The result of this conversation is, that grandmother has me go into her room for a half-hour every day to study the Bible. We began at the first chapter of Genesis, and already we have got as far as Abraham.
Between times I am reading the Chinese books in my own room upstairs, and I learn from one of them that more than a century before the birth of Abraham, China had two great and good men; fully as good as Abraham I should think,--Yao and Shun--who framed laws that govern the nation to-day. Why did not Yao and Shun get a "_call_" as Abraham did? I think they deserved one fully as well.
After we get through our study of Genesis and Abraham, grandmother usually has a little talk about that great and beautiful man, Christ; telling me how kind and gentle he was, and how he always considered the good of others rather than his own good.
"The Princely Man!" I cried the first time she mentioned him.
She wanted to know what I meant, and I told her that my nurses had told me about China's ideal and model, the "Princely Man," and I thought the Christ must be _he_.
"More, much more than Confucius, the Princely Man," returned my grandmother. "It is my sincere hope, my dear granddaughter, that your mind may become illumined as you proceed with your study, until you understand the vast difference between the Princely Man and Christ."
"There is a pretty legend about Christ," she added, "which says that as He walked the earth sweet flowers grew in the path behind Him. The legend is true in a spiritual sense--wherever His steps have pressed the earth all these centuries, flowers have sprung up, flowers of love, kindness, gentleness, thoughtfulness." Then grandmother began to sing softly, in the sweetest old trembly soprano voice one ever heard, asking me to join her:
"Let every kindred, every tribe On this terrestrial ball, To Him all majesty ascribe, And crown Him Lord of all."
We went to church this morning, it being Sunday--Aunt Gwendolin, Uncle Theodore, and I. Grandmother was indisposed and did not go. It was my first attendance at church, for Aunt Gwendolin said I had nothing fit to wear until she dressed me up.
"Are _you_ going, Theodore?" I heard my aunt, through the opening in the floor, say in a surprised tone, as if she were not accustomed to seeing him go.