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XV
t-r Ze^-!^i*
/
/
TUB
KATHAYAN SLAYE,
OTHER PAPERS
CONNECTED WITH MISSIONARY LIFE.
EMILY JUDSON.
BOSTON:
TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS.
MDCCCLI1I.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
EMILY JUDSON,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Mnssachuselts.
THCRSTOX, TORRV, .AND KMERSOX, 1*111 STKItK.
TO THE
REV. FRANCIS WAYLAND, D. D.,
WHOSE ETHICS MINGLED LARGELY IN THE DISCIPLINARY
INFLUENCES OF MY SCHOOL-DAYS ; WHOSE INSPIRITING,
LIFE-ENNOBLING THEOLOGY CHEERED ME THROUGH SOME
TANGLED TASSES, IN MATURER YEARS J AND TO WHOSE
RECENT FRIENDSHIP I AM INDEBTED FOR MANY A SILVER
BORDER TO THE CLOUDS OF SORROW,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
IS RESPECTFULLY AND MOST GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY
EMILY JUDSON.
CONTENTS
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE .... 1
MEE SHWAY-EE ..... 25
MADNESS OF THE MISSIONARY KNTERPRISE . . 28
SONG OF MAULMAIN .... 56
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN . . . .58
THE JUNGLE BOY .... 86
TRIUUTE TO REV. DANIEL HASCALL . . .93
THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES . . 9fi
MISAPPREHENSION ..... 10&
THE WAN REAPERS .... 108
THE HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS . 110'
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN . . . 123
THE MISSIONARY ..... 133
BODAU-PARAH . . . . . 134
DEATH OF BOARDMAN .... 151
WAYSIDE PREAC-HINO 156
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
AT the commencement of the English and
Burmese war of 1824, all the Christians (called
* hat-wearers,' in contradistinction from the tur-
baned heads of the Orientals) residing at Ava,
were thrown unceremoniously into the Death-
prison. Among them were both Protestant and
Roman Catholic missionaries ; some few repu-
table European traders ; and criminals shad-
owed from the laws of Christendom ' under the
sole of the golden foot.' These, Americans,
English, Spanish, Portuguese, Greek and Ar-
menian, were all huddled together in one prison,
with villains of every grade, the thief, the
assassin, the bandit, or all three in one ; con-
stituting, in connection with countless other
crimes, a blacker character than the inhabitant of
a civilized land can picture. Sometimes stript
1
4 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
of their clothing, sometimes nearly starved, load-
ed with heavy irons, thrust into a hot, filthy,
noisome apartment, with criminals for compan-
ions and criminals for guards, compelled to see
the daily torture, to hear the shriek of anguish
from writhing victims, with death, death in some
terribly detestable form, always before them, a
severer state of suffering can scarcely be im-
agined.
The Burmese had never been known to spare
the lives of their war-captives ; and though the
little band of foreigners could scarcely be called
prisoners of war, yet this well-known custom,
together with their having been thrust into the
death-prison, from which there was no escape,
except by a pardon from the king, cut off nearly
every reasonable hope of rescue. But, (quite a
new thing in the annals of Burmese history,)
although some died from the intensity of their
sufferings, no foreigner was wantonly put to
death. Of those who were claimed by the En-
glish at the close of the war, some one or two
are yet living, with anklets and bracelets which
they will carry to the grave with them, wrought
in their flesh by the heavy iron. It may well
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 3
be imagined, that these men might unfold to us
scenes of horror, incidents daily occurring under
their own shuddering gaj?e> in comparison with
which the hair-elevating legends of Ann Radcliff
would become simple fairy tales.
The death-prison at Ava was at that time a
single large room, built of rough boards, without
either window or door, and with but a thinly
thatched roof to protect the wretched inmates
from the blaze of a tropical sun. It was entered
by slipping aside a single board, which consti-
tuted a sort of sliding-door. Around the prison,
inside the yard, were ranged the huts of the
under-jailers, or Children of the Prison, and
outside of the yard, close at hand r that of the
head-jailer. These jailers must necessarily be
condemned criminals, with a ring, the sign of
outlawry, traced in the skin of the cheek, and
the name of their crime engraved in the same
manner upon the breast. The head-jailer was
a tall, bony man, with sinews of iron ; wearing,
when speaking, a malicious smirk, and given at
times to a most revolting kind of jocoseness.
When silent and quiet, he had a jaded, care-
worn look ;. but it was at the torture that he was
4 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
in his proper element. Then his face lighted
up became glad, furious, demoniac. His small
black eyes glittered like those of a serpent ;
his thin lips rolled back, displaying his toothless
gums in front, with a long, protruding tusk on
either side, stained black as ebony ; his hollow,
ringed cheeks seemed to contract more and more,
and his breast heaved with convulsive delight
beneath the fearful word MAN-KILLER. The
prisoners called him father, when he was present
to enforce this expression of affectionate famili-
arity ; but among themselves he was irreverently
christened the Tiger-cat.
One of the most active of the Children of the
Prison, was a short, broad-faced man, labelled
THIEF, who, as well as the Tiger, had a peculiar
talent in the way of torturing ; and so fond was
he of the use of the whip, that he often missed
his count, and zealously exceeded the number
of lashes ordered by the city governor. The
wife of this man was a most odious creature,
filthy, bold, impudent, cruel, and like her hus-
band, delighting in torture. Her face was not
only deeply pitted with small-pox, but so de-
formed with leprosy, that the white cartilage of
THE KATI1AYAN SLAVE. 5
the nose was laid entirely bare ; from her large
mouth shone rows of irregular teeth, black as
ink ; her hair, which was left entirely to the care
of nature, was matted in large black masses
about her head ; and her manner, under all this
hideous ugliness, was insolent and vicious.
They had two children little vipers, well load-
ed with venom ; and by their vexatious mode of
annoyance, trying the tempers of the prisoners
more than was in the power of the mature tor-
turers.
As will readily be perceived, the security of
this prison was not in the strength of the struc-
ture, but in the heavy manacles, and the living
wall. The lives of the jailers depended entirely
on their fidelity ; and fidelity involved strict
obedience to orders, however ferocious. As for
themselves, they could not escape ; they had
nowhere to go ; certain death awaited them
everywhere, for they bore on cheek and breast
the ineffaceable proof of their outlawry. Their
only safety was at their post ; and there was no
safety there in humanity, even if it were possible
for such degraded creatures to have a spark of
humanity left. So inclination united with in-
6 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
terest to make them what they really were
demons.
The arrival of a new prisoner was an incident
calculated to excite but little interest in the
hat-wearers, provided he came in turban and
waistcloth. But one morning, there was brought
in a young man, speaking the Burmese broken-
ly, and with the soft accent of the north, who
at once attracted universal attention. He was
tall and erect, with a mild, handsome face,
bearing the impress of inexpressible suffering ;
a complexion slightly tinted with the rich brown
of the east ; a fine, manly carriage, and a man-
ner which, even there, was both graceful and
dignified.
'Who is he?' was the interpretation of the
inquiring glances exchanged among those who
had no liberty to speak ; and then eye asked of
eye, ' What can he have done ? he, so gentle,
so mild, so manly, that even these wretches,
who scarcely know the name of pity and respect,
seem to feel both for him?' There was, in
truth, something in the countenance of the new
prisoner which, without asking for sympathy,
involuntarily enforced it. It was not amiability,
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
though his dark, soft, beautiful eye was full of a
noble sweetness ; it was not resignation; it was
not apathy; it was hopelessness-, deep, utter,
immovable, suffering hopelessness. Very young,
and apparently not ambitious or revengeful,
what crime could this interesting stranger have
committed to draw down ' the golden foot' with
such crushing weight upon his devoted head?
He seemed utterly friendless, and without even
the means of obtaining food; for, as the day
advanced, no one came to see him; and the
officer who brought him had left no directions.
He did not, however, suffer from this neglect,
for Madam Thief, (most wonderful to relate!)
actually shared so deeply in the universal sym-
pathy, as to bring him a small quantity of boiled
rice and water.
Toward evening, the Woon-bai, a governor,
or rather Mayor of the city, entered the prison,
his bold, lion-like face as open and unconcerned
as ever, but with something of unusual bustling
in his manner.
' Where is he ? ' he cried sternly ; ' where is
he? this son of Kathay? this dog, villain,
8 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
traitor! where is he? Aha! only one pair of
irons ? Put on five ! do you hear ? five !'
The Woon-bai remained till his orders were
executed, and the poor Kathayan was loaded
with five pairs of fetters ; and then he went out,
frowning on one and smiling on another ; while
the Children of the Prison watched his coun-
tenance and manner, as significant of what was
expected of them. The prisoners looked at
each other, and shook their heads in commis-
eration.
The next day the feet of the young Kathayan,
in obedience to some new order, were placed
in the stocks, which raised them about eighteen
inches from the ground ; and the five pairs of
fetters were all disposed on the outer side of the
plank, so that their entire weight fell upon the
ankles. The position was so painful that each
prisoner, some from memory, some from sym-
pathetic apprehension, shared in the pain when
he looked at the sufferer.
During this day, one of the missionaries, who
had been honored with an invitation, which it
was never prudent to refuse, to the hut of the
Thief, learned something of the history of the
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 9
young man, and his crime. His home, it was
told him, was among the rich hills of Kathay,
as they range far northward, where the tropic
sun loses the intense fierceness of his blaze, and
makes the atmosphere soft and luxurious, as
though it were mellowing beneath the same
amber sky which ripens the fruits, and gives
their glow to the flowers. What had been his
rank in his own land, the jailer's wife did not
know. Perhaps he had been a prince, chief of
the brave band conquered by the superior force
of the Burmans ; or a hunter among the spicy
groves and deep-wooded jungles, lithe as the
tiger which he pursued from lair to lair, and
free as the flame-winged bird of the sun that
circled above him ; or perhaps his destiny had
been a humbler one, and he had but followed his
goats as they bounded fearlessly from ledge to
ledge, and plucked for food the herbs upon his
native hills. He had been brought away by a
marauding party, and presented as a slave to
the brother of the queen. This Men-thah-gyee,
the Great Prince, as he was called, by way of
pre-eminence, had risen, through the influence
of his sister, from the humble condition of a
10 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
fishmonger, to be the Richelieu of the nation.
Unpopular from his mean origin, and still more
unpopular from the acts of brutality to which
the intoxication of power had given rise, the
sympathy excited by the poor Kathayan in the
breasts of these wretches may easily be ac-
counted for. It was not pity or mercy, but
hatred. Anywhere else, the sufferer's sad, hand-
some face, and mild, uncomplaining manner,
would have enlisted sympathy ; but here, they
would scarcely have seen the sadness, or beauty,
or mildness, except through the medium of a
passion congenial to their own natures.
Among the other slaves of Men-thah-gyee,
was a young Kathay girl of singular beauty.
She \vas, so said Madam the Thief, a bundle
of roses, set round with the fragrant blossoms
of the champac tree ; her breath was like that
of the breezes when they come up from their
dalliance with the spicy daughters of the islands
of the south; her voice had caught its rich
cadence from the musical gush of the silver
fountain, which wakes among the green of her
native hills ; her hair had been braided from the
glossy raven plumage of the royal edolius ; her
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 11
eyes were twin stars looking out from cool
springs, all fringed with the long, tremulous
reeds of the jungle ; and her step was as the
free, graceful bound of the wild antelope. On
the subject of her grace, her beauty, and her
wondrous daring, the jailer's wife could not be
sufficiently eloquent. And so this poor, proud,
simple-souled maiden, this diamond from the
rich hills of Kathay, destined to glitter for an
hour or two on a prince's bosom, unsubdued
even in her desolation, had dared to bestow her
affections with the uncalculating lavishness of
conscious heart-freedom. And the poor wretch,
lying upon his back in the death-prison, his feet
fast in the stocks and swelling and purpling
beneath the heavy irons, had participated in
her crime ; had lured her on, by tender glances
and by loving words, inexpressibly sweet in their
mutual bondage, to irretrievable destruction.
What fears, what hopes winged by fears, what
tremulous joys, still hedged in by that same
crowd of fears, what despondency, what revul-
sions of impotent anger and daring, what
weeping, what despair must have been theirs !
Their tremblings and rejoicings, their mad pro-
12 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
jects, growing each day wilder and more dan-
gerous since madness alone could have given
rise to anything like hope are things left to
imagination ; for there was none to relate the
heart-history of the two slaves of Men-thah-
gyee. Yet there were some hints of a first
accidental meeting under the shadow of the
mango and tamarind trees, where the sun lighted
up, by irregular gushes, the waters of the little
lake in the centre of the garden, and the rustle
of leaves seemed sufficient to drown the accents
of their native tongues. So they looked, spoke,
their hearts bounded, paused, trembled with
soft home-memories they whispered on, and
they were lost. Poor slaves !
Then at evening, when the dark-browed
maidens of the golden city, gathered, with their
earthen vessels about the well, there, shaded by
the thick clumps of bamboo, with the free sky
overhead, the green earth beneath, and the
songs and laughter of the merry girls ringing in
their ears, so like their own home, the home
which they had lost forever oh, what a rare,
sweet, dangerous meeting-place for those who
should not, and yet must be lovers !
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
13
Finally came a day fraught with illimitable
consequences ; the day when the young slave,
not yet admitted to the royal harem, should
become more than ever the property of her
master. And now deeper grew their agony,
more uncontrollable their madness, wilder and
more daring their hopes, with every passing
moment. Not a man in Ava, but would have
told them that escape was impossible ; and yet,
goaded on by love and despair, they attempted
the impossibility. They had countrymen in
the city, and, under cover of night, they fled to
them. Immediately the minister sent out his
myrmidons they were tracked, captured, and
brought back to the palace.
* And what became of the poor girl?' inquir-
ed the missionary with much interest.
The woman shuddered, and beneath her scars
and the swarthiness of her skin, she became
deadly pale.
' There is a cellar, Tsayah,' at last she whis-
pered, still shuddering, ' a deep cellar, that no
one has seen, but horrible cries come from it
sometimes, and two nights ago, for three hours,
three long hours such shrieks ! Amai-ai !
14 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
what shrieks ! And they say that he was there,
Tsayah, and saw and heard it all. That is the
reason that his eyes are blinded and his ears
benumbed. A great many go into that cellar,
but none ever come out again none but the
doomed like him. It is it is like the West
Prison,'' she added, sinking her voice still lower,
and casting an eager alarmed look about her.
The missionary too shuddered, as much at the
mention of this prison, as at the recital of the
woman ; for it shut within its walls deep mys-
teries, which even his jailers, accustomed as they
were to torture and death, shrank from babbling
of.
The next day a cord was passed around the
wrists of the young Kathayan, his arms jerked
up into a position perpendicular with his pros-
trate body, and the end of the cord fastened to
a beam overhead. Still, though faint from the
lack of food, parched with thirst, and racked
with pain, for his feet were swollen and livid,
not a murmur of complaint escaped his lips.
And yet this patient endurance seemed scarcely
the result of fortitude or heroism ; an observer
would have said that the inner suffering was so
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 15
great as to render that of the mere physical
frame unheeded. There was the same expression
of hopelessness, the same unvarying wretched-
ness, too deep, too real, to think of giving itself
utterance on the face as at his first entrance into
the prison ; and except that he now and then
fixed on one of the hopeless beings who regarded
him in silent pity, a mournful, half-beseeching,
half-vacant stare, this was all.
That day passed away as others had done ;
then came another night of dreams, in which
loved ones gathered around the hearth-stone of
a dear, distant home ; dreams broken by the
clanking of chains, and the groans of the suffer-
ing ; and then morning broke. There still hung
the poor Kathayan ; his face slightly distorted
with the agony he was suffering, his lips dry and
parched, his cheek pallid and sunken, and his
eyes wild and glaring. His breast swelled and
heaved, and now and then a sob-like sigh burst
forth involuntarily. When the Tiger entered, the
eye of the young man immediately fastened
on him, and a shiver passed through his frame.
The old murderer went his usual rounds with
great nonchalance ; gave an order here, a blow
16 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
there, and cracked a malicious joke with a third ;
smiling all the time that dark, sinister smile,
which made him so much more hideous in the
midst of his wickedness. At last he approached
the Kathayan, who, with a convulsive move-
ment, half raised himself from the ground at his
touch, and seemed to contract like a shrivelled
leaf.
' Right ! right, my son ! ' said the old man,
chuckling. ' You are expert at helping your-
self, to be sure ; but then you need assistance.
So so so!' and giving the cord three suc-
cessive jerks, he succeeded, by means of his im-
mense strength, in raising the Kathayan so that
but the back of his head, as it fell downward,
could touch the floor. There was a quick, short
crackling of joints, and a groan escaped the pris-
oner. Another groan followed, and then another
and another a heaving of the chest, a con-
vulsive shiver, and for a moment he seemed lost.
Human hearts glanced heavenward. ' God
grant it ! Father of mercies, spare him farther
agony ! ' It could not be. Gaspingly came the
lost breath back again, quiveringly the soft eyes
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 17
unclosed ; and the young Kathayan captive was
fully awake to his misery.
' I cannot die so I cannot so slow so
slow so slow ! ' Hunger gnawed, thirst burned,
fever revelled in his veins; the cord upon his
wrists cut to the bone ; corruption had already
commenced upon his swollen, livid feet ; the
most frightful, torturing pains distorted his body,
and wrung from him, groans and murmurings so
pitiful, so harrowing, so full of anguish, that the
unwilling listeners could only turn away their
heads, or lift their eyes to each other's faces in
mute horror. Not a word was exchanged among
them not a lip had power to give it utterance.
' I cannot die so ! I cannot die so ! I cannot
die so ! ' came the words, at first moaningly,
and then prolonged to a terrible howl. And so
passed another day, and another night, and still
the wretch lived on.
In the midst of their filth and smothering
heat, the prisoners awoke from such troubled
sleep as they could gain amid these horrors ; and
those who could, pressed their feverish lips and
foreheads to the crevices between the boards, to
court the morning breezes. A lady, with a white
2
18 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
brow, and a lip whose delicate vermilion had
not ripened beneath the skies of India, came
with food to her husband. By constant impor-
tunity had the beautiful ministering angel gain-
ed this holy privilege. Her coming was like a
gleam of sunlight a sudden unfolding of the
beauties of this bright earth to one born blind.
She performed her usual tender ministry and
departed.
Day advanced to its meridian ; and once more
but now hesitatingly, and as though he dreaded
his task, the Tiger drew near the young Kathay-
an. But the sufferer did not shrink from him
as before.
1 Quick ! ' he exclaimed, greedily. ' Quick !
give me one hand and the cord, just a mo-
ment, a single moment, this hand with the
cord in it, and you shall be rid of me for-
ever ! '
The Tiger burst into a hideous laugh, his
habitual cruelty returning at the sound of his
victim's voice.
' Rid of you ! not so fast, my son ; not so
fast ! You will hold out a day or two yet. Let
me see! ' passing his hand along the emaciated,
THE KATHAYAX SLAVE. 19
feverish body of the sufferer. 'Oh, yes; two
days at least, perhaps three, and it may be
longer. Patience, my son ; you are frightfully
strong ! Now these joints why any other
man's would have separated long ago ; but here
they stay just as firmly ' As he spoke with a
calculating sort of deliberation, the monster
gave the cord a sudden jerk, then another, and
a third, raising his victim still farther from the
floor, and then adjusting it about the beam,
walked unconcernedly away. For several min-
utes the prison rung with the most fearful
cries. Shriek followed shriek, agonized, furious,
with scarcely a breath between ; bello wings,
howlings, gnashings of the teeth, sharp, piercing
screams, yells of savage defiance ; cry upon cry,
cry upon cry, with wild superhuman strength,
they came ; while the prisoners shrank in awe
and terror, trembling in their chains. But this
violence soon exhasted itself, and the paroxysm
passed, giving place to low, sad moans, irresist-
ibly pitiful. This was a day never to be for-
gotten, by the hundred wretched creatures
congregated in the gloomy death-prison. The
sun had never seemed to move so slowly before.
20 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
Its setting was gladly welcomed, but yet the
night brought no change. Those piteous moans,
those agonized groanings seemed no nearer an
end than ever.
Another day passed another night again
day dawned and drew near its close ; and yet
the poor Kathayan clung to life with frightful
tenacity. One of the missionaries, as a peculiar
favor, had been allowed to creep into an old
shed, opposite the door of the prison ; and here
he was joined by a companion, just as the day
was declining towards evening.
' Oh, will it ever end ? ' whispered one.
The other only bowed his head between his
hands ' Terrible ! terrible ! '
* There surely can be nothing worse in the
West Prison.'
* Can there be anything worse can there be
more finished demons in the pit ? '
Suddenly, while this broken conversation was
conducted in a low tone, so as not to draw upon
the speakers the indignation of their jailers,
they were struck by the singular stillness of the
prison. The clanking of chains, the murmur
and the groan, the heavy breathing of congro-
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
21
gated living beings, the bustle occasioned by
the continuous uneasy movement of the restless
sufferers, the ceaseless tread of the Children of
the Prison, and their bullying voices, all were
hushed.
