Hindoo Princess.

THE

CHILD OF THE GANGES

A TALE OF THE JUDSON MISSION

REV. ROBT. N. BARRETT

332*/

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
NEW YORK i CHICAGO
30 Union Square : East : 148 and 150 Madison St.
publishers of Eitmgtlical lUtrraturs

Entered according to Act of Congress in the-year 1890, in the Office of
Librarian of Congress, by Eoet. N. Babkett.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

BOOK FIRST.
Chapter. Page.
I. Searching for God,  5
II. The Brahmin directs,   13
III. Mekara's Story Begins  19
IV. Leaving the Golden Palace  24
V. The Karen's Story cf God,  30
VI. India  .  39
VII. In Benares, the Holy City, . . .  45
VIII. Where is thy God?  51
IX. Visiting tho Temples  63
BOOK SECOND.
I. Into the Forest   73
II. The Sacrifice  ... .80
III. Shunning the Curse  88
IV. Brahmin Treachery Disclosed, . .  93
V. Meeting with Krishna Tai,  97
VI. To the Taj  101
BOOK THIRD.
I. The Belle of Bradford  114
II. Judson*s Call  > . . . 119
III. Ann Converted  125
IV. Answer to Mekara's Prayer  129
V. The Assembly— Meeting of Judson and Ann, , ....•¦  132
VI. First Night in Burmah,  138
VII. Events of the Voyage,  144
BOOK FOUETH.
I. Learning the Language  151
II. Little Roger  157
III. The First Inquirer,  163
IV. A Mysterious Stranger,  170
V. Worship at the Shway Dagong  174
VI. Interviewing the Golden Face,  182
VII. Disappointment  193
VIII. Again in the King's Palace,  202

CONTENTS.BOOK FIFTH.
Chapter. Page.
I. Removal to Ava,  210
II. In the Death Prison  .\  ¦  226
III. Doom of the Kathayan Lover  . .  236
IV. Visit of the Royal Treasurer   246
V. The Child of Sorrow,  255
VI. The Blood-Tracked March   267
VII. A New Horror— Pestilence!!  274
VIII. Free ! In the English Camp  286
IX. Return to Rangoon   295
BOOK SIXTH.
I. The Mystery Solved  305
II. The Black-sealed Letter,  . . . 316
III. Yuwah Found,— Mahrco is Won  .323
IV. The Mysterious Book, .  330
V. Relief of Lucknow, ...  .337
VI. A Wonderful Change  345

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.

BOOK FIRST.

CHAPTER I.
".Xorthward soared
The stainless ramps of huge Himalaya's wall
Ranged In white ranks against the blue untrod,
Infinite, wonderful, whose uplands vast,
And lifted universe of crest and crag,
Shoulder and shelf, green slope and icy horn,
Riven, ravine, and splintered precipice,
Led climbing thought higher and higher until
It seemed to stand in Heaven and speak with gods."
—Light of Asia : Edwin Arnold.
"Ganga I Ganga!" cries the sinful Brahmin who
rushes for cleansing into the purifying stream. "Ganga I
Ganga!" gasps the fainting pilgrim, as from a distant
mountain top he hails the gleaming plain on whose
billowy bosom is cradled the divine Mother of all.
More Bacred than the Jordan to the Israelite is the
Ganges to the Hindu ; for its waters are believed to
cleanse from sin all who bathe in its tide. Pilgrims
who come annually from afar bear back to their homes
quantities of the precious fluid in their brass lotas to
be used when bodily weakness detains them ; and thou-

6 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
sands who are unable to attend the great feasts absolve
their souls by simply crying the mystic word, " Ganga !"
From the dark depths of shady dells, from the burning
wastes of arid plains, and from the busy streets of
crowded cities, five hundred million voices cry " Ganga ! "
Within the curtained zenana, hidden from sight by the
purdah's fringe, the little child in its swinging punka
is taught to cry to Ganga as to its own mother.
The Ganges is the impersonation of the goddess
Ganga, the daughter of the Himalaya. It is believed
to be a gift from heaven sent in answer to sixty thou
sand years of prayer and severe austerities. Siva was
required to catch the descending stream upon his head
lest its sudden fall should tear the earth asunder.
Nor is the myth of its divine origin so incredible as
it may first appear. The Himalayas are the highest
points on the earth's surface. On their vast world
of crags and snow is believed to be the home of
Indra, the god of storms. Extending far above the
surrounding range, with their summits lifted to the
sky and covered with perpetual snow, are the two peaks,
Gungootree and Jumnootree, respectively the sources of
the Ganges and the Jumna. It seems that the god,
extending his frozen arms to heaven, had caught in his
icy fingers the congealed drops from the clouds, and
sent them rushing in crystal streams down the moun
tain, sides to refresh the burning plains below. The
Ganges is, in one sense, the mother of the Hindu peo
ple ; because, with its many tributaries and divisions,
it irrigates the great plain of Hindustan, from the
spontaneous products of which the indolent people
derive their sustenance. All junctures of other streams

THE CHILD OE THE GANGES. 7
and the Ganges are held sacred; but where it is joined
by the sacred Jumna is especially so, and the sanctity
of this place has been perpetuated by the founding of
Allahabad, the City of God.
On the western bank of tho Ganges, midway between
Allahabad and Hurdwar, where the stream rushes from
the gate of the mountain, is a noted grove, tho favorite
resort of religious ascetics. The river-bed at this point
is more narrow, and its waters purer than below where
they are continually defiled by the offal of the cities
and the ashes of the dead. A landing ghaut of stone
steps leads from the water up tho very steep bank to
the plain. Here tho scene is something remarkable
even for India. The plain, open for about a mile
square, is covered with a carpet of green, variegated
with flowers of the most gorgeous hue. Below, and*
facing the river is" a small village with its ever present
pagoda gleaming above the branches of the tamarind
trees which shelter the village tank. Above is a back
ground of dense forest, whose sombre shade, in contrast
to the lovely view without, is the haunt of fakirs and
devotees who seek such lonely and secluded spots where
they may practice unmolested their deeds of self-tor
ture and thus free the soul from its burden of guilt.
At the entrance to the wood is a noble banyan tree
which extends its main body, like a tall pagoda-spire,
two hundred or three hundred feet in the air, and, with
gently sloping sides and cloistered columns stretching
out on either side and far within, presents the appear
ance of a vast natural temple, not unsuited to the
presence of gods and those who desire to spend a life
in solemn meditation. Most prominent on the western

8 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
border of the plain, and from which the whole neigh
borhood derives its unusual sanctity, is a natural
tower or unnatural mountain of solid granite. It rises
abruptly from the plain,- and is entirely bare, save
where the rock has crumbled to decay, forming little
patches of soil which support some scanty vegetation.
Half way to the summit on one side is a level place
furnished with a tank, shade trees, and a mundapam
for the accommodation of pilgrims who visit the shrine
on top by hundreds every morning before sunrise. The
perpendicular shaft above is ascended by means of
steps cut into the solid rock leading directly to the
portico of a small temple on top dedicated to the wor
ship of the elephant-headed god, Ganesha. The base of
the temple is formed by the smoothed summit of the crag
itself from which natural projections were left ranged
around the idol and used as altars for the reception of
the offerings, rice and ghee (melted butter), which are
left in great quantities by the pilgrims. After these
have all performed their worship and returned to their
homes the Brahmins, who are the representatives of the
gods, ascend and bear away the offerings for their own
use. Every night a pandarum, or religious ascetic,
absolves his soul from the sins of the day by lighting
a lamp before the shrine which serves as a reminder to
the sleeping villagers that their god is watching over
them. Our story opens at the close of a hot and sultry day
in the month of August, 1808. The sun was just
setting behind the dim blue hills in the distance, kiss
ing " good-night " the gilded pagoda-spire, and darting
its parting glances beneath the dense foliage of the

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 9
forest ; and, for the first time since morning, revealing
the miserable forms that languished there. As the
Bhadows were deepening on the landscape, and all
nature's voices lulled to silence, a gentle dip of oars
was heard in the river, and a gilded boat glided noise
lessly up the stream to the ghaut. A man arose and
lifted a woman and child from the boat to the steps,
and the boatman having received his accustomed back
sheesh rowed rapidly back down the stream, as the man,
woman and child appeared on the plain. The fading
light, though dim, served to reveal that they were not
natives. The man appeared to be about thirty years
of age, stalwart and handsome ; and, though his dress
and accent as he spoke to the boatman, showed him to
be a stranger, there was a certain dignity about his
bearing that betrayed his noble, if not royal descent.
His head was covered with a luxuriant growth of glossy
black hair, which, thrown back, revealed a peculiarly
intellectual brow and a pleasant though serious face.
His complexion was a deep brown, and his eyes, dark
and lustrous, revealed a strong soul within.
He was simply but becomingly clad. The in-gie, a
jacket of white linen, covered his body, and the put-so
wrapped around his waist fell in heavy folds to'his
ankles, while the simplest form of sandals protected
his feet.
The woman's apparel consisted of a rich saffron vest,
open in front, disclosing folds of crimson beneath, and
a skirt of embroidered silk wrapped closely about her
waist and falling gracefully to her feet. Her physical
features were mainly the same as her husband's, though
more softened and less serious. It was only when she

10 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
looked at her child or its father that her countenance
betrayed any depth of expression. The child was a
girl of eight months, sweet and winsome ; and like its
parents, bearing in its face the distinctive marks of
their Burman nationality.
They stood on the border of the plain for some
moments' as if hesitating in which direction to go;
then, the father taking the child on his shoulder, and
the mother bearing on her arm a basket containing
their baggage, they proceeded toward the forest.
The full moon was just rising and making more
gloomy the shadows within as they reached the main
entrance of the banyan temple. They had come thus
far in silence, but as they entered the shadow the child
clung timidly to its father's neck and the woman shiv
ered with fear, complaining that wild beasts would be
sure to devour them. The man placed the child on the
ground, and still holding her by the hand, he looked out
on the moon-lit plain so lovely and still ; then, as if
inspired by the enchanting scene, replied :
" Mahdf i, the very air is holy. No harm can come
to us here. Did not the priests in the Holy City assure
us that we should be perfectly secure? Be content. I
know there is a Supreme Being somewhere, and though
unable to see him, I am willing to trust myself in his
hands. Let us make here our couch and rest till morn
ing, when some holy man will show us what we must
do further."
The woman, thus assured by his fearless manner and
confident words, said no more, but placing the basket
on the ground removed all its contents except a cush
ion in the bottom. On this she laid tEe child and

THE CHILD OP THB GANGES. 11
covered the basket with a light veil to protect the little
sleeper from mosquitoes. The man then hung the bas
ket from a branch above and tied to it a long cord
reaching to the ground with which to rock the bird's-
nest cradle if the little one should become restless
through the night. In the meanwhile his wife had
spread a blanket between the projecting roots of a col
umn, on which they reclined to rest, the father holding
the cord in his hand and gently swaying the basket to
and fro. The mother and child fatigued with the
journey of the day, soon fell into a deep restful slum
ber ; but the man's stronger nature, harassed by con.
flicting doubts and hopes, could not rest, and for hours
he lay against the tree looking out on the soft Indian
night and vainly trying to solve the problem of his
future destiny. The pundarum had long since placed
his lighted lamp before the shrine of Ganesha on the
mountain, where it gleamed like a beacon to guide the
feet of pilgrims to their destination, but, alas ! it was
a false beacon luring to destruction thousands of human
souls who trusted in its god. The moon, shining
through the hazy atmosphere, had a soft crimson hue ;
and its mellow radiance seemed to pour a flood of glory
upon the plain, bathing surrounding objects with the
glimmer of Fairy Land. An almost imperceptible
breeze stirred the branches above and set in motion the
many little silver bells on the pagoda whose distant
chimes seemed to ripple and dance on the air, play
hide-and-seek among the leaves and speak in a thou
sand piping voices from the dew-laden flowers of the
plain, filling the heart with thought and memories
sweet, or speaking to the soul in anticipation of a scene

12 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
of perfect rest beyond the sunset's gate of gold. Still
the man in the shadow of the banyan lay as if uncon
scious of anything. His eyes gazed vacantly upon the
plain or watched the glittering fire-flies darting like
meteors through the gloomy vaults above his couch.
Two young gazelles chased each other playfully in the
moon-light for awhile and then lay down under the
same tree with himself, but he saw them as in a dream.
In fact, all was a dream. What reality could there be
in all that loveliness when all within was a raging sea?
Ah ! he had yet to learn that though in " a land where
every prospect pleases," true happiness cannot come
where " man is vile." Ever and anon a sigh escaped
his lips, and then he heard in response the wail of the
self-inflicted devotee as he held his lonely vigil far
within the wood.
" When, oh ! when," he inwardly cried, " will I find
that rest and peace for which I long?"
Again the mournful wail echoed from the gloomy
depths, so distant and sad, he was fain to believe it
came from 'the troubled chambers of his own heart.
Thus thinking and praying, he fell into a troubled,
half-waking slumber.
Such, 0 reader, is a soul without a God !

CHAPTER II.
" An old, old man, whose shrivelled skin sun-tanned
Clung like a beast's hide to his fleshless bones ;
Bent was his back with load of many days,
His eye-pits red with rust of ancient tears,
His dim orbs blear with rheum." —Arnold.
Next morning at sunrise the little family arose, and
having replaced their impromptu couch in the basket,
took their way to the river to bathe. Returning to the
grove after their ablutionB a strange sight met their
gaze approaching in the direction of the mountain
shrine. A human being it was, but so bent and mis
shapen with age as scarcely to be recognized as such.
His back was bent below the shoulders in such a man
ner that his trunk was horizontal, and his chin, when
his head was hot lifted by force, on a level with his
waist. His brown, sun-burned skin clung about him
in tough, wrinkled folds. A pair of linen trousers,
once white, but now stained and yellow, reached like
suspended sacks to his waist, leaving the remainder of
his body entirely bare . On his brow, shoulders and
breast were painted the peculiar marks, emblematic of
the worship of Vishnu, while over his left shoulder,
down to his right hip, hung the sacred cord of one hun
dred and eight threads, testifying his Brahmin caste.
The single tuft of gray hair allowed to grow from his
crown had attained a wondrous length ; and parting on
each side hung down in front of his ears, mingling
(13)

14 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
with his snow-white beard, which extended almost to
his knees. His right hand held a short, stubby bam
boo cane, with which to support his crooked trunk ; in his
left he held the customary brass lota, in which he carried
food. He walked with wonderful briskness considering
his aged appearance, and as he approached, his eyes
bent upon the ground, his perspiring back gleaming
unflinchingly beneath the rays of the tropical sun, his
smooth head bobbing up and down to the motion of his
feet and cane, and his enormous beard dangling about
his knees or flowing around his back in the breeze, he
presented the appearance of a most strange and pictur
esque being. Had he appeared by night, instead of
open day, he might have been mistaken for a hobgoblin,
or something worse.
Entering the shade of the banyan tree he became
conscious of the presence of strangers. He paused,
and lifting with his hand the long, over-hanging brows,
he peered with his keen black eyes into the face of the
stranger. " Who art thou?" he demanded.
With perfect composure the other replied, "I am
Prince Mekara, son of the Golden Face, the Great King
of Burmah."
"What doest thou here?"
"In company with my wife, Mahdri, and infant
daughter, Manohara, I left my father's royal palace in
the Golden City, Ava, in search of rest for my soul,
which the religion of Buddha and all the splendors of
my father's court, with even the companionship of my
beloved wife and child, could not afford me. I have
journeyed far, visiting many sacred shrines and bathing

(15)

Burmese Nobles.

16 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
in holy waters, but still unrelieved. I have been
directed to this place where I may live an ascetic. I
wish to be guided in the way of truth, and before taking
upon myself the vows of a devotee, I want full instruc
tion as to the nature of the duties I am to perform and
the reward to be gained thereby. If I mistake not,
thou art a Brahmin. May I ask thy name?"
" Thou hast rightly judged," replied the old man.
" I am a Brahmin, and my name is Asita." Then, as
if pleased with the story of the prince% or desiring to
further show his importance, he continued : " My race
sprung from the mouth of Brahma, the Almighty Crea
tor. We are by birth pure and holy, priests and guides
of men, even superior to lords and kings. We are the
medium of blessings from heaven to men. Without
us the world would be a desert. By our prayers mis
fortunes are averted, the sick are healed, and curses
removed. Though beggars, we are more powerful than
the kings of the earth; yea, the gods are subject to our
prayers. My mission is to guide men, and if thou
wilt follow my directions thou mayest attain to the
greatest happiness in this life, and dwell with the gods
in the next. But before I can prescribe for thee a
course of life I must first know all the deeds thou hast
already done, the shrines thou hast visited, and the
vows thou hast paid. But I warn thee that thou must
surrender all earthly enjoyment before becoming an
ascetic." As he spoke the last words he darted a sharp
glance at Mahdrf and the child. The woman saw the
snapping of his glittering black eyes and a momentary
chill of suspicion caused her to tremble from head to
foot ; but all was lost on her husband except the ques
tion as to his former life.

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18 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Mekara invited the old Brahmin to rest on his own
blanket, and having dispatched Mahdri to the village
in search of food for their morning meal, he proceeded
to relate the circumstance of his leaving his father's
court and his life afterwards. Old Asita, reclining on
the ground with the crook of • his back supported by a
column of the tree in order to face the speaker, gave
attention to his story told in Sanscrit, the only lan
guage common to both.

CHAPTER III.
11 We are the voices of the wandering wind ;
Wander thou, too, 0 Prince, thy rest to find.
Leave love for love of lovers, for woe's sake
Quit state for sorrow and deliverance make."

— Arnold.

Ava, the Golden City, under the rule of the renowned
statesman, King Minder-a-gee Praw, attained the high
est magnificence of almost any city of the Orient. The
Irrawaddy, at this point four thousand feet broad, and its
two affluents connected by a canal, entirely surround the
walls, which are seven miles in circumference. The
streets are broad, straight and clean, dividing the city
into square blocks. The squares are surrounded by
tenement houses enclosing within green plats laid out in
flower gardens, and in the centre of which stand the
sumptuous palaces of the nobility, built of brick and
trimmed with gold. Numerous pagodas towering above
the tree-tops like great inverted bells, their snow-white
sides and golden spires glittering in the sunlight, pre
sent a most imposing spectacle. The life within is
equally as pompous as the splendor from without. The
luxurious carts of the nobility, ingeniously wrought of
bamboo and furnished with mats and cushions of silk,
are drawn by white bullocks in a brisk trot, the chains
of bells around their necks keeping merry time to the
motion of their feet. Fat, burly lords, arrayed in their
white linen jackets, flowing robes and gaudy turbans,
stalk about the streets beneath immense silken umbrel-
(19)

20 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
las borne by slaves from behind. Each step is taken
as if its tread would shake the earth, and each word
spoken by them in the name of the king, " Lord of Life
and Death," is expected to carry with it conviction of
supreme authority, temporal and religious. The canals
and rivers, fringed with luxuriant vegetation, are fairly
a-glitter with the royal boats and barges, which are
entirely covered with gold even to the oars. Some are
gorgeously striped, and as they dart rapidly about under
the control of the skillful boatmen they present a
most dazzling appearance. The various buildings com
posing the king's palace cover an area of a quarter of
a mile square. The great audience hall stands in the
centre, and its roof, supported by immense pillars, is
nearly two hundred feet in height, rising like a steeple
and sloping in many successive stages to the outer
buildings, which are the lowest. Every stage is vari
ously adorned with handsome carvings in wood richly
inlaid with gold; every spire, projection, or cornice is
covered with gold.
Within, the scene is awe-inspiring beyond descrip
tion. Beneath the great vault in the audience hall is
the throne of the king, curiously carved and overlaid
with gold, rivaling in splendor the famous " Peacock
Throne " of India. It is raised upon a high platform
approached by successive flights of steps. The pillars
supporting the lofty ceiling are magnificent in propor
tion and inconceivable in number. Forming a square
around the throne, they extend in long colonnades and
winding labyrinths in every direction ; as in a forest,
the eye cannot see where they end. Though of such
immense size, so high, and so many in number, each

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 21
is delicately carved, entirely overlaid with gold, and
inwrought with filigree of Bilver. The ceiling is also
of fretted gold, and the floor of polished marble re
flects as in a mirror the dazzling scene above.
In this hall thousands had gathered and made the
echoing vaults ring with their shouts at the coronation
of the king, and the same roof had reverberated often
since with the stern voice of the Golden Face as some
poor criminal cowered before the throne. A command
to the executioner and a wave of the hand was all.
The condemned man is dead even if innocent. No one
remonstrates. The king is autocrat. The religion of
the heart, the thoughts of the head, the words of the
mouth, the deeds of the hand, the babes of the house
hold, the fields and their crops, all are subject to the
" Lord of Heaven and Earth," the Golden Face.
In this hall a few months before the opening of our
story was enacted a decree, which for paternal severity
might well compare with the deed of the patriotic Bru
tus of legendary renown.
A thrill of surprise and fear rushed through the
¦ apartments of the palace. The noble and well-beloved
heir to the throne had been seized and ordered before
the judgment Beat. One by one the attendants of the
king crept in between the pillars and ranged in a circle
around the throne. Their eyes were dilated and their
cheeks ashy with fear and grief. Not a word was whis
pered. Suddenly their keen ears heard in the distance
a stately tread on the marble floor, though no form
appeared. Every head was bowed to the floor. At the
eastern extremity of the colonnade appeared His
Majesty, followed by his private minister, Moung Zah.

22 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
His stately form, now much magnified by the fear of
the beholders, was carried with that commanding and
haughty air which only an eastern monarch can assume.
He was magnificently clad in the native garment made
of linen and silk, elegantly embroidered, and fringed
with gold. His turban was of purple and red, and a
blue sash fastened about his waist served as a belt, in
which was thrust a short gold and jewel-hilted sword
used in the room of a sceptre. In silence he ascended
the steps and took his seat upon the throne. Moung
Zah, endeavoring to restrain a feeling of anxiety be
trayed in his face, stood by the throne holding over the
king a plume of peacock feathers. A death-like silence
pervaded. The attendants could almost hear their own
hearts beat as they throbbed with dread. Presently
from the opposite end of the hall footsteps were heard,
slow and measured. They drew nearer and nearer.
The attendants looked up. Prince Mekara, between
two officers, stood before the king.
His Majesty, placing his hand on the hilt of his
sword, demanded :
" Thou rebellious son, is it true that thou hast re
fused to bow before the shrine of Buddha and worship
in his holy temple?"
Moung Zah looked eagerly into the face of the prince
as if his own life depended on the answer that should
be made, Mekara, without evincing any fear, but with
the utmost respect, replied :
" The report is true, O king, my father."
" What reason canst thou give for thus disobeying
the command of the king and trampling under foot the
religion of thy fathers?"

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 23
" My father," replied the prince, " I have worshiped
at the shrine of Buddha since I was a child, even at the
most sacred pagoda which contains his tooth, but all my
vows, offerings, and prayers to his image have failed to
bring relief to my hungry soul; and, indeed, what
could be expected from an image of stone representing
only a man who is dead? Something within me whis
pers of a greater Being, One who never dies, is not
seen nor heard, and yet controls the worlds. I have
no knowledge of Him beyond the consciousness of my
own heart, nevertheless I will search for Him in the
hope that I may have a clearer light. For that reason,
0 king-, I can no longer worship a senseless stone."
The countenance of the king was gloomy and threat
ening. Clutching his sword he arose to his feet and
said: " No more ! Thou hast said enough. Death is the
penalty for those who disobey the king's commands.
Nevertheless, for the sake of thy wife and child whom
I love, I spare thy life, and not because thou art my son,
for such thou shalt be no longer. I disown thee. Let
me not find thee in my palace at sunset. Thou art
dead to me. The king hath spoken."
With one impressive sweep of his hand he pointed
to the entrance and retired, leaving Moung Zah behind.

CHAPTER IV.
" Oh, summoning stars, I come, oh, mournful earth,
For thee and thine I lay aside my youth,
My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights,
My happy palace and thine arms, sweet queen I
Harder to put aside than all the rest." — Arnold.
The reader may have wondered at the trepidation of
Moung Zah, and why he exhibited so much interest in
the proceedings. The reason is easily seen. The Min
ister had often conversed with the prince, and together
I hey had arrived at the conclusion related by the latter
to his father, though without involving any one except
himself. Moung Zah was firmly convinced of the fool
ishness of worshiping idols, and believed that there
was a Supreme, Personal God. But his conviction was
not so deep, nor his courage so strong as that of the
prince, who boldly refused to sacrifice his principles to
what he conscientiously believed to be wrong ; and in
the sentence of the prince, Moung Zah derived some
conclusion as to what would be his own fate if his
views should be exposed.
In contrast to the severity of his father, Mekara had
always been characterized by a gentle disposition which
had won for him the universal favor of the people ; and
the knowledge of this fact, rather than the reason
given, induced the king to niake a show of clemency in
delivering the sentence of his punishment.
(24)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 25
After the king had left the chamber, Moung Zah
descended from the platform, and extending his hands,
while the pent-up tears flowed down his cheeks, em
braced the prince, and expressed a desire that he might
be successful in his search of the True God and send
him word in return. Mekara was now thronged by the
attendants, who, with repeated glances toward the
entrance where the king had made his exit, expressed
their love for him, and their desire for his welfare.
Bidding a hasty and affectionate farewell to all in tho
chamber the prince turned and walked rapidly toward
the woman's apartment where his wife and child were
enjoying themselves, blissfully unconscious of the
cloud overhanging them.
In times of distress, or when conscious of pending
danger, the mind often comes to conclusions with mar
velous rapidity. While the last words of the king were
yet thundering among the massive pillars and re-echoing
from the vaulted arches above, the prince had already
determined upon what course he would pursue. From
a copy of the' Veda, the holy book of the Hindus, which
he had procured from his Sanscrit teacher, he learned
that the religion of the Brahmins in India recognized
the existence of a Personal God, the knowledge of
whom he was seeking. He determined that, after
placing his wife and child temporarily under the charge
of Moung Zah until he could further provide for them,
he would depart immediately to Benares, the holy city
of India, and apply for instruction to the learned Brah
mins who dwelt there in great numbers.
Reaching his wife's apartments, he stood for a moment
at the door unobserved, holding aside with his hands

26 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
the silken curtains, and feasting his eyes on the happy
domestic scene before him, having scarcely the heart to
break it. Seated on a many-colored woolen rug, im
ported from the famous vale of Cashmere, in the midst
of her maidens, was the lovely princess, bewitchingly
dressed in her rich Oriental costume, and playing with
their infant daughter, Manohara, who sat on her lap,
laughing and crowing as babies of all nations do, and
reaching delightedly to catch the sparkling jewels that
dangled from her mother's ears and throat. On her
own chubby arms gleamed a pair of golden bracelets
of the most delicate workmanship, and having her
name inscribed with inlaid pearls and rubies, the gift
of the king, her grandfather. The child was the first
to observe her father, and reaching her arms toward
him, begged to be 'taken. The mother looked up with
a smiling welcome in her face, but seeing his troubled
expression, her countenance changed, and seating the
child on the floor she sprang hurriedly to meet him.
" Pray, my lord, what has happened that thou art so
sad?" and then with a woman's quick intuition, guess
ing the cause, a deathly pallor overspread her face, and
she continued breathlessly, "hast thou offended the
Golden Face?"
" Thou hast rightly guessed, my princess," he replied,
laying his hands tenderly on her shoulders and gazing
into the tearful depths of her eyes, " I am no longer a
king's son, but an exile in disgrace, forbidden my
father's house. And oh ! I could gladly go on my long
search were it not for parting with thee and Manohara,
whom I must leave behind until I have found a place
in keeping with your present surroundings."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 27
" But why must thou go away?" she asked, "' may not
the king be reconciled to thee?"
" Impossible. I have steadfastly refused to worship
longer at the shrine of Buddha, and for that I must
leave. My mind is fixed. I cannot conscientiously
engage in a worship which to me seems folly, and my
father will allow no other."
Mahdri knew nothing of deep religious conviction,
the only worship she paid being to husband and child.
She took part in the gorgeous ritual of Buddhist worship
more on account of its gaudy show and entertainment
to her child than from any motive of principle. The
condition of her soul had never given her the least
distress. In religion, as in everything else, she was led
only by her husband's wishes. Not realizing the im
portance to be attached to the performance of religious
duties she was unable to sympathize with him as Bhe
wished. After hearing his decision she stood for a
moment looking at the floor, while she, for the first
time, thought seriously upon the subject. Raising her
eyes to his face she asked :
"Hast thou not perhaps acted too hastily? Would
it not have been better for thee to retain the Buddhist
faith until thou hadt;t found a better? The hope which
thou hast now may be vain after all."
" No, Mahdri," he replied, " I was not rash. For
years my soul has been hungering for something that
lies beyond this vain idolatry, the superstitious incan
tations and ceremonies of men. All is dark to me, and
while I grope in darkness I cannot expect to find light.
I am resolved to search every land and inquire of every
nation until I find that for which I seek, or until I am

28 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
convinced it does not exist. Thou hast here no want,
the king loves thee and the child, and no harm can
befall you. Moung Zah will care for you as for his own
household. Do not provoke the king to anger, but
remain in peace until I can send for thee, for I -must
now be going. Yonder sun is now dropping behind
the great pagoda, and its departure marks my own."
Passing her he walked into the room, and taking the
child from the arms of the nurse caressed her tenderly.
The little one seemed to understand his sorrow for she
ceased her laughter and clasped him lovingly about the
neck ; then, drawing back in his arms, she noticed the
tears flowing down his cheeks, and laying her dimpled
hands over his eyes, besought him not to cry so Turn
ing at length to bid his wife adieu he was astonished to
find her standing by the door, her head dress on, and a
hastily gathered bundle in her hands.
"Why, Mahdri!" he exclaimed, "what meanest thou
by that?"
"We are going, too," she replied, with a pleading de
termination in her tone, " why should we remain here
when the only one we love is gone? Oh, please do not
ask us again to stay!"
"But, my love, think of the hardships we must
endure, and the dangers we must encounter before I may
find that for which I seek. Nothing is lacking to thee
here. Surely thou hast not considered."
" I have considered everything," she said, "life with
out thee would be worse than death. Have not our souls
passed together through a thousand states of existence,
and is it right that we shall be separated now? Where
is my place but at thy side? I fear not the dangers,

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 29
and will gladly endure the hardships for thy sake ; and
little Manohara shall gladden the journey when we are
sad. I shall care no longer for shrines, pagodas and
temples, nor for the pomp of royalty. Do take us with
thee!" Mekara had never had occasion before to test the
devotion that is in the heart of woman, even though
she be a heathen. Clasping her to his bosom while
tears of joy streamed down his cheeks, he cried :
" Now do I love thee more than ever, my princess, my
jewel ! And though I never would have been so selfish
as to demand it, together will we go out into the great
world on a holy pilgrimage, and may tjie Great Being
favor our quest. The sun is now setting, let us be gone."
So, with the child, they departed in silence from the
golden palace, but not forever.

CHAPTER V.
"Yet will I leave a remnant, that ye may have some that shall escape the
sword among the nations, when ye shall be scattered through the countries-
And they that shall escape of you shall remember he among the nations
whither they shall be carried captives."— Ezek. vi: 8, 9.
Knowing, as he did, the minds of the people, and ex
pecting an uproar would be raised when they heard of
his banishment, Mekara endeavored to retire unobserved
from the palace to the river where his own boat was
always in readiness. Bearing the child in his arms and
followed by Mahdri, he passed quietly into a back street
through a private way and proceeded rapidly toward
the river. Having seen no one, he was congratulating
himself that he had escaped a friendly mob, but on
reaching the gate of the city, great was his mortification
to see the wharf swarming with almost the whole popu
lation of the city. The news had spread like magic,
and this was to be his parting salute. The people over
came for a moment their dread of the king, and with
great shouting, and vehement gesticulations, pro
claimed Mekara as their sovereign, and, with uplifted
hands crowding around him, implored that he would
return and be their ruler, promising to depose the king
if he would only accept the throne and relieve them
from the grievous bondage imposed upon them by the
" Lord of Life and Death."
Much grieved at this meeting, which he would gladly
have avoided, the prince mounted the steps of a pagoda
and, addressing them as brethren and friends, besought
(30)

. THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 31
them to remain faithful and obedient subjects of the
king, his father. " For," he said, " you are all laboring
under a worse bondage than that, and if I should re
main, though made a king, I should be in greater bond
age than all. There is a better way of ruling than by
fear, and a more efficient means of subduing than the
sword. I go in search of greater light and knowledge
than that which came to Buddha under the bo-tree
when he saw the streams of his existence down through
the past. More important to us are the concerns of the
future. I can do you greater good by finding and com
municating to you the true knowledge of the soul and
its destiny than by sitting on a throne. My going may
secure to you peace and happiness ; my staying is cer
tain to produce war and confusion without end. There
fore, 0, my people, return in content to your homes
and allow me to depart that I may aid in bringing to
us all inward peace. Till then, 0, my people, fare
well!' The crowd no longer forcibly interfering, the prince
proceeded to his golden boat at the wharf, and taking
his little family on board, bade the boatman to row
them quickly down the stream. The people stood
watching the little craft as long as it could be seen,
waving their turbans and calling entreatingly to the
prince. Mekara viewed with unutterable sadness this parting
scene. The Golden City never appeared more beautiful.
The palatial residences of the nobility, embowered
within their groves of mango trees, the gleaming white
pagodas, and the glittering turrets of the king's palace,
all against a back-ground of crimson-and-gold sunset

32 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
sky, fading gradually away into the approaching twi
light, formed a picture never to be forgotten. By
degrees the songs of the laboring boatmen died away
on the evening air, and the Golden City with its
haughty king and oppressed people disappeared from
sight as the boat glided into the shadow beneath the
banks of the Irrawaddy.
They had come thus far in silence, the prince too
much occupied with his thoughts to give attention to
anything else. At length, arousing himself, he said :
" Boatman, canst thou land us at Rangoon within a
fortnight ?"
" By the help of Jehovah, I can, my Lord," replied
the man at the oar with a low salute.
Mekara started visibly at the name of "Jehovah."
"By the help of whom ? " he asked, as if the language
of the slave was not familiar.
" Of Jehovah, Master, the God of our fathers."
The countenance of the prince, hitherto dull with
sadness and pain, was now filled with an eager light of
joy and hope, and delighted to find the God of his
imagination spoken of as a reality by another, even
though a bond-servant, he cried :
" Listen ! Mahdri, did I not tell thee that there was
a Supreme Being who ruled the destinies of the human
race ? Tell me, boatman," he continued, " where is
his dwelling place, what is his nature, and how may I
obtain a knowledge of him ? Draw in the oars and let
the boat drift with the current till thou canst tell me
of this the object of my search."
The man drew the glittering paddles from the water
and crossed them in front of him, then sat thoughtfully

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 33
in the stern, his arms folded and his eyes fixed on the
feet of the prince.
"Ah ! master^' he said, " thou hast demanded much.
I know not the dwelling place of God, but our fathers
teach us that he is everywhere. Of his nature we know
but little, Bave that he is a pure spirit, visible only to
the soul of man. How thou mayest obtain a correct
knowledge of him, alas! I know not. The light we
once had is gone out, and only a passing glimmer can
be seen. Tradition says the light will return. For that
good time I am watching and longing. Till then, 0,
prince, thy question must go unanswered."
Mekara was not satisfied. Interested in his boatman,
he desired to learn .more of him and the " God of his
fathers." " Tell me thy name," he said. " I judge thee
to be a Karen, one of a despised and rejected race.
How, then, did this knowledge first come to thy people
in preference to the nobler Burmans, and how did they
lose the knowledge once revealed to them ? "
" My name, 0, prince, is Ko Tha-By-u, and thou hast
rightly judged my nationality. I am a Karen, for many
years past a bond-servant in the royal household of thy
father, the king. My people, despised and down-
troddened by the nobility, are banished from the cities
and compelled to seek refuge in the mountains and
jungles, where some of them have become as wild and
free as the beasts that surround them. Though oppressed
in body they have an inward hope that gives them
strength to live on in anticipation of deliverance some
day. It was not always thus. Centuries before the
throne of the Golden Face had ever been reared, our
people were the rulers of Burmah. Happy and pros-
3

34 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
perous, they were renowned across the seas, but thy
people came upon us with great power and cruel weapons
of warfare, taking possession of our peaceful homes and
driving us to the jungles.
" Why God revealed himself first to our people I know
not. The memories of our fathers run back to a time
when, far beyond the seas, their ancestors lived in a
beauteous land flowing with milk and honey. They
worshiped God with great splendor in a temple covered
with gold, more costly than the noted shrine of Buddha.
Their king was the richest and the wisest the world has
ever seen. Tho voice of God spoke from the sanctuary
c f the temple, and was written by holy men in books of
parchment to be afterwards referred to as the divine
Oracles. After the death of the great king the people
were divided into factions, and because of their trans
gressions, were allowed to be smitten by their enemies.
Some were driven away in captivity, but the remnants
of ten tribes escaped hither, where the king had found
the gold, ivory, and precious stones used in building
his palace and the house of God. Here they founded a
colony, and, becoming owners of tho fertile Boil, lived in"
great happiness and prosperity for many centuries.
" The sacred roll containing the revelations from
Jehovah was preserved and brought over by a priest ;
but, through carelessness, while the workmen were
building their houses, it was left lying upon a log, where
it was torn by swine into many fragments, which were
swallowed by the fowls ; hence, they are looked upon as
being the repositories of the Word of God, and no one
lis allowed to harm them under any circumstances.
Thus we lost our knowledge of Jehovah, and all we

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 35
know now is through dim traditions handed down
through two thousand years of suffering. But our
prophets tell us that a white man from the West will
come some day and restore to us the book, and tell us
all its wonderful meaning. Herein lies our strength, and
to this we are looking forward with great hope. More,
0, prince, I can tell thee nothing."
Mekara's eyes were filled with a strange light and his
bosom heaved as he followed the slave through his nar
rative. Hearing the last he spoke not a word but sat
in deep thought, too full for utterance.
By this time the boat had drifted far below the steep
banks that first concealed their retreat, and they were
fast nearing a village by the river side. Taking his
oars in hand once more, Ko Tha turned the boat from
its course in the mid-stream and approached the bank
As the boat touched the sedge that fringed the border,
he stopped and gave a shrill whistle.
Startled from his reverie and surprised at the sudden
stop, Mekara looked up inquiringly. "What is the
meaning of this ? " he asked.
" Pardon, master, I am only waiting for a boy whom
I always take on here to aid me in rowing over the
rapids as I return."
Soon a rustling was heard in the sedge, and parting
tho leaves, a boy with deep brown skin, and half naked,
stood on the bank staring like a startled fawn at the
unexpected sight of the prince and his family.
" Haste, Quala," said the boatman impatiently, " step
on board and let's be going, for our master must not be
delayed." Thus admonished, the lad crept timidly into the boat
and sat crouching like a dog in the bow.

36 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"Why dost thou call him Quala (hope)?" inquired
the prince. " What does that indicate ? "
"It may seem superstitious, my Lord," replied Ko
Tha, " but at the time of his birth his parents were liv
ing in daily hope of the coming of the white man from
the West, bringing the lost book of God ; and so strong
was that expectation that they gave him the name of
San Quala, which signifies hope, and we fully expect
the coming of the white man to be in his day."
" Hope, hope, hope ! " echoed in the brain of Mekara.
" Look up, O, my soul ! Light will yet dawn upon
thee." Ko Tha-By-u now gave himself vigorously to the oars,
and the long gilded shell darted like a flash down the
swift current of the stream, leaving the moonbeams
dancing in long, glimmering streaks in the wake be
hind, as if they slipped from the golden sides of the
vessel itsef. Mekara sat in deep thought musing with
himself. " Why is it that my soul lingered so long in darkness
while in the palace of my father, and then the first
light, though dim, cometh from a poor bond-slave who
is considered unworthy to kiss the feet of a Burman ?
Can it be that the Great Being revealeth himself to the
poor and simple in preference to the rich and powerful ?
Oh! that I knew more of him! Why delayeth the
white man his coming ? I will go to Rangoon, thence
embark for India, where I will seek instruction from the
Brahmins. If I find no rest I shall return, by which
time, perhaps, the white man will be here. 0, boat,
glide swiftly and bear me away from all that recalls the
meet, sad memories of the ignorance of my child-
nood!"

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 3?
Mahdri sat quietly by his side, holding the babe in
her arms ; speaking never a word and taking no interest
in the conversation, except as it seemed to affect her
husband; her tender, affectionate eyes gazed fondly
from the face of the sleeping child to that of the trou
bled father, one of whose hands she held clasped in her
own as if to assure him of her sympathy. Thus sitting
in silence, the soft, hazy sky above them and the per
fume-laden air shimmering around them, they passed
through the land of the Golden Face.
The story of Ko Tha-By-u, though simple and mixed
with superstition, is both suggestive and interesting to
a Bible reader.
Solomon, in building the magnificent temple at Jeru
salem, overlaid it with pure gold, garnished with pre
cious stones brought from the famous mines of Ophir,
which is believed to be Burmah. Here the wise king
and his prosperous vassal, Hiram, king of Tyre, had
established trading posts and planted flourishing colo
nies to aid in the easy transportation to Jerusalem of
the great cargoes of gold and rich products of the soil.
After the destruction of the temple and capture of
Jerusalem, when pursued by enemies and rejected by
friends, who knows but that the ten missing tribes
escaped in remnants to the colonies in Ophir, and there
became the owners of the soil as related by the Karens?
There, as Ko Tha said, they lived for centuries, pros
perous and happy. Certain peculiar traits of character
among the Karens, their traditions, and the form of
certain words pertaining to the worship of Jehovah, all
testify to their Hebrew origin, which is now no longer

38 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
a matter of dispute, but an accepted fact among eminent
scholars. Before leaving their own country the temple service
had fallen into disuse and the Scripture readings neg
lected. In the confusion and terror of flight the sacred
roll containing the Law and the Prophets was lost, and
with it all knowledge of God, except through tradition
mixed with error.
Jerusalem was again besieged and destroyed on ac
count of her rejection of the Messiah. The curse of
God was visited upon the wretched inhabitants, who
were driven homeless into every land, a " curse and a
by-word " in every nation. The same punishment was
also inflicted upon their brethren in Ophir, who, given
to money-making and the quiet and peaceful occupa
tions of life, were unable to withstand the attack of the
lordly and more warlike Burmans, who drove them from
their quiet possessions like beasts into the jungles.
Because of their determined refusal to engage in the
idolatry of the surrounding nations they were hated
and abused, driven from society, and cursed by the
lowest outcasts.
For two thousand years have they groped in darkness,
clinging to the faint light within their bosoms, waiting
for the restoration of the Holy Book, and vainly trying
to recall the Songs of Zion in their wild mountain
homes. Look forward, 0, reader, to the wonderful
providence of God manifest toward his people. Of a
surety he has reserved unto himself a remnant who
" escaped the sword," and who remember him " among
the nations " whither they were carried captive.
" This is the Lord's doings, and it is marvelous in our
eyes."

CHAPTER VI
" That sweet Indian land,
, Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads
O'er coral rocks and amber beds ;
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beams
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ;
Whose rivulets are like rich brides,
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ;
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice
Might be a Peri's Paradise I " — Thomas Moore.
The story of " That delightful province of the
sun " would be the most interesting and fascinating ever
written. Its legendary lore, recording the marvelous
exploits of gods and god-like men, embraces in its scope
millions of years, extending far beyond the creation of
the world, and, in comparison to which, the most ex
travagant mythologies of classic Greece and Rome are
but nursery tales.
Centuries before wandering outlaws founded the
Eternal City on tho banks of the yellow Tiber ; the
sacred Ganges, in its majestic course, washed with its
saving tide the crowded ghauts leading to many a
teeming city. When ancient Greece had not yet
dreamed of her Golden Days of Athenian Glory, nor
listened with rapt attention to^ the thrilling tale of her
blind old bard, these favored children of the sun
dwelt in luxurious splendor ; and yellow-robed priests
recited in Sanscrit tho wonderful Epos, Ramayana.
When Jerusalem, The Golden, had not yet been con
ceived in the mind of The Sweet Psalmist of Israel,
(39)

40 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Benares, the Holy City, offered daily sanctification,
through its six thousand shrines, to the eager millions
who crowded thither.
With an origin veiled in the misty shroud of the
Ages, with a modern Past burning with the recollection
of foreign royalty waving triumphantly over a suffer
ing land made fertile by the warm, gushing life-blood
of its slaughtered inhabitants, and with a Future that
bids fair to lift them far above their present benighted
condition under the blessed rule of the Prince of Peace,
the Indian people invoke the attention of the present
generation. Their sacred books, the Shasters, teach the doctrine
of One Supremo Being, Brahm, whose pure spirit, per
vading all space, is the origin of every human soul.
And into this Great Soul they are all to be once more
absorbed when freed from the stains of earth and the
defilements of the flesh. Brahm is without beginning
or end, without form or attributes, a purely negative
character. Nevertheless, in order to the creation of the
world he laid aside his negative nature and took upon
himself form ; as spirit could not create matter without
being united with it. Says the Veda : " Brahm
awoke and said, ' Let me be many !' " And he immedi
ately took upon himself material form and became, for
a time, Brahma, the creator.
The germs of the universe were in the shape of an
egg, into which Brahma retired to perfect his work.
During one year of creation, equal to three hundred
millions of our years, this egg, shining with the bright
ness of a thousand suns, floated on the waters of chaos.
At length the shell burst and Brahma leaped forth, a

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 41
being of terrible appearance, having a thousand heads,
a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. From his body
sprang "the four castes in order. From his mouth the
Brahmins, who are the highest of all and expounders
of the Vedas ; from his arms and breast, the Kshatryas,
who are the kings and warriors ; from his loins, the
Vaisyas, merchants and farmers; and from his feet,
the Sudras, slaves to all the others.
The material universe* also escaped from this lum
inous egg in the form of Sargan, a monstrous creature,
whose " hairs were the trees and shrubs of the forest ;
his head the clouds; his beard the lightning; his
voice the thunder ; his breath the atmosphere ; his eyes
the sun and moon ; his nails the rocks ; and his bones
the mountains of the earth."
Brahma now becomes Brahm again, and retires to
eternal slumber, leaving the government of the world to
his representatives, Vishnu and Shiva, the second and
third members of the triad composed of Brahma, the
creator; Vishnu, the preserver; and Shiva, the de
stroyer. Brahm is everything and everything is Brahm.
In thus multiplying himself in giving birth to the uni
verse he " became many," the soul inhabiting every
material form, high or low ; and authorized the wor
ship of the three hundred and thirty millions of deities
representing him to the eye.
The human soul, unable to absolve itself entirely
from the stains of earth, during this life, passes, at
death, into the body of a higher or lower order of being,
according to the degree of merit attained during its
former existence. If it degenerates it passes into the

42 the! child Op the GanGeS.
body of a lower animal, and is doomed to undergo
thousands of transmigrations before released. If, on
tho other hand, the deeds of this life are sufficiently
meritorious, the soul of a person of lower caste may
next inhabit the body of a Brahmin, after which the
next death releases him from the shackles of mortality
and his soul is lost in the Great Soul of the universe,
like the upward soaring of the lark that is lost to view
in the bosom of the sky. Humanity becomes divinity.
This state of blessed annihilation may be merited in
three ways : By works, as bathing in holy waters, doing
penance, and feeding Brahmdnsj. Jsv, the worship of the
gods through their images and temples ; and by sol
emn meditation and mental worship without visible
demonstration. Religion is altogether ceremonial.
He who neglects these ceremonies, even though his
heart may be pure, is counted the vilest of sinners ;
while the most wicked morally, by keeping these ob
servances, becomes pure and holy.
The great wealth and power of India formerly belonged
to the Kshatrya caste, composed of the warlike heroes
and princes or rajahs. Then was the poetic period of
India, when the exploits of famous Maharajahs afforded
abundant material for the songs of the bards, and when
their lovely zenanas, filled with the fairest of the land,
evoked the strongest passion of the emotional southern
soul. But under the tyrannical tread of foreign oppres
sion, crushed successively beneath the heels of invad
ing Moslem and Mogul conquerors, we find the down
trodden people, at the opening of our story, servilely
giving allegiance to a handful of British merchants ;
ambition gone, the fountains of literature dried up, and
only Teligious zeal remaining.

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 43
India had, for centuries, furnished to the world her
jewels, tapestry, spices and drugs. After the discovery
of America, when a new way was opened to the East
around the "Cape of Storms," great competition in
trade was raised by the various nation's — tho Portuguese
establishing trading posts and monopolizing the traffic.
Under the reign of Queen Elizabeth the merchants of
London, realizing the great financial gain to bo acquired
by trading with the wealthy Hindus, sent agents to Cal
cutta and Madras to establish trading posts for the pur
pose of exchanging with the natives English wares in
return for their natural products, fabrics, etc. This
trade became so profitable that a company was formed
and procuring a charter from the English Government
they settled permanently in India, bearing the name of
" Tho East India Company." This was destined to bo-
come not only one of the greatest commercial, but also
one of the leading political and military powers of tho
world, and its achievements are everywhere viewed
with wonder. By ingenious manipulations they soon
became possessed of the principal cities, and in a few
years nearly all of Central and Southern India was
under their control.
The movements of this great power soon attracted the
attention of tho civilized world and revealed to its sym
pathizing gaze the distressing moral condition of the
people, and opened a way for their enlightenment. The
company objected to the preaching of missionaries be
cause they were under promise to the people not to in
terfere with their religion. Nevertheless, the undaunted
William Carey, with his associates, Marshman, Ward
and others, succeeded, after years of indefatigable indus-

44 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
try, in establishing a mission at Serampore, a village on
the banks of the Hoogly, fifteen miles from Calcutta.
Here, on the 22nd day of December, 1800, Krishna Pal,
the first Hindu convert, renounced caste, and, with his
family, sat at a table with the despised missionaries,
and a few days after Mr. Carey enjoyed the exquisite
pleasure of " desecrating " the sacred Ganges for the
first time by the baptism of the now out-cast Krishna
and his own son Felix. In rapture of joy Mr. Ward
was led to exclaim : " Now the chain of caste is broken,
and who shall be able to mend it ? " Krishna became
an efficient minister of the Gospel and co-laborer with
the missionaries. Felix Carey also became a missionary,
but was much given to wandering, as we shall afterwards
have occasion to notice.
" THE CHAIN OF CASTE IS BROKEN, AND WHO SHALL BE
ABLE TO MEND IT ? "

CHAPTER VII.
" The painted streets alive with hum of noon,
The traders, cross-legged 'mid their spice and grain,
The buyers with their money in the cloth,
The war of words to cheapen this or that,
The shout to clear the road, the huge stone wheels,
The strong, slow oxen and their rustling loads,
The singing bearers with their palanquins,
The broad-necked hamals sweating in the sun,
The housewives bearing water from the wells
With balanced chatties, and athwart their hips
The black-eyed babes." ¦ — Arnold.
Gautama sat alone under the bo-tree after days and
nights of anxious waiting and fasting, birds singing
around him, and the Himalayan crests glittering beyond
and above him. Night came, gloomy and terrible, with
stormy clouds. Dark forms oi all the sins that beset
mankind passed in horrible procession before him.
One by one he conquered them, and as the first roseate
hues of the morning gilded the Eastern sky, light
dawned upon his mind. His soul opened and unfolded
like a rose, and he became Buddha, " the one who
knows." The streams of his past existence appeared to
him from the beginning ; as when a traveler pauses on
the mountain slope and looks back through surrounding
mists to see the winding path over which he came, stretch
ing far away in the valley below. There was also revealed
to him the cause of human sorrow and its remedy.
Lifting his now clarified vision toward Benares, the
Holy City, his heart was filled with pity to see the mad
strife and suffering of its inhabitants as they sought
(45)

4G THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
release from sin. " I will go first to that queenly
city," he said, " and preach the doctrine of the soul's
progression." Benares is the heart of India ; daily sending forth,
and receiving, countless streams of humanity to and
from every province between the Himalayas and the
Bay of Bengal. Five hundred millions of people speak
with awe the dread name, " Benares," the home of the
Hindu faith. To die within its walls secures eternal
happiness. Litters bearing the dead are continually
swarming the shores of the sacred river, and the smoke
ascending from burning funeral pyres darkens the sky.
The city is in the shape of a crescent and fits like a
cap on a great bend of the river. It is three miles in
front, from horn to horn, and one mile in depth. A vast
amphitheatre bordering, with stone ghauts, the bank of
the river, and rising, in successive stages, to the lofty
temples crowning the cliffs beyond, it fills the eye with
wonder and delight.
Its history can be traced back through three thousand
years. The Brahmins assert it to be coeval with crea
tion, and that it does not stand with the rest of the
earth upon the back of the great tortoise ; but is upheld
on the point of Shiva's trident, on account of which cir
cumstance it is believed to be indestructible. Never
theless, with all its magnificence and reputed sanctity,
it is only a faint picture, a dim reflection of the true
Benares, which stands on a vast plain midway between
Earth and Heaven.
Benares is the city of a thousand temples ; temples on
the river ; temples on the outskirts, temples in the center,
temples crowning the heights. And the great golden

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 47
temple, built of dark-red sandstone, capped with a tall
golden spire Burrounded by a cluster of smaller ones,
gives the appearance of a great gilded pine-apple, in the
center of which is inclosed the shrine of the god. Innu
merable hordes of mischievous monkeys are worshiped
as gods, and every house is a monkey-temple, on the roof
of which are built the little cots in which they live, and
from which thoy sally to descend upon the streets and
commit all manner of depredations unmolested. An
insult offered to a monkey thus engaged is punishable
with death.
Great white bulls, also held as sacred, infest the nar
row streets, perfectly at home in the crowded throngs,
among whom they force thoir way by the unscrupulous
use of their broad horns. The grain merchant's store is
not allowed to be closed against them, and they stand
contentedly munching the most costly food while the
owner looks on, flattered that the gods thus notice his
stock. They even enter dwellings, and, ascending the
stairs, air themselves on the house-tops, looking out
over the city and the green fields across the river as
if the authority of the Great Mogul belonged to them.
The shops and bazaars are open to the street, and dis
play in rich profusion all kinds of quaint oriental
wares; brilliant tapestry, exquisitely carved vases,
handsomely engraved brass lotas, always brightly burn
ished, grotesque figures supporting lamps, grinning lit
tle gods, and stern-looking big gods, curious incense
burners, and mysterious boxes, and inlaid plates with
out number. Everything bright and attractive that is
kept for sale is displayed to view and adds to the gen
eral decoration.

