Russell was a man of an unconventional and spontaneous type.  Because other people did things in a certain way was no reason why he should do the same.  Consequently, instead of beginning the service by reading the usual verses, he said, “I would like the congregation to sing a hymn”; and the hymn that he chose was “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.”  It happened to be one of Robert Hart’s favourites, but beyond feeling pleasure that this particular hymn should have been chosen, the incident made no great impression on him at the time.

As soon as the service was over, he went to shake hands with the Bishop.  Russell, however, was obliged to hurry away to address a Chinese meeting; there was scarcely a moment for talk then.  “We must have a chat about old times,” said he cordially; “when may I come and see you—­on Tuesday?”

[Illustration:  WELL NEAR THE CANAL, BRITISH LEGATION, BEFORE 1900.]

“By all means on Tuesday.  Don’t forget,” was the answer, and the I.G. left the chapel with the rest of the congregation.

He noticed as he went out that Sir Thomas Wade had not been in church, which struck him as odd.  Surely in a small community like Peking, where a Bishop in the pulpit was a rarity, the British Minister would have made it a point to hear him preach—­unless something very unusual had occurred.  Hart therefore went at once to call on Wade and see what the news might be.  News?  There was enough and to spare, all of the most sensational kind.  Another deadlock had been reached in the negotiations.  Blacker clouds than ever obscured the horizon; war was as near as flesh to bone.  Luckily the I.G. saw at once that the new contretemps was due rather to accident than design.  A misunderstanding of Chinese despatches—­which are always open to several translations—­had given Wade a wrong impression of the force of their contents, and the I.G. accordingly begged permission to explain the point at issue as he saw it.

Two hours later the Minister came completely round to his view, and the critical moment was safely passed.

On Tuesday at the appointed hour Bishop Russell went to see Robert Hart.  They talked long over old Ningpo days, and presently Russell said, “D’ye know, Hart, my converts have grown to have such faith in me that they believe I can not only show them the way to heaven, but arrange matters on this earth as well.  What do you think they said, now, before I came up to Peking?  They said I was coming to prevent a war with England.  And that to me!” added the Bishop, laughing his wholesome laugh, “who, as you know, am the last man in the world to concern myself with politics.”

“Well,” replied the I.G. solemnly, “you have prevented war with England all the same.”  And he told the Bishop the whole story.  “If you had not come to Peking,” he concluded, “I should not have gone to church.  If I had not gone to church, I should not have noticed the Minister’s absence, and therefore should not have gone in to see him.  Consequently I should never have known of the difficulty which then threatened the negotiations, and might not have been able to help remove it.  Truly, Russell,