The more Mackay
learned of it, the more he yearned to tell the people of the one
God who was Lord and Father of them all.
As soon as he had learned to write clearly, he bought a large
sheet of paper, and printed on it the ten commandments in Chinese
characters. Then he hung it on the outside of his door. People
who passed read it and made comments of various kinds. Several
threw mud at it, and at last a proud graduate, who came striding
past his silk robes rustling grandly, caught the paper and tore
it down. Mackay promptly put up another. It shared the fate of
the first. Then he put up a third, and the people let it alone.
Even these heathen Chinese were beginning to get an impression of
the dauntless determination of the man with whom they were to get
much better acquainted.
And all this time, while he was studying and working and arguing
with the heathen and preaching to them, the young missionary was
working just as hard at something else; something into which he
was putting as much energy and force as he did into learning the
Chinese language. With all his might and main, day and night, he
was praying--praying for one special object.
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