48 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Many of the streets are so narrow that passing
elephants touch the houses on either side, some so nar
row, in fact, that only the tonjaun, carried by natives
after the manner of a palanquin, can be admitted. The
houses are built of stone, with ornamentally carved
fronts, some six or seven stories high, with projecting
balconies of dark red wood literally meeting overhead,
and shutting out the sun, so that, only here and there,
can be seen a spot of blue sky.
Great quantities of birds blacken the sky and fill the
air with their cries. Kites and crows, the scavengers
of tho land, walk about the streets, mixing with the
multitude with as much an air of importance as any
citizen of the place. Flocks of pigeons whirr through
tho long passages, or huddle under the tall over-hang
ing eaves, and green-and-purple paroquets flit from
roof to roof, their glossy plumage glittering in the sun
light. The streets are thronged with a thousand incongru
ous scenes. Tall, handsome men and beautifully clad
women from Cashmere ; pilgrims from the Decean and
from the Punjaub; yellow-robed priests, white-clad
Brahmins, sweating coolies, veiled and jeweled women,
rich Parsees, and long-bearded Mohammedans — all are
mixed in indescribable confusion. The clamor is dread
ful. The traders crying their wares; priests and
mendicants, one demanding, the other craving, "back
sheesh " ; the ox-driver shouting to his laboring team ;
Brahmins expounding the Vedas ; the driver on the
royal elephant shouting, " Clear the way for the Maha
rajah!" fakirs yelling; monkeys chattering above and
mimicing the crowds below ; devotees trying to repeat

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 49
all the names of the thirty-three million gods ; deafen
ing gongs clanging from the thousands of temples;
feeble old men crying " Ganga ! " with their fast depart
ing breaths ; and wailing funeral processions following
the dead, fill the ear with an intermixture of sounds
never to be forgotten.
Here Buddha first preached his wonderful doctrine.
The cries were hushed, the sacrificial altars no longer
reeked with the blood of goats and buffaloes, and pil
grims ceased to look to the Holy City and the sacred
river for salvation. A code of morL.ity had taken the
place of ceremonial observances, idolatry and worship
of every kind was forbidden, and right living enforced.
Buddha died and his system degenerated. Having for
bidden the worship of idols he put a stop to all devotion,
the life of the soul. Following the natural instincts of
his nature man must worship. Consequently the dead
Buddha was deified. Temples were erected to his mem
ory, and shrines, inclosing hairs from his sacred head,
were adored by the devout disciples, and Buddhism be
came a worse form of idolatry than they had known
before. At length the Brahmins rallied, and expelling the
adherents of Gautama from India, destroyed their
temples and re-established the old faith. Once more
Benares became the life of the nations, the '* Mother of
their faith." It was made so holy that all dying within
a radius of five miles around went to Paradise regardless
of their own wishes. Even the hated Moslem and
abhorred beef -eating Englishmen were not exempt
from this speedy transportation to glory.
4

50 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
0, wondrous city! thy three thousand years o f vice
and magnificent crime are waning to a close. Thy gor
geous temples must soon be cleared of their hideous
images to give place to yet a new worship, and thy
surging multitudes will sing a new song, and embrace
a new faith never to be supplanted. Even thy dead
shall find a sweeter repose than that on tho tosom of
Ganga !

CHAPTER VIII.
"Where is thy God?"— Fs. xlii: 3.
Prince Mekara, with his wife and child, reached
Rangoon in good time, and after parting from Ko-Tha,
who begged that they would send him the Light if it
was ever found, they sailed for Calcutta. A prosperous
voyage soon brought them across the Bay of Bengal,
and sailing up the Hoogly, one of the mouths of the
Ganges, they landed at Calcutta. Mekara was in too
great a hurry to reach Benares to spend more time than
absolutely necessary in the " City of Palaces." So
procuring a boat as soon as possible they set out on
their journey up the Ganges, scarcely noticing the pal
atial residences of the great social city, or the brilliant
equipages driving with lordly magnificence along the
famous esplanade. They were no longer interested in
social pleasures.
Benares, seen from the river, presents an entirely
different view from Benares seen from within. The
narrow, crowded streets are hid from view, and there
can only be seen the ornamental roofs of the houses and
the gilded spires of the pagodas, rising in terraces
above, and the long ghauts reaching down to the water,
covered with people of both sexes and all ages, who are
passing continually to and from the river.
The prince had traveled by night in order to avoid,
for the sake of Mahdri and the child, the fieroe heat of
the sun, which was just rising one morning as his
(51)

52 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
peacock-shaped boat glided into view around the bend
of the river. A view of the Holy City, thus seen for the
first time at sunrise, thrills the soul like the remem
brance of a delightful dream, so gorgeous appear the
crimson sunbeams bathing the dark-red buildings, and
glittering on the burnished spires of gold.
" Surely," thought Mekara, as he saw the heavenly
vision and the throngs of seemingly happy bathers,
"among so many devout worshipers I shall find the
knowledge I seek."
Pushing his way up the crowded steps into the city
he found a traveler's bungalow, in which he placed
Mahdri and Manohara, and ordering refreshments for
them, he hastened back to the river, leaving them to
rest while he conversed with the Brahmins.
By this time almost the whole population of the city, -
numbering nearly two hundred thousand, with many
more from a distance, had assembled at the river.
Standing in water up to the waist they performed their
ablutions, then filling their brass lotas with the sacred
water, they brought it upon the bank, and pouring it
out as an offering to the rising sun, they fell on their
faces and worshiped in silence. Some fashioned
images from the Ganges' mud, and gazing fixedly upon
them, repeated their prayers, then threw them into the
river as of no further use.
Mekara passed here and there through the throng,
watching every movement, and endeavoring to draw
some conclusion from their actions as to the nature of
their religion. Seeing a Brahmin approaching from
one side he left the crowd and went forward to meet
him. The Brahmin, who had just performed his ablu-

£4 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
tions, shaved, and clad in his snowy robe, presented the
very picture of contentment which shone on his good-
natured face.
" Salaam ! noble Brahmin," began the prince, " art
thou at leisure now?"
" Peace to thy turban, Sahib. I am always at leisure
to give aid to those who need it. Is there anything I
can do for thee? "
" There is. I want to know something of the Hindu
faith and the nature of the being whom you worship.
Something whispers to me of a Personal, All-powerful
Being who made the worlds. Knowest thou aught of
such an One? "
"Thine instincts are true," replied the Brahmin,
" thy question simple and easily answered. The sacred
Vedas tell us of one God, even Brahm, whose spirit per
vades all space, and by whose power the worlds were
created and all that in them is. He is the wind that
blows ; the light of the sun ; the perfume of the flower ;
the moisture of the clouds ; and the vital breath of the
body. The stars are his eyes, the earthquakes and
thunders his laugh. Without him nothing can exist,
for he is the soul of all."
Mekara was overjoyed to hear this plain declaration
from the Brahmin, for now he felt that he was in pos
session of the knowledge he sought. But not yet satis
fied he determined to glean all the light possible while
with him.
" Tell me more, noble Brahmin," he said, " of that
Great Being, and how I may come to a correct knowledge
of him."
But the Brahmin shook his head. " Ask no further,"
he replied, " I have told thee too much already. It ia

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 55
not intended that any but Brahmins should know the
teachings of the sacred books. All thou art required to
do is to obey our commands."
" But," insisted the prince, " how can I obey thy com
mands intelligently unless I know of some reason for
so doing? Consider, I am a stranger here, and know
nothing of thy religion. I have come all the way from
Ava seeking the knowledge which thou hast in power
to reveal to me. Read to me, I pray thee, from the
sacred book that I may learn of God."
The Brahmin gazed for a moment in mute astonish
ment and pity at the prince for his intrepid boldness.
"Thou dost not know what thou hast desired," he
said at length. "Hast thou not heard that a Sudra's
head would cleave asunder to listen to the reading of
the Vedas?"
"But I am not a Sudra," insisted Mekara.
*' Then thou art a Pariah, an outcast, which is worse.
Still, if thou wilt follow my directions I will read and
thou mayest hear without danger. Dip thy hand three
times into the sacred stream, pouring the water over
thy head, so shalt thou be purified."
Watching the other until he had performed this holy
office, the Brahmin drew from the folds of his robe the
sacred parchment and read this invocation :
"God is One ! Creator of all that is ! God is like a perfect
sphere, without beginning and without end ! God rules and
governs all creation by a general providence, resulting from
first determined and fixed principles. Thou shalt not make
inquiry into the essence of the Eternal One, nor by what
laws he governs. An inquiry into either is vain and criminal.
It is enough, that day by day, and night by night, thou seest
in his works, his wisdom, his power and his mercy. Benefit
thereby.

56 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"By one Supreme Euler is this universe pervaded; even
every world in the whole circle of nature. Enjoy pure delight,
O man ! by abandoning all thoughts of this perishable world,
and covet not the wealth of any creature existing.
" To those regions where evil spirits dwell, and which utter
darkness involves, all such men surely go after death, as destroy
the. purity of their souls.
"Let my soul return to the immortal spirit of God! and
then let my body, which end3 in ashes, return to dust !
" O, Spirit who pcrvadest fire, lead us in a straight path to
the riches of beatitude ! remove each foul taint from our soul ;
who approach thee with the highest praise and the most fervid
adoration !
" God, who is perfect in wisdom, and perfect in happiness,
is the final refuge of the man who has liberally bestowed his
wealth, who has been firm in virtue, and who knows and
adores that Great One ! Remember me. O, OM, Thou Divine
Spirit." Mekara's heart filled with joy as he listened to this
sublime description of his own ideal God; but, looking
at the crowds thronging the water, and seeing the strange
inconsistency of their worship, he asked :
"Why, 0 Brahmin, do those people, knowing that
there is one God, even a Spirit, worship images of mud
on the river-bank, and hideous figures in yonder golden
temples?" " They do not worship the images."
" But do I not see them bow before them, pray to
them, and pour libations of sacred water upon them ?
What is that but worship ? "
" It is worship," said the Brahmin, " but offered to
God in the image, and not to the image itself."
" I do not understand," replied Mekara. " How is God
in such a creation of man's hands ? "

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 57
" Did I not just read from the Veda that God is every
where, and if everywhere, and in everything, is he not
in the idol ?"
"Why, then, do they have images? Surely such a
God as is there described would delight more in the
devotion of the soul than in these outward, and often
disgusting, practices."
"Canst thou not yet understand? God is a spirit. Can
he be seen ? How then shall the vulgar, untaught, un
thinking mob worship him whom they see not ? The
idea, of an unseen, intangible God is too abstract for
them ; they cannot grasp it. There is nothing actual
for the mind to rest upon. Therefore, we give them
idols. On these the mind is concentrated, and the de
votion ascends to God, which otherwise would wander
over the wide universe."
The prince was beginning to lose faith in the religion
of the Brahmins. "If God is invisible," he asked,
" how has any one ever seen him that they may repre
sent him in carvings of stone, mud, or wood ? And
what idea can any one derive of God by gazing upon
your oily-headed Ganesha with his elephant trunk ? "
"It is a matter of little importance," replied the
Brahmin, " whether they have a right conception of him
or not. The uneducated really think that the idol is
God and worship it as such. Worship is all that we
require of them, and it is as sincerely paid to one object
as another. In one sense the image is God, since God
is everything. Consequently their devotion is not lost.
In that sense I, too, am God."
" Thou God ? " cried Mekara, in astonishment,
" Canst thou not sin ? "

58 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" True, I sin," he replied, " but that is on account of
the flesh. God is like fire. A flame is pure Throw
dirt upon it and it smokes, giving off a bad odor. That
is not from the fire, but from the dirt. So the God in
me is pure, but surrounded by impure matter. He
hates sin, but it arises from his contact with the flesh."
Confused by this strange logic of idolatry, Mekara
knew not what to think.
"How may we become free from sin ? " he inquired.
" By continual mortification of the body," replied his
instructor; "by strangling all mortal desires, passions,
and affection of every kind. If life be made continual
pain from which death would be a happy release, then sin
would be purged and the pure, immaterial soul set free.
Some attain that perfection in this life, others pass
through many states of existence before their final re
lease. Eternal happiness may be secured by perform
ing the various ceremonies connected with public wor
ship, bathing in fhc sacred river, or even by silent
meditation and fasting. All who die in this holy place
are saved. Yet many who, in addition to their own
salvation, wish to obtain release for the souls of de
parted friends, practice additional austerities, and ac
cumulate a surplus of righteousness to be carried with
them. Such are the thousands of ascetics who daily
go about the streets in rags or almost naked, delighting
in bodily torture ; and such are the hundreds of thou
sands of devotees who shall assemble here this day.
Remain here and be content, for no soul from here can
be lost. Observe the different rites and ceremonies,
and shape thine own life accordingly. Nevertheless, if
thou wouldst see farther into our system thou mayest

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 59
go to the Grove of Sorrow, near a tall mountain shrine ,
which stands near the left bank of the Ganges, two
days' journey from the city. It is a place of great re
puted sanctity, and here are a thousand ascetics, under
a Brahmin, practicing as many different penances.
But methinks thou wilt see enough here to satisfy thy
soul. May Brahm give thee light, and Vishnu preserve
thee. We must part ! "
With these words he walked on, leaving Mekara to
ponder the things he had heard. The latter stood
watching the retreating figure of the Brahmin, and the
confused crowd moving to and fro, his mind filled with
indecision concerning the strange doctrine he had
heard. What spirituality is there in devotion paid to
senseless stone ? And how can bodily infliction purge
the immaterial soul of its pollution ? These thoughts
racked his brain and afforded him food for reflection
for many days to come. He was aroused from his
reverie by a sudden commotion in a group of bathers
on one of the principal ghauts. The crowd surged
backward, leaving an open space on the steps, down
which hastily came two men bearing a litter, and fol
lowed by a wailing procession of men, women, and
children. The bearers placed the litter by the water's edge and
removed the snow white linen cloth that covered it.
Mekara came near to look upon the supposed corpse ;
but, to his surprise, saw the emaciated body of a rich
merchant, still alive, and struggling for breath. He
stretched his thin, bony hands imploringly towards the
river.

60 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
" I have sinned ! " he gasped, " and the streams of life
run low. Place me in the arms of the Sacred Mother
quickly. Only on her bosom can my soul find peace ! "
Gently lifting him from the litter, they placed him in
the water up to his breast, while the weeping relatives
crowded on the banks to catch his expiring words. His
lean arms clutched at the water before him ; his great
dark eyes were already covered with the film of death,
and his wan lips scarcely were able to articulate. The
bearers held him by the shoulders and supported hie
feeble head. A spasm passed over his haggard features.
His lips moved. " Holy Mother ! " he faintly cried, "thou
who art my life — receive — my — soul ! " His head fell
forward on his breast ; his arms dropped to his sides, .
and they were about to lift him out. Suddenly, as if
the departing spirit had forgotten something of infinite
importance, he raised his head convulsively and
screamed : " Ganga ! Ganga ! " with all the energy
of his last escaping breath, and throwing himself back
ward lay in the water, a corpse, his spirit caught away
in the arms of the Sacred Mother.
The body was placed again on the litter and the cloth
drawn over it. A barge now approached and deposited
upon the bank a pile of wood and straw. The wood
was formed into a pen between two stakes and filled
with the straw. On top were placed several layers of
dry wood, and the body, closely wrapped in scarlet, was
laid upon it and covered with a cloth of gold. When all
was ready a priestly Brahmin cried, so as to be heard
above the wailing mourners : "What sayeth the widow?
Does she choose to eat fire, or no? "

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 61
A Hindu widow is accursed if she survives her hus
band ; cast out from society ; forced to pass her days
in solitary confinement and the utmost self-denial ;
never sleeping on a bed ; never wearing any jewelry.
Without her husband her soul is nothing, but linked
with his in the embrace of death, both may go together
to Paradise. She makes her own choice.
At the voice of the Brahmin the relatives stopped
for a moment their wailing to hear the decision. The
poor woman lifted her tearful eyes to the golden domes
of the temples where she had so often worshiped ;
looked wistfully upon the broad, placid stream of the
rivet und the children clustering around her, then bent
a yearning look upon the body beneath the cloth. Only
for a moment did she hesitate ; then, " It is decided,"
she said. " I will go with him ! "
Once more the wailing began. Descending into the
river, she bathed her body for the last time in its be
loved stream, then tying about her waist a cloth, in the
corner of which was fastened a quantity of parched
rice, she marched, at the head of her children, seven
times around the pile in sunwise procession, throwing
the rice upon her relatives in passing ; then ascending
the pile, she lifted the cloth, and, placing the withered
arm of the corpse about her neck, embraced it lovingly.
The two bodies were now tightly bound together with
cords and heavy pieces of wood laid upon them, across
which was placed a long bamboo pole, held down at each
end by a stout Brahmin to prevent the victim from
rising. The priest read aloud from the Shaster, direct
ing how the ceremony was to be performed. The oldest

62 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
son applied the sacred torch; the smoke ascended to
the sky. The wailing grew louder, and the whole im
mense throng yelled and beat upon their gongs to drown
the shrieks of the poor, loving creature, struggling in
the burning mass. Two men stood behind those who
held down the pole and poured water upon their heads
to protect them from the heat. The struggles soon
ceased ; the dry pile crumbled quickly to ashes ; the
blue smoke rolled away ; the ashes were thrown into
the river, and the great crowd thought no more of the
every day occurrence, but a family had been destroyed
in that one short hour, and two more had been added to
the innumerable hosts of the Children of the Ganges.

CHAPTER IX.
" Tell me, my secret soul,
0 tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting place
From sorrow, sin, and death ?
Is there no happy spot,
Where mortals may be blest
Where grief may find a balm
And weariness a rest ? "

—Charles Mackay.

The prince, who was much shocked at this barbarous
deed, congratulated himself that Mahdri was not pres
ent to witness it. Brought up under the Buddhist faith,
which forbids the taking of animal life, neither of them
had ever witnessed the death, by violence, of even an
inseot. Buddha taught that all souls failing to attain
Nirvana in this life were doomed to another round of
transmigration from the lower order of animals up to
man again. Consequently even a mischievous flea
might be inhabited by the soul of some erratic grand
father who had gone astray from the teachings of the
law ; for this reason they were not to be disturbed. What
must have been the shock to the tender-hearted princess,
then, had she beheld the cremation of a living human,
especially of her own sex, and a devoted wife and
mother !
The heat of the sun was now becoming too oppres
sive to be borne, as it was reflected from the water and
the polished steps of the ghauts. Most of the bathers
were dispersing to their homes, and Mekara, fatigued
C63)

64 the Child op The Ganges.
with his long journey and nights of wakefulness, deter
mined to go to his bungalow and try to rest while he
thought over the events of the morning, or sought repose
in sleep.
Towards evening he wandered with his wife and child
through the streets, watching the endless processions
come and go ; and listening to the learned and bigoted
Brahmins as they discoursed on the corners, explaining
to gaping crowds the way to heaven. Here many, who
had seemed the most devout worshipers at the river,
were earnestly trying to excel in lying, cheating, and
stealing, as if their religion demanded it. Practices
which would make a moral Buddhist shudder to behold.
But what did it matter? Ganga was near and her
waters "cleanse from all sin."
Fakirs in every stage of nudity, some of them coated
from head to foot with dried mud, or hideously striped
with berry juice, ran from street to street, continually
yelling for Shiva. Both Mekara and Mahdri had tried
in vain to conjecture why so many of the sacred bulls
crowded the narrow streets and to what use they could
possibly be put, but that matter soon explained itself.
An old pilgrim came tottering down the street, support
ing his feeble frame with a cane. He had the appear
ance of having come a great distance, his breath came
in short, quick gasps, and his eyes looked eagerly for
ward as if he feared his strength would fail him before
reaching his destination. Those nearest to him could
hear his dried tongue lisping, through his toothless
gums, the magic name, " Ganga ! Ganga ! " He was
poor and had no friends to carry him. He paused on a

66 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
corner in sight of the holy stream ; his form reeled,
and a look of despair came into his yearning eyes as he
clutched the wall for support. Suddenly a sacred bull
appeared in front of him ; a new light entered his eyes ;
and staggering forward he grasped the animal by the
long bushy tail. A generous Brahmin now ran up with
a brass lota filled with Ganges water which he poured
over the head of the old man, whose sins passing through
his hands along the sacred medium, were forever lost,
and he fell to the ground, dying in a full assurance of
faith that his soul -would awake in Paradise ; for, had
he not died in the Holy City, in sight of the divine
Mother, clinging for refuge to Shiva's favorite steed.
Coolies hastily snatched up the yet quivering body,
and bearing it merrily down the steps, dumped it into
the river, where it floated peacefully away in company
with many others who had enjoyed alike happy fate.
The travelers next visited the temples, where they
saw, for the first time, sacrificial blood flow from
burning altars. Grave-faced Brahmins, with long white
beards, chanted their mantras in response to the bleat
ing of the kids, and lovely nautch girls, clad in light,
flowing drapery, with golden bells tinkling about their
graceful ankles, danced in circles over tho stone-paved
floor. Other temples were inhabited solely by monkeys, who
gazed impudently at the curious intruders.
" Why worship monkeys? " The question occurred to
Mekara ; but there was no one in the temple to answer,
except the ridiculous little gods themselves.
Hanumat, the baboon god, is represented in the great
Epic, Ramayana, as the son of the God of the Wind,

1 I I w

68 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
and as such was often employed by Rama when in need
of a swift messenger. For his services to this mighty
king in his great campaign against Ceylon, he was
rewarded with perpetual life and never-fading youth.
He is renowned for no good deeds or noble traits of
character, yet is devoutly worshiped by millions.
The prince lost no opportunity of inquiring into the
meaning of every ceremony he saw performed. But
the more he saw and heard of the religion of the peo
ple, the greater was his surprise to see the inconsistency
between the teachings of the holy books and the prac
tices of those who professed to follow them. The Vedas
proclaimed One God, Immutable, Omniscient, and
Omnipresent. Why then should there be such a lack
of an object of worship as to authorize the deification
of monkeys, bulls, and rivers?
The temples, with their gilded pinnacles and smoking
altars, were devoted to worship ; the unnumbered hosts
of pilgrims came with hearts overflowing with worship ;
and those who dipped themselves in the Ganges at sun
rise did it as a form of worship. But to whom? Out
of the millions who annually visited her banks was
there one who worshiped God? No; not one. The
question now arose in the mind of the prince, " Why is
all this?" Then the words of the Brahmin, spoken
that morning, recurred to him. " It is not given to any
but Brahmins to understand the Vedas." " How differ
ent," thought he, " from the religion of Ko Tha-Byu,
which had been revealed to the common people, the
simplest of the land ! "
Reader, dost thou know what has been the greatest
curse the world has ever seen? The answer is obvious :
Priestcraft.

An Indian Temple.

70 the child op The Ganges.
Who was responsible for the illiteracy of the masses
during the Dark Ages? Who butchered the servants of
God, and drove them like sheep to the slaughter? Who,
with Satanic cunning, is trying to sap the foundations
of our own fair republic? Who holds Mexico in chains?
Who opposes the man of God in Cuba? Who is re
sponsible for the gross ignorance, superstition, and vice
in every land, civilized or savage? The answer to all
is, The Priest! The Priest! God send the happy
day, when only the One Great High Priest, who is
" touched- with the feelings of our infirmity," shall
stand between a loving Father and his trusting people !
After wandering till nearly night among the mazy
labyrinths of streets, Mahdri, who had no interest in the
city beyond a natural feminine curiosity to see the
sights, became exhausted from the long tramp; which
being observed by her husband, he reproved himself
for having led her so far, and proposed to return at once
to the bungalow. There they sat till late in the night
on the upper balcony ; she, amusing herself with the
child, and he, looking thoughtfully out over the city. A
thin mist had risen from the river through which the
full moon glimmered, " shorn of its beams."
Hundreds of spice-lamps set afloat on the silvery
tide of the river by amorous maidens, betokening pro
pitious returns from anxious lovers, twinkled like stars,
or phantom Will-o'-The-Wisps, as they moved along.
Red lanterns flared from the deep dark streets below;
and flames of cocoanut-oil lit up the temples on the
cliff. The great piles of stone buildings and golden
domes, touched by the dim light of the moon, with a
back-ground of mist, gave the appearance more of a

THll CHILD OP THE^GANGES. 71
fading sunset picture painted among the clouds, than
of the sad reality it was.
A spirit of worship thrilled Mekara's bosom as he
looked on the lovely scene, and he longed to throw him
self on his face and pour out his soul in devotion.
" But to whom ? " he thought. " Shall I worship yon
lovely river ? I know, from natural causes, it is a bless
ing to the whole land ; but no more so than my own
Irrawaddy. Shall I pray to the sacred bulls or mon
keys ? They have no instincts common to the human
soul, nor could they understand the words of my mouth.
Shall I pour oil on the elephant-head of Ganesha, or
drape his thick neck with garlands of flowers ? The
senseless stone would never know it. Shall I give
offerings to a God who is Spirit ? I fain would worship
him ; but alas ! I know not how to approach unto him,
nor with what words to address him. Oh, the light is
long in coming ! I thought I had received it when the
Brahmin read to me of a God, but his actions belie his
words. I will patiently labor and wait."
Thus, day after day, and night after night, did he
pass in the Holy City ; but each day only served to
reveal unto him, more and more, the vanity and folly
of its gross idolatry. Within a week of daily applica
tion he was convinced that the " Mother of the Faith
ful " could never afford him the rest for which he
Bought, and he determined, as a further test of their
religion and practices, to visit the grove suggested to
him by the Brahmin on the morning of his arrival.
Making known his intention to Mahdri, she expressed
delight at the prospect of leaving the crowded city, and
willingness to accompany him anywhere. So in the

72 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
cool of the afternoon, just before sunset, they set out in
a boat on their journey up the river.
Their destination lay beyond Allahabad, " The City
of God," situated at the juncture of the two sacred
rivers. Its high-sounding title promised to Mekara the
fulfillment of his hopes, and he stopped to make further
inquiry; but a few hours sufficed to reveal the fact
that the inhabitants were no better informed than those
of Benares, but were engaged in the same abominable
practices, even to excess.
• Weary with journeyings, and searchings to and fro,
and almost in despair, he turned his back upon India's
two most holy cities, and appealed for comfort to the
heart of Nature, landing that night at the banyan tem
ple where first we found them.
Will he find rest ?
Ah ! troubled prince, thou hast never known sorrow
and heart-pangs such as shalL soon be thine, when,
through Brahmin duplicity, thy beloved wife and
child  but we must not anticipate.

BOOK SECOND.

CHAPTER I.
" Moon after moon our lord sat in the wood,
So meditating that he forgot
Oftentimes the hour of food, rising from thoughts
Prolonged beyond the sunrise and the moon,
To see his bowl unfilled and eat perforce
Of wild fruit fallen from the bough o'er head,
Shaken to earth by chattering ape or plucked
By purple paroquet. Therefore, his grace
Faded ; his body, worn by stress of soul,
Lost, day by day, the marks thirty and two
Which testify the Buddha. Scarce that leaf
Fluttering so dry and withered to his feet,
From off the sal-branch, bore less likeness
Of spring's soft greenness than he of him
Who was the princely flower of all his land."

— Arnold.

Mekara had told his story hurriedly and passed over
the minor parts of his history ; but by the time he was
through the sun was high in the heavens ; and Mahdri,
returning from the village, had prepared a meal of rice
and curry, and sitting down with the child, she waited
quietly until her husband should be ready. Asita was
invited to partake of the refreshments, but declined,
as a Brahmin could not receive food from the hands
of a lower caste. So while they were eating he helped
himself from the lota at his side.
Only a few moments sufficed the prince to allay his
appetite, for when the soul hungers the body craves but
(73)

74 the child of the Ganges.
little. Asita waited until he had finished and washed
his hands from a chattie of water, then began :
"Thy story, 0 prince, is one of thousands who are
troubled with thoughts of the soul, its relation to the
Soul of the universe, and its eternal destiny. My
brother in the Holy City told thee aright. Brahm is
all, and in all. Without him there is nothing ; and the
highest state of blessedness is to be absorbed finally
into the bosom of the great Original from whom all have
emanated. The body is nothing but a cage containing
the divine spark which alone gives character to its pos
sessor. The soul is holy, and contact with the flesh
defiles it. Consequently, if the desires of the body can
be quenched, all love and affection uprooted, and carnal
sensibilities destroyed, the soul will be freed as water
from a compressed sponge.
" Our religion admits of no proselytes. To be a Brah
min is to be born such. But, even in this, thy destiny
lies in choice, and not fate, nor even the will of the
gods. The fetters of caste bind us fast while in this
body, but when freed by death the soul next enters
whatever degree it was prepared for in this life. Even
a Pariah as thyself can aspire to be a Brahmin in the
next life, from which there is only one step to final
absorption, the blessed end to all human trouble. The
more severe self-torture we practice the greater happi
ness we shall enjoy.
" As I said, thy future destiny is altogether a matter
of choice. Within this forest is a great multitude of
ascetics, each practicing a different mode of infliction
according to the dictates of his own mind. I will con
duct thee, therefore, to the Grove of Sorrow, where thou
shalt converse with each and choose for thyself."

THP CHILD OP THE GANGES. 75
Mekara sat in silence, meditating on what course to
pursue. Having met with disappointment in both
Benares and Allahabad, he was now confronted with
the same difficulties met with there. But he was deter
mined to let no opportunity pass unimproved, so he
decided to go and converse with the ascetics at least,
and hear from their own lips the progress they were
making in soul-purifying.
Asita paid no attention to this hesitation, but lifting
his crooked trunk from the couch of roots and grass,
he stood, with staff and lota in hand, ready to go-
Mahdri took up the child and essayed to follow ; but
Asita objected, saying it was no place for a woman ; and
bade her to remain with the child and rest, promising
to return before sunset. She insisted, and it was only
when reassured by her husband that she consented to
remain ; for with a woman's quick intuition, she had
already begun to distrust the wily Brahmin.
The forest which they now entered was one of the
most lovely in all India. Cypress, bamboo, plantain,
mango, palm and tamarind trees were mingled in the
most luxurious confusion. Birds of gorgeous hue flitted
from branch to branch, and sang merrily from their
shady recesses ; monkeys swinging with their long arms,
or hanging by their tails from over-hanging limbs, per
formed the most ridiculous antics; herds of gazelles
browsed by the path, and fearlessly lifted their large
eyes to the face of their new visitor, as if accustomed
to the companionship of mankind.
After winding for some time through the intricate
paths of the forest, they at length reached a vast glade
where the over-hanging foliage was so dense that the

76 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
rays of the sun never entered. The ground was as
smooth as a floor, having been trodden, for long years
past, by innumerable feet ; wierd, half-stifled cries ever
and anon resounded through the dim vaults, like wails
from the region of Despair, strangely unnatural in such a
spot. Hundreds of human forms were moving, stand
ing, or reclining, among the trees in every conceivable
position. Some walked continually to and fro with
strings of beads about their necks which they counted,
repeating, over and over, a thousand times a day, the
sacred Shasters. Some, who were yet only novices in
practice, employed their time in going about with
bowls of rice from which they took little balls with
their fingers and thrust into the open, dried-up
mouths of those who had already become helpless
through long abstinence. One poor creature was stand
ing like a statue, his feet close together, and his arms
lifted straight above his head. For five years he had
been standing thus, not moving a muscle of his limbs.
His skin hung wrinkled and hard, like weather-beaten
leather about his form. His muscles had dried into
stiff, inflexible cords. His arms seemed like dead, sap
less branches of a tree, ready to drop off at the least
jar. The blood had almost ceased to circulate through
his mummy-dried flesh; and through his clinched
palms the nails had pierced, growing out through the
festered skin on the back, writhing and twisting like
serpents' head. His eye-balls, looking straight in
front of him, were immovable in their shriveled sockets.
His long, matted hair had grown down around his
head and neck to his shoulders, and it was only when
the breeze lifted the mass hanging over his brows that

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 77
he could see at all. If the development of the soul is
attained by the mortification of the body, surely his
spiritual nature must have reached a height almost to
perfection. Here lay a helpless being on the ground weltering in
a pool of blood drawn from his own body and limbs
with a flint. Here, suspended from a limb in a basket,
was a child as beautiful and sweet as Manohara. For
two days it had hung there without food, wailing
piteously, while the great cannibal ants devoured its
tender flesh. The little one was fretful from teething,
and Asita, having persuaded its mother that it was pos
sessed of a demon, induced her to let him expose it to
the ants. If it lived unharmed for three days he prom
ised to return it as cured ; but if devoured by the ants,
its mother was, congratulated that she was rid of a
demon. Off to one side two slow fires were burning ; between
which sat a naked fakir " mortifying his body." His
flesh was swollen and flushed, and through his cracked
skin the watery blood was slowly oozing and dripping
to the ground ; and yet he seemed happy in anticipation
of the reward offered in the pardon of his sins.
Mekara looked with disgust and horror on all this
self-imposed torture. Turning to the Brahmin he
asked :
" Is there no other hope of gaining eternal hap
piness ? "
"Thou hast already been told that the ways are
many," replied Asita. " These all practice their sev
eral austerities from choice and not from coercion.
The soul may be freed from sin by milder moans, as

78 THE CHILD OF THB GANGES.
bathing in the Ganges and solemn meditation, but the
degree of happiness depends upon the severity of the
pain endured.
" It is now almost noon, and I must return to the
mountain and bring away the food left there by the
pilgrims. These must be fed a little that they may
live until the body is conquered; then we will carry
them to the Ganges to die in its waters. Stay thou
among these till I return. Question them, and learn
from each the progress he is making toward the hea
venly goal."
Mekara needed no second invitation ; he was too anx
ious to learn for himself the feelings of those who
seemed so intent on their own destruction. As far as
the eye could see, forms were visible in gloom. Some
were rolling like swine in the dust crying, day and
night, "Ganga! Ganga!" Some were suspended from
the branches, head downward, their long hair growing
like moss to the ground ; and some hung from swings
in different positions. Mekara wandered at pleasure
among them, talking freely to those who were still able
to articulate. To his surprise, he found each one per
fectly satisfied with his condition, and fully confident
that his way was right.
At length, weary in body from so much walking, and
sick at heart from the sight of so much wretchedness, he
sat down by the trunk of a bo-tree to await the com
ing of Asita who had promised to return in a short
while. The zephyrs fanned the tall cypress tops above, the
birds sang, and the soft chime of pagoda bells, scarcely
perceptible, fell on his ear. With ears open to the joy

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 79
of Nature's bright world above him, and eyes behold
ing human wretchedness around him, he mused.
" Is it indeed the lot of man to always suffer thus
amid the loveliness of his surroundings ? Why is the
world so filled with beauty if we are not to look upon
it ? Why do the birds sing so cheerfully, and the strains
of music sound so sweetly, if we are not to listen to
them? Why are wives and children given to us if we
are not to love them? Could I ever enjoy pleasure that
was denied to my loved ones? Strange, strange, teach
ing this !
"Asita delayeth his coming."

CHAPTER II.
" It wag almost too much to stand
And clasp In hers the little hand
She ne'er might clasp again ;
It was too much to see the face
That she had pillowed on her heart
Turned up to plead for her embrace,
And tell her they must part." — Spencer Wallace Cone.
After the departure of Mekara and the Brahmin,
Mahdri washed the rice-bowl and placed it with the
little earthen curry-pot in a recess of the tree. She
then set about amusing Manohara until her father
should return. The two young gazelles that had slept
under the tree the night before, came out from the
shade of the forest, and walking familiarly about,
eagerly picked up the bits of food that had been drop
ped. Manohara was delighted at the sight of the lovely
visitors, and scrambling from her mother's arms, tod
dled to them; and prattling all the endearing baby
talk she had ever learned, she stroked their glossy necks
and peeped into their beautiful eyes. They entered
fully into the sport, and made her laugh heartily as
they rolled her on the ground with their velvet noses,
or capered shyly around as if afraid.
Mahdri looked on with all a mother's love ; but when
the gazelles grew tired of sport and went back into the
forest, she saw that the child was sleepy, and placing
her in the swinging-basket, she rocked it back and forth
singing a lullaby. (80)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 81
i
" Sleep, darling, sleep :
A mother's care
And a father's prayer
Shall safely keep
The baby so fair.
Sleep, darling, sleep !
Thy father shall bring
Thee peace and love ;
The devas sing
Thy joy to prove ;
And silver bells ring
In the pagoda above.
Sleep, darling, sleep !"
At length the weary brcwn-eyes closed, and the little
one slumbered. Spreading a vail over the basket,
Mahdri was preparing to go in search of berries for din
ner, when she was alarmed to see Asita returning alone.
" Where is the prince, my husband ?" she asked ex
citedly. " I left him with the devotees," replied Asita, "until
I should return to the mountain for food, which the
pilgrims have left by this time. Thy husband is safe.
Is the child asleep ?"
" She is," replied the mother, with a glance at the
basket. "Mahdri, dost thou know her fate if she should
live ? "
" I know not, unless it shall be even as my own has
been. The future to me is dark. I try not to think about
it. My husband is seeking the light, and when he shall
have found it he will tell me. Resting in that hope, I
give myself no concern, either for myself or the child.
We follow him."
6

835 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
"Ah, how little thou knowest of human destiny!"
replied Asita. " She can never share thy fate, neither
canst thou share his. The religious barriers between
woman and man are as insuperable as the social barriers
of caste between man and man. The child is now at the
age when all Hindu girls must be given in marriage ;
but thou, a stranger in a strange land, and a Pariah
besides, hast no one to whom she may be given. A
woman without a husband is a disgrace forever. The
only merit possible for her to attain is by the most ser
vile obedience to him who has the rule over her. She
may, in that case, be born in the next life as a man of
high caste, whence salvation is easily secured; but
otherwise her soul is condemned to inhabit the body of
a brute, from which there is but little hope of release by
means of good deeds. The future happiness of the
child, as well as thine own, depends upon thyself. It
may be secured by one act quickly done, though the
affliction may seem hard for the present. Think of
what I have said till my return, when I will further
instruct thee. But remember this : The pleasure or
grief experienced in this short life is nothing compared
to the happiness or misery which shall be the reward
of the next."
With these words he turned and proceeded in the
direction of the mountain.
Mahdri stood as if dazed. Deep religious emotion,
for the first time, stirred her soul. But even then her
only concern was for her child. Raising the covering
of the basket, she gazed fondly upon the sleeping form
The long silken lashes, drawn peacefully over the
brown eyes ; the cheeks, dimpled and rosy ; the chubby

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 83
limbs encircled by golden bands, the only memento of
the Golden Face ; and the dark, glossy ringlets tossed
loosely about the round little head, formed a picture as
lovely as that which adorns the cradle of any American
mother, and equally, if not more dear to the poor,
yearning heart that had nothing save husband and
child to love. Gazing with a soul full of tenderness
upon the little one, she said :
" Can it be true, my sweet babe, that life has in store
no joy for thee ? While the lovely Nautch girls dance
like devos in the temple, and while the Hindu children
play in the rich zenanas, sipping like humming-birds
from all the sweets of life — must my dear one be an
outcast, disgraced, and shunned by all ? Oh, it cannot,
it must not be ! I would give my own life to make
thee happy ! "
Lost in contemplation of her child's destiny, she
thought no more of her former distrust of the Brahmin,
but looked up eagerly as his deformed shadow once
more fell at her feet.
" Holy Brahmin ! " she cried, " tell me what . I may
do to secure the happiness of my child."
The old man's keen, black eyes sparkled with delight
to see her anxiety.
" As I said^Mahdri, one act will release her, both from
the disgrace resting upon her in this life, and the misery
in store for her in the next. This act thou art also in
duty bound to perform for another reason. Thy hus
band, when at Benares, made a vow to the gods which
he has never paid. Both demand a human sacrifice."
With quick apprehension, she turned to the basket.
"My child!" she cried, "Oh, do not tell me I must
part from her."

84 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Only think," insisted the Brahmin, " all thy hus
band's pangs of soul removed, thou shalt secure thine
own redemption, by that most holy act, which alone can
save the child. Eternal sorrow shall be hers if this is
not done, for the curse of womanhood, which might
thus be removed, will rest forever upon her, and thy
conscience will sting thee for neglect.
" Ganga is a more merciful mother than even thyself.
The little body, cradled on the waters of the Ganges,
shall be joyfully received by the great Mother, and her
soul shall pass immediately into a body of nobler order,
perhaps even a Brahmin. If thou shall refuse to do
this, life ever afterwards will be a burden, and thou
shalt continually reprove thyself, saying : 'I have borne
a child into the world subject to disgrace among men,
and eternal banishment from the presence of the gods.
My husband's vow is unpaid. I, myself, must degener
ate into a brute, because I refused to obey the holy
Brahmin who has power over even the gods.' Can a
mother's love allow this? "
Mahdri remained in stupefied horror, looking first at
the Brahmin, then at the sleeping child. At length,
regaining her power of speech, she said :
" Buddha forbade us to take the life of even an insect,
and shall a mother murder her own child? "
" Thy husband has renounced the religion of Buddha,"
replied Asita, " and even if he had not this act would
be right under the circumstances. To kill a beast is
murder, because the soul which it contains would he
driven into a still lower being ; but to sacrifice a child,
of one's own flesh and blood is a meritorious deed, com
bining with it both maternal worship and infant sal
vation."

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 85
Mahdri looked sorrowfully and thoughtfully upon the
basket ; then folding her arms with a look of determi
nation, she turned and said :
" I am resolved. I will leave the child to her father
and throw myself into the Ganges. Will that be suf
ficient?" " That would save thyself alone ; being thy own act
and committed on thine own body, no benefit could
arise either to husband or child. In fact she would be
left in a worse condition than ever, without even a
mother's care. Consent ; it is the only way. Thy hus
band can then return from the forest, and together, you
can enter life again, assured of future happiness."
The mother's heart was breaking as she weighed re
sponsibility with love.
"Give me time to decide," she entreated ; "at least
another day to enjoy the companionship of my darling."
But Asita was too cunning to allow her time for de
liberation. Knowing that if he could not induce her
to act while thus confused, she would be sure to refuse
after reflection ; and all hope would be lost if Mekara
should learn his designs. So he insisted on immediate
action. A new difficulty arose to Mahdri.
" How could I ever meet her father and show him an
empty cradle? " she asked ; " and how could I convince
him that I had done right? "
" Never fear," replied the artful Brahmin, " thy hus
band himself desires it, and bade me persuade thee.
His religious convictions are so strong that he has con
sented to part with the dearest idol of this life in order
to secure rest and peace for all his family. 'Tis his

86 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
request, and not mine, that thou should'st perform this
sacred duty. For what benefit could it be to me? Con
sider, and act."
Doubting, fearing, loving, stood Mahdri. Asita had
promised, encouraged and harrassedher till she had no
thought, feeling, or action of her own. Almost uncon
sciously she lowered the basket from the tree, and lift
ing out the still sleeping child, turned in the direction
of the river, bearing the precious burden clasped tightly
to her beating heart.
Asita stood leaning on his staff watching her eagerly.
Just as she -reached the river bank the child struggled,
and reaching out her arms called in baby tones for her
play-mates, the young gazelles. Then opening her eyes
and seeing where she was, she lay passively in her
mother's arms looking confidingly up into her face.
Mahdri quickly drew the vail over the little face that
she might not be deterred in her purpose by the plead
ing look of the soft eyes. Unclasping one of the little
bracelets she thrust it into her bosom, murmuring, " It
is thy father's command, sweet child, that I should do
this awful deed. Had he not so wished I could never
have done it. But he knows best, and we must obey."
Approaching an opening among the rushes, in full
view of the broad, placid stream below, she gazed long
ingly, for a moment, upon the little form in her arms ;
then turning her face, that she might not witness the
deed of her own hands, she, with all her might, threw
the little one far into the stream ; then ran shrieking
from the spot, but not too soon to hear the heart-
piercing, half-stifled scream of terror as the child
struck the water,

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 87
Asita's eyes danced with delight as he beheld the
deed, and chuckling to himself, he glided like a phan
tom into the woods.
" Aha ! Aha ! my prince," he said. " One more tie
severed and I will have thee safe. The mother shall
soon follow the child."
Mekara could never become an ascetic while encum
bered by domestic ties ; and the Brahmin knew full
well that he would never consent to part with wife and
child ; hence, this strategy.
Mahdri never stopped till she sank exhausted under
the banyan-tree beside the now empty basket. She
then realized, for the first time, what she had done, and
burying her face in the long grass she burst into a
frenzy of tears.
" 0, my child ! my child ! " she cried, " to think thy
downy couch must be exchanged for a crocodile's jaws !
Even now I see his shining teeth piercing thy tender
flesh. Would I, too, wore dead ! "
The young gazelles once more came in from the forest
and walked about under the tree as if seeking their
little play-fellow. They approached the empty basket,
side by side, and looked in inquiringly. Then, as if
understanding the mother's grief, they stood bleating
by her side, and placed their heads down to her face.
Clasping each about the slender neck she cried :
" Ah ! you, too, miss sweet Manohara. Her little feet
Bhall no more leave their tiny tracks in the dust of the
plain ; her glad voice no more enliven the gloom of our
exile ! Happy are you who know not a mother's grief."

CHAPTER III.
" We have chosen this for road
And tread it, Rajaputra, till the close —
Though all its Btoncs were fire — in trust of death.
Speak, if thou knowest a way more excellent ;
If not, peace go with thee I " — Edwin Arnol .
Mekara looked up anxiously as Asita approached the
tree against which he was leaning.
" Hast thou seen my wife and child? " he asked.
" I saw them under the banyan-tree playing with the
young gazelles. They are well and happy," glibly
replied the old idolator.
"Hast thou decided to adopt Asceticism in any of its
forms? "
Mekara shook his head. "I cannot see," he said,
"how the soul is to be purified by any of the means I
have seen. Methinks that bodily filth would lead to
spiritual pollution, and that too much seclusion would
rather dwarf than expand the soul. My faith is yet too
weak." Asita was content to teach him first the practice
which was most easy, in the hope of stimulating him
to further austerities afterwards, so he began cautiously.
" Wilt thou do a favor for me while I go to another
shrine in the forest? "
" Name it."
"Yonder is a group of maimed men — some without
feet, some without hands, and all unable to feed them
selves. Take this bowl of rice and give to each a mor
sel. I shall not tarry long." (88)

THE CHILD OF THB GANGES. 89
Mekara promised, and received the bowl from the
hands of the Brahmin, who moved off hastily through
the forest in an opposite direction from that in which
he had come, but changing his course when out of sight.
Mekara took the bowl and began feeding the helpless
victims of superstition. He had found one man
deprived of both hands and foet, but whose tongue had
escaped tho burning-iron ; with him he entered into
conversation. "Why, 0 brother," he asked, " do ye all practice such
horrid and unnatural tortures ; is it not a crime against
Nature?" " It is to cleanse the soul from sin, Sahib ; has not
Asita told thee as much already? He promised me
that with the loss of my limbs I should receive atone
ment for all the sins of my youth. I think nothing of
these bodily pains if thereby I am purified within."
"If I mistake not," said the prince, "thou art a
Sudra ; what, then, will become of thy Banctified soul
after death?"
" It will enter another body of higher caste."
" Will it then be exempt from tho sufferings imposed
during this life?"
" No ; the same agonios must be endured in each suc
cessive stage until its final absorption."
" Surely," said Mekara, " there must bo some means
by which the soul may be permanently released. I see
no reason why a being, sanctified in this life, should be
subject to suffering in the next. Art thou sure that
thou hast not missed the way?"
" We have been taught no other," responded the fakir.
"if thou knowest of a better, tell it,"

90 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"Alas!" said Mekara. "For that I have long been
seeking, but have found it not. We are, all alike, grop
ing in darkness."

The calmness of despair had come over Mahdri, and
while the gazelles went out on the plains, she sat motion
less on the grass, brooding over her irretrievable loss,
and thinking what she could do with herself.
A quick, halting, step was heard approaching, and
looking around she saw again the ,bent form of Asita.
Suspecting some evil design in his hasty return, the
. distrust of the morning arose again within her, and she
was about to accuse him of the murder of her child ;
but something in his strange, excited manner restrained
her, and seeing that he had something to tell, she arose
and, looking at him with stony eyes, waited.
" Mahdri," he began falteringly, and with seeming
hesitation, " it becomes my painful duty to break to
thee the tidings that the second greatest curse visited
upon woman has this day befallen thee. Thou art a
widow." Her heart gave a great throb and was still ; l*ver mus
cles twitched convulsively, but she remained motion
less. Folding her arms, she said simply :
" Go on. My heart is broken. I can bear anything
now." " While I was gone," he continued, " thy husband
having seen all the devotees, grew weary while await
ing my return and went to the Ganges to bathe. It
was where the river runs through the woods and is lined
on each side with dense jungle. Through this a path
has been cut down to the water's edge, where we carry

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 91
the dying to expire in the water. Underneath the
overhanging branches of the thicket is the abode of
the sacred crocodile which devours the bodies. Thy
husband, not knowing the nature of the place, and I
not being there to tell him, went into the water, not
suspecting any danger and was immediately seized by
the huge beast."
" Ah ! " she cried, " would that I had listened to the
voice of my husband and remained in the palace of the
Golden Face ! Then would my child, at least, have
been saved, and I should have escaped this double
calamity. And now the last hope of life is gone ! "
" Grieve not for them," replied Asita, " their lot is
better than thine. Indeed, nothing better could have
happened to them. To die in the Ganges, and, also at
the mouth of the sacred crocodile, is worth a whole life
of Asceticism, or a voluntary death elsewhere. They
shall be born of high caste."
" But," mourned Mahdri, " what shall I do, a poor,
despised widow, and far away from mine own country?
For my husband and child I lived. I had no other
love, no other desire, save to be with them. Compared
with this life of horror, death is sweet. I, too, will die
in the Ganges."
" That is now the only hope," said Asita. " The law of
Menu concerning the Suttee of widows cannot here be
carried into effect. Thou has not the corpse of thy
husband, nor even his sandals, with which to enter the
flames. But, to insure greater merit, I would advise
thee to go to the Holy City where there will be a great
festival to-morrow. Hundreds rush down .the ghauts
and are drowned in the river, thereby atoning ¥or all

92 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
sin and disgrace. Be thou one among the number. Go
to the village yonder and a boatman will carry thee
gladly. I advise for thy good."
She stood for a moment, doubting, then laying the
rice-bowl and curry -pot in the basket, she placed it on
her head and walked away towards the village ringing
her hands.
Sorrow has its reward, and deep grief only serves to
make brighter the succeeding joy. Spring is the more
pleasant because it follows the winter. The sun shines
brighter after a storm. Gold is purer for passing
through the fire. So shall it be with Mahdri. Her light
heart had never been made to feel before this day, and
the depths of her soul had never been stirred. The Lord
hath selected her as a chosen vessel and will speak to her
by the wayside.

CHAPTER IV.
"Here is the common destiny of flesh ;
The high and low, the good and bad, must die :
And then, 'tis taught, begin anew to live
Somewhere, somehow — who knows? — and so again
The pangs, the parting, and the lighted pile ;
Such is man's round." — Arnold.
Mekara was still talking with the devotees when
Asita returned. Handing back the now empty bowl he
expressed his intention of returning to the banyan tree
as the gathering gloom showed that the sun would soon
be down, and Mahdri would be anxious. Asita sought
to detain him.
" Canst thou not remain through the night," he asked,
" and continue the work just performed ? Surely good
deeds have their reward and thou shalt obtain rest and
peace, as, by degrees, thou art absorbed in such a
life. Remain, I pray thee."
"Impossible. Leave my family unprotected through
the night, and suffering suspense from my absence ! "
"Ah! I fear thou art too much absorbed in such
cares to ever attain perfection of soul. Knowest thou
not that we must put aside even conjugal and parental
love?" " Remember, though," said Mekara, " I have a wife
and child already. Would it be right to leave them to
wander in a strange country unprotected? Surely I
could not be required to do such a base deed."
"Thou art relieved of all responsibility regarding
them," replied Asita. (93).

