Thus he called at the house of the Rev. Jones and the proper salutations were gone through. Hing Fai kindly made inquiries as to the Rev. Jones’ reverend father, his grandfather, their health, their ages, the age of the Rev. Jones, his health, his business, and the prospects of the rice crops. The Rev. Jones had a good knowledge of the vernacular, but he was completely mystified as to the reason for this visit. Hing Fai then talked of towns, of dwellings and houses, and after much circumlocution touched on the new building of the mission.
“Why do you build this tall grey metal building?” said Hing Fai, “and for what purpose?”
“It is for a house of worship—in fact, a small temple,” replied the Rev. Jones.
“And you are building a sharp-pointed tower?”
“Yes; it is a spire,” replied the missionary.
“Do you store valuables there, or is it a place of refuge?” inquired the Chinaman.
“No,” replied the missionary, “we use it for no purpose.”
“But it costs money to build,” interjected Hing Fai.
“Yes, but then it points to heaven and leads men’s minds in that direction.”
Hing Fai was astonished. Here, thought he, he had found a most complete liar. A man who built a watch-tower (for some purpose unknown), spent money on it, and then said it was simply to point to heaven. He could hardly restrain himself, but to all appearances calm, he replied: “Points to heaven! So does a man when he walks, so does a tree, so does every blade of grass, so do the hills, and so does nearly everything on earth except worms and snakes.” Hing Fai then left, more deeply suspicious of the Christians than ever. So these two parted, and each worked in his own way. Now a period of distress fell on the province of Fo Kien; crops failed, continual drought prevented the young rice growing, and then, when the rains did come, and the young rice was some six inches in height, floods came and washed rice and fields and everything away. Hing Fai’s business grew worse and worse; the Rev. Jones’ spire continued to grow; and the hard times drove many a starving coolie to embrace Christianity so as to procure some dole of rice for himself and family. To Hing Fai it seemed that his own gradual ruin was but keeping step with the growing popularity of the mission-house. With the famine came the pestilence, and the district, in addition to being impoverished, was attacked by cholera. The river was now filled with blackened and swollen corpses. The people were too poor to buy coffins, so the dead were wrapped in matting and thrown into the river; sometimes three or four corpses were made up into a bundle, rolled in a mat, and thrown into the stream at one time for the sake of economy. Rich as well as poor were attacked, and the wife of Hing Fai succumbed to the disease. Hing Fai’s sorrow was great: his business losses seemed as nothing beside the loss of his beloved wife; and while in this state of anger against fate came to him the evil Wang.