kept him awake.
He would have fallen asleep peacefully amidst bursting shells, but he
had no opportunity. The whole burden of the young Church, harassed by
persecution on all sides, seemed to rest upon his spirit. Anxiety
for the Christians in the inland stations from whom he could not hear
weighed on him night and day, and his brave spirit was put to the
severest test.

Only his great strong faith in God kept him up and kept up the spirits
of the converts who looked to him for an example. And a brave pattern
he showed them. Often he and A Hoa paced the lawn in front of the
house while shot and shell whizzed around them. During the worst of the
bombardment they came and went between the college and the house as
if they had charmed lives. One day there was a great roar and a shell
struck Oxford College, shaking it to its foundations. The smoke from
fort and ships had scarcely cleared away when, crash! and the girls'
school was struck by a bursting shell. Next moment there was a fearful
bang and a great stone that stood in front of the Mackays' house went up
into the air in a thousand fragments.

But when the firing was hottest, Kai Bok-su would repeat to his students
the comforting Psalm:

"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow
that flieth by day."

But in spite of his brave demeanor, the strain on the shepherd of this
harassed flock was beginning to tell. And when the bombardment ceased
and the intense anxiety for his loved ones was over, Kai Bok-su suddenly
collapsed. Dr. Johnsen, the foreign physician of Tamsui, came hurriedly
up to the mission house to see him. His verdict sent a thrill of dismay
through every heart that loved him, from the anxious little wife by the
patient's side, to the poorest convert in the town below. Their beloved
Kai Bok-su had brain fever.

"Too much anxiety and too little sleep," said the medical man. "He must
sleep now," he added, "or he will die." But now that Kai Bok-su had a
chance to rest, he could not. Sleep had been chased away too long to
stay with him. Night and day he tossed about, wide awake and burning
with fever. His temperature was never less than 102 during those days,
and all the doctor's efforts could not lower it. The awful heat of
September was on, and the great typhoons that would soon sweep across
the country and clear the air had not yet come. The glaring sun and the
stifling damp heat were all against the patient. At last one day th