Scarcely anything in my life ever came so unexpectedly. A peal of thunder in the clear winter sky would not have surprised us more. The letter was handed me in the morning when I came downstairs at grandfather’s. After reading it, I took it upstairs and read it to “my Jewel.” In less than three minutes I think our minds were made up. Her first exclamation after hearing the letter I shall not forget: “Oh, I am glad!” That was the right ring for a missionary: no long-drawn, sorrowful sigh, but the straight-out, noble, self-sacrificing, “Oh, I am glad!” I shall remember that time, that look, that expression. If I did not say, I felt, the same. I think I can truly say I was and am glad. My lifelong aspiration is yet to be realized. I shall yet spend my life and lay my bones in a heathen land. I had fully made up my mind to labor in this country, and most likely for some time in Delaware; but how suddenly everything is changed! The only regret I feel is that I am not five years younger. What a great advantage it would give me in acquiring the language! But so it is, and Providence made it so. I had despaired of going, and despairing I was greatly perplexed to understand the leadings of Providence in directing my mind so strongly to the work, and bringing me so near to the point of going before. Now I understand the matter better. Now I see that my strong persuasion that I would yet go was right. God did not deceive me. He only led me by a way that I knew not. Just when the darkness seemed to be greatest, then the sun shone suddenly out. How strange it all seems! The way was all closed; no funds to send out men to China; and I could not go. Suddenly two missionaries die, and the health of another fails; and the Board feels constrained to send out one man at least, to supply their place; and so the door opens to me. And I will enter it, for Providence has surely opened it. As I have given myself to this work, and hold myself in readiness to go, I will not retrace my steps now. Having put my hand to the plow, I will not look back. I do not wish to. It is true, however, that preaching a year and a half has bound strong cords around me to keep me here. I cannot go so easily now as I might have done when I first left the seminary. It will be a sore trial to tear myself away from the folks at Delaware. They will try hard, I know, to retain me; but I think my mind is set, and I must go. I must go; I am glad to go; I will go. The Lord will provide for Delaware. I commit the work there to his hands. I trust and believe that he will carry it on, and that it will yet appear that my labor there has not been in vain. Yesterday I was twenty-seven years old. I hope to chronicle my next birthday in China. The Lord has spared me twenty-seven years in my native land.