' "What is it ? ' in a lower whisper than ever,
and a shaking of the head, and holding their
own chains to prevent their rattle, and looks full
of wonder, was all that passed between the two
listeners. Their amazement was interrupted by
a dull, heavy sound, as though a bag of dried
bones had been suddenly crushed down by the
weight of some powerful foot. Silently they
stole to a crevice in the boards, opposite the
open door. Not a jailer was to be seen ; and
the prisoners were motionless and apparently
breathless, with the exception of one powerful
man, who was just drawing the wooden mallet
in his hand for another blow on the temple of
the suspended Kathayan. It came down with
the same dull, hollow, crushing sound ; the body
swayed from the point where it was suspended
by wrist and ankle, till it seemed that every
joint must be dislocated ; but the flesh scarcely
quivered. The blow was repeated, and then
22 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
another, and another; but they were not needed.
The poor captive Kathayan was dead.
The mallet was placed away from sight, and
the daring man hobbled back to his corner,
dangling his heavy chain as though it had been
a plaything, and striving with all his might to
look unconscious and unconcerned. An evident
feeling of relief stole over the prisoners ; the
Children of the Prison came back to their
places, one by one, and all went on as before.
It was some time before any one appeared to
discover the death of the Kathayan. The old
Tiger declared it was what he had been expect-
ing, that his living on in this manner was quite
out of rule ; but that those hardy fellows from
the hills never would give in, while there was a
possibility of drawing another breath. Then
the poor skeleton was unchained, dragged by
the heels into the prison-yard, and thrown into a
gutter. It did not apparently, fall properly, for
one of the jailers altered the position of the
shoulders by means of his foot ; then clutching
the long black hair, jerked the head a little
farther on the side. Thus the discolored temple
was hidden ; and surely that emaciated form
THE KATHAYAN SLAVE. 23
gave sufficient evidence of a lingering death.
Soon after, a party of government officers
visited the prison-yard, touched the corpse with
their feet, without raising it ; and, apparently
satisfied, turned away, as though it had been a
dead dog, that they cared not to give farther
attention.
Is it strange that, if one were there, with a
human heart within him, not brutalized by crime
or steeled by passive familiarity with suffering,
he should have dragged his heavy chain to the
side of the dead, and dropped upon his sharp-
ened, distorted features, the tear, which there
was none who had loved him, to shed ? Is it
strange that tender fingers should have closed
the staring eyes, and touched gently the cold
brow, which throbbed no longer with pain, and
smoothed the frayed hair, and composed the
passive limbs decently, though he knew that
the next moment rude hands would destroy the
result of his pious labor ? And is it strange that
when all which remained of the poor sufferer,
had been jostled into its sackcloth shroud, and
crammed down into the dark hole dug for it in
the earth, a prayer should have ascended, even
24 THE KATHAYAN SLAVE.
from that terrible prison ? Not a prayer for the
dead ; he had received his doom. But an
earnest, beseeching, upheaving of the heart, for
those wretched beings that, in the face of the pure
heavens and the smiling earth, confound, by the
inherent blackness of their natures, philosopher,
priest or philanthropist, who dares to tickle the
ears of the multitude with fair theories of
' Natural religion,' and ' The dignity of human
nature.'
MEE SHWAY-EE. i
IN the tropic land of Burmah,
Where the sun grows never old ;
And the regal-browed palmyra
Crowns her head with clouds of gold ;
On a strange, wild promontory,
Close beside the rushing sea,
Listening ever to the billows,
Dwelt poor little Mee Shway-ee.
But along the sandy sea-shore,
Or amid the foliage green,
Stringing rows of crimson berries,
Was the maiden never seen ;
Never twined she her black tresses
With the golden mazalee ;
For a wild and wo-marked slave-child,
Was poor little Mee Shway-ee.
1 A very interesting account of this slave child may be
found in the Baptist Missionary Magazine for April, 1829.
26 MEE SHWAY-EE.
And when in the hush of twilight
Rose a startling eldritch cry,
Answered by the grey-winged osprey,
Plunging seaward from the sky ;
Then the village wives and maidens,
As they glanced from roof to sea,
Whispered of a human osprey,
And poor writhing Mee Shway-ee.
But a messenger of Jesus
Him who, centuries ago,
Bared His bosom to the arrow
Winged by human guilt and woe,
And then said, ' Go preach my gospel !
Lo! I'm evermore with thee;'
One who served this blessed Jesus,
Found poor trembling Mee Shway-ee.
Found her wan, and scarred, and bleeding,
Mad with agony and sin ;
So love's arms were opened widely,
And the sufferer folded in ;
Tender fingers soothed and nursed her,
And 'twas wonderful to see,
How the winning glance of pity
Tamed the elf-child, Mee Shway-ee.
MEE SHWAY-EE.
27
For, beneath those drooping eyelids
Shone a human spirit now,
And the light of thought came playing
Softly over lip and brow ;
But her little footstep faltered,
Beamed her eye more lovingly,
And 'twas known that death stood claiming
Gentle, trusting, Mee Shway-ee.
But to her he came an angel,
Throned in clouds of rosy light ;
Came to bear her to that Saviour,
Who had broke her weary night ;
And with smiles she sought his bosom ;
So, beside the rushing sea,
'Neath the weeping casuarina,
Laid they little Mee Shway-ee.
MADNESS OF THE MISSIONARY
ENTERPRISE.
WHAT has been the fruit, or what may rea-
sonably be expected to be the fruit of all these
labors and sufferings, of all these privations,
sacrifices, sicknesses, and deaths ? * * * It is
our deliberate conviction that the whole enter-
prise was uncalled for * * that she had
better have remained at home.' Review of
Anne Judson's Memoir. 1828.
* These workings,' [' of brother Carey's mind,']
' produced a sermon, and the sermon a subscrip-
tion to convert four hundred and twenty millions
of pagans.' Edinburgh Review. 1809.
' So with these 12 cents a-piece, and a parcel
of crazy boys and romantic girls, you are expect-
ing to see the world converted.' The Rev. D. B.
1836.
THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 29
'The notice of the sailing of Missionaries is
too often and speedily followed by the account
of their early death ; and it is time a word of
caution was spoken, especially to females.'
New York Express. 1846.
' This is another instance of infatuation,' &c.
' We really think there should be a law against
the wholesale sacrifice of life which is continu-
ally chronicled among those who imagine they
are called to labor in unhealthy climes as the
wives of missionaries.' Boston Transcript.
1846.
As I stood not long since in the shadow of
the Hopea tree, overlooking the mouldering ashes
of one who, in the words of the early Jerusalem
Church, had ' hazarded her life for Christ ; ' and
as I thought of all she had suffered, all she had
done and dared, the words of her Reviewer
rushed upon my mind with almost overpower-
ing force. Boodhistic temples and pagodas still
decorate the little promontory on which her
grave is made; and monks, with shaven crowns
and trailing yellow robes, still promenade the
streets, and are reverenced as oracles, by the
30 MADNESS OF THE
blinded idolaters of Amherst, while all that re-
mains to tell of her, is this grassy mound, and
this mildewed, mossy marble.
And may it not, after all, be true that her
sacrifice was vain, that 'the enterprise was
uncalled for,' 'that she had better have re-
mained at home ? '
This apparently calm view of the subject, is
not the ' deliberate conviction ' of one man only,
nor of one class of men ; but thousands, both
in Europe and America, have arrived at simi-
lar conclusions. The learned philosopher of
Edinburgh, the obscure Baptist preacher, taking
an indignant farewell of his mission-tinctured
flock, the observant, worldly-wise gentleman of
the Express, and the lady editor of Puritanic
New England, all join their voices with the
Unitarian Reviewer's, and conspire to proclaim
that she and all her successors are fanatics, and
that the cause in which she fell is based upon
the most extravagant absurdity. And, candidly,
viewing this subject in the subdued light of
sober common sense, have they not good ground
for their opinion? "Who are the originators,
who the supporters of this scheme of modern
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 31
missions, and what are their plans and re-
sources ? Is it headed by some mighty poten-
tate, with the lives and treasure of a nation at
his control, and can it display a goodly list of
titled names men of renown, and influence,
and power ? Was it originated by some deep-
judging, far-seeing statesman, whose matchless
policy has been the wonder of the age in which
he lives ? Or did it emanate from some school
of reverend sages, so wise, so good, and so phi-
Janthropic, as to hold the entire world in awe ?
Perhaps it has somehow linked itself with com-
mercial interests, and may claim as its projectors
those ' merchant princes ' who are said to consti-
tute the ballast of the nations, and whose
resources are bounded only by the impossibilities
of art. Alas no! none of these. Leaving out
of the account, as irrelevant to our present
purpose, certain stirrings on the continent of
Europe all through the eighteenth century, let
us take note of the movement among people of
our own blood and language. In England it
emanated (so says the Edinburgh Review) from
a 'nest of consecrated cobblers;' and then a
half dozen American school-boys rushed forward
32 MADNESS OP THE
to light their tiny tapers at the cobbler's fire.
And what was to be done ? What Quixotic
expedition did these ignorant mechanics and
' crazy boys and girls ' contemplate ? Nothing
less than the entire renovation of the entire
world. So, in order to accomplish this magnifi-
cent scheme, did they band together, unite all
their little resources, and pour their consecrated
strength upon a single point? Far from it.
Defying all the rules that have ever governed
the operations of wise men, they scattered them-,
selves as widely as possible, and the plains of
India, Chin-India, and China, the burning deserts
of Africa, the frozen, rugged wildernesses of
America, and the far Islands of the sea have
not been thought too wide a range for these
victims of unmitigated madness.
Let us contemplate for a moment one of
these fanatics, with his white face and outre
garb, sitting down in a strange city, ignorant
of the language and customs of the people ;
yet with the deliberate and avowed intention
of subverting their favorite tastes, thwarting
their dearest prejudices, overthrowing their time-
honored institutions, degrading the memories of
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.
33
their fathers, and teaching them and their sons
to worship a God of whom they never before
heard, and look forward to an eternity whose
very blissfulness is distasteful to them. But
this is not all. If he aimed at an outward
change merely, his very insanity might be turned
to account, and he might wield the power of
Lady Hester Stanhope through similar inspira-
tion. The juggler's gown and wand, a charmed
necklace, or even the crucifix and rosary of the
Romanists would doubtless prove powerful in-
struments in cunning hands. But no ; he has
no peculiar dress, no relics, no pretended charms;
and he labors not merely for change of profes-
sion, but the burden of his cry is, ' Ye must be
born again!' Every individual, man, woman,
and child, must undergo a radical change of
nature, a mystic inner renovation, which the
teacher himself does not profess ability to com-
pass, and of which he can give no description
satisfactory to reason, or more definite in its
accuracy, than would be an account of the;
wanderings of the wind.
But there must be power, somewhere ; there
must be resources of some sort ; otherwise, in-
3
34 MADNESS OF THE
fatuation itself would die for want of nourish-
ment. Who are the supporters, the encouragers
of this stupendous scheme ? Still, the ' cobbler,'
the blacksmith, and the day-laborer, act a prom-
inent part ; but he must have a weary search,
indeed, who would find the names of kings,
princes, and nobles. Some men of wealth and
influence may be scattered through the ranks,
here and there ; but the poor of this world are
emphatically the patrons of missions. The pale
seamstress lays aside her hard-earned pittance
of a Saturday evening ; the washerwoman for-
gets not the mission penny before she kneels to
thank God that another week of toil has been
added to her busy life ; and the sad-eyed widow
calls her hungry troop of little ones about her,
tells them of poor heathen children, until their
little hearts are melted, and thus she adds her
loaf of bread to the sacred treasury. Persons
of ampler means give more, as each one pleases ;
but there is no fountain of wealth, no bank, no
system of taxation, no legal claim on any person
or body of persons ; and, of course, no earthly
certainty that the project will be able to main-
tain itself a single month. The madmen who
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. dD
go to the heathen are utterly at the mercy of the
madmen who stay at home. And yet, notwith-
standing all this uncertainty, there is scarcely a
nook of the wide earth which they have not
penetrated ; scarcely a forest tree, from the
stunted fir of the frozen regions, to the tall
palm of the south, whose leaves have not quiv-
ered to the sacred airs rising from every village
spire of fair America.
But a price has been paid for all this the
price of human lives ; and so ' it is time a word
of caution was spoken especially to females.'
This is doubtless very kind, kindly intended,
and, perhaps, wisely thought, but who will
vouch for its reception ? The self-willed young
madcaps, who have heard of missions in their
cradles, who have read their Bibles in simple
faith, and who have bowed their unquestioning
hearts to certain mysterious closet-teachings, at
which our man of the world would only smile,
will scarcely be so easily controlled. Oh, no ;
would he blow back the hurricane with his lips,
or stay the rushing tide with his palm ?
Let us look a little closer into the workings of
this insanity. A timid young girl, never before
36 MADNESS OF THE
suspected of differing materially from other girls,
suddenly rises from the midst of loving brothers
and sisters, and announces her intention of going
away to the heathen. Calmly and deliberately
she proposes a sacrifice of all she is now of
ah 1 her future earthly prospects. She proposes
nothing less than to abandon the sweet com-
panionship of early friends, to leave the shelter
of the paternal wing, voluntarily, and perhaps
in the midst of opposition and ridicule, cast off'
the protection of civilized society and the laws
of a Christian land, and go out to lead an
almost nomadic life among the vilest and most
degraded of the human race. Some encourage,
some smile, and others stare ; while, in many
cases, the dissecting knife of criticism is whet-
ted to a miracle of sharpness. A set of petty
philosophers, of whom every country village
can furnish its quota physiognomists, phre-
nologists, psychologists, and professors of other
dreamy nonsense, suddenly become aware of a
new object for the exercise of their philanthropic
vocation. They scan her features, they measure
her head, they guage her intellect, they analyze
her affections, they trick out in modern frippery
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.
37
some old moth-eaten theory of mind for her
benefit ; and then give utterance to profound
saws about romance, love of adventure, de-
sire for distinction, a day of repentance,
while she, poor thing ! scared at such doubtful
notoriety, involuntarily places her hand on her
throat, apprehensive that she may have been
metamorphosed into ' the woman that was going
to be hanged.' Well, it is a good beginning of
the life she is to lead ; and, to the over-sensitive,
perhaps is needful.
But how is it with their prophecies? Does
repentance come ? Is her romance crushed be-
neath the heavy tread of dull, cold reality ? Is
her love of adventure tamed by the monotonous
routine of a missionary life ? Is her desire
for distinction superseded by misanthropic dis-
appointment, when no human eye but that of
her husband is upon her ? Follow her, and we
shall see.
Lo ! her tread is as light as in the gladsome
days of girlhood ; her smile is as cheerful, and
in its brightness there is a depth of meaning, a
richness of expression, that it never possessed
before. Behold her seated by her rude table,
38 MADNESS OF THE
straining her eager eye to follow the dim tracery
of the stylus not through fields of enchanting
lore ; not over pages replete with the poetry
and romance which she once loved. No ; she
is intent only on making herself familiar with
the arbitrary signs of a difficult, unclassified
tongue. See with what interest she watches
the swarthy lips of the ignorant barbarian, who
thinks he honors her by condescending to be
her teacher; trying, meantime, to imitate his
uncouth sounds, till her voice grows tremulous,
and her cheek pales with exertion. Then follow
her to her pillow, and hear her murmur the
same difficult words in her unrefreshing sleep.
Surel^his romance is not like other romance.
It is too steady and persevering, too much like
that high fixedness of purpose, which constitutes
the strength of the strongest manhood ; and, in
its deathless tenacity, it surpasses even that.
Well, she goes on day after day, patiently and
toilfully day after day, as monotonously as
the weaver's shuttle ; and at last, she has a sen-
tence or two at her command. How full of
emotion are her face and voice, as she repeats
to every stranger on whom her eye falls, ' There
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. OU
is an eternal God ! ' ' There is a way of sal-
vation for sinners ! '
But behold ! a change. The miasma of a
deadly climate has crept into her veins, and is
settling down upon the springs of life. She has
the strongest motives for wishing to live, but the
stealthy progress of insidious disease has be-
guiled her too long, and she is dying. Now,
perhaps, one desperate effort is made to save her
an effort which comes too late. She is
tossing on the ocean, but she speaks from a bed
of death. Hear her. ' I have done nothing for
Christ ; but, thanks to His grace, I have had it
in my heart to do ; and since He sees fit to call
me home, I know it is best. His will be done ! '
The moments ebb. Her breath grows shorter,
and her eye is rapidly glazing. Again she
speaks, but the ear must bend low to catch the
feeble murmur, 'Tell tell my mother I
have never been sorry that I came.'
What inconceivable infatuation ! What im-
measurable madness, even in death ! But the
contagion stops not here. In the hush of twi-
light, a seemingly sacred object is gently and
solemnly borne to the deck, lifted over the
40 MADNESS OF THE
vessel's side ; and thus all that was ever mortal,
of that now immortal one, sinks in the unfath-
omed deep. But the plunge, soft and low as it
is, reaches to her far native land, and its echo
rings out from hill and valley, from busy town,
and forest hamlet, shaping itself into the heart-
felt exclamation, ' HERE AM I SEND ME! ' A
caution, indeed! and what words can point a
sterner caution, than the skeleton finger of Death
himself ?
Take another instance ; for ' the notice of the
sailing of missionaries ' is not always ' followed
by the account of their early death.' The mis-
sionary wife has survived the acclimating pro-
cess, has learned to use a foreign tongue, and
has made for herself a little nucleus of human
love. She has become familiar with toil, and
suffering, and want, and insult, but she has sur-
vived all ; and, though her history may par-
tially be read in the pallid cheek and drooping
figure, her eye never glowed with a loftier
enthusiasm than now, and her lip never curved
to a more soul-beaming soul. Far back in her
history, when she was a young and blooming
wife, does the tale of her trials begin. Then it
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.
41
was that sickness first came, and though she had
scarcely ever noted its form before, love imparted
singular skill to her unpractised hand, and she
pored over books of medicine, until she grew to
be almost learned in her new profession. There
was a call from the wilderness, and she smiled
the one earthly protector from her side, and
stood up, alone and sublime in her helplessness,
amid swarms of hostile barbarians. The mid-
night robber came ; the pestilence swept past
her; the pupil over whom she had wept and
prayed, and for whose welfare she had toiled for
weary years, sunk back into apostasy ; but her
heart never fainted, her hand never wavered.
She had still other tears and other prayers, and
she longed to pour out all in her Master's ser-
vice. Her own strength failed. She pressed
her hand to her aching side, stifled the groan
upon her lip, and toiled on. Death visited the
missionary's dwelling. The quivering hands of
the mother closed the eyes of her first-born child,
wrapped the white robes about it, and crossed
the little icy fingers on the bosom, while the
father prepared the coffin and the grave, then
cast the cold clods upon his darling, and sobbed
out the final prayer.
42 MADNESS OF THE
The hour of agony passed, and the childless
mother was again at her toil. Another, and
perhaps still another blossom drooped before her
eyes ; while some wild river-bank, or the dark
dingle shadowed by jungle-trees, became the
depository of her dearest treasures. But she
paused not, she faltered not, for the madness
nestled in the very core of her heart ; and there
was One she loved better than children, better
than her own life. So on, and still onward, in
one unvarying track, she has gone, till now
another bitter trial awaits her.
She has a darling boy, the oldest that the
grave has left her. She has borne him long
upon her bosom, she taught him the accents of
his mother tongue, she trained his affections,
she watched and guided his budding intellect,
feeling herself the only avenue through which it
might be enriched ; and she loves this priceless
jewel of her solitude, as no other mother on
earth can love. Oh, no ; it is not lack of affec-
tion, but an intense concentration of all the
powers of the soul, strong, deep, ardent, though
severely disciplined, that makes her dare the
sacrifice. To a casual observer, this son of her
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 4d
watchful loneliness would appear a child of
uncommon promise. But the mother knows
that this promise is deceitful ; that his attain-
ments, quickly and easily made, are superficial ;
that his seeming intellectuality is not the growth
of his own mind, but the result, rather, of a
foreign stratum wrought over it ; and she trem-
bles lest the hot-house precocity of the child
should prove but the precursor of early death,
or an imbecile manhood. The thousand stimuli
to exertion especially the invigorating, sharp-
ening contact of mind with mind, peculiar to a
civilized people, she has often lamented on her
own behalf; and she has, thus far, taxed her
ingenuity to the utmost, to prevent her child
sinking into the inert listlessness, the inefficiency
and indolence, which characterize the heathen
character. But she begins to find that it is
beyond her power, to impart the mental stamina
which he so much needs ; while there is nothing
in the community surrounding them, to tax his
energies, or develope his dormant resources. A
physical change, too, is gradually creeping over
him. He has grown tall and thin, and there is
a sickly stoop in his shoulders. The expression
44 MADNESS OF THE
of his face is sad, and disagreeably mature ; his
features are sharpened ; and he has a feeble,
timid air, and a querulous tone to his voice, in
painful contrast with the freshness and buoyancy
suited to his years. The missionary wife and
mother has drank many a bitter draught, but
there is one before her now, almost too bitter
for her to contemplate. She must part from
her beloved child, or sacrifice him to maternal
weakness. Strange that a bright alternative
does not suggest itself. Strange that, as her
thoughts revert to her own childhood, the waving
grain, the fragrant orchards, the cool, health-
inspiring breezes of her native hills, commingled
with visions of loved faces, and dear familiar
voices, and Sabbath bells, and all the precious
associations of early days, should not draw her
relenting heart homeward. But, no ; the mad-
ness is upon her ; and a voice is continually
proclaiming in her ear, ' He that loveth son or
daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.'
