e still far short of the required
amount, when in February, my friend and Pastor, Dr. Campbell Morgan,
arranged that I should have an opportunity of telling the members of
Westminster Chapel of the work in Hwochow. It was Sunday morning and the
usual collection for Church expenses had been taken, but at the close of
the service Dr. Morgan announced that those who wished to do so might
send contributions to him, which would be forwarded to me. Thanks to the
generosity and kindness of those concerned, we left for China with our
L500 less L50. In March we started on the interesting journey through
Siberia, bringing with us that which was of more value than much gold,
Miss French's younger sister, Francesca, to join us in our missionary
work.

We reached Moscow, that fascinating city with its churches, Kremlin, and
numerous historic interests. We seemed to be at the parting of the way
where East and West meet and merge. Partly for the sake of economy and
partly for the interest of being more with the people of the land, we
decided to travel, not by the _train de luxe_, but by the Russian daily
post train. We were thus able with comfort to do the journey from London
to Peking for L20 each, whereas by the International train L35 is
required for fare alone.

How keenly we enjoyed it all! The wide, roomy railway compartments, the
slow, steady movement of the broad gauge train, enabling one to read and
write with comfort; the rush with a tin kettle for hot water from the
huge tanks with unlimited supply, provided at each station; the buying
of the day's provision from the peasants who crowded to the platforms
with eggs, butter, and milk; the reading aloud of some Russian book in
the Slavonic surroundings, which contributed so much to make its
disconcerting unexpectednesses seem the natural expression of the
Russian temperament.

How delightful it all was; but when we reached Manchuria Town and found
ourselves in the midst of Chinese, we felt the thrill which comes with
the first sight of home. A few more days, and we were in Peking.

We walked in the acres of parkland which surround the Temple of Heaven,
and saw its blue-and-yellow-tiled roofs outlined on the azure of the
Eastern sky. We stood in the pavilion where the "Son of Heaven,"
fasting, rested before he proceeded to pray for his people in the double
office of priest and king.

What gorgeous scenes the midnight skies have witnessed where the altar
raises its marble