94 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
" In what manner ? "
" Their souls have made their passage, and their bodies
repose on the bosom of Ganga, the divine Mother."
Mekara was thunder-struck, scarcely comprehending
what he heard.
" What ! " ho said, " didst thou not see them safe under
the banyan at noon? What knowest thou more than I?"
"There are Thugs in the forest who worship the
goddess Kali. Their occupation is to rob and slay hu
man victims in worship to her. Both thy wife and child
wore bracelets, ear-rings and anklets. Thugs, in pass
ing, took them captive and were bearing them alive
through the forest on their way to Kali's temple where
they were to be sacrificed. I saw them but now in the
wood, and cried to them to stop. Seeing me they hastily
strangled the victims, stripped them of their ornaments
and threw the bodies into the river."
" Be not grieved, O prince, it is best. They have
thus both escaped the curse resting upon womanhood."
Mekara was overcome with remorse and grief. " Oh,
why did I ever leave them," he cried, " even for an hour,
alone in the forest ! Lead me quickly to the place that
I may rescue their bodies *to be burned!"
" It is too late now," replied Asita, " the water is full
of crocodiles and both have been devoured ere this."
" Show me the way any how," demanded Mekara ; " I
would behold the place where they died that I may weep
over them."
The Brahmin could make no further excuse and moved
off reluctantly, closely followed by the impatient father.
At length they reached an opening in full view of the
river. „ Here," said Asita, " is the place I saw them last."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 95
Mekara rushed to the bank and looked down. The long
grass had not been trampled, the mud iu the edge of
the stream was untouched, and there was no sign of a
struggle, or even an approach to the bank.
Realizing the deception that had been practiced upon
him, he suspected the design of the old Brahmin.
Filled with rage and grief as a lioness for her whelps,
he seized the old man by the board, and, shaking him
till his loosened teeth chattered in his head, and the
dry bones popped in the withered skin, he cried .
" False Brahmin, thou hast lied! No one in all this
land except thine own evil, designing self could look
upon the fair form of my Mahdri, or into the innocent
eyes of little Manohara, and take their lives, either for
spoil or sacrifice. Confess to me that thyself art their
destroyer ; else I will suspend thy wasted body from the
branches of a tree for the vultures to pick, that the
Ganges may never be desecrated by thy foul carcass ! "
" Confess ! "
Shivering with terror, and frenzied with rage, the
Brahmin screamed:
" Wretch ! dost thou dare to lay hands upon a Brah
min ? I have lost caste, and the gods wili smite thee
dead for this act ! "
" I fear no gods that will protect such as thou art.
Tell me at once, what, with designing hand, or lying
tongue, thou hast done with my wife and child ! "
Humbled with fear, the old priest replied :
"I confess. It is no harm for a Brahmin to lie, if,
by bo doing, he can accomplish designs for the gods. I
persuaded Mahdri to throw herself and babe into the
river, both to save them and make thee free to become
an ascetic I did it all for thy good."

96 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Mekara dropped his hand as if stung ; and looking
upon the shivering, crouching form with intense loath
ing, he said : "*
" Thou hast miserably failed in thy purpose. I regret
that I ever came in contact with thy evil presence. But
I have learned the true nature of Brahminism, and the
bigotry of Brahmins. Deceiving the people and caus
ing them to believe it a high privilege to minister unto
you ; the fat of the land is brought by deluded thou
sands, as offerings to the gods, passing through your
voracious mouths. Go ! and may the hissing flames of
the pyre consume thy crackling flesh ere thou shalt be
permitted to lead others astray ! "
Turning, he loft Asita crest-fallen and chaffing;
while he returned towards the banyan tree. The gazelles
wore lying on the grass. But not even a handkerchief
remained to remind the widowed father of his loved ones.
Going to the river he found where Mahdri had stood
with the child ; and looked anxiously but in vain for
traces of their bodies, not dreaming that one was yet in
the village below.
Having seen enough of the Brahmin religion, coming
so near the truth in its original theories, but so debas
ing in practice, he determined to visit the mosques of
Mohammed. So loosing a boat from the ghaut, he
turned his back upon the banyan grove, the mountain
shrine, and the lovely plain, where he had been made
to suffer so much. It was now past sunset and the
moon soon arose, aiding him to guide his boat up the
river. The god of the Karens was almost a stranger ; the
god of the Brahmins, a myth. What will the god of
Mohammed be ?

CHAPTER V.
" Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? '¦ — Ps. ii-1.
As Mahdri entered the village she beheld the inhabi
tants in unusual commotion. Some huddled together
in groups as if discussing an affair of groat importance,
while the Brahmins chatted wildly in tho market-place.
She paid no attention to the confusion, but proceeded
at once to tho ghauts, intent upon securing a boat to
depart immediately for tho Holy City. But she looked
in vain for those who had the boats in charge. Not
one was to be seen anywhere. So she started for the
markot-place, inquiring of ovory one she met for a boat
man. But everybody seemed excited, and could give
no answer, save to rush for tho market-placo. The
commotion gradually attracted hor attention from the
gloomy thoughts of hor sorrow, and sho began to take
come notice of tho surroundings.
A man stood on an elevation and soomod to be making
1.11 effort to address the people, but their continual noise
prevented his being heard. Mahdri spoke to a woman
near by and asked what it all meant.
" Not much," replied she; "a man, who has broken
caste and escaped prison, is trying to teach a now
religion, and the Brahmins will not let him be heard.
A white man was with him this morning, who wont on
i*p tho rivor, but he loft these behind."
And she handed Mahdri a slip of printed paper,
7 (97)

98 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
curious to a Hindu, accustomed only to the dried leaves
written upon with a stylus. It was headed
"THE TRUE GOD,"
and spoke of his character and his relation to man, of
Jesus and his atono jent for sin, signed by.
Felix Carey, of the Serampore Mission.
Mahdri lost sight of her grief for a moment as she
contemplated the wonderful tidings. Here, at last, was
a knowledge of God, and a release from sin with its
accompanying sorrow. Was it not oven this for which
her husband was seeking? True she had never been
interested in religion before, but the memory of their
long quest gave her curiosity to learn, for her dead hus
band's sake, something of the God he sought. " Oh 1 "
she thought, " would that he had lived to see it. What
he sought for and found not has como to me without
seeking." The uproar in the street still continued as long as the
speaker tried to talk. Suddenly he folded his arms and
a hush, as of death, pervaded the whole throng. Every
car was intent on listening, as the words of a song arose
in a clear, sweet voice. The attention of a Hindu, no
matter how boisterous, can always bo attracted by
poetry or song. These were the words :
" O ! thou, my soul, forget no more
The Friend who all thy sorrows bore j
Let every idol be forgot,
But, O ! my soul, forget Him not.
• • • • •
Eternal truth and mercy shine
In Him, and he himself is thine ;
And can'st thou, then, with sin beset,
Such charms, such matchless charms, forget?

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 99
O ! no ; till life itself depart
His name shall cheer and warm my heart ;
And, lisping this, from earth I'll rise,
And join the chorus of the skies."
It was the voice and the words of Krishna Pal, the
first Hindu convert to Christianity.
Mahdri's tears flowed freely as the spirit of God
touched her bouI, and echoed in her heart tho strange,
sweet words, "The Friend who all thy sorrows bore."
She wished that ho had spoken longer, but when the
song was ended the Brahmins again interfered, and,
distributing his tracts, he left for the river.
Mahdri had already lost faith in Asita and his innu-
man prescriptions for sorrow; and she longed to tell
this kind-looking man her story and learn more of his
religion • At length her desire overcame her timidity,
and, following him to the boat, she made known her
request. Krishna was overjoyed to hear her inquiry ; for he
was leaving in disappointment, thinking that his visit
had effected no good. Having disposed of all his tracts
he was about to return to the mission for moro, as his
companion, Felix Carey, had taken the most of them
up the river. But now he gladly seated himself on the
bank and related to Mahdri all the wonderful things
the Lord had done for him ; God's mercy in the great
plan of redemption, and the inconceivable joy and
peace that come to those who worship him aright. He
told her of how he had broken caste, and was banished
from home and friends, yet was happy in the conscious
ness of having done it all for Christ.
Mahdri listened eagerly ; a new interest aroused within
her. Hitherto she had worshiped husband and child,

100 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
but as she heard the story cf God's love, her heart went
out to him in earnest prayer, and she worshiped God
of the bible.
Krishna, seeing how it was with her, proposed to bap
tize her at once.
" Why is that ? " she enquired.
" Not for any merit there is in the water ? " said
Krishna,." nor that the Ganges is better than any other,
but to show, that as Christ died for thee, was buried,
and rose again, even so thou hast died to sin and risen
to a new life. It is only an emblem — a sign to the
world." By this time many of the villagers had collected
around them, curious to see what they were about to do.
Krishna offered a short prayer of praise and thanks
giving to God, then leading Mahdri by the hand into
the water, baptized her in tho name of the Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost.
" Now," said Mahdri, when they had come up out ot
the water, " I have here no friends, nor any one to care
for. Let me go with thee, I pray, to the Mission and
learn to work for Josus. He alone has saved me from
suicide this day, and for him I wish to live."
Krishna willingly consented, and getting into the
boat, they left behind the spot that had boon the scene,
in one day, of events long to be remembered.
" The chain of caste is broken, and who shall be able
to mend it ? "

CHAPTER VI.
" Fronting this
f he builders set the bright pavilion up,
Fair-planted on the terraced hill, with towers
On either flank and pillored cloisters round." --Arnold.
Agra, once the favorite capital of the illustrious
Emperor, Akbar, outshone all the cities of the Orient
in royal splendor, and unrivalled architecture.
Hither Mekara bent his course. The King of kings,
who bo adorned Babylon the Great, and made her mis
tress of tho world, never conceived of such magnificence
ns glittered in Agra. And the marvelous hanging
gardens, a wonder of the world, built for the pleasure
of his queen, could not compare with the wonderful
Taj Mahal, a mountain of jewels erected above Shah
Jehan's wife, the lovely Nour Mahal. No monument
erected by man ever approached it in sublime beauty.
Once a school-boy, on a north-bound train from Nash
ville, stood at the rear window of the coach to catch
the last view of the landscape of his native country.
Gradually the different parts of the city blended to
gether; the river was lost from sight; the lines of
streets vanished, and the houses mingled together as
one»mass ; only here and there a tall factory-chimney
could be distinguished, sending forth its tortuous vol
umes of smoke. But the capitol, at first, unseen on its
lofty base, rose into more prominent view as surround
ing objects vanished. Mile after mile, intervened ; the
green line of forests were lost in the dim horizon ; but
(103)

102 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
the marble walls yet stood proudly in sight. The hori
zon crept over the hills and came between ; the blue
curtain of the sky dropped down, shutting from view all
other objects, even the colossal hill of its base ; yet it
stood, seemingly without foundation, without color or
perspective, a beautiful shadow-gr«ph in the heavens,
an airy, unearthly form that impressed the soul with a
feeling of awe which was not relieved until a curve was
turned and an intervening hill obstructed the sight.
Such gives only a faint impi ission of a first view of
the Taj. A cluster of white bu-bles float and dance in
the shimmering air like phant.ms of luminous clcud.
Approaching, they gradually assume shape and settle
on their respective towers, the great dome in the midst ;_
all seeming ready to burst into the air, or float away
with the breeze. The traveler involuntarily exclaims :
"Is it from heaven or earth?"
Nor does a nearer view discredit its celestial design ;
it seems too pure, too airy, for earth ; oven after assum
ing form and settling on its immense base. The river
Jumna flows beside a wall of red sandstone, itself a
marvel of sculpture, ornamented with a gato most ex
quisitely carved. Within is a garden with paved walks ;
blooming groves, and sparkling fountains ; a paradise
for loveliness.
"Passing under the open demi-vault, whose arch
hangs high above you, an avenue of dark Italian cy
presses appears before you. Down its center sprrkLr
a long row of fountains, each casting up a single slender
jet. On both sides the palm, the banyan, and the
feathery bamboo mingle the'ir foliage ; the song of birds
meets your ear, and the odor of roses and lsmon-flowsrs

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 103
sweetens the air. Down such a vista, and over such a
foreground, rises the Taj." *
Its pure white marble walls, delicately carved, and
ablaze with jewels, stand high above surrounding trees
and mosques, crowned with a cluster of minarets and
domes ; and surpassing the descriptions of El Dorado's
fabled palaces. Though of stupenduous structure, its
Bize is never fully comprehended ; so exact is it in pro
portion and so delicate in finish. The walls throughout
are ornamented with inscriptions from the Koran in
inlaid letters of black marble ; and the gigantic en
trances as intricately wrought as an ivory jewel casket.
It was seventeen years in building, for which twenty
thousand men were employed. The various provinces
furnished gems and precious stones in abundance ;
jasper from Punjab ; carnelians from Beruch ; turquoise
from Thibet ; and agates from Yemen.
The beholder gazes with admiration and awe upon
the glittering pile, almost afraid to approach, lest it
should rise and float away ; until weary with looking,
he goes away only to be drawn back, again and again,
to feast his soul on the music of its silent poetry.
Mekara had left the Ganges and crossed, by land, to
the Jumna ; ' thence proceeding, as before, in a boat.
As he saw the wonderful structure, standing thus away
from the noise of the city, his heart gave a thrill of
hope. " Ah ! here," he cried, " must be the temple where
the Moslem worships God; so pure, so grand, so unlike
the gaudy shrines of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Here
will I enquire. All is peace and quiet. How suited to
Worship and devotion ! " •
* Bayard Taylor.

104 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
He stood within the magnificent gate-way ; and,
though the gilded splendor of Benares had not evoked
his admiration ; though mourning for wife and child ;
his soul intent only on the search for God ; so im
pressed was he by the scene, that he forgot for a
time his grief, in contemplation of what his eyes be
held. He paused for a moment and gazed on his sur
roundings with bated breath; then reverently ap
proached the entrance to the building.
A sloping passage, whose walls and floors have been
polished by the hands and feet of thousands, leads to
a chamber below. Down this Mekara walked, holding
carefully lest he should fall, and whispering to himself :
" Here is where the worshipers go to offer sacrifice.
No sound? I wonder if the Muezzin is here of whom I
may enquire."
He reached the chamber. The light was dim, and
the air was redolent with the perfumes of the ottar of
roses, jasmine, and sandal-wood. No altar for sacrifice,
no evidence of worship of any kind, but in the centre
was a sarcophagus of white marble, " exquisitely inlaid
with blood-stone, agate, carnelian, lapis-lazuli, and other
precious stones," and inscribed to the wife of Shah-
Jchan, " The Light of the World." A wreath of fresh
roses lay upon the top. The whole was surrounded by
a screen of marble, six foet high, among the interstices
of which were woven designs of lilies, irises, and other
flowers, thickly interspersed with precious stones. The
scene was sweet, solemn, and impressive ; but Mekara
was disappointed. Could all this noble building have
been designed merely as a monument for the queen of
a Mogul lord?

THE CHILD OP /THE GANGES. 105
Retracing his steps, he ascended the marble steps to
the great hall above. At the entrance he paused. The
first sight thrilled him, and he stood speechless, almost
unconscious. Stern, strong-minded mon, standing thus
have burst into tears at the rapturous sight. It was
simple, beautiful, grand. The pen cannot describe the
effect of it. The floors of polished marble reflect as
in a mirror, the jeweled walls and mosaics of the
ceiling" above. Not a sound is heard, yet music of the
swcoteBt melody seems to breathe from the air and
touch the tenderest chords of the soul. No voice, yet
the silence is eloquent.
He removed the sandals from his feet in reverence,
and stepped cautiously toward the centre. Even his
soft foot-fall resounded like the distant tread of thou
sands, and it seemed that he could hear the pulsations
of his own heart. The walls here, as elsewhere, wore
thickly inlaid with Koran inscriptions in letters of black
marble. He found none of these of especial interest,
till, casting his eyes upward, he saw, above an arch, the
inscription, in blazing letters of gold, ALLAH AKBAR 1
("God is great.")
Here, after months of wandering and suffering, he
found once more the great Name, the Yuwah of Ko Tha-
Byu. His heart was sore with grief ; his body worn and
fatigued; and his soul, long filled with intense yearn
ing, now burned with fierce desire ; and falling on his
face, he cried in anguish to the Being whose name he
saw, " 0, God pity mei"
Like the swell of a great organ, the walls resounded
in tones, loud, but soft and tremulous. Round and
round, from side to side, echoed the reverberations,

106

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.

growing softer and swooter as they noarcd the fretted
vaults above ; until, entering the great dome, they cir
cled shrill and sweet; gradually dying away in soft
undulations, as if the angels, or shining devas of the
air, had caught the words and borne them away to the
gates of the sky.
Was the prayer answered? In heaven it was heard
and from New England the answer comes.
Mekara lay almost stunned, with surprise at the
sounds, but soothed with the blissful sensations pro
duced. When the last echo died he quietly arose and
glided softly from the building. All this had been
emotion. As yet he had not received the light he was
seeking. On either side of the Taj was an elegant
mosque of splendid workmanship. Realizing his mis
take in having entered a tomb instead of a place of wor
ship, Mekara went at once to these ; but both were
closed, no services were held there. They were built to
balance the effect of the Taj, and not for worship.
Disappointed again, he turned his face towards the
city. It was now late in the afternoon, and as he passed
through the garden of Ram Bagh (garden of Rama),
he saw a long row of shrines, facing the river, before lit
tle black idols. Lamps were lighted in front of them
and a Hindoo stood before each, waving a torch back
and forth, and crying, " Ram, Ram ! Ram, seeta Ram!"
Then having poured Jumna water ever the images, and
twined wreaths of flowers about their oily necks,
departed with a clear conscience of duty performed.

•'MilPJIIIr^

"SHcKnvMltl IS i 'III I
IpffiWllll1! Ill

ft.

107

108 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Mekara recalled a quotation in Tamil, from one of
the old clasic poets :
'• The lifeless stone a god you call, and flowers in offering bring-
Around and round with muttering sound, fool ! many a prayer
you sing ;
But will the lifeless stone speak out ? Will God within it go ?
Yes, when the pot in which 'tis cooked the curry's taste shall
know."
No comfort could be derived from such scenes as this,
so he entered the city and retired to a bungalow for' the
night. Next morning he roamed through the city of the
Moguls seeking to learn all he could of the Moslem
religion. The zenanas were of extravagant beauty, and
the rich occupants lounged within, fanned by punkas,
or swinging fans, and waited upon by attendants in
gorgeous livery. Wealth and sensual enjoyment seemed
to be the end for which they strove ; and he knew, from
the history of past conquerors, that a thirst for power
was one of their ruling passions.
When the bells rang for prayers every man, woman,
and child of Mchammedan faith bowed with their faces
toward Mecca and prayed. No idol, nor image of any
kind, was to be seen. This pleased Mekara, to know
that he had, at last, found a religion void of idols.
But when he learned the reason of all turning their
faces as they did, he thought :
" Is it not as much idolatry to worship a place as an
image? What better are they than the Hindus who
make pilgrimages to Benares?"
He visited the Pearl Mosque, rightly thus named
from its simple beauty. Essaying to enter, he received

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 109
a peremptory order to halt, and a Mussulman near by
cried .
" No idolaters allowed within ! "
" I am not an idolater," said Mekara.
"Dost thou worship Allah whose prophet is Mo
hammed? "
" I know him not. I seek a God whom I may wor
ship. Idols I abhor."
"Dost thou believe the Koran? "
"What is that?" enquired Mekara.
" Our Sacred Book, containing the principles of our
religion." " I never saw it. Read to me from it that I may
know its teachings."
"Wilt thou first accept our faith?"
" I cannot until I know what it is."
" Our religion was established by the sword, and its
doctrines taught afterwards. It is an abomination for
an unbeliever to be allowed to look into, or hear read,
the pages of the sacred Koran. This much will I tell
thee, there is one God and Mohammed is his Prophet.
Embrace our faith, and thou shalt have for thyself a
copy of the Koran."
" But," said Mekara, " how can I acknowledge a creed
I know not? I believe there is one God; but of him
I know nothing for certain, and what evidence have I
of the fact that Mohammed is his Prophet ?"
"Thou hast our word for it," replied the Mussulman,
" that the Holy Book so declares ; but further words
are useless ; go back into the city, observe our practices,
and then judge of our creed. When thou art ready to
embrace it, return and I will then instruct thee in all

110 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
our vital doctrines. Peace go with thee." And he
gave a gesture with his hand as a token that the con
versation was closed.
" Strange doctrine this," thought Mekara as he turned
once more into the busy street. " I had hoped to fir d
my ideal in the God of Islam, but many of their prac
tices are revolting. Oh, that I could find such a God
as tho Karens once knew ! How I would love and serve
him the remainder of my days ! "
For almost a week he loitered in the streets and
houses, watching closely every season of prayer and
every religious service, often standing at the door of
the mosques and looking upon the worshipers at their
devotions, striving to catch every word spoken in refer
ence te the religion in question. The more he saw and
heard, the more dissatisfied ho was with it. He never
returned to the Pearl Mosque for instruction. Not
finding an answer to the question of his heart, he pro
ceeded again up the Jumna and stopped at Delhi.
Delhi! A vision of the lovely gardens described in
" Lallah Rookh " floats before the eyes at mention of
the name ; a perfume of tropical flowers is wafted by
the breeze, and a sound of poetry greets the ear. The
very soul is oppressed by the gorgeous display of Orien
tal magnificence.
Palaces by the river side, dazzling in the sunlight
and reflected from the water below ; barges floating on
the Jumna with shining banners; bazaars draped in
richest tapestry ; balconies resounding with music and
dancing; golden pinnacles and marble pavilions, char
acterized the Imperial City of the Moguls.
Like a flower that has been more than once cut down,
the romantic city has risen, time and again, from ruins

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. Ill
of former glory. For miles over the country, amid
luxuriant vegetation, may be seen the picturesque
remains of ruined temples, deserted shrines of tho
expelled religion of Buddha, dilapidated forts, and
crumbling palaces.
Every foot of ground has been deluged, again and
again, with human blood ; yet the rose blooms as if a
crime had never stained the Eden bowers. Here
Timour, in one day, slew one hundred thousand prison
ers. A great multitude ; but the restless world took no
notice. Like the mist of the morning, they passed
away and were forgotten. Shall they ever be remem
bered more? Aye, and sadly, too. Each had a soul,
and that soul knew not God. We shall behold them in
the Later Day as they stand with their murderers before
the tribunal of God. It is a terrible thing to see a
human life wander in gloom and then expire in dark
ness. May God preserve the poor wretches who yet
grope and fall, crying in despair, throughout that lovely
land! Mekara's soul was sick of opulent display combined
with spiritual poverty. Religion in Delhi and religion
in Agra were the same. He could not endure to remain.
Buddhism had no God; Brahminism worshiped
God through images ; Mohammedanism had almost
conceived of his true nature ; but perfect satisfaction
came not yet.
" I will cross the Himalayas to China," he said.
Back to the Ganges he again pursued his course.
He stopped at the gate of Hurdwar. Here were mil
lions gathered to the annual feast. From every direction
and in all garbs, they came ; from the far off Deecan,

112 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
from the Punjab, from Cashmere, and China; old and
young, rich and poor. All had sinned and must cleanse
themselves in the celebrated fountain where Brahma,
the Creator of the world, performed his ablutions.
Thousands of fakirs were here, of every description,
even more horrible than those in the Grove of Sorrow.
At the tinkling of a bell four hundred thousand men
and women rushed down the steep ghauts to bathe in
the stream. Thousands were crushed beneath the feet
of the eager multitude behind, and the sacred mother
bore their forms rapidly away, struggling and gasping,
yet saved (?).
Thus, for thousands of years, has the voracious mother
eagerly devoured her children ; and Juggernaut smiles
to see his wheels of stone crush his dark road of bleeding
victims, grinding their crackling bones into the ground
made soft with their spurting life-blood.
Truly the being without God has a miserable life, a
miserable death, and the hereafter — Who can tell?
Mekara could bear no more. Up the mountain side
ho struggled. On a lofty peak he stood and surveyed
the vast wilderness of crags, ice, and snow, which
marked the stormy home of Indra.
There, in view of the " Celestial Empire " far below,
his soul thirsting, and his voice calling for God, we
leave him.
May He who watcheth the sparrow's fall listen to the
heathen's cry.

(113)

BOOK THIRD.

CHAPTER I.
" Marvelously like, their voices— and themselves I
Tho' one is somewhat deeper than the other,
As one is somewhat graver than the other—
* * * Let me ask you then :
Which voice most takes you? for I do not doubt.
Being a watchful parent, you are taken
With one or the other.
***** They both are beautiful ;
Evelyn is gayer, wittier, prettier, says
The common voice, if one may trust it ; she 1
Nol but the paler, and the graver, Edith." — Tennyson.
The June sun was shining brightly, the bees working
busily, the birds singing sweetly, the plow-boys whist
ling cheerfully, and everything combining this soft
summer day to gladden the hills and vales of New Eng
land. The little village of Bradford, Massachusetts, lay
basking in the sunshine, the sparkling Merrimac flowing
peacefully by. Scarcely a sound of life was heard in the
streets; even the clinking hammer of the blacksmith
lay silent near the slumbering embers of the forge. It
was the dinner hour.
The girls in Bradford Academy were grouped around
the teacher, eating their lunch and discussing merrily,
as girls always will, the latest gossip of the daj* — pic
nics, balls, dresses, ribbons, boys, and innumerable
other matters of equal weight and importance. Lunch
(114)

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 115
and th*. grave questions involved having been at length
disposbci of to the entire satisfaction of all, the fair
participants dispersed to the shade outside.
" Harriet ! Harriet ! " called a sweet, clear voice from
the rear of the building, "come around here in the
shade, I want to see you."
In the shade of the house a swing had been con
structed, in which was seated Bradford's most charming
belle — a plump girlish figure just turning "sweet six
teen." Her face was oval, bright with intelligence, and
habitually over-run with the light of the warm, impul
sive nature of her soul within ; eyes deep and dark ;
head round, and covered with a profusion of glossy
black curls, that streamed behind her as she moved
back and forth in the swing, or dangled mischievously
over her ears and cheeks when she was still. Her coun
tenance was all animation as she watched eagerly in
the direction of girlish voices which she heard at the
end of the house.
Presently a light, fragile form appeared at the corner,
and she who had been addressed as Harriet came gently
toward the girl in the swing.
"What is it, Ann?" she asked as she seated herself
by her friend. Her manner was less ardent than that
of her companion ; her voice not so clear, but more
mild and expressive.
"Oh!" replied Ann, "haven't you heard? Why
Mrs. Roy is going to give a grand ball next week, and
both of us are to be invited. I heard Emma talk
ing about it this morning, and I want us to decide
what dresses we shall wear and how the flowers are to
be arranged in our hair. Oh, I can hardly wait till the

116 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
time comes! Next week is so far off; but it will give
us time to arrange our dresses. Say, what do you
think?" A faint shadow stole across Harriet's face, and her
voice assumed a more serious tone, when, after a mo
ment's reflection, she said: "I shall not attend the
ball." " Not attend the oall ! " exclaimed Ann, almost gasp
ing with surprise. " Why, Harriot, what has come over
you? How can you think of missing this, the grandest
affair that has been in Bradford for a year? Surely,
dear, you are jesting. Now say you were, and that you
will go."
" I am sorry to disappoint you, Ann," she replied
gently but firmly, " but I do not think I shall ever at
tend another ball, especially when in school. Such
things consume a great deal of our time from study,
and then there is really no profit in them."
Though much addicted to pleasure, Ann, owing to
her naturally quick mind, had never been once accused
of negligence in the preparation of her lessons. So
she could not take this for an excuse.
" Fie ! Harriet, there is nothing in that. You know
I go to such things as much as any girl in school, and
yet I am not troubled about my studies. There must
be something else behind that you should suddenly
take such a stand as this. We have always been the
best of friends ; now tell me what is the real cause of
your refusal to go with me? "
" To tell you the truth," replied Harriet thoughtfully.
u my conscience disapproves of such. I can't honestly
think it is right."

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 117
" Conscience, indeed ! " said Ann. " I can't believe a
word of it. It all comes from your associating with
that young preacher, Mr. Newell. I do wish you would
give him up, Harriet. Just think of how much enjoy
ment you will be deprived, if married to such a man.
I wouldn't have a preacher if he was the only man liv
ing. Not that I don't like them, but because I should
bo expected to be so good, and give up so much of what
is life to me. I am truly sorry for you, Harriet, and I
do wish you would reconsider your decision, and go in
spite of your clerical beau."
Harriet had a very sensitive nature, and she was cut
to the heart by the light remarks of her bosom friend.
She made no reply, but her eyes filled with tears as she
looked at her fair tempter reproachfully. Seeing
which, Ann leaped to the ground and impulsively
clasping the slender form in her arms, kissed away the
tear-drops and begged her to think no more of what
had been said.
The school bell put an end to further conversation,
and winding their arms about each other's waist they
walked together into the house.
We thus introduce to our readers her whose name
shall ever be sacred to every Christian heart, Ann Has-
seltine, and her bosom friend and school-mate, Harriet
Atwood. Being the youngest daughter, Ann had been
made much of by all, and, perhaps, too freely indulged
by those who loved her best, and who wished to be first
in the ardent affections of her heart. Hitherto,
thoughts of a serious nature had never entered her
mind. Naturally impulsive, she threw her whole soul
into whatever she did, whether it was to fashion play-

118 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
houses for dolls when a child, solve intricate problems
in algebra when a school girl, or whirl in *me giddy
maze of the dance when a society belle.
Mrs. Hasseltine had never felt the power of the
Christian religion in her own heart, and, as a conse
quence, was incapable of impressing upon her children
a feeling of its true importance. Nevertheless, from a
consciousness of maternal responsibility, she had
sought to inculcate into their minds the moral code of
the bible and the principles of morality. All of which
had been readily received by the vivacious child, but
laid as readily aside when her short dresses were hung
in the closet, and the calls of worldly pleasure admon
ished her to lay aside all such " childish thing? "
Such was the natural course of her disposition What
will it be when touched by the spirit of God?
We shall see.

CHAPTER II.
" And thine cars shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk
ye in it." — Isa. xxx : 21.
It was a dark, stormy night. Among the pine-clad
hills of New England the wind sobbed and moaned,
and dark, phantom-like clouds scudded across the sky
like shipB at sea without a rudder. How different
from the calm, peaceful nights in India, when the wan
dering prince lay under the open sky listening to
the soft tinkle of distant bells, or watching the lumi
nous path of the fire-fly, while his restless soul dwelt in
the dark, distant future.
At the little country tavern, on the road from Sheffield,
they were making preparations to retire, when a voice
was heard without ; and, opening the door, the landlord
saw a benighted traveler alighting from his horse at
the gate. Having delivered his horse to a bojr, who
now appeared, the stranger entered the house, and
taking off his wraps which were hung away by the
landlord, he seated himself by the fire that roared
cheerfully in the great log fire-place.
As revealed by the fire-light, he was young, almost a
boy in appearance, his form of slender structure, and
his face, though delicate, prepossessing in appearance,
combining a look of bright intelligence with strength
of character, showing that his spirit, if not his body,
was capable of strong endurance. His dress could
(119)

120 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
neither be characterized as costly nor foppish ; yet it
was so fastidiously tidy and arranged with such a
studied neatness and sense of propriety, as to display
his agile form to the best advantage.
The old landlord had a Yankee curiosity to know
who it was so far from home as to be caught on the
road in such anight. So prefacing his remarks with
the hope that he might not be considered at all inquisi
tive, he proceeded to besiege the young man with such
a continual storm of questions as could only be thought
of by an interlocutor in a minstrel show, or a lawyer
in a criminal suit.
The stranger seemed lost in abstraction, and only
answered the old man's questions at random as he dried
his boots on the hearth, and gazed thoughtfully into the
glowing embers underneath the logs. After dispensing
with a hearty supper, however, he became more talka
tive, and by bed-time had communicated to his host the
fact that his name was Adoniram Judson, a graduate
of Brown University, and, at that time, connected with
a theatrical company in New York.
The old landlord was a genuine Puritan of the Ply
mouth Rock type, and this information gave him
occasion to vent his indignation against such organiza
tions as tended to corrupt the morals, and destroy tho
better nature of the people ; all of which had no seeming
effect upon his guest. Young Judson was an infidel.
At length, feigning sleep, but in reality, wishing to bo
rid of his unplesant company, the young man requested
to be shown to his room ; and following the light of a
flame from a pine-knot, he was led into a dingy apart
ment at the rear of the building. The host apologized

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 121
for giving him no better quarters, saying that a Bick
man occupied the guest chamber which was next door.
Arranging everything as comfortable as possible, and
stopping a draught of cold wind which came through
the broken pane of a window, with the impromptu
covering of a pillow, he bade his guest good-night and
closed the door behind him, saying that he must watch
all night with the sick man.
On the morning before, which was Sunday, the young
actor had stopped at Sheffield, and out of respect to
his uncle, who was pastor of a church there, he attended
services. But instead of his uncle, a very pious young
man had preached a most impressive sermon by which
he was deeply affected.
To-night he could not sleep, but lay tossing on his
pillow from side to side, trying to clear his mind of
the doubts and skepticism long implanted there. The
blasts of wind howled mournfully without, the shingles
rattled on the roof, and ever and anon a groan would
come from the sick room. The two apartments were
separated by a single partition of rough boards, and
the flickering light from within struggled through the
cobwebs of the cracks and made long, straw-like streaks
across his own bed, as if bringing him in sympathy
with a fellow-sufferer.
Towards midnight it seemed that the sick man was
becoming worse, for the groans became more frequent,
and occasionally a loud curse or blood-curdling yell
would be mingled with the sobbing of the wind and
lain without. The restless listener in the dark was
tormented beyond measure by these sounds which
seemed to come as mournful echoes to his own heart-

122 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
cries within. As the sick man grew worse the cracked
voice of the old landlord could be heard reciting pas
sages of Scripture or offering the comforts of religion,
which seemed rather to enrage than console the poor
sufferer. At length, after a more severe outburst than
usual,, the groans and curses ceased, and after a few
short stifled gasps all was still and the shadows ceased
to flit along the wall.
The worn traveler now turned his face and tried
again to sleep, but it was not until nearly dawn that
he fell into a restless slumber.
Next morning at breakfast he enquired after the con
dition of the sick man.
"Dead," replied the old man. " And such another
death I pray God I may never see. Without faith in
God, and without hope in Christ, he has gone to meet
his doom."
Judson did not relish such serious reflections, and
sought to change the subject by asking,
" Who was the young man and where did he come
from? "
" Where he came from when he came here, I can't
tell," said the landlord. " He staggered in here one
day, already delirious, and could give no rational answer
te my questions. I put him to bed and when he grew
worse, I looked in his pockets and found a letter
addressed to Mr. George Sanders, of Brown University."
The young man's knife and fork fell rattling on his
plate, and his hands dropped to his sides as if paralyzed.
" What ! " he cried, " George Sanders, my old school
mate who graduated with me last year? "
" I suppose he must be the same," replie d the old
man, " for the letter was dated more than a year ago,

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 123
and I judged it to be from his mother. I wrote to her
at once and expect her here to-day."
Mr. Judson arose from the table in much agitation.
" Show me the room immediately," he said, " I wish
to see for myself, if it is indeed my old friend."
The landlord led the way to the chamber, and draw
ing back the sheet that shrouded the corpse, disclosed
the stark, distorted features of what had been a youth
just budding into manhood.
" Poor, poor George ! " said Mr. Judson, looking sadly
upon the emaciated wreck of former days. "Who
would have thought a year ago when you graduated, the
pride of your class, that you would now be lying thus,
far from home, with not even a school-mate to soothe
your dying hour though under the same roof. 'Tis sad
to think that such a star of promise should be thus
shrouded in darkness. Nothing accomplished in this
life. And the next — Alas ! we both denied a future
existence. Your Past was an opening rose-bud, your
Present a withered flower, and your Future, for all we
know, dust and ashes. Shall I ever lie thus?"
Then turning, he asked, "Have you made arrange
ments for his burial?"
"Not definitely," replied the, old man. "I wished
his relations to come first and suggest what to do."
" Then, here is money," said Mr. Judson, handing
him a roll of bills. " Bury him decently and take the
remainder for your care of him. With his memory I
also* bury my former life. From this day forth I will
strive for something nobler than either of us sought
before."

124 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Turning from the room, he ordered his horse, and
extending his hand to the old landlord, who grasped it
warmly, while tears of gratitude streamed down his fur
rowed checks, he who had entered the tavern an infi
del, rode away, a penitent, seeking light.
Who, but an all-wise God, could have seen the ele
ments of a great missionary in the follower of a theatri
cal troupe? Who but Jesus of Nazareth would have
called Saul of Tarsus to bear the gospel to the Gentiles?
" How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways'
past finding out 1"

^dN>V

CHAPTER III.
" Nor unto manhood's heart alone
The holy influence steals ;
Warm with a rapture not its own,
The heart of woman feels." — WhiUier.
It was Sabbath morning after the ball. Ann Hassel-
tine was standing in the parlor waiting for her father
to come and go with her to church. She had risen
early that morning in order to spend an unusual
amount of time in the preparation of her toilet ; for she
realized that her well-clad figure had attracted special
attention at the ball; and, was not she the belle of
Bradford? She surveyed herself in the large mirror
with evident satisfaction, and indeed, there was no one
who would not have been proud of the image reflected
there. Her new spring costume was beautifully made,
and fitted her handsome form with becoming grace.
The fair, round face, and twinkling dark eyes were per
fect ; and the short, curly locks artistically arranged to
show her face to the best advantage.
The sound of a bell was heard through the open win
dow. Drawing the curtains aside, she exclaimed impa
tiently as she saw the people passing, " I do wish papa
would come on ; there is the second bell now, and the
people are all going in. I wanted so much to see
Harriet before church ! "
Then, walking to the center-table, she began care
lessly turning over the leaves of a book lying there.
(125)

126 THB CHILD OF THE GANGES.
It was Hannah Moore's " Strictures on Female Educa
tion." Suddenly a line italicized from the bible struck
her attention, " She that liveth in pleasure is dead
while she liveth." She read no further, but stood with
her eyes riveted on the words, while she made tho
application of the passage to herself. She was so much
engrossed that she scarcely heard her father's voice as
he called at the door, " Come on, Ann, I am ready."
Seeing she was too much interested to hear, he spoke
again more sharply, " Daughter ! "
" Yes, papa," she said quickly, and closing the book
as if just remembering it was church time.
" Come on, we are late and must hurry." And with
cane in hand he stepped briskly into the street, Bhc
walking beside him in silence. It was something
unusual for her not to be' chatting vivaciously about
everything she saw, but her father thought perhaps she
was pouting, and, in his hurry to be in time, gave her
no more attention.
The girls were all arrayed in their best that day, but
Ann, for the first time in life, cared not if others
¦ excelled her in dress. The sermon was eloquent and
full of spiritual teaching, but she heard it not. Even
Harriet was scarcely noticed as they passed at the door.
One single thought filled her mind and distressed her
soul: "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she
liveth." During the months that followed she lost all relish
for amusements, and became so awakened as to her
spiritual condition that she even longed for annihila
tion. As formerly, ehe had given all her attention to

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 127
pleasure-seeking, bhe now turned all the faculties of
her ardent soul ' in the quest of salvation, and ere long
she found the peace for ^which she had so earnestly
sought. The change in her life was radical, from
extreme worldliness to earnest piety. At school she
was inspired with a new zeal in her studies ; not as
formerly with a desire for human applause, but because
she felt the responsibility of preparing her soul for
greater usefulness in life. The bible was now her daily
companion, and as she pondered over its pages she was
struck with the thought of its applicability to all
classes and conditions of mankind.
" Why," thought she, " may not the scriptures be
taught to the poor African slave and to the wild rod
men of the West? Why are these precious truths kept
so close by our people while others are dying for the
want of them? I wish I had the power to diffuse the
Gospel. I would go anywhere if only I might be per
mitted to lead others te the light."
Little did she dream of the field soon to be opened to
her, or the use to which God would put the knowledge
she was now so eagerly acquiring. She continued her
bible study with aid of the best commentators, prepar
ing herself for something, she knew not what.
After the completion of her course in the Academy,
at the earnest solicitation of friends, she consented to
teach a school. There she first had an opportunity to
make application of the plans she had formed of evan
gelizing others. Much to the astonishment of her
pupils, she opened every morning with prayer, and lost
no opportunity to lead their minds to a higher life, as
well as to instruct them in their regular branches.

128 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
How different her life now from the time when we
first knew her! The refining fires of conviction have
purged her soul from all it^ vanity and delight in
worldly pleasures, and now, wholly absorbed in making
others happy, she is lost to self, and yet enjoys con
tinual peace.
The Lord hath chosen her for his own use, and is
shaping her character and developing her faculties in
such a way that she may be best able to perform the
great life-work whereunto he hath called her.

CHAPTER IV.
* Not always as the whirlwind's rush
On Horeb's mount of fear,
Not always as the burning bush
To Midian's shepherd seer.
Nor as the awful voice which came
To Israel's prophet bards,
Nor as the tongues of cloven flame,
Nor gift of fearful words—
Not always thus, with outwardsign
Of fire or voice from Heaven,
The message of a truth divine—
The call of God is given I "— WhiUier.
After the scene at the tavern Mr. Judson, true to his
promise, retired from the life on which he had entered,
and returned home deeply convicted. At the earnest
solicitation of two of the professors in Andover Semi
nary, he placed himself under the instruction of that
institution. The laws of the Seminary demanded evi
dence of strict evangelical piety as a conditi- n of
matriculation ; but as he could, as yet, claim no satis
factory hope in Christ, he was enrolled as a special
student His new religious surroundings gradually
wrought a wonderful change in his nature, and soon
light from the Cross dawned upon his spiritual vision,
and he was enabled to accept the sacrifice of Christ for
the atonement of his sins.
Once more the finger of God is seen moving myste
riously among the pages of our history.
The Rev. Claudius Buchanan, an ambitious church
man, had visited Calcutta from England, and seeing
9 (129)

130 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
the efforts of the " poor mechanics " Carey, Marshman,
and Ward, as they were struggling to diffuse the light
of the gospel, he wrote to a friend in England expressing
himself slightingly in regard to the infant enterprise.
But when further developments wore made, difficulties
removed, and the standard of truth permanently planted
on Indian soil, he conceived a more favorable opinion
of their labors, which led him, on his return to Eng
land, to preach in Bristol a sermon, entitled " The Star
in the East." The sermon was printed in book form,
and a copy found its way across the waters, and by
some mysterious way into the hands of the young student
at Andover Seminary.
Though coming from a strange and distant source, it
was the message of God to him, borne on the wings of
poor Mekara's prayer from the Himalayan crags.
Quicker and more- forcible than the electric current
that bears man's thought through the caverns of the
ocean, is that unseen, powerful medium, the Spirit of
God. Though its poles be separated as far as India
from Massachusetts, yet its pulsations thrill the brain
and throb in the heart so perceptibly that there can be
no doubt as to their reality ; though, for the time, we
may not know whence they come nor whither they go.
The little book fulfilled its mission, and Mr. Judson
determined to go to the rescue of the heathen who were
wandering in darkness waiting for the dawn to appear.
At that time there was not a single missionary organ
ization in America, and he was left without any one to
consult, and with no hope of financial aid. At length
Samuel Nott, a member of his own class, was found to
be interested in the same subject, and together they
decided tc adopt Asia as the field of their life-work.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 131
Several other young men soon entered the Seminary
who were also interested in missions, but whose atten
tion had been mostly directed to the North American
Indians. One by one they were finally convinced by
the earnest speeches of Judson and Nott that Asia was
the field most demanding their labors.
The General Assembly of the Congregational Church,
of which they all were members, was to convene at
Bradford in June. They drew up a petition to be laid
before this body, begging to be sent under its auspices
as missionaries to Burmah.

CHAPTER V.
" Go I thou messenger of Heaven,
Bound for Asia's burning shore,
Tell oi sins by blood forgiven,
Take the heaven-sent message o'er ;
Some will listen ;
Tell the tidings o'er and o'er." — Anon.
All Bradford was alive with bustle and excitement,
preparing for the meeting of the Assembly. Mr. Has-
seltine and family, being among the most prominent
members of the Congregational church, were expecting
to entertain many of the visitors who should attend.
No pains were spared to have homes and church in
order, for such an occasion was rare at a small place
like Bradford.
During his winter vacation, before the Association
convened, Mr. Judson returned home on a short visit to
his parents. As yet he had not had the heart to tell
them of his intentions in regard to his future field of
labor. His father, justly proud of his son for his mental
attainments, was overjoyed at the prospect of his becom
ing a- great minister. One evening while the family
was seated around the fireside engaged in a pleasant
conversation, the old man, who had just received his
mail, looked up from a letter he was reading, and with
a look of paternal pride beaming from his eyes, said :
" Listen here, Adoniram ; here is a letter from the Rev.
Dr. Griffin, who proposes to make you his colleague in
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THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 133
the largest church in Boston ! A splendid beginning,
I must say, for a young man just through the Semi
nary." " And think, how near home you will be, too," added
his mother.
The young man's heart was breaking as he listened
to the plans they were dotingly arranging for him, and
he*"could not bear to break to them the great dream of
his life. His sister, sitting near him, also made a
remark as to the pleasant arrangement it would be to
have work so near home. Turning to her he ventured
to reply.
"No, sister, I shall never live in Boston. I have
much farther than that to go."
"Why, brother, what do you mean? " she cried.
" I am going as a missionary."
" What's that, Adoniram? " hastily asked his father,
who had overheard the last word of the conversation.
" I have decided to begin my life work in Burmah,"
replied Adoniram. He then proceeded to lay before
them the workings of the Spirit with him, how his
life had been saved from ruin by the hand of Provi
dence, how the little book had fallen into his hands,
and the lasting impressions made upon him to bear the
light to those who sat in darkness, and in the shadow
of death. His father saw the wisdom of his choice,
and though deeply grieved and disappointed, offered
no opposition. His mother and sister remonstrated
with him earnestly, and besought him, for their sake,
to revoke his decision. But finding he was not to be
deterred from his purpose, they burst into tears. He
thus witnessed the first hardship that a missionary is
called upon to endure.

131 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
The eventful day of the Assembly at length arrived.
The great men and women of the land and dignitaries
of the church were seated together in Council. Before
this august body the petition of the Andover students
was read. Being entirely different from anything that
had ever appeared before, and advocating a measure
which, till now, had never occurred to the religious
mind of America, it created quite a sensation, and
met with considerable opposition. But the young
applicants were not to be lightly put aside, and they
followed in earnest speeches in answer to the opposi
tions that were brought up ; especially did the eloquent,
soul-stirring appeal of Mr. Judson carry with it weight
and conviction. After a warm discussion, however, the
request was granted, and the young men appointed
missionaries to Burmah, and a board appointed to
arrange for their support.
Through the personal instrumentality of Mr. Judson
they had been appointed by the London Missionary
Society in the event they should fail in America. They
now withdrew themselves from its patronage, and made
preparations to go entirely under the direction of the
Board appointed.
After the meeting adjourned — was it an accident or
Providential? — the young ministers were assigned to
Mr. Hasseltine's for dinner. They were received with
genuine, old-fashioned hospitality, and made to feel
perfectly at home ; which is tho height of bliss to a
student, whether he be a preacher or not.
Mrs. Hasseltine, with matronly grace, presided at
the head of the table, her older children near; and
Mr. Hasseltine sat with the young ministers at the

THE CHILD Of THE GANGES. 135
other end. Ann, who was the youngest aaughter, waited
on the table. Her heart had been wonderfully stirred
that day as she listened eagerly to the speeches of tho
young men in regard to the great question which they
had advanced. Especially was she impressed by the
address of Mr. Judson as he painted, in living colors,
the condition of the heathen. All tho impulses of her
nature were aroused, and she felt that she would be
willing to make any sacrifice if oply she might be
permitted to go to their rescue. As she moved grace
fully about the table, she gave silent and strict atten
tion to every word that was said on the important sub
ject, her eyes often resting with interest on Mr. Judson,
by whose neat person she was attracted, not less than
by his becoming address, and earnest, consecrated zeal.
Little did she dream that he, fully conscious of her
bewitching charms, was composing, in tho bottom of
his plate, his first love verses in her praise,
That evening, when assembled in tho parlor, they
were thrown together, and after an hour of delightful
conversation they were impressed with their mutual
fitness for each other.
He escorted her to church that night, and, ere the
meetings of the Assembly had closed, he was convinced
that she was tho ono whom the Lord had provided as
an helpmeet to him. During the two years that inter
vened before his departure to Asia, he won her hand,
as he had her heart at their first meeting.
Love at first sight is not often deep, or of the purest
type ; but where two kindred natures have thus been
prepared for each other, mutual recognition comes soon
and strong. They loved solely from principle. She

136 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
did not love him for the dangers through which he
Bhould pass ; neither did he love her because she did
pity them.
In this, as in everything else, Ann took into her con
fidence her bosom friend Harriet, and endeavored to
persuade her to go with them, no longer objecting to
her " clerical beau," Mr. Newell, but urging her to con
sent to marry him as he, too, was contemplating the
step and only hesitated on her account. " Only think,
Harriet," she said, " I shall be all alone, not another
white female in the whole country. We have always
loved each other and been together ; it will be hard for
us to part. There we can both assist our husbands
and do some little good in holding up their hands,
besides being a mutual 'solace to each other.'
Harriet's gentlo nature soon yielded to the entreaties
of her more adventurous friend, and together they
made preparations for the sad departure.
Girls of this day, even those who accompany their
husbands to foreign fields, cannot appreciate the sorrows
of these two at leaving home. The facilities of travel
were so few, and a long voyage accompanied by so
many dangers and delays, that the departing mission
ary could scarcely hope to see home again. The enter
prise was new, and met with disfavor with the majority ;
and the country to which they were going was unex
plored, not even the sword of the white man having
found its way thither. Old people considered it a mad
freak, and their girl friends thought it a ridiculous
wedding tour.
The grief of the families is too sacred to be revealed,
even at this late day. No rash promises had been

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 137
made to win their daughters from them. When called
upon to consent to his daughter's marriage, Mr. Has
seltine received a letter from Mr. Judson containing
the following:
" I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with
your daughter early next Spring, to see her no more in this
world ; whether you can consent to her departure to a heathen
land, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a
missionary life ; whether you can consent to her exposure to
the dangers of the ocean ; to the fatal influence of the south
ern climate of India ; to every kind of want and distress ; to
degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps, a violent death?
Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who left his
heavenly home and died for her and for you ; for the sake of
perishing immortal souls ; for tho sake of Zion and the glory
of God? Can you consent to all this in hope of soon meeting
your daughter in the world of glory, with a crown of right
eousness, brightened by the acclamations of praise which shall
redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her
means, from eternal woe and despair ? "
Both Harriet and Ann were warned of their hard
ships, and anticipated a life of danger and suffering,
yet of joy, because accounted worthy to suffer for the
Master's name. They spent the last days of their
maidenhood in visiting the scenes made dear to them
by the associations of the Past. They went again to
the old church, and knelt in prayer at the sacred altar
where the peace of God had come to them ; then to the
school-house, over whose familiar desks they had bent
their youthful heads in study, and on whose play
ground they had so often skipped the rope in childish
glee ; to the river where they had often wandered at
evening, and on whose grassy border we leave them,
Harriet and Ann, dreaming of the Past so sweet, and
talking of the Future so dark.

CHAPTER VI.
" Uprising from the orange leaves
The tall pagoda's turrets glow ;
O'er graceful shaft and iretted eaves
Its verdant web the myrtle weaves.
And hangs in flowing wreaths below ;
And where the cluster'd palms eclipse
The moonbeams from its marble lips
The fountain's silver waters flow.*"-

— Whitlier.

After having been led through strange events in dis
tant lands, the reader's attention is directed again to
Burmah, the land of The Golden Face. No country is
fairer; yet, till the present century, the great world
was unconscious of its existence. Here fled the adhe
rents of Gautama, when expelled from their native
land, and established the religion of Buddha. Every
Bunny slope is crowned by an image of Gautama; every
flowery glade and every gloomy cavern conceals a
representative of the pensive god. Scarcely, through
out its whole extent, is there a spot where the pagoda is
not seen.
Prince Gautama sought to reform Brahminism. For
this cause he left his beautiful palace and the embrace
of his lovely wife, to live an ascetic on the mountains-
When light came to him under the bo-tree, revealing
the causes of human sorrow and the remedy, he pro
claimed to the world a religion whose pure creed has
never been equaled by human philosophy; approach
ing so near the truth, yet a temple founded upon the
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THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 138
sands of human deeds, ignoring the " Rock of Ages "
standing so near.
" There are no gods who hear prayers," says Gautama,
who now became Buddha, " consequently your galvation
depends, not upon worship, but upon tho obtaining of
merit by doing good deeds. These commands obey and
sin shall, be removed :
'Do not kill :
'Do not steal :
'Do not lie :
'Do not commit adultery :
'Do not drink intoxicating liquors.'
" By a strict adherence to those, the soul, instead of
transmigrating, will be permanently freed from the
shackles of the flesh and enter Nirvana, the abode of
sweet forgetfulness, of ' ceaseless, stirless rest.' Cere
monies and prayers effect nothing. Only live true to
these principles of Morality."
The Buddha passed into Nirvana. - His followers
were left without a leader. Then the former cravings
of the soul for something Supernatural became too
strong for the simple moral principles; and making
unto themselves idols in his image, they worshiped
them with prostrate bodies and offerings of fruit and
flowers. The most costly and most sacrod pagodas are
believed to contain some relic of Buddha, such as a
tooth, a hair, or even a nail from his body. All devo
tions are mechanical; all prayers without faith. No
human cry of wretchedness or misery can arouse the
senseless repose of Buddha. He sleeps, silently sleeps
forever ; and all they can hope is annihilation at the
end, when the restless soul ceases to wander from being
to being, man or beast.