She takes her child to her bosom for the last
time ; her last kiss is on his lip, her last prayer
is in his ear ; the soft, loving pressure of her
hand has been left upon his head for the last
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 45
time ; and now she is alone in her agony. It
matters not to her that cold cavillers sit in their
luxurious mansions, and speculate on the pro-
priety of her sacrifice. She knows that she has
the approbation of the eternal God, and to Him
alone does she look for consolation, in her sharp
anguish.
Years pass, and there is another death-bed.
Watch her carefully ; listen attentively ; see if
there come not some little word, some little
token of the repentance prophesied at the com-
mencement of her career. Threads of silver
have begun to mingle with the darker hue
shading her temples, She is not old, but she
has reached that meridian at which romance
usually gives place to maturity of judgment;
and her enthusiasm has long since been sub-
jected to the chastening influence of sorrow.
Surely she must have gained some wisdom in
all these busy years ; and perhaps in the mother's
last message to her son, she will be able to
divest herself of her life-long madness. Let us
see. ' Tell him,' she says, ' tell him I have
thought of him, and of one more meeting here
on earth, with painfully delicious longing. But
46 MADNESS OF THE
since it is not the will of God that I should look
upon his face again, bid him prepare to meet
me hereafter in our Father's mansions. And
oh, it is a joy for me to hope, that when I am
mouldering in the dust, it may please the Lord
to call my son to preach the gospel to these poor
heathen ! '
What will a word of caution avail against
monomaniacy like this ? Ah, ' there should be
a law.' Indeed ! and does not our kind philan-
thropist know that human invention has been
on the rack for the last eighteen centuries to
devise a law which should palsy the feet and
seal the lips of these same bearers of glad
tidings? But we need not go so far back for
examples. What but English law caused the
early English missionaries to flee to the ships of
Denmark and America ; and thus spread the
contagion of their strange malady far and wide ?
What but Anglo-Indian law placed the martyr-
crown upon the brow of young Harriet Newell ;
and made every drop of blood that it caused
to stagnate in her veins, the germ of another
missionary? And what but the same law
hunted her companions, like vagabonds, from
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 47
shore to shore, opening to them new fields of
labor, giving the widest possible scope to their
powers, and by means of its very hatred of mis-
sions, actually planting new missions. And has
not the law of every Pagan nation beneath the
heavens, from the bloody savages of Sumatra,
to the comparatively polished children of the
Celestial Empire, closed its strong gates, or
shaken its manacles in the face of the un-
heeding missionary? And what can tolerant
America do, more than these ? She must have
strangely gifted legislators, indeed, to devise an
edict that should prove stronger than prison
bars and clanking chains ; than all the crimson
paraphernalia of death, which spreads itself be-
fore the missionary in his hour of consecration.
But it is time to inquire what all this won-
drous madness means; to search out, if pos-
sible, the controlling principle of this mighty
progressive movement, which, though begun in
obscurity, and carried on in weakness, is rapidly
gaining the respect of even the most skeptical.
What is it that draws the wisdom of gray hairs,
the enthusiasm of youth, and the simplicity of
childhood, into a community of feeling and ac-
48 MADNESS OF THE
tion ? What is it that makes the weak strong,
the timid daring; that turns the tremulous nerve
to iron, and the waxen will to adamant ; that
laughs alike at human reason and human laws ;
and goes forth trampling with stern, though
meek deliberation, on dangers, difficulties, and
death itself? What is it, but the highest, the
deepest, the most absorbing principle of our
nature LOVE.
For examples of the strength of this wonder-
working principle, in its imperfect human de-
velopment, we have no need to search occasional
records, and take eager note of the wife who
follows her husband to the battle-field, or the
mother who leaps into the sea, or mounts to the
aerie of the eagle, for her child. We have
every day before our eyes, in the commonest
walks of life, among the rudest natures, beau-
tiful, nay, sublime exhibitions of the intensity,
the depth, the deathlessness of this passion of
love. But all we see, all we read of in human
history, is but as a ray from the sun, a single
drop from the mighty fountain, a ripple on that
limitless ocean, which is singled out by Inspi-
ration from other Divine attributes, as the fit-
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 49
ting representative of all the synonym of
Deity.
' God is love.' He so loved the world, that
He gave the Son of His bosom to save it from
merited destruction. Christ, the Redeemer,
loved it even unto death ; and he loves it now.
And whoever has drunk most deeply of His
spirit, shows it most in loving with a Christ-like
fervor and self-forgetfulness.
' That the love wherewith Thou hast loved
me,' said the Saviour, in that last exquisitely
touching, peace-breathing prayer, before the final
consummation of His sacrifice, 'That the love
wherewith Thou hast loved me, may be in
them, and I in them!' What a petition was
that, in the illimitable grandeur of its thought, in
the rich munificence of its affection. The love
wherewith the Father loved His only begotten
Son, swelling, surging through the bosom of
man, breaking up those deep fountains of the
soul, which no mere human finger has the
power to reach ; and elevating him at once to>a
new and mysterious connection with the Divine
nature ! Behold, then, the electric chain that
links the family of God on earth ; and causes
4
50 MADNESS OF THE
the hearts of all its members to thrill in unison,
at the sound of the Controlling Voice! And
what says that voice ? Appealing in firm, com-
manding tones, to the principle implanted by
the Holy Spirit in the regenerated soul of man,
what is its great requirement? Go YE INTO
ALL THE WORLD, AND PREACH THE GOSPEL TO
EVERY CREATURE !
Is this wise? is it reasonable? will it do
any good? inquires the stranger, and while
he sits down to doubt and cavil, and search for
lions in the way, the unquestioning child goes
away and does the Father's bidding. That
which is madness and folly in the eyes of one,
is regarded by the other as but a simple, affec-
tionate, trustful act of obedience to Him who
has the right to control and the power to protect ?
They have no fears of what the end may be,
when He who sees the end from the beginning is
directing them. They have not to experiment,
and question, and tread doubtfully along the
tangled wilderness of life. They have a great
unerring Guide, and it is their glory to follow
His voice and cling to His hand, through what-
ever He shall choose to lead them ; to believe, to
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE.
51
trust, to rejoice in Him, even in the midst of
temporary afflictions. And thus it is that they
shrink not from the privations, and dangers, and
difficulties incident to His service, feeling it
their highest honor to be permitted to suffer for
His sake. Oh, the love of Christ! the love of
Christ ! this it is which constitutes the spirit and
essence of missionary devotion ; and to those
who have never drunk from the delicious foun-
tain, who have not yet been made subjects of
that wondrous prayer, ' As thou hast loved me,'
it may well be looked upon as infatuation.
But ' what has been the fruit of all these
labors and sufferings of all these privations,
sacrifices, sicknesses, and deaths ? ' Nothing to
become the ground of boasting, certainly ; but
enough to make all heaven rejoice. Simply the
maturing of a few early clusters of grapes,
where only the thorn tree grew ; the gathering
of a few golden sheaves from the arid soil,
which never bore even a blade of grass before.
And this is surely worth the labor, if only as
the precursor of a more bountiful harvest. But
this is not all that has been done. Behold the
rivers of water on their fertilizing course through
52 MADNESS OF THE
the desert ; look upon the thousand fields laid
in long rich furrows by the gospel plough-share,
or stirred, and levelled, and wetted with the
dews of heaven, waiting for the sower's coming
And there are panting hearts, and extended
hands, and ready feet, willing, even as the
Master wills it, to scatter the seed or gather in
the harvest. Ay; go traverse America, from
the borders of fair New England to the sound-
ing shores of the Pacific, and count, if they can
be counted, the various missionary organiza-
tions that have sprung up within the last half
century. Go watch the movements of the
thousands and tens of thousands of churches
by which Christendom is bespangled, and see
with what simultaneous action they step forth
to the support of the mighty enterprise. Nay,
look even at the female sewing-circle, the Sun-
day School contribution, the infant's penny-box;
for know that such are the tiny rills which feed
the measureless ocean. Go catch the watch-
word, ' To every creature ! To every creature ! '
which sounds forth a simultaneous shout, from
missionary societies of every evangelical sect;
for this one point admits of no jarring or discord.
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 53
Go to the records of the Bible Society, and
number the tribes and nations, who have already
received the word of God in their own tongue.
Then turn to these same nations and see them
quivering like the leaves of November before
the invisible power which is stealing so irresisti-
bly over them. Go, on a holy Sabbath morning,
and follow the course of the sun, as he rises on
the easternmost port of China, till he climbs over
the rocky hills of the far West to garnish the
infant spires of Oregon and California. And
what changes have not fifty thirty ten
nay, five years wrought, throughout that Sab-
bath track! How the music of the church
bells thrills upon the Christian's heart, as on,
from port to port, he takes his joyous way!
How few and inconsiderable the spots, from
which the voice of prayer and praise ascends
not, and in which that ' Light of the world,' a
Christian church, has not been kindled I
' And what may reasonably be expected to be
the fruit ? ' Ah ! that is a theme to stir the
golden harps of heaven anew, and make the
wide earth vibrate to the joyful harmony. It
looks forward to a time when the great family
54 MADNESS OF THE
of man shall be united in one holy brotherhood ;
and there shall be no more war, no more oppres-
sion and cruelty, no sinning and no woe. So
shall the crimson stain be wiped from the brow
of the nations ; and the lamb and the dove shall
nestle in the shadow of the cross their peace-
ful emblems. Then shall the strong protect the
weak, and the greatest and most powerful be-
come voluntary servants of the lowly ; for the
highest type of greatness will be to benefit
mankind. This is no poetical illusion no fair
Utopian fancy ; nor even a half-formed expecta-
tion based on man's weak reason. The believ-
ing child knows as certainly as he knows there
is a God in heaven, that the mission enterprise
cannot fail until it usher in that Sabbath of
the world the Christian Jubilee. And he
knows that in that day of Eden purity, and
more than Eden elevation, when the lamb and
the lion shall lie down together, and HOLINESS
shall be inscribed even on the bells of the horses
when the empire of the Son of God shall
extend 'from sea to sea, and from the rivers
unto the ends of the earth ' there will be in
the history of the past no brighter page than the
MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 55
humble tracery of these small beginnings. And
when, at last, the heavens are rolled together
as a scroll, and the earth disappears from among
her sister planets, the fruits of this enterprise
shall give richness to the bloom of heaven ; and,
transmuted to enduring jewels, shall glow with
resplendent brilliancy in the crown of man's
Redeemer.
SONG OF MAULMAIN.
PLY the lever, pioneers !
Many a waiting angel cheers ;
Christ above is interceding,
Here the Holy Ghost is pleading,
And the promise of Jehovah
Stands upon His blessed book.
Cheerly, cheerly ply the lever !
Pause not faint not falter never !
Course the river, thrid the alley,
From the hill-top to the valley,
Go this barren border over,
Scattering seed in every nook.
Gifted with a little wing,
Far the seed shall float and spring,
Spring and bloom in Burmah's centre,
Till life-giving fragrance enter
SONG OF MAULMAIN. 57
Even the sacred groves of Boodha,
And the monarch's golden hall.
Plant the seed, and ply the lever !
Pause not faint not falter never!
With a trusting heart and humble.
Toil till Boodha's throne shall crumble,
Monastery and pagoda
Reel before the Cross, and fall.
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
' Is he not beautiful, my lord ? '
The speaker was a shy, girlish-looking crea-
ture, numbering, probably, some sixteen cycles ;
and, though her cheek and brow had a swarthy
hue, and her brilliant black eye glowed with a
restless, wild uncertainty of expression, she was
yet lavishly gifted with both grace and beauty.
She wore over her shoulders a clumsy, bag-like
tunic, so profusely ornamented with jungle
seeds, glass beads, and the wings of the golden-
green beetle, as to conceal the original fabric of
blue cotton. Her round, bare arms, were deco-
rated with a variety of fantastic bracelets ; and
from the knot, into which her shining black
hair was gathered, floated the rich golden
panicles of the flowery cassia. Her little henna-
tipped fingers were busily employed in wreath-
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 59
ing chaplets, necklaces, anklets and bracelets, of
the rosy white blossoms gathered from a neigh-
boring clerodendron tree, with which she deco-
rated the unshapely person of a tawny infant,
sleeping at her knee.
' Is he not beautiful, my lord ? ' she asked,
clapping her hands in childish admiration, after
having given to the sylvan costume of her child
what she evidently considered the finishing
touches.
1 My lord ' * was a dark, rough, bristly-bearded
man, of middle age, unmistakeably Karen in
feature, though wearing the Burmese dress, and
with it the haughty expression of countenance,
characteristic of the latter race. His exterior
gave but little promise of sympathy with the
flutterings of the young mother's heart, a fact
of which she seemed fully aware, for even in
her gladness she asked the question with averted
*This title is indefinite in the degree of honor which it
signifies ; being sometimes addressed to royalty, and some-
times conveying so little reverence, as to be better translated
Sir. It is seldom used by a wife in addressing her husband,
unless there is some great difference in rank, or she is kept in
unusual subjection.
60 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
i
eye. The appeal, however, was to a father's
pride, and he looked at the little brown bundle
of flesh, and smiled, at first admiringly, then
with a singular expression of contemplative
tenderness, of which his stern features were
capable, but which they seldom wore.
' What is it ? ' asked the young wife, appre-
hensively. ' Is anything the matter with him ? '
The father smiled again, a curious smile,
mixed up of different expressions, the most
prominent of which was a lordly appreciation
of his own superior wisdom ; while the anxious
little mother dropped her flowers upon the bank,
and repeated the question, 'Is anything the
matter with him ? '
' Nothing that you will ever see, my bright
little Mango-bird ; so keep on singing, while the
sun shines.'
'But but,' she stammered, 'if anything
should be the matter with our boy '
The stern man turned to a clump of thorny
bamboos, gracefully mantled by the beautiful
Rangoon creeper, and gathering a handful of
milk-white blossoms, completed the toilet of the
child.
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 61
'Beautiful! beautiful!' exclaimed the young
mother, quite as much delighted with her hus-
band's condescension, as the effects of his skill.
' Beautiful, and stainless, too,' was the re-
sponse, ' but ah, you will not understand, my
pretty Mimosa ; and why should you ? '
' I should like to understand, my lord,' and
the dark eyes were lifted to his, with a deep,
questioning wonder, behind which seemed to
lurk some scarcely defined purpose.
The husband, however, remarked nothing
unusual.
' Well, Mimosa, you know that when the sun
is up, the blossoms will be stained, and so
our blossom?
The woman answered by an absorbed, search-
ing gaze.
' And at evening they will be crimson.'
' Must it be so, my lord ? '
' Is it not always ? '
1 What can we do ? '
' Nothing.'
The young wife looked disappointed. Sev-
eral times she opened her lips, as though to
speak, but seemed to doubt the wisdom of her
62 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
purpose ; and that strange, fitful light glanced
more fitfully than ever from her bright eye.
Finally, she leaned over her sleeping child, with
a restless sort of anxiety, taking up, one by one,
the symbolic blossoms, and breathing on them,
while the stern husband stood watching her
movements, with an air of amused interest.
' You see that the poison is in you, Mimosa,'
he said at length ; ' your breath stains the pretty
blossoms, and withers them, too,' and he glanced
expressively at the child.
The woman made no answer, but she bent
still lower, and the struggle, whatever it might
be, that was going on in her spirit, seemed
almost to convulse her slight frame. The hus-
band regarded her in absolute amazement.
' My poor little Mynah,' he at length said,
coaxingly ; ' the cage is very dark, but there is
no use in beating the bars, and spoiling its
pretty wings. Who thought a word would
ruffle its plumage so ? there there ! '
The struggle was over ; and the woman lifted
her head with an air of calm determination.
My lord, there is at Maulmain city a white
foreigner, who teaches that the stain may be
removed.'
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 63
The dark brows of the husband were suddenly
contracted, and a fierce glance shot from his
stern eyes ; but it was with a quiet, steady voice
that he asked, ' Who told you of him, Mynah ? '
' My lord ! ' exclaimed the poor wife, depre-
catingly.
' Who told you ? ' the husband repeated, with-
out elevating his voice, but with a deadly mean-
ing in its cold monotone, which struck a forlorn
hopelessness to the heart of that timid young
creature, whose very life depended on his nod.
She, however, raised her head with some faint
show of courage, and answered, ' I heard it in
my father's house, on the other side of the great
Salwen.'
' Well, Mimosa, you are not in your father's
house now, nor do you tread the white man's
territory ; and, mark me ! ' he said, rising and
folding his swart arms across his brawny chest,
from this moment, you will forget that a word
of this abominable heresy has ever entered your
ears, or,' with a deeper, sterner intonation, ' that
your meddling finger has ever touched their
writing. You hear, woman ! '
The young wife, like all her race, who have
64 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
not been educated out of the national charac-
teristic, was in general docile and submissive ;
but she evidently had some strong purpose at
her heart, a settled determination to bring the
subject she had dared present to her husband to
some distinct issue. At the last word, fiercely
spoken, she sprang to her feet, and confronted
the angry man, with her whole frame quivering,
and her eye blazing with the intensity of con-
tending emotions.
' What would you do, my lord,' she asked, in
a clear, ringing voice, ' if I were to become a
Christian?'
Kill you.'
The woman smiled drearily, sat down, and
drew her baby to her bosom.
' "Why did you ask such a terrible question,
Mimosa?' inquired the husband, after a little
pause.
' Because,' she answered, with a short laugh,
which might have been simply the overflowing
of a careless heart, or, coupled with the words,
had something of mockery in it, < because it is
pleasant to know.'
The husband was uncomfortable ; perhaps
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN 65
suspicious. He glanced about him for a new
subject, and finally his eye fell upon the round,
taper arm, sparkling with most incongruous or-
naments. ' What is that odd bracelet, Mimosa,
you wear of late ? '
* A charm, my lord.'
Something unusual seemed to arrest the wo-
man's attention as she spoke, for she peered for
a moment into the forest, then catching up the
infant, bounded away.
'Fool! to be frightened by the silly thing,'
muttered the husband, following her airy flight
with admiring eyes. ' A charm, indeed ! That
is not like becoming a Christian ! Oh, why are
there no wise men, no reasoners, no subtle phi-
losophers, among my poor countrymen ? Why
must they go flocking after every new thing
that rises, like silly pigeons to the snare?'
The Karen chief had been educated as a
Boodhistic priest, in a Burmese monastery ; and
had brought to his uncultivated jungle home
some of the worst characteristics of the people
among whom he had spent his early days.
Whatever there might have been kindly in his
original disposition, it was completely swept
5
66 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
under, by the haughty fierceness in which he
now encased himself, as an armor. To those
who ministered to his pleasures, and made
themselves the slaves of his will, he was suf-
ficiently condescending and indulgent ; but woe
to that man who dared, even in opinion, to cross
his track. He was, also, whether from pride,
or religious principle, exceedingly bigoted ; and
though he could smile, with pitying contempt,
on ' charms,' and other superstitions of his de-
graded countrymen, he could not brook the bare
mention of the name of Jesus Christ. Only a
little while previous to the commencement of
our story, a boat-load of Burmese Christians,
who had diverged from the Salwen to the Bur-
mese side, for the purpose of following up the
Maizeen rivulet, had been insulted, and ordered
away from his village. Still later, a poor Ka-
ren, with a bundle of tracts hidden in his rice-
basket, had been caught, and severely flogged
before the assembled villagers.
It was on the day that the Burman boat had
been sent away, that the pretty young wife of
the chief wandered down the stream, with an
old white-haired man, who had accompanied
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 67
her from her father's house, and been always in
her confidence.
* And you are sure, Pooluah, that my father
has embraced this religion?'
' Sure, my lady.'
4 And you, Pooluah ?'
The old man hesitated. He was something
of a courtier ; but that might not have been his
only reason for answering, ' It is better that my
lady examine for herself. Old Pooluah is her
follower.'
1 Was that the reason you taught me to read
Burmese that I might examine for myself?
Did you think of it then, when I used to lead
you such a wild race through the paddy-fields ?
