The Prey Of The Terrible 133
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the demons did so often in directing them as to where to find game in the mountains. But as time went on—when planting was too late—and the Jesus-demon had not come, wan and thin faces besieged Mark's door, pleading for food. But there was not enough to share with so many. Mark's face grew more grim each day. To be enslaved to such a deceitful, malicious master was intolerable.
Then, one day, into his house walked two fellow villagers who had gone to the Salween canyon to trade.
"Books!"' they cried out, waving two.Lisu catechisms under Mark's nose. "Lisu books about Jesus! You know we went away over to the market at Sandalwood Flat Village, and while trading our things we saw a Lisu selling these catechisms. They are Lisu books—he could read them so as to make them speak our language, and he was preaching about God and Jesus!"'
Great was the excitement in the village. As news spread, more and more people gathered around the two young traders, and many times they had to repeat their story. They had met
Andrew, one of the lads that had followed La-ma-wu with the gospel evangelization, in the canyon.
Mark was fingering the books with a tremendous thrill in his heart. "Can you read them?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh no. We did not have time to stay long enough to learn.
But other Lisu were learning to read them; Teacher Andrew was teaching them how. Bright fellows learn in two weeks, they say."
"Well, why didn't you bring teacher Andrew back with you?" cried out Mark, exasperated at so wonderful a chance thus slipping away.
"Oh, he couldn't come," they answered. ""He could not cope with all the invitations he was getting from people who live nearby. And to our place is a journey of five days—seven days soon, for snow will be closing the pass, and he would have to go around Fort Pien-Ma."
"Well, I'm going," cried out the boy. "If I can't get teachers, I'll stay until I can read the books for myself. Dad, may I?"
The decision was made, but there was still the Master of the Abyss to deal with. Not lightly would he lose such slaves to his every whim. Twice Mark started out with a comrade and was
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beaten back. The first time malaria nearly killed him. How the evil one must have laughed as the wan, pale boy staggered into his father's home—defeated, and nearly dead. That was May,
1933. In October he essayed to go again. A different route he and his companions took, but before they got over the high pass
(Mountain of Suffering, the Lisu had named it) his comrades became terrified and again he had to return home, still without knowledge of the way of escape from their terrible master.
But by March, 1934, Mark could stand their cheated, terrified bondage no longer. On consulting with his father, they decided,
"The devils have led us astray. If there are people who know the truth and can teach us, we must reach them; better to die trying, than to go on as we are.' Mark persuaded his brotherin-law and a neighbour to accompany him, and the little band of three started out for the unknown canyon, over a partially unknown road, and one which involved crossing the great
Pien-Ma Pass (11,000 feet high) at a time when there was snow on the ground and new snow was likely to come down and obliterate the trail. A Chinese traveller whom they met told them they could get from Pien-Ma Fort to the Salween canyon in one day, so they got up before dawn the next day, and started. Up, up, the air getting freezingly cold. Snow everywhere on the ground; so deep was the snow that they noticed the tops of trees sticking through the crust they were treading underfoot. Snow, tree-high! Up, up to the lonely pass where no human habitation ever is. Snow blew in their faces. They could not breathe for the wind and the biting cold, so they buried their faces in their turbans and sleeves and tried to get their breath that way. Single file they walked and in utter silence, but praying to the unknown
Jesus (the good Jesus whom the demon had tried to counterfeit) to bring them through to where they could find the truth about Him. As they felt their blood chilling, they bit with their teeth into the flesh of their own arms to increase circulation. Sometimes they would fall through the snow crust and get separated— they could not see their fellow in front of them plainly because of the blowing snow. And then—over the pass—and the descent on the China side. Oh, praise to the unknown Jesus—no snow on the China side!
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Hope renewed, how fast the young feet now sped over that rocky descent, through those miles and miles of uninhabited, wild-grass mountainside; then at dusk—a village! Coming in the door of a house, the man there looked up at them and asked,
"Where did you come from?"" When they answered, "'Over the Pien-Ma Pass!' the whole house of people exclaimed, "Oh, don't lie! You could not get over the mountain in this snow!"
