When the class had adjourned, we proceeded to make the usual circuit of the part of the province under our care. As on the river, so here along the sea and in the mountains, the numbers of new centers of gospel growth were amazing. “It springeth up he knoweth not how.” In one place a couple of old men, travelling along rather weary, sat down by the roadside and as they rested sang a hymn. A farmer whose house was near, overhearing the strange words of the song, came and questioned, and ere long became a believer, with his family. From this household the blessing overflowed for neighbors and friends. In another case a young bride made a strong stand for Christ in the heathen family into which she had married, until she had won over the entire family to the same faith, and they again had brought others. These are only a couple of examples that were paralleled in many communities. Some of the answers of these poor half-taught people when catechised were given in a previous chapter, another that of an old woman I thought significant and touching. When asked where Jesus was, she said promptly, “He’s right here with me all the time.” “Yes, but where else is he?” Confused and troubled that she could not satisfy the Moxa, she said, “I’m only a poor ignorant old woman, I don’t know where else he is, but I _know_ he is right here in my house all the time.” The devotion of the people to us, because through our hands had come the bread of life, was to me exceedingly affecting, and everywhere the relation existing between the people and their Moxas is a peculiarly close and tender one. When one of the missionaries was sick for some time, the women in the country villages through a large section held united daily prayer for her for several weeks. This without her knowledge, quite spontaneously, and without prearrangement among the different localities. The following year I was providentially hindered from making the trip to the country with my husband, but in 1900, with Dr. Whiting, Mr. Underwood and our little son, I was again able to go to Whang Hai province. We started in February, and as there was now a little steamer which had begun to ply between Hai Ju and Chemulpo, we decided to profit by it, as this would be both easier and cheaper than the old way. _Kaiwha_ (as they call progress) had “_twessoed_” (become) considerably since our last trip. A railroad had been laid between Seoul and Chemulpo, with trains traveling about fifteen miles an hour. The steamers referred to are a marvel also as specimens of said _kaiwha_. About the size of an ordinary despatch boat, or small tug, they are not too commodious. [Illustration: CANDY BOY]