140 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Such is the religion of Burmah ; and the despised
Karens dare not to speak the name of YUWAH outside
their solitary homes in the mountain glens. All hope
of future reward being based on meritorious perform
ances, the Burmese excel in hospitality ; but kindness
is always shown, not for the good of the recipient, but
for the personal advantage of the dispenser. Conse
quently gratitude is unknown ; for he who receives a
favor recognizes that his benefactor is only acting
through selfish motives. This renders them the most
haughty and arrogant of any nation living. He who
would imbibe a new- religion would be subject to the
ridicule and disdain of the people, besides the implac
able displeasure of the king.
Rangoon, the chief sea-port of the country, is a low,
marshy place, composed of dingy bamboo huts ; and
brick or mud residences for the higher classes. The
traveler, entering the mouth of the famous Irrawaddy,
and confronted with this wretched landing-place, can
scarcely believe the stories he has heard of the lovely
fields beyond, to which it is the door.
Under the direction of the Serampore Mission, Felix
Carey had once come here to establish a mission. A
spacious house was built as headquarters and the work
begun. But again the restless desire for wandering, to
which he had long been addicted, took possession of
him. He married a native, and, moving to Ava,
accepted the office of embassador for the English, leav
ing the great mission house deserted as if the emissa
ries of the cross had besieged the citadel of the coun
try and then left their weapons and armor in despair.
The building was situated just without the walls of the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 141
city, and there, in unbroken solitude, a native Chris
tian, a female, took up her abode, fearing to be seen in
the city- after having renounced the national religion.
Hers was a soul that had been born again through the
teachings of young Carey, and then left as a helpless
babe, famishing and dying for the bread of lifo.
One July morning she heard a great uproar in the
city, and on looking out, saw almost the whole popula
tion of the town on their way to the beach where a
foreign ship had just landed. On board appeared, what
was to them, a novel spectacle. A white couple, man
and woman, of youthful appearance, stood on deck.
It was Adoniram Judson with Ann, his trusting bride.
Looking around we see no traces of Harriet, Mr. Newell,
and the others who were appointed to come with them.
These two are alone, and both their faces are sad,
though full of hope and trust. A large chair was
brought out, in which Ann was seated ; then two bam
boo poles were thrust between the rounds, and four
natives marched away with it on their shoulders, Mr.
Judson walking beside them, and the eager crowd fol
lowing behind. Reaching a tamarind tree by the way
side the bearers placed the chair on the ground that
she might rest a moment under tho shade. This gav
the multitude an opportunity to obtain a nearer view
of the object of their curiosity. Crowding up, they
stood in a circle around the chair, gazing with awe
upon its pale occupant. She was tired from her long
voyage, and sat with her head resting wearily on her
hand, her face hidden by a large sun-bonnet. Some,
desirous of seeing her countenance, crept timidly near,
and, stooping, peered under her bonnet. Seeing their

142 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
curiosity her former mischievous spirit returned, and
forgetting, for a moment her recent sorrows, she smiled
at their inquisitiveness, at which they all fell back
with the crowd, laughing loudly. The bearers again
took up their burden and moved on amidst the shouts
of the multitude. They went first to the custom-house.
The native officers were seated on mats on the floor of
the veranda. Rising, they proceeded to search Mr. Jud
son, but asked permission that a female should perform
the same office for his wife. This done, they repaired
immediately to the mission-house without the city, and
dispatched the bearers again for their baggage. The
solitary inmate at the mission received them joyfully,
and, though unable to communicate with them, did all
in her power to make them comfortable.
The baggage having come, they set about furnishing
their new quarters. Hammocks were suspended from
hooks in tho wall ; a table constructed near a window
for Mr. Judson's books, and their various souvenirs,
gifts from friends at home, arranged around the room,
in the center of which stood the comfortable rocking-
chair presented by Mrs. Hasseltine on the day of their
marriage. Ann showed herself an able and tasty, as
well as cheerful, housekeeper, and by nightfall she had
the satisfaction of seeing her home furnished aB elabo
rately as any in the city.
Till now their work had restrained their thoughts
from wandering back to the scenes of the past. But
when night came on they sat out on the veranda over
looking the river, and feasted their eyes on the scenery
of a night in a strange country. A youthful pair just
beginning their wedded life, neither could hope to be

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 143
again received under the parental roof. The happy
evenings spent in the family circle, around the fireside
of their New England homes, could only be remem
bered as of the past. They have no firesides here ; no
winter ; no family circle ; even their companions in the
mission were absent, and Harriet — Oh, where was Har
riet? Silently they sit, hand in hand, thinking. The
great ship in the harbor moves, and like a spectre,
glides from the wharf down the stream, bearing away
with itself every sign of civilization. They were left
alone, these two, to struggle in the darkness, against
the mighty tide of ignorance and superstition surround
ing them. Sorrow, such as the reader cannot as yet
comprehend, overwhelmed them. Tears fell on their
clasped hands as they sat together. Yet was there no
regret for the choice they had made. They had all
faith and confidence in God, but no matter how strong
the believer's hope, there are times when the natural
tears unbidden flow. They knelt in prayer, then she
went into the room, and sitting down at her desk, wrote
a long, trustful letter to her sister at home. Mr. Judson
sat without in the darkness, pondering the great field
of his life work, and praying for guidance as to the
best means of accomplishing it.
Only two against millions, yet we have the promise,
"One shall chase a thousand, and two shall put ten
thousand to flight."

CHAPTER VII.
" Turn, then, my heart— thy home is here,
No other now remains for thee :—
The smile of love, and friendship's tear,
The tones that melted on thine ear,
The mutual thrill of sympathy.
The welcome of the household band,
The pressure of the lip and hand,
Thou mayst not hear, nor feel, nor see." — Wliittier.
Many and varied had been the events of that eight
een month's voyage, which separated the missionaries
from their homes. Ann and Harriet had embarked
with their hnsbands, shortly after their marriage, for
Calcutta, the remainder of the party having preceded
them in another vessel. Deeply consecrated, indeed,
muet be the youthful heart that can bravely turn from
the ties of home and all congenial associations ; from a
brilliant prospect of future usefulness and popularity in
his native country; and penetrate the thick darkness of
an unknown heathen land. Now launched on the
treacherous deep, as the last faint outline of their famil
iar landscape faded from view, they each realized that
they had renounced all for the sake of the Kingdom of
Ghrist. But the long months that were to intervene
before their arrival in India were not to be spent in
pensive dreaming, nor idle repining. The time was em
braced as an excellent opportunity for preparation for
the great work which they were soon to begin. Sep
arated from the world and its conflicts, with only the
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THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 145
ocean about them, .and its Maker and Kuler above them,
they had sweet intercourse with God. They also held
services in which they preached to the passengers and
crew. But the greater portion of the time was spent in
study. But they acquainted them selves with the country
to which they were going, its peoples, languages and
customs, as much as they were able. They also studied
works on Theology; and Mr. Judson engaged in the
translation ot the New Testament out of the Greek into
English. They safely crossed the Equator, though they were al
most suffocated by the intense heat. On rounding the
Cape of Good Hope they encountered rough weather
for twenty days, after which they were anxious to see
land of any description, anything to relieve the feeling
of the unstable, rolling, waves. After nearly four months
they heard the thrilling cry: "Land ahead!" To the
eager, storm-worn, passengers the distant blue-summits
of Golconda awoke emotions equaled only by a view
from the heights of "The Delectable Mountains." They
sailed for several days in sight of the land, sometimes
near enough to distinguish the delightful groves of
orange and palm trees. They now make their way among
the spicy islands that cluster about the mouth of the
Ganges, and enter the Hoogly. The air is fragrant be
yond description with the perfume of flowers. Either
shore was covered with clumps of the wonderful mango,
and other trees, which sheltered the innumerable cot
tages that clustered like hay-stacks beneath them.
Mr. Judson and Mr. Newell were detained for some
time in Calcutta in an unsuccessful effort to obtain per
mission from th© English officials to settle in India, the
10

146 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
East India Company being violently opposed to the
evangelization of the natives. They then accepted an
invitation from Mr. Carey at Serampore, to which place
Harriet and Ann were borne at a rapid gait in a palan
quin. No ladies were to be seen in the streets, and the
natives thronged them in annoying crowds.
The venerable Dr. Carey met them with great joy,
and conducted them at once to his home. In this
delightful retreat they fonnd opportunity to regain their
strength, and to acquire a better understanding of the
work of the missionaries. The latter never alluded to
the denominational differences between themselves and
the new comers, but treated them with the greatest
respect and hospitality.
The native Christians were much interested in the
new missionaries, and as soon as it was known where
they were going, a female, differing in some respects
from the natives, found her way to the presence of the
ladies, and in broken English made known her name.
It was Mahdri.
She told the story of her past life in the court, their
wanderings in search of God, and the loss of husband
and child, reproving herself often, and bitterly, as an in
fanticide. She besought them to use every means to
enlighten her benighted countrymen, and to soften the
king's heart; saying that she herself hoped to return,
when better qualified, as a teacher.
This pleasant sojourn at the mission was not to last
long. The East India Company looked with distrust
upon all such enterprises as would tend to draw from
themselves the favor of the down-trodden people. Af
ter ten days Mr. Judson and Mr. Newell were sum-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 147
moned to Calcutta, where an order was read to them to
depart at once from their territories. Sending for their
wives they prepared to embark on a vessel bound for
the Isle of France; but when ready to start, it was found
that the ship could accomodate only two. Harriet's
health was so delicate that it was necessary for her to be
removed from the hurry of the city, and the perplexities
of delays. Consequently it was arranged for her and
Mr. Newell to go first, the others to follow at the first
opportunity. While waiting for another ship to sail for the Isle of
France, the Judsons accepted the hospitality of some
resident Christians, in whose house they remained for
three months, closely watched by the English officials.
Mr. Judson found some theological works in his cham
ber, and began their study during his delay. Ann, now
left without a female companion, also took up the read
ing for pastime. The works contained a treatise on
baptism, which subject had of late greatly disturbed
Mr. Judson's mind. Ann was at first alarmed at his
unsettled state, and warned him of the unpleasant con- *
sequences of a change of church relations at that time.
But he could not rest till he had decided the matter.
So she united with him in the investigation of the sub
ject which led to their adopting the Baptist faith.
Although realizing that they were forever separating
themselves from the auspices and sympathies of the
Board which was organized for their support, and call
ing down upon themselves the censure of their dearest
friends, they recived baptism. Humanly speaking,
they had nothing to gain, and all to lose. The Baptists
of America were a weak body, and inactive as te mis-

148 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
sious. It may have been the hand of Providence in
thus arousing them to a sense of duty.
In a few days the ship containing the other mission
aries, after many delays, arrived, and it was found that
Mr. Bice had also undergone a change of views.
This fresh arrival exasperated the officials who now
issued a peremptory order for the whole party to go at
once on board a ship bound for England.
Mahdri had accompanied them as far as Calcutta,
and she could not bear the thought that they should be
hindered from going to Burmah, though Mr. Carey had
made them believe it inaccessible. She learned from
a native servant that a ship was about to sail for the
Isle of France, which intelligence she immediately
communicated to Mr. Judson. He applied at once for
a pass to go on board, but was denied. Relating the
circumstances to the captain, he consented to take
them without a pass ; and Mr. Rice, with Mr. Judson
and his wife, took passage for their destination after so
much delay. But they had not proceeded far down the
Hoogley before they were overtaken by a government
dispatch commanding the pilot to proceed no further,
as passengers were on board who had been ordered to
England. They were rudely put ashore at a mean
tavern, where they remained for three days almost in
despair, and seeking vainly some means of escape.
Mahdri, learning of their detention, went boldly
before the magistrate, and after much pleading, pro
cured from him a pass for the missionaries on the
" Creole " which they had left.
They were sitting disconsolately at their dinner one
day, and discussing their misfortunes when a coolie

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 149
hastily entered and thrust the pass in Mr. Judson's
hands and departed without a word. Their hearts over
flowed with joy at this unexpected deliverance, though
they had no idea whence it came. Procuring a boat
they set out immediately to reach the " Creole " which
they found just setting out to sea.
At length, after a weary perilous voyage, the shore
of the green isle appeared. They recognized Mr.
Newell among the crowd, and Ann rushed on deck to
greet her old schoolmate, thinking, of course, she would
also be there to meet them.
" Harriet ! Harriet ! " she cried, " Mr. Newell, where
is Harriet? "
The poor man could speak not a word, but with tremb
ling finger, pointed upward; and falling on Mr. Judson's
shoulder, burst into tears. Ann stood by in great dis
tress. Divining tho cause of his grief, she begged him
to tell them all.
Calming himself at length, he told them of their
arrival at the Isle, with its unfriendly climate; of
Harriet's sickness with no nurse but himself; of hei
death, like the fading of a fragile summer flower, and
of how he buried her with her new-born babe, in a
nameless grave.
Ann was almost distracted at this heart-rending news.
Poor, poor Harriet ! Is this the end to the noble
life which you two loving hearts planned? Must you
be thus cut off before reaching even the field of your
life-work? Having gone forth weeping and bearing
precious seeds, shall you not return rejoicing, bearing
your sheaves with you? Aye, the hallowed green mound
shall be visited by many pilgrim feet from afar, and its

150 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
verdant grass shall be watered by the tears of other
noble saints who shall be moved by your tragic death to
emulate your noble heroism. Rest in peace. The angels
of love shall ever stand guard over the lonely grave.
Ann herself had a very severe attack of illness while
on the island. Mr. Newell, unable to reconcile himself
to his unutterable loss, departed soon ; and Mr. Rice,
with Mr. Judson's consent, returned to America to
inform the Baptists there of their action, and to arouse
them to lend their assistance in the prosecution of their
great work. It was soon found that the island was
unfavorable to the establishing of a mission ; and, as
they had given up all idea cf going to Burmah, Mr.
Judson and his wife decided to establish a mission on
an island near Malacca, to reach which they must sail
by way of Madras. But on reaching the latter place
no vessel was found ready for sailing except one bound
for Rangoon, Burmah. Fear of the East India Com
pany forced them to embark on this ; and thus, led by
the hand of God, they were driven to the country to
which he had at first directed their minds.
The sorrowing but hopeful company that left Salem,
Mass., eighteen months before, had been diminished,
one by one, till now only two were left ; and they could
no longer claim recognition from tho great body before
which the young Andover students had made their fiery
speeches. Trusting in God that he would arouse his
people to their support, and bless their labors in the
unfriendly country to which he had led them, they
landed at Rangoon as was related in the former chapter.
The reader now understands the sorrow of that first
night spent in the deserted mission house.

BOOK FOURTH.

CHAPTER I.
*' Nay, though the heart
Be consecrated to the holiest work
Vouchsafed to mortal effort, there will be
Ties of tho earth around it, and, through all
Its perilous devotion, it must keep
Its own humanity." — Whiltter.
Though surrounded by million's of fellow-creatures.
the condition of the missionaries was, for several years,
inexpressibly lonely. When an untutored rustic finds
himself for the first time in the streets of a large city,
he wanders aimlessly to and fro, looking wistfully into
the heedless faces of the thousands who pass him by,
and feels more alone in the crowded throng than Crusoe
on his solitary isle. So with Mr. Judson and Ann
Unacquainted with the Burmese language, there was no
one with whom they could communicate. Trusting in
the goodness of God and relying on his unfailing mercy,
they were content- to find mutual solace in each other.
They wrote to their friends as often as conveyance could
be found for their mail. The following extract from a
letter written by Ann to the bereaved husband of her
beloved Harriet reveals the feelings of her heart, anrj
the obstacles to be overcome :
(151)

152 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Rangoon, April 23, 1814.
"My Dear Brother Newell :
" A few days since we received yours of December
18th, the only one we have ever received since you left
us at Port Louis. It brought fresh to my mind a recol
lection of scenes formerly enjoyed in our dear native
country. Well do I remember our first interesting con
versations on missions and on the probable events
which awaited us in India. Well do I remember the
dear parental habitation where you were pleased to
favor me with your confidence relative to a companion
for life. And well do I remember the time when I first
carried your message to the mother of our dear Harriet,
when the excellent woman exclaimed with tears in her
eyes, ' I dare not, I *cannot speak against it.' Those
were happy days. Newell and Judson, Harriet and
Nancy, then were united in the strictest friendship,
then anticipating spending their lives together in shar
ing the trials and toils, the pleasures and enjoyments
of a missionary life. But alas ! behold us now ! In
the Isle of France, solitary and alone, lies all that was
once visible of the lovely Harriet. A melancholy wan
derer on the Isle of Ceylon is our brother Newell, and
the savage, heathen empire of Burmah is destined to
be the future residence of Judson and Nancy. But is
this separation to be forever? Shall we four never
again enjoy social, happy intercourse! No, my dear
brother, our separation is of short duration. There is
a rest — a peaceful, happy rest, where Jesus reigns,
where we four soon shall meet to part no more. For
give my gloomy feelings, or rather forgive my commu-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 153
nicating them to you, whose memory, no doubt, is ever
ready to furnish more than enough for your peace.
" As Mr. Judson will not have time to write you by
this opportunity, I will endeavor to give you some idea
of our situation here, and of our plans and prospects.
We have found the country, as we expected, in a most
deplorable state, full of darkness, idolatry, and cruelty
¦ — full of commotion and uncertainty. We daily feel
that the existence and perpetuity of this mission, still
in an infant state, depends in a peculiar manner on
the interposing hand of Providence; and from thic
impression alone we are encouraged still to remain.
As it respects our temporal privations, use has made
them familiar, and easy to bo borne ; they are of short
duration, and when brought in competition with the
worth of immortal souls, sink into nothing. We have
no society, no dear Christian friends, and with the
exception of two or three sea captains, who now and
then call on us, we never see a European face. But
then we are still happy in each other ; still find that
our own home is our best, our dearest friend. When
we feel a disposition to sigh for the enjoyments of our
native country, we turn our eyes on the miserable
objects around. We behold some of them laboring
hard for a scanty subsistence, oppressed by an avari
cious government, which is over ready to seize what
industry had hardly earned; we behold others sick and
diseased, daily begging the few grains of rice which
when obtained, are scarcely sufficient to protract their
wretched existence, and with no other habitation to
screen them from the burning sun, or chilly rains,
than what a small piece of cloth raised on four bamboos

154 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
under a tree can afford. While we behold these scenes,
we feel that we have all the comforts, and, in compari
son, even the luxuries of life. We feel that our tempo
ral cup of blessing is full, and runneth over. But is our
temporal lot so much superior to theirs? Oh, how
infinitely superior our spiritual blessings ! While they
vainly imagine to purchase promotion in another state
of existence by strictly worshiping their idols and
building pagodas, our hopes of future happiness are
fixed on the lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of
the world. When we have a realizing sense of these
things, my dear brother, we forget our native country
and former enjoyments, feel contented and happy with
our lot, with but one wish remaining — that of being
instrumental in leading these Burmans to partake of
the same Bource of happiness with ourselves."
Mr. Judson, having procured a Burman teacher of
rare attainments, gave himself diligently to the acqui
sition of the language which is peculiarly difficult, both
in structure and manner of expression, besides having
no adequate grammar or dictionary to aid in transla
ting. Ann, on account of her domestic affairs, found
less time to devote to study, yet, from her frequent
intercourse with the natives, she learned to speak the
language more readily than her husband, though with
less knowledge of its grammatical structure.
Realizing the advantage to be gained by obtaining
the favor of the civil authorities, Ann determined to
make the acquaintance of the wife of Mya-day-men,
the Viceroy of Rangoon. She accordingly visited the
government house, but her highness not being up at the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 155
time, she was received by the inferior wives of the
Viceroy. These, though extremely polite and respect
ful, could not restrain a demonstration of their innate
feminine curiosity relative to such a rare novelty as a
white female dressed in her foreign costume. They
subjected her to a close scrutiny, and, after minutely
examining each article of her apparel, successively
trying on her gloves and bonnet, they were firmly con
vinced that she was no less an object of interest and
wonder than his royal holiness, the great white elephant.
At length the door opened and the Vicerine appeared,
richly dressed, and smoking a long silver pipe. At her
appearance the other wives timidly shrank away and
sat in a crouching position around the walls of tho
apartment. Her highness was very gracious, and
taking her guest by the hand, seated her on a mat by
her side, sincerely apologizing for her delay, as she was
unwell. Receiving a bunch of flowers from one of the
women, she selected several, and proceeded to ornament
her cap, at the same time asking many questions in
regard to her visitor. Among other things she inquired
if she was Mr. Judson's highest wife, thinking that he,
like the Burmans, practiced polygamy .
" I am the only one he has," replied Ann, " for it is
the custom of Americans to have but one wife at a time."
"Havo you any children? "
" I havo not. Our first child was buried in the ocean
before we ever reached the land of the Golden Face."
" How sad ! Will you tarry long with us? "
"We expect to remain here as long as we live, or
until his Majesty shall forbid."
" I am so glad. Then I can see you often."

156 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Further conversation was prevented by the entrance
of the Viceroy. His long robe and enormous spear,
accompanied by his own savage looks, caused Ann to
tremble, but she was reassured by the gruff kindness
of his greeting, and found courage to decline his offer
of rum and wine. At length, thinking that her visit
had been sufficiently prolonged, she arose to go, where
upon her highness again took her hand and led her to
the door. "You must come to see me every day," she
said, " for you are like a sister to me and I shall always
be happy to see you." Thanking her for her kindness,
Ann made a low salaam and departed. Great reason
did she afterwards have to be thankful for the friend
ship of the wife of Mya-day-men.

XBffi*

CHAPTER II.
" Farewell, a long farewell I Yet visit me
In dreams, my darling ; though the vlsioned joy
Wake bitter pangs, still be thou in my thoughts,
And I wiU cherish the dear dream, and think
I still possess thee. Peace, my bursting heart !
O I submit. Again I lay thee down,
Dear relic of a mother's hope. Thy spirit
Now mingled with cherubic hosts, adores
That grace that ransomed it, and lodged it safe
Above the stormy scene." — Bev. J. Lawson.
Two years have passed since we found the little
family first in Rangoon; years of vicissitudes and
varied changes. Let us intrude, for a moment, on the
sanctity of their home circle at this time. Mr. Judson
seated as usual at his study table, is diligently engaged
in solving the long unbroken lines of Burman enigmas
through which he must learn to communicate the Gospel
to the people. His eyes wander often from the page
before him, and rest with loving tenderness on some
thing at his feet. On a mat by his chair, and in full
view of his face, lies a laughing blue-eyed boy of seven
months whom they call Roger Williams. The little
one tosses his baby hands and kicks with delight as he
meets his father's gaze ; lying thus for hours, perfectly
contented if he can only see his father's face. Ann is
heard in an adjoining room moving busily about like
the diligent house-keeper she is; when, in want of
something in her press, she enters the room. The eyes
of little Roger follow her from the time she enters till,
(157j

158 THE, CHILD OF THE GANGES.
finding what she wants, she moves towards the door>
Bmiling and speaking caressingly to the little form on
the floor. The blue eyes fill with tears as the young
mother passes by without taking him ; seeing which
she turns and stooping, takes him in her arms, imprint
ing a kiss on his rosy lips. He coos with delight at
this maternal demonstration, and when replaced on his
mat, allows her to return to her work.
During the long period of preparation and lonely
seclusion, God has sent this little beam to brighten the
gloom that else might have settled over them, and to
keep warm the hearts that might have otherwise for
gotten the strong ties of nature and become indifferent
to those softer feelings that only a parent can expe
rience. For a year and a half they had toiled ceaselessly,
when, on account of failing health, caused by over
work in a strange climate, Ann was compelled to take
a sea voyage and a change of air. After due conside
ration of the matter, and to some extent overcoming
the pangs incident on such a separation, she consented
to leave Mr. Judson alone and visit Bengal. Mya-day-
men was very kind and sent with her a female attendant ;
which was peculiarly accommodating, as no Burman
woman was allowed to leave the country, and her
expenses were paid by the Viceroy himself. The cap
tain of the vessel on which she sailed, refused pay for
her passage and yet provided everything necessary for
the comfort of one in ill health. The physician at
Madras who treated her, also returned the proffered
fee, saying that he was glad to have been of service to
her. Much recuperated in strength, she returned, after

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 159
three months, to Rangoon, and together they continued
their labors. Soon after this an added light entered
their lonely chamber, and with hearts overflowing with
joy, love and praise, they lived happily in the daily
performance of their duties.
"The little white child" was an unheard-of curiosity
in Burmah, and the eager natives vied with each other
in paying their homage to the little visitor.
Although Mr. Judson was, as yet, unable to preach
to the peoplo in their native tongue, the conduct of him
self and wife had won even the confidence of the natives
who were unaccustomed to honesty, veracity and deeds
of uncompensated kindness, such as the missionaries
daily exemplified ; and by the addition of the child
they drew around them a circle of admiring and sym
pathizing friends, though from the teachings of their
religion they were, in a measure, destitute of the finer
affections of the human heart. Not, as yet, fully com
prehending the intents of the " teacher," they were
being gradually prepared for the unfolding of the
wonderful truths which he was preparing to give them.
It is morning in the month of May. The air is yet
cool and balmy, and sweet with the fragrance of open
ing, dew-laden flowers. The smiling red sun is just
appearing in the soft Indian sky, and " feathered song
sters " hail the opening day. The first cheering beams
straggle through the cracks of the bamboo shutters and
reveal the silent objects within. The " teacher " sits
with bowed head at his study table. The night lamp
is 'burning low. A faint, half-suppressed moan is
heard from the opposite side of the room. There in

160 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
the shadow sits Ann, gazing wistfully upon a shrouded
cradle, weeping silently, and anon praying to God for
strength. Little Roger has been taken from them.
Like a flower that opens its bosom to the light, and, for
a few days, emits a sweet fragrance blessing its stay
and then fades ; or like a sweet-voiced bird that lights
in the open window, startling the echoes with its cheer
ful song and then flies away, never to return, the angel
spirit has flown, leaving darker than ever the gloom of
their exile.
God knows best. The time had come when their
labors must begin. The magnitude of their under
taking admitted of no division of labor. The care and
affection bestowed on the child amounted to almost
idolatry, and God hath said, " Thou shalt have none
other Gods before me." The tender flower was exotic
to the unfriendly climate of its birth, and the Great
Gardener hath transplanted it to his own Paradise
where the chilling frosts never bite, and the fierce mon
soons never blow.
" Hushed be the murmuring thought ! Thy will be done,
O Arbiter of life and death. I bow
To thy command — I yield the precious gift
So late bestowed ; and to the silent grave
Move sorrowing, yet submissive. O sweet babe !
I lay thee down to rest — the cold, cold earth
A pillow for thy little head. Sleep on,
Serene in death. No care shall trouble thee.
All undisturbed thou slumberest ; far more still
Than when I lulled thee in my lap, and sooth'd
Thy little sorrows till they ceased 
Then felt thy mother peace ; her heart was light
As'the sweet sigh that 'scaped thy placid lips,
And joyous as the dimpled smile that played

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 161
Across thy countenance. O I must weep
To think of thee, dear infant, on my knees
Untroubled sleeping. Bending o'er thy form,
I watch' d with eager hope to catch the laugh
First waking from thy sparkling eye, a beam
Lovely to me as the blue light of heaven.
Dimm'd in death's agony, it beams no more ! "
Their Burman acquaintances came in during the day,
and looking sadly on the little waxen figure, tried to
console the weeping young mother ; but their words of
sympathy only added pangs of pity for them. They
could only say, "He has gone to Nirvana." There all is
Lethe, forgetfulness, annihilation. Not even could
they give the more cheerful consolation of the beauti
ful Hindu faith, that his soul was absorbed into the
Great Soul like a bottle of water broken in the ocean,
or a " dew-drop slipping in the shining sea."
In the evening, followed by forty or fifty Burmans
and Portuguese, they bore the little casket to a clump of
mangoe trees in the yard where a grave had been dug.
When the bereaved parents had lifted their hearts to
God in a song of praise and resignation, and the father
with trembling lips had offered a fervent prayer, resign
ing the departed spirit to Him who gave it, the beloved
features were hid away, and arm in arm they returned,
sorrowfully but trustfully, to their home, no longer a
home. On the morrow the wife of the Viceroy came in great
state, attended by two hundred lords and royal officers,
to condole with the distressed mother. She reproved
her for not informing her sooner so that she could attend
the funeral. She showed every kindness in her power
and again invited Ann to visit her.
11

162 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Ofttimes mothers in this Christian land, surrounded
by loved ones and all the luxuries of life, when deprived
of one of their nestlings, repine at the Providence of
God, and refuse to be comforted. What must have
been the sufferings of this poor mother, in a land where
no congenial friend was ever seen, and but few com
forts of life to be had. Yet we hear her say, " Though
I say with the prophet, ' Behold and see if there be any
sorrow like unto my sorrow.' Yet I would also say
with him, ' It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not
consumed, because his compassion fail not.'"
Noble, heroic trust 1

CHAPTER III.
' Oh, who could bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom
One Peace-branch from above I
Then sorrow touched by thee grows bright
With more than rapture's ray :
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day."

— Moore.

Two years have passed since the death of little Roger.
On May 20, 1817, Mr. Judson finished the translation
of the Gospel of Matthew, which was the beginning of
that monumental task he had undertaken of translating
the whole Bible into Burmese. At the opening of this
chapter we find him ready to begin public preaching,
to which he has long looked forward with great eager
ness. But during this time, from 1816 to 1818, occurred
one event which served as a foretaste to the experiences
which are to be described in succeeding chapters.
Mr. Rice, returning to America from the Isle of France,
had succeeded in arousing a missionary spirit among
the Baptists, who now organized for the support of the
laborers in the field, and also appointed Mr. and Mrs.
Hough to go to Rangoon as co-laborers with the Jud
son's. The patient toilers were much encouraged and
strengthened by this addition to their force, especially
as Mr. Hough was a printer and brought with him a
printing press and font of type in the Burmese char
acter, a present from the Serampore Mission. This
(163)

164 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
was the first printing press ever brought to Burmah,"
and the incident of its introduction is interesting to
notice. The first printing ever done in the world was
a copy of the Bible, so it seems that the Lord reserved
the introduction of this great art for his own cause, as
the first use to which it was put in this great empire
was to print tracts and Bibles. Mr. Hough being unac
quainted with the language, confined himself exclu
sively to the mechanical part of the work, while Mr.
Judson did the writing and composing. The tracts
were soon circulated, and as sowers of seed, they could
only pray that some might fall on good ground.
One day Mr. Judson was sitting as usual with his
teacher when a Burman of respectable appearance, and
followed by a servant, came into the zayat and took a
seat. To Mr. Judson's questions of greeting he scarcely
replied, and seemed to be ill at ease. Suddenly he sur
prised "them by asking:
" How long time will it take me to learn the religion
of Jesus?"
" Such a question," replied Mr. Judson, " cannot be
answered. If God gives light, the religion of Jesus is
soon learned ; but without that a man might study all his
life and then never know it. But how came you to know
anything of Jesus? Have you ever been here before? "
" No."
" Have you seen any writing concerning Jesus? "
" I have seen two little books."
" Who is Jesus? " asked Mr. Judson.
"He is the Son of God," replied the man, "who,
pitying creatures, came into this world and suffered
death in their stead."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 165
" Who is God? "
" He is a being without beginning or end, who is not
subject to old age and death, but always is."
The effect of this frank confession on Mr. Judson
cannot be conceived. For years he had lived in this
land of atheists, and never before had he heard a
Burman acknowledge an Eternal God. Producing a
tract and catechism, he handed them to the man who
recognized them at once, f,nd immediately began read
ing from place to place as if perfectly familiar with
them Mr. Judson now tried to explain to him more
of God and Jesus, but he would not listen intently, and
seemed anxious only for another book.
" I have finished no other book," said Mr. Judson,
"but in two or three months I will give you a larger
one which I am now translating."
"But have you not a little of that book done now
*"hich you will graciously give me? "
Mr. Judson considered for a moment, then thinking
it best to grant this voluntary request, folded and gave
to him the first two half-sheets containing the first five
chapters of Matthew, whereupon he arose and departed
immediately as if satisfied. May the Grace of God be
with him in reading.
Mr. Judson now determined to begin public preach
ing, but though -fully acquainted with the structure of
the language, he did not feel competent to preach in
the tongue without the aid of a native assistant. The
English Baptists had once established a mission in
Chittagong, the natives of which speak Burman Sev
eral of these had been converted and baptized, and
then the mission was abandoned for some cause. Mr.

166 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Judson decided to go there, gather together the scattered
converts, encourage them to be firm in the faith, and,
if possible, to bring back one or two of them to assist
him in beginning public worship. He intended a voyage
of only three months, as the vessel on which he sailed
was to return in that time. But he trusted himself on
a treacherous ocean, as will afterwards appear.
Mr. Hough was left in charge of the mission premises,
and the society of his wife somewhat compensated Ann
for the separation from her husband, especially as she
so rarely saw any one with whom she could converse in
her own tongue, except Mr. Judson.
Nothing transpired to blight their prospects till the
three months were past, at the end of which time Mr.
Judson was expected back. Then, to the groat dismay
of the missionaries, a ship arriving from Chittagong
reported that neither Mr. Judson nor the ship in which
he sailed had been heard of in Arracan. The same
news also came from Bengal. These tidings were dis
tressing beyond measure to the devoted wife at home,
who pictured to herself her beloved husband driven
far away on the dark waters, or his bones bleaching in
the coral groves below.
It is said that misfortunes never come singly, and it
was true of the missionaries. Mya-day-men, the friendly
Viceroy, was recalled to Ava and another, sent in his
place. Like Pharaoh that knew not Joseph, the new
Viceroy had never heard of the white teachers, and
looked upon them with suspicion. War was rumored
between Burmah and England. The proud King
believing that all the world, like his own servile sub
jects, must quake at the name of the Golden Face,

the child op The Ganges. 167
essayed to drive the English from Arracan. Mr. Hough,
suspected of being an English spy, was rudely seized
and dragged to the court-house where he was told if he
did not tell the truth in regard to his presence in the
country they would write with his heart's blood. It
was falsely reported that a royal order had come for
the banishment of all foreign teachers, and Mr. Hough,
- unable to speak in Burman, was detained from day to
day on the most flimsy excuses, until Ann, suspecting
that he was detained for the purpose of extorting money
from them, and that without orders, determined to make
an effort for his release. The family of the Viceroy
was absent and it was not etiquette for a woman to
appear alone in the presence of his highness. Yet,
with that intrepid daring that never was known to
shrink even under the most hazardous enterprises, shej
like Esther, taking her life in her hand, ventured into
the palace uncalled for and found favor. Having plainly
stated the facts to the Viceroy, he ordered the imme
diate release of Mr. Hough, and commanded that the
missionaries should not be further molested.
So far from being an end, this was but the beginning
of disasters. That fearful epidemic, the cholera, so
much dreaded in southern climates, began to rage with
alarming violence. The mission house was. just with
out the walls of the city, near the place for the burn
ing of the dead. Day and night the horrible noise of
the death-drum was heard continually, announcing, in
rapid succession, the departure of poor unguided spirits
into Nirvana. Litters bearing the bodies of the dead
were continually depositing their ghastly burdens with
out the walls to be burned, and returning for more.

168 the child op the gangfs.
All day long the dense smoke from the funeral pyres
rolled in clouds above the mission house ; and at night
the pestilential marshes were lit up by the lurid glare
of burning flesh.
The mission was now in a distressing condition. The
natives, conscious of the intolerance of the government
for foreign religions, were frightened awp.y by the arrest
of Mr. Hough, and most of the learners were prevented
by the plague. Mr. Judson had not been heard of for
six months and it was believed that the vessel on which
he sailed was lost. Neither Mr. Hough nor his wife
could speak the language, and disheartened by the
state of affairs, they contemplated a removal to Bengal,
at least until the war was over. Already all English
ships were fleeing from the harbor and now only one
remained, the last chance of escape, and that ready to
sail. They daily importuned Ann to forsake her post
and go with them, assuring her that if Mr. Judson
should come the ship would not be allowed to land, and
if yet living, they would be certain to meet him in
Bengal. Harassed beyond measure, she was urged on
board against her will. Even then the thought of Mr.
Judson's returning and finding his home deserted and
his wife gone, he knew not where, induced her to stead
fastly refuse at the last moment and return to the
mission house, there to abide alone till he should come,
trusting God to protect her from harm. There, her eyes
beholding the still burning dead, and listening to the
hoarse mutterings of war, she stood at Tier post and
waited. Nor was her confidence in vain. Within a week she
had the inexpressible joy of greeting her returning

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 169
husband, though but a skeleton of his former self. His
brow was marked with the traces of recent pain, and
his whole person exhibited signs of the deepest suffer
ing and privation. The vessel on which he sailed had
encountered adverse winds, and was driven into the
open sea, anchoring after many weeks in a distant part
of India, hundreds of miles from their destination.
During that long protracted voyage the provisions had
given almost entirely out, only a few grains of rice
being allotted as the daily portion of each. Mr. Judson
had a violent attack of sickness on board, and his
frame, racked with pain, and his body burning with
fever, with no water to quench his raging thirst, he
only prayed to reach land where he might die and be
buried. When at length the vessel came to anchor in
the mud of Masulipatam, and he saw English faces
approaching he fell on his knees and wept for joy, for
never had a white face appeared to him so beautiful
before. He was kindly received and cared for till able
to travel again, when he was sent by palanquin to
Madras, thence sailing for Rangoon.
Though disappointed in obtaining one of the Arra-
canese converts to assist him, he nevertheless deter
mined to pursue his original plan of beginning public
preaching. This was more than ever necessary since
Mr. Hough had taken with, him the printing press, and
he had no other means of communicating to as many
people as formerly. He began at once the erection of
a zayat in which to hold his daily services, and in one
room of which Ann could instruct her class of Burman
women whom she had gathered around her.

CHAPTER IV.
" Whence comest thou? "

—Job i: 1.

Half way between Rangoon and Ava is Prome on the
Irrawaddy, one of the chief cities of the country,
scarcely less important than Rangoon as a commercial
center. Several vessels were anchored in the harbor,
among which was a small fishing smack owned by a
swarthy, weather-beaten Burman. The master was
scolding loudly, and berating the innocent helmsman
because one of the crew had forsaken them just as they
were ready to embark and another could not be pro
cured. About this time a man appeared on the wharf
approaching in the direction of the vessel. He was a
person of splendid physique, though having the appear
ance of being much worn, and, on account of trouble
or grief, prematurely old, yet he could not have been
more than forty years of age. His dignified bearing
was strangely out of keeping with his dress, which was
that of the simplest menial. At a first glance his face
seems familiar, but his down-cast look and simple
appearance belie our first impressions. Crossing the
plank, he stood on deck, seeing which the master turned
and accosted him.
" Who are you? " he said.
" My name is Moung Ing," replied the stranger.
" What do you want on here? "
(170)

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 171
" Having heard that you had lost a man, I came to
apply for his place."
" Have you any experience in managing a vessel or
in catching fish? "
"'None whatever, but I thought I might learn."
" Strange application that. I have no use for begin
ners. First learn your trade and then apply for a posi
tion." Here the helmsman interposed.
" Master, the man seems in earnest and will doubtless
do his best. We have no other, why not at least give
him the trial of one trip? "
The master only scowled as if admonishing him to
hold his peace.
" Certainly," said Moung Ing, " I would try to do all
in my power, and I hope my close application will com
pensate for my want of skill."
At length, after some debate, and finding that there
was no other alternative, he was received on trial, and
they proceeded down the river. They expected to stop
for a day or two at Rangoon, and then go as usual to
the sea coast. Moung Ing applied himself so assidu
ously to his duties that in a few days the captain,
naturally of a hilarious temperament, began to be much
pleased with him, and praised him extravagantly, call
ing him a "good fellow" and the "best of the crew."
It was not on account of his outward surroundings,
and his being among strangers, but seemingly, from
some inward sentiment, that Moung Ing was unusually
reticent, especially for a boatman. So much absorbed
did he often seem with his own thoughts, that he
scarcely noticed the jocular remarks of the garrulous

172 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
captain, or the uncouth jests of the kindly old helms
man. On the third day they came in sight of the glitter
ing pinnacle of the Great Golden Pagoda of Rangoon.
The river was now full of boats, moving in every direc
tion, and the air confused with a jargon of sounds.
Moung Ing was not in the least interested in the Babel
around him, but remained as taciturn as ever. They
stopped at an upper landing, and a man who seemed to
be acquainted with the captain came on board, full of
news, and bearing a folded paper tightly clasped in his
hand. He said there was much commotion in the city
on account of a man who was teaching a new religion,
and sending " little books " all over the land. At the
first mention of a new religion, Moung Ing's face lighted
up with a strange animation.
'"Whence came the man? " he eagerly asked.
"From over the sea toward the West," replied his
informant. "Of what race is he? "
" Of the pale-faced."
" What does he teach? "
" He says there is One Eternal God to whom we must
all give account. This is a part of his book."
Moung Ing grasped eagerly the folded sheets and
scanned their contents. It was the five chapters of
Matthew which Mr. Judson had given away, not know
ing the result, yot sending them forth as bread cast on
the waters.
Moung Ing returned the manuscript and inquiring
minutely as to the location of the mission house,
returned to his work as silent as ever ; but there was

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 173
an elasticity in his tread, and a brightness in his eyes,
such as his companions had never observed in him
before. " Can it be true," he thought, " that the time has
come at last, and God will reveal himself to me? But
I have so often hoped and been so sadly disappointed
I can scarcely believe as yet. We land to-night, and
to-morrow I will go myself to see the white teacher
from the West."
Thus the morning star sheds its beams on Mekara in
disguise. Be patient and hopeful, O prince, the sun
will rise in the morning 1

CHAPTER V.
" O Burmah 1 shrouded in the pall
Of error's dreadful night !
For wings— for wings once more to bear
To thy dark shores the light ;
To rear upon thy templed hills,
And by thy sunny streams,
The standard of tho Cross, where now
The proud Fagoda gleams." —3. S. Washburn.
Two miles out from Rangoon, on a beautiful hill.
stands the great Shway Dagong Pagoda, a wonder of
the empire. The gently sloping hill is graded with
terraces, thickly dotted with smaller pagodas, and
embowered with shade-trees. Tho top is perfectly flat,
containing an area of about two acres. On this, and
entirely covering it, rises the gilded pile, as if it were
an extension of the hill, though its sides are gold. The
enclosure surrounding the hill is densely thronged with
miniature temples, little pagodas, images of Gautama,
great stone vases, standing in rows for the reception of
offerings, lofty pillars draped with banners of gold,
embroidered muslin, lights burning steadily before the
faces of images, garlands of flowers loading the air
with fragrance, tombs, zayats, and carved figures of
every description. It is held the most sacred of all
pagodas, because it is believed to enshrine four real
hairs of Gautama. There is said to be a shaft of solid
gold extending from bottom to top, and the summit is
covered with a great golden umbrella visible for many
(174)

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 175
miles. The road connecting the pagoda with the city
is literally a street whose entire length is lined with
continuous rows of pagodas, many of them almost as
splendid as the Shway Dagong itself.
Every morning the vast population of the city goes
out in mass to worship. The road is filled its entire
length with an innumerable throng. They proceed with
waving, crimson banners, streaming paper flyers, gar
lands of flowers, and accompanied by the deafening
sound of drums and pealing metal gongs. In the
enclosure of the temple some are decorating the images
with wreaths of flowers, while others deposit their
offerings of fruit and flowers in the great stone vases
to be soon carried away by the multitudes of crows that
blacken the air, and add their hideous cries to the din
of the temple-drums which each votary sounds in order
to let the god know of his sacrifice.
This was the great rushing tide of humanity that
Mr. Judson wished to stop and turn into another chan
nel. Planting his engines on the bank he began, by
imperceptible degrees, to undermine the ancient and
seemingly impregnable flood-gates. He had purposely
erected his zayat on the side of the great thoroughfare
leading to the pagoda, and sitting on the veranda, ho
daily cried to the passing throng, " Ho ! every one that
thirsteth, come ! " Does it not seem a weak and vain
effort, the crying of that one voice against the great
clamor of the crowd? Their eyes were filled with
visions of the gorgeous ritual, and their ears tuned to
the sound of loud music. What had he to attract atten
tion? Only the sweet old story of the Cross. En all
ages it thrills the heart and warms the soul. Even

176 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
here the Spirit of God will show its power, and His
word shall not return to Him void. Some, from mere
curiosity, stopped to " see what this babbler hath to
say," others having seen the tracts, came to inquire the
way of life.
The next morning after the events recorded in the
former chapter, a man passed by in the crowd, yet he
seemed to be no part of it. His eyes rested closely on
every surrounding object as if looking for something.
When opposite the zayat he heard the usual cry of the
man of God. Halting for a moment, he closely scruti
nized the face of the speaker, and seemed listening for
more, debating in his mind as to whether he should
stop. But the surging crowd pushed him on and he
moved away like a bubble with the current, pondering
with himself, " That was a white man, and the words
he utters are sweet to the soul, for who is it thirsts more
that I for a knowledge of the truth ? I will return
another time and seek him."
He had often been disappointed ; now ho was cau
tious, though more than ever assured that the truth was
near at hand — Moung Ing approached the light.
Several had been visiting the zayat, among whom was
Moung Nau who was the first to embrace the new reli
gion. The hearts of the missionaries wore joyful as
they were at last able to report a convert. Messrs. Col-
man and Wheelock had shortly before arrived with
their wives, and the six missionaries, uniting as a
church, heard the experience of Moung Nau and voted
to receive him as a candidate for baptism. Two others,
Moung Byaa and Moung Thahla, were soon added and
the work seemed more hopeful than was even antici
pated when the zayat was built.

THE -CHILD OP THE GANGES. 177
A learned teacher, Moung Shwa gnong, often came to
dispute with Mr. Judson. He displayed great inge
nuity in discussion, yet never took any definite grounds.
It is now Sabbath morning and Mr. Judson has
preached to a large audience, showing them how to
observe the Lord's Day and administering the supper
to the disciples. Moung Ing was present at the ser
vices and seemed much affected. He had been a daily
visitor to the zayat for several days, but fin-ding Mr.
Judson thronged with inquirers, had directed most of
his conversation to Moung Nau, desiring to hear from
others the object of the white teacher, and what the
knowledge of God had done for one of his own race. He
and Moung Nau read together from the precious five
chapters of Matthew, Moung Nau himself calling atten
tion to thesixth,containing a part of the Sermon on the
Mount. " See here," he said, " how superior is the teaching of
Jesus to that of Buddha ! Here we are told not to do
our alms before men to be seen of them, nor to make
long prayers, and useless repetition on the streets, but
to go in our closets and pray. Oh, it fills me full to
think of it ! When I worshiped at Shway Dagong I
marched in a great crowd with gorgeous display, and
when I deposited my offerings I sounded a gong, then I
went to my home weary and dusty, my eyes dazzled
with gawdy scenes, and my ears ringing with horrid
sounds, conscious that no one had seen or heard me but
the people. Now I go alone, and in the solitude of my
chamber, offer to God the sacrifices of a broken heart
and a contrite spirit. No human eye sees me, no ear
of man hears me, but God in heaven listens and His
13

178 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Holy Spirit warms my heart. Oh, it is a great thing to
know God, my brother ! "
" Indeed, it must be," said Moung Ing. " I have
sought him these seven years and found him not. De
prived of my beloved family, through many and dis
tant lands have I wandered, praying and longing, until
almost in despair of ever finding him, I have engaged
to go to sea that its tempests may help to drown the
ragings of my own soul. Pray to your God that he may
reveal himself to me ! "
After services Mr. Judson held a long conversation
with him and explained the word of the Lord more per
fectly. Ere long he had the satisfaction of seeing the
light dawning on his soul.
What a grand thing it is to see the mists of supersti
tion and error roll away before the dark — dispelling
beams of the sun of righteousness ! Like over-flowing
rivers sweeping across India's burning plains, producing
from scorching sands a spontaneous outburst of green
fields and waving forests, the Spirit of God bears the
Gospel into the soul, washing away its pestilential sins,
and from its softening, generating "influence spring up
fruits unto life eternal.
The fishing vessel was to sail on the morrow, and
Moung Ing felt duty bound to fill his engagement,
though he desired to remain and receive further instruc
tions. Mr. Judson regretted very much that he was
compelled to take the voyage, fearing that so long an
absence, among different people, would, in a measure,
destroy the effect produced by his first hearing the
Gospel, not knowing the depth of the impression made
upon him. But an object so long sought for is not

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 179
so easily relinquished. Taking with him some tracts
to read, and promising to pray, and ponder over the
things he had heard, Moung Ing departed next morning
on his voyage.
Moung Shwa gnong now became an importunate
inquirer, often remaining till night with Mr. Jud
son that he might have a private conversation
with him. But one morning he failed to make his
appearance, as did also many of the other inquirers.
On investigation it was found that Moung Shwa gnong
had been accused to the Viceroy, and that august per
sonage had replied in words of ominous import, " In
quire further about him." This had frightened the
inquirers to such an extent that they no longer dared
to approach the zayat for fear of offending the Lord of
Life and Death.
There had been a great change in civil authority.
Not only had their old friend Mya-day-men been suc
ceeded by the present Viceroy, but even the royal house
hold had undergone a revolution. Minder-a-ge-praw,
the king, had not discouraged the new religion since
he himself had formed a violent hatred for Buddhism,
perhaps on account of the memory of his beloved son,
Mekara, who had been lost to him through its influ
ence. But a whisper wakes the air. Some say the
king is sick. Now a universal hush and death-like
stillness pervades the great empire. No one dares to
•guess the reason ; it would be an unpardonable crime,
for the " lord of land and water " is called immortal.
The attendants wait before the palace, and the Queen
comes out smiting on her breast and wailing, "Ama!
Ama ! " They look at each other breathlessly and
depart. Nirvana has engulfed another soul.

180 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Now great commotion ensues. Mekara, the heir to
the throne, has long since been as dead to the royal
family. The- king's next oldest son is dead, hut has
left a son, who has been declared heir to the crown.
The new king, Nyoung-dan-ghee, has found two power
ful opponents in the persons of his father's younger
brothers. But he was now Lord of Life and Death, and
all must bow to him. The two princes must acknow
ledge his power or die. The peoplo look on in dread of
a great civil war, and long for the rightful king,
Mekara. Happy Mekara, sailing away a fisherman on
the sea ! But all is soon settled. The great Prince of
Toung Oo is slain with his family and followers, and
the mighty Prince of Pyee buried alive in the myste
rious ceJar of the palace.
The waiting crowd now hears the rojal proclama
tion *
" Lirten ye : The immortal king, wearied, it would
seem, with the fatigues of royalty, has gone up to amuse
himself in the celestial regions. His grandson, the
heir-apparent, is seated on the throne. The young
monarch enjoins on all to remain quiet, and wait his
imperial order."
The new king, so far from favoring his grand
father's course in regard to religion, restored to their
former places the banished priests of Buddha and
renewed the persecution against all innovations. Like
a whirlwind in a flock of pigeons, the imperial dis-
' turbances had scattered the audience at the mission
house. Only a few of the most zealous remained with
the professed disciples. Something must be done, or
the mission will perish. Mr. Judson conceived the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 181
idea of going to Ava and venturing in person into the
presence of the Golden Face and laying a petition at
the Golden Feet. Mr. Wheelock, on account of failing
health, had departed with his wife for Bengal, and only
Mr. Colman remained to accompany Mr. Judson on this
daring expedition.
A petition was prepared making known their request,
and a tract carefully arranged especially for the peru
sal of the Golden Face. As it was not customary to
appear before him without a present, they carried with
them a handsome copy of the Bible in seven volumes,
bound in gold-leaf, and each volume enclosed in a rich
wrapper. Leaving their faithful wives under the pro
tection of Jehovah, they procured a boat and proceeded
with trembling hearts toward the Golden City.

