The funeral of the Rev. J. Stonehouse, who wus barbarously murdered by Chinese near Lafa, took place on the 27th of March. It was a very representative gathering, including the British Minister, Bir E. M. Satow, K.C.M.G., as well as a large number of Chinese Christians. The following address was given at the funeral by the Rev. M. Bigging:—T feel that I must say, however brokenly, what during this last year and a half storehouse has become to me. Many of you have known him longer, but I doubt if you have known him so intimately. They took me—a stranger here—into their home and let me share their lives there, and that is where first I learnt his worth as father and husband, and these were the centro of his life. "The home was full of lore, and his love was the strongest and richest there. Some of you must have watched, as I did, the father!
Little David through those hora days Of waiting in the siege, when the little life seemed all but gone, and the heart grew weary and sick as. day after day passed by and still no help came; if so, surely that passion week of love spoke to you and showed a man, To me it seemed 'a bright reflection of God's own lore to us; it taught me how the great Father loves. The home was the centre of Stone-house's life—you will never understand him apart from that. It was very beautiful. It is only lately that Stone-house, the missionary, has grown greatly on me. A new comer cannot understand much, but it was the same here as in the home—the Chinese Christians were his children and he loved them as he did his own. There was here, as in the home, a certain abruptness that a careless observer might mistake, and Stonehouse would be too proud to heed such a man, but there was burning beneath the same devoted, fervent jealous _lore,—greater than any of us realise I fancy. His heart was in the country more than the town. No sooner were the city walls left behind than his whole manner changed, he was at home and young again. The worries of work in the city cut him to the quick—though he hid the pain from others—but once outside ther were forgotten and fo i work and love were not lost is writ largo for all to read who will. The roll-call of true martyrs from his Church is second to none in Peking—if any can equal it. They are men that he loved as his own children, and there is no one knows how much their loss has meant to him—he covered it up and hid it from men. I have seen enough only to know that it is so: not to probe the depths. These last few months have been to me a revelation. With a work to do as every one knows hard and thankless, but whose serest difficulties those outside his circle cannot know, he has done that work and done it well. What it has cost, how his soul was on fire for the men he loved and served, no one knows. He was very jealous for them and men called it spite. He worked as few men can and people said he did nothing. There were times when he would have given up, but he did not. And at last whicn the work is almost done the Master has called him away suddenly, strangely. Do not. pity hi He died at his post as a man may He asked no pity in life—he needs none now. He has given his life in the service of those who were dearer to him than life. He knew the danger of his work. If you could revive this body, he would be back at the same work without a pause. But now the work is over for him, and our hearts are sore for the little ones and the wife far away, in their grief and loss. I cannot speak of that—ho and they would bid me stop. For my Ronour and rely upon, one who trusted art T have lost a friend, one that I love,
me and helped mo generously. It was good to be his colleague. It will-be hard to find his equak—a man, who, in life and death, was as true as steel.
27th March.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.