made to me, 'I love Jesus more all the time when I read about him.'"
This brother took his religion with him to China, and brought it back
unharmed.

One of the brethren worked in a hotel where to specially toilsome
service was added a treatment far from kind. He said to his teacher
that he remembered how much Jesus had to bear and so he "had patient."
The wages received he spoke of as the "hardest money" he had earned
since coming to California, and _so_ he took part of it to buy a
nice Bible. An American said scoffingly to him: "Are you one of the
Christian Chinamen?" "Yes," he replied. "I love Jesus; I am not ashamed
that I love Jesus."

One of our Santa Barbara brethren rents quite a tract of land, much of
which he devotes to the culture of small fruits. On a visit to his
place a year or two ago, friends saw strawberry plants heavily laden
with luscious looking fruit so arranged in front of our brother's door
as to spell out this sentence, "God loves the earth."

"It seems," said Jee Gam once, "as though I could recall his very
words, and hear the tones of his voice as he prayed for the conversion
of his countrymen." It was the closing prayer of a gospel service among
the Chinese in Oakland. The brother who offered it was a Chinese
merchant of that city. Two days afterwards he was shot in his own store
by a Chinaman because he refused to submit to blackmail. A policeman
hastened to the spot and saw him die, and testified in court that his
last words were those of prayer to our true God; this testimony, though
given probably by an ungodly man, being such as to draw tears from many
who listened. Yet some say there are no real Christian Chinamen; that
you can't convert a Chinaman; that they are throughout a race of