rial House. Royal
romances always appeal to the crowd. The heart of the people turned to the
old Emperor again. Men, women and children put on straw shoes, signs of
national mourning, and a hundred thousand people flocked to Seoul to
witness the funeral ceremonies.

The funeral was to take place on March 4th. By now the Japanese suspected
something to be afoot. The astonishing thing is that the Koreans had been
able to keep it from them so long. A network of organizations had been
created all over the country. The Japanese hurried their preparations to
prevent popular demonstrations on the day of the funeral. The leaders
learned of this, and outwitted the police by a simple device. They resolved
to make their demonstration not on Tuesday, March 4th, but on the previous
Saturday.

Gatherings were arranged for all over the country. A Declaration of
Independence was drawn up in advance and delivered to the different
centres. Here it was mimeographed, and girls and boys organized themselves
to ensure its distribution. Meetings, processions and demonstrations in all
the big cities were planned.

Thirty-three men chose martyrdom. They were to be the original signers of
the Declaration of Independence. They knew that at the best this must mean
heavy punishment for them, and at the worst might well mean death. They had
no delusions. Pastor Kil's son had died from the effects of Japanese
torture, Yang Chun-paik and Yi Seung-hun, two of the signers, had been
victims in the Conspiracy case. The first two names on the list of signers
were Son Pyung-hi, leader of the Chon-do Kyo, and Pastor Kil.

On the morning of March 1st the group of thirty-two met at the Pagoda
Restaurant at Seoul. Pastor Kil was the only absentee; he had been
temporarily delayed on his journey from Pyeng-yang.

Some prominent Japanese had been invited to eat with the Koreans. After the
meal, the Declaration was produced before their guests and read. It was
despatched to the Governor-General. Then the signers rang up the Central
Police Station, informed the shocked officials of what they had done, and
added that they would wait in the restaurant until the police van came to
arrest them.

The automobile prison van, with them inside, had to make its way to the
police station through dense crowds, cheering and shouting, "Mansei!
Mansei! Mansei!" It was the old national battle cry, "May Korea live ten
thousand years." Old flags had been brought out, old Korean