ession of a vile conspiracy
with the Peking doctors, and a signal for their massacre. They remained
to live down the ominous and odious charge, and in continuous effort to
justify the simplicity of their motives and the purity and beneficence
of their mission.

'Deeply moved, as I was, by the story of this hairbreadth escape, I
asked Mrs. Gilmour more about those fearful weeks of suspense, and she
assured me that they had been perfectly calm, and that they were
entirely resigned to God's will, whatever it might be.'

'Many other trials of faith and patience were described by Gilmour,
without one touch of self-approval or self-admiration, and the only
trouble that haunted him was that the results of his long journeys and
of his various missionary enterprises had been apparently so few.'

It was certain that James Gilmour's power as a speaker would be utilised
for the great event of the London Missionary Society's year, the annual
meeting at Exeter Hall. This fell, in 1883, on May 10, and he was the
last speaker. This involved waiting about two hours and a half for his
speech, and corresponding exhaustion on the part of the audience. But
none who were present will forget the rapid way in which he secured the
attention of his hearers, and the ease with which he held it to the
close. He chose to speak of work in China, rather than in Mongolia; the
recent publication of his book helping among other reasons to determine
this choice. Part of the speech deserves reproduction here, because it
outlines very sharply the work that engaged much of his time while
resident in Peking, and because nowhere else can such a realistic,
sparkling, and lifelike picture of the preaching work of the Peking
mission, and consequently more or less of all preaching in great Chinese
cities, be found.

'In Peking we have three chapels. A chapel there is merely a
Chinese shop, put into decent repair, and a signboard stuck over
the top. The Chinese are very fond of giving themselves very high
names. You will come to a man sitting in a little box scarcely big
enough for himself to turn round in, and if you read his sign, it
is some flowing name about a hall; it may be the "Hall of Continual
Virtue," or something of that kind, or the "Hall of the Five
Happinesses." So our title above our chapel just runs in the native
idiomatic style, and it is the "Gospel Hall.' Inside there is not
very much to see.