had swept down over night from the Siberian and Manchurian
plains across the city of Seoul. The capital city of Korea was shivering
with cold. But it was vibrant with something else. It was vibrant with a
great sense of something impending.

There were those who said that the restlessness in the souls of the
Koreans had died down with the terrible days of the March Independence
Movement; but I knew that the faith of the people was deeper than that.
I knew that the flame of faith was just smouldering.

I sensed this from the conversation of old-time missionaries who had
been in Korea from the very beginning. I sensed it in the conversation
of young Koreans who had graduated from American schools. It was there;
a vibrant, living, pulsing, faith in God and in the justice of their
hopes: the Independence of Korea.

The whole thing was summed up for me in a flash. It was a flash of the
light of a tremendous faith that blinded mine eyes for a day; but my
soul it lighted as with a great eternal light.

A Korean boy stepped into the home of a missionary friend of mine, whose
name I dare not use. If I did he would likely be sent home by the
Japanese. Men have been sent home for less.

The snow crunched under his feet as he walked up across the yard and the
porch. He knocked at the door.

"Come in," said the missionary, kindly.

The boy stepped in. The missionary had never seen him before. The boy
was moved deeply as with a great emotion. He seemed to have carried into
that quiet missionary home with him some of the tenseness of the outside
air and some of the tenseness of the political situation.

"What do you want?" asked the missionary.

"I want to talk with you about something very important," he replied in
Korean.

"All right! Go ahead! Do not be afraid. I am your friend!"

"So I know. All missionaries are our friends."

"Then you need not be afraid to talk."

"No!" said the boy. But he did not talk. His agitation was growing more
marked.

"Go on, my boy! Tell me what you came for."

The Korean boy looked at the half open door which led into the kitchen.
The missionary, without a word, stepped over and closed that door,
because he understood.

The boy himself closed a door which led into the missionary's study. For
in Korea in these days no home; not even a missionary's home, is free
from spies.

The boy started to talk hurriedly. The missionary soon saw that he was
not talking about the thing that he h