d prayed for China's perishing
millions only his most intimate friends know.'

The Rev. H. R. Reynolds, D.D., for the past thirty years the honoured
President of Cheshunt College, has recalled some of his early
recollections of James Gilmour.

'Though brusque and outspoken in manner, he was in many respects
reserved and shy, and very slow to show or accept confidence. We all
felt, however, that underneath a canny demeanour there was burning a
very intense enthusiasm, and that a character of marked features was
already formed, and would only develop along certain lines, settled, but
not as yet fully disclosed to others.

There was not a particle of make-believe in his composition. He shrank
from praise, and was obviously anxious not to appear more reverential or
wise or devoted than he knew himself to be. He even used, because it was
natural to him, a rugged style of expression when speaking of things or
persons or institutions which for the most part uplift our diction and
generally induce us to adorn or make careful selection of our
vocabulary. He rapped out expressions which might have suggested
carelessness or irreverence or suppressed doubt, but I soon found that
there was an intense fire of evangelistic zeal and an almost stormy
enthusiasm for the conversion of souls to Christ.

'Some special services were held at Cheshunt Street Chapel, in which
Gilmour took part, and the part was at least as demonstrative, perhaps
more so, except the music, as that of the modern Salvation Army ensign
or commissioner. He started from the chapel entrance, on the Sunday
evening, when considerable numbers were as usual parading the country
street, and bare-headed approached every passer-by with some piquant,
vigorous inquiry, or message or warning. In the main, his bold summons
was, "Do you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ?" The entire population in
the thoroughfare was stirred, and uncomplimentary jeers mingled with
some awe-struck impressions that were then produced.

'During the year 1869 he had those interviews with the late Mrs. Swan,
of Edinburgh, which led to his choice by the London Missionary Society,
at her instance, to reopen the long-suspended mission in Mongolia. For a
while he remained in Peking preparing himself by familiarity with the
people, their ideas, their language, and religion, for those almost
historic bursts into the great desert and across the caravan routes to
the huge fairs, and the renowned temples,