pleased with themselves, that this corridor was familiarly known to the rest of the camp, as "Smug Alley".
Then in one huge block, made up it is true by several buildings, were the rest of us. The building marked "X" was a three-story building. The rest of the living quarters were in two-story buildings. The dining room was the old school chapel, a rather fine room, one story, with no ceiling. There was a large Gothic window in the back, quite high from the floor, and double doors in the front opposite it. A serving window had been cut through a side wall at the far end, into the pantry, through which food and water were passed as they came from the kitchen. The kitchen, pantry, storeroom, hot-water shop were all single-story buildings, some small and poor. An old gray brick wall, perhaps nine or ten feet high, ran all around the Compound, and shut us in, and sometimes made us feel very much "shut in".
There were four "ordained" men in camp, selected, I presume, by the British Residents' Association in Shanghai, to whom was entrusted the entire charge of Protestant religious affairs. Besides these, three of the doctors were missionaries, and most, if not all, of the nurses. A number of the teachers of the Girls' School were also missionaries. The headmaster of the Boys' School was one of the ordained men just mentioned, and another was the English and History teacher.
There were many Roman Catholics in the camp, but at first there was no Roman Catholic priest. An Irish Roman Catholic carpenter acted somewhat as leader of the Roman Catholics until a priest arrived. This priest was a man past middle age, and was at first very zealous in seeking converts. He had not been in camp long when he was sent a helper. This was a young man, born in Ireland, but brought up and educated in the United States. He was tall and dark and, although slight, was well built. He was a Jesuit, and tremendously keen about everything he did. He was a fine softball player, and put all his energy into a game, as indeed he did into everything he touched. Many a morning as I have been cutting the bread for breakfast, have I listened to him speaking to his flock. I do not think I will ever forget one morning in particular. I forget what the occasion happened to be, but the dear man himself I hope I may never forget, nor his words. Tall, and dark, and gaunt, he stood before a crowded congregation, who listened breathlessly: his great arms were stretched out towards them, the tears were running down his cheeks: you could hardly call it preaching! I think he had forgotten where he was: his words came in snatches, as they seemed to be forced out of his very heart. He told of the sufferings and the death of Christ the Savior: he told the story as only one could who loved Him; and every now and then he would stop, and lean towards the people, and almost with a cry, he would say: "And it was all for you! It was all because He loves you so!" Rarely have I ever enjoyed any human words so much. That afternoon I met him walking in the grounds, his head bent, looking sad and discouraged. I took his hand, and said: "If nobody else enjoyed your sermon this morning, I can tell you of one: it did me good." He wrung my hand, and putting his left hand on his heart, he said: "It's all in there, but this mouth of mine just can't tell it out; and those people, it's nothing to them, they just don't care." He was a dear and beloved brother in Christ, and I believe he honored the Word of God, and loved the Savior. Many a walk and talk have we had together, but he would not dare to say he knew his sins forgiven, or that he had eternal life: but if, in desperation, I asked him if he knew the Savior loved him, his whole face would light up, and he would reply, "Yes, indeed, I know that, and I know I love Him.”
But there was another side that I saw with sorrow. Not only were the poor people taught the impossibility of ever knowing their sins forgiven through the work that Christ did for them on the cross, but they were also taught to worship and pray to a woman, a helpless created being like ourselves. This is idolatry, and the Bible says again and again of man-worship, "See thou do it not." The long queue for confession to a man made one's heart ache, knowing that they were going to the wrong priest, while the Great High Priest on high waited in vain for them to come to Him.
“One Priest alone can pardon thee,
Or bid thee go in peace,
Can breathe those words `Absolvo te',
Or make those heart-throbs cease.”
and that Priest may be known by the wounds in His hands. The mass, too, I have watched. "An unbloody sacrifice," but "without shedding of blood there is no remission." Oh, my beloved Roman Catholic friends, go to the Word of God yourselves. God has given it to you, and you will be held responsible for how you have used this mighty gift. No man, no matter who he may be, has the right to turn you from that most precious Book. Go and learn for yourself what God has to say about these matters, and may you find, as millions before you have found, the Peace, the Rest, the Joy that comes from eternal forgiveness; no more conscience of sin, and the certain knowledge of eternal life. These things are clearly taught in the Bible. Read it for yourself. And remember that same Word says: "Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partaker of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues" (Rev, 18:4). But "Father" James, as he used to call himself to me, was one of my best friends in camp.
There were two services each Sunday in the Protestant church, taken in turn, or shared, by the four men previously mentioned. Three of them took the title of "Reverend", and the fourth had a different title. We were, for the most, strangers to each other.
In view of the abnormal circumstances in which we found ourselves, we began to attend the services in the church. To us they were profoundly disappointing. Some were moral addresses, exhorting the hearers to keep the law, or to do as they would be done by. Plenty of "Good Advice", but no "Good News". Other addresses were more marked by eloquence, but utterly devoid of anything that would point a sinner to Christ, or stir the heart of one who loved Him. Very occasionally by a certain one of the four, the simple Gospel was preached, and hearts were warmed by listening to one who himself knew what it was to be lost and to be found: but he rarely spoke, and when he did his addresses were often more for believers than for the unsaved. As a general rule the sermons took for granted that all who heard were true Christians, although this was far from being the case, and thus people were lulled to sleep with a false sense of security. How one longed to hear a fearless, solemn, faithful warning to the lost, of SIN and its penalty: and what it meant to go on without Christ. How one longed to hear a clear, ringing message of salvation through the death of Christ alone, and of a full and glorious pardon for the most guilty, through His most precious blood! The beautiful types of the Old Testament were denied and ridiculed.
A choir was organized to lead the singing. The only requirement for joining was a willingness to study music. It never seemed to cross the minds of any, except one, that the Lord might refuse to accept praises from those who openly denied Him through the week; or that Christian Science, denying the Deity of Christ, disqualified its followers for such exalted service.
Week by week we heard it said: "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." But never, as far as I am aware (with the one exception mentioned), did any ever tell the hearers how they might have their sins forgiven. Never did the speaker bear testimony that his own sins were forgiven, and before the camp closed it was openly taught that anyone was blaspheming who claimed the certain knowledge of forgiveness of sins, or the present possession of Eternal Life.
An opportunity of a lifetime was lost.
And the hungry sheep looked up unfed.
Chapter 13:: What Saith the Scriptures
I ADMIT THAT IT IS A BOLD THING for a sinner to say: "I know that my sins are all forgiven. I know that I have Eternal Life. I know that I am saved." Is it, then, blasphemy to make these positive assertions? Can my reader himself say with certainty of these eternal issues, "I know"?
One Sunday evening in camp when these blessed Truths were being denied in a public discussion, a Christian man stood up and made the positive statement that he knew these things for himself, and further he stated that the Lord means us to know, for the Bible says: "These things have I written unto you that believe on the Name of the Son of God, that ye may know that ye have Eternal Life" (1 John 5:13). The bell for evening roll call began to ring at that moment, and as we walked out of the Dining Room to go to our beds, one business man was heard to remark: "I would give all I possess to be able to say that." Reader, can you say, I KNOW?
But perhaps you ask, how can I know?
There was a day when a wicked woman came to the Lord Jesus. Read the whole story in the seventh chapter of Luke's Gospel. The Lord said about her, in her hearing: "Her sins, which are many, are forgiven." Then, addressing her, He said: "Thy sins are forgiven... Thy faith hath saved thee: go in peace." I ask you, Did that woman know, as she went home, that her sins were forgiven? Did she know she was saved? If she believed the words of the Lord Jesus Christ she could not fail to know these things for certain. In just the same way, you, my reader, may know for certain that your sins are all forgiven, that you have Eternal Life. It is the precious blood of Christ which atoned for your sins; and it is the Word of God that makes you know they are gone.
Once Naaman the Syrian said proudly: "I thought...." (2 Kings 5:11). There are crowds today who are perfectly satisfied with their own thoughts. But a little later Naaman humbled himself, and submitted to God's way of cleansing; and then, with humble, glowing heart he cries: "Behold, Now I know...." (verse 15).
Paul could say: "I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day" (2 Tim. 1:12). Or again, "I therefore so run, not as uncertainly." He knew where the race ended.
But time would fail me to tell of all the saints of Old and New Testaments who bore witness, crying: "I know...”
The Apostle John loved to repeat those words: "I know," or "we know". "We know that we have passed from death unto life" (1 John 3:14). "We know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is" (1 John 3:2). "I write unto you... that ye may know that ye have eternal life" (1 John 5:13). But read the whole of the First Epistle of John, and I do not think you will ever again doubt that we may know these blessed Truths of God.
It may be the fashion in these days to think, or to hope. It may sound humble to call it blasphemy to say "I know that I have Eternal Life." If that is so, all the apostles were blasphemers. Would not the Lord say to such leaders today, as He once said to similar ones: "Ye therefore do greatly err," "Because ye know not the Scriptures"?
But perhaps you still ask: "How can / know, for myself?" You can know by just casting yourself unreservedly on the bare Word of God, with nothing added to it, or taken from it. Take one of Christ's own precious promises. Take any you wish: Say, John 6:47, for this has Christ's own lovely guarantee before it: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." Christ does not promise you will feel you have it, but He does promise you have it, if you believe on Him. For example, I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. I ask you, Have I everlasting life, or have I not? Christ Himself answers, with a "Verily, verily" in front of that answer, and He says I have everlasting life. Is it blasphemy to say, "I thank Thee, Lord Jesus, I believe Thy Word. I have everlasting life." Is it not, rather, blasphemy to refuse to believe Christ's own plain words? Of such persons God says they make Him a liar, and again: "The... unbelieving... shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone" (Rev. 21:8).
But before the great question arose as to the certain knowledge of the forgiveness of sins, and the assurance of salvation, one Sunday morning one of the speakers made a slighting remark during the service concerning the Old Testament. I went to him afterward, and warned him that should such a thing occur again, I could not again go to hear him speak. He was a man to whom I was very much drawn. I hoped that he really knew what it was to be born again; and it pained me very much that he should speak as he had done. The following Sunday morning he spoke even more slightingly than he had done the previous week, again making light of the truth of the Old Testament. Whether he had taken my warning as a challenge, or whether without even realizing what he was doing, he spoke as he did, I cannot say; but such was the case. I went to him immediately after the service, and told him that I could not again listen to him. He seemed greatly surprised, and told me that someone had just remarked that surely his sermon was inspired. I nearly replied that I thought so, too, but of the devil: but it seemed useless to discuss the matter further. We do well to remember that it was the devil himself who cast the first slur or doubt on the Word of God; and he has been doing this same work ever since. (Gen. 3:1). "Resist the devil and he will flee from you" (James 4:7). Never, never, reason or argue with him: he is far too clever for you or me. Resist him, and he will flee.
What a comfort it is to remember that, "The Lord knoweth them that are His." It is not for us to pass judgment as to whether or not such an one belongs to the Lord. Our responsibility is clearly pointed out in the clause that follows: "Let every one that nameth the Name of Christ, depart from iniquity" (2 Tim. 2:19). These two sayings make up God's "seal". On one side is God's unfailing knowledge of each: "The Lord knoweth them that are His"; and on the other side my path is made clear to me, "Depart from iniquity." This was what we sought to do as we now cut all connections with the "church" and its services.
We do well to ponder the attitude of our Lord Jesus Christ towards the Old Testament. If you will read the Gospels, you will see that He ever and always accredited the whole Old Testament as being the very Word of God. He believed it all. But more than that, He always acknowledged the authority of the Word of God, as found in the whole Old Testament, as well as its truth. See how He bowed to it in the temptations. His answer to the devil in every case was: "It is written", and in every case He was victorious.
Note, also, what He says of the writings of Moses, which are so much denied today: "Had ye believed Moses, ye would have believed Me, for he wrote of Me. But if ye believe not his writings, how shall ye believe My words?" (John 5:46-47). Or, again, "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead" (Luke 16:31). With such Scriptures before us, I do not see how any person who refuses to believe the Books of Moses (the first five books of the Old Testament), has any right whatever to call himself a Christian, or to say he believes in the Lord Jesus. Would you consider I believe in you, trust you, if I refuse to believe what you say, and scoff at the truth of the statements you make? If no mere man would tolerate such hypocrisy, do you suppose the Lord Jesus Christ will do so? I cannot see that any man who denies the truth of any statement in the Books of Moses has any right to ask me to acknowledge him as a Christian. God knows whether or not such an one is "His", but he is not acting as a believer.
But the Old Testament loves to bear witness to itself. Do we read in Shakespeare or Milton: "Thus saith the LORD"? Do these writers claim that their words are the very words of the Living God? But such is the claim of the Old Testament, time and again. "Thy Word is true from the beginning: and every one of Thy righteous judgments endureth forever" (Psa. 119:160). A verse that has strengthened my heart many times against the attacks of the enemy is Psa. 12, verses 6 and 7, the margin: "The Words of the Lord are pure Words... Thou shalt preserve every one of them from this generation forever.”
Before we leave those early days in camp, that aroused such bitter hostility, it might be well to ask a few questions. And it is well to remember that the Word of God alone has the right to give an answer.
First: Was it wrong to preach the Law as a means of becoming just before God?
Yes, definitely it was wrong: for the Bible says: "By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin" (Rom. 3:20). "A man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ... for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified" (Gal. 2:16).
Second: Was it not right to give good advice from the pulpit to non-Christians as to a good manner of life?
Just as useless as giving good advice to the corpses in a cemetery. The Bible says: "You... were dead in trespasses and sins" (Eph. 2:1). It is not reformation that is required, but regeneration. The Lord Jesus says: "Ye must be born again" (John 3:7).
Third: Did those six men, who claimed authority, truly have the authority of the Word of God to take control of the things of God in the camp?
Had they, and we, been Jews, two thousand years ago, they might have found some authority for their claims in the Bible: but now we profess to be Christians, so must turn to the New Testament for direction as to Christian behavior. As far as I am aware, there is not a single word in the whole New Testament to give them a particle of authority for the authority they assumed. We do read of one man named Diotrephes in the Third Epistle of John who assumed a similar position, and the Holy Spirit condemns him in the strongest language, adding: "Beloved, follow not that which is evil, but that which is good.”
In this connection some readers will be interested in the following words from Bishop Lightfoot (The Christian Ministry), words that were entirely approved by Bishop Westcott: "... It became necessary to appoint special officers. But the priestly functions and privileges of the Christian people are never regarded as transferred or even delegated to these officers. They are called stewards or messengers of God, servants or ministers of the Church, and the like: but the sacerdotal title is never once conferred upon them. The only priests under the Gospel, designated as such in the New Testament, are the saints, the members of the Christian brotherhood. (1 Peter 2:5-9. Rev. 1:6; 5:10; 20:6.)
“As individuals, all Christians are priests alike. As members of a corporation, they have their several and distinct offices. 'The similitude of the human body, where each limb or organ performs its own functions, and the health and growth of the whole frame are promoted by the harmonious but separate working of every part, was chosen by St. Paul to represent the progress and operation of the Church. In two passages, written at two different stages in his apostolic career, he briefly sums up the offices in the Church with reference to this image. (1 Cor. 12:28; Eph. 4:11.)... In both alike there is an entire silence about priestly functions: for the most exalted office in the Church, the highest gift of the Spirit, conveyed no sacerdotal right which was not enjoyed by the humblest member of the Christian community.”
Fourth: Does the Word of God, in the present time, not make two classes, the clergy and the laity?
Indeed it does not, as the quotation above clearly states. On the contrary, the New Testament teaches in the clearest possible manner that now every true believer is a priest, and may come boldly into God's presence through the blood of Jesus (Heb. 10:19). All true Christians now belong to a "Royal Priesthood" (1 Peter 2:9). "Jesus Christ... hath made us kings and priests unto God "The Night Hawkes”
(Mr. Grant standing in the center)
Some of Our Boys and His Father" (Rev. 1:6). All have an Apostle and High Priest, Christ Jesus. (Heb. 3:1). No other priest has the smallest right to come between God and my soul. Now I may come boldly unto the Throne of Grace (Heb. 4:16). And so may every other true believer.
