Out of the modern catacombs of Roman Christianity, the Corean converts addressed two letters, dated December 9 and 18, 1811, to the Pope—“the Very High, Very Great Father, Chief of the whole Church”—in which they invited help, not only of a spiritual nature, but aid in ships and envoys to treat with their king. They were willing even to leave their native land and colonize the islands in the sea, for the sake of worship and conscience. Signed with fictitious names, copied on silk, and sewn in the clothing of the messenger, they reached Peking and Rome, but the bishop of neither city could afford succor. His Holiness was then a prisoner at Fontainebleau, and the Roman propaganda was nearly at a standstill. With a goodly supply of medals and crosses, the messenger returned, and the church in Corea enjoyed peace, and new converts were made until 1815, when a non-political persecution broke out for a while in Kang-wen and Kiung-sang. In 1817, the king and court were terrified by the appearance off the west coast of the British [24] vessels Alceste and Lyra. They suspected that the good captain and jolly surgeon, who have given us such fascinating narratives of their cruise, were in active connection with “the evil sect;” but beyond some surveys, purchases of beef, and interviews with local magistrates, the foreigners departed without further designs against the throne. In 1823 several of the Christians, encouraged by hopes held out by the Bishop of Peking, went to the Border Gate to meet a foreign priest, but to their dismay found none. In 1826, [25] they were troubled by a report that the shō-gun of Japan had requested their king to return six Japanese adherents of the interdicted “Jesus sect,” who had fled the empire in a boat. Shortly after, in Chulla, through a quarrel instigated by a drunken potter, a convert, which led to information given in spite, a severe persecution broke out, lasting three months.