CHAPTER VI.
"The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together,
against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying, ' Let us break their banils
asunder and cast away their cords from us. ' " — Psalms it, 2—3.
Mya-day-men, on his removal from Rangoon to Ava,
had become one of the chief officers of the state under
the new monarch, and was made a woon-gyee of high
authority. One morning, about a month after the setting out of
the teachers from Rangoon, he was sitting in his audi
ence chamber surrounded by various dignitaries of
state, his favorite Officer, Moung Yo, by his side. It
was announced that two foreigners in black were with
out desirous of speaking with his highness. At a
signal from the woon-gyee, Moung Yo retired and pre
sently returned, followed by Mr. Judson and Mr. Col
man. Seeing Mr. Judson and recognizing him as an
old acquaintance, Mya-day-men arose with evident
pleasure in his manner and addressed him cordially.
" Ah, Tsa-Yah, I am happy to see you again, and that
in the Golden City of the great King. Whom else
from the foreign land have we here?" looking at Mr.
Colman, who respectfully bowed in silence.
" Tha^k, your highness, for the welcome," said Mr.
Judson, " and may we always be worthy of your gra
cious favor. This is Mr. Colman, who only arrived at
Rangoon, since your departure. He has not yet learned
to speak Burman which accounts for his silence."
(182)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 183
With an assuring look at Mr. Colman, he continued:
"And how is the white lady whom my wife loved so
much, and who lost the little white child? "
" Mrs. Judson is well, and sends this token of her
regards to your excellent wife. Be pleased also to
receive this unworthy present for yourself that we may
come with favor in the presence of your highness while
in the city." Saying which he laid two valuable pres
ents in the hands of Moung Yo who deposited them at
his master's feet.
The minister recognized the offerings with a smile of
satisfaction, and then inquired how long they intended
to remain in the city, and if he could do anything for
them. " Our stay cannot bo long," said Mr. Judson, " but its
length depends upon the success with which we meet
in our undertaking. We wish to come to the Golden
Feet and look up to the Golden Face. Can your high
ness obtain for us entrance into his royal presence? "
" That I shall be glad to do. Moung Yo will conduct
vou thither at tho king's leisure. For the present you
must be dismissed as the unsettled affairs of the new
monarchy call my attention. I hope to grant you
another audience before your departure. Moung Yo,
conduct the teachers back to their lodging and see that
their request is granted. Let them be introduced first to
Moung Zah in the morning, which will save them tho
inconvenionce of applying to all the various officers.
Peace go with you."
On their way back to the boat where they made their
headquarters, they passed the palace and other public
works. As they looked upon the immense structure

184 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
with its imposing trimmings of gold glittering in the
sunlight, and saw the pompous Bplendor of the court,
they thought of the haughty monarch within, now
flushed with the bold success of placing himself on the
throne as absolute monarch of the land, and exulting
over a recent victory in Kathay, which was to be cele
brated by a grand parade on the morrow. The country
is now his own. The people are his slaves, and their
earnings go to him. Without his permission they dare
not do anything. Will he grant them the privilege of
receiving a new religion? The task seems hopeless,
yet the missionaries pray God to incline his heart.
That evening Moung Yo, who lived near the boat,
called again and said he would conduct them to the
golden palace the next morning. They retired that
night with the feeling that to-morrow would be the
most eventful day of their lives; a day when success
should be assured, or all hope destroyed.
True to his promise, Moung Yo appeared at the boat
next morning to conduct them into the presence of his
Majesty. They proceeded first to the residence of Mya-
day-men, who informed them that the king had been
notified of their arrival, and had given orders for their
reception at court. Proceeding then to the outer gate
they were delayed for a long time as each petty officer
must inspect them and be assured that they had authority
for entering. Having entered the palace yard they
deposited a present for Moung Zah and were next shown
to his pavilion near the gate. Several governors and
petty kings were present to participate in the great
parade of the day. In his royal chamber the Great
White Elephant stood gorgeously arrayed in his trap-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 185
pings of silk and gold, ready to step forth and receive
the homage of his votaries, as well as to honor the king
by thus condescending . to appear in public where all
eyes could look upon his sacred form. War-horses were
pawing in their stalls as if impatient to begin the great
pageant. Soldiers in dazzling livery thronged the
streets, and gilded barges swarmed the river. The king
would shortly appear and all must be ready.
Moung Zah received them very kindly and seated
them before the distinguished visitors at his levee. As
soon as preliminaries were over Mr. Judson began at
once to unfold the object of their visit.
" Your excellency," he began, " in the great country
of America we sustain the character of teachers and
explainers of the contents of the Sacred Scriptures of
our own religion. Since it is taught therein that if we
pass to other countries and preach and propagate our
religion, great good will result, and both those who
teach and those who receive the religion will be freed
from future punishment, and enjoy without decay or
death, the eternal felicity of Heaven — that royal per
mission be given, that we, taking refuge in the royal
power, may preach our religion in these dominions, and
that those who are pleased with our preaching, and wish
to listen to and be guided by it, whether foreigners or
Burmans, may be exempt from government molesta
tion, they present themselves to receive the favor of the
excellent king, the sovereign of land and sea. May it
please your highness to present to his majesty our peti
tion, this tract setting forth the principles of our teach
ing, and also beg him to receive from his humble ser
vants this book containing the Word of our God to his
people?"

186 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
It would be impossible to describe the feelings of
Moung Zah as he listened to this speech. He thought
of the past when he had stood by the king, now dead,
and heard him denounce his own son. The present
king was even more opposed to heresies against the
established faith, and what could he hope for these?
He was also joyous to know that there was, in reality,
a God, and longed more than ever for Prince Mekara.
Then the rightful king would sit on the throne dispens
ing justice to all, and he could also learn of the true
God, the object of his search ; then these teachers could
be" tolerated and the minister himself could learn of
them. He was truly desirous of knowing the truth,
but feared the consequences, as was evinced by his
chicken-hearted manner at the trial of Mekara. Reach
ing forth his hand he received the petition and read it
about half through ; but his mind was on a more im
portant subject to him. He dared not show, in the
presence of his officers, any interest more than his offi
cial duties demanded. Assuming a careless manner,
he asked, as if by way of conversation :
" Who is your God? We in Burmah know of no such
being. "
"God," replied Mr. Judson, "is an Allwise, Eternal
Being, without beginning or end, by whom we live, and
by whom all things were created."
" Well, what is it you would teach our people to do,
once having learned of God? "
" I would teach them their duty as revealed in His
Holy Word, the necessity of giving up all to worship
Him, and teach them to pray to Him for a new heart,
and a true conception of Himself."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 187
Doubtless the minister would have gladly inquired
further, but at this point a royal fore-runner appeared,
crying :
" The Golden Foot is about to advance. Make ready
to meet him ! "
Hastily rising, Moung Zah drew on his robes of state
saying : " I must seize this opportunity as the king
passes, to present you to him. But how can you hope
to propagate your religion in this empire? All foreigners
are allowed the free exercise of their own religion, but
a native can never depart from the belief of the king."
He now hastily conducted them from his own pavilion
to the audience chamber of the palace, closely followed
by Moung Yo, who bore the precious books to be pre
sented to his majesty. Such imposing splendor, such
sickening magnificence, they had never before seen.
Passing through the long avenue of gold-covered pillars,
they stood in the vast rotunda beneath the lofty dome,
on the very spot where the disobedient prince had
received his doom. The majesty of the place itself
was sufficient to awe one to silence. Only a few great
officers of state were present, seated in their respective
places. Moung Zah directed them where to sit, then
took his seat on one side, Moung Yo sitting behind the
gilded present on the other. A few minutes of silence
then Moung Yo whispered, " His majesty has entered."
Instantly every one except the two missionaries dropped
with their faces to the floor ; they waited on their knees.
Presently a distant ring of golden sandals was heard
on the marble pavement; nearer, steady, measured,
each approaching footstep caused their hearts to trem
ble. His magnificent form was richly dressed, and he

188 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
carried in his hand the jewel-hilted sword. How like
his grand father as he appeared on a former occasion !
Will his decision be as harsh? His high aspect and
noble, commanding eye riveted the attention of all who
dared to look upon his countenance. He strided on,
careless of surrounding objects, till he saw the mis
sionaries at his feet. Looking down with some surprise
and curiosity, he turned toward Moung Zah and asked:
"Who are these?"
" The teachers, great king," replied Mr. Judson.
His majesty was astonished.
" What, you speak Burman — the priests I heard of
last night from Mya-day-men? "
" We are the same, O king. The noble Mya-day-men
knew me in Rangoon."
" When did you arrive? "
" On the evening before the last we first saw the
imperial city and the towers of the golden palace."
" Are you teachers of religion? "
" That is our occupation, and for that we came into
the country of the great king."
"Are you'like the Portuguese priests? "
"We are not. Our religion knows no priests, for it
has no ritual."
" Are you married? "
"We have companions each, who await us at Ran
goon." " Why do you dress so? "
"It is merely the custom of our country."
" What do you desire at the hands of the Golden
Face?" " The petition we bring will answer that question of
the king."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 189
Moung Zah now lifted his head from the floor and
read, while the king took his seat on the divan, his
hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes
fixed on the strangers,' though not with displeasure.
Having heard the petition he reached forth his hand.
Moung Zah crawled forward and presented it. The
king read it through deliberately from beginning to
end, then returned it in silence. While he was reading
Moung Zah received the tract from Mr. Judson and
presented it next. With beating hearts they awaited
the issue. " 0 God, display now thy grace ! Have mercy
on Burmah. Have mercy on her king." Slowly opening
the handsome cover, the king read the first few lines :
" There is one Being who exists eternally ; who is exempt
from sickness, old age and death ; who was, and is, and will
be, without beginning and without end. Besides this the true
God, there is no other God."
He read no further, but with contempt in his manner
dashed it to his feet. Moung Zah picked , it up and
returned it to the teachers. Moung Yo now unfolded
one of the volumes by his side and displayed its beauty.
The Golden Face never even glanced at it. Though he
spoke not a word, they realized that their fate was sealed.
After a few moments Moung Zah interpreted the royal
master's silence.
" Why do you ask for such permission ? Have not
the Portuguese, the English, the Mussulmans, and peo
ple of other religions, full liberty to practice and wor
ship according to their own customs ? In regard to the
objects of your petition, his majesty gives no order.
In regard to your sacred books, his majesty has no use
for them — take them away."

190 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Moung Yo ventured to remark something about Mr.
Colman's skill in medicine. The royal countenance
turned indifferently toward the silent teacher; the
Golden Mouth opening, said :
" Let them proceed to the residence of my physician,
the Portuguese priest, let him examine whether they
can be useful to me in that line and report accord
ingly." The martial music was now heard without, and the
shouts of the victors proclaimed the approach of the
procession. Rising, his majesty moved proudly and
coldly away toward the end of the hall. Throwing him
self down on a cushion by a window overlooking the
palace-court, he lay listening to the music and watch
ing the glittering pageant below. He had heard for the
first time of a God who made him, and who would judge
him. The knowledge had been displeasing to him and
he had trampled it under foot.
The attendants were frightened. These strangers
had come here and evoked the frown of the Golden Face.
What might be the consequence ? Hastily gathering
together the books and tracts, they quickly conducted
them to the gates, lest the smoking fire of the king's
displeasure should burst into a flame. They were car
ried first, according to the royal commandment, to the
Portuguese priest, who, of course, not relishing the idea
of a rival for royal favor, as a consequence, found no
good in Mr. Colman's skill. Wearied with the dust and
heat of the two miles which they had traveled coming
to his house, and disheartened -by their repulse at the
palace, they retreated to their boat to remain for the
dav.

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 191
Unwilling yet to relinquish all hope, and thinking
that they had detected some show of favor in the con
duct of Moung Zah, who was second in power only to
the king himself, they determined to visit him again the
next morning. The minister fearing to receive with favor
those who had incurred royal displeasure, assumed an
unusual coldness and reserve. He assured them that
it was utterly out of the question as to whether Bur
mans should be allowed to embrace anew religion ; pun
ishment was inevitable. He afterwards received a
tract and read it through ; then, instead of throwing it
down as the king had done, he handed it to one of his
attendants to keep. Perhaps the poor soul may read
the God-sent message alone, and yet find the knowledge
of the true God. He then turned and replied :
" The doctrines and commands are very good, but it
will be a long time before Burmans can be convinced
that there is a God and a Saviour."
An English officer who had shown them great kind
ness was, in the meantime, summoned to the palace to
tell what he knew in regard to the teachers. The Eng
lishman replied at length, dwelling on the country, the
character, and objeet of the missionaries, trying to vin
dicate them as much as possible.
"I have been told quite differently," said his
majesty. "The Portuguese priest informed me that
they were a sect of Zandees, a race that have been of so
much trouble to our empire."
" I beseech your majesty to believe nothing of the
kind," replied the other warmly. " They are true teach
ers and only desire to labor in peace."

192 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Enough of them," said the king. Then laugh
ing scornfully, he said : " What, they have come over
here presuming to convert us to their religion! Let
them leave our capital. We have no desire to receive
their instructions. Perhaps they may find some of their
countrymen in Rangoon who may be willing to listen
to them."
With heavy hearts the missionaries turned their
backs on the Golden City. The last remaining hope
was blasted, and the little mission must be abandoned
just as they were beginning to succeed. So thought
they in the gloom of their disappointment.

\^d^v

CHAPTER VII.

" Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for his grace ;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face."

Cowper.

The city of Pyee, once the seat of a former dynasty,
is an important place some two hundred and thirty
miles below Ava. On the evening of the sixth day
after their departure from the imperial city, the mis
sionaries landed here where they spent the night, hav
ing, of course, traveled much more rapidly down the
river than during their ascent. Just at night a man
appeared at the boat and asked to see the teachers.
Mr. Judson sent word for him to be conducted on
board to his little room. When the visitor appeared at
the door, where the dim rays of the cocoa-nut lamp fell
on him, they were astonished to see it was Moung
Shwa gnong.
" Why, teacher," exclaimed Mr. Judson, in surprise
and alarm, "what are you doing here? Has the mis
sion been scattered? "
" No, Tsa-yah, the mission is as you left it. I was
summoned here to see a friend who is very sick, and
will return soon. I would be glad to riccompany you
back if you can wait a day or two."
"We cannot wait," replied Mr. Judson, " as we must
hasten to bear the report of our expedition to t';e dis
ciples at Rangoon."
13 (193)

194 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
" May I ask what success you met with at the Golden
City? "
"Ah," Mr. Judson replied sadly, "it was worse than
no success. The king gave no answer to our petition,
refused our present of the Holy Scriptures, and dashed
our tract to the ground. We were told that it would
be impossible for any who embraced our religion to
escape punishment and perhaps death. We also heard
an incident of a man who renounced the religion of
Buddha, and whose fate was a sign, to us of what might
follow others from the effect of our teachings. The
man embraced the Catholic faith, and the Emperor
hearing of it, ordered that he should be compelled to
recant. He was thrown into prison and inflicted with
continual torture. At length, finding him unsubdued)
they had recourse to the iron mall. He was laid upon
his back, and with heavy blows, beginning with his
feet, they gradually beat his body almost to a pulp,
inch by inch, up to his breast. He still pronounced
the name of Jesus, and when at the point of death,
some who pitied him reported to the Emperor that he
was merely a poor madman who knew not what he was
doing, and procured orders for his release, but he after
wards died of his injuries. Such must be expected
now and more, for that took place under the rule of the
former king, who himself had become a violent hater
of Buddhism, and the present ruler will use more rigid
means to uphold the religion he loves."
"I think, teacher, we should not be intimidated by
these things," replied he, " for if God is for us He will
yet open a way."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 195
Mr. Judson was surprised to see his confident air and
seeming fearlessness, but he yet doubted his sincerity,
since it was reported that he had recanted to the Man
gen teacher at Rangoon and still worshiped at pagodas.
He had never declared himself a disciple, because his
high position would cause attention to be attracted to
him immediately. Mr. Judson replied :
" It is not for you that we are concerned, but for those
who have al ready become disciples. They could not wor
ship at pagodas, or recant before the Mangen teacher."
He saw the hint and tried to explain his conduct.
" Say nothing," said Mr. Judson. " One thing you
know to be true — that when formerly accused, if you
had not in some way or other satisfied the Mangen
teacher, your life would not now be remaining in your
body." " Then if I die, I die in a good cause," said he, " for
I know it to be the cause of truth. My faith has been
growing. I now believe in the eternal God, in His Son,
Jesus Christ, in the atonement which Christ has made,
and in the writings of the apostles, as the true and only
word of God. In one of my last visits you told me I
was trusting in my own understanding rather than the
divine word. From that time I have seen my error and
endeavored to renounce it. You also explained to me
the evil of worshiping at pagodas, though I told you
my heart did not partake in the worship. Since you
left Rangoon I have not lifted up folded hands before
a pagoda. It is true, I sometimes follow the crowd on
days of worship in order to avoid persecution ; but I
walk up one side of the pagoda and down the other.
Now, you say I am not a disciple. What lack I yet? "

196 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"Teacher," replied Mr. Judson somewhat relieved,
" you may be a disciple of Christ in heart, but you are
not a full disciple. You have not faith and resolution
enough to keep all the commandments of Christ, par
ticularly that which requires you to be baptized, though
in the face of persecution and death. Consider the
words of Jesus, just before he returned to Heaven, ' He
that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.'"
This thought impressed him seriously, and he remained
for some moments in silence.
" I am sorry for those poor disciples that shall be
left," said Mr. Judson, " for it is well that we leave the
country since no others will dare to embrace our reli
gion, having heard the king's decision."
Moung Shwa gnong was deeply aroused at this inti
mation, and, for the first time, showed the real interest
he felt.
" Say not so," he said, " there are some who will
investigate, notwithstanding; and rather than have
you quit Rangoon, I will go myself to the Mangen
teacher, and have a public dispute. I know I can
silence him. I know the truth is on my side."
" Ah," said Mr. Judson, " you may have a tongue to
silence him, but he has a pair of fetters and an iron
mall to tame you. Remember that. "
Towards midnight Moung Shwa gnong departed, and
they retired to rest for to-morrow's journey; yet the
thought of how their failure could effect the mission
kept them awake most of the night. Six days after
ward they arrived in Rangoon.
They had already formed the determination of
removing the mission to Chittagong, where, under the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 197
protection of the British, they could still preach to a
Burmese-speaking people. Gathering the converts
together, the details of the whole of the expedition
were gone over. Mr. Judson related their failure fully,
pictured the persecutions that would be brought on the
people by a further propagation of the gospel in Bur
mah, and announced his reluctant determination to
leave them. It was a cruel test for those so recently
born again, but the true Christian principle manifested
itself in every one of them. Surrounding him they
cried, to a man, that they were ready to suffer persecu
tion and oven death, rather than renounce their religion.
" Stay," they pleaded, "until a little church of ten is
collected and a native teacher is sot over it ; and, then,
if you must go, we will not say nay. This religion will
spread of itself. The Emperor can not stop it."
The teacher's heart was too full for utterance as he
heard this demonstration of heroism and devotion on
the part of the disciples. Recovering himself, he told
them of his gratitude to God for thoir trust, and prom
ised not to leave as long as one held out faithful.
They decided, however, that Mr. Colman and his
wife should proceed to Chittagong, and gathering
together the scattered converts, reorganize them, and
prepare there an asylum for the teachers and disciples in
Burmah when persecution should break out.
Mr. Judson and his wife were now left once more
alone, in this the darkest hour of their experience, yet
the Lord worked mightily in the hearts of the Burmans,
and the little church grew rapidly, though in the very
face of persecution. Mrs. Judson had a daily class of
women whom she taught among whom was Mah-Men-la,

198 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
a very talented woman, who seemed to be making great
progress towards the knowledge of the true God. At
length, worn out with excessive labor and anxiety, Mrs.
Judson's health gave way, and Mr. Judson was compelled
to accompany her to Bengal.
After having arranged for the voyage, several inqui
rers who had not yet professed Christ, came and
demanded baptism before they should leave, for fear
that Mr. Judson might never return. He examined
them, and finding them firm in the faith, promised to
baptize them in the evening. In the mean time Moung
Shwa gnong came in. He stayed all day, and by a
relation of his mental trials, and strivings with sin, he
convinced Mr. Judson that he was truly a disciple.
Others came during the day, and as evening approached
Moung Shwa gnong became much interested and
addressed himself to the teacher.
"My lord, teacher, there are now several of us present
who have long considered this religion. I hope that
we are all believers in Jesus Christ."
"I am afraid to say that," said Mr. Judson. "How
ever, it is easily ascertained ; and let me begin with
you, teacher. I have heretofore thought that you fully
believed in an eternal God; but I have some doubt
whether you fully believe in the Son of God, and the
atonement He has made."
" I assure you," he replied, " I am as fully persuaded
of the latter as of the former."
"Do you believe, then, that none but disciples of
Christ will be saved from sin and hell? "
" None but His disciples."

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. • 199
" How, then, can you remain without taking the oath
of allegiance to Jesus Christ, and becoming his full
disciple in body and bouI?"
" It is my earnest desire to do so by receiving bap
tism; and for the very purpose of expressing that
desire I have come here to-day."
"You say you are desirous of receiving baptism.
May I ask when you desire to receive it? "
" At any time you will please to give it. Now — this
moment, if you please."
"Do you wish to receive baptism in public or in
private? "
" I will receive it at any time, and in any circum
stances, that yon may direct.'
" Teacher," now replied Mr. Judson, " I am satisfied,
from your conversation this forenoon, that you are a
true disciple, and I reply, therefore, I am as desirous
of giving you baptism as you are of receiving it."
The disciples rejoiced, and the others were astonished,
at this candid confession of the hitherto proud teacher ;
for, though they believed him a Christian they did not
think such a man would ever confess it, or consent to
baptism by a foreigner.
It was a happy, though solemn scene as Mr. Judson
led his little band at twilight to the accustomed pool,
and in the silence of evening, baptized them into the
name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Mah-Men-la
was in the room with Mrs. Judson when she saw the
teacher going to be baptized.
" Ah," she cried, " he has gone to obey the command
of Jesus Christ, while I remain without obeying. I
shall not be able to sleep this night. I must go home
and consult my husband and return."

200 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
That night the returned, related her experience and
demanded baptism. They received her gladly, and it
being very late, she was baptized in a pond near the
house, by moonlight. Thus the first female was added
to the church, which now numbered ten.
On the morrow Mr. and Mrs. Judson departed for
Bengal. After a happy visit of six months at Calcutta, Mr.
and Mrs. Judson returned to Rangoon, Mrs. Judson
having fully recovered her health. As the ship drew
near the city they strained their eyes to see if any of
their friends were at the whan The first they saw
was Moung Shwa gnong who stood with his hands shad
ing his eyes, watchi ng the deck. Mah-Men-la and others
met them when they landed, and several gathered
around them that night at the mission house. Their
evening prayer was full of gratitude and praise, for not
one had disgraced his calling, though many had suf
fered extortions from petty officers till forced to flee to
the woods.
Things were now more hopeful. Mya-day-men was
once more made Viceroy of Rangoon. Those who had
accused Moung Shwa gnong to the former Viceroy,
formed a conspiracy to destroy him. They met in daily
consultation and assuming a triumphant manner, made
it appear to poor Moung Shwa gnong that his fate was
decided, and he was almost on the point of fleeing for
his life. One of the conspirators going to the Viceroy
accused the teacher, Moung Shwa gnong, of endeavoring
to " turn the priests' rice-pot bottom upwards." Mya-
day-men only replied, " What consequence? Let the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 201
priests turn it back again." That sentence destroyed
the conspiracy, and gave the disciples hope so long as
Mya-day-men should hold his administration.
During the succeeding period of peaceful prosperity,
Moung Ing returned from his long voyage, much worse
physically from wear and exposure, but retaining in
his heart the precious truth that he had imbibed before
departing, being the second Burman to whom God
revealed Himself in saving grace. Stopping at a river
side town on their way in, he had showed his precious
copy of Matthew to a Catholic priest, who immediately
consigned it to the flames, giving, instead, one of his
own heretical pamphlets. Yet, through all difficulties,
he had remained steadfast to his principles, and now
only desired to be one of the disciples and be with the
teachers always. His request for baptism was gladly
granted, and he was added to the fold.? A happy day
was that for Burmah ; though, seemingly, but a poor
fisherman, his light shall burn the longest of any,' and
his services shall be more for the general good than all
who were converted before.

CHAPTER VIII.
"Go Spirit, go Thy way,
Some more convenient day
On Thee I'll call." —P. P. Bliss.
More than three years have passed since Moung Zah
returned to the disappointed missionaries the golden-
covered Bible. Now again the gilded doors are ajar
and two strangers kneel at the Golden Feet.
Mrs. Judson's health having failed again, she was
compelled to take a voyage to America, leaving Mr.
Judson alone. During this time Dr. Price had arrived,
and being very successful in his profession, a knowledge
of his skill had reached the Golden Ears and he was
summoned to the king's palace. As he was unacquainted
with the language, Mr. Judson accompanied him as
interpreter, leaving the mission in charge of Mr. Hough
who had returned to Rangoon.
The Golden Face was pleased with Dr. Price ; received
him graciously and inquired many things of him in
regard to his profession, but took no notice of his com
panion except as interpreter. Moung Zah recognized
the teacher, however, and asked him kindly about his
welfare in the presence of the king. After the inter
view was over, and his majesty had retired, the minis
ter drew Mr. Judson into conversation on religious
topics, and gave him some confidential encouragement
to remain at Ava. (202)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 203
Several days after, during an interview, the king
noticed Mr. Judson for the first time, though he had
been present nearly every day with Dr. Price. Turning
he asked :
" And you in black, what are you? A medical man,
too?" " Not a medical man, but a teacher of religion, your
majesty." " What is the nature of your religion? What does
it teach? "
" It is a religion of the heart, treating of God and
His relations to mankind, and their duties toward him."
"Whence did you come bringing your teachings here?"
" From America, your majesty."
" Have any embraced your religion yet? "
" Not here."
" Are there any in Rangoon? "
" There are a few."
" Are they foreigners? "
The teacher hesitated for a moment, fearing to give
an answer that would involve his friends in ruin, but
the truth must be 'told. Further evasion was impos
sible. So he replied.
" There are some foreigners and some Burmans."
His majesty remained in silence for a few moments,
but the expected look of displeasure did not visit his
countenance. Presently he asked a great many ques
tions in regard to religion, geography, astronomy, &c,
all of which were answered in such a satisfactory
manner as to elicit the admiration of all. His majesty
presently retired as usual, after which a royal secretary
asked some questions and drew the teacher into one of
his accustomed dissertations on religion, as if he was

204 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
in his own little zayat and not in the palace of the
most haughty monarch of the world.
Great was the encouragement of that day, the king
had heard of his subjects renouncing Buddhism and
was not displeased !
Mr. Judson now found himself in great favor at
court. The king gave to him and Dr. Price a Bpot of
ground, and had them a temporary house erected, into
which they moved from the boat. The restraint from
fear of the king's anger being now removed, Mr. Judson
was often sent for by the high ministers of state to
converse on science and religion. The a-twen-woon,
Moung Zah, now became openly interested and improved
every opportunity of informing himself in regard to
the new religion.
Joining the house which the king had erected for the
missionaries, and near the palace, was the handsome
residence of Prince M., eldest half brother to the king.
The prince is a fine young man of more than usual
intelligence, but disabled in his arms and legs from the
effects of a paralytic stroke. Being deprived of the
common sources of enjoyment, he had devoted much
time to literature, and his associations with Portuguese
teachers had developed in him a strong taste for the
sciences. Having once seen Mr. Judson in company
with Dr. Price, whom he had called for medical assis
tance, he afterwards sent for him, and entered into an
interesting conversation. He was much pleased with
Mr. Judson's communications, and admired his under
standing of the sciences, but he sought more for enter
tainment in his inquiries concerning the Christian reli
gion than for any personal good. He received a tract
very thankfully, and when asked if Burman converts

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 205
would be subjected to persecutions under government,
replied :
" Not under the reign of my brother. He has a good
heart, and wishes all to believe and worship as thev
please." Soon after, while Mr. Judson was conversing with
Moung Zah in the palace, his majesty came forward
and again honored him with a personal recognition,
inquired many things concerning his country, and
authorized him to invite American ships to his territories
with the assurance of protection and facilities for trade.
Prince M., who had formed such an attachment for
Mr. Judson that he could not bear to be long out of his
presence, sent for him often, and, in company with his
wife, derived much pleasure from their intercourse.
One day Mr. Judson made a full disclosure of his pur
pose in coming to Burmah, his former repulse at the
court, and the persecution of Moung Shwa gnong, and
many of their trials in establishing the truth in Ran
goon. They both listened with great feeling, and mani
fested their interest in such a way as to insure him of
their sympathy.
Mr. Judson now thought it a good time to press upon
the prince the necessity of his own change of heart,
and a view of his personal danger in living without
Christ. He urged him to make the Christian religion
an object of immediate concern.
Like many others before him, the prince hesitated
for a moment, weighing the convictions of his heart
with his worldly ambitions. After a monent of silence
he replied:
" I am yet young — only twenty-eight. I am desirous
of studying all the foreign arts and sciences. My mind

206 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
will then be enlarged, and I shall be capable of judging
whether the Christian religion be true or not."
" But suppose your highness changes worlds in tho
meantime?" urged Mr. Judson.
His countenance fell as he glanced at his emaciated
limbs. " It is true," he said sadly. " I know not when I
shall die."
" My lord, it would be so much better to pray to God
for enlightenment, when his divine Spirit will enable
you to distinguish between truth and falsehood in this
great realm of investigation where the arts and sciences
of man never reach. I beseech you, think of this more
seriously." And he departed.
One day he was in the palace in company with two
Englishmen, when the king attracted by the unusual
number of three foreigners at once, approached the
company but directed his attention chiefly to Mr. Judson.
" Teacher," he said, " I wish to know about those Bur
mans who have embraced your religion in Rangoon.
Are they real Burmans?"
" The same as all other Burmans I have seen, your
majesty," replied Mr. Judson, now without fear, for the
king's inquiry had expressed more of surprise than dis
pleasure, that a Burman should be induced to give up
his religion.
" Do they dress like other Burmans? "
" There is no difference that I can distinguish."
"Are they of the high or low classes?"
"Both, your majesty. I have baptized recently a
poor fisherman, and a learned teacher of much note."
Little idea had he of the real difference between tho two
new disciples.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 207
"Do they adhere strictly to their new religion? "
" So far, all have been faithful. We hold daily wor
ship, and I preach to them publicly every Sunday."
"What, in Burman?"
"In Burman."
" Let us hear you preach."
Here Mr. Judson hesitated, should he dare to preach in
the king's palace? But the king himself had demanded
it, though for curiosity, and an a-twen-woon repeated the
order Hoping that good might come of it, ho began
with ,J an invocation, and an ascription of praise and
glory to God, followed by a declaration of the laws of
the Gospel ; when he stopped.
"Go on," said another a-twen-woon.
Amid the profound silence of the court, he proceeded
to declare the perfection of God, when his majesty's
curiosity being satisfied, he signed to him to stop.
Being asked what he thought of Gautama, he replied
that he was the son of a great king, and was a wise and
good teacher, but not God This explanation seemed
to please some of the ministers who now entered into
a spirited conversation in regard to God and Christ,
his majesty listening in silence. Moung Zah encouraged
by all this, made a remark, which at the time of
Mekara's banishment would have cost him his life.
"Nearly all the world, your majesty, believe in an
eternal God, all except Burmah and Siam, these little
spots ! " '
His majesty sat for a few moments, in silence, then
making a few remarks on other topics, arose and retired.
It was now near the time when Mrs. Judson was
expected to return from America, and Mr. Judson pre
pared to go to Rangoon to meet her, expecting to return

208 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
with her to Ava and establish a mission there. On
communicating his intention to the king in regard to
leaving for Rangoon, he inquired :
" Will you proceed thence to your own country? "
" Only to Rangoon."
The king nodded in acquiescence.
Moung Zah inquired :
" Will you both go, or will the doctor remain? "
" It is very hot here," said Dr. Price " and our situa
tion is inconvenient, besides Mr. Judson expects his
wife at Rangoon and must go to meet her."
"Then you will return here after the hot season,"
said Moung Zah.
Mr. Judson looked at the king inquiringly, and
replied :
" If it is convenient."
The king again nodded and smiled, and turning to
Dr. Price, said :
"Let a place be given him."
Before making final preparations to depart, Mr. Jud
son held another conversation with Moung Zah, but
with little success. The belief that there was an
eternal God had long possessed him, as we know from
former events, but he could not receive Christ, ranking
Him as a great teacher, such as Gautama and Mahomet,
but with nothing of the divine about Him. He seemed
immovably settled in his convictions, yet, on parting,
he said :
" This is a deep and difficult subject. Do you, teacher,
consider further and I, also, will consider."
On taking leave of Prince M., the prince desired
him to return to Ava and. bring all the Christian Scrip-

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 209
turps and translate them into Burman that he might
read them all. His wife also expressed a great desire
to see Mrs. Judson, and enjoined upon him to bring
her without fail.
The king invited him to return to the capital to live,
and the queen expressed a great desire to see the white
lady in her foreign dress.
Such a happy heart Mr. Judson had never had before
as he departed this time from the Golden City. The
king and all the royal, family were pleased with him
and interested in his religion. Now he could establish
a mission in the capital whence its influence would be
felt over the whole empire. And, then, was he not
going to meet Ann from whom he had been parted bo
long? Happy teacher ! But sorrow will come.
Reaching Rangoon he received a letter from Mrs.
Judson stating that she had just left England for
America, and it would be several months yet before she
could return. This time of waiting gave him an oppor
tunity of finishing" his translation of the New Testa
ment which ho had reluctantly abandoned to accompany
Dr. Price. He also prepared a synopsis of the Old
Testament to be used in the study of the New.
After ten months Mrs. Judson returned, accompanied
by Mr. and Mrs. Wade, who now were left with the
Houghs in charge of the mission. Eight days after
their arrival Mr. Judson set out on his third journey
to the Golden City, accompanied by his wife, a Bengalee
cook, and Moung Ing, who declared he would never
leave them. After an absence of almost a year, Mr.
Judson again clasped hands with Dr. Price.
14

BOOK FIFTH,

CHAPTER I.
"I know, as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight,
That under each rank wrong somewhere
There lies the root of right ;
That each sorrow has its purpose,
By the sorrowing oft unguessed,
But as sure as the sun brings morning,
v Whatever is — is best." — Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Looking forwara to the events soon to transpire, it is
hard to "realize the truth of the above. The finite mind
cannot appreciate the designs of the infinite. As a
traveler, stumbling through the mists of the valley,
cannot realize that the sun still shines brightly on the
mountain-tops ; that the sky is blue, and the great
world gay; so when we are compassed about with great
afflictions, the whole world too often seems dark, and
we imagine the Lord has withdrawn His face from us,
when, in reality, it is His excessive love drawing a
vapor from our surrounding circumstances to refreshen
less favored spots elsewhere. Only those who have
passed through great tribulations can begin to estimate
the fullness of God's mercy, and see how His Provi
dence has ever surrounded them. It was after emerging
from the "Valley ot The Shadow of Death" that Bun-
(210)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 211
yan's pilgrims stood on the delectable mountains and
viewed, in perspective, the " Celestial City."
The missionaries were met, a few days below the
Golden City, by Dr. Price, who informed them of new
difficulties in their way at the capital. The war that
had long been threatening between Burmah and the
English in Bengal seemed now inevitable. A few victims
of Burman cruelty had escaped to the dominions of the
British in Arracan. The monarch demanded of the
English authorities that they be arrested and delivered
to him. On their refusal to interfere, he determined
to punish them by wresting Arracan from their posses
sion. Flushed with recent victories over the Kathays
and other aboriginal tribes, he imagined that the very
name of the' Golden Face would cause all enemies to
tremble, and that the glitter of the golden war-boats
would strike terror into their hearts, insomuch that
they would flee without offering to resist. The council
of a-twen-woons who had been so favorable to tho
teachers, was dismissed and strangers appointed. Dr.
Price himself was out of favor at court.
The changed state of affairs was a severe disappoint
ment to the missionaries after the sanguine hopes in
which they had previously indulged.
Dr. Price had erected a house in which they were
received, but the brick walls were yet damp, and so
affected the health of Mrs. Judson that they were com
pelled to return to the boat and remain till a house of
bamboo could be built on a spot of ground which the
king had given to Mr. Judson when there before.
Within the incredibly short time of two weeks the
house was ready and they moved in ; but the thin walls

212 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
were but poor protection against the heat, which often
exceeded one hundred and eight degrees in the Bhado ;
and they would be forced to build a smaller house of
brick to be used during the hot season then just com
ing on.
On his first visit to the palace, Mr. Judson met with
a cold reception. The king recognized him and accepted
from him a small present, but never noticed him again.
The queen did not even mention the " white lady in
the foreign dreBS," whom she had formerly expressed
such a desire to meet, and as a consequence Ann never
ventured within the palace enclosure. Prince M. and
his wife alone received them cordially, yet they were
averse to speaking on religious subjects, and confined
their conversations to the arts and sciences.
Notwithstanding these difficulties, they lost no oppor
tunity of teaching. Mr. Judson held public worship
every Lord's day at Dr. Price's. Ann also began her
female school as in Rangoon. The first pupils she had
were three little girls whom she taught to read. The
circumstances connected with two of these sisters are
somewhat singular. Their mother had become insane,
and their father, being unable to provide for them
properly, brought them to Mrs. Judson to rear and
educate. Though said to be sisters, and each calling
him father, there was a striking dissimilarity in their
features and manners. The eldest was a bright, acute
little creature ; and, judging from her expression, one
would think her at least sixteen, but in form she did
not seem more than twelve. Mrs. Judson observed the
peculiarity and inquired of her father how old she was.
" That I do not know " he replied.

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 213
" What, not know the age of your own child? "
" She is not really my child. My wife took her to
rear when but a babe, and we have considered her as
our own, even as the sister of this one."
" Is hor own mother dead, that there is no one to tell
her age?"
" It is a strange story, teacher, and I know it not all.
Years ago, before my wife lost her reason, one day while
I was away from home, the white teacher who was here
before you came, brought the little child to my house,
seemingly then about a year old. He told my wife her
story and requested her to keep the little one, as he had
at that time no wife, though he afterwards married a
native woman at Rangoon. The child is evidently a
Burman, though the teacher brought her over from
Bengal. When I returned home from the service of
the king she was at my house as my own child. I
inquired of my wife her history but the madness had
come on her and she could give me no answer. From
her ravings, at times, I have gleaned this much. All
else seems to have been a secret entailed upon her, and
this little box was left to be opened when the child
should be fully grown."
From the folds of his vest he drew a little ivory
jewelry casket and delivered it to Mrs. Judson.
" It is indeed a strange story," she replied, " and I
have a great curiosity to know the mystery of her origin,
but will keep the little box for her till she is grown.
Is it locked?"
" It is. The key will be found on a cord about her
neck, which was there when we first knew her, and has
never been removed."

214 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
He then took an affectionate leave of the little ones,
and Mrs. Judson led them into the house, henceforth
to be as her own children. They called her their " white
mamma," and she has ever since been known by that
title among the Burmans. She gave them her maiden
name — one Mary, the other Abbe Hasseltine. Mary,
the eldest, was called by the Burmans, Mah-ree — the
Burmese for Mary.
Mrs. Judson had had a happy visit to the home of
her childhood, which, when leaving at first, she never
expected to see again. The old friends of her school
days crowded around her, rejoieed at her success in the
mission field, and wept with her over the pathetic death
ol Harriet, whom they all loved. Her relations of mis
sionary trials and sufferings, with their consequent
joys, aroused a zeal among her friends at home, and the
girls of Bradford Academy organized themselves into
an association to raise money for missions. Their first
instalment reached her just at this point, and she set
it apart for the support of Mah-ree. With her little
school of three, she now began teaching, expecting to
increase the number as she and her object became bet
ter known.
Mr. Judson devoted himself to the translation of the
Bible, and each hoped that, in the event of war, they,
being Americans, would not be molested.
News was soon brought to the capital that an English
fleet had anchored in the mouth of the river at Ran
goon, and one morning, just after their worship in Dr.
Price's house, a messenger entered and announced that
the city of Rangoon had been taken. The intelligence
produced a two-fold effect upon the foreigners — one of

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 215
joy, that they should be under christian rule ; the other
of fear, lest the consequences should be fatal to them
before greater conquests should be made.
Mr. Gouger, an English merchant at Ava, was wor
shiping with them, and he, of course, had more cause
to fear than any of them. We went at once to Prince
Thirrawady, the king's most influential brother, who
replied that he need not be uneasy, as his majesty had
said the few foreigners residing at Ava had nothing to
do with the war, and should not be molested.
The whole city was now in the wildest commotion.
An army of ..ten thousand troops was raised and dis
patched down the river in their golden war-boats. Not
the least doubt was entertained of their success in
recapturing Rangoon. The king was only apprehen
sive lest the name of the Golden Face should so frighten
the enemy that they would all escape to their boats
before they could be captured as slaves. The king him
self sent a pair of golden fetters to bind the prime min
ister, whom he expected to make his own royal servant.
A wild young buck of the palace put in his application
for six white strangers to row his boat, and the wife of
a woon-gyee ordered four white strangers to manage
her household. The eager soldiers gladly promised to
supply all these demands, and as they passed down the
river by Mr. Judson's house in the war-boats they were
dancing and shouting in the highest glee.
"Poor fellows!" said the missionaries; "you will
probably never dance again."
The prediction was only too true. They were never
to see the Golden City again.

216 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Immediately after the departure of the army the gov
ernment began to inquire into the cause of the sudden
arrival of the white strangers at Rangoon. Some sug
gested that[spies had invited them over. Three English
men were then in Ava, and were at once seized and placed
in confinement. Mr. Judson and Dr. Price were also
examined ; but, being Americans and having no commu
nication with the British, they were released. But when
they came to examine the English prisoners, it was found
from Mr. Gouger's accounts that the missionaries had
drawn on him for money, as they received their salary
from America, through exchange, by orders on Bengal.
The Burmese authorities, ignorant of these customs,
thought they were in the pay of the British, and,
very likely, spies. On hearing this, the king angrily
exclaimed :
"Arrest the two teachers immediately!"
At the mission house all were engaged in their usual
occupation, not suspecting any danger. The brick-
masons without were busily humming at their work on
the new house, Mr. Judson was in his study writing,
the little Burman girls were sitting on the floor study
ing their lessons, and Ann was in an inner room pre
paring dinner. Moung Ing was washing the rice outside
the door, when there rushed up a magistrate holding a
black book, accompanied by a dozen ruffians and a
hideous spotted-face, whom Moung Ing knew to be an
executioner. "Where is the teacher?" demanded the magistrate.
Mr. Judson, hearing the commotion, appeared at his
study door, pen in hand.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 217
" You are called by the king," said the officer, and
meant he was now under arrest. The Bpotted-face,
at this signal, leaped upon him, threw him on the
floor, and proceeded to bind upon his arms a small cord.
This is a favorite instrument of torture, as the arms,
pinioned from behind, are drawn together, sometimes
stopping respiration, and even producing death, caus
ing the blood to spurt from mouth and nostrils. Ann
came rushing in, and seeing what the executioner
intended, caught him by the arm.
"Stay!" she said. "I will give you money."
" Take her, too," demanded the officer. " She also is
a foreigner." Mr. Judson here interposed, though till now he had
been silent. He pleaded that they had no orders to
arrest her, and begged them imploringly to let her
remain — which they reluctantly consented to do The
scene was heart-rending. Abbe and Mah-ree stood
screaming and crying; the brick-layers forsook their
work and fled ; "the Bengalee servants looked on with
horror to see their master thus rolled on the floor and
trampled upon ; the neighbors crowded in, and Moung
Ing stood with flashing eyes, as if he would have been
glad to resent the terrible indignities. The cruel spot
ted-face, grinning with hellish delight, drew tighter the
cords and dragged the tortured man from the house.
Ann begged and entreated him to accept the money
and loosen the cords, but he only grinned and gave
them another twist as he departed. She now gave the
money to Moung Ing, and told him to follow and see
if he could not persuade them to relieve Mr. Judson
from his suffering. But when the faithful servant

218 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
again offered the money as they passed into the street,
instead of receiving it, the executioner threw his victim
to the ground, planting his knees on his back, drew
harder on the ropes with diabolic joy, until the poor
man shrieked with anguish. Seeing that such attempts
only increased instead of alleviating the torture, Moung
Ing followed on in silence to see what they would do.
First to the court-house. There a crowd had collected,
and an officer read the sentence of the king — " to the
death-prison ! " All who enter there are condemned to
die at some time. Moung Ing saw him hurled within
and the door closed, then returned and reported to the
distressed wife. He told her to be of good cheer, as he
did not think they would kill her husband, and he
would go himself to the prison enclosure and remain
through the night, in order to render any service in his
power. ...•....„
The old governor of the North Gate, Moung Shaw-loo,
into whose charge all prisoners are consigned, was sit
ting in his apartment early next morning, dozing like
a lazy Burman will, and entirely alone. The governor
was a fat, jolly old fellow, kind-hearted and generous —
a rare qualification in a Burmese official.
A bamboo door slowly opened and a man passed
gently into the room unobserved. It was Moung Ing,
his servant's livery contrasting strongly with his luxu
riant surroundings. He advanced up the carpeted hall
until he stood in front of its occupant, his face down
cast and his eyes on the floor.
The old man started up in surprise and alarm, and
exclaimed, " Who art thou, menial, to venture thus into
my presence unannounced?"

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.- 219
For a moment there was no answer. Moung Ing was
thinking of the cruel indignities inflicted on the teach
er, whom he believed to have come all the way from
America, God-sent, in answer to his prayers. The
royal blood leaped in his veins. The sleeping lion
within him awoke. Lifting his head proudly, while
there danced in his eyes the fires of Alompra, he spoke
in a stern voice, which, had it been pronounced in the
great audience chamber, would have caused each hearer
to tremble at its power.
" Moung Shwa-loo ! " he cried ; " dost thou not know
me?" The old man was thunderstruck to hear his name
thus familiarly called by a menial ; but astonishment
gave place to fear and trembling as he gazed on the
transfiguration of the man before him. His servant's
robe was no longer seen, only the flashing eyes, proudly-
lifted head and handsome form. The Golden Face
himself could not have inspired such awe in the gov
ernor's heart. He saw before him the banished and
beloved prince ; and realized that he had spoken
roughly to him. With pallor on his cheeks and trem-
ibling in his knees, he fell to the floor, clasping the
prince by the feet and crying :
"My Lord Mekara, forgive me. I did not recognize
you. Indeed I did not ! "
Stooping, Mekara lifted the old man back to his seat.
The royal passion had spent itself, and he was once
more simple Moung Ing, the humble fisherman, servant
of the teacher and devoted follower of the meek and
lowly Nazarene.
"Your Excellency," he said in assuring tones, "be
not afraid of me. I would never have revealed myself

220 • THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
had it not been for circumstances that have just tran
spired demanding action on my part, even at the haz
ard of my life ; for it would be accounted nothing should
my nephew, the Golden Face, hear of my presence here,
in sight of the palace, which is in reality my own. Can
I depend on you to keep my secret? "
" Command me anything, my Lord, and I will do it,
to the extent of my life," replied the old man fer
vently. "You know the circumstances connected with my
banishment. I believed there was a God, and, as a
consequence, could no longer worship at pagodas. For
that was I disinherited. Since then I have wandered
much, seeking God and praying him for light. I havo
found Him. The white teacher was impressed by His
Spirit to bring the glad tidings of salvation, through a
crucified Redeemer, to us who sit in darkness. I havo
consecrated my life to God's service. When I heard of
my father's death, instead of coming and claiming my
crown, which all would have gladly given me, I choso
rather to be a private soldier of the Cross. By learn
ing to preach I can do my people more good than by
ruling over them. For this cause I study under the
teacher and serve him. But the king has ordered him
to the death-prison, whence few come out alive. This
prison is in your keeping. The king's commands are
executed through you. My request is that you will
make the situation of the prisoners as comfortable as
possible, and that you will spare the teacher's life, even
contrary to the king's decree. You can hide him away,
and his majesty will never know it Will you pledgo
me this? "

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 221
The old man reflected seriously for a moment. " It
is a hard and dangerous thing, my Lord," he replied,
" to disobey the king, and my life would pay the pen
alty should he know it ; but I promised to do anything
for you to the extent of my life, and I will do it. He
shall not die while in my keeping.'^
" Good," replied Moung Ing; "and I shall 4rust you
to keep your word. Treat kindly the white lady who
shall visit you. Give her every privilege in your power,
but say nothing of me. It is not safe that I should
remain longer or return any more. God's mercy be
with you."
He then passed out as unobserved as when he entered,
leaving the old governor amazed at the apparition, as
it were, of one whom he thought dead, and at the rash
promises which he himself had made.
After Moung Ing had returned to the prison the even
ing before, the magistrate of the city came to examine
Mrs. Judson. She had kept a carefully prepared jour
nal of every event since coming to the city, but this,
together with her other papers, she destroyed, lest they
should be found to have correspondents in England.
She then went out and submitted to the search, as well
as answer a great many minute questions. The magis
trate then departed after placing a guard of ten ruf
fians about the house with instructions to keep her safe
and allow no one to go in or out on pain of death.
As it was now dark she retired to her inner room with
Abbe and Mah-ree and barred the doors. There was
immediately an uproar outside. The guard ordered her
to unbar the doors and come out or they would tear the

222 CHILD OP THE GANGES.
house down. This she obstinately refused to do, and
finding her not to be intimidated by their threats, they
resorted to another expedient. Capturing her two
Bengalee servants, they carried them around opposite
her window and confined them in the stocks; first lay
ing them on theijji faces till their feet were fastened,
then betiding them backward till their shoulders lay
on the ground behind, a most painful position. Ann
could not endure to see the poor creatures thus suffer
ing, and calling the headman to her window, she told
him if he would release the servants she would give
them all a present in the morning. This was very
pleasing to their avaricious hearts, but they did not
want her to think it an easy matter to influence them,
and only consented after much debating, and many
threats. But their diabolic carousing through the re
mainder of the night allowed her no rest. Climbing
up on the walls of the unfinished brick house in front
of the window, they yelled and screamed like demons,
and made the night hideous by their Satanic jests and
malicious threats. Thus unprotected, even Moung Ing
'being away, ¦ she passed that first miserable night,
equalled only by the sufferer in the death-prison.
The next day Moung Ing returned, at intervals, for
food for the prisoners, and reported their condition.
Ann was in deep distress because she could do nothing
for her husband, being herself a prisoner. She begged
the guard to let her go into the city and lay their case
before some member of government, but they replied
that they dared not, lest she escape. Penning a note,
she sent it to the king's sister, begging her to lay the
matter before the king. But she was afraid of the queen
and refused to interfere.

224 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
On the following night the guard, having been soft*
ened by gifts of tea and cigars, were not so boisterous,
yet the thought of her husband in chains prevented the
poor tired wife from resting again.
Next morning she sent a note to the governor request
ing permission to visit him with a present. He kindly
consented and sent orders to the guards to let her come
into the city. The old man received her very pleasantly,
and seemed ready to grant any request in his power.
She stated to him the true situation of the foreigners,
and convinced him that the teachers, being Americans,
had nothing to do with the war and should not be con
fined. He replied :
" It is not in my power to release any of the prisoners,
but their situation can be made more comfortable.
There is my head officer who has charge of the pris
oners, state fully to him what you desire in that respect."
The officer, to whom he referred her, was one of the
city writers, in whose face there seemed to be a concen
tration of every evil passion common to the most de
praved heart of man. Taking her to one side he said :
" Now, lady, not only are the prisoners in my power,
but you also are entirely at my disposal, and your com
fort, as well as theirs, will depend altogether on your
liberality in regard to presents, and these must be made
to me privately, that no officer of government may
know it."
This much she had anticipated, knowing from former
experiences that only through a present could she gain
access to an ordinary Burman's heart.
" What must I do," she said, ' ' to obtain a mitigation
of the present sufferings of the two teachers?"

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 225
" Pay to me two hundred ticals, two pieces of fine
cloth, and two pieces of handkerchiefs."
She had with her the amount of money demanded,
but her house being two miles away, she could not con
veniently return, and begged him to receive the money,
and not insist on the other articles. Ho hesitated for a
moment, looking with gloating eyes on the money,
which amounted to about one hundred dollars ; then,
fearing to lose sight of so much, he accepted it and
promised to relieve the prisoners as much as possible.
The governor now gave her an order to the jailer for
admittance into tho prison, and she sped gladly away,
hoping, at last, to meet her husband after those twe
days and nights of anxious separation and suffering.