Ah, Pooluah, he calls me, when he is fondest,
his mynah, and it is true. I am a poor caged
mynah now, and shall never fly again.'
The old man sighed ; and they both relapsed
into sad, musing silence.
4 My lady,' said Pooluah, at length, peering
down the river, ' what is that, yonder, like a
little foam-curl on the water, there by the roots
of the nodding clerodendron ?'
4 A cluster of blossoms, I think ; or it may
68 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
be ' and without waiting for further specu-
lation, she tripped away to the spot indicated.
Poising herself on the twisted roots of the clero-
dendron, she grasped a branch with one hand,
and leaning far over, she was just able to secure
with the other the object of the old man's curi-
osity.
' A writing ! a writing ! ' she shouted, forget-
ting all caution in her sudden delight, and
flourishing her prize aloft. But, at that mo-
ment, her foot slipped; the bough by which
she steadied herself, swept across her face, she
felt herself seized and dragged upon the bank
by a stronger arm than that of her age-enfeebled
attendant, and saw, as she opened her eyes, the
frowning face of her husband bending over her.
' Did you mean to drown yourself, Mimosa ? '
he asked, in a tone of suppressed anger.
' I might possibly have bathed my foot,' the
woman answered, with affected carelessness,
though visibly shuddering as she spoke. She
had been fully aware, even in the confusion
occasioned by her slight accident, that there
was more of fierceness and roughness in her
husband's mode of saving her, than the danger
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 69
seemed to warrant ; and she was, moreover,
conscious of the writing's having been wrench-
ed from her hand and flung into the rivulet.
The husband and wife walked back to the
village together. A couple of fishermen had
just moved their little boat beside the clump of
bamboos, and the chief beckoned one of them
with his hand.
* Ho, Pantalay ! '
The man came forward, crouching with the
customary reverence, and squatted respectfully
at the chieftain's feet.
' What was that you were telling me, yester-
day, of the golden book ? '
'My lord!' exclaimed the poor man, with a
look of terror.
The chief made an impatient gesture ; but
the man's stupidity was incorrigible.
' My lord commanded he he said the tale
was false and idle.'
The Mimosa smiled involuntarily ; and the
angry chief raised his hand as though to strike
the stammering offender. He did not strike,
however, but only reiterated, ' What was it,
Pantalay ? '
70 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
The poor fellow began deprecatingly to repeat
the tale which only the day before he had been
ordered never to think of again. The substance
of it was that a boatman from the lower province
of Tavoy had reported the arrival of a white
teacher there, who, by the help of a Karen
man he had bewitched, was scattering strange
writings through the jungle. He also averred
that a golden book had fallen down from
heaven, threatening the direst vengeance on all
who presumed to read, or even touch these
writings.
' What vengeance, Pantalay?'
'They they shall be haunted by demons,
while they sleep and when they wake. The
women shall be childless, or bear monsters, and
the men shall be devoured by tigers on the land,
and by alligators on the water.'
' That will do, Pantalay.'
The chief evidently felt that there had been
a failure in the poor fisherman's mode of telling
the tale ; but still it was not without its effect
on the timid Mimosa.
A few days after this event, the poor Karen
book-bearer was apprehended and whipped ; and
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 71
then crawled away into the jungle, some said,
to die. Only old Pooluah, and his gentle-hearted
mistress, knew of a small cave among the
craggy heights beyond the village, where the
poor fellow was nursed until his wounds were
healed, and he was able to make his escape
over to the English side of the Salwen. Even
the Mimosa herself had found means to visit
him, and he had told her all he knew of the
Christian religion. His knowledge was very
limited indeed ; but in nothing is the loving
kindness of our Heavenly Father more beauti-
fully displayed, than in the simplicity of the
doctrines which lead to salvation. A theme
which the angels around the blazing throne have
not yet fully comprehended, is so completely
adapted to our human wants, that the weakest
capacity nay, even the lowest, and most ani-
malized nature, needs but the influences of the
Holy Spirit to be able to put forth a saving
faith. Old Pooluah drank in the truth with a
simple earnestness, for which he was already
prepared by the visit of the Christian boatmen,
as well as by hints and rumors he had occasion-
ally heard before he followed his mistress from
72 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
her old home. The Mimosa, with stronger
worldly interests, was less trustful and more
cautious. She looked at her child, and thought
of the golden book with its terrible maledic-
tions ; and, though she had sufficient shrewd-
ness to understand her husband's object, in
having it related just at that time, she still felt
strongly impressed by it. From the date of the
visit of the Burmese boat, which her husband
had ordered so peremptorily from the village, a
thoughtful seriousness had gradually infused
itself into her spirit, and it was deepened by
every interview with old Pooluah 3 and still more
with the poor Karen fugitive. A little tract, an
epitomized ' View of the Christian Religion,'
written in Burmese, had been conveyed to her
in a basket of flowers, only an hour before the
flogging had taken place ; and this she had
carefully folded together in a deer-skin case,
elaborately ornamented with wild seeds, and
bound it on her arm with her other bracelets.
It was the safest place in which such a treasure
could be hidden, and would be always at hand
for perusal. This was the odd bracelet, that, at
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 73
such an inopportune moment, had attracted the
attention of her husband.
' A charm,' she answered, unhesitatingly, to
his abrupt question ; then, terrified at her dan-
ger, ashamed of her weakness, and conscious of
being unable to sustain farther scrutiny, she
snatched up the child, and hastened away.
Rapidly she sped along, not venturing to look
behind to ascertain whether she was pursued,
now pressing through thick underbrush, now
mounting some flower-mantled hillock, and
again plashing across the pretty silver runnels
that laced the wilderness, till she had left a
quarter of a league behind her. She was still
hurrying on, when a familiar voice exclaimed,
in some surprise, ' My lady ! ' It was old
Pooluah, who was returning from a foraging ex-
pedition, his withered frame more than usually
bowed beneath the heavy bundle of fresh herbs
he had just been gathering.
' Has anything happened, my lady ? '
' Happened ! no ; but there will there must t
and I almost wish it would come now.'
4 Look to the Lord Jesus Christ, my lady. He
74 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
is strong. He never deserts them who put their
trust in Him.'
' I do not put my trust in Him, Pooluah. I
am not a Christian. When you are in trouble,
you can pray like the poor book-bearer, and your
mind becomes cool and happy. I cannot. I do
not trust Him. I shrink, I tremble, and dare
not even tell the truth.'
' My lady '
' I said just now, Pooluah, that it was a charm
I wore upon my arm. I told a falsehood, and
all from fear. I am a poor, timid woman, and
I can never be a Christian.'
' My dear lady, you are sorely tempted. But
try try, my sweet mistress, to bring your
trouble to the Lord. He will take it willingly.
He has trodden all these dark ways, and he
knows every step. Cannot you trust Him, my
lady ? '
The woman shook her head. ' I am a poor,
caged mynah, and must obey my keeper. I
thought his mind was softened, Pooluah, for he
talked of our common sin, as though sorry for
it ; so I ventured to tell him there was a way
of escape, and he was oh, so angry! If it
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
75
had been red anger, I might have braved it, but
it was the white heat, that emits no sparkles.
He says he will kill me, if I become a Christian.
I am young to die and the grave is so dark
and I cannot take my little white-souled
blossom with me, if I could ! I am young to
die, Pooluah.' And the poor, helpless creature
threw herself upon the sod, and wept passion-
ately. The old man lowered the bundle of
herbs from his head, slid the heavy satchel from
his shoulder, and sat down beside her.
' Old Pooluah's sun is almost down, my lady,
and his life is worth but little. Would that it
were fresh and bright, as in other days, and he
might be permitted to give it in exchange for
thine.'
' I know you love me, my faithful Pooluah ;
but you are all.'
* The Lord Jesus Christ loves you, my lady.'
' I cannot feel it I dare not think of it. The
way is dark, dark.'
' He gave His royal limbs to the torture, and ,
His body to the tomb, for you, my lady. It is
dark, the world is all dark ; but He came down
from glory, and waded through the darkness and
76 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
the sorrow, for you, my dear lady, for you. You
think old Pooluah is faithful, because he would
not keep back this little fragment of a worn-out
life from his mistress' service the Lord gave
all, and He is all-powerful. Trust in Him, my
lady lay your little white-souled blossom on
His bosom lay your sorrows at His feet and
the shadow of Death itself will never make you
afraid.'
Thus, in a low, tender tone, as a mother might
soothe her frightened infant, the old man's words
mingled with the passionate sobbings of the
young matron, and settled, like a healing balsam,
on her heart.
4 But I denied Him, Pooluah ; and denied
Him insultingly. I said it was a charm I
wore '
' It was in a moment of weakness, my lady ;
you were sorely tempted. Call upon the Lord.
He is a pitying Redeemer. Ask Him to forgive
you, to strengthen you, to support you in the
hour of trial, and when the way is all dark, look
to Him, my lady, and light will come.'
From the day of this conversation, a change
began to be perceptible in the once timid
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 77
Mimosa, which gradually pervaded her entire
character. She seemed, by degrees, endowed
with a sublime courage, a spirit like that of the
martyrs of old, sufficient to buoy her above all
fear. This was too apparent in the serene,
elevated expression of her countenance, and her
general bearing, to escape the observation of the
villagers ; who whispered to one another that
she had probably received some intelligence from
her father, which enabled her to brave her hus-
band's more than suspected tyranny. But the
real cause of the transformation was not long
hidden. Ashamed of the falsehood, which she
interpreted into a denial of her faith, the repent-
ant young believer unbound the bracelet from
her arm, threw the deer-skin case into the river,
and sought no other concealment for the book
than one of the hollow bamboo rafters of her
dwelling so easy of access, and in such com-
mon use, as to be a mere depository, rather than
a hiding-place. But this was not all. Defying
all the cautions of the faithful Pooluah, she
began whispering the glad news of salvation
among the villagers ; and so much was she
beloved, and the fearful vengeance of her hus-
78 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
band so much dreaded, that even the most
uncompromising Boodhists failed to betray her.
So month after month passed by, and seasons
came and went. There were no withering leaves
or falling snows our way-marks through the
year but yet the circling seasons left their
footprints on the tropic jungle, scarcely less
strongly marked than on our rugged shores.
The amber sunlight of a rich October day
was deepening into purple, when the young
jungle matron sat watching the gambols of her
boy, and musing on the prospect of yet another
little being, which might ere long be intrusted
to her care to train for immortality. Her piety
had deepened very perceptibly during the pass-
ing year, and a meek, trustful wisdom had grad-
ually infused itself into her spirit, softening and
ripening her whole character. The little book
was now so much worn by frequent use, as to
be in many places illegible ; but the truths it
contained were perfectly familiar to the young
matron, though still she loved to read them from
the page where they had first met her eye and
heart. With this object, she took the book from
a little pocket she had made for it in her tunic,
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 79
and was soon absorbed in its contents. She was
roused by a rough grasp on her shoulder, and a
voice in stern, angry accents, exclaiming, ' Wo-
man ! woman ! what have you here ? ' For
a moment her brain reeled, and her heart grew
faint ; for though she Wad expected an hour like
this to come, it had been so long delayed, that
she had ceased to look for it momentarily, as at
first. She, however, retained sufficient com-
posure of manner to answer, though somewhat
tremulously, 'It is a a foreign book, my
lord.'
' One of those vile books '
1 It is not a vile book,' interrupted the woman,
dauntlesslj.
'Which which I commanded you not to
touch ! '
' Should I not obey God rather than '
' Silence, babbler ! slave ! ' Then smothering
his rage again, ' But where is the traitor that
dared to give you this ? '
' I had it, my lord, of the poor fellow, who a
year ago was whipped for having Christian
books in his rice-basket.'
' And you have kept it ever since ? '
80 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
' I have, my lord.'
' And read it?'
' I have.'
He snatched the book from her hand, and
tore it into fragments.
' That is useless, my lord. It matters little
to destroy the paper, when every word is cut
into my memory.'
' You will not say that you believe that
book ? '
< I do.'
'And you dare tell me this! that you are
an idiot a mountebank a a '
' I am a Christian, my lord.'
The stem man shook with concentrated
passion ; but still he so far mastered it, as to
proceed with his examination.
* Who knows you are what you say ? '
The woman was silent.
' Speak ! I command you.'
' I cannot tell, my lord.'
'What! you you you defy me?'
' I will answer all questions that concern my-
self, my lord, but farther than that, I cannot.'
* You refuse, then, to mention your accom-
plices.'
A LEGEND OP THE MAIZEEN. 81
< I refuse to betray my friends.'
The brawny arm seemed to leap into the air,
with the quick violence of overwhelming rage,
and the next moment the courageous young
wife lay writhing upon the earth, a crimson
stream gushing from her distended mouth.
With a wild, unearthly cry, which drew a dozen
villagers to the spot, the strange man threw
himself beside his victim, his fierce anger in a
moment yielding to the still more terrific fury of
his grief.
* I have killed her! I have killed her! her
my golden lily my bundle of musk! I have
darkened my eyes ! I have torn the heart from
my bosom! I am a murderer, sinking down
down down to the lowest hell. Oh, Mimosa !
my beautiful, pitying Mimosa ! do not begin the
torments now, while yet thy lip is warm with
life. Speak to me! oh speak, Mimosa! I meant
not to strike. It was the demon in me, and not
my hand. One little word one breath my
beautiful, my loved, my lost Mimosa!' And
while, with all the energy of that one anguish-
stricken voice, the death-wail rang through the
jungle, the villagers, awed and terrified, dared
6
82 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
not so much as lay a finger upon the murdered
woman. Old Pooluah was the last to reach
the spot. With one deep, heart-crushing in-
spiration, he sprang forward, and taking his
mistress in his arms, bore her to the shelter of
her own home.
For hours there was a faint fluttering of the
pulse, and an occasional tremulous motion of
the eyelids ; but that was all. Old Pooluah
watched beside his mistress, and two or three
women moved noiselessly about the room ; but
the husband came not, all through the dreary
night At last, when the first ray of morning
shot through the open door, the dying Mimosa
opened wide her joyous eyes.
' Pooluah ! ' she called.
The old man stooped above her.
' Dear, faithful Pooluah, take the little boy to
my father, and tell him oh, tell him how
sweet it is to die. Though so young, and so
unworthy, I am permitted first to enter the
celestial gate, and there I wait both you and
him. How beautiful ! how glorious ! '
With that rejoicing smile upon her lip, the*
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 83
young Christian passed away slept in Jesus ;
and another life slept with her.
The stern chief never returned to his village,
o '
and his fate was never clearly known. Some
told how, on the night of the direful tragedy,
a party of boatmen near the mouth of the
Maizeen, had seen a crouching figure pass
fleetly as a shadow, just outside their circle of
camp-fires. They hailed him, but received no
answer. A quarter of an hour afterwards, a
wild, terrible cry of mortal agony rang from the
jungle, and with trembling hands the men
brightened their watch-fires, and grasped their
spears, and so sat with unclosed eyes till morn-
ing. As the dawn advanced, the little party
gathered more courage ; and finally, fully armed,
ventured forward in the direction of the cry.
Parting the thick boughs, not more than a
hundred rods from where they had encamped,
they found the underbrush crushed and trampled,
and the sod besmeared with gore. A small
crimson pool had settled down into a leafy hol-
low, and a muslin turban, torn and blood-stained,
lay at a little distance on the ground. Remem-
bering that the tiger jyhich has once tasted
84 A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN.
human blood is never satisfied with a single
victim, the men returned hastily to their boat.
The more sanguinary of the villagers, as they
told this story, were wont to illustrate its mean-
ing and application with expressive glances and
gestures, though they never by words indicated
any positive suspicion as to the victim.
Then some gentle spirit would take up the
tale, and describe a bent, hollow-eyed, witless
man, who haunted the suburbs and lanes of
Martaban, muttering to himself continually,
and appearing startled when overheard, as
though he had betrayed some secret. It was
remarked that he dwelt with strange pertinacity
on one word, which might be a name, since he
whispered it so beseechingly, by the hour to-
gether; but those persons who were curious
enough to listen, were surprised to learn that he
only addressed a pretty plant, such as is often
found in the neighborhood of deserted monas-
teries, and the leaves of which arc wont to
shrivel and fall to the ground at the slightest
touch. Then the narrator would look into the
incredulous faces of the propagators of the
tiger-tale, and nod his he^l significantly, and say
A LEGEND OF THE MAIZEEN. 85
what an odd fancy it was that the chief should
have named his pretty wife Mimosa.
Sometimes a singular story of a sound man
herding with lepers, and voluntarily performing
the most menial offices of the community, was
darkly hinted at. And there was yet another
tale afloat, of a hermit-priest, who inhabited
the beautiful little gem of an island in the
Sal wen, known as Goungzakyoon. But the
narratives relating to this last named personage
were of a shifting, mythic order; and as they
were put forth by the more bigoted of the
Boodhistic party, they obtained but little cre-
dence from the greater number of the Karens.
NOTE. The recorder of the above legend does not
vouch for its accuracy ; none of the particulars having
come under the personal observation of the friend from
whom she received it. As a story quite current among
the early Karen Christians, however, and neither unnatural
nor improbable in its general features, (though the principal
characters are certainly more Burmese than Karen,) it
bears the stamp of truth. The writer, in giving the rela-
tion an English dress, has taken the liberty to divest it of
some of the childish mysteries which cluster around it,
and to reduce it, as far as possible, to the order of a simple
narrative.
THE JUNGLE BOY.
MANY years ago, a lady sat in the verandah
of her Burmese bungalow, endeavoring to deci-
pher the scarcely legible characters of a palm-leaf
book, which lay in all its awkwardness upon
the table before her. A beautiful beetle, with
just gold enough on his bright green wings to
distinguish him from the glossy leaves of the
Cape Jasmine, which grew close by the balus-
trade, was balancing himself upon one of the
rich white blossoms that filled the whole air
with their fragrance; while a gay-plumaged
bird, with a strange sort of a feathery coronal
upon his head, was making himself busy among
the rank grass beyond. Still farther on, a long-
necked chamelion clung to the trunk of a guava
tree, throwing back his snake-like head, and
darting his inquisitive ^ttle eyes about very
THE JUNGLE BOY. 87
suspiciously ; a green-coated robber of a parrot
nestled among the fruit and foliage above ; and
below, and all around, a whole school of crows
flapped their black wings, and wheeled, and
fluttered, and cawed, with amazing industry and
volubility. It is in vain to try to enumerate the
lady's strange visitors, but they were such as
any of you might see of a bright morning in
Burmah, and very attractive you would find
them much more attractive, I have no doubt,
than the long palm-leaf books, all smeared with
oil, to make their circular scratches legible.
From a little bamboo shelter a curious thatch-
ed roof set upon poles, just beyond the high,
uncropped hedge, and dignified by the name of
schoolhouse came a sound of mingled voices,
very cheerful, very earnest, and, to stranger ears,
about as intelligible as the cawing of the crows.
But the lady understood it all ; and it told her
that her native schoolmaster was doing his duty,
and his tawny pupils making some proficiency
in the them-bong gyee, or a-b, ab talk. Kah gyee
yd, ka kali gyee yd kya, k'dh kali gyee yd
long- gyee ten, ke kali gyee yd long gyee ten
san cat, kce, came the, confused sounds a very
88 THE JUNGLE BOY.
circuitous way of saying k-a, ka k-e, ke,
' Don't you think so ? '
As the lady bent over her book, a little more
wearily than in the freshness of the morning,
and made a renewed effort to fix her eyes on
the dizzying circles, a strange looking figure
bounded through the opening in the hedge
which served as a gateway, and rushing toward
her, with great eagerness inquired, ' Does Jesus
Christ live here ? '
He was a boy, perhaps twelve years of age ;
his coarse black hair unconfined by the usual
turban, matted with filth, and bristling in every
direction like the quills of a porcupine ; and a
very dirty cloth of plaided cotton disposed in
the most slovenly manner about his person.
'Does Jesus Christ live here?' he inquired,
scarcely pausing for breath, though slackening
his pace a little as he made his way, uninvited,
up the steps of the verandah, and crouched at
the lady's feet.
' What do you want of Jesus Christ ? ' in-
quired the lady.
' I want to see him I want to confess to
him.'
THE JUNGLE BOY.
89
' Why, what have you been doing, that you
want to confess ? '
' Does lie live here?' with great emphasis,
' I want to know that. Doing! Why, I tell
lies, I steal, I do everything bad I am afraid
of going to hell, and I want to see Jesus Christ,
for I heard one of the Loo-g-yees * say that he
can save us from hell. Does he live here ?
Oh, tell me where I can find Jesus Christ.'
' But he does not save people from hell, if
they continue to do wickedly.'
' I want to stop doing wickedly, but I can't
stop I don't know how to stop the evil
thoughts are in me, and the bad deeds come of
evil thoughts. What can I do ? '
' Nothing, but come to Christ, poor boy,
like all the rest of us,' the lady softly mur-
mured ; but she spoke this last in English, so
the boy orily raised his head with a vacant,
' B' ha-lai ? '
' You cannot see Jesus Christ now '
She was interrupted by a sharp quick cry of
despair.
