Ga-re \ No- 99- » i L- ! -ill ^^SXomau's c‘tuioii Htisslouuvtj i*ocicttv . ^ A TIMELY GIFT. B}' Miss R (^rel, MISSIONARY IN THE PRIUGMAN MEMORIAE HOME, SHANGHAI. T he American Tract Society, of New York, has sent us repeatedly dona- tions for distributing Christian litera- ture. Nothing could be more helpful in this dark land as a means of spreading light. Come with me, this beautiful Sabbath morning, while I take a walk through the native city of Shanghai. VVhat is to be seen ? Numberless low, tile-roofed houses, in which live thousands of suffering, ignorant heathen. Over yonder stands the massive, gloomy temple. Smell the incense ; see the hideous Buddha, surrounded by his lesser gods; and 2 watch the lazy unprincipled priests. Just now they are having their ritual, ringing bells and chanting prayers. Although it is the Christian’s Sabbath, there are few signs of it in this ancient city, for heathenism, like a vulture, broods over the place. Oh ! saddest of sights, — a land without a Sab- bath ! On the higher ground, surrounding the city wall, are the houses of the rich. -Into them a foreigner can rarely enter. This morning they are thrown open to let in the warm bright sunlight, that shines alike over the just and over the unjust. What sight is this? In the low, broad dark room of one of the houses sits a little Chinese mother. What is it she pores over? It is a book. Yes, the beautiful illustrated stories of David and our living Christ ! On the table too, are some tracts. But what will she do ? She cannot read, and, for once in all in her life, she wishes that she could. The pictures are so beautiful, they must mean something wonderful ! Listen ! she calls her sons, the blessing of 3 a Chinese woman. Here they come, their almond eyes filled with wonder. They can read ; and our Heavenly Father is using these heathen lads to disseminate His Word. Think you that these boys will ever forget the story of Christ? “My Word shall not return unto me void.” Surely His ways are wondrous ways; His Word goes where His servants cannot go. Perhaps it will interest you to know how that literature reached this special woman. Just a little outside of West Gate are our Bridgman Memorial School and Chapel. Here every Sunday a small but zealous body of Christians meet in prayer and praise to the one living and true God. Look in upon the congregation this morning ; there are some new faces to be seen — four.^five, six strong handsome-looking men. We can tell by their dress that they are soldiers. One of them is a friend of the family living in the house, at whose open door a while ago we stood, who took them the Gospel story; and this is how he came by it. In the Arsenal, about a mile outside of 4 Shanghai, lies the dead body of the Marquis Tseng. How long it remains there will de- pend upon what the gods say. Of course, every one knows who the Marquis T.seng was — the noted Chinese ofificial whose death has been mourned alike by native and foreigner. A man of unbounded influence ; a genuine patriot, yet in thorough sympathy with Western education and enterprise. At one time he was Minister to France, where his title was conferred upon him ; at another he was Minister to England. He was the brother of Lady Blossom, the wife 'of the great Mandarin of Shanghai, and the father of Lady Nye, who attracted much attention when abroad. He welcomed the foreigner, because he hoped some day to see bridges built, rail- roads laid out, and systems of public in- struction established. Was such a man a heathen? Alas! yes. The great Marquis Tseng worshipped the Emperor of China. He had to do it, or lose his position and influence. All officials of one rank worship those of the next higher. 5 The Emperor, being highest, worships Heaven and earth. The Marquis Tseng died at Tientsin. In accordance with Chinese custom, his body had to be carried to its native city for burial. The funeral route took in the na- tive city of Shanghai ; so, of course, many preparations were ma^e to honor the dis- tinguished dead. The way from West Gate to the Arsenal was an avenue of flags — blue, green, black, red, yellow, and white. Sol- diers, in their gay attire, thronged the road- way. The sultry day was well-nigh spent before the funeral procession appeared. The missionaries from our Margaret Williamson Hospital and the Bridgman Memorial School, took advantage of this excellent opportunity to distribute tracts and Gospels among the soldiers. That was a busy day for our/good Bible- woman. Many and interesting were the’ questions they asked her. Throwing off the characteristic Chinese reserve, they went inside the Hospital grounds, sat on the steps, and talked freely to those in charge. They 6 were invited to the Bridgman Memorial Chapel, to attend the Wednesday afternoon service. Many of them came, and ever since, on Sundays, we have some soldiers in our congregation. Who can tell what will be the fruit of that day’s seed-sowing ? Who will be converted by means of the tracts given to them on the day of Marquis Tseng’s funeral ? We have the promise, “ My Word shall not return unto me void.” THE MISSIONARY LINK. Published monthly, is the organ of the bociety. Price, 50 cts. a year. OFFICERS OF THE WOMAN’S UNION MISSIONARY SOCIETY. Mrs. Hh:NRV JOHNSON, President. .Miss S. DORE.MUS, Corresponding Secretary. Miss ELIZABETH B. STONE, / . • , , c Assistant Treasurers, Miss M. S. .STONE, ' .Miss HELEN LOUISE KINGSBURY, Treasurer MISSIONARY Link. Mission Room, 67 Bible House, New York.