15

CHAPTER II.
" Again I looked — It was a foreign shore.
The tropic sun had laid his burning head
On twilight's lap. A gorgeous palace caught
His last red ray, while hoarse the idol song ¦
To Boodah, mingled with the breeze that curled
Broad Irrawaddy's tide. Why do we point
To yon lone prison ? Who is he that gropes
Amid its darkness with those fettered limbs?
Mad pagans ! do ye thus respite the man
Who toils for your salvation f " — ilfrs. Sigourney.
The death-prison stands on a bare, burning plain.
just without the city, with not even a palm to protect
its inmates from the fierce rays of the tropical sun
that'dance and shimmer on its slatted sides, or scorch
its thinly thatched roof. The prison enclosure is a
spacious square, surrounded by a high wall of boards
held together by slats pinned on the outside. Within
this enclosure, and extending the whole length of one
side, is an open shed with the yard wall for its back.
Beneath this, in wretched, squalid filth, live the under
jailers, or children of the prison, with their leprous
wives and vermin-laden offspring. Without the wall
is a structure resembling a square haystack with stoep
peaked roof, in which dwells the father of the estab
lishment. All the sons of the prison are condemned
criminals, and may be recognized anywhere on account
of their spotted faces, the sign of outlawry being
branded with a red-hot iron ring on their cheeks ; and
the name of their crime labeled in like manner on their
breasts. Their lives are only spared on condition of
(226)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 227
their faithfulness and adaptness to execute all the
cruel methods of torture resorted to by the tyrannical
government. They have no possible means of escape,
as their ineffaceable sign of guilt is ever visible and
known. Their only daily occupation is to torture
prisoners. The only music that ever greets their ears
is composed of the shriek and groans of suffering
victims. But as sameness in any occupation in life
grows monotonous, they studiously display an ingenious
variety in the tortures applied, and only those who
make it a life-study could invent, with so few artificial or
mechanical appliances, such different modes as they use.
From continual and hereditary association with such a
life, they acquire a passionate fondness for their occu
pation and nothing is to them such a source of amuse
ment as to inflict their excruciating pains for the first
time on a fresh victim, to see his writhings and listen
with fiendish exultation to his ear-piercing cries. They
never associate with any but prisoners ; never see the
great world outside, nor the pagan splendor of the
palace. Within the prison walls they propagate their
race, intermarrying only with each other and such
unfortunate prisoners as they choose to spare for their
base purposes. The wretched children, fruits of incest
and adultery, grow up with the vice of their parents
entailed upon them, born like them, and by association
and practice, if possible, even worse — demons and
fiends incarnate.
The head jailer bore on his breast the significant
title, " loo- that," man-killer. He is described by Mrs.
Emily C. Judson as " a tall bony man, with sinews of
iron ; wearing, when speaking, a malicious smirk, and

228 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
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 in his proper ele
ment. 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-killee. The prisoners called him
father when he was present to enforce this expression
of affectionate familiarity ; 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 husband,
delighting in torture. Her face was not only deeply
pitted with small-pox, but so deformed with leprosy,
that the white cartilage of 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 loaded with venom; and
by their vexatious mode of annoyance trying the temper

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 229
of the prisoners more than was in the power of the
mature torturers."
Such was the family under whose hospitable care the
teachers were gladly welcomed ; but the guest chamber
— who can describe the grand apartment with its lux
urious furnishings?
The prison was a building forty by thirty feet square.
The sides were six feet high with a sloping roof fifteen
feet high in the center. Around the walls were ranged
long rows of stocks, composed of two logs with holes
bored between, and fastened together with long, wooden
pins ; each holding a pair of helpless victims by the
feet. There was no light by day except the faint rays
that struggled through the chinks between the boards.
By night a faint glimmer, only sufficient to "make the
darkness visible," shone from a flame of impure earth-
oil in an earthern cup, suspended from a tripod in the
center. The only ventilation came with the light, and,
of course, was equally, if not more, scanty. The prison
had not been swept since it was built, yet it had been
kept continually filled with the vilest of the land.
There were no private accommodations and the conse
quent stench is indescribable. Here were huddled
together more than a hundred people of all ages and
ranks, and of both sexes. There sat cursing, a bandit
thief and murderer ; by his side, in sullen silence, was
the a-twen-woon of yesterday, who had offended the
Golden Face. Here, at the feet of the judge who deliv
ered his sentence, lies the traitor. There was no dis
tinction of race or caste in the death-prison. The
laboring breath of so many filled the room with poison
ous gas, added to which were the miasmatic vapors

230 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
rising like steam from the heated grounds, covered with
impurities. Every Burman chews the betel, and the
pulp and juice of this abominable article, so like the
filthy weed of our own country, covered the floor. The
walls and rafters were moldy with the collections of
vapors and dust. On the floor were ministers of torture
not less terrible than the keepers. * The dust seemed
alive with hopping fleas of immense size and voracious
jaws, and creeping vermin of every kind, so common
to tropical countries.
The keepers never fed their prisoners. If one should
enter there so unfortunate as to have no friend without
who dared or was able to bring him food and drink, he
must starve. Even then food was not admitted with
out a fee to the jailer. Many had no acquaintances in
the city, and the consequent sufferings endured are
horrible beyond description. Rolling in the heavy
dust, vermin gnawing their writhing bodies, mosquitoes
in hordes, stinging their fettered feet, gaunt hands and
emaciated cheeks; their dry, dusty tongues crying
pitifully for water, and their empty stomachs gnawing
with hunger, seemed enough to melt any heart ; yot the
Tiger laughed at their miseries, and derived unspeak
able delight from their sufferings. Often they would
lie till the last stage of hunger was reached, perhaps
on a gala-day. Then the women of the city would bo
allowed to enter with boiled rice, as a religious duty.
The poor famished creatures would madly seize the
bowls, gorge themselves on the contents ; then the weak
stomach, over-laden, would rebel, the muscles relapse,
and the wretched creatures fall back, dead !
Such the chamber, accommodations, and room-mates
of the teachers, and other foreigners.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 231
A plank slided back at one end, causing the blinded
eyes of the prisoners to blink at the sudden entrance
of daylight from the outside world. But the entrance
was darkened and the form of a man thrust in. It was
Mr. Gouger, the English merchant. He was goaded on,
over the prostrate bodies of those around him, to the
center where the Tiger stood. The old parent received
him joyfully, placed his long, filthy arms around him
affectionately, and bidding him welcome to his home,
at the same time clasping the fleBh of his victim's back
in his talon-like fingers and giving such a pinch that
the poor man squirmed with pain.
" Now, my dear son," said he, " since you have become
an inmate of my palatial residence " — and he gave a
mischievous chuckle as he glanced at the surroundings
— " I must proceed to invest you with the insignia of
our royal household. You have on more clothing than
*s customary in this establishment, so you may dis
pense with these, which I will appropriate to my private
use." He then stripped him of coat, vest, hat and shoes.
" Now," he continued, " please be so kind as to repose
on your back while I attach to your beautiful ankles
these handsome rings."
Mr. Gouger glanced at the loathsome floor, in terror
at the thought of polluting his body by contact with
it, but there was no choice. The giant arms closed about
him and laid him down as if he was. an infant. His
feet were laid upon an iron block and the three pairs of
" ornament? ' quickly adjusted, the rivets fastened, and
the job was done Each blow of the hammer was
accompanied by a jest and if, by a skillful miscalcula-

232 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
tion, the manipulator missed his mark and battered the
rusty iron into the flesh, he laughed immoderately, as
if it was, a rich joke. The courteous host next seized
his unwilling guest by the arm, and politely escorted
him to the further end of the prison, and stretching
him upon his back, left him in charge of the Thief, who
was ordered to see that he lacked for nothing (in the
way of torture.) The Tiger then returned to his block
and awaited other patrons. Two other Englishmen soon
made their appearance and were received with equal
cordiality. Again the little door opened and the " wan
teacher" was crowded in, stumbling over prostrate
forms, and looking with horror on the miserable sur
roundings. To Mr. Judson, especially, was this being
rolled in the dust and filth, revolting beyond measure.
So fastidiously neat and clean was he in person that he
bathed his body in pure cold water every day and his
linen never showed the least spot. To him cleanliness
was next to godliness, and he shrank more from this
contamination with -filth than from any other manner
of torture. The father, with quick apprehension, saw
what was most displeasing to his guest, and arranged
matters, as he said, " congenial to his taste," by placing
him in the worst place to be found. Another American
soon followed, then a Greek, and at last, Dr. Price was led in
and placed in the row with the others, filling out the rank.
"Now you have come," said one of the row, "our
number is complete, and I suppose they will proceed to
murder us. We hoped that you had escaped, you were
so long in coming."
But they were abruptly forbidden to communicate
again, except in Burman, and remained silent.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 233
It was now growing dark. The flaring earth-oil light
began to reveal dimly the silent forms lying in every
conceivable attitude on the floor. The Tiger and the
Thief now approached the line of white bodies upon the
floor, bearing a long bamboo pole. This they passed
between the ankles of each, just above the three pairs
of fetters. Then placing the ends in the loops from
ropes hanging from the rafters, they drew them up by
means of pulleys, till the prisoners rested only on the
backs of their necks, almost their whole weight sup
ported by the fetters, which, coming together, pinched
and cut the flesh in a fearful manner.
Thus shackled, poor Judson lay helpless as a babe.
Added to his physical sufferings waB the still more
severe mental torture of anxiety for his family. Ann who
had dared so much with him, and had been such a
devoted help-meet to him, what would become of her
in the hands of those hard-hearted officers? Yet he
never lost faith in God. Sleep was impossible. Some
one suggested, " Lot us pray," which each one did, after
which they felt stronger to boar their sufferings, and
like Paul and Silas, even sang hymns through the night.
Time they wore away the first long night.
Next morning the kind-hearted jailer returned, and
graciously lowered the bamboo pole to within a foot of
the ground, which allowed the blood once more to cir
culate through their benumbed limbs.
The door opened and Moung Ing appeared with food,
not only for Mr. Judson, but for his companions.
" Give me a present," demanded the Thief at the door.
Moung Ing put a piece of silver in his hand and pro
ceeded to the place where the teacher was lying with

234 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
his comrades in misery. But the unwholesome odors
pervading the place, and the idea of eating with
unwashed hands, destroyed their appetites, and they
only derived comfort from inquiring of Moung Ing the
condition of their families.
That day passed. The sun beat against the thin
sides of the building. The air was close and swelter
ing. The temperature stood above 100°, and the perspi
ration almost streamed from their bodies, and saturat
ing their scanty clothes which, coming, in that state, in
contact with the dust of the floor, soon acquired a color
better imagined than described.
Another night; hoisted bamboo; and groans and
prayers. On the morrow a voice was heard without the door.
The prisoners started. What music to their ears!
Surely this loathsome place had never before heard any
thing so sweet. The guards grumbled but the voice
overcame. The little door opened and a face appeared,
a beautiful white face, with head of curly locks. Was
it an angel? Aye, more. An angel would not have
been so welcome, at least to Mr. Judson. He was now
allowed to slip his feet from the pole and drag himself
to the door. But the meeting that was anticipated
with so much pleasure was painful to both. Revealed
by the light of day, he stood with begrimed and impure
exterior, a death-like pallor over his features, his
face unshaven, and hair disheveled. The poor wife,
having last seen him so neat, had not anticipated this,
and at sight of him she covered her face with her hands
in horror. Only a few words were they allowed to speak
with each other, when the guard ordered her to come out.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.

235

" I have an order from the governor to come here,"
she pleaded.
" Come out," he demanded sternly, " or I will pull
you out," and he seized her by the arm. She drew
back from the door. The shutter was closed, leaving
all once more in darkness and gloom. Yet, "All
THINGS WORK TOGETHKR FOR GOOD TO THEM THAT LOVE
•3od." Is it true? It is, but how hard to believe !

CHAPTER III.
'¦ And were not these high words to flow
From woman's breaking heart?
Through a".l that night of bitterest woe
She bore her lofty part ;
But oh I with such a freezing eye,
With such a curdling cheek I
Love, love ! of mortal agony,
Thou, only thou shouldst speak I "
— Gertrude, from Mrs. Uemans.
The death-prison has a remarkable, yet well-selected
and appropriate motto — Let-ma-yoon, " hand, shrink
not." Says Mr. Gouger in describing their tortures :
"It contemplates the extreme of human suffering,
and when this has reached a point at which our nature
recoils — when it is supposed that any one bearing the
human form might well refuse to be the instrument to
add to it, the hand of the executioner is apostrophized
and encouraged not to follow the dictates of the heart :
' Thine eye shall not pity and thine hand not spare.' "
New prisoners arrived daily, and almost every day,
at a certain hour, an executioner came in, and laying
his hand on his victim's shoulder, led him forth as a
sheep to the slaughter. Such scenes kept the prisoners
in continual terror, for no one knew but that he would
be the next one called, and the missionaries, as they
saw so many hurried away without a moment's prepara
tion, felt more and more the force of the Saviour's
admonition, "BE YE ALSO READY." One event,
however, aroused them more than all else. But my pen
(236)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 237
refuses to paint the scene, and I surrender it to another.
Mrs. Emily C. Judson will finish the chapter.
" 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 waist cloth. But one morning there was brought
in a young man speaking the Burmese brokenly, and with the
soft accent of the North, who at once attracted universal atten
tion. He was tall and erect, with a mild, handsome face, bear
ing the impress of inexpressible suffering ; a complexion
slightly tinted with the rich brown of the East ; a fine, manly
carriage, and a manner 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 is
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, 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 weigh L, on his devoted head? He
seemed utterly friendless, and even without the means of obtain
ing food ; for, as the day advanced, no one came to see him, and
the officer who brought him had left no directions. lie did
not, however, suffer from this neglect, for M idarn Thief (most
wonderful to relate!) actually shared so deeply in the universal
sympathy 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.

238 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
" 'Where is he?' he cried sternly, 'where is he, this son of
Kathay— this dog, villain, traitor! where is he? Aha! only
one pair of irons? Put on five! Do you hear ? five ! '
"The Woon-bai waited 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,
all white children of the prison watched his coun'enance and
manner as significant of what was expected of them. The
prisoners looked at each other, and shook their beads in com
miseration. "The next day the feet of the young Kathayan, in obe
dience 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 sympathetic apprehension, shared in the pain when
he looked at the s afferer.
" During this day, one of the missionaries, who had ^ee
honored with an invitation, which it was never prudent to
refuse, to the hut of the thief, learned something of the history
of the young man and his crime. His home, it was told him,
was among the rich hills of Kathay, as they range far north
ward, 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 con
quered by the superior forces 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 the
goats as they bounded 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, tho Great Prince,

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 239
as he was called by way of pre-eminence, had risen, through
the influence of his sister, from the humble position of a fish
monger, to be the Richelieu of the nation. "Unpopular from his
mean origin, and still more unpopular from the acts of brutal
ity to which the intoxication of power had given rise, the sym
pathy excited by the poor Kathayan in the breasts of theso
wretches may easily be accounted 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 medi
um 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 was, so said Madam, the
thief, a bundle of roses, set round with blossoms of the cham-
pac 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 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 beauty, her grace 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 the desolation, had dared to bestow
her affections with the uncalculating loveliness 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 irre
trievable destruction. What fe#rs, what hopes winged by fears,
what tremulous joys, still hedged in by that same crowd of
fears, what despondency, what revulsions of impotent anger

240 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
and daring, what weeping, what despair must have been
theirs! Their tremblings and rejoicings, their mad projects,
growiDg each day wilder and more dangerous — since madness
alone could have given rise to anything like hope — are things
left to imagination ; for there was none to relate the heart-his
tory 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 irreg
ular gushes, the waters of the little lake in the center 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 laugh
ter of the merry girls ringing in their ears, so like their old
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 !
" 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 mas
ter. 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 ? ' inquired the mis
sionary 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 whispered, still
shuddering, ' a deep cellar, that no one has seen, but horrible

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 241
cries come from it sometimes, and two nights ago, for three
hours, three long hours— such shrieks ! Amaiai ! 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 mission
ary, too, shuddered, as much at the mention of this prison as
at the recital of the woman ; for it shut within its walls deep
mysteries, 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 arm jerked up into a position perpen
dicular with his prostrate body, and the end of the cord fas
tened 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 great as to
render that of the mere physical frame unheeded. There was
the same expression of hopelessness, the same unvarying
wretchedness, too deep, too real, to think of giving itself
utterance on the face, as at his first entrance into the prison,
and except that now and then he fixed on one of the hopeless
beings who regarded him in silent pity, a mournful, half-be
seeching, half-vacant stare — this was all.
" That day passed away, as others had done ; then came a
night of dreams, in which loved ones gathered around the
hearthstone of a dear, familiar home — dreams broken by the
clanking of chains and the groans of the suffering ; 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
16

242 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
on him and a shiver passed through his frame. The old mur
derer went his usual rounds with great nonchalance, gave an
order here, a blow 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 wicked
ness. At last he approached the Kathayan, w"ho, with a con
vulsive movement, 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 yourself, to be sure ; but, then, you
need assistance. So, so, so ! ' and giving the cord three succes
sive jerks, he succeeded, by means of his immense strength,^
i n 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 prisoner.
Another groan followed, and then another and another ; a
heaving of the chest, a convulsive shiver, and for a moment
he seemed lost. Human hearts glanced heavenward. 'God
grant it ! Father of mercies, spare him further agony !' It
could not be. Gaspingly came the last breath back again,
quiveringly the soft eyes unclosed, and the young Kathayan
captive was fully awake to his miseries.
" 'I cannot die so ; I cannot ! So slow ! so slow ! so slow !'
Hunger gnawed, thirst burned, fever rebelled 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 terri
ble 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 pri
soners awoke from such troubled sleep as they could gain

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 243
amid these horrors ; and those who could, pressed their fever
ish lips and foreheads to the crevices between the boards to
court the morning breezes. A lady with a white brow, and a
lip whose delicate Vermillion had not ripened beneath the
skies of India, came with food to her husband. By constant
importunities had the beautiful ministering angei gained this
holy privilege. Her coming was like a gleam of sunlight— a
sudden unfolding of the beauties of this brighi earth to one
born blind. She performed her usual tender ministry and
departed. "Day advanced to its meridian, and once more, but now
hesitatingly, as if he dreaded his task, the Tiger drew near the
young Kathayan. But the sufferer did not shrink from him
as before.
''Quick!' he exclaimed greedily. 'Quick! give me one
hand and tho cord ; just a moment, a single moment — this
hand, with the cord in it — and you shall be rid of me forever !'
"The Tiger burst into a hideous laugh, his habitual cruelty
returning at the sound of hi3 victim'.1" voicer
" '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 feverish body of the sufferer. ' Oh, yes ;
two days, at least — perhaps three ; and it may be longer.
Patienae, 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 calcu
lating sort of deliberation, the monster gave the cord a sudden
jerk, then another, and a third, raising his victim still farther
from tha floor, and then adjusting it about tha beam, walked
unconcernedly away. For several minutes the prison rang
witJt? the most fearful Cites. Shriek followed shriek — ago
nized, furious — with scarsely a breath between ; bellowings,
howlings, gnashings if the teoth ; sharp, piercing screams ;
yells of savage defiance; ery upon cry, cry upon cry; with
wild, superhuman stranjrth thay came ; while the prisoners
shrank in ave and terror, trembling in their chains. But this
violence soon exhaustad itself and tho paroxysm passed, giv
ing place to loW| sad moans, irresistibly pitiful. This was a

244 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
day never to be forgotten by the hundred wretched creatures
congregated in the gloomy death-prison. The sun had never
seemed to move so slowly before. Its setting was gladly wel
comed ; 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 j ust as the day was declining towards evening.
" ' Oh ! will it ever end ? ' whispered one.
"The other 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 indig
nation of their jailers, they were struck by the singular still
ness of the prison. The clanking of chains, the murmur and
the groan, the heavy breathing of congregated 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 mal
let in his hand for another blow on the temple of the sus
pended Kathayan. It came down with the same dull, hoi-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 245
low, crushing sound. The body swayed from the point where
it was held by wrist and ankle till it seemed that every joint
must be dislocated ; but the flesh scarcely quivered. The blow
was repeated, and then 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 feel
ing 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 expecting ; that his living on in this man
ner was quite out of rule ; but that these 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 further on the side. Thus the discolored
temple was hidden ; and surely that emaciated form gave suf
ficient 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 adead dog that they cared
not to give further attention."

CHAPTER IV.
' This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow
Is remembering happier things."

* * * * *

On the day after Mrs. Judson's first visit to the gov
ernor and the prison, Mr. Gouger's property, to the
amount of fifty thousand rupees, was confiscated, and
the officers, in passing, informed Mrs. Judson that they
would call on her the next day. Taking advantage of
this warning, she secreted as many articles of value as
possible, together with considerable silver and Mr. Jud
son's manuscript translation of the New Testament.
It was a hazardous thing to do, for if it had been
discovered it would have caused her being thrown
into prison — in which case she could no longer minis
ter to her husband.
The following morning the royal treasurer, with the
governor and another nobleman, attended by forty or
fifty followers, came to take possession of their prop
erty in the king's name. She did not become in the least
frightened nor lose her presence of mind, though evi
dently deeply affected at the thought of being deprived
of all they had. She received them civilly, gave them
chairs to sit on — quite a luxury to an Oriental — and
placed her nicest tea and sweetmeats for their refresh
ment. Only the three officers, accompanied by the
royal secretary, entered the house, the attendants being
ordered to remain without. (246)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 247
Moung Shwa-loo, seeing the distress of the woman
whom he had promised the prince to defend, felt very
reluctant to lay his hands on anything in the house ;
yet he must make a show of confiscation, as he was
compelled to report to the king. He sincerely apolo
gized for the deed, and told her how painful it was to
him to take that which was not his own. But the
treasurer, ignorant of the circumstances that prompted
this kindness of the governor, proceeded at once to busi
ness. "Where are your silver, gold and jewels?" he
inquired. "I have no gold or jewels," she said; "but here is
the key that unlocks the trunk containing the silver.
Do with it as you please."
The trunk was opened, the silver weighed, and a note
taken of the amount.
"This silver," she said, "was collected in America
by the disciples of Christ to build a priest's dwelling
and for our support while preaching the religion of
Jesus. Is it suitable that you should take it ? "
She knew the Burmese were averse to taking any
thing offered for religious purposes.
" We will state the circumstances to the king," said
the treasurer ; " perhaps he will return it. But is this
all the silver you have ? "
" The house is in your possession. Search for your
selves." " Have you not deposited silver with some person of
your acquaintance? "
" My acquaintances are all in prison. With whom
should. I deposit silver? "

248 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
The governor evidently suspected that she had con
cealed the articles ; but he had gone as far as he was
compelled to do by the king's decree, and quickly
changed the subject by calling for the trunks and
drawers. Neither he nor the treasurer touched these,
but asked the secretary to accompany Mrs. Judson in
the search. Everything he found nice or curious was
presented to them, to decide whether or not she should
be allowed to keep it. When the wearing apparel was
produced, she begged them not to take that, as it would
be disgraceful to carry partly-worn clothing into the
presence of the king. They assented to this, and merely
took a list — as they did also with the books and medi
cine By a cunning artifice, she also persuaded them
that it would be improper to take her little work-table
and rocking-chair, which had been presented her by
friends in America; yet they appropriated everything
that could be of service to his majesty and departed.
She gave a sigh of relief as they passed out, leaving
so many articles of inestimable value during the
approaching hardships ; but her eyes filled with tears
to see her many little comforts and mementoes of
friends and relatives borne away on the shoulders of
Burman slaves.
The officers reported to the king :
" Judson is a true teacher. We found nothing in his
house but what belongs to priests. In addition to this
money, there are an immense number of books, medi
cines, trunks of wearing apparel, &c, of which we only
took a list. Shall we take them, or let them remain?"
"Let them remain," replied his majesty; "and put
this property by itself, for it shall be restored again if
he is found innocent."

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 249
Mrs. Judson, by her continual entreaty, had pre
vailed on the wife of the queen's brother to intercede,
through the queen, for Mr. Judson's release. As soon
as the officers left her house she flew to the house of
the queen's brother, anxious to know the result of her
petition. But she was met by the cool answer :
" I stated your case to the queen ; but her majesty
replied, ' The teachers will not die ; let them remain as
they are.' "
Her hopes had been high ; but this news was like a
thunder-clap to her feelings, and she was, for a moment,
almost in despair ; for if the queen refused, who would
dare to intercede before the Golden Face for a foreigner
in disgrace? Sadly she turned away to return, with a
heavy heart, to her home, two miles from the city, stop
ping at the prison to communicate her failure to Mr.
Judson ; but the gate was shut and she was harshly
refused admittance. For ten days she was not allowed
to enter again, but sent food for the white prisoners by
Moung Ing. Yet she never ceased her efforts. Day
after day, for seven long, weary months, she continued
to importune some members of government to inter
cede with the king for the release of the prisoners.
Among the members of the royal family she made
many friends by these visits, who really desired to aid
her ; but their influence only assisted her by encour
aging promises that preserved her from despair. Tho
governor became very much attached to her, and would
send for her if by any means she failed to visit him
daily. He listened with eagerness to her descriptions
of American manners and customs, arts and sciences.
His wife also bestowed upon her a mark of affection

250 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
by presenting her with a handsome Burman costume,
such as the court ladies wear. She persuaded her to
wear this while in the city, as it would tend to concili
ate tho people. Mah Po, a sweet, proud, but tender
hearted woman, and wife of a chief minister, often
braved the anger of the king to give rice and eggs to
the white lady, with which to feed the prisoners.
Home and friends were forgotten by the faithful wife ;
self was forgotten. Not a fear possessed her as she
trod alone the burning streets of that wicked heathen
city, where pride and bigotry ruled. Her only thought
was of a husband in chains and how to relieve him.
She did not even shrink from the brawny frame of the
Tiger, the cruel face of the spotted Thief, nor the hideous
countenance of his leprous wife.
One day she was detained at home from some una
voidable cause, and consented to let Moung Ing carry the
dinner to the prison, which she had formerly insisted
upon doing herBelf, when allowed, in order to see with
her own eyes how her husband fared. A happy thought
struck her : she would make for Mr. Judson a mince
pie, to remind him of home, doubting not that it would
bring a smile to his face even in the midst of his mis
ery. Her ingenuity in collecting material for this
tempting dish, in su.ch a country, must be equal to her
perseverance in other things ; but she at length suc
ceeded to her satisfaction ; and there was the old spar
kle of girlish light in her eyes as she handed the dish
to Moung Ing, with instructions to observe closely the
teacher's countenance as he received it. Moung Ing
had never seen the sumptuous tables of Plymouth and
Bradford, but he conjectured that there must be some-

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 251
thing nice hidden under the snowy cloth, itself an
unusual sight in the death-prison, and he could not
restrain a smile as he passed it to Mr. Judson.
Lifting the cloth, the poor captive sat for a moment
in mute astonishment at what he would have consid
ered an impossible achievement in Ava. Then he
thought of the devotion that prompted and the care
that produced it. Visions rose up in his mind : a sweet
face, framed in dark curls, peering through the half-
open door into the gloomy death-prison; a delicate
female form, standing like an enchantress, before the
august tribunal of Burmese authority and fearlessly
pleading for him ; a faithful wife, two miles from the
city, in her little home with her Burman maidens,
planning pleasant surprises for him. Like a pano
rama these scenes passed before him ; then a blank, an
ocean voyage, a " home beyond the sea," father, mother
and sisters ; then, as he gazed into the depths of the
dainty dish, a fairer picture. He was again, for the
first time, at Bradford ; his companions were discuss
ing the prospects of the mission — he could, even now,
hear their eager voices ; a sweet girl, with maidenly
grace and reserve, passes him a dainty morsel, like this,
and in a modest manner invites him to partake ; he
feels her presence by his side, once more the flutter-
ings of a youthful heart with its first love, and he
reads again the verses in his plate. As in a dream, he
lifts his hand to the dish ; it is begrimed with perspi
ration and dust ; a chain on his wrist rattles against
the plate. The beautiful vision fades,. and in its stead
appear the dusty beams and rafters of the prison, the
stocks, chains and dreadful bamboo. It was too much.

252 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Bowing his head on his knees, he wept like a child,
and thrusting the untasted dinner into the hands of
his companion, he hobbled off to a corner to weep
alone. That brave heart, that had for so long and so
manfully withstood the cruelties of demons, is melted
by the tender recollections of a faithful woman's love.
The war down the river was now raging. To the sur
prise of the king, the terrible name, Golden Face had
not conveyed the least terror to the hearts of the
trained British soldiers ; the invincible army that had
departed with such assurance of success, had been dis
pelled like a cloud of thistle-down and feathers ; and
their golden war-boats crushed like gilded -egg-shells
beneath the iron keel of the British man-of-war. But
another part of the Burman army, stationed in Arra
can, under Bandoola, was having greater success, hav
ing sent three hundred prisoners to the capital at one
time. His majesty, thinking that none but Bandoola
understood the art of fighting foreigners, recalled him
to take charge of the army sent to Rangoon.. Arriving
at Ava, he was received with great pomp and ceremony,
the king and queen doing all in their power to honor
him. The affairs of the war, and even of the kingdom,
were given into his hands for the time.
Mrs. Judson had tried every resort hitherto for the
release of her husband, but a now man having come
into authority, she decided to apply to him, though
several of her friends warned her not to do so, as it
would likely remind him of the existence of the pris
oners, and cause their immediate execution. But it
was the only hope and she could not let the opportunity

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 253
pass. Mr. Judson himself wrote a petition which she
bore boldly to the great general. He received her very
politely, heard the petition read by a royal secretary,
and after inquiring several things of her in regard to
the prisoners, he replied that he would consider the
subject and invited her te come again. She was over
joyed at their prospect of success, and hastened to bear
the news of her reception to Mr. Judson. Both now
considered that the time of release was near at hand ;
but the governor was amazed at the indiscretion of his
prisoner and his wife, and said he feared it would cause
their death which he would be powerless to prevent.
After a day or two Mrs. Judson returned to the
pavilion of the general with a valuable present. Ban
doola was not at home ; but his wife, after receiving
the present, reported that he was very busily employed
in his preparations for the war, and had said when he
should have regained Rangoon, and expelled the Eng
lish, he would return and release all the prisoners.
That destroyed every hope of release before the ter
mination of the war, and all that could now be done
would be to make the prisoners as comfortable as the
jailers would allow.
Through the influence of this untiring woman, the
prisoners wore allowed to como out into the open air
and hobble about the yard as best they could with their
fettered feet, and rest, at times, under an open shed,
but always attended by a keeper. By the help of Moung
Ing, Mrs. Judson erected a little bamboo room in the
yard and obtained permission from the governor to let
Mr. Judson stay in there where she could minister to
him. Hitherto they had been allowed to speak only in

254 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
*
Burman, but as soon as this restraint was removed,
Mr. Judson inquired for the manuscript copy of the
New Testament which had cost him so much labor. It
was found safely hid away at home, where it had been
concealed from the officers, and fearing it might be
injured by mold or destroyed, they sewed it up in a
pillow and kept it in the little room.
By making presents to the jailers Mrs. Judson often
obtained the privilege of coming to the little room and
spending two or three hours a day with her husband.
This was an inexpressible joy to them, and they enjoyed
each other's society more than did the king and queen
in the golden palace, harassed by defeats in war. On
these occasions Mrs. Judson left the house and.
teaching of the little girls to Moung Ing, who showed
great attachment for them.

CHAPTER V.
" Ere last year's moon had left the sky,
A birdling sought my Indian nest
And folded, Oh so lovingly I
Her tiny wings upon my breast." — Mrs. Emily C. Judson.
There came a time when the angel visits to the palace
ceased. For twenty days the governor sat in solitude
because his fair entertainer was absent. The government
for once, had a respite from daily appeals in behalf of
condemned foreigners. The jailers now received no
more presents, and, as a consequence, comforts were
withdrawn, and the prisoners more frequently coe fined
within the prison. Moung Ing came every day with
food and reported the condition of his mistress.
Mr. Judson, during this time, suffered mental agony
and suspense, with which his former bodily tortures
could not compare. A crisis was approaching, at the
very thought of which every Christian mother's heart
must bleed in sympathy for the lone young wife in that
savage country. Assisted only by a Portuguese nurse,
she passed through the terrible trial and all was well.
On the morning of the twentieth day after her con
finement, the prison door was opened, and the anxious
father summoned from his gloomy corner to meet his
loved ones. There in the door-way stood, what was te
him, the loveliest scene of his life. His faithful Ann,
clad in the rich dress, the present of the governor's
wife. " Her dark curls carefully straightened, drawn
(255)

256 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
back from her forehead,, and a fragrant cocoa blossom
drooping like a white plume from the knot upon the
crown ; her saffron vest thrown open to disclose the
folds of crimson beneath; and a rich, silken skirt,
wrapped closely about her fine figure, parting at the
ankle and sloping back upon the floor.
Behold her standing in the door-way (for she was never
permitted to enter the prison), her little blue-eyed
blossom wailing, as it almost always did, upon her
bosom, and the chained father crawling forth to the
meeting." His companions who were chained with him,
all shuffled simultaneously towards the door. The
trembling father took the tiny form into his arms and
gazed into the tearful blue eyes with such feelings as
can be rarely experienced by parents in a civilized land.
They called her Maria, a child of sorrow, and so her
life proved how appropriate was the name. Born in
sorrow she never knew a well day, and the mother's
love was only stronger for the poor little cr'eature that
always moaned even when asleep. The scene of the
meeting was so affecting that even the Thief burst into
tears, and the Tiger, to stifle the faint feeling of tender
ness welling up in his own savage bosom, rattled on
the door, and ordered them to part, and the door was
3hut. " Go, darling infant, go ;
Thine hour has passed away j
The jailers' harsh, discordant voice
Forbids thy longer stay.
" God grant that we may meet
In happier times than this,
And with thine angel mother dear
Enjoy domestic bliss."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 257
v
A vision of the " white mamma " again in the prison-
yard once more stimulated the jailers to a hope of
reward, and they allowed the prisoners to come out into
the prison enclosure, as formerly, and Mr. Judson to
rest in his little bamboo room, visited as often as pos
sible by his ever-busy wife, who now must care both for
him and the child.
Mahree, though scarcely more than a child at her
adoption, had grown wonderfully during the seven
months since then, and gladly assumed the office of
nurse. Moung Ing, with almost a father's care, over
looked the affairs of the little family, filling Mr. Judson's
position as near as it was possible for any ono to fill
it. His devotion to the winning, black-eyed lass,
Mahree, and to the puny babe, was something remark
able. He also taught Mahree and Abbe in the absence
of Mrs. Judson, and made himself an indispensable
member of the family.
It was only for a short time that affairs were permit
ted to remain thus bright and hopeful. A royal mes
senger suddenly arrived in great haste, and announced
in the palace the total defeat of Bandoola and the
destruction of his magnificent army of invincibles.
The king was dumb with silent, stupefied amazement.
The queen smote on her breast and ran wildly about
the palace, crying, "Ama! Ama!" The invincible
Bandoola was * defeated. Who could take his place?
The English were proceeding steadily up the river,,
already as far as Prome, and the common people wore
whispering of rebellion if forced to raise another array
from their resources, for as yet not a rupee hnd ln.pn
taken from the royal treasury. All the spite was taken
17

258 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
out on the prisoners. They were seized in the yard.
and having their ankles enclosed in five pairs of fet
ters, were hurled again into the inner prison and the
bamboo passed between their legs, resting on one foot,
while the other foot, with its fifteen pounds of iron
added to the pole, almost crushed it into the ground.
The little bamboo room was torn down, and one of the
keepers carried the pillow and mattress to his own shed.
Herded thus together and bearing the additional fet
ters, the condition of the prisoners was now worse than
ever. Night came on. A whisper went around that
they were to b3 led out to execution in the morning.
The keepers outside the door sharpened their long,
flashing knives, and brandished them about to show
how gladly they would perform their task. But why
need the prisoners fear? Death was preferable to such
a life as this. Mr. Judson sat musing. He regretted
that he was not allowed to bid his wife and child fare
well. Death in itself would be desirable. His faith
ful companion would no longer be subject to care on
his account, but with her child, under the faithful care
of Moung Ing, she could escape to the approaching
British line and find safety. It would be better for her
and better for the child. Then he thought of the pil
low containing the precious manuscript, and wondered
if it would ever be found and rescued. The long night
dragged heavily by. The solemn hour of three drew
near, the hour when all executions took place, and
when they had seen so many of their fellow-prisoners
led out at the sound of the watch-gong. The prisoners
prayed, Mr. Judson leading, then all prayed sepa
rately. The hour was near. Not a breath could be
b^ard. Not a chain rattled.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 259
"Yoang! yoang! yoang!" three times sounded the
deep-voiced gong in the palace yard. They were all in
readiness, but not a keeper stirred. An hour passed,
and yet no sign. Could they have been deceived? A
faint glimmer through the cracks on the eastern side,
and they knew day was at hand, and they were
spared, at least till another night. The door opened
and the Tiger entered, cordially poking all whom he
passed and kicking those at his feet. He chuckled the
white prisoners under the chin, and in answer to their
questions replied :
" Oh, no ; I could not spare my children yet, just
after taking so much trouble to procure them fitting
ornaments." Here he gave the bamboo such a kick
that the chains rattled and the five pairs of fetters
crowded together, pinching the flesh between, till they
almost screamed with pain.
At this period a pakan-woon who had suffered the
disgrace of being thrown into prison by the king, now
offered his services to lead another army against the
British. His offer was accepted, and he was commis
sioned as general of the new troops collected. He was
a violent enemy of all foreigners, and it was to him
that the prisoners owed their return to torture.
As soon as Mrs. Judson heard of the confinement of
the prisoners and their additional fetters, she went at
once to the governor's house. He was away, but left
word if she came that she must not ask the removal of
the fetters nor the release of the prisoners, for it could
not be done. She went to the prison, but was refused
admittance. All was still as death within. Not a rat
tle of a chain disturbed the oppressive silence. She

260 CHILD OF THE GANGES.
could not rest without making one effort for their com
fort, and she determined to see the governor and at
least learn the cause of the new torture. So she
returned to the city that evening at an hour when she
knew he was always thete. He was sitting alone in
the audience chamber, and received her in silence, his
~face showing a feeling of shame mixed with affected
anger at the intrusion. She began without ceremony :
" Your lordship has hitherto treated us with the kind
ness of a father. Our obligations to you are very great.
We have looked to you for protection from oppression
and cruelty. You have in many instances mitigated
the sufferings of those unfortunate, though innocent,
beings committed to your charge. You have promised
me particularly that you would stand by me till the last,
and though you should receive an order from the king,
you would not put Mr. Judson to death. What crime
has he committed to deserve such additional punish
ment?" The expression of his face when she entered, changed
as she began to plead, and he showed the true feeling
of his heart for her and her suffering. Covering his
face with his hands, he wept like a child.
" I pity you, Tsa-yah-ga-dau," he said. " I knew you
would make me feel ; I therefore forbade your applica
tion. But you must believe me when I say I do not
wish to increase the sufferings of the prisoners. When
I am ordered to execute them, the least I can do is to
put them out of sight. I will now tell you what I have
never told you before — that three times I have received
intimations from the queen's brother to assassinate all
the white prisoners privately ; but I would not do it.

THE! CHILD OP THE GANGES. 261
And I now repeat it, though I execute all others I will
never execute your husband. But I cannot release
him from his present confinement, and you must not
ask it."
She now understood the old man better than ever and
placed more confidence in his promises. But she must
depend upon herself and Moung Ing to make the pris
oners as comfortable as possible.
Mah Po, though the rich lady of a court minister,
often traversed the two miles of dusty road to the mis-
sion-hcuse, carrying provisions and helping Mahree to
care for the feeble babe while its mother sped away to
the prison.
A month's confinement in his densely heated and
loathsome r.partment, threw Mr. Judson into a raging
fever, from which, death, in such a place, was inevitable.
Sometime before, a new prisoner had appeared in the
enclosure in the form of a lion in his cage. The lion
had been a favorite pet of the king, but some of the
refugees from the destroyed armies reported that the
British displayed a lion on^ their standard, and they
were sure that the success of the foreigners was due to
the lion in the palace, which they thought beguiled the
king's heart. It was therefore sent to the death-prison
as condemned to die, yet the king commanded that he
should not be executed without his orders. The queen's
brother, who did most of the mischief connected with
the prison, loft orders that the beast should not be fed —
which would insure his death, even without the king's
order. So, day after day, the huge creature stood in
his narrow house, roaring horribly, or madly dashing
himself against the bars. It was even a worse sight

262 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
than the death of the poor Kathayan to see the royal
monster pining away, the tawny skin hanging from his
gaunt sides, and his mad eyes glaring in their sunken
sockets. At length, however, his majestic strength
succumbed to the ravages df hunger, and he was car
ried out, a sack of dry bones, to be thrown into the
gutter, there to await the inquest of the government
officers. Mr. Judson thought the vacant cage would
make an airy couch for him in his illness, and, through
the earnest pleading of his wife, the governor allowed
him to be removed there. Even this change, however,
did not have its desired effect, and it seemed that he
must die.
Mrs. Judson brought Moung Ing with her to the city,
and they erected a little bamboo room in the governor's
yard opposite the prison gate. She now importuned
the governor to let her bring Mr. Judson into the little
room, where she could stay with him and nurse him
through his sickness. He refused, saying it was impos
sible. Nothing daunted, she renewed the request so inces
santly, day by day, that his patience was exhausted
and he gave her the desired permission, with a written
order to the jailers to allow her to pass freely in and
out of the gates. She was now happy. With the
assistance of Moung Ing, she brought the sick man out
of the cage and placed him in the little room, which
was to him a palace, in contrast to the filth of his
former abode. The medicine chest was now brought,
and Mrs. Judson, having sent for Mahree and the
child, took her station by the sick-bed, while Moung
Ing took charge of affairs at home and brought their
daily provisions.

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 263
One morning, two or three days after their removal
into the little room, Mrs. Judson came in with her hus
band's breakfast ; but he was so ill from the effects of
the fever that he could not eat. She sat down by the
mattress to soothe him as much as possible by bathing
his burning brow and speaking gently to him. Mah
ree had been sent home with the child, in company
with Moung Ing, who brought their breakfast — so they
were entirely alone.
Suddenly a messenger came rushing in, in great haste.
" Tsa-yah-ga-dau ! " he cried. " The governor wishes
to see you immediately."
Much wondering what could be the cause of this
hasty summons, and suspecting that something fearful
was about to happen, she arose quickly, and telling Mr.
Judson that she would return as soon as she found
what the governor wanted, she departed with the mes
senger. The old man was in an unusually pleasant mood and
soon put her fears to flight. He' wished to consult her
about his watch — an uncommon novelty in Burmah.
He drew her out on the various beauties of its design
and the wonderful workings of its wheels, holding her
in pleasant conversation for half an hour. At length
she excused herself, saying that Mr. Judson was very
unwell — not able to eat his food — and she must return
to give him his medicine. Passing out the door, she
was met by a servant with a ghastly face, who informed
her that the white prisoners were carried away, he knew
not whither. The news so stunned her that she could
not believe it. Returning to the governor, she inquired
if it was true. He replied that he had just heard it

264 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
through the same messenger, but did not know what
had become of them. She then ran hastily into the
street to see if she could see them, before they got out
of sight ; but she saw nothing of them. She then ran
from street to street, inquiring of all she met; but
no one would give her an answer. Crossing another
street, she found Mah Po, who seemed also excited, and
who informed her that the prisoners had been taken
toward the little river, and that they were to be carried to
Amarapura, the former capital, six miles away. She
then ran to the little river ; but seeing no sign of them,
concluded that the kindly old woman had deceived hor,
and that something worse had happened; but some
friends of the foreigners whom she had sent to the place
of execution returned and said they were not there, so
she returned to the governor to try and find the cause of
their removal and what was intended by it. The old
man told her that he had had no intimation of the in
tention of the government to remove them till that
morning, and that he had only learned since she went
out that they were to be carried to Amarapura. "But
for what purpose," he said, " I know not. I will send
off a man immediately to see what is to be done with
them. You can do nothing for your husband ; take care
of yourself." The Pakan-woon had instituted great
cruelties in the city and the governor advised her not
to go on the streot alone. But he knew not yet the in
domitable spirit of the woman.
She had built in addition to Mr. Judson's room, a
little apartment for herself, Mahree and the child, in
the governor's enclosure. Going out from the audience
chamber, she sank down in her rocking chair that Moung

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 265
Ing had just brought from home. For awhile she was
almost in despair. It seemed that her heroic nature
was, for once, conquered. The prison gate, where she
had so often knocked for admission, was standing open,
but no one was within that she wished to see. Life
now had for her no object. For seven months she had
contrived day and night, how to make her husband com
fortable. She had daily trod the streets, from door to
door of the members of government, pleading for the
release of the prisoners. When they had been thrown
the last time into the inner prison, and even Moung Ing
denied admission with food, she had come, and waiting
patiently without till night, when the earth-oil lamp was
lighted and then obtained permission to bear in the long
delayed repast. Night after night, for months, had she
been thus forced to wait, and then go home alone at nine
o'clock in the night when the fierce jackal prowled by
the way-side and more savage men thronged the streets.
The long two miles were unheeded, the dangers were
not thought of ; only how could she best contrive for
the comfort of tho prisoners. Now they were gone ;
what could she do? Mr. Judson was sick in bed, and
unable to eat. Could it be possible that the inhuman
wretches had driven him away in that condition? The
thought was maddening. Springing up she went to the
governor and told him that she was going to Amarapura
in search of her husband. He was shocked at the very
thought of such a thing. What, a female encounter
such a journey in such weather! It was impossible.
She could not live through it. Then the country
was filled with robbers, the result of the war.
She should not think of such a thing^ But she replied

266 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
undaunted, that her place was by her sick husband and
she would go to him, let come what would. Seeing her
determination, he begged her to wait till night, a more
pleasant season for traveling, when he would send a man
with her to open the gates. But she refused to wait.
Mr. Judson might die during that time. Returning to
her house out of town she had Moung Ing and a servant
to carry two or three trunks of the most valuable arti
cles to deposit with the medicine chest in the care of
the governor. She then committed the house and
premises to Moung Ing. He insisted ongoing with her,
but she said she would take the Bengalee cook who
could serve her as well there, but who could not be en
trusted with the house. Thinking that perhaps by
being close by he could use his influence with the gov
ernor to better advantage, he consented to remain. She
then took the cook, Abbe, Mahree and the child, and
procuring a boat, set out through the burning sun to
ward Amarapura.
Mahree, with her daily care of little Maria, and
watching her "white mamma" in these unselfish labors
of love, began to have some conception of life with its
awful responsibilities, and resolved to emulate the ex
ample of her teacher, and follow her path to a noble
womanhood. Mrs. Judson was thinking of her sick hus
band driven in chains over the burning sands; the
child was sleeping in her arms ; Abbe was thinking
over the mysteries of the alphabet ; the cook looked on
in compassion ; and thus they toiled on to the "Never-
to-be-forgotten place."

CHAPTER VI.
" How oft would I have shunned thy scorching ray,
When with my bleeding feet I trod the way—
A captive's lot, whose pangs no tongue can tell ! "
— The Dying Missionary, by EM. N. Barrett.
As soon as Mrs. Judson had gone from the little room
to answer the governor's call, a band of men rushed
into the prison-yard and began to bind the white pris
oners, two and two. One of the jailers ran hastily into
Mr. Judson's room, and seizing him by the arm, jerked
him roughly from his couch, sick as he was; then
stripping him of his clothing, all except shirt and
pants, drove him forth bare-headed and bare-footed into
the prison-yard where the others were waiting. He was
now tied to one of these, and a slave holding the rope
that connected each couple, they were driven out on
the shimmering plain, the lamine-woon riding alongside
on his horse. It was now May, the Tropical Summer.
Since June of the year before, they had been confined
to the darkness of the death-prison or protected by the
shade of the open sheds. Consequently their skin was
tender. On their first touching the plain the heat
almost withered them. Not a tree was to be seen, only
the far-stretching waste of shining gravel. The sun
was almost to the zenith, shining perpendicularly on
their bare heads. Their necks, faces and hands were
soon blistered red, and burning painfully. The sand
and gravel were so hot that every step caused them to
shrink and hesitate to take another except when
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268 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
prompted by the continual goading of their drivers.
Mr. Judson, having taken no food that day, and burn
ing with fever besides, was scarcely able to stand, much
less to undertake such a journey on foot. By the time
they reached the little river, only a half mile distant,
the soles of his feet were solid blisters, and he longed
to throw himself into the water and endhis miseries,
only the sin of such an act preventing. When they
had proceeded four or five miles the skin was entirely
gone from their feet, and the flesh was horribly lacera
ted by the sharp gravels on which they left their bloody
tracks gleaming behind them and almost hissing with
the heat. Mr. Judson here begged the lamine-woon to
let him ride his horse a mile or two, as he was com
pletely exhausted. That dignitary's only reply was a
scornful, withering look, such as he would have be
stowed upon a dog. He then asked Captain Laird, his
fellow-prisoner, to let him rest one hand on his shoulder,
as he was sinking fast. The Captain, who was a robust,
healthy man, readily granted the request for a mile or
two, but his own feet were worn out, and he was unable
to assist him any further. Mr. Gouger's Bengalee ser
vant overtook the party at this point, and seeing Mr.
Judson's distress, tore off his own head-dress, and giv
ing half to his master and half to Mr. Judson, wrapped
it instantly about his feet, then offered him his own
shoulder to support him the remaining part of the jour
ney. Had it not been for the prompt interference of this
humane heathen he must have perished by the way-side.
The Greek who had been confined at the same time was
taken out of prison that morning strong and vigorous,
but being of corpulent frame his strength gave way, and

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 269
he fell almost dead. The arivers beat him and aragged
him through the sand till they were weary themselves,
then procuring a cart, hauled him the remaining, two
miles to the court-house of Amarapura. He was help
less and breathing very heavily when taken from the
cart and laid on the ground ; arid in about two hours
expired in great agony.
Reaching the court-house the prisoners could stand
no longer, and sank on the ground completely exhausted.
Leaving them in charge of their drivers, the lamine-
woon went before the magistrates to see what was to be
done with them. He received the intelligence that the
Pakan-woon had ordered them conveyed on to Oung-
pen-la, four miles farther, there to be confined in a
dilapidated prison and burned alive at his order. The
lamine-woon then went out, intending to proceed with
them to Oung-pen-la that night, but finding the Greek
already dead and the others unable to move, he decided
to let them remain till morning rather than exert his
slaves in trying to drag them. They were allowed to
crawl under an old shed and lie during the night, with
out any covering or accommodation of any kind. The
lamine-woon's wife, prompted by curiosity to see the
white men, visited the . shed, and her compassion was
so excited that she brought them some fruit, sugar and
tamarinds for their refreshment. Weary and hungry
as they were, never had repast been so like a banquet
to them.
In the morning, as they were still unable to walk,
carts were provided and they were conveyed by that
means to their destination. Hitherto they had been
totally ignorant of their future fate, but when they

270 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
arrived and saw the ruined prison without cover to
shield them from the sun, there was no longer any doubt,
and they began preparing themselves for a living cre
mation ; and not until they saw slaves mount to the
roof and begin repairing it with leaves, did they think
any respite would be granted them. They were lying
under the shadow of the crumbling walls without,
almost dead. Mr. Judson's fever, now raging more
fiercely, and added to the excessive temperature, with
the fatigue and violent headache resulting from the
motion of the cart, was a torture from which death by
fire would have been a desired relief. He lay there
thinking of Ann. What would she think when she
returned from the governor's room and found him gone?
a scene from which he now saw the old man sought to
spare her the sight. What would she do? Follow? He
hoped she would not. Lying thus, verging on delirium,
almost unconscious of his surroundings, his eyes dim
with dust and fever, he saw, as in a dream, a distant
vision on the plain ; almost immovable ; yet the radia
tion of the sand caused it to show a quivering motion.
It was seemingly without form, like a phantom. Could
it be that he had already lost his reason and this was
some myth of his disordered brain, or was it a mirage?
Neither. Still nearer it approached, its motion now
being perceptible. It dissolved itself into two forms ;
a yoke of buffaloes, their heads almost on the ground.
Then another form, a native driver walking beside, and
goading them with an iron-pointed bamboo. Now the
motion and bulk of a cart in the rear. Its wheels,
made simply of round boards with holes through them,
in which the axle was thrust, without any hub what-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 271
ever, were allowed to flap from a sudden incline to a
brief perpendicular and then a more sudden incline in
the opposite direction, causing the vehicle to careen
from side to side of the road like a ship in the trough
of the sea. Now the screaking of the wheels could be
heard, and several occupants indistinctly seen as they
clutched the sides to save themselves from being thrown
out. In front of the prison the mysterious carriage
halted. A man descended from the rear end. It was
his Bengalee cook. The sick man started from his
death-like stupor as if he first credited the reality of
the vision. Then out came Mahree and Abbe ; then —
could it be true? — his own faithful Ann, her babe on
her bosom. Rushing to him she knelt at his side
"Oh, why did you come?" he said reproachfully,
though feebly. " I so hoped you would not. You can
not live here."
Kissing him and brushing the dust from his face
with her apron, she replied :
"And where should I be but at my husband's side?
Could I stay behind and know that you were here suf
fering, perhaps dying, and no one to minister to you?
If I cannot live here, I can die here, and that with
better satisfaction than I could live away from my
beloved. But we cannot remain here ; I will see the
jailer." Placing the child in the arms of Mahree, she boldly
approached that savage-looking personage, who was
standing aside giving orders to the men on the roof.
Association with such men had long since deprived her
of. fear. She began as if talking to the governor of the
north gate, by inquiring if she might erect a little bam-

272 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
boo house for herself and child, in order to care for her
sick husband.
" No," he replied gruffly, " it is not customary."
" Then," she said, " will you not please procure for
me shelter for the night, when on the morrow I can find
a place to live in?"
He looked at her then for the first time. Her beau
tiful face and pleading manner seemed to melt him, for
he conducted her to his own house, two or three hun
dred yards away. It contained only two rooms, one of
which was occupied by his own family, the other, half
full of rice-straw, dust, and vermin. He pointed to
this, then went back to superintend affairs at the
prison. Here she brought the children, and spread a
mat on the paddy which was to be their bed for the
next six months. She now made some tea for herself
and the prisoners, which was all that could be obtained
that night, and after they were locked up in the rickety
old building, she returned to the little grain-room to
try to rest.
This was to the prisoners the most horrible night of
their experience. They were so stiff in every limb that
they could scarcely turn, and their feet, without a par
ticle of skin on the soles, of course rendered standing
impossible. At dark they were sent to bed in the
familiar couch, the stocks. Lying flat on their backs
they now tried to obtain a little sleep. Suddenly they
became conscious of a slow motion about their feet.
The keepers were all in a shed without ; what could it
mean? The stocks were certainly rising slowly and
majestically towards the roof. Reaching the height at
which they were so accustomed to see the bamboo at

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 273
the Let-ma-yoon, it rested and left them suspended as
if it was thought they could sleep only in that position
on account of their former custom. The stocks were
not so bad, but it was what followed. The mischievous
rogues had raised the wonderful contrivance by means
of a crank on the outside, and could be heard enjoying
the fun due to their mechanical skill. Now the mos
quitoes swarmed in from the stagnant waters of the
rice-fields and settled in great hordes on their sus
pended feet. They tried in vain to reach up to drive
them off, but were forced to lie there and feel the hun
dreds of voracious bills thrust deep into their raw and
bleeding soles. Squirming and beating the air, they
could stand the torture no longer, and cried loudly for
pity from the guard without. The good-natured fellows
enjoyed the yells for awhile, then kindly lowered the
stocks, about midnight, within a foot or two of the
ground, where the enemy could be more successfully
encountered. Such are the sufferings of those who would preach
the gospel in a heathen land.

18

CHAPTER VII.
"Henceforth, then,
It matters not if storms or sunshine be
My earthly lot— bitter or sweet my cup ;
I only pray—' God fit me for the work,
God make me holy, and my spirit nerve
For the stem hour of strife.' "

— Bex. N. Brown.