It is true, that Christ has given various gifts to His servants as it has pleased Him, but the weakest believer has a right to enter the Holiest with boldness by the blood of Jesus: and the oldest and most advanced, has no more privileged position. I have little doubt that the doctrine and the deeds of the Nicolaitans, (meaning, "prevailing over the people, or laity", Rev. 2:6; 15), refers to this same evil practice of which we have seen Diotrephes was the forerunner. Christ says of these "which I also hate.”
The idea of a priest, clergyman, minister (or whatever name you may use), to come between God and the people, completely undermines the authority of the Holy Spirit, and of Christ in the midst of His own as promised in the twentieth verse of the eighteenth chapter of Matthew's Gospel; and as set forth in the Epistle to the Corinthians. There we read: "If anything be revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace. For ye may all prophesy one by one, that all may learn, and all be comforted" (1 Cor. 14:30, 31). Let me ask, How could this be carried out with a priest, or clergyman? As you know, it would be quite impossible.
What about the use of robes and vestments to preach the Gospel. Did the Apostles use these? Did the early churches of the New Testament set up choirs and instrumental music?
We seek in vain in the New Testament for any such outward and fleshly attractions. These things are borrowed from Judaism or heathenism. As far as the teaching of the Word of God is concerned they have absolutely no place today in true Christianity. They are like the "days" that were "kept", which the Holy Spirit calls, "weak and beggarly elements." (Literal translation: poverty-stricken principles) (Gal. 4:9). The Lord treats all such things with utter contempt. God is now seeking worshippers who will worship Him in spirit and in truth. (John 4:23).
Have these men God's authority for calling themselves "Father", or "Reverend", or some such title?
On the contrary, the Scriptures say definitely, "Call no man your father upon the earth" (Matt. 23:9). The reading of the Greek text of this passage (Nestle's New Testament) is most instructive. It reads: "Be not ye called Rabbi, (Rabbi means, Teacher), for One is your teacher, but all ye are brethren. And call no man your father upon earth: for one is your Father, the heavenly. Neither be ye called leaders: because one is your leader, the Christ.”
Notice: We have the heavenly Father for our Father.
We have Christ for our Leader.
Whom do we have for our Teacher?
In this passage the Lord does not tell us Who the great Teacher was to be, but it was only a few days later that to His disciples, when they were alone, He revealed the secret, saying: "But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in My name, He shall teach you all things" (John 14:26).
So we find the three Persons of the Trinity engaged in caring for us, Father, Leader, Teacher. And no person on earth has any right to usurp these titles. "Holy and reverend is His Name", sings the Psalmist (Psa. 111:9), yet how many delight to put the "Reverend" in front of their own names! As a spiritually minded man, who has man's authority to use this title, remarked the other day: "What an abominable title it is!”
Perhaps some reader asks in bewilderment, What am I to do? Where am I to go? The disciples once asked a very similar question: "Where wilt THOU that we prepare (the Passover)?" That was the last true Passover, and the first observance of the Lord's Supper. The Lord replied: "Behold, when ye are entered into the city, there shalt a man meet you, bearing a pitcher of water; follow him into the house where he entereth in. And ye shall say unto the good man of the house, The Master saith unto thee, Where is the guest-chamber (The Greek of Mark 14:14, reads: My guestchamber), where I shall eat the passover with My disciples? And he shall show you a large upper room furnished: there make ready" (Luke 22:9-12). Is this not a parable for you and for me, if only we have eyes to see it? Are we wrong in supposing that,
The man with the pitcher of water represents the Holy Spirit.
The water represents the Word of God.
The pitcher represents the vessel, or person, used to carry that Word.
The large room tells us there is room for all.
The upper room tells us it was separated from the world and its ways.
The furnished room tells us that everything needful was found there.
The basin (the only "furniture" mentioned by name), tells us of the need of cleansing from the defilements of the way when we enter that holy place.
THE PLACE OF BLESSING
Outside the camp with Thee
Jesus! my place shall be,
While here below:
Honor beyond compare
Thine own reproach to bear,
And Thy rejection share,
Thy Cross to know.
How shall I praise the grace,
Which in this blessed place
Has set my feet?
Here, where the Spirit's word
Unhindered may be heard,
And by one Presence stirred,
Gathered, we meet.
Yet, let me ever be,
Careful to walk with Thee,
In holy fear:
Oh! let my feet unshod,
Tread softly, lest the rod
Speak of a present God
In judgment near.
Yes! this Thy people know,
And gladly have it so,
Thrice blest are we:
Walking in heavenly light,
Full in Thy holy sight
Outside the world's dark night,
Outside with Thee.
(Author unknown)
Chapter 14:: A Silent Witness
WE HAD NOT BEEN in camp many days before it was apparent that in all this great company of Britishers, there was scarcely a trace of any recognition or acknowledgment of God. The vast majority appeared to have little or no care for their Maker. Amongst those who took upon themselves the Name of Christ, there was a great dividing line, separating a little remnant who believed implicitly in the Word of God, from the large majority who seemed more occupied with what they did not believe than anything else.
Included in that little remnant, who were drawn so closely together, were Mr. and Mrs. P., and their daughter C., about fourteen, but even at that age taller than either of her parents. Mr. P. was an old friend, whom we had known and loved for many years. Then there was Mrs. S., a stranger to us, but not a stranger for long. She was older than the rest of us, and was on her way home to be retired, when she was caught by the war; and how thankful many were that God had so ordered her pathway! She and her husband had done noble pioneer work in North China. He had died many years before from a heart attack, after baptizing a number of new converts. He had suffered much for Christ's sake, so breaking down his health; and Mrs. S. herself knew what it meant to be beaten for His Name! There were few to whom we were all so greatly drawn as to this dear saint, and one of the joys and compensations for those years in camp was to learn to know her. There were others whom I would gladly name, but from the beginning the few mentioned met each Saturday evening in our room, and there we poured out our hearts together, telling our Lord of the things about us that grieved us so very much.
In the old days, before the war, one of our interests in the Book Room was to make illuminated Scripture texts. This part of our business had grown to such an extent that our artist was kept busy all the time. When Japan attacked the British and Americans, and we had to let our men go, the artist went to his home in Kashing, a hundred miles or so from Shanghai. We still had a few orders for Texts come through, and the work of preparing them fell to me. We had about half a roll of drawing paper on hand, but one day on my way home from work, it seemed as though a Voice said: "Go and buy drawing paper." I was not disobedient to the call, and immediately went to the supply shop where I always dealt. I purchased two rolls, twenty yards each, for a little less than $80.00. Not many weeks later the same shop was asking $600 a roll. I also was compelled to buy more paints, which rather vexed me, as money was generally short. We only used British-made paints, as they stood the sun better than those made in China. The only British paints available were in large tubes, and cost a lot of money. As these tubes were so hard to sell, the shop kindly gave them to me at a very low figure. A few weeks later they were almost priceless. I bought several slabs of an excellent quality Chinese ink, specially wrapped, and printed "For Export". But as there was no export then, these were also being sold at a very low price. I bought a supply of the best Chinese brushes I could get, and so was ready to do the odd text in place of our artist. I did not know that all this was God's provision for life in Camp. But all these things I brought with me, except one roll of paper which I left with a Chinese friend, and had forwarded a year or so later to the Camp.
As we grieved and prayed over the conditions of the Camp, the thought came to me that a Text might speak, even though there was no opportunity for our lips to speak for Christ in public; and with an utter lack of privacy anywhere, it was hard to carry on a serious conversation even with an individual. The dining room seemed the best place for such a Text to be displayed. I have mentioned a large Gothic window in the end of the room, high up off the floor. Just below this window, facing the whole room, seemed the ideal place to put it. I well knew the storm it would raise, and for that reason we made it a special matter of prayer that just the right words might be given us. The Text selected read:
OUR FATHER
which art in heaven
Hallowed be Thy Name
=============================
Give us this day our daily bread
The Text was, as I recall, almost five feet long, and not quite three feet deep. It was done in blue, crimson and gold, with the letters shaded in gray or brown. The letters were Old English, and the capitals Gothic. The only place to work was on my bed, but I had an old drawing board, and that was a great help.
We knew that it was useless to ask permission from the Camp Committee to put up such a text. They would never have granted it. So night by night as the work on the text progressed, done in secret as far as possible, the little company of believers met for prayer that their Lord would undertake and over-rule so that the text might go up in the place selected, and that none might be able to move it. And how God abundantly answered those prayers, in a way more than we could ask or think, the rest of the story will tell.
It took a little over three weeks to finish the text. I was anxious it should first appear on a Sunday morning. By Saturday evening, at supper time, there was only two or three hours' work left: so, as our chairman, Mr. Grant, was eating his supper, I asked him what time he got up in the morning. I think he thought me very impertinent, but graciously replied that he was up every morning by six; so I asked him if he could meet me in the dining room next day a few minutes after six. He agreed, and I hastened back to try and have my text ready in time. The little company gathered as usual to specially commend it to the Lord's own care as it started out on what we knew would be a stormy course. Just as I put the last strokes to the text, suddenly I spilled two great smears of black ink right across one end, on top of quite a few of the letters. It was just roll-call time, and then all lights were out.
I was almost in despair, but knew that my drawing paper was extremely good, and would stand a lot of rubbing. We lit a candle, and for an hour or more worked at it, until the damage was repaired, and the mess could not be detected. We occasionally tried to light a candle for special need at night after that, but always the guards shouted at us, and turned their searchlights into our room. Indeed, one night they came up with their heavy boots and their guns, and I don't know what they would have done to us, only they missed the room, and went to our neighbor's door. They kept their door locked, and were so sound asleep that the guards gave it up as a bad job. There was of course no light then to be seen anywhere. But on the night we had to fix the text, we had no trouble at all, nor indeed did we know we were not supposed to have a light if we needed it.
The next morning about half-past five, I was down in the dining room and got the text well pinned up with thumb tacks. Mr. Grant came in shortly afterward, and I watched to see what the verdict would be. I knew he was a fair and honorable man, and I knew I would get a much more sympathetic hearing from him, than from the Camp Council. He did not speak for a few minutes, looking with care at it. At last I asked: "May it stay?" He waited again, and then replied: "Why not? Yes, it may stay. It is reverent, and it is well done. It may stay." I decided to strike while the iron was hot, and asked: "May I do one for the other end of the room as well?" "Yes," he replied, "do one for there also. And come into the office where you will have room and a table to work on, and do it there." I could only bow in thanksgiving, as Mr. Grant returned to his room.
As I have told you, my duties were cutting the bread for breakfast, which often meant a start at five-thirty; and then pouring water and tea for breakfast. The new text was just over our heads. It was intensely interesting to hear the comments as we poured. "What's this?" "Who's done this?" "Take it down!" "Oh, it's only up because today's Sunday, it'll be down tomorrow; don't bother with it." "Who put that up without permission?" "We'll soon see about that." And very occasionally a remark of appreciation, by someone who loved or honored the Word of God.
One person said: "You can't have a text like that up in this camp, there's too much swearing." It is true the foul language in every direction was terrible, but I could only remark that I could not see that this was a sound reason for taking down the text. If it was true that the text and the swearing did not go together, why not give up the swearing?
I had asked Mr. Grant not to mention who had done it, and for several days it remained a secret. As anticipated, it caused a great commotion. The Camp Committee discussed it, and disapproved of it, because of the offense it would give to the Catholics and the Jews. The Catholics replied, by their leader (whom I have mentioned), coming to me. He said: "There's just one thing wrong with that text." "What is that?" I asked. "It needs a frame. If you'll find the wood, I'm a carpenter and will make the frame, and then they'll all know it's not the Catholics who object to the text." The only wood available was a slice off the frame of my bed, but it was very hard wood, and polished quite nicely. The Jews sent over a little committee of three with their prayer book, to show that every word in the text is in their prayer book, and to say that they liked the text and hoped it might stay. So the "reasons" of the Council faded out. Again the question came up in the committee, and very strong words against it were uttered, trying to force it to be taken down. Mr. Grant was about to try and defend it, when a business lady on the Council took the floor. I was not present, but was told that by the time she had finished telling the opposers what she thought of them, there was not one who dared to say another word. And once again we bowed in thanksgiving. But a text for the other end of the room was prohibited.
It might have been several months after this, and everybody had grown used to the Text, when it was decided to have a play. This was held in the dining room, with the tables from the bakery (good heavy ones) arranged as a stage, just under the text. Somehow they felt this did not fit in very well with the play, so they took it down and stuck it in a corner of the room. Next morning the room was cleared up, the tables taken back to the bakery, but the Text was left in the corner of the room. When I came to cut the morning bread that day, the sad reply was: "No bread ration today; the bakery's failed us." (I think the flour had failed). The bread was very truly our staff of life, and with nothing as a substitute, we were hungry indeed. Many a night even before that I had waked with hunger, and was unable to get to sleep for hours: but now it was worse. Everybody felt it, and the next day was the same. When the third day came and still no bread, the murmurings broke out, and all over the camp one might hear: "It's because of that Text. They've taken down the Text, 'Give us this day our daily bread', and since then we haven't had any bread." Another was heard to say, "That Text is our mascot. We must get it up again.”
The feeling in Camp was running so high, and we were all so hungry, that finally the very ones who took down the Text, were compelled to put it back again.
Several months went by, and once more the Camp held a play. The arrangement was as before, but this time heavy curtains were draped in front of the Text, and on the curtains was pinned a very well drawn picture of a Pair of Balances, and a Sword, representing "Justice". The day following everything was cleared up except the curtains, with the picture of The Balances and the Sword still pinned to them, so that the Text did not appear.
Again, there was no bread. I think this time the yeast failed to come, but when we came for our usual daily ration, we were met with the sad news: "No bread today." During the course of that day, as we were compelled to be occupied with the Balances and Sword, my wife remarked that the picture presented a remarkably good opportunity that we ought not to let pass. So next morning when we came down for breakfast rations (but without any bread), there appeared above the Balances and Sword, two lines:
“T E K E L”
"Thou art Weighed in the Balances, and art Found Wanting"
(Dan. 5:27)
I saw Mr. Grant chuckle as he went up to get his breakfast, and he whispered to me as he passed: "I see you are an opportunist." I replied, "You understand it?" "O yes, I understand it perfectly," he replied. But as you can guess, most of the Camp was not as well pleased as Mr. Grant. The whole Camp was angry that once more they were without bread, and the demand came on every side, "Take down the curtain!" Once again the enemies of the Truth were compelled to surrender, and the curtains came down, leaving the old Text with full possession, and the bread came to us once more.
Some months later, for a third time, the Text was again taken down, and this time thrown behind the piano. Again, the same day, the bread failed; and finally a gentleman in Camp, who had been manager of a large brewery, came to me with the suggestion: "That Text should be nailed up, so they cannot take it down." I replied: "I know you are very handy with tools, suppose you nail it up?" "Gladly," he replied; and with great long nails the Text was finally nailed up so that nobody again ventured to touch it, and it was still there until Camp was broken up, ever uttering its silent prayer:
“GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD”
And the bread never failed again.
Chapter 15:: Doors Shut and Open - Gospel Choruses
I MUST AGAIN RETURN to those early days in camp, when life had not as yet taken on regular routine. A Sunday School had been started for the children, and they had called for volunteers to teach; but knowing those who had the control, we did not feel we could take part. At the same time we longed to see many children in camp hearing by some means or other the simple Gospel. Mrs. S. and Mr. and Mrs. P. were ready to help in any effort that might be made; so we asked permission to have an hour on Sundays when we might teach the children Gospel choruses, hymns and stories. The authorities had many objections, and would not agree to allow this: the weeks went by, and we could get nothing definite from them. They knew very well there was no reason in the world why such a request should not be granted: indeed, there was every reason why it should, as it was so important to keep the children occupied. But, as another has remarked as regards a testimony to Christ: "It is the badge of war now, because of the opposition which unbelief always creates against the truth.”
