ob, to overawe a haughty yang-ban or
break in a dangerous horse. They were the pioneers of civilization as well
as of Christianity.

Religion had to be commended by the courage of its adherents. When there
came a dangerous uprising, and every one else fled, the missionary had to
stay at his post. When an epidemic of cholera or yellow fever swept over a
district, the missionary had to act as doctor or nurse. Sometimes the
missionary died, as Dr. Heron died at Seoul and McKenzie at Sorai. Their
deaths were even more effective than their lives in winning people.

Dr. Allen gained a foothold soon after his arrival by sticking to his post
in Seoul during the uprising against foreigners that followed the attack by
the Japanese and the reformers on the Cabinet and their seizure of the King
and Queen. When Min Yung-ik, the Queen's nephew, was badly wounded, Dr.
Allen attended to him and saved his life. Henceforth the King was the
missionaries' friend. He built a hospital and placed Dr. Allen in charge.
Women missionary doctors were appointed Court physicians to the Queen.

There were years of waiting, when the converts were few, and when it seemed
that the barriers of four thousand years never would be broken down. Then
came the Chino-Japanese War. Koreans were forced to see that this Western
civilization, which had enabled little Japan to beat the Chinese giant,
must mean something. A young man from Indiana, Samuel Moffett, with a
companion, Graham Lee, had gone some time before to Pyeng-yang, reputedly
the worst city in Korea. Here they had been stoned and abused. When the
Chinese Army came to Pyeng-yang, and the country was devastated in the
great and decisive battle between the Chinese and Japanese, these two men
stayed by the Koreans in their darkest and most perilous hours. Koreans
still tell how "Moksa" Moffett put on the dress of a Korean mourner and
went freely around despite the Chinese, who would have almost certainly
devised a specially lingering death for him, had they discovered his
presence.

"There must be something in this religion," said the Koreans. Sturdy old
John Newton's belief that the worst sinner makes the finest saint was borne
out in the case of Pyeng-yang. It became in a few years one of the greatest
scenes of missionary triumph in Asia. The harvest was ripening now. In
Seoul men flung into jail for political offences turned to prayer in the
darkness and despair of their torture chambers, and went