But they. had. Wonderful joy of accomplishment.
But where were the Jesus-teachers?
"Oh, there are white people in the canyon, teaching now," was the unexpected answer. "Their name is Cooke, and they are living across the river at Pine Mountain Village. You will have to go up to Place-of-Action Ferry to get across."
All the next day they travelled beside the roaring Salween, and at night slept in rice-fields by its bank. Early morning of the third day saw them at the crossing edge waiting for the first ferry boat. A young Lisu with a book-bag slung over his shoulder got out of the ferry as it drew up and hooked on to the rocks of the bank. "Who are you?" he asked, eyeing their different costume, for the Burmese Lisu are Flowery Lisu.
"We have come from Burma to get a teacher of the gospel," they replied.
"Oh," he said with interest. "I am the missionary's servant.
I am on my way to collect their mail. Mr. Cooke isn't home just now, but Mrs. Cooke is there, and the night before last
Mr. and Mrs. Kuhn arrived. Go on up. The road is easy to find.
See you to-morrow!" and he sped on and left them.
And now I want you to change your point of view, and see things as we saw them, knowing nothing of all that I have been relating to you. My husband and I were on a trial trip into the canyon. Mr. Fraser always feared that my health could not stand the rigorous life of the canyon, but when we heard that two districts had turned Christian, and that to care for each, Mr. and Mrs. Cooke were having to separate and live six days' journey apart, then we volunteered to move in and take over one district. So Mr. Fraser proposed this trial trip, to see if I could stand it.
There being no mail service quick enough, we could not
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announce our arrival, so we walked in on Leila Cooke unawares.
It had been about a year since she had seen another white woman, so how warm a welcome we received! And from now on I will quote from the letter written right at that time.
The second morning after we arrived as we were sitting in conversation together in through the open doorway walked three strangely clad but handsome Lisu.
Mrs. Cooke urged them to take chairs, but they stared as if they had never seen such things before in their lives, and indicated that they much preferred the safety of the shanty floor where they squatted down in front of us, a picturesque group with their white clothing and red turbans. As Mrs. Cooke questioned them politely and listened to their rather lengthy answers she became visibly thrilled and began to drop to us short translations of the story told above. "They have come seven days' journey over those mountains yonder," pointing to the craggy peaks with sparkling crests of snow which loomed up across the canyon through the open doorway. "'Said they had to bite their way through the snow of the pass. . .
. Say they've come back until they can take teachers with them, no matter how long they have to wait... . They've brought their own food to keep them. .
.. They have worshipped God and Jesus for eleven years without knowing anything more about it. . .
This is their third attempt to get teachers."
When the conversation came to an end, the three Goo-moo boys were introduced to Pastor Moses, who led them off to his own house. Mrs. Cooke turned to us and said, "And just think, we have no teacher to send with them!' How sad our hearts felt; nay, even rebellious. I knew a town in America with only four thousand population, yet it had nine churches. And here these brave laddies had walked seven days' journey to learn the Way of Life and there was no teacher to send back with them.
Every Lisu teacher in the immediate area had his hands too full already. Word had just come from Mr. Cooke that now, if the Kuhns had arrived, would Mrs. Cooke please come up and visit him for a while! And we could not talk Lisu, just Chinese, which the Burma men could not understand; so we were out of the question, anyway, though my husband burned to go.
""Well,"' said Mark, "we have brought food and money. We will just stay until there is someone, and in the meantime Pastor
THE PREY OF THE TERRIBLE
Moses can teach us." So day by day they pored over their books, waited and prayed for a teacher.