Now it so happened that I had brought up with me to camp, quite a roll of large sheets of blank newsprint paper; and as far as I know, this and my drawing paper were almost the only papers in camp available for any large notice or drawing. Indeed, the drawing of the Sword and Balances, just described, was made on some of my paper. Just at this time someone in camp composed a "Camp Song" to be sung as a cheer to the Campers, and the man who acted as choir-master composed a tune for it. He was extremely anxious to have the new song written out in large letters on a big sheet of paper, so that he might teach it to the Camp as a whole. This particular man was one of the most influential in the matter of permission for our Gospel Chorus service for the children; so when he came to me for a sheet of paper, I said: "No, not until you get us permission for our Gospel Choruses." He was rather surprised, but stated that he thought probably something could be arranged. I told him that if he cared to arrange for our service, I would not only give him a sheet of paper, but would print his song for him. He said he would see what could be done. I think it took him about five minutes to come back with full official permission, and we had the privilege of holding this service until camping days were done.
In the early days of the service, quite a lot of children came to it, and we had some very happy times together. Then the Roman Catholic priest arrived on the scene, and immediately forbade the Roman Catholic children to attend.
For a year and a half, or perhaps longer, the attendance at the Gospel Choruses kept up well, and many children heard the Gospel. Some, I trust, found the Lord. One of the first to confess the Lord was a charming boy of perhaps eight years of age. We had had a lesson on John-Three-Sixteen, and on some of the blank paper we had in stock, a sheet had been prepared with the verse printed in large letters, so all could see it: but blank spots were left in place of certain words, as below:
“God so loved.... that He gave His only begotten
Son, that if.... believes in Him,.... shall not perish,
but have everlasting life.”
Each child was invited to put his or her name in the blank, for example, if your name were George, it would read:
“God so loved George that He gave His only
begotten Son, that if George believes in Him, George
will not perish, but have everlasting life.”
On Monday morning this dear lad arrived with a pocket New Testament, and showed me the last page, which had been blank, but now contained John-Three-Sixteen, printed out in big letters, with his own name substituted, as had been suggested the day before. My wife made him a little case for the New Testament, and for many months, it was his constant companion: and I believe he read it also.
Another boy who was a very constant attendant was attracted in rather a strange way. Several months before coming into camp, I had had an order for a certain Text to be prepared in light and dark blue, shaded, and gold. It had to have Chinese plum blossoms on it, as a decoration. It took me quite a long time to make, as the work had to be the very best I could do. I had just finished it, and stood it up, still pinned to my drawing board, on the kitchen sink (the kitchen was the only part of the house with any pretense to a fire). I was looking it over critically, to see if there were any further touches required, when the cat jumped against it, and succeeded in upsetting it and the Chinese ink, which spread itself over the text. It was hopeless to use it for our order, so another was prepared, and that after being cleaned up, came to camp. In the early days, in our first room, while taking roll-call each evening, I had to call on a family where the father was British, and the mother Russian—a very fine woman. There was one boy, of perhaps twelve, a rather slight delicate looking boy. We soon became friends, and I gave him my spoiled text, which now looked quite good, to go over his bed. His delight knew no bounds, and we were friends, I hope, for life. So when the Choruses started, he was one of the most regular, and his mother often came as well. Mr. P.'s daughter, C., was of course always there. She was a true Christian, and sought earnestly to follow the Lord. She had two friends, who lived near her on the same floor, girls of perhaps fourteen and fifteen. Their mother was a particularly nice Scotch woman, and also one of the Lord's own, I believe. She often came downstairs to our little Bible reading, held in our bedroom on Wednesday evenings. Her two daughters were lovely children, and I trust both the Lord's. They always came, as long as we were in Camp.
In the later months, shortly before the Camp drew to a close, the conflict became more bitter; and many of the children were strictly prohibited from attending. This included the two boys of whom I have just spoken. It was most difficult to find a place to hold this little service: one place after another was closed to us, but for some months, perhaps a year or more, at the end, we held it in a covered court, the front of which was open, but faced south, so that in winter it was not so bitterly cold as it otherwise would have been. The seats were generally logs of wood, old stools borrowed from the bakery, or anything that could be found. It was a very feeble effort, often very falteringly carried out: but "that day" will declare the results.
I have mentioned our Wednesday evening Bible Reading. We tried to have this every week from the time we went into Camp. The faithful few I have described were always with us, and gradually others began to drop in, until the cramped quarters of our part of the room were often filled to capacity. We sat all along the beds, and we proudly boasted four chairs for the three of us, as our good friend Mr. G. had given us a little folding motor-car chair, having a steel frame. As nearly as I can recall we read Leviticus first, and then Hebrews. We had a delightful time over Ezra and Nehemiah, getting a good deal of help from an old book by Dr. Kitto that we happened to have with us in Camp.
We were much encouraged by God's goodness in connection with the large text in the dining room, and not long after that was put up, just before our first Easter in Camp, Mr. Grant asked me to prepare a card for each of the other two Camps in Yangchow, for an Easter Greeting, as well as a special one for our own Camp. These texts seemed to give a little touch with the outside world, from which we were cut off so completely. The Easter text for our Camp, based on the Resurrection, hung just below the Camp Clock, by the dining room door, and was, I believe, a comfort and joy to many: for most hearts were very sore in those early days of Camp life, and perhaps "the comfort of the Scriptures" proved a healing balm.
The dining room door was made in two leaves, one of which was generally kept shut, while the other as a rule stood open. I think Mr. Grant's suggestion to put up a special text for Easter, and the pleasure which it seemed to give to the "common people" of the Camp, originated the idea of putting a new text on the dining room door every morning. As I recall, permission was obtained for this from Mr. Grant. We had brought up with us a number of rather nice texts, and each morning as I came down to cut the bread for breakfast, before anyone was about, I would pin a new text on the door. New texts were prepared, and many in the Camp began to watch with real pleasure for this daily message. I remember seeing a Roman Catholic gentleman, who held a high business position, stand for a long time gazing at one of those texts. It had those lovely words: "Jesus himself drew near and went with them." It was done in crimson and gold, and decorated with a spray of Canadian autumn maple leaves. As I passed him, he turned and remarked: "I do love these texts. This one especially gives me such a 'homey' feeling." He took that text home with him when he left Camp. From the most unexpected quarters we heard of those who were finding comfort and help from the texts, for there were few in Camp who had such a thing as a Bible; and this was all the majority received in the way of real spiritual food. I have seen some of the boys and girls in their 'teens, stand gazing at a text; and I hope drinking in its message.
There were amusing incidents as well. For instance, one day we had put up a rather handsome copy of part of the Thirteenth of First Corinthians: "Charity suffereth long, and is kind," etc. The gentleman who had finally granted us permission to have our Gospel Choruses, stood for a long time enjoying it. As I passed him, he remarked: "Beautiful words! I never saw them before; I wonder what Book they are taken from?" He had charge of the choir in the church.
In the days of old, "The common people heard Him gladly." And as it was in those days long ago, so was it in the Camp in our day. The common people rejoiced in the gracious words that daily came fresh from the Fountain of Life. But the religious leaders, also like those of old, soon began to oppose. They could not bear to see their authority set aside, and the hungry sheep being fed by other than themselves. How often have those words come to me in the Camp: "Ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in" (Matt. 23:13). Or again, "They be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch" (Matt. 15:14). By this time a Roman Catholic priest had arrived in Camp, and he found that he could make common cause in this matter with those who should have known better, for I have seen a "Protestant missionary" deliberately tear down one of those texts: not that there was anything in it to upset the morale of the Camp, or to make the people disobedient or unruly: quite the contrary: but the natural mind "is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be" (Rom. 8:7). And so one day I received a letter from the Camp Committee strictly forbidding any more texts to be put up anywhere without express permission. Mr. Grant had fought hard for them, but had been defeated. That door was closed.
In the days of old, the same enemy was equally anxious to close the doors for the Gospel, and to close the mouths of Christ's servants. And so, with that purpose in view, he had the Apostle Paul locked up in prison: and what was the result? He writes: "But I would that ye should understand, brethren, that the things which happened unto me have fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the Gospel" (Ph. 1:12). And as usual, "Out of the Eater came forth meat, and out of the Strong came forth sweetness." So was it, I believe, in our Camp.
It was a bitter disappointment to see this door closed, just at a time when it seemed to be most encouraging. Not a day passed that someone did not come to tell of the help and comfort the Texts had been to them. And now, they were to be no more. And the hungry sheep once more looked up unfed.
My leisure had been very fully occupied in preparing a new text for each day: and that was now at an end, so once again I had some free time. We were teaching the children at the Gospel Choruses two verses of Scripture a week; or at least, they were supposed to learn these through the week, and some did so, but the majority did not. It was now a new door opened. We offered the children each a text, if they learned their two verses, and immediately the number of learners increased greatly. Every week, we would have from ten to twenty texts to make. These texts went to every part of the camp, and generally went up on the wall, over the bed of the winner. In a place where presents were at a premium, one of these texts would make a birthday gift, and find its way into some other room, where there was no text. By our first plan, one text only was up for one day in one place in the Camp: now hundreds of texts were up, and scarcely a room in Camp did not have at least one; and some walls were almost covered by them. I could not but smile to see one up on the wall of one of those who had opposed them most of all. What can not a child do?
“O what can I do for my Lord?
I am foolish and small and weak.
And I know not what to do,
And I know not how to speak!
“O child there is naught thou canst do,
Sit down at His feet and be still.
But what can He do with thee?
O child, He can do what He will.”
But that was not the only way the texts were spread abroad. An old lady, worn and weary with camp life, came one day and begged for a text to go over her bed, to comfort her. A fine young Jewish lad in his early twenties, brought a Hebrew and English Text that he had tried for himself, and it had not gone right: would I make it for him? It turned out rather a nice one, and was put away to be given to the Synagogue! And his mother made the very nicest cake we tasted all the time we were in camp, and our young Jewish friend brought it over with unmasked pleasure. We tried hard to get some texts into the Hospital, but that was not allowed, even though three doctors out of the four were missionaries, and I am sure it was not the fourth who objected. However, the nurse in charge of the Clinic asked for a Text for the Clinic, and from that time till the camp was disbanded, a text was always to be found there. Each New Year's a large calendar, with a big bold verse above, was sent to Mr. Grant for the office, and he always boldly pinned it up where all could see it. Strange, is it not, that it is not the business man, nor the sinners even, who oppose and are ashamed of the Word of God, but those who are supposed to be preaching and upholding it? And so as one door closed, a multitude more opened.
Some of the doors that opened for us were very unexpected. One Christmas it was suggested the Camp send greetings to each of the other Camps where Allied Civilians were interned. I forget how many there were, but quite a few. It fell to my lot to prepare the greeting cards, and each carried a message from the Scriptures. When School closed, they wanted certificates prepared, and again it was my privilege to make these, and once more each carried its own verse. My Roman Catholic carpenter friend asked for a special text, quite a large one, for some special purpose he had in mind: and his daughter, a fine girl of about sixteen, kept a text over her bed all the time she was in Camp.
And so instead of one Text up, day by day, the Camp was filled with them, and many have taken them to their homes, where some we have since heard have borne fruit to strangers coming in. The enemies of the Truth thought they could muzzle the Word of God; but, praise His Name, "The Word of God is not bound" (2 Tim. 2:19).
It was about this time that the Secretary of the National Bible Society of Scotland, who was interned in our Camp, posted a notice on the board, offering a copy of the New Testament to anyone who wished to apply. There were many requests, and further supplies had to be obtained from Shanghai. That was good seed sown, which I trust may even yet yield a rich harvest. It was delightful to see the eagerness of some for this precious little Book.
Chapter 16:: Work
ONE OF THE COMMONEST words in Camp was "Perks". I suppose if you looked in the dictionary you would not find it, but "Perks" became an unfailing topic of conversation. It is short for "Perquisites", and described everything that a worker might be able to get for himself out of his particular job, over and above his allotted share of Camp supplies. The Bakery had the reputation of having the best "Perks". Here one could get a little extra bread, and it is said the bakery workers even got some sugar. Then it was always possible to do a little private cooking, or to get a jug of hot water. These things were by no means to be despised; and the Bakery generally had a long waiting list of those who wished to work there. The kitchen, and the hospital kitchen, also proved attractive to some through the "Perks" to be found there.
But there were other jobs that not only provided no Perquisites but took an unusual toll on clothes and shoes. Perhaps the worst job in Camp was that of trying to keep the sewers and drains open and in proper working order. When we first arrived, a young man, James T., was put on this job, and for the two years and seven months we were in Camp, Jimmie cheerfully and faithfully cared for the Camp sewers. All were in bad shape when we came into Camp; many blocked up and useless. It was generally during a heavy rain that the sewers behaved worst, and many a time have I seen Jimmie out in the pouring rain, opening up some blocked sewer, and doing more than most to keep the Camp clean and healthy. It was considered the common privilege of Campers to grumble, but I never heard a complaint or a grumble from Jimmie T. In his leisure hours, one might find him deep in some learned treatise, or poring over French or Latin. He and I acted together for some time as night-watchmen, so I learned to appreciate in a special way this quiet, conscientious, clever young man. Another distasteful job, that also yielded no "Perks" was cleaning the lavatories and the laundries. Garbage collecting was also very much hated. The great backbone to all this disagreeable work was our good friend Mr. S., who at one time lived on the same compound with us at 31 Brenan Road. He was, indeed, one of our oldest friends in China, and his family and our own were very near in age. His wife and one daughter and a son came with him to Camp. Two sons and two daughters were widely scattered, so his anxieties were very much like our own. The daughter in Camp was a fine Christian girl, and helped in the hospital, and his son D. carried out most ingenious repairs in the workshop. In the early days of our Internment, someone who had brought up a very good spring bed, was horrified to find that before long it became infested with bugs. He took it out doors, took it all to pieces, threw away the springs, and I fancy threw away the greater part of the bed. D. carefully gathered up those springs, and had hid them away, they were made of good quality spring steel, and many was the needle, or awl for shoe repairs, that he made from those discarded springs.
Mr. S.'s youngest son, G., was at the China Inland Mission School in Chefoo; and when the Japanese seized the Schools, G. was interned with the other school-children, first at Chefoo, and later at Wei Hsien. About half-way through our Internment, G. joined his parents, and entered the Boys' School in the Fifth Form. He had been very brightly converted while at Chefoo, and was a very welcome addition to our Yangchow Camp. He was never afraid or ashamed to confess his Lord, and took a bold stand for what he believed to be right. Mr. S. himself was a Mechanical Engineer, who had come out from England as a missionary. During the dark years of depression those supporting him found it impossible to carry on their help, and he came to Shanghai with his family, and took a position with one of the large shipping companies in that city. Nearly all through our captivity, in spite of very poor health, Mr. S. superintended in a most capable manner those disagreeable jobs I have previously mentioned, and generally kept this end of the Camp running.
One of the most disagreeable incidents during our internment happened to Mr. S. He was in charge of what might be termed the "Works Department", as well as the jobs I have just tried to describe. When the fifty Belgians were sent to our Camp from Tientsin, some place had to be provided for them to sleep, as we were already overcrowded. It was decided to tear out the cubicles that had been built in a large old building to make a bath-house, and to build rooms instead for the Belgians. There was so rarely any water available for bathing that it was no serious loss. The doors and other material from these cubicles were stored with the Japanese. As I recall the story, Mr. S. wanted the use of one of the doors for some Camp work; and applied through the proper channels to the Japanese Commandant, who agreed to the use of the door. The Commandant was called away soon after this; and our particular persecutor, the store-keeper, took the opportunity to punish Mr. S. because he had not applied through him. It was in the winter, and very cold. The ground was wet, though not frozen. The store-keeper insisted on Mr. S. kneeling for more than two hours on this wet ground in front of the Japanese office. An overcoat was sent to him, but he was not allowed to put it on, in spite of the fact that he was at the time a sick man, and should have been in bed. The whole Camp became furious. Mr. Grant tried to protest, but was refused a hearing. Then he resigned, and the Japanese began to realize that serious results might follow. An apology was insisted upon, and one Japanese, older and more sensible than the rest, agreed to apologize for what had happened, and the Camp breathed more freely once more. The result in the end was good, as not many weeks after this, the store-keeper was removed from our Camp, and when he left our worst enemy was gone.
