He found almost as much difficulty in learning the Chinese
religion as the Chinese language. After he had spent days trying
to understand it, it would seem to him like some horrible
nightmare filled with wicked devils and no less wicked gods and
evil spirits and ugly idols. And to make matters worse there was
not one religion, but a bewildering mixture of three. First of
all there was the ancient Chinese religion, called Confucianism.
Confucius, a wise man of China, who lived ages before, had laid
down some rules of conduct, and had been worshiped ever since.
Very good rules they were as far as they went, and if the Chinese
had followed this wise man they would not have drifted so far
from the truth. But Confucianism meant ancestor-worship. In every
home was a little tablet with the names of the family's ancestors
upon it, and every one in the house worshiped the spirits of
those departed. With this was another religion called Taoism.
This taught belief in wicked demons who lurked about people ready
to do them some ill. Then, years and years before, some people
from India had brought over their religion, Buddhism, which had
become a system of idol-worship. These three religions were so
mixed up that the people themselves were not able to distinguish
between them. The names of their idols would cover pages, and an
account of their religion would fill volumes. The more Mackay
learned of it, the more he yearned to tell the people of the one
God who was Lord and Father of them all.

As soon as he had learned to write clearly, he bought a large
sheet of paper, and printed on it the ten commandments in Chinese
characters. Then he hung it on the outside of his door. People
who passed read it and made comments of various kinds. Several