* Chief men.
90 THE JUNGLE BOY.
' But I am his humble friend and follower'
The face of the listener brightened a little.
' And he has commissioned me to teach all
those who wish to escape from hell, how to do
so.'
The joyful eagerness depicted in the poor
boy's countenance, was beyond description.
' Tell me oh tell me! Only ask your Master
the Lord Jesus Christ, to save me, and I will be
your servant, your slave, for life. Do not be
angry ! Do not send me away ! I want to be
saved saved from hell ! '
The lady, you will readily believe, was not
likely to be angry. Even the person who told
me the story many years after, was more than
once interrupted by his own choking tears.
The next day a new pupil was welcomed to
the little bamboo schoolhouse, in the person of
the wild Karen boy ; for no missionary having
yet been sent especially to that people, they
received all their religious instructions through
the medium of the Burmese language. And
oh, such a greedy seeker after truth and holiness !
Every day he came to the white teachers to
learn something more concerning the Lord Jesus
THE JUNGLE BOY.
91
Christ, and the way of salvation ; and every day
his mind seemed to open, his feelings to enlarge,
and his face to lose some portion of that inde-
scribable look of stupidity which characterizes
the uncultivated native.
In due time, a sober band of worshippers
gathered around the pool in the little hollow by
the bridge, to witness a solemn baptism ; then
a new face was seen among those who came ,to
commemorate the dying love of the Lord Jesus ;
and a new name was written on the church
records.
Years passed away. Death had laid his hand
upon the gentle lady, and she had gone up to
that sweet home where pain and sorrow are
unknown, and where ' the weary are at rest.'
On earth, another death scene was enacting. A
strong, dark-browed man tossed wildly on his
fevered couch in an agony of physical suffering ;
but even then his unconscious lips murmured
continually those precious fragments of scripture
which he had treasured up in days of health.
At last there came a fearful struggle then the
convulsed features relaxed, the ghastliness of
death settled upon them, and the spirit seemed
92 THE JUNGLE BOY.
to have taken its flight. Suddenly, however,
the countenance of the dying man was lighted
with a heavenly radiance, his lips parted with a
smile, his eye emitted a single joyful flash,
before it turned cold and motionless forever ; and
then the wild boy of the jungle was welcomed
by his waiting angel-guide, to the presence of
that Saviour whom he had sought with such
eagerness.
TRIBUTE TO REV. DANIEL HASCALL.
Lo ! with a solemn tread,
The mourning train sweep by,
Bearing the sainted dead,
To where his loved ones lie ;
Down in his bed of clay,
They lay him to his rest,
The sun-light shut away,
And the clod upon his breast.
Will they the marble bring ?
Nay, look around and see
How many a nobler thing
His monument shall be.
Behold yon classic walls,*
Embalmed in love and prayer,
Pause in the shadowy halls,
His monument is there !
* In the year 1817, Mr. Hascall commenced a theological
school in the village of Hamilton, N. Y., with the two mis-
94 TRIBUTE TO REV. DANIEL HASCALL.
And with enduring art,
Is sculptured his fair fame,
Upon each living heart,
That thrills beneath his name.
Where waves the tropic palm,
Where ice-bound fir-trees grow,
'Mid island groves of balm,
'Mid northern wilds of snow,
Tho' his name be never heard,
The deeds of love he 's wrought,
Are told in every word,
Are mirrored in each thought ;
While angels stooping down,
On fondly fluttering wing,
Pluck jewels for the crown
Of our Eternal King.
Those jewels saved in heaven,
And the garnered prayers and tears,
All good for which he 's striven,
Through weary, toilsome years ;
sionaries, Wade and Kincaid, for his first pupils. The school,
which has now grown into a University, has, probably, con-
tributed as large a number of devoted and practical men to
the mission enterprise, as any similar institution in America.
TRIBUTE TO REV. DANIEL HASCALL. 95
Up in that world of rest,
His monument shall be ;
For the spring his finger pressed,
Has moved eternity.
*
THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES.
AMONG the various opinions which prevail
with regard to the qualifications most desirable
in a missionary, care must be taken that the
building and garnishing do not occupy too
prominent a position, to the detriment of the
richer inheritance of the spirit. Devotion to
Christ and love to man are, after all, the great
qualifications.
Some seven or eight years ago, there came to
Maulmain a fine old British officer, who had in
the dawn of his career served in the Peninsular
wars, and brought away a French love-token,
in the shape of an honorable scar, from the
battle of Salamanca. He was an earnest, active,
fearless sort of a man, and yet not particularly
gifted with anything, except the life-giving in-
fluences of the Holy Spirit. In his regiment he
THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES. 97
was a sort of dissenting chaplain ; in the little
English church he was the first in every good
word and work ; and in the prison and hospital
he was like a ministering angel, until forbidden
by his superior to degrade his office by familiar
intercourse with the common soldier ; and then
he submissively took his stand in the doorway,
and read and preached the gospel to the sick
and the friendless within. Thus much for his
own countrymen but that was not all. His
association with the American missionaries
opened a new field of usefulness, and in spite
of jeers, reproaches and expostulations, he en-
tered upon it manfully. By the help of a
Burmese Christian, who had been taught the
English, he went up street and down, preaching
the gospel to all he met, and distributing tracts
from the ample satchel of his interpreter. He
also stood in the zayat by the wayside, assailing
every passer-by ; he entered the lowly doors of
the lowliest natives ; and in the monasteries he
boldly opposed his own commission to the lofty
pretensions of the proud proprietors of the shaven
crown and yellow robe.
Now that is the sort of man, whatever his
7
98 THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES.
other qualifications may be, most needed in the
great missionary work. The command of the
Lord Jesus Christ, ' Go ye into all the world, and
preach the gospel to every creature,' was not
addressed to ministers alone, and is no more
restricted to a particular style of man, or a
particular set of qualifications, than it was to
the twelve disciples. The commission includes
every man, woman and child who loves the
Saviour. It is addressed personally and distinct-
ly to each one ; and whoever evades it in this
enlightened age, should at least be prepared
with reasons to present at the bar of God.
Every converted soul has a duty to perform to
his fellow-men. If he cannot GO if he is
sure, positively sure, that he has an excuse
which will stand the searching light of eternity,
let him stay at home, and help others go. But
if he has not that excuse, he is disobeying the
last positive command of his ascending Lord.
And though, through the sufferings of that
slighted Saviour, he may be so forgiven as not
to prove an outcast from the realms of bliss, just
so sure as ' one star differeth from another star
in glory,' will he be crippled for his remissness,
THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES. 99
throughout the never-ending ages of eternity.
I am advocating no wild theory ; I speak the
words of truth and soberness. And in doing
so, I appeal to conscious hearts. Are there not
hundreds aye, thousands of truly converted
men in our American churches, who dare not
dare not enter the closet, and there, making
an unreserved consecration of self, solemnly
pray for light on the subject of personal duty ?
No ; I will make no such general appeal ; but
you you who hold this paper dare yon do
it ? Have you ever done it ? Will you do it
now, or do you fear the result?
' I have an extensive business.'
Ah ! ' I have bought five yoke of oxen.' That
is it.
' I have a family.'
* He that loveth son or daughter ' Take
care !
' I am approaching middle age.'
And therefore should make the greater haste,
remembering at the same time, for your enr
couragement, that 'they received every man a
penny.'
* I believe the conversion of the world is to
100 THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES.
be a gradual thing.' It is to be feared that it
will, until persecution scatters the church, which
is hedging herself round with worldly comforts,
and forgetting the noble purpose for which she
was raised up. And there are things in the
political and religious horizon, which foretell a
day of persecution, now not far distant.
But I am wandering from my subject. While
the great mass of Christians are waiting to be
driven out, while one only in thousands will go
or can be sent, should not that one be of the
very choicest kind ? Yes, as has been often said,
the church must yield up her jewels, her richest
and her brightest. But what is it that con-
stitutes the brightness of the Christian jewel?
What was it that made the face of Moses to
shine, when he came forth from communion
with God ? Yes, let the church give her best
men men of the warmest hearts, the strongest
faith, the most prayerful spirits men, who
think meanly of themselves, and feel that they
are honored in being permitted to engage in
this Christ-like w r ork and not that their poor
weak intellects, and paltry accomplishments,
confer honor on the cause. That is what is
THE MOST EFFICIENT MISSIONARIES. 101
holding back the chariot-wheels of God. Wise
men think they stoop, they condescend, when
they become missionaries. Well, let the wise
men the Pharisees and Sadducees go their
ways. Take the humble, zealous, faithful fish-
ermen of Galilee, and God will use the weak
things of this world to confound the mighty.
Men, whose hearts are overflowing with the love
of Christ, in whatever walks of life they may
be found, will always make the most efficient
missionaries.
MISAPPREHENSION.
BY the September number of the Macedonian,
I perceive that some loose remarks of mine in a
former number, have had the misfortune to be
entirely misunderstood ; and that, too, by an old
friend, and once spiritual instructor. In the
article entitled ' The most Efficient Missiona-
ries,' there was certainly no intended disparage-
ment of talent and learning. But, as these
constitute a species of riches in little danger of
being undervalued at the present age, and fully
able to vindicate their own claim to honor and
preferment; while calling attention to matters
of higher importance, it seemed perfectly safe
to leave this point to its own natural guards.
The writer of ' Missionary Qualifications,' how-
ever, viewing the subject from a different side,
seems to regard the omission as a declaration of
mischievous sentiments ; and so has taken a
MISAPPREHENSION. 103
more antagonistic position probably than he is
aware of. His article appears based on the sup-
position (appears only, for he surely cannot mean
it), that Christianity is equally honored by all
who actually possess it ; or, in other words, that
there are no higher spiritual attainments, than
those which are ' indispensable to every Chris-
tian character.' ' In enumerating,' says he, ' the
qualifications of a man for manual labor, it is
needless to state that he has a hand.' True, but
is it not very important to know what that hand
may be in the way of muscular power and
general adaptedness to the proposed object?
' In speaking,' he continues, ' of the fitness of
one for mental labor, it is unnecessary to premise
that he has a mind. 1 Is it not a question of
some moment, however, what sort of mind he
has 1 ' And,' he concludes, ' in speaking of the
qualifications of a Christian missionary, it need
not be said he is a Christian. That is taken for
granted,' &c. And is that really enough ? After
the granted fact, that a Christian missionary is
a Christian, do his mental powers come next in
review ? So should not one of the most devoted
of modern missionaries even seem to teach. As
104 MISAPPREHENSION.
though there were no grades of spiritual life !
as though it were a matter of little or no
importance that they who stand nearest the .
Master, and enter most deeply into His counsels
should proclaim His will ; or as though the work
might be trusted with equal confidence to the
half-hearted disciple, who follows afar off, and
has his vision dimmed and his hearing dulled
by the thousand earthly shapes and sounds that
intervene !
After admitting the gospel messenger to the
matter-of-course community of ' love to God
and love to man,' what are ' the gifts and graces
peculiar to the ministry ? ' Surely not those
mental powers shared by the instructor, the
physician, and the lawyer. Oh, no ! Infinitely
beyond these are the higher gifts and graces of
the Spirit not peculiar indeed to any profes-
sion, because attainable by every child of God,
but preeminently the qualifications essential to
the minister and the missionary. Oh, it is not
true, it cannot be true, that the grand intellec-
tual ' lion ' is of more use in the vineyard of the
Lord, than the faithful ' dog,' watching his
Master's eye, and obeying the slightest indica-
MISAPPREHENSION. 105
tion of His will. True, the lion may be used
upon occasion, because the Hand th.at made has
power to tame him ; and so effectually may he
be tamed, as to stand forth a most beautiful and
symmetrical exhibition of the power of Divine
Grace. We have had such lions in our own
age, raised up for special purposes ; and in the
apostolic age, Paul was one ; and farther back,
passing by many others, stands Moses. But the
real power of these wonderful men (giving full
credit to their intellectual greatness) was not an
original inheritance, nor the superadded culture
and accomplishments incident to their position.
By faith, Moses wrought ; and by the inspiration
of God, Paul reasoned.
The allusion to the apostle James at Jerusa-
lem, starts quite another topic. Were the
question asked me, which stand most in need of
a high order of talent, severe mental discipline,
and varied attainments, the pastors of Boston,
New York, and Philadelphia, or the missionaries
of China, Burmah, and other eastern lands, I
should have no hesitation in saying, the latter,
by a hundred-fold. The one wields a limited,
however important influence in a polished com-
106 MISAPPREHENSION.
munity ; the other, under God, sways the des-
tinies of a nation. The one needs skill in using
the instruments furnished to his hand ; .the other
must have the science to investigate, and the
genius to create. England develops her strong-
est, her most powerful minds, in the rich soil of
the Orient ; and there, too, must the American
churches look for their great men men who,
in accordance with the Saviour's type of great-
ness, have become voluntary servants of their
brethren. This position might be proved by
argument and by illustration. It might be
shown how, in sending out different kinds of
material, the lead had become silver, and the
brass gold ; and how the gold had been refined
and polished till men were astonished at its
brightness ; but offering a premium to ambition
might prove a yet more dangerous experiment
than the deprecated ' premium to ignorance.'
So, since it seems necessary to define one's
position accurately, the < objections ' of the.
writer ' to ministerial education and missionary
qualifications,' stand something on this wise.
God has made it our duty to cultivate the minds
he has given us to the extent of their capacities,
MISAPPREHENSION. 107
so far as we have means and opportunity ; and
ignorance, at the present day, except under
peculiar and uncontrollable circumstances, is a
sin. Let our spiritual teachers, both at home
and abroad, be men of disciplined minds and
habits, endowed with intellectual graces and
manly accomplishments to the full ; but let them
know and feel that, after all, these are, in the
great work of the Lord, only secondary quali-
fications. The strong, throbbing pulse of spir-
itual life ; the meek, self-denying soul, attuned
to the harmonious breathings of the great Com-
forter ; the ' lips touched with a live coal from
the altar ' of God ; and the heart so Christ-like
in its great, wide-spreading love, as to thrill be-
neath every touch of human sympathy these
are the ' gifts and graces ' without which even
a Paul would labor in vain. These are things
not depending on human wisdom, and as far
above it as the Word of God is above all human
books ; and these, I repeat, in whatever walks of
life they may be found, will ever constitute the
most efficient missionary.
THE WAN REAPERS.
I CAME from a land where a beautiful light
Is slow creeping o'er hill-top and vale ;
Where broad is the field, and the harvest is
white,
But the reapers are haggard and pale.
All wasted and worn with their wearisome toil,
Still they pause not that brave little band ;
Though soon their low pillows must be the
strange soil
Of that distant and grave-dotted strand.
For dangers uncounted are clustering there,
The pestilence stalks uncontrolled ;
Strange poisons are borne on the soft, languid
air,
And lurk in each leafs fragrant fold.
There the rose never blooms on fair woman's
wan cheek,
THE WAN REAPERS. 109
But there 's beautiful light in her eye ;
And the smile that she wears is so loving and
meek,
None can doubt it comes down from the sky.
There the strong man is bowed in his youth's
golden prime,
But he cheerily sings at his toil,
For he thinks of his sheaves and the garnering
time
Of the glorious Lord of the soil.
And ever they turn that brave, wan, little
band
A long, wistful gaze on the West :
' Do they come do they come from that dear,
distant land,
That land of the lovely and blest ?
' Do they come do they come ? Oh, we 're
feeble and wan,
And we're passing like shadows away ;
But the harvest is white, and lo ! yonder the
dawn!
For laborers for laborers we pray ! '
THE HEATHEN BETTER THAN
CHRISTIANS.
1 IT is not to be denied, that people are worse in Chris-
tendom than in heathen lands. My own belief is, that there
is more evil of a soul-destroying character committed in
London in one year, than in Hindostan in ten years ; and
that London, Paris, and New York stand more in need of
missionaries than all heathendom.
' If they ' [Messrs. Judson and Parker] ' were to spend as
much time in some parts of Christendom, as they have spent
in heathen lands, I doubt not that they would agree with me,
that " Charity begins at home."
' Paul says, " For when the Gentiles, which have not the
law, do by nature the things contained in the law, those
having not the law, are a law unto themselves;" and
throughout the whole chapter where he thus speaks, clearly
shows that if the Gentiles do what is right according to this
law written upon their hearts, they will be accepted.' Cor-
respondent of the Columbian Magazine.
HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. Ill
THIS is certainly an age of wonderful dis-
coveries discoveries in ethics, as well as in
physics ; but it has been reserved for the ' Prince
of moralists' to make the most astounding
revelation of all to announce to a Christian
community, that Christianity is actually demor-
alizing. True, there have been open, every-day
practices in Hindostan, that would make the
vilest wretches who congregate in St. Giles or
at the Five Points, turn pale with horror ; but
then, the sin was not of ' a soul-destroying char-
acter,' for these happy heathen were ' a law unto
themselves,' until English law and Christian mis-
sionaries cast a blight upon their pristine purity,
and converted into crime such petty pastimes
as drowning an infant, burning a widow, or
training a whole caste to the pious trade of
assassinating the lonely traveller.
The sea-weary voyager, entering the Bay of
Bengal, will no doubt look upon the group of
beautiful islands, which sit upon the waters,
wrapped in their mantle of soft, purple light, as
an oriental Eden; and they are, indeed, not
only peculiarly oriental, but one of those Edens
where men are ' a law unto themselves.' If a
112 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS.
vessel be stranded on their coast, the affrighted
crew will commit themselves to the wildest
hurricane seaward, in preference to the tender
mercies of paradisiacal arrows and cooking-
pots. It has been confidently asserted that the
delicate stomachs of this primitive race of men,
turn in disgust from all inferior viands, to dine
with peculiar zest off a barbecued European ;
but as no man has ever returned to tell the tale
of his having been eaten, the gentle Andama-
ners are certainly entitled to the benefit of a
doubt. I think, however, that no missionary
will rashly covet the distinction of putting the
matter to the test ; and so philanthropists of a
certain school may have the pleasure of know-
ing that the vices of Christianity will probably
be slow in reaching the Andamans. Then there
are the Khonds what a charming people they
are, to be sure, with their primitive, unsophisti-
cated ways! And what a pity that narrow-
minded, meddling Christians should interfere
with such beautiful arrangements as penning up
bands of boys and girls, to be fattened and
scientifically sliced, that their yet palpitating
flesh and bubbling blood may manure the soil of
HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. 113
their native plains. What a pity that the mis-
sionaries, who are now feeding, clothing, and
instructing the five hundred and forty youths
rescued from a doom so exceedingly primeval
in its Cain-like simplicity, had not remained in
London, making money for their own children,
and training them up to imitate parental self-
ishness to believe that ' Charity begins at
home,' and ends there ! And what a pity that
any lady, occupying the social position of the
two who serve to point the moral of our author's
tale a lady who, as everybody knows, can
find abundance of time to dress, shop, visit,
embroider pretty ottomans, read pleasing stories,
and do whatever else fancy may dictate what
a pity that she, with her half dozen children,
actually revelling in the rich blessings of a
Christian home, should occasionally spare an
hour to a missionary magazine, and a dollar
to the mission treasury, in behalf of the or-
phaned, the desolate, and degraded of another
land!
Absurd as the broad assertion of our moralist
may appear to those who have been favored with
a wider field of observation, it is only the carica-
8
114 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. '
ture of a sentiment in which a certain class of
philanthropists seem to take especial delight.
In proof of this, one need but glance at the
pretty pictures of American savages and dark-
eyed orientals, which figure so largely in po-
etry and romance ; and which are about as
true to the original, as would be a mortal's map
of fairy-land. And if the missionary's daring
pencil venture upon a few of the black shadows,
which in truth constitute nine tenths of the real
landscape, why, he is a poor, plodding sort of
a creature, incapable of appreciating anything
estimable beyond the pale of his own church,
and quite ignorant of the world, of course.
True, he may have travelled the earth over, and
been conversant with men of every nation and
every grade, but it is all the same. His views
are so shockingly literal, he is such an utter
stranger to the rosy, refracting atmosphere sur-
rounding men of taste, that it is evident even to
persons whose observations of . human nature
have been necessarily bounded by the magic
limits of ' our set, 7 and whose travels have
never extended beyond the streets of their na-
tive town, that he does not know the world!
HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. 115
But then he is to be respected in a certain way ;
for though he has spent the prime of his days
in beating his head against a wall for the good
of all mankind, he meant well, poor fellow !
and, without entering too deeply into the deli-
cate subject of intellect, it may be boldly as-
serted, that his sympathies are limited only by
his ignorance and prejudice.