Annoying orders were constantly being issued by the Japanese, generally small matters that were referred to in Camp as "pinpricks", but when people's nerves were over-wrought, little things appeared big, and with some the strain proved too much, and now and then one or another would have to be taken back to Shanghai and put in the institution where our American friend had gone. One order of this type was that everybody should number in Japanese when we appeared on parade. Up to that time we had numbered in English, but we were given notice that in future the numbering must be in the language of our captors. Almost nobody knew any Japanese, so our leaders prepared little cards with the English number on one side, and the pronunciation of the Japanese numeral on the other. The guards felt it a great triumph when this order came into force, but they were very much puzzled to see everybody on parade scratching themselves, and that instead of being cast down with this new evidence of Japanese might, they were only intensely amused. But the Japanese never could understand these British people anyway. Japanese numbers sound like this: "Itchie, Nee, San"; "One, Two, Three".
Sometimes large numbers of planes passed over our Camp, flying very high in an easterly direction. After a few hours they would return, still high, and pass away somewhere to the west. We believed they went to bomb Japan, and would anxiously count to see whether the same number returned as passed over earlier in the day. Once one plane was missing on the return journey, and later a lone plane came limping along by itself. We wondered if it was able to get back to friends, or was forced down amongst its enemies.
One morning while we were on parade, during the last winter, suddenly a lone plane appeared over us, not very high, and began figure writing in the sky. You can hardly imagine the excitement. We were not very certain what the plane wrote, though quite a few individuals were perfectly positive they knew, but the general impression was that an immense "V" was intended, and we thought probably it meant that Manila had been retaken. The Japanese were of course furious, and for some time after that Japanese planes would circle over us while we were on parade.
We went into Camp about the middle of March, and through the mercy of God we had very little more really cold weather. The summer was hot, as it always is in that part of China, but not as bad as it often is; and by the first autumn we felt that we had got through a bad time in a fairly successful manner. Even then we did not believe that it could be very much longer before we would be released; and hope kept hearts up.
That autumn Mr. S. asked if I would take over cleaning the ladies' laundry, in addition to my other duties, which had become quite heavy. I had full work at all meals, including pouring water at breakfast, and very often at tea at three to four o'clock, as well as the bread-cutting for breakfast. I also had the Sixth Form for Geometry in the Girls' School, a very delightful little bit of work, with a very few girls of exceptionally fine character. To the work in the laundry was soon added another obnoxious job, of filling a large "Gong", or earthenware tank, with water every morning, for cleaning buckets. On a cold winter morning, before it was light, this was a very unpleasant piece of work. With the preparation of the texts for the Gospel Chorus Service, there was little idle time.
After we went into Camp, Tien Chei did all in her power to guard our interests. She applied for our house for her residence, and was granted our bedroom with the sunroom off it. In this she put the best furniture, and kept the place locked, preserving much that we had never expected to see again. She raised money for parcels, searched the city for food, and packed and sent off these parcels, that meant so much to us. She received and passed on news to us in a most capable manner. She interviewed the Japanese, and did everything that could be done to guard and protect our interests. She took a position as nursemaid in a wealthy Chinese family, in order to support herself. At first they were very kind to her, but as their prosperity increased their kindness decreased; and finally when she got the opportunity to go and train as a nurse, which had always been her greatest desire, she entered the Chinese Red Cross Hospital (one of the best in Shanghai), as a probationer. She loved her work, and did extremely well in it. She also found many opportunities for speaking for her Lord; and I believe was used in blessing to some of the other nurses. But Tien Chei, though she looked well when we left, had not the robust frame that a nurse requires. Until one has been through it, a person can hardly comprehend the strain it must have been to interview the Japanese, and to carry on the work she did for us, well-knowing the risk it meant to her very life, So, I expect she was not altogether up to the mark when she entered the hospital. But it was a sad and terrible blow to us all when we got word that she had broken down in health, and she was threatened with tuberculosis, a threat which soon made her a very sick girl.
Chapter 17:: A Great Change
WE HAD BEEN IN CAMP a little more than nine months, carrying on as I have tried to describe in the last chapter. Christmas had come and gone, and had been celebrated by a dinner of stewed duck. It had taken a lot of talking to persuade the authorities to indulge in such luxurious living, even for one meal; but rather grudgingly they consented, though they greatly reduced the number we felt to be required. And the guards further reduced this number by appropriating a goodly share, as they passed through the Camp gates. There was great excitement as to whether the ducks should be fried, or made into stew. Some of us felt it would be such an unspeakable relief to have one day in the year with a change from stew, that there was no question about it. Others, apparently, felt they just could not live if they did not have stew: so it was finally put to a general vote of the whole Camp, and I am sorry to tell you the "Stews" won out. However, it was Duck Stew, not S.O.S., and we all felt it to be a tremendous treat.
It was, I think, a day or so before the New Year, when the Headmaster of the Boys' School came over to our room, to ask me to teach Mathematics and Science in the Boys' School. I had never taught in my life, and it was nearly forty years since I had learned what now I would have to teach. My little class in the Girls' School, it is true, had rubbed me up a bit in Geometry; but with a few good girls, all keen to learn, one could hardly call it experience in teaching. I confess the request half frightened me to death, but for months I had so longed for the dear lads in our Camp, and it seemed so impossible to reach them, that it appeared as though this was the Lord's hand; and I could only accept. It was hoped to prepare for an Examination the following June, that would be a little above the standard of the Senior Cambridge Matriculation; and I believe the Education Committee felt that a teacher holding a B.Sc. Degree was essential for this work, if the Cambridge authorities were to sanction it. Apparently there was no other man in Camp with such a degree, and so the work fell on my shoulders.
I warned the Headmaster of my utter inexperience, and that years since I had forgotten all I was supposed to teach. However, he waved aside such objections as quite immaterial, and remarked that the only really hard thing about it was to make one's self heard. The Camp office and stenographers were just behind the boys: the Latin class was within three feet of the back of the Fourth Form, who were supposed to be learning either Math’s or Science. At the far side, the Fifth was having a very interesting story read aloud to them in their English lesson, and just at the master's back, in front of the boys, were the billets, little cubicles divided off by curtains or straw mats, where the ladies would often be holding an exciting conversation. "Yes," he said, "the hardest part is to make yourself heard. If you can do that, you can manage all right." I could only reply, "If that is the hardest part, it will not be hard for me: with over twenty-five years' experience with a deaf wife, I can easily outdo all the other noises, and keep it up all day.”
And so, almost without warning, without time to prepare, and almost without any text books, I found myself one morning facing the Fifth Form. Although I had been in Camp more than nine months, some of the boys I did not even know, or their names. I had not the vaguest idea how to begin, but they were a nice bunch of boys, and nobly came to my assistance. These boys, who were supposed to be preparing for the Exams, were terribly behind with their work, indeed there seemed to be a full year's work to be done in half the year. This rather solemnized them, and we had very little trouble. But the Fourth Form! I had heard of it of old. No words were adequate to describe the iniquities of the Fourth. They had no terror of an Exam; indeed, no terror of anything, as far as I could learn. It was a form of twenty or more boys, crowded together, with every imaginable distraction all around, and not the smallest desire to learn anything. There was supposed to be one outstanding boy, older and worse than any of the others. His name (I think he would not mind me telling you), was Raymond. He had been turned out of the School the year before. I am not very clear for what reason, whether it was age, or ignorance, or badness, I do not know. But he had pleaded to be given another trial, and so he arrived, and with him a note to say that at the first bit of trouble, he was to be instantly expelled. I suppose a boy such as that would at least arouse the interest of any schoolmaster. He was seventeen, a Jew, and carried with him a charming smile to disarm any sinister ideas one might form regarding him.
Having such a blackguard in the class, I put him right in the front, directly under my eye, yet to one side, where he could not do too much damage to the others. In the center of the second row was a sweet looking child. He appeared to be younger and more gentle than the other boys, with lovely wavy hair, a beautiful complexion, and dark blue eyes. He looked the sort of boy one felt should have been a girl; and in that uproarious crowd, I felt very sorry for him, and determined to do all I could to protect him. Little did I know that he was one of the moving spirits in all the mischief that went on. Next to him sat two brothers, P. i and P. ii.
Once a week the Camp Committee met in solemn conclave, and discussed the affairs of the Camp, and enacted such rules and regulations as they saw fit. They felt it to be of the most urgent necessity, that the Fourth Form should be perfectly quiet for the duration of their meeting. I wish some of them had had to teach that form, and they might not have indulged in such a fanciful desire. I think it was the first Committee meeting of the year, and it was my first lesson in Science for the form. We had no text books that were any use, and we had no apparatus; so I had to make up my own Science lessons. I began by asking them, "What is Science?" and of course they did not know. I pointed out to them that it came from a Latin word "Scio" which means "I know". (Here ensued as long an interruption as possible on the way "Scio" should be pronounced). I had looked up the meaning of "Science" in a Collins Dictionary, and all this I dictated to them, making them write it out in their "Science Note Books", with the hope this might keep them quiet. As far as I can remember, the definition of Science went something like this (I have no book to check up on it). "Science is a collection of observed facts..." (I forget the rest). I had got so far in dictating, and my form was really excelling itself for order, when suddenly, from my darling in the center of the second row, burst peal after peal of laughter. I asked him what was the matter, but he was speechless with amusement. The Headmaster was teaching a small Latin class next to me, and he turned with a terrible scowl. The Camp Committee all glared, and the English of the Fifth Form faded into oblivion. By this time, of course, all the twenty-odd boys of the class were in one great heap, keen to share in such a choice morsel as they felt sure there must be. I looked thunder at them, and finally got my boys quieted down; and my sweet boy, the tears running down his cheeks for laughter, said to me, "Oh, Sir, you know you told us to write, 'Science is a collection of observed facts'. P. ii has written, `Science is a collection of absurd facts'." I have to confess that I had an immense deal of sympathy for the culprit. And I also had to point out to the class P. ii was not nearly so far from the truth, as they thought he was. Very much of what people call "Science" today, is nothing more than a collection of absurd guesses. They are not facts, for a fact comes from another Latin word meaning something that is done, not guessed at.
That Fourth Form became very dear to me, and I earnestly hope and trust that some of those dear lads may have learned in those Science lessons what was I believe the most useful thing I learned at the University: that is, the difference between a fact and a theory. One of our old professors used to say: "Gentlemen, a Fact is like a stone wall. You may not like it, you may knock your head against it, but you will only break your head; you will never damage the stone wall." Such teaching does not seem very popular in many of our Universities today, or we would not hear men who ought to know better, trying to pass off "Theories" as "Facts". Dr. R. P. Hadden, one of our missionary doctors in China (now in Heaven), wrote an excellent little book some years ago, "Christian Evidences and Teaching". In the preface the author says: "The writer hopes that he has been able to apply faithfully the principle, early impressed upon him as a medical student, to distinguish clearly between Facts and Deductions from Facts. It is his strong conviction that the Bible has nothing to fear from Facts: and he also earnestly believes that it has nothing to fear from reasonable Deductions from Facts, provided only that all relevant Facts are taken into account." Might I commend a very earnest and serious consideration of these words of Dr. Hadden to my young friends especially, who may read this book.
We hear men say that Science contradicts the Bible. Never fear, when men talk like this. Remember, Science, True Science, has to do with Facts. In true Science men may, and can, say, "I know". There is no man living today who knows enough to be able to say, "I know" when he contradicts the Bible. It is his opinion. He thinks. He supposes. He tells us that all great scientists are agreed, and so forth. Remember, none of these things, nor all these things taken together, can take the place of that one little sentence, "I know". At a certain University a professor of Biology was continually talking about "The Fact of Evolution." A friend of the students sent a circular letter to every professor and student, pointing out that Evolution was not a Fact, and anybody who taught otherwise, must be either ignorant or dishonest. The following lecture in Biology began this way: "Gentlemen, I would of course like you to understand that Evolution is not a Fact, but a Theory.”
My lessons on Science, starting from the most fundamental principles, could hardly avoid references to the Creation: and it was a joy to be able to point out the perfect agreement between the account of Creation in Genesis, and what we believe to be the ascertained Facts of true Science. Many refuse to accept the Word of God because they have never examined with care what the Word of God says.
The first verse of Genesis reads: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." How He created them, or when, we are not told. In their simple majesty these few words describe the creation. But in the Book of Isaiah the Lord tells us a little more. In Chapter 45:18 (using the New Translation), we read: "Thus saith Jehovah who created the heavens, God himself who formed the earth and made it, he who established it, not as waste did he create it: he formed it to be inhabited.”
Turning again to the first Chapter of Genesis, we see that there is a break between verse one and verse two. In verse two (New Translation) we read: "And the earth was waste and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." Some terrible catastrophe had come between these two verses that had left the earth waste, empty and dark. We know from Isaiah that the Lord had not created it waste. The words in Hebrew are the same.
If we turn over now to the Book of Hebrews, Chapter 11:3, we read: "By faith we apprehend that the worlds were framed by the word of God." This word translated "framed" is the same Greek word translated "mending" in Matt. 4:21, where the disciples James and John were mending their nets. The word means to make a thing fit, or complete, or perfect. So in the remaining verses of the first of Genesis we find the account of how the Lord made fit (or, "mended") the world once more, by His Word.
I did not try to go into the details of the Scripture with my boys as I have done to you, but gave them the general outline of it: pointing out that true Science never contradicts the Scriptures.
Not more than two or three weeks went by, when a circular note was sent around the school advising the teachers that nobody except those teachers teaching English Literature would be allowed to refer to the Bible in the School.
I wrote the Educational Committee advising them that as I was a Christian, which meant a follower of Christ, I sought never to go where He was refused admittance; and under these circumstances I would find it impossible to continue to teach in the Boys' School.
It made rather an awkward position, as they could find nobody else with the qualifications for the work; so they graciously decided that I could continue when necessary to refer to the Bible. I found certain verses in the Proverbs most useful, and I think all my boys will remember all their lives that "Even a fool if he hold his peace is accounted wise." Quite a few of them have written these words out fifty times, to their sorrow. No, the Bible is not the Book to bar out of our schools.
Of all the boys in that Fourth Form I suppose the one who gave the least trouble was my Jewish friend, Raymond. To my joy, it was not long before he came to a knowledge of the Savior, our Lord Jesus, his Messiah. He bore a bright testimony to his Lord and G. S. (see page 104) was a great help to him. True, later on he did have a fall, but like another Jew, he could later say of the Good Shepherd, "He restoreth my soul.”
I could struggle along in Mathematics, and keep a little ahead of the boys: and even in Science we did scrape through, but quite without warning I was told I must also teach Geography to the Fourth. This floored me entirely, for I realized my knowledge of Geography was almost nothing. However, the Headmaster told me to keep them quiet, and try and teach them something, just what did not matter very much. So, with such latitude in my instructions, I took the only course open to me, and started on the Geography of Canada. I described its beauty, the mighty forests such as they had no conception of, forests where they might travel for months without meeting anyone. I told them of my surveying days, and of canoe trips, and portages and camping. A friend lent me a most delightful book of colored prints covering all Canada. My boys listened breathlessly, and often the difficulty was to get the class dismissed when the time was up. I think the Headmaster was a good deal perplexed as to just why the Fourth Form found Geography so entrancing. But I am not at all sure he would have approved of my "Geography", or would have passed it as orthodox; but it was a lesson above all others that I think we all enjoyed.
Life in camp had become increasingly busy. I gave up the work in the dining room and laundry when the school work came along, but was asked to keep up work on the bread and morning hot-water. Every spare moment was required for preparation or correcting exercises. The teaching periods were rather full, and as time went on more and more work was added. We were short of chalk, and some of our blackboards were very makeshift at best. We were short of paper for exercise books, many of the boys would go to the garbage pails each day to get the labels from empty tin cans that had been thrown away, and would do their homework on these. Nothing was done in pen and ink, and with the dim light, it was almost impossible to read exercises at night. There were very few suitable text books, and problems had to be prepared. All this helped to make the time pass quickly, and in many ways made life in camp more easy.