On the next morning, rising from her couch of straw
at the first appearance of day, and leaving the weary
children still asleep, Mrs. Judson went into the village
in search of food to prepare for the breakfast of the
prisoners, knowing that they had been without food
most of the day before. But there being no market,
she almost despaired of procuring anything nearer
than Amarapura. She found, however, that Dr. Price's
servant had brought some cold rice and curry, and some
one else a cup of tea, from which she managed to pre
pare a meal, depending for dinner on some dried fish
brought by Mr. Gouger's servant. This gave her time
to send to Amarapura for other provisions. The pri
soners, on account of the lacerated condition of their
feet, were unable to move for several days. Mr. Jud
son's fever was, of course, much increased by the jour
ney, and it would require the closest attention from his
faithful nurse to preserve his life. She now thought
of trusting little Maria solely to the care of Mahree,
and giving her attention to her husband.
After carrying the food to the prison she returned to
her lodging to see after the children and arrange the little
(274)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 275
room to be as comfortable as possible. Maria, who had
never known a well day since her sorrowful birth, was
crying pitifully as she entered. Abbe was sitting
beside her on the mat endeavoring to quiet her, and
poor Mahree, on her couch of straw in the corner, was
tossing to and fro in feverish agony. Going near to ascer
tain what ailed her, she found the child's body already
covered with the eruptions of that fearful disease, the
small-pox. Here, indeed, was a trial ; a child always
sick, and demanding a mother's care both night and
day; a helpless husband in chains, who had to be
ministered to every hour, and a case of the small-pox
in her own room. She had been vaccinated, so she did
not fear the disease for herself. With a needle she
inoculated the other two children. Abbe, as a conse
quence, escaped, but it did not take with Maria. No
physician was to be had. Dr. Price was in the stocks,
and could only advise in regard to inoculation and diet,
.as he had no medicine.
The care-worn mother could now be seen almost
hourly going to and fro from the hovel to the prison,
with her child in her arms, ministering to her two
patients. In a few days Maria was also seized with the
gmall-pox, and she was forced to leave her with Abbe
when going to the prison. The jailer, fearing his chil
dren would take the disease, brought them to be inocu
lated, and her fame soon spread so that almost every
Dne in the village, old or young, came to undergo the
operation ; all these things added to her already press
ing duties. By incessant watchings and skillful nur
sing, Mr. Judson's fever was conquered and he began
slowly to regain his health. The children were also

276 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
rescued from the usually fatal effect of their disorder,
and began to recover.
Their prospects now seemed brighter. The Pakan-
woon who had ordered the foreigners there, and who
intended to witness their sacrifice, was found guilty of
embezzling public money and executed without even a
trial. The jailer having no further order in regard to
the prisoners, kept them in confinement, though not so
closely as formerly, a shed being erected under which
they were allowed to rest during the day, but they were
shut up in the cell at night.
However, the lives of her dear ones were only spared
to Mrs. Judson through the sacrifice of her own health.
Incessant watching for four months had sapped her
constitution to such an extent that she was completely
prostrated just as the others began to revive. A dis
order, peculiar to the country, and nearly always fatal,
seized upon her, when she and the whole family must
have perished had it not been for the faithfulness of
the Bengalee cook, who forgot his caste and served them
devotedly, even without pay. Mrs. Judson knew she
could not long survive in that condition without medi
cine and more wholesome food ; so procuring a cart she
set out for Ava to obtain the medicine-chest from the
governor. Reaching the city, she had such a violent
attack that she expected to live only a few hours, and
her only anxiety was to get back to the prison to die by
her husband and child. After some difficulty, having
obtained the medicine-chest, she managed to get at the
laudanum, and by taking two or three drops every hour
she gained strength to crawl on board a boat, being too
weak to stand. She could only go within four miles of

377

278 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
her destination in the boat, the remaining distance to
be traveled in that painful conveyance, a cart. It was
during the rainy season, when the whole sandy plain
was a lake of soft mud. The laboring oxen crept along
at a snail's pace, floundering in the mud up to their
sides. Sometimes the wheels would rise within two or
three inches of the surface of the ground and waddle
along on firm ground for a few yards, then suddenly drop
almost from sight, the body of the cart striking the mud
with a splash, and dragging behind the team after the
manner of a canal boat, the sick occupant feeling that
almost every moment would end her misery before even
seeing husband and child.
The kind-hearted cook came out to assist her from
tho cart as it drew up before the jailer's door. But
instead of the buoyant figure leaping to the ground and
rushing to meet her husband, as on a former occasion,
he saw a haggard, emaciated form, struggling to raise
herself from the bare floor of the cart where she had
been compelled to lie the whole of the way from the
river. He assisted her gently to reach the door, when
she crawled feebly to the mat on the straw, and fell
completely exhausted. For the next two months she
lay thus, lingering between life and death. In her
moments of painful consciousness she forgot her own
afflictions and only seemed to regret that she was unable
to minister to her husband and children as before.
Mahree, though convalescent, was not yet able to resume
the care of Maria, who was now the greatest sufferer of
all. Throughout the long nights the child would cry
pitifully for that nourishment which the mother's
breasts could no longer afford. The jailer, weary with

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 279
her cries, at length allowed Mr. Judson to come out of
the prison, his feet still tender from former wounds and
bound with shackles, and hobble about the village with
the child in his arms, begging nourishment for her
from those mothers who had young children. The cook
did all in his power to serve them. Often he went
without food himself for a whole day, in his efforts to
provide something palatable for his sick mistress and
fettered master.
But afflictions do not last always. Just as Mrs.
Judson began to recover, good news was heard from
down the river. The English had destroyed every army
that had been sent against them, and having captured
city after city, were marching steadily towards the cap
ital. The king, finding his name no longer so terrify
ing, now began to sue for peace, which was granted
only on condition that all white prisoners should be
released. One morning joyful Moung Ing appeared at the prison
and announced a message from the governor of the
north gate that an order had come from the palace for
their release. The order arrived in an official form
that evening, and they began preparations for returning
to Ava. The avaricious jailers sought to retain Mrs.
Judson, insisting that her name was not included in
the order, and that she should not go. But by threats
and promises, and consenting to leave the remainder of
the provisions last procured from Ava, she was reluc
tantly allowed to depart. Mr. Judson was carried to
the court-house at Ava to act as interpreter. The rest
of the family, under the charge of Moung Ing, returned
to their own house out of town, Here it was found that

280 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
he had managed affairs almost as well as if Mr. Judson
had been there, and what was most gratifying of all, he
had rescued the manuscript copy of the New Testa
ment. On the morning when the prisoners had been
sent to Oung-pen-la, he went to the jail-yard and found
where Mr. Judson's pillow had been torn open and the
roll of cotton carelessly thrown away. He picked it up
and carried it back to the house as a relic, ignorant of
its valuable contents.
The next day Mr. Judson received twenty ticals from
the government, with instructions to proceed down the
river to the Burmese camp at Maloun, there to act as
interpreter for the English embassadors. The governor
gave him permission to stop at home a few moments, as
it was on his way, and let Mrs. Judson provide his cloth
ing and food for the trip. All fear and anxiety was
•jow removed, and they hoped soon to see peace in the
country. Mrs. Judson's health, which had not been fully
restored before leaving Oung-pen-la, now began to
decline, and in a few days she was attacked with the
spotted fever. Knowing the nature of the disease, and
her own shattered constitution, she had no hope of
recovery, and her greatest anxiety was for Maria who
would be left till her father's return. But God never
forgets his people. The day she was taken sick a Bur
mese nurse appeared and offered her services, which
were thankfully received. The woman would give no
name, simply saying that she had heard of the teach
er's illness and had come from afar to see her, and that
she was a Christian. In a few days the fever had
assumed a violent form, and it seemed that it would be

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 281
impossible to arrest the disease. Dr. Price, on his
release from prison, heard of her illness and hastened
to see her. He said her condition was the most dis
tressing he had ever seen, and he did not think it pos
sible for her to live many hours. He ordered her head
shaved and her feet covered with blisters, instructing
the nurse to endeavor to persuade her to take some
nourishment, which she had refused, to do for two or
three days. She became unconscious, and the Burmese
neighbors came in to see her die. She fell into a deep
stupor and they whispered, " She is dead ; and if the
King of Angels should come he could not recover her."
Finally the crisis was passed and she opened her eyes,
bright with the light of reason, for the first time in
many days. The first thing she saw was the faithful
nurse bending over her entreating her to take a little
wine and water. She drank the stimulant and then lay
listlessly gazing into the nurse's face. At length she
asked abruptly, " Nurse, who are you?"
" A friend to you, teacher," she replied evasively.
" But your name? "
" Pray, teacher, do not ask me to tell that, it would
endanger both our lives while in the Golden City. I
will tell you all when the proper time comes."
"Have I not seen you before? "
" Once."
"Where?"
" In Bengal. "
"In Bengal?"
" Yes, teacher ; but you must not talk any more now.
Dr. Price told me to keep you quiet. I will go see after
the child and let you sleep."

282 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
In a day or two she so far revived as to become more
sensible to her surroundings. A servant came one
night and said Mr. Judson had returned and they had
carried him on by, to the court-house. She sent him in
town to watch and see where they carried him. He
returned next morning with the intelligence that he
saw his master conducted from the court-house towards
one of the prisons, and it was reported that he was to
be sent back to Oung-pen-la. The simple mention of
that horrid place, in her present weak condition, was
almost a death-blow. Mr. Judson sent back to Oung-
pen-la, and she not able to follow him ! What must
be the consequences? She lay for some time completely
stunned by the shock, then having regained sufficient
composure, she sent for Moung Ing and told him the
circumstance, begging him to go in search of Mr. Jud
son and to plead with the governor to use his influence
once more in their behalf, as she was unable to go.
Moung Ing promised to find him if possible and bring
him back home.
Mr. Judson, on his way to Maloun, had been exposed
to the damp nights, and the heavy atmosphere of the
river, which threw him into a fever equally as severe
as the one endured in prison, and which came near
ending his life. Reaching the camp he lay in a damp
tent for several weeks, and explained the papers that
Were brought him until he became unconscious and
insane from his sufferings. When he came to himself
he was lying in a room on a mat suspended from the
rafters. Suddenly, without a minute's warning, he was
placed in a boat and sent back to Ava with the com
munication to government : " We have no further use

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 283
for Yoodthan ; we therefore return him to the Golden
City." He arrived in the night and the guards con
ducted him past his own door to the court-house. A
feeble light was burning within, and he begged the
guards to let him go in for a moment and see if all
were alive. They refused. He pleaded, threatened and
tried to bribe them, all to no purpose. They showed
some regard to his feelings, however, and said they had
been ordered to take him immediately to the court
house, and dared not disobey lest their own lives should
be forfeited. There was no one at the court-house who
was acquainted with him, and the presiding officer
having read the communication, and not knowing what
to do with him, asked the attendants from what place
he had been sent to Maloun.
" From Oung-pen-la," they replied,
" Then let him return thither," said the officer. He
was then hurried away to an obscure shed to await con
veyance to Oung-pen-la Next morning Mrs. Judson
had sent a servant in search of him with food but he
could not be found. After looking for him all day,
Moung Ing approached the shed near night, and, to his
joy, saw the object of his search crouching in a corner.
After their greetings were over, Mr. Judson's first
inquiry was :
"How are my wife and child? "
" The child is as well as she usually is," answered
the Burman evasively, " and your wife is very anxious
about you, bidding me make application to the governor
once more for your release."
" Just like her," said Mr. Judson, " always thinking
of me first, no matter what her own troubles may be,

284 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
But go quickly, Moung Ing, go quickly to the governor
and state our case plainly before him. He has always
befriended us and will not refuse to do so now. Tell
the Tsayah-ga-dau to have courage one day longer. Go
now to the governor."
Left alone, he began to ponder with himself.
"Did he not evade my question in regard to my wife's
health? His expression was peculiar and he hesitated
to speak of her. He said the child was well, but he did
not say it was so with her. Can it be that she has been
suffering? "
Revolving such thoughts in his mind, doubting, hop
ing, fearing, he passed another night in the shed. Early
next morning the governor sent for him, and he found
that the kind old man had placed himself as security
for the prisoner and thus obtained his final release from
the government.
" And now," said the governor, when he had told him
of his freedom, " go to your wife, for I know you are
anxious to meet her. As soon as possible bring her to my
house where you both shall have a home as long as you
stay in the Golden City."
He forgot his maimed ankles and tender feet, as, with
a step fleeter than he had used for two years, he passed
through the streets to his own house. All was still.
The door was half ajar. Passing into the front room he
saw the Burmese nurse with his wan child in her arms.
Though with all a father's affection for the little one,
he was too anxious to know the fate of her mother to
stop and caress her. Entering the next room a wretched
sight met his gaze. Lying acoss the bed, as if she had
tried to arise and had fallen, lay the form of his wife,

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 285
but so altered and emaciated that he would have scarcely
recognized her elsewhere. The face that had once been
so fair and round, was haggard, pinched and white. The
glossy black curls that had so beautifully adorned her
shapely head were gone, and a closely-fitting cotton cap
took their place. His own bodily sufferings had been
light compared with the mental anguish he experienced
on seeing her thus. Bending sorrowfully down to kiss
her sleeping face, a tear-drop fell from his brimming
eyes upon her wasted cheek. It aroused her. She opened
her eyes and looked him joyfully in the face. He clasped
her in his arms, and there we leave them. A scene too
sacred for strangers to behold.

CHAPTER VIII.
" There's a blis3 beyond all that the minstrel has told,
When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie,
With heart never changing, and brow never cold,
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.
One hour of a passion so sacred is worth
Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss j
And, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth
It is this, it is this."

.—Moore.

The government had several times broken off the
negotiations pending between them and the enemy, but
at length, even the proud heart of the king was hum
bled by the near approach of the English, and he agreed
to their stipulations, surrendering all prisoners, and
ceding to England a considerable portion of his terri
tory, and promising to pay large sums of money besides.
The missionaries had rendered invaluable service in
the transactions of peace, and the king, sensible of their
service, invited them to remain at Ava as citizens. Dr.
Price accepted the invitation, but Mr. Judson, partly for
the sake of his family, and mainly because he thought
he could be more useful elsewhere, made arrangements to
depart, at the earliest convenience, for the English
camp. It was on a cool, moon-light, evening, when, with his
family, and property, in six or eight of his majesty's
golden boats, he launched upon the broad, placid bosom
of the Irrawaddy, and turned his back once more upon
the golden city. His wife was by his side, and little
(286)

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 287
Maria in his arms, while Moung Ing followed behind in
another boat with Mahree, Abbe, the Bengalee cook, and
the Burman nurse, who begged to stay with the teachers
always. A boat-ride by moon-light is pleasant under almost
any circumstances ; with your loved one by your side
it is peculiarly delightful ; but under present circum
stances, who can appreciate it ! There was to the mis
sionaries a delicious thrill of joy, such as can only be
experienced by those who have come up through great
tribulations. Only a delivered captive can properly
estimate the depth of the meaning of that simple word
— free. Free from the frown of the haughty king ; free
from the horrible scenes of the Let-ma-yoon ; free from
the oppressions of Oung-pen-la ; this night is the most
blissful of their life. Said Mr. Judson afterwards, " I
can never regret my twenty-one months of misery when
I recall that one delicious thrill. I think I have had a
better appreciation of what heaven may be ever since."
The reception of a white lady was an unusual occur
rence in an English camp, especially in that country
where they had never seen a white female. Mrs. Jud
son's fame had gone before her, and the English gen
eral, Sir Archibald Campbell, made extensive prepara
tions for her accommodation. He had a tent erected
for her, larger than his own, and with the agreeable
addition of a veranda ; and his own son was sent forth,
with an escort of staff officers^ to meet her. Both she and
her husband were greatly endeared to Sir Archibald for
his fatherly kindness, manifested in many instances
during their stay at the camp. Henry Havelock, a
young assistant-adjutant-general, whose famous career

288 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
as a soldier began with this war, and who shall after
wards figure prominently in our story, was one of the offi
cers who met and escorted the missionaries to the camp.
A few days after, General Campbell gave a magnifi
cent dinner to the Burmese commissioners who had
been sent down from the palace to complete negotiations
for peace. The whole camp was turned into a scene of
gorgeous display, with such a profusion of gold and crim
son, and floating banners as would put to shame even
the gaudy parades of the Great White Elephant on
gala days, in the golden city. A bountiful table was
spread in a broad pavilion erected for the occasion.
When the hour arrived for dinner the whole company
marched in couples to the music of a band, towards the
table, the general walking alone in front. Opposite the
tent with the veranda the whole procession halted, the
music suddenly ceased, and the general entered the
tent, re-appearing in a few moments with Mrs. Judson
on his arm, much to ^the discomfort of the conscience-
smitten commissioners, who realized that they were
now in her power if she should show herself at all vin
dictive. The general led Mrs. Judson to the table and
seated her at his own right hand, while the commis
sioners shrank into their seats abashed. They could
not have exhibited greater fear if suddenly called upon
to stand before the golden face. General Campbell
began to suspect the cause of their uneasiness which
afforded him great amusement.
" I fancy these gentlemen must be old acquaintances
of yours, Mrs. Judson," he remarked, "and, judging
from their appearance, you must have treated them
very ill."

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 289
Mrs. Judson simply smiled as she glanced at the ter
rified group, who, although unable to translate the
remark spoken in English, suspected that they were
the objects of it.
" What is the matter with yonder owner of the pointed
beard? " continued the general, " he seems to be seized
with an ague fit."
" I do not know," she said, fixing her eyes mischiev
ously on the trembler, " unless his memory may be too
busy. He is an old acquaintance of mine, and may
probably infer danger to himself from seeing me under
your protection."
"How so?"
" When Mr. Judson was in the death prison, sick with
fever, stifled with the loathsome air, and bound with five
pairs of fetters, I walked several miles to this gentleman's
house te ask a favor. I went soon in the morning,
but he held me waiting till noon before hearing my
request, and then roughly refused it. As I was turning
sorrowfully away, his avaricious eyes were attracted by
the silk umbrella which I carried, and he rudely
snatched it from my hands. I begged him to restore it,
pleading that I could not buy another as my money
was at home, and it would endanger my life to walk
through tho heat of noon without one, but he would
not listen. I then begged that he would at least give
mo a paper one instead, to protect mc from the scorch
ing heat. He laughed scornfully as he looked on my
wasted form. ' It is only stout people that are in dan-
of sunstroke,' he said, 'the sun could not find such as
you.' He then shut the door in my face and turned
me away to walk the long distance with no protection
except my bonnet."

290 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
The officers, who had been listening to this narrative
of brutality, could not restrain an outburst of indig
nation at such treatment. The poor Burman sat in his
seat, his features tortured with fear and great drops of
perspiration oozing from his deathly-pale face, while
his body trembled like an aspen. Mrs. Judson felt
nothing but pity for him, and remarked softly in Bur
man that he had nothing to fear. Sir Archibald now
turned the conversation, and tried in every way to render
his guests comfortable ; but their own consciences smote
them too heavily, and they were glad when an opportu
nity was presented for them to escape the presence of
those whom they had so shamefully treated.
The fortnight which the Judsons spent at the English
camp was the happiest period of their lives; but Mr.
Judson was anxious to once more resume his work, from
which he had lost so much time. After bidding a
reluctant farewell to the fatherly general and his cour
teous officers, they departed, and after a little more than
two years' absence landed again in Rangoon.
Before taking our final leave of the British camp, we
must not omit to notice one event, which was not the
least important incident of the occasion, at least to two
of the parties concerned.
During the two years that have passed since Mahree,
a shy, black-eyed lass, entered the home of Mrs. Jud-
Bon, she has rapidly developed into a full-grown young
lady. The small-pox, instead of retarding, by a lucky
turn, had advanced her growth ; nor had it left a sin
gle mark to disfigure her face, which was now as beau
tiful as that of the unfortunate princess of Kathay.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 291
Added to her physical charms was that modest Chris
tian disposition, imbibed from so long a contact with
the "white mamma," whom she considered a perfect
ideal of true womanhood. Her education had not been
neglected even in all their trials and sufferings ; while
her devotion to the feeble child and daily participation
in Mrs. Judson's heroic efforts for the comfort of the
prisoners rendered her peculiarly well qualified for the
scenes in which she should afterward engage.
Robert Stuart, one of General Campbell's staff offi
cers, and a companion of Havelock, became very much
enamored of the beautiful Burman maiden, and, con
scious of her rare accomplishments, resolved to win her
for his wife During the two weeks of her stay he
often sought her presence, as she sat alone under the
open veranda with the child in her arms. At first she
was rather shy of his presence, never before having
seen a young Englishman, especially a soldier. But as
he seemed to direct his attention mainly to the child,
and hinted no intimation of his intentions, she gradu
ally lost her reserve, and began to expect, then long for
his coming — feeling disappointed if he did not appear.
He gave her interesting accounts of life in England
and told racy stories of his college life with his chum,
the studious, noble-minded Havelock, and of their high
ambitions in going to India as soldiers. Then, at inter
vals, he drew from her the tragedies of Ava and Oung-
pen-la, with some of the mysteries connected with her
own origin.
It was not long till he could tell, from the glad light
that shone in her eyes whenever he approached, that
his love was in some measure reciprocated.

292 CHILD OF THE GANGES.
It was the evening before the Judsons were to return
to Rangoon that the two were sitting, as usual, before
the tent at twilight. The time was one when sentiment
is always the strongest. The moon was peeping shyly
through the thick boughs of the cypress and mango
trees that surrounded the camp ; lights were beginning
to glimmer in the tents along the shore, and to be
reflected from the steamer in the quiet waters below.
Crickets and katydids began their serenade, and from
one of the tents floated a soft Scottish air, the melody
of the Highlands.
The lovers sat in silence. Their conversation had
several times approached the subject nearest the heart
of each; but she, though not seemingly displeased,
had artfully managed to change the subject each time
before it reached a point, and he had not the cour
age to press it. Such a strange thing is love ! Even a
brave-hearted soldier, who could unflinchingly with
stand the terror of the Golden Face, is overcome in
the presence of a modest Burman girl. But knowing
this to be his last opportunity of meeting her, he made
a great effort to break the embarrassing silence, and
falteringly told her his feelings from the time he first
saw her, and how the passion had grown upon him till
he could no longer think of living without her. But
he was struck with astonishment and consternation
at the manner in which she received his confession.
Springing to her feet, she clasped the child in her
arms, exclaiming :
"Hush! You must not talk so; indeed you must
not." And before he could detain her, she rushed into
the tent to Mrs. Judson's apartment.

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 293
Much wondering at this unexpected freak, he sat for
some time, waiting to see if she would not return.
Then, in bitter disappointment, he strode away. He
went to his own tent, but he could not rest. Even the
music of the band gave him no relief. Coming out
again, he wandered for hours on the river bank in front
of the tents, kicking the turf into the water and mut
tering to himself, "What can the silly girl mean? She
certainly could not intend that for a flat refusal. I am
satisfied she loves me ; and yet she knows this is the
last opportunity. Perhaps she may reconsider and
come out again.'
So he lingered in front of the veranda till the lights
were extinguished and he knew all had retired. He
then entered his own tent, where he lay tossing rest
lessly till morning.
Ah ! young man, you need not have been surprised
at that singularity of feminine behavior. I expect
they all do that way, judging from what the novelists
say. Milton pictures Eve as running from Adam the
first time she saw him, though she loved him better
than life. It was not artfulness, but nature. That shy
girl had never mingled with belles of civilized society,
to learn coquetry. But it looks sweet, after all, does it
not ? There is a philosophy about it that even Plato
could not explain ; a feeling, even amid a man's disap
pointment, that she appeared better for the action, and
he is more fired with a reBolve to conquer or die.
Within a few days after the departure of the mis
sionaries, Havelock was ordered to Rangoon with his
detachment to hold that city till the Burmese govern
ment should pay the war debt. Sir Archibald, himself,

294 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
was to depart in a few days with the main army to
Bengal. Stuart begged to be allowed to remain with
his command in Rangoon for awhile, as he did not wish
to be separated from a part of his forces under Have
lock. There was a twinkle in the good-natured gen
eral's eyes as he suspected the true reason of the request,
but it was kindly granted, and the two officers were left
in charge of the city which guarded the entrance to all
Burmah.

CHAPTER IX.
Maiden ! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow lies
Like the dusk in evening skies I
Standing, with reluctant feet.
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet I

—Longfellow.

On his arrival at Rangoon Mr. Judson found the little
church of eighteen scattered in every direction by the
war. Moung Shwa-gnong had gone into the interior
and died with the cholera, and only four of the original
membership, including Moung Ing, could be found.
Messrs. Wade and Hough had narrowly escaped with
their lives, being already under the knife of the execu
tioner when rescued by the British. Their brave wives
disguised themselves, and joining them they proceeded
to Calcutta to await the issue of the war, and were now
ready to join Mr. Judson in whatever place he should
establish the mission.
The English government, recognizing the value of
Mr. Judson's services, offered him a salary equivalent
to three thousand dollars to act as interpreter for them ;
but he refused, as he had " no time to make money."
But as his services were to some extent indispensable,
he consented to accompany Mr. Crawford, the commis
sioner of the East India Company, on an expedition to
choose a suitable site for the capital of the ceded Bur-
man provinces, now British Burmah. He did not now
(295)

296 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
so much dread to leave his family alone, since they
would be under the protection of the English garrison.
So intrusting them to Moung Ing he sailed with the
commissioner. They selected a high, beautiful pro
montory at the mouth of the Salwen river. In honor of
the Governor-General, Mr. Crawford named the site
Amherst. Here it was proposed to found a city in
which a garrison should continually reside, an asylum
for those oppressed by Burman despotism, and a place
where no restrictions should interfere with religious
liberty. Mr. Judson at once concluded that this would
be the most suitable place for his mission, as Rangoon
would be again under the power of the Golden Face
when the English should vacate the city for this place.
Besides, the free government would draw a large popu
lation and render circumstances remarkably favorable
for missionary labor. His hopes of the future were
now brighter than ever before. Here he would bring
his wife and child, with the faithful disciples left at
Rangoon, and take possession of the new city in the
name of the Lord of Hosts.
.It was the evening after Mr. Judson's departure.
The three remaining disciples in the city had just been
at the missjon-house, and before they left Moung Ing
had gathered them in the room with the family
and himself conducted the evening worship; after
which they enjoyed a few moments of delightful con
versation concerning the goodness of God to his crea
tures, and the accompanying joy of trusting in him.
Mrs. Judson, whose recent sufferings so well qualified
her for an understanding of such things, led in the

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 297
conversation. It was a delightful hour. • The Burmese
nurse from Bengal also testified of the unbounded mercy
that had saved her and given her so much happiness.
Moung Ing saw her face aglow with light, and he cov
ered his face with his hands, not altogether because he
was affected by what she said, but because in her eye
he saw a gleam that recalled a tender recollection of
tho past — a memory which he had tried to forget. She,
too, had often started at some expression of his, but
neither could explain the mysterious sympathy that
existed between them.
Moung Ing, engaged in his duties generally in silence,
often had thoughts and feelings that no one would have
suspected in him. From the time when the two little
Burmese girls were brought to Mrs. Judson, he had
shown for them a fatherly devotion, especially for
Mahree, toward whom he felt strangely drawn. Though
having undergone hardships innumerable during the
past fifteen years or more, the old affections of earth
still clung to him, and his strong heart had in it a place
of sympathy for every one in. distress or deprived of
friends. One day, while alone with Mrs. Judson, he
astonished her by asking :
" Teacher, did you ever notice, or fancy, any resem
blance between Mahroe and your nurse? "
" Why, no, Moung Ing," she replied, " why do you
ask?" "I don't know what it is, teacher, but something
moves me strongly whenever I see them together. I
wish I knew her history."
" I have asked her for that repeatedly," said Mrs.
Judson, " but she refuses. She says I should recognize

298 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
her if I knew it, as I have once heard it, and she wishes
not to be known yet."
"Please ask her one question for me," he said.
"Whether she ever had a child? "
He then went about his duties, leaving her wondering
at his strange question. Presently the nurse came to
bring her some tea — this was while at Ava. After drink
ing the beverage, Mrs. Judson looked her in the face
and inquired :
"Nurse, did you once have a child like my little
Maria?" The poor creature's eyes filled with tears and she
trembled painfully as she said :
" 0, teacher, would you kill me by continuing to ask
about my past, so sad and dark? I did once have a
little daughter as lovely as the sun ever saw, but please
do not ask me more now. I will tell you all some
day." Twilight was slowly creeping over the land. The
little company had dispersed from the mission-house.
Moung Ing was overlooking the preparation of supper.
Mrs. Judson had just gone toward the clump of mango
trees, in the yard, with a pail of water with which to
sprinkle some flowers which she had lately planted
about little Roger's grave. Mahree was sitting on the
veranda, rocking back and forth, with the child in her
arms, and Binging a lullaby which the nurse had taught
her. Her own voice and the noise of the rockers on the
boards prevented her from hearing a quick, military
step approach the veranda. A hand was laid upon the
back of her chair, and looking up, she was startled to

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 299
see the tall, handsome form of Robert Stuart at her
side. " Ah I my bird, I have caught you at last," he said as
he clasped her hand and seated himself on a bench by
her side.
At first she showed some inclination to run away, but
the child was sleeping and he held to her hand. So
she quietly submitted to her fate, her eyes drooping
and her bosom heaving.
" Mahree 1 " he said passionately, "I want to know
why you treated me so cruelly the other night at the
camp. For mercy's sake, if you have any pity in your
soul, or any tenderness in your heart, do not again tor
ture me by such a rebuff. A plain refusal would not
havo been so painful as an act that thus held me in sus
pense. Do tell me candidly, the feelings of your heart
for me. Will you not? "
" Robert," she said softy, and a faint flush tinged her
brown cheek as she spoke his name with trembling lips.
His heart gave a great bound as she continued : " I
have not been insensible to your attentions. In fact, I
fear I did wrong by allowing you to go so far, but it
was really a pleasure to rae, though I knew nothing
could come of it, and hoped you would not think seri
ously of wedding a nameless heathen girl. I can only
justify myself in that I never thought you would declare
yourself, and that you would never see me again after
I left the English camp. But since you have shown
this earnestness in coming so far to see me, and have
asked me for a candid answer, I reply, I do love you,
but I wish, for the sake of both, it was not so. We can
never marry."

300 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
" Say not so, Mahree," he interrupted, " having ac
knowledged that you love me, nothing on earth shall
prevail to keep us apart. I will overcome every obsta
cle. Tell me one reason why you cannot marry me."
" The first and greatest," she said, " i3 that I intend
to be a missionary. Since I have been with my white
mamma I have been made to feel the importance of the
work, and her noble example has so influenced me that
I cannot sacrifice the Lord's work for my own pleasure.
She can love and labor, too, having her husband with
her. That I could not do, you being a soldier and en
gaged in an entirely different occupation. That is why
I regret we ever loved."
" I understand your excuse, Mahree, and I love you
better for it ; but when you know more fully my mission
in the Indian army you can no longer cling to that. It
is not for the glory of a soldier's fame that Havelock
and I entered the service We, too, are missionaries ;
and, though in somewhat a different sense from the
ministers, our influence is none the less felt, and will
go equally as far in disseminating the grand truths of
Christianity. With our troops, we are to be stationed
at various posts, there, by military authority, to restrain
lawlessness, and by Christian influence, to encourage
religion. Our regiments are composed of God-fear
ing men, and we gather them together every day for
prayers, and hold public worship in Havelock's tent
every Sunday. It is not necessary that we should go to
a zayat and teach, to be missionaries. While our work
is not aimed directly to the natives, it indirectly bears
upon them through the conduct of our orderly bands.
Could you not be a missionary in the camp, and aid me
in that enterprise, equally as important as any? "

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 301
" I confess," she replied, " that your words have caused
me to see things in a new light. My convictions stagger
between the prospects of the field I had in view and
the one you suggest. Perhaps you have chosen the best
way. I can't tell. It is so different from anything I
had ever dreamed of. I must have further time to con
sider. But, even then, another barrier arises which you
cannot surmount, nor I, as yet."
"What is it?"
" I will not wed while" there exists such a mystery in
connection with my origin. I am a nameless girl."
" I can remove that difficulty," he said.
"How?"
" By giving you my own name."
" No," she replied, " that does not remove it. I love
you too much to have it said in India that you have
married a pariah, a waif of the jungle. I shall never
marry till the mystery is solved."
"But is there no clue to your identity? The man
who brought you to Mrs. Judson, does he not know
something?" " Nothing more than he told her. He said, as his
wife was insane, all must depend on the contents of the
little casket which is now locked away in the trunk."
" When may it be opened?"
"When I am of age, they say."
"Are you not that now?"
" No one knows my age, but it is more than they
think. I was small when carried to the mission house,
but I know I was at least sixteen then, and it has been
two years since. But I shall quietly wait till mamma
thinks me old enough. I could not leave her and little

302 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
Maria now," and she drew the sleeping child closer to
her bosom.
Robert sat for a few moments in silence, musing
sadly and gazing thoughtfully into the fair face of the
maiden. Presently she remarked :
" There has always been something strange connected
with me. I have not been as other girls. One of my
first impressions was a great horror of water. They
used to carry me out on the Irrawaddy in the king's
boat, but I always shrank from looking at it and shiv
ered when brought near, though I have , since overcome
the feeling. I know I was but an infant, but I have a
vague, indistinct recollection of crossing the sea once,
and of being brought to this very house in a white
man's arms. Then all is blank for several years, till I
was carried to the Golden City. Even then I thought
as in a dream I had seen the king's palace before. Of
course it is not so, but is it not strange those things
should come over me? "
" It is indeed," he said, " and there must be some
thing behind it all. But if this difficulty is to prevent
our union, I will remove it at any cost. Nothing shall
stand between us, though I see no reason why this
should. I would value you as highly as I would if I
knew you were the daughter of the Golden Face him
self." " How would you remove it? " she asked.
"I would seek the white teacher who brought you here."
" Where would you seek him? He is a restless wan
derer, and has long since left Burmah."
" I will inquire of his father in Bengal. I will give
up my command and search the earth or find him.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 303
You do not realize the detormination of a man in love
when he sees the object of his desire about to escape
him. I will marry you, Mahree, within the next six
months, and all shall be clear. God will help me to
find Felix Carey. But there, the bugle calls me to
camp. I must go. May I not kiss you good-night? "
he asked as he rose to his feet.
" No," she said, " not yet. We can only be friends
till then. I shall still love you and pray for you, but
we will not speak of this again till all is known. Do
you think we should? "
" Perhaps it is best as you say," he answered, " but
I will at least kiss the child."
Bending over, he kissed the wan cheek of the little
sleeper, and clasping for a moment the hand of her
fair nurse, he hastily departed in the direction of the
gunboats, leaving Mahree to ponder in silence the
strange, new thoughts that had been suggested.
It was now growing dark, and Mrs. Judson came in
from the grove, her pail in her hand. Stopping in the
veranda, she imprinted a motherly caress on the cheek
both of Mahree and the babe. She noticed that the
girl seemed agitated, but not having heard of the new
arrivals she could not divine the cause. Passing into
the room she lighted the lamp, and sitting down at her
desk, began a letter to her husband's brother in Ame
rica, telling him of the horrible scenes through which
they had come, and explaining the two years of silence.
Mr. Judson returned highly elated with the prospect
cf a mission at Amherst, and upon relating his views
to his family and the disciples, all were of his opinion

304 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
and readily proposed to proceed there at once. A gun
boat, with a detachment of soldiers, was to depart from
Rangoon for that place in a few days, and when it
sailed it carried the missionaries and all the native
Christians. The spot selected was entirely a jungle as yet, with
out a single house, but on the arrival of the troops and
missionaries, three hundred Burmans were already on
the ground, and reported three thousand on their way
in boats. The missionaries took up their temporary
residence in the tent of an English officer till a house
could be erected.

BOOK SIXTH.

CHAPTER I.
" Dark Burman faces are around her bod,
And one pale babe— to hush whose wailing cry
She checks the death-groan, and with fond embrace,
Still clasps it firmly to her icy breast,
E'en till the heart-strings break." — Mrs. Sigourney.
Thieteen years have passed since the missionaries
first landed in Burmah. Yet, after all this time, it
seemed that they were just now to begin their labors.
The field was open, the language acquired, the New
Testament translated, and all things ready. They
anticipated great results from the effects of the war,
which had seemed so disastrous to their cause while it
lasted. Now the storm was over and the rainbow of
promise spanned the heavens in resplendent glory.
But before beginning their work, Mr. Judson was
once more called upon to assist the English Commis
sioner, Mr. Crawford. He had been appointed envoy
to Ava to negotiate a commercial treaty with the king,
and desired Mr. Judson to accompany with as inter
preter. The latter refused for some time, being unwil
ling to leave for a moment the work so much requiring
his attention. But, prompted by a sense of obligation
to the English officers for their kindness, and receiving
20 (305)

306 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
a promise from them that they would use every endeavor
te have inserted a clause allowing religious toleration
in all Burmah, he consented to go. He expected the
new missionaries, Wade and Hough, to be there by the
time he returned, and then the work could go forward
rapidly. His parting with his wife was less painful this time
than it had ever been to either before. Though about
to return to the scene of his former sufferings, he would
be under the protection of powerful friends whom the
monarch dare not offend ; and she, too, would be sur
rounded by courteous officers, who respected her little
less than their queen herself.
It was sunset, and his boat was waiting at the mouth
of the Salwen, Mr. Crawford already aboard. He took
an affectionate leave of all the family, his wife accom
panying him as far as the little grove, half way to the
river, he bearing the child. There, in the shade of the
mango trees, they knelt and prayed. Rising, he laid
the little one tenderly in her mother's arms, embracing
them both.
"You must write me every week, Ann," he said.
" You know how unpleasant it will be in the presence
of the haughty, stubborn king for four or five months,
and in sight of the dreadful Let-ma-yoon, even though
now safe from its power. Let me know regularly of
your health and the condition of dear little Maria.
Poor child ! " he said gently as he kissed her pure, white
lily cheek, " she is indeed a child of- sorrow ; born in
grief, and nurtured amid scenes of torture. But her
little face is growing brighter, perhaps she even feels
our happiness ia release. Moung Ing will care for you.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 307
Do not be anxious on my account as I shall write regu
larly of our progress at court. Good-bye."
Another kiss and he was gone. Six months was a
long time to the waiting wife, but she .would not be
idle, and she resolved to surprise him on his return,
when he should see what had been accomplished in his
absence. Watching him till his retreating form was
lost in the yet untrampled sedge of the river's border,
she turned and clasping the child more closely on her
breast, went back towards the tent. See her as she
approaches, beautiful, even now, after all her sufferings.
The short, black ringlets are once more beginning to
crown her head. True, the flush of girlhood has faded
from her cheeks, and they are white, very white ; yet
there is an angelic sweetness there ; and her earnest
dark eyes betray a depth of soul which only the hand
of God can give, made more " perfect through suffer
ing." Her step is not so elastic as formerly, and that
form which braved the heat of the scorching plains,
the taunts of heartless jailers, bearing the burden of
the child on her bosom. while ministering to a sick hus
band in prison, and facing the Burman Lion in his
golden den — is now slender and delicate. She seems,
withal, a flower too pure, too tender for earth, much
less a savage country, in the jungle at that. Yet her
mind is filled with designs for advancing God's cause
among the heathen, and bravely she will attempt to
execute her plans.
In an incredibly short time she and Moung Ing had
erected two bamboo school-houses. In one of these
-Moung Ing gathered ten Burman children whom he

308 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
undertook to instruct, while she made arrangements to
begin a female school in the other, in which she gath
ered the converts every Sunday morning for worship.
The next thing was to have a home. So she began
the erection of a roomy dwelling, sufficiently large to
accommodate both her own family and the natives who
had come with them from Rangoon.
One room was designed especially for Mr. Judson'B
comfort. She arranged everything just as she knew,
from experience, he would like it ; the table, the ward
robe and the study-corner. Here she made a window
fronting the river and sea, overshadowed by a large
tamarind tree. While engaged in this work of love,
Maria's health began to decline, and it seemed, in spite
of the mother's devoted watchfulness, that the feeble
spark would be extinguished. Mahree and the nurse
often besought her to take more rest, assuring her that
they would care for the little one, but she could only
be content beside the cradle. The infant was more dear
to her for the very trials that had made its life so sad,
and she would spare no effort to preserve that life in
hope of a brighter future. Her faithfulness had its
reward, and she soon had the satisfaction of seeing the
crisis safely past, and the child beginning to improve.
She now intrusted her to Mahree part of each day
while she superintended the completion of the house.
Mr. Judson had heard from her regularly in regard
to the child. His last letter from her was hopeful.
She says :
" I have this day moved into the new house, and, for the
first time since we were broken up at Ava, feel myself at home.
The house is large and convenient, and if you were here I

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 309
should feel quite happy. Poor little Maria is still feeble.
When I ask her where papa is, she always starts up and points
toward the sea. The servants behave very well, and I have
no trouble about anything except you and Maria. May God
- preserve and hless you and restore you again to your new and
old home, is the prayer of your affectionate Ann."
That was the last she ever wrote. Comfortably situ
ated now in the new house, her child saved through her
unwearied attentions, the anxiety which had stimulated
her so far was now removed, and she failed like a run
ner who, forgetting everything behind him, expires as
his hand touches the goal. Wakefulness and anxiety
had undermined the frail constitution, and the old
fever of Oung-pen-la returned. She could no longer
resist its ravages, and as she lay in her room in the
new house she knew she could never rise again. She
only wished now to see her husband and the new mis
sionaries established in the house she had so lovingly
provided. Even then she did not repine. But it was,
oh ! so hard to leave little Maria, and not a parting
word to the distant father, who never suspected her
sickness. The English officers were very kind to show
every attention in their power and to provide anything
they had for her comfort. The attack was violent and
her mind often wandered in her delirium. In a day
or two the friends knew all hope was gone. Moung Ing
was unwearied in his devotions. He could not bear the
thought of the teacher returning to his home and find
ing his loved one gone. All night he and the Burmese
nurse watched by the sick-bed. Mahree and Abbe, by
turns, nursed the child, or brought water and medicine
to the nurse ; and the disciples who had come with

310 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
them from Rangoon, Mah-Men-la and Mah-Doke, ren
dered loving assistance.
She had now been delirious for several days ; the
nurse had gone out to order some broth, requesting
Moung Ing to watch in her absence. He took his place
by the bedside. On looking at the sufferer, he saw her
eyes fixed steadfastly upon him, and that they con
tained the light of reason, which often -returns just
before the spirit's departure. She spoke. Bending
over, he heard her call for Mahree. He motioned to
the girl, who was at a window on the other side rock
ing the cradle. She stepped softly to the bed.
"What is it, mamma?" she asked gently.
" The little casket, Mahree, in the trunk. Bring it
to me."
When it was brought, she motioned Mahree to sit
on the bed beside her.
" You are now old enough," she said, to understand
the mystery of its contents. Take the little key from
round your neck and open it, that I may see also."
Moung Ing had stolen away and was rocking the cra
dle, lest the child should awake and disturb its mother.
With trembling hands Mahree drew forth the little
key. Now she should know the myBtery of her life,
and whether she should marry the man she loved. The
lid flew open. Lying within, on a piece of cotton, was
a child's bracelet, small and beautifully set — such as
she had seen only on the children of the royal family.
Within was inscribed the name
MANOHARA.
The girl gazed in mute astonishment, no nearer a
knowledge of her identity than before. Mrs. Judson

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES. 311
/
reached forth her hand and took it. While she was
looking at the inscription, Mahree found a faded paper
in the bottom of the box.
" See here, mamma! " she said breathlessly.
Unfolding it, they read :
" Taken from the Ganges, above Benares, near the
Grove of Sorrow, where her mother had thrown
her to the sacred crocodile. FELIX CAREY.
"March 4th, 1808."
"Ah ! " said Mahree ; " now I understand why I
feared the Irrawaddy, and my dreams of the sea. But
what can it mean? I am a Burman, and Burmese
women are not allowed to leave the country. What
was my mother doing on the Ganges? Then, oh, dread
ful deed! how could she be so cruel? But even yet I
do not know who I am."
" There is only this clue," said Mrs. Judson, as she
looked at the bracelet. "Only the daughters of the
palace are allowed to wear such spangles as this. You
are a princess, and must have been spirited away by
some envious person, who feared for you to live, or else
stolen for your beauty or because of hatred for the king.
I confess I do not understand it. Call Moung Ing. He
has been about the palace during Mr. Judson's impri
sonment, and may be able to judge something of the
circumstances." Mahree motioned him to come.
Mrs. Judson handed him the bracelet. A violent
tremor seized the strong man as he took the little relic.
He read the inscription, then eagerly clasped the paper.
Reading it, he fell on hiB knees.

312 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"Thank God for this day!" he cried. "My child;
my own sweet Manohara ! I am your father ! " and he
clasped the wondering girl in his arms. It was some
time before he could compose himself sufficiently to
speak. Then, drawing himself up, he looked Mah-ree
in the face.
" The very image of your beautiful mother the day I
married her," he said, "why had I not seen it before? "
" Teacher," he said, turning to her, " you do not
understand it all, neither does she. My name is not
Moung Ing. I am Mekara, whom they sought at the
death of Min-der-a-ge Praw. I was his oldest son, and
heir to the throne of Burmah. I refused to worship
Buddha and he drove me from the country. With my
wife and child I went to India. While in the woods a
Brahmin told me that my poor wife had thrown herself
and child into the Ganges. I have since mourned them
as dead. My child is found, and this paper leads me to
hope her mother may yet be living. God grant it may
be so ! "
" Let us bless Him for His goodness and praise him
for his mercies so far," said the sick woman fervently.
" I bless you both, my children."
Moung Ing sprang to his feet.
" A light dawns upon me ! " he cried. "Call the nurse,
Manohara ; call the nurse quickly ! "
Filled with astonishment, and trying to conjecture
what further developments awaited, she rushed out of
the room. When she had gone, Mekara sat down,
though so much agitated he could not be still.
" Teacher," he said, " do you not remember, I asked
you once if you had ever traced any resemblance in the

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 313
face of your nurse to Mahree, and requested you to ask
her if she ever had a child ? What was her reply? "
Now a new light gleamed in the eyes of the dying
woman. " Now I understand her strange behavior," she replied.
" Yes, I asked her, and it agitated her greatly. She
acknowledged she had once had a child, but begged me
not to inquire further, and she would tell me all some
day. Now I recall the time I met her in Serampore,
and the sad story she told me there. But she is coming ;
let us see further."
Manohara, girl-like, could not keep the secret, but
breaking into the kitchen she excitedly told the story
of the golden bracelet to the nurse, who threw down her
pan at the mention of the name Manohara, and clasped
the now doubly-astonished maiden wildly about the
neck. Then taking her hand, without a word of expla
nation, broke with her to the sick-room.
" Teacher ! " she cried, drawing something from her
bosom, " Mekara ! I am Mahdri. See the companion to
the little bracelet ! " and she held it up.
With one bound Mekara had them both in his arms,
and a happier trio never was seen.
Suddenly Manohara exclaimed:
" Look, papa, mamma ! my poor, dear white mamma
Is dying: We have excited her too much ! "
They turned to the bed. It was, indeed, too true.
The excitement had again thrown her into delirium.
She lay on one side staring with vacant eyes and talk
ing incoherently to herself. Mahdri hastened to bring
the broth, and Mekara applied all the restoratives at
his command, but seemingly without avail. She was

314 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
sinking rapidly. In a few moments Mahdri returned,
followed by the other members of the household. The
sufferer lay moaning with pain and burning with fever.
Once the light shone in her eyes. A faint smile stole
over her face as she looked upon her tender nurses.
"All is well," she said feebly. " I am glad I see my
beloved Mahree united to her father and mother, and
to think they are the ones who have been so faithful to
me. May you be happy. I wish I could be with you
longer to enjoy your happy meeting, but it is not the
will of Him who calls me. May we meet again where
there will be no more rude parting."
Again unconsciousness, and they thought all was over.
But no; in her wanderings she is heard to whisper:
" Oh, the teacher is long in coming. The new mis
sionaries are long in coming. I must die alone and
leave my little one. Tell the teacher the disease was
most violent. Tell him I could not write. Tell him
how I suffered and died. Tell him all you see."
Her voice sank to the faintest breathing. The rattle
was heard in her throat; her eyes closed wearily, and
she seemed insensible to all earthly objects. The
women were weeping. Poor Mahree and Abbe sobbed
bitterly. She had done so much for them, and they
loved her so. Now another mourner breaks in. From
the neglected cradle comes a faint cry. The mother's
eyes open anxiously ; her lips struggle to speak, and
she feebly motions her hand in the direction of the
cradle. Mahree understands, and brings the little one,
laying her by her mother's side. The mother's hand
creeps softly over the little form.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 315
" Mahree," she whispered, " be kind to my darling
Maria — indulge her in everything till her father comes
home — precious, precious baby ! "
Again the lethargy. Mahdri stoops and whispers to
her. Again her lips open and she speaks her last words
on earth : " I am quite well, only weak." A brief
interval of heavy breathing — an exclamation, " Amai
ai!" in the Burmese language? and all is over.
'.' She made a sign
To bring her babe — 'twas brought and by her placed.
She looked upon its face . . . and laid
Her hand upon its little breast, and sought
For it with look that seemed to penetrate
The heavens 
' God keep my child! ' we heard her say and heard
No more ; the Angel of the Covenant
Was come, and faithful to his promise, stood
Prepared to walk with her through death's dark vale."

CHAPTER II.
" He comes ! he comes I
The wearied man of God, from distant toil.
His home, while yet it seems a misty speck,
His glance descries, — half-wandering that the step
Of his beloved glides not o'er the heath,
As wont to meet him.
" Ah 1 what heathen lip,
In its strange language, told him, that on earth
Nothing remain'd which to his throbbing heart
In that hour's desolation he might press,
Save that poor, famish'd infant. Days of care
Were measur'd to him, and long nights of grief
Weigh'd out,— and then that little moaning one
Went to its mother's bosom, and slept sweet
'Neath the cool branches of the Hopia tree." — Mrs. Sigourney.
A company of British soldiers, and many natives, stood
with bared heads beneath the shade the Hopia tree, while
Burmah's soil closed over the body of her first Christian
martyr. Mekara conducted the funeral in a very
impressive manner. The grave was closed, a " small
rude fence " placed, around " to prevent it from incau
tious intrusion," and all departed in silence and in sad
ness. The officers conferred together as to the best means of
informing the bereaved husband of his unexpected loss.
Captain Fenwick wrote as follows to a friend in Ran
goon : - .
" I trust you will be able to find means to inform our friend
of the dreadful loss he has suffered. (316)

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 317
" I shall not attempt to give you an account of the gloom
which the death of this most amiable woman has thrown
over our small society. You, who were so well acquainted with
her, must feel her loss more deeply ; but we had just known
her long enough to value her acquaintance as a blessing to this
remote corner. I dread the effect it will have on poor Judson. I
am sure you will take every care that this mournful intelligence
may be opened to him as carefully as possible."
Worn out with the vexatious affairs of a haughty
court, and the obstinacy of the proud young monarch,
Mr. Judson was longing for the quietude of his own
new home in the yet wooded city. It seemed that the
time spent at the capital had been wholly lost, for the
king obstinately refused to grant religious toleration to
his subjects. Then it seemed that only once a week
was not often enough to hear from home. It has been
now more than a week, and Ann has not written. He
is growing impatient. But then her last letter was
cheering and all must be well. She is only too busy to
write. With such reflections he sought to console him
self. Ah, there comes a friend with a letter ; now he
will hear from home. But the man's countenance is
sad and as he hands the letter to Mr. Judson, with the
black seal upon its back, he kindly seeks to prepare him
for the distressing news it contains, by saying :
" I am sorry to inform you of the death of your child."
Then it has come to the worst. The poor little suf
ferer haS at last been relieved from her life of pain. It
,is hard to bear, to think her father should be away.
But God knows best. His will be done. Sadly he
breaks the seal to learn the particulars. He reads a
few lines. A horror of great darkness comes over him

318 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Can it be possible ho has been deceived? Again he
reads the dreadful words :
" My Dear Sir : — To one who has suffered so much and with
such exemplary fortitude, there needs but little preface to tell
a tale of distress. It were cruel indeed to torture you with
doubt and suspense. To sum up the unhappy tidings in a few
words, Mrs. Judson is no more."
He staggered as if he would fall. The Englishman
took him by the arm and kindly led him to a seat, then
left him to bear his grief alone with God.
" Ann dead ! " he cried ; " gentle, patient, self-sacrific
ing Ann. Can she be dead? O, God! help me to bear
this unexpected stroke."
Again there came visions of the past. The cool
streams, shady dells, and wooded hills of New England
rise up before him. Again the youthful pair in love's
sweet bondage united ; then desolate rovings from shore
to shore ; death of Harriet, and burial of little Roger ;
preaching, persecution, imprisonment; gloom and terror
of the Let-ma-yoon, the unshrinking hand; a voice
like music without, and a face like sunshine at the little
door; the first sight of the puny babe; the blood-
tracked march ; the ministering angel of Oung-pen-la,
she who had borne with him every grief, and who was
the source of his every earthly joy; all come before
him. Then, like a fast fading sunset-picture, he views
the future that he had planned with her. Then it
seemed glorious, now dark and uninviting. And it is
yet four months ere he can behold the face of his little
one, the only tie that now binds him to earth.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 319
Mr. and Mrs. Wade arrived at Amherst about two
months after the death of Mrs. Judson, and took charge
of the mission. One evening, six weeks later, Mr.
Wade was sitting at the window, his wife on the
veranda with Maria. He saw a boat enter the harbor.
" It is Brother Judson ! " he exclaimed, and rushed
down to the bank to meet him. With hearts too full
for utterance the men grasped hands on the shore, after
so long a separation and under such trying circum
stances. Scarcely a word was spoken as they walked,
arm in arm, up the path toward the house, the " old
and new home" which Ann had built. Mekara met
them under the mango trees, then came Mahdri and
Manohara, weeping as they saw the lone widower. On
the porch he shook hands with Mrs. Wade, who held
his child, then started to take the little one in his
arms. But she had long since forgotten him, and
turned away with a cry of alarm, hiding her face on
Mrs. Wade's breast. With a bursting heart he turned
away. No one offered to follow, for he went toward
the Hopia tree. On his knees in the long grass by the
head-stone he prayed and wept. Then he stood under
the mangoes where they had parted. Night came on,
and yet the lone mourner wrestled with his grief, seek
ing to reconcile himself to the will of God.
The next evening when the mission family had gath
ered together, Mr. Judson heard in full the story of
the happiness that had come to his faithful friends and
.adopted daughter. It in some measure relieved him of
Mb own heavy burden to see them so happy.

