In the mean time, a Chinese preacher who was supported by the Methodist Mission was very sick. His children were very small and his wife cannot walk. There was nobody to go after a doctor for him. So he sent for me to call doctor and get medicine. He and myself were the only Christians inside the walls of the city. Outside in the villages were a few Christians, but fifteen or twenty miles away. My wife advised me not to go to his house lest I get sick also, for my health was not very good. I say to her, that only he and I are Christians in this place. I _have_ to go to his house. I rather die than not go. In about twenty days he die. We sent for the Christian friends, from different parts--some thirty to fifty miles away--some nearer. So we bury him the Christian way. The men carry the coffin. They charge four dollars to bury him, because he is Christian. The others they charge only two dollars. We also hire music for the funeral--different from the heathen funeral. Several hundred people were standing on the way, watching us pass by. Some say: "How funny the burying of the Yason dog,"--_i.e._, the Jesus boy. After the funeral I was very sick, and my whole body trembling with cold. Many blankets put upon me, but cannot make me warm. My wife begin to cry. My cousins and all said it was because I went to the dead man's house and catch the sickness. Some of them said it was because I tore up the paper and burned the punk-sticks of the stove-god. But my wife, sitting on the bed-side crying, suggested the medicine which I brought from California; the name--sulphate of quinine. So she ask me to take that; but I say: I never have been this way before, and never use that medicine for this kind of sickness. But she ask me to try; so I take a very little with a little water. Not more than three minutes my whole body stop shaking, and I felt a great relief. I thank God for his help, and soon I got all well. Another Chinese preacher came from Canton to my district to take the dead preacher's place; also, to live in his house. Next day, he and his wife and boy all taken very sick. They grow worse and worse, every day appointed to death. I felt very much dismayed because many people say, "The Death Spirit make them very sick because they will not worship him." But I pray to God to make him well. I say:--"Oh Lord, if you let this family die also, all the people in this place will not like to hear thy Gospel, and I also may be tempted by the superstition. I ask thee, oh God, let thy mercy be upon them and not let this family going to die; so let all this people of darkness see thy power, and thy glorious light appear to their sight." I believe that God answered this prayer, for they grew better and better every day, though they were so sick they expected to die.