A month passed. Teacher Simeon arrived on the way home to Stockade Hill. He had fulfilled his promise of one or two years of evangelization and now wanted to get back and be married. Mrs. Cooke had laid the call before him. It was a hard struggle, for he was already homesick. "But I can't go alone very well,' he said. Lisu evangelists usually go out two by two, in case of sickness or other sudden need. The young lad who had gone for the mail stood by listening to this point, but surprised us all by crying out:
'Tl go with him! I'll go! Oh Ma-Pa let me go. I don't know much to be sure, but I can teach them to read and pray and sing a few hymns. Oh, do let me go!"' And so it was arranged. In Lisuland we almost take it for granted that if a boy proves to be a good servant, we will soon lose him from the kitchen into the ministry. It has happened so often, and of course there is no question of whether we can spare him—the Lord's call comes first. It had happened again. Teacher Simeon postponed his longed-for trip home for a full six months, so when the three inquirers returned to Goo-moo something over a month after they had left, it was to show their fellows two Lisu teachers.
With great joy, the whole village started in to learn of Him who was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil, and deliver them who through fear of him had been in bondage.
During those happy six months, and the year that followed, the Kuhn family moved into Lisuland, and by September, 1935,
John was free to follow his never-forgotten longing to visit Goo-moo.
John had the most wonderful time at Goo-moo. His party arrived on a Saturday after dark, and the villagers were all at chapel. Of course the visit was unannounced and unexpected, but as the weary band climbed the mountainside (at the end of seven days' travelling) grateful that the long, hard trek was nearly over, through the dark there came a sound of singing, and as they listened, they heard these words floating down the trail to greet them, like a heavenly welcome:
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Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing power?
Are you washed in the Blood of the Lamb?
Are you fully trusting in His grace each hour?
Are you washed in the Blood of the Lamb?
"Before we saw their faces, we heard their testimony!"' said John, touched to the heart. Then came the delight of surprising them by walking in the door. How they shouted his name, laughed and wept with joy—the first white missionary the village had ever seen. The man who had been possessed by demons could not resist kissing John—took his face reverently in his hands, and kissed him—much to my husband's discomposure!
"There won't be any sleep for us this night, to think that Ma-Pa is here!"' cried one. And so on. It was a happy time. Twelve were baptized, this making a total of twenty-five baptized believers and more catechists; for other villages were hearing the Good
News and wanting to be taught. At length when the time came to part, there was true weeping and grief. In loving gratitude they insisted on acting as John's carriers, free of charge, on the return trip, and even provided chickens for his meals, though very poor themselves in this world's riches.
Three or four of them made the long journey to the Munition of Rocks at Christmas, for they had heard we were going home on furlough. When that happy festival was over, and it came time to say goodbye, knowing it would be years before they saw us again, both men and women broke down and cried. I was deeply stirred to hear Mark's, "Oh, Ma-Pa!"' as he broke from John's embrace and turned to the trail, sobbing.
So when furlough was ended and we were once more back in the beloved canyon, we made plans to go and visit that far away little village in Burma, and see how they had been faring.
Lisu teachers had continued to go from our district to teach them, so they had been growing, but I myself had never been there and wished to investigate their story. The account of our trip was written in the November, 1938, circular—the year that Homay and Thomas were married.
Loss AND A DREAM CoME TRUE "My heart is on it," said Homay to me with happy eyes. "That is
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what we Lisu say when we can hardly wait for something. I can hardly wait to start for Goo-moo!" That is how we all felt as we waited for the return of the mule, Jessie, and those who had escorted Mr. Peterson and Mr. Christianson to Paoshan. They arrived a day earlier than we expected for their hearts too were "on it," but they brought with them news that simply levelled us to the earth. Charlie Peterson, who in 1937 had buried his beloved comrade, Earl Carlson, arrived in Paoshan just in time to bury our beloved and indispensable superintendent,
Mr. J. O Fraser.
I say "indispensable" for we still feel that way. After the first shock of the news there was a forlorn feeling, that, speaking of human fellowship, "there is no. one now to work for." How Mr. Fraser will enjoy hearing about this, was always a first reaction to any joy or blessing, and we still have found ourselves thinking that very thought, only to come to ourselves with the desolate realization that he is no longer here.