Well, the big heart is some compensation for
the shallow brain ; and so I will venture to as-
sure certain young persons, who read the Mace-
donian as a duty, and some other things as a
pleasure, that there is no more ridiculous cant
cant is by no means peculiar to religion in
the wide world, than the pretty popular trash
about unsophisticated nature. A poet was once
disenchanted by seeing a ' great fat Circassian
girl,' sitting on ' one of her heels,' ' devouring a
pie ; ' and I dare say, the ' saucer-eyed ' beauty
had never performed a more intellectual, or
indeed a more sentimental act in her life. I
could certainly produce, from among my Bur-
mese neighbors, a better subject for genius to
waste itself upon, than the feather-girdled
nymph of the woods, that a year or two since
116 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS.
figured in a fashionable magazine, in the atti-
tude of triumphing over a pair of sheepish look-
ing missionaries ; but excuse me from vouching
for the capabilities of my protegee beyond the
rice and curry line, save on great occasions,
when her intellect might actually soar to the
height of silks, face-powder not soap neck-
laces, and bangles. A sensible Burmese woman
one of our victims told me, not long since,
that previously to being taught by the mis-
sionaries, she knew as little of Boodhism as
of Christianity. She supposed Gaudama was
some old priest living somewhere on the hill,
and thought it fine fun to turn out, with her
young companions on worship days, to make
offerings, and prostrate herself, in all her finery,
before a pagoda ; but for what purpose she
went, it never once occurred to her to inquire.
She had not the most distant conception of a
future state, and could not recollect that she
had ever once thought of death in connection
with herself. In short, this woman, who is now
as familiar with the Word of God as any Sun-
day scholar in America, was, at the age of
twenty, but one remove above the brutes, ' a
HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. 117
mere brute,' she styles herself; and she adds,
that she does not think herself at all inferior to
uneducated Burmese girls in general. But she
was very pure and lovely, in her charming igno-
rance, was she not ? a sort of dew-gem in the
wilderness? I do not know much about her
girlhood, but of one thing I am quite certain,
that the less said about it the better ; for virtue
is not forced upon Burmese women, as on those
of some other eastern nations, by means of
locks and bars, and mutilated guards. Since
her marriage, it must be owned she has been
quite a model woman, for this part of the world,
having been found guilty of unfaithfulness in
that relation but once ; and then being able to
prove, in self-defence, that she was under the
influence of arrack the Burmese substitute for
gin. Do I write with such plainness as to shock
the sensibilities of my readers ? I do it unwil-
lingly ; and I assure them that I have dared to
lift only the tiniest corner of the veil. But the
wants and woes of the heathen must be more
fully understood, before their condition can be
materially improved. My happy, lovely sisters
across the waters must know for whom they
118 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS.
pray, and in whose behalf they make those sacri-
fices of personal elegancies, which will brighten
their crowns in heaven. Not for some witching,
fairy-like creature, who is robbed of half her
charms by becoming a tame, simple-minded dis-
ciple of Christ; but for a degraded being, whose
ignorance is surpassed only by her depravity,
and whose personal habits would almost qualify
her to furnish certain theorizing naturalists with
the long desired link between man and his chat-
tering caricature of the jungle.
' A law unto themselves,' argues our moralist,
quoting the words of the first missionary, who
left his own needy countrymen for the heathen ;
a rare auxiliary, by the way, in the good cause
of showing up missionaries ! ' A law unto them-
selves,' and, secure in the strength of his sup-
posed ally, he unhesitatingly seats himself in the
commentator's chair. ' Throughout the whole
chapter,' verses twelfth and sixteenth, for in-
stance! 'clearly shows, that if the Gentiles,'
ah ! but that little if! it has ruined many a
magnificent theory. Verily, expertness at con-
cocting moral tales is not the best preparation
in the world for a theologian. Another man,
UEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. 119
now, would have supposed that Paul's argu-
ments ' clearly show ' quite a different thing, or
would, at least, have allowed him to be his
own expositor. In the next chapter, the Gentile
apostle, like the skilful reasoner that he was,
gathers up his arguments in one hand, and
while preparing to reach forth 'the law of faith'
with the other, declares, ' We have before prov-
ed, both Jews and Gentiles, that they are all
under sin.' ALL under sin ! Ah, this is the
unwelcome truth wrapped up in that mischiev-
ous, stubborn little IF, which would maintain its
ground, though tolerably well disguised by false
logic. So the Gentiles do not keep the 'law
written on their hearts,' and they do need a
gospel, after all. What ! all of them ? Cannot
a single individual be found, who never violates
the law of conscience ? There are wonderful
stories told of Socrates, so wonderful, indeed,
that many have believed his philosophy based
on the revelation originally made to the He-
brews ; while others are disposed to look with
incredulity on perfections so enveloped in the
haze of antiquity. Be that as it may, when a
modern missionary finds the unique specimen
120 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS.
of a Gentile, who ' does right, according to the
law written on his heart,' the public will most
certainly be made acquainted with the circum-
stance ; for, indeed, such a miracle of a man
would be a fortune to Mr. Barnum.
In sad and sober truth, the human being does
not exist, who never transgresses both his own
sense of right and the law of God. Every child
of Adam has inherited a deadly poison, and he
cherishes it because he loves it delights in it
gloats over it. He knows, to a greater or less
extent, that it is a vile thing, but he hugs it
none the less closely for that; replying to all
remonstrances, with the unanswerable argument
of the New Zealand cannibal, when the mis-
sionary endeavored to dissuade him from eating
human flesh, ' Oh, but it is so sweet ! ' An
antidote to this fearful poison has been pro-
vided ; it is within the reach of every soul in
Christendom, and if he will not accept it, ' His
blood be upon his own head,' not on that of
the missionary who goes to the helpless, hope-
less heathen. If a stubborn sick man refuse
the draught that would restore him to health,
shall all the doctors congregate about his bed,
HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS. 121
and leave a whole town to perish, for lack of
the same specific ? Oh, no, no ; let bright,
beautiful New York, sin-tarnished though she
certainly is, pour forth her missionaries in
crowds, and let all her fair sisters of the New
World join in the noble enterprise. They will
find that ' giving doth not impoverish ; ' but
that he, who goes from among them in the
faith of Christ, will leave a spirit behind him,
which his personal presence could never have
inspired. Let the daughter of luxury, in her
home of refinement and purity, pause, and give
a single moment to serious reflection. It would
certainly be sweet to live there, and tread her
rosy path daintily ; but it would be glorious
oh, so glorious ! to die, for die she must even
in her own bright home of love and beauty,
with the prayers and blessings of those she has
rescued from the lowest depths of degradation,
to precede her up to the throne of God. Let
the young man, as he turns his back upon his
alma mater, and contemplates taking his stand,
in a world of action, remember that he chooses
not merely for time, but for eternity ; and that
results of incalculable magnitude are hanging
122 HEATHEN BETTER THAN CHRISTIANS.
on his decision. Let him remember that heaven
sent forth the first Missionary the Son of
God and he will not hesitate to think deeply,
and pray fervently, over a profession which had
such a glorious Founder. To what higher honor
can a poor mortal aspire, than to be thus di-
rectly a co-worker with the Prince of glory?
And is it not ennobling to the soul to be en-
gaged, with a certainty of ultimate success, in
the elevation of mighty nations? Is it not a
sublime deed to reach forth the hand to a fallen
spirit, and lift it to its place among the stars ?
Oh, the missionary enterprise ! Its grandeur, its
glory, is not yet half appreciated, even by its
most enthusiastic advocates; for it is a theme
that will tax the expanded intellects of the re-
deemed throughout the never-ending ages of
eternity.
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
' Do you think it will do for to carry a
silk umbrella in America?'
'Do! why?'
The sweet blue eyes, which had been lifted
to mine in asking the first question, assumed
a grave earnestness, as my gentle friend con-
tinued, ' I mean, will people make unpleasant
remarks about it? Won't they think it not
quite the thing for missionaries ? '
I glanced at the poor, ricketty, carefully
mended article in question, and answered truly,
that I did not think it would be likely to create
a very powerful sensation in America.
' Ah,' said my questioner, laughing, ' I see
you don't understand these things. Now I
would give a dozen umbrellas like this, for one
good cotton one of course I would. And yet
124 MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
I have known missionaries to be censured for
quite as innocent pieces of extravagance, (or
economy,) as using this poor specimen of my
handiwork, that you seem so inclined to ridi-
cule.'
' And what if they are censured ?'
fc You remember what Paul says, "If meat
cause my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh
while the world standeth." '
'Ah, but ' I spare the reader an expo-
sition of Scripture, which might not tend to
edification, and which was interrupted by the
entrance of a third person.
' I am 50 glad you have come,' said my blue-
eyed friend. ' Now don't you think this nice
silk umbrella see how carefully I have mend-
ed it is quite as good as Mrs. 's gold
watch ? '
The two ladies laughed a short, curious,
apologetic sort of a laugh, which had more of
regret and pain, than mirth in it, but which
served as an introduction to the story of the
gold watch.
Mr. had been many years married, and
had lived in tolerably easy circumstances, when
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN. 125
he was converted, and received an appointment
as a missionary to the heathen. Perhaps he
thought Paul's prohibition of gold did not ex-
tend to anything so useful as a watch, or
possibly he might have fancied that it had a
strictly feminine application, or (what is most
probable) he thought nothing at all about it ;
but certain it is that he carried his gold watch,
now somewhat advanced in years, across the
waters with him. In taking possession of the
premises of a brother missionary about return-
ing to America, the watch, as a matter of mutual
accommodation, was exchanged for a clock, and
so found its way again to its native shores.
And now I must frankly acknowledge that my
memory is at fault, as to precisely where the
watch was lost, a circumstance which on the
whole I do not regret, as it preserves me from
a feeling of being on the road to personalities
in making this little record. But the watch
was lost by the missionary's wife, on her way
to a female missionary meeting ; and one of the
ladies of the meeting kindly went in search of
it. Being unsuccessful, she procured through a
friend an advertisement to be inserted in a
126 MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
newspaper. And so it became known to the
world, or to a certain portion of it, that 'a
missionary' had lost a 'valuable gold watch.'
And then my two friends, with a profusion of
sorrowful smiles and sympathetic blushes, called
on me to imagine the excitement in that little
community ! how every man, woman and child,
not the actual proprietor of a gold watch (and
some that were) declared that if it had come to
this, if missionaries could afford such extrava-
gances, they might get their money for the
heathen as they could ; they would never con-
tribute a cent not they, indeed !
' And how did it all end ? ' I inquired.
'Oh, it didn't end such things never do.
They go on increasing and doing mischief to
the end of the chapter.'
' So you see,' said Blue-eyes, ' we cannot be
too careful.'
' I see.' My answer was mechanical ; for
my thoughts were not there. They were busy
recalling the image of a poor woman I once
knew, who, while bearing the burden and heat
of the day in the support of her family, was
obliged to take especial care, lest, by some word
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN. 127
or look, she should displease her husband ; and
BO deprive herself of the occasional assistance
he condescended to render. I, however, saw
in a moment the infelicity of my comparison,
for this man was a drunkard, not a professed
child of God.
' We cannot be too careful,' repeated my
gentle friend.
' Oh no.' I did not well know what to say,
and I did not dare trust myself to look at her.
Here was a tender young mother, bearing a
heavier sorrow than those of my readers who
have only laid their children beneath the sod
know anything of; and in the midst of it all,
troubling her meek thoughts about an old
umbrella, lest she might inadvertently displease
the men and women, who never in their lives
made a real sacrifice for Christ. Not that she
cared to please for her own sake the very
flush on her cheek told that but from love to
her Master she could submit to anything. And
then rny thoughts wandered off to snug, cozy
homes, where dutiful children might gather,
and even the troubles were of a comfortable,
easy sort of character, rendering life more
128 MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
agreeable by occasional up-hill passages. And
I saw in my musing (I could not help it) some
of the occupants of these enviable homes, carp-
ing at the length of Peter's beard, or the fashion
of John's mantle, while the Saviour of the
world walked in all his majesty, unwelcomed,
and scarcely recognised.
' It won't do ! ' at length I broke forth, more
peremptorily than I had intended.
' You think it won't,' was the answer in a
tone so resigned as to be positively touching.
' Oh, the old umbrella! I didn't mean that.
It won't do for poor missionaries to trammel
themselves with all these knotty consciences.
You know " John came neither eating nor
drinking, and they said he had a devil ; the
Son of Man came eating and drinking, and
they said, Behold a gluttonous man, a wine-
bibber," &c. I fancy the old generation is not
quite extinct.'
' Oh, those were the unbelieving Jews
these are Christians.'
1 You think so well ! ' For a few days my
thoughts were busy with those Christians, who
'bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne'
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN. 129
upon the shoulders of their brethren, and ' will
not themselves so much as touch the burdens
with one of their fingers.' But gradually the
subject occupied less space in my mind, and
finally came to be regarded as one of those
phantoms which occasionally visit us during our
daylight musings, as well as sleeping dreams.
This state of confidence, however, was destined
to be disturbed.
' And what do you think of my dress ? ' asked
a returned missionary, at the close of a conver-
sation in which she had been detailing certain
plans of self-devotement to a friend. ' Pray do
not look so surprised at my question, or I shall
be quite ashamed. You must be aware that
such things have more weight than they ought ;
and I should not wish my influence injured by
anything so trivial.'
' You need not fear that ; yours is just that
happy style of dress which nobody ever sees.
Now I take a second look, it is of fine material,
but there is nothing showy about it ; and as to
fashion, it is neither quite new, nor so old as
to attract attention by its oddity. A very fair
9
130 MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
specimen of the wearer's good sense and good
taste both, it strikes me.'
'Indeed the wearer deserves no such com-
pliment. I was quite shivering in New York,
when Mrs. was so very kind as to present
me with her last year's bonnet and mantle.
They are, of course, nicer than I should have
bought, but they are very comfortable ; and I
did not feel at liberty to refuse the gift, unless,
indeed, I should do harm by wearing it. I
should rather go back to my thin old shawl and
straw bonnet, than have my nice, comfortable
clothing stand in the way of my doing good.'
'I do not doubt that; but you need have no
fears.'
Unfortunately this well-meaning friend was
mistaken. The missionary went from place to
place, pressing her cause, with an eloquent ear-
nestness, which belongs to the deep, unselfish
heart of a truly devoted woman ; and while
many listened prayerfully and contributed libe-
rally, others (not mockers, not giddy women of
the world, not declared enemies of the cause of
missions) sat taking an inventory of her dress,
estimating how many yards of cloth were in
MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN. 131
her mantle, and, in the course of their exami-
nations, arriving at the astounding conclusion,
that it was composed of as fine possibly finer
material than their own.
Out upon the woman ! Did she presume to
come, in all her finery, begging of them ! They
always had a good many doubts about this
missionary business, but this this was a little
too much ! And so these people kept back the
accustomed sixpence very likely to increase
the fineness of their own mantles another win-
ter. Perhaps not, though. Perhaps they would
not wear a fine mantle, if it were given them.
Perhaps they are very exact (as they ought to
be) about the tithe of mint, anise and cummin ;
dressing in chintz, and eschewing ribands, alto-
gether. And so they save their money for
what ? To ' pull down their barns and build
greater?' To add that long coveted lot to the
farm ? To provide for the possible wants of
children, who have strong hands and able
heads ?
I will not ask for what; no matter what, if
they ' neglect the weightier matters of the law.'
Now I am no defender of gold watches, or
132 MINT, ANISE AND CUMMIN.
silk umbrellas. I have no desire to varnish
over the faults or follies of any missionary ;
but wo to that man who shall make the delin-
quencies of his brother-servant an excuse for
disobeying the Master ! Wo to that disciple of
the Lord Jesus Christ, who, under any pretext
whatever, refuses to obey the last command of
his risen Redeemer, to the very best of his
ability! If he cannot himself 'go,' he must pro-
cure a substitute, or assist in procuring one, at
his peril. Assist, not meanly and parsimoni-
ously, serving God, as somebody has it, by six-
pences, but with a noble generosity, worthy
of his character as a Christian, worthy of the
wondrous commission with which he has been
honored, worthy of the glorious cause of his
all-glorious King.
THE MISSIONARY.
ONE blossom in his path uncloses,
His prayers its sun, his tears its rain,
A flower Eve found not with the roses
Of her bright silver-fringed domain.
One joy beneath his foot upsprings,
Extracted from the serpent's stings :
As the soiled wing, enchained to earth,
Its thraldom bursts, and soaring, flies,
So wakes the soul to its new birth,
And bounds, exulting, to the skies.
To loose the prisoned flutterer's wing,
Touch the degraded spirit's spring,
To give a songster to the sky,
A voice to swell the choir on high,
Oh, if there be for man a bliss,
Above what angels feel, 't is this !
BODAU-PARAH.
PERSONS in the least familiar with Burmese
history must have heard of the already half-
fabulous feats of that mighty conqueror and
deliverer, the justly famed Alompra.* They
will have heard of his bold and successful ven-
ture to obtain freedom from Peguan bondage ;
of his bravery in battle, of his wisdom in coun-
cil, and how, through him, the proud Burmans
took for a time their former rank among the
great nations of the East. The Burmans de-
termined utterly to crush the nation that had
dared to make them slaves; and accordingly,
the whole Peguan dynasty, every person sus-
pected of having a drop of royal blood in his
* English corruption of Aloung-parah, a name given after
death, in allusion to the body's having lain in regal state in
the Martaban valley.
BODAU-PARAH. 135
veins, embracing the flower of the nobility,
suffered death by starvation, by strangling, or
by the more honored medium of the river and
the crimson sack. The imperial crown, of
course, fell upon the brow of the nation's de-
liverer ; and, half-deified as he was, his laws
must needs be sacred for centuries to come.
Among other regulations, of more or less wis-
dom and importance, he established a new
order of succession to the throne. Being the
eldest of several brothers, he ordained that his
crown should descend through each of the
surviving brothers successively to his own
eldest son ; and then again through a family of
brothers, back to the eldest son of the eldest.
Alompra no doubt intended to make a wise
and politic arrangement, which should insure
to the throne men of mature judgment, and
prevent the horrors of a regency in such a
country. But his plan was a total failure.
Through the agency of ambitious brothers, and
elder sons impatient of delay, it has occasioned
so much bloodshed and confusion, that it may
justly be considered one of the principal causes
BODAU-PARAH.
of the rapid deterioration so evident in the
national character of the Burmese.
The youngest son of Alompra survived not
only his uncles and brothers, but his own chil-
dren, leaving the throne to a favorite grandson.
For this cause he is always spoken of as Bodau-
parah, or the royal grandfather. This man
possessed, with a thoughtful, and somewhat
philosophic turn of mind, great strength of will,
pride, sternness, and a lofty self-reliance, which
his ruggedness and force of character redeemed
from the ridiculous vanity of his successor of
' golden fetter ' memory, and even elevated into
something like sublimity. His name is now
most reverently cherished throughout Burmah,
as the embodiment of all that is daring and
noble ; and the taint of religious heresy, which
at one time threatened the ruin of his character,
is resolutely denied or forgotten. If a stranger
should wish to awaken a glow of patriotism in
a Burman, that would beautify his plain but in-
tellectual face, (taking care that he be not of
Peguan origin,) he has only to call up some
grateful reminiscence of Bodau-parah.
The following incident relative to an attempt
BODAU-PARAH. 137
on the part of the English, to establish a com-
mercial treaty between the two countries during
the reign of Bodau, was related to me by my
fine-spirited old teacher, a pure Burman, who
had worn the yellow robe at Ava, and who,
although an exile for his religion, still kept a
feeling of loyalty at his heart, fed by all the
proud fire of his race.
THE KING AND THE ENVOY.
Proud the monarch in his palace,
In his golden palace sat,
Girt as with the borealis,
Sandalled foot on jewelled mat.
Slaves to him and his opinions,
Swart old courtiers round him knelt ;
And throughout his broad dominions,
Even his slightest nod was felt.
Now there bowed a courtly stranger,
Fair of face and smooth of speech ;
'If oh, glorious king, if danger
To the golden foot should reach,
Owns thy brother power unbounded ;
On the winds his tall ships fly ;
Where his thunders have resounded,
Foes like jungle-blossoms lie.
138 BODAU-PARAH.
Then the old king slowly baring
One dark, brawny, sinewy arm ;
As a gladiator daring
Man and beast to work him arm ;
Stretched it to the wondering Briton,
Stretched it with a scornful laugh,
' Kyee-san, nen* should foes dare threaten,
Burmah needs no foreign staff! '
Wild eyes gleamed, proud words were uttered,
Bearded lips with smiles were gay ;
Low the baffled stranger muttered,
As he turned and strode away :
Like the gull, her white wings spreading,
Seaward wheeled his barque once more ;
Eestless feet her fair decks treading,
Dark eyes laughing from the shore.
But there is another anecdote of Bodau-
parah, which, though no less truthful or inter-
esting than the above, it is a scandal to repeat
in Burmah.
For a period of more than two thousand years
Boodhism had prevailed uninterrupedly. Intro-
duced right royally, and through a royal medium
* Look [at this] you !