My sister found her teaching in the Girls' School congenial, for the most part; and the Head Mistress became a real "friend of the family." We had hoped and expected to carry on our work with the Greek Testament; for we had been told of the delightful times of leisure for study and private interests one found in camp; and for that reason had brought with us a large assortment of Greek Lexicons and such like books. I had arranged with an old Jewish friend to give me lessons in Hebrew, but, alas, the leisure never materialized. My sister spent all the time she could on the Greek Testament, and finished Alford's four large volumes while we were in camp. She also read Chinese regularly, with Mrs. S., who was a good Chinese scholar. A dear old German woman, who was very friendless, but I hope a real Christian, also was shepherded by reading with her. These things, with preparation and correction for the school, kept her days, like my own, very full.
The one for whom Camp was the hardest was my wife. Her deafness cut her off terribly from the general life of the Camp. In all the two years and a half that we shared a room, there was hardly an occasion when we had that room to ourselves, for even a few minutes. There was practically no chance when we could talk together without being overheard; and when we talked together on the most ordinary affairs of life, it meant that not only all the people in the court below would hear everything, but many in the adjoining rooms. There was nearly always a certain amount of grim humor going about the Camp, that took the edge off the tragedy of everything around, and almost all this was lost to my wife. Mrs. S. was a good friend indeed to her, and we can never sufficiently thank the Lord for sending her to our camp. Mrs. P. was another good friend, and Mrs. H., whose little family shared a room with the P.'s, was almost like a daughter. They lived just above us, so we often ran into each other's rooms. Birthdays or anniversaries came along, and each would try and make some little treat for the occasion; and now and then we would have a party and invite our special friends. Every Sunday after the Gospel Choruses, Mr. and Mrs. P. and C. would come in for a cup of coffee. This was made by putting some coffee grounds in a thermos bottle, and having hot water poured over them. These same coffee grounds kept having water poured over them, till no more color or taste appeared. That was the only time in the week we indulged in coffee, but I think all the time we were in Camp, we were provided with enough for this weekly treat. Mending, mending, mending, to try and keep our clothes from falling to pieces took a lot of my wife's time; and in her leisure she knitted or crocheted. But it was a long, terrible ordeal for her.
Some of the expedients to which we were driven would have amused you. You may recall a missionary who became mentally impaired, and who was at our house. His wife stayed with us for quite a few weeks, and when finally they got away to the United States, they left behind their mosquito net. It was one of the cheaper kinds, that did not have quite as many holes per square inch as the better varieties. Our own nets were none too strong, so we took this net to Camp with us. When I became almost desperate for shirts, my wife very ingeniously made me some excellent ones from this net, as well as underclothes. Footwear was perhaps the most serious problem, and some people were almost barefoot. My sister made herself a pair of sandals, with soles made by sewing together the straw rope that came around large packages sent into the Camp. It was generally thrown away or used to light the fires; but her sandals lasted quite well. The uppers she made by knitting the string that had tied other parcels.
I really do not know what we would have done without Major B. of the Salvation Army. He had most wisely brought up with him a good supply of shoe-mending supplies. He found a little corner in the Camp where he started a shoe-repair shop. Nearly everything in it was provided at the Major's own expense; but everything was free to those who needed help. Through cold and heat, early and late, Major B. sat in his little corner with a shoemaker's apron on, mending the shoes of the Camp. One and another gave him help from time to time, especially an English baronet, who did beautiful work. My wife still has a pair of shoes on which he put a most excellent pair of soles, made from the soles of worn-out rubber boots that had been thrown away.
I remember taking Major B. a pair of shoes that really were a hopeless case. He sadly shook his head, but the next day quietly handed me a much better pair than my own, that had been thrown away by a wealthy Jewish gentleman in Camp. Shoes were so terribly expensive when we left for Camp that I had not ventured to get a new pair, and all I had were rather old. I had one old pair of fur-lined boots (only cat's fur), that the shoemaker had by mistake made to button instead of lace. I had decided to have a very cheap sole put on them and send them to the Russians, who were in need, but my shoemaker would not hear of this. "No, No, Master; these plenty good boots. No can give Russian man. I put good sole on this time. Next time can give Russian man." So I obediently let my shoemaker fix them up as he wished; and how thankful I was in Camp for his good advice. One kind friend made me a present of a pair of good English running shoes, and these lasted a long time. When the uppers were completely gone, the soles went on the fur-lined boots, and prolonged their life: but many precious hours of our own time went into shoe-repairing, for the whole Camp grew more and more desperate, and the official menders could not begin to cope with the situation. One time when my sister was in great need, she was able to trade off something for a pair of very good slippers with our next door neighbor. Another time when I was almost desperate, a pair of shoes that just fitted me, arrived in a parcel from Shanghai. This was the work of our dear brother, Mr. F. And so, in one way or another, our every need was filled.
Chapter 18:: Needs Supplied
I THINK I MENTIONED that our raincoats and my overcoat had been stolen out of our hall at Brenan Road, and that my kind friend, Mr. G., had given me his own overcoat. I do not know what I would have done without it, but in reality it was rather small for me, and not very warm. So a great part of the time I lived in my dressing gown, put on over all the rest of my clothes. Now, it happened that with the first boxes from the Red Cross, a certain amount of clothing was sent into Camp, and applications were accepted from any camper who thought he was in need. There was an immense amount of jealousy as to the distribution, for there was not enough to go round, and most people were in need, or at least thought they were. Knowing the conditions, it never crossed our minds to apply for anything that had come in. You can imagine my surprise, then, when the lady in charge of distribution stopped me one day and remarked: "We have an overcoat for you over at the Canteen.”
“But I did not apply for an overcoat.”
“I know you did not, but somebody else applied for you."
"But I don't need one as much as some others.”
“You can turn your old coat in, and we will give it to someone else.”
“But however do you come to have one for me?”
"I won't tell you who applied for you, but I can tell you this, that it was the most unlikely man in camp, I would have thought, to do this for you; and he specified: 'He's to have first pick.' So you go over to the Canteen and see the one we have put aside for you, or else pick one out for yourself.”
How strange are the ways of God to provide for our needs!
I must try and tell you also about the parcels. We were advised before coming into camp to arrange with friends outside to send us in parcels from time to time, and some people had numbers of parcels wrapped and addressed to themselves, ready to be sent in by the Red Cross. However, what funds we had, we felt should be kept for the Chinese, so we made no arrangement whatever for parcels, nor did we expect that any would come in, apart from three or four we had ourselves packed, containing things we needed, and could not get into our boxes.
But, when the time came for the first delivery of parcels, there was an unexpected one for us. I do not recall how it came to be sent. Most of those that came in were prepared by my sister's dear child, Tien Chei. Nobody could guess the work that was involved. First, the money had to be provided, and this she did in various ways. Sometimes it was a case of selling something, as my bicycle. Then, on account of war, the shops were almost empty, and it was most difficult to hunt around and find something to send. Also, the packing had to be exactly according to regulation, and this made it harder. Then these heavy parcels had to be taken down to the city, and delivered to the Red Cross. Nobly Tien Chei managed all this, and time after time, when we did not see how it was possible there could be anything for us, a parcel arrived. One or more was sent by a German Christian we hardly knew. Our German brethren, through Mlle. J., on several occasions sent us parcels. On another occasion a very nice parcel arrived from a German gentleman, I believe a Christian, almost a stranger. Years before he had been in very hard circumstances, and had come into the Book Room, and I had taken him home for supper. It had been, evidently, a very great treat for him, and he never forgot it. Later he did quite well in business, and we lost touch with him; but from him came a parcel. One Christmas the Canadian Government sent us each a little parcel, and very acceptable it was. There was a big piece of cheese for each one, as well as biscuits and candies.
I think it was in the second summer, my wife decided to prepare calendars for her friends in Camp. She first chose twelve different subjects, one subject for each month; then a verse, or a combination of verses for each day was chosen, dealing with that subject; and all were then written out in very small writing, one month to a sheet of a small size writing pad. You can hardly credit how precious paper was in Camp. Each sheet was reinforced at the top with thin cloth pasted on it. Three holes were punched in it, and the twelve sheets of each calendar bound with red string, and hung from a piece of thin bamboo, obtained from pieces that fell out of the yard brooms, kept for cleaning up. I think I must give you a taste of this calendar that brought cheer and comfort to quite a number in camp.
Monday 1 JANUARY
This month shall be unto you the beginning of months. —Ex. 12:2.
Tuesday 2
I will go before thee and make the crooked places straight. —Isa. 45:2.
Wednesday 3
Fear not neither be discouraged.—Deut. 1:21.
Thursday 4
When He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them.—John 10:4.
Friday 5
I will go in the strength of the Lord God.—Psa. 71:16.
Saturday 6
He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might He increaseth strength.—Isa. 40:29.
Sunday 7
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength... they shall run and not be weary.-Isa. 40:31.
Monday 8
The joy of the Lord is your strength.—Neh. 8:10.
It was a big piece of work to get these all neatly written out, the dates put on, and bound ready to hang. Mrs. S. kindly made us a copy of the one she received, and we keep it as quite a treasure.
Towards the latter part of our internment, a most valuable institution was introduced. Once a week in "Room No. 7" was held "The Sale and Exchange". Anybody who needed anything, would search their possessions, find something they could do without, send it over to Mrs. B. of the Salvation Army, with a note attached stating what they wanted, and on Friday afternoon all would be displayed. No bargain-hunters' rush could compare with the excitement of that hour or two; and it was perfectly amazing what could be obtained. I got some drawing materials for a bottle of shrimp paste. But it was the children who needed this exchange most, or perhaps I should say the mothers of the children. The children would grow and grow and grow, and their clothes were not like the clothes of Israel in the wilderness which did not wax old.
Another terrible trial was false teeth. I suppose they always are a trial, but when plates break in an internment camp, with no hope of getting them repaired, it is even more of a trial. The first plate to break, was kindly sent to Shanghai by the Japanese for repairs, and was almost six or eight months, if I remember correctly, getting back again; and when it arrived it was worse than when it went away. Actually, within a few hundred yards of the Camp, there was more than one Chinese dentist who could have fixed them in a day or two; but the Japanese would not allow such a convenience as this to help us. There was one man who had brought with him a most complete set of small metal working tools, a lathe, drills, etc. He only used them at home as a recreation, but he had become very skilful in his work. This gentleman got the dentist in camp to take an impression of the lady's mouth. He found a silver shilling, and beat the shilling out until it exactly fitted the plaster-of-paris mold. Then, taking the old teeth from the broken plate, he prepared little strips of silver, and soldered each tooth on to the frame he had made. The new plate fitted better, and worked better, than anything she had ever had before. Many plates were repaired after that. But repairs were not limited to dentures only, but included a great range, such as watches, clocks, jewelry, etc. A little workshop was in time provided in the camp for this work, and a helper was needed to keep up with all that had to be done.
We had been in Camp some time, when a notice was posted, ordering us to pack our belongings, and be ready to move at any time, with twenty-four hours' notice. The other two Camps in Yangchow had similar orders, and they were both moved back to Shanghai, including our friends, Miss Dear and Miss M. I fear life was even more difficult for them in Shanghai, as quarters were more crowded than they had been in Yangchow. But the Japanese decided it was better to keep us where we were.
Chapter 19:: Opportunities
ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON one of our Sixth Form boys came to our little Gospel Chorus service. He listened earnestly, and seemed to enjoy taking part. I do not recall the subject, but at the close, speaking to the younger ones there, it was said: "Is there not someone here who would like to know for certain that all his sins are forgiven; all gone in God's sight?" Instantly Geoffrey, the Sixth Form boy, replied: "I would give anything I possess for that knowledge. It is what I want more than anything else." The children scattered, and I showed Geoffrey that lovely verse in John 6:47: "Verily, verily I say unto you, he that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." He drank it in like a thirsty soul. There is something so superbly grand in the simplicity of this verse, that one can never weary of it. It was, perhaps six weeks later that, meeting Geoffrey in the grounds alone, I said to him: "How is it, Geoffrey. Do you know that you have your sins forgiven, that you have eternal life?”
“Yes," Geoffrey replied, "I know it now."
"How do you know, Geoffrey?”
“You remember the verse you showed me? 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life'. I do believe on the Lord Jesus, so He says that I have everlasting life.”
It was a peculiar joy to see this dear lad find the Lord. I had been teaching him for some time; and had learned to know him well. He was quiet, gentle, always well-behaved, and always acted as a gentleman: yet there was something wistful about him, that made one's heart ache. Now he had found what he was seeking: rather should I say, now had he found Whom he was seeking. He lived with his parents and older brother in almost the next room to us, separated from us by a stairs and hallway. His parents became real friends, but his father had been stricken by some disease that had left him only able to hobble about with the use of a cane.
This incident increased a great longing I had had for some time to gather some of these older boys for a Bible class. It was the more difficult as there already were two very popular Bible classes for boys being held by two of the most gifted of the modernist missionaries in Camp; and it was most desirable to avoid anything that might appear to be rivalry. At the same time, one could not but long that the glorious truths of salvation might be clearly and simply put before these dear lads.
But now that Geoffrey had definitely taken a stand for the Lord, with Gordon S. and Raymond, it gave us a little nucleus for a class, and two or three others often came. It was very difficult to find a corner where it could be held, for as you will realize, there was no sympathy with such an undertaking. However, the librarian kindly offered us the use of the library on Sunday afternoons; and we had some very happy times together.
Quite a few months after that day when Geoffrey had come to the Gospel Choruses, we were sitting in our room one evening, about half-past-six, having supper, when we heard an unusual commotion on the stairs that led directly to the front door of our building. I looked out of the window, and saw a stretcher being carried out, on the way to the hospital. It was no uncommon sight, and after supper I inquired who had been taken sick. I was told it was Geoffrey, but this did not surprise me, as I knew he was not strong. That night, about midnight, or a little earlier, I was wakened by footsteps up and down the stairs. Next morning we heard that at about eleven o'clock that night Geoffrey had gone "Home!" How unspeakably thankful I was to know that for him it was "Home!" It was not many days later that his mother came to ask, "What was it that Geoffrey got that had given him such peace the last few months of his life?" I had the joy of pointing her to the same precious Savior, and to His glorious word: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." It was peculiarly sad for these parents, as the war was now over, and "Home, Sweet Home", was in sight once more, when their boy was called to a better Home, where there is no more death, neither sorrow nor crying. A few weeks later, as we parted in Shanghai, the mother whispered to me: "Will you make me a text with Geoffrey's words on it?”
For a time we had other listeners at the Gospel Choruses. We had one or two guards who were, I believe, real Christians. They loved to come and listen to the singing, and though they could not understand the words, they recognized the tunes, and would take up the words in their own tongue. This was not long tolerated by the authorities, but they still would sometimes linger at a distance as they made their rounds, enjoying the words that brought such joy and comfort to them as well as to us. One of these men was intensely fond of singing, and when his duties were over, he used to go up to the old city wall, that towered above our wall, about a hundred feet away. There he would walk up and down and sing to his heart's content. We used to hear hymn after hymn, sung as loud as ever he could. I think it cheered him up, and I am sure that it cheered up some of us. I think he was really a Korean. Some of the guards were quite ready to be friendly, but it was strictly against the rules to talk with them.
We were not the only ones who grieved over the condition of the camp spiritually. One friend, Mr. S., who had at one time been much used in preaching the Gospel, felt very keenly the lack of a clear Gospel message. Towards the end of our internment he went to the Church Committee and begged that an opportunity might be given once a month for a simple Gospel address. When first we came into Camp, on a Sunday evening some of the Christians had come together around the little organ in the dining room, and had sung some of the old familiar hymns. A good many, hearing the singing, had come in and joined in it; and the numbers each week were increasing. One old Jew who had been coming, remarked as the singing finished, "That does one good!" Soon, however, it was taken over officially; and it was not long before it grew cold and dead. Instead of the old hymns that everybody knew, less familiar ones were substituted, and the attendance quickly dropped off, until it was decided it was not worth while carrying on.
