this work, “He was so accustomed to success in whatever he undertook that it was hard for him to bear the indifference of the rich to what seemed to him so important.” The transfer of the college to another location was a question that would not permanently rest. So long as it was whether it should go from Tengchow to Chefoo, or be swallowed up in another more pretentious institution at Shanghai, and not yet in existence, it was comparatively easy to silence the guns of those who talked removal. But at the opening of the twentieth century, even out there in north China, important changes indirectly affecting this problem had occurred. The missions had been strengthened by a number of new men, who came fresh from the rush of affairs in the United States, and eager to put their force into the work in China in such a way that it would tell the most. Even China itself was beginning to awake from the torpor of ages. In Shantung the Germans were building railroads, one of them right through the heart of the province, on by way of Wei Hsien to the capital, and from that point to be afterward connected with Tientsin and Peking. It is not strange that, under the new conditions, the young members of the mission especially should desire to place the college which loomed up so largely and effectually in the work to which they had consecrated their lives where it could be in closer touch with the swarming millions of the land and with the movements of the new times. February 26, 1901, Dr. Mateer wrote to the Board: