But Liu was not to be balked in his search. He met others among the members who had been helped by the foreign pastors and doctors, and he was determined to be free. The rest of the story is readily told. It is the story of an ever-increasing number of New China’s sons. Foreign medicine, earnest counsel from his pastor, daily reading of the Word which is Spirit and which is Life, prayer and service and the inflooding of the Spirit of God brought a new power and peace to a life which for long had struggled and suffered, and been all but slain through sin. With health and hope and freedom came also a great longing that others might know the glad Gospel message. He took to selling books up and down the very streets where men knew him best. As he went he told his story in shops, at corners and in the homes of friends. Seeing his sincerity and ability, our mission soon sent him farther afield, till he traversed much of the northern district. Then he served for a time faithfully and effectively in Kiating and Chin Ien. He has now been a year at college as a probationer. His little daughter is a promising pupil in our girls’ school. He himself married recently a beautiful young woman, rescued and reared by our Chengtu orphanage, and they to-day are together laboring earnestly for the coming of His Kingdom. Thus Liu Tsi Chuin is realizing in a way his father never dreamed the hope of the “Princely man,” for the greater Father had need of him. Where Do You Live? I knew a man, and his name was Horner, Who used to live on Grumble Corner— Grumble Corner, in Crosspatch Town; And he never was seen without a frown; He grumbled at this, he grumbled at that; He growled at the dog, he growled at the cat; He grumbled at morning, he grumbled at night, And to grumble and growl were his chief delight. He grumbled so much at his wife that she Began to grumble as well as he; And all the children, wherever they went, Reflected their parents’ discontent. If the sky was dark and betokened rain, Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain; And, if there was never a cloud about, He’d grumble because of a threatened drought. His meals were never to suit his taste; He grumbled at having to eat in haste; The bread was poor, or the meat was tough, Or else he hadn’t had half enough. No matter how hard his wife might try To please her husband, with scornful eye He’d look around, and then, with a scowl At something or other, begin to growl. One day, as I loitered along the street, My old acquaintance I chanced to meet, Whose face was without the look of care And the ugly frown that it used to wear. “I may be mistaken, perhaps,” I said, As, after saluting, I turned my head; “But it is, and it isn’t, the Mr. Horner, Who lived for so long on Grumble Corner.”