In the late fall of the same year Mr. Underwood and I started again on a trip to the interior, the first we had made together since our wedding journey, but now we were accompanied by our child, six years old, and a native woman, who acted as cook, nurse and general assistant. She rode in a native “_pokyo_” or chair with the child, I in another, while Mr. Underwood walked or rode his bicycle, as opportunity permitted. Our first destination was Haing Ju, a dirty little fishing village on the river, about ten miles from the capital. Work had started here just after the cholera in the fall of 1895 through the teaching of a native named Shin Wha Suni, a poor fellow who had, according to his own confession, been hanging around us for some time, pretending to be interested in Christianity, in the hope of getting some lucrative employment in connection with church work. After the cholera hospital was opened, he was there on several occasions, and was much surprised to find that foreign women would spend whole nights nursing sick Korean coolies. When he chanced to see one weeping over a poor man, whom all her efforts had failed to save, he went away astonished and impressed with the idea that “there is something in that religion that makes them love us like that, something that forgets self, something that I have never dreamed of before, something mysterious, glorious, oh, that it were mine!” He hungered and God fed him. He sought and found the Saviour, and when he had found him, he set forth at once to tell the good news to others. Taking a jikay, the frame which Koreans wear on their backs to facilitate the carrying of heavy loads, and which all native carriers use, he started forth to the country to earn his living in this humble way while _chandohaoing_ or “passing on the Word.” He went as far as Haing Ju, and there on the sand of the river bank he talked to scoffing people all day. At night, when it was dark, one of the men who had seemed to treat his message lightly, came and asked him to come to his house and talk the matter over at more length. He went, and soon another believer was gained. “Oh, it was good, the taste of a soul saved,” said the new preacher. “Now it seemed to me I could never be satisfied with anything else; could never rest until I had more.” The man who had been converted offered the use of his house as a preaching place. The men gathered in one room, the women in another, and Shin read the gospels and the tracts and taught them the catechism and hymns. The number of Christians grew from week to week, and the little meeting place became too small and had to be enlarged. The whole tone of the village gradually changed, and from being known as one of the hardest and most disreputable places on the river, it now became a model of decency and respectability.