As the missionary spoke his face glowed. He told of Jesus, who went about doing good and at last died for men. There were no Chinese gods who would do that, father thought. They would take your money, but die for you?—well, that was nonsense. Eagerly he listened to the wonderful story. The stranger noticed him. At the close of his address he approached father. “Your name, honorable sir?” he asked. “My unworthy name is Lee,” was the response. Quietly and earnestly the stranger looked into father’s face. “Sir,” he said, “I noticed you listening intently just now; may I respectfully ask you, Is there peace in your heart? Do you yet know the grace of God in forgiving sin?” Forgiving sin—that was what my new parents had sought for so long; and the missionary’s words went home. My father made a confused answer, but bought a book the stranger recommended him, and hurried home lest it should be known that he had talked with the foreigner, and was in danger of eating the foreign doctrine. That meeting was the turning-point in my father’s life. The book he had bought pointed out a new and living way of obtaining release from sin. Many visits were paid to the chapel; and once the missionary came to our village and stayed at our house. Little by little my father’s prejudices were overcome, and the new doctrine entered his heart. At first mother was bitterly opposed to it. To draw her away from her gods and win her to this persecuted faith was no easy task; but gradually the light dawned for her, too. The neighbors got to hear of the visits to the chapel, and much petty annoyance was the result; but father’s patience and sincerity disarmed suspicion, and his happiness was so manifest as to be a constant witness to the truth. They were happy days for me, and my new life was such a change from the old that it all seemed a dream. One day the missionary heard my story. “You have come out of much tribulation,” he said. Then turning to father, he remarked, “Why not give her a new name?” “Yes,” said father, “we will not call her Yin-dee any more, but Ping-an—Rest and Peace—for that is what I have now found in Christ.” So that is how my name was changed. Then it was suggested that I ought not to grow up ignorant, but should learn to read and write; for in the Christian religion there is no difference made between girls and boys—all are alike precious to Jesus. The missionary told us that at Han-yang there was a school for girls, where many were living and being taught useful things, and, best of all, were taught the story of Christ. How excited I was at the prospect of going, though not a little afraid of so strange a place!