There was no one else on earth who had such a complete knowledge of the details of our problems and so no one who could share so perfectly in our joys and sorrows. And he never disappointed us in that sharing.
He was more than superintendent to us: he was our missionary ideal; a continual rebuke, challenge, and stimulus to maintain at any cost the apostolic methods of missionary work. His brilliant gifts, united to unfailing humility and a sympathy motherlike in its tenderness and thoughtfulness made him our refuge at all times of perplexity and need.
To win a smile of approval from him was worth any extra effort. It is one thing to be praised by a person who has no experience of your work; it is quite different to win a "well done" from one who himself is a master in that very line. We have lost a great stimulus as well as an indispensable counsellor.
The Lisu of Oak Flat district asked for the privilege of paying the twenty dollars which the digging of his grave cost.
With the passing of our beloved superintendent, John and I have, perforce, to enter an entirely new epoch of our lives, for life can never again be quite the same without him. But life does not stop for heartache, so on the morning of October 2, a beautifully clear morning after days of rain, we started out to follow the road which had been covered four years ago by that historic journey of Mark and his two friends—a story we told again and again while on furlough. Our party consisted of Ah-be-pa, Luke, Thomas, Homay, Simon, Lucius,
'A-che (the Cookes' cook who is now cooking for us), Abel as mule boy, thrée carriers, and then just almost at the last moment the Lord set a seal on our going, by bringing us haphazard into contact with two of the Goo-moo church Christians who had come into the canyon
I40
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on private business. They were needed as guides and interpreters as we came to Kachin country and needed to buy food, etc.
At the end of a good long travel, the first evening out still found us in sight of our house. We slept at Luchang, from which, across the canyon, we can just barely make out the roof of "The House of Grace," our shanty.
The second day we had to go over the great pass, some 11,000 feet high. Up, up through valley-sides, ravine-sides we climbed. Before noon we had left the edge of habitation and for a long time travelled through forest, dark overhanging, shut-you-in forest, not a human soul or house in sight. Mid-afternoon brought us out to bare rocks smitten with a wind that made you shiver although snow time had not yet come, and about four o'clock we came to the narrow slit between peaks and shouted with joy. At our back the great canyon of the Salween and beyond it China's sea of mountain peaks; before our eyes Burma and another monster net of mountain-tops. We had still quite a little walk over the high cold trail, before the earth fell away from us and we beheld a panorama of unrivalled beauty—the valleys of the Upper
Irrawaddy, the sun setting behind the peaks that guard those valleys, peaks that seemed in the sunset to tower higher than those we had left behind and made even the Lisu gasp with surprise; then, as our eyes fell from the glory of crimson sky and jagged silhouette, far beneath us on a little knoll stood the British border fort of Pien-Ma with its neat array of sepoy barracks—like a silent handshake from civilization. It was dusk before we reached them, only to find them deserted—fighting between the tribes people and the Buddhists of Burma had caused the fort to be dismantled for lack of soldiers. We slept that night in the middle of the road, having travelled from daybreak until eight in the evening.
Early on the third day we ran into a teacher of the American Baptist Mission, which has work in Upper Burma, and we travelled with him until dusk. He brought us to a village of the A-Chia tribe where we slept, but first held a service, John speaking by interpretation. This day began our travelling through a canyon of gorgeous beauty, scenic falls every little while, a river of surging foam banked by precipitous rocks with trees which were full of orchids.
The fourth day everyone was so tired that we decided to sleep at Tawgaw although it was only two in the afternoon when we reached there. This is the post office town (mail once a week), a beautiful little place with red-roofed bungalows built foreign style; here there is a district superintendent, a garrison of twenty-six sepoys, a Government doctor, a Kachin school with three teachers (all of these officials, of
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I4I course, were natives) and a few stores where we were able to buy canned milk and coffee! It used to be quite a town, but a severe earthquake has lessened its population to several hundred.