After that, discussions were arranged for Sunday evening; a speaker and a chairman were selected, and then the meeting was thrown open for discussion. The subjects were always selected by the modernist group in the camp, and the meetings were under their control.
When Mr. S. pressed for a simple Gospel preaching once a month, rather grudgingly the Church Committee agreed to allow one Sunday evening a month instead of the discussion. Mr. S., although a true and earnest Christian, had never thrown in his lot with those of us who had openly taken a stand against modernism and unbelief. He told me that he had met little of it, and knew little about it. So, with the hope of keeping in favor with those controlling religious affairs, he invited four of them to take part in the service, by singing a quartette. The meeting was quite well attended, and a simple, earnest, touching appeal went forth. Never again was such a meeting allowed in the Camp.
Towards the end of our internment it was announced on the Church Notice Board that the following Sunday the discussion would be on the subject: "Is there a Hell?" I knew the speaker well, and one of the doctors who took a prominent part in the discussions, was chairman. I knew very well what to expect, and though we had avoided going to these meetings, it seemed best to attend this one. The speaker denied eternal punishment, though he admitted there probably was some sort of temporary punishment. He also took the opportunity to deny the possibility of having the certainty of eternal life, and made what appeared to me to be slighting remarks on the Old Testament. The meeting was then thrown open for discussion, and as nobody raised a voice of protest, I sought to refute something of what had been said. It was not long before the chairman asked me to sit down and give somebody else an opportunity to speak. No one else had anything to say, so the chairman himself gave us quite a long dissertation, backing up what the speaker had said, and the meeting closed.
This appeared to give an opportunity, and I wrote a note to the Church Committee pointing out the fact that although their side of these subjects had been presented in Camp time and again, on the one occasion when for even a few moments I had tried to present the other side, there had not been even the ordinary courtesy shown to allow me to speak. Under the circumstances, it seemed the least they could do would be to permit me to present the other side on the next Sunday evening. I had a letter granting this request, but stating the address must not exceed half-an-hour. This was quite satisfactory. They selected as chairman one who was entirely in sympathy with their own views. My watch was broken, so I borrowed my sister's so as to keep accurate record of my time. I sought to point out that the One who told us of hell, and of the state of the wicked after death, was the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. I read some of these passages, including the solemn account of the rich man and Lazarus, and pointed out that our Lord said: "There was a certain rich man..."; there was no suggestion that this was a parable. But if anyone insisted that it was a parable, then the only alternative was this: that the reality was so terrible that no human words could begin to paint the picture, and so it had to be told out in parable, by what we could understand. It made a very solemn subject, and the interest was intense. When twenty minutes had gone by, the chairman stopped me. I suppose he felt he did not wish to hear any more. There was a certain amount of discussion, but not one could refute anything that had been said,-the chairman of the previous week merely insisting that "Eternal Punishment is not reasonable." One could scarcely imagine a more feeble foundation on which to base one's hope for eternity. The Lord alone is the One who knows the conditions after death. He has told these to us with the utmost clearness. What folly to refuse to believe His testimony, because to our feeble, finite minds we do not consider His Words "reasonable". His own Word says: "What He hath seen and heard, that He testifieth; and no man receiveth His testimony. He that hath received His testimony hath set to his seal that God is true" (John 3:32, 33). It is the more remarkable that in Rev. 4:1, we read, "I will show thee things which must be hereafter," and the Greek word used for "must" carries with it the idea of "logical necessity". What follows in Revelation is almost entirely judgments, including the Great White Throne and the lake of fire, and torment forever and ever; and all are "a logical necessity". It is well for men and women today to remember that utterly regardless of their opinions, the Word of God tells us with the greatest clearness that there is a hell, there is a lake of fire, and whosoever was not found written in the Book of Life was cast into it. The torment is forever and ever. The same words in Greek are used for "everlasting punishment" and for "Life eternal" (Matt. 25:46). The one lasts as long as the other, and each is for eternity. Not only is Eternal Punishment "reasonable", but it is "a logical necessity". Thank God, He has provided a way of escape at the cost of His own Son.
As we came out of the hall, "Father James" remarked to a friend: "That's just what I believe. I wonder where he learned it. A Roman Catholic could not have put the matter more clearly.”
“Is God for me, I fear not,
Though all against me rise;
When I call on Christ my Savior,
The host of evil flies.
My Friend, the Lord Almighty!
And He Who loves me, God!
What enemy shall harm me,
Though coming like a flood?
“There is no condemnation,
There is no hell for me,
The torment and the fire
Mine eyes shall never see.
For me there is no judgment,
For me, Death has no sting,
Because the Lord Who loves me
Shall shield me with His wing.”
—Paul Gerhardt.
Chapter 20:: School Days and Holidays
OUR SECOND SUMMER was an unusually hot one. The Senior Cambridge Examination had been set, and held, in the midst of the heat, and then came the work of correcting the papers. We were most anxious that the standard should be such that if the papers were sent to Cambridge there might be nothing with which they could find fault. This made the correcting much more difficult than it might otherwise have been, and we were very weary when at last the results were complete.
I think the teachers felt the strain and anxiety of the Examination results as much as the students. My girls had begged me not to give up their Geometry until they had written their exams, and indeed I had the pleasure of coaching them in other Maths as well as Geometry; so I was keenly interested in their results. As far as I remember all of them passed their Mathematics, but one of them fell down in French. The Education Committee rejected her, and the list of successful candidates did not contain her name. She was one of the hardest working students in Camp, with an excellent record, so it was a great blow to us all. The Headmistress was not the sort to accept such decisions very meekly, unless she was sure they were correct: so she got a set of Cambridge rules, and went through them much more carefully than the Committee had done, with the result that, to the joy of the whole Camp, especially to her teachers and her own family, a special notice was posted saying B. had passed.
An unusually cold winter followed the hot summer, and there was great suffering in the Camp. In most rooms there was no heat whatever. The temperature went as low at times as 18 degrees, or fourteen degrees of frost, and the snow lay on the ground for weeks at a time, and then would turn to slush that was even worse. By this time the footwear in Camp was in a most deplorable condition, especially amongst the children, whose feet would insist on growing out of everything they possessed. There was hardly a person in Camp without chilblains on both hands and feet. The hands and feet of many were terribly swollen, the great chilblains often broken and bleeding, and some became infected. At times the children's hands were too sore to hold a pencil; and their feet on the cold, damp brick floors of the school rooms only made the chilblains worse.
The School had by this time been moved from the church building to the old Chinese Gate-house of the main entrance. The Sixth Form had a rather pleasant room, with a wood floor, and windows facing south and west, that often enjoyed the sun. The old Sixth Form had been disbanded, and the boys from it sent to help in Camp Labor. The new Sixth Form was further advanced in their work than the old class had been, so it took more time preparing for them.
I have not mentioned my good friend Mr. H. who took over a lot of the Senior Maths, or it would have been impossible to carry on at all. Mr. H. was head of the largest firm of Chartered Accountants in Shanghai, and peculiarly gifted, and well trained in Mathematics, especially those that touched business principles. It was a wonderful thing for the boys to have such a teacher, and was a great compensation for the loss of their liberty in the Camp. His classes were an education to me. We will never forget his short-cuts in arithmetic, though I fear many of us will forget "how it was done." His problems, too, most of which he prepared himself, brought the boys face to face with the working problems of life they would later meet in the Shanghai business world.
Mr. H. took the keenest interest in his pupils, and every one of them knew that he was genuinely their friend. I met him the other day, and he was as pleased and proud as could be to tell me of the remarkable successes of nearly all our students who have gone abroad to schools. One marvels more that he should have been able to do so much, as he had a cataract on both eyes, and could only see with the greatest difficulty. The School was only a sideline with him, for he carried on his Camp duties as well. Very often he was the mainstay of the Camp Committee, and for a long time had charge of Camp Accounts.
The Fifth Form was now largely composed of the old Fourth: all of them grown older, and many of them wiser. They were now housed in "Room Number Seven". Perhaps I must turn aside from the more pleasant labor of recounting school interests, to try and describe "Room No. Seven". All the houses and rooms were numbered, and this particular room, once a large bedroom housing a number of families, at the urgent request of a certain influential section of the Camp, had been cleared out for a "Recreation Room". A stove was kept in this room, and so, apart from the hospital and one or two favored spots, it was almost the only warm room in the Camp. Very, very grudgingly had consent at last been given to use this room for the Fifth and First Forms.
It had a cement floor, faced north, and on the east looked over a court by the kitchen. It was quite large, and had a single beam running in the wrong direction supporting the bedrooms above it. I am sure that by every "Theory of Structures" that beam ought to have collapsed, but I am thankful to say it never did. The room itself was the most difficult I have ever known for speaking. The Fifth was a large form, and it seemed almost impossible to make the back row hear without drowning out the first. But I must tell you a little about the "Recreation". We finished school, as far as I recall, at three-thirty. By that time a queue had formed outside the door, and the moment school was over, without even giving the boys time to leave, in they would rush, grab the little tables the boys used as desks, and in less time than it takes to tell, there would be card parties set up all over the room. If you happened to open the door and put your head in to look for someone, an hour or two later, you would find the room densely packed, and such a cloud of cigarette smoke hanging like a pall over all, that you would hurriedly retreat. Most exciting were the gains and losses in those card games. One dear little lad disappeared on a certain afternoon. His parents lived opposite Room No. Seven, and often warned their laddie of its evils. The father, mother and friends feverishly searched every corner of the camp and grounds, but no sign of their boy. At last someone casually remarked, "Oh, he's in Room No. Seven." After that when he said his prayers he used to add a special petition that he might be kept from "Room No. Seven".
I have mentioned that the First Form was also housed in this famous room. I only taught this form once a week in Science. That was once too often. The smaller boys attended the Girls' School, which was held in the Dining Room, but when they grew to be ten or twelve it was thought they should go into the Boys' School. For some strange reason no corporal punishment was allowed in the school, and there was little paper on which lines could be written; so punishments were really almost unknown, and the result for the teachers was, in this form at least, appalling. I wish I could describe some of those boys. Near the back sat a rather large, gentle-looking boy, with a kind of baby face. He was very chubby, had large blue eyes, and plenty of fair hair, and on the whole looked the very picture of innocence. He was clever, and if he wished could do well, but rarely, very, very rarely did he "wish". I have watched with one corner of my eye as I taught the Fifth, the poor teacher almost in desperation, scolding this particular boy: while he gazed in well-feigned amazement and pity at his teacher's excitement, assuming, if things got too serious, a most pathetic air of injured innocence. I believe this boy was truly converted before we left Camp, and there was a great change in him. Next to him sat one of the prettiest boys I have ever seen in my life. He was the only son of his mother and she was a widow. He was rather small, but held himself well. He had the most beautiful fair curly hair, and eyes that sparkled and danced all the time. He had dimples, and a mouth that could not keep from the most bewitching smile. Everybody loved him, one just could not help it, for his disposition was as bright and sunny as his face. But combined with all this beauty, I suppose I never met anyone who could contrive and carry out mischief quite as fast as this child. I might continue with the rest of the class, but these are samples. It did not seem strange that the Girls' School had concluded that the time had come when these boys should go into the Boys' School.
The last time I remember seeing that lovely child was the day before we were to leave Camp. I was garbage-man by this time, and was making an evening round of the garbage pails to see that all was tidy. Suddenly, from out of one of the great fifty-gallon drums that acted as garbage pails, popped Peter's curly head: his eyes were shining even more than they usually shone, his whole face was filled with animation, as he said to me: "O Sir, there's the dearest little mouse in this garbage pail; I'm just trying to catch it for my mother!" His mother was a proper mother, and I have pot the least doubt would have given Peter's mouse a welcome, but I was thankful for her sake, and the sake of all the other people in the room, that just as Peter finally succeeded in catching it, the mouse slipped through his fingers and jumped out of the drum.
The Fourth Form had a room to themselves. True, it was dark, and had a mud floor, but it was a great blessing to get them by themselves. This Form had become a collection of boys who would not, or could not, learn. It was a most wearying class. Three big boys dominated it, and saw that none of the others should work. The extraordinary system that ruled out punishments greatly wronged this class, and those three boys in particular; and most of all, their teacher. A thorough good caning would have saved the necessity of these boys later being withdrawn from the School, not to speak of the difference it would have made to the staff.
The Second Form was rather large. It had a fair sized room to itself, but it faced north, and never had any sun. It had a damp brick floor, and during that last winter was bitterly cold. Many times the children's hands were too numb to hold a pencil, not to speak of the chilblains which I have already tried to describe. Often we would send them out for a run in the middle of a class to try and get their blood circulating, but they suffered more than any of the other boys. It was a very keen class of nice boys, and was a pleasure to teach. Not all were clever, but all were keen, and I believe every one did his very best. There were several real Christian boys in this Form. I had them for Science and a few classes in Maths, and look back to the hours spent with them with real joy.
That was a long hard winter, and we were all worn out with the unusually hot summer. As I have said, there was no he-at in our rooms, and night after night we went to bed, chilled to the very bone, our feet like blocks of ice, and no friendly hot-water bottle to warm us. Often it would be almost morning before we thawed out, and then came getting up in the dark and facing the cold once more.
The pipes froze and burst. The pumps froze and burst. The queues were longer, more ragged, and more impatient than before; and worse still, we were all feeling more hopeless. True, the Americans were making headway in the Pacific, and even we knew this, but could they force Japan to surrender? The Japanese themselves were so certain that I suppose it was apt to infect us. At one time several campers were discussing the question that was on everybody's lips: "How long?" They spoke rather optimistically, thinking that a guard who was standing near, would not understand. At last he broke in: "Japan is mighty strong. You do not know. Japan can fight ten years more. Japan is mighty strong.”
We watched Germany brought to her knees, and that news was fairly truthfully given us. We supposed it was to help "save face" for Japan, in case she should decide to surrender along with her ally. And then came the German capitulation: would Japan surrender also? How we hoped! How we feared! How we wondered! But, no, the surrender did not come, and life turned back into the same old rut. With most of us, the physical resistance we had when we came into Camp was gone. Those carrying the burden of the Camp were, for the most part, unspeakably tired. Tempers were more frayed, and life altogether had become very hard. We had the Senior Cambridge Exams coming on: the papers had to be prepared: the examinations supervised, and then, worst of all, there was the correcting. And again it was decided to hold these exams in the hottest part of the summer. I had been ill a number of times, and now (as with many in Camp) dizzy spells became more and more frequent. My hands and feet became numb, and I wondered how it would be possible to face another term of school under prevailing conditions. One and another of the teachers dropped classes, and these had been added, at times without even consulting me, to the work already on hand; until the load was almost unsupportable.
However, we got through the exams, and in course of time the papers were corrected, and results, some much disputed, were made public. But it left some of us unutterably weary: only the hope of holidays kept us going at all.
But now a darker shadow than any we had known since coming into Camp began to make itself felt. Our dear Tien Chei had been training in the Chinese Red Cross Hospital, and had done very well indeed, and also had been a real witness to the Lord. Now we got word that she was unwell. At first she made light of it; nothing to worry over, but gradually it proved to be a spot on her lung, and we had seen this terrible disease too often do its deadly work amongst the Chinese not to be very anxious. How we longed to get her away to Kuling, but that was impossible. We were helpless, apart from prayer.
Holidays came at last, and how thankfully did we turn from the strain of school, to work that was more like recreation. I was trying to transfer Mr. Wigram's Greek Concordance to Index Cards, leaving sufficient room against each word to insert the Chinese characters that might seem best to translate it. It was rather a heavy job, but it had not the nervous strain of teaching, and we hoped that it might prove invaluable when we went back to our work on the New Testament, and tried to begin and prepare our dictionary. Sad to say the trunk in which this Card Index was packed, disappeared later on the return journey to Shanghai.
There had only been a very few days of holidays, when the request came: "Would you kindly take over the garbage collecting for the Camp?" There were some six men already employed on this job; but they did not seem very much in love with it. I knew very well that the moment an outsider was put over the work these six men would walk off: but I also reckoned that my young friend Jimmie T. would not see me stuck, and I knew that he had his drains all in good shape, so that he would have time to give me a hand.