BODAU-PARAII. 139
from India, the work of propagation among the
common people had been followed up by mis-
sionaries from Ceylon, till probably no national
religion under the sun ever so claimed the
undivided affections and convictions of an
entire nation. Supported on the one hand by
the absolute authority of an uncompromising
monarchy, and on the other by the powerful
influence of a priesthood, whose roots extended
into every family of respectability, drawing no
stinted nourishment from family pride ; a struc-
ture really admirable in itself, still stood forth
without a fracture, and with only a slight
mantling of moss and mildew to mar its
beauty. While this comparatively pure and
elevated faith had been supplanted in its origi-
nal dominions by the disgusting doctrines and
horrible practices of the Brahminists, while in
China it held a divided sovereignty, in Thibet
had become so changed in character as to be
scarcely recognisable, and even in its old Cing-
halese home had deteriorated almost to a level
with surrounding idolatries, in Burmah it had
only swerved a little from its original simplicity,
and gathered a few premonitory stains. True,
140 BODAU-PARAH.
the priests did not obey, in spirit, the command
of Gaudama, to go clothed in rags, but their
rich silken robes were sewed together from such
nominal fragments as would bring them within
the letter of the law ; and though they adhered
to the original rule of owning no property, and
striving for no political power, they ruled with
absolute sway over commoners and nobility,
and rich communities of leprous beggars were
their obsequious bankers. In one thing they
had gone counter to the commands of Gau-
dama. They had been forbidden to inhabit
monasteries within the limits of the town, an
injunction which had been from time imme-
morial practically forgotten. But the worst
blot upon the Boodhistic religion, the most
destructive of its purity, and the most degrad-
ing in its influence on the character of the
people was not, or spirit-worship. Little altars
to both good and evil spirits were often erected
at the very doors of the Kyoungs ; and the
younger priests not infrequently shared their
quota of rice with these invisible visitors, while
the older ones winked at the folly. To a still
BODAU-PARAH. 141
more alarming extent was this demoralizing
practice carried on among the people.
The great distinctive feature of Boodhism is
its proclaiming one god, who alone (through
images of himself, pagodas erected over his
relics, and the priests who devote themselves
to his honor) is the suitable object of worship.
A belief in a plurality of gods always has the
effect of degrading a people a truth trite
enough in our ears, but one which the thought-
ful Bodau-parah had occupied years in arriving
at. In fact, the stern king had had too long a
term of peace for the good of old institutions ;
and during this term of peace, he had thought,
and observed, and delved in old Pali books, till
he became more learned in both the philosophy
and mythology of Boodhism, than even the
priests themselves. He had compared and
pondered, till his shrewd mind had arrived
at many startling conclusions ; and, bold man
as he was, he expressed his opinions so freely,
that his most politic nobles trembled for what
they well tfnew to be the glory of the nation ;
his more reckless courtiers grew openly and
gayly irreligious; while troubled priests, in the
142 BODAU-PARAH.
recesses of their monasteries, laid a finger on
their lips significantly, and sighed, rather than
whispered, 'ptiramat.'* In the meantime the
governors of different provinces seemed aware
that the most effectual mode of courting royal
favor was to hold the reins of religious intoler-
ance slackly ; and latitudinous opinions, and
freedom of inquiry spread throughout the em-
pire with wonderful rapidity. In this newly
opened nursery of thought, sprang up innu-
merable sects, or schools of philosophy. There
were men who denied the existence of matter ;
men who insisted that matter was only a de-
velopment of mind ; and those who maintained,
with innumerable shades of difference, directly
the reverse of this proposition. There were
deists of a dozen different schools; and tran-
scendentalists, who ventured farther into the
realms of mysticism, than the more practical
occidental mind would dare, or has the spiritual
capacity to go. Among these free-thinking phi-
losophers was a noble old patriarch living at
Pro me, who, according to all accounts, must
have been a modern Socrates, and who, in the
* Infidel.
BODAU-PARAH. 143
reign of the Grandson, became a still closer imi-
tator of the ancient sage, by sacrificing his life
to his faith. Another was Moung Shwayngong,
a man of commanding personal presence, and
exalted character, who, with several of his dis-
ciples, afterwards embraced Christianity, and
contributed to give a cast of uncommon intellec-
tuality to the first Christian Church in Burmah.
One of his followers, (probably the only survivor)
an old lady now living in Maulmain, invariably
attracts the attention of strangers, by her singu-
lar refinement and elegance of manner, her
general intelligence, and her genuine Christian
graces. And yet she is said to have been, at
the time of her conversion, far from a brilliant
specimen of the intellectual coterie to which
she belonged.
At length Bodau-parah, having very uninten-
tionally thrown open the flood-gates of thought
throughout his realm, took the alarm. He never
had the least intention of allowing such latitude
of opinion to common minds ; and he devoted
himself with characteristic energy to finding a
remedy. There were men of almost all nations
assembled at Ava, 'and he resolved to have,
144 BODAU-PARAH.
through their aid, an examination of the differ-
ent religions, in order that Burmah might adopt
the wisest code. Royal councillors and aristo-
cratic priests trembled ; but they dared not
manifest their uneasiness by a murmur. The
haughty king asked no adviser, and he constitu-
ted himself sole judge. The day was appointed ;
the various representatives came together ; the
royal secretaries sat down with their black
books spread before them ; and the king con-
ducted the examination in person, and some-
times, in his earnestness, without the formality
of an interpreter. There was the wily Brahmin,
telling on his rosary the names of his multitude
of uncouth divinities ; the exiled Parsee, with
his finely cut features, and deep, melancholy
eyes, in which slumbered a fire as fervid as that
he worshipped; the bearded Moslem, who hid
the Son of God behind the shadow of his
mighty human Prophet ; and the Armenian and
Romanist, who also hid from the poor heathen
king, the Saviour of the world, but, for the
conquering Prophet, substituted a woman.
And were these all? Were Armenian mer-
chants and Portuguese Padres the only repre-
BODAU-PARAH. 145
sentatives of the Christian religion in Burmah ?
Oh, ' how unsearchable are His judgments, and
His ways past finding out?' Not far from the
mouth of that same Irrawaddy, whose crystal
tide swept down the white sands of the golden
city, sat the first American missionary, pointing
dumbly to the different objects in his room, and
writing down their names as indicated in the
strange accents of the teacher by his side.
And while, with his heroic wife, his longing
heart often turned toward the place, where,
years afterward, one received ' in his body the
marks of the Lord Jesus' to wear till death,
and the other gathered up the seeds of martyr-
dom ; it was well for their peace, for their faith,
perhaps, that they could not divine the scene
passing there at that moment. It would have
appeared to them a golden opportunity lost
forever.
But there was one man at Ava calling him-
self a Protestant. A large framed man, with
coarse, strongly marked features, and ruddy
complexion, though wearing the Burman dress,
answered to an English name. It was reported
that for some crime, which rumor variously
10
146 BODAU-PARAH.
represented, though she never wiped it from
blood-guiltiness, this man had escaped from
the English navy, and taken shelter under a
heathen government, adopting with the dress,
the manners, customs, and, as far as in his
power, the character of the people. He had not
troubled himself about religion, and in a time
of such general laxness of opinion, he had not
of course been troubled. This man, with
probably some effort to recall his mothers
teachings, and now and then prompted by the
Spanish merchant at his side to whom we an;
indebted for the story, at last succeeded in re-
peating the ten commandments ! And that
was all. The representatives of the different
religions left the royal presence ; and not the
faintest whisper of the gospel of Christ had
fallen on the ear of the inquiring monarch.
The king hastily retired to the inner palace
alone ; while ministers of state, and gallant
court favorites, gathered here and there in little
knots, to discuss the wonders of the day. Sub-
tle metaphysicians enlarged upon the spiritual
doctrines of the Parsee; gay, showy young men
compared sneeringly the pomp of any Moorman
BODAU-PARAH. 147
festival, with the gorgeous splendors of a Bood-
histic cremation of priests ; the court wit per-
petrated an epigram on woman-worship ; while
sober politicians attempted to weigh the effect
of the whole proceeding upon the prosperity of
the country. It was evident to all that the mon-
arch was disappointed, chagrined ; but none but
the Almighty saw, or could guess, the workings
of his dark, though powerful mind. At length,
after three days, he came forth in great state,
and proclaimed the Boodhistic faith to be the
most elevated, the purest in the world, and the
only one worthy the attention of Burmans.
The shouts that rose beyond the magic circle
of the king's personal attendants were almost
deafening; and scarcely a voice in the golden
city but joined in the general cry, ascribing half
the attributes of Deity to the mighty son of
Alompra. But soon the cry died away in con-
sternation ; for the king had yet other commu-
nications to make, and edicts to issue. As
Boodhism was a pure religion, he determined
it should be observed in its purity. All the not
tables were ordered to be torn down; and niti
offerings and nat worship forbidden, on penalty of
148 BODAU-PARAH.
imprisonment and final death. Kyoungs erected
within the limits of the town were dismantled;
and the priests stripped of their rich robes, and
driven back to the wilderness. Then ensued a
scene of confusion. Many priests, especially
those of high family, resisted, and were thrown
into prison. Many concealed their sacred gar-
ments under the plaided cloth of a layman,
wound a turban around their shaven crowns,
and fled to Prome, to Rangoon, and even across
a section of the bay to Martaban, Kyaikamee,
or Bike, being everywhere protected by the
trembling, sympathizing people. One of these
fugitives actually obtained a shelter for the
night, and a protection for his effects, in the
house of the American missionary at Rangoon ;
who heard of the persecution only as the cruel
and causeless act of a despotic monarch, and
never dreamed that it could be the work of a
mind apparently ripe for the reception of the
gospel.
Gradually the king relaxed in the energy of
his measures, and affairs began very slowly to
resume their former position. But before much
had been accomplished, he died, and left the
BODAU-PARAH. 149
throne to his grandson ; who promptly restored
the old order of things, with no scruples respect-
ing undue pomp and glitter. And the result,
under him and his successors, is well known to
the Christian world.
' Oh, if you could only, only have been there !'
was the exclamation of the listener to this tale.
4 Even a few words might have been sufficient.'
The narrator answered with a quiet, but ex-
pressive smile.
' If you could only have known ! '
' I felt as you do when Lanciego first told me
the circumstance, when we were chained to-
gether in the death prison at Ava; but God
cares for the interests of his kingdom far better
than the wisest and best of us know how to
care. The religion of our Saviour, propagated
by despotism, would be a curse, and not a
blessing to a nation. And even the favoring
smile of royalty is a thing I have long since
ceased to pray for. All we want of any govern-
ment is bare toleration that is, to be let alone.
It is contrary to the very spirit of Christianity
to begin with those in power, and work down-
ward ; and when it does so begin, the vital
150 BODAU-PARAH.
spark is sure to escape in the process. Christ,
our pattern, began low. He did not turn away
from Nicodemus, or the Roman centurion, or
the nobleman ; but he made no special effort for
the benefit of those classes, with the view of
gaining, through them, greater influence over
the lower orders. Missionaries, if they would
be successful, must have more faith in God ;
and work in his own appointed way, preaching
the gospel to the poor. It is painful to think of
the pitiable old king, groping so earnestly, in
his darkness ; but the Saviour has the good of
Burmah infinitely nearer his heart than we have,
and He was watching when my poor " eyes
were holden." I thank Him for His care ; and I
stand ready to do His work, however lowly, and
wait His time, however long.'
DEATH OF BOARDMAN.
PALE with sickness, weak and worn,
Is the Christian hero borne,
Over hill, and brook, and fen,
By his band of swart, wild men,
Dainty odors floating back,
From their blossom-crushing track.
Through the jungle vast and dim,
Swells out Nature's matin hymn :
Bulbuls 'mid the berries red,
Showers of mellow music shed ;
Thrushes 'neath their crimson hoods,
Chant their loves along the woods :
And the heron, as he springs
Up, with startled rush of wings,
152 DEATH OF BOARDMAN.
Joins the gorgeous peacock's scream ;
While the gushing of the stream
Gives sweet cadence to the hymn,
Swelling through the jungle dim.
So they bear him on his way,
Till the sunless sky is gray ;
Then within some lone zayat,
Gentle fingers spread the mat ;
And a watcher, sad and wan,
Bends above him till the dawn.
Up and on ! The tangled brake
Hides the deadly water-snake ;
And the tiger, from his lair
Half up-springing, snuffs the air,
Doubtful gazing where they pass,
Trailing through the long wet grass.
Day has faded, rosy dawn
Blushed again o'er wood and lawn ;
Day has deepened, level beams
Light the brook in changeful gleams,
Breaking in a golden flood,
Kound strange groupings in the wood.
DEATH OF BOARDMAN. 153
There, where mountains wild and high,
Range their peaks along the sky,
Lo ! they pause. A crimson glow
Burns upon that cheek of snow ;
And within the eyes' soft blue
Quiver tears like drops of dew.
Upward, from the wooded dell,
High the joyous greetings swell,
Peal on peal ; then, circling round,
Turbaned heads salute the ground,
While upon the dewy air
Floats a faint, soft voice in prayer.
With the fever on his cheek,
Breathing forth his teachings meek,
Long the gospel-bearer lies,
Till the stars have climbed the skies,
And the young moon's slender rim
Hides behind the mountain grim.
'Twas for this sweet boon he came,
Crushing back Death's eager claim ;
Yet a few more lambs to fold,
Ere he mingles with the mould,
154 DEATH OF BOARDMAN.
Lambs with torn and crimsoned fleece,
Wildered in this wilderness.
Once again the golden day
Drops her veil of silver gray ;
And that dark-eyed mountain band
Print with bare, brown feet the sand,
Or the crystal wave turn back,
Rippling from their watery track.
Meekly down the river's bed,
Sire and son alike are led,
Parting the baptismal flood,
As of old in Judah's wood ;
While throughout the sylvan glen
Rings the stern, deep-voiced Amen.
With the love-light in his eyes,
Mute the dying teacher lies.
It is finished. Bear him back !
Haste along the jungle track!
See the lid uplifting now,
See the glory on his brow.
It is finished. Wood and glen
Sigh their mournful, meek Amen.
DEATH OF BOARDMAN. 155
'Mid that circle, sorrow-span ned,
Clasping close an icy hand,
Lo ! the midnight watcher wan,
Waiting yet another dawn.
WAYSIDE PREACHING.
THE sunlight fell aslant upon the fragile
frame-work of a Burman zayat; but though it
was some hours past mid-day, the burning rays
were not yet level enough to look too intru-
sively beneath the low, projecting eaves. Yet
the day was intensely hot, and the wearied
occupant of the one bamboo chair in the centre
of the building, looked haggard and care-worn.
All day long had he sat in that position, re-
peating over and over again, as he could find
listeners, such simple truths as mothers are
accustomed to teach the infant on their knee ;
and now his head was aching, and his heart
was very heavy. He had met some scoffers,
some who seemed utterly indifferent, but not
one sincere inquirer after truth.
In the middle of the day, when the sun was
hottest, and scarcely a European throughout all
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 157
India was astir, he had received the greatest
number of visitors ; for the passers-by were glad
of a moment's rest and shelter from the sun.
The mats were still spread invitingly upon the
floor; but though persons of almost every de-
scription were continually passing and repassing,
they seemed each intent on his own business,
and the missionary was without a listener. He
thought of his neglected study-table at home,
of his patient, fragile wife, toiling through the
numerous cares of the day alone, of the letters
his friends were expecting, and which he had
no time to write, of the last periodicals from his
dear native land, lying still unread ; and every
little while, between the other thoughts, came
real pinings after a delicious little book of
devotion, which he had slid into his pocket in
the morning, promising it his first moment of
leisure. Then he was, naturally, an active man,
of quick, ardent temperament, and with such
views of the worth of time as earnest American
men can scarcely fail to gain ; and it went to
his heart to lose so many precious moments.
If he could only do something to fill up these
tedious intervals! But no; this was a work
]58 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
to which he must not give a divided mind.
He was renewing a half-tested experiment in
wayside preaching, and he would not suffer his
attention to be distracted by . anything else.
While his face was hidden by his book, and his
mind intent on self-improvement, some poor
passer-by might lose a last, an only opportunity
of hearing the words of life. To be sure, his
own soul seemed very barren, and needed re-
freshing; and his body was weary wearied
well nigh to fainting, more with the dull, palsy-
ing inanity of the day's fruitless endeavors, than
with anything like labor. Heavily beat down
the hot sun, lighting up the amber-like brown
of the thatch, as with a burning coal; while
thickly in its broad rays floated a heavy golden
cloud of dust and motes, showing in what a
wretched atmosphere the delicate lungs were
called to labor. Meantime, a fever-freighted
breeze, which had been, all the hot day, sweep-
ing the 'effluvia from eastern marshes, stirred
the glossy leaves of the orange-tree across the
way, and parched the lip, and kindled a crimson
spot upon the wan cheek of the weary mission-
ary.
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 159
' God reigns,' he repeated, as though some
reminder of the sort were necessary. ' God
Almighty reigns ; and I have given myself to
him, soul and body, for time and for eternity.
His will be done!' Still, how long the day
seemed! How broad the space that blistering
sun had yet to travel, before its waiting, its
watching, and its laboring would be ended!
Might he not indulge himself just one moment ?
His hand went to his pocket, and the edge of a
little book peeped forth a moment, and then,
with a decided push, was thrust back again.
No ; he would not trifle with his duty. He
would be sternly, rigidly faithful ; and the bless-
ing would surely come in time. Yet it was
with an irrepressible yawn that he took up a
little Burman tract prepared by himself, of
which every word was as familiar as his own
name, and commenced reading aloud. The
sounds caught the ear of a coarsely clad water-
bearer, and she lowered the vessel from her
head, and seated herself afar off, just within the
shadow of the low eaves. Attracted by the
foreign accent of the reader, few passed without
turning the head a few moments to listen ; then
160 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
catching at some word which seemed to them
offensive, they would repeat it mockingly and
hasten on.
Finally the old water-bearer, grinning in
angry derision till her wrinkled visage became
positively hideous, rose, slowly adjusted the
earthen vessel on her head, and passed along,
muttering as she went, ' Jesus Christ ! no
Nigban! ha, ha, ha!' The heart of the mis-
sionary sunk within him, and he was on the
point of laying down the book. But the shadow
of another passer-by fell upon the path, and he
continued a moment longer. It was a tall,
dignified looking man, leading by the hand a
boy, the open mirthmlness of whose bright,
button-like eyes was in perfect keeping with
his dancing little feet. The stranger was of a
grave, staid demeanor, with a turban of aristo-
cratic smallness, sandals turning up at the toe,
a silken robe of somewhat subdued colors, and
a snow-white tunic of gentlemanlike length,
and unusual fineness.
' Papa, papa ! ' said the boy, with a merry
little skip, and twitching at the hand he was
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 161
holding, 'Look, look, papa! there is Jesus
Christ's man. Amai! how shockingly white !'
' Jesus Christ's man ' raised his eyes from the
book which he could read just as well without
eyes, and bestowed one of his brightest smiles
upon the little stranger, just as the couple were
passing beyond the corner of the zayat, but not
too late to catch a bashfully pleased recognition.
The father did not speak nor turn his head, but
a ray of sunshine went down into the mission-
ary's heart from those happy little eyes ; and he
somehow felt that his hour's reading had not
been thrown away. He had remarked this man
before, in other parts of the town ; and had
striven in various ways to attract his attention,
but without success. He was evidently known,
and most probably avoided ; but the child, with
that shy, pleased, half-confiding, roguish sort of
smile, seemed sent as an encouraging messen-
ger. The missionary continued his reading with
an increase of earnestness and emphasis. A
priest wrapped his yellow robes about him and
sat down upon the steps, as though for a mo-
ment's rest. Then, another stranger came up.
boldly, and with considerable ostentation seated
11
162 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
himself on the mat. He proved to be a philos-
opher, from the school then recently disbanded
at Prorne ; and he soon drew on a brisk, ani-
mated controversy.
The missionary did not finish his day's work
with the shutting up of the zayat. At night,
in his closet, he remembered both philosopher
and priest; pleaded long and earnestly for 1he
scoffing old water-bearer ; and felt a warm tear
stealing to his eye, as he presented the case of
the tall stranger, and the laughing, dancing ray
of sunshine at his side.
Day after day went by, as oppressively hot,
as dusty, and bringing as many feverish winds
as ever ; but the hours were less wearisome,
because many little buds of hope had been
fashioned, which might yet expand into perfect
flowers. But every day the tall stranger carried
the same imperturbable face past the zayat;
and every day the child made some silent ad-
vance towards the friendship of the missionary,
bending his half-shaven head, and raising his
little nut-colored hand to his forehead, by way
of salutation, and smiling till his round face
dimpled all over like ripples in a sunny pool.
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 163
One day, as the pair came in sight, the mis-
sionary beckoned with his hand, and the child,
with a single bound, came to his knee.