The schoolmaster made us welcome in his own house, and in the evening we were visited by three superintendents, one of whom had an excellent knowledge of English. They urged us to stay over a day so they could give us a dinner party, but our answer you will readily guess.
They spied my guitar and asked for some music, so we had the Lisu sing for them,. and they were delighted, calling for piece after piece. The Lisu tribe is despised in these parts, the Kachin being considered the tribe, so we were ever so pleased to show off our dear group.
The fifth day is made memorable by monkeys above and leeches beneath. Wooded cliffs towered above us and from these the monkeys kept up a sort of heavenly chorus—I presume warning each other of our approach. High above our heads in the tops of the huge trees which lined our mountain path we heard their "Oo-a-la! Oo-a-la!" like an antiphonal choir, but not a one did we see. Not so the leeches; underfoot, the little black wrigglers were legion. They stood on the dead leaves of the path, standing upright on their tails and waving back and forth in the air, for a foot to attack, hang on to, and suck. The mules' legs were blood-streaked that day and our dear barefoot band suffered equally. The vegetation too was distinctly different. I saw tree ferns for the first time—long, straight, unbranched trunks, unfolding at the top into beautifully graceful arms of fern' each about ten feet in length.
Other trees were tremendous, over a hundred feet high, and trunks big enough to contain an auto. That night we slept out in a ridge near a Kachin village with the canyon to our right, over whose jagged walls of rock the moon peered and then sailed majestically on high. We thought we would again have a good night, but we were to make the acquaintance of a minute fly which stings like a mosquito; a net is but a tracery of open doors for it. Goo-moo abounds with these tiny pests, much to Homay's misery, for her plump, bare ankles made good eating!
The last day was the hardest of all—my, what a day! We started on the road at seven in the morning, stopped for lunch at noon by a sheet of waterfall, the water running gently over a bare face of rock some fifty feet in height, then we pressed on through hot sun and black leeches to the river brink which we reached in the late afternoon.
Early we had sighted the big tree by the Goo-moo chapel, high on the mountain of the opposite bank, but it was a different matter to get there.
Here man battles Nature with only the most primitive of weapons.
There was no bridge across the river and only a raft made of bamboo poles tied together with bark. It was so flimsy it could only take two
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passengers at a time and even then sank into the water; and there are two currents in the river to cross. When we arrived, the raft was on the other side of the river. Some Kachin rowed over with it, but they had come for a pal and refused to take even one of us, so we had to sit there and just look at the raft. We were four hours in getting across a stretch of water only about two hundred feet in breadth. Word had been called across to send a message to Goo-moo for raft-rowers and at length three men arrived and began the trips. What delayed us so long was getting
Jessie and Jasper across, and a horse and a colt that belonged to our interpreter. We tried making them swim, but when they struck the first current they turned back. By that time half of us were on one bank and half on the other, dark had fallen and the rocks in the river bed made it too dangerous, so we had to wait for the moon to rise. Finally, by dim moonlight the animals arrived: tied to the raft by tail and one man holding their head, they had been made to swim for it.
We had no food with us and had eaten nothing since lunch. Goomoo was still two thousand feet above our heads and that climb before us which is too steep to ride and where the traveller must go up holding on to the mule's tail. A drink of coffee all around and then we began.
The trail was through dense vegetation twice our height—I could see nothing beneath my waist; my hands holding on to Jasper's tail were all that was within vision, except for a silver-laced gleam overhead where the moon was trying to penetrate the tropical canopy over us. I could not see where my feet were treading—we had seen big snakes that day and I thought of the leeches, but I was reminded that Christians walk by faith, and, throwing my cares on Him in all that stiff climb, I stepped on nothing to alarm me. The heat was oppressive, perspiration simply streamed off me and we thought how merciful that it was only moonshine, not sunshine, overhead!