Not only did it mean collecting the garbage, but it meant disposing of it as well. Almost all the time we had been in Camp, an elderly man had taken charge of the incinerator where the garbage was burned; but for some reason he had given up this job; so it meant both collecting and disposing. And not only was it the garbage, but the whole Camp had to be kept clean. Perhaps the cause for this request was a plague of flies that we had about this time: great, huge bluebottles that seemed to be everywhere. We had almost no supplies in camp, and I was warned there was no way to fight them.
Thus it was I became garbage-man. The first morning my six men went off in a rage at being so insulted, and Jimmie and I took over the work. We found a bag of lime in the dark, tiny room behind the Library that was set apart to keep our tools; and daily we sprinkled the lime where the flies were worst. In about a week they had disappeared.
And now I had what I had never had before in Camp, a tiny spot where I could go alone and undisturbed for prayer. Perhaps the hardest thing in Camp life was the fact that never could one be alone for prayer and reading the Word in quiet. Each of us so needs this for our own soul. As we gaze in wonder at our Lord, and see Him going alone to the mountain-side for prayer (seven times in Luke do we find our Lord praying), how much more do we need it, especially in the face of such a bitter enemy?
I was peculiarly cheered in this work by 1 Cor. 4:13, where the Apostle Paul tells us that the Apostles were made the refuse and the garbage; for that is the meaning of the Greek words. It seemed to give a little share with them to be even garbage-man, but how much further did they go, to be the garbage?
Chapter 21:: And Then …
AND THEN... It was Sunday morning. I can remember it as if it were yesterday.
As usual I was down for the early morning water queue. (They had a new arrangement now for serving water, from the boiler house, and my kitchen duties had ended). I was standing next to Mr. S. The old, old subject again came up, and he remarked: “Well, I think we're in here for a long time yet.”
“I'm afraid we are," I replied, and that, I suppose, was the general feeling all through the Camp.
That morning when the Chinese women came in to take away the refuse, they brought us the astounding news that the whole city was seething with excitement through a report that Japan had surrendered. By the evening it was contradicted, but next morning re-affirmed. The Japanese became more and more intolerant, and we felt sure there must be something to it. This was the first time they had troubled to contradict one of our rumors, though they had warned us at other times that under no circumstances were we to listen to rumors, as they were always false. I should have explained before now that the Japanese had their agents or spies in the Camp, and scarcely a thing would happen that would not be reported to them within an hour or two.
This uncertainty continued for almost two weeks. One day the officer in command of the morning parade became so infuriated over some trifle that he walked off the parade ground without dismissing us, and hacking at the shrubs and flowers with his sword as he left. Finally one morning a guard noticed a man well past middle age, who happened to be standing with his heels not quite together. We were supposed to stand at attention, with heels together, and our hands by our sides, looking straight in front of us. This unfortunate man had failed to get his heels quite together, and a guard came behind him and kicked him. The Camp was furious; and Mr. Grant called on the Japanese Commandant and announced to him that the time had now come when we would no longer be treated in that way by his guards, as we had won the war.
“Who told you that you have won the war?”
“Never mind who told us; we know.”
“No news has come to me that you have won the war.”
“I'm sorry you have not heard, but we have heard, and we know, and we are not coming out on parade any more.”
“Oh, all right.”
So then we knew it must be true, or the Commandant would never have agreed to let us stop parade. That afternoon a letter came from the Swiss Consul advising us that Japan had surrendered. The letter also instructed us to remain in our Camp until permission came from Shanghai to leave, and that it had been arranged that the Japanese would continue looking after the Camp until the Allies could take over.
“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick, but the desire accomplished is sweet to the soul." How different life seemed after that! We all thought that in a week or two now we would be free. But about eight long weeks had to go by before that time arrived.
We had used our parcel supplies as sparingly as we possibly could, fearing that we might have another winter to put in, and with Tien Chei training in the Hospital, and little or nothing left that could be sold, we felt it wise to reserve them for darker days ahead. But now we knew we could use them freely, and even this made life easier. One day my wife remarked, "How I would love some canned peaches!" It would be peach season just then in her home in Hamilton. But there were no peaches, fresh or canned, to be had in our Camp. The next day there was tremendous excitement—an airplane! The first to visit our Camp since we arrived, except the one that wrote on the sky for us when Manila was retaken. Back and forth it went, over the Camp, and then away out over the Chinese fields in the country it would circle, and soon would be back once more. It was flying low. What did it want? Suddenly the bottom opened up, a great shout went up from the crowd below, and in a few seconds we heard a terrific crash, the whole house shook, and then all was still. We three had been sitting on my bed from which we could look out of the window. I rushed to the door, to find the passageway filled with dust, broken plaster and debris. The plane had dropped a fifty gallon steel drum filled with supplies. They had missed the great grounds of the Camp, and got a fair hit right on the roof of the largest building in Camp. It came through the roof, smashing the roof beams and joists; it struck two iron beds that were standing close together in Mr. and Mrs. H.'s room, crashed with these beds through the floor, splintering the joists as if they had been matchwood, through another bed in the room below, grazing the wall, and finally was brought to a standstill half through the next floor. It landed about ten feet from where we were sitting, and the drum was filled with canned peaches! Only a few seconds before some of the people in these rooms had gone out into the hall, or they would almost surely have been killed.
After that the plane was afraid to drop anything more inside the grounds, and went over the fields outside the city, and package after package was dropped. A few landed in ponds, or the city moat, but most fell in the fields around. One completely demolished a small Chinese house, and injured a boy, but he recovered. You who have never been in China, could not, I think, conceive of the rapidity with which a crowd collects in that land. Something happens in a spot where there seems to be nobody, and there gathers in no time, like magic, a great crowd. And so it was in this case, and much was lost. The American officers in charge of the Camp arranged with the Japanese authorities that the Campers should be allowed to go out and collect what had been dropped. The guards accompanied us to see that we did not run away. How good it was to be outside those walls! Except to cross the street to help carry water from a well outside the front gate, in a crisis, on two or three occasions, this was the first time we had been outside the gate since that memorable day when we first came in. How good the country seemed! How delightful to be free once more! How friendly the people were! How readily the children tried to learn to sing a verse of "Jesus Loves Me.”
Each bundle dropped was fastened to a parachute. They were made of silk, of bright colors, some red, others blue, or yellow, or gold. How pretty they were as they dropped from the plane! And what an abundant supply of good things! Food of every description, and clothing, boots and shoes, (Oh, how we needed them!) underclothes; handkerchiefs, even; shirts; coats; everything we needed. And the parachutes were divided up amongst the ladies; my wife and my sister each got a third of a lovely shade of blue.
One of the guards pulled his gun on a crowd of Chinese who were taking one of the bundles. In an instant they threw him down, and I have little doubt would have killed him, had not some of the Campers come to his rescue. As it was, they insisted he kneel down in front of them, bow his head to the dust, and apologize for what he had done. The Japanese were beginning to find out they were no longer the masters.
No doubt much was lost, but much was rescued, and we all came back to Camp loaded down with all we could carry. And that was not the last time the planes came. They learned later just how to drop the things, and bundle after bundle was dropped in our own back field. Our rescuers saw to it that we wanted for nothing from the day that they took over.
The first of the Allied forces to reach our Camp was a young American officer with two or three men. They brought with them an immense Chinese "Corry" (a kind of large straw suitcase, that can be pulled in or out, as need requires). This was bursting with money. We could see bills of huge denominations sticking out all around. But how good it was to see a friendly face from outside once more! We all collected in front of the church to welcome him, the spot that used to be out-of-bounds, reserved for the Japanese; but we had no need to fear them anymore. He stood on the church steps and said a few words to us, and we accompanied him across the Compound to Room No. Seven, that was borrowed from the gamblers for the accommodation of our deliverers. Quietly and efficiently our new friend went over the camp, asking what we needed most, and it was no time before we had an abundance of brushes and brooms, pails and tubs, rakes and shovels, things we had needed so badly to do our work; and food, the best food the neighborhood could supply, and all we could eat, was soon provided. But the strange thing was that now we had the food-good food, and in abundance, it seemed as though we could not eat it, and those who did eat somewhat freely, soon regretted it. I suppose it took time for our stomachs to become accustomed to the new conditions.
Some little time later, a young British officer came up and took over. He soon restricted the Japanese guards to a very small corner of the Compound, and a little later told them to go. The Commandant was a bit inclined to resent his authority. The officer commanded, "You go and get me a horse, and get it quickly!" The Commandant meekly obeyed, and there was no question after that as to who was in authority. This officer with two or three others organized parties and took the campers out for long walks in the country. This was an excellent thing to do, and was an unspeakable help to everybody. He also arranged that we might go in small parties, nominally accompanied by a Japanese guard, into the city and do some shopping. Marshal Chiang Kai-Shek had sent us each a gift of money, and several wealthy Chinese gentlemen in Shanghai had also made us similar presents, so we had funds to buy things. 'What fun it was, after those years behind the walls!
But best of all, we were allowed to write all the letters we liked, and they were not censored, and did not have to be only 25 words, nor did they need any postage. As soon as the Commandant was turned out, the British officer who took over, found over a hundred letters for the campers lying in his desk, undelivered. And cards came from the children at home, and from Mr. and Mrs. Collier, and we began to understand how it must have felt, when "the Lord turned the captivity of Job.”
Towards the end of our captivity an entirely new Camp Committee had been elected, composed largely of business men or city workers. Feeling ran very high at this time. Some of those on the Committee had been elected to it almost every time elections had been held; but now these were all turned out of office, and quite new faces appeared. This made it very much easier to get permission to put up a text. On the several occasions I asked for such a privilege, the request was granted at once. Thus encouraged, I had prepared part of Psa. 126, to be ready in case word of release should come:
“When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion,
We were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter,
And our tongue with singing:
Then said they among the heathen,
The Lord hath done great things for them.
The Lord hath done great things for us;
Whereof we are glad.”
As soon as definite word of victory came, I got permission to put up this text, just under the Camp clock by the dining room door. I think it was a surprise to many to find that the Bible had just the right words to fit every occasion. How well does it understand man. How well does it enter into every detail of our daily life. How well for us if we have accepted it as our Guide and Counselor through the wilderness of this world. "Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the LORD" (Psa. 144:15).
Those became rather trying days, in spite of the fact that Chinese coolies were brought in to help. I was still garbage-man at that time. After our American friends arrived, I had two or three Chinese coolies who were supposed to help in the work. But people seemed to lose all sense in their excitement, and the great fifty gallon drums used as garbage containers were filled to overflowing with things people cast away rather than take the trouble to pack and take home. My coolies were so busy sorting over these things, fighting amongst themselves over the loot, and watching to see that no other coolies should get a share, that we would have been just as well off without them.
When the planes were dropping supplies, often tins of jam or other foodstuffs were broken, and immediately began to breed flies, so that the days were rather full trying to keep the Camp clean. Added to these difficulties we had continual rain, and everything became so water soaked that the garbage would not burn, and Jimmie and I used to dig great pits and bury it. But they were pleasant, happy days, with the hope of freedom ever drawing nearer, and the prospect of soon seeing our loved ones again.
We all spent our spare time packing, unless we were mending our trunks; but our American friends were wonderful. They provided vast supplies of good rope, and locks, and skilled workmen to rope the trunks and bundles. Their forethought and generosity and efficiency were wonderful, not to mention the courtesy shown by both the American and British officers to each other; for both were in Camp at the same time, making sometimes a rather difficult situation. But they always worked together in harmony. As the trunks were packed they were sent down to the dining room, where they were roped if necessary, and the name clearly printed on them; and then they were piled up in an orderly fashion under the care of one of our own men.
Chapter 22:: “Return, Return, Ye Captives!”
AT LAST THE ORDER CAME to depart. Some of OUT people who had houses to which they might go, and means of support, had already returned to Shanghai. We were to leave Camp in time to catch a six o'clock boat from Yangchow, on Saturday morning, October 6th. At Chinkiang we were to be transferred by Japanese Army trucks to the Railway Station, and a special train was to take us to Shanghai. A few of the Campers remained to see the baggage away, and close up the Camp. Some of the hospital patients were to be sent down later in the day by plane. The old people were spared the early start, and were to travel in the afternoon, getting a night train with sleeping cars to Shanghai. Everything that thoughtful care could do to make the trip easy was attended to, and though all did not turn out as planned, the fault did not lie with our kind and efficient officers.
I well remember the last evening in that room that had sheltered us so long. Beds and bedding were packed, and the trunks were all away. Pictures and bookcases were taken down from the walls: it looked bare indeed. The geranium had been cut down, and some of its roots pared off, and it was packed in a special bag to return to its own home. Mr. and Mrs. W., our neighbors in the room, were amongst the old people who were to leave later in the day; so they still had their bedding, and kindly lent us each a rug or some bit of bedding, so we could stretch out on the floor to get a little sleep.
We were away a little after five the next morning. All the Campers who were remaining, came down to see us off, and help with the hand baggage. We had a good tug, and a large barge pulled by it. It was a glorious morning, and how exhilarating it felt to be free, and on the way HOME. We reached Chinkiang in good time, but the Japanese efficiency hopelessly broke down. We had a long wait for trucks, and finally many of us had to walk to the railway station, which we did not mind in the least. Another wait, and the special train arrived. Again the Japanese efficiency had broken down, and we found it half full of Chinese, even before we had a chance to get crowded in like sardines, and found seats where we could. Our people had been organized in companies, and a man with an assistant in charge of each. I had charge of one company, so by the time my flock and all their hand baggage were stowed safely away, the only available spot was on my bag in the middle of the aisle. It was a long, hot journey, and we watched the ravages of war all along the way. The trains were in very poor shape, as well as the roadbed, so we could not go quickly. We reached Shanghai North Station just about six in the evening, and were met by some of our own men and boys who had gone down before us. With them were American soldiers, and in less time than it takes to tell, we and our baggage found ourselves in American Army trucks, being driven through familiar streets, to the Embankment Building, where lodging had been prepared for us.
“We were like them that dream." How true it was! We felt dazed and stupid coming back to real life. But kindness, courtesy and efficiency were everywhere. Rooms were allotted to us, and we found ourselves on the third floor, with a room to ourselves, and a lovely wide cool verandah off it, that looked out over the Post Office, Soochow Creek, the Garden Bridge and the Whangpoo River beyond. The old familiar street sounds came up to us; a street-car bell, the honk of a motor horn, Chinese children playing; all so familiar, yet all so strangely new. Not four blocks away was Quinsan Gardens, where the Book Room had found a home for so many years, so we were on familiar ground. Our room was part of a flat of three rooms and kitchen with two big cupboards, and, perhaps best of all a BATHROOM! We had not seen a bathroom, or had a real bath for nearly three years. (That does not mean we had never washed). My sister kindly decided to live in one of the cupboards, so that we might have our room to ourselves, a luxury that no words are adequate to describe. Perhaps she also thought it would be nice to have a room to herself. Other families were in the other two rooms.
And then we went downstairs to a great room fitted out as a dining room. We each were given a plate; and it was not either tin or granite; how strange it seemed! We had food helped to us; not ladled out of a huge pot, one great unrecognizable mess of S.O.S. But a nice helping of meat, with good vegetables kept apart from it; and then we had real pudding, and cups of cocoa; and they were not granite cups either. And there was a table cloth on the table, and knives and forks to eat with. One little girl of eight confided, "Mummie has been teaching me how to use a knife and fork, for I never saw people use them before.”
After that we went to a great store room, and each person was given a good army cot, and as many blankets as you wanted. We took ours up to our new room, and made them up on the verandah, and my sister had hers further down the same verandah. We still seem able to feel the delicious cool breeze that swept in over that verandah from the Whangpoo. We had a flat-top desk and a chair in the flat. I think that was all the furniture. But we did not care. We were going Home. It was a palace to us.