' Moung-Moung ! ' exclaimed the father in a
tone of surprise blended with anger. But the
child was back again in a moment, with a gay
colored Madras handkerchief wound around his
head ; and with his bright lips parted, his eyes
sparkling, and dancing with joy, and his face
wreathed with smiles, he seemed the most
charming thing in nature. ' Tai hlah-the." (very
beautiful) said the child, touching his new tur-
ban, and looking into his father's clouded face,
with the fearlessness of an indulged favorite.
' Tai hlah-the ! ' repeated the father involun-
tarily. He meant the child.
* You have a very fine boy there, Sir,' said the
missionary, in a tone intended to be concilia-
tory. The stranger turned with a low salaam.
For a moment he seemed to hesitate, as though
struggling between his native politeness and his
desire to avoid an acquaintance with the prose-
lyting foreigner. Then taking the hand of the
little boy who was too proud and happy to no-
tice his father's confusion, he hastened away.
164 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
' I do not think that zayat a very good place
to go to, Moung-Moung,' said the father gravely,
when they were well out of hearing. The boy
answered only by a look of inquiry strangely
serious for such a face as his.
' These white foreigners are .' He did
not say what, but shook his head with myste-
rious meaning. The boy's eyes grew larger and
deeper, but he only continued to look up into
his father's face in wondering silence.
' I shall leave you at home to-morrow, to keep
you from his wicked sorceries.'
1 Papa ! '
' What, my son ? '
' I think it will do no good to leave me at
home.'
'Why?'
' He has done something to me.'
< Who ? the Kalah-byoo ? '
' I do not think he has hurt me, papa ; but I
cannot keep away no oh, no ! '
' What do you mean, Moung-Moung ? '
' The sorcerer has done something to me
put his beautiful eye on me. I see it now.'
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 165
And the boy's own eyes glowed with a strange,
startling brilliancy.
' ' Mai, -mai ! what a boy ! He is not a sor-
cerer, only a very provoking man. His eye,
whish ! It is nothing to my little Moung-
Moung. I was only sporting. But we will
have done with him ; you shall go there no
more '
' If I can help it, papa ! '
'Help it! Hear the foolish child! What
strange fancies ! '
* Papa ! '
< What, my son ? '
' You will not be angry ? '
* Angry ! ' The soft smile on that stern
bearded face was a sufficient answer.
' Is it true that she my mother ? '
' Hush, Moung-Moung ! '
* Is it true that she ever shikoed to the Lord
Jesus Christ?'
* Who dares to tell you so ? '
' I must not say, papa ; the one who toid me,
said it was as much as life is worth to talk of
such things to your son. Did she, papa ? '
166 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
' What did he mean ? Who could have told
you such a tale ? '
' Did she, papa ? '
' That is a very pretty goung--boung- the for-
eigner gave you.'
' Did she ? '
* And makes your bright eyes brighter than
ever.'
' Did my mother sltiko to the Lord Jesus
Christ?'
' There, there, you have talked enough, my
boy,' said the father gloomily ; and the two
continued their walk in silence. As the con-
versation ceased, a woman who, with a palm-
leaf fan before her face, had followed closely in
the shadow of the stranger so closely, indeed,
that she might have heard every word that had
been spoken stopped at a little shop by the
way, and was soon seemingly intent on making
purchases.
4 Ko Shway-bay ! ' called out the missionary.
A man bearing a large satchel, which he had
just newly filled with books, appeared at the
door of an inner apartment of the zayat.
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 167
' 'Ken-pay ah /'
' Did you observe the tall man who just pass-
ed, leading a little boy ? '
' I saw him.'
' What do you know about him ? '
' He is a writer under government a very
respectable man haughty reserved '
' And what else ? '
' He hates Christians, Tsayah?
1 Is he very bigoted, then?'
' No, Tsayah ; he is more like a p'dramat than
a Boodhist. Grave as he appears, he sometimes
treats sacred things very playfully, always care-
lessly. But does the teacher remember it
may be now three, four I do not know how
many years ago, a young woman came for
medicine ?'
The missionary smiled. ' I should have a
wonderful memory, Shway-bay, if I carried all
my applicants for medicine in it.'
' But this one was not like other women.
She had the face of a ridt-thamee] [goddess or
angel,] ' and her voice the teacher must re-
member her voice it was like the silvery
chimes of the pagoda bells at midnight. She
168 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
was the favorite wife of the Sah-ya, and this
little boy, her only child, was very ill. She did
not dare ask you to the house, or even send a
servant for the medicine, for her husband was
one of the most violent persecutors '
' Ay, I do recollect her, by her distress and her
warm gratitude. So this is her child! What
has become of the mother ? '
' Has the teacher forgotten putting a Gospel
of Matthew in her hand, and saying that it
contained medicine for her, for that she was
afflicted with a worse disease than the fever of
her little son ; and then lifting up his hands and
praying very solemnly ? '
' I do not recall the circumstance just now.
But what came of it ? '
' They say,' answered the Burman, lowering
his voice, and first casting an investigating
glance around him, ' they say that the medi-
cine cured her.'
'Ah!'
' She read the book nights, while watching by
her baby, and then she would kneel down and
pray as the teacher had done. At last the
Sah-ya got the writing.'
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 169
' What did he do with it ? '
' Only burnt it. But she was a tender little
creature, and could not bear his look ; so, as the
baby got out of danger, she took the fever '
' And died ? ' asked the missionary, remarking
some hesitation in the manner of his narrator.
' Not of the fever altogether.'
What then ? Surely, he did not '
' No, Tsayah ! it must have been an angel-call.
The Sah-ya was very fond of her, and did every-
thing to save her ; but she just grew weaker,
day after day, and her face more beautiful ; and
there was no holding her back. She got courage
as she drew near Paradise, and begged the Sah-
ya to send for you. He is not a hard-hearted
man, and she was more than life and soul to
him ; but he would not send. And so she died,
talking to the last moment of the Lord Jesus
Christ, and calling on everybody about her to
love Him, and worship none but Him.'
' Is this true, Shway-bay ? '
( / know nothing about it, Tsayah ; and it is
not very safe to know anything. The Sah-ya
has taken an oath to destroy everybody having
too good a memory. But,' and the man
170 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
again looked cautiously around him, 'does
the teacher think that little Burman children
are likely to run into the arms of foreigners,
without being taught?'
' Aha ! say you so, Shway-bay ? '
' I say nothing, Tsayah?
1 What of the child ? '
' A wonderful boy, Tsayah. He seems usually
as you have seen him ; but he has another look,
so strange ! He must have caught something
from his mother's face, just before she went up
to the golden country.'
The missionary seemed lost in thought ; and
the assistant, after waiting a moment to be
questioned farther, slung his satchel over his
shoulder, and proceeded up the street.
The next day the missionary remarked that
the Sah-ya went by on the other side of the way,
and without the little boy; and the next day,
and the next the same. In the meantime, the
wrinkled old water-bearer had become a sincere
inquirer. ' The one shall be taken and the other
left,' sighed the missionary, as he tried to dis-
cern the possible fate of his bright-eyed little
friend.
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 171
The fourth day came. The old water-bearer
was in an agitated state of joy and doubt
a timid, but true believer. The self-confident
philosopher had almost ceased to cavil. Fresh
inquirers had appeared, and the missionary's
heart was strengthened. 'It is dull work,' he
said to himself, though without any expression
of dullness in his face ; ' but it is the Saviour's
own appointed way, and the way the Holy
Spirit will bless.' Then his thoughts turned to
the stern Sah-ya, and his little boy; and he
again murmured, with more of dejection in his
manner than when he had spoken of the dull-
ness of the work, ' And the other left the other
left."
The desponding words had scarcely passed
his lips, when, with a light laugh, the very child
who was in his thoughts, and who somehow
clung so tenaciously to his heart, sprang up the
steps of the zayat, followed by his grave, digni-
fied father. The boy wore his new Madras
turban, arranged with a pretty sort of jaunti-
ness, and above its showy folds he carried a red
lacquered tray, with a cluster of golden plantains
on it. Placing the gift at the missionary's feet,
172 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
he drew back, with a pleased smile of boyish
shyness, while the man, bowing courteously,
took his seat upon the mat.
' Sit down, Moung-Moung, sit down,' said the
father, in the low tone that American parents
use when reminding careless little boys of their
hatsj for though Burmans and Americans differ
somewhat in their peculiar notions of etiquette,
the children of both races seem equally averse
to becoming learners.
' You are the foreign priest,' he remarked
civilly, and more by way of introduction than
inquiry.
' I am a missionary.'
The stranger smiled, for he had purposely
avoided the offensive epithet ; and was amused
and conciliated by the missionary's frank use of
it. ' And so you make people believe in Jesus
Christ?'
I try to.'
The visitor laughed outright ; then, as if a
little ashamed of his rudeness, he composed his
features, and with his usual courtesy resumed,
' My little son has heard of you, Sir ; and he is
very anxious to learn something about Jesus
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 173
Christ. It is a pretty story that you tell of that
man prettier I think than any of our fables ;
and you need not be afraid to set it forth in its
brightest colors ; for my Moung-Moung will
never see through its absurdity, of course.'
The missionary threw a quick, scrutinizing
glance on the face of his visitor. He saw that
the man was ill at ease, that his carelessness
was entirely assumed, and that underneath all,
there was a deep, wearing anxiety, which he
fancied was in some way connected with his
boy. ' Ah ! you think so ? To what particular
story do you allude ? '
' Why that of the strange sort of being you
callJesus Christ, a not, or prince or something
of that sort, dying for us poor fellows, and so
ha, ha ! The absurdity of the thing makes me
laugh ; though there is something in it beautiful
too. Our stupid pongyees would never have
thought out anything one half so fine ; and the
pretty fancy has quite enchanted little Moung-
Moung here.'
' I perceive you are a p'dram'dtj said the mis-
sionary. ' No, oh no ; I am a true and faith-
ful worshipper of Lord Gaudama ; but of course
174 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
neither you nor I subscribe to all the fables of
our respective religions. There is quite enough
that is honest and reasonable in our Boodhistic
system to satisfy me; but my little son' (here
the father seemed embarrassed, and laughed
again, as though to cover his confusion,) 'is
bent on philosophical investigation eh, Moung-
Moung ? '
' But are you not afraid that my teachings
will do the child harm ?'
The visitor looked up with a broad smile of
admiration, as though he would have said, 'You
are a very honest fellow, after all ; ' then regard-
ing the child with a look of mingled tenderness
and apprehension, he said softly, ' Nothing can
harm little Moung-Moung, Sir.'
' But what if I should tell you I do believe
every thing I preach, as firmly as I believe you
sit on the mat before me ; and that it is the one
desire of my life to make everybody else believe
it you and your child among the rest ? '
The Sah-ya tried to smile, tried to looked un-
concerned; but his easy nonchalance of manner
seemed utterly to forsake him in his need ; and
finally abandoning the attempt to renew his
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 175
former tone of banter, he answered quietly, * I
have heard of a writing you possess, which, by
your leave, I will take home and read to Moung-
Moung.'
The missionary selected a little tract from the
parcel on the table beside him, and extended it
to his visitor. ' Sah-yaJ said he, solemnly, ' I
herewith put into your hands the key to eternal
life and happiness. This active, intelligent soul
of yours, with its exquisite perception of moral
beauty and loveliness,' and he glanced toward
the child, ' cannot be destined to inhabit a dog, N
a monkey, or a worm, in another life. God
made it for higher purposes ; and I hope and
pray that I may yet meet you, all beautiful, and
pure, and glorious, in a world beyond the reach
of pain or death, and above all, beyond the
reach of sin.'
Up to this time the boy had sat upon his mat
like a statue of silence ; his usually dancing
eyes fixed steadfastly upon the speakers, and
gradually dilating and acquiring a strange mys-
tic depth of expression, of which they seemed at
first incapable. At these words, however, he,
sprang forward.
176 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
' Papa ! papa ! hear him ! Let us both Jove
the Lord Jesus Christ ! My mother loved Him ;
and in the golden country of the blessed she
waits for us.'
' I must go,' said the Sah-ya hoarsely, and
attempting to rise.
' Let us pray ! ' said the missionary kneeling
down.
The child laid his two hands together, and
placing them against his forehead, bowed his
head to the mat ; while the father yielded to the
circumstances of the case so far as to re-seat
himself. Gradually, as the fervent prayer pro-
ceeded, his head drooped a little ; and it was
not long before he placed his elbows on his
knees, and covered his face with his hands. As
soon as the prayer was ended, he rose, bowed in
silence, took his child by the hand, and walked
away.
Day after day went by, the Sah-ya, as he
passed the zayat, always saluting its occupant
respectfully, but evincing no disposition to culti-
vate his acquaintance farther. He was accom-
panisd by the boy less often than formerly ; but,
from casual opportunities, the missionary re-
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 177
marked that a strange look of though tfulness
had crept into the childish face, softening and
beautifying, though scarcely saddening it. And
when occasionally the little fellow paused for a
moment, to ask for a book, or exchange a word
of greeting, the gay familiarity of his manner
seemed to have given place to a tender, trustful
affection, somewhat tinctured with awe.
Meanwhile that terrible scourge of Eastern
nations, the cholera, had made its appearance,
and it came sweeping through the town with its
usual devastating power. Fires were kindled
before every house, and kept burning night and
day ; while immense processions continually
thronged the streets with gongs, drums, and
tom-toms, to frighten away the evil spirits, and
so arrest the progress of the disease. The zayat
was closed for lack of visitors ; and the mission-
ary and his assistants busied themselves in at-
tending on the sick and dying.
It was midnight when the over-wearied for-
eigner was roused from his slumbers by the
calls of the faithful Ko Shway-bay.
' Teacher, teacher, you are wanted ! '
4 Where?'
19
178 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
The man lowered his voice almost to a whis-
per, but putting his hands to each side of his
mouth, sent the volume of sound through a
crevice in the boards. ' At the Salt-yct's.'
' Who ? '
' I do not know, Tsayah ; I only heard that
the cholera was in the house, and the teacher
was wanted, and so I hurried off as fast as
possible.'
In a few minutes, the missionary had joined
his assistant, and they proceeded on their way
together. As they drew near the house, the
Burman paused in the shadow of a bamboo
hedge.
' It is not good for either of us, that we go in
together ; I will wait you here, Tsayah?
1 No, you need rest ; and I shall not want
you go ! '
The verandah was thronged with relatives
and dependents ; and from an inner room, came
a wild, wailing sound which told that death
was already there. No one seemed to observe
the entrance of the foreigner; and he followed
the sound of woe till he stood by the corpse
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 179
of a little child. Then he paused in deep emo-
tion.
{ He has gone up to the golden country, to
bloom forever amid the royal lilies of Paradise,'
murmured a voice close to his ear.
The missionary, a little startled, turned ab-
ruptly. A middle-aged woman, holding a palm-
leaf fan to her mouth, was the only person near
him.
' He worshipped the true God,' she continued,
suffering the individuality of her voice to glide
away and mingle the wail of the mourners, and
occasionally slurring a word which she dared
not pronounce with distinctness; 'he worship-
ped the true God, and trusted in the Lord our
Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, he trusted in
Him. He called and he was answered, he was
weary, weary and in pain ; and the Lord who
loved him, He took him home to be a little
golden lamb in His bosom forever.'
' How long, since, did he go ? '
' About an hour, Tsayali? Then joining in
the wail again, ' An hour amid the royal lilies ;
and his mother his own beautiful mother
she of the starry eyes and silken hand '
180 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
* Was he conscious ? '
' Conscious and full of joy.'
< What did he talk of? '
' Only of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose face
he seemed to see ! '
'And his father?'
' His father ! Oh, my master ! my noble
master! he is going, too! Come and see,
Tsayah ! '
1 Who sent for me ? '
' Your handmaid, Sir.'
< Not the Sah-ya ? '
The woman shook her head. ' The agony
was on him he could not have sent, if he
would.'
' But how dared you ? '
There was a look such as might have been
worn by the martyrs of old upon the woman's
face as she expressively answered, ' God was
here ! '
In the next apartment lay the fine figure of
the Sah-ya, stretched upon a couch, evidently
in the last stage of the fearful disease his
pain all gone.
' It grieves me to meet you thus, my friend,'
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 181
remarked the visitor, by way of testing the dying
man's consciousness.
The Sah-ya made a gesture of impatience.
Then his fast stiffening lips stirred, but they
were powerless to convey a sound ; there was a
feeble movement, as though he would have
pointed at something, but his half-raised finger
wavered and sunk back again ; and a look of
dissatisfaction amounting to anxiety passed
over his countenance. Finally renewing the
effort, he succeeded in laying his two hands
together, and with some difficulty lifted them
to his forehead; and then quietly and calmly
closed his eyes.
* Do you trust in Lord Gaudama in a mo-
ment like this ? ' inquired the missionary, uncer-
tain for whom the act of worship was intended.
There was a quick tremor in the shut lids, and
the poor Sah-ya unclosed his eyes with an ex-
pression of mingled pain and disappointment;
while the death-heavy hands slid from their
position back upon the pillow.
* Lord Jesus, receive his spirit,' exclaimed the
missionary solemnly.
A bright, joyous smile flitted across the face
182 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
of the dying man, parting the lips, and even
seeming to shed light upon the glazed eyes ; a
sigh-like breath fluttered his bosom for a mo-
ment ; the finger which he had before striven to
lift, pointed distinctly upward, then fell heavily
across his breast; and the disembodied spirit
stood in the presence of its Maker.
The thrilling death-wail commenced with the
departure of the breath; for although several
who had been most assiduous in their atten-
tions, glided away when it was ascertained that
he who would have rewarded their fidelity was
gone ; there were yet many who were prevented,
some by real affection, some by family pride,
from so far yielding to their fears, as to with-
hold the honors due to the departed.
' You had better go now,' whispered the
woman, 'you can do no further good, and may
receive harm.'
' And who are you that you have braved the
danger to yourself, of bringing me here ? '
' Pass on, and I will tell you.'
They drew near the body of the child, which,
by the rush to the other apartment, had been
left, for a moment, alone.
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 183
' See ! ' said the woman, lifting the cloth rev-
erently. A copy of the Gospel of Matthew lay
on his bosom.
' Who placed it there ? '
' He did, with his own dear little hand
Amai! amai-ai." and the woman's voice gave
expression to one swell of agony, and then died
away in a low wail, like that which proceeded
from the adjoining room. Presently she re-
sumed, ' I was his mother's nurse. She got this
book of you, Sir. We thought my master
burned it, but he kept, and maybe studied it.
Do you think that he became a true believer?'
' To whom did he shiko at that last moment,
Mah-aa ? '
'To the Lord Jesus Christ I am sure of
that. Do you think the Lord would receive
him, Sir?'
' Did you ever read about the thief who was
crucified with the Saviour ? *
' OR, yes ; I read it to Moung-Moung this
very day. He was holding his mother's book
when the disease smote him ; and he kept it in
his hand, and went up, with it lying on his
bosom. Yes, I remember.'
184 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
' The Lord Jesus Christ is just as merciful
now as he was then.'
' And so they are all oh, 'ken-pay ah ! it is
almost too much to believe ! '
' When did you first become acquainted with
this religion, Mah-aa ? '
' My mistress taught me, Sir ; and made me
promise to teach her baby when he was old
enough ; and to go to you for more instruction.
But I was alone, and afraid. I sometimes got
as far as the big banyan tree on the corner, and
crawled away again so trembling with terror,
that I could scarcely stand upon my feet. At
last I found out Ko Shway-bay, and he promised
to keep my secret; and he gave me books, and
explained their meaning, and taught me how to
pray, and I have been getting courage ever
since. I should not much mind now, if they
did find me out and kill me. It would be very
pleasant to go up to Paradise. I think I should
even like to go to-night, if the Lord would
please to take me.'
It was two or three weeks before the mission-
ary resumed his customary place in the zayat
WAYSIDE PREACHING. 185
by the wayside. His hearers were scattered
widely ; in the neighboring jungles, in far-off
towns, and in that other place from whence ' no
traveller returns.'
Where was his last hopeful inquirer ?
Dead.
Where the priest?
Dead.
Where the philosopher ?
Fled away, none knew whither.
And the poor old water-bearer ?
Dead, died like a dog in its kennel; and
but that some pitying Christian had succeeded
in discovering her at the last moment, without a
human witness. But, and the missionary's
heart swelled with gratitude to God as he
thought of it, there were other witnesses,
nobler, tenderer, dearer to that simple, lone old
creature, than all the earthly friends that ever
thronged a death-bed; and these had been her
bright, rejoicing convoy to the Saviour's pres-
ence.
Oh ! how full of awe, how fearfully laden
with the solemn interests of eternity, appeared
13
186 WAYSIDE PREACHING.
this wondrous work of his! And how broad
and clear seemed his sacred commission, as
though at that moment newly traced by the
finger of Jehovah !
THE END.
TH
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Los Angeles
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