The money for the building came in a way as unexpected as welcome. The missionary received word that an official desired him to come to the railway station to see him on his way through Hsin Muntun, and when they met, the official presented him with a cheque for 3000 taels in aid of the excellent educational work that he was doing. This enabled him to start building the girls’ school, of which he had to be not only the founder, but also the architect. In the same way the doctor had to design his house and hospitals, and superintend the building of them; no doubt the labour is far greater for a man without architectural training; otherwise the buildings seem to be quite as well done as the majority of houses, and at considerably smaller cost. Leaving Hsin Muntun we started for Moukden, where the Chinese stationmaster had been asked to give us assistance in changing stations, so that we might not miss the train. He spoke a little English, and sent a man with us to look after our luggage in one cart, while we went in another. The road was indescribable, for a thaw had set in, and oceans of mud added to the horrors of the way, emitting a stench which had lost nothing by six months’ frost. We were flung to and fro in the cart, and it seemed an endless drive. On arrival we rejoiced to see that the clock had not yet struck, though it was just approaching the hour for the train to start. As this was the Japanese line (the one which extends from Dalny to Kwan Chengtze), we had to get our money changed into Japanese yen before we could buy tickets, and were then told there was no train for three and a half hours. As our friends had sent to the station at Hsin Muntun to inquire, and been told that this train was running, we felt rather provoked, but found the explanation in the fact that it only ran three times a week, and this was not the right day. A pleasant little fellow took us to a comfortable waiting-room, and fetched us a kettle of hot water to make tea, but no sooner had we done this than another official came and turned us out in order to prepare a meal for a Japanese family, and we had to retire to a miserable little office. The Japanese line is well managed and clean: the Chinese attendant comes round at intervals with his feather brush, and is ready to provide you with hot water whenever you want it, and comes to brush you down before you leave the train. We were thankful to betake ourselves to the train as soon as it came in, although there was still an hour before it was due to start for Liao Yang. The journey is only thirty miles, but the ordinary trains take nearly three hours, and one finds it rather slow and monotonous. When one thinks, however, of the pre-railway days, when you might not infrequently take the same length of time to do three miles, thanks to the ocean of mud which constitutes a road as soon as the spring thaw sets in, ten miles an hour seems wild speed. CHAPTER IV Liao Yang