The next morning was The Lord's Day. How I love that name, instead of Sunday. We started early for Brenan Road, and just before we turned in at our lane, we met Mrs. C., our dear S. How glad we were to see her, and what a welcome we got. But one of the warmest welcomes (how hard it is to compare welcomes!) was from the dirty, ragged children of the straw huts, who used to come to Sunday School. What joy, unfeigned joy, to see us again! What excitement! What running back and forth to tell their mothers and friends, and soon most of the village were out shaking our hands, in a welcome that leaped over Chinese etiquette, (where one only shakes one's own hands), and shouting and smiling: "The foreigners are back again!" Do you wonder we love China? Is there any hardship living in The Badlands to have such neighbors?
And we saw dear Mr. W. and his little family. And we marveled at the way they had cared for the property in spite of everything, and we marveled at their stories of God's faithfulness and loving care for them. Mr. W. told me about the business, and how they had constantly increased his rent. All this I had expected, and was fully prepared to hear of a big debt waiting for me to pay; but I had forgotten Who was looking after these dear ones. I asked rather anxiously: "And how much do you owe, Mr. W?" I wish you could have heard the note of triumph and unspeakable joy in his voice as he replied: "Not one cent. We have never owed one cent! Often on the morning of rent day, we had nothing: but never once did we not have enough when it was time to pay!" What a lesson in God's faithfulness for this dear brother, and for me! But some of us are slow to learn these blessed lessons.
And then S. told us the property was too deeply flooded to be able to walk to our house by the old path, so we had to go round by the outside lane, and the Children's Refuge. And S. brought us in, and showed us our house. She took us into our living room, filled with memories of romping, happy children; or friends in uniform singing together round the old piano. But all was still and empty. The damp had eaten the floor away. The pretty walls that our landlord had fixed for us just before John's wedding, were stained with damp right to the ceiling. In front of the fireplace, cold and cheerless now, stood the old wicker sofa, looking shabbier than ever it had looked. Somehow as we gazed about, empty bookcases all around the room, not a picture or text on the walls, the big old dining table and a few shabby chairs deep in dust; the room that used to be so bright and gay, seemed filled with sadness. And as we gazed at the familiar objects, S. pointed to the old sofa, and remarked: "Jimmie lived in this room; he used to spend hours in here praying, and on that sofa he died not many weeks ago.”
Perhaps you know Jimmie: it was he who helped Mr. and Mrs. Collier so much, as told in their book: "Covered Up In Kowloon." Finally he came on foot from Hongkong to Shanghai. It was Jimmie; poor, penniless, homeless, waif as he was, who kept sending money back to them in Hongkong to help in their need. Dear, faithful, loving laddie; thy toils and sorrows and sufferings are over; those bright, earnest eyes have seen the King in His beauty; he is with Christ, which is far better. But my eyes would fill with tears as I thought of a day, years before when I met Jimmie for the first time; and I could still hear him say, "Say, Mister, I ain't got no New Testament." And how easily I was taken in, for Jimmie could not read a word, but he got the New Testament. And I thought of another day, not so many weeks later, when a tousled black head was bowed over a bare wooden floor, soaked with tears, and a sixteen or seventeen year old boy realized for the first time the price the Savior had paid for him, and he was sobbing out the heartbroken confession: "I ain't worth ten cents to de Lord Jesus." But the Savior had claimed His purchase, and if I mistake not, that lad so scorned and despised and laughed at down here has heard, in glad surprise, his Master say: "Well done, good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." And I think I hear Jimmie reply: "Why should the King recompense me with such a reward?”
But thoughts travel faster than words, so I said to S.: "Tell me all about it.”
“He was out in the villages preaching. He kept preaching all the time, but you know he had nothing; and everybody was so poor, and he got thinner and thinner. We didn't know he was so sick, but when he came back from the country after being away for several weeks, he just lay down on the sofa there, too tired to get up again, and a few days after he went Home in perfect peace. I think he really starved to death.”
We still stood in silence, deep in thought of that brave young soldier of Jesus Christ, who so recently had just here laid down his life for his Lord and the Gospel. I wonder if there are any young soldiers of Jesus Christ amongst my readers who are ready and willing to step into Jimmie's place?
Perhaps some day I will tell you Jimmie's story, but it must not be now.
And then S. got her keys, and took us upstairs and unlocked our bedroom door. We did not even know it had a key before, but she and Tien Chei had managed all. And there was the same old furniture, untouched, and the tears again would come to our eyes as we realized how these dear Chinese women at such cost had cared for, and protected our belongings.
We were to meet to remember the Lord in the afternoon; the way the early Christians, in New Testament days, used to meet. My sister was anxious to go to the Hospital to see Tien Chei, for over all our joy hung this deep, deep sorrow. This dear child, who was so unspeakably dear to us, and who had so lavishly spent and been spent for us, was lying fighting a losing fight for life. S. kindly asked us to dinner with her, and meanwhile we went to the hospital. I will not try to describe that meeting: it was not for the public eye. It is strange how often we find the deeper the love, the keener the pain that goes with it.
“I will give her My cross of suffering,
My cup of sorrow to share,
But in robes of white,
In the cloudless light,
All shall be righted there.”
We returned to Brenan Road, and there in the little upstairs sunroom, that we had built years before for Hope's bedroom, a room that was filled with sweet memories, as S. well knew, she had prepared a delicious, but simple meal. The four of us sat around the old familiar table, a small, solid, square oak table, we had bought years before from our friend, Mr. Tennant, when he went home. We sat and talked, and S. told us of the joys and sorrows; of the faithfulness of God, and how He had befriended them, and seen them through all their troubles. And we talked of C.'s future, dear Chun Lai and S.'s eldest son. I think both she and we longed to see him in the Book Room, the work so dear to his father's heart; but we all knew this could not be yet, and there was an offer to apprentice him to a carpenter. The time went all too quickly, and we could not leave those parts without seeing our dear friends at the Children's Refuge next door. So taking leave of S. and her little flock, we knocked at the familiar gate, and the same familiar, quiet, happy face appeared when the gate was opened. What a welcome, even from the gate-keeper, who said more with her eyes than her lips. And we walked up a roadway, through the nice grounds, finding even they had suffered from the floods. And there were old old friends, safe and sound, even though older and more worn. The head of the Refuge was of German birth and she alone had been allowed to stay. She was very far from young, I suppose well past the three-score and ten, and the burden had been very heavy. There were more than four hundred children, and all the Chinese workers, and many of the sources of supply had been completely cut off.
Before going into Camp we had sent her over a Scroll, with a picture on it of a barrel and of a cruse: and on it the words: "The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail." She took us upstairs to a tiny room, where there was a chair, a small table, and opposite the table, framed and hanging on the wall was this scroll. Then she told us that it was here she came to be alone, and to wrestle in prayer for the needs and safety of her great family. She told us how the Japanese military had come to the Refuge to inform her that it was now under their jurisdiction. All these things she had spread out before the Lord in that little room, and once again we listened to the story of our Father's gracious, loving, faithful care; and how in face of the most appalling difficulties, every need had been met, and the children and helpers were all safe and well.
We came down the lane and round to the meeting room. It is a nice room, about twenty-four feet square, with a post in the middle of it, and a cinder floor. The walls were bare gray brick, but they have been tinted, and they are adorned with large Gospel posters in Chinese. The same old familiar benches are there, and better still, many of the old familiar faces are there, too. Dear Mr. F. and Mr. T., fruits of Mr. C.'s labors in Shanghai, are both there with their families. How good it is to see them once again! And their faces just beam with gladness when they see us. Mr. F. especially, has the most infectious smile: it seems to light up his whole face and take away the marks of care and age and make him look quite young and boyish. It was a very small company. Our poor head-man had gone elsewhere, and other faces were missing. But I believe the Lord was there, and what a privilege and joy it was to remember Him once again, after having been deprived of this blessed feast for more than two and a half years.
We went to supper with our dear friends at the Refuge, and then returned to our comfortable beds on the verandah of the Embankment Building, tired but, oh, so happy.
It was rather a blow next morning to see a notice posted that all Canadians returning to Canada were to report immediately for the last available ship, which was to sail on the 12th, only four days away: and for three of those days the whole city was to be given up to rejoicing and celebrations for victory. It meant a fearful rush. Before leaving Yangchow we had had a most kind letter from our old friend who had bought the printing plant, in which he invited us to stay with him when we returned to Shanghai, and offering to supply us with whatever money we might need until checks could be cashed.
There was so much we wanted to do in Shanghai, and so many people we wanted to see, that it was a sad disappointment to have only four days. I immediately went and looked up my kind friend, and borrowed a million dollars from him (I think it came to about thirty dollars of Canadian money). He gave me a most kind welcome, and loaded me with gifts for myself and my wife and the children, and loaned me a bicycle. Then he took me to the American Consulate in his own private Pedicar, where I found my wife waiting for me, and we commenced to arrange for our passage home. They kindly supplied us each with $25.00 American money to provide for traveling extras. We were almost the last to get this special grant, but how thankful we were for it. The godown roof was leaking badly, and the contractor wanted $40.00 American money to repair it; money which we did not have. We left my sister the $40.00 needed, and $10.00 proved ample to supply all our needs on the way home.
I must not try to describe those busy days in Shanghai. With the bicycle I got much more accomplished than otherwise would have been possible. The days passed all too quickly, and on the morning of the 12th, an Army truck was on hand to take us and our baggage down to the jetty, ready to embark. The last farewells were said, and it was not till the partings came that we realized how dear many of the friends made in Camp had become to us. Quite a number from our Camp were traveling on the same ship, so we had friends on the voyage.
When we reached the ship, we found it would not sail until late afternoon, so we walked up to the city, and how hot and tired we were. We went to a Chinese Christian tailor where I had ordered a cloth cap for the voyage, but it had not been ready in time, and now I was able to get it. At the tailor's we met our friend who loaned us the money, and he insisted on taking us out to a Chinese dinner, at a very nice new restaurant run by a friend of his. But the parting that lay before us did not harmonize with feasting, and we walked slowly back to the ship. My wife and I got on board, while my sister stood alone on the dock. It was very hard to leave her, especially knowing that Tien Chei, who was all she had, was lying so ill. But this very fact made it impossible for her to leave China: and it seemed as though my wife and I should not delay in getting back to the children. But I still see her standing at the foot of the gangplank, gazing after us: until finally she turned and went away alone.
We were traveling on an American Military Transport, the Lavaca. Under ordinary circumstances I expect we would have enjoyed the journey, but we were too weary, and our strength too much undermined, to let it be a pleasure. The ship seemed crowded, but we picked up more troops at Okinawa.
There was nowhere to sit down, not even at meals could we sit. Our dear friend, Dr. Gillison, had insisted on giving us his own chairs (ours had been lost), so we would be sure of seats, but we were not allowed to use them.
We called at Pearl Harbor, and from thence to San Francisco, after a trip of almost four weeks. Here we were given long letters from the children, and on these we feasted, while we waited for the time when we might disembark. At last a note was brought on board telling us that our two dear friends, Dr. Arthur Groth and Mr. J. H. Smith had motored up the night before from Los Angeles and were waiting on dock for us. We thanked God and took courage.
We reached San Francisco just after breakfast, but it was almost noon before we were allowed to go ashore. It was well these dear friends had come to meet us, for we seemed to be quite dazed coming back to the rush of civilization. They saw us through the customs, and a most thorough examination Uncle Sam gave us. I do not know what he expected to find. They got us sandwiches and milk; and they found out what we ought to do, and had a car waiting, with which to do it. Everybody was kind. Special offices had been provided to which we were taken. Our letters were mailed free of charge; we could send any telegrams we wanted, also without charge. We were given refreshments by the way, and were told where to go the next day to help ourselves to clothing from the Canadian Red Cross.
And then they drove us out to Mrs. Cross' house. How can I begin to describe all the kindness we received there? But it is all recorded above, and in that day will get its reward. For the first time for almost three years we were once again in a "home". The quiet and the rest was unspeakably soothing. Dr. Groth and Mr. Smith stayed through the evening, and we heard a little of the wonderful way the Lord had cared for our brother C. through the most unexpected means. And we heard of the way the Lord had opened the door for Mr. Smith to publish his News Letter. This was all news to us; we had heard nothing of it. But everything was news, and we could not take it all in. Our good friends left that night and were in Los Angeles next morning after another all-night drive.
Mrs. Cross and her daughter showered on us every kindness that love could think of. We will not soon forget the delicious California melon she had for breakfast. Nor will we forget our horror, as we watched her wrap the rinds in oil paper. Then light began to dawn on my wife, and she asked: "I suppose you are putting them in the refrigerator to make pickle or jam?" Mrs. Cross gazed at her, I think wondering if she was quite right in her mind, and at last replied: "No, I am wrapping them up to put in the garbage pail." In Camp a piece of oil paper was such a treasure that it was used over and over again. And to wrap up what went into the garbage pail was worse waste than throwing away the melon skins. But we began to get adjusted, though I noticed our daughter Hope gave her mother the same look, when a week or two later she insisted on picking a good crust of bread out of the garbage pail (put there merely because it was stale), and then making a syrup tart out of it.
The Canadian authorities were working on a train passage for us to Seattle. Trains were very crowded, and it was almost impossible to get accommodation. It was about 11:30 one morning when we had a telephone call to say we would not be leaving for a day or two. Mrs. Cross had made us a delicious dinner, and we were just about to sit down, when again the telephone rang, this time to say that passages had been found, and we were to leave immediately. Our good hostess insisted on accompanying us to the ferry that took us over to the train. It was a long tiring trip for her. We had to leave the dinner untasted, and get something to eat at the tram station. It was getting late, so we took a taxi to the ferry station, getting there just on time, according to our instructions. Another long wait, I think two hours or more, and then we were given railway tickets, and a ticket for a compartment (we had never traveled in one in our lives before), right through to Victoria. Dear Mrs. Cross accompanied us to the door, as far as she might go, and turned to go back alone, looking very, very tired. And she had done all this only two weeks before for Miss Dear.
We had a good and comfortable trip to Seattle, and there, to the amazement of everybody, we succeeded in getting the last available stateroom on the Victoria boat. We spent the day in Victoria seeing to business affairs. We used to live there, and still kept our bank account there. We first went to the bank to draw money for our railway fares home: but were coolly advised we had nothing in the bank: the Government had taken everything. Each day brought its own surprises, most of them sad ones.
“Change and decay in all around I see
O Thou who changest not, Abide with me.”
And what comfort to know that He will abide with us, and that He is the Same, yesterday and today, and forever.
The bank graciously arranged to let us have what money we needed, and once again we got the last stateroom on the boat; this time for Vancouver. Miss Dear had returned home on a ship just two weeks ahead of us, and was staying with her sister Mrs. Whitaker, in Vancouver. We reached Vancouver on Saturday morning. We hoped to leave on Monday night, but were warned it would be impossible to get berths at such short notice. However, once more, as the Lord had so manifestly cared for us all along the way, He provided us with the very thing we needed,-a tourist section for Miss Dear and ourselves, straight through to Toronto.
Again I must pass by the multitude of kindnesses we received in Vancouver. We stayed with Dr. and Mrs. Whitaker, and made the acquaintance of their dear wee son. We had an excellent journey home, enjoying a little of some real Canadian winter air as we passed on our way: how different to the damp cold of the Yangtze Valley.
It was Friday morning, about seven-thirty, when we reached Toronto. A fine Christian soldier was in the seat next us, and he helped carry off our baggage. And as we passed through the doors at the Toronto Union Station there we saw those dear ones, not one missing, for whom we had waited so long. I could not describe that meeting, no matter how hard I were to try, and so my friends, I leave it: and the joy, and the feasting, and the gifts that followed. That day, I hope, may live forever in my memory, as one of the sweetest, most joyous days it has ever been my privilege to experience; and it points me forward to another Home coming, to another meeting even more joyous and more sweet, when not only will I greet once more those loved ones who are in that Home already, but I will see Him face to face, the One who was wounded for me. We shall see Him and be like Him, and shall go no more out!
Dear reader, have you also this blessed hope?
“O then what raptured greetings
On Canaan's happy shore,
What knitting severed friendships up,
Where partings are no more!
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle
That brimmed with tears of late;
Orphans no longer fatherless,
Nor widows desolate."
Dean Alford.