'Often a gentleman would come up and ask, "Where are you going?" to which Mr. Gilmour would reply, "We are cooling ourselves; we are going nowhere." It was always a mystery to people what we could possibly mean by taking walks to the country. One day two lads followed us for some miles across some low hills, anxious to know our business, and getting well laughed at by their friends, poor fellows, on their return to the town. 'One thing about Mr. Gilmour always impressed me deeply--his wonderful knowledge of the little touches of Chinese politeness, and his wonderful power of observation. He loved the Chinese--looked upon them and treated them as brothers, and was a man who lived much in prayer; and in this lay his great power as a missionary. 'When he met a Mongol he would exchange a few words of Mongol with him, and it was wonderful to see the man's face light up as he heard his own tongue. All the Mongols knew that he could speak their language, and as one of the few who did. 'As we returned to the town and were walking along the street, many of the passers-by would bow; and here and there a shopkeeper would give him a friendly bow. Sometimes he would buy a few peaches or apples, and not unfrequently he would give a sweetmeat vendor two cash for two sweets, handing one to me. 'About half-past four we returned to the inn, and then, as a rule, some people would be there waiting to see him. Mr. Sun, the box-maker, used often to come to read the Scriptures with Mr. Gilmour, and then they would discuss various points; Mr. Sun giving his opinion, and then Mr. Gilmour putting him right. Sometimes an outsider would drop in, and then, not unfrequently, Mr. Sun would talk to him about the Gospel.