320 THE CHILD OF "THE GANGES.
After Mekara and Mahdri had each told their Btory,
Manohara asked her mother if she knew what became
of Asita. " Surely," thought she, " something evil must
have happened to him for so much wickedness."
" Oh, yes," said Mahdri, " there is a link of my story
left out. Several months after my conversion I returned
to the Grove of Sorrow with Krishna Pal. The tracts
he had circulated in the. village had led several to a
serious consideration of the Christian religion. Old
Asita himself stumbled upon one on his way, one
morning, to the mountain shrine. He read it and threw
it down in disgust. But the Spirit of God wrought on
him all the way to the little temple, and he became so
much interested that he sought for the tract again on
his return, and carried it with him to the forest. When
we found him, six months later, he had given up his
visits to the shrine, the devotees were compelled to
shift for themselves, and he was earnestly praying for
light. He was somewhat abashed and surprised to see
me yet alive, but when Krishna opened to him the way
of salvation he eagerly embraced Christ, and was bap
tized in the very spot where he had persuaded me to
throw my precious child. We both prayed forgiveness
of God for that murder, but I could never forgive
myself, and it almost killed me when the teacher asked
me one day, in Rangoon, if I had ever had a child.
"Asita then told me that my husband was not dead,
as he had falsely reported, but had gone up the river.
He sought to atone for the mischief he had done by
going with me up the river in search of my husband,
leaving Krishna to preach to the ascetics. We pene
trated to Hudwar, at the feet of the Himalayas, but

THE CHILD OP THE GArJrGES. 321
could find no trace. I determined that I would never
despair of finding him, but would pray, labor, and wait
till God's good time.. When we returned, the Grove of
Sorrow had been converted into a temple of rejoicing.
And wailing devotees were now lifting renewed souls to
God in those sweet words of Krishna that first attracted
me — ' O thou, my soul, forget no more,
The Friend who all thy sorrows bore ! '
" Oh 1 the power of God is wonderful, wonderful !
and his goodness beyond all comprehension ! "
The whole company sat in mute thanksgiving as
Mahdri concluded her narrative. But there were other
things Manohara wished to have explained. Turning
to Mekara, she asked :
"Papa, why do you not claim your crown? The peo
ple love you, and would gladly place you on the throne
if you would only make yourself known."
" Why should I, my child? Where, in all the world,
is there a monarch now so happy as I? I would rather
be a door-keeper in the house of the Lord than to dwell
in the tents of wickedness. No, if my haughty nephew
can derive any pleasure from my inheritance, he is
welcome. I shall be a private soldier of the Cross, and
devote my life to the service of the King of kings. I
told my poor, down-trodden people when I left them
that when the light was found I would bring it to them.
I would rather bring them as sheaves to my Master's
feet than have them bow servile necks to me, and ren
der that fear and allegiance which only to God is due-
I shall go soon to Tavoy, where I made many friends
21

322 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
while living a fisherinan's life. There I will tell the
'Old, old Story ' of the Cross, but tell it as a fisherman
among men. My own story must never be told beyond
this little circle. I am still Moung Ing, and never wish
to be called by any other name."
It was now growing late, and the family retired to
rest. Mr. Judson could not rest from his labors. Gather
ing around him his books and papers, he once more
busied himself in the translation of the Old Testa
ment. Maria had, at last, consented to make his
acquaintance, and often beguiled his sadness while in
his lonely room. She was all that was left to him now,
and tenderly did he bind her to his heart as a balm to.
the wound of her mother's loss. But even this was
soon denied him. Day by day he saw her fading like
a flower plucked from its parent stem. Then once more
the soft tread, whispering voices, and mournful faces.
Little Maria sleeps again on her mother's bosom.
Mr. and Mrs. Boardman arrived the same day to
strengthen the missionary force. Mr. Boardman con
structed the little coffin, another grave was opened
beneath the Hopia tree, and the curtain closes over the
last act of the sad tragedy of Amherst.

CHAPTER III.
" Take my free gift, my cousin, for your wife ;
And were it only for the giver's sake,
And tho' she seems so like the one you lost,
Yet, cast her not away so suddenly,
Lest there be none left here to bring her back ;
I leave this land forever." — Tennyson.
The mission at Amherst is now to be abandoned.
There had been a misunderstanding between Mr. Craw
ford and Sir Archibald Campbell, the latter of whom
had selected a site for the capital at Maulmain, twenty-
five miles further north on the coast. Here he had
established the royal troops, and thousands were flock
ing thither in preference to Amherst. Mr. and Mrs.
Boardman removed to that place in a few days, while
Mr. Judson prepared to remove the effects of the house
hold as soon as possible. He still held public worship,
however, and with the assistance of Moung Ing taught
all who came to him.
One day Moung Schwa-ba, the native Christian who
had accompanied him from Rangoon, entered, followed
by a Karen.
" Teacher," he said, " here is a poor Karen who was
formerly my servant in Rangoon. His people are
despised and reviled by the Burmans, but he had heard
of Christ and seeks knowledge. I told him I thought
the gospel was intended for the low and vile, as well as
the rich and proud. I found him by accident, he hav-
(323)

324 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
ing come to Amherst merely through curiosity. Will
you instruct him? "
" Gladly, my brother," said Mr. Judson, and taking
the timid inquirer by the hand, he sat down beside him
and inquired to see if he had any conception of a God.
" Yes," said the Karen, " my people all believe in one
God, but I never but once heard his name mentioned
by Burman lips. I rowed the boat in which Prince
Mekara left the kingdom, and he told me of his belief
in a God. We know nothing definite. We have been
waiting for the coming of the white foreigner with the
Holy Book. Are you the one who was to come, and
have you the Book of God? "
Mr. Judson was surprised, and rejoiced at what he
heard. He then explained the nature of God to him,
told him of Christ and the atonement for sin. But the
latter was a new thought to him, and his mind could
not comprehend it. In a God he believed, but who is
this Christ? Mr. Judson talked with him long and
earnestly, and when he arose to go gave him some
tracts, with part of the Bible to read, inviting him to
come again on the morrow.
As he went out the door Mr. Judson called him back
and inquired :
" Did you not say you saw the prince when he was
leaving Burmah? "
" I was with him, teacner."
" Will you promise to keep a secret? "
" I will."
" Mekara found God, and is now in this house."
" Prince Mekara here ! " he said, with more anima
tion than he had before shown. " May I see him? "

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 325
Mr. Judson stepped out of the room, and in a few
moments Moung Ing entered. As soon as he saw the
Karen he clasped his hand warmly.
"It is my old friend Ko Tha-Byu," he exclaimed.
" Where have you been all these long years? "
" Wandering about, my lord, driven from post to post,
waiting, with my brethren, the coming of the white man."
" Now," said Moung Ing, " the white man has come.
Do you accept his religion? "
" His doctrine of a God I believe, but I cannot under
stand the atonement of Christ. He gave me some lit
tle books to read. I shall still seek for light."
Moung Ing then gave him a lengthy account of his
own experience in obtaining salvation, and before he
was through, the dull mind of the Karen began to grasp
the truth.
" I see it better," he said.
Moung Ing forbore to press the matter rashly, but
told him to read the books and return every day for
instruction. This he promised to do ; and before the
missionaries left Amherst they had satisfactory evi
dence that the grace of God was manifest to him.
All things were now ready for the departure to Maul
main. Manohara had been busily engaged the whole
day in packing the plunder for exportation . After
sunset she walked out on the bank of the river to
enjoy the cool air. As it was growing late, she turned
her steps back toward the house. Coming through the
shrubbery into the path, she suddenly confronted a
man coming fror/\ the direction of the river. It was
Robert Stuart.

326 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
"Mahree!" he cried, joyfully; "now you can greet
me in the way I desired. I have come for my wife."
She held him off, as if not much concerned to see him.
"Have you been successful in your search?" she
asked, simply.
" I have. I found Mr. Carey himself, who told me
the contents of the casket. He rescued you from the
Ganges just after your mother had thrown you into the
water as a sacrifice. The little box contains a brace
let, which he took from your arm, inscribed with your
name, ' Manohara.' Now, have I not won my prize? "
" Not yet," she said.
" What is now lacking? "
" The success of which you speak is not satisfactory.
It leaves me as much a waif as ever — even more so.
How do I know who my parents were, and the design
of my mother in throwing me into the water? It is a
very interesting story ; but I cannot marry with simply
the name ' Manohara.' I must know something of my
parentage. I tell you now plainly, and once for all,
unless you see my father and mother face to face, and
obtain their consent, or ascertain that they are not liv
ing, I shall never be your wife. That is fixed."
"Mahree," he said, reproachfully, "you are a hard
task-mistress. You exact entirely too much. If your
parents are living, what right have they to command
you, after having so mercilessly discarded you in
infancy ? And if dead, what pleasure will it be to
learn it? Come ; be reasonable, and say I have done
enough." " You have heard my terms," she said. " I shall revoke
nothing I have said."

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 327
By this time they had approached the door of the
veranda. Robert thought he had detected a slight
spirit of fun in her manner, which he could not explain.
Laying his hand on her arm, he detained her for a
moment before entering the house. There was a deep
seriousness in his eyes as he asked earnestly :
" Mahree, do you love me in reality? "
" I do," she said ; "devotedly."
"Then why will you not marry me?"
"I will."
"When?" he asked, hopefully and eagerly.
" When you have complied with the conditions," she
said saucily.
"I fear that will never be," he answered, with an
expression of despair.
" Don't be so easily discouraged," she said. " Come
in, and we will further discuss the matter."
The whole of the mission family was seated in the
room, Moung Ing and his wife nearest the door. They
all arose courteously as the young officer entered.
" Captain Stuart," said Mahree, at his side, " allow
me to introduce to you my father, Prince Mekara, the
eldest son of the great Min-der-a-ge Praw : and this is
his wife, Princess Mahdri, my mother.'"
The young man was thunder-struck, and so confused
that he was speechless. Seeing his embarrassment,
Mahree turned, and, burying her face in her hands,
burst into uncontrollable laughter. Even the older
members partook of her merriment.
" You naughty girl ! " he cried ; and seizing her in
his arms before the whole company, he raised her head
and, in spite of her protests, kissed her a half dozen
times in succession.

328 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Struggling vigorously, she escaped his grasp, and
looking at him with an expression of abashed pleasure
mingled with assumed anger, she exclaimed :
" How dare you, sir? " and rushed from the room,
followed by Mahdri, who enjoyed immensely the turn
affairs had taken.
Of course, the imaginative reader has already guesBed
the conclusion to this little drama. Suffice it to say
that before the missionaries embarked for Maulmain,
Robert Stuart and Manohara were united in marriage.
Mr. Judson pronounced the solemn, impressive words
that bound them together as one. On the next day
they sailed for Calcutta, where Robert's command had
been ordered, going by the way of Rangoon. As they
were to lie at anchor here till evening, Robert said he
must call on his friend Havelock, and insisted that his
bride should accompany him to the camp. Hoisting a
large umbrella to protect them from the heat, they
passed through the city and out into Pagoda street.
"Why, Robert," said Manohara, "we are going wrong.
This is the way I always saw the worshipers go to the
great golden pagoda. There cannot possibly be any
thing else out here."
" Perhaps I have been here since you have, my dear,"
he replied. " Just be patient and we will be in camp
in a few moments."
The magnificent form of the Shway-da-gong lifted its
mountain-like mass, with its golden sides glittering
before them. They entered the gorgeous enclosure, its
brilliancy painful to the sight in the full blaze of the
afternoon sun. All was still as death. Not a breath
stirred the listless bells. The great gongs, for once,
were silent.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 329
The chaplets of flowers withered about the necks of
their grinning idols. They passed around to the north
ern side, where the great shadow covered one of the
idol temples. A sound of singing came from within.
They stole softly into the vestibule and waited. There
was a strange sight for Rangoon. A company of sol
diers sat within, silent and attentive. At tho farther
end stood Lieutenant Henry Havelock, preaching the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. His bible and hymn book lay,
with his sword, on the stand before him. But the sur
roundings were remarkable. Every niche was filled,
and the walls covered with images of Gautama, their
legs crossed complacently, their hands resting tranquilly
on their laps and their lips smiling approvingly on the
scene. The temple had no windows, and the shade of
the pagoda cut off the sunlight from the door. They
had hit upon a novel plan for lighting the interior.
Bringing lamps and lighting them, they set them in
the laps of the idols to hold for them while they
engaged in their worship. "At last these smiling
images of ' The light of Asia ' had reached their highest
destiny." They contributed, in a small measure, to the
kindling of that flame whose radiance reflects the Light
of the World.
The young lieutenant is now thus beginning that bril
liant career which is destined to work a mighty revolu
tion in the civil and religious condition of all India.
When the darkness of Hindu superstition shall begin
to fade, he shall glow as a star of the first magnitude in
the zenith, to be eclipsed only by the appearing of the
Sun of Righteousness.

CHAPTER IV.
" It was not like the bunch
Of bitter palms on which he learn' d to read
Its letters were more nice, its texture fair,
Its words — he wonder'd as he look'd on them.
There was some holy love ho never knew ;
There was a spirit breathing in each line ;
He felt unutterable thoughts, as now
He scan'd the whole, now read each wondrous word.
It told of God, the Maker, and of Him
Who died for man's salvation." —Anon.
Messrs. Judson and Wade having now settled at
Maulmain, Mr. Boardman, becoming much interested
in the Karens through the new convert, Ko Tha-Byu,
decided to go in company with the latter, and establish
a mission at Tavoy. Here Ko Tha-Byu was baptized
and acting as interpreter to Mr. Boardman, they began
work with the most flattering prospects. The Karens
of the surrounding villages flocked in great crowds to
the zayat to learn of God, and to hear read the Book
which the "white man from the West" had brought.
In one of the neighboring villages lived a Karen
prophet who had been gathering the people together for
several years, and predicting the coming of the "white
man with the Book of God," and urging them to pray
for his coming. The Burmans, who were, of course,
unfavorable to the invasion of foreigners, persecuted the
old man for his prophecies, and threw him into prison.
While here he met with an English officer who ' gave
him a little book and exhorted him to read and follow
(330)

THE CHILD OP THB GANGES. 331
its precepts. But it was written in English and could
not be read by the old man. Accordingly on his release,
he buried it in the ground to keep it safe, and clothing
himself in a yellow robe after the manner of a Buddhist
priest, with staff in hand, he assumed charge of the
sacred relic till some one should explain its contents.
All the natives knew of the wonderful book left by a
white man, and were anxious to have it interpreted.
Hearing of Mr. Boardman's residence in Tavoy, several,
in company with the self-elected priest, visited the
zayat. " Teacher," said the prophet, " there has long been a
belief among our people that the Book of God should
be restored to us by a white man from the West. Such
a man left a book in my tent. Is it the Book of God?"
" I cannot tell," replied Mr. Boardman, " till I see the
book. Go bring it hither."
He hastily departed to the village and dug up the book,
returning with it in a short time. It was covered with
a coat of pitch to protect it from moisture. This being
removed, several folds of fine linen were found, enclos
ing a much worn prayer-book, with a few of the Psalms
attached. " No," said Mr. Boardman, " this is not the Book of
God, but it is a good book and tells of him. I have
brought with me the true Book."
He then produced a copy of the Bible and read a few
passages. The old prophet threw off his robe and laid aside his
staff. " My office is at an end," he said. "The Book of God has
been found and our long waiting is over. Let us listen
to its teachings."

332 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
The news spread rapidly and hundreds of eager
natives came, desirous to hear tho wonderful story of the
Cross. Many who lived at a distance begged Mr. Board-
man to visit their villages and preach to their people at
home. This he promised to do, and in company with
Ko Tha, who was beginning to be very useful in tho
work, he set out on the journey. It was a daring expe
dition, as it led through wild mountain passes and
trackless jungles, the places which alone could afford
refuge for the oppressed tribes of the reviled race. Mrs.
Boardman wept te see her husband venturing upon such
a journey. Ko Tha's wife, who remained with her,
and who had recently been converted, offered such words
of consolation as are characteristic of one who had
undergone such a transition from darkness to light.
" Weep not, mamma ; the teacher has gone on a mes
sage of compassion to my poor, perishing countrymen.
They have never heard of the true God and of the love
of his Son Jesus Christ, yes, Christ who died upon the
cross to save sinners. They know nothing of the true
religion, mamma ; and when they die can not go to the
golden country of the blessed. God will take care of
the teacher ; do not weep, mamma."
The missionaries were hospitably received at all the
villages, and when their object was made known, the
natives ran from door to door crying to every one they
met. " The white man from the West has come with the
Book of God ! The white man with the Book of God !
Come hear him read and explain it-!"
They seemed hungry for the Gospel, and bore away
with delight the tracts and portions of Scripture dis
tributed among them.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 333
Ko Tha-Byu's heart was deeply touched by the
longing of his perishing countrymen, and he resolved
to devote his life to preaching the Gospel in the jungles.
He was not educated, but he was deeply earnest, and
understood from joyful experience the full meaning of
salvation by grace. Accordingly, .after their return to
Tavoy, he was ordained to the full work of the min
istry. He went far into the . mountain recesses to begin his
labor. In a hovel on a wild mountain-slope he preached
his first sermon. It was in the home of Sau-Quala, of
whom we made mention before. Both the child of
" Hope " and his mother were converted by the sermon,
Quala remarking :
" Is not this the very thing for which we have been
looking and waiting so long? "
The prophetic " hope " of the parents was at length
realized. Quala now felt the Spirit of the Lord laid
mightily upon him, impelling him to go with Ko Tha
to bear the news to his people.
Thousands of Karens have been since converted
through the labors of the two zealous missionaries,
their success being so marvelous that they have been
appropriately titled the " Karen Apostles."
The converts among the Karen were the most satisfac
tory of any the teachers had ever seen. They mani
fested a spirit of such meekness, docility, and earnest
ness as would put to shame many of their more
enlightened brethren in civilized lands. Mr. Judson
often spent months in the jungle preaching to them.
The noble Boardman sacrificed his life in their midst.
On his death-bed he had the joy of witnessing the

334 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
solemn ordinance of baptism administered to thirty-
four of his recent converts.
After having established missions in Maulmain and
around through the country, Mr. Judson traveled much
from place to place. Since Ko Tha had gone with Mr.
Boardman to Tavoy, Moung Ing and his w\fe were
appointed to labor in Rangoon, and endeavor to re-estab
lish the church there. Mr. Judson visited the valley
of the Irrawaddy again, bringing with him a great
quantity of tracts and extracts from the Bible, which
was now wholly translated into Burmese.
A great interest had sprung up. The tracts formerly
circulated, like leaven, had pervaded the whole empire.
The king still opposed, but the people clamored for a
knowledge of the true God, showing how essential God
is to the soul in all nations. Mr. Judson writes from
Rangoon to a friend :
"The great annual festival is just past, during which mul
titudes came from the remotest parts of the country to worship
at the great Shway-da-gong pagoda in this place, where it is
believed that several real hairs of Gautama are enshrined.
During the festival I have given away nearly ten thousand
tracts, giving to none but those who ask. I presume that there
have been six thousand applications at the house. Some come
two or three months' journey, from the borders of Si am and
China. ' Sir, we hear that there is an eternal hell. We are
afraid of it. Do give us a writing that will tell us how to
escape it.'
"Others come from the frontiers of Kathay, a hundred
miles north of Ava. 'Sir, we have seen a writing that tells
about an eternal God. Are you the man that gives away such
writings? If so, pray give us one, for we want to know the
truth before we die.'

(335^

336 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Others come from the interior of the country, where the
name of Jesus Christ is little known. ' Are you Jesus Christ's
man ? Give us a writing that tells of Jesus Christ.' "
A printing press was at work day and night, but it
was unable to supply the wants of the craving multi
tude. Thus the Lord has blessed the labors of the two
missionaries who landed there under such discouraging
circumstances fifteen years before. The sufferings were
great — the loss of wife and babes severe — yet the grand
results compensate for all the sufferings of the past ;
and now is the cry :
" The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers few. God,
send us more laborers into the field ! "

CHAPTER V.
" Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers,
Forth from their holes and their hidings our women and children come out,
Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers,
Kissing the war-harden'd hand of the Highlander wet with their tears.
Dance to the pibroch I— saved ! we are saved !— is it you ? is it you ?
Saved by the valor of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven !
' Hold it for fifteen days I ' We have held it for eighty-seven I
And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew." — Tennyson.
The reader's attention is now directed forward over
a period thirty-one years from the death of Mrs. Judson,
te the close of the year 1857, when we look upon the
^final scene that opens the gates of the East to the King
of Glpry. In India all seems quiet, the hundreds of
million's of subjects bowing in meek submission to the
handful of foreigners, and thousands of the natives
serving as soldiers in the pay of the British.
Suddenly, like a spark of fire to a powder magazine,
there burst forth a mutiny at whose atrocities the ears
of all nations were made to tingle with horror. The
Sepoy armies learned that the cartridges furnished
them by the British for use in their rifles were greased
with beef's tallow. To touch that product of the sacred
bullock was to lose caste. Their rage knew no bounds.
The mutiny spread throughout the land. All English
garrisons were furiously assaulted, and their inmates,
who could not escape, relentlessly butchered. The
insurgents professed to restore the ancient Mogul
dynasty, and fought in the name of the King of Oude.
22 (337)

338 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
Missionaries were dragged about the streets of Delhi by
Moslem fiends, who continually beat them over the
heads and called on them, in derision, to preach Christ
to them. Helpless women and children were foully
murdered in their beds, their feet cut off and placed in
rows around the walls, while their amputated hands
and heads were piled in ghastly heaps in the middle of
the floor, leaving the gory bodies weltering among the
bed-clothes. Little children clinging to the bosoms of
their mothers were thrust through by savage bayonets
and left fastened there, mingling their frantic death
agonies together; and old veterans were ruthlessly
dragged from their rooms, where their captors, clutch
ing their gray hair in one hand, smote off their heads
with a sword in the other.
A vast horde of rebels surrounded Cawnpore, whose
feeble garrison contained less than three hundred sol
diers, with five hundred women and children, the fami
lies of officers, then besieged at Lucknow. The atrocious
Nana Sahib led the insurgents in person. The garrison
resisted bravely for more than seven months, until ii,
seemed that they could not stand another day longer.
At this point Nana Sahib, wearied with their long
endurance, made them a seemingly generous offer, pro
posing to furnish them boats and a safe passage to
Allahabad if they would lay down their arms. It
seemed the last resort, as their store of provisions was
about exhausted. . They embraced the opportunity of
escape, and went aboard the boats provided for them.
But no sooner had all embarked than a masked fire was
poured upon them, and the banks were both soon lined
with mounted horsemen. All escape was cut off to the

THE CHILD OP' THE GANGES. 339
now helpless band, and they were compelled to die,
without resistance, thus beset on every side. The water
was soon red with the blood of the slain. Boats floated
away empty or sank overladen with the dead and
pierced with bullets. A few of the women and children
were spared for a worse fate. In a few days they were
brought out of their prison, before their treacherous
protector, who had them immediately executed, and
their bodies, many of them yet breathing, thrown into
a well in the court-yard.
Like horrible scenes were enacted at Allahabad and
Benares, but Colonel Neill rescued each place before
matters had reached such a crisis as at Cawnpore.
The gallant General Henry Havelock, whose fame
was now spoken of the world over, having heard of the
seige of Cawnpore, hastened thither with his troops of
Highlanders to the relief of the garrison, but arrived
too late, the massacre of the women and children
having taken place the day before. On the bank of the
Ganges he defeated Nana Sahib, and then joining his
army to that of Sir James Outram, who had just
arrived, hastened to the relief of Lucknow.
Never before, since the memorable seige of Jerusalem,
has earth witnessed such an action as that at Lucknow.
Sir Henry Lawrence who had charge of the residency,
had made some successful sallies upon the besiegers,
but was finally slain and the troops compelled to retire
into a smaller fort, where, under the command of Col
onel Robert Stuart, they continued bravely to resist
the foe. Many of the wives and families of the High
landers had been left at Lucknow for protection. Mano
hara stood by her husband, the gallant Colonel, through

340 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
all the seige, encouraging him by her hopeful words
and heroic fortitude. It was, by no means, the first
time they had braved death together, and they resolved
to die rather than surrender the garrison to the tender
mercies of the murderers of Cawnpore's innocents. But
now it seemed that every hope was lost. Provisions
were scarce, ammunition almost exhausted, and the
strength of the soldiers failing before the ceaseless
charges of the enemy which was renewed by daily re
inforcements. The relief party made desperate efforts to reach the
city as soon as possible, but found every foot of the way
contested. Numerous engagements had been fought,
and they were almost worn out with fatigue, and many
of them weak from loss of blood. Beneath the walls
of the Furred Buksh Havelock and Outram held a con
sultation. " The brave troops have come through many difficul
ties to-day," said Outram. " I fear they will be unable
to advance any further, much less meet successfully a
fresh foe of more than ten times their strength. Had
we not better go in camp till morning? "
But in every engagement Havelock's cry had ever
been " Forward ! " To his untiring persistency he owed
his success.
" No, we must press forward this very night," he said.
" Think, the garrison may, at this moment, be exposed
to the final assault ; the enemy may collect during the
nigh+ in overwhelming masses ; it is of much impor
tance to let the garrison know that succor is at hand."
At last General Outram consented, and taking only
two regiments, the Highlanders and the Sikhs, they
pressed forward to the beleaguered city.

THE CHILD OP THB GANGES. 341
As the slender column entered the street, the houses
on either side flashed with almost a solid sheet of flame,
as the bullets whistled through the air, and rattled
against the stones ; while, to retard the progress of the
rescuers, deep ditches had been cut across the streets.
The housetops, and connecting arches were alive with
men, and ablaze with flashes of fire and rolling smoke.
Passing under one of these arches General Neill, the
hero of Benares and Allahabad, fell from his horse, a
corpse. His enraged followers turned aside, for a
moment, in a useless endeavor to avenge his death by a
volley among the countless throngs around and over
head. Only for a moment,, " Forward ! " in thunder
tones came the stern command of Havelock. Even
though his own brave son fell at his side, he did not
halt, but rode calmly at the head of his rapidly decreas
ing ranks. It was not an hour for lamentation or
revenge. At each crosssing were placed 'batteries that
vomited forth a continual stream of fire and burning
showers of lead and iron into the approaching ranks.
Each street they entered seemed to enclose them between
two walls of incessant, lurid flames. Around each
corner drifted a storm of leaden messengers, like snow-
flakes driven by the wind in a blizzard, covering the
ground with writhing heaps of dead and dying. Thou
sands of hideous voices yelled in rage and defiance, the
streets and walls rattled with the rain of balls, like hail
on a roof. The smoke rose aloft, giving the city, as it
stood in the night, more the appearance of a volcano
than a residence of living beings. Havelock turned
his face neither to the right nor to the left. If the
bleeding column faltered, his clarion voice crying

342 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Forward ! " heard above the din of battle, was suffi
cient to nerve them for yet another exertion. Now the
walls of the residency are reached, and the Highlanders
place the bagpipes to their lips to announce their victory.
A crisis was approaching within the garrison.
" Hold it for fifteen days. Never surrender, but let
every man die at his post!" had been the dying words
of the gallant Lawrence.
They had held it for fifteen days and thrice the time ;
they had never surrendered ; and it seemed that every
man was about to die at his post. The ablest of their
number had fallen, picked by sharp-shooters from a
lofty mosque overlooking the wall. Fever and cholera
were raging. They could not venture out to bury their
dead, even if they had had the time. The heat was
almost unbearable, and mingled with the odors of decay
ing flesh it was deathly in its effect. Mine after mine
had been' sprung. Numerous rents had been made in
(he wall. Even now an ominous " click, click " could
be heard close without. Kegs of powder are being
rolled into the. opening made beneath. Only a touch
of fire now, and all is over. Every man was fully per
suaded that within twenty-four hours their fate would
be sealed. Havelock was doubtless defeated, and they
must prepare to die "every man at his post." The
children cried, and the women prayed within.
From a commanding position Colonel Stuart watched
the designs of the enemy and issued orders to his men
in what way to thwart them. Thus many a scaling
ladder lifted toward the wall was dropped as its bearer
fell, pierced by a timely ball from within the barricade
Manohara was hero, there, everywhere; bearing nies-

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 343
sages from her husband to different parts of the garri
son, and bringing cups of hot coffee to the exhausted
gunners. On one of her rounds she was accompanied
by Jessie Brown, the wife of a corporal in Colonel
Stuart's regiment. Poor Jessie had been feverish and
excited during the whole siege, and, at times, delirious.
To-night she was unusually restless. Returning she
sank down with fatigue, and soon fell asleep, begging
Manohara to call her when her " father should come
home from the plowing." Manohara was herself weary
and exhausted, and also fell into a slumber, despite the
roar without. Suddenly she was awakened by a shrill,
unearthly scream at her ear. Jessie stood in the middle
of the floor, a wild look on her face, her hands behind
her Oars, and her eyes piercing out over the clouds of
smoke as if listening.
" Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye hear it? " she screamed
in delight. " Ay, I'm no dreamin' ; its the slogan o' the
Highlanders ! We're saved, we're saved ! "
Then falling upon her knees, with streaming eyes and
fervent voice, she thanked God for his deliverance. The
eager women within ran anxiously to the spot to listen,
but no one could hear aught save the roar of cannon.
She now darted away to the line of soldiers.
" Courage ! Courage ! " she cried. " Hark ! to the
slogan — to the MacGregor, the grandest of them a'.
Here's help at last ! "
The soldiers stood as if electrified. With poised
guns ready to fire, they paused to listen. Only the
rattle of musketry. In bitter disappointment they
turned to their duty. The women set up a pitiful wail
as the Colonel shook his head in answer to their inquiries

344 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
whether he heard anything. The poor, half-frantic
Jessie sank to the ground as in a swoon. After a few
moments of anxious suspense she sprang to her feet
and cried with a piercing voice heard to the end of the
line. " Will ye no believe it noo? The slogan has ceased
indeed, but the Campbells are comin' 1 D'ye hear?
D'ye hear? "
Now indeed was heard a sound as sweet to the besieged
garrison as the music of angelic choirs, as, above the
din of battle, rose the shrill notes of the Scottish
pibroch, now wild and harsh as if threatening vengeance
upon the foe, then softly promising deliverence to their
friends. With one accord, all fell on their knees, for
getting their loaded guns, to thank God for his mercies.
With a mighty shout the Highlanders burst through
the barricades headed by Havelock. Cheers answered
from within. Havelock and Stuart rushed into each
other's arms, while the Highlanders clasped their wives
and children to their breasts. In the midst of all
Havelock was heard to exclaim, " Not unto us, 0 Lord !
not unto us, but unto Thy name give glory ! "
The garrison now raised the shout, "God save the
Queen ;" to which the pibrochs replied with the strain,
" Should auld acquaintance be forgot? "
Joy reigned in every bosom. A rich banquet was
given the famished garrison, in which the officers drank
to Jessie's health and the Highlanders marched around
the table playing the familiar and soul-stirring air of
" Auld Lang Syne."

CHAPTER VI.
' We are living, we are dwelling
In a grand and awful time,
In an age on ages telling ;
To be Uving is sublime.
Hark ! the waking up of nations,
Gog and Magog to the fray.
Hark I what soundeth ? 'Tis creation
Groaning for its latter day."

The rescue of Lucknow practically ended the war of
the rebellion, as news now came of the capture of the
other important points ; but the rebels were not wholly
conquered until Sir Colin Campbell arrived with re
inforcements, and struck the decisive blow. The salva
tion of the garrison had been bought at a terrible cost.
One-third of the brave rescuers lay dead in the streets,
their bodies trampled beneath the feet of the raging
mob. But more than all, their heroic commander,
Havelock, now lies at the point of death. The exces
sive fatigues and anxieties of his numerous engage
ments, together with the climate, so unfavorable to great
activity, brought on dysentery, which prostrated him
with the first attack. He was dying at the zenith of
his fame. The Queen of England recognized his bravery,
and rewarded it with the highest honor. He was
removed from the residency to the camp of Sir Colin
Campbell, who now, by the authority of the Queen,
addressed him as Sir Henry. Though called to go at
the time when the laurels were just within his grasp,
(345)

346 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
the good man was happy. He had fought a good fight,
he had kept the faith. For the success of every battle
he had given God the glory. After every marvelous
escape from death he had assembled his troops and
caused them to kneel while he offered up thanks to the
Lord of Hosts. To Sir James Outram, who stood by
him, he said:
" For forty years I have so ruled my life that when
death came I might face it without fear."
He was happy, too, because his wife and little ones
were safe from the cruelties to which hundreds of others
had been subjected. He had already established them
in Germany on the Rhine, where he expected his chil
dren to be educated. But his wife was the daughter
of that great light of the Serampore Mission, Dr. Marsh-
man, and would have bravely remained at his side if
he had consented. Now, too, the widow would be pro
vided for. He could not enjoy the Queen's bounty, but
the thousand pounds a year would still go to her and
the children. He was happy, also, because the great
war was over, and his beloved Stuart would take his
place in restoring peace and quiet to the distracted land.
Robert and Manohara were by his side till the last.
She held his throbbing head and bathed his feverish
brow as tenderly as his own wife could have done. In
his last moments he thanked God for the waif of the
Ganges that had been brought to the "white mamma"
and trained to be a Christian soldier's wife.
Two older sons had engaged with him in the battle.
One fell in the streets of Lucknow ; the other, with a
broken arm, stood beside the sick bed. The end was
near.

348 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" So be it," said the sufferer ; " I am ready."
Then, seeing his sorrowful son standing near, he
called to him cheerfully :
" Come, come, my son, and see how a Christian can
die ! "
Then, with his son holding one hand and Colonel
Stuart the other, he quietly breathed his last.
We are now called upon to witness a great and happy
change in the government of India. It was now trans
ferred from the East India Company to the English
Crown, and Queen Victoria was proclaimed Empress of
India.' Strong garrisons were firmly established in all
the principal cities, and peace and order restored. The
new government, instead of throwing obstacles in the
way of mission work, now offered encouragement.
Great attention was now given to religion and educa
tion, for it has been proven that these are the most
potent factors in successful ruling. The wholesale sui
cides at Hurdwar and Benares, the drowning of infants
in the Ganges, and the suttee of widows were strictly
forbidden. * General Robert Stuart was stationed at
Benares with his forces to prevent any violation of
these restrictions. The law was hard to enforce on
account of the superstitions of the people, but they
gradually submitted. Many a poor child did Manohara
herself preserve from the crocodile's jaws She told the
deluded mothers of her own narrow escape, and pointed
them to Christ, the Atonement for sin.
Instead of missionary progress being impeded by the
loss of life and property by the war, it was greatly
advanced.

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 349
The story of sufferings and persecutions touched a
chord of sympathy in the hearts of English and Amer
ican Christians, and they responded warmly to the
appeals for aid. New forces were sent, colleges and
churches erected, publication houses established, and a
wonderful impetus imparted to the instruction of the
natives. The English language is the language of the
conquerors, and all wish to learn it. With it goes a
knowledge of God.
How sublime are the wonderful workings of Jehovah !
When the storm raged in Burmah, we cried out in des
pair: "Alas ! alas ! only two missionaries, and they in pri
son. Our cause is hopelessly lost ! "
But that very persecution was the means of bringing
the persecuted teachers into the sympathies of indolent
Christians throughout the world, who now rallied to
their assistance, and of bringing them in closer con
tact with the obtuse-minded and proud-hearted officials,
who would never have known them otherwise. Now
the clouds have rolled away, the Sun of Righteous
ness beameth on the darkened country of the Golden
Face, and tens of thousands praise the Jehovah of the
despised Karens.
When the raging blast of the rebellion swept with
such terrific fury over India, it threatened to annihilate
the germs of civilization, and leave the blood-soaked
soil free once more, to sprout the gory dynasty of the
decaying Mogul glory. But the poetic days, when the
glittering splendor of the Rajahs exulted over the cries
of the slain, had passed. The hand of God had planted
the seeds of the truth, even turning the opposition of
stubborn rulers into praise and thanksgiving.

350 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
" Oh, the depths of the riches, both of the knowledge
and wisdom of God; how unsearchable are His judg
ments and His ways past tracing out ! "
Here, thinking my work was completed, I laid aside
my pen and, much wearied, fell asleep, when there
occurred to me such a vision, that I must tell it to the
reader, for its scenes are true.
Methought, by a swift conveyance of modern inven
tion, I was transported through the air and over inter
vening seas, until I stood on the topmost crags of the
Himalayan peaks. The thin air was clear and pure,
as I looked with rapturous gaze upon the luxuriant
plains and embowered cities in the South, stretching
from the base of my lofty pedestal even to the blue
line, where I knew sparkled the waters of the Bay of
Bengal. Slowly oozing from the snows beneath my
feet, and trickling like icy pearl-drops down the crags,
I saw the fountain of the Ganges. Following the
streamlets as they increased, I beheld the mighty tide
rushing through the gates of Hurdwar and spreading
out, a placid stream, rolling along the plain. Looking
to the southeast I saw the Irrawaddy traversing its fertile
valley, and, far to my left, the great Yangtse Kiang of
China. The aspect of Burmah had changed ; once more
she had made war with England and had been forced
to surrender large tracts of her territory. These the
people of God had appropriated at once. The gov
ernment of the Burman monarch had grown smaller
and smaller, until it scarcely was felt beyond the lim
its of the Golden City ; while foreigners, bearing the
seeds of the Gospel, are penetrating every jungle and

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 351
settling in every city and village. The white-leaved
tracts and Bibles are circulating in every direction.
King Thirrawaddy, sitting on the throne of his deposed
brother, says to a teacher, " Come to the Golden City,
and I will build you a zayat to preach in." Prince
Mekara, or Moung Ing, heeding not the political strifes
of his covetous nephews, is leading the Lord's hosts to
possess the land, and soon the whole will be ceded, not
to Victoria, but to Prince Immanuel.
In India, too, a mighty revolution has taken place.
Calcutta, Madras, Serampore, Benares, Delhi and Agra
are becoming great centers for soldiers of the Cross,
and Allahabad is becoming more of what its name
implies, " The City of God." From Bombay, stretching
across to Calcutta, and touching all intervening cities
of importance, I see a huge black line, with numerous
branches intersecting it in various directions. " Some
thing new," thought I. " What can it be ? " Then I
heard a shrill whistle — strange sound in that hitherto
unprogressive land — and waking the echoes in the
ruined temples and crumbling palaces ; a long line of
white smoke ; a thundering tread, that caused the sandy
ground to tremble beneath ; a glimpse of rapidly revolv
ing wheels — and the stranger was gone. But in its
wake were left, at various stations, articles of merchan
dise, books, tracts and missionaries.
Then I noticed a change in the aspect of the Ganges.
Dead bodies no longer floated on her bosom, but the
white sails of commerce glided from port to port.
Benares is wonderfully changed. It is Sabbath morn
ing. A great crowd is standing on the bathing ghaut
at the river. In the water is a pale-faced foreign

352 THE CHILD OF THE GANGES.
teacher, surrounded by a number of natives with meek,
tranquil faces. On the bank stands another teacher,
reading aloud from a sacred book — but not the Shaster.
One by one, the man in the water administers the sacred
rite of baptism to each new convert. Then they come
out and a sound wakes the air from a thousand voices,
but no gongs are heard. It is Jehovah's praise they
sing. The thin air around me seems an electric
medium, through which every sound is borne to my
ears. Now from among the golden-spired temples on the
cliffs there peals a sound that arouses my curiosity
more than ever. Can it be the pagoda bells ? No, the
air is perfectly still, and then it is too deep and full
for that, fe it the gong in the temple? No, it is too
soft and melodious for that. Now another and another,
here and there, they resound in every part of the city.
The pigeons circle about the spires in alarm. The
grinning monkey-gods leap upon the roof of their
dwelling and look around with a quizzical expression.
The crowd at the river now begins to approach in the
direction of the sounds, and I understand the mystery —
church bells ; strange, and yet how sweet their music !
Now my ears are ringing with vibrations, so that I can
scarcely distinguish one sound from another. Grad
ually I grow more accustomed to them and can trace
each to its source. From Bombay they come, joining
others along the line of the railroad; from the Punjab;
from the Deccan ; from Hurdwar throughout the valley
to Calcutta. Then from my left, I hear something. Is
it an echo from the rocks? No, up from Rangoon,
Burmah, the music floats. Maulmain joins the chorus ;

THE CHILD OF THE GANGES. 353
then Tavoy, Prome, and even Ava. Arracan resounds
along the seashore ; then a fainter sound ; from away
down in Siam it comes stealing. Over my shoulder
floats a timid strain. I listen closely. Thank God!
Old China is speaking. Revelling in these delightful
sounds I stood musingly gazing down upon Benares,
the Holy City. It seemed that I must be in heaven
listening to the music of angelic voices, so sweet was
the sensation of my soul.
The music ceases, a feeling of sadness follows ; for I
fear the spell will be broken and the vision lost. But,
no. By a swift transition from light to darkness, and
night to day, Monday morning dawns and the scene
remains the same. The bathing ghauts are thronged as
usual. Near the outskirts of the city a mother timidly
shrinks behind a wall on the river bank, holding a child
in her arms. She glances cautiously around, for the
deed she contemplates is now considered a crime instead
of a religious duty as formerly. Yet she cannot give
up the old faith, and the Brahmins have encouraged
her to perform her duty. Laying the precious burden
on the ground, she kneels and earnestly prays to Vishnu
that the soul of her dear one may be preserved and
born again free from the curse of womanhood. Then,
with a bursting heart, she stands and clasps her
babe to her bosom for the last time. The cloak is
wrapped about the little form and all is now ready
for the sacrifice. She starts and turns in alarm, for
a hand is laid gently on her shoulder and a sweet
voice bids her listen for a moment. Manohara, sus
pecting the woman's purpose, has followed her. She
tells the mother her own story of rescue from Ganga's
23

354 THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.
arms, and points her to Christ the Sacrifice for sin. The
other listens eagerly, then follows her back, to the zen
ana, her child in her arms. I look at the zenanas of
the city. They are no longer harems but homes, joyful
with the laughter of merry children. The women are
no longer slaves, but true wives and mothers. My own
reason answers the question. "Why is this?" The
Gospel has converted the men and made them sympa
thetic husbands and fathers. Aided by the same means
Manohara's influence has elevated the women to their
true sphere, and girls are no more a curse, nor widows
condemned to shame.
What is that massive structure outside the gate look
ing so neglected and lonely? Ah ! I see now the stone
wheels, red with human blood. But it moves no more.
The Gospel has chained its wheels, and the smile of
Juggernaut is a burlesque of the past. Robert Stuart
has cut the great cable with his sword. My soul
expands with delight as I see the great cities illumined
by the Gospel ; but I shudder to see the black pall that
still hangs over the country and the inland towns.
From every direction come the earnest cries, " Send us
light, for we wander in darkness ! " And the answer
comes from the toiling missionaries, " Only be patient.
The harvest is great, but the laborers few. We are
praying God to send us more candle-sticks to bear the
light. Lord, open up the hearts of Thy people to behold
the darkness around us, and send them to our relief ! "
My soul burns within me. Oh! that I had a thou
sand tongues to tell the " Story of Jesus and His love "
to. these perishing ones ! Will my countrymen never
awake to their duty? Arise, ye that slumber ! Ye Sol-

THE CHILD OP THE GANGES.

355

diers of the Cross, who have enlisted under the banner
of Prince Immanuel, see ye not the kingdom of your
Master occupied by Satan's barbaric hosts? Behold,
the dawn approacheth. When the golden hue of the
Millenial morn shall illuminate the Oriental hill-tops,
and the effulgent beams of the Sun of Righteousness
sha^l reveal the iniquity of the dark valleys, will He
find you sleeping? Oh, awake ! awake !
With that methought a cloud skirted the mountain
side, shutting off the scene below ; and bidding fare
well to the Children of the Ganges, I aWoke in my,
own room.

Popular Missionary Biographies.
i2mo, 160 pages. Fully illustrated; cloth extra, 75 cents each.

Rev. C. H. Spurgeon,
writes: " Crowded with facts
that both interest and in
spire, we can conceive of
do better plan to spread
the Missionary spirit than
the multiplying of such
biographies; and we
would specially commend
this series to those who
have the management of
libraries and selection of
prizes in our Sunday
Schools."

From The Missionary
Herald: "We commended this
series in our last issue,
and a further examina
tion leads us to renew our
commendation, and to
urge the placing of this
series of missionary books
in ail our Sabbath-school
libraries. These books are hand
somely printed and bound
and are beautifully illus
trated, and we are confi
dent that they will prove
attractive to all young
people."
SAMUEL CROWTHER, the Slave Boy who became Bishop of
the Niger. By Jesse Page, author of " Bishop Patterson."
THOMAS J. COMBER, Missionary Pioneer to the Congo. By
Rev. J. B. Myers, Association Secretary Baptist Missionary Society.
BISHOP PATTESON, the Martyr of Melanesia. By Jesse Page.
GRIFFITH JOHN, Founder of the Hankow Mission, Central
China. By Wm. Robson, of the London Missionary Society.
ROBERT MORRISON, the Pioneer of Chinese Missions. By
Wm. J. Townsend, Sec. Methodist New Connexion Missionary Soc'y.
ROBERT MOFFAT, the Missionary Hero of Kuruman. By David
J. Deane, author of " Martin Luther, the Reformer," etc.
WILLIAM CAREY, the Shoemaker who became a Missionary.
By Rev. J. B. Myers, Association Secretary Baptist Missionary Society.
JAMES CHALMERS, Missionary and Explorer of Rarotonga
and New Guinea. By Wm. Robson, of the London Missionary Soc'y.
MISSIONARY LADIES IN FOREIGN LANDS. By Mrs. E. R.
Pilman, author of " Heroines of the Mission Fields," etc.
JAMES CALVERT; or, From Dark to Dawn in Fiji.
JOHN WILLIAMS, the Martyr of Erromanga. By Rev.
J. J. Ellis.
HENRY MARTYN, His Life Labors. By Jesse Page.
UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE.
DAVID LIVINGSTON, His Labors and his Legacy.
By Arthur Montefiore, F. R. G. S.
JOHN BRIGHT, the Man of the People. By Jesse Page,
author of "Bishop Patteson," "Samuel Crowther, " etc.
HENRY M. STANLEY, the African Explorer. By Ar
thur Montefiore, F. R. G. S. Brought down to i8go.
WICLIFFEand LUTHER; A Story of two Noble Lives.
148-l^Ma^son Street. FlBIIlIl|g H. RBtyBll UO. 30 Union Square East.

Important Missionary Publications.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. PATON. Missionary to the
New Hebrides. Introductory note by Arthur T. Pierson, D.D.
2 vols., 12mo., portrait and map, in neat box, $3.00.
One of the most remarkable biographies of modern times.
"I have just laid down the most robust and the most fascinating piece of auto
biography that I have met with in many a day  It is the story of the
¦wonderful work wrought by John G. Paton, the famous missionary to tlieNew
Hebrides; he was made of the same stuff with Livingstone." — T. L. Cuyler.
"It stands with such books as those Dr. Livingstone gave the world, and
shows to men that the heroes of the cross are not merely to be sought in past
ages," — Christian Intelligencer.
THE LIFE OF JOHN KENNETH MACKENZIE. Medical
Missionary to China ; with the story of the First Chinese Hospital
by Mrs. Bryson, author of "Child Life in Chinese Homes," etc.
12mo., cloth, 400 pages, price $1.50 with portrait in photogravure.
"The story of a singularly beautiful life, sympathetically and ably written.
.... A really helpful, elevating book. "— London Missionary Chronicle.
"The volume records much that is fresh and interesting bearing on Chinese
customs and manners as seen and vividly described by a missionary who had
ample opportunities of studying them under most varied circumstances and
conditions."— Scotsman.
THE GREATEST WORK IN THE WORLD. The Evangeliza
tion of all Peoples in the Present Century. By Rev. Arthur T.
Pierson, D.D. 12mo., leatherette, gilt top, 35c.
The subject itself is an inspiration, but this latest production of Dr. Pierson
thrills with the life which the Master Himself has imparted to it. It will be a
welcome addition to Missionary literature.
THE CRISIS OF MISSIONS. By Rev. Arthur T. Pierson, D.D.
Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 35c.
u We do not hesitate to say that this book is the most purposeful, earnest and
intelligent review of the mission work and field which has ever been given to the
Church." — Christian Statesman. s.
MEDICAL MISSIONS. Their Place and Power. By John Lowe,
F. R. C- S. E., Secretary of the Edinburgh Medical Mission Society.
12mo., 308 pages, cloth, $1.50.
"This book contains an exhaustive account of the benefits that may, and in
point of fact do, accrue from the use of the medical art as a Christian agency. Mr.
Lowe is eminently qualified to instruct us in this matter, having himself been so
long engaged in the same field." — From Introduction by Sir William, Muir.
ONCE HINDU: NOW CHRISTIAN. The early life of Baba
Padmanji. Translated from the Marathi. Edited by J. Murray Mit
chell, M. A., LLD. 12mo., 155 pages, with appendix. Cloth, 75c.
" A more instructive or more interesting narrative of a human soul, once held
firmly in the grip of oriental superstition, idolatry and caste, gradually emerging
into the light, liberty and peace of a regenerate child of God, does not often come
to hand." — Missionary Herald.
AN INTENSE LIFE. By George F. Herrick. A sketch of the life
and work of Rev. Andrew T Prattt, M.D., Missionary of the A. B.
C. F. M., in Turkey, 1852-1872. 16mo., cloth, 50c.

new york. : : Fleming H. Reoell Company : : Chicago.

Important Missionary Publications
*¦)

EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA, or, the Story of Coopoo-
swamej. An Autobiography. With fine engravings by E. Whym-
per. 12mo., cloth, $1.00.
THE CHILDREN OF INDIA. Written for children by one of
their friends. Illustrations and map. Small 4to , cloth, $1.25.
11 These are good books for the Sunday-School Library, and will help young
people in missionary societies who desire to have an intelligent idea of the people
in India whom they are sending their money and their missionaries to convert." —
Missionary Herald
HINDUISM, PAST AND PRESENT. With an account of recent
Hindu reformers, and a brief comparison between Hinduism and
Christianity. By J. Murray Mitchell, M.A., LLD. 12mo., cloth,
$1.60.
" A praiseworthy attempt to present a popular view of a vast and important
ubject." — Saturday Review.
GOSPEL ETHNOLOGY. With illustrations. By S. E. Paterson,
F. G. S. 12mo, cloth., $1.00.
" The first attempt to treat this subject from a thorough-going scientific stand
point. A very powerful argument for the truth of Christianity. "—EngUsh Church
man. " A book to refer to for information not easily to be obtained otherwise.—
Church Missionary Intelligencer.
NATIVE LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. Being sketches of the social
and religious characteristics of the Hindus. By the Rev. Henry
Rice. With many illustrations from native sketches. 12mo., cloth
boards, $1.00.
" Those who have heard Mr. Rice's missionary addresses will be prepared to
hear that this is a fascinating book."— Life and Work.
CHRISTIAN PROGRESS IN CHINA. Gleanings from the writ
ings and speaches of many workers. By Arnold Foster, B.A.,
London Missionary, Hankow. With map of China. 12mo., cloth,
$1.00.
AMONG THE MONGOLS. By Rev. James Gilmour, M.A., London
Mission, Peking. Numerous engravings from photographs and
native sketches. 12mo., gilt edges, cloth, $1.00.
"The newness and value of the book consists solely in its Defoe quality, that
when you have read it you know, and will never forget, all Mr. Gilmour knows
and tells of how Mongols live."— Spectator.
EVERY-DAY LIFE IN CHINA, or, Scenes along River and Road
in the Celestial Empire. By Edwin J. Dukes. Illustrations from
the author's sketches. 12mo., with embellished cover, $2.00.
That China is a mysterious problem to all who interest themselves in its affairs
is the only excuse for offering another book on the subject.

new yoek. : : Fleming H. Reoell Company ¦ - Chicago.

MISSIONARY ANNALS.
i.
MEMOIR OF ROBERT MOFFAT.
BY M. L. WILDER.
II.
LIFE OF ADONIRAM JUDSON,
BY JULIA H. JOHNSTON.
III.
WOMAN AND THE GOSPEL IN PERSIA.
BY REV. THOMAS LAURIE, D. D.
IV.
LIFE OF REV. JUSTIN PERKINS, D. D.
BY REV. HENRY MARTYN PERKINS.
V.
DAVID LIVINGSTONE,
BY MRS. J. H. WORCESTER, JR.
VI.
HENRY MARTIN AND SAML. J. MILLS.
BY MRS. S. J. RHEA AND ELIZABETH G. STRYKER.
VII.
WILLIAM CAREY,
BY MARY E. FARWELL.
VIII.
MADAGASCAR.
BY BELLE MC PHERSON CAMPBELL.
IX.
THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER DUFF.
BY ELIZABETH B. VERMILYE.

Price per volume: Cloth 30c, Paper 18c.
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