Fifteen Years Among the Top-Knots; Or, Life in KoreaUnderwood, Lillias H. (Lillias Horton)
Religion
Fifteen Years Among the Top-Knots; Or, Life in Korea
Underwood, Lillias H. (Lillias Horton)
Korea -- Description and travel; Missions -- Korea
Momentarily the formidable dimensions of the crowd increased, while
other bands of soldiers joined us at intervals, for which I was
devoutly thankful, for while the crowd seemed good-natured and simply
wildly curious, at the same time we were strangers, to whom Koreans
had the reputation of being inimical. With so large a crowd a small
matter may kindle a blaze of fury, and as we were rather inexperienced
and ignorant of the character of the people, I felt that whatever the
intentions of the magistrate might be, the hand of the responsible
official would be gentle compared with the hands of the mob. And
yet looking back on it all now, in the light of all that has since
occurred, it was not altogether inappropriate but in a way fitting,
that the first heralds of the gospel and the advent of Christianity to
this province should be with banners, trumpets and great acclaim. The
Kingdom had come, if only in its smallest beginnings, and had come to
stay.
The wonder of it, which will grow, I think, more and more through the
eternal ages, is that God should allow us, his poor creatures, to share
with him in a work far greater than the creation of a universe, even
the founding of an eternal and limitless kingdom of holiness, glory and
peace.
But to return to our noisy procession. Within the city the noise and
excitement (“yahdan” the Koreans would say, and nothing expresses it
so well) were far greater than ever. Dancing girls and hoodlums of
every description swelled the crowd, laughing, shouting, pushing,
jostling. High points of vantage were occupied to the last inch with
small boydom, booths or screened seats had been rented for the use of
the ladies, and the streets were hardly passable. I shivered. I felt
like a mouse in the power of a playful tiger. It is not a pleasant
thing to feel one’s self the object of desire--even if merely in a
sightseeing way--of thousands of strange people. Many in that crowd had
come more than ten miles to behold us. My husband to protect me from
the unpleasantness, to say the least, of falling into the hands of so
large and eager a mob, hastened to the gates of the magistracy, quickly
dismounted and bade the guards be ready to close them the instant my
chair had entered. This was promptly done, the gates well bolted and
guarded, and proud of our victory over the small boys, we hastily
retired to our rooms. But hark! what noise was that, like thundering of
a waterfall, or of a river dashing away its barriers? Alack! it was
the boys. They had scaled the wall on each other’s shoulders, and were
literally pouring over it into the compound.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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