We came out to a Kachin village (toward the end of the climb we were able to ride a bit), where a black-clad figure sprang out of the shadow and in an ecstasy of delight ran to John, then to me, greeting us. We peered through the dark at him, that attractive smile and those beautiful teeth were familiar—Mark! Our precious Mark; he had not heard of our arrival in time to come to the river side and others of the Christians were lining the roads above our heads. It was a wonderful welcome and two tired but thoroughly happy missionaries that midnight lay down in the little whitewashed chapel with prayers of thanksgiving that another dream had come true and we were actually in Goo-moo!
Come tell Me all that ye have said and done, Your victories and failures, hopes and fears.
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I know how hardly souls are wooed and won; My choicest wreaths are always wet with tears.
WATERING His GARDEN AT Goo-moo!
We arrived on Saturday night, and Monday morning our boys scattered over the hills to surrounding villages, to announce our arrival and that we would hold a short-term Bible school beginning the next
Sunday. Goo-moo villagers came night and morning to us for teaching and also set.about building us a sleeping house and a cooking house.
It is interesting to watch a Lisu shanty go up: not a nail was in the building of our curly-headed house—I call it that because of the roof!
I have slept under slate, tin, tiles, shingles, thatch, and canvas, but this was my first experience under a roof of leaves. They thatched it entirely with the long silver green leaf of the banana tree the ends of which tore and curled back, giving it the tousled appearance of a curly-head just out of bed and not yet reached by mamma's careful comb. Tousled heads are in the majority in Lisuland, so the house quite fits the country.
Then began the Bible school, and I stop to wonder how to tell you about it. God gave us Isa. lviii. 11 as our verse for that session and then wonderfully fulfilled it: "The Lord shall guide thee continually."
There were weeds in His Goo-moo garden: strife, self-love, uncleanness, and day by day up to and including the very last day, sins were confessed and matters put right. Husbands and wives were reconciled. Our own dear Mark was greatly blessed. In fact, he said to us that our coming this time had been salvation to the little church here.
The last evening we had testimonies and Mark surprised us by stagin a little play of his own inventing. He came on the platform and said,
"T am an unbeliever and I have two friends whom I love very much.
Come my friend," and beckoned to Sa-mu-ye-pa. On Sa-mu-ye-pa's chest was a placard: UNCLEANNESS.
"Do people listen to their beloved chums?" asked Mark.
"Some," replied his audience.
"Well, what do you say to me, my friend?" Mark asked, turning to Sa-mu-ye-pa.
"T say, 'Do unclean things; think unclean things!"
Mark: "And I have to listen to my friend. But I have a second friend— come!" And A-che slipped on to the platform with a placard: HATRED.
Mark: "And what do you tell me to do, my dear friend?"
A-che: "Love yourself—don't pay any thought to your neighbour.
This is hating him." Then Thomas comes quietly up with a chest placard: jesus.
Mark: "And who are you? What do you offer me?"
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Thomas: "I offer you eternal life and a heavenly inheritance, but to receive these you must break with your two former beloved companions."
Mark: "'Teacher Kuhn, what shall I do? I've lived all my life with these two friends."
John (from the audience): "Take the advice of Him who offers you eternal life."
Mark: "All right—off with you!" (and Sa-mu-ye-pa with A-che slink from the platform). "But, Jesus, what will I do for a friend now?
Must I live all alone?" (Simon comes on to the platform with a placard:
THE HOLY SPIRIT.)
Thomas: "No, dear friend; here is a companion who will never leave you, but will abidé with you alway and be your counsellor."
Mark (throwing his arms around Simon): "Thank you, Jesus, I accept Him—now, friends, this is my testimony and I want to ask you this question. Who are your friends? And what is your choice?"
The effect of this strange testimony was solemnizing. We got a new impression of our dear, precious Mark this time; the gentleness of his sweet smile is misleading. He is a very strong and forceful character.
