struggling to do it. I ought to be down among the people, preaching Christ, not only with my lips but with my life.' It isn't talkers for God, it is fighters for God that are wanted. Men who are not afraid of the world!"
The daylight had faded. Betty had pushed the table into a corner. They sat beside the blazing logs.
"Some years ago," said Betty, "I travelled from San Francisco to Hong Kong in company with a Chinese gentleman. It was during the off-season, and half a dozen of us had the saloon to ourselves. There were two commercial travellers and a young missionary and his wife. By process of natural selection—at least so I like to believe—Mr. Cheng and myself chummed on. He was one of the most interesting men I have met, and I think he liked talking to me. I remember one brilliantly clear night we were alone together on the deck. I was leaning back in my chair looking up at the Southern Cross. Suddenly I heard him say that the great stumbling block in the way of man's progress was God. Coming from anybody else the remark would have irritated me; but I knew he wasn't trying to be clever; and as he went on to explain himself I found myself in agreement with him. Man's idea of God is of some all-powerful Being who is
