Hudson taylor, god’s venturer



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Chuyển đổi dữ liệu02.01.2022
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Chapter 3


ONLY A PIN PRICK
Mrs. Finch, Hudson’s landlady in Drainside, was married to a sailor who was usually away at sea. His wife had a hard time to make ends meet on his small allowance, and very glad she was to have the doctor’s young assistant lodging in her front room. That was all she had to pay for the rent of the whole house, and as he gave no trouble, she considered herself to be very fortunate to have him! Her lodgers were not usually such respectable, considerate young gentlemen as this one, and when one day he broke the news to her that he would be leaving she was genuinely distressed.
“I’m going to London to attend a medical course in the hospital.” he explained.

“Well, sir, very sorry I’ll be to lose you,” she said. “You’re going to London...?” That gave her an idea.

“I wonder if you would do something for me while you are there?” she asked. Certainly he would if he could. Then she explained. Half of her husband’s pay was sent to her from the shipping offices in London each month, and a charge was made for sending it. If Mr. Taylor would kindly collect the money from the offices and send it to her instead, he would save her quite a sum of money.

Hudson, of course, readily agreed, although when he got to London he discovered it involved a long walk in the middle of the day to fulfill his promise. As he had a four-mile walk from his boardinghouse to the hospital each morning, and a four-mile walk back each evening, he was scarcely in need of more exercise!

This move to London to take a medical course was a big thing to him. He was already in touch with a very small mission called the Chinese Evangelicalization Society, which was prepared to send him to China as a missionary, and with the approval of this society he was now embarking on further medical training. It was as definite a step toward the land of his desire as the move to Hull had been, and had been taken at a risk of which he spoke to no one.

The risk was again along the lines of testing his own faith, and his own ability to endure hardships. His father had offered to supply him with the money necessary to live in London and take the medical course; the Chinese Evangelicalization Society had made a similar offer. After considering the matter, however, and praying about it, he decided to accept neither. He thanked his father and said that he would not need his help, and his father naturally though he was receiving his support from the missionary society. He thanked the board of the missionary society and said he would not be needing their help. They thought he was receiving his support from his father! He arrived in London one very foggy day with money he had saved, not knowing what would happen when it was spent.

He was determined to learn to trust God to meet his needs. He felt he must live as economically as possible. It had been arranged that he should share an attic bedroom in Soho with a cousin, and this he was glad to do. Far better to live with a friendly relative than be alone in the great city. He bought his own food, and here he was indeed economical! After a few experiments, he had decided that brown bread and apples, with clear cold water, was the most inexpensive diet he could find! So on his way to the hospital he bought a pound of apples for his dinner, and on his way back, passing restaurants from which emanated provokingly appetizing odors, he called at a baker’s shop and bought brown bread.

“Will you cut it in half, please?” he requested. And with the two halves under his arm he continued his long walk home, and climbed the three flights of stairs to his room. One half of the load provided him with his supper, and the other half was put aside for breakfast—however hungry he felt.

“No, my health does not suffer,” he wrote to reassure his mother, who was anxious about him. Was he getting proper food, she had wondered? Had she but known! “On the contrary, everyone says how well I look, and some even that I am getting fat! Though this,” honesty compelled him to add, “can only be perceived by rather a brilliant imagination!”

It was about three months after his arrival in London that he received an urgent letter from Mrs. Finch. Would he, she requested, be so kind as to draw her allowance for her as soon as possible? Her rent was nearly due, and she had no money with which to pay it.

The request had come at an awkward time for Hudson, for he was studying for an examination, and spent every spare minute over his books. Rather than take the time to go all the way to Cheapside, it would be better to send the money out of his own diminishing supply, and call at the shipping office to collect the remittance after he had taken the examination. This he did, little dreaming what awaited him. For when eventually he went to the shipping office, the clerk told him he could not have the money!

“The officer Finch had run away from his ship,” he said, “and gone to the gold diggings...”

“That’s rather inconvenient for me!” exclaimed Hudson, somewhat taken aback. “I’ve already advanced the money to his wife! She’ll have no means of repaying me, I know.”

“I’m sorry. Very sorry indeed,” said the clerk. There was nothing he could do, of course, and Hudson departed.

After the first shock, he was unduly perturbed. After all, he thought, he was to trust God to provide him with what he needed, as soon as his own funds were exhausted. This only brought that time near. Indeed, as he counted over his remaining coins he realized that the time was very near indeed! The memory of his Drainside experiences encouraged him, however, and he returned to this attic feeling cheerfully confident that all would end well.

During the evening he made himself a notebook. It was cheaper than buying one. He selected some sheets of paper, fitted them together, and started sewing them when he accidentally pricked the forefinger of his right hand. It was only a prick; in a few seconds he had forgotten it, but that prick nearly cost him his life.


The following day at the hospital he had the task of assisting in dissecting the body of someone who had died of fever. It was not only a disagreeable task, but a dangerous one as well. The students had been solemnly warned that the slightest scratch on their hands, should it become infected, would probably prove fatal, and they all worked carefully, avoid doing anything that might cause a skin abrasure. When Hudson, therefore, began to feel inexplicably weary, and then was suddenly sick, it did not occur to him that there was nothing seriously wrong with him. He was merely surprised, since his diet was not of the type conducive to bilious attacks! He drank a glass of cold water, felt a little better, and went to a lecture. But his right arm began to pain him so acutely that he could not write. The pain spread to his side, and he felt really ill. He could not go on like this.

“I can’t think what has come over me,” he said to the surgeon in the dissecting room.

“Why, what’s the matter?” he inquired. Hudson tried to describe how he was feeling, and the surgeon, looking at him keenly, said, “What has happened is clear enough, I fear. This is a case of malignant fever. You must have cut yourself while you were dissecting.”

“No, sir. I’m sure I didn’t. I haven’t a scratch or a cut...”

“Well, you certainly must have had one,” said the surgeon. “Let me look at your hand.” While he was doing it, Hudson remembered the prick of the needle the night before. Could it be that, he asked? Yes, the surgeon thought it might well be.

“You’d better get a cab and drive home as quickly as you can,” he said gravely, “and put your affairs in order.” He looked at the young medical student, from whom it was useless to try to disguise the gravity of the situation.

“For,” he said bluntly, “you are a dead man.”



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