Just twenty-six years old, this leads him into difficulties with the church as he is apt to be a bit tyrannical and self-righteous in his governing of them. He is upright himself and he expects others to be just as consecrated and 'does not realize that babes in Christ require more patient handling. His self-righteousness he confessed before them all that week; his "strong hand" I do not think he realizes yet. He needs the epistolatory teaching and is going to make every effort to get to the Rainy Season
Bible School.
Luke's and Thomas's messages were wonderful. We see more and more that the R.S.B.S. is already producing wonderful fruit. Goo-moo was soaked this time with the teaching on the second birth and we hear from all over the field of our boy students (the Ma-pa-ra) of last summer preaching this foundational truth.
After the school at Goo-moo we went to Sa-mu-ye-pa's village for the harvest festival. We got a wonderful reception—an aisle of flowers as well as an arch had been made for us. And a little house prepared as our dwelling was so filled with mountain blooms that their fragrance attracted the animals at night who tried to get in to eat them, and ae John some practice boot-throwing, for the door was far from stable.
Parting was, as usual, mournful. The Goo-moo Christians wept so that as we dropped down the mountainside from them, it sounded like the wailing for the dead, and I was relieved when they finally changed
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it to calling to us like monkeys, after we were too far beneath them to communicate otherwise.
Mark came to R.S.B.S. twice, in different years, but each time could not stand the discipline of it. Strange as it seems, he was much slower to grasp doctrines than his fellows, which hurt his pride, for he was by now accustomed to leadership.
He was ashamed when he did not make excellent grades, and got so hontesick that each time he stayed only a month or so, and then went home, taking his fellow Goo-moo students with him. The result is that none of the Goo-moo students were wellgrounded in the truths of the New Testament.
During the war, the Japanese occupied Upper Burma. Goomoo again appealed to us for teachers—with the Japanese at Tawgaw and spies everywhere, a little band of them worked their way through to us, and pleaded for Lisu evangelists! One of our young student teachers responded, and at the peril of his life went back with them. We just received one letter from him, in which he said that they were reaching out after another tribe which lives in their neighbourhood, and Mark was learning that tribal language in order to lead them to Christ! But he also told how Mark and Sammy-pa were quarrelling, and the church inclined to split over them. Had Satan been gaining an advantage? The Master of the Abyss will never forgive the fact that they were delivered from his clutches, and he has more than one way of enslaving men. Pride of heart is a Wind from the Snow Height which ignorant Christians may not recognize as heading them toward the Abyss; Satan has used that Wind to render useless more than one promising young disciple. The Sharp Wind from the Bitter Height is still blowing.
The Soul-seedling Patch NG in thought, we must go back to the canyon of the Upper Salween, to the station of Oak Flat. So much has been said of the Rainy Season Bible School, that it might be well to tell of those sessions now.
Brother Two's criticism that the Lisu church was becoming legalistic, was not without foundation. But side by side with that fact one should put this—that the church did not then have the New Testament, and its teachings on law and grace were not understood. John felt deeply that the time had come to do something definite about this general ignorance, and so the vision of our furlough had been a regular, prolonged season of Bible teaching, with the New Testament in manuscript before the students, if necessary. The Books of Galatians and First
Corinthians and some pies had been completed by that time.
We were able to bring back with us a Lisu typewriter (a portable arranged to type Lisu script), so our very first summer in Lisuland, we began. Mr. Fraser wrote us that he was delighted; he felt that nothing was so needed as a prolonged, continued time of Bible study.
And now I think that quotations from the circulars will be more vivid, for they tell of events just as they happened.
Tum SEEDLING PATCH
Picture a great rocky mountain on a lone range. Up through its wild grass and pine-tree studded sides threads a yellow-brown trail. Threequarters of the way up to its crest the trail slims on to a small brow where some tiny huts are planted, with a long weather-beaten thatched bamboo shanty at one corner perched above a deep drop. Around the great wrinkles of the mountain, about three miles up the ravine's abyssal sides is another collection of huts. Of what importance to the world